A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, even if it might not have the big reveal you're wanting. But trust me, it's coming! I'll update again probably tomorrow or Monday because even I am starting to get antsy about all that's coming which is ridiculous because I wrote it, but...

Anyways, I hope you like this! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I try to write back to all reviews so I'm sorry if I missed you or if you commented as a guest. I sincerely appreciate absolutely every word you all say to me.

Finally - I'm sorry if anyone feels like the medical part of this story takes up a bit too much compared to the human aspect. I really do cut a lot out actually because I don't want it to get too bogged down! But some of the more scientific stuff is important to how Felicity reacts and how she handles herself in this situation. Just letting you all know. Thanks again, and read on!

Felicity was determined to not think about the 72 hours. She was particularly skilled in the art of avoidance and took this as a personal challenge for herself. If she could make it through one day without feeling like her world was collapsing, she could make it through another.

The doctors had told her that they probably would not be in contact with her today; her scans and biopsies were all being sent to specialists who would study them and come up with not only her official type of cancer but also a tentative treatment plan. They insisted that she could call with any questions she had, but she knew that she wasn't going to. She was going to steadfastly pretend that she was as healthy as a healthy horse.

"Felicity!" The smile on Oliver's face when he saw her made it more than easy to forget everything that had been weighing her down.

"Hi!"

They stared at each other for a beat too long, both happy to simply see each other. She hadn't realized how much she had missed him this past week.

"How uh...how is Lance?" He was grateful he had an actual question to ask her instead of just asking how she was. He knew she hated it when he hovered. Felicity smiled, thinking about the older man.

"He's doing really well. He just needed some time to...get his head around things."

"Well I guess he came to the right person. You can get your head around anything."

Hah.

"Speaking of - I know you didn't ask for it, but I ran the numbers for the Chinese ex-pats for a few other scenarios that you might want to consider. Just a few different lengths of time and if the project got extended, which visas might be the right fit. I'll print them out for you and get them to you in a few minutes if that's okay?"

"You're the worst at taking time off, you know that?" Oliver began to walk towards his desk, smirking over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" She called after him. "I'm the employee of the year?"

"You wish!"

She settled herself gingerly in her chair, still smiling at Oliver's antics. She let out a relieved sigh when she realized that the chair was curved in the back so that she could still rest her head against the back without actually having her spine touch anything.

"Welcome back."

Dig stood in front of her desk, almost causing her to jump, but she thought better of it at the last moment, remembering her hip.

"Good to be back."

His eyes were searching. "Everything alright?"

"Never better. What about you?" She took in his appearance and scrunched her nose. "Didn't you wear that yesterday?"

That sufficiently distracted him as he excused himself, tugging on his collar. "Barely even saw you yesterday," he grumbled under his breath.

She laughed aloud when she heard Oliver's first statement to him.

"Nice shirt."

She knew she couldn't ignore it forever, that it was going to rear its head sooner rather than later, but in that moment, Felicity was more than content to pretend that her own personal life didn't exist and enjoy the one in front of her.

"Oh, thank god," Roy exclaimed when he saw her coming down the stairs the to the lair. Steps were a bit more difficult for her to navigate and still look like there was nothing wrong, but she pretended to be taking in the lair with big eyes to justify the slow steps.

"It all seems to still be here," she said in mock awe. "And I was gone for more than one night! How is that even possible?"

"Magic," Roy assured her, before meeting her at the bottom of the stairs and wrapping her in a hug. She couldn't stop from tensing up when his arm brushed the sensitive skin at the bottom of her spine.

"You ok, Felicity?" Oliver was watching with patient eyes from across the room.

"Oh, yeah!" She stepped away from Roy, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Just habit from the bruise. Feels fine now though." She made a show of flopping into her chair by her desk, something she knew she would probably regret later.

"In that case...I need you to run some financials."

"I don't know if I'm happy you didn't touch my babies or if I'm frustrated that you were just going to wait for me to do it. Is it urgent?"

"Yes."

"No."

Oliver glared at Roy, clearly not wanting to rush Felicity.

"Do you two want to try that again, or…?"

"If you could run them, please." Oliver slid a post it in front of her with a name and a social security number.

"Franz Lloyd?" She read aloud. "How do you know which one is his first name and which is his last?" She typed his name in a few of her searches, dragging the windows to the screen all the way on the right. She utilized her others in running her typical firewall protections and any online mentions of the Arrow or Oliver Queen. Sometimes she needed to do damage control on his own attempted damage control.

Oliver nodded to the training mats, stripping off his own shirt and momentarily distracting Felicity. She would blame this lapse in her lack of internal filter.

"He's a doctor at Starling General?"

Oliver turned around, halfway to the mats.

"Yeah, there's some pretty solid intel that he's stealing medicine from the hospital and selling it to the gangs. He doesn't make the meth, but he's giving them all the tools for it. Why? Do you know him?"

She shook her head.

"Maybe get a list of his patients too, if you can do that. Stealing is one option, but he could just as easily be prescribing them to phony patients and getting them out that way. Besides, it'd be good to have a hack into Starling General if we ever need it. I don't think you've done that one yet." She must have nodded because he turned away, ready to start sparring with Roy.

Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard, a strange feeling coming over her. She didn't know the doctor, that much was true. She hadn't seen him at the hospital and he was an orthopedic surgeon, so there was no reason to think she would see him in the future. It was just that for a brief moment, she felt like her two worlds that she was so desperate to keep apart were colliding. It only took her a second to make a split decision to solidify those barriers.

She hacked into the hospital's mainframe, which was truly pathetic by any hacker's standards, and found her own records. Quickly and efficiently, she coded in some firewalls to divert any traffic that would lead others to her files. It would only work on those trying to come into the system from an outside source; her own doctors and anyone that was accessing hospital records from within the hospital would have no trouble finding her all of her files and records, but it was a start.

"Everything all good?"

For the second time that day, Dig stood in front of her, his approach unnoticed, and this time she couldn't control the involuntary jerk her body gave at his sudden appearance. Masking her pain with a glare, she raised both eyebrows at him.

"What, are you a ninja today or something? Give a girl some warning!"

"I just walked down the stairs." Right, the stairs. The old, rickety, clanging stairs that alerted everyone to all entrances and exits. Those stairs. "You look-"

She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "I am not tired, so don't you dare say that I look it!"

"I think you look nice, Blondie!" Roy called out before his feet were swept out from underneath him and he landed on his back, hard.

"Roy thinks I look nice."

"Suck up," Dig muttered.

"Did you change your clothes?" Felicity was eager to change the topic.

"Don't make me regret missing you here these past few days."

She grinned triumphantly, focusing back on her task. Cancer who?

"Will you be honest with me?"

It was almost 11 p.m. and Oliver had just sent Dig and Roy home after they had beat the streets, trying to find some more information on the doctor's meth supply chain. Felicity was packing up her things, trying to mentally calculate if it was time for more Tylenol or not. Her hip was doing a dull throb and her back ached, but she thought it was more from her strained posture all day than the actual injury.

"Yeah, of course," she replied instantly, almost forgetting that her last two weeks had been nothing but lies to Oliver.

"You didn't really see your mom this week, did you?"

"I-" She stopped herself from protesting, instead offering just a weak shrug.

"You were with Detective Lance, weren't you?"

Well, that was unexpected. Figuring it wasn't entirely a lie, she nodded sheepishly.

"It's okay. You don't have to lie to me about it, Felicity. I know that whatever's going on isn't yours to tell. But I have to know if he's okay. I know things with him and Laurel have been pretty strained lately, but I can get word to Sara-"

"No!" She cut him off. "That's not - that's not really necessary. That's not what he needs right now."

He nodded once. "Okay. I won't. I just wanted to let you know that I'll respect his - and your - privacy. No interference from Oliver Queen or the Arrow, I promise."

"Thank you." Her voice was small as she refused to think about the words coming out of his mouth. She almost broke when he continued.

"I just wanted you to know that whatever is going on with him, you don't need to shoulder it all yourself, okay? If it ever gets too much, he's not alone. And neither are you."

He gave her shoulder a soft, familiar squeeze, and she felt it all the way to her heart. She gathered up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before calling out a hasty goodbye. She had to get out of there and fast. Ignoring the strain that suddenly seemed to be pulling her body in a million directions, she couldn't even remember the drive home. All she knew was that was sitting on her couch when the first tear over this entire ordeal fell. And she knew it wouldn't be the last.

"Refill?"

Felicity looked up to see Detective Lance standing over her, coffee mug in one hand. Her own mug was sitting virtually untouched in front of her, probably cold at this point.

"You following me, Detective?" She tried to narrow her eyes at him, but her words held no heat.

"You're a creature of habit, Miss Smoak."

That much was true. If she had more than a few minutes before getting to work, she would grab a cup of coffee and sit at the shop a few doors down from QC. If the detective hadn't been there before that morning, he didn't say. He just sat down in the seat across from her, nursing his own cup.

"How are you doing?"

"Pain's mostly subsided. Just kind of feels like my body is a big bruise."

He nodded. "And otherwise?"

She should've known she wasn't going to get away with a simple answer. The question had been anything but. She shrugged.

"I've got a meeting at the hospital at lunch. I scheduled Oliver for a two hour finance meeting. He's going to hate me."

"Nah, that's not true. Kid cares about you more than you think." He sipped his coffee out of the huge mug and Felicity had to smother a smile. She had never seen him drink coffee from anything other than styrofoam. He probably hated the overpriced lattes that they sold there. "You uh, need someone to go with you at lunch?"

Her eyes welled up at that. Ever since last night, it was like a switch had been flipped. She had cried for a long time on her couch, and then she had a good twenty minute jag in the shower that morning. She had hoped that it was out of her system by now, but that was clearly not the case.

"I should be good. Just a quick thing."

He nodded before standing and straightening up his jacket.

"Okay then. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The next day was Saturday and as far as she knew, Felicity had nothing planned except possibly more crying.

"Yep. Tomorrow. 9 a.m. Here. See you then."

Not even giving her a chance to protest, he exited the shop without looking back. She relaxed back into her chair, not even minding her back. Detective Lance was not what she had expected at all.

Oliver had grumbled and tried to talk his way out of the finance meeting, but the fact was that she had been pushing it off for a while anyways, and it just happened to coincide with her appointment that afternoon. The finance department hadn't been too keen on a lunch meeting either, but she just reassured them that it was the only time Oliver was available, and that the lunch that she ordered wouldn't go against their budget. White collar employees were predictable that way.

She snuck out easily enough, doing everything she could to mentally prepare herself for the diagnosis that awaited her. She had wanted to do research the night before, to look into the different types and stages and categories that she could possibly fall into, but her fingers refused to type. For the first time in her life, Felicity's curiosity, which could have been easily sated, was left unchecked.

She was beginning to hate Dr. Monroe's office. Nothing good ever came from it.

"The good news is that is it very common."

Felicity knew that just because something was common didn't mean it was very treatable, and the fact that this was the good news did nothing to stop her stomach from doing flips inside of her.

"B-Cell lymphomas account for about 85% of non-Hodgkins lymphomas. Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma, which is what you have, makes up about one in every three cases. The bad news is that we prefer this to be localized, but instead we found cancer cells in both your bone marrow and we believe your spleen. The CAT scan indicated that you also have some swollen nodes in your chest cavity, which would explain your trouble breathing, as they are pressing against both your heart and lungs. Since the disease is so widespread, it is categorized as aggressive stage 4 non-Hodgkin lymphoma."

Aggressive.

Felicity had a basic memory of anatomy, although she always more interested in the anatomy of a computer versus her own, but she had still passed her biology classes with flying colors. Bits and pieces came back to her now, sentences like that the lymphatic system was the "highway of the body," and that lymph nodes connected virtually everything inside of her.

The word aggressive pushed her eighth grade bio notes out of her mind.

She vaguely remembered reading about the different stages in the pamphlets, but for the life of her, she couldn't recall anything about them.

"How many stages are there?" Her voice was hollow; she was already dreading the answer.

"Four, dear."

Oh, god.

"And uh, it's treatable?" Please say it's treatable, please say its treatable.

"Definitely. It is highly respondent to treatment and just because the word 'aggressive' is in it, does not mean that we are going to roll over for it, do you understand that? It just means that we are going to be just as aggressive in tackling it."

She knew what they wanted. She knew they wanted this to be the moment that she took a stand, gathered her courage, and proclaimed to them that she was a fighter, and that she would do whatever it takes. But she couldn't give that to them. She didn't feel like a fighter. She felt like her hip and her back hurt and that was supposed to be the easy part. She felt like her life was spinning out of control and she had no say in any of it. She was supposed to be smart and funny and be living her dream right now and instead she was sitting across from a doctor behind one of the biggest desks she had ever seen, barely able to catch her breath.

"Okay," was all she managed.

"Now, because it's aggressive," Dr. Markowitz began beside her, nodding at Dr. Monroe to keep talking.

"Yes, because it is so aggressive, there are a lot of things we need to discuss beforehand."

"Like treatment?"

"Even before that, actually. The treatment is a given. We've seen this before, we've beaten it before, and we know how to handle it. But before that, there are some other factors to consider."

"Like what?" She couldn't fathom there being anything else to discuss.

"The treatment that we will be administering you is invasive. And given your age, your health, a variety of other factors - it's our clinical duty to remind you of some fertility options."

"I-I don't even have a boyfriend." The words sounded dumb even to her as they spilled out of her mouth.

"Many women don't when they're about to go through treatment. Not being married does not mean that you can't harvest and freeze your eggs. It is increasingly common nowadays, and you are in the peak condition to do it. I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that the procedure is rarely covered under insurance, and it is a hefty price. However, payment plans are available and many women who take advantage of this have gone on record saying that they feel as if they made the right decision for their future. Of course, this is completely elective. You are under no pressure to do so."

"But if I don't - my...will I ever be able to? Children?"

"It is impossible for us to tell how your system will respond to the chemotherapy and radiation, Miss Smoak," Dr. Markowitz told her. "If we knew, we'd tell you. This is just a precautionary measure that we allow patients to explore. Going into menopause immediately after treatment is a possibility."

Her hands were shaking. It was too much information and despite the awkward topic at hand, she found herself wishing she had taken Detective Lance up on his offer to join her. How was she supposed to drive after this? How was she supposed to function?

"We know that this is a lot to take in, Felicity. It is customary for us to set up an appointment with a fertility specialist as a consultation. They're open on Saturdays and we have you scheduled for 3 p.m. You don't have to go, and you certainly don't have to make a decision tomorrow; she is just going to sit with you and explain the options and the procedure and answer any questions you may have." She paused, trying to find the right words. "While there isn't a need for an answer tomorrow, you have to understand that your cancer is aggressive, and starting treatment as early as possible will only better your chances against it. You will need to undergo a major surgery to remove the diseased nodes as well as your spleen, but that will have to come after any harvesting of eggs. The hormone therapy in order to freeze the most eggs can take between 4 and 6 weeks."

No rush.

But if she didn't make a decision soon, it could affect whether this cancer kills her or not. And this decision may or may not determine whether she could ever have kids in her lifetime.

No rush.

Right.