A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all y'all moms out there! Hope you had a wonderful day today. Hope this chapter makes your day even better ;) I'm so glad everyone was happy to see Thea's presence and support in that last chapter! This chapter has a lot more of everyone else - Digg, Roy, and of course some Oliver. I can't wait for you to all see what I have coming up next - I love sharing this story with everyone. There will be another chapter of For Darker Days after this one, too. :)

The first thing Felicity noticed in the Foundry was the monitors. Last she saw, they had been shattered on the floor thanks to Oliver's stunning anger management skills, or lack thereof. Roy had cleaned them up and replaced it with a tiny monitor she had only briefly caught a glimpse of before she entered the hospital, but clearly that wasn't going to work in the long term.

Now on her desk were five huge flat screen LCD monitors, shining, shimmering, and splendid, if she did say so herself. They had to have been around 27" if she was estimating correctly, and they were all on stands that allowed them to be pivoted and positioned to different angles. She was in love.

"They're beautiful!"

"That'll be five bucks," Dig held out a waiting hand to Roy, who slapped down the bill with a sad shake of his head towards Felicity.

"Why'd that have to be the first thing you noticed?"

"What else would I have- oh!" She hadn't even bothered to look around the lair, her eyes zeroing on her desk and not straying far since she had entered, but she now saw the tiny little changes that had been made around her second home and she had to work to keep the tears at bay. She really did appreciate these guys but she knew that they'd accept her gratitude a little better if it didn't come with waterworks.

There was a fluffy blanket draped over her chair made of the softest fleece she had ever felt. Small bottles of hand sanitizer had been placed strategically around the room. All the live flowers and plants she had been slowly accumulating were replaced with silk replicas, guarding her immune system. There was even a small mini-fridge now tucked next to her desk and a quick look inside showed her countless water bottles and fruit cups, her new obsession.

"I love it." Those words barely did her emotions justice, but she made sure to give them all extra tight, long hugs. These goofy, serious, badass men were just so wonderful to her.

After, she sat in her chair, soaking it all in. Oliver and Dig were sparring, Roy was running up one of the walls, working on his backflips, and she was at her computer. She hadn't realized that this was what she had missed so much. As much as her apartment was, the Foundry was also her home.

They were working on some suspicious shipments that had come into the docks where the Triad did most of their business, and Felicity got right to work. The huge screens didn't strain her eyes like the ones at her house did, and she was genuinely surprised when Oliver asked how everything was going. She had been working for three hours straight!

"How are you doing?"

"Like you haven't been watching me like a hawk." Her sweet smile took the bite out of the words that would otherwise sound accusatory. "I'm happy."

"I'm glad." His eyes were on hers again and they were doing that thing - that thing that she couldn't figure out yet, but it was happening all the time now. It was like his eyes were soft and open but still dark and mischievous, as if he was waiting for her to catch on to some joke he just told.

The clearing of a throat interrupted them.

"Right, so, Roy and I are going to go patrol, and we're going to see if one of us can grab that ship's manifest."

"Who on earth doesn't keep an electronic log nowadays?" Felicity grumbled, earning the begrudging smile from Oliver. Another favorite.

"Are you okay to be here on comms with Dig, or are you getting ready to call it a night?"

She appreciated that he hadn't phrased it like, "or do you need to go home and sleep because you have cancer?" He was making it seem like it was just a regular night, BC, and she might leave early of her own volition. She was pleased to note that she felt pretty good. Her eyes were getting a little tired, but her body was still going strong. She could handle this.

"I'm good for this. Dig and I will man the fort. Well, he'll man the fort. I'll woman the fort. Although that kind of makes it sound like I'm going to dress this place up and while I mean, I did bring flowers a few times, it's not like it makes the place that womanly, it just kind of made it more homey and even men have homes-"

"I think we're good, man," Dig interrupted, pulling a chair up next to Felicity's. "Just like old times. Exactly like old times."

She watched with barely concealed pleasure as Oliver suited up, the leather conforming to his body just the way she had missed. She caught Dig giving her a look and she shrugged.

"What? You said it was just like old times, so…"

They left shortly after and she sunk back in her chair, reveling in the silence between her and Dig and the muffled thump of the bass from Verdant.

"You doing okay?"

She looked at Dig questioningly. This was the most broad question she was struggling getting used to, but she hadn't known Dig to ask it. He looked pointedly at her hair.

"Oh. That. Oliver told you?"

"He didn't have to, Felicity. You suddenly decided to cut off 6 inches out of the blue? I'm gonna notice that."

"You notice everything."

"It's in the job description. So. Hair?"

He waited quietly the few moments it took for her to respond.

"It's thinning. Not like, falling out in clumps but still...it sucks. A lot."

"I know I'm probably the one person in this entire thing that can't relate to that at all," he self-consciously ran his hand over her smooth, shorn head, "but every day that you fight this, I think you look more beautiful."

"I know it's just hair and that it'll grow back and all-"

"Hey," a big, warm hand settled on her arm. "You don't have to pretend like it isn't a big deal. I may not have any idea what you're going through, but neither does anyone else. Anything you feel, Felicity, we will respect. You got that?"

"For someone who doesn't know what I'm going through, you seem to know exactly what to say."

He huffed out a laugh. "Funny you mention it. None of us have any idea what to say; we don't want to make it worse, but we just want to be supportive. If any of us ever says something that you don't like, or that doesn't help, you just tell us, okay?"

"I don't really know what words I want to hear until I hear them, I guess," she mused, remembering Detective Lance's words from earlier in the week. "I don't know what I'm doing," she muttered.

"We'll figure it out together."

That was just the kind of promise she apparently needed to hear.

She had practically passed out when she got home later that night with Oliver, but she felt more accomplished than she had in weeks, which was saying something. Her body was waging a war against a disease that could very well be unstoppable, but she felt good because she hacked into some systems and traced some accounts. She wasn't sure if that was hubris or what.

She went in early to the Foundry the next day - well, more like afternoon, after she finally woke up from a near-comatose sleep - and worked diligently until Oliver told her she had to go home and rest. They had just walked in to her apartment with him suggesting a few different options for dinner when Felicity felt the room swim just a little.

"So, dinner? Raisa sent me with like, four different meals I can just thaw."

"Hm. I'm not really feeling well right now, but maybe later?"

"What kind of 'not feeling well?'" Oliver questioned, by her side instantly in the doorway to the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

It was a weird sensation in Felicity, and she really just wanted to lie down and pretend it wasn't happening. She was suddenly so fatigued and the idea of food made her feel vaguely queasy but every time she closed her eyes, the feeling intensified.

"Yeah, I think I just need to get some rest." And then she felt it wash over her and she blanched. A quick look down the hall and she knew she wouldn't make it to the bathroom. She practically shoved Oliver out of the way as she hunched over the kitchen sink, her heavy lunch of spaghetti and sauce not sitting well with her at all. She was dimly aware of Oliver right behind her, being extra careful with her hair, trying not to pull or jostle it too much. It was suddenly way too much and tears came on fast and strong.

When she felt like she was finished, she straightened up a little, immediately missing Oliver's soothing touch on her back, and she rinsed out the sink and started gathering towels to rinse and make sure she cleaned everything immaculately.

"Hey, I can do that, why don't you - are you okay?" He noticed the tears which were silently still coursing down her cheeks. "Do we need to go to the doctors?"

"No, I feel better, I just - I'm so sorry, Oliver!"

"What? Don't apologize. Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just...I'm so embarrassed and I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired and this is only the beginning and how am I going to-" Her sobs cut off her ramble and Oliver found himself wishing he had spoken up before she was unable to speak. Her own emotions interrupting her was officially his least favorite way for her to stop talking.

He gathered her in his arms and she sagged into his embrace easily. He soothed her with quiet words and she was pretty sure some of it was Russian, but it calmed her and she let it relax her and take the edge off of her emotions.

She didn't protest when he led her to her room and pulled out some sweatpants from a drawer and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with one of his own tee shirts. She just rolled her eyes and dressed quickly while his back was turned. He set about turning her blankets down and getting her an empty trashcan to leave by her bed in case she got sick again, plus a water bottle as she went and brushed her teeth.

She crawled back into the bed and he tucked the blankets tightly around her. Tears were still occasionally spilling out but she seemed much calmer.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled again.

"Stop."

"Why do you...why are you still here? All I do is puke and whine and I'm not even going to look like myself soon!"

"Hey, I don't care about that. Have you been worrying about that? I'm going to be here - I'm not -" He groaned in frustration, unable to find the right words for this inevitable situation. "I don't care if you have no hair, or if you gain seventy pounds, or if you lose thirty. All I care about is you. Being alive. That's what I care about."

She nodded but kept her eyes squinched shut. She heard the words, but they barely processed. She knew that it was easy for him to say that now, for him to think that while she still had a full head of hair, and still looked the same for the most part. But what happened after?

"Look at me, Felicity." She peeked her eyes open, surprised to see the most serious look she had ever seen on Oliver's face while he was talking to her. He spoke quietly, in carefully measured words and with a cadence that forced her to pay attention. "I am here, with you...because I can't not be. Do you understand?"

She knew she was hyper emotional, but a part of her still thought that maybe he was telling her more than his words could convey. Her brain could hardly comprehend it, let alone believe it, but there was still this niggling feeling of hope that was creeping through her thoughts. Maybe…

"Felicity? Do you understand?"

"I...I think so?"

He nodded as if he had expected that response and his face instantly softened, the seriousness making way for a calm that she leeched off of. The fatigue was back and stronger than ever, and she felt her eyelids grow heavier.

"I'll be here when you understand."

"And the day after that?" She smiled sleepily, recalling their previous conversation.

"And the day after that," he agreed. "And the one after that."

"Good."

"Trust me. Get some sleep, okay? Call for me if you still aren't feeling well when you wake up and I'll bring you some medicine or crackers."

"Thanks, Oliver."

"You don't have to thank me. Sleep." And he kissed her forehead and was gone.

She slept until Monday afternoon and she knew her body needed it desperately. She was pleasantly surprised to have not noticed much shedding in the shower, even if she was taking painstaking care to not touch her hair too much, it was always relieving to see that it wasn't clogging her drain. She was also pleasantly surprised to find Roy on her couch in her living room when she greeted the day.

"Oh, thank god," he breathed when she walked in. "If you didn't wake up soon I was going to have to tell Oliver when he calls back in another few minutes and I'm pretty sure he would have called the police at that point."

"He's a worrywart. Speaking of police, did Detective Lance stop by?"

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings were still their coffee date. She had mentioned that she might be up for actually going to grab coffee at their place near QC, but she had slept right through any semblance of morning.

"As a matter of fact, yes. He stopped by with some muffins and coffee but didn't want to wake you."

"Really? Muffins?" Her stomach growled loudly, desperately needing sustenance. Roy nodded to a bag on the table which she picked up and peered inside before cocking her eyebrow at him. "Muffins? There is one in this bag."

"I might have had one or two."

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him, tearing into the muffin. "This is not going to do it for me. I need food."

"Oliver should be home soon, I can call him and tell him to pick up some stuff for us on his way back."

"Where is he? And ooh, do you think he'd get some of that mac and cheese from the little panini place off Westlake?"

Roy let out a huge laugh at that, but she didn't understand what was so funny and told him so.

"Oh, you were serious? Yeah, of course he will. It was just really funny that you thought he might say no. Yeah, right. And he's at QC, or was anyway. Had a meeting with Walter about something, I'm not sure. Let me call him right now and I'll tell him about your need for pasta and my need for a hot pressed ham and cheese."

"Can't forget that."

"So," Roy's smile told her she wasn't going to enjoy the upcoming conversation. "I notice that Oliver's stuff is all still here."

"It's true, sometimes Oliver leaves and doesn't take everything he owns with him. He's weird like that."

"What I meant was that his stuff is still here in your place. Not going anywhere."

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "You're going to need to spell it out for me, Roy."

"'Just for a week or so,' 'just to get into a routine,' any of these things sounding familiar to you? I thought he wasn't hanging out here for that long."

He was definitely right, Oliver staying with her indefinitely wasn't really a thing that had ever been discussed. But he had been so wonderful lately, and in the wake of last night, she thought that them being together was something they both needed. She certainly wasn't going to be the one to kick him out - he could leave when he was good and ready, as far as she was concerned. She wouldn't beg him to stay if he wanted to leave, but until then, she was content with how things were going and was even surprised at how much she needed him. At how much she enjoyed his constant presence.

"I've only gone to the Foundry twice, why do you think I have a routine down already?" She deflected.

"Alright, if that's the story you're going with, I'll let it slide...for now."

"It's not a story. It is true. It is a nonfiction story. Facts. Very factual."

"I can tell it is by the way you won't stop talking about it," he laughed.

"Not a word, Roy Harper. Not. A. Word."

He silently picked up an X-Box controller and waved it in her face with a shit-eating grin. She just rolled her eyes and turned the TV on. She focused on that until Oliver waltzed into the room no more than fifteen minutes later, mac and cheese in hand and a smile on his face.

"Feeling better?"

She nodded. "Feeling hungry. Feed me!"

"As you wish."

"Do you need me at the Foundry tonight?" She asked around a huge mouthful and watched as the smile slid off his face and was replaced with a more hesitant look.

"I think maybe we should take it easy at the Foundry."

She put down her fork. "I'm fine, I promise. I won't stay too long, and if I start feeling even a little bit sick, I'll stop looking at the computers. I just like being around you guys there. It feels better. Please?" She couldn't believe she had stooped so low as to be begging to go to their secret vigilante hideout, but on the other hand - she totally could.

Oliver had a right to be worried, but he had to trust her when she said if she could handle it. She was going to be better about taking stock of her physical inventory and making sure she didn't overdo it. She had to be better, especially if she didn't want a repeat of last night's less-than-pleasant kitchen activity.

"You'll lie down on the couch if you need to rest?"

"Oliver, I will lie down on top of you if that's what it takes to put your mind at ease." Roy started to open his mouth to say something. "Shut up, Roy, that is not what I meant." She looked back at Oliver, eyes pleading. "I promise. I'll be good."

"Okay. But if you get sick there, we come home right away and you don't put up a fight."

"Not even a little one?"

"Felicity."

"Sounds good!"

Oliver played an hour or so of video games with her and they even watched an action flick on Netflix before she convinced him to head to the lair with her. True to her word, she was careful not to strain herself too hard, and the evening passed without incident.

She and him spent most of Tuesday morning there as well, with him crafting arrows and her updating their firmware and organizing computer files to make it more easy for someone other than her to use. She wasn't crazy about the idea of someone else touching her babies, but she knew she was smarter to make the process as painless and user-friendly as possible. She even walked Dig through some of her search software that she used and had him run a trial search on Oliver's high school records. The two of them spent the rest of the day making fun of him for his A+ in Home Ec during his junior year.

On Wednesday, she felt good enough to meet Lance for coffee and she relished that little bit of Post Cancer normalcy between the two of them. She didn't bother going to the lair, too tired to really make an effort to get there on a Wednesday no less, but spent Thursday afternoon there and spent quite a few hours Friday night monitoring comms and helping Oliver, Dig, and Roy, as they attacked some henchmen that were working for China White.

Saturday was a bit of a waste, having not gotten home from the lair until about 3 a.m., much to Oliver's distaste, and on Sunday, Thea took her to see Tyrone and get her hair trimmed a bit more and styled in a way that hid any thinning that it was doing. She knew that it wasn't going to keep - this last hurrah she was giving her hair was never meant to last this long, but she couldn't bring herself to cut it off in a more dramatic fashion when all it was doing was thinning. She told herself that the second it started to come out in clumps, or it had thinned so much that she could see her scalp, that was when she would do a drastic cutting (and subsequently commit to wearing a wig.)

Before she knew it, it was Monday, and Oliver was standing behind her as she stared at her reflection in the floor length mirror he had bought her, wondering what the next transformation she would see in herself. Would her hair go first? Would that be the most noticeable? Or would she lose a few more pounds by being sick again, and her prominent clavicle - already more noticeable than it had been a few months prior - be the thing that attracted attention the next time she stood in front of that mirror?

"Are you ready?"

She appreciated him not calling her out on one of her many self-judging expeditions.

"Can I say no?"

"Yes. But we're still going to have to go."

And so she turned away from herself, knowing it very well may be the last time for a long while until she saw that very same reflection looking back at her, and took Oliver's hand as he led them out of the apartment.

1 Chemotherapy treatment down, 7 more to go.