A/N: Oh MAN. This is a serious chapter. So much happens. SO MUCH HAPPENS. I probably could have divided it up a bit so it wasn't SO MUCH in one chapter, but this was the way I initially wrote it and I decided to stick with it. It doesn't all get resolved at the same time either so just...hold on to your pants okay. I don't want to give too much away so there's a note at the bottom as well. Hope you all like this!

"You guys are all ridiculous."

Felicity couldn't help smiling every time she looked at Detective Lance and his short shaved head in front of her. He slid a mug of coffee and her muffin across the table to her as he settled into the chair adjacent to her at what he now deemed 'their' coffee shop.

"Thank you," she told him seriously. He gave her a warning look. "For the coffee! That's all. I would never dream to thank you for doing anything else that may or may not be very sweet of you."

She had laughed so hard she cried when Dig had regaled her with the story of Oliver and Lance's meeting two days prior. These sweet, stupid men, getting all riled at the thought that one of them had managed to beat the other to a compassionate act. It was so funny to her, but really drove home the point that she was surrounded by some of the best people in the entire world. She hadn't gone off on Oliver's hair, instead choosing to echo his comment of 'you look just as beautiful as you did this morning,' to him, to which he looked suitably affronted at the thought of being considered beautiful.

In reality, she just couldn't think of any original words that would do justice to how these men made her feel. Her idle comment about having the shortest hair out of the group was heard and more than that, it was addressed. She had been doing what she considered well at the loss of her hair, and Oliver's buzz cut and news of Lance's identical one did a lot to help that along.

Dig hadn't mentioned Roy's cut though, apparently feeling as if this was something the boy deserved to show off himself. So when he walked in Monday evening with a huge bucket of fried chicken and little to no hair, all the self control Felicity had disappeared and she promptly burst into tears.

Roy froze at the door.

"Whoa, I can leave and go get something else if you really don't want chicken-"

"Your hair!" Felicity's voice was muffled by the hands clasped in front of her mouth, but it was understood well enough.

"Does it look that bad?" He self-consciously ran a hand over it. Thea had liked it well enough, if her very enthusiastic response in the storage room was any indication, so he hadn't thought it was all that big of a deal.

"You idiot, I love it," she told him as she gathered him in a huge hug, a stark contrast to the typical displays of affection as of late, where she was the one being hugged tightly.

"Official haircut of Team Arrow," Roy told her proudly.

"We are not Team Arrow," Oliver called out from the kitchen where he was pouring drinks.

"Besides, Lance got the same cut too," Dig told Roy. "And I don't think he wants to be on Team Arrow."

"Fine," Roy shrugged. "Official haircut of Team Felicity."

Team Felicity. It didn't sound so bad.

Those words echoed through her head as she stared unabashedly at Detective Lance.

"Stop starin', you're making it weird," he told her. She just smiled and began to eat her muffin. "I see you didn't go the black route, despite my advice." He nodded to the wig that she was sporting.

The long blonde wig made Felicity feel a hundred times more human, she had to admit. She didn't care if it was vain or stupid or shallow; all she knew was that this wig gave her the courage to meet Detective Lance out in public on that Wednesday morning, and nothing about that was bad.

"I decided to stick with what I know. Besides, I love bucking the 'dumb blonde' stereotype."

"Well you are certainly anything but dumb," he agreed.

"Just wait. Apparently one of the symptoms of chemo is 'chemo brain.' They say it'll make it hard to remember things and focus." She shoved a chunk of muffin in her mouth. "Just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

"Can't say I'm too disappointed. Maybe now you'll be on even footing with the rest of us mortals and our brains."

She smiled at that and threw a tiny blueberry at him, laughing when he picked it up off the table and put it in his mouth. "And they're worried about my immune system!"

"Me?" He held his hands up, a huge smile on his face. "I'm healthy as a horse. Nothing can bring me down."

"As healthy as a healthy ho-"

"Dad?" Laurel Lance stood next to their table, curiously taking in the pair in front of her. "Thought you had a meeting this morning?"

"Ah, yeah. I do. I'm just...stopping to get some coffee first." His name was called from a barista, signaling that his croissant sandwich was ready. He excused himself quickly, not really willing to leave the two females alone but not seeing another choice.

"Felicity, hi. Since when do you and my father get coffee?"

"Since...you know, a while." She didn't really want to get into this with Laurel, but she was the tone in her voice cause her to suspect that the woman was less accepting of her father's relationship with her than she had anticipated.

"I heard you took some time off from QC. You and Ollie."

"Just ah, taking care of some things. It's not permanent or anything." She started to fidget, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. She didn't relish the idea of being alone with Laurel Lance on a good day, let alone on a day where she seemed to be focusing all of her interrogation training on her.

"And how is Oliver?"

"He's...good." Where the hell was Detective Lance? She knew that she was probably two seconds away from putting her foot in her mouth and getting someone she loved into some sort of hot water.

"He always did love long hair."

She could've sworn her heart stopped. What was Laurel playing at? Did she know? Had she seen? Had Quentin told her?

"I'm-I'm sorry?" She saw the detective making his way through the crowd, practically pushing people out of the way in his effort to get back.

"Your extensions," Laurel reached out and fingered a lock of her long hair.

Felicity couldn't help her instinctive response to bat the woman's hand away. This was her hair. Her wig. She didn't need someone touching it, risking it moving. Not only that but this hair was her security blanket. No one was supposed to know!

"They're nice quality. Oliver really bought you the best."

"Excuse me?" Her anxiety was quickly being overridden by anger that was rising in her. For Laurel to come in and insinuate that not only had she gotten hair extensions for Oliver, but that Oliver himself had paid for them? Like she was some kind of girl that could just be bought for a guy? It was insulting to both her and him!

"You got your hair cut shorter three weeks ago with Thea Queen. There's no way that it grew out this long in such a short period of time. That, plus Oliver always being around you? Taking time off to be together? It doesn't take a genius to put it together. But that's what you are, right? Some sort of genius?"

"You girls getting along okay?" Quentin finally made it back to the table and was quick to pick up on the tension. Felicity couldn't find the words to speak to defend herself to Laurel, so completely frustrated and disgusted with the woman in front of her.

Laurel quickly turned to her father. "You know, I thought it was just some sort of midlife crisis. The blonde hair that was always on you and the way you've been so busy lately. If you want to date some 25 year old then that's fine, dad. I just never thought that you'd settle for Oliver Queen's sloppy seconds."

Felicity spluttered at the vitriol, but couldn't get her mouth to form words. Chemo brain already, or was she just taken completely aback by Laurel?

"You are out of line, Laurel," Lance gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Am I? I'm not the one jeopardizing everything to date some blonde bimbo. You really think anyone on the force is going to respect you when they find out that you're dating the same girl as Oliver Queen?"

Quentin's eyes darted towards Felicity, who looked more shocked than anything. She was pale, her wide eyes taking in the scene around her yet unable to do anything about it, and her hands were shaking ever so slightly. For all her distaste for the woman, she knew she had to say something to convince Laurel of how epically wrong she was.

"It's not like that, Laurel. Your dad and I - it's not what you think. It's just that -"

"It's none of your damn business, is what it is," Lance barked out. "You want to come in here and accuse me doing god knows what then that is your prerogative, but I do not have to stand here and take it. And neither does she."

He reached his hand out for Felicity's, who hesitantly slipped hers in his. She didn't want to drive a wedge between Lance and his daughter, in fact, that had always been something that she was very vocal about, not coming between the two of them. She had never anticipated it coming to something like this, to hear those kind of accusations.

"Come on, kid, let's get you out of here," he told her softly, leading her out of the shop, aware that Laurel was following closely behind.

"'Kid?'" She questioned once they were out of the busy shop and onto the sidewalk where she had run into her father just two days before. "Don't you hear yourself? Can't you see that this is wrong?"

He whipped around.

"What is wrong is my own daughter standing there, yelling about things she has no idea about. What is wrong is the fact that you think you somehow stand above either one of us, judging like you understand what is happening. What is wrong-" He forced himself to take a deep breath and to lower his voice, stepping closer to Laurel. "What is wrong is that you think you had any right to talk to your own father like that, or any other person. You better come to your senses quick, Laurel, before you say the wrong thing to the wrong person. They might not be as understanding as I am."

He quickly turned away, ushering Felicity to his cruiser that was parked nearby. She had met him there that morning but he didn't think she needed to be driving just then. He'd have Oliver and his driver pick up the car later.

"You okay, kid?" He asked her after a few minutes of silence. "She had no right to say those things, you know that, right?"

"I'm sorry," Felicity whispered.

"The hell are you apologizing for?"

"I never meant...you should've just let me told her, Detective. She would've understood."

"She doesn't deserve to understand right now. And I don't deserve to have my daughter accuse me of things like that. Not that you're not beautiful, kid, 'cause you are, but you're just a little too young for me. Not that you're too young in general, I just-"

"You've been hanging out with me too much," she interrupted, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Guess I have."

"Are you okay?" She finally asked. His hands were clutching his steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white and she noted the tick in his jaw from clenching his teeth.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Left my damn croissant sandwich there though."

She let him have that, not pressing for anything else. She could let him process the way he needed to, since he was always doing the same for her.

"Guess this hair doesn't look as realistic as I thought," she mused, fingering a few strands.

"Why do you say that?"

"Laurel complimented me on my nice new extensions."

"Well, I'm not entirely sure what the hell those are but I think the hair looks mighty fine the way it is. You wear that wig as much or as little as you want, don't let people like my daughter tell you differently."

He pulled up to her house and she insisted she was fine, that she didn't need him to come in with her. He sighed loudly at that but agreed; he had to get to work anyway. She leaned over and brushed a kiss over his cheek.

"Thank you," she told him sincerely before getting out of the passenger seat.

"That's a freebie," he called after her. "Don't think I'll let it go next time!"

She stuck her tongue out at him and waved as he drove away. What a morning it had been.

She closed the door to her apartment and sagged against it, closing her eyes.

"You're back early."

"Jesus, what the hell, Oliver!" She jumped a mile at the sound of his unexpected voice. "What are you still doing here?"

Usually he went to QC or the lair or ran errands when she was with Lance. She hadn't known him to stay at her place. She had seen his bike in the drive, but she figured Dig must've picked him up.

"Had a conference call this morning with Russia. Your internet connection is better than QC's."

"Hey, I designed QC's network!"

"Why are you back so soon? Everything okay?"

"I believe they invented the words 'train wreck' to describe mornings like mine," she lamented, relaxing into the couch. Oliver joined her shortly after, his mini office set-up at the table all but forgotten.

"Was it Lance?" He hadn't known the man to say or do anything thus far that would upset Felicity, but it was the only thing that popped into his mind.

"It was a Lance. Laurel, to be specific. She found us at the coffee shop and you know what, I change my mind. 'Unmitigated disaster' is a better way to describe what happened today."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Ugh, she saw us together and just...I don't know. Freaked, I guess? She first accused me of having you buy me hair extensions which, I'll have you know that while Thea did buy this wig for me, I could've bought it myself! She just said it was a gift and I let her because I thought it would make her feel better. And I think it did, and she gets all happy when she sees me wear it so-"

"Felicity. Is that all that happened?"

"I wish. She pretty much accused me of dating both you and Detective Lance."

He didn't want to, but he could feel it happening. First just the corner of one lip, and then the other…

"This is not funny!"

"I know, I know, it's not. But the idea...it's a little funny."

She rolled her eyes at him and continued. "Well, Lance found it even less funny than I did and called her out on it right there in the middle of the shop. He wouldn't even let me tell her what was actually going on, instead he told her that it wasn't any of her business and drove me home. Speaking of which, I need to go get my car…"

"Roy and Dig can get it. Are you okay?"

She thought about that for a moment. "I guess. I feel horrible though. Lance yelled at her and listened to her say such ridiculous things and didn't even defend himself. I feel like I'm this huge roadblock in their relationship."

"Hey, you can't change the way Laurel thinks or how Lance reacts. That's not yours to worry about. And they're family. They'll work it out."

"And you? She thinks we're dating, Oliver. Not only that, but she thinks I'm two-timing you with her dad." She paused. "God, that really is a ridiculous sentence."

"Well, it's about time someone cheated on me for a change," he joked. "Felicity, half of QC thinks I got you pregnant. Even before you were sick, people thought we might be together. This isn't anything new. We'll deal with it like we always have, okay?"

"Don't remind me about QC," she groaned.

"I was thinking if you felt up for it, maybe tomorrow or Friday we could go into the office and see Walter." She perked up at that. "I know you wanted to tell him what was happening and this way people will see you without looking...you know."

"Pregnant."

"Yeah, that." He could see her internal debate raging. "It'll be good practice. You telling someone, I mean. I'll be there the entire time."

He had a good point. She wasn't incredibly close with Walter, but it would still be difficult to say the words aloud. She needed to get used to this a little bit if she wanted to have any hope to explain her situation to Sara or her mother when the time came.

"Yeah, okay. Fine. We can do that."

Which was how she found herself standing in front of Queen Consolidated at 10 a.m. the next day in one of her tightest dresses, nervously fiddling with her hair.

"Does it look okay?"

"Yes. For the millionth time, Felicity, you look incredible."

"You don't think I'm trying too hard?" Her royal purple peplum dress hugged every single curve she had, pronouncing her tiny - very not pregnant - waist and her skinny thighs. The wig fell in perfect place, looking like she just left the salon once again, and she had forgone her glasses in favor of contacts for some reason that she now regretted, having nothing to shield her from the rest of the world. She tugged at the neckline, quadruple checking that it covered any outward sign of her implanted port.

"I think if we stand out here any longer, the security guards are going to ask us to move."

"Okay, let's do it."

Her fingers itched to grab onto his and borrow some of his strength, but she knew that this was neither the time or place. There was no point to this little exercise if she was just going to be latched on to Oliver.

They made their way inside, nodding and saying hi to a few familiar but curious employees that they saw.

"So far so good," she muttered as the elevator brought them up to the executive floor.

"You're doing fine," he soothed. "I'm right here. Not going anywhere."

She was sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest as she smiled (or at least she thought she smiled) at Walter's secretary and followed Oliver into his office. This was terrifying. As much as she hated the way Oliver, Dig, and Roy had found out, there was something to be said for the lack of preparation. She hadn't had time to feel this sort of anxiety coursing through her body. For the last 24 hours, all she had thought about was what she was going to say to Walter, how she was going to spit out the words that now ruled her life. Her stomach had been turning almost constantly and her head pounded harshly with unspoken words.

"Miss Smoak!"

Walter's smile was genuine and it made Felicity forget for a moment where she was and why she was there. He instantly stood and made his way around his desk, embracing her in a light, gentle hug.

"It's so good to see you!" He took a step back and turned his head as he sneezed. "You'll have to forgive me, I seem to be getting over a bit of a cold currently."

Before she could even think about what that meant, Oliver had a small travel-sized thing of hand sanitizer out, offering it to her. She took it gratefully, slathering her hands and even her forearms.

"I'm sorry about that," Walter looked more than a little confused. "I don't think I'm contagious still…"

"No, it's not that," Felicity rushed to reassure the man. "Well, I mean, it kind of is that. But it's not your fault. You didn't know. No one knows, actually. It's a secret."

"I'm not sure I understand."

She felt Oliver's hand come down on her shoulder, rubbing small, soothing circles with his thumb. She could do this. He was here. She could say the words, she knew she could.

"I'm not pregnant," she began. "And I'm not in rehab or anything."

"I don't think I've actually heard that rumor."

"But I am...sick." She thought she might get sick at that moment for all the nerves that she had, but she swallowed it back, focusing on the man in front of her and the solid, sturdy presence behind her.

"Sick?"

The silence was drawn out between them. This was it. She had to say the words. She had to tell this man what was happening. She had to, she had to, she had to.

She felt Oliver's chest rise as he took a deep breath of air and she knew that he was about to do it for her. To shoulder this burden, like he did with so many others, to do what she couldn't. She wasn't about to let that happen.

"I have cancer," she blurted out, feeling the hitch in Oliver's breathing. "That's why I took time off from QC. And that's what Oliver has been helping me with."

"Oh, my dear." Walter looked physically pained, a look that she had seen many times before on Oliver's face, or Dig's, or Lance's, or Roy's, or Thea's, and it almost killed her. She was the cause of so many people's suffering and there was nothing she could do about it. "I would love to give you a hug, but I would never want to jeopardize your health. I'm sorry about earlier."

"It's fine, you didn't know. I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Or that I didn't let Oliver tell you sooner."

"This is your secret to tell and I respect that immensely. Do you mind if I ask what kind of cancer you have?"

"Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma, aggressive, stage 4," she recited.

"If there is anything I can do-"

"You're doing enough. You're helping out at QC and letting Oliver take the time and...that's a lot, really. Thank you."

"Of course." His brown eyes were soft and open, and Felicity could see the emotions swirling there. She was glad she had told the man, despite how hard it was. "I must say, you look fantastic. I never would've guessed…"

Oliver let them speak for a few more minutes before clearing his throat. He could see that it had been tough for Felicity to take that step, and she looked a little worse for wear now.

"If you don't mind, Walter, it's been a long morning for us…"

"Yes, yes, of course, of course. Thank you for stopping by. Thank you for telling me, Miss Smoak."

"You're welcome. Thanks for...well, everything."

They left shortly after with Oliver promising to get him some revised paperwork he had been after earlier that week, and Felicity slumped into the passenger seat.

"You did it."

"I did it."

"How do you feel?"

"Honestly? Nauseous." Oliver's eyes widened in alarm. "No, don't worry, I just think I hyped myself up too much. I didn't get much sleep last night either, I was so nervous, so I think I just need to go lie down and take it easy."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

He got them home without incident and tucked her in bed over her weak protests that she wasn't a child.

"You sure you don't need anything else?"

"I didn't the last five times you asked, so no. I'm okay."

"I'm going to leave the door open, okay? I'll be right in the kitchen if you need anything-"

"If you don't get out of my room right now…"

"I'm going, I'm going," he smiled at her grumpy face, eliciting one out of her in return. With one soft hand over her buzzed head, as she preferred not to sleep with the wig on, even for naps, he stood and made his way to the door. He stood in the doorway and watched her before she grumbled at him to go once more.

He woke her up at around 3 p.m. to see if she was interested in food, but she just grimaced and shook her head. He made her take her temperature as he watched, willing to be the over protective friend in this instance despite her glares. No sign of a fever, thankfully.

At around 8 p.m. she woke up herself, feeling clammy and nauseous, but determined not to get sick.

"You haven't used the bathroom in hours, Felicity. Are you sure you don't want to get out of bed? I can call Thea, if you want," he offered, unsure if it was his presence that might be embarrassing her.

"Just want to sleep," she mumbled. He took her temperature again, and it was slightly elevated, just up a degree, but not near the point of concern that they were told to go into the hospital for. At that point he decided that he would just stay next to her, monitoring, since he wasn't getting any sleep on the couch, doing nothing but worrying over her. If he had it his way, she would have been at the hospital that afternoon, but he knew how traumatic the hospital was for her. He was worrying out of his mind at that moment, yes, but he didn't think he wanted to risk the wrath of Felicity if she woke up unnecessarily in the hospital without ever having a fever that spiked high.

It was 1 a.m. when her whimpering woke Oliver up instantly. She felt like her bones were on fire, like her entire body was burning from the inside out.

"Can I have some Tylenol?" She whispered as he rested his hand on her forehead.

"I just gave you some a few hours ago," he told her regretfully. "Let me get you some water and I'll check your temperature again."

"I don't feel well," she murmured.

"I know," he told her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. This was the first time waking that Felicity had acknowledged that she might not be as healthy as she thought and that alone was concerning to Oliver.

He returned quickly and helped her sit up a bit, instantly worried when he noticed how her tank top stuck to her with sweat, despite the open window and the thin blanket she had on.

He swore when he saw the thermometer.

"We have to go to the hospital, Felicity."

A/N2: So much! So many feels!

First - I know everyone wanted to see Felicity's reaction to Oliver's hair, but I didn't want to make it into too huge of a deal. Roy was enough, for me, and Team Felicity is like, the cutest thing in the world. Dead. And trust me, like I said before - the hair saga is never really over. You never just suddenly get used to not having hair.

Second - Laurel isn't the bad guy in this fic. Honest to goodness. She's calling things as she sees them and while it might be frustrating, just know that she's not the villain. Just another person trying to figure things out. Also, the love I have for Papa Lance in this could PROBABLY MOVE MOUNTAINS.

Third - OH SNAP WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT

Love all of your faces so much! Thanks for reading!