A/N: I know - a day early! But I have a wicked early start tomorrow (4am UGH) and thought I'd get it out of the way now. You should all wish me luck with a 6 hour drive to Atlanta with a huge Great Dane in the backseat. Both of us have a tendency to lose our patience at around hour 5.

I hope y'all like this chapter! It was very fun to write and very - idk. I love Dig. And Oliver. And I love Papa Lance. Wanna hug all of them. Enjoy!

Felicity wasn't surprised that when Sara dropped her off - complete with a walk through of the apartment because that was necessary ("Who is going to attack the girl with cancer? Honestly, the criminals of Starling City at least pretend to have some morals. They wouldn't do that.") - that Oliver was no where to be seen. She was half-convinced he was just hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to fall asleep, but if that was true, he didn't have to wait long. It took the last reserves of her energy to get her makeup off and she barely looked as she slid the wig off and left it on her nearby dresser. She fell into a deep, easy sleep so quickly she wasn't even sure if she pulled the blankets up around her.

She slept well into the next morning and then some, disappointed yet not when she found Dig at her kitchen table around 11 a.m.

"Courtesy of Detective Lance," he told her, nudging a familiar brown bag holding what she knew to be her cherished muffin in it.

"Damn, I missed another one," she said around her mouthful. It was Wednesday morning, and she only had two more days before she checked in to the hospital for her usual pre-chemo tests and she had missed the last two coffee dates with Lance, which hurt particularly hard because she was allowed out of the apartment for them. This was going to be the last one before she checked in on Friday and she hadn't gotten to go to the shop with him once.

"He actually wanted me to tell you that he wants to go out to eat with you tonight."

"Are you taking my messages for me, Dig? Because you know, I gotta tell you, I'm starting to see the allure to the whole 'EA business' thing now."

"Laugh it up, Chuckles. He left this for you." He handed over a folded piece of legal pad paper and she read Lance's haphazard scrawl within.

"Reading my mail now?" She half-heartedly accused.

"I'm curious like a cat."

"Cats die of curiosity, I'll remind you." Her words sent her back in time to her not-so-pleasant conversation with Laurel two weeks prior, which brought her to the message in hand. "He wants to take me out to eat with Sara and Laurel."

Dig couldn't even hide his smile behind his mug. "I will be very sad to be missing that."

"Liar," she grumbled. She didn't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, she thought a dinner with Sara and Detective Lance sounded great. As for the Laurel aspect, well, she could probably do without that. She knew that the Detective had been making good headway with his eldest ever since their awkward talk, but he was always a bit quiet in regards to it. She wasn't sure if that was to spare her feelings or his.

"You gonna go?"

She shrugged. "It'll be good to get out of the house before I get locked up in Starling General again. Not to mention a night away from our favorite vigilante might be good for me."

"Don't let Sara hear you talking like that. Things not too good on the Oliver-front?"

She wasn't sure if this was crossing the territory into 'emotional minefield' but she took the plunge. "I'm sure he told you what I found out last night. About the pictures of me."

"It might have come up this morning over a particularly brutal sparring match, which I have yet to thank you for." He held up his left forearm and gestured to a large, definite bruise that was forming there. "My gratitude."

"Yikes. Sorry. Except not really because I actually have very little control over Oliver's emotions and subsequent inability to control them."

"It's cute that you think that. The man was on the warpath this morning. I said I'd come hang out with you mostly so I didn't have to get my ass handed to me again."

"Gee, thanks."

"You really don't want him going after this woman?"

She let out a huge sigh, sinking into the chair across from him at the table.

"I don't know. I don't think what she did was right, but I don't think we should...vilify her. She made a mistake. It happens."

"In case you haven't noticed, people who make mistakes regarding you aren't really looked upon favorably by Oliver. He's just worried."

"Just like Stephanie is," she pointed out. "For her daughter. And she needed the money. I don't know what to do, Dig. Do I yell at her and risk making her angrier so that she releases more information? Or do I do nothing and just let her think she got away with it?"

"I think first step is involving Oliver. You know he's going to want to be in this anyway, and you going off and talking to her on your own is just a recipe for trouble. Don't look at me like that, you know it's true."

"What would you do?"

He cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Right. Not really relevant and also you would never get yourself in this situation."

"Not entirely sure you could call 'getting cancer' some sort of situation that you got yourself into. This isn't an awkward conversation you can't get out of at a fundraiser."

"Tell me about it. I still get emails from that Merlyn Global board member asking me to join some sort of grassroots campaign for chicken farms. I think it's some sort of play on words, but I have no idea what it is. I just don't get it."

"You two will be fine, just like you always are. And don't respond to those e-mails. That guy is seriously weird." Dig stood up and made his way to the couch. "Since you suddenly have fancy dinner plans and I can tell you're still feeling a bit out of it, what do you say we binge watch some horrible TV that Oliver would hate?"

"I say you're a good man, John Diggle. One of the best, I'd presume."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what they tell me."

Oliver had been scarce all day, only sending curt text responses to Felicity when she told him that she was going to be going out to dinner with the Lances that night, and therefore unable to go to the lair. She knew that she could use a break though, especially since the last time she had been down there, she had discovered news that had gotten her into a fight with Oliver.

Dinner was an early affair, which she knew was in deference to her waning energy levels, but she felt surprisingly good as she got ready. The only problem she ran into was her wardrobe, unfortunately.

Having always been on the slender side, Felicity had very few things that didn't fit her frame perfectly. With every pound she lost, be it from her waning appetite or her chemo-induced sickness, her clothing selection got slimmer and slimmer. She officially had no jeans she could wear without the assistance of a belt and even that was pushing it at times, and she found herself disappointed with the way dresses simply hung off of her bones now. She didn't look particularly frail (yet, she reminded herself), but her jutting clavicle and pronounced hips weren't what she was used to. They weren't what she wanted to see in the mirror.

She was going to have to buy some new things soon, if only because her supply of yoga pants and leggings was woefully small, and they were her preferred clothes of choice as of late. It was getting colder out with every day, not that she left her house all that often, but her collection of Oliver's basketball shorts weren't going to be feasible for that much longer.

It took her thirty minutes to find a lavender, long sleeved sweater dress that had a big cowl neck that she could burrow into if necessary. It was bulky enough that she didn't think her small stature was that noticeable within it, and if she was honest with herself, the bulk was probably why she hadn't immediately thought of it. She had (whether consciously or subconsciously, she'd never admit) taken to wearing form-fitting clothes ever since she started working with Oliver closely. It was actually probably coincidental. Definitely a coincidence.

She set to work on doing her makeup, which was more of a rigorous routine than it had been BC. She had to do essentially the opposite of contouring, trying to flesh out her face and make her look less harsh than her cheekbones wanted her to seem at that moment. That, plus adding a lot of color to her now-normal paleness, ate away at the time until she heard the door to her apartment open and she knew it had to be Sara, picking her up.

"Be there in a minute!" She called out as she slid her wig cap on, grimacing at the tiny hairs that flew off her head at the abrupt motion. She was going to be bald sooner or later, she knew, but that didn't make every hair that fell out less of a tragedy to her. She adjusted the wig carefully, making the slight curl at the end fall around her shoulders just right before slipping on the boots over the grey tights she had chosen.

She studied herself in the mirror. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Not too fancy, because of course they were just going to a local steakhouse with Detective Lance, but she still thought she looked nice. Save for a close inspection, she actually looked remarkably like the old Felicity. She forced her eyes to skip over the parts of herself that she didn't want to focus on and let out a breath. She could do this.

"Hey, sorry, I know I'm running late-" She was shoving her necessities into a smaller purse as she walked down the hall, not looking where she was going until a familiar pair of shoes filled her vision. "Oliver?"

He gave her a barely-there smile but it crinkled his eyes and that was all she cared about.

"You look amazing," he told her as he took a step back and studied her outfit. It was rare she put this much effort into her appearance, especially if she was just going to the lair. The prospect of being surrounded by more people than her immediate group of friends was daunting though, so she had gone the extra mile.

"Thanks. You don't think it's uh, like a bit too much or anything? I know it's just dinner with the Lances but they're kind of like the most beautiful family in Starling, not that you and Thea aren't gorgeous too because you are, not that I was calling you gorgeous, well, okay, I kind of was, but it's not like that's news to you because I know for a fact you are very aware of how good looking you are and did you answer my question or have I just been talking this entire time?"

"You will be the most beautiful woman at that restaurant, I have no doubt." His voice was sincere as he continued to study her and she felt distinctly like she was on display for him. It was interesting but not necessarily uncomfortable.

She felt herself blush at that, her body still not used to Oliver's compliments (and oh how she hoped it never would be) and she smiled at him a big, broad grin. Despite their brief argument, she was still happy to see him. She didn't think that would ever change.

"Well, thank you. Maybe that'll get me a free glass of house red tonight," she kidded.

"Are you sure-"

She stuck her tongue out, allowing him to see it, in response to the question she knew he was going to ask. Any mouth sores or ulcers she had had previously were gone.

"Perfectly fine. And besides, I think I deserve a glass of wine to get through this dinner."

"It won't be that bad."

"My history of any and all interactions with Laurel Lance beg to differ with your assumption."

"You don't have to go, you know. Especially if you're just going to get some space from me."

"Dig has a big mouth," she muttered. "That's not what this is. It'll be nice to get out of the house and do something different. But you and I…"

"Should talk," he finished for her. "And we will. I'll be here when you get back. And if it's too late then we can always talk tomorrow."

"I shouldn't be that late - oh. You mean if I'm too tired."

"I was trying to be nice about it." He leaned forward as he told her that, like it was some sort of secret between the two of them. Once again she couldn't control her body's reaction to him, and she felt her nerves rapidly firing, suddenly very, very aware of just how close his face was to her's.

Before she could as so much breathe (which, granted, took a few long moments), the door to the apartment was swinging open again. Oliver, ready as ever, swiftly stepped in front of her, shielding her entirely before relaxing upon the realization that it was just Sara.

"You ready, Bug?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Well, I kind of like how awkward this is," Felicity said brazenly after about fifteen of the most cringe-worthy moments of her life, sitting at a round table at Starling Steakhouse across from Laurel and Detective Lance, with Sara to her left. The detective smirked and choked out a laugh, looking down at his club soda. "What? I do. At least we're not pretending to have any weird small talk, right? I mean, instead we're just sitting in silence. It's kind of nice."

Sara laughed a bit at that while Laurel looked just as awkward as she had in the beginning.

"She's right, dad." Laurel finally found her voice. "Why did you invite us all out? I mean, surely you see all of us pretty frequently, right?"

"I wanted a night out with my girls, okay? And I think this is a good time for us to get to know each other. It's not often that I get all three of you around and able to go out at the same time."

"It's so weird to hear you refer to Felicity as 'your girl,'" Laurel idly commented, swirling her cosmo.

"He means it in a purely platonic way. Paternal, even. Which you knew because we told you so...great. Good."

"I think it's nice," Sara interjected, alleviating the embarrassment that was coursing Felicity's veins. "He's right, we don't get to do this too often."

"Are you gonna be in town for long?" Detective Lance jumped at the chance to start a conversation.

"Probably. I mean, I think so at least. It can change sometimes, but I'll tell them I need to finish some stuff up here. Stick with Felicity."

"Well, ah, maybe next time your girlfriend can stay and we can do this with everyone." He had no problem at all with his daughter's choices in partners but sometimes he stumbled on the word 'girlfriend' due to the unfamiliarity of it all. Sara appreciated it nonetheless and smiled sweetly at him.

"Maybe. I'll see."

"Maybe some of us can finally meet her," Laurel commented.

"Oh, I met her," Felicity piped up. "She scared me. But I think that's a good thing considering what she - never mind. I mean, everyone kind of scares me, anyway. Sara scared me when I first met her. You kind of still scare me. I mean. Not that you scare me, scare me. I just mean that I- should stop talking. Now."

"I think she's making this the first fun family dinner in a while," Sara told her father and sister.

"Your own family dinners must have been certainly been interesting."

Felicity flushed under Laurel's gaze but decided to be honest anyway. "We didn't really do family dinners. I mean, it was just me and my mom so - yeah. Not a lot of steak dinners growing up."

"Is that why you've latched on to our dad?"

"Laurel!"

"What? I was just wondering!"

"I thought you were over this? I thought you had - I just, I don't know. That's over the line though, and you know it." Detective Lance got up abruptly and ran a hand over his shaved head. "I need to - just give me a second. I need some air."

He left the table and headed to the door, leaving the three women in a silence that was more awkward than before, if that was possible.

"I'm sorry," Laurel eventually spoke, sounding sincere. "I didn't mean it like that."

Sara coughed loudly and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, so maybe I did mean it like that, but it's just - this whole new daughter thing he's got going on, it's weird to me. I don't really know how to act about it."

"I get that it must be strange, but it's - it's nothing bad."

"He likes taking care of her, Laurel. It gives him some sort of purpose and it's not like you and I let him even bring us soup when we're sick. He likes this, so we should let him have it."

"I know, yeah, you're right. I'll try. I'm sorry, Felicity."

"It's okay. I'm never going to take your guys' places or anything though, I hope you know that. I don't want to. But it is kind of nice having someone who isn't Oliver hold my hair back when I'm sick. So I'm going to go get him and -"

"Oh, he'll be back in a few minutes. He used to always get up and go outside when Sara and I would get into fights at dinner when we were younger."

Sara nodded in confirmation. "Just needs a few gulps of air or something and he comes back a new man."

"Do you guys mind if I still…?" She wasn't sure if she was supposed to wait with them in an effort to be 'one of the daughters,' but her gut was telling her to go to the detective. They nodded for her to leave and she slipped out of her chair and traced his footsteps to the door.

She found him outside, kicking his boot against the sidewalk, silently cursing his inability to create sons.

"Are you okay?"

"What - what are you doing out here? It's freezing, you need to get back inside!"

"It's like 50 degrees out, and I just - I wanted to see if you were okay. They said that you'd come back soon, but…"

He huffed. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm a little predictable. But still, you should get back inside."

"Are you okay or not?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry about what Laurel said in there-"

"She already apologized. And I think she half-meant it, too." She smiled at him, trying to elevate his mood. "It's okay, Detective."

"Can't even protect you from one of my daughters," he muttered forlornly.

"I don't think I really need protecting from Laurel. Maybe desensitizing, in which case, you're doing a pretty good job at that. I'm kidding!" She assured him at his affronted look. "She's just trying to get used to things. She had to share her childhood with Sara, and then with Sara's ghost, and now with Sara again plus a girl she doesn't know from anyone. Who has cancer. Not even one of those cute diseases."

He cocked his eyebrow at her.

"What's a 'cute' disease?"

"I don't know, maybe diabetes? There's a lot of puns I could make about being really sweet, but I've been told my sense of humor kind of is terrible…"

"It's kind of terrible," he agreed. "You sure you don't want me to cancel this whole thing? We can go grab some of that bunny food you're fond of down the street or something. Or those soups you've been eating for a few weeks."

"I'm fine, I promise. I think she got it out of her system. And if not, well, I'll just have to keep drinking wine. Sara drove, promise."

"I don't know what I'm going to do with the three of you," he muttered but his voice was much lighter now. He slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her back inside, to the table where the two biological Lance daughters were sitting across from each other in a much easier silence than previously.

"We all good now?" He directed his question at the table, but it was mostly meant for Laurel, who nodded resolutely. "Good. I'm hungry. I need this steak."

"Are you sure you're supposed to be eating an 18 ounce Porterhouse?" Laurel questioned with a sparkle in her eye that Felicity took note of.

"Yeah, maybe you should have a salad," Sara agreed.

"I could grab the waiter, we can switch it right now." Felicity raised her hand in a mock-attempt to flag down a member of the wait staff.

"Don't you da- oh, I get it. Very funny. This is funny to you three, isn't it? Great, just what I need. Three against one."

"You're the one who wanted this dinner," Felicity teased.

"Yeah," he looked around the table at the three young women surrounding him, all eyes sparkling and smiles playing across faces. "I am."

A/N2: Wasn't going to be just a flip switched with Laurel, but she is trying, which I think is a good thing. Eeeeveryone is trying. It is great.

Up next - a long overdue conversation and some dessert for breakfast.