A/N: Ahh, I'm sorry I missed my last update! I am back from vacation - and sick as a dog. (What does that phrase mean? My dog is extraordinarily healthy.) I am feeling better now, but for a while it was gross. I'm probably still gross. Don't look at me.

Anyway, I'm back! I'm ready! Here we go! Are YOU ready? Answer: Probably! Enjoy this next chapter which gives you a little bit of insight into Felicity & Mama Smoak's interactions and their relationship. Mother/daughter relations are complicated, y'all, but love conquers all or something like that. I have no idea what I'm saying. Please stop reading this and just skip to the chapter. I'm not lucid.

Donna Smoak had been crying on and off for the past two days, but it was bordering on an hour straight currently. Felicity had been timing it.

Felicity was a pretty emotional person even before cancer. She cried at sad movies and at videos of dogs greeting soldiers coming home and she was known to be a bit of a basket case when it came to a certain vigilante, too. But for some reason, whenever she saw her mom cry, she didn't get emotional too.

She got mad.

She knew it was irrational in this specific case, but it hadn't always been that way.

She remembered growing up and watching her mom cry over men that didn't treat her right. First it was her dad, leaving them high and dry. They had both cried then, albeit Felicity's tears were in the dark, silent, as she huddled beneath her blankets, wondering why he never came home. After that were Donna Smoak's less-than-illustrious boyfriends, always leaving her with some sort of mess to clean up after they were done tearing through her life. And if it wasn't men making her mother cry, it was other things. It was her jobs, with their matching horrible hours and horrible pay. It was the bills, piling up and never being paid. It was her distress at seeing her only daughter forego makeup to build a computer from scratch. It was so many different things, all of which never seemed to go Donna Smoak's way.

Felicity didn't begrudge her mother for crying over these things. It was normal to feel upset at these. What bothered her was the way that her mother used to cry over them like it was an out of some sort. Like crying was somehow going to fix the situations. Instead it fell to her shoulders to get the bills in some sort of order, calling the companies to get on payment plans. It was Felicity who cooked dinners for her mom to take to work and lunches for her to bring to school because Donna wasn't home a lot, and she wasn't a genius in the kitchen when she was. It was Felicity who would pat her mother's back and tell her that everything was going to be alright, that there were other fish in the sea, that she deserved better.

Didn't Felicity deserve better, too?

It had taken her a few years outside of her mother's house to fully appreciate everything that she hadn't back when she was younger. She could now look back and see how lucky she had been to have a mother that loved her, that didn't abuse her, that worked so hard day in and day out for her to be able to go to school and clubs that she was interested in. She really was lucky, and she knew that now. They might never have the Gilmore Girls-esque relationship she used to crave when she was little, but they had a mutual respect for each other, which was even better in her opinion. Which is why she felt so completely at a loss as she stewed in her own anger, watching her mother cry over her disease.

She had explained it as best as she could to her, with Oliver filling in the gaps that she might have missed, or just having a better knowledge of how the treatment was working to cure her. She was clinical but not too detached, making sure that her mother understood everything and that while Felicity wasn't enjoying the treatment per se, she was still getting through it. And then the waterworks started. And they hadn't stopped since.

She comforted her for the first few hours when she had first arrived in Starling. Even this morning, she made her best effort to be there for her mother. She understood that it had to be hard hearing about your child go through such an awful thing, but she also knew that crying wasn't going to get her anywhere. It wasn't going to make the problem go away. It wasn't going to cure Felicity. It wasn't going to do anything!

After she had stiffened beside her mother, she had to watch Donna turn to the other side and latch on to Oliver. He did the best he could with such an awkward situation being thrust upon him, rubbing her back consolingly. And that was when Felicity's eyes were drawn to the clock on the cable box, and she just sat there, waiting for her mother to stop crying.

She was up to an hour and seven minutes.

Just when she was about to explode, about to just tear into her mother, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!"

She lunged up so fast and opened the door so quickly that she didn't even see who it was on the other side of the door, just grabbed the frame and closed her eyes as dots danced across her vision.

"Whoa, are you okay?"

"Peephole, Felicity!"

She slowly opened her eyes to see Detective Lance holding her forearm lightly, and Oliver had pulled her mother off of him, looking poised to get up in a second.

"I'm fine, I'm good - just got up too fast is all. Sorry."

"Jeez, kid, you're still recovering. Gonna put me in the hospital," Lance muttered before taking in the room before him. "Oh, Christ, I'm sorry - I forgot, I mean, I didn't realize…"

Both Felicity and Oliver stared at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Donna just blew her nose loudly.

Lance held up the bag of muffins apologetically. "It's Wednesday. I brought muffins. Forgot you had company this week."

"Oh, - oh!" It took Felicity a moment to understand what he was saying - chemo brain at its finest - but she wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. "Come in, come in! We can still have muffins!"

"Are you sure…?" He didn't have time to ponder if she really was sure because the next thing he knew, she had a firm grip on his jacket and was pulling him in the door.

"Mom - Mom." Felicity waited impatiently for her mother to add another tissue to the ever growing pile on the coffee table. "This is Detective Quentin Lance. I told you about him earlier, remember? Detective Lance, this is Donna Smoak. My mom."

He held his hand out politely but was completely taken aback when Donna rose from the couch and lunged at him, her arms going around his neck instantly and the waterworks resuming just as quickly. "My baby!" She wailed. "My poor, sweet baby!"

"Oh, brother," Felicity muttered, taking the bag of muffins out of the detective's hand that was still hanging awkwardly at his side. She brought them to the table, not surprised when Oliver was behind her suddenly.

"Are you okay?" He asked out of the corner of his mouth as he busied himself with putting the muffins on a plate.

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"Because you've been glaring at your mother for a half hour and not saying a word."

"Hard to say a word over her sobs, don't you think?" She grabbed a blueberry muffin and a paper plate and went to turn around when he grabbed her arm.

"Hey...she's just upset is all. You would be too. I think she's doing better than she was yesterday."

"I would be upset? I am, Oliver! I was diagnosed with this disease, or do you not remember that part? And I don't think I've cried as much as she has already in the last four months of this shitshow of my life. Not to mention, doing better today, when all she did was sob yesterday - not really a high bar we've set, don't you think?" He opened his mouth to respond but she just shook her head at him. "This is what it is going to be like all week, you know. Probably for the rest of my treatment. Hell, my life. I don't even know why I'm surprised anymore. Welcome to The Donna Smoak show. All about her. Which is fine if she wasn't in my city and in my apartment and on my...my you! And after everything, I just don't know if I can handle that right now."

Her words had gotten progressively louder and it was only when she stopped to take a breath did she realize that Detective Lance was still awkwardly holding her mother, but they were both staring at her, eyes wide, mouths slightly agape.

And then her mother started to cry again, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I was right, I can't handle this." Felicity grabbed her plate and a small bottle of two percent milk that the detective had also brought and stormed away, intent on eating alone in her room.

"Felici-"

"I'll go," Detective Lance spoke up, grabbing Oliver's arm before he could follow her down the hall. After a very uncomfortable transfer of Donna into the younger man's arms, Quentin took a deep breath and traced Felicity's footsteps into her bedroom.

He didn't bother to knock, assuming she wouldn't respond or if she did, it wouldn't be to let him in.

"I'll be right there, Oliver, just let me calm down for a second."

She was sitting indian style on her bed with her back to the door, picking apart her blueberry muffin like she always did.

"Nice try, but I don't think I can pull off that brooding look like he does."

"Detective, what-"

"Don't tell me you really thought I wasn't gonna have any questions about that little scene back there."

"It's complicated," she bit out. At least with Oliver, he already knew some of the baggage she had with her mother, not to mention witnessing it firsthand yesterday and with the phone calls between the two leading up to her visit. Detective Lance had been so good about not asking questions about her past that he really was going into this blind.

"I don't doubt that, but you're still gonna have to give me something."

"I've never...it's never been great between us."

Quentin nodded, moving further into the room, closing the door behind him. He eventually made his way to the bed, sitting awkwardly on it in front of her.

"I kind of got that, yeah."

"I don't think that I can handle her crying about this though. I thought I could, when it was the beginning, but now - I just don't think I can. And I know it's hard for her, but how is she unable to stop crying for two seconds?"

"You don't."

"I don't - I don't what?"

"You don't know, Felicity. You don't know what it is like to be a parent, and to know your child is hurting and there is nothing you can do about it. You don't know what the worry feels like, eating away at you. I'm not saying I cried for days over Sara or even Laurel, even though I might've, but…but don't say that you know how she feels. It is a lot more complicated than you think. You give your whole life for your kids and then to-" He stopped himself, swallowing thickly. "You just don't know. Not until you're a parent."

She was silent at that, mulling over his words. She knew he was right. She didn't want to detract from the struggle of being a parent - biological or not, in her case - and just knowing about her battle with this disease. And Quentin - he had watched it. He had seen it ravage her body and beat down her will. He had watched all of it and he was still here. Being disappointed with her for how she treated her mother. She felt ashamed and grateful, all at once.

"I've never...I've never been what she wanted. I was never as pretty as she wanted or as popular or as outgoing or as fun and now, it just - it feels like I can't even be healthy for her." Her eyes started welling with unshed tears, held back from years of feeling inadequate. "Like, I can't even do this right? I can't give her this one thing?"

"Oh - oh, sweetheart." He sat more fully on the bed and pulled her towards him, engulfing her in a hug as she cried out the tears that had been threatening to fall. "You don't have to be anything but yourself, you understand me? As parents, that's all we want. All we need from our kids. Yes, we want you to be healthy too, but this - this is so out of your control. It's not your fault. We just want you to be who you are."

She cried for a few minutes, big, fat, crocodile tears, unable to stop. She had never felt more like her mother than in that moment. When she finally pulled back, she gratefully took the proffered tissue from the detective, wiping her eyes.

"Ugh, perfect," she moaned at the tissue, spotting eyelashes in the mix. "Just what I need."

He took her face in his hands and brushed a few more stray eyelashes off of her face, giving her a smile of strength. When she smiled back, he felt the familiar warmth of accomplishment, remembering his old adage - if she wasn't smiling, he wasn't leaving. He tensed back up as the smile fell off her face just as abruptly as it came.

"I still don't know what I'm going to do - I can't handle her crying, or making this about her. I just can't. Every time she cries, it just reminds me of everything and I feel even worse for having this disease and-"

"Hey, hey, hey, okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Let's go out there and explain it to her, just like that. She'll understand."

"What part of the last twenty minutes made you think that rationality is a trait that runs in my family?"

"She'll do it because you asked. Trust me. She'll do it because you're her daughter."

"Will you stay?" She asked hesitantly. She needed another parental figure there, someone who could control and steer the conversation in a way that she doubted either her or Oliver could.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I will. Now go get cleaned up and get those hairs out of your eyes and come back out there with me. Gotta get you another muffin, too."

"Okay, sure. Yeah. Okay."

"That means you got to get off the bed."

"I was getting there."

Donna Smoak was no longer crying her eyes out, but the silence was almost worse to Felicity. They all sat around the coffee table in the living room, with her and Oliver on the couch, Detective Lance perched on the arm, and Donna sitting across in an armchair.

"Mom, I can't - I mean...I don't want this visit to be all about me having cancer. I don't. But every time I see you crying...it just...reminds me of it. More than I already am. I'll answer any questions you have and tell you anything you want to know, Oliver will too, I just...I'm asking you to please, please try and make it not...just less, okay?"

"What, I'm not allowed to cry anymore? I'm not allowed to have feelings? I'm not allowed to be upset because my baby is dying?"

Felicity forced herself not to give Lance a knowing look.

"That's not - that's not what I meant, mom. And you just can't think of it that way, okay? Don't look at it as me dying. I'm not going to die. I'm going to beat this."

"I can't just turn it off, you know? I can't just not care suddenly-"

"And that's not what Felicity is asking you to do," Lance explained. "She's just trying to tell you that it's hard for her to see you in that kind of pain, just like it's hard for you to see her."

"Hard? Hard for me to see her this way? Well, that's an understatement if I've ever heard one. And don't think that just because you hang out with my daughter now that this makes you some kind of expert. You don't know what it's like to see this happening with your own kid!"

She hadn't meant her words to be cutting, but they were. Felicity knew her jaw had dropped open and she suddenly regretted not telling her mother more about Detective Lance and his family situation. This was her fault. Before she could cut in though, the detective held up a hand to stop her.

"I know plenty about worrying for your kids and watching them get hurt, I'll have you know. And I may not have raised Felicity, but I like to think I know a little about her by now, too. And what she needs right now isn't for you to make this about yourself. She needs for you to listen, and hold her, and make her think of something that isn't cancer for two minutes because it's the only thing that has been in her mind for months. If you don't think you can do that, then we're going to have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

Suddenly Donna Smoak and Quentin Lance were toe to toe in Felicity's living room, having a fairly controlled, but emotion-filled conversation that was only growing in strength and volume.

Detective Lance was going on about how he cared about Felicity and her mother was shouting about how she had birthed her from her loins and just when Felicity thought it couldn't get any more ridiculous, Oliver leaned in close to her ear.

"Do you think they're going to kiss?"

The current position of the pair was very close and and they were both speaking animatedly with their hands and despite the heaviness of the situation, Felicity couldn't help but laugh aloud, which, oddly enough, silenced the argument instantly. They both looked down at her, almost shocked, as if they had forgotten she was there and had no idea why she would be laughing.

"I love both of you. So much."

"Felicity…"

"Sweetie…"

"You're arguing over who cares about me more," she realized. "And I love both of you. But mom, I was serious. I can't really handle it when you're emotional about this 24/7. I have been trying, but…"

"I didn't mean to make you upset, baby. I just…" Her mother's eyes took on the familiar sheen of unshed tears, but she straightened up at Felicity's aghast look. "I'll do better. I promise. I won't cry anymore."

"You can cry a little bit. I just cried a lot onto Detective Lance, so I think it's okay. Not that crying on Detective Lance is okay. Because I try to avoid that. Or he does. But if he does then he's really bad at it because I feel like I cry on him fairly often."

No one in the room even batted an eye at the long ramble that came out of her mouth, but her mother was now staring at the detective, whom she had been yelling at only minutes earlier, like he hung the stars in the sky.

"You let my baby girl cry on you?"

"Well, I mean…" His eyes darted to Felicity's for assistance as he flushed a significant amount more than he usually did when it was just the two of them. "Yeah, I guess, I just - I don't know-"

He didn't have to stumble over his words much longer as Donna had jumped out of her chair and wrapped him in her arms once again, this time neither crying or wailing incoherently. She had just locked her hands around his back and pressed her cheek to his chest. He had taken care of her baby girl when she wasn't able to, and if she couldn't cry to get all her damn feelings out, well, this was a second best option.

Oliver's hand crept over and grabbed hers, their fingers locking together perfectly out of instinct and habit.

"Do me a favor, Felicity," he murmured in her ear as she tried to quell her own tears at the sight of her two parental figures embracing.

"What's that?"

"Let's not mention to your mother how often you cry on me, okay?"

"Deal."