Chapter Text
Barry left and Oliver felt a tear push through his defenses. Then another. The pain that he was keeping carefully contained so he could function…the walls…they weren't holding. The agony was too much…
Oliver had told Barry that he was going to end this. Kill him. But, honestly, Oliver had no idea how. Not because he didn’t have a plan, but because he was having trouble functioning, thinking…breathing. How was he going to end anything if he couldn’t put one foot in front of the other?
He had held the only women he would ever love as her life bled out of her. Oliver had watched as she uttered her last words, as she took her last breath. Sometimes, it feels like that was his last breath as well. Felicity took his soul with her. And Oliver didn’t even want it back.
There was only one thing left now. Only one thought that keep him moving. What would Felicity want? That mantra guided Oliver’s every thought and action.
Would Felicity want him to eat? Yes. So, Oliver forced himself to choke down food.
Would Felicity want him to blame himself? No. So, Oliver fought the guilt and turned the rage outward.
Would Felicity want him to keep fighting, to drive the evil out of their city? Yes. So, that's what Oliver would do. Somehow. He would fight and fight and fight…until every last one of them were dead.
But after that…after that, Oliver didn't….
He hoped that it would kill him. Oliver hoped beyond hope that he would die and battle and…but Felicity wouldn’t want that. So, there was nothing left to hope for.
A sob tore from Oliver's throat. Ugly and loud and harsh. And Oliver didn’t care. He didn’t care. It was followed by another and another and then he was shattering. It was all pouring out and he couldn’t…
God, this couldn't be happening…it just couldn't…but it was. It was real. Felicity…
Felicity wasn't coming back. She wasn't coming back. She wasn't…
The sobs were uncontrollable now and Oliver didn't know how he'd ever stop. And it didn't even seem to matter. How could he care? There was nothing left of him. Nothing worthwhile. All the light died with her.
Oliver clutched at the ring, the one Felicity never got to put on her hand, the one Oliver now wore around his neck, until it cut into his skin. His other hand he laid flat over her name where it was cut into the stone. A name that meant happiness. That's what she had meant to him. And now happiness was dead.
He held his hand there while he cried, either trying to absorb her back into himself or to block the name out, deny that it would ever be carved in stone, that Felicity could ever be put some place as cold and lonely as the ground.
“Felicity, sweetheart, I...” Oliver could barely get the words out, but he didn't… He just had to talk to her. “Baby, I don't think I can…how am I going to do this without you? How can I?”
“You can't.”
Oliver jerked violently, his eyes flying up, all his muscles poised for a fight. But it was just Sara, a hundred yards away, dressed in her full White Canary suit, bow staff in hand. Oliver rubbed his palm over his eyes, trying to clear his vision. Sara looked like an avenging angel and for a moment he worried he was hallucinating. If he was going to hallucinate, couldn't he at least see Felicity?
When the vision didn't speak again, Oliver forced himself to ask, “Wh... what?”
“You can't. Do this without her,” Sara repeated, stepping forward. “The world has gone to hell, Ollie. Evil’s taken hold and it's too late.”
“Are you saying we should give up?” Oliver asked incredulously.
He wanted to. God, Oliver wanted to give up. He wanted to crawl into a ball over Felicity’s grave and wait for death to claim him too. The only problem was...the problem was that he knew Felicity wouldn't want that.
“Felicity would want me to fight,” Oliver said more clearly, almost yelling it at the Sara shaped vision.
She smiled and she looked very much like the old Sara, walking toward him with her staff over her shoulder. “Yes, she would. That's why I brought help.”
Her eyes went to the left and Oliver's followed, his breath catching at the sight of her team walking toward them.
Rip Hunter reached them first. “This is wrong, Oliver. Star City, Los Angeles, Coast City, Ivy Town, the entire West Coast is in ashes. Darhk and his monsters have won.”
It was Ray Palmer who broke away and approached Oliver, holding out a hand to help him to his feet and telling him in an uncharacteristically serious voice, “We’re going to fix this. We’re going to bring Felicity back.”
Oliver allowed Ray to help him stand, but shook his head. He understood Ray loved Felicity too, so he didn’t rage. He met Ray’s eyes and told him carefully, his voice hoarse from crying, “We can't. I promised her. That I would never resurrect her. I promised.” He wanted to though. Damn the consequences.
A throat cleared and Oliver's eyes darted to Professor Stein, who pronounced, “Let's rephrase that, shall we? What we are going to do is fix the time line so Ms. Smoak never dies in the first place.”
Oliver gasped, feeling sucker punched, but at the same time he drew himself up, feeling alive and awake for the first time in days. Since she had died in his arms. “You'd do that? For Felicity?”
Professor Stein smiled kindly. “No, dear boy, we can't go back to save a single girl, no matter how lovely a person she was.”
“But she was a casualty of a much bigger wrong,” Rip continued. “We’re going back not to save Felicity, but to save the world.”
It was the sarcastic voice of Captain Cold who drawled, “Lucky for you, your girl is part of that world.” He threw Oliver a bundle of clothes and Oliver caught them on reflex. “You need to change. We can't have your past-self recognizing you.”
Oliver’s eyes skimmed over the black costume before taking in the team surrounding him. A team he'd helped create, never imagining they would come back and save everything that mattered to him.
“Where are we going?” Oliver asked, never questioning that he would do anything they asked on the slimmest chance they could do as they said.
“Back five weeks,” Sara answered. “To the fight you had with Darhk. The one you lost.”
“Only this time you won't be alone.” Ray smiled a huge, beaming grin, the one that used to make Oliver’s skin crawl. Now it gave him hope. Wonderful, dizzying hope.
Sara’s smile joined Ray’s, hers as sly as a cat. “And this time we’re going to win.”
Five weeks ago... Christ. It was a lifetime ago.
Before Laurel was put in a coma.
Before Thea turned and joined the League of Assassins.
Before Lance was institutionalized.
Before Lyla lost the baby.
Before the Glades and everything around it burned to the ground.
Before Baby Sara was caught in the flames and Digg only just got her out alive.
Before Felicity….
Oliver nodded, his jaw tight. Dear God, this had to work.
“Let's move.”
Ten minutes later, after…
Oliver's whole body spasmed and he jolted upright, pulling air into his burning lungs, feeling not unlike he had when he broke the surface of the South Pacific after the Gambit went down. He felt disoriented and confused, the world blurry and indistinct.
“Hey. Hey, you…you ok? What happened?”
Felicity?
Dear God. “Felicity?!” Oliver's eyes jerked over. His vision focused and he grabbed for her. Oh dear God. She was solid. She was…
“You're alive,” Oliver gasped, reverent.
Felicity laughed and it was the most wonderful sound Oliver had ever heard. “Of course, I’m alive.” She ran a hand down his face and Oliver caught it, turning his face into her palm and kissing it, tears burning his vision.
“You're the one who passed out,” Felicity argued, gently. “What happened?”
Oliver had no fucking clue. The last thing he clearly remembered was sitting at her grave, talking to Sara and then…then everything was foggy.
He scanned his surroundings. They were in their Loft. Everything was exactly the way Oliver and Felicity had arranged it together, bright and vibrant and new. Not covered in soot. Last he remembered, the Loft was an out burnt shell.
Oliver was lying on their coach with Felicity sitting pressed up against his hip and behind her…there was a small crowd. All their friends. As in all of them, not just the ones who lived in Star City. They were holding back, keeping their distance. And Felicity smiling at him and looking beautiful and healthy and alive.
“Maybe I can help.” Professor Stein broke away from the crowd, sauntering over with a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. “Oliver, your mind is merely catching up with the timeline. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“It's a little disorienting at first,” Sara added out, dressed as herself now, not her alter ego. “Hence the passing out thing. But you get used to it.”
Felicity rolled her eyes, looking annoyed and, again, Oliver felt like he was missing something. Taking his hand, Felicity glared over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at Sara and Professor. “Are you guys going to explain exactly what happened like…ever?”
Professor Stein smiled. “All you need to know is that Oliver helped us fix the timeline. It's better if the details remain obscure.”
“Professor, let's give Oliver and Felicity a minute,” someone called out, he thought it might have been Barry. Christ, was everyone he knew there?
Dr. Stein nodded and retreated to the kitchen. Oliver turned to Felicity. At the moment, he really didn’t care how this came to be, just that it was real. His hands shook as they reached out to touch the curls lying artfully over her shoulders, as they smoothed over her cheeks and lips.
“You're alive,” Oliver murmured again, scarcely trusting it.
Felicity smiled indulgently, before glancing behind them briefly and loudly saying, “I take it I died in this alternate timeline.”
“Let it go,” Sara called back.
Scrunching up her face like she did when she was aggravated, Felicity turned her full attention back to Oliver, her voice softening. “I'm fine,” she murmured quietly. “More than fine.”
Felicity leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a soft, easy kiss.
But what would have once been a simple kiss that Oliver would take for granted, this one brought tears to his eyes and shot bolts of pleasure coursing through his body. His hand cupped the back of Felicity’s head, kissing her back desperately. He thought…he'd thought he'd never have this again. Oh thank God.
When he pulled back, Oliver laughed a bit hysterically. “It worked,” he breathed in wonderment.
Felicity beamed. “So it would seem.” She pressed another quick kiss to his lips. “My hero. You saved me and I didn't even know it.”
Oliver laughed again and this time it actually felt normal. “God, I love you. Felicity, I love you.”
“I know.” Her ringing laugh was happiness itself.
He could stare into her clear blue eyes forever. Felicity wasn't wearing her glasses and Oliver used the opportunity to run his thumbs over her temples, lying his forehead against hers. “I don’t ever want to live without you.”
“Me neither,” Felicity answered immediately, her voice a shaky whisper.
Oliver couldn’t wait another moment. He vowed to himself right then and there to never waste another second. “Felicity, will you marry me?”
Her laugh wasn't exactly the response Oliver had envisioned. “That would be a bit redundant, wouldn't it…? Wait.” Felicity jerked back abruptly, turning and yelling, “He doesn't remember! Why doesn't he remember?” When no one immediately answered, she yelled, “Sara!”
Sara appeared over her shoulder and Felicity repeated her question. Sara gave her a sympathetic smile, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “He’ll remember, don't worry. It's just the two versions of Oliver catching up to each other. His memories will integrate soon.”
Staring up at her, Felicity frowned. “How soon?”
“Maybe an hour?” Sara offered and Felicity seemed to relax somewhat, but still bit her lip anxiously.
“Watch out,” Ray Palmer called from the other room, “it can make you a little queasy.”
Oliver didn't pay the bastard any mind, he was too busy looking at Felicity and trying to take it all in. Felicity's response to his proposal. Sara's explanation. The conflicting images at war in his head.
Sara disappeared as Oliver grabbed Felicity's hand looking for...oh god. “Felicity, did I….?”
He brought his other hand to his chest where his mother’s ring no longer lie. Because it was there on Felicity's left hand. “I already asked,” Oliver breathed, awe and disappointment at odds.
"Oliver,” Felicity said gently, taking his left hand and holding it up for him to see. “Sweetheart, were already married.”
And there it was…a platinum band on his finger and, now that he looked closely, there was a matching one next to his mother’s engagement ring on hers.
"When?” Oliver breathed.
Felicity’s nose scrunched adorably. “Umm…about forty minutes ago.”
Oliver sucked in a breath and took a new look at his surroundings. He was dressed as he was when this all began, in his funeral suit…now his wedding suit? Felicity was wearing white. A flowy, clingy, elegant white dress that hugged her curves. Not too fancy. Just perfect. And beyond, the Loft was decorated with flowers and candles. All their friends gathered in the kitchen…
"I don't..." he began. Oliver didn't remember his own wedding. This was certainly not a consequence he’d considered when he’d agreed to go back in time.
But, then…as clear as day…Oliver saw…a flash of Felicity on the balcony, flowers in her hair and in her hands, staring up at him with adoration and elation. Oliver closed his eyes as the images assailed him, coming faster and faster. Such beautiful images.
“Oh my god,” Oliver groaned. “Did Ray marry us?”
The relief in Felicity's laugh was clear. “Yup.”
“Jesus.”
But Felicity just continued to laugh, happy giggles at his obvious discomfort. “And it was lovely.”
Oliver smiled. “I remember.” Because suddenly, he did. And from the images he was getting…it was.
He brought their entwined hands to his lips and closed his eyes, emotion after emotion washing over him. All of them good. It was just….it was just, wow. So very wow.
Oliver sat up, pulling Felicity next to him with an arm around her shoulders, pressing his lips into her soft hair. She turned her face into his neck and snaked her arms around his middle, burrowing into him. Holding her close, Oliver he looked over to their friends.
Laurel was healthy and whole, talking to Thea who was giggling at whatever she said and, oh God, holding hands with Roy, both of them looking so young and normal and happy. Captain Lance was there, with his hand on Sara’s shoulder, talking to Cisco and Detective West. Digg had his arms around Lyla, resting his hands on her barely-there baby bump. And so many more. It was just…
Suddenly, a ball of pink satin hurled from the crowd, toward Oliver and Felicity, shrieking happily, “Unca Ollie!”
Oliver caught the younger Sara as she threw herself at them and lifted her onto his lap, searching her beautiful baby face. No burn scars on her cheek or hand. No cast. Just a giggly toddler in ruffles and lace, giving first him, then Felicity messy, wet kisses.
“Pretty! Fower,” Sara announced reaching for the flowers in Felicity’s hair.
Laughing, Felicity caught her smooth hands and blew a raspberry on her baby palms. “Yes, you have some, too.” And she pointed to the matching flowers adorning the headband in baby Sara’s hair.
Sara beamed. “Sara pretty!”
“The prettiest,” Felicity agreed, kissing first Sara, then Oliver on the cheek.
And Oliver watched, smiling as tears filled his eyes and the new memories of the last five weeks slowly came back to him, going back to the battle they had once lost. That battle had become the final battle. Then after math. And recovery. The new memories started to replace the bad ones. The “wrong” ones. They faded into the background like a bad dream.
Looking up, Oliver met Sara Lance’s eyes and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Sara only smiled and gave him a discrete wink before turning back to her conversation with her sister.
Oliver sighed, contentment filling even fiber of his being as he hugged his girls to him and listened to their chatter.
This future was definitely the right one.