I know it felt like we'd never get here, but we've finally—finally!—arrived: at the end. It's been a very long trip but for me it's been wonderful—all thanks to you. Thank you for your support, your patience and reviews you sent my way. I'm very grateful and delighted that so many of you enjoyed this story.

Albiona, thank you for not being an Arrow-friend but a friend. I love you.

And since I'm sure some of you want to know: I don't have any plans to continue this 'verse. To be honest, I don't have any plans (or ideas) for a new writing project in general. So, I'm taking a break until the muse hits me with something that's good enough to post. Until then: feel hugged! Love, Jules

You really sold it

They had spun a web of lies so fragile that it needed a police detective to sell it.

Detective Quentin Lance sold it very, very well.

But it took time, too much time. Impatience was tearing at Oliver. All he wanted was to see Felicity, hug her, and make sure she was as fine as Sara claimed—not just physically fine but okay in every respect.

Two hours had passed since Nyssa Raatko had pulled Oliver Queen out of the office. She dragged him away from her girlfriend and his girlfriend and into the elevator.

During the trip down to the lobby, Oliver rode an entirely unfamiliar high. He had done it! He had injected Slade, fulfilled his part of the mission, faced a man who could crush him with one hand. Standing in the elevator, Oliver felt like he was the man. Pride swelled inside him, but it was laced with intense worry and fear. His part might be done, but right in that moment Felicity and Sara were doing theirs—which meant facing the craziest human being Oliver had ever encountered.

Oliver's thoughts were a scrambled mess and he was glad that Felicity and Sara had insisted on a 'guarded extraction'.

Nyssa was Oliver's guard—and Oliver was glad for it. Nyssa Raatko oozed competence and confidence and he simply had to follow her lead. Nyssa moved slowly and carefully, making sure the lobby and the sidewalk in front of the building were empty. They were. Apparently, SI's security guards had listened to their boss and made a run for it.

Quentin and Donna were waiting for them in the van: he behind the wheel, she in the passenger's seat. Nyssa and Oliver had climbed into the back—and that was when they'd stopped sticking to the plan.

The plan called for them to drive to Sara's safe house out of town and wait for a signal from Felicity or Sara that it was safe to come back. As soon as the door closed, Quentin informed them that he wouldn't be leaving town without his daughters. The look on both parents' faces showed that they were steeling for a fight, but to everybody's surprise Nyssa nodded. "I never expected you to." And with that the rest of the plan went out of the window—which was a bad phrase to use considering what happened next.

Oliver would never forget the terror of those long seconds as everybody stared out the windshield at the plummeting body, trying to figure out who it was. Oliver recognized Slade Wilson in the last few moments but his eyes were locked with a force he couldn't name or explain, and which didn't let him look away.

Oliver would never forget the sound of the body impacting pavement. The image of the body breaking, the head splitting open, was also burned into Oliver's brain.

Oliver honestly couldn't blame Donna Smoak-Lance for throwing up out of the opened passenger door.

His own stomach turned at the sight while his heart suddenly lightened. It was neither Felicity nor Sara on that sidewalk and nothing else mattered. He didn't even feel guilty for the intense relief that realization brought along. He couldn't pretend to be sorry that Slade Wilson was dead. The finality of this death came with the strong sense of calm.

The fight was over, and they had won.

Since then, they had been waging a fight with the truth. The police, alerted by IS's escaping security guards, had arrived within a minute of Slade's fall. The story Quentin and Donna Lance had told them consisted of blatant lies, lies by omission, carefully selected half-truths, and a few grains of actual truth. Captain Banks, Quentin Lance's direct supervisor, looked doubtful at some points of their tale, but the Commissioner, who had shown up personally, nodded along to everything and suggested they postpone Sara Lance's statement in favor for getting her to the hospital to take care of her most likely broken right hand.

Felicity had vanished from the executive floor by the time they, accompanied by police officers, made their way up.

Officially, the Arrow had saved Sara Lance from the madman who'd threatened the Smoak-Lance-family. He'd been trying to ransom their daughter for money.

Officially, Felicity Smoak had been in Starling City Library while her sister had been kidnapped. Donna Smoak-Lance had sworn the policemen to secrecy, because after four years alone her daughter wasn't as well as the family wanted everybody to believe. Her PTSD made her draw back from time to time. She sought solitude in such moments and studied sea maps of the area where her father's yacht had sunk. (Even if nobody had seen Felicity Smoak there, the recording of the security tape proved the story.)

Oliver was very sure that the story of her PTSD would be breaking news tomorrow, along with the kidnapping of Sara Lance.

It was the lesser evil.

Two hours of steadily growing impatience, Oliver envying Nyssa for having gotten to go to the hospital with her girlfriend. Gerry Conway had shown up, taking care of CEO business with Donna Smoak-Lance while Quentin Lance and Oliver Queen had been reduced to waiting and repeating their dubious statements.

Finally, after what felt much longer than two hours, they were cleared to go—and it seemed to be an unspoken agreement that Oliver would go where Donna and Quentin went.

They went to Smoak Mansion.

Oliver's Mustang was parked in the driveway—unscratched—a clear sign that Felicity was home already. The driver barely had time to stop the limo before Oliver opened the door. Donna hurried up the stairs next to him, opening the door and calling "Felicity" into the hall.

"Yes," came the reply from the kitchen. Donna and Oliver had only taken two steps when Felicity entered the foyer, studying them closely. "You look fine. Are you—" Donna pulled her daughter into an overly tight hug, keeping Felicity from finishing her question. Instead, holding on to her mother, she said, "It's okay. I'm fine. It's over."

The words Donna murmured into Felicity's hair were slurred by tears. The last traces of cool, trademark Donna Smoak-Lance, burst in a tearful explosion. Oliver could relate, because he was struggling with tears, too. The tension of the previous hours—days, actually—fell away, and in the calm after the storm it was hard to keep it together. Oliver longed to hug Felicity, make sure her already extensive collection of wounds and bruises hadn't grown, but he stood back, summing up his last traces of patience so he wouldn't interfere with this moment.

A heavy hand fell onto Oliver's shoulder. Quentin Lance accompanied the pat with a nod of understanding and thankfulness.

Oliver answered with a nod of his own. He had never expected that he would want a father figure in his life. Now that he had one, he found that he rather liked it.

The opening door caught everybody's attention. Sara and Nyssa stood in a doorframe. A huge grin that looked entirely out of character spread across the blonde's face. "We brought pizza!" Sara spoke a little slower than usual, but excitement dripped from each word. "To celebrate. We team-worked the hell out of that plan!"

Quentin took a step toward her daughter, frowning, "Are you drunk? Did I time-travel to 2006?" He inhaled deeply. "That would fit the insanity of the past few days."

"They gave her something for the pain," Nyssa explained, holding four huge pizza boxes with one hand and closing the door with the other.

"Yup!" Sara confirmed, smirking. "They broke out the good stuff. Because I broke my hand." She waved a cast at them. "I mean, Slade broke my hand. With one hand. Dude, seriously, that was a dick move."

Donna let go of her daughter and studied her stepdaughter. "This does feel awfully familiar." She gestured to the kitchen. "Come on, Sara, let's get some food into you."

"God, yes, I'm starving."

A small smile on her lips, Felicity watched her sister bounce through the hall, followed by the others.

Sara stopped next to Felicity and pecked her cheek. "Teamwork."

"Yes," Felicity confirmed and broke into a delighted smirk, "Team-Arrow-Work."

"Yeah, no, we're not calling it that." Blonde hair flowing around her face, Sara shook her head and continued to the kitchen, following her father, girlfriend, and stepmother, who had already disappeared around the corner. "Not a chance!"

Ease and content surrounded Felicity. Both had been missing since Slade Wilson entered their lives. She looked relaxed and the smile she granted Oliver as he headed to her was warm and beautiful and soothed him like nothing else could. "Hey," he said, quietly. "You did it."

"No," she objected and placed her hand on his chest, right above his heart, "you did it. You were amazing."

"Okay," Oliver amended, "we did it."

"We did," she agreed and her eyes drilled into his. "We'll never do anything like that again."

He huffed, amused. "I really hope not."

She stepped even closer to him, her hand leaving his chest to cup his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am. I might have a nervous breakdown later, though."

Oliver intended that to be a light joke, but he failed. Seriousness captured Felicity, her hand closing around his cheek. "You and me both." There was so much knowledge in her eyes, so much understanding and certainty in her voice. It reminded Oliver of her nightmare, the one that had started off their day. Felicity knew what she was talking about and that thought gave her next words even more weight. "We'll be fine. We'll get through it together."

Bringing his arms around her, Oliver hugged her close and pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips connecting let the last traces of tension slip away, spreading warmth through him, making him feel light-headed and grounded at the same time.

Slowly, they parted. Felicity gazed up at him. He could see the thoughts piling up, reflected in her earnest blue eyes, and gave her all the time she needed to prepare what she felt like she needed to address. It didn't take long, but when she did, she spoke quietly, in a loaded tone. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. About… Slade and Yao. Most of the answers won't be exactly in my favor, but… I'll tell you everything you want to know. Maybe, you could stay the night?" She swallowed, suddenly uneasy. "I know we haven't done that. Stay here in the mansion. It's probably weird for you, with my parents here and everything. Yeah, I see the weirdness. We don't have to do that."

The only reaction Oliver could come up with was to go in for another kiss. He didn't have any words to express all the things he hoped the joining of their lips would.

Felicity Smoak had spent the past few days in constant battle mode. She had fought against an actual enemy, she had also fought against her own demons, the shadows of the past. She had fought for her family and for him. Brave, uncompromisingly, and determined, she was the strongest person he knew and it would never stop amazing him that she trusted him with her weaknesses. Despite everything she had experienced in her darkened past, she dared to show all of herself to him. And he loved all of her.

Oliver ended the kiss. Keeping his face close to hers, he whispered, "We'll do that. But first: pizza."

The smile lighting up Felicity's face was gorgeous. "I'll make sure we save some for breakfast."

"You know the way to a man's heart."

She chuckled and, stepping back, reached for his hand, leading him to the kitchen. The pizza boxes lay opened on the huge table. Donna Smoak-Lance stood by the island, uncorking a bottle of wine, clearly addressing Sara in her no-discussion tone. "No wine for you. Be happy with those pain pills."

"Fine." In exaggerated huffiness, Sara reached for a pizza slice and took a huge bite.

"I have to say," Quentin set wine glasses on the table as Felicity and Oliver sat down, "that fight you two had," he gestured to Nyssa and Sara, "looked pretty real. You really sold it."

Sara snorted, amused. "Nyssa used the s-word. You shouting that was awesome." Her eyes glittered with honest rapture as she mimicked her girlfriend. "Your best sucks!" She giggled.

Nyssa looked entirely unaffected, holding a pizza slice in elegant fingers, "I was in character."

"What character was that?!" Sara challenged. "You did a hair flip."

Donna reached for a glass. "You can never go wrong with an angry hair flip…. Unless you're the CEO of a multibillion dollar company, then it's entirely inappropriate." She poured and held it out to Oliver.

He took it with a "thank you." Sinking back in his seat, his arm on the back of Felicity's chair next to him, he watched the people gathered around the table. A relaxed, happy atmosphere filled the room. The realization that this was the 'dinner with the parents' that had been planned two days ago hit Oliver unprepared—as did the fact that it wasn't as awkward as he had expected it to be. It wasn't awkward at all, or forced, because around this table sat six people who had been through hell together, who had fought together and won by trusting one another and relying on each other's strengths. Being here, sitting here, having pizza and a glass of wine felt unexpectedly fitting.

Oliver knew more fights were ahead of them. He had to destroy the Mirakuru like he'd promised Sara. They had to figure out how to get Nyssa out of A.R.G.U.S. And there wasn't any way his girlfriend would hang up her hood anytime soon. But he wasn't worried or scared about any of that because he trusted every one of those people. And he knew Felicity loved him, just like he loved her.

Their future might not be bump-free, but they would handle it.

Starting tomorrow.

Tonight they'd share pizza, light chatter, and laughter. Tonight he'd fall into bed with his vigilante girlfriend. He'd hold her, kiss her, and listen to whatever she wanted to tell him. To Oliver, it really couldn't get any better than that.

(The End)