A/N: Just a small thing that I finished a few nights ago after madly starting it back when "Home Invasion" aired. Not a finale reaction (working on those, but oooof.) just a tag to the end of "Home Invasion." Actually, think of this as an alternate scene to the one with Laurel getting coffee at the bar in "The Undertaking" – and not because I didn't like that scene! It's just where the emotions and dialogue fall.

Well this sucked.

Felicity Smoak gave in to the impossibility of actually achieving anything greater than watching her search bars inch toward 100% complete. The first break on Walter's whereabouts was moving achingly slow – all they had was a name, and they needed more. Spinning around in her chair, she gloomily regarded the other occupant of the Foundry.

Oliver Queen was sulking. She knew it, he knew it, and if Diggle were here, he'd say it. But Dig had walked out last night. Felicity had tried to call him, but his phone had gone straight to voice mail. She'd left a few messages, rambling about how worried she was, and how he was part of the team, and finally just asking him to be safe. He'd texted her this morning, just two words.

You too.

That, more than anything, told her that he was serious about not coming back.

Her boss/resident vigilante didn't sulk like a normal person, with ice cream, sweatpants, and a good movie. No, he just beat things up. He'd already broken one practice dummy with a quarterstaff, and he'd gone up and down the salmon ladder so many times that she was getting dizzy. Right now, he was doing one-handed push-ups.

"You're sulking." Oh shit, she hadn't actually meant to say that.

Oliver paused, and then executed two more full extensions of his arm. In one graceful motion he stood up, the hard mask he wore as the vigilante firmly in place.

"Do we know anything more on Alonzo?" He barely looked in her direction, snapping out the question as he headed for his towel.

"Search isn't finished. Oliver, this is crazy," she started. In for a penny, in for a pound, she supposed. "I can't back you up like he can. We need him."

"Let me know when you have something." His voice was flat, but she could feel the irritation coming off him in waves.

"What do you expect to do, once I find him?" she pushed. She stepped out of the chair, hoping to force him to look her in the eye. It had been a full 24 hours, she reasoned, it was time to talk about Diggle.

"Hood up, and put an arrow in him if he doesn't talk."

"Oliver," she crossed the room to him. "Please…" Unsure of what to say next, she reached out and touched him on the shoulder. He jerked away as if she'd burned his skin. Her hand fell back to her side. "Tell me what happened."

He was silent so long that she resorted to shifting her weight back and forth to hold in her nerves. She was determined to outlast him. He stood stock still, facing the wall. Five minutes in, she was doubting her own fortitude.

"It doesn't matter."

She almost couldn't hear him, he'd spoken so low. Felicity took one instinctive step forward but stopped when she saw him hands flex and form tight fists. He was fighting an internal battle, and he was losing.

"Of course it does. We need Dig, and you…"

"It. Doesn't. Matter!" he snarled, punching at the concrete wall with one clenched fist.

She jumped, or gasped, she wasn't entirely sure. But he sensed it, and she saw his upper body tense and then relax as he forced himself to stay in control of his anger. When he turned around his eyes were reluctant and stormy.

"Oliver," she began again. "We're your team. We said we'd do this, we signed ourselves up because we believe in you, in what you are trying to do. Well, most of the time." Even though his eyes burned into hers, she gathered her courage and reached out her hand again. This time it landed on his forearm.

He looked at it for a moment. She could feel his muscles tense and ready under her light touch.

"But we have to be able to trust you."

The sentence hung there as the two of them stood frozen. Oliver looked back at her, but made no move to speak.

"We've always understood, well, I have and I think the same goes for Diggle, that if we need you, you'll come. If you say you're doing something, you'll do it. And I know there were choices, and that kid and Laurel… I know it wasn't easy, but you told him you'd be there. And people died."

He looked away from her then, off to the back of the room. He hadn't shaken off her hand yet.

"You know, I feel responsible." That got his attention. His gaze snapped back to her face, and she quickly looked down. "There was so much happening. I gave you that information, forced that choice on you. And people died."

He closed his eyes, leaning against the wall tiredly. She thought he might say something, but the silence stretched until she hesitantly filled it.

"And it… it's not like I would presume to make that decision for you, I mean, it's not really my call. But if I'd just not set up that alert, or if I'd waited to tell you until after you and Dig got Deadshot…"

"We might both be dead."

She looked up at him. His blue eyes were open again, and fixed on her face. His voice had lost its hard edge.

"Or maybe everyone would have lived," he sighed. "I don't know if I made the right choice. But I do know that you did."

He straightened and reached a hand out, sliding it up her arm to cup her shoulder. The warm weight of it was distracting, but the raw scrapes on his knuckles sobered her.

"Oliver, you can't say that. It's not all on you."

"It is. It has to be," he said, "otherwise how do I justify letting you stay? What you do for me, Felicity, you help me make better decisions. You even my odds against the list. But that doesn't make you responsible for my choices."

"Well that's a relief, because I have a few things to say about your choice of interior decorating down here." The joke felt stiff and ill-timed, but he gave her a crooked half-smile anyway and a bit of the knot in her stomach dissolved. "Oliver, this was you and Diggle way before it was you and me."

He shot her a warning look, which she chose to ignore.

"And by you and me, I don't mean YOU and ME. I mean I support you in ways Diggle can't. Why does this all sound weird? But we're at our best as a team," she forged ahead. "You might, but I don't know how to do this without him."

"I guess we're about to find out."

He squeezed her shoulder and dropped his hand back to his side. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and Felicity could see the effort it cost him. She knew he was closing off, ending the moment of honesty for now.

"Just, will you just promise to think about talking to him? Make this a temporary thing before reuniting the team? I really do think my life expectancy doubles with both of you around."

The smile dimmed, and he looked at her seriously. "Felicity, he's not coming back. But I'll keep you safe."

"I want you to promise," she said. "Not about the keeping me safe bit. Well, actually, I'd be ok with that too, it's just not the point. But promise to think about it."

"I'll think about it," he said shortly. She nodded and was about to turn away when he put his hand gently on her chin and guided her face back to look at him. "I promise to keep you safe." His eyes were dark and earnest, and her heart fluttered uselessly beneath the weight of that vow.

Behind them, the computer gave off a series of short beeps. They broke apart, and Felicity took a deep breath as she walked back to her post, her nerves shifting into overdrive. Time to see what she'd found.