A/N: Okay so two big warnings here.

1: If you haven't watched 3x09 it's big spoilers.

2: This is angsty as hell BUT it does have a happy(ish) ending. You just gotta get to it.

I saw two images across tumblr that inspired this and I just had to write it. I know there is a lot of people writing these right now, and now I am one of them. So it's out of my system so I can go write something else. (Maybe a different happier reunion fic?)

On my AO3 account (same pen name) I have the links to the images that inspired this if you want to see them. Again spoilers if you do.

She sees him everywhere.

She sees him everywhere.

She can't turn a corner without confusing someone for Oliver Queen. She's learned by now not to react to him passing her on the street, or entering her office. The moment her heart jumps into her throat thinking this was the time it would be really him always falls apart. He fades away as quickly as he appears before her.

The first time she sees him it was only days after the announcement of his death. By lunch of her heavy work day she was in desperate need of air. The office that was his but is now hers only rings of empty memories—empty but precious. And they also feel suffocating and for that she cannot focus. Her day isn't all that busy, but she can't focus and she feels cramped in her own mind between work and memories. The first moment she has the chance to jump into the elevator she takes.

There's a park nearby that has a bridge over a small pond and Felicity plants herself on the top step and wraps her arms around her knees as she stares out at the few people milling around the area. It's not terrible cold, but for some reason Felicity can't feel warm. She hasn't felt that way since Oliver left the Foundry to fight Ra's Al Ghul. It had been a simple cold thread in her stomach at first as Diggle, Roy and her sat around the 'Arrow Cave' just waiting for some sort of sign from Oliver. It morphed into a full on dread when it wasn't Oliver that came down the stairs days later—but Merlyn.

The cold had shifted that day, now most of her days it sits in her gut like a stone, radiating across her body until her fingers felt numb. She figures this is her body's reaction to the news—because she hasn't broke apart yet. She yelled and screamed that night at Merlyn. That it wasn't true, that it was his entire fault… that she would make him pay; one way or another. Felicity wasn't sure how, but she'd find a way.

In fact the first time Felicity saw Oliver, she was in the middle of trying to plot a way for revenge. She wasn't used to this side of herself, but anything was better than admitting she would never see him again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him; hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket and dark wash jeans. He didn't say anything, staring straight ahead and not even sparing her a glance. And Felicity couldn't move.

Shock and hope turned her blood hot and Felicity could feel herself move in slow motion. Slowly she twisted the top half of her body, releasing her knees so she could stare at the back of Oliver as he continued across the bridge without slowing. And then it seemed like reality snapped back into her body. She jumped to her feet, stumbling slightly across the stairs to get her footing under her and bolted for the familiar leather jacket.

"What the hell Oli—" Felicity snagged the back of his leather jacket; her fist clutching so tight it actually ached with protest. But he turned to face her and almost instantly Oliver faded from her view. Instead was a man she didn't know, clearing shocked and startled by her action. A heartbeat passed through her and she let go of the jacket like it was on fire.

"I… I'm sorry. I thought you were…" She couldn't put a sentence together. The hope that had bloomed in her chest receded and instead she could feel a chasm left in its' wake. She felt as if someone had punched her in the gut and for just a second she wished the man would. Any sort of physical pain would be a welcome distraction to the hole in her heart. There was no one to fill it—Oliver was gone. Gone. The denial that had been the glue to the cracks across her being couldn't withstand the wound to her heart. For the first time since the news of Oliver Queen's death, she truly feels the loss.

She didn't return to work.

Time stops as she falls apart and grieves.

There is nothing holding her together anymore.

She sees him everywhere—including her dreams.

If everyday life doesn't play cruel enough tricks on her heart, her mind certainly adds to it in spades. Because sleep is the place where not just imagination takes over but memories and Felicity has come to hate sleep as much as crossing the street day by day. Actually… she hates dreaming more.

Dreams remind her of all things he said to her. Memories invade her dreams and she can see Oliver so full of life even in his darkest most tortured moments. Felicity loves Oliver—the smile he would give her always set her on fire. Her heart would race and she would wish even after the 'break-up' that he would just let his self control slip and pull her close. She relives their kiss so many times that she loses count and she refused to admit that she shouldn't have been keeping track in the first place.

But as much as she loves happy Oliver, she loves broody Oliver just the same. He was intense in those moments and she could see the man underneath the masks. Someone who loved the people in his life—the ones he would give his life for. Oliver was far from perfect and she doubted he even understood how strongly he loved, but she had lived to see it in his eyes. For his sister, for his brother Diggle, for his boy like son in Roy—for her. Felicity can't bring herself to think of those he lost because the count is too high and she can never help but question how he could lose so many people and still love the way he does—did.

The memory dreams are hard to swallow in the light of day, but it's her imagination dreams that make her days unbearable. Those dreams live to torture her with regret and those are the days she can't get up from bed.

She sees him like a spectral floating around them. The remaining Team Arrow working to save the city and she is the only one who can see him. Roy and Diggle walk through him, around him and never notice. Felicity notices… it's impossible not to. He looks broken and unbearable sad. He mouths words to her that she can't hear but she can feel the echo reverberate through her none the less.

"Why did you let me go?"

"Why didn't you try to stop me?"

"Why didn't you say it back?"

It's even worse when her memories and imagination mix. It's always the same moment in time—where she stopped being because he walked out of her life. Oliver standing before her telling her he would come back, that Thea would be fine.

The scene is a memory that plays perfectly regardless of the amount of times she's seen it. He kisses her forehead, insists that he knows two things. But he steps away from her, begins to fade before her eyes. She always asks what the second thing is and as Oliver turns to face her—as he opens his mouth—he vanishes before her eyes and Felicity is left entirely shattered.

She never hears him say "I love you" again.

Ever.

At the time it had seemed like a bad idea to return the sentiment—and she did. She never realized just how her being was intertwined with his. Someone had cut Oliver from her as if they intended to remove her soul.

If she had said it back they were bound to be doomed right? Like ridiculous star crossed lovers admitting love to one another knowing they'll never see each other again. Only Oliver had gone up to that mountain without ever hearing her say it back. He had died without the knowledge of just how much she loved him. Had he died thinking she didn't love him? Had his thought of her in the last moments been about that?

Her heart bleeds constantly at that thought.

Her regret leaves her immobile until someone pries her from her bed.

Oliver has left and he'll never know.

No matter how she cries it out in the dark.

"Don't go, I love you!" Felicity feels her voice is raw, but she can never stop herself from bolting straight up in her bed. The words always leave her throat, tight and scratchy from the knot—the sign she's been sobbing in her sleep, never mind the tears that chill her face. She really can't feel it… she can't feel anything but sorrow and grief anymore. She sits in her bed gasping for air between sobs and almost wishing she had never met Oliver Queen.

There is movement in the dark and Felicity's eyes fly to the shadow in the corner of her room next to the window. She feels her breath stutter and she readies herself for another intervention. Roy or Diggle would step from the shadows and do their best to talk her back down, but it never sticks.

As the shadow steps forward however she feels her heart lurch towards the figure. He looks almost exactly like he did when he left, albeit more tired but very much whole. He isn't see-through, but this is the first time she's seen Oliver Queen without some stranger beneath the vision. His stare doesn't waver and Felicity can't breathe because it hurts too much. She has stepped it up in her growing insanity and she wonders for a moment if this is her breaking point. They just stare at each other as if they can't believe they see the other. Felicity breaks first because it's impossible to stare at him knowing he isn't really there.

A new batch of tears springs to her eyes and her heart tries to jump from her chest making her ribs hurt far worse than the echoing ache of sobs—which return with a vengeance. Her imaginary Oliver looks startled at her sudden shift and she wishes he would stop looking at her. And then he's moving towards her and it's the sweetest form of torture the way his hands ghost over her shoulders—she hasn't realized how little they touched since the break up until this moment and now it's not even real. Her mind has snapped and she can full on feel someone that isn't really there. But imaginary Oliver is pulling her close and it's only then she realizes she's sobbing the same words over and over again.

"I love you."

"I should have told you."

"I'm so sorry."

"Please don't leave me. Please!"

Felicity wakes the next morning feeling like someone ran her over with a truck, which isn't anything new seeing as this was not the first time she has cried herself to sleep through exhaustion. But it is the first time that she's felt warm since that first moment her mind imagined Oliver passing by her on a bridge. Her face is pressed into something solid and she wonders for a moment if she had been sleep walking because her bed didn't lie up against the wall.

"Felicity?" She freezes at the voice. It's familiar and painful—the one she hears every night in her dreams. Her name is a whisper, cautious as if the mere word will set her off again… it probably will. She shifts slightly, realizing there is a weight across her side and as much as she tries to tell herself she's imagining it—it feels very real at the moment. She pulls her face from the 'wall' and forces her eyes open with a harsh exhale of breath. The sight of skin and scars greets her and her mind scrambles for thoughts. The first one…

Why was Oliver shirtless in her bed?

There is a rumble beside her and Felicity draws her head back further to find Oliver staring at her, a twist of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Because you wouldn't stop trying to take it off last night." Felicity feels her face light on fire instantly. In her grief she was… undressing Oliver? And apparently even with an imaginary Oliver she still speaks without realizing it. He certainly didn't seem to mind, seeing as his grin grew and then Felicity felt reality settle back in over heart like it always did. This wasn't real—she had snapped in the middle of the night and now she had an imaginary shirtless Oliver that she could feel beside her.

Oliver sensed her shift in mood because the grin slipped from his face as she sat up in the bed again. She wants to bolt from the bed but her mind counters "where?". Oliver sits up next to her slowly and she keeps her gaze from anywhere but him.

"You're not real." She chokes out, desperately hoping that acknowledging the fact would make him disappear so she can deal with her new level of insanity. She tries to catch her breath, to keep from sobbing again because she's tired of doing nothing but cry. Tired of wanting nothing for herself since the man beside her left her behind. She should have known better… the people in her life never lasted. They left willingly, from one action or another—but the end result was always the same.

Alone.

"Felicity look at me." Oliver's hands land on her shoulders, heavy and warm and she wants nothing more than to curl back into her insanity—to join Oliver one way or another. She remains sitting still, but her eyes obey him. How can she not? She's already regretted enough.

"Breathe for me. Deep breaths." Felicity frowns but does the best she can. Oliver leads her, breathing in first and she follows. She feels the panic in her chest slowly release her chest as his thumbs brush across her skin in calming circles and Felicity's mind tortures her with the knowledge that she'll never know if he would have comforted her like this. Tears leak from her eyes and his hands instantly move up from her shoulders to cup her face.

"I'm here." Her body jolts slightly as her eyes fly up to his. He's serious—nothing new—but the longer she stares the more heat she can feel from his skin. His scent wraps around her much like his arms had the night before and her heart leaps at the words; wants to believe them more than anything in the world.

Oliver just sits there staring, letting her absorb the words. His hands never move from her face, but his thumbs brush any skin they can reach. His eyes drift too, across her face as if he's trying to memorize this very moment. His eyes are soft—tender—and Felicity draws a shaky breath.

"Oliver?"

It's nothing more than a whisper like her name had been, but he hears her. He doesn't respond other than nodding his head slightly and Felicity can feel her body give out. She pushes his hands from her face and promptly crawls into his lap, arms thrown around his neck as she clings to him. His scent doesn't fade, and she can feel him breathe in—feel his heart beat against hers. He doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, banding her tightly to his chest as if he was the one afraid she might disappear.

"I love you."

It's the first time she's heard the words since that painful night.

"I love you too."

She doesn't miss the chance to say it back this time.