AN I realize that I gave you guys no warning outside of the progression of the story, but this is the end. I hope and I pray that it is every bit as satisfying an end as you crave, and I also want to thank you all for the wonderful, wonderful response you have given this dumb little rom com of a story. I've truly loved writing it and sharing it with you, and I'm delighted that it's managed to touch people in ways beyond a satisfying romance. Thank you all, but especially thank you once again to the darling Bess, who edited this when I was stressed and writing as fast as humanly possible, and who has been with me all the way.

Please enjoy the final chapter of 'it's the most wonderful time of the year'.

Three months. Time had always been fluid for Oliver, a senseless stream of day after day until he blinked and realized part of his life had passed before his eyes.

Blink. He was twenty. Blink. He had mourned his father for almost six months. Blink. He hadn't seen his family in five years. Blink. He hadn't seen Felicity in so, so long.

Maybe that was just the basic nature of running, of going so fast and so far that the world around him blurred and couldn't keep up. He would lose some things heartbeats and miles and years before he realized how much he needed to keep them.

But now three months had passed since he had said goodbye to Felicity in the hospital cafeteria. He missed her, he needed her, he loved her, and he was tired of making himself exist without her. Even if she decided that this was too much, that she could not be connected to a Queen, he needed to know that he had at least tried. He needed to know that he was no longer running.

When he called a family meeting, everyone looked worried. He stood before his mother and Thea in one of the parlors, trying to ignore their anxious looks. Diggle stood in the doorway, acting under the pretense of needing to know catastrophic news that might affect the family. He didn't need to say anything for Oliver to know he was actually there for moral support.

Diggle had been decent enough to let the subject of Felicity rest after it had first been brought it up. He recognized that Oliver was in no way ready to deal with it. He probably recognized that Oliver was new and inexperienced with dealing with things in general. But when Oliver had announced he was going to try to fix things with Felicity, Diggle had given a proud smile and asked, "Alright, what do you want me to do?"

Oliver didn't know how to express that the offer of support was all he had ever needed from Diggle.

"Oliver…what is this about?" Moira asked, leaning forward slightly on the sofa. Thea glanced at her mother, then glanced back at Oliver. She still hadn't quite learned how to mask her emotions, as naked worry spread across her face. Oliver tilted his head back as he stood before them, wondering how this was about to play out.

"Lately, I've been thinking about what I want to do next."

"Like what? Build a new homeless shelter, or…?" Thea asked, letting her question trail away. She looked almost scared, the thought of him leaving them again heavy in her mind.

Oliver shook his head. "These last months have been a sort of testing ground for what I want to do. Everything I've done has been good and worthwhile, but I don't…" Oliver swallowed then pushed on, not giving himself time to question or doubt or backtrack. He was going to do this. "I don't necessarily want to do it as a Queen."

"I don't understand."

His mother stared at him, eyes digging into his. She carried the edge of steel in her voice that Oliver imagined her opponents must have heard after they delivered damaging news. He stood straight, though, because he was not an opponent, he was her son and he had every right to stand his ground and not compromise because finally, finally, this was his life. He was the one shaping it, not his family, not his past, and certainly not his guilt.

"The Queen name is a powerful tool. It has helped me with almost anything I need, but it also…is not necessarily the thing I want to be branded under."

"What're you saying, Ollie? Are you going to leave us again? Are you quitting the family?" Thea's voice had gone high from stress, making her sound so, so young. He looked at her, praying she could see the reassurance in his eyes.

"I'm saying that these philanthropic efforts I have been making are something I want to continue. Only, I want to continue them as Oliver, not the heir to the Queen throne."

"And how are you planning on doing that?" Moira said, pulling herself back behind her neat business persona. She tilted her head like she was appraising his potential bargain, sizing up how much of a struggle he would give. The thin line of her mouth said that she knew he would fight her for all of the billions he was worth.

"I want to start my own company."

He waited, head held high as he watched his mother and his sister. They were both surprised, probably having expected estrangement and disassociation to yet again have been the terms of his deal. Thea blinked like she was trying to process his words, while Moira's face was completely blank.

"Start…your own company?" Thea glanced at her mother for affirmation. "To do what?"

"Keep fixing the city. Keep fixing every city. I don't want to be the only one profiting from my money and connections. While I was gone I saw horrible things, people just not caring because they didn't get anything out of helping another person. I can't change everything, but I want to at least show people that they don't have to suffer."

"What are you thinking?" Thea asked.

Oliver reflexively stiffened, expecting her to mock and criticize him. Words like 'you're barely more than a train wreck yourself, Ollie,' or 'you are not the person to help people' paraded through his head before he realized she was waiting for his response.

"Rehabilitation centers, public clinics, homeless shelters, soup kitchens. Anything that can help people with their problems. Then, once we have our feet under us, more general programs that can help people across the country. Anything from scholarships to training to trauma recovery. I can do so much, I don't want to stop with only helping me."

Oliver watched his mother, who had dropped her gaze to her hands. She smoothed her skirt to buy herself a little more time, then looked up at him. He couldn't read her sharp blue eyes.

"So what does this have to do with not being 'branded under the Queen name'?"

"I don't want it to be a subsidiary of Queen Consolidated. I want this to be my own company, my own endeavor. I don't want people to be turned away because it's another rich kid's cheap trick to look good. I want people to trust that what I'm doing is good."

"So it would be yours and not the Queen family's?"

"Yes."

"That's…that's really cool, Ollie," Thea said, breaking into a grin. He looked at her in surprise, not sure what to do with the pride in her eyes. She was beaming at him, delighted by his news. Moira was more reserved, still weighing the cost of his proposal like any good business woman.

If only she were a mother first, Oliver thought bitterly, then caught himself. In that moment, Moira Queen was most likely not weighing out property and images and dollars, but distance and personal time and affection. He had cut her off once and she would be a fool if she carelessly gave him the tools to do it again.

"So this…would be do something you did entirely by yourself? No help, no influence, no…nothing from me?"

Thea froze at their mother's words, cutting a nervous glance at Oliver.

"No," he said hurriedly, raising his hands. "No, I'm not removing me from you two, just my business. I don't want to leave you two, I love you."

Moira broke into a smile, finally disarmed by the candid confession of love. "Alright, Oliver. I promised I would help you before and that still stands. Tell me what you need."

Oliver glanced up at Diggle, finally daring to look away from his family. The man was giving him a wide smile, glad to see the Queens finally understand each other. When Oliver left the mansion twenty minutes later, Diggle fell instep beside him.

"So what's your plan now? How does Felicity fit into this?"

Oliver turned back to Diggle, taking in the spread of the mansion grounds as he went. His old home didn't seem like chains or regulations anymore. They were opportunities and options that were all his to take.

"I didn't see a way to be Oliver Queen with her," he told Diggle, the final pieces of his plan clicking together. "She…there was no way I could put her through the hell that is the public eye, that's why she left. So now I've changed things. I'm going to change the world and make it better by making myself better, and now I'm going to and find her and get her to take me back. Plus...you were right."

Diggle smirked openly at Oliver's confession, but pushed on. "Aren't you still concerned about the public eye, though?"

Oliver swung himself onto his motorcycle and picked up his helmet. He tossed Diggle a grin.

"No one cares about people who don't get drunk and buy hotels so they can go skinny dipping in the lobby's fountain."

Diggle laughed as Oliver pulled on his helmet. Diggle put his hands on his hips with the smile still in place, shaking his head like he was too impressed and pleased point out that was what he'd been saying for over five years.

Oliver revved his engine, making Diggle wave his hand as if to shoo him off the property.

"Go try to get your girl back, Queen. It's about time you realized you earned it."

Oliver sent the text in the middle of the day. His hand shook and his stomach was tight and he felt his heartbeat running under every inch of skin. But he was the master of himself and he got the text out.

please meet me tomorrow at 4:15 at the myrtle st bus stop.

He felt self-conscious, checking the message over and over and over again, taking care that it be perfect. As perfect as he could make this miserable situation.

Despite what he had said to Diggle at the mansion, Oliver didn't quite feel deserving of this chance. He had let Felicity go, he had not fought to make her stay. Because even though she had been the one to leave him at the hospital, he had been the one that hadn't searched for an answer that required more work than walking out of the hospital. He had let things stand in silence.

What did she think of him? Would she be angry that he was calling her back now, would she be pleased? Had she seen the things he had been doing, would she care? How much did philanthropy balance on a scale he had weighed with cowardice and selfishness?

He prayed she would meet him. She didn't respond or acknowledge his message in the slightest, but he hoped desperately that she would at least give him another chance. He was still Oliver, flawed and damaged in all the ways he had been before, but...she had still liked him, right? Would she still think he was the same despite the designer labels and the face in the papers and the long chilly absence between them?

Oliver sat at the bus stop, leg bouncing up and down as he waited. A steady drizzle slicked the streets, gliding garbage and grit away. Starling always sparkled in the rain, a melancholic beauty he had missed for all those years he had been gone.

He checked his watch and made his leg stop moving. Just a few more minutes of waiting. He had done worse in the last three months and they had all led to something better. There was some foundation to hoping the rule would hold.

He glanced around, watching people trek past. They were entirely uninterested in the man at the bus stop, not taking the moment to match his face to the papers and internet sites. He loved the anonymity of his city, how it let him be free in a way plane tickets and bus rides and new names had not.

Oliver checked his phone, in case he had missed a call or text. He hadn't.

He grumpily stuffed his phone back into his pocket and resumed bouncing his leg. He needed to relax. He needed to breathe, to calm down, to wait—

Oliver's phone buzzed in his pocket, making him choke in surprise. He checked the screen, heart in his mouth as he registered the name.

"Felicity?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the tension in his voice. He closed his eyes as she spoke, the ache in his chest peaking for a brief moment.

"Uhm, Oliver, hey. I…wasn't sure if I should call you."

"Why? Did you get my text?"

"Yes," she sighed, and all of the things she didn't say put a fist around his spin. "I wasn't certain if you texted the right person to be honest. I mean, I wasn't even sure it was you, despite the fact my phone said it was you…" She had kept him in her phone, just as he had. "But…meeting at a bus stop seemed…I dunno."

He closed his eyes again. He had prepared speeches and treaties and pleas for her, but he suddenly found himself mute.

"Why…why a bus stop?" she asked, straining for casual. Oliver swallowed, at first pulling out the cool, strong mask he needed, but then setting it back down. He was tired of hiding things from Felicity.

"I'm—I guess I'm just trying to figure out where to go next and I was hoping…you could help."

Felicity didn't speak, making his stomach turn. Silence from someone that talked so much felt wrong in the most fundamental ways.

"Does that mean you're not coming?" he asked. Oliver didn't actually want an answer, just in case she said yes, but he needed to fill the space between them.

"I don't know," she said, and Felicity sounded every bit as scared as he felt. "What are you looking for, Oliver?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what you're expecting. Everything seemed so clear in the hospital, it—it—it made sense then, it sucked but it made sense. But now you're calling me up when I should probably be no one to you and I don't get it. I—what's the point, Oliver?"

He bit his cheek, hating the doubt in her voice, the honest disbelief that this could be real.

"I never wanted to let you go," he whispered.

"But you did. We did. We had to. You and I…I didn't really fit into your new life, not with the way everyone would react. We both know that it's fine."

"It's not," he bit out, and he knew he had shocked her with the hard edge in his voice. "Felicity, it's not. I let you go because I didn't see a way to make us work, I didn't look, I didn't fight for it. But I want to fight for us, Felicity. I want to keep us. You didn't fit into the Queen lifestyle, no, but I didn't, either. There are other ways to do things and I can't…I've had so little good in my life, I've made so little good. And that's something that I've been changing."

"Yeah, you've been doing humanitarian work lately, I've seen in the papers."

"We were the first good thing I made," he told her, setting his final big truth into her hands.

Felicity was silent, the sound of the city around her filtering through his speaker.

"But that doesn't—your family—the same things apply," she said, as if desperate to find reason in the moment, to temper the hope pushing its way up Oliver's insides and expanding his ribs.

"No, Felicity. It took me three months to realize this, but I've spent so long thinking that Oliver Queen broke everything he touched and Oliver Dearden runs from everything that gets too close, but you…you and me, that happened and it's good and I didn't run away. And, Felicity, I swear I will never forgive myself if I break this by not trying to keep it safe."

Felicity was quiet for so long that he thought she had hung up. He needed her to answer, needed her to tell him if she was willing to start again and really try.

"Are you sure?" she breathed, a terrified plea in the sodden trudge of the city.

"Yes, Felicity, I'm sure. This can work, we can work. If you want us to, I promise you we can make this work."

"Oliver, look up at me."

Oliver jerked his head up, scrambling to his feet and staring in all directions. And then there she was, bright pink coat, sleek ponytail, phone pressed against her ear at the end of the block. As he watched, she clutched the phone to her chest in wordless prayer.

He broke into an enormous, breathlessly relieved grin and strode to her, not caring about the drizzle falling onto his head and shoulders. Felicity flickered an uncertain smile and walked toward him, but as she got closer the smile grew until she was beaming.

He grabbed her into a hug, barely believing that she was in his arms, that her sweet scent was in his nose, that her teary laugh was in his ear.

"I never thought I'd see you again, I thought we wouldn't happen, oh my gosh Oliver I never thought I'd see you again!"

"No, no, I'm here, I'm here, Felicity I love you, I'm here."

She held him tight, and he could feel her tears against his neck but she was laughing and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Oliver closed her eyes as he held her, hand pressed to the back of her head, holding her as tight as he dared. He had Felicity back. All his mistakes and stumbles and yet she had still wanted to come back.

He set her down and she wiped at her eyes. She was still laughing, the light of her smile knocking back the rain. Oliver held her shoulders and kissed her, and for a moment, he swore he could taste sunshine.