Felicity hitched up the length of her dress a few inches and, as tentatively as a drunk Felicity could, stepped out onto the wet grass. She walked along the vast expanse of the lawn with no particular course or direction. The atmosphere was magical, romantic even. With the din of the party behind her and the illumination of only the stars, Felicity trekked along the grass, clutching an empty champagne glass in one hand and a near empty bottle in the other, along with the hem of her dress.

"Felicity. Where are you?" a concerned voice buzzed in her ear. Remembering the pesky thing, she grabbed the little communicator and dropped it in the grass. She stared up at the stars trying to figure out constellations that her mother had taught her when she was a child. She picked out Ursa Major and tried to imagine line that would lead to the North Star, but she was at a loss. She sorely wished she had paid more attention.

Staring at one plane and walking in another had some nasty repercussions for the uncoordinated, especially drunk and uncoordinated individuals. The wet grass offered little traction and Felicity landed on her back. Propping herself onto one elbow she poured herself another glass of the $200 bottle of champagne, figuring that the Queens wouldn't notice one of the fifty or so bottles circulating the room.

Felicity opened her mouth to let the crisp drink glide down her throat. As she emptied the glass, she could feel the alcohol stoke the small fire in her chest. She began to pour herself another glass, but thought better of it, putting her lips to the rim of the bottle instead. A single drop landed on her tongue. Lifting the bottle higher, she closed on eye and looked into the bottle with the other. Finding it empty, she dropped it beside her and let the precarious elbow that was holding her up give away.

She could feel the wetness of the earth dampen the back of her dress, but she didn't care. The sensation was, despite being dulled by her state of intoxication, refreshing. A bubble of sadness formed in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She didn't want to think, so she decided to figure out those damn constellations. Ursa Major. Ursa Minor?

"I'm pretty sure that's Cassiopeia."

"What?" Felicity asked, not taking her eyes off the constellation. She didn't need to look for the person who was speaking to her. Oliver Queen's voice was not a voice she was going to forget anytime soon. Felicity hadn't realized she had spoken out loud, but adjusted her eyes to see the W formation she had missed anyway.

"Do you know the story of Cassiopeia?" Oliver asked.

"Hm?" Felicity asked her mind focused on the stars that seemed to be moving towards her. God, she really had drank a lot. She let her eyes drift upwards to see an upside-down image of Oliver Queen as he stood above her, the white shirt of his tux glowing in the darkness.

"Cassiopeia was the wife of King Cepheus," Oliver began sitting down beside Felicity, shrugging out of his jacket.

"Oh, I know this one. My mom used to tell it to me all the time," Felicity interrupted, her eyes drifting from Oliver back toward the constellations. She watched the stars move closer and closer to her face. She was almost cross-eyed until one of the moving stars landed gently and melted on contact with her cheek, while the other got caught in her eyelashes.

She smiled at the sensation. She missed the proper snow covered winters of her childhood. It never snowed much in Starling City.

She licked at a stray snowflake that had landed on her lip and propped herself up once more, mimicking Oliver's position. Felicity continued a story as he draped his jacket around her shoulders. Her heart fluttered for a moment at the smell of Oliver all around her.

At any other time, Felicity's reaction would have been heightened and thoroughly embarrassing, in true Felicity fashion, but not tonight. Tonight she was drunk, miserable, and fighting tooth and nail to not think, to keep the paralyzing sadness at bay. Felicity pulled the jacket tightly around her absentmindedly. She wasn't cold; she just needed a barrier between her and the real world. She needed to feel protected.

Pushing the thoughts away she continued with her story. She turned to Oliver, who watched her carefully, searching her face, his warm smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"I used to get teased a lot in high school. I wasn't very pretty or popular, or coordinated, and well, it wasn't the best time for me. It did not help that I was a virgin till college."

Oliver said nothing. His eyebrows simply raised in response, a smile threatening to form on his lips.

"My parents, god bless them, weren't really conventional when it came to that sort of thing. Most parents gave their kids the 'Beauty is only skin-deep' or the 'Don't let the other girls make you feel that you're not pretty enough' speech. My mom gave me the, 'Vanity gets you hung upside-down in the sky like Cassiopeia' speech."

"She sounds like a good mom."

Felicity couldn't bring herself to respond. A simple nod would have to suffice.

"How do you know about Cassy?"

With an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face, "Oh you know us billionaires and our yachts and general seafaring ways".

"How could I forget?" Felicity responded, rolling her eyes rather dramatically.

The warmth crept up from nowhere. She had been feeling fine a few moments ago and now she suddenly felt disoriented by the heat and the thrumming of her heart. Her chest began to tighten and her breaths were becoming shorter and more rapid. She clenched the fabric on her chest and pushed herself up with one hand, dizzily collapsing into Oliver's arms. When had he managed to stand up?

She watched his lips move, but she couldn't make out the words. "What?" she gasped, but she quickly realized why she couldn't hear his words. The ringing was getting progressively louder, like one hundred Cicadas on a hot summer day. He chest kept tightening and she was soon doubled over, the lack of air making her feel faint. Her skin tingled and she couldn't fell anything at all. Her vision blurred and the tears came unbidden.

"I can't breathe. Oliver, I can't breathe," Felicity rasped out.

"Felicity. Felicity I need you to look at me," Oliver commanded.

She looked up at his piercing blue eyes through her tear filled ones.

"Hey, hey, listen to my voice. Focus on my voice. You're having a panic attack. It'll pass in a few moments."

When she was sure she could stand on her own, he lifted his hands and cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears the slipped down her cheeks.

"Take deep breaths for me okay."

She nodded, her face still captured between his two hands, and placed her hands on his. She took deep breaths in and out, trying to steady her heartbeat. In and out. In and out. Within a few moments her breaths came easier, just as Oliver had promised. His eyes never strayed from hers. Moments slipped away.

They stayed that way, unmoving, until Felicity's muscles began to unclench and relax. The realization of how hard she had been holding on to his hands struck her. The heat from his hands warmed hers, and as her senses began to sharpen she began to feel the warmth from his body radiate down hers, and only then did she realize how close they had been standing. Not wanting to make her crush on Oliver Queen any worse, she pulled away rather abruptly.

"Uh, um, thank you."

Oliver's gaze bore through and she knew he was checking to make sure that the attack had really subsided.

"I'm sorry…" she continued, wanting to fill the awkward silence.

"You have nothing to apologize for Felicity."

"I know, but the mission…" Felicity said, gesturing with one hand towards the mansion.

Felicity bit her lip and attempted to blink the tears away. "I shouldn't have come. You were right. You and Dig should've done this alone. We were planning this for so long and I'm so sorry I screwed this up and now he got away."

"We'll get him next time. There will be other opportunities." Oliver was resolute.

She didn't know why she was surprised. She shouldn't have been. Oliver was always a rock. She could always trust him, always depend on him. Even when she got the phone call earlier that day at the lair, he was there. He didn't ask what happened; he simply waited until she was ready and when she tried to tell him but failed, he held her close. He didn't offer any advice, he didn't probe, he just stayed with her. He never left her side. Now, looking into his eyes, she finally said the words she couldn't earlier.

"My mom died today Oliver."

She watched through watery eyes as his jaw clenched and he offered a small, almost imperceptible, nod. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he pulled her close once more, and held her as she cried, held her as the stars fell around them.