I look around the dark, dimly lit hospital room and try to sit up straight in bed. I adjust the tiny baby in my arms and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes. His eyes.

She's so beautiful.

This is is my daughter.

Cassidy Queen.

I bit back a sob and pull my thoughts away from my impending death. I don't want to die.

A series of memories flash through my head and I remember the day I met Oliver Queen in AP History, the day I realized I was in irrevocably and madly in love with him, the moment we graduated from high school and went off to college together, initiating a roller coaster of ups and downs, break ups and make ups, affairs and tears, toxins and tremors, fights and fears-

We weren't good together but we worked. We fit, regardless of how unhealthy the course of relationship turned out to be.

And the good outweighs the bad.

If Oliver's life has taught me anything, it always will.

The moment when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him appears before my eyes and a slow smile graces my face as I remember what he asked of me. To become his wife. To be his. To begin our lives together. As one.

To try to be better.

After over a decade of ridding one hell of a roller coaster, we were planning to venture into calmer horizons.

Or so we thought.

Even though we loved each other and had been through so much together and needed each other on some insane level, we weren't in love with each other, and turns out, hadn't learned anything from our past experiences (and incidents with sisters and best friends) and maybe all we were looking for was familiar ground.

We weren't meant to be.

...

The first time we saw our unborn child on the ultrasound screen in the doctor's clinic and heard the tiny thrumming of our precious little one's heart was the best day of my life. The best day of his.

We were going to be parents; raising a baby of our own. Being needed and loved by someone we created; a little someone who would be the best of both of us.

A little someone we instantly fell in love with from the moment her existence became known to us.

If only a complication hadn't risen in the last month of my pregnancy.

Either mother or child could survive.

Only one.

One.

Not two.

Not me.

But nevertheless, my husband wanted to save me. Even if it meant killing her. Even if it meant losing the one good thing created out of our love. Even if it meant that we'd effectively say goodbye to our own child and that too, willingly.

I was utterly horrified.

I couldn't live a life by killing my daughter.

No way. Never.

I wasn't going to let go of her. She needed me to fight for her. To let her live. To let her grow. To let her become someone.

How could I end her life before it even started?

I wasn't going to do that.

I chose Cassidy. My first priority.

Betrayed as I am by my body, I feel content knowing I'm doing the right thing; that I've done the right thing. Oliver will have to learn to live with my choice whether he likes it or not. Whether it makes sense to him or not.

I won't be here for long.

It's time for me to go, to let go, to leave and to go into the light. I don't want this. Why did this happen to me? To us? Why?

If only...

"Take care of them," my voice is low as I turn to face the blonde seated in the chair next to my hospital bed.

Her eyes are red rimmed and round. "Laurel," she begins.

I cut her off. "I need you to promise me that you'll take care of them both," I say to her, placing a hand on top of hers.

Her back straightens. "I will," she vows, "but not in the way you want me to. I can't pretend to be your daughter's mother!" She looks terrified. "I can't be what you are to Oliver."

A small humourless laugh escapes my lips. "You already are."

She frowns. "He loves you."

"He loves you more," I correct. "I may be his wife and the mother of his child but you're the woman he loves. The only woman he listens to. The only woman who makes him see the light when he's drowning in darkness. Felicity, you're more to him than I'll ever be." And although it's painful to admit it, it is the truth. I won't deny it. I may be the woman Oliver married but Felicity Smoak is the one he loves; the one who's not just another ordinary drop in the ocean for him, but the entire ocean enclosed in one drop.

God, there's a part of me that hates her to her very core.

A part of me that bursts with envy.

A part that wishes she never existed.

And a part that is convinced that once I'm gone, she'll step up and be what I couldn't be for my husband; be what my daughter will need in a mother.

A part that knows she's exactly what Cassidy will ever need. I know Felicity and I may hate her (at times) and what she stands for (in my husband's eyes), I simultaneously rely on her and know she'll love my child and go to hell and back to keep her safe. To keep her happy. To be there for her when I'm not.

She chooses to remain silent.

"I'm counting on you," I continue.

She looks up. "I'm sorry."

I'm the one who's sorry.

*o*o*

MUHAHAHAHAHA I'm on a roll with all these Arrow fanfics, eh?

What do ya think? ;)