AN: So I'm not sure where this little plot bunny came from, but it's got me up way past my bedtime trying to get it out. I don't own Arrow. And reviews make my day.

The day's last one-way ticket train pulls in
We smile for the casual closure capturing
There goes the downpour
There goes my fare thee well

There's really no way to reach me
'Cause I'm already gone

Thinking back, he could see it. He could tell when he began to punish her. To punish them all. The pace he had set was cruel and the expectations too high.

They eyed him with trust and concern, not knowing how to approach him now.

Things had changed. The island had followed him home, and his demons were hot on his heels. A part of him wished he could run back to purgatory, tricking them into following. But as he spent his hours chasing down leads on the man in the skull mask, he realized that his demons were firmly entrenched in his city.

He had completely missed when they infiltrated his team.

Until that night.

It was well past 4 a.m. and they had been there for more than twelve hours. The tension was palpable as he paced heavily behind her chair. Back and forth. Back and forth. Wearing the concrete down, whipping his eyes to the screen every few moments as she searched. His demands were met with quiet acquiescence, belying the harsh tone he took as the night dragged on. That should have been his first sign. But he didn't have time to notice.

He hadn't noticed her untouched Chinese that Diggle had picked up hours before, or her hunched shoulders. All he saw was red. He saw blood. The island. Things he never wanted to think about again, yet seemed to be chasing him down.

He vaguely noticed Diggle slumping onto the training mats, covering his eyes with his arms and allowing himself a brief rest. He was a soldier and while tiring, the pace they had adopted was not uncommon during his time in Afghanistan. Oliver didn't have to worry about him.

His pacing slowed when an alert rang out from her system, pulling him to her side in a flash. He demanded an answer, leaning over her shoulder to peer at the data. She hesitated, leaning closer to look at the results. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head, telling him without words that they were back to ground zero again.

Another dead end. A growl issued up from his chest as his clenched fists slammed mercilessly onto the desktop. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen her flinch at the noise and at his anger, drawing back into her chair with a hand held to her forehead, rubbing furiously at her temple. If he had noticed, he would have heard the shaky sigh that fell from her lips as he stalked away toward the salmon ladder.

He isn't sure what she did during his workout. All he was focusing on was keeping the fear from completely overwhelming his soul. With each rung of the ladder, he felt himself regaining a bit of control over his emotions. Each time the metal clanged against wood, he shoved another demon back in his mind into its appropriate corner. By the time he released the bar and landed gracefully on the floor, he had pulled himself somewhat together. At least enough to turn and observe his team. Diggle was passed out on the training mat, snoring softly. Felicity was still at her computers, but she wasn't working. Her fists were clenched against her eyes, elbows resting on the desktop.

With a heavy sigh, he realized that while he preferred not to sleep, avoiding the darkness that met him there when he closed his eyes, these two, his team, they needed more. They needed to not feel the weight of his crusade as heavy as he did.

He decisively stepped forward, reaching an arm out to shake Diggle's shoulder. The soldier's eyes snapped open, fully alert and ready to move. A quick nod from Oliver was all it took for the man to rise from the floor and head for the door with a quick 'goodbye' to Felicity.

His eyes moved across the room to her and he felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night at all. They were due in the office in a few hours and she was still wearing the same grey dress she had yesterday. Approaching her quietly, he dropped a hand to her shoulder, noting the tension beneath his hand as he told her to head home.

With a nod, she rose, turning away from him to reach for her purse. She looked back at him for a moment and for a moment, he saw it. But before he could comment, her eyes were rolling back in her head and he was catching her as her body fell limp to the ground.

He didn't recognize the voice that whispered her name in fear as he caught her weight easily, swooping one arm under her knees to lift her into his arms. The tight concern in his own voice, laced with tendrils of fear sounded foreign as he repeated her name, once, again, pleading with her to open her eyes.

His unsteady hand caught hold of her tiny wrist, seeking the comforting and steady beat of her heart. The blessed sound that signified that he hadn't pushed her too far.

But somewhere in between the monitors and the couch in the corner, he saw with his own eyes that he had. Her normally creamy skin was ashen with exhaustion, the delicate tissue beneath her eyes dark and bruised in the dim light. A gentle hand across her forehead detected the fever that her body had finally succumbed to. His thumb brushed across dry, colorless lips and sunken cheeks. She had lost weight. Enough that he could see it in her face, could feel it as he carried her. Her softness had been replaced with hard edges, making him wonder the last time he had seen her eat.

His hand traced down her cold arm to her soft hand, gripping it in his as guilt washed over him. He had missed all the signs of her breaking point, and had kept pushing her past it. Pushing them all.

Tucking a blanket around her form gently, he retrieved a cool towel from the bathroom, returning to hold it tenderly to her checks and her forehead. As she lay there, he caught himself thinking how far she would let him push her. Not in his mission, but away from him. Away from this life that was draining her steadily. That was covering the light he had grown to love about her.

His thoughts were interrupted as the center of them tossed her head to one side, eyelashes fluttering lazily. His hand was there on her cheek, reassuring her as she came back to consciousness slowly. Her eyes met his and he felt his stomach drop. The utter exhaustion in them stole his breath and he couldn't help the way his voice softened as it spoke her name.

This was it. He knew it in his soul. She would leave him now. No, she wasn't lying here bleeding, or poisoned. She hadn't been kidnapped this time. Instead, she was lying here weak, exhausted, sick. Because he had pushed her to the limit and beyond. Not even noticing her body weakening each day.

His guilt assuaged momentarily as a cold hand covered his on her cheek and a soft smile warmed her pale face. His eyes met hers, scared to see his fears confirmed in their soft blue depths. What he saw instead was the same trust and adoration, faith and devotion, loyalty and if he was honest…love, the same things she showed him everyday.

He rose reluctantly and returned as quickly as he could, medicine for her fever and water in hand. She took it gratefully, resting against his hand as it cupped her neck to help her take a sip. Her eyes fluttered closed as he rested her back against the pillow, stroking his thumb from her temple to her jaw before letting his hand fall to wrap around hers.

She squeezed his fingers softly, before whispering that she was going to sleep for a while. Unable to formulate a quality response, he nodded, tucking the blanket ever tighter around her, situating the cool towel back across her warm forehead. Her hand grasped his yet again, squeezing again, confirming. Assuring.

She wasn't going anywhere.