One moment, he was flying, his massive black wings spread out to full-span, the wind in his hair and rushing through his feathers, soaring above the Starling City rooftops and arching round the side of the Queen Consolidated building, and the next, he was falling.

He was performing his evening patrols like he usually did, dressed head to toe in dark forest green leather, bow and quiver strapped to his back, and then suddenly, without warning, as he was making a left sweep towards the Glades, something struck him out of the air. It was so unexpected, so shocking, that as he fell, wings buffeting, he didn't know how to react, his mind going completely blank.

Terror swept through his form and he tried to twist around, spread his wings to slow his fall, but pain shot through his nerves, making him cry out, and some of his muscles weren't responding due to his shock, and before he knew it, he was colliding with the ground and passing out, being dragged down into darkness.

It took him a while to return to consciousness, agony making itself evident as soon as he reached the surface of light and forcing him back down, but he finally managed to open his eyes slowly into slits, taking shallow, shuddering breaths, laced with whimpers and sobs of pain. He tried to move, inch sideways, but as soon as he twitched, trying to raise his wings to help him balance, the darkness swamped his mind again and he couldn't contain his scream.

His screaming dying down into groans, he tried to glance at his right wing to determine what was wrong and immediately felt sick as he caught sight of torn flesh soaked with blood and the glisten of exposed bone. His chest was painful as well - judging by the blood he was beginning to cough up, he could tell he had a punctured lung, probably a traumatic pneumothorax, and that he was most probably going to end up drowning in his own blood. Pain rippled through everywhere; his vision danced, he couldn't fully feel his legs, he felt cold all over, and he knew he was weakening.

Even angels could die, he reminded himself. If angels were in mortal form, using a human vessel, then they could die and he was dying. He wasn't going to make it.

"He should have fallen right about here," came a deep male human voice from around the corner and frozen in pain and fear, he tried to curl up, ignoring the stabs of agony, hide himself under his left uninjured wing, but he just knew that it wouldn't be enough, that he was going to be spotted.

"You know, I still feel terrible about shooting him out of the sky," a nervous female's voice followed. "He's been trying to help the city, clean up the streets -"

It was her.

He couldn't believe it. He recognised that voice - she was one of those government agents or scientists that had been tracing his movements for weeks, trying to get glimpses of him, trying to work out what he was, what his purpose was in the city. He remembered her voice because he had heard her before she had been babbling, rambling in such a way that had intrigued him, to another one of the scientists, in that office he had been able to spy in on. He had barely got a glance at her, but he knew that she was beautiful, truly and utterly in his eyes, and that she was intelligent as well, clever enough to be able to track him despite his constantly changing paths around the city.

He had always wanted to speak to her face to face.

"And he's been killing one-percenters in the process, Felicity," the male replied.

A name. He could put a name now to her face, her personality. Felicity. Happiness.

"The government are fine with letting him continue, which is ridiculous if you ask me, because they think he might be some kind of guardian angel -"

"To be fair, it's not everyday a winged crusader turns up and devotes himself to protecting a city," Felicity interrupted. "And his little saying, his catchphrase, that 'you have failed this city' thing - and he's been saving women from rapists, taking down drug dealers and stuff."

"But they want him tagged so we can track him. Shooting him down was the only option."

"You're not making me feel any better, Dig," Felicity grumbled. Then there was a brief moment of silence, but then after a moment, the female gave a horrified gasp and Oliver trembled, knowing he'd been spotted as she choked out, "Oh my god, Dig…"

Burying his head in the inside of his elbow, shaking, he heard the two humans slowly approach him carefully, keeping back in caution. He held himself completely and utterly still as they came closer, even holding his breath, thinking that if he played dead, they might leave him alone, but of course, they just came closer and closer, until they were standing over him. Then Felicity, 'happiness', knelt down beside him, a hand over her mouth in horror as she reached out with one hand to brush against his shoulder.

"We killed him," she whispered. "Dig, we killed him. He's not - I don't think he's breathing." The hand didn't even touch him before he unleashed a lethal growl, head snapping upwards and eyes flashing dangerously at her, making her jump back. "Whoa, okay, definitely not dead - it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Felicity, let's back off," Dig said quietly, taking hold of her elbow and pulling her back slightly. "He's going to end up having a panic attack."

Struggling to breathe, his chest heaved as he searched for oxygen, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. A coughing fit struck, and crimson splattered onto the ground beside his head, making the two humans exclaim in alarm. Still in mindnumbing pain, he stuttered out, "W-why would y-you d-do that? I - I was - I was s-saving the c-city…"

"Oh god, we're so sorry," Felicity murmured, sounding so upset, tears pooling in her eyes. God, even upset, she was remarkable. "We're just doing our job, they wanted us to put a tracker on you…" She catches sight of his right wing, her eyes widening. "Your wing…"

"I'm calling in a medical team," Dig announced lowly, looking solemn.

"I-I think I'm d-dying," he choked out.

"No," Felicity protested, stricken, falling to her knees again in front of him and threading her hands through his hair and feathers in some attempt at comfort, and he relaxed into it slightly with an exhausted, pained sigh. "You're going to be fine, alright, Dig's calling in help, you're going to be okay."

No. He couldn't get captured. He wanted to fly. He wanted to be free. "K-kill me," he gasped out, reaching forwards to grab Felicity's hand, eyes watering in pain. "C-can't get f-found, not - not F-Father's will. P-please just kill m-me. G-going to die a-anyway. Can f-feel it..."

Felicity looked immensely saddened by that, and she sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her free hand, but she also appeared at little angry at his request. "No, don't you dare. You're not going to die today. You're going to live, and you're going to be magnificant." She ran a hand through her hair to try and compose herself. "What's your name? You're an angel, right, you've gotta have a name."

"Oliver," he whispered. "It's O-Oliver."

She smiled tearfully. "Hi, Oliver. It's an honour to meet you. I'm Felicity Smoak. That's John Diggle. Trust me when I say you're going to make it through this, okay? You're not going to die, not today. I'll make sure of that."

She's beautiful, he realised, when turning to fully face her. She was actually beautfiul, and he found himself staring at her, the pain fading away slightly as he gazed at her, stunned by the kindness in her eyes, the goodness in her heart. She was breathtaking.

"Med team's five minutes out," Diggle reported quietly from the side. "Felicity, I don't think he's going to make it."

"He'll make it," she replied firmly, strongly, even though the way she was trembling suggested she was barely holding it together. "He's going to make it, because you're going to hold on, aren't you, Oliver?" Her tone turned pleading. "You're going to stay with me. Focus on me, Oliver. Don't think about the pain. Just focus on me."

His vision was swimming once again, and he could barely speak, but he managed to get out, "You're beautiful." A rasping sob threw him off course for a second, but then he gathered himself again and repeated to Felicity, the human with the blonde hair and the glasses and the kind eyes, "You're so beautiful."

"Thanks?" Felicity replied after a moment, sounding a little confused.

"S-Saw you before. Taking s-so fast, with such p-passion, it was amazing… W-Wish I could've g-got to know y-you. W-Wish it d-didn't have to end…"

"It isn't ending, Oliver," she murmured, tears flowing freely now. "It's only just beginning. Now hold on, and fight. Fight for me. Fight to stay with me, Oliver. Stay with me."

He shook his head, staring up past her at the night sky, admiring the stars, the universe beyond that, and in the clearest mindset he had ever been in, he answered very quietly, "I think it's my time to say goodbye now, Felicity."

"Oh god," she sobbed. She reached out behind her, grabbing Diggle's hand and pulling him down beside her. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, we killed you, we did this to you…"

"You don't deserve this," Diggle said grimly. "You should have been treated better; revelled, glorified. You're an angel, a warrior of God, and we just… shot you down like a bird to be slaughtered and plucked and you don't deserve this…"

"I d-deserve a lot," he chuckled weakly. "I deserve pain… suffering… I've ruined so many lives, killed so many people -"

"And saved twice as many," Felicity interrupted fiercely. "You've changed so many people's lives for the better, Oliver." The tears flowed over as she admitted, "Including mine."

"I'm just g-glad," he stuttered, feeling his life force beginning to leave, his Grace begin to gather together to depart back to Heaven. "T-that I got to spend m-my last moments with you two a-and not with some m-medical team…" He turned minutely to Felicity. "I-I'll find you, Felicity. I s-swear to God, I'll f-find you, someday. W-Whatever it takes, if I h-have to beg G-God, if I h-have to give up my w-wings, my Grace, a-anything. I'll f-find you."

She swallowed down a sob, nodding and whispering, biting her lip, "Okay. Okay. For future reference, my - my favourite flowers are Camellias and my favourite chocolates are strawberry creams. Turn up at my apartment with both and I'll - I'll know it's you, okay?"

"Maybe I c-could take you o-on a d-date," he chuckled, eyes slowly closing.

"Yeah, I'd like that," she murmured.

He was going. He could feel himself relaxing into the enveloping darkness, feel the peace oncoming to take him over, the feel of his Father's arms reaching out to cradle him once again, and the last thing he felt was Felicity's hand in his left wing's feathers and her hand in her hair and the whisper of her lips against his forehead.

Blonde hair.

Glasses.

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Stunning. Remarkable.

Camellias and strawberry creams.

Gone.

Six Months Later

The door opened. He shifted nervously on his feet, wingless and not able to rely on them for balance as he rocked back on his heels, and as ocean blue crashed with ocean blue, recognition dawning with shock, he held out the box of artfully made strawberry cream filled truffles and the bouquet of dazzling, bright pink Asian flowers.

"So how about that date?"

The only thing he can think of as she throws her arms around his neck and embraces him with her warmth, her kindness, her humanity is that he's finally home.