I disclaim. I also have to say that I'm sick, so if this is awful-or doesn't make sense-sorry. Spoilers for Lazarus.
The moment he wakes up he wants to see her.
They brought him back, and knocked him out so that he doesn't know what's going on.
He wakes up somewhere in Metropolis. He miraculously manages to stagger his way Watchtower(luckily nearby), where Emil is waiting, for some reason he doesn't understand, or care about. He's just grateful.
He asks for Chloe, but Emil tells him to wait. He blacks out again.
He comes to. "Chloe," he rasps.
"Save your energy, Oliver. Don't try to speak."
"Chloe," he demands.
"Not now."
Oliver opens his eyes, painstakingly. He grabs hold of Emil's coat. "Now."
"She's not here."
"Get her. Please." The whimper in his voice makes Emil wish there were something he could do. But there's not. Emil can't believe that he is the one who has to tell everyone that's she's gone, that she sacrificed herself to save Oliver.
He hadn't known that that what she was going to do, at first. He'd known she'd had a plan, and then she'd disappeared. She'd sent him a text message, warning him to be onsite for Oliver's arrival. That had been hours ago though, and now he understood what she'd done.
He would have stopped her, had he known. But it was too late.
"I can't," Emil finally says, simply.
"Why not?" Oliver asks. His heart plummets into his stomach, it starts to beat scarily fast. He's terrified. "Where is she?"
Emil closes his eyes. He doesn't want to say it—but he does. "She traded herself for you."
If there were a way to literally feel your heart break, Oliver imagines that this is what it feels like. He realizes that it was her-that body he'd slammed into during what he now realizes was a trade. Him for her. It's his fault, and she's gone. He remembers that last bit of contact he'd had with her-and wishes it hadn't ended that way. Their goodbye kiss—that was acceptable. But her trading herself to save him? Completely unacceptable.
It hurts.
He feels himself sink into the pain—so much worse than anything that the man who had tortured him had managed to inflict. He can barely breathe, and it's not just because he's in quite a bit of physical pain. His heart hurts more than anything else.
His mind grasps for some sort of explanation, for some way to understand why she would do this. He shouldn't have told her he loved her, he thinks irrationally. He rejects that thought moments later, realizing that she still would have done it—words or not.
Suddenly, he feels fury. He sits up, grabbing Emil, almost choking him with the force of it. "Why did you let her do it?"
"I didn't. I didn't know until it was already done. I'm sorry, Oliver." There's sympathy in his voice, and a hint of pity.
"I need to go find her, now." Oliver tries to get off the bed, but he's weak enough that Emil pushes him back down easily.
"I can't let you do that," Emil injects something into him quickly. Oliver feels everything fade away.
"You'll just end up hurting yourself more," he says to a passed out Oliver. "I'll get Clark."
Emil lets himself briefly feel the loss of Chloe, then gets back to business.
When he wakes up he tells himself that it was a dream, that Chloe didn't sacrifice herself for him. That she wouldn't do that for or to him. He takes a single look around and sees Clark. His face says it all.
"She's really gone." Oliver says softly. It doesn't sound possible, or right.
Clark nods. "She's dead by now, Oliver. I tried to find her, I tried finding the men who took her, and I just couldn't." Clark looks ashamed, like this his fault. "And I doubt they would have let her live after they get whatever they want out of her."
"Maybe she's not dead."
Clark is in pain, Oliver can see that plainly enough, but it's nowhere near what he feels.
"I'm sorry, Oliver—" Clark's voice cuts off at the end, and Oliver can't tell whether or not Clark blames him.
"It's my fault." Oliver says.
"No. She made her choice. No one could have stopped her, she'd have done the same for me-for any one of us. She's gone."
His heart splinters—shatters—again. He feels a wet liquid on his face, tastes salt. Tears. He's crying.
It swirls around. He starts to grieve, he starts to let himself fall apart. But then he remembers that he owes Chloe more than that. She saved him, myth and man once. And she'd done so once again. She is his hero. He can't fall apart. He remembers what he only realized recently, which is that it's her. It's always been her. It was never Lois, it was never any other woman. She is his better half, his soulmate-and every other clichéd term possible. Chloe is it. And she would expect better of him right now.
The tears stop. He pushes the pain away. He steels himself. He's realized something important—crying won't bring Chloe back. But he will.
He loves her. And that damned foolish woman loves him too.
He will find her. And he'll make her say the words again. I love you.
Because there is no way in hell that she's dead. He would feel it. He would know.
And he still has to yell at her for being so monumentally stupid.