AN: I started writing this almost a month ago, but I never posted it because I wasn't sure it was very good. Then recently I came back to it, polished it up a bit, and now I feel better about it. I'm currently working on part two. This was based off of very loose spoilers we had at the time, and has no basis on any current spoilers or speculation.

For the purposes of this story, Oliver knows about Ray's ATOM suit and Ray knows that Oliver is the Arrow. They found out about each other during Diggle and Lyla's wedding.

Title is taken from the song "All Out of Love" by Air Supply. I've heard it many times before, but the first time I listened to it after the mid-season finale I cried thinking about Felicity missing Oliver, wishing desperately that she'd told him she loved him before it was too late. Listening to it while finishing up this story, I cried thinking about Oliver losing Felicity without really getting to be with her. This song is ridiculously perfect for them on multiple levels; I couldn't help myself.

Enjoy!

I'm So Lost Without You

I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you
I know you were right, believing for so long
I'm all out of love, what am I without you?
I can't be too late to say that I was so wrong.

All Out of Love, by Air Supply

Part One: I Can't Be Too Late (To Say That I Was So Wrong)

Oliver sits in his seat, elbows on his knees, head between his hands. The steady hum of an engine thrums rhythmically around him, the gentle vibrations making his body shudder.

Then again, maybe the shaking in his body has nothing to do with the engine, and everything to do with-

Felicity. If anything happens to her…

Oliver sighs and buries his head deeper in his hands.

He's only vaguely aware of the jet he's flying in: a private plane, provided for him by Malcolm Merlyn, whom he'd practically begged for help. He's vaguely aware of the others seated around him; vaguely aware of a soft hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles, telling him that it's going to be okay.

"She's a fighter," he hears Laurel say from her seat next to him. "She'll pull through."

Oliver spends the ninety minute flight to Central City replaying Barry's phone call in his head. At the time, he'd only heard it in bits and pieces, and that's how he hears it now.

Accident at S.T.A.R. Labs...Felicity's hurt…Ray Palmer…hospital…trying to stabilize her...her mother's coming…It's bad, Oliver…I don't know if she….

Oliver doesn't remember saying anything in response. He does remember Diggle taking the phone from his limp fingers, Roy looking at him with concern. Oliver can only imagine what his face must have looked like. Like his whole world had fallen apart, probably.

Because that's what it felt like then; what it still feels like, even now.

Oliver Queen has taken many long trips in his thirty years of life; more than he can count.

That ninety minute flight easily tops them all.

Oliver, Diggle, Roy, and Laurel finally reach St. Andrews Hospital around 9pm, at least four hours sooner than they would have had they taken the train.

Oliver hadn't thought twice about asking Malcolm Merlyn for help. He's been training with him for months, against the better wishes of most everyone on the team…and Felicity in particular. A small part of him loathed asking Malcolm Merlyn for anything; he's been relying on the man more than he's comfortable with recently. And yet he hadn't thought twice.

He had to get to her as soon as possible.

Before it was too late.

They immediately head toward the ICU. They find Barry pacing the waiting room anxiously, and sitting in a stiff plastic chair near him Oliver spots-

"Ray Palmer."

Oliver spits out the name, neither knowing nor caring about why he's so angry to find him here, even though he knew he would.

"Oliver," Ray returns, matching his tone as he stands.

"How is she?" Diggle asks Barry, stepping pointedly around Oliver, who continues to glare at Palmer from the middle of the doorway.

"She…it's..."

Barry turns away from them, unable to finish, and Oliver feels his heart plummet into his stomach.

"She's alive," Ray finishes for him. "She's in Intensive Care. They're still trying to get her stabilized. She's lost a lot of blood. The doctors don't know if…" In the end, Ray can't finish his statement, either, and he trails off the same as Barry.

Oliver's own blood begins to run cold in his veins. Their unwillingness to say anything one way or the other puts Oliver on edge. His heart starts racing, his blood pumping faster. He knows he's going to start panicking. He hasn't had a panic attack in a long time, and he's not going to have one now. He closes his eyes and breathes deep. In…out. In…out. In…out.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze lands on Palmer, and the rage he felt when he first walked into the waiting room starts boiling.

"What happened?" he asks, glaring at Palmer, not bothering to hide the accusation in his tone.

"There was an accident at S.T.A.R. Labs," Barry answers for him. "I wasn't…I wasn't there at the time. I was fighting a meta-human on the other side of the city. If I'd been there, maybe I could have…."

Barry trails off and looks at the floor, guilt written clear across his face.

"This isn't your fault," Oliver answers gently, glancing over at him. Barry looks at him in surprise, and Oliver notices how his shoulders relax, as though a bit of weight has been taken off of them. He nods just the slightest, and Oliver nods back.

Then he turns back to Palmer, and the warmth he showed to Barry is gone from his voice.

"What happened?" he asks again, taking a step closer to him.

Ray looks him square in the eyes and doesn't back down, but his voice trembles just the slightest as he talks.

"Felicity and I were at the lab. There was…there was an explosion. Part of the building started to collapse. We ran, and I…I tripped. She came back for me, helped me up. She was one step behind me when…."

Ray pauses, wipes a hand across his face. Finally, he takes a deep breath and continues.

"The ceiling collapsed on top of her. I had...I had to dig her out. She was hurt badly. Unconscious. I was able to get her out before the whole place went down. Put her in the back of my car, drove to the nearest hospital. I called her mom, told her a private jet would meet her at the airport. She should be here in an hour. Barry met us here, and then he called you. We've been in the waiting room ever since."

The six of them stand in silence, taking it all in. Oliver stares at the floor, unable to face anyone; unable to face any of it.

Oliver had known Felicity was coming to Central City, and that she was coming with Ray Palmer. She'd told him it was for work. The longer he stands there, the more Oliver thinks that he should have known better. He knew Palmer was working on that stupid ATOM suit. What if they went to S.T.A.R. labs to work on it, and something went wrong? What kind of "accident" could have happened?

Oliver turns his gaze back to Palmer and glares at him; when their eyes meet, Ray looks away.

He's hiding something, Oliver thinks to himself. There's something he's not telling us.

Oliver opens his mouth to ask when Laurel speaks first.

"Can we see her?" she asks Barry.

Barry shakes his head. "Family only. I haven't seen her at all."

"I have," Ray responds. "Only for a few minutes, but-"

"They let you in?" Oliver asks bitterly, nearly choking on his own words.

"Well, sure. I am the one who carried her in here, after all," Ray answers defensively. "I needed to see how she was doing. After everything that's happened-"

"You're the reason she's in here," Oliver bites out, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ray snorts in indignation, then takes a step closer to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Oliver growls. "You're the one who brought her out here. You were supposed to protect her. You should have-"

"Enough!"

Oliver turns at the sound of Diggle's voice. For a moment, he'd forgotten that anyone else was even here.

"This isn't the place for this, and it sure as hell isn't the time."

Oliver wants to argue, but he knows that he can't. His shoulders slump as his anger drains out of him, like air deflating from a balloon. Suddenly he finds that his knees won't support him anymore. He moves to the nearest chair and collapses into it.

"I'm going to find a doctor," Laurel says from somewhere next to him, and she leaves the room.

Roy sits in a chair across from Oliver. He takes a red arrowhead out of his pocket and rubs it between his fingers. It's a habit he picked up after Oliver "died": a nervous gesture he uses to calm himself. Ray sits back down in the seat he vacated earlier. Diggle grips Oliver's shoulder tightly before taking a seat next to him. Barry goes back to pacing.

When Laurel returns a few minutes later, she shakes her head.

"There's nothing new. They're still…they're trying to stabilize her. They won't let anyone in."

Laurel sits down on Oliver's other side.

And they wait.

The waiting is torture. Oliver thought he knew torture during those five years away from home, but that was nothing, nothing, compared to the torture of waiting for news on Felicity.

After an hour that feels more like a hundred, Oliver's ready to force his way in to see her. He's ready to don a hood and start threatening people, ready to start shooting arrows.

And then Felicity's mother shows up.

"Mr. Palmer."

She hurries into the room and throws her arms around Ray. Ray smiles sheepishly and gets to his feet, hugging her back.

"I need to go see her," she says when she finally pulls away. "I just wanted to thank you for sending that plane for me. And for…well, for saving my daughter's life."

Ray smiles at her and grips her shoulders before letting go. "She saved mine first. It was the least I could do."

Donna Smoak smiles at him, kisses him quickly on the cheek, and flies from the room, the clacking of her boots on the tile echoing in her wake.

Oliver glares at Palmer as he sits down once more, and he can't help the emotions that war within him. Anger. Rage. Worry. Panic. And yes, even a hint of jealousy. Oliver wants nothing more than to punch Ray Palmer in his smug stupid face, but Diggle was right. This is neither the time nor the place.

So he slumps down further in his seat, drops his elbows to his knees, and buries his head in his hands once more.

Then he does something he hasn't done in a long, long time – since long before Lian Yu.

He prays.

Twenty minutes later, the sound of running feet, raised voices, and the distant noise of machines going haywire floods Oliver's brain, and without even thinking, he gets to his feet and runs.

He follows the noise down the hall, to the ICU…to her. He vaguely notices that at least one person is following him, but he suddenly has tunnel vision. All that matters is what's at the end of the hall.

All that matters is her.

He hears it before he sees it: harsh, mechanical beeping. He already knows what it means, and he tries to steel himself as he turns the corner and looks into her room. He catches a brief glimpse of the monitor first: jumping green lines.

Then his eyes land on her.

She's surrounded by doctors on all sides, but he can just make out her face through the sea of arms and hospital green scrubs.

"She's crashing," one of the doctors announces.

Oliver feels like he's crashing with her.

"We're losing her!" another one shouts.

"No," Oliver hears himself whisper, the words leaving his mouth automatically.

A louder, sharper "NO!" echoes back at him, and he spots Donna Smoak standing off to one side, staring at Felicity with her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her face.

Oliver wants to go to her, wants to do something, but he can't make his feet move. If he takes even one step, he knows he'll fall…and he might never get back up.

That's when Ray Palmer flies past him, entering the room and heading for Donna's side. He stands behind her, grips her shoulders tightly in his hands.

They stand. And they wait. And they watch.

One doctor pulls over a crash cart, another preps the paddles.

Oliver's heart pounds in his chest.

The doctors are prepared for the worst.

Oliver is not.

And then it happens.

The line goes flat.

Felicity's heart stops beating, and Oliver would swear that his does, too.

Five seconds.

That's how long Felicity lies dead on that operating table.

Five seconds.

Oliver knows because he counts them.

Every. Single. One.

Every lost breath.

Every missed beat of his own heart.

One.

The doctor applies the paddles and shouts "Clear!"

Oliver moans in pain.

Two.

Her body jerks up on the table, the charge going through her.

Oliver grips the doorway next to him and holds on.

Three.

She crashes back down.

Oh, god, please. Please, please, please. Oliver whispers it over and over in his head: his prayer, his mantra, his plea.

Four.

The doctor pulls the paddles away and waits.

"Please," Oliver begs.

…Five.

"My baby," Donna Smoak whimpers.

"Felicity," Oliver whispers.

He doesn't make it to six.

…

Beep.

The first beep is music to his ears. It gives him strength and life.

…

Beep.

The second brings feeling back into his legs. He waits quietly for more.

…

Beep…beep…beep.

Oliver's heart starts beating again.

…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

And so does hers.

Five seconds.

That's how long she stays dead. That's how long it takes Oliver Queen to contemplate living without Felicity Smoak.

Five seconds.

That's how long it takes to change Oliver's life.

Five seconds.

It should seem like nothing, but to him it's everything.

Oliver doesn't remember much that happens right after Felicity flatlines on the table.

At some point they stabilize her.

At some point the jagged green line on the monitor calms into a steady blip.

At some point a nurse tells him to go back to the waiting room; that the worst is over.

He must do as she says, because he finds himself back with the others.

He must tell them what happened, because Roy collapses into a chair and puts his head in his hands, Laurel wraps her arms around herself tightly, and Barry runs from the room in a blur.

He must tell the others what happened…because Diggle punches his fist straight into the waiting room wall.

Oliver helps him gently pull his hand free from the plaster.

John looks down at his knuckles covered in blood…and then he does the strangest thing.

He smiles.

"Lucky for me, we're in a hospital."

Oliver can't help it. He laughs. Honest-to-god laughs. He must be losing his mind, because what sane person would find this funny?

But then Diggle laughs, Roy looks up and smiles, and Laurel shakes her head at them, but she's smiling, too.

Maybe none of them are sane. Maybe they need a good laugh to keep from falling apart.

Whatever it is, they embrace it.

Diggle's on his way out of the room when he suddenly stops.

Ray Palmer stands in the doorway, looking at them in confusion.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

And just like that, Oliver feels all the smiles and laughter and relief get sucked right out of him.

He doesn't want him here. Ray Palmer is the last person he wants to see right now. When he looks at Palmer, all he sees is Felicity lying dead on that table. It all comes rushing back to him in a wave of fear and despair….

And rage.

Red. Hot. Rage.

Oliver's not even aware of doing it. One minute he's standing there, glaring at Ray Palmer, and the next his fist is connecting with the man's face, much the same as Diggle's connected with the wall only minutes before.

"Oliver!" Laurel shouts in shock.

Ray stumbles sideways into a chair. He reaches a hand up to his face, wipes it across his lips, and finds blood. He shakes his head and stands, taking a step toward Oliver.

"You know, I'd heard you have an angry streak, but I never thought you'd stoop to punching people in hospitals."

"This is all your fault," Oliver growls, ignoring him.

"Really?" Ray bites out. "And why is that exactly?"

"You're the one who brought her here. You're the one who convinced her to help you with this ATOM business. You're the one who dragged her into this vendetta of yours."

"Yeah, because you're one to talk," Ray responds with a laugh. "You dragged her into your business with the Arrow. You put her life in danger every day. How is that any different?"

Oliver hears what Ray is saying, and while a tiny part of him can acknowledge the truth in his words, the majority of him is pissed, and he doesn't care who knows it.

"The difference is she got hurt on your watch! You were supposed to protect her. She almost DIED!"

"Oliver," Diggle warns him, but Oliver doesn't care. He's shouting now, and he knows the rest of the hospital can hear him, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if he's yelling, or if he sounds callous or mean, or if he's being an ass. This is all Ray Palmer's fault.

"If she hadn't come here with you none of this would have happened! She'd be safe at home in Starling City where she belongs."

"You mean safe with you?!" Ray spits out, matching his voice now in both volume and tone.

The words feel like a knife in Oliver's gut; a sensation he's become all too familiar with as of late.

"Don't try and put this on me, Oliver Queen," Ray continues, taking a step closer to him. "Just because she's moved on doesn't give you the right to blame me. Just because you're jealous-"

Oliver lunges. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Diggle and Roy both moving to intervene, but he shoves his way past them, ready to hit Palmer again.

And then, out of nowhere, he hears a voice that brings him screeching to a halt.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves."

He turns to find Donna Smoak standing in the doorway. Her makeup is running, tears drying on her face, but in that moment Oliver swears she could take down both of them without breaking a sweat.

"I heard you from down the hallway," she accuses. "Do you really think she would want any of this? Do you really think she'd want to hear you arguing over who's to blame?"

Oliver's anger deflates once more, only to be replaced by shame. He finds that he can't look at her anymore, so he gazes down at the floor instead.

He listens quietly as Donna Smoak fills them in on Felicity's condition. How she has second degree burns on parts of her body; burns they may be able to graft if she recovers. How a piece of steel embedded itself in her stomach, causing severe blood loss and leaving a scar that will never heal. But the biggest problem is the damage caused by the weight of the ceiling collapsing on top of her. Internal bleeding, crushed organs.

The doctors were able to bring her back from the edge, and they finally have her stabilized. But she's hurt badly, and she's fallen into a coma.

"They're doing everything they can for her, but…they don't know if she's going to make it," Donna finishes.

Oliver finally looks back up at her. When their eyes meet he feels shame washing through him once more, but he doesn't look away this time.

"My daughter is dying, and all you two can do is bicker and fight like a bunch of children."

Silence fills the room, dark and heavy. No one knows what to say. Oliver wants to apologize, but he feels like the words will sound hollow and useless.

Finally, Donna speaks again.

"I'm going to be with my daughter. You're all welcome to stay in the waiting room if you can do it quietly."

And without another word, she turns and walks away.

Silence fills the room once more. Laurel and Roy wander over to a pair of chairs and sit down quietly. Diggle looks between Oliver and Ray, as if he's waiting for them to go at it again, but when his eyes meet Oliver's they come to a silent understanding. Diggle nods and heads out of the room, cradling his right hand in his left. Finally, Oliver meets Ray's gaze. The two men stare at each other, and they come to their own understanding. When Oliver nods, Ray nods back. Oliver sits in the nearest chair, and Ray sits in the farthest corner by himself.

They may not like each other, but they're not going to fight anymore.

Not now.

They sit in silence for hours. No one says anything.

There's nothing to say.

Barry comes back half an hour later. Ray fills him in on what Donna told them, and when he's done Barry goes back to pacing the room, nervous energy keeping him from sitting still.

Diggle returns not long after, his hand wrapped in clean white bandages. He sits down quietly next to Oliver and stares blankly into space.

Around midnight, Laurel and Roy fall asleep in their chairs.

At 1am, Barry finally stops pacing.

"I can't stay here anymore. I need some air."

Oliver nods in understanding.

"Do you have anywhere for them to stay?" he asks, glancing in Laurel and Roy's direction.

Barry nods.

"I can put them up in my place. I won't be staying there tonight."

Oliver doesn't ask where he'll be, because he already knows.

Barry will be running.

"I'll go with them," Diggle announces. He gets to his feet and moves to wake up Roy and Laurel.

"What about you two?" Barry asks.

"I'm staying here," Oliver answers, and when he looks at Ray, he already knows how the other man will answer.

"So am I."

"All right, then. I'll meet you guys outside."

Barry checks the hallway to make sure no ones around, then he's gone in a flash.

Laurel hugs Oliver on her way out, and Roy surprises Oliver by doing the same.

"Call us as soon as you know anything?" he asks.

"Of course," Oliver responds.

Roy follows Laurel out the door.

Finally, Oliver turns to face Diggle. Suddenly, he finds himself filled with the overwhelming desire for reassurance, and he opens his mouth to ask for it.

When the words finally leave his mouth, his voice is shaking.

"Tell me she's going to be okay, John."

And then, John Diggle does the last thing Oliver thought he would do.

He smiles.

"Oliver…when you were gone, when we all thought you were dead…Felicity held us together. She kept us going when we weren't sure that we could. She's strong, Oliver. She found a way to pull through then…and she'll do it again."

Diggle hugs him tightly. Oliver hugs him back, and he takes strength from his words.

Oliver and Ray sit in the waiting room…and they wait.

Neither of them has anything to say to the other; all they can think about is Felicity.

Around four in the morning, Ray falls asleep in his chair.

Oliver can't sleep.

He stares at the floor, the unread magazines on the table, the television that they put on silent hours before.

His gaze finally lands on the wall across from him, and the hole left by Diggle's fist. Oliver stands, stretching his sore muscles, and he walks over to it.

He runs his hands along the edges, wondering at the strength it must have taken to punch a hole clean through the waiting room wall.

It reminds him of his own punch, and he looks over at Ray, snoring in his chair.

It was so easy to punch him; Oliver never thought twice about it. And maybe….

Maybe that's the problem.

Oliver turns back to the hole as his mind starts racing.

Ever since he came back from those five years in Hell – ever since he put on that hood – this is what he's been best at. Anger, rage, vengeance; those have been easy to cope with. All he has to do is put on his hood, pick up his bow, and wander out into the night. It's easy for him to take everything out on the bad guys; to let his anger and jealousy out on men like Palmer.

But the pain? The hurt, and the loss, and the suffering? Those have always been harder for him to deal with.

Oliver turns to stare at the blood drying on Ray Palmer's lip, and suddenly he finds himself wondering:

What would Felicity think?

Oliver starts pacing the room.

He has a lot of thinking to do.

At five in the morning, he can't take it anymore.

He has to see her.

Oliver sneaks down the hallway and into the ICU. He finds Felicity's mother asleep at her side, but she wakes up when Oliver knocks gently on the door.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'll leave if you want me to. I just…I needed to see her."

Donna stares at him, then looks back to her daughter. A warm smile lights her face, and Oliver wonders what she's thinking.

Whatever it is, she doesn't share.

At least, not right away.

She gets to her feet first and stretches. She turns from the bed, walks toward him, and rests a hand gently on his shoulder. She has to reach up a bit to do it; without heels, she's slightly shorter than her daughter.

"I don't really understand what's going on between you two, but whatever it is…I hope you can work it out. She cares about you, Oliver…and I can tell you feel the same."

Oliver has no idea how much she knows, how much Felicity has told her about them, but it doesn't really matter…because she's right.

In the end, all he can do is nod, and she smiles warmly at him.

"I'll go freshen up a bit, maybe get some food. I might be gone for awhile."

Oliver knows well enough to read between the lines. She's willing to give him the time that he needs, and his heart swells with love for Donna Smoak, because she's clearly where Felicity gets her own strength.

As she leaves, Oliver approaches Felicity. He focuses on the hypnotic blipping of the heart monitor. Her heart is running slow, but it's running, and the steady beep, beep, beep calms him.

When he reaches the bed, he lets himself take in the sight of her. She's wrapped tightly in blankets, her arms laid gently at her sides. Her right palm is turned up, as though her hand has been recently held. Bandages cover a portion of her left shoulder, disappearing under her hospital gown. Her face is pale, her glasses are off, and her hair is out of its ponytail, fanned out gently around her face. Oliver twists his head, and when the light shed from the computer monitors hits her hair just right it shimmers, like she has a halo.

His angel. His light.

Except…it's all dimmed now, all dark.

As he stares at her, lying still and quiet in the bed, he remembers those five seconds. How she almost died. How he felt like was dying with her.

As he stares at her, so close to death, he suddenly finds himself faced with the idea that she might never wake up. That she could die right here, right in this hospital bed. It might be tomorrow, or in a few days, or in a week.

She could die, here and now…and he could lose her forever.

And Oliver knows without a doubt that he would die with her. Maybe not physically…but spiritually, and emotionally, and in every way that really matters.

A sob escapes his throat against his will, and he leans down and kisses her forehead. Firm, yet gentle; like he did that night in the Foundry when he left to face Ra's Al Ghul. The night his life went to hell.

Oliver Queen thought he'd known Hell those five years he spent away from home…but he was wrong.

It's nothing compared to the Hell he faces now.

He pulls away, and tears rise in his eyes, but they're not important. All he can see is the woman he loves lying cold and still.

He'd do anything to save her. Give up anything. Sacrifice anything.

He can't lose her.

Oliver takes a deep breath, willing his tears away, forcing himself to be strong. He sits down in the chair next to the bed and pulls it as close as he can. He reaches out and grabs her right hand, holding it firmly between both of his own. Her hand looks so small in his, but he can't help thinking how right it feels.

Her hands belong in his. They fit.

He can't lose her. He needs her too much. Loves her too much. More than he's ever loved anyone. He's told her before, but maybe words aren't enough. Maybe what Oliver needs to do is show her.

He pulls her hand to his mouth and kisses it softly.

"Felicity...I don't know if you can hear me, but…I want you to know I'm sorry."

He pauses, wondering briefly if it matters. If she can't hear him, what's the point?

But the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he doesn't care. The words he has are words he needs to say; words he should have said before. He'll say them to her, and to himself; he'll say them to God, to the universe, to whoever's out there who will listen to him because Felicity can't die. Not now. Not like this.

"I'm so sorry," he repeats. "I screwed everything up, didn't I?" He smiles wryly. "Just like I always do. I thought that working with Merlyn was the only way I could stop Ra's Al Ghul. I didn't…I just couldn't see any other way. I…."

And suddenly, a conversation comes back to him; one he had with Felicity nearly a year ago in the clock tower.

You are not done fighting. Malcolm Merlyn…the Count…the Clock King, the Triad. Everyone who has tried to hurt this city, you stopped them. And you will stop Slade.

I don't know how.

Neither do I. But I do know two things. You are not alone….And I believe in you.

And finally, the pieces start to come together.

He did find a way to stop Slade.

They found a way to stop Slade.

Together.

And they did it without compromising Oliver's soul. They found a way to stop Slade without killing him. Together they came up with a solution.

This is why Felicity has been so upset with him. He'd thought Malcolm Merlyn was his only answer. He'd never even considered that there might be another way. And he'd never asked anyone else for help. He'd never asked Felicity to help him find another way.

They'd found a way to stop Slade that hadn't ended with Oliver losing a part of himself.

He doesn't know if he can do that again; doesn't know if he can stop Ra's Al Ghul without sacrificing a piece of Oliver Queen.

But Felicity was right. He's not alone. He's got Diggle, and Roy, and Laurel.

He has Felicity.

Or at least…he had Felicity.

Maybe he doesn't have to face Ra's by himself. Maybe he can find another way.

He has to.

For her.

"I don't know how to stop him," Oliver whispers, gripping her hand tighter. "I don't know if I can. But I'm done with Merlyn. I'll find another way. Whatever it takes, I'll find another way. I swear I will." He leans in closer, uses one hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

"But I can't do it without you. I need you, Felicity. You have to be okay. You have to…."

Oliver chokes back a sob, tears finally falling, and he shakes his head, wills himself to go on.

"I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. Because I can't lose you."

He caresses her cheek gently with his hand, strokes it softly, loses himself in the sweet rhythm. She's not cold like he thought she'd be. She's still warm, still alive, blood pumping beneath her skin.

Beep…beep…beep.

The rhythm on the heart monitor slows for a few beats.

"Oh, god," Oliver moans, and he's going to lose it. Any second now he's going to lose the fragile grip he has on himself, because he can't lose her.

Her heart picks up once more, and Oliver sighs in relief as the beeping settles into its familiar rhythm.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He stands and shoves his palms against his eyes, takes a few deep, calming breaths, wills himself to keep it together. He wipes the tears from his face with both of his hands and looks down at her. His eyes watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

In, out. In, out.

He reaches out a hand. And then, as gently as he can, he rests it on her chest.

In, out. In, out.

He matches his breathing to hers.

In, out. In, out.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Felicity…I'm done making deals with people like Malcolm Merlyn. But I will make one with you."

He stares at her face, wishing desperately that she would open her eyes, that she can hear him. He doesn't know if she can, but it doesn't matter. He'll make this deal with only himself if he has to.

"I'll do whatever you want, Felicity. Anything. I'll give it up. All of it. I'll stop fighting; I'll stop being the Arrow. I'll hang up the hood forever. If that's what it takes, I'll do it. Whatever you want. I just need you to wake up. I need you to come back to me."

He takes his hand off her chest and cradles her face gently between his palms, marveling once more at how small she is. How right this feels. How her face fits perfectly between his hands, like it was meant to be. Like they were meant to be.

"You can't leave me. I need you, Felicity. Please."

His voice cracks on the last word as he chokes back a sob, bending down slowly. He kisses her softly. When he finally pulls back, he carefully wipes away the tears that have landed on her cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers into the darkness. "I know you've heard me say it, but I want a chance to prove it. You just have to hold on. You have to fight. I know you can do it. You're stronger than you realize. You always have been."

"Mister Queen?"

He turns and finds a nurse standing in the hallway.

"You know you aren't supposed to be in here. Family members only."

He can tell from her tone that she doesn't want to kick him out. She's only doing her job.

He opens his mouth to respond, more than willing to beg, when someone else speaks for him.

"Let him stay."

It's Felicity's mother. Her eyes are shining with tears, and he can't help but wonder how much she heard.

"Ms Smoak-"

"Please. He should be here. I think…I think it will help her."

The nurse looks between them helplessly. And then, finally, she smiles.

"If anyone asks, I never saw you."

The nurse leaves, and Oliver stands there in the dark, staring at Donna Smoak. He wants to thank her, except he's not sure his voice will work right now.

But then she crosses the room and pulls him into a hug, and suddenly words don't seem to matter so much anymore. He wraps his arms around her and hugs her back. She's small, just like her daughter, but there's a strength in her that he didn't think he'd find.

"She's going to be okay," Donna whispers against his shoulder. "My daughter is a fighter. She's going to come back to us."

And against all hope, Oliver finds himself smiling.

"She will," he agrees quietly.

And when she does, I'll be ready for her.

…to be concluded…