The first thing I noticed when I walked into his room was that he was certainly much more handsome than all the blood and grime let on.

Now that he was properly cleaned up, I could see his strong features, his brows and his shadowed, yet still well-defined jaw. I also noticed his intense blue eyes since they were — well, open.

"Command Sergeant Major Jonas, good to see you awake," Digg said. He put his stethoscope in his ears and pressed the bell against the soldier's chest. "I'm Dr. Diggle and this is Dr. Smoak. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got blown up by an improvised explosive device," Jonas deadpanned in a hoarse voice. "How are you?"

Digg chuckled and I smiled. We always enjoyed the soldiers that could look at their injuries with a sense of humor.

"I feel a great deal better than that, I'll admit," Digg confessed. "Can you take a couple of deep breaths for me?"

I watched his chest rise and fall underneath his hospital gown, and Digg nodded. Clear and equal breath sounds was good — we'd been worried that he would be in danger of a collapsed lung, considering the damage to his torso, but the scar tissue on his body showed he'd been through the wringer and made it to the other side.

"Have either of you talked to my CO yet?"

I snorted. "Oh, you mean Lieutenant Colonel Dickface? Yeah, he was a real treat."

A smile broke out over Jonas' face and I felt myself smiling back. "Wilson can be...testy."

"If by 'testy' you mean a testicle, then sure, because I'd sure like to kick him repeatedly as hard as I can," I muttered under my breath. Digg coughed in what I was sure was an attempt to cover up a laugh, so I continued on in our examination.

"Sir, are you experiencing any headaches? Dizziness? Lightheadedness?"

"Uh, well yeah, but I'm pretty sure it's just because of all the pain meds you've got me doped up on."

Fair enough. I moved on to the other questions while Digg finished his physical exam. When we were finished, we both made some notes in the chart and signed off.

"It looks like you're doing really well all things considered," I told him. "It'll be a little while longer before you're walking on that leg, but I wouldn't be surprised if we could get you doing some walking laps around the halls within a few weeks."

Digg nodded in agreement. "So just rest easy, sir, and let us know if you need anything."

With that, he tucked the chart under his arm and walked out. I was about to follow him when Jonas called out.

"Um, Dr. Smoak?"

I turned around and walked back to his bedside. "Yes, sir? What can I help you with?"

He smiled. "Well first, I'd really appreciate it if you could just call me Oliver."

I smiled back in spite of myself. "OK, Oliver. What can I do for you?"

His grin slowly melted away, and I watched in curiosity as he took in a deep breath, like he was bracing himself for what he had to say. "Does...does my family know about my condition?"

"Wilson should have been in contact with them. I'm sure he's told them you'll make a full recovery."

"The thing is...the thing is, he might not have," Oliver hedged. "I didn't...I wasn't exactly truthful on my enlistment papers."

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't known this soldier for very long, and I wasn't certain or anything, but lying on enlistment paperwork was probably a federal offense. Meaning he had built up a serious amount of trust in a really short amount of time to tell me all this.

"What exactly are you saying?"

He took in a deep breath. "I need you to contact my family for me," he said in a low voice. "My real name is Oliver Queen. Jonas is my middle name. I'm originally from Starling City."

This time both my eyebrows shot up my forehead. Holy shit.

"You're Oliver Queen? The Oliver Queen? Heir to the Queen Consolidated throne? Son of Robert and Moira, brother of Thea and notorious Starling City playboy billionaire? Seriously?"

Well, that kind of explained the untruthiness of his enlistment papers.

He looked uncomfortable at my outburst, which I assumed meant I was right. "Look, could you just do me a favor and call my sister? She has to know that I'm fine. I Skype her every week, and if I don't she gets worried."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose underneath my glasses. I honestly couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Oliver, there's a reason doctors aren't the ones who contact the family. Your CO is supposed to take care of it because I don't know anything about the mission you were on, and any information I give could violate OPSEC."

"All you have to tell her is that I got injured but that I'm OK."

I shot him the most exasperated look I had. "You clearly have never dealt with terrified family members before because that would never fly with any concerned sister, and that sure as hell isn't going to fly with Thea Queen."

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows, and I realized how that sounded.

"Not like I know her or anything," I quickly added. "I only know what I've read in the tabloids. And not like I read tabloids because I'm a doctor and tabloids are trash and doctors don't read trash, we read stuff like neurology journals. The only reason I know she's on tabloids is because they're at the cash register in the commissary and they only ever have like two registers open so I'm stuck in a long line reading the same headlines over and over again, and — look, whatever, what I'm saying is I really shouldn't be the one to do this."

But there was just something about him. There was something in his desperate blue eyes and his open face that made my hesitation melt away.

"Please, Dr. Smoak?" he begged softly. "I can't rest easy knowing that she's scared out of her mind because I couldn't contact her."

I let out a soft sigh, then pulled out my pen and notebook. "Give me her number, and I'll give her a call on my lunch break."

His begging expression dissolved into a smile as he recited her digits. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

"Any topics of conversation I should refrain from?" I asked wryly. "Should I tell her you were accidentally knocked out by a stampede of camels instead of an IED?"

He shot me an amused grin, and I'm ashamed to say it made my heart zing.

"Camels don't stampede."

"Well how the hell would I know? I've never been out in the desert."

"Just tell her that there was a run-in with some insurgents and that I'm in the hospital, but the doctors think I'll make a full recovery."

Yeah, he had absolutely zero experience dealing with terrified family members.

"Fine," I sighed as I stuffed my notebook and pen back into my coat pocket. "I'll be checking on you after lunch. If you need anything until then, tell the nurse to page me."

I turned my back and started walking out of his office when he called out to me, "You're the best, Doc! The absolute best!"

I could hear the grin in his voice and I felt my own lips turn upward in spite of myself.

I liked eating my lunches outside on the helipad. No one ever went out there unless there was incoming trauma, so it was quiet. It also was full of fresh air, so I could sometimes get away from the smells that plagued me long enough to force down a couple bites of whatever bland pasta salad the hospital cafeteria sold.

The helipad gave me time to think, think about Oliver Queen surreptitiously serving in the Armed Forces. He obviously didn't want anyone to know that he was in the Army, but why? And where did everyone back in Starling City think he was?

I shook my head as if to clear my curious thoughts. It wasn't my business to figure out. It was Oliver Queen's. I was just his doctor. And apparently his messenger, but nothing more.

I pushed away my barely eaten lunch and pulled my cellphone out of my coat pocket. I dialed the number he gave me and waited.

After the third ring, a raspy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Thea Queen?"

"Yeah…" the voice trailed off warily. "Who's this?"

I sucked in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I'm Dr. Felicity Smoak. I'm a trauma surgeon at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. I'm calling to inform you about your brother's condition."

"My brother?" Her voice suddenly took on a sharp tone. "How is he? Is he OK? Did something happen?"

"First, he told me to tell you not to panic," I interrupted her diatribe before she could work herself into an even bigger tizzy. "He wants you to know that he's fine. There was a, um, an insurgent attack where he was stationed and he got into some...well, some trouble, but he's fine now and we expect him to make a full recovery."

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Ms. Queen, I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that. Most of his medical information is privileged, and details that haven't been cleared through the proper channels could violate operational security."

"Screw that!" she shouted. "My brother is injured in a hospital in Germany and I want to know what happened!"

Yep, I thought to myself. I could have seen this coming a mile away. "Ms. Queen, all you need to know is that your brother is fine. It's going to take him a while before he's back on his feet, but we expect him to make a full recovery."

"Let me talk to him."

"I'm afraid I can't let you."

"Yes you can! Let me talk to him right now!"

It looked like I was going to have to be more blunt with her than I cared for. "Ms. Queen, cell phones aren't allowed inside the hospital, but even if they were and I could let you talk to your brother, do you really think he'd tell you what happened? Especially since he told me he doesn't want you to panic?"

"If he didn't want me to panic then he'd be talking to me himself instead of making a goddamn nurse who couldn't tell her ass from a hole in the ground call me!"

I closed my eyes and brought a hand to my temple. "Ms. Queen, I know you're upset right now — "

"You're damn right I'm upset! My brother's in a hospital in fucking Germany, and you won't let me talk to him! What kind of quack are you?"

I could feel the biggest headache in the world building. See, this was why military doctors were never supposed to talk to the families. This is also part of the reason I became a military doctor, so I would never have to talk to the families again.

The fact that I refused to categorize my exact type of quackery seemed to be unacceptable, because after a pause, she shouted, "You are going to regret this! I am Thea Queen, and I will make your life absolutely fucking miserable!"

I was so close to telling her that someone else already beat her to it, but she hung up before I got the chance.

I let out a deep sigh. I didn't exactly blame her for lashing out at me, but it sure as hell wasn't pleasant being on the other end of her anger.

I wrapped up the remnants of my uneaten lunch and headed back into the hospital. The first stop I made was to the nurse's station.

"Hey, Speedy," I greeted the nurse on duty. "Could you get me CSM Jonas' chart, please?"

He reached over and grabbed the chart in question. "Hey, speaking of that guy, is it just me or does that dude look kinda familiar?"

"Uh, I don't know what you mean," I hedged.

"There's just...something about that face. Like I've seen it before or whatever."

I shrugged. "I don't know. All soldiers start to look the same to me after a while. They all have the same haircuts and the same face and stuff." And before he could say something else that would force me to stick my foot in my mouth, I walked away.

When I got to Oliver's room, he was sitting up in his bed, staring out the window with a brooding expression. I felt struck by his dramatically lit profile. It lightened the intensity of his eyes, the strength of his shadowed jaw.

What was he thinking about, I wondered. Was he thinking about his worried sister? Was he thinking about his parents? His battle brothers? His dickish CO? Or was he thinking about a woman he might have left behind in Starling City?

I started imagining the kind of women Oliver Queen preferred. If the tabloids I never read were any indication, he usually went for the tall vixens. Women with incredible bodies, long brown hair and sharp eyes. Someone who would look equally as impressive as he did, so they could both go to the same fancy functions and light up the whole room with their collective beauty.

What would it be like to live in that kind of world? One that wasn't haunted by echoing screams and rotting limbs? How jealous I suddenly felt, that he could belong in that world while I was stuck here, in a sterilized version of hell.

"Dr. Smoak?"

I was shaken from my reveries when Oliver called my name. Taking a deep breath and pulling myself back into the present, I stepped toward his bed. "Good afternoon, Oliver. How are you feeling since this morning?"

"Clearer. I can feel the pain a little bit now."

"Is that uncomfortable for you? Would you like to raise the meds a little bit?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm fine." He grinned at me. "What's life without a little pain, right?"

I gave him a weak smile in return. "OK, anything else? Headaches, dizziness? Abdominal pain?"

"No, nothing. Did you talk to my sister?"

I scribbled a couple of notes in the chart. "Yes, I did."

He made a little face, like he was bracing himself for something. "And...how did she take it?"

I shot him a look. "Oh, you mean how did she take the news that her big brother was in the hospital because of some unknown Army incident? She took it swell. She cried with happiness and she asked me for my address because she wanted to send me flowers. That's how grateful she was when I told her you were in an insurgent attack."

He sighed. "I'm guessing by your tone that she didn't really do any of that."

"No, she didn't, and how you could possibly think she'd handle the news that her big brother was injured enough to land in the hospital in anything other than hysteria is straight up idiocy." I put my stethoscope to my ears and listened to his breath sounds.

"Is there any way I could talk with her? Like could I borrow your cell phone or something?"

I shook my head and made him lean forward. "Sorry. No cell phones in the hospital."

"I have to talk to her. Could you bring me a computer or something? I could Skype with her? Or just even send her an email, please?"

I pulled my stethoscope out of my ears and gave him an exasperated look. "I can't do any of that. All of the computers here are DOD issued, and all unofficial business gets tagged, and there's really no getting around the system. I would know. I'm something of a computer aficionado."

He slumped back into his pillows and turned his head back toward the window. His expression this time was less brooding and more...sad. Tragic, almost. It made my heart ache to think what he might have been feeling right at that moment.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it back out through my mouth. "OK, I'll tell you what." I pulled a chair up next to his bed and I grabbed the pad of paper off his bedside table. "I know you can't use your hands very well right now, so why don't you dictate a letter and I'll send it out this afternoon. It should get to her by the end of this week, at the latest."

His face lit up and for a second I was struck dumb by just how beautiful his smile was. It was enough to make my heart speed up and leap into my throat. "Dr. Smoak, you are remarkable."

I swallowed hard to push my heart down. "Thank you for remarking on it."