Summary: And with her dying breath he knew that he would be alone in this world. In which Oliver reflects on the life he has led and the future that awaits him. AU 4.09/4.10.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Arrow related.

The sound of the bullets still echoed around him as he drove the limo further and further from the ghosts. He knew things had been going too smoothly; he should have been more prepared. He should have predicted this. He shook his head at his naivety. He slowed the limo to a stop, assuming they had lost the ghosts, and stumbled out of the driver's seat.

"Felicity," He called to his fiancee, his heart racing as he recalled how silent the ride had been. He threw the back door open without hesitation to find Felicity lying down on the back seat, motionless. "Felicity, hey," He tried again, reaching into the car and pulling her out as gently as he could. His eyes widened, noticing the blood that had stained her coat. His hands began to shake as he descended to the ground with Felicity falling limply into his lap. "Felicity, please," He pleaded, taking a deep breath before putting his fingers to her neck to check for a pulse. He waited, trying to find the steady thrum of heartbeats, and pressed harder to see if anything was there. He placed his ear against her chest to be sure that he wasn't mistaken, wrapping his arms around her waist as he did so to keep her upright. Tears began to well in his eyes, her blood beginning to stain his suit jacket as well.

He pulled back, his eyes searching her form for any sign of life. "Felicity, please, no. No. No no no," He pressed his hand to her cheek, hoping that she would turn into it like she had many times before. He searched her face, hoping to catch a twitch or any slight movement that signalled that she was still with him. He moved to grab her hand, giving it a soft squeeze and brushing his thumb along her knuckles. His breath hitched with she did not return the gesture.

He looked around frantically, hoping to find some help of some sort that would be able to revive her. Finding none, his heart sank. With a heart-wrenching sob, he embraced her.

"You were never the one who was supposed to be hurt," He cried, "I promised I was going to protect you, and I failed. I'm so, so sorry." The tears flowed freely from his eyes as he held her.

They had done so much for their city, together. They had faced countless obstacles, numerous foes, and foiled them all. Years of his stupidity and obliviousness to what was right in front of him had passed. Perhaps, he thought, if he had realized how much she had meant to him sooner, if he had taken the leap of faith to dive into their relationship, if he hadn't been so much of a coward to put it on hold for so long, things would be different. Perhaps they would have had a shot at their happily ever after, even if just for a little while.

Then again, perhaps he should have continued to keep her at arm's length. Perhaps he should have kept her away from the madness, kept her from being a potential target every second of every day. Perhaps then, she would still be alive and breathing and (not with him but) happy. He would not have known her as he did, but if it would have kept her alive, kept her from being added to the list of casualties, it would have been worth it.

He clutched her lifeless body to him, adjusting her against his chest as he stood, and readied himself to carry her, ready to carry the weight of what had happened because of him. They weren't far from the hospital now, and all he wanted to was to spend these last moments with her before sending her away.

One step at a time.

One breath at a time.

They would make it, together.

Except, now it was just him. His heart shattered, his purpose gone, and any chance he had at rejoining the light was diminished with her dying breath. The darkness began to consume him, even now. Mere minutes after she had left him and he could already feel the shift within his soul. There would be no point in stopping it now. Without her to keep him grounded, he was unsure of where to go.

Without her, he was unsure of how to carry on.

He wasn't sure how long it took them to get there, to stumble through the front doors of the hospital. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had lost her. He had lost all track of time. Nothing mattered anymore.

He didn't want to hear the questions. He didn't want to bear the curious glances. He didn't want to listen to the doctors tell him what he had known for what seemed like an eternity. He ignored the commotion that occurred all around him. If he didn't, he was sure that he would break.

She was dead.

And it was his fault.

They wanted him to let her go. They tried pulling her from his arms. It was quite some time before he relented, but it wasn't until he laid her down on the gurney, brushing the soft hair out of her face that he felt it.

The wheels began turn on the gurney, and on his mind as they rolled her away to pronounce her death. The hatred began to bubble up inside him, the anger reaching an all-time high.

He would continue on. He would continue his crusade with what remained of his team. For her. For his Felicity.

But, perhaps almost as importantly, Damien Darhk would pay.