Note: Thank you for reviewing and your favourites. You guys are amazing. I have another sidenote: yes, I know that Diggle carries a Glock 19 and not a SIG Sauer, but hey, I am Swiss. So there. ;-)
Also: this chapter is a bit longer as you seem to wish ever so longingly for longer chapters. You wish is my command. Leave me your reviews and thoughts!


As Diggle came pounding down the metal staircase leading down from the ground floor, he was surprised to find that Roy wasn't there. His quarters were empty, his bed unmade. That circumstance simply added another layer to his worry that had been sourced only minutes before by a text message that had him running for the door without a moment's hesitation.

Through habit, his eyes checked for any sign of intrusion or a fight while his mind played through possible scenarios. That's when he realised that the back alley door was wide open leaving cool and misty air to flood the otherwise dark and warm underbelly of the steel factory.

He had barely made it out of the door when he saw a heavily charged Roy emerging from the steep stairwell in the middle of the alley where, under a steel grate, it granted access to the underground tunnel system favoured by Oliver to appear in various parts of the city unseen.

Roy was carrying none other than Oliver Queen in his full Arrow attire over his shoulder, his bow draped over his other shoulder.

And struggling.

John was with them in two strides and together they eased an unconscious Oliver down on the cold and musty concrete floor of the foundry. Diggle hadn't spoken a single word yet and with the expert eyes of a combat proven soldier and the Arrow's partner for years, checked on Oliver's wounds.

"He's lost too much blood already. We cannot deal with this on our own. Go grab his street clothes." And after a closer look at Roy. "And a new sweat shirt for yourself."

Roy stood and did as he was told. Only once he stood, did he realise why he was supposed to change… his left shoulder, front and sleeve was drenched in Oliver's blood, leaving a trail of dark stains on the red hoodie. So much blood.

"Man. What have you been doing, Oliver?" Diggle's murmured words were left unanswered as he he slowly and ever so carefully started to open the dark emerald leather jacket of the fabled Starling City vigilante. The amount of blood that greeted him was unnerving. So unnerving that he once more checked his friend's pulse. It was still there. Even if to him it seemed weaker than only moments before.

"Hurry, Roy. Come on!"

The nervousness in his voice betrayed him and he continued to open various zippers on the leather combination that made up the Arrow suit. Diggle, with Roy's help, tried to extract Oliver from his leather jacket which was a tight fit in any circumstance, but now it proved almost impossible.
The jostling and pulling dragged Oliver from his unconsciousness. The pain was unbearable, and Diggle immediately saw that his whole right flank was hard and extremely tender. Internal bleeding.

This is bad.

"Hey, Oliver. Stay with me." He grabbed Roy's discarded hoodie and pressed it over the wound just below Oliver's ribs. The pain exploded in every nerve ending at once and his last strength went into a cry of pain. He grabbed Diggle's jacket with his good hand, holding on for sheer sanity, before his body went limp once more.

"Just hold on, Oliver. Hold on."

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Barely ten minutes later, the two friends stood outside of the large entry area of the former nightclub part of the building. Together, they had managed to carry Oliver there. They had exchanged only very few words, Diggle clearly in charge and Roy mirroring him.
Oliver had stirred only once more, never regaining consciousness, muttering a few barely understandable words. Among them only one stood out to John.

Alone.

No, buddy. You're not alone.

In the close quarters of his mind, it sounded like a blessing. And surely tonight, they could use all the blessings they could think of if one of their own, their leader, would pull through.

"Ready…?"

"For what, Dig?". Roy looked at him quizzically, clearly missing a step.

Diggle stood from the wounded body of his best friend and folded a small blood transfusion bag as small as he could make it to fit in his pant pockets. He had just finished emptying its contents, Oliver's stored blood, onto the pavement around his inert body. They had to make this look real. For all their sakes. And for Oliver's safety. Roy's blood stained hoodie was pressed over the wound in his side. And Roy assumed his place, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could with one hand while he pulled out his phone.

"Call 911. Now."

Said it and with the same conviction, Diggle pulled out his SIG, pointed it into the sky and fired off two rounds even before Roy was done dialing the number.

"911. What is your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance to 6th and Main. Oliver Queen has been shot in front of the old nightclub Verdant. Hurry!"

And with that he hung up without bothering to give his name. He glanced up towards Diggle, waiting for him to explain the rest of the plan.

"OK. I'm leaving now and will come back once I see that the Police are here. It'll give you a timeline. You have been attacked by kidnappers. You were accompanying Oliver to his former club to check that there hadn't been any break-ins lately when you were attacked. You both tried to fight them. They shot him and ran off. Then you called 911 and then me. Got it?"

The two men locked gazes, unspoken assurances passing between them.

"He will be fine." Diggle's lacked the conviction he wished to convey, but somehow couldn't. "He's been through worse." Again the words sounded wrong and hollow.

Roy only nodded his reply, putting his hand on Oliver's chest as if the fact of touching his friend and mentor would be able to keep him there, keep him fighting, keep him from… dying.

And for the first time since he had gotten Oliver's call barely 20 minutes ago, his mind accepted the unthinkable, the impossible consequence as a possibility.

The sirens in the distance announced the ambulance from Glade Memorial and when he looked back up, Diggle had already vanished.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

"Listen, you don't need to tell me that you can't tell me anything. I know that, I just want to know where my friends are… oh, forget about it."

The blonde, tall woman, sent another dagger-laced look at the male nurse manning the desk at the general admittance desk at Glade Memorial Hospital, before storming off into the main lobby and the row of lifts beyond.

She couldn't help but fidget with her fingers while she waited for the next lift to open. With the other she sent a desperate text message to John Diggle's phone.

Where …?!

The reply was immediate.

10th floor, surgical waiting area. No news.

Bless John Diggle, for thinking to reassure her even if it was just through a text message. Felicity Smoak drew a deep breath before entering the lift that had taken way too long to arrive and now obviously, took way too long to get to where she needed to be.

She had gotten an unsettling phone call from Diggle just before, what normal people would call 'the middle of the night' and what for her barely approached the end of her normal working day. Except today.
Today, they had all decided on a night off. Which happened rarely enough. But had seemed like a great idea to allow for a change of ideas. Except for Oliver. Of course. While everyone else was out and enjoying their free evening, he had obviously decided that his evening off would consist of getting shot.

Another slow breath helped her break through her rambling thoughts just before the lift doors slid open on the surgical floor. The second she stepped out of the hospital lift and set eyes on Roy and Diggle, she knew.

This wasn't their usual scary, 'it's not as bad as it looks, I'll be up in a minute'-situations. This was real.

Roy's usually crimson red hoodie sleeves were stained a darker shade of red while his face in contrast was competing with the wall behind him in levels of whiteness. Diggle appeared to be his stoic self. Arms crossed, he was standing beside Roy as if he was waiting for his younger companion to topple over.

"Digg! Roy!"

Felicity's arrival snapped both men from their state of numbness.

"Felicity. He's in surgery now."

"What happened?! And don't you tell me you don't know…!" That had come out wrong.

"I'm sorry. Guys." Diggle nodded at her uncrossing his arms, letting his guard down.

"It's ok, Felicity. Really." He stepped closer to her. "Oliver' been shot. He must have gone out for intel or something. He called Roy, but he was already in really bad shape." His voice dropped to a low whisper, to avoid bystanders to hear. "Way beyond anything we could have dealt with on our own."
Diggle stared intently at Felicity whose face had just assumed a statue-like quality.

"Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? Felicity…?"

All she managed was a small nod. She felt like the world had suddenly stopped spinning and was sending her into an endless hole as string of dark consequences of Diggle's words started to close in on her.
But Felicity and Diggle shared a particular bond. One that had been forged through so much fight and personal suffering. He knew her too well and before she could collapse or worse, he grabbed her elbow softly and guided her towards the chairs of the waiting room where Roy had sat down as well.
He checked his phone again. Roy had taken it on himself to try and reach Thea. But as so many times before, her number went straight to voicemail and he hadn't found the strength to leave a message yet.

Diggle had his arm draped around Felicity, and over her blond hair, he shot a look at Roy who silently shook his head. They had done what had been in their power to save Oliver. Now, all that was left to do, was wait. For news. Of any kind. While Oliver, in one of the surgery theatres was left fighting for his life.

Alone.