#####OQ#####

John's voice exploded in his ear, and he pulled the phone away. "How the hell could you let Felicity drown?"

"I . . . didn't mean."

"You, Oliver? YOU who has OCD and is obsessed with keeping her safe? How could this happen?"

"I know."

"Where's the man who's watching out for her, keeping her out of harm's way. And her heart stopped too? Man, what the hell are you doing out there? Talk to me."

He literally cringed and his hand tightened on the phone. "I know. Don't you think I don't know it's my fault, I messed up?"

"Sounds like you more than messed up this time. Damn it. What are the doctors saying?"

"Doctor. She says at least a couple of days in the hospital. It happened too fast. I tried . . . I tried hard. The instant I knew she'd gotten into trouble I swam to help her. But I couldn't get there fast enough, and the tide pulled her under. I failed her, John. I. . . don't know what else to say. I . . . don't have the words."

"Look," his friend sharply interrupted him, "call me when you know something. I can't talk to you right now. I past mad at you. Better yet, do me a favor?"

"Sure. Whatever you need."

"Don't call me. I'll call you."

Abruptly, John Diggle severed the connection leaving him alone with a pain in his chest.

Closing his eyes, he shivered, freezing cold inside and out as he stood in the parking lot, with a phone in his hand, adrift without anyone. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and exhaled and squared his shoulders.

For years, he'd depended only on himself, so why now did he feel alone?

Tapping his finger on the phone's screen, he thought all these years now he'd had John and Felicity standing with him, and he'd depended on them, gotten used to having them beside him.

No, he hadn't been alone for a long time, except during his time with Ra's. He shut that thought off cold and pondered calling Thea, but he couldn't.

What if she blamed him too?

John blamed him.

But then her drowning was his fault.

Wasn't it?

If he'd warned her about the tides, or if he'd gotten in the damn water with her she'd be safe.

He pocketed his phone.

Cracking his neck, he straightened his stance and walked back in the ER's entrance, wanting to run the other way. The idea held appeal, but he needed to talk to the doctor, so he walked down the hall and took the lukewarm coffee from Mae's hand and followed her into a conference room.

He didn't sit and neither did her doctor.

Taking a small sip of coffee, he fought the urge to spit the nasty sludge back into the cup.

"Yeah, it's pretty bad, but at least the cup's warm, and you look cold." The older woman twisted her wedding ring and seemed far away for an instant.

"I'll survive." He sat the coffee on a nearby table, denying himself the warmth and insuring he didn't drink the sewage.

"I have no doubt. Tell me, Oliver, where did you learned your CPR training?"

"A class in college."

A lie but she'd never know the difference.

"Well, I'm amazed how long you did CPR. It tires most people rather quickly, which is why it's better to have more than one person to swap out with when you're in a drowning situation. Your Felicity's a lucky woman that you're a strong man. What's your story by the way?"

"Not much to tell." His stomach tightened, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, lifting his chin.

Cocking her head, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I've heard you have knife scars that say differently."

His Arrow voice came out, dark and intimidating. "That's none of your business and how dare you ask me that?"

Yet, his tone didn't faze her at all. Instead, she placed a hand on her hip and gave a wave her hand. "It's easy. I'm old."

"But didn't your mother teach you manners?"

"My mother died having me."

Talk about putting his foot in his mouth.

Mae added. "I never met her. But she must have been something else, since my father mourned her the rest of his life and never remarried. Instead, he worked every day as the chief resident of this hospital and back then he did home visits too."

"Sounds like he worked hard."

"Yeah, and he worked himself into an early grave. And he let everyone around have a hand in raising me, from his office staff to the housekeeper of the week."

A spot on the wall became interesting, as he remembered how close he'd been to their housekeeper, Raisa.

"Oliver, I became a doctor when women stayed home and raised children or if they entered the medical field they became nurses. I chose a hard path, and I learned quickly to not care what other people think about me. Though, I'll let you in on something that's not a secret, I've never cared what people thought and have ever known my place."

She made air quotes, reminding him of Felicity, and he choked and had a coughing fit, trying not to laugh.

"Hence, how I survived in the medical field. And believe me it's still a man's world. Welcome to small town, USA, Oliver. People talk. They're bored to tears and gossip makes the world go round and all that."

He shook his head. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind. But I don't want to talk about my scars."

"But you have them and they came from somewhere. The question is where?"

His mouth dry, he reached for the nasty coffee again but caught himself before he drank.

Giving her a dark look, he watched as she held up her hands. "Relax, remember you had your shirt off when the EMT's arrived. Those men have eyes you know and told me you've got some massive scarring, knife wounds and third degree or deeper burns on your back, and knife and bullet wounds on your chest. Do you expect honestly thing people are not to notice?"

"I . . ." he swallowed hard. "It's none of your or anyone's business where I got my scars. I don't talk about my scars."

"Scars are nothing to be embarrassed about. Lots of people have scars, especially people who've served our country."

"I'm not embarrassed." If anything, he felt numb as he pushed his rushing emotions away, shut them down, like he normally did.

Mae cocked her head to the side. "Whatever. Were you Special Forces? Navy seal? Or CIA? Marines, perhaps?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard.

"Funny, young man, very funny."

"I'm not joking." His voice flat and serious, he added, "And I'm not young. Not anymore and not for a long time. Now, I want to talk about Felicity. How long will she need to stay? A few days? Is she's going to be alright?"

The old woman stared deep into his eyes, and if took all he had not to flinch under her knowing gaze.

Mae's eyes burned with something that made him uncomfortable in his own skin and made him wonder if this elderly woman could somehow see inside him, could see past his mask, and could see the monster who lived and thrived deep inside him.

She held his eyes and he shivered and his fingers twitched before he looked away.

Her voice hard, she looked him up and down. "You quite a mystery, Oliver. Twenty minutes ago you hugged me with gusto. You were thankful she'd pulled though, and now you've got murder in your cold, dead eyes. Lord, I've seen eyes like yours before."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then say that you've stared at the devil and spit in his face. You're such a hard one, aren't you? Yet, she's the key, isn't she? The one you are in love with."

His stomach dropped, and he looked away, but he nodded.

Jesus, what was wrong with him?

He easily stared heartless murders down, and now, he found he couldn't look into the eyes of one old woman for less than one minute.

Rubbing his face, he recognized exhaustion was setting in, allowing his emotions to run this freely.

Mae's lips moved, and he wondered what he'd missed while he'd checked out.

". . . if she's lucky, and a lot longer if things go south. If that happens . . ." She shook her gray head and shrugged.

"I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"

"Long and short, she's going to get very sick. That cut and dry enough for you?"

He blinked several times processing.

His hand fisted tightly, and he splashed lukewarm coffee down the front of his chest and down his arm, as he crushed the forgotten coffee cup in his hand.

"Oh, here let me get you some Kleenex to clean up."

"It's nothing. Forget it. Felicity's what's important here." His brain shorted out. Running on auto-pilot now, he wiped the dark liquid down the front of his shirt and dropped the cup with a splash into a nearby trashcan.

"Explain how you know this." He growled, the Arrow coming out in him.

"Thirty years of working drownings in a tourist town give me a little insight."

"Go on." He nodded.

"Most of time the people who drown are lucky and don't get wet lung. Unfortunately, your Felicity's got a good chance of having wet lung."

"Trust Felicity to be special.

"Yeah. Well believe it or not, she is special because most people die in the water and stay that way, since they don't have you to get them breathing again. Most of them never make it to the ER. And they don't live to arrest."

"But she did."

"Yeah, she did because you did CPR long enough to get her heart started again, which is amazing. But then, she arrested because she sucked salt water into her lungs, which thickened her blood. This means, we know she has salt water in her lungs. There's no changing that fact."

The women hesitated, and he nodded, even though he found breathing hard the more she explained, since none of this sounded good.

His mind scrambled.

Felicity could not be sick.

NO.

She's young and healthy. Not sick but healthy. He had to be dreaming.

Wake up, he told himself. Just, wake the hell up.

But he wasn't sleeping.

"Now the question is how much water did she suck in? We suctioned her lungs but got very little water out and that doesn't . . . how can I say this?"

"Just go on and don't sugar coat it."

"Think you can take the bitter truth? Okay?"

She eyed him, and he met her stare, this time with hard eyes, as he forced total emotional shut down. Bracing, he'd handle whatever she told him, even bad news.

"Felicity's lungs will fill up from inhaling the salt water, and she'll fail quickly. It will be bad, but she'll start drowning again. Only this time it will be in her own fluids. Pneumonia will set in, and I'll warn you now that it's never pretty to watch. Her oxygen levels will fall, and she'll slowly get confused and disoriented."

He shut his eyes to take the pain racking him.

"After that happens, she'll truly get sick."

"Like she wasn't sick before?"

"Not like she will be. Her lungs will fail first, and she won't get enough air, and then one by one her major organs will shut down. She's go into congestive heart failure and finally, she'll arrest again. And, if we aren't careful, she die this time because, even if we can get her heart restarted, her lungs won't be able to keep up."

The pain in his chest ripped through him.

Opening his eyes, he held up his hand. "Enough, I get the picture. What can you do to stop this, to help her?"

She grimaced, shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know if she'll live. But I'll do everything I can and nothing all at the same time. I have meds I can give her that might help, but the salt's already pulling the fluid into her lungs."

"Can't you stop it? Help her get rid of the fluids? Stop her from drowning."

"NO! It's too late. I can't stop the salt. And I think you should get used to the idea that she'll end up on a respirator before this is over."

"A respirator?" Images of Thea dying filled his mind, and he wanted to scream out his fury.

"Yes, she'll need help getting enough oxygen to keep her heart and other organs working and her lungs won't be able to do it on their own. Normally, I would airlift her straight out of here."

"To where?"

"Dallas or Houston."

"Would it increase her chances?"

"No, probably decrease them."

"Then why would you airlift her?"

Her face turned hard, and she ducked her head, "You want the truth?"

"Yeah."

"So, she won't die on my watch, hurt my numbers and raise my insurance if you sue."

He blinked several times, his brain refusing to work, to process what she'd said before it finally engaged and he managed to say, "That's harsh."

"Life's harsh and this is a small town. My grandfather built this hospital. My father loved this hospital more than he loved me, and this is my watch and I'll protect the hospital the best I can. Trust me, nothing's going to happen to this hospital on my watch. It's nothing personal, Oliver."

"Feels pretty personal to me right now. Don't let her die."

"I don't plan to let her die, and I said normally. Besides, I've already decided that since she has you, I'm going to keep her here.""

"Why would I make a difference?"

The older woman looked him straight in the eye with the piercing look the older woman possessed in spades. "Because I like you."

"You don't know me."

"I agree but if I airlift her, she'll be six hours away. By the time you drive there and convince them, bully them or threaten them." She held up her hand to stop him from speaking. "I get that you will do whatever it takes to get you in the door. I understand that, even if she isn't married to you that you'll figure a way in that door because you love her."

"You're right. I will." And he held her eye, not ashamed he loved her.

"But by then she'll be in critical care, and they'll let you see her maybe once an hour for a few minutes. It's not enough. Mainly, she'll be alone and that's never good for someone who's very sick."

"I want to be with her."

"I know that and you should. So, I'm going to let you stay with her as long as you want because I think it'll help her in the long run to have you around."

"I don't understand."

"Love's a strong emotion, maybe the strongest, I've ever seen. I've seen people pull through to stay with someone they love. People that should have died, but they had the will to stay. And I know she loves you and you love her, so you will help her stay."

"How would you know that?" His gruff voice had an edge to it.

"From your 911 call. I stayed on that phone with you while you begged her to come back to you, while you did CPR for longer than any person I've ever known. Hell, you upped the number of compressions after you had to be exhausted. Why? I've thought about it and it was because you weren't going to let her die if you could save her. She wasn't dying on your watch, so to speak."

He couldn't look in her eyes anymore, no, he looked away and his eyes watered.

"And she said your name first when she came back from the dead. She didn't ask 'what happened or where am I?' No, she said your name, Oliver, and I'm hoping she loves you enough to fight to stay with you, since I want to watch your romance unfold."

He cleared his throat before he could say, "Me too because I don't want her to die. I need her. what can I do to help?"

She hesitated then nodded her head. "Be there for her. Hold her hand. Talk to her."

"I talk to her all the time."

"Good, but this is going to be the worse time either of you have ever been through and you need to give her a reason to stay here when it gets bad and she wants to give up, and, Oliver, it's going to get bad."

"No."

"Yes. She's going to have trouble breathing and her body's going to fail her. You don't understand that she's going to want to go. What are you going to do when she can't breathe and wants to go?"

"I don't know."

"You're going to have to be strong and force her to stay. And we're going to do what has to be done to get her and you through this. She's young and could survive. Now, I need you to get her to sign a power of attorney form."

"Form?"

"Yeah, you're not her husband, which means you have NO rights unless she gives them to you." Mae turned and threw the words "and get her to sign a living will, just in case, she needs it. Now go admit her then go home and get some clothes on, we keep it cold here."

And he wrapped him arms around his chest as he headed toward the ER.

#####OQ#####

"Date of birth?"

"I don't know."

How stupid could he be?

How did he NOT know her birthday?

He'd known her for three years. Lived in her pocket for three years, and he didn't know her birthday. Talk about making him feel thoughtless. How could he know so little about her?

"Next of kin?" The woman gave him a small smile and his stomach fell.

"Me." He gave them his personal info, as he grasped his knees to stop his hands from twitching.

"Married, single, divorced?"

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked him over.

"Mine," came to his mind but unfortunately that word wasn't an option.

"Single." He needed to change that.

Jesus, he didn't want her single. She belonged to him.

His, he thought.

But his mind put the brakes on those thoughts.

"Insurance?"

Again, he didn't know the answer.

"Maybe? You'll have to ask her."

"Address?"

He gave the woman the old lair's address.

Finally, the woman released him, done with her questions, and he was glad to leave, after she handed him the forms Felicity needed to sign about the power of attorney and her living will, though the living will didn't matter.

He would never take her off life support. Ever!

#####OQ#####

Driving back to the rental, he threw on the pants he'd worn earlier.

Changing his shirt, he found his jacket and his cell phone. Grabbing her tablet and charger, he found her large purse and added both their phone chargers to the pile, along with a change of clothes for her.

Locking the door behind him, he stuck the house key in his front pocket and brushed a small object in his pocket.

Pulling the object out of his pocket, he came up with her red hair tie.

The very one he'd taken from her hair while they had been making out on the porch, only this morning.

Could it be only this morning? It seemed a long while ago now.

It seemed days, no weeks or maybe years.

He'd forgotten the hair tie, for at the time since he'd been on fire for her, but now he remembered vividly.

Gone, she'd almost been gone and he'd not even known. He'd almost let her die.

She could still die.

His chest tight, he couldn't breathe, and he struggled to inhale.

Sweat popped out on his forehead and he realized that he couldn't do this.

He thought he could but he couldn't. He couldn't be with her because this living together was too hard. She had to go home, had to go back to where she had been safe.

He had to take her back to Starling City. She was never going to be safe with him, ever. This was his fault.

It didn't matter what he wanted, her safety came first. He'd let her go, and this time, he wouldn't be weak and selfish.

No, he'd walk away from her. He'd walk away from her as soon as she got well enough for him to take home.

His chest tightened at the thought of letting her go. His breath came in short gasps, as he fell to his knees into the sand, and he punched the sand over and over again.

The helplessness of his situation overpowered him, burning him from the inside. Over and over, he punched until his knuckles bled, until his shoulder muscles screamed, and when he couldn't punch anymore, he collapsed to his knees in the sand.

Jesus, he needed her to live. Flashes of her smile, her laugh filled his head. He didn't want to walk away. No, God help him, he wanted her, and he desperately wanted to stay. Why couldn't he be happy for an instant? Why did something or someone one have to rob him of his happiness every single blasted time?

Why take her from him?

Hadn't he paid for the sins he'd committed?

Would he ever stop paying for his wrongs?

His phone rang. Hands stinging, burning with sand ground in them, his knuckles, a raw bloody mess, he pulled his phone from his pocket and saw John's face and answered.

"Oliver, how is she?" John growled the words at him.

He swallowed hard. "She's in critical care. The doctor expects her to get worse in the next week. She's sucked salt water into her lungs. I expect her to get bad, really bad." He couldn't say the words, "drown in her own fluids and maybe die."

"Man, I swear if she lives you had better not run on her. I swear if you run, this time I will hunt you down."

"I'm not running." He didn't know if he meant the words but he said them anyway.

"Stop lying, Oliver, remember I know what an emotional cripple you are. You're a runner. As soon as anyone gets close, you run. Right now you're planning to bring her back and run and leave me to pick up the pieces. Admit it."

John knew him too well. Yes, he wanted to run but where would he be without her? He would be alone, terribly alone.

"I'm NOT dealing with Felicity's broken heart again. You run and I'll hunt you down. I mean it, Oliver. There won't be a place you can hide from me."

"John, I promise I'm not run this time. I'm going to stand."

"You better. Jesus, I'm angry with you for not keeping her safe. She'd better not die. Keep me posted." And John hung up on him again.

On the sand, by his feet, lay her hair tie. Leaning down, he picked it up and placed it back in his pocket, then found the house key and unlocked the door and went to clean up his bloody hands. She'd be angry at him for hurting his hands. He signed deeply, disgusted with himself.

#####OQ#####

She woke up wearing a full oxygen mask over her nose and mouth to find Oliver slumped in the chair beside her. He sat silently rolling a red hair tie between his fingers, and when he saw she was awake he sat up straight, and the hair tie disappeared. She smiled because she knew it was hers.

"What happened?" Where her first words, as she watched him unfold his large body from the tiny chair beside her bed.

"You got in the riptide, and I let you drown."

"No, I drowned and you saved me."

"Okay."

The word came out quietly enough, she wasn't sure he'd said it, and she could tell he didn't believe that he'd saved her, and he blamed himself.

"Oliver, are you, alright?"

He pressed his lips together tightly for an instant. "You sucked sea water into your lungs and your heart stopped. Now you're probably going to get pneumonia. You about to be really sick for little while."

His tone even and rehearsed and rather scary, like he'd practiced his little speech. She'd heard that tone of his before. It was his, 'I have made up my mind and you're not going to change it tone.' The tone he used when he martyred himself, when he chose to step away from her.

"Oliver, look at me. This isn't your fault. I panicked and before I knew it the water drug me down and . . . I." Her voice trailed off. She really didn't want to talk about drowning. It'd been terrifying and painful and her chest still hurt.

She held out her hand, and when he reached she saw the bandages. "What have you done to your hands? What did you hit?"

Instantly, he pulled his hands back, and then he turned his head, set his jaw and refused to answer her.

"Honestly, let me see what you have done."

He stood, and she could tell by his body language shouted his anger. She sighed. Loving him could be hard sometimes.

"Felicity, my hands are fine. Okay, I beat my hands up, and then I bandaged them up. They'll heal. It's you I am worried about." His hands fisted now and his words sharp. "This isn't over. The salt water in your lungs has already stopped your heart once, and the doctor thinks you're going to get sick. She thinks your lungs will fail and you could die."

"Well. then I get a dip in the magic hot tub. Right?"

"That's not funny. Not even a little bit." He shook his head.

"Okay, well, maybe I won't get sick. Maybe the doctor's wrong. But people get sick. It's part of living life and part of growing old. But look, I'm strong. Trust me, I'll live."

"You can't guarantee that." His words had become quiet, marked, again with that tone back in his voice.

"Don't you dare shut down on me, now of all times. I see what you're doing. Standing there blaming yourself, brooding. Look at me, Oliver. I know what you're thinking. That this is your fault somehow. That you should have been able to save me before I drowned. Let me take this stupid mask off. I feel like it is suffocating me."

His head snapped up. "NO, leave it on. It's your lungs and not the mask that are making it hard to breathe. And YES! I should have warned you about the rip tide. I should have told you what to do, not let you get in the water by yourself. This is my fault."

"Stop blaming yourself. I had an accident. Stop stepping back from me. Stop running away from me. I see exactly what you're doing. You're overwhelmed, so you're shutting down. I get that emotions are hard for you, but you're the one who's drowning right now because you can't control what's happening."

His face became hard, and he set his jaw, with his mouth in a frown.

"Oliver, you may be standing a few feet away but you're miles away from me. Look at me. Would you please look at me?"

He looked and she reached for him again, and this time, he took her hand.

"I love you, Oliver. You. No matter what. And by the way, we will get through this together. But you have to promise me that you won't beat your hands up again. I need your hands to touch me, to protect me." She stopped and smiled at him. "I get that you need the emotional release, well then run, swim, find a gym but don't beat your hands up again. Not for me. Okay?" She pulled him toward her. "Do it. Promise me right now or I will take this mask off."

"Alright, I promise. I won't do it again. But you have to get better, Felicity. Please, get better. Don't leave me alone." Then he pulled her into his arms and held her like he'd never let her go again.

#####OQ#####

He started with hope, a foolish emotion he didn't believe in, but he started with it anyway. For almost one full day she did fine.

Mae found them a deck of playing cards, and Felicity beat him in every card game they played. He knew she was smart and from Vegas, but heavens, she was good at cards.

It was almost ironic that his descent into his own personal hell began with a small cough.

Something tiny, so itty bitty, he didn't even really notice it in the beginning. They were playing cards, and she won, again and again, but then she coughed and gagged a little bit.

"You okay?"

"Fine, it's your turn."

But she wasn't fine.

No, as the hours pasted, he noted he could hear her breathe. She wheezed, even with the full oxygen mask on 100 percent. As time pasted he noted, during their card game called Speed, he beat her easily, too easily.

"Did you let me win?"

"Of course, not. Why would I? I have finally found something you're not good at. I should record it with my phone, and show John. He'd love to watch me beat you at something."

Glancing down, he noted her fingernails were turning blue, a sure sign she wasn't getting enough oxygen.

"Felicity, where are your oxygen levels," he asked casually, as he eyed the monitor and noted she was down in the high 80's. Not wanting to panic, he reached and pushed the nurse's button.

"Problems?" A female voice questioned.

"Yes, her oxygen level's falling."

"I'll call, Mae."

Mae arrived with a frown. "Your lungs are filling up. I'll order an x-ray."

"Really, I'm good. I'm just getting tired. I think I'll take a nap."

But she wasn't fine. And a little while later, she woke up drowning, gasping, struggling to breathe and there was nothing he could do to help her. Instead, the crash cart arrived, and the nurses pushed him out of the room because he was freaking out and screaming her name.

#####OQ#####