Author's note: Hey guys! Happy New Year! Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. They are food for my writer's soul and I love you for them!

**WARNING: This chapter contains strong violence, themes of torture and sadism, and a shit ton more feels.**

Reader discretion is strongly advised!


Pain shot through the left side of her back, forcing her awake. The white hot sting of a knife slicing through her flesh brought tears springing to her eyes. She struggled, trying to twist away from the knife, away from the pain.

Oliver and Diggle had tried to teach her how to shut the out pain, how to stop herself from crying out against it but, holy shit, that hurt!

Her eyelids felt like lead but she forced them open, determined to see what was going on around her. Everything was blurry, forcing her to blink to clear her vision. Not that she could see much anyway, as everything was cloaked in darkness. There was a small strip of light that looked like it might be seeping in from under a closed door on the opposite side of the room. As her vision cleared and adjusted to the darkness, she caught a flash of movement from beside her as the knife bit into her back again.

She clamped her mouth shut to stop the expletive that threatened to spill out. She tried to reach for her side only to find that her wrists were firmly bound together behind her back. She made to move her legs only to find them tightly tied to each leg of the chair she was apparently secured to. Paying more attention, she could feel the cold steel against her bare skin. Her stomach clenched when she realized she was only clad in her bra and panties.

Trying to calm herself, she squinted into the darkness, working on making out shapes or shadows, anything to give her an idea of what was lingering there.

"Look who finally decided to join the festivities." Came the voice that instantly chilled her blood.

She fought against her fear, knowing that if she had any chance of ever getting out of there, ever seeing Oliver again, she had to be smart.

Oh! Oliver! Her heart thumped against her ribs as she thought of him. Her hero. He'd find her, she knew he would. She couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips.

"He'll find me." she spat, anger sparking to life inside of her. "He'll find me, and he'll kill you. For good."

She did cry out, this time, when the knife sliced into the skin below her left breast.

"Will he?" The Count taunted. "But, why would he bother to look for a dead girl?"

She stilled, her body throbbing with pain.

"Why would Oliver look for you, when you're already found? You're lying comfortably on a slab somewhere, wearing white. I bet that's not how you imagined him seeing you in white, was it?" His voice crept over her, like a thousand spiders dancing across her skin.

His words finally sank in, filling her with an icy sense of dread. What would be the only thing capable of making Oliver stop searching for her?

Finding her.

"You gave him a body. My body." She choked, tears spilling down her face.

"Bingo, bango! Someone get this girl an award." he sang, as the knife sank into her right hip.

She felt it as it grazed bone, waves of excruciating pain crashing over her. She didn't even try to stop the scream that tore from her chest. The burn in her muscle increased, well beyond the limits of her comprehension, as the cold blade slowly slid from her body. She gasped as her head jerked back, his hand wrapped in her ponytail forcing her to comply.

"He's not even looking for you, dear! He's too busy mourning your loss, I'm afraid." he hissed, right against her ear.

"He'll find me." she panted, praying that she was right. Praying that Oliver would know that she was still alive, that she needed him.

She heard the footsteps move beside her, stopping by her knees. She didn't have time to brace herself for the fist that connected solidly with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, her glasses bit into the bridge of her nose and, blissfully, everything once again faded into nothing.


Oliver thundered up the stairwell of Felicity's apartment building, too much adrenaline coursing through him for him to wait for the elevator. Diggle was following, a half floor behind.

Since they'd left the SCPD, he had been focusing on constructing a plan, coming up with what he thought was a solid course of action. They hadn't even stepped out of the precinct when he was dialing Roy's number, demanding he and Thea be ready to board the Queen jet the moment it touched down in Gotham. Roy had balked before the worry seeped into his tone as he asked what was happening. Oliver had ended the call, knowing that he couldn't begin to explain the situation properly over the phone.

Now, two fifths of the Arrow team wound their way up to the eighth floor, to Felicity's apartment. They'd gotten permission from Lance to enter, his team already having finished their search, finding nothing to indicate a struggle. Oliver knew that he and Digg could find things the police had missed, as well as get their hands on her tablet, which hadn't been among the possessions found with the body. Which meant it was either in the apartment or with her, wherever she was. Oliver prayed for the former.

He exited the stairwell, his legs carrying him swiftly down the hall to her door. Using his key, he opened the door and moved quickly inside. Being driven by his singular focus, he jogged down the hallway to the bedroom. He found her tablet plugged in and resting on her nightstand, where it normally was when not in use. He retrieved it, then headed back to the front of the apartment.

He found Digg surveying the living room, his eyes scanning every inch of space for anything that might be out of place. Oliver swiped a finger over the surface of the tablet, where he was prompted to enter a password. He entered it quickly, thankful that she had trusted him enough to tell him what it was. His heart stuttered in his chest, his eyes pricking with heat, as he recalled the night she had entrusted him with it.

"Come on, Felicity!" Oliver had begged. "Please?"

She eyed him speculatively, a grin tugging the corners of her mouth up before she smothered it. "Can I trust you?" she asked, not for the first time.

He grinned, recalling the first time they'd had this conversation. "Yes." he told her seriously. "You can trust me." When she hesitated he added, "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

She arched a brow in amusement. "You do realize that I don't actually need your password, right?" she challenged.

He nodded. "It's symbolic."

"Fine." she relented, scooting closer, tucking herself to his side on the couch.

She pulled up the password screen, turning the tablet so that he could watch her enter it. She couldn't say the words out loud, but she could damn well let him see.

"Zelenyy-Strelka" He watched her type.

He was quiet for a long moment, his chest swelling with something he hadn't fully understood at the time. She turned her head, her eyes apprehensively searching for his reaction. His gaze landed on hers and he took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

"Green Arrow." He smiled tenderly, his thumb trailing over her knuckles.

She grinned proudly. "In Russian."

Shaking off the memory and the pain it sparked, Oliver started sifting through the file he knew contained everything she had compiled on the Count and his cohorts. Not able to make sense of what he was looking at, beyond a few things he'd already discussed with Felicity, he locked the screen and slipped the tablet into the interior pocket of his jacket.

"Find anything?" he asked, lifting his gaze to Diggle, who was crouched down in the hallway.

"Was this here when you left this morning?" Digg asked, pointing to a scrape in the burnt orange paint, right above the floorboard.

Oliver strode over and squatted beside him, tilting his head at the spot.

"No," He shook his head. "It looks like it was made by a high heel." he observed.

"That's what I was thinking. He must have grabbed her here. Maybe he was waiting when she got home." Digg suggested.

Oliver was already up, striding back into the main room, thrusting his hand through his short locks in frustration. He prowled the space, muscles corded with strain as he struggled to contain his anger. When he passed the front door for the second time, he stalled, raising his head and turning towards it. His eyes fell on the black control box situated three quarters of the way up the wall, beside the door.

"Did you disarm the alarm?" Oliver demanded, turning to glance at Digg before approaching the box.

"No, I thought you did when you came in."

Oliver lifted a hand to run a finger along the edge of the control panel. "It should have gone off if the code wasn't entered within the allotted time." He spoke more to himself than to Digg. "It should have sent an alert to the security company, who would call Felicity and I." His finger grazed over a spot where it felt like the wall had been damaged. Bending to peer beneath it, Oliver saw what looked like a depression where someone had pried the box away from the wall. He slipped his knife from his pocket and used it to force the panel out. Pulling it away from the wall, he gave the wires a once over. "Damn it." he grumbled, before stepping to the side to allow Digg to see what he found.

"What the hell is that?" Digg asked, his brows pulling together.

"It's some kind of tech." Oliver explained, lifting the wire gently where the black device, no bigger than a quarter, blinked red. "It must be disrupting the signal."

"Rendering an alarm useless." Digg finished.

Oliver used his knife to cut the wire above and below where the device clung to it. The alarm immediately sounded, sending a piercing whine through the apartment. Oliver tried to manually enter the code but the control panel wouldn't accept it. Almost instantly, his phone vibrated against his thigh, the security company asking if he was in the apartment and if he needed assistance. Oliver quickly explained that the control panel was malfunctioning and that they needed to enter the code from their office. The operator asked him for the code, to confirm his identity, the noise cutting out as soon as he had given it.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned back to Diggle. "When Thea gets home, I'm going to get her started on trying to trace this." He held up the innocuous looking device. "And, have Roy start going over her files. There has to be something in there."

"You think Roy can find something that she missed?" Digg asked, the sound of his voice conveying his disbelief.

"Felicity believes in him." Was the only explanation Oliver offered.

Digg hesitated, unsure how to voice what he knew Oliver didn't want to hear. What he himself, didn't want to think. "Oliver... I think you have to be realistic about this. The police-"

"She is not dead." Oliver growled, his Arrow voice fully taking hold.

Digg could only watch as Oliver turned on his heel and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind him.


Early the next morning, just as the sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon, the Queen jet touched down in Starling City. Diggle was waiting on the tarmac with the car as Roy and Thea disembarked. He could see the worry in Thea's eyes as she ran to him.

"What's going on Digg?" she asked breathlessly, struck by the mournful expression he wore. "Where's Ollie?"

Roy came up behind her, placing a calming hand against her lower back. Digg nodded to the younger man.

"I'll explain in the car." he told them, opening the door to the backseat and motioning for them to climb in.

Thea took Roy's hand, clinging to him nervously. She hadn't been able to reach Oliver and Roy had said that he'd sounded desperate when they spoke. Scenarios ran through her mind, each one worse than the last, until she was chewing her nails anxiously.

Not three minutes had passed before Diggle was sliding into the driver's seat and pulling away from the airport.

"Digg." Thea begged, shifting forward in the seat, her voice rising with stress. "What's going on?!"

"It's Felicity. She's..." Diggle's voice cracked and he cleared his throat forcefully. "The police found a body. They think it's her."

Thea's hand flew to her mouth to stifle the gasping sob she could feel fighting its way up her chest.

Roy squeezed her hand, before speaking, "What do we think?" he asked.

Diggle met the younger man's eyes in the mirror before flicking them back to the road. "Oliver doesn't believe she's gone."

"You disagree?" Roy pressed.

"I think that either way, the Count won't live long enough to regret it." Digg said fiercely.

Thea finally spoke as Diggle's words sank in. "The Count is alive? Oh, God. Ollie must be losing it."

Diggle didn't have to look to know that she had tears streaming down her face. He nodded, one sharp jerk of his head. "He's not handling it well." he admitted.

"What can we do?" Roy asked, ready to act.

"Oliver's at the Foundry, waiting for us. I'll let him explain everything."

Roy fell back against the seat, pulling Thea with him. He turned her into his chest, closing his eyes as she tucked her head under his chin. He could feel the tears that were falling, unchecked, against his throat. His hand ran soothingly over her hair, comforting her as much as he could given the circumstances. He was well aware of Thea's love for Felicity, and knew that nothing short of bringing her home would help ease the pain.

Worse, seeing Thea so devastated made Roy anxious about what kind of shape they would find Oliver in when they reached the Foundry.


The loud thwack of wood biting into the sparing dummy rang through the open space like machine gun fire. It was rapid and repetitive, Oliver not giving himself a chance to slow down. All of his pent up aggression needed an outlet while he was forced to remain inactive, to do nothing, while he waited for Diggle to return with Thea and Roy.

He focused on his attack, upping his strikes until he felt the muscles across his shoulders burn with the effort. Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms to keep moving, to keep up the punishing pace. With a loud crack, the rod in his right hand splintered, bits of wood ricocheting around him. He threw both rods to the ground in disgust, instead attacking the dummy with his fists. Keeping his mind zeroed in on inflicting damage, he didn't even notice when his knuckles began to split. He didn't feel the blood as it trickled down his hands. His eyes were becoming bleary and unfocused, and he knew the tears were trying to push themselves to the surface.

Frustrated, guilty, hot, angry tears had been trying to swallow him since he'd heard those words.

"We found a body. I.D says she's Felicity Smoak."

The words continued to ring in his ears, echoing in his mind until he couldn't hear anything but them. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, hadn't stopped moving, since he'd left the police station. The threat of a total nuclear meltdown kept him running. But, running was wearing thin, and his body was losing the war.

Oliver fell to his knees, succumbing to the weight of his pain. He dropped his head into his hands, unknowingly smearing blood into his short, blonde hair. Squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage, he fought to suppress the emotions that were struggling to unleash themselves.

Guilt, because he hadn't been able to protect her. He hadn't even been able to protect the woman the Count had killed in her place. Because, no matter what John Diggle and Quentin Lance had to say, that was not Felicity laying in the morgue.

Anger that she was out there somewhere and she needed him, but he wasn't there. Anger at himself, that he hadn't killed the Count the first fucking time and now Felicity was in danger, once again, because of his mistake.

Frustration because now, he didn't know where she was, or how he was going to find her. He knew she was suffering, probably in terrible pain, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

Underwriting all of that was gnawing fear.

Fear that he wouldn't be able to find her, at all. Fear that she was lost to him forever, before he'd had a chance to tell her that she was everything to him. And, when he was at his weakest, the fear that she was already dead. That the body draped in a white sheet did, indeed, belong to his blonde hurricane.

With a grunt, he pushed himself off the floor as the sound of the security door being accessed alerted him to his team's arrival.

Thea was the first to reach the bottom, crossing the room to throw herself into her brother's arms. Closing his eyes, Oliver held her, needing her comfort as much as she needed his. Sobs shook her lean frame and he had to fight the tears pricking behind his eyes.

Roy approached them, stopping far enough away to give the siblings their own space, Diggle taking up the space beside him.

Thea pulled out of her brother's arms, stepping back to take his hand as her eyes searched his face. His eyes were raw and red-rimmed, testament to the tears he'd shed. Pain was etched clearly into every shadow, every line, of his face. Thea dropped his hand, stepping back another step.

"Ollie, I am so sorry." she whispered, no strength in her quavering voice.

He met her gaze, his eyes hardening as she watched, his jaw setting determinedly. "She is not dead." he growled through gritted teeth, his shoulders tightening as he fought to keep his rage contained.

"How do you know that? How can you be sure?" Thea argued. She wasn't trying to hurt him, she just wanted him to be realistic.

"Because I saw the body, Thea!" Oliver bellowed, his control slipping. "It's not her. If Felicity were dead, I would know!"

Thea's eyes slid to Roy, silently asking him to help her. Roy stepped forward, not so much as flinching when Oliver leveled him with a glare. He put his palms up in a placating gesture.

"What do we need to do?" Roy asked, resolutely.

Oliver's face softened a fraction, as he once again realized that he was not the only one suffering. Everyone in this room loved Felicity in their own way, and each of them was doing their best to deal with the cards they'd been dealt.

Oliver made his way to Felicity's desk, picking up the signal interrupter and turning to face his sister. "Thea, I need you to trace this." he told her, extending it in her direction, his tone clipped but more level than it had been.

She held out a hand, letting him drop the tech into her open palm. "What is it?"

"The Count used it to interfere with the alarm system at her apartment. I'm hoping that you can find out where it came from."

She nodded, already shucking her coat, draping it over the chair and examining the device.

Oliver approached Roy, holding out Felicity's tablet. "I need you to go through everything she compiled about The Count, and see if you can find something that can tell us where to look."

"How do we know it's him?" Roy asked, taking the already unlocked tablet that Oliver held out.

"It's him." Oliver told him, though he was already walking away.

"Where are you going?" Diggle inquired, watching Oliver remove his suit from its case.

"I'm going to have a word with Commissioner Wilhelm." Oliver informed him, stalking away to don his green leather.

Thea turned her chair to face Diggle, concern clear in her expression. "You can't let him go alone. Not in his condition."

"I'll be his backup, Thea." Digg assured her. "Don't worry, I've got his back."

She smiled weakly. "I know." She turned back to the computer, bowing her head as she studied the device, looking for anything she could use to trace its origin.

Oliver emerged seconds later. He stopped long enough to pick up his bow and quiver, let them know he'd be on the comms, and then he was heading up the stairs. Diggle was right behind him, not letting him argue his presence.

Roy walked up behind Thea, settling his hands on either side of her neck. He massaged her collarbone with deft hands, knowing that she carried all of her stress there. "We'll find her." Roy said, his conviction clear in his voice.

"What if she's already gone? What if she really is dead and Oliver just can't accept it because he loves her?" she asked softly, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

Roy sighed, then pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thea, the kind of connection that they have... It runs deep. No one knows her like he does. If he says... If he feels that she's still out there, we have to trust him."

"Would you feel it?" she queried, knowing that he'd understand what she was asking.

He slipped his hands up to cup her face, stroking a thumb across each of her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers as he looked down into her gaze.

"I'd feel it." he promised, "Everyday. For the rest of my life."