A/N: Yaaay! Chapter Nine! Okay so this is long overdue, but the end of the school year has been keeping me busy. I finish exams this week though, so after that I will have more time to write! :) Thank you for all of the wonderful comments! I hope you like this chapter!


He lay his eyes upon her for the first time in hours and let out a breath of relief. She looked pale as she lay on her back amidst the white sheets. Slowly, out of desperate need to prove to himself that she was real, he covered her hand with his. It was cold, but it was real. He trailed his fingers up her arm and to her face, caressing her cheek gently. His thumb trailed over her lips, eyelids, and jawline.

All at once he felt the soreness of his muscles, the stinging in his bloodshot eyes, the exhaustion that, until that moment, had stayed away. Seeing her had allowed him peace and so, reluctantly, he removed his hand and sat down on the cushioned chair beside her bed. He allowed the exhaustion and the pain to overpower him; he'd been repressing them for hours because they hadn't been important enough. As his eyelids became heavy and his mind became clouded, he vaguely thought that he should tell the others that she was going to be fine—that he himself was going to be fine. In the end, he did not move, for sleep overtook him.


Her watch indicated that it was 4:30 am. She hadn't slept in hours. She was tired, but she knew that even if she were to climb into the most comfortable bed in the world, sleep would not find her. Sighing, she picked up various arrowheads and threw them aside before sitting down against the wall. She'd been cleaning up—attempting it anyway—for Felicity's return. She reasoned that Felicity would need to return to the Foundry and find it in a suitable condition, so she'd been cleaning up.

Cleaning up had been her way of contributing to the team. Oliver had gone to the hospital with Felicity, Diggle had picked up Felicity's clothes because she was the one that he trusted and confided in, and Roy and Thea had gone to the hospital to comfort Ollie. She hadn't fit in there, so she came here, to the ruins of the Foundry. It had slowly become evident to her however, that she did not belong here either. Felicity, Oliver, and Diggle knew the stories behind everything—every broken arrow, every piece of shattered glass, every scorched wire, every destroyed hard drive, every disintegrated security camera.

Even Roy was fitting in better than she was. He'd come after her and already he fit perfectly into their little team. Sure, he was hard-headed, impatient, and injected with Mirakuru, but he was loyal and willing to learn. Sara was sure that Diggle and Oliver were very fond of him. Maybe they saw a little bit of their younger selves in him.

The League. That's where she fit in. As awful as it sounded, she would always be a part of the League. She would always consider it a home. She'd come to know a family there and despite the awful things they had taught her to do, she would not have survived without them.

Ollie had found another way because at the end of the day, he wasn't a killer. She was. There was no other way for her. In many ways, her demons were darker than Oliver's. In many ways, she was deeper in the shadows than he was. The only light that still resided within her was her love for Sin, Laurel, and her father. Oliver, whether he knew it or not, had more light than she did. He loved and cared for many—an entire city.

Resting her head against the wall, she took out her phone from her pocket and dialed the number.

"Hello?"

"How is she?"

Diggle paused for a moment before answering, "I'm not sure yet. The doctor said that it's better to only let one person in the room. Oliver is in there with her now. The doctor talked to him, so we don't know much."

"Alright," Sara stifled a yawn.

Diggle was quiet for a moment before asking: "How are you?"

That caught Sara off guard. She said nothing. What was she even supposed to say? She'd been doing a lot of thinking, but she hadn't exactly ventured into the feelings that went with the thoughts. She was much too exhausted to do it now. "I'm alright Diggle…I hope Felicity recovers soon. Call me if anything comes up."


She'd been engulfed in a peaceful darkness. Slowly, she felt herself awakening and she tried desperately to find her way back to that peaceful darkness that had so fully consumed her, but she was too far from the darkness now. She could feel the cold air on her face and the thin sheets around her body, but she wasn't ready to wake up just yet. Tightly closing her eyes, she listened.

There was a soft beeping sound, the soothing sound of the air-conditioning working, and the distant sounds of footsteps somewhere beyond the room. Everything was foreign and she concentrated on keeping her breathing even as she tried to decide on her next course of action. Using every ounce of her restraint to keep calm she slowly opened her eyes.

The lights were too bright and she bit her lip to keep from crying out as a sudden surge of pain made itself known. She blinked a couple of times in an attempt to quell the throbbing in her head and allow her eyes to adjust. The first thing that she took note of was the fact that the ceiling was impeccably white. The walls were impeccably white. Everything was white.

Glancing to her side, she spotted the IV machine to which she was hooked up. Slowly the fear began to fade and she let out a breath of relief. She was in the hospital; she was safe. Her thoughts no longer focused on her foreign surroundings she began to feel various things. Her throat was dry, her head throbbed, and there was a dull pain in her back and her shoulder.

She tried to connect the painful areas with an event. Whatever had taken place: it had landed her in the hospital. She tried to remember falling, or getting into a car accident, but found that no images flashed in her mind. She lay still, watching the IV machine, trying to connect the dots. But there were no dots; she could not even conjure a fragment of an image. Felicity steadily grew more and more frustrated with herself until she shut her eyes tightly and turned her head away from the IV machine.

She opened her eyes to find Oliver asleep on the chair beside her bed. He looked disheveled and she wondered exactly how long he had been there. She desperately wanted to wake him. She wanted answers, but she couldn't bring herself to rouse him from his sleep. He looked so peaceful. It was a rare sight, so against her better judgment, she watched him.

After some time, she found that the pain in her back, head, and shoulder became stronger. She looked around for the button that would summon the nurse, but she found nothing as she tilted her head from side to side. Sighing, she spoke: "Oliver?" Her voice sounded hoarse and she cleared her dry throat and tried again. "Oliver?" She saw him stir slightly, but he did not wake. She reached for him; he was close enough for her to touch with her fingertips. She tapped on his forearm. "Oliver?"

"Hmmm?" He mumbled. She retracted her hand and slowly he opened his eyes. For a moment, confusion flashed in his eyes, but recognition and relief soon replaced it. "Felicity! You're awake." He smiled slightly and took her hand in his own.

"Yeah," she said weakly. The pain was becoming too much and her breaths became labored. "Oliver? Do you think…you could call…the doctor?"

His brows drew together in worry and instantly, he pressed the button on her bedside table. "What hurts?" His eyes began to scan her, looking for the source of her pain.

"Everything," she said, smiling slightly to reassure him that she would be fine once she was given medication. He did not smile in return. A white hot flash of anger engulfed his ice-blue eyes. Suddenly she was scared. It became clear that whatever had happened to her had not been an accident.

"I'm glad to see that you're awake miss Smoak." The doctor said as he came in, clipboard in hand. He was a tall, lanky, middle-aged gentleman. "I'll have the nurse bring you some water and then we'll take you to get some tests done." He scribbled something on his clipboard and left the room.

Felicity steadily counted to ten before she turned to face Oliver. "Oliver," she began carefully, trying not to think about the pain she felt, "what happened?"

He ignored her question, his eyes scanning every inch of her body visible to him. "The doctor said you have to take it easy for a few weeks. You'll either be in bed or in a wheelchair until your back has completely healed."

The nurse came in, setting down a pitcher of water and two glasses on the small round table that stood in the corner of the room. Felicity saw the woman hesitate, as if she wanted to say something reassuring. The nurse glanced at Oliver however, whose eyes were now fixed on her forehead, and decided to say nothing. Instead she gave Felicity a small smile and quietly left the room.

Some part of Felicity's brain wondered what the nurse had been thinking, but that soon faded when she noticed that Oliver's eyes lingered on her forehead. She reached up to touch her forehead and found a bandage; she'd been so caught up in confusion and frustration that she hadn't noticed it until now. She took a moment to study herself—to see what Oliver saw. There were various bruises and scrapes running down her arms, she could feel a bandage wrapped around her waist and back, and there was a bandage covering her shoulder as well.

Every time her eyes landed on a new scrape, or her fingers brushed against a new bandage, a surge of panic threatened to consume her. Suddenly she found she couldn't meet Oliver's eyes. He had the answers, but she wasn't sure if she wanted them anymore.

Oliver stood abruptly, poured water into a glass, and brought it to her. "Drink slowly." She did as she was told, taking small, slow sips of the water. It soothed her burning throat each time the water made its way down, but that moment didn't last long. Oliver moved back to the table and returned with three pills. One by one, she swallowed them, eagerly waiting for them to take effect.

When he sat down again, her eyes met his. So many emotions wound together in his ice-blue eyes, that she couldn't pinpoint any one emotion. He leaned towards her and trailed his fingertips just below the bandage on her forehead. "Oliver?" She asked quietly. He closed his eyes at the sound of his name, as if he was guarding himself, or hiding something from her. "What happened?"

He sighed—a sigh heavy with guilt, anger, exhaustion, sorrow, regret, and relief. Without opening his eyes, he said: "You got hurt Felicity…You got hurt."

Under normal circumstances she would have rolled her eyes and demanded he tell her the truth. Under normal circumstances she would have told him to get rid of the guilt in his tone. Under normal circumstances she would have told him that she knew what she was getting into when she joined the team. But these weren't normal circumstances and the mixture of so many emotions, in his tone and in his eyes, scared her.

Before either of them could say more, the doctor returned with the nurse and Felicity was taken away for an exhausting afternoon filled with various tests: MRI's, X-Rays, blood samples… When they returned her to her room in the wheelchair, Diggle and Oliver were sitting together talking quietly. Diggle and Oliver lifted Felicity and set her on the bed. The doctor recited some instructions, but Felicity was too tired to register what he was saying. Her eyelids felt heavy and she closed her eyes. The last thought that entered her mind was the realization that she wore her own clothes instead of a hospital gown. 'Diggle,' she thought fondly, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.


The next time she woke, the lights in the hospital room were turned off. She could make out Oliver's silhouette in the chair beside her. She couldn't tell if he was asleep, but she hoped he was. She found that she was slightly annoyed with him. She was safe in the hospital, there was no reason that he needed to sleep in the chair beside her bed. She appreciated it of course, but she knew how exhausted he was.

She heard him sigh heavily and she froze, closing her eyes tightly. She felt him take her hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry Felicity…so sorry," he whispered into the darkness. For a moment, she wondered if he knew that she was awake, but when he let go of her hand and stood, she understood that he thought she was asleep. His fingertips suddenly brushed against her cheek and she bit the inside of her lip to keep still. "You could have died…."

The agony in his voice was so intense that she wanted to let him know that she was awake. She wanted to take her hand in his and tell him that she was all right, that she hadn't died. She didn't because he knew. He knew, and she knew that she could do nothing to quell the sorrow and regret he felt for whatever had happened to her.

She heard him take a deep breath. He brushed a few strands of hair away. "I'm sorry," he said again. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You won't get hurt again. I promise…"

She heard him sit down again, and suddenly missed the warm trail that his fingertips left wherever they ventured. She missed the feel of his lips pressed against her forehead. She knew that she couldn't believe his words, because he could not guarantee her safety, but she allowed herself to believe them if only for this moment and they engulfed her in a warm and secure embrace.


The curtains were drawn and warm sunlight streamed through the windows. She'd been awake for a few hours. Oliver had told her all sorts of things: what medicine she had to take every few hours, how many times a day she had to sit up straight, what cream she had to apply to her wounds once they had closed, even how hot the bath water was allowed to be. He hadn't answered the question that incessantly buzzed in her mind.

"What happened?" She tried again as the commercials rolled on the screen of the TV.

She thought he was going to sigh and hastily change the subject. Instead, he turned off the TV and turned to face her. His eyes turned dark with anger and he ran his hand through his hair. "It was a bomb." He watched her intently, waiting for the information to register properly.

Felicity hadn't expected that. Although, now that she thought about it, it really seemed like the only viable explanation. She looked down at the cuts and bruises that ran down her arms. "Oh…," was all she managed. She tried to trigger an image, or a sound, but found her mind empty. The doctor had told her earlier that morning that she had a concussion and that that was the reason she could not remember what had happened. The doctor had concluded however, that it was nothing serious because she remembered everything up until she left the office.

The severity of what Oliver had just told her set in. Her head shot up and she ignored the surge of pain that shot through it. "Did anyone else get hurt? Is everyone all right? Oh my god, you're not hiding a huge black bruise under your shirt or jeans are you? Is Sara okay? What about Diggle, or Roy?" A small sad smile had appeared on his face and she stopped. Tilting her head she gave him a small smile of her own. "Sorry. Everyone is okay though right?"

Oliver nodded. "Roy was on a date with Thea and the rest of us were on a mission," he sighed in frustration and shook his head. "We found out that Slade was transporting the Mirakuru to a secure location and we stopped the van. Only, the van was empty…I was talking to you over the coms Felicity…I was talking to you and you gave no response. I—I was calling out your name because I could hear you breathing, but you wouldn't answer me." He closed his eyes taking her hand in his. "We were stupid. We should have known. I was stupid. I should have known…I should have known…"

Felicity wanted to reach out and touch his face. She wanted to make him look at her, but she sensed that he would open his eyes when he was ready. "You couldn't have known…Oliver, It's okay…You couldn't have known."

"I should have known!" The sudden outburst made her flinch and he opened his eyes. "I should have known," he repeated softly. With his other hand, he reached up, cupping her cheek. "The blast was so loud and I was speeding back to the Verdant before I really understood what had happened. All I could think was: 'No'." He retracted his hand from her face and hung his head. "I found you unconscious. Blood seeped through your shirt… I—I thought you were—." He couldn't bring himself to utter the last word.

"I'm right here Oliver. Look at me, I'm right here. I'm alive, I'm breathing, and I'm not going anywhere," she said sternly.

A moment passed in which neither of them said a word. There was a soft knock on the door. Slowly, it opened and Diggle walked in beaming. "Good Morning. How are you?"

Felicity smiled fondly, the solemn atmosphere instantly gone. "Diggle! I'm sorry I fell asleep yesterday before we could talk." Then she remembered the clothing. "Thank you by the way for the clothing. You have no idea how nice it is to be in familiar clothing. I really hate those hospital gowns. They're all thin and uncomfortable and th—"

Diggle chuckled. "No problem. I brought you some more clothes." He held up the duffle bag that he held in his left hand. "I brought both of you clothes actually."

Felicity was ready to argue that there was no need for Oliver to stay with her, but she thought better of it when she saw the warning look that Diggle shot in her direction.

They sat together, talking of the trivial things in life. Oliver's mood lightened up as the time passed on. Soon they were joined by Roy, who swore to put a hundred arrows in Slade. Then he promptly sat down and told them about the time he fell off of his skateboard and his pants ripped to lighten the mood. It was nice. It reminded her of the quite afternoon she'd spent in the office with Diggle and Oliver, talking and taking pictures. The glanced at the picture Diggle had brought for her on the bedside table and smiled.

Oliver was laughing at another one of Roy's embarrassing stories when his phone rang. He picked up, going quiet, before responding: "She's doing good." Another moment passed as he listened. "I'll be there in a few minutes." He hung up before standing. "I have to go." He looked at Felicity apologetically, "I'll be right back. It won't take long."

Roy stood up as well, "I'll go with you."

Oliver shook his head, "It's nothing Arrow related. I'll be right back." Then he turned and left the room.


A/N: There you have it! I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think :D