One chapter left. I should be able to put it up tomorrow. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy it.

The sunlight teased her from behind closed eyelids. Felicity groaned before opening one eye than another. A blurry figure stood by the window – she assumed it was Oliver. Seconds after sitting up she decided that had been a bad idea. Everything hurt. Even parts that hadn't been hit, scraped, or bashed hurt. How was that even possible? She slid off the bed and padded over to him. She didn't have her glasses so she didn't see how rigidly he was holding himself until she was right next to him.

She angled her head in front of him and looked up. He was staring out the window and she thought his grip on the windowsill might break it.

"I'm okay."

He sighed and finally looked down at her, grimacing as he took in her bruises and scrapes. "But you almost weren't."

"But I am. I mean, yeah, I feel like I've been run over by a large truck, not that that's happened before, but I'm pretty sure this is what that would feel like." She tentatively put her hand on his forearm. "And there's nothing that's broken or won't heal eventually. Besides, now you know how I feel."

He frowned and looked at her confused.

"You know how you, or Digg, or Sara come back every night with some new wound? One of you has been stabbed or shot or beaten? It breaks my heart every time. And every time you blow it off like it's nothing or that 'you've had worse.' Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?

"Besides, all of this," she gestured up and down her body, "all of this was worth it to help those people."

He absently shook his head.

"Yes, Oliver. There were kids in there. Kids. And they were less scared than I was. We were being held in a warehouse by guys with guns and the majority of those people were resigned. What kind of life were they leading if any of that was okay?"

He clenched his jaw but didn't respond.

"So, while I am done with being kidnapped – believe me, I have crossed that off my to-do list – I can't be upset that this happened. We stopped something truly horrible from happening, and I can't regret that. Isn't that what we do? The whole reason we're doing any of this?

And now, I'm going to go take a bath in that ridiculous, heavenly bathtub in there. And you're going to get over your angst, and everything we'll be fine." She looked around the room. "I think Jeeves said my clothes were here somewhere," she muttered.

"Jeeves?"

She spotted her suitcase and headed towards it. "Well, I was a little shell shocked when I met him, and then I was all drugged up when I remembered to ask his name so I don't actually remember it. But he seemed like a Jeeves. British. Called me 'Miss.'"

He turned towards her and leaned back against the windowsill. "It's Alfred."

Walking towards the bathroom with a handful of toiletries and clothes, she responded, "Alfred! Yes. That sounds vaguely familiar." She smiled slightly before shutting the door. "I still think he looks like a Jeeves."

Oliver smiled and shook his head after she closed the door. He knew she was right about everything, but while he had no problem taking hits (both physically and emotionally) it was hard to watch someone he…cared about…no, loved…going through the same.

He'd been terrified when the Count had Felicity, but that hadn't even begun to match what he'd felt when he couldn't find her last night. He hadn't known where to begin to look. He relied on her to give him that information. It hadn't been connected to The Hood or Oliver Queen, and that randomness made it all the more terrifying.

Felicity tossed her stuff on the counter and grimaced when she got a good look at herself in the mirror. The bruises were darker and swollen. The scrapes had scabbed over on her temple, cheek and jaw. She remembered that guy backhanding her and later stumbling to the ground, hitting her knee and scraping her palms on the asphalt.

An involuntary sob escaped before she could cut it off and tears slid down her cheeks. She'd meant every word she'd said to Oliver, but seeing the aftermath brought back each feeling of fear, anger, and helplessness she'd felt. She backed away from the mirror and hit the wall before sliding down it. The tears were falling faster than she could wipe them away.

She heard Oliver calling her name but it sounded really far away. The bright white walls of the bathroom turned to grey concrete and she could hear the whimpers of the people around her, smell the sweat and stench. She felt someone grab her shoulders and repeat her name. She knew it was Oliver, but her eyes were closed tight and all she could see was the beefy guy; the one who said he'd take a turn at her before shipping her off. His breath had smelled like ash and rot, and his palm had been sweaty and oddly smooth.

She didn't know what exactly brought her back to reality, if it was pure sensory overload, or if it was Oliver quietly telling her she was safe, she was okay, slowly rocking her back and forth in his embrace. He was sitting behind her, and her back was against his chest. The side of his temple was pressed against her own, and he'd wrapped both arms around her. She shuddered and collapsed back against him.

A few minutes passed and she could finally breathe evenly again. "Ah God, this is embarrassing." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She let herself enjoy it for a few moments before drawing herself away and turning until she faced him.

"I'm okay," she said.

"You're clearly not," he interjected.

"Okay, fine, I might still be dealing with what happened. But I meant everything I said out there. That's not going to change because I'm having trouble processing a really crappy experience."

He started to argue, but she cut him off. "No. No more." The concerned look made her soften. "At least, not right now. Right now, I have a date with that bathtub." She used the edge of the counter to pull herself up. Oliver didn't move from his position on the floor until she implored him with a soft, "Please."

He stood and stared at her for a long moment before slowly taking her wrists in both hands and rubbing over the bruises caused from the zip ties. He let out a rough exhale and tugged her into his arms. A fresh wave of tears sprung to her eyes, but she felt safe. He held her for a minute before sighing "I can't lose you" into her hair.

She mumbled, "You won't. Not today," back into his chest before gently shoving him towards the door.