I decided to be nice and post this early because of the horrible cliff hanger at the end of the previous chapter (sorry, not sorry :D) Hope you enjoy this and sorry about the shortness!

Everything seemed to pass in slow motion. The clocks hands moved sluggishly around the clock face at a fraction of their usual speed. Oliver was lying motionless on the floor by his desk, files scattered around him where he had desperately grabbed at the table as he fell. More time passed until movement was spotted. Oliver's eyes slowly flickered open and he groaned as he tried to move his stiff limbs. His muscles felt as if he had just taken part in a 2 hour sparring session with Diggle, sore and burning. His head was spinning and pounding so hard, he could almost hear it. Slowly pushing himself up to his forearms, he lifted his head to look straight ahead. His brain was suddenly overloaded with flashbacks of what had just happened. Felicity.

That one thought forced him to stand up. His vision swum at his sudden movements but he ignored it, only placing a palm on the desk to balance him. He shoved his free hand into his trouser pocket and quickly retrieved his phone. With some difficulty, he found Diggle's name and punched the call button. In a matter of seconds, his voice filled the small device.

"Oliver?" his voice gruff and almost croaky. It was only then that Oliver remembered he was ill but quickly dismissed the thought; this was much more important. "What's going on?"

"It's Felicity. She's been taken. Antony drugged the coffee and he's taken her." He tried to keep his voice steady but failed as it broke on the last section.

"What?! Jesus. I'll be right there. Were you drugged?" he could hear a vague rustling in the background, letting him know that Digg was on his way.

"Yes but I'm fine. We need to concentrate on Felicity." With these words, he promptly ended the call. Looking up to the clock on the far wall, he saw it was only five. That meant he had been out for around 5 minutes, explaining why his headache was also now fading and his limbs were slowly regaining some feeling. As he walked towards her desk he couldn't help but think of the pain Felicity would be in. He had been tasered many a time and it most definitely wasn't a pleasant experience. Now she was going to feel the same pain. Trying to put that thought to the back of his mind, he looked down at her belongings. Everything was almost normal until he saw her tablet lying on the floor, a long spider web crack running from one corner to the other. This almost sent him over the edge. The tablet was a metaphor for her. Once strong and pristine, now shattered and damaged, all because of him. He gently stroked a finger down the splintered crack, vowing to bring her back and make her whole again. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts; he didn't hear the elevator doors open and Diggle run out.

"Oliver?! What's going on?!" Digg panted, obviously out of breath from the dash to get here.

"Riggs," Oliver replied shortly. "He put something in the coffee to drug me, came in and took Felicity, tasering her for good measure." His fists clenched at the end of the sentence as he remembered how Antony had held the taser to her neck and how she crumbled to the floor, almost lifelessly. He could hear Diggle moving around her desk but he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to concentrate on him.

"What's this?" Digg asked, pulling Oliver back to the present. He had opened the laptop lid and a small piece of paper had fluttered out. Oliver leapt up from the floor and snatched it from where it lay on the keyboard. Written in the same messy handwriting were two sentences:

Mr Queen, you should have listened to my warning. SHE IS MINE.

It took nearly all of his self-control not to scrunch up the note and punch the nearest thing to him. He was almost shaking with anger as he looked to Diggle.

"The lair. Now. We have to find her."

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Felicity was in her nightmare. She no longer had any idea what was reality and what was a dream. A blurry figure was standing in the doorway as she lay in bed, unrestrained but paralysed. She was sensory aware but unable to move. The figure was advancing slowly, purposefully, mimicking what happened in her dream. She could see his lips moving but she only registered a constant hiss of static. Then suddenly, he was so close that she could see him clearly even without her glasses. He was kneeling over her, a leering smile matching his rancid breath. He was clearly talking but again she couldn't make out the words.

He lowered his head to her neck and she tried to struggle but to no avail. She was disgusted as his rough lips planted kisses along her collarbone, slowly making their way lower. His hands were beginning to run themselves down her sides, not with the same gentle cautiousness as Oliver but unforgiving and desperate like the ones in her nightmare. She tried to scream. She pushed so hard but only a squeak came out. A tiny, pitiful squeak. At the sound of her voice, his head whipped up, his eyes darkened with lust and anger. His forearm came down hard on her windpipe, essentially stopping her from making any more noise. The wind was knocked out of her and she struggled to breathe. She felt the other hand not on her throat becoming more and more frantic. She knew what was coming and as the started to see stars she realised that she wasn't in a nightmare. She was in hell.

Sorry again, this one's so short! It just felt like the right place to end it. Also, I'm struggling with a bit of block so as always plot ideas would be greatly received! REVIEW PLEASE.