As the doctor studied the ultrasound machine, Felicity had her forearm covering her eyes. She couldn't look. She already knew what the prognosis was going to be.

The hitch in Oliver's breath told her she was right. "Oh God." He breathed. Felicity peeked from under her arm. "How many Oliver?" He just stared at her, refusing to speak. "Ol-i-ver... How.. Many?"

The doctor took it as his duty to respond. "Miss Smoak, uh, if you could look at the monitor." She raised her head up, peering at the monitor while the doctor pointed to three very distinct dots on the screen.

"Three? THREE BABIES? Oh my God. No. There's some sort of mistake. One's a shadow. Maybe two. Please tell me that at least one of those is JUST a shadow." She looked to Oliver who was pale and quiet. "You sir, are a dead man."

"Miss Smoak," the doctor whispered, "there are precautions and risks associated with multiples. Especially for triplets and especially for someone with your small bone structure. I'll set up an appointment in a few weeks to further discuss it, and if the nausea doesn't lessen by then, we're going to get you on some anti-nausea meds. If it gets any worse before then, call me."

As they left the office, Felicity was stomping to the car, followed by a sheepish Oliver Queen. The man who survived on an island, the man who was the notorious vigilante, the man who killed to save her, was... scared... shitless.

They approached the car, Oliver's head hung low, frightened, ashamed. Helping Felicity in the car, he noticed a single tear fall from her face. "Oliver, I'm scared. Three babies. Three. What if something happens? What if I'm not strong enough to carry them and God forbid I.."

"Felicity, stop. You are the strongest woman I have ever met. We will get through this, no matter what happens. Okay? I love you. I don't in any way deserve you, and I fucked up...again, and I swear, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

Cupping his face, she whispered. "I'm going to be huge. There's no way I'm going to fit into my wedding dress. You know that right?" Claiming her lips with his own, he left her breathless before he suddenly pulled away. "Then we get married next week."

"What? No. We still haven't found Thea or Roy, Sarah's still off who knows where and Laurel's going to freak if we abandon all of her wedding plans."

"We don't have to abandon them, Felicity, just set everything up for next week. I'm tired of waiting for you to be my wife. If I had it my way, we would have been married the day after I proposed. I'll call Laurel, tell her what's going on, and that she has exactly one week to pull this off."

Entering into Dig and Lyla's house to pick up Tommy, Felicity ran to the kitchen sink. There was no way she was going to make it down the hall to the bathroom.

Gripping the counter, knuckles white, Felicity's body tried desperately to purge itself of what was left of her morning tea. Quirking an eyebrow at Oliver, Dig cleared his throat. "Uh, guys, is there something we need to know? Something that's not going to be left unsaid like it was the last time?"

Oliver searched the floor, looking anywhere but Dig. Felicity rinsed her mouth, and the sink before her cheeks were flushed. "Sorry guys...about the...there was no way I was going to make it to the bathroom in time...actually, I'm surprised I even made it to the sink.." She clutched her stomach in response to the churning once more. "Oh, God, is that salmon I smell?"

Clutching the sink once again, she resorted to deep breaths from her mouth. Lyla placed a hand on her back, rubbing small circles to comfort her. "How far along are you Felicity?" Oliver's eyes shot to Lyla. "Oh come on, Oliver, I know morning sickness when I see it."

Muttering under her breath, Felicity answered. "Seven weeks. But that's not even remotely the problem here. Ask Sir Knocked-me-up over there."

As Oliver explained, Dig was silent. Lyla gasped. "Three. Three? They're sure?" Oliver nodded when Dig spoke up. "So how many arrows do I need to put in him Felicity?" Her small response was holding up 3 fingers.

"Shit." Cursed Oliver. "I'm hiding all weapons from both of you until she decides that she no longer wants to kill me."