Chapter 21: Aftermath

Felicity got the strangest feeling of déjà vu as she and Diggle brought Oliver down the stairs and to the metal medical table. It seemed surreal that this was the second time in ten months that this was happening. It seemed like she had known Oliver Queen for a lifetime.

Diggle immediately set about starting an IV for a blood transfusion. "Work on stopping the leg wound," he demanded as he worked. Felicity kept one hand pressed on Oliver's thigh and reached around Digg for some gauze. Once Digg had the blood transfusion started, he motioned Felicity away from Oliver's leg so he could start cleaning and stitching it. Felicity wiped as much of Oliver's blood as she could off her hands, then set about cutting him out of his jacket. She hissed as she saw his right arm, bandaged from shoulder to wrist. She would have asked Diggle what had happened, but at this point, it didn't matter.

Within ten minutes, they had Oliver attached to the heart monitor, and the worst of his wounds were sutured. Felicity's eyes met Diggle's, and she knew all they had to do now was wait. It was then that she started shaking like a leaf. "Go clean up," Diggle said gently. "I'll stay with him."

She nodded, and stumbled toward the bathroom. She washed her hands, staining the sink red with Oliver's blood. Too much blood. She choked back a sob as the weight of the past few days crashed down on her. She looked in the mirror, and realized the clothes she had been wearing for the past several days were also stained red. She stripped off every ounce of clothing, depositing it in the trash. She grabbed the bag she kept hanging on a hook outside the bathroom for the days she needed a change of clothes, and emerged a few minutes later.

Diggle was sitting next to the table, his elbows on his knees, with his hands steepled under his chin.

"How's he doing?" She asked, even though she was almost afraid to know.

"Vitals are good," he said. But that was all he gave her. "How are you?"

She shook her head, pulling her desk chair over and positioning herself on the opposite side as Diggle. "What a nightmare," was all she could think to say.

"Don't ever let anyone cast you as a damsel in distress, Felicity." Diggle held her gaze. "We were hitting dead ends on finding you. You saved yourself."

She shrugged, taking in the man on the table. She felt no less trapped right now than she had when she was sitting in that tiny tenement room. She suspected she would only consider herself saved when Oliver woke up.

They sat there for awhile, Oliver between them. Finally, Felicity looked at Digg. "You should go home, get some rest."

Diggle eyed her cautiously. "I think I'll stay a bit longer. Just in case."

Felicity shrugged again, and they lapsed back in to silence. After what seemed like an eternity, Felicity walked over to the computer and pulled up some music. Diggle raised an eyebrow in question as it started to play.

"Ummm, things have been quiet the past few days. I'm pretty sure that another moment alone with my own thoughts is going to drive me insane." She thought about how she hadn't really enjoyed music since she had left Starling City. Oversharing? Who cares. "I sort of stopped listening to music when I left. Every freaking song reminded me of something I didn't want to think about."

Diggle looked at her, understanding in his eyes. "It was hard for him too, you know. He's come since you and I started helping him. He slipped back to the isolated person he was when he came back from the island."

She sighed. "This past month has sucked, John. I know it sucked for everyone. But now that I'm back, I am wondering if this . . . " She gestured to Oliver and then to the room around them. "If any of this changes anything. He may still push me away." She took a deep breath, and kept the rest inside. She knew better to hope that Oliver would feel for her the way that she did for him. It was too much to even consider it, because she knew it could never be that way.

Oliver remained stable but unconscious. Eventually, Diggle went upstairs to speak with Thea. He would pretend to be on a fetching mission for Oliver, saying he got busy with a lady friend and didn't want to leave. After covering with her, Diggle would go home for while. It had been a very long couple of days for him too, she supposed.

It wasn't until after Diggle left that Felicity scooted her chair closer. She tentatively reached out a hand and took his. She had missed him. "You are such an idiot, Oliver." She said. The exhaustion of stress of the past few days swept in on her, and her eyes grew heavy. It was nice to no longer be alone. She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her, leaning back in the chair. Still holding his hand, she drifted off to sleep.

xxx

Memories flashed, almost too much to bear. Watching Sarah die the second time. The moment when he realized Helena was absolutely unreachable. Looking in Tommy's eyes as the life left him. He felt as if he was drifting, lost, in a sea of terrible memories. The feeling of a knife cutting his chest, back when pain was something unknow, as Slade's ex-partner tortured him. He thought he might drown in the memories. Then he felt a warm, solid grasp on his hand. It anchored him, and somehow helped him to move slowly toward the surface; away from the memories and darkness and pain.

As Oliver opened his eyes, he wasn't all surprised to see that it was Felicity who was holding his hand. He took his time and drank in the sight of her. She was asleep, and judging by the quiet in the room, they were alone, so no harm could come from it. She was dressed in workout clothes and had her bare feet curled under her in the office chair. Her glasses and their joined hands lay in her lap. Even in sleep, she still looked utterly exhausted. Music played softly in the background, a foreign sound in this particular space.

She was safe. The relief was nearly overwhelming. She was safe and whole and with him again. He knew that the warmth spreading through him at those details made him a selfish bastard. He knew he should try and convince himself she was better off away from him. But he thought of the sensation of her holding his hand, and how it had pulled him away from the darkness of his memories. She would be an anchor to all that was light and beautiful, if he let her. He knew that she could be his safe harbor. But he thought again of the night he made the decision to send her away; how her pale, unmarred skin had contrasted against his scars and she gently stroked the scar from his mother's bullet. He closed his eyes and exhaled, longing for a time when he wouldn't feel so conflicted.

He wanted her to stay, wanted to keep her close. She had told him once he deserved better than Isabel Rochev, and he desperately wanted to believe it. But he still wasn't sure it was right of him to want more, or to deserve better. Especially not from Felicity, who had already given so much just to help him.

She started awake suddenly, terror in her eyes. He recognized the look well. She was in that space between a horrible dream and wakefulness, and wasn't sure which world was reality.

He squeezed her hand. "Shhh, its okay Felicity, you're safe." He would have sat up, but he wasn't sure he was quiet ready for that yet.

He saw awareness come back to her, and she met his eyes. "Oh!" She cried in surprise. "Oliver, you are awake." She dropped his hand, and pushed herself out of the chair. It was ridiculous that he felt bereft from the loss of the heat of her grasp. He had to get himself in check, and fast. She came closer and fluttered her hands around, as if she wasn't sure what to do with them. "How are you feeling?" She asked, settling for putting a hand on the table by his head.

"Like it's been a really long month," he said, giving her a half crooked smile.

She smiled, and he saw her eyes fill with tears. She blinked, and he watched her try to reign in her emotions. He realized that maybe hadn't been the best thing to say . . . especially considering how rough her month must have been. "Felicity . . . " He started. And realized he had no idea what to say. How do you even begin to apologize for what he had done? Especially since he wasn't sure he wouldn't do it again, if he thought it would keep her safe.

She wrapped her arms around herself and blinked, as if waiting for him to finish. Instead, he moved to push himself up. "Oliver, maybe you shouldn't . . . " She started, putting her hands out to steady him in case he fell.

He managed to get into a seated position on the table, and groaned. "What happened with Merlyn?"

"They are processing him now, he'll be taken to solitary at Iron Heights. The best news is that the city will forget all about your mother now, when they have the mastermind to persecute. If they were talking about the death penalty for your mom, they'll certainly seek it for him."

"Yeah, but he managed to buy my mom's verdict. We need to make sure he doesn't manage to do the same with his own."

Felicity nodded, crossing her arms back around herself again. He saw the posture for what it was . . . a defensive one. He had been so focused on getting her back and safe, he really hadn't even thought about what he should say to her.

"You should go home," he said, because he couldn't think of anything better to say.

AN: This chapter is longer than most of them. So splitting here even though there really isn't a good place to split. And yeah, Oliver is being an idiot still. SMH! Too bad it's only Monday, huh? At least that gives me a few more days to wrap this up nice and tight. Next chapter is titled Loud Voice, so yeah, Felicity's finally going to give him what for.