The first thing Felicity noticed when awareness returned to her was that her hand was warm. She opened her eyes and harsh white fluorescent light stabbed into them, sending sharp needles of pain lancing through her already pounding head. She closed them again and took a minute to take stock of what she could perceive with her other senses. It was then that she realized that her hand was warm because it was being held, held in another hand so big that it swallowed hers right up. She felt the familiar scrape of calluses on the fingertips and upper palm of the hand that held hers, but even without it she would have known whose it was. She chanced opening her eyes again, slowly this time, and sure enough, there was Oliver, seated in the hard plastic chair at her bedside, head tipped back, eyes closed, clearly asleep. She squeezed his hand to let him know she was awake, and he stirred.
"Hey," she said when his eyes locked with hers.
"Hey," he replied with a small smile. His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were rimmed with red, like he'd been crying. Felicity frowned.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"You the one lying in a hospital bed, and you're asking me if I'm okay?" Oliver replied instead of answering. Felicity couldn't quite muster up the energy to glare at him, but she gave it her best shot.
"I'm fine," he said. "I was just worried." That sounded like a lie, but Felicity didn't feel like calling him on it. After a moment, he asked "What happened? Doctor Schwartz gave me the gist, but not the details." Felicity closed her eyes and tried to remember.
"I was...I was driving home from our date," she said hesitantly. "And it was raining. I was stopped at the four way intersection by my apartment building and another car ran the red light and came barreling into the intersection from the left side. The driver saw me and he- he tried to stop, but the road was slick from the rain, and his tires skidded. His car fishtailed, and by the time he managed to straighten out, he was too late to stop or veer away, and he slammed into me. Doctor Schwartz said I was lucky- a few inches to the left and he would have hit my driver's side door and I would have been killed on impact."
"I'm so sorry," Oliver said. "I should have been there."
"Why?" Felicity asked. "What could you have done?"
"I don't know," Oliver said helplessly. "But maybe… maybe if I'd been the one driving, I could have taken the brunt of the impact, and you wouldn't have been hurt."
"That's not how physics works, Oliver," Felicity said, shaking her head despite the fact that it made the pain in it worse. "You weigh a couple hundred pounds, and your average mid-sized car weighs a couple thousand. Not to mention that the car would have considerably more momentum. The only thing you being there would have accomplished would have been me getting slightly less injured than I was, not avoiding injury completely. And what's more, you would have been hurt or killed as surely as I would have.
"Still, I-" Oliver began.
"No," Felicity interrupted, shaking her head again. "Stop that this instant. You are not allowed to blame yourself for this. Be thankful I can't use my loud voice right now."
"You're right," Oliver said quietly. "I'm sorry." Felicity frowned at the apology- it sounded like yet more blame- but decided not to comment on it.
"I'm glad they listened to me when I told them to call you," she said instead.
"Me too," Oliver replied. "Just please don't ever scare me like that again."
"I'll try to avoid getting into car accidents in the future," Felicity said with a weak laugh, wincing when it sent a spike of pain through her ribs.
"I'm serious," Oliver said desperately. "Please. I- I can't lose you, Felicity. I can't." Felicity was surprised to see panic in his eyes.
"I should leave you to rest," he said abruptly, rising from his chair. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, his lips lingering against her skin, and then he was gone, leaving her alone, troubled and confused.
Some time later- Felicity wasn't sure exactly how long- she heard a knock at her door. The hospital staff never knocked before entering her room, so she must have a visitor.
"Come in," she called, hoping it was Oliver, but it was his friend John Diggle, who she vaguely remembered from Thea's wedding, who walked through the door.
"Oliver got held up at work," he explained, closing it behind him, "so he asked me to come check in on you. And to bring you some stuff from home."
"I told him that key was only for emergencies," Felicity murmured.
"I think you being in the hospital counts as an emergency, Felicity," Diggle said, crossing the room and setting the duffle bag he was carrying on the chair that Oliver had vacated some hours before.
"What's in the bag?" Felicity asked.
"Toiletries, a couple changes of clothes, and your tablet and a book in case you need some entertainment," Diggle replied, with a tone of voice like he was reciting a list.
"Speaking of entertainment, would you mind changing the channel on the TV for me?" Felicity asked. "The nurse put the remote across the room, and I've had about as much cheesy daytime television as I can take." Diggle nodded, retrieved the remote, and flipped through channels for a bit before settling on BBC America, which was marathoning old episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation. They watched in silence for a while before Felicity asked "Oliver's not really held up at work, is he?" Diggle studied her face for a long time before he answered, "No. He's not."
"Then why isn't he here?" Felicity asked. "I-" She stopped herself before she said "I need him here."
"I don't know, Felicity," Diggle said. He didn't take his eyes off her face. There was sympathy in them, as if somehow he knew what she'd stopped herself from saying. "I think...I think he's just spooked. He's never felt the way he does about you about anyone else, and then he almost lost you...I think it scared him, maybe more than he wants to admit. He's just in his own head right now. Any day now he'll come to his senses, and then he'll be by to see you."
"I hope so," Felicity replied, allowing her eyes to drift closed. "I miss him."
"I know you do," Diggle said softly. For a while, the only sound was the TV.
"How did you and Oliver meet, anyway?" Felicity asked, her curiosity about it gnawing at her.
"I've been stateside for a few years now, but I used to be in the army," Diggle said. "My unit operated out of Kandahar. We'd been there for a couple years when Oliver was sent there on assignment. We bonded over a game of poker one night, and the rest is history."
"That must have been shortly before he disappeared," Felicity said softly. Diggle nodded.
"It was," he confirmed. "We mounted a search party for him when it happened, but whoever took him... they must have taken him into the mountains, knowing that the cave system there is so extensive that we could search for years and never find him or them."
"What happened to Oliver wasn't your fault, Diggle," Felicity said, recognizing the tone of self-blame in his words.
"I know," Diggle replied, "but sometimes I wonder if everything that happened to him after he disappeared could have been avoided if we'd just looked for him a little harder." Felicity didn't respond to that, and they fell into silence again.
"I should get going," Diggle said after a time, moving toward the door. "Oliver'll be by to see you soon. I'll make sure of it. I'll drag him here if I have to." Felicity nodded.
"Thank you," she said, but Diggle was already gone.
