Oliver glanced at the ugly wound for less than a second before pressing down on Barry's stomach. Hard.

Barry groaned.

"Sorry," he grit out. Blood kept flooding out of the cut - much, much more than a cut - despite his best efforts to put pressure on it.

"S'fine," Barry said breathlessly.

Oliver grimaced.

Barry had been, quite literally, chasing some ninja death cult around Central City. When they eventually moved on to Star City, it had only been logical for the two of them to team up.

Oliver had forgotten that team-ups usually didn't end well for them. Or, well, for Barry.

Why was he always the one getting hurt?

"Hey, hey," he said, tapping Barry's cheek a few times in quick succession, "this is no time to sleep."

Barry's eyes fluttered open from where they had been closed. "Ninja skewered me. S'not my fault." He even managed to sound a little indignant. Oliver allowed himself a small smile at that.

"I know. But it didn't go all the way through, so technically not a skewer."

"Wanted to be a kabob," Barry grumbled.

"Well, at the rate you're going..." Oliver murmured.

He tore a bit of Barry's suit and tied it around his abdomen to act as a makeshift bandage. The color of the blood mingled with the fabric a little bit too well.

"Cisco s'not gon' be happy," Barry slurred out, studiously keeping his eyes open and trained on the ceiling. It was a dark and dusty warehouse, so Oliver had no idea what was making him so entranced; but if it kept him awake...

"He can yell at me later. Right now we have to get you out of here."

Barry's eyes were closed. "Hey!" he yelled. He was only a little sorry when Barry startled awake with a low moan.

Okay, maybe more than a little sorry.

"M'awake," Barry mumbled. "Hurts."

Okay, maybe a lot sorry.

"I know. I'm sorry," he soothed - or, well, tried to. (Damn it, when had Barry become the latest person to break down his walls?)

He needed to call Felicity, and Digg. He needed to call Team Flash - shit, Joe was going to kill him.

Barry's brows were furrowed in pain as he struggled to stay conscious and Oliver hovered uselessly. "You're fine," he breathed out. "You're gonna be fine."

He'd take Joe killing him if it meant Barry lived. (He'd take anyone killing him if it meant Barry lived.)

"Ollie?" Barry asked.

"Yeah?" he replied distractedly, trying to take out his phone with bloodied and shaking hands.

"Would do it 'gain in a heart-" He coughed, blood dribbling out of his mouth. Oliver's eyes widened and he quickly sat Barry up so he could breathe more easily. "Heartbeat. I would," Barry insisted, weakly squeezing one of the arms holding him up.

Oliver froze.

He'd been trying to avoid that part.

Barry had been hurt protecting him.

"You shouldn't have had to," he said firmly, fumbling a little more with the phone.

"I would," Barry repeated.

"I know," he said, finally managing to speed-dial Digg. "That's what scares me."

"Hey, wha-"

"Tell Felicity to track this location now. Barry's hurt."

"You heard that?" A pause. "Yeah, yeah. We have your location. I'm on my way." Oliver could hear the start of a car engine. "How bad is it?"

Oliver glanced down at the wounded hero in his arms - his friend was dying in his arms. "Bad," he gritted out, not quite able to suppress the tremble in his voice.

"Okay. Just...keep him awake. I'm two minutes out." He hung up, and Oliver was left with the sound of Barry's rasping breaths.

"Stay with me, okay?" he said, pressing down even more on the wound. Barry didn't seem to notice.

"Barr, please."

"Tired," he mumbled, eyes fluttering. Something in Oliver's chest tightened painfully.

"I know. I know. But you gotta stay awake, okay? You can sleep all you want later." My fault, my fault, my fault, his heart beat out.

"Sorry," Barry mumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

"No no nonononono. Barry. Barry. Open your eyes." He shook the limp body in his arms, but there was no response. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he whispered into the night.

He swallowed and checked on the wound again. Shit. The makeshift bandage was already soaked. He shrugged off his jacket and pressed it onto the wound in a way that should've hurt.

But Barry didn't seem to feel it.

"Should've brought comms," he grumbled out, wanting to make up for Barry's silence. "Why'd we forget the comms?"

Barry continued to lay there, unresponsive. "You, Barry Allen, are going to give me gray hairs. You - you self-sacrificing idiot. You didn't have to jump in front of me - you didn't." He blinked the tears out of his eyes. This was no time to cry.

Barry needed him.

"Y'know," he said, laughing a little. "Super speed would really be helpful right about now. At least if I had gotten hurt, you could've-"

The bang of a door opening and slamming into the wall echoed throughout the building. Oliver turned abruptly, reaching for his bow before a familiar voice called out, "I'm here!"

He sighed and immediately relaxed. "Over here!"

Digg came over. Upon looking at Barry, he swore. "This is more than bad, Oliver."

Oliver nodded helplessly.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Digg crouched down to their level. "You get his arms, I'll get his legs. The van's right outside the door." Oliver nodded wordlessly. "Okay. One, two, three. Up!"

They lifted Barry up and started moving swiftly towards the entrance of the building. Oliver tried to ignore how limp he was in their arms, and the trail of blood they were leaving.

Once they got him settled in the back with Digg quickly taking out medical supplies, Oliver slammed the door closed and got into the driver's seat.

He looked down at his bloody hands (not his blood) and willed them to stop shaking. (They didn't, not really.)

He blew out the breath he had been holding, placed his hands onto the wheel, and started to drive (completely ignoring the speed limits).

Later, when the wound had been stitched up and Barry lay in the Arrow Cave, stable, Oliver would place his hand (clean - not bloodied) onto Barry's pale chest.

He'd close his eyes, and feel it rock up and down with his breaths.