"Nope. Nope nope nope. I veto this. Hard pass. No, thank you."

"I don't think you actually get a say in when-"

Oliver's voice is cut off by two things: a choked noise of disbelief from Diggle in the driver's seat and the hardest glare Oliver has ever received from his wife.

"It's my body, Oliver," Felicity snaps, her hands bracketing her swollen belly. "I get a say and I say no labor right now because I refuse to have this baby in the back of a bulletproof ARGUS van during a high speed cha- oh my god!"

Her entire body curls in on itself as another series of contractions rush through her. Pain swamps her and she stops breathing, her face twisting in a kind of agony he can barely begin to comprehend.

"Ooh!" she moans, drowning out his strained, "Easy, honey," as they hurtle down the street.

"Pretty sure that's not how it works, Felicity," Digg says in a conciliatory tone. It's quickly followed by a, "Hold on," right before he makes a hard left-hand turn, sending all of them careening to the side before the van rights itself again. The sound of squealing tires comes from behind them. Diggle glances in the mirror, a harsh, "Damn it," slipping out when he sees the cars keeping up.

Oliver doesn't have to look back to know that Diggle also sees the hint of the one-eyed face behind them.

What was supposed to be a quick recon had quickly derailed into the worst day ever. It'd started out so simple: a quiet morning of lounging in bed, celebrating a successful night of taking down a drug-trafficking ring with Oliver lying halfway down the bed, his fingers trailing over the baby bump while Felicity ate kale chips for breakfast. Things had quickly dissolved from his quiet chuckling at her laments about actually enjoying kale anything now to a harried call from Diggle.

Slade Wilson had escaped Lian Yu and was in Star City.

And he was looking for Oliver Queen and his very pregnant wife.

Oliver's memory of the words 'How's the girl in the glasses? What's her name… Felicity' on Slade's lips was something he'd long ago buried in his past. Because that's where it belonged - where Slade belonged - until he'd heard the very real concern in Digg's voice when he'd said:

"Slade Wilson escaped, Oliver. And he's here."

They'd reacted, the only way they knew how - retreat, plan and launch a full-frontal assault before he got anywhere near Felicity. Unfortunately, the only way they knew how involved Felicity being with them in the van to coordinate things over the comm, because the lair had been compromised yet again in the hits from the rogue vigilantes last week. It didn't help that Thea was still out of town helping Roy with something across the country, leaving just the three of them to face this alone.

Still, it should have been fine, because they'd done this on their own before, just the three of them. Except it hadn't been, because while Slade had physically disappeared from the world, his resources and hidden wealth hadn't, and the second he'd touched down in Star City, he'd come at them with everything he had in his arsenal.

And now…

Slade Wilson had gotten a hint of blood in the water when he'd seen the way Oliver had reacted when he'd mentioned Felicity. And now the entire ocean is swimming with it, because the girl in the glasses had not only married his nemesis, but she was also carrying his child.

To say Oliver was scared and pissed beyond words would be an understatement. And that was before Felicity started going into labor. There are enough risks in a hospital with a thousand contingency plans, but in a van and being chased by a man he'd once considered his brother but who was now hell-bent on eliminating the one thing he absolutely could not live without?

This is dangerous and terrifying and about as far from Felicity's very detailed birth plan as could exist, but none of that matters because their child has decided that now is the time to make a grand entrance into the world.

It's a little shocking, actually, how easy it is for everything else but his wife to disappear.

She's all that matters.

Always.

"Felicity," Oliver says, trying to keep her as stationary as possible as Diggle weaves his way through traffic, "you have to breathe."

"No," Felicity protests, shaking her head fiercely as the most recent wave of contractions passes. "No, see, because I've got another ten days. I have ten more days, and my bag is at home and my mom isn't here and we're in a van. A van, where there are no epidurals in sight and that is not a thing that I-"

Her words die in a pained scream as her body contorts in on itself again.

Oliver's never felt quite so helpless in his life, seeing this pain on his wife's face and unable to do absolutely anything about it.

He rubs her tense back, taking one of her hands in a tight grip as he says, "Breathe, honey."

She tries. She does. There's a hiss of air from between her clenched teeth and it's a victory all on its own… that is, before a flood of liquid gushing from between her legs quickly overshadows it.

"No," Felicity gasps, shaking her head as Oliver curses.

"John, we need to get to a doctor!" Oliver yells. "Her water just broke."

"No! That is not what just happened," Felicity denies, near sobbing. Keeping their tangled fingers against her tight stomach, she grapples at the leather of his suit with her other hand, shaking her head as if that simple act will make it all go away. "It can't be. Oliver…"

"I'm sorry," he says, meeting her watery eyes. They're wide and frantic and filled with fear. Needing to feel her skin against his, Oliver puts the tip of his finger between his teeth and yanks his glove off before cupping her cheek. "I'm so sorry, but this is happening. Right now, honey."

For a long, long second, Felicity just blinks at him, as if she didn't hear him correctly. When the words finally sink in though, she starts shaking her head again, a sob slipping past her lips. Whether it's terror or hormones is anyone's guess as that small sob is followed by a drawn-out whimper. She squeezes her eyes shut and falls against him, pressing her face into his shoulder as she starts crying.

Oliver rubs her back, scooting closer, whispering her name before he meets Diggle's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Oliver…" Digg says in a cautious tone, already knowing what he's going to say.

"She can't have the baby in the back of a van without a doctor, John," Oliver says. Some part of him is very aware that they can't just stop, but the larger part doesn't care because it only cares about Felicity. "We need a hospital."

"You and I both know what happens if we stop right now," Digg replies. "We don't have the manpower to beat him and his goons."

The other man's calm, remarkably so, and it's fucking maddening. That feeling quadruples when Diggle suddenly whips them onto the freeway. He guns the engine, causing it to rev loudly, a very, very clear sign he has no plans to stop.

"Damn it, John-"

"Lyla's got her people on their way to help," Digg interrupts, meeting Oliver's eyes in the mirror again, "but they're a solid hour out."

"We don't have an hour!" Oliver snaps as Felicity's entire body spasms against him again, a shrill cry of pain erupting from deep in her chest. She grips his hand so hard the bones feel like they're turning to kindling. "Her contractions aren't even a minute apart."

"Then I suggest you deliver your child, Oliver," Digg tells him. All the blood drains from Oliver's face at that suggestion. "I'll keep us moving and safe, but you're gonna have to bring your kid into the world."

Him? Deliver the baby? He's suddenly a hundred times more aware of every single thing around him as he turns to look at Felicity, his mind desperately trying to wrap itself around that. His heart hammers in his chest as his lungs seize - with fear.

What if he does something wrong? What if he messes something up, what if something happens, what if…

Felicity whimpers, and that little sound is so laced with pain he can feel it. "Oliver… "

Her face is completely red now, covered in tears and sweat.

The sight of that - of his wife, the strongest person he knows - so utterly desperate and reliant on him, it snaps something into place for Oliver and suddenly there's no room for fear of the what-if's. Because they've had more what-if's than most people do in an entire lifetime, and they've triumphed. Even the times when everything went wrong, they found a way.

They can do this.

"Okay," Oliver whispers, trying to sound soothing, but it comes out on a cracked gasp. He clears his throat, taking a steadying breath before easing her back. "Okay, baby…" He moves until she's leaning back on the long cushioned bench. "There we go. Are you okay?"

It's a stupid question and they both know it. Felicity's only response is another pained whimper. She doesn't let go of his hand, not for a second. If anything, she holds it tighter as he leans over her, swaying with the movement of the van.

"It's going to be okay," he promises, as if sheer force of will could make that true. Her eyes snap open, finding his instantly. He braces himself on the seat, his other hand finding her cheek again as he stares at her, willing her to believe right along with him. "I've got you. Okay? I've got this."

"I'm so scared," she whispers, just before another contraction hits. Felicity cries out, her muscles locking up in pain, her head rocking back with the force of it.

Oliver makes soothing sounds as he brushes her hair away from her sweaty brow. "I know, I know," he says softly, leaning over to kiss her temple softly. "I know. But it's gonna be fine. Okay? We've been through worse than this."

"When?" she demands on a sob as the pain passes for a moment.

There are times. Most of them involve a lot of life or death, blood, pain of the not good kind… And now that he's thinking about it, this situation sort of does, too. Still, they have been through worse. He can think of more than a few off the top of his head, but they're the last thing in the world she needs to be thinking about right now.

She needs to focus on something good, something peaceful.

"Shh," Oliver urges, pressing his lips to her brow again. "Don't think about that right now. Think about… Think about Bali, that beach house where we fell asleep on the porch. Do you remember that?"

"Oliver," she moans, leaning her forehead against his.

"And you woke up," he continued, not even trying to fight the grin taking over his lips, "You rolled over, falling right off that swing. You had a bruise for a week."

Felicity chokes out a laugh, but it's pained and it does nothing to hide the agony creasing her brow. Oliver smoothes his hand over her forehead, erasing them the best he can. He knows it won't do much, but he still needs to try.

"We've got this, Felicity," he says. "You and me, we can do anything together, okay?"

It's not even a question. She nods fiercely as another contraction wracks her body. With a strangled cry, she tries to sit up, tries to curl in against the pain, but it's impossible. Oliver helps keep her up as much as he can, rubbing her lower back as Felicity grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. He's fairly certain it does next to nothing for her, but at least it gives him something to do with his hands.

Of course, his hands are going to be very occupied in the near future.

He's the only one here who can actually deliver their child.

Oliver takes a shaky breath, wincing when she lets out another vicious cry right into his ear.

God, the contractions are so close.

As the contraction ends, Felicity whimpers helplessly at him as he helps her lean back again.

"Okay," he says. Oliver pulls off his remaining glove and yanks his hood back, ditching his mask. This is the farthest thing from ideal. He had fantastical visions of hospital rooms and wearing jeans or maybe even the hole-riddled sweats he'd teased Felicity about. It wasn't supposed to be like this, with her wearing her now-ruined dress and him covered in green leather while Diggle sped down the highway. Still, while he might not have any choice about delivering his child in his Green Arrow suit, he's not going to do it in a mask. The first time his baby sees him, it's going to see him. "Lie back a moment."

Felicity shifts with his help from where she's been half-lying, half-sitting - which can't possibly be helping her back - and reclines entirely against the seat. She props herself up on her elbows, fighting to even out her breathing as she watches him carefully. Oliver takes off her shoes and rucks up the skirt of her dress before peeling her ruined underwear off.

As he surveys her progress, she asks, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

The first thing he notices is that she's further along than she'd like to admit. There's no way they have time to wait for Lyla's people. He doubts there'd be time to make it to a hospital even if Slade weren't hot on their heels.

Keeping his voice as even as he can, he reminds her, "I watched all the same videos you did." He bends her knees up, draping one of her ankles over the back of the seat. When Diggle grunts out something that sounds an awful lot like, "Oh shit," before swerving, her legs tighten slightly for balance and he grips her wet thighs, keeping her still. Digg murmurs an apology, finding even ground again.

Oliver sits between her legs and she tries to prop herself up higher on her elbows to see him. He reads the desperation in her actions and moves so she can see him.

"Pretty sure all those videos did was prove how desperately I was going to want an epidural regardless of how big that needle is," Felicity says, her voice growing higher before she sucks in a deep breath, cringing as the next contraction winds up. "And, Oliver… they weren't wrong."

Her next breath is a high-pitched keen.

"Keep breathing," he tells her. He watches in some mixture of terror and awe as the contraction rolls through her, her body bearing down, trying to birth their child. He rubs her legs, keeping them up, letting her brace against him as she fights through the pain. "You're doing fine, honey, you're so strong. Just keep breathing. You've got this."

"I need drugs, Oliver," Felicity sobs as she gulps down air. "It hurts so much." She suddenly sits up, her voice rising with aggravation, "This is an ARGUS van. There have to be painkillers in here. Right?"

"Nothing that's safe for the baby, Felicity," Digg replies, his voice carrying from the front. "I'm sorry. But you can do this. I know you can. You're the strongest woman I know."

"Lyla's stronger," Felicity counters before sucking down a lungful of air as the next round of contractions start up.

"Dunno about that," Digg muses softly. "She had the epidural."

"What?" Felicity squeaks as Oliver snaps, "Not helping, John!"

"Sorry, sorry," Diggle says. Oliver doesn't miss the amusement coloring his tone before he turns serious. "It's gonna be bumpy for a second, hold on."

As the van sways slightly, highlighting Felicity's cries and Oliver's attempts at soothing her, Oliver asks, "How's, uh… how's the traffic?"

He's only asking because logic tells him to. His wife has his whole focus, but the reality of where they are and what's happening a couple dozen feet behind them isn't entirely lost on him. There's no good time for Slade to possibly overtake them, but now… now would be bad.

"We've lost them for now," Diggle advises. "I'll make sure it stays that way. You've got your hands full back there. Let me worry about the… traffic."

"Are you two suddenly afraid of saying his name or something?" Felicity demands, her voice surprisingly steady. "Slade's not Voldemort and if you're trying to talk in code, I know exactly what you're saying. I'm in labor, not an amnesiac…"

Oliver's pretty sure that last word is supposed to be 'amnesiac,' but she breaks it off in the middle, the word dying off in a sharp cry of pain as she falls back against the seat, her body clenching against her will.

Every time he'd imagined his child's birth, it had involved doctors and medicine and it'd been nowhere near this messy. Some of that is wishful thinking, some of it is ignorance, but either way, it wasn't supposed to be like this, not in his mind. Maybe she'd be cursing at him or maybe she'd break his hand or he'd get her ice chips or something.

Really though, he thinks maybe he should have figured it would be like this. Most of their big moments have been complicated by their mission or their pasts, separate and combined. He's not really sure why he'd expected this to be any different. But, now that the moment is here, he really wishes he'd paid a whole lot more attention to the doctors' roles in this whole thing.

Isn't he supposed to check how dilated she is? How exactly does he do that? He's got a thorough enough knowledge of anatomy to be certain he could find her cervix, but he's got absolutely no clue how to gauge how wide its stretched or how wide it's supposed to be. Ten centimeters sounds right, but he has no idea where he got that. He briefly considers Googling it, even though it would probably make Felicity panic a bit…

But suddenly he doesn't need to. Because they are well past that stage.

"Oh my god," he whispers in a rush of breath, ducking closer. "I think I can see his head."

"It's a boy?" Felicity asks, propping herself up on her elbows again as the contraction winds down.

"I can't actually tell that from the top of its head, honey," he points out.

"Well don't use genders then!" she snaps, her strained voice echoing through the cab. "And once you know, I want, like, a spoiler alert or something. After every damned time this baby played coy during ultrasounds, I feel like I deserve that at least."

"After this, you deserve anything and everything you want," Oliver agrees easily.

His words are drowned out as Felicity's body seizes again and his wife lets out an unearthly wail. More of the baby's head is visible than before and, while Oliver's equal parts fascinated and horrified by what his wife's body is able to do, his concern turns toward the immediate.

"John, is there a towel around here?" he asks urgently. "Purified water? Rubbing alcohol? Anything?"

"Oliver," Felicity moans as a contraction follows almost immediately on the heels of the last one. She cries out again, louder than before, so loud that Diggle has to yell back.

"Bottled water on the bottom shelf of the cabinet," he supplies. "Rubbing alcohol should be next to it." Oliver makes sure Felicity is secure for the moment before scrambling towards the shelving. "Not sure on towels, but I'd grab a q-tip to help clear the baby's nose. We don't have a suction bulb. And there's a needle and thread for stitches. Might need it if Felicity tears."

"Tears?" Felicity gasps between wails.

"Didn't cover that in lamaze class, huh?" Diggle asks with a wince. "Try not to think about it."

Despite Felicity's vocal shouts to the contrary, it's advice that Oliver has absolutely no issue with taking. He has way more immediate concerns and has no choice but to focus on the problems right in front of him.

Oliver ends up knocking over most of what's in the cabinet in his haste. He scoops up the bottled water and rubbing alcohol along with a box of q-tips before bolting back to Felicity. Dropping all of it unceremoniously, he rips off his quiver before shrugging off his jacket, leaving him bare-chested. Damn it, he could have at least worn a shirt underneath his suit - what was supposed to only be a recon mission had become so much more.

"What are you doing?" Felicity pants out.

"I don't have a towel, honey," he tells her, feeling a little desperate as he says it.

"You're going to catch the baby with your Green Arrow jacket?" she asks incredulously, trying to sit up again, but another contraction hits her, fiercer than before, and she cries out again.

God, he can see the entire crown of this kid's head as it tries to push its way free of her body.

The idea that his hands are steady enough to do anything, much less deliver his own child, is laughable. But, all things considered, he has the easy job here. He's never questioned that birthing a child would be incredibly difficult and painful, but he's also never quite imagined the level of effort and agony involved.

Propping his jacket up so it's ready, he says, "I don't really have much of a choice."

Felicity tries to choke out a laugh, but it quickly dies as she grits her teeth in pain.

"Actually, it's sorta… perfect," she gasps, the words coming out in fragments between contractions that have her huffing out pants of breath that seem like they take considerable effort. "When you think about it. Probably should've expected it, because…"

Another contraction has her screaming.

Part of him will always resent that he wasn't able to spend this moment focused on his wife, living out that picture that was in his head for the months leading up to this moment. But most of him… most of him will treasure this experience for what it is - terrifying, monumental, and so very them in every way.

"Oh… god, this is horrible!" Felicity yells.

"I need you to bear down and push, honey," Oliver says as he positions himself between her legs, ready to help their child free from her body. "You've nearly got the head out. You're almost done. Just a bit more."

"There's no way I could not push," she grits out between clenched teeth, red-faced with determination and exhaustion.

"Harder," he tells her, watching her whole body clench. She lets loose some otherworldly noise that's equal parts a scream and a sob. "Push, Felicity. Push."

"I am God damned pushing!" Felicity shouts at him on a growl.

"Deep breath," he counsels her, following his own instruction, glancing up at her. "One or two more like that and the head will be out. You're doing so great, baby. You're amazing."

"I absolutely am," she hisses before sucking in another breath and bearing down.

This time, there's substantial movement and Oliver watches with jittery wonder as their baby's head emerges entirely. He instantly moves, his hands supporting its little neck as it squirms about.

It's the most amazing thing he's ever felt.

"I have its head," Oliver tells her, well aware that the excitement in his voice makes him sound as much of a ball of nerves as he really is. The baby is slippery with amniotic fluid and he holds its neck with one hand while he pours some water over its little face with the other. It doesn't like that much and Oliver whispers an almost silent apology, but it's necessary for him to keep his grip. He wipes the water and fluid off its face as he looks up at Felicity. "You just have to push out the shoulders, honey. You're almost done."

"Is it okay?" Felicity asks in a near panic even as her body clenches again. "Ah… oh God, Oliver tell me the baby is-"

"Fine so far," he interrupts, his voice shaking. With excitement, love, fear, happiness, terror, all rolled into one. "Perfect, so perfect. I just need a couple more pushes and you can see for yourself."

That seems to give her the motivation she needs. Maybe it would have happened anyhow - it probably would have - but that's the story Oliver will tell in the years to come.

With a primal scream Felicity pulls her knees to her chest and half-sits up in the seat as she pushes with everything she has.

And their child spills out of her body into its father's waiting arms.

Leather is possibly the worst material in the world to clean anyone off with, but he does his best, wiping the gore of birth from his child's face and body as he pours more water over the baby to clear away the grime. He more feels than sees Felicity trying to move, but all his attention is on the bundle in his arms for the moment.

The baby thrashes in his arms, not quite pink-faced enough for his comfort level. Oliver pats its back for a second, fighting the very real urge to freak the hell out, all those fears he hadn't let take over a few minutes ago starting to creep back.

He holds his breath…

And then it lets loose the most beautiful wail he's ever heard in his life.

Oliver laughs, an incredulous sound as he stares at their baby, as he watches its little mouth open over and over again, a wild never-ending cry filling the van. A voice that sounds a lot like Digg's tells him to grab a q-tip and clear out its nose, and when he does, the screams are even louder.

"Is he okay?" Felicity asks, alarm coating her words as she tries to sit up. She doesn't have the energy to, though, especially as the contractions continue to work the afterbirth from her body. "Oliver, is he…?"

Oliver laughs again, looking in wonder from his child's face to his wife's.

"Spoiler alert?" he croaks. His wife nods, almost frantically. "She's fine, honey. She's beautiful."

"She?" Felicity asks on a sob. Her face crumples, tears instantly flooding her eyes as his words hit her. "It's a girl? We have a daughter?"

"We have a daughter," Oliver confirms as he pulls his leather jacket around the baby. "We have a daughter."

She opens her eyes, the ever-changing blue-grey of a newborn's gaze meets his and her little brow furrows with more expression than he'd realized a newborn could show. She's writhing, her mouth opening up again for another round of screams.

A feeling he's never felt in his life fills him.

She's perfect.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greets her, pulling her to his bare chest so that they're skin-to-skin. It seems to settle her some. "Hey there…"

She watches him curiously. Oliver cradles her close, wiping fluid off her face with his thumb. She's so tiny compared to his hand, so tiny. She wraps her tiny fingers around one of his, and he just… this is the moment he melts.

He was hers from the second he found out she was real, but this is what cements it.

This little gaze staring up at him so trustingly, so innocently. She's tinier than he ever could have imagined, more beautiful than he ever could have thought she'd be. There's a dusting of matted light-colored curls atop her head and a cute little pout to her lips as she smacks her toothless gums together, rooting about for her mother's breast.

He hasn't even cut the cord yet and he already knows he will never be the same again.

"She's perfect, Felicity… God, she's just…"

His voice breaks, which is just as well because he doesn't have any words to encompass the enormity of this moment.

"Congratulations, you two," Digg says from the driver's seat and Oliver can hear the joy in his friend's voice.

"I want to hold her," Felicity says. Some of her strength returns as she sits up, reaching for the baby in his arms. "I need to hold my daughter."

"Yeah," Oliver agrees, his voice uneven with emotion. He wipes a tear from his eye, leaving a smear of something behind. He nods to Felicity with a shaky grin. "Yeah, just let me… I need to cut the cord."

When he pauses to think about just how the hell he's going to do that, he realizes he doesn't have a damned clue. He pats his pockets and where he usually keeps his spare supplies...

Of all the times to not have a knife on him.

Undoubtedly there are scissors somewhere in the van, but he hadn't even thought to look for those before Felicity had really started pushing and now it's too late. He isn't about to go rooting around for something sharp with a newborn in his arms.

But that's okay.

He doesn't need scissors.

He already has something sharp.

This will be the part of the story that Felicity tells in the future: how Oliver didn't think twice before he pulled an arrow out of his quiver and severed the umbilical cord with it. It's fitting, she'll say, because their daughter had been The Green Arrow's child from the start and that's never a thing that's going to change.

He crawls up to sit next to Felicity as she sits up to meet him, both of them leaving an absolute mess in their wake. Oliver balances the baby on his knees and ties off the cord quickly before turning to Felicity.

Oliver carefully places her on his wife's nearly naked chest. He hadn't even noticed when Felicity had yanked her dress open, leaving the perfect spot for their daughter.

"Oh… oh, wow," Felicity chokes out in an almost whisper. She strokes the side of the baby's face as she nuzzles against her mother's collarbone in search of more skin. "Oh my God, Oliver, she's perfect. I… How is she so perfect?"

"She's you," he answers roughly, pressing his forehead to his wife's. "You were amazing. I can't even begin to tell you how incredible you were."

"Next time," she says, nodding for emphasis, "I demand an epidural." She narrows her eyes at him. "This is non-negotiable."

Oliver's pretty sure she hasn't even realized what she just said, but he sure as hell does.

There's a hundred and one reasons why they shouldn't have another child, why even this one is dangerous, if the madman currently chasing them is any indication. But he doesn't care. Because he's spent years ignoring the things he wants for himself and for his life, and the instant he and Felicity tried again, he left that behind. They'll make it work. They always do.

"Next time?" he repeats, a hopeful edge to his voice.

Felicity locks eyes with him for a moment. She runs her tongue over the ridge of her teeth before turning to stare at their daughter. Her fingers ghost over the baby's cheek as the newborn makes a little huff of noise and wriggles her face against the skin of Felicity's collarbone.

"Yeah…" she replies quietly. She presses the flap of her dress to the side, bringing her daughter to her breast. It takes a second, more than a second as Felicity and the newborn struggle with this new landscape. With a grumbled, "This is a learning curve I wasn't expecting," Felicity and their daughter line up. The baby finally latches on, making happy little grunts as she suckles. With a content sigh, Felicity looks up at Oliver. "Next time. But for now…" She turns back to their child. "For now I think I just want to enjoy this time."

Honestly, he couldn't agree more.