This one's been written for a few days but I was too busy with writing papers to post it. It's shorter than the other two and a bit different. I got the idea a few episodes back when Oliver wasn't able to sleep. Enjoy!

"Oliver!" She cried, voice full of pain.

Oliver jerked into a sitting position and his eyes darted to where she lay next to him. Why was she in pain? Her eyes were wide and frantic and she was mouthing his name but no sound escaped.

"Tell me what's wrong!" He demanded. His hand shot forward to brush the blond curls from her eyes. She jerked beneath his hand and blood poured from her mouth.

"No!" He roared as he saw the hole that her hands were desperately trying to cover. "No!"

"I love you, Oliver." She whispered as the life faded from her eyes.

"Felicity!" He bellowed as he shot up in his bed. His shoulders heaved and tears fell down his cheeks. He jerked his head to the left and saw Sara's wide eyes from where she'd been sleeping.

It wasn't real. It hadn't happened. Probably.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed and scrambled across the floor to the display case. He heard Sara calling out to him but he dressed quickly and draped the quiver over his shoulder.

He moved quickly through the night. The bike would have been faster but he needed to work off the nervous energy and residual panic that was screeching through his veins. He could still hear her voice, the panic and then her final words. They chased him through the streets even though they'd never actually been uttered. She hadn't been shot and she hadn't died in his arms. She was safe. She had to be.

He pushed himself harder, jumping from building to building. Aided when necessary by the repelling device she had installed on his bow. He reached her apartment seventeen minutes after he'd woken up. He quickly scaled the fire escape until he was outside the window of her living room. He debated for a moment about breaching her privacy but the need to see her won out. He quietly picked the lock and let himself into her apartment through the sliding door.

He and Diggle were going to have to upgrade her security system.

He stalked gracefully through her apartment towards the door ajar at the end of the hallway. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before slowly pushing it open wide. His shrewd gaze assessed every inch of her room for a threat. He stepped back into the shadows and exhaled as his eyes finally settled on the sleeping blond. He could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her blond curls tumbled around her shoulders and over the pillow that she lay on. Her glasses were neatly folded on the side table next to her phone and tablet.

She was alright. She was safe.

"Oliver?" His head snapped up to find her standing across his desk. The expression on her face held worry and he wondered how many times she'd said his name before he'd heard her.

"Felicity." He really shouldn't say her name like that, like a prayer. But it had only been twelve hours since he'd dreamt of her death and the relief of seeing her standing there was immense.

Her eyebrow quirked. "Are you alright? You seem kind of off."

He watched as her eyes assessed him. He wondered if he looked half as tired and weary as he felt. What must she see when she looked at him? Did she see exhaustion in the lines of his face? Or perhaps frustration in the way he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt.

"You're not getting enough sleep." She concluded finally. "It's almost quitting time. Maybe you should head to the lair for some sleep. Dig can wear the hood tonight and-"

"No. I'm fine. I'll sleep later." He insisted.

She narrowed her eyes at the obvious lie. "You know that's not true. You look more tired every day, Oliver."

"I'm fine."

Her shoulders slumped and she bit her lip. He wanted to apologize but she nodded and turned away from him.

It had taken him hours to fall asleep that night. And he would swear that his eyes had only been closed for minutes when he heard her crying for his help. He was in a large room, endless with darkened corners. And she was begging for his help. But he couldn't see her.

"Oliver, please! It hurts!" She cried.

He fought against the restraints that held him in place. The cuffs bit into his wrists and his ankles as he struggled.

"Oliver! Please?" She begged.

He opened his mouth to call out to her but choked on the gag in his mouth.

"You said you'd always save me." Her words were an accusation that tore right through him.

He raged in the chair, his bellows muffled.

"Save me." Her voice was quieter, duller.

She was going to die and he was going to hear it happen. Tears broke free even as he remained bound.

Silence fell and he knew.

She was gone.

A sob tore through his body as the chair tipped sideways. He fell out of bed and hit the floor. His hands were free and his mouth uncovered.

It wasn't real.

The trip to her home took less time. He'd taken the bike because he had to see her and running wouldn't get him there fast enough.

She had fallen asleep on top of her covers with her tablet. Her glasses were slightly askew on her nose. He smiled. He took a step forward to place her beneath the covers but faltered. She couldn't know that he'd been here.

He backed out of the room and leaned against the doorway.

He watched over her until dawn.

His chin slipped off of his hand and he barely avoided hitting the edge of his desk. He blinked against the afternoon light that was shining into his office before turning to gaze upon his blond assistant. She was watching him and had clearly seen him nodding off. Her lips pursed for a moment in concern before she shook her head and focused once more on her computer.

She was angry with him. He could see it in the tense lines of her shoulders and the thin set of her lips. Dig nodded in her direction before clapping him on the shoulder and leaving for the night. Sara and Roy were both working upstairs.

He placed his bow on its holder and sighed. He bowed his head and tried to summon the energy for whatever fight awaited him. He took a deep breath and turned to face her. He was surprised to see that she had turned her chair to face him and was studying him with those eyes that missed nothing. He hadn't heard her move.

"You need to take a break." She told him.

He shook his head. "Crime in this city never rests, Felicity and-"

"And apparently neither do you!" She snapped. "I understand that you're stressed out and you have secrets coming out your eyeballs. I know that Slade freaks you out and that Laurel is a mess. And things with your mom are toxic and you have to lie to poor Thea. I know that you're fighting to keep Roy from going Vader on us. I know, Oliver. I know."

"Then why are we fighting?" He wondered quietly, leaning against his table.

"Because you're not sleeping. You're barely eating. You're working yourself too hard and you're taking stupid chances. How many hours of sleep have you gotten this week? 10? 12?" She frowned as her teeth worried her bottom lip.

He'd guess it was more like 6 or 7 hours and none of it had been restful. He'd been plagued with dreams of Felicity dying in new and horrible ways each night for the past week and a half. He spent more time watching her sleep than doing anything else.

"You almost got shot tonight, Oliver. And don't tell me you didn't. I heard it. You didn't see the guy coming because you're so tired." Her eyes were shiny but he knew she wouldn't cry.

"I'm fi-"

"Do not say you are fine, Oliver Queen! Because you aren't! You're a zombie and you're going to get yourself killed!" She cleared her throat as her voice broke on the last word.

He was scaring her. Every time he went out as the Arrow she was afraid he wasn't going to come back. And if he was being honest, it was becoming more and more likely. Because that guy had almost shot him tonight.

"You're afraid."

She shrugged and a smile tugged at his lips. He moved towards her and knelt in front of her.

"Thank you." He filled those two words with as much gratitude as he could muster. Because his fears about her safety were keeping him from sleeping, from living. And her fears for him were driving her to fight.

She would forever be too good for him.

She reached out hesitantly and cupped his cheek. He leaned against her hand, even though he knew it wasn't fair to her or to Sara.

"You're so afraid of Slade winning. But he already has, Oliver. As long as you're not sleeping, not living, he wins. You can't fight him like this." She took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face that didn't quite touch her eyes. "So please try to get some sleep. Try."

He managed an hour before he woke screaming her name. He scrambled to his knees as his surroundings came into focus. Sara stood at the end of the bed with folded arms across her chest and pouted lips.

"We need to talk, Ollie." She demanded softly.

He didn't want to hear it. He desperately needed to make sure that Felicity was alright. Logic told him that she'd been alright the last 16 times he'd checked on her. But logic couldn't quite overpower his fear.

"Later." He replied, already moving towards the door.

"I'll be at my dad's." She called after him.

It wasn't a threat. And even if it had been, it wouldn't have kept him there.

She marched into his office with a frown on her face. She placed a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him and he picked it up. She watched as he swallowed half of the searing beverage in one go.

"I shouldn't even be bringing you that! It just encourages you not to sleep!" She accused. "You promised you'd try, Oliver."

He didn't know what to tell her.

He couldn't explain that he'd watched Slade cut her into little pieces the night before and only after he'd crawled through her window was he able to breathe again.

So he reached out and covered her hand with his own.

"I'm trying, I promise." And he was.

The worry lines didn't disappear from their place between her blue eyes. But she gave him a half-smile and left him to his thoughts.

He and Sara ended things later that week. Few words were spoken, fewer were needed. She knew who he dreamt of and where he spent his nights. She knew that he couldn't breathe until he knew for sure that Felicity was safe each night. She didn't resent him and he appreciated that.

Sleeping alone didn't stop the nightmares though.

And Diggle and Roy had officially been trading off on Arrow duties for six days now. He had barely enough strength to make it from work to the lair each night. Felicity manned the comms and Oliver worked out in an effort to exhaust himself to sleep.

It never worked.

He was halfway up the salmon ladder when his arms gave out. He fell to the ground beneath the ladder and lay on his back as the room spun above him.

"Oliver!" Felicity cried out.

The sound of her heels clacking against the floor announced her arrival and she dropped to her knees beside him. Her hands cupped his cheeks as her face swam in and out of view.

"I'm so tired." He mumbled.

Something wet landed on his forehead and she sniffled. "I know, Oliver. I know."

She placed his head on her lap and ran her fingers through his hair. His eyes closed. And he slept.

He woke hours later. His head was cushioned on something soft and a hand lay against his cheek. He tilted his chin and saw that his head was pillowed on Felicity's stomach. She was stretched out on the mat, asleep.

She had stayed. And he hadn't dreamt.

His chest expanded as he gazed down at the blond in front of him. She was the most beautiful, kindest woman who'd ever lived. He scooped her up carefully and she turned in his arms. Her nose grazed against his collarbone and he shuddered. He carried her over to his bed and placed her beneath the covers. He watched her for a few moments before he climbed into the bed with her.

She mumbled his name softly in her sleep and he smiled. He pulled her gently into his arms and she nestled her head against his chest. Sleep took him quickly.

And when he dreamt of the blond sleeping in his arms, she wasn't hurt or dying. She was simply his.

Any thoughts? Thanks for reading!