A/N: Very short very quick and dirty episode tag. Spoilers for 2x15 if you haven't seen it yet. Enjoy!
Felicity was wringing her hands and pacing the short distance in front of her computers waiting for them to return. Oliver had left his phone on, and she'd had the others on the comms, so when Slade had said he'd left John alive she'd only mildly panicked before she sent Sara and Roy to find him.
The door clanged open at the top and she hurried over, watching as Roy supported most of Digg's weight with Sara trailing behind.
"I'm so sorry!" Felicity blurted out immediately, "I was watching the thermal inside the house. I didn't see anyone else…"
"He'll be okay," Sara assured her as they passed,
Felicity followed close, wincing as Digg lowered the hand that had been held to the back of his head to reveal a bloody palm. "Oh my god, you're bleeding." and that more than anything drove her to action.
In just a few moments she'd pulled out a cold pack and other supplies and had pushed her way past Roy to look at Digg herself as he leaned against the medbay table.
"I'm fine, Felicity," he said and she shushed him, pulling his hand away so she could work.
"Right, you're fine. Roy and Sara found you passed out in the bushes and you're bleeding from the head but you're fine." she hated how shaky her voice sounded, but she'd been on edge ever since Sara had reacted so strongly to Slade Wilson being back.
Her fear for Oliver was almost palpable and she knew she'd be unable to settle down until she saw him.
So for the time she tried to distract herself by fixing up Digg.
The silence from the rest of the team was nerve wracking, and she tried to keep her gaze on Digg but occasionally she'd look up and catch Sara about to say something or see Roy pacing off to the side.
She'd finished cleaning the wound and was holding the ice pack in place even though Digg was perfectly capable of doing that himself when she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Then she was shoving the ice pack at Digg and racing towards Oliver.
Much like the night he'd returned from fighting Gold she didn't stop until she'd crashed into him. Her eyes fell shut as she pressed her face into his peacoat, and when she felt his arms come up to wrap around her some of the tension she'd been holding eased out of her.
But when she pulled back she saw his eyes. He looked shell-shocked. Rocked. Half-destroyed. And Slade hadn't touched him.
"Oliver…" she said, almost breathless, her hands resting on his sides as she stared up at him, "What did he do?"
Finally he dropped his chin and looked at her, a world of sorrow, and grief, and pain, and torment running through him so quick and harsh she felt tears prick the back of her eyes.
"It's not what he did. It's what he said. What he's going to do." his voice was one she'd never heard him use before. It was dead and toneless and her breath hitched in her chest as her stomach dropped.
Her mouth went dry and her fingers tightened in the fabric of his jacket, as she gathered the courage to ask the question she didn't want to ask.
"What is he going to do?" her own voice hoarse, one hand lifting of it's own volition to cup the side of his face and keep him from turning away from her.
He looked down at her, like she was the last good thing he'd ever see, "He's going to take everything and everyone and then he's going to make me live."