A/N: Thanks again for the AMAZING response to the last chapter! I'm so thrilled that you guys are enjoying this story! I'm sorry I left the last chapter hanging - it was anthfan's suggestion. LOL. But here is the follow up, and I hope it makes it better! ;) As always, let me know what you think. I LOVE reading your comments and your kind words! Thanks again so much!

There's one more chapter after this one. :)

Her mind pieced together this information but the only thing she could focus on was Oliver who was standing five feet from her. His bow dropped to the floor with a loud thunk, a look of pure horror filling his face. And then he was at her side, hands poised over her, reaching out but almost scared to touch.

Felicity's vision began to tunnel, black edges creeping in as she kept her face trained on the man now kneeling beside her.

"Oliver?" she heard herself whisper, the terror clear in her voice.

Blue eyes met hers in the dim light and, finally, he found a place for his hands. Cupping her face, his fingers rubbed lightly over her cheeks wiping away tears she didn't realize were there.

"You're going to be okay, Felicity," he said hoarsely, as if commanding her. "You're going to be okay."

"Oliver, his bullets…" The burning on her side was intensifying and she wasn't sure if that was because of the poison or just her body's reaction to having something rip through her skin.

"Digg!" Oliver's voice sounded scared to her own ears and she let go of her wound with one hand and wrapped it around his wrist.

Her fingers easily found the steady pulse, and she tried to focus on it instead of the searing pain at her side.

A second later, Digg was hovering over her, worried eyes flashing with guilt. She wanted to comfort him too, but she was starting to feel very warm - too warm.

Her eyelids grew heavy and began to slip shut before Oliver's voice registered in her brain and his thumbs trailed down her cheeks.

"Felicity, stay with me," he cried, and she didn't miss the crack in his voice.

"S okay, Oliver," she murmured, the words heavy on her tongue.

She knew there was a conversation taking place above her but she couldn't focus on it. Then she was being lifted, the movement making her gasp as it tugged at the edges of her wound.

Oliver's face hovered above her and she thought she felt him press a kiss against her temple before they were moving and she fisted her hand in his jacket just to keep from getting sick as the world spun around her.

She heard voices as she was carried, but she couldn't seem to focus on any of them.

"Oliver," she managed to whisper, and she felt him tighten his hold on her. "I feel funny…"

"I know," he murmured, "Just hang on. I've got the herbs back at the hotel. You just have to stay with me until then."

She swallowed as the cold Moscow air hit her, her throat feeling dry and sore. Pressing her head into the crook of Oliver's neck she let out a deep breath, and felt the bob of his adam's apple.

The next thing she knew she was lowered onto a seat, and for the first time, she realized she was shaking. She felt the loss of Oliver's body heat acutely until he slid in behind her and wrapped her in his arms again.

The jostling hurt and she cried out at some point, biting down on her bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

"Breathe," Oliver told her softly, and she felt the pressure of his fingers running over her forehead, and tried to force her eyes open.

When she did, all she could make out were blurry outlines. Her hand reached out and it took more strength than she liked to complete that simple action. Strong fingers wrapped around hers and held on tight.

She squeezed back and tried to turn her head towards him, the scent of leather and sandalwood wrapping around her. When the car took a sharp turn, she hissed and realized that Oliver was now holding her hand over her wound, keeping the pressure firmly applied. Her fingers were slick with her own blood and that thought sent her stomach churning.

As she turned further into him, his stubble rubbed against her forehead and she recalled hazily how she'd wanted to scrap her fingernails through it earlier that morning. Or had it been yesterday. Her mind was foggy and she couldn't remember what day it was anymore.

By the time the car came to a stop, she could barely feel her feet or hands. Her body shook with a fierce intensity that had her calling out Oliver's name every so often just to make sure he was still there.

The tight voice that always replied told her that he was shaken too.

How they got in the hotel without being asked questions, she wouldn't know until later.

But soon she was laid down on something soft and smooth. Voices murmured around her and then she felt hands at her waist.

A dark shape loomed above her and she whimpered softly until Digg's soothing voice filled her ears. He sounded far away and she had to concentrate hard to understand him.

"I need to see the wound, Felicity," he said gently, and she could feel her clothes being shifted.

The sudden pressure on her side had her crying out and she thought she heard a distant voice that sounded like Oliver. For the first time since she'd been set down, she realized she couldn't feel his comforting warmth near her.

"Oliver?" she croaked, unsure if the word had formed correctly on her lips.

"He's getting the tea ready," Diggle told her gently and she tried to nod but couldn't.

And then he was there, his scent washing over her as she was propped up against solid warmth. A hand cupped her cheek and she fought to open her eyes.

When she finally got them open, the sudden light caused her to wince but she could just make out a blurry Oliver staring down at her with the most gut-wrenching expression.

"Come on," he murmured. "You need to drink this."

Opening her eyes took most of her energy and she realized with sudden fear that no matter how hard she tried, her body wouldn't respond to her commands. Everytime she order her lips to part and mouth to open, nothing happened.

A vice tightened around her heart and she felt wetness leak down her cheeks.

Oliver must have understood because his fingers were suddenly on her lips, opening them as he tilted the cup up to her mouth.

She tasted nothing but felt liquid spill into her and then Oliver was gruffly telling her swallow. Concentrating as hard as she could, she managed to get her throat to work. When he tipped her jaw upwards, it helped and the liquid slid down with ease.

"Good girl," she heard Digg mutter and felt more pressure on her side.

In the back of her foggy mind, she understood that it was Digg cleaning the injury to her side.

Slowly, it was as if her body was shutting down and she kept fighting it, not wanting to drift off, afraid that she wouldn't wake again.

Oliver still hadn't moved, his hand continued to cup her jaw and she turned her face into him. HIs fingers traced over cheeks and she wondered if she was still crying. She couldn't tell anymore.

"It's okay," his voice finally drifted to her as if coming from a distance. "You'll be okay. Sleep."

Trusting him, she let the darkness take over and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The first thing she felt when she woke up was the pounding in her head. The second was the warmth at her back and the security it brought her.

Without opening her eyes, she shifted back into it, turning her head and instantly regretting it as the pounding only intensified. A moan fell from her lips and it was so loud that she winced.

The warmth at her back shifted, and a hand came up and landed on her forehead, gently pushing the hair away from her face and trailing comforting fingers through the blonde strands. The movements were lazy, almost as if they were being done half-asleep.

Felicity could already tell opening her eyes was going to hurt - the light that lit the back of her eyelids creating a stabbing pain, but the need to see him was greater than the fear of discomfort.

Slowly and with great concentration, she blinked open her eyes, another groan escaping her lips as the light filtered through the open window shades.

The fingers in her hair moved again, only this time with more urgency and she felt the warmth at her back shift.

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice washed over her like a welcoming balm, and she hummed, braving the bright light again to try and see him.

She felt a gentle pressure under her chin and then her head was tilted upwards.

When he came into focus, she couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on her lips.

"Oliver," her voice was hoarse and sounded nothing like normal.

A breath left him in a whoosh of air and she watched as his head fell forward, forehead brushing against hers.

Slowly, she reached her hand up to cover his that still lay against her chin and wrapped her fingers around his, grasping as firmly as she could.

The long, slow shudder that ran through his body caused her heart to tighten at his obvious distress.

When he lifted his head a moment later, she gasped at the emotions swimming in his deep blue eyes.

"You had me so worried," he rasped, swallowing thickly, his thumb running circles over her knuckles.

"I had me worried too," she replied, and saw his eyes fill with guilt a second later.

Beginning to shake her head, she groaned at the mistake as the pounding returned with a vengeance. HIs hand left hers and returned to her forehead, bracing her head as it laid comfortingly across her skin.

"Don't blame yourself," she finally managed through gritted teeth. "This wasn't your fault. This wasn't Digg's fault. My choice, remember?"

"And that choice almost got you killed…" His voice broke on the last word and she watched as his jaw tightened with unspoken fear.

"But it didn't," Felicity replied, a shiver running up her spine at the close call, "You saved me."

Oliver shook his head, screwing his eyes shut and she waited for him to open his eyes again before speaking.

"My head really hurts...and I'm so tired…"

Oliver's eyes focused on her, trailing over her face as if memorizing every detail. "You're body is still trying to get rid of the last of the poison. Just sleep."

She nodded, her eyelids already falling shut again. "You'll be here?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied thickly and she let out a breath and fell back asleep with his fingers tracing patterns against her forehead.

She woke a few more times but only to shift against Oliver before drifting off again. The next time she opened her eyes, light was dwindling in the bedroom window the sky outside painted in colors of purples and pinks and golds.

The pounding in her head had subsided and she was left with only a dull ache. She instantly became aware of the change in positions. Instead of being propped up on Oliver's chest, they had sunken down into the bed, and she was now sprawled across his chest, one hand wrapped securely around her waist, fingertips barely brushing the other side where she could feel a bandage.

It was then that it registered that there was nothing between Oliver's fingers and her skin. Her eyes glanced down to see the blouse she'd worn last night gone and a white dress shirt fitted around her body. The buttons were undone and Oliver's hand rested where it opened up to reveal her smooth skin beneath. The image of his large tanned hand splayed against her abdomen made her stomach flip and her chest tighten.

She shifted slightly so she could tilt her head up and saw that his eyes were closed and his breathing even and deep.

A flash of waking up with him in his bed just the other morning danced through her mind, and she slammed her eyes shut to ward off sudden rush of emotions.

Her body felt better and she now had full use of all of her muscles, as she purposefully curled her toes against Oliver's leg to make sure. He shifted beneath her, sighing against her hair and she felt a wave of longing rush over her.

She wanted this.

Not the being injured part. But the waking up in his arms every morning part.

The pang in her heart at knowing that probably wouldn't happen was almost more than she could bear. While she recalled the intense moments they'd shared in the bathroom the day before, she couldn't bring herself to fully believe that he would want her the way that she wanted him.

Lifting her arms, she brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. With the movement, she felt the slickness that clung to her hairline - a thin layer of sweat that seemed to coat her entire body.

The sudden urge to use the bathroom had her attempting to move without hurting herself or waking Oliver.

That proved useless.

Her side protested the moment she began to use those muscles to sit up. Her low hiss woke him with a start and his hands were coming to steady her immediately.

"Felicity?" he said, voice rough with sleep.

"Bathroom," she muttered through gritted teeth as she tried to move again.

Oliver didn't give her time to protest, he simply slipped his arms beneath her and sat up, swinging his feet off the bed before standing and heading for the adjoining room.

Felicity sighed, deciding her body was still too weak to protest so she simply looped her arms around his neck and enjoyed the ride.

He set her down near the toilet, his hands falling to her waist as she grasped for the porcelain counter.

She was afraid he wasn't going to give her any privacy and there was no way she was using the bathroom in front of Oliver Queen.

"I'll be fine," she murmured, giving him a playful shove which did absolutely nothing to move him and was far weaker than she would have liked.

His worried eyes trailed over her for a few moments before standing back, his hands finally falling from her sides. It dawned on her with sudden clarity that he'd been holding her for over twelve hours and now he was looking at her like she was going to disappear the second he let her go.

Finally, he turned and headed for the door, closing it behind him and leaving her alone in the ridiculously lavish bathroom of their suite.

She found her strength returning moment by moment, but after she had washed her hands and was heading for the door on wobbly legs, her legs began to wobble and she started to slip.

She yelped as she grabbed for the edge of the counter and she was prepared to meet the cold tile floor when two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and steadied her.

Sighing, she relaxed into his hold, fingernails digging into his arms creating half-crescent moons in his skin until she regained her equilibrium.

When she could open her eyes without feeling dizzy, she turned slowly in his arms and looked up at him.

The same concerned gaze stared back at her and one of her hands fell to his chest. "I'm okay."

"But you almost weren't."

His the stark fear in his voice caught her by surprise. She let out a ragged breath and nodded in understanding.

"Welcome to what I deal with every night that you go out on a mission," she replied heavily, not realizing how much she'd admitted until it passed her lips and couldn't be recanted.

She felt him hold her closer and it wasn't until his fingers brushed her exposed skin that she recalled her state of dress.

Swallowing, she rested her forehead against his t-shirt clad chest and sighed. "So I assume my new blouse is ruined," she tried to lighten the situation, but she felt him tense beneath her touch.

"DIgg had to remove it to get to your injury," he stated evenly, but her eyes flew to his at the tone of his voice.

Something flashed in his gaze but it was gone before she could place it.

"Thanks for the loner," she replied breathlessly, but in the back of her mind she knew she had no intention of giving it back.

Something like a growl worked it's way through his chest and she stilled when his eyes cut to hers, and she saw that same desire from yesterday staring back at her.

Needing to say something before she leaned up and kissed that look off his face, she cleared her throat nervously. "So how bad is it?"

To his credit, his brow only wrinkled momentarily before he sighed, his fingers moving around to pull back the edge of the white dress shirt, revealing half of her side along with her white cotton bra.

Cheeks flushing, she watched as he gently moved the material out of the way so she could see the bandaged area.

"It was just a graze, but it was enough to get the poison into your system," he said thickly. "There should barely be a scar…"

She smiled hesitantly and reached down to grab the hand that was tracing lightly around the bandage. The sensations it was causing were more than she could handle and she needed to stop him.

"Stitches?" she asked hoarsely.

When he shook his head, she nodded and glanced sideways towards the jacuzzi tub.

"I don't suppose I can take a nice, long bath like yesterday?" she mused, "I feel like I've run a marathon."

"That was your body trying to get the poison out," he explained, and followed her gaze to the tub, but she didn't miss the slight darkening of his eyes.

"As long as you don't stay in too long," he said, "You should be able to take a bath. I'll put a new bandage on it for you afterward."

She smiled up at him in relief, "Yes. Music to my ears."

As she started for the tub, she felt his hands tighten around her before letting her go completely. About three steps away from him, she felt herself wobble and he was there, his hand cupping her elbow.

"Easy," he murmured, and she sighed.

"This isn't going to be as easy as I thought it was, is it?" she asked, not expecting a reply.

He shifted behind her, and reached across turning on the water and the jets. "I'll help you."

His words caused her heart to skip a beat and she froze. Images of Oliver undressing her - his hands washing her and soothing away the aches and pains, pulling feelings of pleasure from her - ran through her mind. Trying to steady herself, she drew in a deep breath, but she could feel Oliver's hands on her shoulders guiding her and the heat from his skin burned through the thin linen of his dress shirt.

"I'll turn around, Felicity," he finally stated, and she heard the note of teasing in his voice.

It didn't stop the butterflies as she felt him turn behind her.

With shaking hands, she let the shirt fall from her shoulders, catching it before it could hit the floor and placing it on the edge of the tub. She skimmed out of her panties and then her bra, letting those land in a pile on the floor and kicking them to the side.

Knowing Oliver was only feet away from her while she stood naked caused a thrill to travel through her, and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from letting out a soft groan.

Slowly, she peeled the bandage away from her wound, noting the bright angry edges of the three-inch tear in her skin. She winced as she pulled the last of the tape holding it down from her side and let out a shaky breath.

Looking down at the bloody bandage, she glanced around for the trashcan, her eyes trailing over Oliver as she did and she immediately noticed his stiff posture. Both of his hands were balled into fists at his side and she followed the tense set of his shoulders to his head and beyond.

She gasped when her eyes landed on the mirror directly in front of him, the air thickening around them. His eyes were squeezed shut and she could tell the fight he was waging with his control.

At the noise, his eyes flew open, worry filling them before they locked with hers in the mirror.

The bandage fell forgotten from her fingers and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched his eyes darken until she could barely see the blue of his irises. Desire rose quickly within her, mirroring the expression in his own gaze.

His name fell from her lips, and she barely had a moment to register what was happening before he turned and took one step forward, his body encasing hers, careful of her injury as he pulled her flush against him. He leaned down, his mouth hovering over hers, lips barely brushing as their labored breaths mingled.

His eyes traveled over her face, taking in everything. Then his mouth slanted over hers and she was lost to the ocean that was Oliver.

One of his hands delved through her hair, landing on the nape of her neck and tilting her head head up while the other curved around her bare back and splayed across the gentle curve where it dipped.

She kept the arm of her wounded side planted firmly on his chest, but the other rose and wound around his neck, fingertips carding through the soft strands of his short hair.

The kiss was gentle yet firm and demanding. He kissed her like she was going to disappear and he wanted to memorize every single piece of her before that happened. His tongue ran across her bottom lip and she gasped allowing him access as it dipped inside and tangled with hers.

When Oliver pulled back, her chest heaved as she gulped in oxygen. He rested his forehead against hers and she fought to get control over the emotions that his kiss had sparked to life inside her.

His hand trailed up and down her bare back, dancing across the ridges of her spine as hers trailed over the hard planes of his muscles.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered brokenly against her lips, and her eyes slid shut.

"You didn't," she replied softly. "Is that what this is? You trying to convince yourself I'm alive?"

Her uncertainty of his true reasons and feelings were making themselves known and she had to know before she let herself start to hope.

"No," he said immediately. "This is me trying to tell you how I feel."

Felicity could see him struggling with his words but she needed to hear him say it.

"And that would be?" she asked softly, her voice wavering despite her attempts to keep it steady.

He sighed and leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers once more. This kiss was soft and gentle and tantalizingly slow. It left her gasping for breath but in a completely different way than the first.

"Words, Oliver…" she somehow managed to murmur trying not to smile and failing as she glanced up at him, and saw the twinkle in his eyes.

"I can't lose you," he finally said, expression turning serious as the hand in her hair moved around and cupped her cheek.

His thumb swiped over her lower lip and she felt her body react instantaneously. "I can't lose you because I didn't expect you. I didn't expect you to make me feel like this - to want to live for the first time in years. But I do. When you look at me, I don't feel like a damaged person. I feel like I could be whole again. Not today or tomorrow, but maybe someday. You give me hope, Felicity."

Tears sprung to her eyes and she couldn't keep them from falling. Using the arm still wrapped around his neck, she pulled herself up and kissed him, her teeth nipping at his lips and then trailing down over his stubble.

The rumble that escaped from his chest went straight to her core and it occurred to her for the first time since she'd found his gaze in the mirror that she was very naked.

"Trust me, I've noticed," she heard him say and realized she'd said that last thought out loud.

She buried her face in his shirt, the flush creeping up her chest to her neck.

Playfully, she swatted him.

"Come on," he murmured, "Let's get you that bath you wanted so badly."

She squeaked as he scooped her up in strong arms and walked her back towards the tub.

She hissed as her wound was submersed in water, and he stopped, holding her close until the stinging ebbed and then continued, not pulling back until she was situated.

His hands trailed up and over her body, fingertips leaving trails of heat along the tops of her thighs and over her shoulders and down her back.

The tiny sounds emitted from her throat would have embarrassed her if she hadn't been so preoccupied by Oliver's ministrations. She tilted her head back and leaned in against the crook of his shoulder, both hands splayed wide across her abdomen.

He pressed a kiss to her temple as she let the warm water soak into her aching muscles. She thought about asking him to join her but knew that if he did, there would be a good chance she wouldn't be resting like she was sure Digg had ordered.

So for now, she let Oliver wash her, his touch as healing as any medicine.

She didn't realize she had started to doze off until she felt herself being lifted from the water and held against a warm chest. Her eyes fluttered open and she yawned an apology.

Oliver quickly hushed her, grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around her, drying her off before scooping her back into his arms. He carried her back into his room, laying her gently on the bed while he disappeared back into the bathroom, only to return with underwear and the first aid supplies.

She shimmied into the panties, surprised to not be blushing that Oliver Queen had just brought her underwear, while he waited and then he motioned for her to turn so he could see her wound.

Carefully, he cleaned and bandaged it again, his fingers dancing along the edges of the gauze before he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Without hesitation, she reached for him and he leaned down, kissing her softly.

It was her turn to explore, her fingers tracking a trail from his shoulders to the hem of his shirt and slipping beneath. Her hands skimmed across the plains and ridges of his muscles, feeling them tighten and jump under her touch. She tugged lightly and he took the hint, pulling the shirt off his head and tossing it to the bed.

Pulling back, her eyes trailed over the expanse of skin she knew like the back of her hand but never had a chance to touch. Fingertips trailed over all of the scars she could reach and the skin in between, holding his gaze while she did and letting him know that she didn't see him as damaged but beautiful.

When her side began to protest the movement, she pulled back trying to hide the wince and failed. Oliver moved and the cool air that hit her body reminded her that she only wore a pair of underwear. Glancing to the side, she grabbed Oliver's discarded t-shirt and began to slip it on as best she could using one arm.

His hands reached out and helped her ease it over her head and she smiled at him gratefully, surprised by the slight darkening of his eyes as he regarded her once more.

Picking her up, he moved her to the middle of the bed and slid in beside her. Without hesitation, she shifted so she was laying on her uninjured side, her head pillowed on his chest. One strong arm banded about her waist as he covered the hand that laid on his stomach.

Her eyelids were already drooping when he pressed a kiss to her hair, and murmured something in Russian.

Later, she'd ask him what it meant. For now, she let herself drift to sleep safe in his arms, with hope for the future.