A/N: Warnings for mentions of death and violence

Hold On

"Oliver?!" Felicity called in a panic, searching the barely lit basement of Verdant with her eyes as she rushed down the stairs. She nearly tripped and fell as she missed the last step.

Hitting the lights, Felicity moved to the middle of the room and spun around quickly. She found what she was looking for in one of the dark corners.

"Oliver!" she gasped out again as she ran over to the slumped figure of Oliver Queen, still dressed in the green leather of the Arrow. He was leaning against the concrete wall oblivious to her presence which was the second most alarming thing to Felicity, the first being the very obvious blood stains.

Diverting quickly, Felicity pulled her phone out as she headed over to the medical supplies. Quickly texting John that she had Oliver and to hurry, she grabbed a handful of gauze and ran back to her friend.

Felicity approached Oliver slowly, calling his name several times as she knelt down next to him. She had to duck down to see his eyes under the hood. They were unfocused and she carefully pulled his hood back. That got a small response from him and he changed from staring blankly at the floor to staring blankly at her.

"You're bleeding," Felicity said, stating the obvious once again, but she didn't think he realised this time. His back was all but soaked in blood, a garish streak on the wall behind him from where he had been leaning before collapsing to the floor. At least he had automatically discarded his bow and quiver. She didn't think her trying to take them off him in this state would end well.

Felicity wasn't a squeamish woman, she was too well acquainted with Oliver's blood at this point, but she was no medic. Diggle was what she and Oliver needed, but until he arrived, she would have to deal with Oliver's wounds. Diggle had been making her patch Oliver up for months under his direction – as practice for the time when he wasn't there. Remembering what he had taught her Felicity decided her plan of attack.

Clicking her fingers in front of Oliver's face while surreptitiously taking his pulse at his wrist she spoke in her no-nonsense voice. "Oliver. I need you to listen to me. Okay?"

Slowly Oliver locked eyes with her and nodded. But at least he responded. Shock, Felicity realised. He was in shock.

"How bad are you hurt?" Felicity asked.

He stared at her dumbly.

"Dammit, Oliver. I need to take your clothes off." Felicity barely spared a thought to her inappropriate turn of phrase as Oliver moved to take off his jacket. He had trouble with the zipper and in the end it was Felicity that took it off with Oliver moving slightly to help her. The material was torn in the back, several long slices from a sharp blade scattered on the shoulders where the quiver didn't offer any protection. Hopefully that was all the injuries Oliver had, aside from a few scratches.

She couldn't move him without him wanting to move but she had get to his back. Shrugging she came to one conclusion and rose to her knees, gently pulling Oliver forward until he was leaning against her stomach and Felicity had access to the tops of his shoulders. Taking the gauze she firmly pressed down on the deep and still bleeding wounds then taped it down to keep pressure. Diggle would have to stitch them up. With the spare gauze she started to clean up the blood on his back, unveiling more wounds but they were minor, barely bleeding.

As it often occurred, Felicity didn't realise that she was talking nonstop until Oliver interrupted her. Not that he said much but he chuckled softly, not loud enough for her to hear, but with his head pressed into her stomach she felt it. Odds were that she had said something inappropriate.

"Oliver," she pressed quietly, stopping her ministrations. "How do you feel?"

"I…" he choked off in a sob. "I failed them, Felicity. I couldn't stop it."

Felicity shushed him before wrapping her arms around him, mindful of his shoulders. Tears came to her own eyes as she remembered the mission. They had been trying to save a group of hostages. In the end Oliver had needed to persuade the hostage taker to let them go, with a little help from his bow, but one of his men had disobeyed his orders and started to shoot the hostages. He was dead. So were two innocent people. One of which could have been a younger version of Thea Queen. Oliver, who had practice with guilt, could not just brush it off this time. Felicity had wondered how long it would take before something was too much for him. She didn't like being right.

"You can't save everybody, Oliver," Felicity whispered to him. "But you never stop trying. As long as you keep trying you will never fail. Trust me, please."

Oliver continued his broken, dry sobbing, but also didn't move his head from where it was pressed into her stomach. Felicity stayed still despite her knees protesting the hard floor because if she could give him even a small amount of comfort then she would.

When Diggle arrived, rushing down the stairs much like Felicity had, he found a wounded, subdued looking Oliver sitting on the medical table. Felicity was standing close by his side, checking on the bandages already wrapped around his back.

"You good, man?" Diggle asked cautiously as he grabbed the medical equipment Felicity passed him.

Oliver offered a sad smile, glancing swiftly at the young blonde. "I will be."

"It wasn't you fault."

"I…I know."

He didn't, but with a little time and reflection he would.