He could not do it. It was an impossible decision. Even if she were about to die from the gunshot wound, he could not speed it up. Oliver could not do that, not to her. Instead, he grabbed her chin again and gently shook her head. Despite being cradled and her head being slightly higher than her heart and wound, she regained consciousness with confusion. He nodded at her and she weakly raised her arm, pointing at wires and circuits, silently telling him what he needed to do. He did as she asked without talking, following her pointing fingers as sometimes they brushed together.

"Plug it in," she whispered. "And start the program." He did so, there was only the one large icon in the middle of her tablet screen. As it worked its magic for the few seconds that it needed, Oliver repositioned his arms to take her full weight and lowered his leg, the other was cramping. She made no sound and he looked at her as the door opened. She was unconscious. He could not hear her breathing.

"Roy, start the car."

It was not far through the mansion, not far to where Roy and Sara were waiting with the car as Oliver bundled into the back with Felicity still unconscious.

"Where to?" Roy said, already driving away.

Any of the others and he would say the lair underneath Verdant. For any of the others, their muddled medical knowledge would have to do, but not for her, not when it was this severe. "Hospital." He turned to Sara who was in the front passenger seat. "Go with them?"

"On it," she replied, removing her wig and sorting out her clothing that she could appear as a normal girl and not a female vigilante. A few moments later they were a block away from the hospital and Oliver told Roy to pull over. Felicity was still breathing, only just, and the bleeding had slowed although he doubted that it was from clotting and more a lack of blood at this point. He extricated himself from underneath her and internally winced as her head lolled around on the back seat unsupported.

"Use my name," he commanded, slamming the door closed and he watched them drive away. Into his earwig, he spoke to Diggle. "Any chance you can come get me?" Within seconds a car pulled up right in front of him and despite the circumstances, Oliver smiled at his friend. He went to the trunk of the car first, retrieving some spare clothing and then he got into the back of the car. When they made it the one block to the hospital, Oliver stepped out of the car wearing a dark blue pullover and plain jeans. There was not a trace of blood on him. After parking the car, he and Diggle went straight to the reception desk. "My friend was brought in here minutes ago."

"What's her name?" the receptionist asked.

"Felicity Smoak."

"She's in the Emergency room still," she answered. "But if you…" Oliver was already on the move. Outside of a large operating room, Oliver saw Roy sitting on a chair, his head resting on his hands. Oliver understood that guilty pose all too well. Sara, meanwhile was burning off nervous energy by pacing.

"Hey," Diggle greeted and Sara stopped.

"Got here quick."

"What have the doctors said?" Diggle asked.

"Not much. A lot of blood loss, but I don't think there's actually much damage." Sara paused and then stepped closer to them both. "Is there any trace of her at the mansion? They asked what happened. I said I found her like that, but they've called the police."

"The scene is covered in her blood," Oliver responded. "But nothing to prove it was her. I left an arrow in a man and I got the files, but there's nothing linking her to there."

"Except Officer Lance knows she helps The Vigilante out from time to time." Diggle said glumly.

"For God's sake!" Roy yelled, standing up and nearby medical staff and visitors turned to look at them. He lowered his voice to a hiss. "Don't you think what's important is Felicity not our cover story. Or the damn files!" He glared at Oliver for the last part.

"We need to get our stories straight, Roy," Sara said. "Otherwise she's gone through all of this for nothing."

"Bullshit. And don't you dare try and say that she knew what she was getting herself into."

"Roy," Oliver tried to say calmly.

"No!" He stopped him. "You gave her the damn epinephrine, didn't you? Because this mission all means so damn much to you. Would you have done the same if it were Thea?"

Oliver stepped into Roy's personal space and stared the younger guy directly in the eye. "The mission matters, yes. But so do people, so does Felicity. And, no," he said quieter. "No, I didn't give her the drugs. I wasn't going to help her die."

All four of them waited for someone to correct Oliver, to say out loud that she was not going to die. No one believed it, so no one said it.

ARROW-HOOD-QUEEN

Opening her eyes, Felicity blinked a few times to clear the sleep from them and simply looked upwards. It was not often that she had been in hospital, but she could recognize the sterile, fluorescent lighting above her. Rolling slightly to sit up, she felt no pain or discomfort, but she was confused as to where she was and how she had got to a hospital. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she saw standard hospital, slip on slippers on the floor and she slowly placed her feet into them. She stood up, her eyes still on her feet and felt dizzy.

"Shouldn't have stood up so quick," she said out loud to herself as she closed her eyes until things stopped spinning. Opening her eyes again, the room was different and she realized that she was different. Looking downwards, Felicity saw that she was dressed in something eerily familiar. "Not again."

"Not again, what, Cinderella?" Felicity turned, the blue-white ball gown moving with her, swishing around. It was Oliver, the Prince, standing in front of her on the veranda of the ballroom. She could see all of the people dancing and hear the music from inside. She tried to take a step and she stumbled slightly. She was wearing heels.

"Freaking glass slippers," she cursed out loud.

"Cinderella, your slippers are wonderful."

"Oliver, stop being so… argh!"

He took hold of her gloved hand and captured her in his arms. "Let us go and dance."

"I don't want to dance, Oliver."

"If you must insist on calling me 'Oliver' then you must dance with me. Come." Releasing her from his hold, he led her by the hand into the ballroom and began to dance with her, very quickly spinning her out and back to him before dipping her. She came over dizzy from the motion and caught her breath as his head loomed over her, blocking the light.

"Oliver, I don't want to dance anymore." She felt sick.