Since I wrote you a small novel at the beginning of the last chapter I feel like making it quick this time: I thank you whole-heartedly for being amazing and supportive and for sending so much love my way. I am lacking words to tell you – readers, reviewers, followers alike – how much it means to me. And since people didn't seem opposed to it, I think we should group hug! Come here all you beautiful reviewers: NothernLights25, Rosesandbears, LillyD11, Jessimicah, sakura-blossom62, ReaderKas, farmgirl1964, onetreefan, Yelena89, iluvfangs, Gin2a, cruzstar, michellemaldonado, JLC, KillingMEsoftly, Sprygirl and the two guests. ... See, it's not awkward at all! ;-) All my love!

12. When it rains, it pours

They had gotten away with being stupid. Because giving in to passion that night by the creek had been stupidly dangerous. Like a stupid, horny teenager, Oliver had been so focused on her, on everything she did to him, everything he did to her, that anybody could have crept up on them and caught them literally with their pants down and defenseless. Anybody could have followed the flame of the fire that had kept burning in the darkness and find them. By the time Oliver had been able to move and put it out it had been very dark already. At least the fish had been done – very well done, but still eatable.

Despite the undeniable stupidity of it, he didn't regret it. Being with Felicity in any way could never be a regret to him.

Instead, it had turned into a perfect memory to keep him warm during the last three days that had been filled with constant rain and absolutely no shelter. They were both soaked to the bone and Oliver knew that the danger of them getting sick was so high that it practically was a certainty. The only positive aspect of it was that they hadn't seen their pursuers once. They were probably sitting somewhere dry and warm. The idea of being captured and thrown into a tent, out of the rain, was starting to turn more and more appealing.

That was probably the hunger talking. The last three rainy days had been too wet to create a fire, there were practically no eatable plants on this god-damn island and, even if rationalized, six remaining waffles didn't last forever. On the other side of the river there had been many rocks and little water. Over here there was water all around, and Oliver was beyond sick of it. Just as he was sick and tired of Felicity's stubbornness. She refused to let herself be carried by him – or to take his shoes. Instead, they had cut up the towel and tied it around her feet. It was the most basic protection, but it was better than nothing, he guessed.

Dark clouds were covering the sky and blocking out most light. Oliver guessed that it was only early afternoon, but a dim twilight surrounded them as it had done constantly in the last few days. Their situation had – after a slight, short improvement – gone downhill fast.

The worst thing was that they were about to have nowhere left to go. They had nearly scouted the whole area south of the river and they had found nothing. Oliver glanced at Felicity who was walking next to him with heavy steps. Walking in the rain was a pain in the ass, but it was better than sitting in the rain, on the cold and muddy ground. After three days of constant rain the green roof far above them, created by the crowns of the trees, offered absolutely no cover anymore, but instead caused even bigger, more collected drops to fall down on them. Getting wet while sitting around made you feel even more stuck. Walking at least took you somewhere and kept you a little bit warmer.

But he could see that Felicity needed a break. The fact that she hadn't said anything in the last hour was another proof for that he didn't really need. She looked so tired – and thin. She had lost much weight in the last two weeks, since the day they had ended up here and had started living off caught animals and rationalized sweets. Thank God, she had stopped debating what she would eat first once they returned to Starling City – it was a tie between Belly Burger and Chinese dumplings – after the first few days. Oliver knew from experience that doing that, thinking about food, didn't help the cravings at all. Much the opposite, it only made it worse. Oliver was pretty sure that Felicity, just like him, had reached a point where she didn't even feel the hunger anymore. That was a dangerous point, lethargy was lethal, and the health-threatening rain only made it worse. He knew he had to do something about it.

"Hey," he reached for her hand and stopped, causing her to halt next to him, "we should rest." He pulled their remaining gun out of the waistband of his pants and held it out to her.

Wordlessly, she took it. It had become something like a ritual: Every time he left her alone to hunt or set traps, he gave her the gun. She had stopped making a fuss about it in the last few days. Oliver was pretty sure that she only took it for his sake, but that was fine with him as long as she took it. "I'll take a quick look around, okay?" She nodded understand and acceptance, but still did not say anything. He kissed her, gently, and caught her eyes with his, "I love you." Another ritual: perfect last words, every time he left her. Because you never knew; he could hit a rock and she could slip through his fingers. There was danger all around. Even though he had forgotten it that night under the stars, the past three days had pushed the constant danger their lives were in, their health was in back into his face. The signs were all around them and they were hard to miss.

"And I love you," she whispered back. He kissed her again, longer and stronger this time, before he let go of her and did as he had told her: take a look around and make sure that there was nobody around.

The forest floor was soaked; the sound of raindrops hitting leaves was all around him. The unchanging scenery was unnerving; there were trees all around, tall stems towering above him into the air. Here – on the south side as Felicity called it – there were more bushes than there had been on the other bank. Not a big improvement, if you asked Oliver, but some of them carried a sparse number of eatable berries. Apparently, they had ended up on the island a little too late and had barely missed the right time for a fruitful harvest.

When he returned to the spot where Felicity sat under a tree he had managed to gather two hands full of berries. He could practically see her swallow a comment about that and was thankful that she kept from greeting him with a sarcastic remark about their dinner. Three rainy days had seriously drowned his mood, and he really didn't need her attitude right now. He sank down next to where she sat on the backpack and held his hand out to her. Wordlessly she took a few berries. It was nothing; he knew and he hated it. There had to be a way to start a fire. His eyes landed on the backpack. That would burn... But cooking meat over flames created by plastic couldn't be the most healthy thing. He wasn't desperate enough to do it. Yet. Neither was he willing to resort to eating raw meat. Felicity had hinted at sushi and raw fish, but that was made from salt water fish. If they just ate the fish from the creek or the river, they might be full of bacteria. That was another risk he wasn't willing to take. Yet.

"What are you thinking about?"

Felicity's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. His eyes left the pathetic berries he had been staring at without really seeing them and settled on her. "Survival stuff." It wasn't an exactly elaborate answer, but it summed up the basics. He didn't want to explain all his thoughts to her right now; they were too depressive to be spoken out loud.

"Does it involve the fact that we nearly explored the whole island without finding anything?"

He inhaled sharply. It took him a moment until he said, "For now I'm thinking about food."

"What if there's nothing to find here? And I'm not talking about food."

"There must be something," he insisted. He saw that she was about to react to this and knew what she was about to say, but he couldn't have that right now. His voice was harsh and louder than was smart when he said, "There IS something here, Felicity. Because if there isn't, the only explanation for us being on this fucking island is that somebody found it funny to drop us off in the middle of nowhere for these Germans to hunt us for sport. And that is NOT happening!"

With huge eyes she looked at him. Instantly, he felt guilty for snapping at her. He had really tried to not let his bad mood out on her, but there was just so much aggravation inside him. The look on her face showed him clearly that that possibility, the idea of somebody hunting them, had never crossed her mind before. It said a lot about his past experiences that it had been one of the first worst-case scenarios that he had come up with. He sighed. "I apologize. If there's nothing here, we'll head back to the other side and the camp." Slowly she nodded and he brought his arm up. "Come here," he whispered and closed his arm around her as she cuddled to him. He moved his hand through her soaked hair, brushed the strands that had been clinging to her face away and kissed her forehead.

"Part of me is waiting for John to pop up any moment," Felicity admitted softly. Oliver's hand closed around her shoulder in comfort. "I mean," Felicity continued, "when you went missing after your mother's death he was the one who suggested to go to A.R.G.U.S. and ask that intimidating woman for help. And with Lyla around he has an even better connection-" She stopped talking abruptly as she felt his posture stiffen against her. She lifted her head off his chest and looked at him in question, "what?"

"Amanda..." Why hadn't he thought about that before? "She knows about the Foundry. And she has the means to bring us here."

Felicity sat up straight and looked at him. "You think she could be involved?" She frowned in honest confusion. "Why? I mean, what could she possibly hope to achieve by that?"

"I don't know." Oliver's face was hard. "But now that I think about it, this is awfully Amanda Waller's style." And that worried Oliver even more than being hunted by mercenaries with bad aim.