A/N: I wasn't sure this one was going to be continued but I left it open just in case. The muse lifted her head and decided there needed to be a second chapter. Thank you so much for the wonderful response to the first part. I hope you like this one just as much.

Enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

The lingering scent of Chanel No. 5 was the first thing Felicity consciously noticed. Opening her eyes seemed too difficult, the lights already burning bright behind closed lids, and the steady beep to her left was loud but easy to ignore. Her body felt weightless and numbed, only existing because she knew it did, but not because she felt any connection to it.

However, the familiarity of that smell made it's way through to sluggish neurons and fired. She slipped back to sleep dreaming of her mother, and trips to the perfume counter. From the age of fourteen Meri Smoak had worn Chanel No. 5, and nothing would keep her from having it, not even when it meant putting a dent in the grocery budget.

When she woke up again she didn't smell anything. Her chest felt heavy, as if a stack of bricks lay atop her, pressing her slow and steady down, down, down, until she thought she might fall right through the floor. There was pain. Somehow she knew that and she didn't dare move. Then her left arm went cold and the pressure on her chest lessened. She fell back asleep thinking she felt fingers wrapped around hers.

The lights that had been so bright before had been dimmed. Her eyes opened at once, wide and unblinking as the dredges of a nightmare faded away. The first thing she noticed was the unmistakable sight of a hospital room. Trying to remember why she was there was too difficult just then and she listened to the small voice that told her to wait, the why wasn't important. A spot of red caught her attention and she shifted her gaze to the right to take in the end of the room. Roy. Sprawled in a chair with his head propped on his hand, mouth hanging open.

Another form, closer to the end of her bed stood out in the low light and she could see Digg, long legs stretched in front of him, hands clasped over his middle. His eyes were shut but somehow she knew if he heard even the quietest noise he'd be on his feet in an instant.

That left one. With effort she knew it shouldn't have taken she slowly shifted her eyes across her blanket clad legs and over to her left.

Oliver.

The chair was pulled flush against the bed, and parallel, facing her and the monitors. The rail was down allowing him to rest his arm along the mattress, his hand firmly wrapped around hers. He stared unblinking at the screens.

His normally short beard looked like it hadn't been touched in weeks, his clothes wrinkled. But it was his face and his eyes that made hot tears cloud her vision.

She'd seen Oliver at some of the most horrible moments of his life, but she'd never seen him like that.

As her lids got too heavy she wondered what had made him look like that. A tear made it's way slowly down her cheek but it disappeared before it could drip off her chin. The disturbing knowledge that Oliver had willingly put his back to the door followed her into the darkness.

'Please' 'Please' 'Please'

The word was echoing in her head and the voice was familiar but it took longer than it should have for her to make all the connections. She should remember. It was important. The word had meant something.

She still felt so tired, and the pressure in her chest was back. The lights were still low, but opening her eyes seemed like an effort she couldn't attempt just then.

However, the word returned and it was both a memory and a lifeline that seemed determined to drag her forward.

She heard it again, whispered against her skin, so quiet she knew it was for her alone. He sounded so sad it made her ache. The word came again, over and over, a plea that was joined by hot tears that she felt slide into her hair.

They weren't her tears.

The word called her into action, and even though she had to think hard about what she wanted to do and even though it caused a flash of pain to race across her chest when she heard him again she turned her head into his. It was only centimeters but it was enough.

His body went stiff, then she heard her name being called so desperate and hopeful she wished she could open her eyes and reassure him.

There were warm hands on her face, and maybe lips on her forehead as she drifted off. She wouldn't know until later that she'd smiled.

When she woke up next it wasn't slow and it wasn't peaceful. His name was ripped from her throat causing her to choke and gasp as pain washed over her. Broken ribs protested the sudden movement and she tipped from the horror of her memories to the brutal reality of her injuries.

He was there though, whole, and not dead which is all she'd ever asked for. Slowly she was able to focus on his voice as he pressed her back into the pillows and begged her not to move. One small nod was all she could manage, lips pressed in a thin line as she struggled to get above the pain.

He was hunched over her, hands bracketing her face as her breaths calmed. He spoke encouraging words and then reached with one hand to push something she couldn't see. But a second later a cool rush filled her vein and the pain began to abate.

She didn't want to go back to sleep though. Something was telling her she'd been asleep too long, and that too much had happened. Over his shoulder she could just make out Digg and he looked like the world had been ripped out from underneath him. Oliver looked worse.

He must have noticed her panic. Hair was smoothed from her face as he assured her they weren't going anywhere and he'd be there when she woke up. His voice had broken on the last part.

Turning into his hand didn't cause the pain it had last time but the smile he graced her with would have been worth it.

She fought the drugs, staring at him, wishing she had enough energy to lift her hand and touch him. He looked like he need her to.

Before she could disappear again she gathered what strength she had, tongue snaking out to try and wet her dry lips. "You said please," she managed to rasp out in a voice that didn't sound like her own.

But it must have been enough because his eyes filled, and a choked, half-sob burst from his throat. His forehead brushed against hers and she felt his breath fan over her cheeks.

"Yes," he whispered, "And you heard me,"