A/N: Here we go! Hope you enjoy this and that it doesn't get too science-y. Also, I hope this chapter answers (and then asks again!) some questions that I know I've been receiving but have been hesitant to respond to because I didn't want to give anything away. Read on! :)

"The surgery was a success."

It was impossible not to feel the tension instantly lessen in the air. Detective Lance let out a huge breath of air, Roy actually stood and pumped his fist, a Felicity gesture to be sure, Dig nodded along emphatically with the doctor, and Oliver just stood still, closing his eyes. It was okay. She was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

"Dr. Lanoir, the surgeon you managed to get from France, did an excellent job. His English is a bit spotty, so I'm up here to give you the brief overview. Mr. Queen, you are listed here as Ms. Smoak's health care proxy, so is there somewhere we could go to discuss her surgery privately?"

"You must be some employer, Queen," Detective Lance muttered.

"Everyone here is entitled to hear about Felicity," Oliver assured the doctor. "And you telling them just guarantees that I don't forget anything."

"Alright, well, there were a lot more diseased nodes in her neck and chest than we anticipated but we feel confident that we got them all, but it did take us quite a bit longer because of that. We just need a few pathology reports to come back, assuring us that we got clear borders and margins, but I don't see that being a problem. Her splenectomy was fine, no issues there, but we did find a tumor on her liver that we had to resect."

"You had to restart her liver? Like a computer?" Roy sounded confused and appalled at the prospect.

"Uh, no," Dr. Fox, shook his head with a smile. "Resect. We had to take a small portion of her liver in order to guarantee that the entire tumor was removed. Livers regenerate and she is in great health otherwise, so I don't see that being a problem either. Last but not least, the port was implanted and working great. It went beautifully."

"When can we see her?" Oliver asked instantly.

"She will be observed in the recovery room for another hour. Normally, she'd be there for at least half a day, but since you are paying for this lovely room and a private staff, she'll be transferred here after the initial hour. I have to warn you though that Ms. Smoak has just undergone major surgery. You may be in for a bit of a shock when you see her. She will probably be disoriented and groggy upon waking, and she is hooked up to a morphine pump in addition to other painkillers, antibiotics, and hydration fluids. There will be a lot of tubes and machines."

There was a collective thought in the room that no man in there cared what she looked like, as long as she was alive. The doctor excused himself, leaving the group to process the good news.

"Private staff?"

"Comes with the room," Oliver told the detective. It wasn't as if he had gone out and hired nurses himself, but when you get a private room, you had to pay in order to justify the nurses being pulled off their normal rounds and onto that wing of the hospital. Besides, Oliver felt good knowing that there were going to be a distinct group of nurses and doctors for Felicity. He knew she'd appreciate the stability.

"I totally told her that you were just going to throw money at this," Roy commented as he slouched back against the wall. "I called it."

"Yes, Oliver Queen spending exorbitant amounts of money, who could have seen that coming?" Diggle deadpanned, but the humor was obvious in his voice. He was finally feeling lighthearted enough to give Oliver a hard time, now that they all knew that Felicity was in the clear.

Oliver himself was feeling a lot better too and the slight shove to Diggle's shoulder with a grin made that clear to everyone.

The next hour or so passed surprisingly fast, and by 5pm, nurses had asked the group to vacate her room and wait in the room down the hall in order to situate Felicity.

Fifteen minutes later and the men were allowed to enter the room again, and despite the warning from Dr. Fox, it was still somewhat unnerving to see Felicity lying there. She was attached to so many different machines, many of which Oliver was familiar with, but some not so much. IV poles, SAT monitors, morphine pumps - it all overwhelmed the room and made Felicity look impossibly small. Her neck was covered in Tegaderm dressings and gauze, with only tiny peeks of the incisions that had been made, and a huge bandage covered the area below her right clavicle where the port was implanted with lines and tubes leading to it. Her hair fanned out around her, a golden halo to her pale face, a stark reminder of who she was underneath all the medical dressings.

She looked the same yet so, so different to Oliver. Strong yet fragile, she lay there under a thin cotton sheet, unaware of the effect the sight of her had on the men closest to her. Oliver was the first to move, once again taking up his place to the right of her bed, closest to the window and furthest away from the machines. Detective Lance and Roy settled back on the couch, and Dig surprised everyone and pulled up a chair a few feet from Oliver's.

Not an hour later and Felicity started to stir, a low moan of pain escaping when she tried to shift the wrong way.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, we're here," Oliver rushed to comfort, finding her hand that had escaped from under the covers and grasping it lightly.

"Oliver?" She murmured, clearly not awake yet.

"And Dig. And Roy. And Lance."

"Mmm...glad you're all still here."

"Proud of you, Felicity," Dig spoke up.

"All of you? Promise?" She was fighting the pull of the anesthesia at this point.

"Of course we are," Oliver reassured her. "Get some rest. We'll be here when you wake up."

Unfortunately, Felicity slept a lot longer and a lot harder than they anticipated, and not everyone could be there the next time she woke up. Roy had excused himself to go to the club at around 9p.m., and Detective Lance left shortly after, knowing that Felicity would kick his ass herself if she knew that he missed another meeting.

It was a little past 11, and Oliver was trying to tell Dig that he didn't have to stay, when Felicity's groggy voice interrupted them.

"Hey, some of us are trying to get some sleep in a medically induced coma over here."

Oliver whipped around, two large steps bringing him right back to the edge of her bed.

"Hey there," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a bus," she said, her eyes still closed.

"Not a great feeling."

She opened one eye slowly, looking at Oliver suspiciously. "You've been hit by a bus?"

"Maybe."

She huffed out a laugh until she realized that she was going to be avoiding doing that all costs until she was healed. She couldn't control the brief cry of pain that it had drawn out of her.

"Are you in pain? Dr. Fox said you should use the morphine pump as often as you need to these first few days."

She ignored him, licking her chapped lips. "What time is it?"

"A little past 11."

Dig held a cup of water with a bent straw to her, silently offering. She nodded and took a few sips, wincing slightly with each swallow.

"You guys should go home. Get some sleep."

"I'm not going anywhere," Oliver told her, his voice firm.

"Dig, go see Lyla," Felicity told him, ignoring Oliver. "Tell her I want to meet her when I'm not under heavy sedation."

She knew that Dig had been seeing his ex-wife for a few months now, but had yet to meet the woman. In times like these, she understood the importance of being with people you loved. People you needed.

Dig nodded once, more than willing to meet the woman's request. He just hadn't wanted to not be there when she woke up again. "I'll be here bright and early tomorrow morning, okay?"

A sleepy smile tilted her lips. "Mmkay. Bye."

With a light kiss to the forehead, Diggle left the pair in silence. Before she could open her mouth again, Oliver cut her off.

"I'm not leaving so don't bother."

"I was going to tell you to use the bed in the corner."

He cast a quick glance to the folded bed in the corner; it was nicer than your standard hospital cot but it didn't look particularly inviting, whether that was by design, or by the fact that it was fifteen feet away from Felicity's side, he wasn't sure.

"Maybe in a bit."

"Just gonna watch me sleep?" Her words were growing heavy, her eyelids following suit. "That's sweepy, Oliver."

"Sweepy?" He gently brushed a few strands of errant hair off of her forehead.

"I mean...sleepy. No, creepy. And sweet. It's those."

"I think you're sleepy," he whispered. "Go to bed, Felicity."

"You stay?" Her eyes were closed and her hand was still on top of his, lying on the edge of her bed.

"I'll always stay," he told the quiet room as her breathing evened out. "I promise."

"She looks better," Dig commented the next morning. It was around 10 a.m. and while he had texted Oliver earlier that morning, he had taken his time before getting to the hospital after being reassured that Felicity was doing well.

And she did look better, underneath the bandages and hospital gown. Her face had more color and she was lying more relaxed and less stiff, as if she were afraid to hurt herself.

"She's been in and out of it for a while. Had some ice chips and a shake around 7."

Oliver looked up in surprise as Dig dropped a bag in his lap.

"Go shower, man. I'll stay here. I ran into Lance downstairs and he was just getting coffee before heading up."

Oliver didn't necessarily want to leave Felicity's side, but he knew he couldn't monopolize her time, not when there were so many other people who wanted to be by her. He did want a shower though and he conceded without so much a word, making good use of the room's private bath. When he returned, feeling more human and less asleep, Felicity was awake and smiling at something Detective Lance said as he sat by her bed in Oliver's seat.

"This is just like our coffee dates," Felicity said softly.

"Yeah, right. This coffee tastes like crap and I'm the one doing all the talking. This is nothing like that."

"You hate the coffee at the shop," she pointed out.

"Only because it costs me half a car payment every time I go there, not because it tastes bad."

"It doesn't taste like it's made out of gold, which I think for the price, it should," Oliver finally spoke up, interrupting the two. He couldn't stop the warmth from spreading in his chest when he saw the way Felicity's eyes lit up when she saw him. Like he had just made her day or something, when all he had done was come out of the bathroom.

"You love that coffee," Felicity accused before turning to Lance. "He loves that coffee."

"I love any coffee you bring me." The words hung in the air for a moment before another happy Felicity smile graced her face.

"I knew you loved that coffee."

"You seem much better than you were before," Oliver acknowledged.

"I feel better than I did before. This stuff is better than that aspirin Dig gave me once."

Lance gave Dig a quick glare at his muffled laughter but chose not to pursue it.

"For now," Lance mentioned. At Oliver's questioning look, he continued. "Nurse stopped by to take her vitals. Looks like she has her first physio appointment later on this afternoon."

Oliver knew firsthand how hard it could be, moving after serious injuries like Felicity had sustained, but he also knew the value in it. Unfortunately, knowing that didn't lessen the pain at all.

Lance hung around for another hour so before he had a shift at the precinct, and before Felicity knew it, she was being introduced to Steve, her very gay, very fabulous physical therapist.

"Honey, you are not going to love me, but I think I love this room," Steve said with not-so-subtle glances towards both Dig and Oliver. As Felicity watched the slightly embarrassed looks cross their faces, she shook her head slowly.

"I think I might love you, you never know."

"I'm just glad you're the patient and they're not," he told her as he slowly lifted the bed to a more upright position. "How on earth would I remain professional?"

"This is him being professional?" Dig muttered to Oliver. Oliver didn't particularly care about the man's comments, but he did care about the smile that Felicity got every time he made an especially crass remark, and that had convinced him to let Steve - and his comments - stay.

"Any pain?" Steve asked once Felicity was sitting up. She shook her head, but kept her hand lightly on her stomach, not enjoying the faint internal tugging sensation of the wounds being pulled at the shift in position.

She was well aware that physio would probably be the worst part of her days to come, at least for a little while, but she did like Steve and his flamboyant personality. He talked to her continuously and anytime she thought the pain might be too much, he made another comment that broke through the dense fog of hurt and she momentarily forgot what she was doing. But when Steve told her that she was going to have to stand and take a few steps, only to where Oliver's chair was sitting, a few feet away, Felicity shook her head frantically.

"I don't think I can do it," she whispered.

Steve looked to the two gentlemen sitting on the couch, taking in the whole scene. His comments only could take her so far, and he recognized this as a situation which needed more. He raised his eyebrows until both men realized what he was asking and jumped up.

Oliver was the first to get to her, standing in front of where she was sitting, looking down at her.

"You can do it."

She shook her head. "I feel so stupid and weak. I can barely stand, let alone walk. Everything hurts." A lone tear trailed down her face, from pain or frustration, she wasn't sure. "How do you and Dig always just get right up and walk?"

"Hey, hey," Oliver crouched down to her level when it became clear she wasn't going to look up at him. "Dig and I have never had whole organs removed. We've never gone through anything like this. So don't compare what you're going through to us. You're the strong one here, not us."

Dig appeared at the side of her vision, standing in front of the chair that had been her previous goal.

"Stand up and walk to me and give me a hug." A pause. "What, a proud black man isn't allowed to ask for a hug?"

"Girl, if you won't do it, I will," Steve joked.

That was the levity the situation and needed and Felicity wiped her face before setting her sights on Diggle. She finally managed to get her feet underneath her, legs shaking slightly, but still sturdy. With one shuffling footstep after another, she managed to close the three feet distance between her and Dig, who gently enveloped her in his arms, mindful of her tubes and wires. When the shaking in her legs became pronounced, she was gently guided back to her bed.

"That's it?" She asked, surprised when Steve was helping reposition her legs on the bed.

"'That's it?'" Steve echoed, looking at her like she was insane. "You just hugged the biggest, blackest teddy bear I've ever seen and almost made me cry. I think we're good for today."

Steve left after a quick wink sent to Oliver, who just shook his head slightly, and soon after Felicity was dead asleep, her chest falling in even rhythms.

"You okay?" Dig asked Oliver, who looked like he was the one who just did extensive physical therapy. He was taking deep, measured breaths, and he had taken to flexing his fingers that itched for a bow underneath them.

"She'll be okay."

"She'll be fine. But you look like you just went three rounds with Malcolm Merlyn."

Just when he thought Oliver wasn't going to respond, he cleared his throat.

"It's uh, harder than I thought." His eyes remained fixed on Felicity's sleeping form. "Watching her hurt like this. Unable to help."

"You helped today," Dig pointed out.

"And when that's not enough?" Oliver turned to look at him. "When I can't just say something and make her feel better?"

"I don't think your words meant a damn to her," he told him frankly. "I think you being here and saying the words meant something to her. That's how you're going to help her."

"It won't always be that easy."

"Maybe not. But you know better than anyone the signs of pushing someone away. And I like to think you know that it's not the right move. So when that time comes, you'll be able to call her on it."

Oliver hoped that it would be that simple.

Five days after surgery and Oliver and Felicity were alone in her room. She had been getting better with every day and she was more than happy to note that laughing didn't cause the same riotous pain in her abdomen as it had before. She felt more like herself, finally.

"Felicity?" Oliver uncharacteristically broke the silence. She had been tapping along on her tablet, kicking Dig's ass at Words with Friends when she looked up and saw a serious look on Oliver's face. She put her electronics aside and gave him her full attention.

"What's up?"

"I just...I have to ask."

"Aaaaask me what? If this is about our Words with Friends game then no, you really can't use words in other languages and it's not fair that you even want to. You just have to be like the rest of and speak American. Not American. English. Well, not like, Walter's English, but you know. Regular. American English. Which I think is a thing because on some websites you can actually select that as a language."

"Are you sure you don't want to call your mom?"

Well, of all the questions, she hadn't really been anticipating that one coming from Oliver.

Detective Lance had never pressed her on her decision, and aside from briefly mentioning it to Oliver before even being admitted to the hospital, the topic hadn't come up again. She had thought it over a couple of times in her head, but she hadn't come to any real decision. In the true Felicity Smoak way, she simply pushed it to the back of her mind, deciding to deal with it when it couldn't be put off. She hadn't anticipated that time coming so quickly, however.

"Why?"

"Well, you're scheduled to start chemo in a few days, I just thought...even if you don't want her here, I'm sure she'd want to know what was happening."

"Once I tell her, she'll be here. There isn't really a way to keep those two things separate."

"We can have security not let her in, if you don't want her to see you."

"Donna Smoak has talked her way around many security situations, trust me. Besides, how would I explain that? 'Sorry mom, I really just don't think I can handle seeing you right now but trust me, I'm fine minus this whole cancer thing.'"

"We might want to word it differently, but I think we could swing it."

"It's just...easier to keep her where she is. And me where I am. And all those miles in between us, between us."

"I just think she'd want to know. And," he rushed to continue, "what are you going to do in a few months if she comes looking for you, or wants to Skype or something?

"Cry? Buy a wig?" Felicity sighed. "It's not that I don't want her to know, but I just don't want everyone to know. And she would tell everyone. She'd post it on her Facebook. She'd start some fundraising campaign for me or something."

"She wouldn't respect your wishes?"

"She wouldn't think of it like that. It wouldn't be a matter of my wishes, it would be a matter of what gets her the most attention. And she wouldn't even mean it like that. To my mom, attention equals good."

"No, I guess you didn't really get that gene," he commented affectionately.

"I didn't get many things from my mom. Except sometimes she talks a lot. There might be a correlation there, I don't know. Do you think I talk a lot?"

"I think you talk just the right amount."

"That's why I know so many more words than you. And why I will beat you at Words with Friends."

"Oliver, Oliver, you can't just do that! What is wrong with you!"

Detective Lance sprinted the last few steps to the door to Felicity's room the next day, barely sparing her useless security at the door a glance. They clearly were on Oliver's side and if they weren't going to stop him doing, well, whatever he was doing, then the detective would have to.

He flung the door open only to find something completely unexpected.

Felicity was up and out of bed, wrapped in a blanket sitting in a wheelchair that had been pulled up to the table that had been set up. Across from her sat Oliver, smiling a challenging grin at her, and to her left sat Roy with his head in his hand, propped up on his elbow. In between all of them was the board game Scrabble.

"Is everything okay, Detective?" Felicity took in his slightly labored breathing and forceful opening of the door. Oliver had started to stand, half out of his seat, looking for confirmation from Lance if there was any danger. Roy looked as if he was waiting for someone to act first.

"Yeah, everything's fine, I guess." Oliver sat back down at that. "Scrabble?"

"Oliver is a cheater who made me think that he couldn't get Words with Friends to work on his phone. In reality, he just wanted to play this antiquated version so that he could cheat. Like a cheater."

"I don't cheat," he gently reminded her.

"That is not a word!"

"I assure you it is."

"That is not an English word! That's Russian!"

Oliver squinted at her. "Are you sure?"

"What?" She spluttered. "Yes! I'm sure! Roy?"

Roy just shrugged. "I thought it was an English word I just didn't know."

Lance's brief pondering over who would have played the word 'dog' was cut short at that comment.

"You speak Russian now?"

"I've been taking courses," he responded benignly.

"Ok, well, I'm happy for you. But I just came up here to tell you that there's someone downstairs looking for this room."

"What? Who?" Oliver instantly went into alert protective mode, his mind racing. He had a few evacuation plans for Felicity but they all required her to be in a bed, not a wheelchair. He could move her, but that would take an extra minute, and most of his plans were timed down to the second…

"Did you see who it was, Detective Lance?" Felicity noted that the cop didn't seem particularly worried so she wasn't about to work herself up yet.

"Blonde hair. About this tall. Answers to 'mom.'"

A/N: I know, I know, I mention stuff and it happens and isn't that cheating-ish but listen, just let me have this bit of creative license.