Oliver burst through the swinging doors to the emergency room. Running along side the stretcher that carried Felicity. Her hand was grasped firmly in his own. His mind was racing, it jumped from thought to thought, when he was struck with the notion of how small her hand felt in his own. Her skin smooth, compared to his rough and calloused one. Her innocence and light compared to his guilt and darkness.

His eyes strayed from their clasped hands, to her face, her eyes closed and cheeks lacking the pink he had grown so accustomed to seeing. He willed her eyes to open, to be able to see her bright blue eyes again.

The voices of the doctors and paramedics rang around his ears, their words not registering in his head. His gaze unfocused, his head felt clouded, as he tried to recall the events that had led him to this moment. How could things have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Rough hands grabbed at his shoulders, which broke him out of his daze. He pushed and twisted, his eyes stayed on Felicity's unmoving form. Her hand was pulled from his. He fought to get away from the hands that held him back. Fought to feel Felicity's hand in his own again and never let go.

"Sir. Sir! Mr. Queen," voices called to him. Oliver continued pushing against the hands that held his shoulders and arms. Their calls unanswered, as he struggled, desperate to stay at Felicity's side. He thrust his elbow back and heard a grunt as it made contact.

"Oliver!" Diggle's voice broke through Oliver's daze. He turned to look at his friend. "Oliver, man, you have to left the doctor's take Felicity. They'll help her. Let them do their job."

As he heard and took in Diggle's words, Oliver felt the fight leave his body. The hands on his shoulders loosened their grip as he stopped fighting. He looked ahead to see the doctors pushing Felicity through a second set of doors. The doors swung shut behind them, blocking her from his view.

Oliver's steps faltered and his world seemed to tilt. He once again, felt arms wrap around his shoulders. This time, however, they were familiar arms of his friend and brother John Diggle.

Oliver felt Diggle, guide him to a row of chairs against the wall. Oliver collapsed into the nearest one. Diggle, sank into the chair to Oliver's right. Oliver rested his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his hands over his face. As he pulled them back, the blood that covered them registered in his scattered mind.

Her blood. Felicity's blood.

Oliver shot back to his feet. His eyes darted around the small waiting room.

"Oliver?" Digg's voice came from his right.

"Blood," Oliver stuttered. "I — blood. Hands." He shook his head and clenched his hands into fists. "I need to wash my hands," his voice shook as he struggled to get the words out.

Digg looked down at Oliver's blood stained hands. "Alright, let's find a washroom. You can wash up. We'll be here a while."

Oliver's eyes flashed to his friend's face, his breath caught in his throat. "A while?" he choked out.

Diggle's eyes seemed to soften. "The doctors will have to operate," explained Digg. "A gunshot wound like that; it needs surgery."

The words hit Oliver like a punch to the gut. He swayed on his feet. Digg's hands grasped his shoulders, steadied him.

"Let's find you a washroom to clean up in and then we'll see if this place has anything that can pass as coffee," Digg's hand stayed on Oliver's shoulder guiding him down the hall, before stopping in front of the doors marked washroom.

Oliver pushed through the door, he turned back as Digg moved to follow him inside.

"I don't need a babysitter," he ground out.

"Oliver, you've almost passed out twice," Digg started.

Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I- I need a minute alone," Oliver said quietly.

Digg sighed and nodded in understanding. "Alright, I see if I can find us some coffee. I'll meet you back where we were sitting."

Oliver nodded and turned to push through the door.

"But if you're not back in ten minutes. Babysitter or not, I'm coming in after you," Digg called over his shoulder.

Oliver tried to laugh at the joke, but the sound that came out was more of a wince.

Once inside the washroom, Oliver leaned against the door. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed off the door and walked to the sink. He turned the water on, and let it run until he could see steam coming off. Before lathering his hands with soap and he stuck his hands under the stream of sweltering water, feeling it burn his skin. The pain in his hands kept him from feeling the pain of remembering the events of the night.

He looked up to meet his eyes in the mirror. His face was pale and his eyes were rimmed in red and he took in the rest of his reflection. The suit he was wearing, which had been pristine, was now in disarray. The tie loosened from the knot that Felicity had fixed for him only hours before. Blood stained his white shirt.

He pulled his hands out from the stream of water, and gripped the sides on the sink. He bowed his head and for the first time in years, Oliver found himself praying.

The Queens had never been a religious family, only attending the occasional Christmas or Easter service. And after years of torture on the island, Hong Kong, and everything else that had occurred in the years since, Oliver had lost any beliefs that he might have once held.

But now, in the quiet of the washroom, Oliver found himself praying, to any god that would listen, to save Felicity. To let her live. To be able to hold her once more. To see her smile and hear her laugh again.

Oliver felt his mind drift back, to a few hours earlier, reliving the events of the evening. It had all happened so fast. Gone so wrong, so fast.

Oliver and Felicity had been attending a gala, which was being held to raise money for a charity supported by, what is now, Queen Inc. After Ray had signed Palmer Technologies over to Felicity, she had worked tirelessly to build the company back to it's former glory, and returning the Queen name. Oliver had declined Felicity's offer to return as CEO, stating that she had practically run the company for him and he fully supported her as the new CEO.

He could remember her walking down the stairs towards him. Her hair, carefully curled and piled on the top of her head, make up skillfully applied. She had smiled as she walked towards him, and he had be struck by her beauty. The way she seemed to light up the room as she walked towards him.

She had stopped in front of him and looked up to meet his gaze. She carefully adjusted his tie, tightening and straightening the knot around his neck.

"Well?" she asked.

"You look beautiful," Oliver told her breathlessly.

Felicity smiled, her gaze dropped to the floor and colour filled her cheeks. She looked back up at him, a sly smile crossed her face.

"And?" she prompted.

Oliver frowned as Felicity gestured to her dress and looked at him expectantly.

Oliver's head tilted to the side. He had been so distracted by her beauty, he had missed something. The dress Felicity had chosen for the night, was green. His green. A wide smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. He held his elbow out to Felicity and she slipped her hand through.

"Ms. Smoak," Oliver said seriously, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "You're wearing my favourite colour. I can't wait to peel that dress from your body once we get home. To show my… appreciation in your colour choices."

Felicity shivered in anticipation. "Don't make any promises you can't keep," she muttered under her breath.

Oliver chuckled. "Believe me, this is one I intend to keep. Multiple times," Oliver whispered as they entered the ballroom.

Felicity let out a breathy laugh, and fanned herself with her hand, smiling. "Behave," she chided.

The pair had spent the next hours socializing and speaking with investors. Or Felicity had, Oliver had spent most of the night watching her charm person after person. All drawn to her warm personality.

Felicity had asked Oliver a few times to dance with her, but he declined each time. He reminded her with a smile, that he didn't dance.

Felicity smiled at Oliver softly. "One of these days, I'll get you to dance with me," she promised.

The happiness and laughter came to an abrupt end, when the lights in the room, suddenly cut out. A loud voice echoed through the room. It called out to the money holders and the one percenters present in the room as it blamed them for the problems that continued to plague Starling City.

Oliver, on high alert, squinted into the darkened room, his eyes searched for Felicity.

That was when the gun shots rang out through the room. Muzzle flashes light up sections of the room, as screams broke out.

As Oliver crept in the direction he had last seen Felicity in, the lights flickered back on. Oliver could see three shooters and other men, masked and dressed in black, blocking the exits.

The terrified guests ran in all directions, tripping over the bodies of fallen victims, pushing others out of the way.

Oliver searched, frantically for Felicity. His eyes caught sight of her trademark blonde hair.

Felicity was crouched, hiding behind a table. Oliver moved quickly to her side. His hand reached for her shoulder. She jumped in surprise, a quiet yelp left her lips. Her phone was in her hand, as she tapped out a message.

"What do we have here?" a voice to their left rang out, and Felicity was roughly pulled to her feet. "A hero? Who are you talking to?"

Oliver jumped to his feet, prepared to fight. He could see tears in Felicity's eyes and her mouth open and shut, her eyes wild.

"Don't touch her," Oliver yelled and stepped forward.

The man turned to face Oliver, his hand still gripped Felicity's arm tightly. He waved his gun at Oliver.

"And how are you going to stop me?" he goaded and pulled Felicity closer to his body and rested his gun against her temple.

Oliver could feel his blood boiling at the sight, he clenched his hands tightly into fists. He looked at Felicity, her eyes wide in terror.

The sounds of sirens broke through the screams that echoed around. The man holding Felicity, monetarily distracted, lowered the hand that held the gun to Felicity's head. The distraction was all Oliver had needed, he launched himself forward, hands wrapped around the gun, and pointed it up to the ceiling as he tried to twist it out of the man's grasp.

Oliver felt Felicity pull herself away from their fight. He continued to fight for control of the gun. The man twisted away from Oliver and dodged his fists. Oliver wrapped his arm around the man's neck, he applied enough pressure to stun but not kill.

Suddenly, a single shot rang out.

Oliver heard Felicity gasp, he turned to see her look down at her stomach. Her hand touched it, and pulled away, red and slick with her blood. Her legs seemed to give out from under her and she fell to the floor.

The world around Oliver seemed to slow down, a buzzing sound filled his ears. He pulled back from the man, the gun now in his hand and he roughly hit the man over the head with the butt end and knocked him unconscious. Oliver dropped the gun to the floor and rushed to Felicity's side, he pulled a cloth from a nearby table and held it to her abdomen.

"It's okay," he said and stared at her face. Her eyes wide and glazed over in shock and pain. "You're okay, I'm here." Oliver repeated the words to her over and over, tears fell from his eyes and landed on his hands as they applied pressure to Felicity's bleeding abdomen.

"Oli- Oliver," Felicity stuttered, her breath came out in short puffs. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to keep them open.

"Felicity, hey, stay with me," Oliver begged, her eyes fell shut. "Open your eyes."

A paramedic appeared at the couples side. Oliver moved with them as another rushed a stretcher over and lifted Felicity's body on top. Oliver gripped her hand tightly, pleading with her to open her eyes.

The paramedics began pushing the stretcher out the exit, Oliver ran along side and jumped into the ambulance as they loaded Felicity in.

"Sir, you can't ride with us," the paramedic began. Oliver silenced him with a glare.

"Oliver," Diggle ran up to the open doors of the ambulance. "I'll follow behind." He looked at the paramedics. "You won't be able to get him to leave her."

The paramedics looked at each other and back at Oliver. He still glared fiercely, as if daring them to tell him to move, to leave Felicity's side. They nodded and closed the doors. The ambulance jerked as it started and drove to the hospital.

Oliver felt himself falling into a daze, his eyes locked on Felicity's hand, held in his. As the paramedics began to work to stop the blood that continued to flow from the wound in Felicity's abdomen.

The door to the washroom opened, and broke Oliver out of his memories. Oliver looked up and made eye contact with Diggle's eyes through the reflection in the mirror. He turned to face his friend.

Diggle held two styrofoam cups in his hands. "It's not great, but at least it's drinkable," he said and held one out to Oliver.

Oliver dried his hands and took a cup from Diggle, they exited the washroom together and returned to their seats. The coffee felt warm in his hands, but he found himself unable to drink any of the liquid.

Time seemed to drag on, the minutes slowly ticked by while Oliver waited for the doctor to give him any news on Felicity and her condition. He paced the length of the room, his hands pulled through his hair, his eyes fixed on the clock. He sat back down in his chair, he rested his elbows on his knees and his gaze flew around the room.

At some point, Thea and Laurel had joined Oliver and Diggle in the waiting room. Thea had curled up in her chair and tried to sleep. Oliver could see mascara tracks down her cheeks. Laurel sat on the edge of her seat, feet bouncing in her impatience, periodically looking up at the clock as she fiddled with her phone. Over the past few months, the three girls had become quite close; a fact that still continued to surprise him. The worry and fear for Felicity evident on their faces as they waited.

After what felt like days, a doctor came through the doors.

"Family of Felicity Smoak?" he called out.

Oliver jumped up and stood in front of the doctor. The others stood behind him, vibrating with nervous energy.

"How is she?" he asked. "Is she —"

The doctor smiled kindly at Oliver. "We were able to remove the bullet without too many complications. Ms. Smoak is quite lucky, the bullet didn't hit any major organs. She's resting now."

"Can we see her?" Thea asked, her hand wrapped around Oliver's arm.

"Yes," the doctor said. "But only one visitor at a time."

Oliver felt hands on his back that pushed him forward.

"You go first Ollie," Laurel said quietly. "She'll want to see you first."

Oliver nodded mutely. He followed the doctor through the doors and down the hall to the room Felicity had been moved to.

They stopped outside the door. "She's still sleeping, she'll probably be a little disoriented when she wakes up," the doctor explained. "Because of the anesthesia. It will take some time for the effects to wear off."

Oliver nodded, the doctor held the door open for him. He walked in, his eyes fell on Felicity.

She lay still in the bed, the blankets pulled up, her arms resting on top. Her hair still curled, lay messily over her shoulders. Her chest rising and falling with each breath.

Oliver pulled a chair to sit next to her, he picked her hand up and held it in both of his. He rested his head over their hands. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Felicity," he breathed. He had come so close, too close to losing her. Oliver sent prayers out again, thanking whoever was listening, for saving this girl. The girl who had saved him so many times in the past. Who had pulled him out of the darkness into the light, her light.

"I need you to wake up Felicity," he whispered. "I need to see your beautiful eyes again. Okay? I just need you wake up. I still owe you a dance. Wake up. Please, for me. I love you."

Oliver stayed, with his head rested on their intertwined hands. He felt the weight and stress of the evening catching up to him, his eyes felt heavy. He let his eyes close, as he drifted to sleep. Thankful that Felicity would be okay. They would be okay.