Chapter Text
The void wrapped around him like water, endless and cold.
He drifted, weightless, unmoored. A whisper coiled through the dark—seductive, final.
It’s time.
You’ve suffered enough. You deserve rest.
And God, he wanted to. His body was so heavy. Every scar, every wound, every burden of years pressed him down, pulling him deeper into the dark. He reached for something—anything—but found only silence.
Then—
“He can’t die!”
The voice shattered the void. High, cracking, desperate. William.
Oliver’s consciousness jolted awake—except it wasn’t in his body. He was outside himself, staring down at the hospital bed where his form convulsed under a surge of electricity. He saw Felicity clutching William, both of them breaking apart in grief. Saw her mouth moving, whispering through tears— Please, don’t leave us.
The unseen force yanked harder, dragging him back into the abyss. Away from them. Away from life.
“No.”
The word tore from him like a vow. He ripped against the invisible chains, wrenching, tearing, until they snapped one by one, until the void itself cracked. Pain ripped through him, searing, unbearable—
But it meant life. It meant them.
He would not leave.
…
His eyes snapped open.
Agony slammed into him all at once. He braced for it—he’d expected pain, even welcomed it. But not this silence.
No Felicity.
No William.
Only strangers.
Shapes blurred above him, faceless, hovering. Lights stabbed into his skull. Voices shouted—urgent, commanding, too many at once. Hands pressed down on him, holding him still. Pinning him.
No. No.
He tried to call out, to demand where they were, to beg for them—but his throat was locked, his body deaf to his will. His arm jerked upward on instinct, catching a wrist in a soldier’s grip. For half a breath, he thought he had control.
Then his strength failed. His hand slipped, dead weight crashing back to the bed.
Exposed. Trapped.
And alone.
He wanted to move, to reach for something familiar, something alive… but he couldn’t. So, he did the only thing he could. He squeezed his eyes shut, retreating into the dark.
Better the void, than the blinding lights and strange hands, the weight of his powerlessness pressing down.
And then—
“Dad!”
That voice. High, desperate, cracking on the single syllable that meant more to him than breath itself. William.
Oliver forced his eyes open. The world was still a blur, swimming and fractured, shapes melting into light. He blinked hard, struggling to focus—then felt it. A small hand clutching his arm, trembling but firm, grounding him.
And slowly, through the haze, the blur sharpened into his son’s face. William. Tears streaking down his cheeks, eyes wide and terrified, yet full of desperate hope.
The next moment William broke, throwing himself against Oliver’s chest. The pressure hurt—God, it hurt—but Oliver didn’t care. He would endure far worse if it meant feeling that embrace, that living proof of his boy in his arms again.
He wanted to tell him it was okay, that he was okay, but his throat betrayed him. No sound came, only the rasp of a broken breath.
And then—his vision shifted, sharpening just enough to catch another figure. A small, folded silhouette just beyond William.
Felicity.
She was huddled up, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as if she could hold herself together by force of will alone. Her face was pale, her eyes locked shut, every line etched with terror and grief. Donna was beside her, hands gripping her daughter’s shoulders, gently shaking, whispering for her to open her eyes. But Felicity couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t see past the storm of her own fear.
It was the most unbearable sight Oliver had ever seen—worse than any wound, worse than any battlefield. He had put that look there. His absence had carved it into her.
He couldn’t let it stay.
“Felicity…”
The name escaped his lips like a breath stolen from the grave. Dry. Weak. Barely there.
But she heard it.
Her head lifted, as if against a crushing weight. When her eyes opened, he saw the terror first—the dread of finding only a ghost where the man she loved had been. But then, in the next heartbeat, her gaze widened. Not with fear. With wonder. With joy.
“Oh my God…” The words broke out of her in a trembling rush as her feet carried her forward. She reached for him blindly, hands sinking into his hair, cradling his head as if to convince herself he was real. A sob shook through her as she pressed her forehead to his, so close he could feel the ragged catch of her breath against his lips.
“Felicity.” He breathed her name again, but this time it filled him like oxygen, like sunlight after weeks of storm. Her mouth found his in a fleeting, desperate kiss—soft, tear-soaked, but enough to anchor him to life.
He raised his heavy hand, cupping her face, and she leaned into the touch, eyes opening to meet his. God, even red-rimmed and streaked with tears, he had never seen anything so achingly beautiful. His other arm tightened around William's trembling frame, pulling his son closer and holding on with all his might.
And in that fragile knot of arms and tears and breath, he understood: pain could wait. Fear could wait. Even though fire still tore through his stomach and a dull ache dragged at his back, none of it mattered.
They were here.
They were his.
“I’m okay,” he whispered, though his voice was nothing more than a rasp. “I’m okay. I love you both… so much.”
William burrowed closer, pressing his face beneath Oliver’s chin as if to anchor himself there, clinging like he might never let go.
“Dad…” the word came out as a whimper. “You—you weren’t waking up. I thought—”
“I know, buddy,” Oliver whispered, holding him tighter with every ounce of strength he had left. "I'm sorry I scared you. I’m right here.”
And then he saw Donna. Just a few steps away, standing back, watching their reunion through her own tears. Her shoulders shook, her hand covering her mouth, but her eyes never left him. She looked at him the way a mother does at a son she almost lost.
Oliver met her gaze. For a heartbeat, he let the raw gratitude show in his eyes—the silent plea, the invitation to come closer. It was enough. She moved instantly, no hesitation, and clasped his hand in both of hers. Then she reached down, brushing her palm against his stubble in a gentle caress. A touch filled with warmth, with protection, with a kind of love he hadn’t felt since he lost his own mother. His eyes closed under the weight of it.
And in that stillness, Oliver understood. He had stood on the brink of death, ready to let go. But their love—Felicity’s, William’s, even Donna’s—had pulled him back.
This was his life. Not the endless fights, not the scars or shadows, not the titles or masks. This.
The chance to wake and still find their faces waiting.
The chance to live for them.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said hoarsely, eyes fixed on the loving faces of his family.
Felicity raised her head, her eyes holding the spark for which he had fallen in love with her. She wiped away the tear rolling down his cheek with her finger. “You promise?”
He let his shoulders ease for the first time in what felt like an eternity, chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. His gaze never left hers, steady, unwavering, a silent vow etched into every line of his face. “I’ll never leave you.”
He felt the weight of every scar, every wound, every shadow of his past—but they didn’t matter. For his family was here with him. And for them, he would live. Truly, fully, for the first time in years, he felt alive.
He felt home.