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Chapter Text

"Samantha!" Thea Queen called, hearing Felicity Smoak behind her echoing her call.

Thea turned around, still moving in the direction her nephew's mother had vanished into the underbrush. "You go to the plane, okay?" Thea directed at Felicity.

Oliver had given her one job, one way to help him in his fight against Chase: protect Felicity and Samantha. He had looked her in the eye and asked this one thing of her: "I need your help, Speedy – and this is how you help me." There was no way she was letting him down and that meant Felicity had to get to safety.

Thea could see the indecision wavering in Felicity's expression. Thea promised, both to herself and to Felicity, "I'll get her!" Thea turned back towards the woods, relieved when the sound of Felicity's footsteps behind her stopped.

The day from hell continues, Thea mused darkly as she forced an extra burst of speed, quickly scanning through the foliage for a glimpse of Samantha Clayton. First, she and Quentin had been kidnapped at the hands of Laurel's doppelganger, which seemed to tear Quentin apart before her eyes. Then she'd hung in a cage on god-forsaken Lian Yu. Came face-to-face with the man who murdered her mother. Was forced into an unwanted conversation with Malcolm, and then … Malcolm gave up his life for hers.

And now Oliver was somewhere on this island rigged with explosives, facing off with the insane and diabolical Adrian Chase with William still held hostage. Thea was well aware that Samantha's actions – running away from the potential safety of the plane and into the heart of the rigged devices – was illogical. Even so, Thea had to admire it. Thea might still be angry that Samantha had kept William from Oliver, but she had to respect how much Samantha loved her son. The fierce need to protect – the overwhelming desperation to have him back in her arms – Thea remembered all too well that she had once been loved by a mother with that same kind of love.

Thea was shocked suddenly to realize that she had completely lost sight of Samantha. She paused and then heard the cry. "William?"

Just as Thea began to run towards Samantha's voice, Thea heard a far-off roar. Then the ground began to vibrate. One following closely to another, Thea heard the earth-shattering bass of explosives. She took a deep breath and continued towards Samantha's cry. There was no running away from anything: the only choice she had was to run towards something.

That's when Thea heard a deafening crash from behind her. Something slammed into Thea and she felt her body carried off the ground. She was weightless for a breath until her momentum was unceremoniously halted by a bone-shattering collision with a tree trunk. Thea had only a moment to feel white-hot pain and then – nothing.

Felicity could feel the groan being pulled out of her. Her mind was unable to connect to any thoughts, only sensations. Ears rang with a high-pitched, squealing noise even while every other sound was muffled. Her heart pounded in her chest, adding a rough staccato to break up the high-pitched whine.

Felicity blinked her eyes. Her vision was fuzzy – or else everything around her was fuzzy. She blinked and brought her arm up to her face, scrubbing her jacket sleeve against her eyelids before opening her eyes again to peer around her. An acidic feeling bit at her nostrils and throat and Felicity choked wildly, coughing to get rid of the feeling.

Felicity started to shift her weight, stopping when she realized she felt too weary to even try. She allowed her eyes to close again, attempting to draw in a deep breath, only to find herself sputtering again.

Felicity felt something grab at her arm and her adrenaline spiked with fear. Eyes shot open and she found herself looking at a concerned Rene Ramirez. "Rene," she mumbled confusedly. What was going on?

Rene shot her a little half-smile and pulled at her arm until Felicity found herself standing. As soon as her feet were stably on the ground, it all rushed back. Felicity turned around, looking through the smoke and hollered in terror, "John!"

John Diggle had been right behind her. He had come back for her, told her he wasn't about to shelter without her. Felicity swallowed through the panic. And the bombs – they went off. And John was right behind her.

Felicity tried her best to spin out of Rene's grip to look through the smoke. Her eyes fell on the blurry image of Quentin Lance and Dinah Drake crouching over a figure in the smoke.

Felicity tried to shake Rene's grip on her arm, needing to check on her friend. Rene clung on tighter and Felicity looked at him angrily. Felicity could see his mouth moving and focused on trying to understand his words. Rene seemed to gather that she couldn't hear him, and with patient eyes, Rene said slowly, his voice garbled in her ears, "You're not too steady right now."

The sound of Rene's far-off voice triggered something in Felicity's memory and she grasped at her ear to find her comm still in. Felicity's eyes widened as she cried out through the comm, "Oliver? Are you there?" There was no answer - just static. Felicity tried again, not caring that her voice shook as desperation clawed in her stomach.

Felicity caught Rene studying her and his face remained even, seemingly undisturbed that she hadn't made contact with Oliver. Felicity declared forcefully, demanding Rene release her, "I am going to John."

Rene nodded, but instead of freeing Felicity from his grip, he turned, continuing to gently steady her as he led her through the smoke towards the group clustered on the ground.

The sight before her did nothing to quell Felicity's panic. Digg was covered in blood. A large piece of shrapnel was lodged in his chest. His eyebrows had vanished, stripped off by the flames which had tinged his skin with angry burns. Digg's skin was ashen and his eyes were wild, bouncing off of the people trying to help him and the surrounding smoke-filled beach.

Felicity's heart plunged into her stomach. There was no way – no way someone could survive being skewered by a piece of an incendiary device. Digg was on borrowed time.

Dinah tore the bottom of her shirt into a long strip before tightening it over a white piece of fabric – a sock, Felicity realized – on Digg's upper arm. Digg uttered a cry at the sensation. Quentin pressed his jacket around the piece of metal lodged in Digg's chest and Felicity realized that the very piece of metal that would likely kill him was also the same thing stopping Digg from bleeding out.

Felicity, in a low, tense voice, said, "We need to get him off this island. NOW."

"You don't hafta tell me twice," Quentin agreed in a mutter.

"We need to get him to the boat," Rene stated. He looked to Felicity, still propped against him and clarified, "You said it's east?"

"We still have people here," Dinah noted quickly, even as her eyes seemed drawn back to the shivering Digg.

Two new figures appeared through the smoke, standing beside Felicity and Rene. Felicity scarcely gave Nyssa Al Ghul and Curtis Holt a glance before returning to watch Digg.

Nyssa said somberly from somewhere behind Felicity, "That girl who was with my sister may have survived the blast. I will check."

Curtis asked, "Can you find your way to the beach once you do?" There was no response, so Felicity assumed Nyssa had either nodded or sent Curtis a curt, disbelieving look. Felicity gave in and turned back to watch Nyssa. Even with their world on fire, Nyssa seemed as self-possessed as ever. Moments later, when she faded into the smoke, Felicity mused that the beach's atmosphere didn't change at all - Nyssa may as well have been a ghost.

Rene said quietly, "Someone needs to check on the monastery."

"I'll come," Dinah agreed, standing up.

"Okay," Curtis said, firmly taking charge. "The rest of us will start to the eastern side of the island. We'll check where Oliver said the ARGUS supply boat would be moored – if it starts, we'll grab the others and make a heading for land."

Felicity glanced down at the bright red blood on Digg's shirt and the way his eyes remained firmly closed, squinting against pain. Felicity said sharply, "There is no way we can move John that far."

Quentin stood up abruptly, face paling. "Thea!"

As the name left his mouth, Felicity's heart sank further. Oh, no – Thea and Samantha. In the horror of Digg's injuries and the ringing of her own head, somehow Felicity had lost track of them. Felicity looked towards the woods where they had vanished what felt like a lifetime ago. The path they had taken was engulfed in flames. Towering trees dropped branches with loud crunches as they burned.

The stricken look on Quentin's face broke Felicity's heart. Since Laurel's death, Thea and Quentin had grown close. Thea had taken charge of Quentin's care and sobriety out of a deep love for her departed friend, and Felicity felt that the Quentin and Thea leaning on each other was what had brought them both out on the other side of their grief. Quentin couldn't lose someone else. He just couldn't.

Quentin only seemed frozen for a moment. He turned, preparing to follow the enflamed path, when a voice arrested him.

"You are not suited to enter these woods." From behind them, Slade solidified through the smoke. He said seriously, "I will search for Oliver's sister and his son's mother."

Quentin raised his chin in challenge. Felicity pleaded, "Quentin – we need you here. John needs help."

Quentin's eyes darted back to Digg. Then, as though he were deflating, Quentin's shoulders slumped. He nodded.

As Slade was engulfed in the flaming woods, Felicity was glad she didn't have to say aloud the real reason she needed Quentin to stay: there was no reason to go running into the woods because there was no way they would find Thea and Samantha alive.

Chapter Text

Oliver's steps were chillingly silenced by the sound of cracks and groans of the still burning trees. The air was thick and the chemicals caused by the burning landscape singed his nose and burnt his throat. But he couldn't stop.

Leaving William at the shore had been a nearly impossible choice. Abandoning him, alone and unguarded, while the island burnt around him flew in the face of Oliver's just-completed mission of rescuing his son. But as soon as Chase had pulled the trigger of his pistol and the island containing every piece of Oliver's heart was consumed in fire, Oliver knew that he needed to be in those flames even as he knew that William needed to be shielded from it.

Because maybe there would be survivors. But, seeing the forest aflame in every direction, it seemed a certainty that lives had been lost today. A matter not of "are there any casualties?", but "how many?". And William didn't need to be exposed to anymore trauma than he already had been.

In the distance, a figure garbed in black formed through the thick smoke. Oliver would recognize the thick-set shoulders and mask anywhere.

Oliver called out over the creaking trees, "Slade?"

The figure paused at the sound, then turned towards Oliver. Slade removed his helmet and replied, "You all right, Kid?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Oliver said dismissively, his own well-being was unimportant: not when he was unsure if his family and friends were still alive. "Where is everyone?"

Slade nodded towards the trees. "I came back here looking for people."

Oliver felt his stomach clench. What did that mean? Slade was supposed to be escorting his team to safety.

"Came back?" Oliver croaked out in confusion. "What do you mean you 'came back'?"

Slade said in a low, apologetic tone, "Two of your friends went to the monastery looking for survivors. Ra's Al Ghul's daughter went to the cages for that girl, but -" Slade paused, his eyes speaking nothing but sympathy. "Your sister-" He trailed off, studying Oliver.

A jolt of pain struck Oliver as his subconscious gathered in Slade's response what his conscious mind could not and would not. Thea – no.

Oliver's throat was suddenly painfully tight and he choked out, "What about her?" Slade stared back sadly. "Slade!" Oliver shouted, grabbing his attention. He swallowed through the dryness and asked faintly, "Where's Thea?"

Slade's eyes held onto Oliver's with understanding for a moment longer. He walked past Oliver, murmuring, "She's this way."

Oliver felt numb as he followed Slade through the flames. If Thea was okay, she would be here. If she was hurt, Slade would have stayed with her or brought her with him. If Slade knew where she was and had left her …

Slade stopped suddenly. He gestured down a small bluff. "The blast blew her over there."

Oliver could see a figure through the smoke, splayed next to a tree. Without realizing he had moved, Oliver found himself running, gasping out, "Thea?" as he ran before dropping onto his knees next to the blackened pile on the ground.

Oliver's stomach roiled and his hands hovered in the air, not sure where he could place his hands. Thea's body lay as though it had been flung through the air, arms splayed and legs bent at an unnatural angle. The red leather jacket seemed to have taken the brunt of the fire on her arms and torso. The jacket looked stiff and cracked, but whole. But – her legs.

Thea's jeans were nearly entirely burnt off, revealing large patches of red, weeping burns along with darkened, leathery skin that seemed to be flaking into layers. Thea's hands and face were swollen even as her skin appeared pale white in the glowing forest.

Thea's eyes were closed in a horrifying show of peaceful repose and Oliver's gloved hand lingered over her face, unsure if he meant to touch her.

She was gone. The sudden loss hit him in a wave of agony. He clutched at his face as he released a moan of grief. God no – Thea.

He looked again, bleary eyes darting around her body trying to grasp the image before him. That, after all of these years, watching her grow, standing side-by-side to protect their city and the world, that Thea was gone.

The agonizing seconds passed and Oliver's mind remained blank with shock. He sensed Slade move behind him, but was still startled when Slade said somberly, "We have to get her out of here."

Oliver shook his head, denying the need to move. Because if he moved, if he left this moment, it would become real. Oliver bowed his gaze again and gripped at his head.

A whispy voice calling through the smoke yanked Oliver from his grief. "Oliver?"

Oliver was on his feet in an instant. "Samantha?" he called back in response.

Oliver ran to her, shocked to see her on her feet. "William?" Samantha pled for news of her son.

"He's fine," Oliver quickly reassured. "He's fine. Are you okay?" Even as he asked it, Samantha swayed and fell, as Oliver caught her, guiding her to the ground. "Hey, hey, hey," Oliver soothed as he lowered her. "No, he's fine, he's fine," Oliver said quickly, taking in the familiar burns like those he had just seen on his sister's face. "We have to get you medical attention."

"No," Samantha denied quickly. "I just needed to make sure that he was okay."

"He wants to see his mom," Oliver said quickly.

"William needs a parent," Samantha said softly, her eyes drifting shut. "Promise me …that you will be his father."

"I promise," Oliver agreed instantly, trying to give her a reassuring smile. Samantha's head sagged and Oliver held on, knowing that with her, the world William had known had ended.

"This plane sucks," Felicity mumbled as Quentin dropped a piece of ratty cloth onto Felicity's knee.

Quentin grunted in response and then nodded towards the cloth. "For your head."

"What?" Felicity asked blearily.

"You're bleedin'," Quentin explained before he haltingly lowered himself to sit on the ground across from Felicity and Digg, leaning his back against the inner hull of the cargo bay in Chase's busted plane.

Felicity raised a hand to her forehead and pulled it back to stare. Her fingers were coated in blood. "Oh," Felicity said dumbly. That would explain the pounding in her head. She hadn't even noticed. She peered down at her legs wondering if her head was the only thing bleeding.

Quentin seemed to understand. "Looks like just your head." Felicity accepted his assessment and tied the cloth around her forehead. "But if you find anything else, let me know," Quentin instructed.

Felicity nodded mutely, reaching out to grasp Digg's hand from where he lay beside her on top of his and Felicity's jackets. She took in the ashy color of his face and felt something heavy settle in her stomach, springing tears blurring her vision. When Curtis, Rene, and Dinah left to check on the monastery, they promised to return with the ARGUS supply ship; but what was the chance that Digg would still be here when help arrived?

At the feel of her hand in his, Digg opened his swollen eyes to look at Felicity searchingly. Felicity muttered bitterly, guilt thick in her words, "You shouldn't have come back for me. You should have gotten to the plane."

Digg managed to lift the sides of his lips into a half smile that looked more like a wince. Digg rumbled, "Not leaving without you." His eyes drifted back closed and the smile faded. "Family," he mumbled.

Felicity couldn't stop a sniffle –family. In one day, she had lost Thea and was losing Digg. She couldn't reach Oliver, so who knew if he and William had survived the blast. Unbidden, a tear dripped down to the front of her crusty, blackened t-shirt.

"Hey," Quentin said gently. "It'll be okay. Rene and Curtis and Dinah will find that boat. You know Curtis can get just about anything running, and Rene never lets things get in his way. We'll get back home."

Felicity shut her eyes firmly against the throb of pain at the words. "That's not what I'm worried about," she admitted.

"You're worried about Diggle," Quentin stated in understanding.

Felicity let her silence confirm Quentin's supposition.

"You know if he's got anything to say about it, he's going to hold on," Quentin said seriously. "His kid's his world. No way he's leaving JJ."

Felicity swallowed thickly. Digg was fading before her eyes: she wasn't so sure he did have a say in the matter.

Felicity sniffled again and looked around the plane. She asked, voice soft with vulnerability, "Where the hell is Oliver?"

Quentin hmmed in response. "Kid's got nine lives," he said almost cheerfully. "I'm sure he'll get back here, quick as he can."

"You don't know that," Felicity said darkly.

"No, I don't," Quentin agreed. "But I have seen Queen come through too many things that should have killed him to count him out just yet. You wait: he's gonna come walking through that-" Quentin gestured at the hole in the hull where a door used to be, "wall like nothing ever happened."

"And if he doesn't – if he's gone, and Thea's gone, and John is…" Felicity trailed off. This was her family. She loved Curtis, and she was getting to know Rene and Dinah, but – Oliver and John and Thea had been her people for so long. And in moments, she was losing everything. "It feels like the world just ended," Felicity admitted with a sniffle.

The hull of the plane was silent, except for the rattling of each breath that Digg took.

"I know something about the world ending," Quentin said in a low voice filled with pain. "Mine has ended three times." He fell silent as Felicity considered the man before her. A man who had suffered through losing his children three times. Just saying the words seemed to change his appearance, his face haggard with the memories of losses greater than he seemed capable of bearing.

Quentin said, "I'm probably not the person to tell anyone how to survive that kind of loss, cuz I am still trying to figure that out, every day. And, let's be real," he chuckled humorlessly, "I'm the poster-child of what not to do, but – you've gotta find something – or someone to get you to get up. Everyday."

Felicity asked through a thick throat. "Like what?"

"I dunno," Quentin admitted. "Laurel kept me together – or, as together as I was – when we lost Sara. And revenge got me back on my feet when we lost her again, which, I mean – you know how that turned out." Quentin swallowed, then said, voice cracking, "Thea … Thea got me going after … after Laurel. When your mom left and my job was gone, I was … well, I was ready to check out too." He sniffled. "But damn, Thea Queen – she just wouldn't let me stop."

A tear trickled down Felicity's cheek. She said softly, "I can't believe -" Her words ran dry. Oh, Thea …

"I'm going to miss that kid," Quentin said roughly.

Felicity nodded numbly. Had it only been an hour ago that Felicity was comforting Thea following Malcolm's sacrifice? It didn't seem possible.

If Oliver was alive, if he had survived the blast – how could they tell him that Thea was gone? How could she admit that she had been right beside her and let her go after Samantha? Or that she knew that Samantha wouldn't leave without William and hadn't been prepared to stop her?

"How will we tell Oliver?" Felicity asked rhetorically. She remembered Tommy's death – Moira's – Laurel's. Oliver had lost so much. He couldn't lose his sister too. How much could he lose before there was nothing left?

Quentin's next words shocked Felicity into stillness: "You still love him, huh?"

Felicity met Quentin's gaze with wide eyes. "I know you both moved on, and I know you really liked Billy, but – Oliver," Quentin said. "There's still something there, yeah?"

Felicity could feel hot tears springing into her eyes and she swiped as the first tumbled out. "It doesn't matter," Felicity rebutted. "It really – it just … it doesn't matter, it can't matter. It's too complicated. And right now, I can't even think."

Quentin nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's fair. But look – take it from a guy who has thrown away a lot of the good things he had: if there is something there, if you two have some kind of chance – just take it. Life is too short to spend it without the person you love."

Chapter Text

"Is that… William?" Curtis asked uncertainly.

Dinah glanced up from where she was sorting through charts and coordinates to peer out the windscreen of the cockpit. On the deck before her, she watched as Rene walked unsteadily to the boat's railing. He looked towards the still flaming island to their starboard side. Dinah's eyes followed his gaze and saw a small figure standing at the edge of the beach. The figure was completely still.

Dinah was surprised when her heart panged – they found him. Oliver's son. Alone. If William was alone ... did he still have parents?

"Yo, can you pull over?" Rene called over his shoulder at Curtis.

Curtis' eyes widened. "As I may have mentioned," Curtis said, voice sharpened with panic, "I've never manned a boat before. 'Pulling over' is kind of a tall order when I am steering a few tons of metal over a reef where I have no idea how to read the depth. Oh, and did I mention boats don't have brakes?"

Rene shook his head, "It may not be 'brakes', but isn't that what the anchor is for?"

Curtis blinked. "Yeah. I guess so." He shook his head, like he was trying to refocus his thoughts. "Okay. Who knows where the anchor is?"

Dinah grimaced realizing that she maybe had the most boat experience of the three. "Rene," she called, "it should be on the bow. The metal wings connected to that reel and chain." Rene walked over and touched the device. "This?"

Dinah nodded. "Okay, Curtis – put us into neutral. Once our speed is slowed, we drop anchor."

Even before the boat was secure, Rene was dropping his shirt to the boat deck, kicking off his shoes, and had grabbed a lifejacket and rescue board. Before Dinah could ask for his plan, Rene had launched himself into the water and was beginning to paddle his way to shore.

Dinah turned to see Curtis watching the rescue with nervous agitation. Dinah nodded at him and asked, "What's up with you?"

Curtis looked back in confusion. "Are you kidding me right now? First, we're kidnapped and dragged to an island in the middle of nowhere; then said island is blown to high hell. Now, we, a group of people with no nautical experience, have to navigate a boat over open ocean. There is nothing about this situation making me feel like I am in control. The sooner we find everyone and get back to land, any land, the happier I will be."

Dinah said nothing. Ever since Vincent, Dinah had felt out of control. Sure, this was far removed from the life she led every day, but the sensation of being lost and flying by the seat of her pants was so normal that it was almost comfortable.

Even though they were the only two on the boat, Curtis lowered his voice to add, "And John didn't look good. He doesn't have time. I just hate that I have no idea what to do when he needs help yesterday."

That Dinah understood. Digg had become a friend and mentor and the thought that he was dying while they puttered around the island on this supply ship was maddening. But Dinah wasn't about to admit that out loud.

"John is strong," Dinah said firmly with a confidence she didn't feel. "He can hold on."

Curtis glanced at her, then looked away.

As Rene paddled the board with William clinging on close to the starboard side of the supply ship, Dinah and Curtis leaned over to grasp William, each by an arm. They lifted him up into the boat. Dinah reached down to wrap a blanket around the shivering child while Curtis gave Rene a hand aboard. Rene dropped with a soft plunk next to them.

William's eyes were large and serious as he silently inspected, first them, then the boat he on which he found himself.

William asked in a voice cracked from smoke-exposure, "Have you seen my mom?"

Dinah's mouth opened even as her mind spun to come up with an answer. William barreled on, explaining desperately, "Her name is Samantha. Samantha Clayton. I'm William."

Dinah closed her mouth as Curtis answered soothingly, "We are trying to find her, bud. There were a lot of people here and some of them are probably still finding their way to the boat. Try not to worry, okay?"

William nodded without making eye contact.

It crossed Dinah's mind that William had some knowledge that she didn't of what had happened that day. Dinah asked, "William – did you see anyone else? I mean … today?" Dinah stumbled a little, not being as adept at talking with kids as Rene, or even Curtis. "On this island? You were … were with a man, the Green Arrow, right?"

William's eyes widened. He nodded slowly.

Dinah asked gently, her heart rate picking up at what the little boy might know: "Did you see what happened to him?"

William's eyes filled. "That man … the man with the gun said the Green Arrow is my father."

Curtis' eyes widened and he stuttered, "I – er, I don't-"

William continued, expression numb and not seeming to take notice of Curtis' stumbling speech. "He took me to the shore and told me to stay there. He said he was going to look for my mom."

Relief flooded Dinah. Oliver was alive. Or, he had been, anyway.

Dinah consoled, "If the Green Arrow said he is going to find your mom, you can trust him."

The boy studied Dinah. He asked slowly, "Do you know him? The Green Arrow?"

Dinah said softly, "Yes, I do. He's my friend."

William nodded slowly.

Dinah gave him one firm nod back. She may not get kids, but she knew acceptance when she saw it.

Digg's eyes shot open wide and he gasped. The motion caused Felicity to jerk upright, heart thudding in her chest.

"John?" she asked seriously. "What's wrong?"

Digg turned wild eyes to hers. "Help – I can't -" his words faded into a wet choking sound.

Felicity looked fearfully at Quentin who had also risen to his feet and was now crouched beside Digg. "What's happening?" she demanded.

"You ask that like I did more than pass my annual first aid requirements," Quentin quipped drily. He gently tugged away his jacket, which was wrapped around the chunk of metal sticking from Digg's chest. As soon as he did, Felicity could hear an ominous hissing noise.

"Oh my god," she breathed out. "That's bad, right? It shouldn't be making that sound."

A groan from Digg pulled her eyes off the wound to see his lips graying.

"We've gotta stop it from sucking air in," Quentin stated firmly. "Otherwise he's gonna lose a lung." Quentin glanced up. "Do you have any lady supplies with you?" Quentin asked.

Felicity gaped at him. "Which purse do you think I managed to grab when my car was spun off the road and I was kidnapped?" Felicity demanded.

"I don't know!" Quentin said, equally as chagrinned. "I was told that pads work good for an emergency bandage!"

Felicity stood upright glancing around the plane. "Uh -" she said, eyes drifting from one surface to another. Felicity crossed from the rear of the plan towards the cockpit and began to pull at tabs along the side of the plane hull. The first had a few blankets. The second had parachutes. The third one she opened held a bright orange bag. Felicity dropped it to the ground and ripped at the zipper, before turning it upside down and dumping the contents to the plane floor with a clatter. Felicity glanced over an axe, a packet of water-purifying tablets, a flashlight, and a sheathed knife.

"I found a survival pack, but there's no first aid supplies!" she reported.

"Keep looking!" Quentin called back.

The sound of Digg's wheezing breaths sent Felicity's adrenaline on overdrive. Felicity opened up the final cupboard. Empty. Almost like whatever used to be there was removed. Chase. "There's nothing left in here!" Felicity declared in despair.

Quentin's face unexpectedly brightened. "Wait. Diggle's jacket." He glanced back at Felicity. "The leather should be able to make a seal. We just need to cut it."

"Cut it," Felicity muttered looking around. "Something to cut-" She nearly dove to the ground where she had dumped the survival pack and, gripping the sheathed knife stood up and strode back to Quentin.

"Good, good," Quentin mumbled as he grasped the blade. Quentin wrestled with the leather jacket and knife, gauging at the animal hide until he managed to cut several pieces of leather apart from the lining. He laid the first one on the left side of the metal protruding from Digg's chest. As he tucked the second on the right side, it seemed to suck in slightly.

"Breathe out, hard," Quentin commanded Digg.

Digg, eyes blown wide from lack of oxygen, seemed to take a moment to understand the command. When he did, he puffed out what little air was in his lungs, then drew in a wild breath. The leather strips suctioned inward, then held. A hint of color splashed at Digg's cheeks as he breathed in again.

"John?" Felicity asked, voice shaking. "Are you back with us?"

Digg nodded breathlessly, allowing his eyes to close. "Thanks," he panted.

Felicity felt herself breathe again too, resting a hand on her chest. She felt tears prickle at her eyes. "Oh, thank god," she muttered.

Quentin twisted around, off his knees and sat back on the ground. "You're not kidding." Quentin agreed. "Glad you're back with us, Diggle."

Felicity turned away as she felt tears start to trickle down. Without meaning too, she let out a small sob.

A moment later, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey," Quentin said softly. "Why don't you take a breather, get some air. Diggle's okay now, alright? I've got everything under control."

Felicity immediately knew Quentin was right – she couldn't break down here, not while John was lying there fighting for his life.

Felicity nodded quickly, unable to answer for fear she would start crying and be unable to stop. Without turning around, she strode out of the plane until her feet were back on the cursed soil of Lian Yu. Felicity stumbled her way to the edge of the forest so she was covered in shade and then collapsed to the ground with heaving sobs.

This truly was purgatory. John was hovering between life and death. Thea and Samantha were gone, likely dead, but who knew? And Oliver and William …

Quentin and Samantha were right – whatever complications lay between them, Felicity still loved Oliver. Everything came back to him. And if he was out there hurt, or dead – what did Felicity have left?

Felicity felt her breaths begin to even out as her cries waned. She fought to get air into her lungs, when she heard something crack sharply behind her. Felicity turned around -

- face to face with the twisted smile and cocked head of Laurel Lance. Black Siren.

Felicity gasped, scrambling onto her feet as Black Siren raised her gun steadily at Felicity's face. "Hi," Black Siren said with a sadistic twinkle in her eye. "Fancy meeting you here."

Felicity stared down the barrel at the gun, shocked that she had survived the explosions of 250 bombs, only to be killed by her friend's doppelganger. "You don't have to do this," Felicity breathed out. "We're working on a way off this island. We can take you with us."

Black Siren cocked her head. "Oh, I don't need your help to get off this island. I will kill you, one-by-one, and then I will get out of this hellhole on my own."

"Why?" Felicity demanded. "What does that get you? What did we ever do to you?"

"Hmm," Black Siren chuckled, lowering the barrel just a bit. "Not one of you on this Earth have any idea just what it is that you have. My world descended into darkness and death, every moment a fight to survive."

"Yeah, and from what I hear, you joined the guy that made it that way," Felicity shot back.

Black Siren shrugged. "If you can't beat them, join them." She continued, "When I joined Zoom, I had nothing to live for – only this ability that caught his attention and a willingness to use it to help him gain power. And I discovered something."

"And what is that?" Felicity spat out angrily.

"That there is something kind of addicting about making everyone else suffer as much as you," Black Siren stated, raising the gun again.

Felicity squeezed her eyes closed. Bang.

Felicity reopened them and glanced down. There was no blood. No holes. She raised her eyes to find Black Siren face down in the dirt.

Felicity's mouth gaped wide and she locked eyes with a pale Quentin.

"I -" Quentin gasped. "I – I had to. She was gonna kill you." Felicity nodded in affirmation, but Quentin didn't seem to notice as tears began to trace down his cheeks. "She was … Laurel was gonna kill you."

Chapter Text

Oliver was numb. Samantha was dead. Thea was dead.

Unlike before, Slade remained silent; but even without Slade's urging, Oliver knew the time had come to stand up and carry on.

Oliver wearily swiped at his soot-streaked face with his hand. He had only found Slade, Thea, and Samantha. Slade had said Nyssa and two others were elsewhere seeking survivors. The rest of his friends were still on this island and Oliver had no intention of leaving until everyone was accounted for.

The thought struck Oliver like a lightning bolt that Oliver had sent a group off together: a group that included Thea and Samantha. Dread pooled in his stomach. Felicity, Curtis, and Malcolm. Malcolm wouldn't have left Thea alone in danger, and Oliver had told Thea to keep them all safe. If Thea and Samantha were here …

Oliver stood up suddenly, decision made. "Get my sister. I will take Samantha. We need to find the others."

Slade watched Oliver seriously, brow subtly furrowed, like he was trying to understand what he was being asked. "There are no others," Slade finally announced.

Oliver's stomach plummeted. Felicity. Oliver stared back at Slade in shock, feeling light-headed with this new blow. "No others?" he parroted breathlessly.

Slade appeared to grasp Oliver's assumption and quickly corrected it. "The others are back at the plane. The blonde with glasses and your bodyguard are with your cop friend." It was like Oliver could breathe again. Felicity, Diggle, and Lance were alive. Thank god. He wasn't sure he could take any more loss. "Everyone managed to take cover."

Relief leached away again as Oliver looked over the crackling flames lingering around the two bodies resting on the forest dirt. "Then what were Thea and Samantha doing here?"

"I wasn't with your friends. I left and returned after the explosions ended."

Oliver glanced down at Samantha's rapidly paling face. And suddenly he knew: Samantha would never leave without William, and –

- and Oliver had made his sister promise to protect Samantha. With a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, Oliver realized that Thea had died following Oliver's orders. The last words his sister would ever hear from her older brother would be Oliver ordering her to her death.

Oliver's eyes snapped shut at the flood of pain in his chest. Oh Thea. Forgive me.

Trying to set the cloying guilt aside for the moment, Oliver slowly took a breath, steeling himself and asked stalwartly, "Is everyone okay?"

Slade shrugged slightly. "Cop's fine. Your lady-friend looked banged up, but was on her feet. Your bodyguard … your friends stayed with him while the others went to the boat. He can't be moved."

The faintness returned. John.

No – Oliver couldn't lose someone else today. They would head directly to the plane. Find a way off this island.

Oliver stood up resolutely before leaning over to pull Samantha's body into his arms. "Slade," Oliver repeated, disregarding the shaking of his voice as he said, "Can you please get Thea?" Oliver ignored the insistent voice in his head that told him that Thea would have hated being carried by their mother's murderer. But what else could he do?

Oliver watched as Slade approached Thea's body, dropping to a knee and settling an arm under her head. And just as his other hand cradled underneath her knees, -

All Thea could hear was screaming. She saw and felt nothing – she was floating somewhere in darkness. And as she tried to allow herself to slip away into that darkness, she was sharply drawn to consciousness by that incessant wail.

With a sudden shock, Thea realized she knew that voice – the screams were hers. And trying to be heard above the sounds of her own shrieks was the voice of her brother, saying her name over and over, voice high and panicked.

And at once, Thea was no longer floating. She was on fire.

Thea paused, purposefully trying to calm herself and halting the cries. In their place she released gasped squeals as her body flamed with agony.

Pain is inevitable - suffering is optional, she reminded herself. And the next moment, she thought, like hell it is.

Thea's body twisted up, back arched as she was gripped by stabbing spasms along every inch of her legs, stomach, and hands. She tried to open her eyes, but could gain no more than a thin line of bright light through her lids. God, even her face felt aflame with stinging pain.

Thea tried to draw in a deep breath to loosen the tightness in her chest but was shocked to discover that her lungs ached and her throat felt like it was being stabbed by hundreds of needles. She coughed and yelped and coughed and gasped.

Thea was shocked by the sensation of being lifted into the air and she jerked her arms and legs out reflexively. Entering her pain-muddled thoughts, Thea latched onto a voice. "I've got you, Speedy," Oliver said, voice rough with emotion. Thea felt her body being pulled against her brother's chest. "Can you hold onto me?"

Thea wasn't sure she could even control her body at the moment – the only sensation that broke through was the throbbing roar of pain. But Thea, determined to try, lifted her arm to try to wrap it around Oliver's neck. When it fell heavily back down, Thea whined in distress.

"It's okay," Oliver reassured her quickly. "I've got you."

The next thing she felt was Oliver's steady footfalls, quick and urgent. Thea tried to unsuccessfully choke down a wail of agony. Oliver whispered, "I'm sorry, Thea. I am so sorry."

"You saved my life," Felicity said softly to Quentin from where she sat, gripping Digg's hand in hers.

Quentin nodded listlessly, not bothering to stop his pacing.

Felicity tried again. "I can't even imagine how you are feeling right now, but – that wasn't our Laurel. And Black Siren, she – she was going to kill me. You had to. To save me."

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Quentin said sharply.

Felicity nodded in agreement. Instead, she dropped her gaze to her friend.

Digg breathed in and out steadily through the oxygen mask Quentin had located in the ceiling and his eyes blinked steadily. Felicity was grateful. Digg was most likely in shock and had no doubt lost plenty of blood, but he appeared at least somewhat stable for the time being. Felicity was beginning to allow herself to hope that he could survive this.

Felicity's gaze shot back to Quentin when he froze to stare out one of the plane windows. "No -" Quentin said in a voice low with disbelief.

Felicity jumped up and looked out towards the charred forest to see two figures headed their way. "Oliver -" Felicity breathed out. The next moment, she was out the plane door with Quentin at her heels.

As the figures solidified through the smoke, Felicity was now certain. Slade Wilson and Oliver were walking steadily towards them. Each carried a body.

The shock froze Felicity's steps and she stared, even as Quentin continued on towards them. They had found Thea and Samantha.

The next moment, Felicity realized that Oliver was here and William was not. Her heart pounded with the realization of what the loss of his son would do to Oliver.

Quentin had reached Oliver and Slade and seemed to be offering Oliver to take Thea from him, but Oliver staunchly shook his head no.

Oliver was now near enough that Felicity could see the blue of his eyes and Felicity realized that everything – finding out what had happened to William, burying Thea and Samantha, finding a way off this god-forsaken island – could be worked through, because she had the thing she needed the most: Oliver had survived.

Tears prickled at her eyes as she met his in awe and read the same gratitude in his at finding her alive. Once he was within speaking distance, Felicity choked out, "Oliver, I thought you were …" She trailed off, still unable to voice it. Especially when the bodies of two of their friends were right there.

Oliver's eyes held identical emotion. He paused in front of her and leaned his head over Thea's form to press a kiss onto her hair. Felicity reached out a hand to brace herself against his bicep. Oliver murmured, "I know. I did too."

That was when Felicity was startled by the body in Oliver's arms spasming and whimpering. Felicity's eyes flew wide as she looked down at Thea. Thea was alive?

But how was she alive? Felicity blearily realized that Thea was burnt nearly beyond recognition. Felicity was shocked to realize that the reason Thea's cry was so muffled was because, clamped in her teeth, was a small strip of something. Tears leaked from eyes that were swollen shut.

"What's in her mouth?" Felicity demanded in horror.

"Leather from my quiver," Oliver said seriously. "Where can I put her?" He asked, eyes darting past Felicity to their plane.

"We have Diggle inside," Quentin stated. "C'mon." He took off to catch up with Slade who had not stopped his pace during Oliver and Felicity's reunion.

Oliver resumed a quick clip forward and Felicity followed, gasping out in horror, "How is she alive?" Her eyes drifted downwards to find Thea's legs covered in crusting and flaking chunks of burnt skin. Felicity noticed Oliver's shoulders stiffen at the words and she quickly back-pedaled. "That's not what I meant. I just meant – god, how do we even help her?"

As their feet tamped onto the metal of the plane, Felicity saw that Slade had already deposited Samantha off to the side. Quentin directed Oliver to place Thea next to Digg, before Quentin tucked his shirt under her head, leaving him in only a white sleeveless undershirt.

Digg opened his eyes and watched Oliver, mouth and nose enveloped by the yellow cup of a plane oxygen mask. "John," Oliver said, kneeling beside his friend. Oliver's eyes darted over Digg, seeming to quickly catalogue Digg's injuries. "Glad you're still here," Oliver said in a low voice to his friend. "You just hang on, okay?"

Digg nodded wearily. Oliver gently patted his shoulder, then stood up. He turned back to Felicity.

"Are you alright?"

Felicity's brow furrowed. Oliver stepped forward and gingerly touched at her temple. Felicity flinched away at the spark of pain. Oh.

Felicity quickly minimized, "It's fine. Doesn't even hurt." Oliver released a breath, looking relieved. "Where's William?" Felicity asked, voice sharp with worry.

"He's fine," Oliver said. "I need to get back to him. I left him on the beach. I didn't want him to see …"

Felicity swallowed and looked past Oliver to take in Samantha's body, and Digg and Thea bloody and burnt. She asked stiffly, "Chase is dead?"

Oliver nodded, eyes haunted. "Shot himself to trigger the dead man's switch."

"Figures," Felicity said sharply.

Felicity and Oliver's attention was pulled back to the ground by Thea's keening. Quentin rested on his knees beside her.

"I've gotcha, Thea," Quentin was murmuring gently as he tried to delicately pull away Thea's shirt, which looked like it was fused into her burned stomach. One particularly rough tug left Thea wailing through teeth gritted around the quiver strap in her mouth and arching at her neck and back.

"Sorry, sorry," Quentin apologized quickly, releasing the fabric in his hand. Felicity watched as Digg's hand slowly moved along the ground until he hooked Thea's hand within his.

"She's shivering pretty bad," Quentin said softly to Oliver and Felicity. "She looks like she's goin' into shock."

"What do we do?" Felicity demanded.

"Find her a blanket or something to heat her back up," Quentin directed. "She needs water. And if we can find another oxygen generator, that might help some."

Felicity scrambled up to the front of the plane and grabbed a blanket from the compartment, handing it to Quentin who tucked it from Thea's neck down around her legs. Felicity returned to the front to grab the hatchet from the plane floor and, at the next passenger seat with a yellow mask hanging down, she began to chop at the ceiling. Once she had made one opening, she shifted and continued until a flap of the plastic ceiling panel hung down.

"Oliver," Felicity called. "Can you help?"

Oliver strode over and, with gloved hands, pulled at the flap until the ceiling gaped.

Felicity reached her hand in and grasped the water bottle-sized cannister, pulling the hanging oxygen mask with it. Felicity returned to Quentin, who carefully removed the leather from between Thea's teeth and placed the yellow cup over her nose and mouth. Once it was secure, Felicity leant down and gave the string attached to the cannister key a tug. The cylinder produced a hissing sound and Thea jerked in response to the change in air pressure on her throat and lungs.

Quentin patted gently at the hair atop Thea's head and then stood up to face Oliver. Felicity joined them, sensing Quentin had something important to say.

"I know my first aid training is pretty basic, but one thing I do know," Quentin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Diggle and Thea need fluids. Diggle's lost plenty of blood and Thea's burns would've burnt off plasma. Both of 'em aren't gonna make it if we can't find some way to get fluid back in 'em."

Oliver shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not like we have bags of saline in the middle of the ocean."

"No, I know," Quentin agreed. "But we need to at least keep them both drinking water."

"There's no water in here," Felicity noted, voice rising in pitch with desperation. "I checked!" She waved at the side of the plane facing the ocean. "We have plenty of salt water, but I am pretty sure that dehydrating them by having them drink ocean brine isn't going to help!"

"There should be water and rations at the ARGUS holding facility," Oliver said evenly. He shifted his weight. "Maybe they'll have first aid supplies. Pain meds."

Felicity turned to Oliver fearfully. "You just got back," Felicity noted with distress. "I don't think we should be splitting up again!"

Oliver looked at Felicity with an apology in his eyes and said, "I wasn't going to be able to stay anyway – I have to go back to get William."

Felicity demanded, "Then I am coming too!"

"No," Oliver said quickly. "I need you safe, okay? You stay and help Lance with Thea and Diggle."

"And what makes you think that I am okay with you going back into a flaming forest alone?" Felicity asked through a thickness in her throat.

Oliver's eyes were sympathetic and he mouthed, "I know." He then said aloud, "I'm sorry."

Felicity's eyes filled with panicked tears as she looked in his eyes. She had just gotten him back and he was going to walk out the door and back into the flames. Felicity leapt forward to clutch Oliver into a desperate hug. She felt Oliver pull her closer and rest a hand against the back of her head.

Oliver dropped a kiss to the top of her head and then pulled away from the embrace. He knelt between Digg and Thea. He rested a hand on Digg's shoulder and when Digg opened his eyes he said, "I'll be back soon, okay? I expect you to be here when I return."

Small crinkles formed around Digg's eyes as Felicity recognized Digg trying to shoot Oliver a smile around his oxygen mask. The hand not holding onto Thea's raised an inch above the floor and formed into a thumbs up. Oliver nodded in response.

Then he turned to his sister. Oliver didn't touch her – Felicity assumed that he didn't know where he could that wouldn't hurt her. Instead, Oliver called out gently, "Speedy?"

Thea's head lolled to the side as if she was trying to follow the voice. The motion seemed to upset Oliver and he said a little louder, "Hey Speedy – can you look at me?"

Thea's swollen eyes cracked open. Oliver shot her a shaky smile. "Hey," he said softly. He swallowed and then said, "I know you're hurting. But you have to hold on, Speedy. Promise me?"

Thea didn't respond. Oliver reached forward and delicately tugged the oxygen away from her mouth. "Thea? Please. Answer me."

Thea's mouth parted and faintly Felicity understood, "Ollie … love. You."

Oliver swallowed. "I love you too, Thea – so much." He carefully adjusted the mask back over Thea's nose and mouth, then stood up like the action caused him pain. He turned to Quentin and Felicity and said, "I'll be back soon."

Felicity took Oliver's hand and followed him out of the plane. She stopped, feet on the sand. With the somber atmosphere of the plane, it was shocking that the sun over Lian Yu was still high and warm.

Felicity gently squeezed Oliver's hand and released it as he began to walk back towards the burning tree line. "Be safe," Felicity murmured, knowing the words wouldn't reach him. As his form began to vanish into the smoke, Felicity turned. That's when she saw it. The boat.

"Oliver!" Felicity cried out, running after him. "They're here!"

Chapter Text

"Hey," Quentin called as he half-ran, half-walked out of the blasted plane hull into the sunshine. "Curtis is calling. He says the boat's …" he trailed off, looking past Oliver and Felicity at the ocean beyond. "-here." He finished pointlessly, watching the supply vessel bob on the waves.

Felicity turned around to fix him with wide eyes. "What do you mean, 'Curtis called'?" she demanded.

Some of Quentin's pleasure at being the bearer of the first good news in days had waned at the realization that Oliver and Felicity were already aware, so he shrugged. "He called through the plane's speakers."

That was enough to interest Oliver, whose expression turned intense. "The plane has a working radio?"

"Evidently," Quentin agreed.

"Can we get a distress signal out?" Oliver demanded.

"Look," Quentin said, disgruntled at being peppered with questions for which he couldn't possibly have the answers, "get inside and talk to Curtis. He's probably yakking Wilson's ear off."

Felicity turned and ran towards the plane, leaving Oliver and Quentin to follow at a less harried pace. After all, surviving on a bombed out deserted island was a marathon, not a sprint. No need to expend more energy than was necessary. Quentin hadn't survived a career in law enforcement in the crime plagued Star City and the deaths of both of his daughters by rushing into things.

Although the more that time went on, it seemed like his survival when others had died was more luck than anything he was doing right. And sometimes surviving really sucked.

Following a half pace behind and to Oliver's side was surreally familiar to the near-daily, fast-paced walk-and-talks with Queen at City Hall. At the same time, it felt foreign as their feet sunk into the beach's sand. There was a heaviness between them that prevented Quentin from saying anything to break the somber mood.

Laurel had first brought Oliver into Quentin's life when she and Oliver were just a couple of kids dating. Trying to keep Laurel safe had driven Quentin to first place his trust in Oliver. And Thea – Thea was the one who drew them together as mayor and deputy mayor. Any bond the men shared was rooted in their love for these two women. Laurel was gone, including the Laurel who shared his daughter's face without her heart, and Thea …

Well, suffice to say, neither Oliver nor Lance were much in the mood for levity at the moment.

As soon as Quentin entered the plane, he could hear Felicity chattering urgently with an equally engaged Curtis over the cockpit speakers.

"We can't move them!" Felicity was saying emphatically.

"I get that," Curtis' voice crackled back, "but there's no way for us to get this boat in any closer. We'll run it aground and we'll all be trapped here!"

"What did he say?" Oliver asked seriously as he stepped past Thea and Digg's forms on the ground.

Slade turned around and addressed Oliver, "Your team has picked up your son. He is safely on their ship."

"And?" Quentin asked impatiently, well aware that Felicity and Curtis weren't just fighting over the kid.

Slade scarcely acknowledged Quentin's rough questioning and continued. "They sent out a distress signal but haven't received a response – they're not certain how far it is being transmitted. We're nearly 400 kilometers from the nearest mainland. Only way off this inferno is on that ship, and the only way onto that ship is to swim."

Oh.

Quentin swallowed hard as he looked back at Thea and Diggle on the ground, both breathing through yellow plane oxygen masks and wrapped in thin airline blankets.

Oliver shifted his weight, face falling as the situation washed over him and Quentin knew he was making the same calculations as Quentin. 400 kilometers meant 2 hours by helicopter or more than 12 hours by boat. Even then, having no confirmation their distress signal had been picked up, there was no assurance help was on the way. Diggle and Thea didn't have time to wait to see if someone was coming.

But how could they get two critically injured people who were knees deep in shock safely through open water to the boat?

"Curtis?" Felicity asked. "I'm gonna need you to give me a minute. We need to discuss this."

"Copy."

Felicity turned around pleaded to Oliver, "Tell me we are not going to swim them to the boat?"

Oliver's face looked drawn. "What else can we do?" he asked wanly.

Felicity gestured widely at the three men standing in a somber half-circle beyond the cockpit. "Come on! There has to be a better plan!" Oliver's eyes darted away and Quentin swallowed heavily, his stomach feeling a little nauseous. Felicity seemed aware of what their silence indicated.

"Thea and John are in shock!" Felicity declared into the silence, voice dripping with horror. "Plunging them into the ocean is a death sentence!"

Slade staidly replied, "Leaving them here is a death sentence."

Felicity ignored him and looked only at Oliver. "Tell me you aren't agreeing with him."

Oliver shrugged and his mouth opened. No words came out, but expressive, pain-filled eyes talked for him.

Felicity turned away from Oliver and Quentin could feel the moment her eyes fell on him. "Quentin," Felicity begged. "We can't do this. You know we can't do this. It will kill them."

It served Quentin right for trying to turn his life around and getting his head out of the bottle. Yeesh.

"Felicity," Oliver finally interceded for Quentin, "we can't leave them here. I won't leave them here. Their chances are better if we take them with us than if they stay on this island hoping help will come." He swallowed. "I know – I know it's bad. But we just have to do the best we can."

"They will send a rescue buoy with one of your friends," Slade noted evenly, unmoved by Felicity's devastation.

Oliver released a long breath. Then, with determination in his eyes, he said "Okay – call Curtis. Ask them to send the rescue buoy."

Quentin noticed that Rene's appearance with the rescue board hadn't lightened Felicity's mood. Instead, she had wandered listlessly before dropping to the ground between Diggle and Thea and was now gently checking Diggle and talking to him softly.

Quentin stayed out of it when Oliver and Rene decided that they would take Samantha's body first to see how best they could navigate the trip for their still-living friends. Oliver, Slade, and Rene vanished out of the side of the plane, carrying the rescue board like pall-bearers walking a casket, Samantha lying frozen and pale atop.

Once they were gone, Quentin dropped down beside Felicity. "How are they doing?" he asked gently, eyes taking in Thea and John.

"You know I have no more idea than you do," Felicity replied wearily with Diggle's hand in hers.

"Yeah," Quentin said disconsolately. He reached out to press singed strands of hair away from Thea's face. He was surprised when two gray-green eyes flashed open through puffed lids.

"Hey kiddo," Quentin said, scooping up Thea's blistered hand as gently as he could. "How ya feeling?"

Eyes blinked weakly at him.

"That good, huh?" he asked. He was rewarded with an extra puff of air pushed into Thea's mask. A smile played at the corner of Quentin's lips as he recognized the sound as a laugh.

"I've got good news," Quentin said conspiratorially. "The ship's here. We've just gotta get to it. So you hang tight and we will be home in no time."

Thea responded with a weak squeeze of her hand in his, and then her eyes drifted back shut.

When Oliver and Slade reentered the plane, Slade was clearly damp and carried the dripping rescue board. Quentin stood up to greet them.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine," Oliver said shortly. He held out a pouch. "Dinah found a foil blanket," he noted. "When we take Thea, we'll wrap it around her – keep as much heat in as we can."

"Taking Diggle last?" Quentin confirmed. Oliver gave a clipped nod.

Slade had already laid the rescue board next to Thea's form and Oliver stepped around to reach her. Felicity watched the proceedings from her seat next to Diggle, eyes damp and lifeless.

Quentin swallowed and took a position by Thea's feet, listening to Oliver's count so that the three men lifted and placed Thea on the board together. Thea groaned through her mask, twisting her head from side to side while her back arched with pain.

Oliver awkwardly tried to tuck the foil blanket around Thea's body. As Oliver and Slade bent down and lifted Thea between them, Oliver mumbled, "Sorry, Speedy."

The words seemed to break Felicity's stupefaction and she dropped Diggle's hand to plant herself next to her writhing friend. "Thea?" Felicity said in a warbling voice. Thea seemed lost in her own world and didn't respond.

Felicity cleared her throat and tried again. "Thea, hey!" This time Thea's eyes slowly opened. "Hi," Felicity said stupidly, seeming shocked that Thea had responded. Felicity seemed to catch herself and said, "Thea, your brother is going to take you to the ship and I am going to see you so soon, but – I just need you to know that I love you, okay? My life has been better because you have been in it. Can you remember that for me?"

Quentin could hear the fear in Felicity's words – the goodbye. Quentin asked softly, "Felicity – you want to go with them?"

Felicity shook her head firmly, even as her face blotched with emotion. "I'm not leaving John," Felicity stated.

Quentin nodded, understanding completely. After all, Diggle had refused to leave her.

"Last train out it is," he said evenly. Felicity looked surprised Quentin was staying with them. Quentin shot Felicity a half-smile.

Then Quentin swallowed and bent close to Thea. "I'll see you soon, kiddo," he whispered. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.

As he watched the rescue board with Thea Queen on it vanish through the plane hull, Quentin gingerly took a seat back on the ground.

"This day sucks," he grumbled.

Chapter Text

The moment Felicity caught Oliver's eyes as he stepped back into the plane, dripping water, Felicity's breath caught in her throat.

"Oliver," Felicity breathed out fearfully.

Dully, Oliver's eyes travelled across the plane walls until they met Felicity's. And when they did, Felicity felt dread.

In a tiny voice, Felicity asked, "How did it go?"

Oliver said weakly, "She's on the boat."

"Thea's alive?" Quentin clarified from behind Felicity.

Oliver nodded. He brushed past Felicity, clearly planning to set the rescue buoy next to Digg. Felicity caught his arm.

"What?" she asked.

Felicity felt a sharp tremor run through Oliver's arm under her hand. Oliver said weakly, "We just need to try to keep the ocean water out of Digg's open wounds."

The sudden thought of saltwater hitting Thea's burned legs and hands was enough to make Felicity gag. The bacteria lurking in the shallows wouldn't help the situation.

"We can do that," Quentin agreed.

Oliver's arm tugged at Felicity's grip as he again started towards Digg, but Felicity held on. Oliver stopped and looked at her.

"Take a minute," Felicity counseled gently. "Getting Thea to the boat can't have been easy on you. We don't have to go right away."

Oliver shook his head. "We need to get aboard so we can start towards land."

Felicity pled, "Please – just – take a moment, okay?"

Oliver raised a hand up to his face and scrubbed. "Fine," he murmured. He set the board against the plane wall and then stepped out of the plane, Felicity following directly behind.

"It's okay if you're not okay," Felicity said towards Oliver's back as he took in the still-burning forest. "I'm not okay. Seriously, none of this is okay, so you can be not okay too …"

Oliver's shoulders rose with a deep breath in, then dropped as he released it. He was silent. Felicity stepped up beside him and took in the crackling branches.

Oliver admitted in a low voice, "I don't think she's going to be okay."

Tears flashed into Felicity's eyes in response to the words but said nothing.

"It took Slade and I everything we had to keep her balanced on the buoy. We couldn't keep her still."

Felicity gulped.

Silence fell between them. "Curtis told me about Malcolm," Oliver said, breaking the quiet.

"Just when we thought we knew Malcolm," Felicity noted dully, thinking about the love shining from his eyes as Malcolm had told Thea that she may not see him as her father, but she would always be his daughter. Thoughts flashed to Thea lying, gravely injured, on the anchored ship, and Felicity added bitterly, "For all the good it did."

"Malcolm gave up his life for hers," Oliver noted. "He would never forgive me if he knew that her condition is my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Felicity demanded, perplexed, but also angry at Oliver's self-castigation. "This was Chase. He is evil, and insane, and there is nothing you could have done to have predicted his actions or to have stopped him!"

"I get that," Oliver said quietly. "but – Samantha was in that woods because she was looking for William. Thea was in that woods because I told her – no, I made her promise me - to protect you and Samantha."

"Oliver -" Felicity breathed out in understanding at Oliver's guilt-laced tone.

"I failed her," he said dropping his face into his hand and working his fingers into his temples.

"Oliver – how could you-?" Felicity stopped, trying to gather her words. "No – Oliver, blaming yourself is belittling Thea's sacrifice. Sure, Thea would do anything you asked her to because you're her big brother and she loves you. But you would have to be crazy to think that Thea wouldn't have gone after Samantha for yours and William's sake even if you had never asked her. Thea chose to go after Samantha, because that's who Thea is. She may be questioning who she is because she's made some bad choices recently, but I don't even have to think about it for a second. I know her, and she loves with her whole heart and everything in her is a protector: just like you. Just like your parents, and, yes, even like Malcolm."

Oliver turned to look at Felicity with sorrow-filled eyes. "I really hope that's the case," he murmured.

Felicity looked back at him with unflinching belief. "It is." She sniffled slightly. "And if she's got any say in it, your sister is going to pull through because she is a Queen and she is going to want to be there for her nephew."

The reminder of his son seemed to weigh down Oliver's form further. He noted in a low voice, "I saw William."

Felicity began to open her mouth to ask for more, but paused when she saw that Oliver seemed to be struggling to find the words.

"The team kept him back when they got Samantha aboard, but-" Oliver added, scrubbing at an eyebrow. "– he snuck off when he saw me swimming towards the boat." Oliver swallowed stiffly. "He asked about his mom. I told him – I told him we would talk soon. That I had to get back here."

Felicity nodded, feeling how burdened Oliver was by the knowledge he would have to break the news of his son's mother's death.

"I was twenty when I lost my dad," Oliver noted hollowly. "My mom was killed when I was twenty-seven. I still miss them every day. Nothing prepares you for that kind of loss. But … he's a kid. His mom was his world." Oliver shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know how to make this okay for him."

Felicity reached out, tugging his hand into hers. "You don't have to try alone," she said firmly. "He's not going to be alone, not for a moment. And neither are you."

Felicity could feel the moment that their skin made contact, that some of Oliver's tension faded. Felicity held on, for the first time in days – maybe even months, Felicity felt a peace fall over her. Like a puzzle piece slipped back into place.

After a moment, Felicity felt Oliver's hand tense in hers and she looked at him. Oliver's eyes firmed with determination. "Okay," he said, "Let's get Diggle."

Felicity had been unprepared for just how much of a struggle the bay crossing would be. When she and Oliver returned to the plane, Digg was awake and Oliver had been frank with Digg about what he could expect:

"It's not going to be pretty. But we don't have a choice," Oliver had stated. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"To the end of the world and back," Digg responded firmly.

But the end of the world, in this case, was the end of the land and the start of the sea. And the rescue buoy was designed for one to two people to drape themselves over it to stay above ocean spray as they swam to safety. It was not designed to balance one grown adult on the back like a water stretcher.

Any time Digg shifted, the entire buoy jerked to the side, only held even through the herculean efforts of Oliver and Quentin with Felicity swimming alongside and assisting the best she could. The progress was slow – the waves were intent to push them back towards shore, and Oliver, Quentin, and Felicity were kicking at the water with their feet and trying to paddle with only one arm, while the other anchored the buoy. After nearly every stroke, someone had to stop to place both hands on the rescue platform to rebalance it.

Felicity could feel her strength waning as she fought against drenched clothing, waves pushing at her or dashing over her head. She was unable to place any of her own weight on the buoy for fear of unbalancing Digg.

One particular wave managed to drag Felicity fully under the waves, prying her grip loose. Felicity could hear Oliver fearfully yelling her name. The moment she heard it, she came back to herself – Oliver couldn't let go of Digg, not without him likely capsizing. With that clarity, Felicity pushed everything she had into kicking her legs until she broke the surface.

Felicity was hardly aware of where she was in her journey to the supply ship, when she felt something grasp at her wrist. She gasped and then realized she was being pulled aboard. She felt every bump and jolt as she was yanked over the side, and then she was standing atop the undulating metal floor.

She coughed, trying to dispel the last of the water from her lungs as a blanket was tucked around her shoulders. Felicity looked to see Curtis. His eyes were wide and watery, and he stiffened with surprise when Felicity threw herself at him, drawing him into a hug, before he relaxed and hugged back, just as tightly.

As Felicity held on, she thought that, surely, the worst part of this day was now over. Now they could go home.

It wouldn't take long before she wished she could take that thought back.

Chapter Text

Curtis still felt shaky from the slow, horrifying water rescue of their injured friends and the body of Samantha Clayton. One by one, he had anxiously watched the board bob over the waves, guided by increasingly exhausted team members: first, Samantha's body, then Thea, then John.

The frigid water temperatures had left both John and Thea pale and still. Felicity had made comments about needing to get them on antibiotics, because who knew what bacteria was stewing in the North China Sea. Curtis didn't want to voice that John and Thea both looked like they would be lucky if they were around long enough for a bacterial infection to matter. At least there was fresh water aboard - a fact that had caused Felicity to start crying for at least the third time since setting foot on the vessel.

But the care of their friends had been left in the hands of Quentin and Rene because Curtis had his own problems. Those problems including an ominously darkening sky, time being of the essence, and Curtis' completely amateur attempts to navigate the boat by charts. He was grateful that Dinah, Felicity, and Nyssa seemed willing to help him get his bearings in spite of their own knowledge gaps, but there was still so much they didn't know. How much fuel did they have and was it enough to take them to land? Was he burning through it too fast? Or was he moving too slowly to help Thea and John?

The silent child wrapped in a blanket and sitting on the seat next to Curtis was not helping. William seemed like a nice kid, but he was also clearly traumatized. Once everyone had been safely settled onboard, Oliver had pulled William aside to break the news that his mother had died. Curtis only knew how well that had gone because Dinah had stepped out of the cockpit sometime later to check on the boat's fuel and stumbled into Oliver standing with his hand on William's shoulder viewing his mother's body in the small cabin below deck. Dinah had reported this back to Curtis with a drawn expression more eloquent than any description. The grief would be devastating for any adult – but for William to deal with the loss of his only known parent as a ten-year-old?

Now, Oliver was standing behind William's seat, arms crossed, looking completely drained. Curtis could only imagine how he had to feel. He had become an instant guardian to his son while his best friend and sister fought for their lives in the cabin below. All because a psychopath wanted revenge on Oliver.

Curtis couldn't stand this silence. The tension was eating him up.

He turned his head towards the pale little boy. "What do you want to eat first when we get to shore?"

William's wide blue eyes drilled back at Curtis and his face remained expressionless. That was fine. Curtis could make this work.

"I'm gonna eat a burger and onion rings," Curtis declared into the silence. "And probably ice cream. Like, a milk shake. Like, a giant milkshake." He turned to look back at William, whose face seemed to be less tense. "Do you like milkshakes?"

William mumbled, "Yeah."

"Cool," Curtis said. "Me too. I mean, obviously, I said I wanted a milkshake. I like Oreo."

"I like chocolate," William supplied softly.

Dinah, who was leaned against the wall behind Curtis, said, "I'm gonna get strawberry." Curtis sensed her pause and before she asked, "What about you, Oliver?"

Oliver was silent for a moment. Curtis imagined that Oliver was thrown off by the light-hearted chatter.

Oliver cleared his throat. "Uh, I would take vanilla."

"Vanilla?" Curtis demanded. "Seriously?"

Oliver seemed a little salty at Curtis' criticism. "It's a flavor. It's not like I said I like 'milk flavor'."

William snorted a laugh. Curtis looked back and caught a small smile from Dinah.

The cockpit door opened and the light atmosphere vanished. Slade stepped in and said softly to Oliver but still loudly enough that Curtis could hear, "You had better get to the cabin. Quickly."

Oliver nodded.

Oliver could hear the sounds of raised voices before he even reached the cabin door. Oliver pushed into the room and felt his eyes widen. "What the hell is happening here?" Oliver demanded.

Oliver tried to grasp what he found before him. Rene and Lance were both on their feet, faces incensed. Diggle and Thea lay on the room's two cots; Diggle's eyes were open and he was weakly watching the scene play out before him. Thea, on the other hand, was twisting feebly on the cot in obvious pain, releasing quiet groans through her oxygen mask, seemingly unaware of the argument surrounding her. Her blanket was shoved off to the side. Felicity stood between Thea's cot and Nyssa with her arms spread wide, blocking access, and Nyssa – Nyssa stood with an arrow nocked on her bow aiming unswervingly at Felicity.

"Nyssa!" Oliver shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Your sister will not survive her burns," Nyssa said, her voice factual and certain. "I mean to put her out of her misery."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oliver demanded, even as his body felt icy from the shock of Nyssa's words.

Felicity responded this time from her post in between Thea and Nyssa. "Nyssa said she wanted to help; but when she looked at Thea's legs, she pulled out a frickin' arrow! She wants to shoot her!"

Nyssa seemed to agree with the assessment and hissed, "Your friends have chosen to allow your sister to spend her last hours writhing in agony." Nyssa spit out at Felicity, "I would not even let a dog suffer the way you are allowing Thea to suffer."

"Remind me to keep you away from dogs," Lance snipped angrily. "But even if you do go around shooting your pets, we don't kill our family."

"Yeah, man – where there's life, there's hope and all that," Rene said passionately.

"You may not have seen burns like these, but I have," Nyssa stated bitterly. "She will cling on until her heart gives out from the pain or she will linger on for days until illness sets in. I promise you, this is not an 'if' – this is a 'when'."

Oliver shook his head in denial. "I know we come from different cultures and our medical care is different, but we are going to get Thea the best treatment there is. There are people who specialize in treating burns like Thea's."

Oliver caught Lance swiping at his face and turning away. Oliver turned and demanded sharply. "What is it?"

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, I didn't want to say nothin', but – Nyssa's right. The more someone's body is burnt, the more likely it kills 'em."

"Meaning what?" Oliver asked, eyes locking on Lance with fiery intensity.

"Meanin' …" Lance said slowly, "Meanin' that, as cops, we're taught that when you're triaging a mass casualty situation, that if someone has second and third degree burns on more than half their bodies, you list 'em as deceased. You know, so you can focus on the people that will be more likely to recover."

The hope that had been living on in Oliver's heart suddenly sputtered and faded. He raised a hand up to rub at his mouth as he looked around Nyssa and Felicity to his sister. Thea was clearly not conscious of the others in the room: she was trapped in her own world of pain. Her movements were weak with exhaustion, but her body shook with the ache of every nerve ending on fire.

Oliver's heavy eyes raised to meet Felicity's. Felicity looked every bit as wrecked as he felt - cheeks were blotchy red, and the fabric tried around her forehead with its splotch of blood soaking through only added to the image. "Do we have anything we can give her?"

Felicity's reddened eyes met his miserably and she said, "We already gave her the Tylenol we found. We gave her the max dose."

"What else can we do?" Oliver asked. His eyes glided from team member to team member. They remained silent. Oliver spat out, "That wasn't a rhetorical question: come on, what can we do?" Nyssa opened her mouth. "Not you," Oliver ordered.

Heart pounding with desperation, Oliver looked around at the silent room. "What happens if we give her more Tylenol?"

Rene shrugged weakly, "We fry her liver."

"Okay," Oliver said blearily. Was managing pain worth possible liver failure? Livers could be transplanted, right? He had no idea. "Okay, does anyone have any tranquilizers?"

Rene shook his head slowly and Lance and Felicity refused to meet his eyes. The only one firmly meeting his gaze was Nyssa.

Oliver felt shaky, the weight of this decision in his hands. He looked back at his sister. Thea hadn't stopped her agitated spasming. He could only imagine what she was feeling: even a small burn ached and drew attention. What must burns covering nearly the entirety of her body feel like? Nyssa was right - Thea couldn't go on like this, not for the nearly twelve more hours it would take to reach help.

A terrible thought sparked in Oliver's mind.

"What about if we …" Oliver licked his lips to dispel the sudden dryness. "We get her to pass out?"

Felicity's horrified eyes shot up at Oliver's suggestion. Lance paled.

"How do you suggest we do that?" Lance asked harshly.

Oliver swallowed. He couldn't believe he was saying it, but, "We … cut off her oxygen. Just until …"

"And you call me the monster," Nyssa bit out.

Tears pricked at the corners of Felicity's eyes. "Oliver, you get how that could go very, very wrong, right?" Felicity demanded, tone low with anger.

Oliver closed his eyes, "I get that, Felicity, but – Nyssa's right. We can't leave her like this!" He waved a hand wildly towards Thea. "Look at her!"

Even as he spoke, Thea moaned and her hands clutched into fists.

Tears began to trek down Felicity's cheeks. She looked at Thea, then shook her head. "If you want to asphyxiate your sister and risk killing her or destroying her brain function, be my guest," Felicity declared roughly, "but I am not going to be a part of it."

Felicity shoved past Nyssa, then Oliver, and walked out through the cabin door.

Oliver stared up at the ceiling trying to calm his nerves. He asked in a low voice, "Anyone else?"

Rene muttered, "Just make it quick," and followed Felicity out the door.

Lance stepped forward, saying, "We're going to hell for this." He sighed and said, "I'll take her hands. Make sure she doesn't hit ya."

Nyssa watched them with slit eyes. "This fixes nothing," she stated. "Your plan will only bring her more pain. One arrow and her suffering is over."

"Nyssa," Oliver said, voice dripping with exhaustion. "Hold her legs."

Once Nyssa and Lance were in place, Oliver pulled the yellow mask off Thea's face, causing her eyes to startle open. They had a glazed, fevered look, devoid of recognition. Oliver guessed that her thoughts had to be consumed by the pain.

Oliver's heart clenched and he whispered softly, "I am so sorry, Thea." Then, he pinched her nose and covered her mouth.

Lance and Nyssa held her body steady as Thea tried to fight back. Oliver's gaze remained locked on her panicked eyes. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to stop. He clenched his jaw and pushed on, trying not to be swayed by her expression of terror. He had to do this to help her. He had to.

The second her eyes slid shut and the tension from her body eased, Oliver let go. His legs wobbled and he dropped into a crouch and gasped for air. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, forcing back the moisture in them.

Lance pushed past Oliver and settled the oxygen mask back into place. Then he grasped Thea's wrist and felt for a pulse.

"Damn," Lance breathed out in relief. "Never doing that again."

Oliver leaned forward and buried his face into the cot next to Thea. Never again.

Chapter Text

Lance followed Oliver out of the now still cabin, closing the door as he stepped out. Oliver stopped with a weary sigh, waiting for Lance to say what was on his mind. Oliver's stomach was in knots from what had happened with Thea and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and pretend that the responsibility for the well-being of every person on this boat wasn't in his hands. Judging by Lance's gaze on the back of Oliver's head, it seemed like Lance didn't feel the same.

Lance didn't say anything, so Oliver turned towards him. "What?" Oliver asked gruffly, trying his best not to take his frustrations out on a man who had been nothing but helpful ever since this crisis began.

Lance shot Oliver a knowing grimace. "I just wanted to ask how William was doin'. You told him about his mom?"

Oliver nodded heavily. The words stuck in his throat.

Lance's face tightened in sympathy. "Poor kid."

Oliver said nothing. What was there to say? Telling William had been every bit as awful as he had known it would be. Oliver had tried to be direct, while keeping his voice kind so as not to scare him. But as soon as the words, "Your mom died," left Oliver's mouth, William began to sob. And Oliver, who had only begun to form a relationship with William as a 'friend of his mom's', and, what was more, was the man who was responsible for his mom's death, was the only one there to hold on while the little boy experienced the first shocks of a grief too heavy for his small shoulders.

Oliver was startled when Lance asked, "He know you're his dad now?"

The question caught Oliver off guard. Now that he thought about it, he had never actually confirmed that fact to William. On the island, he had dodged William's question. On the boat, all William wanted to know was about his mom.

Oliver's silence answered Lance's question. Incredulously, Lance asked, "So he doesn't know what's going to happen to him?"

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Lance shook his head in frustration. "Look, what does a kid think when he's lost?" Oliver shook his head. He was the last person to explain how kids' minds worked.

"He thinks, 'I want my mom' and 'I want to go home'," Quentin stated firmly. Oliver felt the beginnings of understanding start and a fresh guilt settled into his chest. Quentin explained, voice growing kinder as he seemed to notice how overwhelmed his words were making Oliver, "William knows he's not going with his mom, so he's gotta be wondering 'where is home?'. Where's he gonna go?"

The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Oliver was an adult when he lost his parents. As a child, he never had to wonder about the roof over his head or where his next meal would come from, and it wasn't even a consideration after Moira's death. ... Or, it wasn't until Isabel Rochev snatched the Queen Manor from under he and his sister.

Oliver swallowed heavily and defended, "I didn't think talking about me being his dad needed to happen when he had only just found out about his mom."

"Sure, maybe not," Lance agreed, "but even when we're grieving, we humans get stupidly practical." Lance shifted his weight to one foot uncomfortably, admitting, "When Laurel died, you know what stupid thing I thought within the first ten minutes?" Oliver's eyes darted to meet the soft eyes of his friend. Even the question sent a pang through Oliver's chest at the thought of Laurel. Lance gave a sniff and said, "'Whose gonna pick up her car from the campaign office'?" Lance shrugged. "I can promise you that your kid was wondering where he was going to live in the first ten minutes after you told him his mom was dead."

Oliver drew a long, slow intake of air. As he released it, he murmured, "Okay," hoping to cut off any further prodding from Lance. Oliver started to turn away when he was stopped by Lance's next question.

"So, are you going to take him?"

For a moment, the ability to respond was frozen as Oliver was shaken that that was even a question.

Oliver turned back, his eyes hardening with resolve. "Yes," Oliver said firmly. "He's my son. Of course he's coming home with me."

From the moment he had first learned about William, Oliver had felt a hole open in his life. Like he was missing a piece of himself - walking around without a limb. He had done everything he could to be sensitive to Samantha so that he could forge a relationship with his son - actions which had splintered Oliver from Felicity. But regardless, there was never a question, even if Samantha's last plea hadn't sealed it: William belonged with Oliver. Oliver belonged with his son.

Lance nodded affirmingly. "Okay, good." He gave a small shrug. "Then make sure he knows that. Because nothing makes grief worse than not knowing your future."

Knowing what Lance said was true, Oliver said, "I'll talk to him."

Oliver turned away again, intending to leave the cabin of horrors behind him. As he placed distance between himself and the disturbingly still room, he ordered Lance, "Please get someone else who is not Nyssa down here to help John and Thea."

"You got it."

Oliver walked with heavy steps towards the cockpit. He was ill-equipped to be a father.

Oliver remembered the way that his own father would settle a firm hand on his shoulder and approvingly call him, "Son," and the way it made him feel like he belonged. But Oliver couldn't banter easily with William like Curtis had about milkshakes. He didn't have a lifetime of hard-won experience like Lance. Diggle made being a parent to JJ look completely natural. Maseo had been a loving father, but if Maseo had shown him anything, love wasn't always enough.

Oliver had years of isolation, surrounded only by men and women who were forged by the same pain, need for survival, and bloodshed that had formed him. Except ... Akio. He was certain that he had been Akio's friend. Akio had meant so much to Oliver.

And William. Oliver felt that in the past months of visits, there was some kind of bond forming between them. William always seemed pleased when Oliver arrived at his house.

But whether or not Oliver or William was ready no longer mattered. Fate had flung them together the moment Samantha had breathed her final breath.

Oliver took a calming breath, then slid open the cockpit door. His eyes scanned past Curtis and Dinah when he stopped. William's seat was empty. His heart hiccupped with fear.

"Where's William?" Oliver asked, voice deepened by concern.

Dinah crossed her arms over her chest, eyes sympathetic. "He stepped out," she noted. "Said he wanted to be alone."

Oliver felt a heaviness settle in his chest. He knew where William was.

Because Oliver remembered sitting in a boat next to his father's body, weeping into his father's shirtsleeve in shock. He remembered Thea's moan of disbelief, "Mooom," as she draped herself over their mother's body on the forest floor.

Oliver's footsteps on the metallic stairs were loud in his ears as he climbed back down to the cabin level. He walked past the main cabin door that held Thea and John. Past the washroom, past the kitchen. Back to the small cabin with a tiny porthole window.

Oliver opened the door and tears sprang to his eyes. Curled up on the twin-sized cot next to Samantha's body was William.

Oliver stepped next to the cot and crouched down, settling onto his knees. "William," Oliver said softly. "Son."

William's head turned from where it had been tucked against Samantha's arm. Oliver could see the tear-streaked cheeks and reddened eyes.

William looked so lost and afraid. The knowledge that his child was in so much pain caused an ache so deep it felt like it settled into his bones.

Oliver's feelings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was comforting his son. And what mattered to his son was his mother.

"She'll be safe here, I promise," Oliver reassured in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper. "We won't leave her."

William's eyes inspected Oliver dully. Oliver wasn't sure if the little boy was fully grasping what Oliver was saying. Oliver needed to try to get William out of this room teeming with loss.

"Will you come with me?" Oliver asked gently.

William asked in a voice cracked from crying, "Are you my dad?"

This time, Oliver wouldn't dodge that question. Before, Oliver had been trying to honor Samantha's wish, that William not know who Oliver was, all because he hoped that she was still alive. Things had changed – now, his son needed to know he wasn't alone.

"I am," Oliver said, voice cracking with emotion. "I am, and I am so sorry, for everything."

Oliver's mind swam with thoughts, wondering how he could ever explain. He swallowed. "I wasn't a great guy when I met your mom, and she was right to keep you away. I didn't even know you were born." Oliver hoped that wouldn't seem like an accusation, but it was the truth. "Then there was an accident and your mom thought, like everyone else, that I was dead, for years."

Oliver hoped if nothing else stayed William's mind, that this truth would: "But as soon as I knew about you, I knew I had to get to know you."

"That's why you came over to our house." William stated dully.

Oliver nodded. He swallowed. "And, kiddo, I am so sorry about your mom. I can't even -" he stopped and started over. "I was a grown-up when my parents died and losing them is just about the worst pain I have ever felt. And I am so, so sorry you are feeling it now."

William sniffled in response and another tear trickled down his cheek.

Remembering Lance's admonition, Oliver said, "And maybe you are wondering what will happen to you now. Where you'll live. Who will take care of you."

William's eyes widened just a bit, but he said nothing.

Something wet hit Oliver's cheek and he was shocked to discover he was crying too. "If you will have me, I would love to have you live with me. I would love to be your dad." William's mouth opened like he was having trouble breathing.

"Look, I – I haven't had the chance to be there for you before," Oliver admitted vulnerably. "But that changes now. Nothing in this world is more important to me than having you safe. I'm new to this and I can't promise you I know what I am doing, but what I can promise is that – I am going to do the very best I can. I want to show up for you, every single day." Oliver froze again, realizing that William hadn't assented. "If you want me to."

More tears streamed across Williams' cheeks. In a voice so small Oliver had to lean forward to understand, William said, "I want you to."

Oliver swallowed and leaned over the bed, drawing his son into a hug. And as the two of them cried together in the dark room, Oliver felt the hole in his chest where his child should be become whole.

Chapter Text

Breathe in. Breathe out.

John couldn't think of a time in his life when he had to focus on this one task so hard.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

From the moment he had awoken on Lian Yu, he had known he was in deep trouble. He hadn't even had to look down to see the piece of metal skewering him through the chest, or the maddening slice across his arm. No – he could feel it.

Across his time in the military and as a member of team Arrow, John had seen countless men and women die. And many of those, when they dragged someone close to hear their last words seemed to have something in their eyes that said they knew their number had been called up. Through countless scrapes and injuries of his own, John had wondered at the fact that he had never felt it. Until now.

A deep, overwhelming dread. A cold certainty. Like straddling life and death.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The moments since blurred in and out. Flashes of memories of Dinah tightening a tourniquet on his arm and it sending a fire through his body. His chest tightening until he was unable to draw in the next breath and seeing Felicity and Quentin scrambling to help him breathe. Felicity telling him he should have left her. Being buoyed through waves, unable to save himself and staying as still as he could so he didn't make the journey harder on his friends. Watching Nyssa threaten to kill Thea to put her out of her misery.

John found that his head was clearer now than it had been in hours, but at the same time, his entire body was so fatigued he couldn't do anything more than the wearying repetition of drawing in the next breath.

His eyes wandered the small cabin. The room at the back of the supply ship was simple, designed to keep four crew members simply situated at night. There were the two cots he and Thea laid on with two cots on bunks above their heads. There was only a hint of natural light coming from two short windows near the ceiling. John could see the barest hint of sky. Or maybe ocean. Either way, he mused it might be his last view of the outside.

John heard the sound of movement and tilted his head a bit to the side and tried to look over towards the other bunk. He could see Rene hunching over Thea's bed, holding two fingers against her neck. The slight movement was enough to make the world spin a little and John blinked slowly twice, three times, to clear his vision.

John tried to speak, but realized that he forgot the yellow plastic mask that was still around his mouth. Still, it seemed that even the little bit of sound he made was enough to pull Rene's attention back.

"Hey, man," Rene said, his voice warm with relief. Rene pulled a chair from behind him and sat so he was right next to John's head. "Good to see you, hoss."

John swallowed and mumbled again.

"I'm gonna take this off, okay?" Rene asked, gently removing the mask. Even so, it caught by the elastic strand at the back of John's hair and he winced. "There. What's up, man?"

John took the moment to test out breathing without the extra oxygen. It did make each lungful of air – each breath – feel a little heavier. Like it was taking that much more effort to get in the same amount of air.

John managed, "How's Thea?"

Rene's expression fell. "She's fine. You gotta worry about yourself right now, though, okay?"

John blinked slowly, fighting to get his eyelids back open. "Checking her pulse?"

Rene shot John a look, no doubt wishing that John would take Rene's advice and stop worrying. But the truth that John was not naive to was that, as bad off as John was, Thea was every bit as bad off or worse. And John had a soft spot a mile wide for Oliver's little sister.

Rene admitted, "I gotta keep checking. Her breathing's gotten real shallow. Sometimes I can't tell…" Rene gave a little shrug. He cleared his throat and noted, "There's not a whole lot I can do for the two of you except to just – I don't know. Keep an eye out for you."

John understood. He had been in Rene's position before. He certainly didn't envy it.

But he also would rather not be the one skewered through and lying on a bunk bed.

John's heavy eyes fluttered closed.

In a casual voice belying the dire condition of the two in the sick room he oversaw, Rene said, "Since you're up, we should talk."

John's eyes reopened as John released a snort. After catching his breath, John asked, "What about?"

As Rene leaned over, his expression became more serious. "You know I've got my Zoe back home in Star?" John stared back, hoping his expression conveyed that he did. "I think all the time about what I would tell her. You know, if something went sideways and I never got to tell her some things in person." This time, John managed a low grunt to show he was following.

"I know you're gonna hang on," Rene said, voice intentionally light. "Get back to the mainland and get all patched up." He swallowed. "But, if you had things you wanted JJ to know. Or Lyla. You'd just have to tell me and I can write it out."

JJ. A wave of despair washed over John.

John could face death, stoically, proud of his actions, thankful he had gone back to Felicity to help her run towards safety. He could say goodbye to every person on this earth and know they would be okay without him, but … JJ.

John had grown up in the shadow of a departed father. The first John Diggle. John had always loved that he had shared a name with his soldier father. Proud that his dad had died a hero. And yet –

He wondered what it would be like to have a father who looked into his son's eyes and saw himself instead of a stepfather who looked at his stepson and saw another man. What it would be like to have brought his dad to school for field day instead of giving a report about him with pictures of John as a baby in his arms. Been able to remember instead of just having to watch the home movie of his father holding his arms wide as a toddler-aged Johnny ran with every bit of strength into a hug.

John had never wanted that life for JJ. John had never taken a moment with JJ for granted, particularly after he returned from his time as a fugitive to find his toddler son had become a little child speaking in full (if short) sentences. But even so, he had always hoped that he could have been a part of JJ's life long enough to leave more than a vague memory of his presence.

JJ was three, about to turn four. And in the place of John's presence would be this letter.

John said slowly, "Yes. Please."

Rene nodded in understanding. "Give me one minute," Rene said. He vanished from the cabin. John swallowed and closed his eyes.

Eyes shot back open at a voice at his side. He must have drifted off again.

"I've got it," Rene said, a clipboard with a piece of paper in his hands. John eyed it, noting the discoloration on the page. It looked like his final words would be on the back of a ship manifest or safety checklist - whatever Rene had managed to get his hands on.

But that didn't matter now. With slow speech, Digg began the final words he would share with his son.

"JJ," he started. His name brought the sweet little face into John's mind's eye. The way his little eyes would sparkle when he was about to get into mischief or the way he would melt into John's arms when John picked him up from daycare.

"Your birth – you being my son – changed my life." The first moment of seeing his dark pink-purple skin and feeling the pressure of the tiny bundle being placed in his arms, something had changed within John. From that moment on, John had something to live for.

"You made me realize I could be a different person. You gave me something to fight for." John had fought his entire life: he had fought for duty. For the guy next to him. To stay alive. For Lyla, and Carly, and AJ. Because he should. But then JJ came and -

"All I ever wanted was to give you the best life and leave you a world where you could be safe." Had he done that? Every villain they took down, another stepped into their place. But surely the world was safer without Mirakuru, Ra's Al Ghul, Damien Darhk, Cayden James, or Adrien Chase.

"I wanted to be the kind of man you could look up to." Because John would be what John's dad was to him. A story – just a story, but the story of a man who had tried to do good and fight on the side of right. But stories could be a lot to live up to, and John was anything but perfect.

"JJ, I made a lot of mistakes in my life. My wish for you is that you can be better than me. Be a good man and live a good life."

John closed his eyes, feeling completely worn out. John felt a mask pressed back over his face and the next breath came easier.

"That was great, man," Rene said, his voice warm and a little over-bright. "That'll mean the world to JJ."

John said nothing, too weak to comment.

"Course -" Rene added quickly, "he's not gonna need to see it. Because we'll be to shore before you know it."

John took a moment to feel his body. He was weak. He felt like he could float away and there would be nothing to stop it. And yet –

Talking to his son – remembering all he had yet to do to be a presence in his son's life – the tendrils of cold certainty that this was the end eased.

The sky in the distance looked wicked. Quentin leaned against the railing of the boat taking it in.

While above his head the clouds remained gray with some white whisps around the edges, a ways off, the sea itself was pitched nearly black with the solid cover of the thick, opaque clouds. Every once in a while, an ominous flash lit up their interior for a moment.

Even the air held tension. The wind had picked up independent of the speed of the boat, heavy with humidity. If Quentin had so much as a wisp of hair he was certain it would be standing straight up from the rush.

Getting off the island had been the only concern he had had following the Lian Yu explosion; now he just felt stupid. After all, the boat carrying his daughter had once sunk in these seas. It may have been sabotaged by Merlyn, doomed to fail, but – standing before the oncoming storm, Quentin was imagining the elements had probably given the Queen's Gambit a pretty good go on their own.

Quentin's focus was broken by a new presence on the deck. Nyssa Al Ghul's feet clipped evenly as she strode by, attempting to pass Quentin. Nyssa was a conundrum for Quentin - complex enough to want to help her friends while being cold enough to make detached decisions that Quentin couldn't begin to wrap his mind around. He was unsettled to consider again that the same could likely be said of his own Sara.

Quentin raised his voice to stop her. "Hey, you should get a lifejacket on."

Nyssa stopped and fixed exacting eyes on him, the glint in them showing her amusement. "I have no need for your safety devices. My people have travelled the waters for millennia unaided by such trappings."

"Maybe so," Quentin said gruffly. "But I can tell you one thing – the sea don't care who your people are. And if this ship goes down, I'd hazard a guess that you'd be wishing you had one then."

Nyssa watched Quentin stoically. "Then maybe you should take your own advice and worry about yourself," Nyssa said calmly.

"Fine, I will," Quentin replied sharply. The cheeky response galled him. These kids, thinking they were invincible, were enough to drive him nuts. "But look. I get that you and I aren't close, but my kid cares about you a whole lot. And havin' to tell her that I let her sister get killed on my watch …" Quentin swallowed as Nyssa's eyes softened. The memory was still bitter, even after a year of time had passed. The horror on Sara's face, the disbelief that her big sister was gone.

"Let's just say I don't plan to be delivering that kinda message again if I can help it."

Nyssa's eyes felt piercing, like she was seeing deeper into Quentin than he felt fully comfortable with. Quentin turned away and set his eyes back on the brewing storm.

From behind him, Nyssa's voice said melodically, "I am sorry for the loss of Laurel. She was a friend, and sister in arms."

Quentin laughed bitterly, fighting back the moisture he could feel building in his eyes. "Turns out it doesn't matter how many times you lose a kid – the next time hurts just as bad as the first." In place of the image in his mind's eye which used to be Laurel's body lying in the Starling General Hospital bed, Quentin's stomach rolled when, instead, he saw the memory of his own hand pulling the trigger and Black Siren falling to Lian Yu's sand.

Quentin clenched his eyes shut, as if that could clear the vision from his mind. Black Siren wasn't Laurel. She may have shared her face, but it hadn't been her.

But … in some way she was, wasn't she? She was still the daughter of a Quentin and Dinah Lance, right? Behind that identical face was, perhaps, identical DNA – identical DNA that still tied Quentin and her together? And maybe even some of the same memories. Did she have her own favorite stuffie – a Mr. Bakersby, just like his Laurel? And had she liked dancing to Britney and spending every dollar he gave her on a ticket to the latest Rom Com?

Had she loved her father, her Quentin Lance, as much as he had loved his Laurel? So what had the betrayal felt like to stare into the identical eyes of her father as he shot her dead?

"I couldn't say that my father felt the same," Nyssa's voice said thoughtfully from behind him, breaking him from his thoughts.

Quentin swallowed hard. "I can't say I understand a man who doesn't give a rat's ass for his kid's safety." He turned around to look back at this young woman who had held Sara's heart and made her days in the League of Assassins a hint less bleak. She was headstrong and independent, and so full of life.

Just like Sara. And Laurel. And, god help him, Thea.

Quentin bit out, "But I can tell you that I am getting real sick of young people half my age dyin' around me. So just put a damn life vest on." Quentin shoved away from the railing and stalked away to check on if this god-forsaken ship had any life rafts.

Chapter Text

"You don't look so good."

Felicity opened her eyes to glare at Slade. The pounding pain behind her eyes became sharper with the sunlight's invasion. "No one asked you," Felicity replied curtly from her position grasping the boat deck's side rail.

"Maybe not," Slade agreed, "but -" Felicity stumbled as the boat rocked and Slade grasped her by the shoulder, holding her upright. His voice held just a hint of an annoying smirk, "You look like you're about to keel over."

"Hardy har," Felicity muttered unhappily, closing her eyes against a wave of nausea.

"You've got a pretty impressive bump on your head," Slade noted as he stepped back. "You could have a concussion."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I do," Felicity replied testily. She didn't like Slade Wilson. He may have been under the Mirakuru's sway, but he still murdered Moira Queen, broke criminals from prison to inject them with super serum, and overran her city with terrorists. It wasn't natural to treat him like an ally, anymore than the times they had to partner with Malcolm Merlyn. "Now, can you stop bothering me? I need to get back to the cabin."

"To lie down?" Slade supplied.

"No – to help John and Thea," Felicity snapped.

Slade hmmed in response. "Not much good to your friends if you can't stand upright."

"It's the waves," Felicity corrected with irritation. The anger slipped away as she asked sincerely, "Haven't you noticed?" Even as she asked it, another large wave battered the boat, tilting the ship's equilibrium off for a heart-stopping moment before it righted itself.

"I have," Slade replied. "A good sailor will tell you that the weather and the waves control your journey more than charts and maps will. Not that we had much of a choice about when we decided to set sail." He looked upward at the quickly darkening clouds. "If I die by sea, at least I am under the sky again."

Felicity winced. Regardless of Slade's actions, the idea of confining the man to a single cell for the past three years was pretty horrifying on its own.

Another wave lifted the entire ship more than ten feet up, before sending it sliding at an angle on the other side. Felicity's heart pounded at the sensation.

"Any ideas on how to ensure we don't die by sea?" she asked.

Slade smirked and looked like he was about to reply when his expression became shuttered. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Felicity listened. She didn't hear anything out of place. She shook her head.

"Exactly," Slade said in a low tone, changing direction to stalk towards the cockpit. Felicity decided to follow.

Slade slid open the cockpit door and asked directly, "What happened?"

Felicity was surprised to find Curtis on the edge of a panic attack, Nyssa intently exploring the control panel, and Dinah methodically reviewing the table of contents on the boat's manual.

Curtis said, "I don't know! I didn't change anything – not speed, direction, nothing, but – the boat just stopped."

That's when Felicity realized – what Slade had noticed was silence. The boat's motor was no longer crooning out a steady roar.

They were trapped, hundreds of kilometers from land. In the middle of a storm.

Felicity could feel the panic within her rising to match Curtis'. Dying in a shipwreck was high on the list of ways that Felicity did not want to leave this world. Felicity had a sudden vision of she and Oliver starring in their own awful parody of Titanic, both trying to balance on the life buoy until Oliver insisted that Felicity let him go. And knowing Oliver, he would totally pull something like that.

"These dials show much and reveal nothing," Nyssa declared, turning away from her inspection.

Dinah, looking up from the ship's manual, noted, "Okay, we don't know what's wrong, so we need to check everything we can think of. Someone needs to check on fuel and fuel lines; someone the motor. We can rule out electric and battery, because we still have power, but we could have a system specific short. And we need someone checking the boat to see if we've struck something."

Nyssa assented to the plan, adding, "So we each take a portion of the boat – see if we can discern what is wrong."

"Yeah," Curtis said testily, "which would go better if any of us knew how things on a boat are supposed to function when they are going right!"

Curtis wasn't wrong, Felicity realized, but there was nothing to be done about it now. It's not like they had an opportunity to collect a boat captain on their way off of hell island.

"That's why we go in groups," Felicity said, backing Dinah and Nyssa's plan. "Maybe none of us really knows what we're looking for, but together I think we can stumble onto a solution."

"I agree," Dinah said. "We divide up." In the void of leadership, Dinah stepped in easily. "Curtis, you take Nyssa to check the engine room. I can take Wilson and we'll check the fuel and fuel lines -"

The door slid open and Oliver walked through with his hand firm on William's shoulder, Quentin directly behind. Felicity's heart swelled as she took in the paternal way Oliver stood with his son. He was farther on his path to being a father than he imagined. She just wished he could see it.

"Did the boat stop?" Oliver asked, voice a hint higher than usual with concern.

"Yes, but we're working on it," Curtis called back.

"We're still more than six hours from land," Oliver noted in a darkened tone.

Quentin quipped back, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they get that."

"We're splitting up to find the problem," Dinah noted. "Can you take Felicity and see if we struck something?"

Oliver immediately looked down at the quiet little boy in front of him. Quentin slapped Oliver on the shoulder. "William can stay up here with me. We'll keep an eye on things, tell you all if you managed to get something to start."

Oliver asked William in a gentle voice which Felicity hadn't heard from him before, "Are you going to be okay with that?"

William nodded slowly like he was uncertain.

"We don't have time to dawdle, Queen," Quentin said. Oliver looked around the cockpit, clearly torn. "Go on," Quentin urged. Oliver nodded and turned towards Felicity.

Curtis was halfway through the door following Nyssa to check the engine when Quentin's raised voice stopped him. "Wait!"

Curtis grabbed Nyssa's arm to hold her up. Nyssa yanked it back with a severe look.

"Are you crazy?" Quentin demanded. "You all gotta wear life vests! The waves are rollin' higher than a stoner out there!"

Curtis looked uncertain. "I thought we only found six? Just enough for this ship's original crew."

"Yeah, and there's six of you. So, put 'em on." Felicity, Oliver, Nyssa, Curtis, Dinah, and Slade made no move to put them on. "Now!" Quentin demanded.

The sharp tone sent Felicity forward and she grabbed one from where Quentin indicated, clipping it on and tugging on the straps. Once done, she looked down. The bright orange fabric puffing out over the foamy interior made Felicity feel like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

Slade said seriously, "Mine will go to the little man," as he held it out towards William.

Oliver interjected, "Slade -"

"Decision's made, Kid," Slade said simply as he strode out of the cockpit after Dinah.

Oliver sighed and took the life vest from William's hands and helped him get it on, one arm at a time. Then Oliver dropped to one knee in front of William. As he buckled the straps, he said in a light voice, "I will be right back, okay? You'll be safe here with Quentin. Everything is going to be just fine."

William's eyes welled up, but he nodded.

"Okay," Oliver said firmly, as if he was responding to a verbal reply. He stood back up and squared his shoulders, looking at Felicity. She was ashamed of the way that one look made her pulse quicken.

"After you," Oliver said.

Felicity took a deep breath and then walked out the door, starting down the metal stairs. She gripped onto the handrails as the ship bobbed fiercely. Ocean spray struck her body, leaving her with a thin film of moisture on her face. Boy, Quentin was right – it felt like one bad tilt of the boat and she would be in the ocean. Oliver's footsteps clattered behind her.

As her feet hit the deck, Felicity felt the first drops of water from above. The storm was here. She looked out across the boat and could see Curtis and Nyssa disappearing through the hatch to the engine room while Slade and Dinah walked towards the stern to check the fuel lines.

Felicity took a step away from the security of the stair handrails as the boat undulated sharply, rising on the port side, followed by the starboard. Felicity thrust her arms out to give herself more balance.

Suddenly, an arm curved around her waist from behind and a hand clasped her right hand tight. Felicity raised her head over her shoulder to see Oliver.

"I've got you," he said, voice stable over the whipping wind and roiling waves.

Felicity did her best to shoot him a smile but she felt it more like a grimace. If she weren't sure they were all about to plunge into the depths of the ocean, the moment would be positively romantic.

"Ready?" Oliver asked, dropping his hand as the boat stabilized, but leaving a hand at her waist.

"Yep, umhm," Felicity said quickly. "I'm good. Ready. I'm ready." Her face flushed with embarrassment as she finished babbling.

Oliver nodded and dropped his other hand, walking towards the railing. "We're looking for what exactly?" he asked. Felicity watched as he leaned over the railing, looking at how well his figure looked in those pants. God, did Felicity have a type.

Felicity swallowed and followed. "Anything that looks out of place – like, I don't know, a giant hole in the side, or, like, something we crashed into."

Oliver nodded, peering over the side. The boat tilted with the force of a wave. Felicity instantly forgot her attraction as she realized with a jolt that the next wave striking the boat could easily sweep Oliver over the edge.

"I'm sure we could see something from back here," she noted from the relative safety of a few feet back from the railing.

Oliver seemed to ignore her suggestion and took a few steps closer to the bow. The rain began to fall harder. Felicity let out a breath and followed Oliver.

Lightning suddenly lit up the sky. Felicity noticed Oliver wince.

At once, Felicity realized - Lian Yu. A boat in a storm.

"This can't be easy for you," Felicity noted as her eyes darted around the boat for any sign of problems.

Oliver pulled back from where he had again leaned out to inspect the hull. "How so?" he asked.

"You know," Felicity said, "boats. Storms." Oliver said nothing, so Felicity continued. "Just that. Just – boats and storms."

"Because of the Gambit?" Oliver asked in a low voice, not looking back at her.

"Yeah," Felicity said. Her eyes studied his back, watching the way that his shoulders tensed.

"Yeah, it's not great," Oliver admitted tersely.

Felicity knew that tone. She asked, "Not the time to talk about it?"

"Nope," Oliver agreed harshly.

"Right," Felicity agreed as Oliver stepped up to the bow. Felicity went to follow and her vision blurred.

The next second, Felicity was blinking up from the ground and Oliver was staring down at her in concern, a hand on her shoulder.

Felicity cleared her throat awkwardly. "The boat is really moving, isn't it?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed as though he were trying to read her. "It is. But that isn't what's going on with you, is it?"

Felicity swallowed back the nausea from the tossing waves combined with the pounding of her head. "The boat rocking is probably not helping the concussion," she admitted. She held a hand out, ignoring the concerned look in Oliver's eyes. "Help me up?"

Oliver did, but Felicity could still feel his eyes on her. She gave him a little smile and said, "I'm fine. Once we're back, I'll get plenty of rest. No screen time, no eye strain."

"Felicity," Oliver said, his voice heavy with worry. "If you're hurt, you need to be taking care of yourself now."

Felicity rested a hand on his bicep. "Oliver," she said, her voice matching his in force, "I am fine. There are people onboard this ship who are not. And this – this is how I can help them. By getting this boat moving again." Oliver's eyes held hers, his brow crinkled. "I know my body and I know when I can't keep going. And right now, I can keep going."

Felicity began to walk past Oliver, determined to show him there was no cause for concern. Oliver caught her wrist as she walked by, causing Felicity's steps to falter. She turned back to look at him.

"Felicity," Oliver said seriously, "head trauma can be serious. You need to take care of yourself so that you don't make it worse."

Felicity attempted to defend again, "I am fine -"

"I need you to take care of yourself because I need you," Oliver said, cutting her off, eyes boring into her. "I can't lose someone else today." Felicity swallowed hard, trying not to cry at the thought of Samantha, Thea, and John in the cabins below.

Felicity opened her mouth to speak when Oliver continued, in a low voice that Felicity had to work to hear over the sounds of the storm. "I never stopped loving you. And I can't lose you. Not anytime, but especially not today." Oliver swallowed and then said, "Felicity, I –" he shook his head with earnest eyes.

"I love you."

Chapter Text

"I never stopped loving you. And I can't lose you. Not anytime, but especially not today. Felicity, I – I love you."

The first moment Felicity felt relief – relief that she wasn't the only one experiencing this resurgence of feelings. In the past weeks, maybe even months, Felicity had thought she had recognized the affection in Oliver's eyes; in the way his fingers lingered on her arm or sought her out when she was in danger. And then, on Lian Yu, the moment they had found each other alive and whole, Felicity could feel Oliver's relief as strongly as if it were her own. But Oliver was great at keeping secrets, and suspecting Oliver had fallen back in love with her and hearing it were two very different things.

The next moment, the words stirred up a very different feeling. It was one Felicity had thought, until now, that she had put to rest nearly a year before. Oliver's profession of love settled in her stomach like a solid weight.

Felicity was angry.

Oliver telling Felicity that he loved her felt wildly unfair. Because Felicity knew that her own feelings for Oliver had been stirred back up over these past months and been reignited by her fears on Lian Yu – that she, like him, had never really, completely put aside the love she had for him.

But that love had been so damaged by Oliver's choice to keep her in the dark about William. And hearing him profess his love brought all of those feelings of betrayal back. Because the moment she learned about William was the moment she realized that maybe she and Oliver had never been a team at all – when the chips were down, Oliver would always choose to be the lone wolf.

She could now look at William without a hint of bitterness that his appearance in their lives had derailed she and Oliver. Now her anger was solely directed where it belonged: at Oliver.

Felicity felt tears well in her eyes as the wind whipped at her hair. She admitted, "I love you too, Oliver, but -" She shook her head and she could see the moment in Oliver's eyes when he realized that she wasn't going to leave it at that. The words that she had wanted to say a year ago flowed out:

"I always knew you were a man with secrets: I just thought that, for the things that really mattered, when we got engaged that the secrets would stop. If not with the rest of the world, then with me."

Oliver swallowed and his eyes dropped to the deck.

The sky let out a shriek of wind and the rain fell faster, plastering Felicity's bangs to her forehead. She could no longer tell if the water on her face was solely from above, or tears were mingled in.

Felicity swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I know that we never really talked about that being an expectation, but – I guess I didn't think I had to."

Oliver continued to avoid her gaze and it stung. Felicity reached out to take his hand in hers, her voice coming out like a plea for understanding:

"I appreciate the position you were in with William and following Samantha's stipulations. I don't blame you at all for getting to know your son." She paused and drew in a shaky breath. "I guess I just felt like, as the person you were committing to spending your life with, that being honest with me should have trumped Samantha's conditions."

Oliver nodded heavily, still not meeting her eye.

Was this still it? The sticking place that neither of them could get past? He couldn't even look at her – he didn't seem to understand why his actions had hurt her. Why his choice had broken her trust.

Although his actions had destroyed her faith in him, Oliver still very much held her heart. And she couldn't walk away again and not have him know that.

Felicity gasped out, "But in spite of that hurt, you are still my person." Oliver's eyes flicked up, bright blue and wide with surprise. "I am still in love with you, Oliver Queen."

Oliver's eyes darted back and forth between hers, like they were trying to read the truth. His brow furrowed and he appeared like he was scarcely remembering to draw in breath.

After a long moment, only broken up by the sound of fierce waves crashing into the boat's hull, Oliver reached out a hand and rested it against her cheek. Felicity felt a tear drip down and she turned her face further into the familiar roughness of his palm, closing her eyes at the feeling.

"I'd give anything to do it over," Oliver said softly. "If I could – you would be the first person I told." Felicity opened her eyes to look at him. "And, regardless of what Samantha requested of me, you should have been. It was my fault. I was so afraid of losing you because I had a son that I took the opportunity to decide from you."

Oliver swallowed. "But – I can't regret William. I don't regret getting the chance to know him. And," he said in a heavy voice, "he comes first now. He has to. I am all he has."

"I know that," Felicity agreed. "It needs to be that way." She sniffled and added sincerely, "I would love you less if you made any other choice."

Oliver released a small puff of air.

"And you need to figure out how to be his dad." Felicity thought about Samantha telling her in the forest of Lian Yu that Felicity's relationship or lack thereof with Oliver didn't seem that complicated to her. She remembered Quentin telling her that if she still loved Oliver, she should go for it. "But – I am willing to try to figure out if there is someplace for you and me at the same time."

Oliver's brow furrowed, eyes searching her again like he doubted her sincerity – like he thought it was a trick.

Felicity noted, "Being apart is clearly making us both miserable." Oliver released another small puff of air in agreement, fingers rising to scratch at his eyebrow. "And if there is one thing we know from working together on this team, it is that you and I are better together."

A hint of smile tilted Oliver's lip upward and he said as though it were only to himself, "El Mayarah" Felicity cocked her head in confusion, brow furrowed. Oliver murmured, "Stronger together."

Felicity shook her head. Oliver clarified, "That's Kryptonian – something Kara says."

Felicity felt a hint of a smile in return. "Yeah – stronger together."

She felt Oliver's hand in hers clench firmly in response.

The jerking of the boat broke the quiet and Felicity felt Oliver's arms reach around her to hold her steady. "I've got you," he murmured into her ear.

"I know you do," Felicity responded breathlessly.

A streak of lightning lit up the sky directly overhead and Felicity squeaked in surprise, heart pounding as the thunder cracked in response.

If it were up to her, Felicity would stay in this moment, secure in Oliver's arms. But the reminder of the storm reminded her of the problem at hand.

Felicity pulled herself reluctantly out of Oliver's grasp. "I should go help Curtis," she said quickly. "There's nothing outside that caused us to stop, so it's most likely a problem with the engine. And, as much as I appreciate Nyssa offering her assistance, she's better suited for … stabbing. And less of the … thinking." Felicity paused. "Do not tell her I said that."

Oliver's eyes widened conspiratorially. "Never," Oliver agreed.

Felicity could feel Oliver's hand at her back, prepared to catch her, as she navigated across the undulating boat deck towards the hatch at the aft of the ship.

Oliver stepped in front of her, grasping the ring pull which was flush with the floor and lifting the hatch wide. Felicity called out, "Curtis! I'm coming down!"

As Felicity lowered herself through the narrow hatch, she thought again that Dinah had been correct: this wasn't a battery issue. Bright florescent lights lit up the narrow room with ceilings so shallow that Felicity had to turn her head to the side to fit. Directly in front of her was one wall to wall engine complete with coolant coils, each loop the thickness of Felicity's arm. The engine itself was about 3 meters long and was startlingly silent for its size – it was clearly not running. Felicity noted a large water filter and hot water tank to the other side of the wall.

Felicity was aware of the subtle thud of Oliver stepping down behind her.

Curtis was holding the ship's manual, taken off of Dinah before his descent to the engine room, and crouching beside the silent machine. His brow was furrowed as he took in a diagram of the very engine he needed to troubleshoot.

Nyssa, on the other hand, looked anything but pleased to be trapped in the small room without the ability to add any insight into boat mechanics. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were faintly glazed from boredom. As her eyes landed on Felicity, Nyssa said, "Excellent. You can keep this one company."

Without awaiting a response, Nyssa strode forward and mounted the ladder, somehow making the normally awkward ascent look effortless.

"Okay," Felicity said, psyching herself up for the task ahead, eyes glancing over the steel and iron machine before her.

"I think I might be getting somewhere," Curtis noted, clearly forcing some optimism into his voice. "I think we are looking at a problem with air in the fuel." He paused, then added, "Or debris in the filter." Flipping to the next page as Felicity approached him, he noted, "Or a problem in the fuel line." He looked up to meet Felicity's eyes. "What I'm saying is the battery is fine. We seem to have enough fuel. It looks like the engine won't start because something is wrong with the fuel."

"Sure, that makes sense," Felicity encouraged, crouching down beside Curtis. She looked over the descriptor of fuel line issues. "Do we have a way to check which is our problem?"

Curtis flipped the manual to a section he held open with his fingers. "I think the easiest one to troubleshoot is checking the filter for debris." He held open the page for Felicity to review. Felicity's eyes darted back and forth as she began to read the steps for bypassing a faulty filter.

Curtis broke through Felicity's thoughts. "We just … need to identify which of these things is the filter," Curtis noted waving his hand at the metal contraption before him.

"Okay," Felicity agreed, looking back up at the engine, then darting a glance back at the manual's diagram which looked almost nothing like the model before her. "I can check -"

"What was that?" Oliver asked abruptly, silencing Felicity's musings. Curtis' eyes widened and he shook his head that he didn't know. Felicity listened through the stillness.

This time she heard it. What sounded like a far-off voice shouting.

Oliver said, "I'll check," and mounted the ladder out of the engine room, footsteps echoing on each rung. Felicity thought that Oliver had to be every bit as relieved to leave the engine room and diagnostic conversation as Nyssa had been minutes ago.

But that wasn't fair. Someone had been calling. But what else could have possibly gone wrong?

Felicity blanched. John or Thea. What if they had taken a bad turn? Or what if they were ...

As soon as Oliver opened the hatch, Felicity could tell that the sound was a voice. It was Dinah.

"Oliver?" Felicity fearfully called up to the hatch's opening.

Oliver leaned over and called back, "Man overboard. It's Slade."

Chapter Text

"Man overboard. It's Slade."

As soon as Oliver delivered the news to the engine room, he turned and strode as firmly as he was able on the tossing ship to the stern where Dinah breathlessly peered at the waves.

"Do you see him?" Oliver demanded.

"No," Dinah gasped out. "He was checking the deck fill when the boat tilted. When it turned the other way, it tossed him off-balance and he was just gone!"

Nyssa approached on Oliver's other side as he squinted his eyes, searching the water. Abruptly, Oliver said, "Keep looking! I'll get the life buoy."

Oliver ran with uneven steps as the deck slipped under him. The storm seemed determined to finish what Chase had started, shaking the entire vessel with seeming anthropomorphic intent. He could scarcely see more than a step in front of him due to the blanket of water falling from the sky.

Oliver grasped at a handle on the outside of the boat's tower to hold himself steady. He gripped on, clenching his teeth tightly as the crash of thunder followed a lightning strike directly overhead.

Felicity hadn't been wrong – the entire situation made him feel like he was trapped in a nightmare from ten years ago. The storm and the sea were intimately tied to the night that Oliver's life veered completely off course. The night that, as the Queen's Gambit sank in the ocean, he, his father, and a crewmember were buffeted on an impossibly small lifeboat awaiting death.

Oliver breathed deeply, pushing the memories aside, then reached up to grab the bright orange, circular buoy.

As he turned around, he saw that Felicity and Curtis had joined Nyssa and Dinah on deck. Felicity pivoted towards him, and he could read the expression on her face, even across the deck and through the rain.

It was despair.

Her blonde ponytail was weighted down and her soggy clothing accentuated the heavy expression. And because he knew her and her every look, even from this distance, he knew that her eyes were full of withheld tears.

The expression wasn't fear for Slade Wilson. Oliver knew Felicity didn't like Slade - but this wasn't about Slade.

This was about another lost life and the steadily dwindling hope that any of them would survive Chase's attempt to exact his revenge on Oliver and everyone he loved.

And as certain as Oliver could be about anything, he knew he would do anything to erase that expression from her face. Felicity was Oliver's hope. His anchor. If her belief were to fail? What would Oliver have left to continue on?

Oliver looped the ring of the buoy over his shoulder, taking the coil of attached rope into his hand. He walked, stumbling as the sea buffeted the ship and reached his onlooking teammates.

"Did you find him?" Oliver asked.

Curtis pointed out at something rising and then vanishing in the waves. "There," he said.

Oliver's heart sank. The form had to be at least 100 feet off the boat already. There was no way the rope in his hands was 100 feet.

Pushing aside his fatalistic musings, Oliver stood up straight. He held the coil of rope loosely in his left hand. With his right he pressed as much force as he was able into the toss which sent the buoy rotating through the encompassing rain. With a splash, the buoy hit the water. As it did, a small light flashed on, then off, then back on, indicating even in the darkness where the life preserver rested.

Oliver squinted against the spray and wall of rain. The light flickered and the buoy climbed upwards with one wave, then dipped and vanished as the water moved towards the boat.

The figure which Curtis had pointed out seemed to drift further away. It certainly wasn't moving towards the preserver.

"He's not moving," Felicity noted tightly.

"Maybe that wasn't him?" Curtis suggested, voice choked with tension.

Nyssa dissented. "I would bet my life that was him."

"He might not be able to reach it," Dinah added.

Oliver stepped back from the railing. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he told himself he couldn't. William was counting on Oliver to be his father. He had just lost his mother, and Oliver had promised William he would be his home.

There was Felicity. She had just told him they could try again to figure out where they fit in with this messy new normal.

There was Thea, clinging to life below. Oliver was her only family. She would rely on him to ensure she received the help she needed.

But he couldn't face any one of them – couldn't look at himself in the mirror - if he didn't try.

Felicity must have caught onto what Oliver was considering because she was suddenly before him. "Oliver, don't," she warned, voice low with emotion, hand coming out to rest on his chest in a beseeching motion.

"Felicity," Oliver replied, trying to show her he was sorry with his eyes, "He needs help."

"He killed your mom," Felicity bit out. "He terrorized our city and upended your life!"

"And he was also a trusted friend who I abandoned – who I tried to kill because of actions outside of his control." Oliver took a breath and tried to explain, "You saw Roy on Mirakuru. You didn't hold Roy responsible for the death of that officer, did you?"

Felicity didn't answer the question, instead whispering, "Oliver -"

"He agreed to help us, Felicity. He has paid penance for what he did, and, even when given the chance, he didn't turn on us."

"That doesn't mean you have to go on a suicide mission!" Felicity cried out. "He might not be moving because he is already dead. And for you to risk your life -" She shook her head. "You have too much to lose."

"And that makes his life worth less than mine?" Oliver asked. "I have had the time to build a life that Slade hasn't had. Slade has been trapped in his own purgatory for 10 years."

"But William needs you," Felicity pled. "I need you. Please, Oliver, don't do this."

Oliver's voice became self-assured. "I have to be the kind of man who does the right thing no matter the cost for William. I have to be able to hold my head up for my son."

"He won't care," Felicity declared. "What he cares about is you being there!"

"But I care," Oliver said. "When I look into his eyes, I want it to be with the clearest conscience I am capable of." He nodded towards the water, voice lowering into a plea for understanding. "I can't not try."

Without giving Felicity a chance for further rebuttal, Oliver turned around and shoved the remaining coil of rope into Dinah's hands. He admonished lightly, "You'd better hold on." Then he turned towards the railing.

Even as his feet shoved him off the ground, he could hear Felicity scream his name in horror. His body vaulted over the railing, and he aimed his head downward, hands out in front for a dive.

As soon as he hit the water, he realized why he shouldn't have gone in headfirst, as the vest tugged at his body and bolstered him up even while his momentum fought to thrust him forward. It felt like he was being dragged unwillingly upward by some invisible hand.

He broke the icy surface with a gasp. He looked over his shoulder and was struck by the fact that already the boat was a good thirty feet behind him.

"Oliver," Curtis' call rose over the storm. "You good?"

Oliver thrust a thumbs up into the air, then turned, searching for the line of the rescue buoy. The water was inky black around him and he couldn't see a thing. Oliver thrust his hands under the surface, groping. His search came to a sudden halt as a wave smashed him over the head, sending him careening directionlessly.

The chill of the water stole his breath and for a brief moment he was shocked to realize he couldn't tell which way was down and which was up. The life vest took the decision making out of his hands and he resurfaced by force of the vest's buoyancy the next moment, sputtering.

Oliver had scarcely turned around, eyes marking the quickly distancing boat, when he saw the next wave. As the sea rose before him, Oliver chose to dive under the crest.

Oliver opened his eyes under the chilly ocean to see nothing but darkness. A thrum of fear struck through his heart as his body primally realized that there was nothing below him besides kilometers of dark, crushing water.

This time as Oliver broke the surface, he remembered – this could not be the way he died. Everyone on that boat needed him. Especially William.

And most of all he knew if this was the thing that killed him – Felicity would never forgive him.

Oliver collected himself and choked down the automatic part of him that told him he was in danger and he should panic. The next two waves lifted him upward with them, letting him glide down after, no longer attempting to swamp him.

And that's when Oliver saw it. The flickering light.

The light on the life buoy that had been in the same direction as Slade.

Now with a goal in sight, Oliver set out with intentional strokes, slowly approaching that light. He paused his motion to check for Slade and make sure his direction was correct; Oliver saw no other figure in his sightline, so he put his face back into the freezing waves and continued on.

Oliver reached the life buoy, locking his hands within the ropes wound on the frame. He looked back towards the boat and found that the boat looked a very long way off now – he was likely over a hundred feet out.

Oliver searched his sight line. The waves buffeted his body and he worked to brace himself for each one.

"Slade?" Oliver yelled, trying to beat the howling of the wind. "Slade?"

His cries seemed to be eaten up by the roaring of the storm around him. He suddenly felt foolish. Of course Slade had been drowned in the waves. There would be no way to find him, and the only thing Oliver had done was to place a second life, his own, in danger.

But even as the thought entered, he pushed it aside. He had meant what he said – he owed it to Slade to try. Owed it, even, to the memory of Sara being sucked away by waves the night of the Queen's Gambit, left to suffer on her own.

Slade had been out, past the point where the life preserver could reach. With fresh determination, Oliver released the buoy, and floated again, further from the boat and from safety.

With even breaststrokes, Oliver cut through the waves, sometimes allowing them to carry him overtop, sometimes piercing them and cutting through. Every few strokes, he would stop to tread water, looking in all directions for another figure in the water. Then he would ensure he spotted his lifeline in the form of the steadily blinking light, before resuming his swim.

The time flowed by endlessly. Oliver guessed it had only been minutes since he had entered the water, but it felt like an eternity.

And then there. Something orange caught Oliver's eye.

Oliver swam directly towards it. As he neared, Oliver could identify a body: his heart sank.

The figure was face down in the water, arms and legs limp and being manipulated by the waves into gentle oscillation. Slade Wilson was dead.

One more body to carry home.

One more failure.

Oliver swallowed hard and continued towards the form. He would bring Slade home.

As Oliver paddled closer, feet away, the head lifted and Slade sucked in a breath of air, before dropping his head back down.

Oliver could have laughed in shock. Slade was alive. Slade was alive and using the dead man's float to conserve energy.

Reaching Slade, Oliver grasped Slade by the arm. Slade jerked in surprise, then allowed himself to turn his body so that his legs pointed towards the ocean floor. His legs kicked steadily, treading water.

"That you, Kid?" Slade asked harshly. Through the darkness and rain, Oliver could see how haggard Slade looked.

"Come on," Oliver ordered, not bothering to answer the question. "We've got to get back."

Slade shook his head. "Tried that. The boat's too far off."

Frustration welled inside Oliver at the hopeless response. He hadn't come all this way to have Slade give up. "But the life buoy isn't," Oliver countered. "Come on – I am not leaving you here."

"Can't, Kid," Slade admitted. "I've got nothing left. These waves have taken it out of me."

Oliver could only imagine. His own muscles ached and lungs burned from his swim, but his life vest ensured Oliver didn't expend energy into staying on the surface. Slade was fighting against the waves in full armor, with only his own strength keeping him afloat.

"I don't accept that," Oliver said sharply. "Now, hold onto me."

Slade reached out to grasp at one of the loops in Oliver's life vest. Oliver noticed that he was discernably lower in the water after the grip, but he chose to ignore that and, instead, turned towards the blinking light.

There were moments the buoy seemed to move further out of reach. A few times when Oliver stopped to get his bearings, he found that he had veered off course and had to adjust his direction: but, at once, Oliver paused to find it again in his sightline and found it only feet away.

Oliver reached out and, scarcely believing he would find it solid beneath him, his fingers closed around a rope. Oliver reached back to grab Slade by the back of his suit and hauled him around. Slade came to grab onto the edge next to Oliver.

For the first time, Oliver was able to clearly see Slade's face through the storm's darkness. Even with the little light they had, Slade's face looked gray with exhaustion.

Oliver glanced back at the boat, still nearly a couple hundred feet away. Would his team be able to haul two grown men back through these waves?

Oliver didn't have to wonder long. In Oliver's grip, the buoy lurched and gave a tug towards the boat, then stopped. Another yank, then a rest. Oliver quickly linked his arms together, one arm wrapped through the buoy's rope hold.

Slowly, foot by foot, Slade and Oliver were dragged back to the boat. As they neared, Oliver allowed Slade to grasp onto the ladder at the back and scramble up. Curtis appeared over the edge and grabbed at Slade's jacket to help haul him in, and Dinah joined in grasping his arm.

For a moment, it was just Oliver left, peacefully bouncing up and down on the waves, holding onto the buoy. Then Curtis' head peered over the side. "You're up!" He called.

The next thing Oliver knew, his feet were back on the deck. His muscles trembled with the exertion of swimming through the water and he was chilled through from his soaked clothing being struck by the screaming winds. He was shocked when a blanket was draped over his shoulders by an even-expressioned Nyssa Al Ghul. He opened his mouth to thank her when –

with a streak of blonde hair, his lips were consumed in a breathless kiss.

Oliver's eyes widened in surprise, but as Felicity molded herself against his body, hands steadying his face in her grip, he melted into it.

Felicity pulled back, and with hands framing his face, Felicity said in a low, frightened voice, "Never do that again."

Oliver swallowed and nodded wearily. That was an agreement he thought he could keep.

Felicity dropped her hands from his face and leaned into him. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, blanket enveloping them both. A moment of peace in the midst of their own, personal hell.

Oliver could feel Felicity sigh against his chest, and then she gently pushed away. She looked at him with swimming eyes and said, "Now, if you are done playing hero," Oliver grimaced with embarrassment, "it's my turn."

Oliver raised his brow in question.

"Curtis and I can get this boat started again," Felicity said confidently. "We even know the first thing to try."

"I believe it," Oliver said. "You can do anything – fix anything - you try to."

She shot him an appreciative smile. Then she pecked his lips again. As she pulled away she said, "Okay. I'm going. I swear."

Oliver smiled as Felicity began walking backwards towards the engine room, eyes still locked with his. She stumbled a bit, and then, with a little wave towards him, she turned around and vanished through the hatch after Curtis.

Even after she was gone, Oliver still stared at the doorway above her.

"Oliver?" A voice called to his right. Oliver's eyes shot away from the hatch to find a pale Rene.

"You should come downstairs. Now."

Chapter Text

"You should come downstairs. Now."

Oliver's body tensed at Rene's tone. It was certain and apologetic. Oliver's eyes took in at a glance the heavy bearing of his teammate. Rene's face was bloodlessly pale.

Oliver's mouth dried instantly. His heartbeat thudded like a drum beat in his ears.

Digg or Thea. Something was wrong …

Through moistureless lips, Oliver choked out, "Who?"

Rene met his eyes stalwartly. "I'm sorry, man. It's Thea."

"So. This giant cannister is the filter?" Curtis asked, sounding uncertain as he and Felicity held the ship's manual between them, peering from the pages up to the line of large white tanks along the wall with thick tubes running from one into the next, while the final one ran into a pipe.

Felicity's sight followed the pipe as it wound towards the engine. Felicity enjoyed a good puzzle, but the mechanics of transportation were not in her wheelhouse. Navigating what she was looking at was like learning a foreign language she had never heard spoken before.

"Yes. But – I think they all are," Felicity noted, slowly grasping how the unit worked. "See – they flow into each other. I think it's a multi-stage system. Fuel flows from one, the first line of defense, pulling out the largest particles - leaves, insects, rock; into the next, pulling out sediment and silt; into the next separating out any water."

"If that's the case," Curtis said dourly, "Then what are the chances that every stage failed and introduced debris into our fuel?"

Which was a fair point. Maybe a filtration system with a single tank could fail - but for all three?

Felicity grimaced. "I'm going to go with slim to none." She glanced at Curtis and added, "But, we won't know until we check."

"Okay," Curtis agreed simply, countenance muted by the possibility that they were looking in the wrong direction. "I'll get a fuel sample."

And if it was, they needed the next step. "If that doesn't work, I guess next we bleed the engine of any air in the system." Felicity suggested, flipping the pages to the next ear-marked section of the manual. She skimmed the page again - 'locate the lift pump.' Locate the ... what the hell was a lift pump?

"Hey!" Felicity startled as Dinah's voice unexpectedly called through the hatch. "I think I found your problem."

Felicity watched as Curtis flung himself at the ladder and gripped it, looking up at Dinah. "What did you find?" Felicity recognized the tone, which was tinged with hopefulness.

Dinah crouched over the hatch opening, hands on her knees, as she announced, "I think I found a leak in the fuel line."

Oh. That wasn't good.

"You what?" Curtis demanded, horrified. "That's bad. Right? If we aren't moving because we lost our fuel, we sure aren't getting any more! Because it's not like there are gas stations floating in the middle of the ocean!"

Felicity's mind raced. If they had stopped due to a fuel leak, they were in deep trouble. They still had not received confirmation that their distress signal had been picked up, and they were unlikely to so long as this storm continued. No one in their right mind would put out to sea right now if they didn't have to.

Felicity steadied herself against the rocking of the boat and then mounted the ladder ahead of Curtis, who was still trying to come to terms with the fact that they might be dead in the water.

"Okay," Felicity said as she found herself back on deck. The sky seemed a hint lighter than when she had vanished below. Maybe the storm was breaking. God, she hoped the storm was breaking. She turned to Dinah, "Where is it?"

Seconds later, Felicity, Curtis, and Dinah stood in a half circle, Felicity and Curtis gaping in silence at the copper line leading to the fuel tank and the puddle of amber fluid below it.

"There has to be more fuel loss than just that for the boat to have stopped," Felicity noted, voice shaking as she took in the small pool of diesel. "Where did the fuel go?"

Curtis swallowed. "The bilge."

Felicity and Dinah turned to look at him. Curtis expounded, "all liquid flows to the bilge. It's the base of the boat. The lowest point." Felicity's brow furrowed. "I read fast," Curtis defended.

"Okay," Felicity agreed. "So – we need to plug the hole and then, what? Find a way to regather the fuel from the bilge?"

"I'm not sure that it works like that," Curtis said in a low voice. "If the fuel is dirty at all, the boat won't run off of it. We would damage the entire system. We can't just ... just scoop up floor fuel!"

"Honestly, screw the longevity of this boat," Felicity declared angrily. "This boat can fall to scrap after we get to land. We've got three filtration tanks to scrub some of the mess, so we run those filters into the ground. If that dirty fuel can get us further to home, and medical help, and just – anywhere not on the water, even if it breaks the entire system, I will do it."

"I'm with her," Dinah said evenly.

Curtis nodded, determination flooding his features. "Yeah. Okay. I'm in."

Oliver walked with heavy footsteps towards the cabin stairs. He was no longer aware of the blanket still draped over his shoulders or the still raging storm; he was even numb to the chilling sensation of the still striking raindrops.

Rene followed close behind. "Her breathing and pulse has been shallow for awhile," he stated in a low voice, clearly sensitive to Oliver's roiling thoughts. "It's just … she started not breathing at all. I got her started again, like – I rubbed her sternum and she started again. Then it happened again. And again."

Oliver paused at the top of the stairs to turn towards him.

Rene's eyes locked with Oliver's and he admitted, "I think she's fading, man, and – I just thought you needed to be there."

Oliver realized that his eyes had filled when Rene's face blurred in front of him. Oliver blinked quickly to clear his eyes.

"Has she -" Oliver's voice felt clogged. He swallowed and tried again.

"Has she regained consciousness?"

Rene shook his head sadly. Oliver returned a short nod of understanding. It was just as well. She didn't need to experience this. If he had to choose … if he had to choose a way for her to leave, this would be it. Not in pain. Not aware.

Oliver clenched his eyes shut. But he didn't want her to go. He wasn't ready.

He would never be ready to lose his baby sister.

Rene said gently, "What can I do, hoss? You need anything?"

Oliver shook his head wordlessly, eyes still shut.

"Okay," Rene responded so quietly, the word faded into the wind. A firm hand landed on Oliver's shoulder, squeezed, then vanished. A moment later, Oliver could hear Rene's footsteps clank away on the metal deck.

Oliver drew in a deep breath. He opened his eyes.

Grief had already clung heavily to the ship. The cabin down the hall was burdened with one body and, for William's sake, Oliver mourned Samantha's loss. But it was not the same as confronting his own life-changing loss.

Oliver turned towards the stairs and began his slow march to meet this newest tragedy.

Twenty-two. Thea was only twenty-two.

Her life was just beginning. She was trying to find herself and figure out who she was, away from the influences of her murderous parents and their tragedy-steeped city. She was energetic, brave, and with all the charisma and intelligence to do anything she wanted.

And, because she was his sister, she had once again been the one to pay the price.

Oliver pushed through the cabin door with a heavy heart.

The room was dark. Its main light source was nothing more than a small porthole with thick, dark clouds outside. A small light-sconce between the two sets of bunks cast a triangle of light over the heads of both beds. Besides the darkness and the sharp rocking of the room, there was no indication of the storm that raged outside. The noises of wind and waves were muted.

As Oliver approached the chair separating the two bunks, Oliver noticed a hand drifting towards him from Diggle's cot. Oliver stopped before the hand and glanced at Diggle's face. The plane oxygen tanks had long since run out of oxygen and his friend's face was bare without his mask.

John was watching Oliver, brow furrowed with sympathy. Oliver knew John was too weak to say much, but his expression was more eloquent than words.

Because if anyone understood how protective Oliver was of his sister – how much he loved Thea – John Diggle did. John had been by his side since nearly day one following Oliver's return from Lian Yu.

Diggle was a big brother himself - had been a big brother to Andy. He understood. Even when there were times when Oliver had been about to make a decision that would let Thea down, John had always been the first one to remind Oliver that Thea should be his priority.

That same understanding shone from John's eyes as he squeezed Oliver's hand. Oliver nodded his thanks, swallowing hard.

Steeling his courage, Oliver turned toward Thea's cot.

Oliver immediately understood why Rene had called him here. Oliver had watched people die, just as Rene had, and he could see it. Sometimes, when someone died, they became more active: moaning and mumbling, shaking as their bodies painfully failed. And sometimes – they just stopped.

Oliver's first glance told him that he had been too late. In spite of the burns to her skin, Thea's face was translucently pale and her chest was still.

Then her chest rose minutely and fell again.

With it, so did Oliver's.

Shocked into action, Oliver nearly fell into the seat beside her.

He sat, frozen, trying to wrap his mind around the moment in which he found himself. He was sitting at Thea's deathbed. Preparing to say goodbye to the last member of his family. Hand trembling, he reached out and gently drew her hand into his. He intently watched her chest rise and lower.

"You should talk to her," John's weak voice said from behind him.

Oliver didn't respond. Only muffled winds smacking the side of the boat could be heard for a long moment.

John tried again. "Don't let her go like this."

"John," Oliver's voice rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. "There are no words. What could I even say?" He said, voice lowering further, "She can't even hear me."

"You don't know that," John admonished gently.

Oliver swallowed heavily. No, he didn't know for sure; but the idea of talking to her when maybe she couldn't hear him and certainly wouldn't respond if she could, felt uncomfortably vulnerable.

"Don't regret this," John mumbled.

Oliver closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, he peered at the slack face before him.

Even expressionless, seeing Thea reminded him of a million moments together. The toddling preschooler, to the laughing child, to the stubborn teenager. And, at some point, the little girl who was so many years younger than him had grown into a vibrant young woman whom he leaned on and looked to for advice.

And even while he saw her as a strong, capable woman, his only desire had remained the same: that she be healthy and happy and safe.

Oliver murmured, a tear dropping onto the cot, "I'm sorry." He swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

What if he had let her stay away? Thea hadn't wanted to come back to Star. Maybe Chase would have never found her. Oliver could have called her and told her to go into hiding rather than trying to draw her close to protect her.

And why had he asked her to protect Felicity and Samantha? It was that final request that had sealed Thea's fate. Had sent her running into the forest after Samantha and towards a painful end.

But the regrets didn't matter right now. Because he couldn't take his actions or his words back and he couldn't save Thea.

"What do you want her to know?" John prompted.

"William," Oliver responded without thinking.

Digg released a 'hmm'. He prompted, "What about William?"

Oliver swallowed harshly, looking at Thea. He said, "I … I talked to William. He knows I'm his dad and he agreed to live with me. And I'm going to. Going to take him and try to raise him, and -" He stopped abruptly as the full weight of his sister's loss hit him. "And I really want him to meet his aunt."

Oliver paused and said, "Because, if anyone could understand him right now, it's you, Speedy. He just lost his mom. And he's only a little younger than you were when you lost me and dad."

Seeing William looking so lost without Samantha made Oliver think back to a time when his sister wasn't much older. Oliver wondered for the first time what that loss had really been like for Thea.

Oliver swallowed and admitted. "I don't know how to be a dad. But you – you're so good with kids. A natural. You would be the best aunt. And I want that - for you both."

"Maybe it's selfish, but, Thea – please stay." He brought his arm up and across his face, wiping away the moisture. "I know what I am asking of you. I know you are hurt and how hard it will be to recover from this, but – you can do it, Thea, I know you can. Because I need you. Dad was right when he said that I would be okay if you were with me. You're my family and I can't do this, any of this, without you. So please, Thea … stay."

Thea's chest paused in place after she exhaled. Oliver's sight whited out with a horrified shock and he squeezed at her hand desperately. "No, Thea," Oliver mumbled.

She wasn't breathing. She needed to breathe!

"Come on, Thea," Oliver pleaded. "Don't do this, please."

Abruptly, Oliver remembered Rene telling him about rubbing Thea's sternum when her breathing had failed before, and Oliver lurched forward to rub two knuckles against her chest, hard. Thea drew air back in.

Oliver was flooded with relief, the crisis temporarily averted.

But, to what end? Was he keeping her here, forcing her suffering to continue, just to make himself feel better? They were still hours from shore and help, even if the boat were moving.

Tears welled in his eyes. He was being selfish. Telling her he needed her here – as if she had any choice.

In a small voice, Oliver said, "If you need to leave, Speedy – I will be okay. Okay? I'm sorry. You don't … if you can't stay …" He swallowed down the solid feeling in his throat. "I love you, Thea."

His head dropped and his shoulders shook with grief. Tears dropped, one after another, onto where his hand clung onto his sister's.

Oliver froze when he felt a tremor in the hand clutched within his. His eyes flew wide. Was this it? The final, involuntary tremble of the body before she was gone?

Oliver's head shot up and he was shocked when he looked into Thea's face. Thea's gray face had a hint of color returned to it. He watched her breathe. The painful pauses came further apart until Thea seemed to be breathing slowly, shallowly, but steadily.

His eyes widened and fixed on each inhale and exhale. Time fell away meaninglessly. He was no longer sure if it was seconds, or minutes - he could have been convinced hours had passed if someone told him. Finally, he sat back in his chair, convinced.

She had rallied. She was trying to stay.

Oliver choked out a tearful laugh. Thea never could listen to a command. She was too stubborn. Almost like his permission to leave had made her determined to hang on.

He dropped his head in exhaustion, resting his forehead against the cot next to Thea's shoulder.

And that was when the boat rumbled to life. She had done it. Felicity had done it.

"Okay, Speedy," he mumbled. "We're going home."

Chapter Text

"Detective West," Oliver greeted seriously, reaching out to grip Joe's hand. "Thanks for meeting me." Oliver looked around the coffee shop, the memories hitting him sharply. He said softly, "You know, this is the first place I saw William."

Jitters was relatively peaceful this midafternoon with only a few people scattered at tables throughout the room. A woman was typing on a laptop with a set of headphones over her ears and a couple chatted softly near a window. With it being the middle of the summer, it made sense that those who were not at work had found other places to enjoy the warm day.

"Oliver, you can call me Joe," Joe corrected kindly. He then clarified, "William is your son?" as Oliver took a seat in front of a steaming mug of coffee. Oliver nodded, bringing the cup to his nose to smell deeply, then taking a sip. The bitter warmth slipped down his throat.

"It was nice of you to bring him to Central City to spend some time with his grandparents," Joe noted, leaning over the table on his forearms. "I am sure they miss him, being so far away."

There was warm interest behind Joe's posture and Oliver could see Barry's mannerisms in it. Oliver didn't know Joe West well, but when Joe had reached out offering to grab coffee while Oliver was in town, Oliver saw a longing for connection that Oliver was sorely in need of himself.

"It's summer," Oliver replied, "And I guess it was always tradition for William to spend a few weeks with Frank and Irene every year. They have all been through so much – they needed the time."

The thought of Samantha's parents and William brought back memories. The way William had clung to his grandparents at Samantha's funeral two months before. How Frank and Irene stayed to help William pick what he wanted from his home to take back to Star City, and the items that Irene tearfully told Oliver that they would keep safe for William for when he was older. Samantha's parents and William loved each other, with a lifetime's worth of love. And Oliver and William … they weren't there yet.

Oliver was startled from his thoughts to realize that Joe had fallen as quiet as Oliver. Oliver looked up to find Joe looking into the distance with heavy eyes. Oliver felt censured by the grief he saw there.

"How are you doing?" Oliver asked gently.

Joe looked back, a smile tight on his face. "I'm okay," he said. "Trying to be there for Iris. And it's a lot keeping the city safe without the Flash." He sniffled. "But Wally is really stepping up. I'm proud of him."

Oliver nodded, understanding. In the cruelest trick of life, the world did not stop in the face of loss. When his father shot himself, Oliver had immediately been forced to fight for survival. When his mother was killed, Oliver had to defend his city from Slade and his goons. When Laurel died, Oliver had to save the world from Damien Darhk. When Tommy died … well, when Tommy died, Oliver tried to make everything stop by hiding from his responsibilities. And in spite of his best efforts, the world moved on anyway.

And Joe. Joe was grieving. All of Team Flash was.

Oliver had been sitting beside Thea's hospital bed back in Star City, navigating her care and waiting to hear the outcome of Diggle's latest surgery when he got the call: Cisco Ramon explaining with shaky words that Barry Allen had sacrificed himself by entering the Speed Force to save the world. Just the latest in a series of life-shattering blows.

"Barry was a good man," Oliver stated sincerely. As Joe looked up and acknowledged the words with a shaky smile, Oliver felt his inadequacy in eulogizing his friend. Oliver cleared his throat and tried again.

"I still feel like this life was thrust upon me," he noted, "But Barry – Barry tried to make the world better, every single day. I may have been forced into acting like a hero, but even before his abilities, Barry already was one."

"Thank you," Joe said, eyes blinking rapidly to force back the beginning of tears. "I couldn't be prouder. Both of the man he was and the legacy he left."

Oliver nodded hollowly.

Joe swiped at his eyes and chuckled bitterly, "Sorry – in recent years, my kids have turned me into a pile of mush."

Oliver released a puff of air in acknowledgement. "I'm beginning to understand that," Oliver said. "I'd give anything to take away William's hurt, and when he cries, I end up right there with him." Oliver released his own harsh laugh, remembering that he had teared up in the last hour watching William grasp his grandparents so tightly into a hug. "It doesn't take a lot these days."

Joe cracked a half-smile, "Yeah." He reached forward and tipped his coffee mug to his lips. As he set it down, he asked, "How's your sister doing?"

The question was like a kick to the stomach. Expected. After all, Oliver had originally connected with Joe for his lived experience as the decision maker for a comatose family member. But still, thinking about Thea was enough to knock the breath out of him.

"She's – the same," Oliver admitted. "They're still calling it a 'minimally conscious state'. She has brain activity and sometimes responds to things. She turns towards voices she knows and her brain activity increases when you talk to her. But …" Oliver shrugged heavily, "she hasn't regained consciousness."

Joe nodded. "That's a grief all its own," Joe noted heavily. "When Barry was in his coma for those nine months, it was like being trapped in this limbo – you couldn't give up on him, so there was still hope. But he also wasn't there, and you understood he might never be again."

Oliver breathed through the wave of hurt that rose in his chest at the words. Joe had given a voice to Oliver's own worries for Thea.

Oliver rubbed his thumb along the side of his mug and noted, "I joined one of those online boards you suggested. For people who had loved ones in a coma."

Joe nodded. "I found sometimes it was helpful connecting with people who understood." Oliver looked up and found Joe's eyes held recognition, "But other times it felt like it made things worse."

Oliver's eyes dropped again. "Someone took a family member off of life support this week," Oliver started, feeling strange admitting this out loud for the first time, "And it got me to thinking again about if this is the life Thea would want. If I am just forcing her to stay here, trapped in her own body."

Silence fell between the men and finally Oliver looked over at Joe to find him studying the bottom of his cup. "How did you make that call with Barry?"

Joe said with a humorless laugh, "That decision was kind of out of my hands. I didn't know who Harrison Wells really was, but when I would have been ready to give up, Wells insisted Barry would be okay. He asked me to trust him." Joe shrugged and shared, "Naturally, that's because Wells was Eobard Thawne and he needed Barry to get him back to his timeline. But I didn't know that. When I was ready to give up, Wells told me to hold course."

"No one is telling me that," Oliver admitted. "No one will tell me what to do. The most her doctors will say is that, now that we've past a whole month without her regaining any consciousness, the likelihood that she ever will keeps shrinking." He looked up at the ceiling willing the sudden tears clouding his vision to recede. "But the idea of pulling her nutrition – starving her to death - it's awful."

"That's the only life-support she's on?" Joe asked gently.

Oliver nodded miserably. She had some supplemental oxygen, but she didn't need it. The doctors had assured him that, if he did pull her nutrition, they could sedate her further so she wouldn't feel a thing, but it still felt so gut-churningly wrong.

Joe said warmly, eyes filled with empathy, "I can't tell you what to do, but whatever you choose, I don't think your sister would blame you."

The words were affirming, but Oliver didn't know anymore. He explained darkly, "She overcame so much with her burn treatments and skin grafts. If she were awake, she would be on the other side of the worst of it."

And if he let her go, that last hope that he could have her back, and whole – it would mean giving up on that too. The longest goodbye.

Oliver thought about his son, never having the chance to get to know the amazing person he had for an aunt. Oliver admitted, "And I would really love to have her support with William. I'm not ready to give up."

"Then don't," Joe said firmly.

Oliver rebutted gravely, "If she wakes up, she could have brain damage. She could have trouble speaking, or walking. I could be dooming her to suffer in a body and a mind where she isn't herself."

Joe said with a shrug. "Barry woke up. And he woke up intact, and completely himself. And every day since he woke up, I was grateful that I had those three years with him." Joe's eyes filled, a single tear escaping before he wiped it away. "I don't regret believing in him, or waiting for him. Not for a single second."

"Hey," Oliver called as he walked through the front door of the loft. He leaned over the arm of the couch to peck a kiss at the top of Felicity's head.

"Hey," Felicity repeated back, a dopey smile flitting across her features. "You made really good time." She watched as Oliver crossed in front of the couch, shifting to give him a spot to settle beside her.

"I did," Oliver acknowledged keeping his voice light. His thoughts were still heavy from his conversation with Joe and his drive home. "Frank and Irene were happy to see William – we met up for ice cream."

"How did William seem?" Felicity asked seriously, manner changing like it always seemed to when they talked about the grieving little boy. Oliver's heart warmed, appreciating afresh how nice it was to have someone else interested in William's well-being.

"I think he was excited to get to spend a few weeks with his grandparents. Samantha's parents have missed him. He told me that they were going to have a 'welcome home' sleepover tonight with some of his old school friends."

"That's good," Felicity said with a small smile. "It sucks having to change schools. Not that I ever had a huge group of friends I got along with no matter what school I attended… But that doesn't matter. Because this is about William," Felicity concluded, with a blush. "All this to say, I am happy he is happy, and today, I am happy we get a little time to be happy too."

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it," Oliver agreed, reaching out to rest a hand on the inside of Felicity's knee. He stroked gently with a finger and felt a shudder roll through Felicity.

Oliver asked as he moved in closer, leaning over to breathe in Felicity's scent, "And what have you been up to today?"

Felicity closed her eyes and leaned in to meet him, his chin resting against her head. "It was a spa day," Felicity murmured.

The comment froze Oliver causing his hand to still on her leg. Felicity noticed.

"I'm sorry," Felicity said slowly, pulling back and opening her eyes to peer at his face. She reached out, resting a light hand on Oliver's bicep. "Would you rather I not mention it?"

"No," Oliver said slowly. He really did want Felicity to be open with him; it had just taken him aback, pulling him out of this moment and reminding him of their problems. Oliver sighed as Felicity began to slowly move her hand on his bicep and he allowed the motion to ground him. "I do like knowing that you are spending time with Thea. I hate that she is alone so much."

Felicity nodded with sympathy. She dropped her hand to grip onto his and leaned her body back so she was curled against him. "Well, her hair is washed and trimmed like she likes it, and her nails are on point, so she looks like herself."

The description reminded him of something Joe had said earlier. Oliver noted quietly, "Joe said that when Barry was in his coma, he went every few days to shave his face. And kept his hair cut. He said that when he didn't keep up with it, Barry just didn't look like Barry."

"I get that," Felicity agreed. "Thea's so still, it's unnatural. But her not looking put together?" A sad smile tugged at Oliver's lips. He watched as Felicity threaded their fingers together, then held up their entwined hands thoughtfully. "Thea has always been a walking fashion icon – anything less feels just wrong." She paused. "Was it helpful talking to Joe?"

Oliver gave a single nod. Then he stopped. "Maybe."

"Look," Felicity said, pressing her head against his chest and letting their hands drop between them. "This has been a really horrible time, with everything going on with John, and with Thea, and with William."

"Not everything has been horrible," Oliver said, squeezing her hand.

Felicity had been his anchor the last two months. From the moment their feet had hit land and John and Thea had been rushed to the hospital for medical care, she had been by his side, making calls, arranging details, and listening to him when he felt completely out of his depth. Oliver still had no idea how arrangements had been made to repatriate the entire team. Even navigating Samantha's funeral with William had been chalk full of ideas that Felicity had found by following online boards for caregivers of grieving children.

"It has been great, but –" Felicity paused and Oliver felt his heart quicken. "- sneaking around so we don't confuse William has been hard too."

Oliver's heart pounded. Felicity had initially been onboard with keeping her and William separate and resuming their own relationship quietly; but over time, Oliver had realized more and more how much William needed him at home. And that was while he was already balancing being Thea's medical decision maker, supporting John's recovery, being the mayor of Star City and still being a vigilante. All of the different roles Oliver was juggling had taken its toll on the hours he and Felicity had together. Quentin was keeping things going at City Hall; Curtis in the Bunker; and Raisa at home - but every one of them still needed him. And William was not taking well to Star City or to Oliver.

"I know," Oliver agreed, not wanting to ruin the time he and Felicity had now with the reminder that what they were doing wasn't working.

"You are doing a great job of supporting him," Felicity affirmed quickly, seeming to realize how Oliver had taken her comment. "And Raisa agreeing to help while you have to go out at night has been an absolute game-changer."

"… But?" Oliver asked, pulling his hand out of hers and rubbing at his face.

There was silence. Oliver allowed his hands to drop and he saw Felicity's clenched expression, trying to push back tears. Oliver sighed, not wanting to cause her hurt.

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Felicity's eyes closed and she released a shaky sigh. Oliver settled his fingertips under her jaw and tilted her face towards him. He closed his eyes and drew her into a kiss.

Felicity seemed to release the tension she had held onto, groaning into the kiss as it deepened. Oliver pulled back.

"We have two weeks," Oliver said softly, voice heavy – heavy because of the impending conversation he and Felicity would have to have; for the decisions he would have to make for Thea, and for William; for the outcome that John might not regain the strength he needed to do the work he wanted. "Let's just – just enjoy these two weeks."

"And talk after?" Felicity asked, voice soft and sad.

Oliver nodded.

Felicity met his eyes. Then she launched herself back at him, consuming him in a heated kiss, hands clutching onto his back, then rubbing over his stomach and lower. When he pulled back breathless, ready to move this somewhere else, he caught her eyes alight with desire.

Two weeks. And then they would figure everything out.