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Chapter Text

Previously, on Arrow… 

Bethany Snow from Channel 52 reports breaking news on the Arrow attack at city hall. “We have confirmation that Mayor Castle was pronounced dead at the scene. SCPD Captain Quentin Lance was present for the attack, and had this to say on the incident.”

Captain Lance appears on screen, surrounded by reporters at the SCPD precinct. “I just requested a first degree murder warrant for the Arrow, and re-instated the anti-vigilante task force with shoot to kill orders, if necessary.”

***

In a stark, empty warehouse, surrounded by League fire pits, Ra's al Ghul appears, his dark green coat adorned in gold. He speaks to Captain Lance, who sits unbound in a chair before him. “You hunt for the man they call the Arrow. You’ll be able to find him easily once I tell you his name.”

Captain Lance raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “And why would I believe just any name that you’d throw at me?”

“Well,” Ra's al Ghul replies with a smirk, “because with this revelation everything will become clear.”

He takes a couple of steps closer to Lance. Then he speaks more softly. “Oliver Queen is the Arrow.”

***

Team Arrow stands in Diggle’s apartment in the aftermath of Lance’s press conference outing Oliver as the Arrow. All of them seem lost, unsure of what to do.

Roy says what everyone’s been thinking. “Do you think Ra’s planned this the entire time?”

Oliver confirms their suspicions. “He’s using this city as a weapon. It’s my city.” He walks toward the door.

“Where are you going, Oliver?” Diggle asks.

Before leaving, he replies, “Only place I can go.”

***

Oliver walks into the SCPD precinct. When the officers and detectives finally notice, they all turn and train their guns on him. He quickly raises his hands in surrender. 

“Captain Lance. I’m here to turn myself in.”

***

Oliver sits in an interrogation room. Diggle, Felicity, and Roy come to argue with him about his decision. 

Oliver says emphatically, “The only move that Ra’s has left me is telling the truth.”

“Oliver, this is the wrong move!” Diggle retorts.

“John.” Oliver closes his eyes and pleads, “You followed me this far. But I need you to follow me just a little further. Until it’s over.”

***

Diggle, Felicity, and Roy regroup at the Foundry, brainstorming ideas of how to free Oliver.

Roy turns his gaze on the Arrow suit. “If one of us deserves to go to prison, it’s me.”

“Roy,” Felicity says, “we can’t allow you to do that.”

Diggle agrees. “There’s no way in hell Oliver’s going along with it.”

“That’s why you’re not gonna tell him,” Roy insists.

***

An arrow hits the side of the prison transport van, bringing it to a halt. Footsteps echo on the roof of the van as the occupants inside argue. The Arrow, clad in his iconic armor, jumps down from the roof to the ground below.

Captain Lance climbs out of the van and yells, “Get down on the ground!”

“You’ve got the wrong guy. Oliver Queen isn’t the Arrow.” He pulls back his hood, revealing Roy Harper. “I am.”

Oliver Queen watches from the van in dismay as his friend, his brother, is surrounded by police and arrested before his eyes.

Chapter Text

John Diggle walked through the front doors of Palmer Tech, eyes on his phone as he typed a growing list of supplies he and Felicity needed to scrub down the Foundry–nitrile gloves, isopropyl alcohol, microfiber cloths –Felicity would have more to add. He gave the receptionist a quick nod and headed for the elevators. A text notification lit up his screen. From Lyla.

Asset is en route. ETA 30 hours.

The nearest elevator dinged, doors sliding open. Diggle stepped forward–just as Ray Palmer stormed out, brushing past him without a word.

Diggle paused, watching him go. What the hell was that about?

He took the elevator to the executive floor, where he found Felicity with her head down on her desk. His pace quickened.

“What’s going on?” he asked, concerned.

She groaned without lifting her head. “Oh nothing. I’m just destined to be a crazy cat lady and single forever.”

Diggle glanced back at the elevator, then at her. “Is that why Ray looked like the elevator insulted his mother?”

Felicity huffed. “You could say that.”

“What happened, Felicity?” he asked gently.

She finally looked up. “I broke up with him.”

His eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“Yep. He dropped the L-word last night, and I basically ran away.”

“Ouch.” Diggle winced. “So…you don’t feel the same?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t fair to him. I had one foot in the relationship and the other…” She trailed off, shutting her eyes. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Diggle nodded, reading between the lines. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

“The ‘right thing,’” she scoffed. “Why do I always have to do the ‘right thing’? Maybe I want to be selfish for once!”

“Felicity, there’s not a selfish bone in your body,” Diggle said with conviction.

“How can you say that?” she cried. “You’ve seen how I get with a pint of mint chip!”

“When it matters,” he amended.

She huffed. “Well, the right thing--” she made air quotes, “--better not end with me adopting thirteen cats. Promise me, John. No cats.”

Diggle chuckled. “No promises. Come on.” He tilted his head toward the door. “Ready to go?”

Felicity stood with a deep breath, gathering her things. “Did you get gloves?”

Diggle held up his phone. “I made a list.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let’s go shopping.”

***

A few hours later, they were putting the final touches on their plan to frame Roy as the Arrow. Felicity’s program to format the servers ran in the background as they both wiped down the last of the surfaces not already marked with Roy’s prints.

Diggle heard footsteps and voices upstairs. “Sounds like Oliver’s back,” he called from across the room. “Let’s wrap this up.”

“I’m basically done,” Felicity replied. “Just triple-checking things. You know, not leaving anything to chance.”

They bagged up their cleaning supplies to toss in the dumpster outside and then headed into Verdant’s bar area, where Oliver and Thea were talking.

“Are you okay?” Diggle asked as he and Felicity walked up to them.

“I’m fine,” Oliver said. “But we need to get Roy out of prison.”

“You can’t do that,” Felicity argued. “Not without putting yourself right back in jail.”

“Well, I can’t do nothing!” Oliver exclaimed. “Everyone there thinks he’s the Arrow! All those people we put away–they’re going to eat him alive!”

“Oh God,” Thea covered her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. “Ollie–”

He turned to his sister, eyes burning with determination. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make this right.”

“Oliver, just take a breath–” Diggle began.

“No!” Oliver turned away in frustration but quickly turned back to face him. “I can’t believe you’re okay just sitting on your hands while Roy fights for his life in Iron Heights!”

“It’s not that simple,” Felicity interjected.

“No, Felicity,” Oliver cut her off. “If anything was ever simple, it’s this.”

“It’s not!” Felicity stepped toward him, her gaze softening with empathy. “Look, we weren’t supposed to say anything, but there’s already a plan in place. You just have to trust us.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Of course I trust you. But why can’t you just tell me what the plan is?”

Felicity glanced at Diggle, then back at Oliver. “It’s complicated.”

“Plausible deniability,” Diggle said simply.

Oliver gritted his teeth, but they could see him relenting.

“Fine.”

The silence that followed lasted all of five seconds before the SCPD stormed in with a SWAT team, a warrant, and a smug Captain Lance leading the charge.

“SCPD!” he shouted. “According to city records, you got a basement down here.”

“You already have Roy Harper in custody,” Diggle protested.

“Yeah, and I got a warrant that says I can search that basement.” Lance flashed the paper like it was a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s factory. He stepped up to Oliver and added, “Sorry for the rush–I just didn’t wanna give you a chance to turn that place into a storage room again.”

Diggle shot a quick glance at Felicity, as if to say, We cut it close. But they weren’t out of the woods yet.

***

The next day, they gathered in Thea’s loft to regroup and wait out the storm. Oliver sat on the couch, hands folded, elbows on his knees. Thea knelt next to him, leaning into his sturdy frame. Felicity was at the kitchen island, tapping on her laptop, while Diggle paced by the floor-to-ceiling windows, bracing for bad news at any moment.

His phone vibrated with a notification, and he pulled it out of his pocket immediately.

From Lyla.

Target down. Package secure.

He let out a quiet breath. It was almost over.

A loud knock at the door startled them all, and Oliver stood to answer it.

Captain Lance stood on the other side, his expression filled with contempt when he saw who answered. “Where’s Thea?”

Oliver stepped back, pulling the door with him. “Come in.”

“What happened?” Thea asked, standing slowly.

“I’m sorry, Thea.” She started shaking her head, but he continued. “There was an attack…Roy died an hour ago.”

“No,” she whispered, collapsing back onto the couch.

Lance turned his glare on Oliver. “His blood is on your hands, you know. This is your fault.” He let himself out, slamming the door behind him.

After giving Lance a few moments to get well out of earshot, Oliver spun on Diggle. “Was this part of the plan? For Roy to get killed?”

Diggle and Felicity exchanged a glance. He shook his head. “Let’s go to the Foundry. We can talk there.”

***

Oliver stormed down the stairs to the Foundry, Felicity and Thea close behind, with Diggle bringing up the rear. As soon as Diggle’s feet hit concrete, Oliver growled, “Explain.”

“We’re sorry,” Felicity said quickly, gesturing between herself and Diggle. “We wanted to tell you, but–”

“But I told them not to,” Roy’s voice cut in from across the room.

Oliver froze. “Roy?”

“Roy!” Thea cried, rushing over to pull him into a tight hug. “Oh my God, you’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” he murmured. As Thea let him go, he met Oliver’s stunned gaze. “Don’t be mad at them. This was my idea.”

Oliver, still reeling, asked, “How?”

“One of Lyla’s contacts,” Diggle explained, walking toward Oliver, “an Argus freelancer, has a special talent for knifing people in just the right way. Leaves a convincing amount of blood without the kill. He laces the blade with a beta blocker; slows the heartbeat. Gives the illusion of death.”

Oliver shifted his weight, digesting the information. “If everyone thinks you’re dead…then what happens to Roy Harper?”

Roy turned to Thea. “We can run away together, like we planned.”

Thea lit up with a grin.

“Ah,” Felicity said, raising a finger. “Here’s where I come in.” She crossed to her secondary workstation, righted a toppled chair, and booted up the computer. “I already set Roy up with a new identity–name, ID, everything. I can do the same for Thea. All of Roy’s paperwork is in my purse, along with a burner phone and…” She trailed off.

Roy approached, concerned by her frown. “What’s wrong?”

Felicity shook her head. “I just realized–SCPD didn’t take this computer.”

A knot twisted in Diggle’s gut.

“That’s…bad?” Roy asked, now standing beside her.

“Yeah,” she replied. “They took everything else. I didn’t think they’d miss this, unless…” She rolled the chair back to check beneath the desk, and Diggle spotted it when she did: a small blinking light attached underneath.

The light blinked faster. 

Diggle lunged toward Felicity, but it was already too late.

“Roy! Get down!” she yelled, shoving him hard. He stumbled back just as Oliver pulled Thea close, and Diggle dropped into a protective crouch, covering the back of his head. 

An instant later, a blinding light and a deafening boom tore through the Foundry, the concussive force throwing Oliver, Thea, and Diggle backward. Roy and Felicity disappeared in the smoke and debris.

A few seconds later, Diggle shook off the ringing in his ears and scrambled toward the shattered workstation. Oliver checked on a dazed Thea while Diggle rushed to the other two–and his heart sank.

He watched as blood slowly pooled beneath Felicity’s head.

Chapter Text

Diggle’s military training kicked in. Felicity wasn’t his sister right now. She was a blast victim. Emotions shut down. Instinct took over.

His mind split into lanes: triage, orders, movement. Muscle memory guided his hands while his voice barked instructions.

“Oliver, open the back doors of the van!”

Felicity’s–no, the victim’s–head is on its side. Stabilize her c-spine–

“Thea, get gauze, towels, duct tape, flashlight–”

He leaned close to her ear. “Felicity, can you hear me?” No response. He rubbed his knuckles on her sternum. No reaction. Oh, that’s bad.

“Roy, break the legs off that table and slide the top over here!”

Airway clear? Check. Chest rising? Can’t tell. He pressed his ear to her mouth–shallow gasps. Shit .

“Thea, I need you to roll those towels up tight–”

Oliver rushed back in, saw Roy struggling with the table, and stepped in to help.

Fingers on carotid; too faint, too fast. Double shit.

“Thea, I need that gauze!”

“Here.” Oliver had already started unraveling a large roll. Diggle grabbed it and placed it gently on the wound.

“Wrap some around her head. I’ll keep her neck stable. Thea, come here with the flashlight!”

She rushed to his side.

“Open her eyelids, check her pupils. Are they the same size?”

“No.”

“Flash the light in them. Any reaction?”

“No.”

Shit just turned into fuck!

Lock down the emotions, no time for panic–

“Okay, we’re gonna place her gently on the tabletop. Oliver, Roy, get beside Thea. We move as one.”

They rolled her slowly onto her side, slid the table against her back, then carefully lowered her onto the makeshift backboard.

“Towels and duct tape!”

Diggle placed two of the towels on each side of her head.

“Everyone grab long pieces. We’re going to strap her down. Thea, one across her forehead and one across her chin. Oliver, chest and pelvis. Roy, above and below her knees.”

The sounds of ripping duct tape and harsh breathing filled the air.

“Okay, we’re gonna lift the tabletop and move together toward the van. Keep it level, keep the pace, one-two, one-two…”

In what felt like seconds, they slid the tabletop into the back of the van. Diggle held onto her head and neck and climbed in. 

“Oliver, drive fast but steady! Roy, with me! Thea, call 911, alert the hospital we’re coming in hot, trauma activation, GCS 3–”

He continued rattling off the necessary information for Thea to relay, and in very short order, they pulled into the ambulance bay, ER personnel at the ready.

“Roy, get the doors.”

Diggle instinctively pulled out his commanding officer voice, speaking loudly from his diaphragm. “GCS 3, female, mid-twenties, blast victim, about fifteen minutes ago. Airway clear, breathing shallow, pulse thready, occipital bleed controlled. Pupils uneven and non-reactive.”

The ER personnel swiftly cut through the duct tape and prepared to roll her onto the gurney. One tech brought over a cervical collar and carefully maneuvered around Diggle’s grasp to apply it.

“Thank you, sir,” a nurse said, “our staff will take it from here.”

“Sergeant John Diggle, I have medic training–”

“Sir,” she insisted. “We’ve got her. Trust us to save her.”

“You better keep her alive!”

He could feel an adrenaline crash approaching. That was not good. “You three,” he called, “Go inside and give them whatever information they need. Stay in the waiting room. I'll park the van.”

They followed his orders silently.

Diggle climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled the gear shift into drive. His hands trembled against the steering wheel, and his breath was starting to get shorter and more rapid.

Not yet, not yet! Park the van!

He stopped at the very first, dubiously legal spot he could find, and quickly put the gear in park. His breathing was speeding up. He couldn’t get enough oxygen, his vision blurred, and his body curled into a fetal position.

Panic attack. Oh god. Felicity.

It was bad. It was really bad.

***

Give information. Stay in the waiting room. The words echoed in Oliver’s head as he, Roy, and Thea walked through the emergency room doors. He hung onto those orders like a lifeline, letting them cut through the noise in his head–

FELICITY!

–noise that he dare not focus on.

As they walked through the doors, however, all the noise from the ER drowned everything else out, causing all of them to freeze and stare at the chaos with glazed expressions.

“--mid-twenties, GCS 3–”

Words they were now familiar with, having heard them twice already out of Diggle’s mouth. Their attention zeroed onto the gurney that was rapidly disappearing through doors marked TRAUMA.

“Sirs? Miss?” A voice floated toward them. Thea was first to make eye contact with the nurse, followed slowly by Roy. Oliver’s gaze was fixed on the doors through which Felicity had disappeared. “Do you need help?

The nurse looked them over, noticed their dirty, dusty appearance, and was that blood on that man’s sleeve? “Were you involved in the same blast as the female that just came in?”

Roy nodded, still dazed.

The nurse stepped closer to look at his pupils. “Follow my finger,” she said, slowly moving her finger in all directions. She pulled out a penlight from her pocket and shined it in his right eye, causing him to flinch.

“Ah, bright,” Roy complained.

She made a note on her pad. “Do you have a headache, or any dizziness?”

“Uh, headache, a little bit. But I’m fine. we just want to know about Felicity.”

Hearing Felicity’s name, Oliver finally turned his attention to the nurse.

She peered at the pupils of the other two, and they seemed fine. “Any headaches or dizziness for you, sir? Miss?”

Oliver shook his head, still non-verbal.

“No, I’m okay,” Thea replied.

The nurse looked over at the first man again. “If your headache gets worse, or you start to feel nauseous, please alert a nurse or doctor, understand?”

Roy nodded.

“Okay, moving onto the female, can you tell me her name?”

Oliver finally spoke. “Felicity Megan Smoak. S-M-O-A-K.”

The nurse continued looking down at her pad as she listed off intake questions.. “Date of birth?”

“July 24, 1988.”

“Any allergies?”

Oliver nodded. “Nuts.”

She looked up at him. “Peanuts or tree nuts?”

“Tree nuts,” he replied without hesitation.

“Any allergy to medication?”

“No.”

She nodded, looking down at her pad again. “Any medical conditions or medications she’s taking we should know about?” When he didn’t answer right away, she looked back up to see a furrowed brow.

“Not that I’m aware of, no,” Oliver replied.

“Okay. Emergency contact?”

Oliver took out his phone and pulled up Donna’s number. “Donna Smoak, her mother. Here’s her number.”

She jotted down the number in her pad. “Okay, thank you for that information. Let me show you to the waiting room. And remember, if any of you feel dizziness, or your headache gets worse–”

“We’re fine,” Oliver interrupted. “We really just need information on Felicity.”

Her lips thinned with annoyance. “All right.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward the waiting room, not bothering to check if they followed.

Oliver and Thea walked behind the nurse, but Roy lingered before following. He tried to shake off the muffled feeling in his head. The world around him didn’t feel quite real, as if he were floating outside his body. He shook his head again, trying to ground himself, but nothing seemed to work.

They walked into a small room with maybe a dozen plastic yellow chairs with bucket seats. The walls were a very pale blue-grey, dotted with generic abstract paintings, and lit by fluorescent lights from above.

Roy squinted as he walked in, his headache getting worse. But he wasn’t going to say anything about it.

The nurse noticed, though, and walked over to the wall to dim the lights. “A doctor will be with you shortly.” Then she left.

Roy and Thea took a seat in the uncomfortable chairs. Oliver just stood in the middle of the room, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes.

“Oliver?” Roy called.

Oliver blinked rapidly and turned his attention to Roy. “Where’s Diggle?”

“Uh–” It took him a few seconds to remember. “Parking the van, I think.”

Oliver pulled out his phone again, frowning at the screen. “She should hear it from me.”

“Huh?”

Without answering Roy, he pressed a button and held the phone up to his ear.

Donna picked up on the second ring. “ Oliver! Oh my goodness, what –”

“Donna.”

His gravelly voice and somber tone caught Donna’s attention immediately. 

“ What’s wrong?”

“It’s…” He couldn’t get his mouth to form her name. He couldn’t get a sound past his throat.

“ Is it Felicity?”

Oliver shut his eyes. “Mm-hm.”

“ Oh no.” Donna’s voice wavered. “ Where are you right now?”

“Starling General,” Oliver croaked.

She gasped. “ How bad is it?”

Oliver didn’t have a good answer for her. “I think you need to get here.”

A quiet sob, a sniffle. “ I was just there a couple of days ago! I was lucky to get a last-minute flight last time. Who knows if I’ll be able to again? ”

Finally, something he could do. “I’ll send a private jet to you. it’ll get you here the fastest.”

“ Thank you, Oliver. Just call me again with the details.”

“Will do.” He ended the call, and stood there staring at the screen.

“You still have a private jet?” Roy asked.

Oliver muttered a curse under his breath. “No, but I know someone who does.” With an aggravated sigh, he dialed Ray Palmer. When he picked up, Oliver spoke without waiting for a greeting. “Ray, I need your private jet to pick up Donna from Las Vegas and bring her to Starling. And a car to bring her to Starling General.”

There was a longer-than-comfortable silence on the other side of the line. “ What happened to Felicity?”

Oliver couldn’t be bothered to talk to Ray any longer than he had to. “Just do it, Ray.” He ended the call. 

Roy huffed a laugh. “Nice.”

“Shut up,” Oliver growled.

***

After about five minutes of deep breathing, Diggle finally got a handle on his emotions–well, enough to be composed in front of Team Arrow, anyway. It would have to be good enough.

He walked through the emergency room doors to several eyes widening in his way, and just for a second, he forgot what he probably looked like. “Not my blood,” he said, loud enough to be heard by the gawkers, which included a nurse that walked up to him.

She recognized him from the ambulance bay earlier. “Sir, are you injured? Any headache or dizziness?”

“No,” Diggle said, shaking his head. “I was able to turtle up just as the explosive detonated.”.

She nodded approvingly. “Your…friends?”

Diggle nodded.

“They’re in the waiting room. I can take you there.” She took a step, but then stopped, looking back at the gentleman. “Would you like a pair of scrubs, sir?”

Because of all the blood, his mind provided, and for a second, he was back at the scene, holding Felicity’s head as blood spilled over his palms, his knees soaked through from the puddle beneath him, the smell of iron permeating his senses–

He cleared his throat. “Yes, please,” he rasped. “Just point me to the waiting room. I’ll meet you there.”

She did, and then left to find him scrubs.

He followed her directions and saw Oliver, Roy, and Thea through the doorway. He needed to assess everyone’s state of mind and the situation as it stood.

Oliver greeted him first. “Diggle.”

He seemed alert enough, which was good. Thea looked okay, too. Diggle then looked over at Roy, who was sitting with his head in his hands. Not as good. “You all right, Roy?”

He lifted his head. “Huh?”

“You okay?” Diggle repeated slowly.

“Yeah.” Roy waved his hand flippantly. “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Want me to get you a doctor?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay. Thea?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

Diggle nodded back. “Oliver?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, seeming agitated.

“Sure about that?”

Roy spoke for him. “He’s just cranky ‘cause he had to ask Ray Palmer for a favor.”

Diggle huffed a laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Private jet,” Roy explained. “For Donna.”

He nodded slowly. “Right.” He walked over to Roy and took a seat, looking carefully at his pupils. They seemed okay, but with the dimness of the light, he had a feeling Roy was light sensitive. “Sure you don’t want something for the headache?” he asked, patting Roy’s shoulder.

Roy shrugged him off. “I’ll be fine. quit mothering me.”

“All right.” He looked up at Oliver, who was still standing in the middle of the room. “Any doctors come in yet?”

“Not yet,” Oliver replied.

Okay, that was fine. Diggle tried to think of the myriad of things that needed to be done. Donna was contacted, which was the highest priority. Team Arrow was physically well enough, except Roy almost definitely had a concussion. 

Roy’s supposed to be dead.

He’s all over the surveillance footage.

Diggle took a deep breath to stave off the panic. SCPD and the fire department would have been alerted by the 911 call, but they never provided a location of the bomb, so it bought them a little time. It would be believable to say that whoever planted the bomb disabled the cameras.

“One of us needs to wipe the Foundry surveillance footage. Roy’s supposed to be dead, and he’s all over it.”

That got Oliver’s attention. “I’ll do it,” he replied without hesitation. “I know Felicity’s systems, and I need to see who did this.”

“Okay,” Diggle said, and tossed Oliver the van keys. “You better go now before SCPD shows up to ask about the location of the bomb.”

Oliver started to walk to the doorway, but hesitated, looking back at Diggle.

“I’ll call you with any news when we get some.”

Oliver nodded, and walked out.

Diggle let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. He tried to keep his mind on procedure, so his emotions wouldn’t overwhelm him again. Footage taken care of. What else? Roy needed to stay hidden. He glanced over at the young man, who was still hunched over with his head in his hands. Diggle didn’t think he’d leave if he asked, so–

“Thea, can you pace the hallway and keep an eye out for SCPD? Text me when you see them so Roy can hide out in the bathroom.”

Thea nodded and went into the hallway.

What else, what else…

“Sir?” The nurse from before came in. “Here’s a pair of scrubs. They’ll hopefully fit you. They’re the largest we have.”

“Thanks,” he said, offering her a small smile. He looked over at Roy again. “You gonna be all right for a couple of minutes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “Go clean up.”

“All right.”

He left the waiting room, taking the offered scrubs on the way, and entered the bathroom across the hall. Locking the door behind him, he got his first glimpse of himself in the mirror. His composure started breaking as soon as he saw the blood covering his clothes, hands, and forehead. He had to hold his breath to suppress a bout of nausea. A couple of shallow breaths later, he realized he was losing the battle, and ran quickly to heave into the toilet. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he let out a helpless sob as he heaved again. The words he had been avoiding echoed in his mind.

GCS 3. Lowest score on the Glasgow Coma Scale. Non-reactive pupils. Sign of severe brain damage. Occipital brain bleed. Probably skull fragments in her brain.

Another heave into the toilet.

Oh god, he thought as he choked down more sobs, it’s really bad. He’d seen far too many blast injuries in the army to fool himself now. The chances of survival alone were abysmal. The chances of getting back the Felicity they all knew were nil.

He banged a fist against the toilet seat, biting back a scream. It’s not fair! Why her? The purest of all of us, the least deserving of this fate, why?!

He let himself silently cry for a few seconds, unable to stop the tears. After a few deep breaths to regain control, he locked and buried the emotions deep enough to be functional again.

He flushed the toilet (there was only bile. When was the last time he ate anything?), and without looking at the mirror, he stripped and washed the blood off his hands and face. He took his phone and wallet out of his pants, and threw all his clothes in the trash. He took a quick glance at the mirror to see if he missed any spots, and then dressed himself in the scrubs and left the bathroom.

He flagged down another nurse. “I placed my bloody clothes in the trash. I’m sure you’ll want to dispose of that immediately.” Once he got a nod of acknowledgment, he returned to the waiting room.

Roy sat up when he walked in, probably noticing his red eyes. “You all right?” he asked.

Diggle nodded. “I am now.”

His phone vibrated.

They’re here, Thea texted.

“Roy, get in the bathroom and stay there. Don’t open it for anyone but us.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“SCPD is here. Go hide!” he whispered harshly.

His eyes widened with understanding. “Oh!” He stood up and wavered a little but recovered quickly and ran to the bathroom.

Of course it had to be Quentin Lance with two officers who came into the waiting room.

“Tell me it happened at Verdant,” he commanded, his tone curt and impatient.

He had to stall for Oliver’s sake. “Evening, Captain Lance. What are we talking about?”

“Don’t bullshit me, son. I just need confirmation of what I already know, so tell me, dammit!”

Diggle took a deep breath. “Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”

“Where was the explosion?!”

One of the officers touched Lance’s shoulder, trying to calm him down, but Lance shrugged him off. With a slightly more controlled tone, he repeated, “Where was the explosion, the one that incapacitated Miss Smoak?”

He waited for a short beat, but he knew he couldn’t stall forever. “The basement of Verdant.”

Lance whirled on his feet and gestured for the officers to follow him. He got on his radio and repeated the location, and they hustled out of the hospital.

Diggle called Oliver. “I hope you’re done ‘cause SCPD is coming your way.”

Oliver muttered a curse. “I’ll get it done.” He ended the call.

Diggle let out a breath, mentally crossing his fingers, hoping Oliver wouldn’t get caught.

Chapter Text

The need to hurry became even more critical now that Oliver knew SCPD was on their way. Once inside the hidden backup server room, he walked over to the workstation and rubbed his hands together to ward off the chill from the cooling vents in the ceiling. He woke the server computer, logged in, and navigated to the surveillance program. Entering yesterday’s date, he toggled through the various camera perspectives until he found the one pointed at Felicity’s secondary station, and reviewed the footage at high speed. Finally, one of the SWAT officers went near the desk, and Oliver stiffened. 

The SWAT officer simply cleared the area and walked away. He didn’t go under the desk at all.

Oliver rewound and slowed the footage, just to confirm.

Nothing suspicious.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he continued to review the footage at high speed, his eyes never leaving the desk area. Early in the recording, a tech approached the desk, but only to take pictures. Another tech stopped by, mostly to lift fingerprints, and then left.

Near the end of the raid, as Forensics was wrapping up, one tech approached the desk and lingered.

Oliver immediately slowed the footage to normal speed and backed up about thirty seconds.

The tech was the last one in the room. He seemed to say something to another person out of frame, then pushed the chair aside, knocking it over, and went to lift the computer–

–and then put it back down.

Then he bent over, the desk hiding him from view.

It wasn’t obvious that he planted anything under there, but it was the only time anyone went under the desk. Once the tech stood back up, he seemed to look high up on the wall near him, turned forty-five degrees and looked at the next wall, and then–

–he looked straight at the camera.

Oliver paused the video and held his breath as he observed who it was. Shock, confusion, denial–there was no simple word to describe the feeling in his chest. There’s no way he would do that, would he? Not after the mountain, after he rescued Oliver and had Tatsu heal him. Not after he betrayed Ra's al Ghul and murdered his own League brothers.

He zoomed in and increased the resolution. There, boldly staring at the camera, was Maseo Yamashiro.

Oliver stumbled back from the workstation, tears springing to his eyes. He couldn’t draw a breath. He felt a sharp ache in his chest, in his sternum, in his stomach. There was only one word that left his mouth in a whisper.

“Why?”

He didn’t have time for emotions. He inhaled deeply, shakily, and with gritted teeth entered the command code to wipe all surveillance from the entire day and the next, through the explosion and the aftermath.

It was done.

He wiped his face with the heels of his palms, then exited the backup server room. The room had been hidden behind an innocuous refrigerator, which he slid back into place and locked the caster brakes underneath. Without delay, he ran out the back of the Foundry, through the vehicle bay, and into the van. No sooner had he turned the corner away from Verdant than he saw sirens in the distance.

Just in time.

***

On the way back to the hospital, Oliver saw a plume of purple smoke rising from a rooftop in the Glades. His jaw clenched and his hands tightened on the steering wheel as he knew what it meant. Turning the wheel sharply and pulling an illegal U-turn, Oliver followed the smoke until he pulled up near an abandoned fabric warehouse. He parked halfway onto the sidewalk, turned off the car, and kicked the warehouse door down. He rushed up the stairs to the roof entrance, heart beating with adrenaline and rage. He kicked open the roof entrance.

There he was, standing stoically on the far side of the roof.

Oliver stalked toward him, hands curled into tight fists. “You did this,” he growled. “You did this!” he shouted, putting all of his weight into his swing at Maseo’s face.

Maseo fell to the ground from the impact. Oliver took some satisfaction from the violence. “How could you do this?!” he screamed. “After everything we’ve been through! Everything you’ve done for me, and you tried to kill my–” Oliver stumbled on his words. There was no simple word for who Felicity was to him.

Maseo turned to face him, still on his knees. “You could still save her, Oliver.”

Oliver blinked in confusion and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Take your rightful place as Heir to the Demon,” he explained, “and Ra's al Ghul will save your beloved’s life.”

Oliver stepped back, landing roughly on his heel. Save her life, his mind whispered. All it would cost is everything.

Felicity would hate this, his mind countered. She would want me to say no.

She can’t want anything if she’s DEAD!

Oliver shook his head. He had to hold onto hope. It wasn’t over yet. They had all faced death at one point or another, and all of them had made it this far. (Tommy popped into his mind, but he swatted that thought before it could register consciously.) Felicity had some of the best doctors working on her, and it had to be enough. It had to be. Otherwise–

“I can’t do that,” Oliver finally replied. “It’s not gonna happen. Felicity will make it. She's strong.”

Maseo looked at him with sympathy. Or maybe it was pity. “Even so,” Maseo continued, “she may never fully recover. You won’t get back the woman you love. She will never be the same.”

A very small voice in his heart cried out, saying he was probably right, but Oliver shook his head again. “You don’t know anything! She’s a fighter! She’ll fight this!” He couldn’t listen to him anymore, so he turned on his heel and left.

The rest of the drive back to the hospital went by in a blur. He couldn’t focus on his surroundings because he was preoccupied by the arguments in his head. The offer to save Felicity’s life warred with his conscience. The man who needed Felicity like air fought with the man who wanted to be good, wanted not to be a killer again.

NO! he shouted at himself. Felicity will be fine. They’ll save her life, and even if she’s different, that won’t change the way he feels about her.

She’ll be fine .

***

Once Oliver returned to the hospital, he walked slowly into the waiting room with his head down and his hands in his pockets. His mind was still full of internal arguments, clutching at hope like a man drowning, hoping that Felicity would be fine, while an evil little devil on his shoulder whispered that she wouldn’t make it, that Ra's al Ghul was the only one that could save her.

Diggle, Roy, and Thea looked up as he walked in. “Did you find out who did this?” Diggle asked.

“Mm-hm,” he replied, thinning his lips and nodding. “The League.”

“Of course,” Roy muttered under his breath.

Diggle just looked at the ceiling and sighed.

“How does bombing the Foundry persuade you to join the League?” Thea asked, perplexed.

Oliver’s head and shoulders dropped in defeat. “They were targeting Felicity,” he rasped.

Diggle looked confused. “They thought targeting Felicity would make you want to join the League?”

He listened to his internal turmoil for a few seconds before taking a very deep breath, shaking it off. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, “because Felicity is going to be fine, and Ra’s won’t win.”

Diggle lowered his gaze, breaking eye contact. Oliver didn’t think too deeply about what that meant.

Chapter Text

Under other circumstances, Donna would have fawned over the high-class treatment she was being given. She met a pilot at a private landing strip where a private jet awaited to take her to Starling City. The jet had champagne, nibbles, and a comfortably sized bathroom. It even had a cabin with beds! But none of this extravagance could break through the sheer terror of not knowing what happened to her daughter. Oliver had been so serious. He couldn’t say what happened, just that she had to get there. That sounded like very bad news. If she was going to be okay, Oliver would have said so, she was sure of it. They didn’t know each other that well yet, but she knew it was just a matter of time. Her daughter was in love with him, and he was so clearly in love with her. It would happen eventually.

But now, there were no guarantees. No information at all to even determine the possibilities.

The entirety of the four hours to Starling City passed by in a haze of wordless worry, tissues clutched in her hand from constantly wiping her face. As they taxied onto another private airstrip, she saw a black sedan waiting near a set of stairs, and Ray standing beside the passenger door.

“Ms. Smoak, I wish we were meeting again under different circumstances,” Ray said, offering a hand.

“What happened ? Do you know anything?” she pleaded, taking his hand between both of hers.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just asked to get you to Starling General.”

“Thank you, Ray, you’re very sweet.”

He opened the door for her, and she settled into the front seat.

The drive to the hospital was slightly awkward, mostly because Ray tried to engage her in conversation when she really wanted silence. “I’m sorry, Ray,” she interrupted him. “I’m afraid I’m terrible company right now. I can’t think about anything else but my daughter.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologized, and blissfully, he fell silent.

***

Oliver stood by the window in the waiting room, staring out at the horizon beyond the parking lot. Not focusing on anything in particular, just…staring. Unseeing. Because the arguments in his head hadn’t stopped. They’d been relegated to background noise at this point, while he felt partially numb to the room, to the circumstances. He distantly heard Lyla joining them, saying something about a change of clothes for John. He had a vague memory of interacting with Laurel, who offered him some comfort for his pain. It was appreciated, but ultimately ineffective. He didn’t tell her that, though.

The thing that finally pierced his fog was the arrival of Felicity’s mother and Ray Palmer. A possessive, bitter side of him wished Ray had never come, which he knew was an ungrateful thought. He should be thanking him for bringing Donna, but Oliver wasn’t feeling that generous.

“Oliver!” Donna cried out, tears welling in her eyes. She walked quickly toward the window, toward him.  

And then she was hugging him, arms around his neck and standing slightly on her toes, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Oliver initially stiffened, stunned with his arms at his sides, but Donna refused to release him. Slowly, Donna’s fear and grief reached into his own heart and cracked through his fog. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tightening his grip on her. The maternal energy she exuded wrapped Oliver in its warmth, and tears sprang to his eyes. He hid his face in her hair by her neck, allowing the tears to fall.

Here was someone who understood and shared his pain, a kinship born from tragedy.

Oliver took a deep breath through his nose, the faint scent of Donna’s perfume and hair product reminding him so achingly of Felicity, and let out a shaky exhale that ended with a sob. Donna whispered soothing shushes as she rubbed the back of his neck, and Oliver choked back more sobs, his shoulders shaking with the effort. He felt like he’d regressed a couple of decades, being comforted by a mother’s embrace, something he’d been missing for a year. He imagined it was his own mother ( my beautiful boy), and his sobs intensified, becoming audible. Donna started swaying side to side. 

A couple of minutes passed, and she finally released him. Oliver took a very deep, cleansing breath, and somehow felt a little bit lighter, a weight having lifted from his chest. The smile he gave Donna was the most genuine, affectionate smile. He felt himself falling in love with her instantly as a son could love a mother. He imagined that in some alternate universe, she would actually be his mother-in-law, if he had had the courage to pursue Felicity like his heart wanted.

“Thank you for that,” Oliver whispered, his voice still rough with tears. “I guess I needed it.”

“I could tell,” she replied. “I needed it too.” Her expression grew grave. “What can you tell me? I don’t know anything.”

Oliver took another deep breath, and told her what he knew. “There was an explosion. She suffered massive head trauma, and she’s in surgery right now. They said she had some internal bleeding and pressure in her skull, so they’re doing something called a craniectomy, removing part of her skull to relieve that pressure. She’s been in surgery for five hours at this point, so we’re just waiting.”

Donna sniffled and wiped her face with a tissue she still held in her hand. “Thank you, hun.”

Oliver nodded with a smile, touched by the term of endearment.

She then turned her attention toward Diggle, the other person she recognized. “John,” she said, walking toward him and offering a hug which he accepted. “How are you holding up?”

“As best as I can, Ms. Smoak,” Diggle replied.

She released him from the hug, and playfully tapped his forearm. “Please, none of that. Call me Donna.”

“Okay, Donna.” Diggle smiled. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Introductions were made, and Oliver marveled at Donna’s ability to charm every single one of them. He could see where Felicity got it from. He watched as Thea accepted a hug from her, a pained look coming over her face. No doubt she was thinking of Moira as well. Roy tentatively accepted a hug, the familiar expression of guilt crossing his face.

“She saved my life,” he muttered, just barely loud enough for Oliver to hear.

Laurel and Lyla’s hugs with Donna were less intense, but no less warm and friendly.

“I can see Felicity has so many people that love her,” Donna said, her voice wavering again. “That makes me so happy.”

“We’re happy to have her in our life,” Diggle responded, his voice rough with pain.

“Oh!” Donna fanned her face as tears welled up. She opened her purse to grab another tissue and blotted her eyes. “She’s very special, isn’t she?” She took a seat next to Thea and addressed the room. “Before she was born, her father and I went through so many names, and nothing seemed to fit. We had boy names and girl names, a dozen of each at least. But then she came into the world, I took one look into her eyes, and in my head, I heard Felicity. Ever since then, she’s lived up to her name, spreading happiness wherever she goes.”

Oliver heard a soft murmur of agreement from everyone, and he looked down at his feet and smiled. Trust Felicity’s mother to bring a little light to a dark circumstance. The hope in his heart grew and solidified just a little. Maybe things would be okay.

***

An hour passed with quiet chatter between Donna and Thea, between Diggle and Lyla, and awkwardly between Ray and Laurel. Only Oliver stood and Roy sat in silence. The look on Roy’s face was so miserable that Oliver decided to get out of his own head and reach out.

He sat down near Roy with a sigh, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Roy looked over at him with a questioning expression.

“Just wanted to sit,” Oliver explained.

Roy nodded.

“You doing all right?” Oliver asked. “How’s your head?”

“I’m fine,” Roy bit out. “Tired of people asking.”

“People are asking ‘cause you probably have a concussion.”

“So what?” Roy crossed his arms, as if hugging himself. “It’s nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

Doesn’t matter because Felicity is worse off, Oliver heard between the lines. “She’s strong, Roy. She’ll make it.”

“You don’t know that,” Roy murmured.

“No,” he agreed. “But I can hope.”

At that, Roy fell silent.

After several minutes, Roy spoke up again. “If she–” His voice shook a little. “If she doesn’t…I won’t–”

“Hey,” Oliver interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t go there. She’s got very good doctors. We have to hold onto hope. You know that’s what Felicity would want.”

Roy reluctantly nodded. “You know, when we thought you died, she was the only one who insisted you would come back. Even when Merlyn brought the sword with your blood on it, she held onto hope that you would return.” He looked up at Oliver earnestly. “She was ultimately right.”

The corner of Oliver’s lips lifted in a half-smile. “She’s always been the smartest among us.”

***

A nurse walked into the waiting room with purpose, and the atmosphere changed instantly. Everyone stood up, looking at the nurse with various levels of desperation.

“Family of Felicity Smoak?” she asked.

Multiple yes’s and nods answered her question.

“My name is Emily Ramirez. I’m one of the nurses assigned to Felicity’s care. I came here to inform you that she’s out of surgery and currently being transferred to the surgical ICU. We have a private family waiting room up there, so if you’ll follow me, we’ll get you settled up there where it’s a little more comfortable.”

“Sorry,” Donna spoke out, stepping forward. “Is she okay?”

“The doctors will meet with you in the SICU waiting room and update you on her condition.” At everyone’s nods of understanding, Nurse Ramirez smiled and started to lead the way.

No one spoke on the trip to the SICU, too anxious to hear about Felicity’s prognosis. Which made Nurse Ramirez’s perky attitude a little grating.

“Into the elevator we go,” she said, “up to the fourth floor. Don’t worry, we’ll all fit with plenty of space.”

Once they got to the fourth floor, the door opened to a hallway that had one set of doors to the left of the bank of elevators and one set to the right. The right side had a sign above that said ‘Surgical ICU’. The left side had a sign that said ‘Waiting area’.

“This way,” the nurse said as she led the group to the left. “Along the left side of this hallway are the private family rooms that sometimes double as ICU rooms for when the other side is full. In the middle between the two hallways are the nurses’ stations.” As they moved further into the hallway, she pointed out a small break room that had a vending machine, a sink, a microwave, and a small refrigerator, with two round tables and those uncomfortable yellow bucket seats around them.

“And down the hall to the right you’ll find a full bathroom with a shower for your convenience,” she pointed out. “The shower has a dispenser with an unscented two-in-one shampoo and body wash, but most people just go home to use their own showers.” She turned to Donna. “Of course, you as her mother are allowed to stay here 24-7, so you might use it.”

“Sorry,” Donna spoke up. “Only I’m allowed to stay here 24-7? What about everyone else?”

“Well, that’s hospital policy. We try to prevent too much chaos around the patient, and limit potential exposure to infectants.”

“Surely I can have one other person with me?” Donna pleaded.

Nurse Ramirez looked doubtful. “I’ll have to ask the charge nurse. It’s not my call.”

“Okay,” Donna relented.

A smile immediately returned to her face as she stopped in front of a door.  “Here we go, right through here.”

The room was decently sized, large enough to fit ten to twelve people based on the cushioned, wood-framed chairs that lined the walls. Next to the doorway was a credenza with a Keurig, followed by sugar packets, a container of powdered creamer, stirrers, and paper coffee cups. A water cooler was situated at the far end of the credenza, topped by more paper cups. Abstract paintings just like the ones in the other waiting room covered the walls, and the same type of fluorescent lights shone from the ceiling.

Roy squinted at the bright light, but kept quiet.

A caddy of medical brochures was mounted on the wall perpendicular to the credenza, as well as a large, generic clock showing 4:50 am. On the opposite wall was a modestly sized TV, muted and showing the weather channel. 

“Make yourselves comfortable. Again, my name is Emily, and you can find me at one of the nurse’s desks in the hallway. The doctors will be here soon to fill you in.”

“Thank you, dear,” Donna said effusively.

As everyone settled, the nurse spoke softly to Donna to collect more information on Felicity that only she might know. Family medical history, conditions, medications–

“--and what about over-the-counter medications like aspirin or ibuprofen? Any vitamins?”

“Uh,” Donna hesitated. “Not sure about those.”

Ray piped up, finally feeling useful. “I can help with that part. She takes a multivitamin every morning with her coffee. She and I have spent a lot of time together. I’m Ray Palmer, Felicity’s boyfriend.”

“Ex,” Diggle said, cutting Ray off.

Every head in the room whirled toward Diggle, who sat with a stoic expression. Except those who knew him best could tell it was his brand of dry humor. 

Roy ducked his head, hiding a smirk. 

Thea bit her lips to suppress a smile. 

Laurel frowned, feeling awkward in the sudden silence. 

Lyla closed her eyes, shaking her head at her husband’s utter lack of tact.

Oliver…well, Oliver had multiple, complicated emotions. Surprise, confusion…and hope?

Ray looked indignant, his brows lowering in anger.

Donna looked from Diggle to Ray. “I thought you were–” She looked back at Diggle.

“Yeah,” Diggle confirmed. “She broke up with him yesterday morning.” He turned his gaze on Ray. “You didn’t tell her?”

Ray’s indignant expression morphed into embarrassment, his face slowly turning red. “Well, it…it happened so recently…I didn’t, I didn’t think it was the right time to…”

The nurse looked perplexed at the crowd. “Well,” she interrupted this awkward moment. “Multivitamins have been noted! Thank you.” She turned to Donna with a grimace. “I think that’s all the questions I have for now.”

Donna was still stunned from the revelation. “Okay.”

The silence stretched on to beyond uncomfortable levels, and Ray awkwardly cleared his throat. “I think I’ll step out for some air.” He quickly walked out of the room.

Another beat of silence, and then Roy couldn’t hold back his giggle. That set off Thea, and Diggle finally smiled. He made eye contact with Oliver, who looked back at him with a slight shine in his eyes. Diggle nodded at him, and Oliver’s expression softened with a very small smile.

***

The lighter atmosphere didn’t last long. It slowly descended back into anxious waiting. Oliver returned to his window watching, and Diggle stood quietly next to him. All the others took a seat, and no one said a word.

A few minutes went by, and then everyone heard a pair of footsteps walking swiftly their way. They all turned their heads to the doorway, and when a man and a woman in lab coats walked through, everyone stood up.

The male doctor looked to be in his mid-fifties, average height with thinning reddish hair and ruddy skin. He had glasses perched on his nose as he looked down at what was most likely Felicity’s chart.

The female doctor had a more intimidating bearing about her. Tall and slender with short dark brown hair, severe eyebrows, and a more olive complexion, she seemed much younger than her male counterpart, possibly mid-thirties. She had a tablet tucked against her chest, and she looked at everyone with a stoic expression.

“Good morning. My name is Dr. Thorne,” the first doctor said. “I’m the trauma surgeon on call, and this is my colleague, Dr. Aris.” She nodded at the acknowledgment. “She is our neurosurgeon. We worked concurrently on Miss Smoak’s surgery, which was long and complicated, but she tolerated it well.

“The surgeries were successful, and while Miss Smoak is stable for now, she’s still in very critical condition. The laparotomy showed the internal bleeding coming from her spleen, which we repaired. There was additional bruising on her liver and bowels, but no surgery was needed. We’ll just keep an eye on them in case of complications.

“We identified a fractured clavicle which should heal on its own with immobilization. No surgery is needed for that at this time. We also repaired lacerations on her left side, likely from shrapnel, and second-degree burns have been treated and dressed. She lost a significant amount of blood which required multiple transfusions. Like I said, she’s stable at the moment but is dependent on a ventilator, and so remains in critical condition.

“Dr. Aris did the neurological portion of the surgery, and she will explain in more detail. Dr. Aris?”

Everyone turned their heads.

“Her CT scan revealed cerebral edema, requiring a decompressive craniectomy to relieve the intracranial hypertension. We evacuated an acute subdural hematoma, as well as several–” Dr. Aris stopped speaking when she noticed Donna shaking her head. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry,” Donna said, “I’m a blond, so all those fancy words go over my head. Can you tell me what they mean?”

Dr. Aris simply nodded, took a small breath, and started over. “Cerebral edema means her brain is swelling, so we did a craniectomy, which means we removed a flap of bone from her skull to give the brain room to swell. That’s necessary in these cases because a herniation, which is swelling of the brain with nowhere to go, would cause immediate death. We also removed some blood that collected between the brain and the dura, and some bone fragments from the surface of the brain tissue. Do you understand?”

Donna nodded numbly, her mind stuck on bone fragments in her brain. “That means it’s bad?”

Dr. Aris nodded, a hint of empathy entering her expression. “She remains at a 3 on the Glasgow Coma Scale, which is the lowest score, and hasn’t shown any improvement. Between that, the severity of her brain injuries, and her non-reactive pupils, I’m afraid the prognosis for full recovery is highly unlikely. The best-case scenario is consciousness in a persistent vegetative state.”

A stunned silence pervaded the room.

Dr. Thorne spoke up again, breaking through the silence. “We’ve done everything we can in the OR, and we’ll do everything we can in the ICU. We’ll monitor her stats around the clock, keep an eye on the swelling, and treat her with medication. The next twenty-four to seventy-two hours will be the most crucial to further determine her prognosis. There will be nurses and attending doctors on call at all times, so if you have any questions, someone will always be available.” He glanced over at Dr. Aris, who returned his glance with a nod. “We’ll leave you to process this information.”

Everyone in the room had mixed reactions to the news. Donna held a hand over her mouth as tears flowed from her eyes. Laurel, Thea, and Lyla all frowned, staring through the doorway where the doctors had left. Roy sat down and doubled over, clenching his hair in his hands. Diggle closed his eyes and dropped his head, not really surprised at the prognosis.

Oliver, meanwhile, just stood in wide-eyed shock, unable to move or speak or even breathe. The only sounds that could be heard were the relentless ticking from the clock on the wall, and the slow beeping from various monitors floating in from the hallway.

Until a high keening noise erupted from Donna, who began to stumble from weak knees. Oliver, standing right next to her, broke out of his shock to catch her and direct her to a chair. Diggle moved to sit next to her, placing a solid hand on her back for comfort. The others slowly sat down. Except Oliver.

“I need some air,” he whispered, and stormed out of the room.

Diggle stared after Oliver. He knew he’d have to catch up with him in a bit, just to check on him, give him a sounding board. But right now, he wanted to be selfish and grieve for his sister, who would never come back the same.

***

Persistent vegetative state. The words echoed in Oliver's mind, but he couldn’t connect any emotions to them. They felt clinical and unbelievable. Like words in a foreign language. They sounded like English, each word on its own was intelligible, but together, they just didn’t make sense.

Persistent vegetative state. Even the arguments in his head were silenced. His gaze bounced around as he tried to find his footing in reality, but reality was slipping away. His brain wasn’t functioning correctly. He was barely aware of his surroundings.

Persistent vegetative state.

If one were to look for Oliver, they’d find him staring out a window at the end of the ICU corridor. The lights of Starling City dotted the landscape, and the sky grew pale with the approaching dawn. Oliver stared at the view without seeing, and heard the calm activity of the hospital without listening. He couldn’t feel the chill of the hallway on his skin, or smell the antiseptic that was pervasive in the air. Everything was numb, and nothing worked.

Persistent vegetative state.

There was a distant thought, in the outer corners of his mind, that it was a blessing to be this numb. There was no understanding here, but that also meant there was no pain. No existence. No consequences.

He had no idea how long he stood that way, until he heard familiar steps coming toward him. It didn’t quite shake the non-reality away, but it was the first sound that actually registered as something.

The footsteps stopped behind him, and no other sound followed. The air felt slightly displaced by another figure standing nearby. Those outer corner parts of his mind recognized the figure as Diggle, his ever-present and unshakeable partner. But Oliver wasn’t ready to wake up, not yet.

“It’s morning,” Diggle stated plainly. “Doesn’t feel right. Like the sun shouldn’t rise, and it should always be night. That would make more sense.”

Oliver grunted in reply. It was the best he could do.

“I know you’re not okay,” he said. “None of us are. I know I’m not.”

Oliver huffed.

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. Touch. It was another something.

“Nothing I can say will make this better, I know. But I’m here.”

A feeling started to warm his chest, a feeling that threatened to go hot, and Oliver tried desperately to shove that feeling back down. Numb was good, numb was fine. Not numb would destroy him.

The hand dropped. Silence returned.

You can fix this, that insidious voice whispered.

Oh good. They’re back.

Persistent vegetative state.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Oliver closed his eyes, the numbness starting to dissipate as surely as the sun was offensively rising.

The other side of the argument was silent in his mind.

Nothing to say? That little devil thought.

Memories from the rooftop, merely hours ago–

Take your rightful place as Heir to the Demon, and Ra's al Ghul will save your beloved’s life.

She may never fully recover. You won’t get back the woman you love. She will never be the same.

“Maseo predicted this,” he finally said, his voice cracking from disuse.

“What did he predict?” Diggle asked.

“He said she would never fully recover. That she’d never be the same.”

Diggle stayed quiet.

“He said–” Oliver bit his tongue. Something in him didn’t want to share.

“What did he say?”

Oliver shook his head. He already knew what Diggle would say. That’s crazy, Oliver. Felicity wouldn’t want this, Oliver. Don’t let Ra’s win.

Persistent vegetative state.

With a deep breath, he turned toward Diggle and did what he always did best. Deflect. “How’s Donna?”

“She’s in rough shape.” Diggle peered into his eyes, trying to see what Oliver was hiding. “I think she would feel better with you by her side.”

Oliver slowly nodded, and started walking back to the waiting room. He could do that much for her.

The arguments continued in his mind. The ‘good’ side sounded like Diggle, and the little devil on his shoulder sounded more and more like Oliver.

Chapter Text

The hallway was a flurry of noise and activity, bringing everyone to their feet. On the other side of the nurses’ stations, several people could be seen surrounding a gurney that slowly rolled into an ICU room. It was hard to tell if it was Felicity. So many people, tubes and machines obscured the patient.

The gurney disappeared into the room, the hospital personnel with it.

“Excuse me,” Donna asked, approaching one of the nurses. “Is that my daughter?”

“Yes, that is Felicity, Ms. Smoak. They’re settling her into room five, and it will take them about thirty to forty minutes before they’re ready to send you in.” She looked at the rest of the group. “It will be at least another two hours before she’ll be ready for visitors besides next-of-kin, so please make yourselves comfortable in the waiting room.”

While everyone returned to the room, Donna and Oliver remained in the hallway, looking toward room five. They still couldn’t see Felicity, even through the large windows, due to all the activity around her bed.

“Please, Ms. Smoak,” the nurse urged. “I will make sure you get to see your daughter when they’ve settled her in about thirty to forty minutes.”

“Can I bring someone else with me?” Donna asked, glancing at Oliver.

The nurse nodded. “You can bring one person with you for support, if needed.”

“Yes, please,” Oliver croaked, finding his voice.

“Thank you so much, dear,” Donna replied.

The nurse nodded.

As they started walking back into the room, Donna whispered, “Oliver, I’m scared.”

He looked down at her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I am, too.”

“What the doctors said, that last thing the lady doctor said…I can’t get it out of my head.”

Oliver frowned in sympathy. “Me neither.”

Donna stopped in front of the door and pulled Oliver’s hand off her shoulder, clutching it in both of hers. “I just wanted to say, thank you, for being here. For her, and for me.” She pulled him into a hug.

“Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

True to their word, about forty-five minutes later, a nurse came to retrieve Donna and Oliver. They were escorted through the nurses’ station to the other side. Donna put her hand on the door handle, but hesitated.

“Ready?” Oliver asked.

“No,” she replied, and then pushed the door open.

***

Before Donna even entered the room, a cold draft with the sterile scent of antiseptic assaulted her senses. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her work clothes before coming to Starling City, and the short hourglass dress was doing her no favors in the chilly room. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms. Then she saw her daughter.

Suddenly, the cold didn’t matter anymore. She could hardly see Felicity beneath all the tubes, wires and bandages. She was surrounded by machines of all sizes, showing numbers and lines that made no sense. The only parts of her face that were visible were her eyes, nose, and chin. The top of her head was covered with bandages, and some kind of wire stuck out from the back of her head. Her mouth was obscured by a large tube strapped down with tape that ran across her cheeks. Her neck and chest had stickers with wires, and multiple tubes attached to multiple bags hanging from a pole. 

The room was a cacophony of sounds, from the hissing of the ventilator to the beeping of various machines. She could hear Oliver’s harsh breathing, in concert with her own. Her hand flew to her lips to suppress a moan. Her eyes welled with tears, which dripped down well-worn tracks on her cheeks. Her other hand reached for Oliver’s, gripping it tight, lest she crumple to the ground.

She felt Oliver turn toward her and pull her into a hug, slowly rubbing her back in an attempt at comfort. The moan she had been holding back escaped her mouth, and she started sobbing softly.

Her baby looked so fragile, so lifeless. So contrasted from her normally bright, lively self. Donna closed her eyes and tried to remember their last interaction, when Felicity assured her that Ray would be fine and she could go home. If only she had stayed. If only she had been brave enough, reckless enough, to quit her job and move to Starling City, an idea that had floated through her head a few times over the last few years. She might have only gotten a day or two with Felicity before this happened, but it would have been a day or two more than she had now.

“Ms. Smoak,” a nurse interrupted softly, “Mr. Queen, the staff needs to come in and continue the transition to ICU protocols. You’ll be able to come back in a couple of hours. But we’ll need you to go back to the waiting room for now.”

Donna lingered a few more seconds in Oliver’s arms, until he whispered, “Let’s go. I’ve got you.”

She took a deep, shaky breath, and then nodded.

***

Oliver led Donna out of the room, tucking her hand in his elbow as they walked slowly, at her pace. Oliver’s heart was in his throat, preventing him from speaking, his mind occupied by the sight they had just left behind. It was a sight so unnatural it didn’t feel real. That couldn’t possibly be Felicity, the woman who brought sunshine into everyone’s life. Who babbled and made unintended innuendos, who had fire in her spirit and an abundance of wit.

Yet it was her, underneath so many obstacles to her visage. The two truths clashed in his mind, causing an uncomfortable dissonance. Over three years of memories conflicted with the truth of Felicity’s current condition, so yet again, Oliver’s mind was divided.

He pulled Donna into a dark, unused waiting room and shut the door behind them. He wasn’t ready to face the team, and he greedily wanted Donna’s company to himself for a little while longer. She embraced him again, her sobs still soft and barely audible.

So much conflict in his mind was causing a headache behind his eyes, which he immediately dismissed as a non-issue. Not while Felicity lay in a coma, fighting for her life. What was a little headache compared to that? He suddenly understood Roy’s impatience with people worrying about his concussion. There were more important things to think about.

Like Donna. A part of him was thankful that she needed him so intensely. Oliver never did well with feeling helpless. He always needed to do something in these situations. He needed purpose. And if having a purpose in supporting Donna silenced the chaos in his head, even briefly, it was worth it.

“Do you need anything, Donna?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “Some water, maybe? Tissues?”

Donna let out a soft laugh. “Thank you, Oliver. But not right now.”

He nodded. “Anything you need, let me know.”

She scoffed. “What I need is my daughter hale and whole.”

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, the other conflict in his mind flaring up.

You can make that happen for her. Give her her daughter back.

Not at the cost of my soul, that Felicity fought so hard for all these years.

“I’m sorry,” Donna said, misreading his expression. “I don’t mean to be sarcastic.”

“No,” he assured her, “it’s fine. You’re allowed to be however you need to be.”

Donna laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re very sweet.”

Oliver closed his eyes at the affection in her touch.

Donna took a deep breath, collecting her strength. “Let’s get back to everyone else. they’ll want to know about our girl.”

Oliver nodded, and then followed her out silently.

***

In the end, there wasn’t much to say, except Felicity looked so fragile. The others would get to see for themselves in a couple of hours, anyway. Silence fell over the room once again, leaving each to their own thoughts.

The long, painful purgatory of waiting had begun. Waiting for something to happen, one way or the other. Waiting for news of progress, waiting for a miracle. Waiting to hear that, no, she wasn’t always going to need a machine to breathe for her, that even if she was never the same, she’d somehow wake up and live.  

Or, waiting for the worst. Waiting for an outcome that would devastate. In the darkest corners of everyone’s mind, that thought was there. That being in a persistent vegetative state wasn’t the final outcome, that the worst case, death, could happen.

But that was a thought that all of them buried under strong walls of denial. It was too soon to give up, anyhow.

It was only day one of The Vigil.

Chapter Text

Dr. Lockhart

Evan Lockhart walked into his shift thinking it was going to be just another day on the job, though he could never really rule out strange days, especially in a city full of vigilantes. He remembered his very first encounter with the Arrow when he came in with an injured knee last year. It was only the first of many Arrow encounters. He’d covertly met other members of the team for various injuries over time, and slowly, he put together the members of said team based on his own observations and public rumors.

He was almost certain that the Arrow was Oliver Queen. Color him surprised when the news came out just a couple days ago that it was actually Roy Harper. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, because he could have sworn that Harper was the red one. Either way, Oliver Queen and Roy Harper were part of a team of vigilantes, as well as their lovely tech specialist Felicity Smoak, whom he had seen just days ago.

Which is why, when he saw her name on Dr. Lamb’s sign out, he stopped cold in the hallway. 

• Name: Smoak, Felicity, M
• DOB: July 24, 1988
• MRN: 68464234
• Allergies: Tree nuts
• Next of Kin: Smoak, Donna (mother)

He scanned the rest of the report quickly, concern turning to alarm at the grim details ( TBI secondary to blast injury, acute subdural hematoma, cerebral edema, splenic laceration, clavicle fracture, multiple lacerations, second degree burns) , which turned to dread ( prognosis remains exceptionally poor) .

Lockhart tucked the sign out under his arm and immediately left for the SICU.

His first stop was Felicity’s room, and he took note of the stats on the various monitors. It wasn’t great, but it was stable, for now. Then he left and headed for the waiting room, where he anticipated seeing the rest of the team.

As he walked in, he grabbed the attention of the whole room. He recognized Oliver, John Diggle and Thea right away, as well as Donna Smoak whom he’d seen a few days ago. He was confused to see Roy ( wasn’t he supposed to be in jail? ). He also recognized ADA Laurel Lance, which surprised him. She was part of the team? The only one he didn’t recognize was the woman sitting next to John, a woman with short brown hair and an intimidating demeanor.

“Oh, Dr. Lockhart,” Donna greeted, surprised. “Nice to see you again.”

He turned to Felicity’s mother. “I’m both glad to see you and sorry under these circumstances.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He addressed the rest of the room. “I heard about Felicity’s condition, and wanted to check on the rest of her…friends.” Team, he’d almost said, and stopped himself considering Donna most likely didn’t know. “Was anyone else caught in the blast? Anyone else injured?” He looked each of them over and paused on Roy, who looked a little pale.

“Some of us were, but most of us are fine,” Diggle said. “Roy probably needs looking at, though.”

He noticed Roy throwing Diggle a dirty look. “I’m fine,” Roy retorted.

“That may be so,” Lockhart said, “But humor me, would you? If I don’t check you out I might get fired.”

With an aggravated sigh, Roy waved his hand in permission.

He crouched in front of the young man and began his evaluation. Pupils even and responsive, cognition clear, slightly photophobic. “Any headache or nausea? Any dizziness?”

“Headache,” he admitted.

“Has it gotten better or worse since the blast?”

Roy sighed. “Worse.”

Lockhart noted the brightness of the fluorescent light. “Well, the lights are probably aggravating your headache, and I’m gonna take a wild guess that you haven’t gotten any rest.”

“No,” he agreed.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Do you have someone who can stay with you when you rest, someone to wake you every two to three hours?”

“I can do that,” Thea piped up.

“Then I suggest you take this young man somewhere he can get some proper sleep, and wake him up, like I said, every two to three hours. Ask him his name, where he is, and what day it is. If he has any trouble answering, or it’s increasingly difficult to rouse him, bring him back here and I’ll take care of him personally. Also if he starts slurring, or if there’s any nausea or vomiting, anything that seems like his symptoms are getting worse, you bring him back here.”

“I will,” she agreed.

“I can’t leave,” Roy protested. “I have to stay here, for Felicity.”

Lockhart gave him a sympathetic smile. “How about if I hear anything new, I’ll personally come and inform the rest of your friends and they can give you a call. She’s stable for now, and I think you can afford to get a few hours rest.”

“Please, Roy,” Thea said before Roy could protest further. “For me? Don’t make me worry about both of you.”

Roy frowned at her. “That’s dirty.”

She shrugged, a chagrined smile on her face. “I’ll make sure he gets rest, Dr. Lockhart.”

Lockhart nodded, and waved to everyone. “Take care, all.” He left to finally start his shift.

***

First break

“I should probably get back to work,” Laurel said, standing up. She turned to Oliver. “Ollie, please call me if anything happens?”

Oliver nodded.

“I should get going, too,” Lyla said, standing with Laurel. She gave Diggle a kiss on the head. “Come home at some point, will you? At least to take a nap and a shower.”

Diggle sighed. “I’ll do my best.”

Lyla huffed a laugh. “Which means no promises. I’ll take what I can get.”

The two women left the waiting room.

“Come on, Roy,” Thea said, pulling on Roy’s hand. “You heard the doctor, you’re coming to my place to get some sleep.”

Roy let out an aggravated sigh, and turned to look at Diggle.

“I’ll call you if anything.”

Roy finally relented to Thea’s pulling, and followed her out of the room.

And then, there were three.

After a bit of silence, Donna spoke up. “Would you boys come with me to have breakfast? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, and I hate eating alone.”

Diggle smiled at her obvious maneuvering, but agreed all the same. “Of course. There’s a cafeteria downstairs, we can go there together. Right, Oliver?”

Oliver cleared his throat and nodded. “Right.” He stood up and offered Donna his arm.

“I’ll go give my number to a nurse so they can call us if anything happens,” Diggle offered, and then followed them out of the room.

***

Captain Lance

Lance could have let the detective in charge of the investigation come to this hospital to get John Diggle’s statement. It was standard procedure, after all. But anything and everything to do with the Arrow , he wanted to be in control. He wanted to be the one to put him, Oliver Queen, away for good. He got close. He had him in the van. But that didn’t work out.

Lance walked through the doors of Starling General and walked up to the receptionist. He pulled out his badge. “Captain Quentin Lance, SCPD. I need to speak with John Diggle. He was first on scene for Felicity Smoak, who I believe is here in this hospital.”

“One moment, sir,” the receptionist said. “I’ll see if I can track him down.” After a few minutes and two transfers later, she hung up the phone. “I was told they are currently in the cafeteria having breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he said dismissively, and walked away.

The cafeteria of Starling General looked like every cafeteria in every hospital. Rectangular tables with uncomfortable looking chairs, all grouped together in an open area with windows, and a buffet style line filled with whatever dish of the day was for sale. He spotted Diggle right away, who stuck out like a sore thumb due to his size, even while sitting. He noticed Queen sitting across from him, of course, and another person he didn’t recognize. But he was here for Diggle.

“John Diggle,” he said. “I need to take your statement of what happened, before, during, and after the explosion at Verdant. You know, where Roy Harper the ‘Arrow’ had his base of operations?” He couldn’t resist jabbing sarcastically.

Diggle looked over at Oliver with what looked like alarm. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk, Captain Lance.”

Oh, he definitely wants to hide something from someone. “No, no, let’s do it right here,” he retorted. “What, you want to hide the truth from–” He turned to look at the third occupant of the table, and for a brief second was stunned by her beauty. But not enough to prevent his saltiness toward Queen. “You watch out for this one,” he said to her, gesturing at Queen. “Everyone around him tends to get hurt.”

“Uh-uh!” she objected, waving a finger at him. “I don’t know who you are but I know you don’t have the right to talk about Oliver that way. He’s in pain, and doesn’t deserve your shit-talking. Now apologize to him at once, or so help me I will dig my three-inch heels into your foot.”

Lance took a step back in shock. He saw Oliver and Diggle both duck their heads, probably suppressing laughter at his expense. Indignant, he asked the woman, “Sorry, who exactly are you that just threatened an officer of the law?”

“Captain Lance,” Oliver interrupted. “Meet Donna, Felicity’s mother.”

His stomach dropped and he felt all the blood leech from his face. “I, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Mm-hm.” She looked unimpressed. “I’m waiting for your apology to Oliver.”

He’d rather cut off his own tongue, but he owed it to her, just this once. “Sorry, Queen.”

“Oliver,” Donna corrected.

Lance swallowed. “Sorry, Oliver. ” The name tasted like ash in his mouth. He turned back to Donna. “I’m so sorry about your daughter, Ms. Smoak. She’s a good kid, I hope she makes it.”

“Thank you, Captain Lance,” she nodded. She still had a scolding expression on her face.

Jeez, she’s feisty. He felt something stirring in his chest, but he locked it down. He looked back toward Diggle. “I’m still gonna need that statement.”

“Let’s do this elsewhere, Captain,” Diggle insisted.

Lance blew out a frustrated sigh. “Fine.” He turned back to Donna and tipped his cap. “Ma’am.”

Lance followed him to the entrance of the hospital and stepped outside. “All right, tell me the events leading up to the explosion. Who was there, what were you doing, how long were you there before it happened?”

“It was myself, Oliver, Thea, and Felicity. Thea wanted to clean up the basement after the raid, and we were there about twenty minutes before Felicity noticed that SCPD forgot one of the computers. She went to investigate, and that’s when the bomb went off.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said doubtfully. “No other possible reason to be there? Salvaging the ‘Arrow’s’ operation, maybe?”

Diggle narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you accusing me of something, Captain Lance? Should I get an attorney?”

Lance scoffed, but he had to play this by the rule book. “No, I’m not accusing you of anything. Now tell me what you remember about the explosion itself.”

Diggle looked up as he accessed his memory. “It was small, didn’t do any significant damage to the basement itself, but it did destroy the computer, the desk, and the chair that was there. And Felicity,” he added with a dejected expression. “I think a large piece of shrapnel hit her in the back of the head.”

Lance tilted his head in thought. “Why the back, and not the front?”

“I think she knew what she was looking at and turned away in an effort to avoid the blast, but she didn’t protect the back of her head.”

“Okay. Now tell me everything that happened after, all the way to the handoff to Starling General.”

Diggle went into detail of the minutes after, and Lance jotted it all down in his notepad. When he was done, he slapped his notepad shut, and then let out a defeated sigh. “How’s she doing?” he genuinely wanted to know.

Diggle shook his head. “It’s pretty bad, Captain Lance.”

Lance nodded. “Give my apologies to her mother again, will you?”

“Will do,” Diggle replied.

With that, Lance returned to his car to go back to the precinct.

***

Revelation

“Sorry about that,” Oliver said to Donna in a soft voice. “He’s never forgiven me since I got his daughter killed.”

Donna put her hand over his on the table. “I doubt that you’re to blame, Oliver. He was wrong to be so mean to you.”

Oliver shrugged. “Whether or not it’s my fault, I was the one who invited her to the yacht that ultimately went down in a storm.”

She remembered hearing about that on TMZ. But clearly she didn’t know the whole picture. “Do you want to tell me about it? You don’t have to, of course. But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Oliver crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Donna, but I’d rather not, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” she replied. She took a deep breath and stood up. “Let’s go back upstairs, hun. I don’t want to be far from Felicity for too long.”

Oliver nodded, and took care of the remains of their breakfast.

As they made their way up to the fourth floor, she replayed the confrontation at the table. “So, Roy is this Arrow guy?” she asked doubtfully. “Because I remember seeing a press conference that said it was someone else.” 

Oliver stiffened beside her. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat again. “I don’t know what to say.”

Donna smiled. “Relax, Oliver, I already had my suspicions.”

He turned to her in shock. “You did?”

“Well, remember back when we first met? And I watched Sara for John in the club, and was left waiting there for two hours?”

Oliver frowned, watching her with trepidation.

“And then that whole thing with Cooper happened? I saw the way Felicity looked at the Arrow, and it’s pretty much the same way she looks at you.”

Oliver was still silent, brow furrowed.

“Also,” she said with a cheeky smile, “once I noticed the Arrow’s butt looked exactly like yours, I had a feeling.”

Oliver finally laughed, his face turning pink.

“The other thing that convinced me is that Felicity and I have a history of attracting complicated men. Men who are not squeamish about breaking the law. Now,” she said quickly, feeling Oliver stiffen again, “I’m not that squeamish either. I live and work in Vegas, I’m no stranger to that world. And neither is Felicity. But I can tell,” she said, stopping to look Oliver in the eyes, “that you’re a good person, and the laws you break are for a good reason.”

Oliver frowned again. “I’m not a good person, Donna.”

“Oh, hush,” she protested. “Of course you are, I’m a mother. I know these things. Don’t argue with a mother.”

Oliver smiled and ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

Diggle

Diggle sat across the room from Oliver and Donna, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, almost dozing. He could hear the ever ticking clock, the hallway activity, the occasional announcement over the PA, and Oliver and Donna’s soft breathing.

He opened his eyes, trying to stay awake, knowing that the two hours until he got to see Felicity were almost up. Oliver had his head back against the wall, with his arm around Donna, who was leaning against his shoulder. Both were asleep. It had been a very long night for all of them.

His eyes slid shut again, and the heavy weight of lethargy descended over his body. It was tempting to stay in this half awake state, to let his body get the rest he needs. But his mind and soul needed Felicity more. He needed to see Felicity.

As if calling them with his mind, a nurse walked in and glanced at him. Her presence woke Oliver, as well, but Donna remained asleep.

“Felicity is ready for other visitors now,” the nurse whispered.

Diggle looked at Oliver, and Oliver glanced down at Donna. He waved at Diggle, mouthing “Let her sleep.” He gave him a grateful smile, and followed the nurse to Felicity’s room.

He knew, on an intellectual level, what to expect, but actually seeing Felicity, buried under bandages, tubes, and wires, drove an ache into his gut. She didn’t look like herself. Her face was a little swollen, her body too still. The only movement came from the expansion and deflation of her lungs, assisted by the ventilator. 

At least she was breathing, even if it was a machine doing it for her.

His gaze flitted over the monitors, taking in the information he knew how to read. Respiratory rate, heart rate, oxygen saturation, blood pressure, and the all important ECG that beeped along with her heart, showing a standard sinus rhythm. They all seemed within normal levels, which was comforting to see. He could almost pretend Felicity was just sleeping, as long as he didn’t look at her.

Walking over to the bed, he avoided looking at her face and gazed down at her hand, instead. Her nails were still painted red, though heavily chipped. Her hand was a little swollen. Diggle reached down and held just the tips of her fingers. Her skin was cold. And pale. Almost bloodless.

Blood in her hair, on his palms, on his knees–

He drew in a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He shook the vision out of his head. That did not belong in this room.

He turned his attention to the monitors again, matched his breathing with hers, until he had control. The numbers were still stable. He wasn’t sure it would stay that way, but he’d take comfort in it for now.

Diggle finally found the courage to look at Felicity’s face. He curled his fingers around hers, grasping a little more tightly. Swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he whispered. “Some studies say it’s possible. In the rare chance that you can, I wanted to tell you, I love you, Felicity. You’re my sister.” He looked away and swallowed again, grief threatening to break his composure. He took a deep breath, and another, watched the numbers on the monitor until he no longer felt like collapsing with tears.

“I’m here, and I’ll be back.” He placed her hand gently back on the bed and left her room, still taking deep breaths.

Thea

Thea walked through the hospital entrance with a large duffle bag on her shoulder, and Roy trailing behind her with five pizza boxes and a bag with three two-liter sodas. It was probably overkill, but she figured getting on the good side of the nurses and doctors in the ICU couldn’t hurt.

“Hi,” she greeted the receptionist. “It’s all right if I bring pizza to feed my family in the ICU waiting room, right? Obviously we wouldn’t bring food into the ICU, just in the kitchen area–”

“Yes,” the receptionist interrupted. “That’s fine. Just not in the patient’s room.”

“Obviously,” she agreed with a smile. “Thank you.” She looked back at Roy. “You got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” he replied.

Once they exited the elevator on the fourth floor, she directed Roy to put the pizza and sodas in the kitchenette.

“Good evening,” she greeted the nurses on duty. “I brought pizza for dinner, and I got plenty for everyone, so feel free to have some.”

The nurses all reacted with various smiles and thanks.

She then entered their waiting room to see Oliver, Diggle, and Donna. “I brought stuff!” she announced, and then placed the duffle bag on the floor. “First,” she said, unzipping the bag, “Ollie, you need a change of clothes. Go wash up, it’s been over a day.” She handed him an outfit, and he smiled down at her. “Next, Donna! I had to guess at your size but I got you fluffy pajamas and some comfy but cute outfits for you, too. And,” she pulled something out of the bag, “Fuzzy slippers!”

Donna chuckled. “Oh my goodness, Thea. You didn’t have to do all that!”

“Oh come on,” she replied. “We’re gonna be here for a while, and you can’t stay in that outfit the whole time.” She then whispered under her breath, “I got you some unmentionables, too.”

“Thank you,” Donna said, smiling.

“Also!” She wasn’t done with Donna. “I got you a whole shower kit, in case you do want to use the shower here. Jasmine body wash and avocado shampoo, plus a poof and microfiber towels.”

Donna placed a hand over her heart, and then reached out to hug the young woman. “You are a godsend, sweetheart.”

“Diggle,” she said, turning to him, “I didn’t get you anything because you have a wife for that.”

Diggle smiled. “Makes sense.”

“But!” she continued, “I did bring granola bars, you know, in case you don’t want to go all the way downstairs for food. Also I got pizza,” she added as an afterthought.

“We heard,” Oliver said.

“Go eat, all of you, I don’t know if you’ve eaten today but the pizza’s hot, and we got soda, too.”

Oliver stood up, and pulled Thea into a hug. “Thank you, Thea. This is very thoughtful.”

“I’ve been trained by the best,” she replied, thinking of their mother.

Diggle walked up to Roy. “How’s the head?”

“Feeling better. I guess getting some actual sleep did me some good.”

“Imagine that.”

Roy lightly punched his arm. “Yeah, all right.”

“Is…” Thea hesitated. “Is she ready for visitors now?”

Diggle nodded. “They’re only allowing two at a time, so you two should be able to see her. The three of us already have, multiple times.”

“Good,” Thea said. She turned to Roy, “You gonna be okay?”

He nodded. “I need to see her.”

“Okay.” She took his hand, and together they went towards Felicity’s room.

Roy

As soon as he laid eyes on Felicity, the crushing weight of his guilt returned. The distraction of being with Thea, shopping, picking up pizza–it had succeeded in making him forget for a little while. But he couldn’t escape it now.

His feet locked into place just inside the doorway, stopping Thea’s forward momentum. She looked back at him with concern. “Come on, Roy,” she said. “Don’t chicken out now.”

“I’m not chickening out,” he said indignantly. “Just…getting my bearings.”

She turned to him and gave him a hug. “It’s okay, Roy. I’m right here with you.”

Roy tightened the hug for a bit, then released her. “Thanks.”

“Come on.”

There were two chairs along the left side of the bed. Roy took the seat closest to Felicity’s hand, letting Thea have the seat closer to her head.

“She looks so different,” Thea whispered.

“Yeah,” Roy replied. He reached out for Felicity’s hand, and winced at how cold it was.

They sat in silence for a long time.

“It’s not fair,” Roy finally said, his voice wavering. “She, of all people, doesn’t deserve this.” He felt Thea’s hand on his back, in an attempt to comfort him.

“No, she doesn’t,” Thea agreed.

There was so much Roy wanted to say, but he didn’t want to upset Thea in the process. “Would it be all right…”

Thea looked at him. “All right for what?”

He hated asking for this, but he felt like this was something he needed. “Can I be alone with her, for a little bit?”

Thea nodded, understanding. “Whatever you need, babe.” She kissed his head and gave him the space he asked for.

As soon as the door shut, Roy crumpled over and placed his forehead on Felicity’s hand. Tears threatened to flow down his face, but he clenched his jaw to keep them in. Unsuccessfully, as one tear escaped and fell down his left cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he said in a strangled whisper. “I should have been faster. I should be the one in this bed, not you.”

More tears fell helplessly down his face. Every inhale shook, every exhale ended with a sob. His expression pinched with anger. “Why did you do that?” he whisper-shouted, squeezing her hand. “You weren’t supposed to take the fall for me! It’s supposed to be the other way around! Dammit, Felicity…”

He sat up and wiped his eyes with his forearm. He stewed in his misery as he looked at her face, or what was left of her face after all the tubes and bandages covered everything up.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive myself.”

He knew what the others would say if they heard him saying these things, but he wasn’t in the mood for platitudes or speeches. The only speech that he’d accept would have to be from Felicity herself, and that wasn’t possible right now.

“So you’re not allowed to die, okay? Because I know you wouldn’t want me to feel this way.”

After several more minutes of silence, he felt like he could face the others again. Strangely, he felt a little bit better getting all that off his chest.

He looked back at Felicity as he opened the door. Even in a coma, she was making him feel better.

Code Blue

Day one of The Vigil ended quietly and without much fuss. Lyla returned in the evening to be with Diggle, and eventually convinced him to go home and rest, with some prodding from Donna. Thea and Roy also left to sleep at Thea’s loft, still under doctor’s orders to wake him every couple of hours. The staff provided a cot for Donna, and after appealing to the charge nurse’s empathy, allowed Oliver to stay in a recliner overnight as well.

Though, he didn’t really get much sleep.

Day two of The Vigil began in the morning with an update from Dr. Thorne in Felicity’s room. Only Donna and Oliver were present. The news was not good. Intracranial pressure went up overnight, not by too much, but any increase was concerning. Aggressive medical measures were taken to manage the pressure, but prognosis was still exceptionally poor.

Oliver held onto Donna as she cried. He did not.

The little devil on his shoulder continued to tempt him.

Diggle, Roy, and Thea arrived at the hospital after breakfast, and were told the news. The mood on day two was vastly different from day one. A little less hope, a little less levity, and a lot more silence.

Roy did not take it well.

Dr. Aris came by Felicity’s room more than once during that day, her expression giving nothing away. But the team started getting a bad feeling.

Day three of The Vigil began much the same way as Day Two, except that damn intracranial pressure went up a significant amount. This was what the doctors were concerned about. The seventy-two hour window was the one to watch, they said. This was the day that could define any future prognosis.

When Donna and Oliver heard that, they called everyone to come back to the hospital.

There were more alarms going off during the day. More nurses and doctors in and out of Felicity’s room. Oliver and Donna were relegated back to the waiting room in order to stay out of the way. There were no conversations in the waiting room. The granola bars were forgotten on the credenza. Donna had not showered after that first night. Oliver had not showered at all.

Then, around midnight, one alarm after another went off, beeping in a sick syncopated disharmony. Nurses were walking more quickly. Doctors were raising their voices to be heard over the chaos. Dr. Aris was uncharacteristically animated in her urgency. Dr. Lockhart even came to the SICU, not to work, but to observe alongside the rest of Felicity’s family. 

The team gravitated toward the windows of Felicity’s room, watching the chaos unfold before their eyes. Tears streamed down Donna’s face non stop. She clutched onto Oliver’s arm, which had stiffened along with the rest of his body as he stared with dread. Diggle couldn’t watch. He leaned with an arm against the wall in the hallway, face pressed against his forearm, waiting for the inevitable. Lyla stood next to him, hand on his back for comfort, tears slowly streaming from her eyes. Roy was crouched on the ground with his back against the wall, clenching his fists in his hair. Thea sat beside him with her arms around his waist, crying into his shoulder. Laurel stood close to Oliver, hand on her mouth and her other arm around her stomach.

Then, the worst happened.

One singular flat tone wailed, piercing above all the other sounds of the ICU.

A nurse hit a button on the wall. “Code blue SICU!”

Chapter Text

No!

Oliver gritted his teeth as he expelled all his breath. The high-pitched wail of the ECG was the leading melody in a cacophony of other alarms. He felt himself physically moved by someone’s arm, away from the doorway. But his attention was hyper focused on the bed inside the room.

This can’t be happening , Oliver pleaded to no one. They’d get her heart beating again, they had to. He saw Dr. Thorne starting chest compressions, and another doctor using a manual resuscitator to do the breathing for Felicity, pumping the air in time with the compressions. He heard Dr. Thorne shouting for an epi, and watched as he continued to press down on Felicity’s chest as he counted.

The dreaded defibrillator made an entrance to this gruesome tableau. Gel was applied to the pads, someone yelled “ Charge to 200 ,” another one yelled “ Clear!” Then Oliver visibly recoiled as Felicity’s body arched off the table, electricity running throughout her body.

The flatline didn’t change.

“Continue compressions!” Dr. Thorne shouted, and the entire morbid routine happened again. The number of epis and charges rose with each repetition. Oliver felt each thud of the defibrillator down to his feet. Every time the staff stopped to look at the ECG, Oliver begged a god he stopped believing in to get her heart started again.

But it never did.

Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes into this cycle, it was noticeable that the staff were slowing down, the futility of this choreography making itself apparent. It was then that Oliver started losing hope. His gaze began to unfocus, and something inside him was dying along with Felicity.

He could see in his periphery that everyone else was losing hope as well. Roy and Thea clutched onto each other as they stared through the window beside Oliver. Laurel on his right had her back against the wall, a hand covering her eyes. Diggle was on the other side of the doorway, leaning his head against that window with his eyes closed and anguish on his face. Lyla had her arms around Diggle from behind as she cried silently into his back.

And Donna…she looked like she was going to collapse any second.

Before he could move toward her, he heard the inevitable but earth-ending words:

“Time of death, 12:47 AM.”

A high pitched wail of a different kind pierced through Oliver’s fog, and he saw Diggle catch Donna as her knees gave out. He was glad Diggle was there to pick up his slack. He didn’t think he’d be able to give anything of himself to her, not when his world ended for good.

… not for good…

He tried to silence that voice. But the devil on his shoulder that had tormented him for three days was growing stronger than his resolve to be good, to be the man Felicity believed in. A hero, instead of a killer. But something in him had died alongside Felicity, and the voice refused to be suppressed.

The urge to give up, to admit defeat, overwhelmed him in the depths of his grief. His will to continue, to fight the good fight, had withered as surely as life had left Felicity’s body. 

But giving up would betray Felicity’s memory. If he believed in ghosts, the thought of her witnessing him surrender, watch him abandon everything she stood for–her disappointment would destroy him.

Better disappointed than dead.

He pressed his forehead against the window. His palm flattened against the glass, the cold surface drawing away any warmth. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back tears. He couldn’t face his grief, knowing he would never recover from it. Yet the sorrow continued to rise from his gut.

Donna’s sobs grew increasingly desperate and hysterical. Both Diggle and Lyla surrounded her, supporting her weight, sharing in her grief.

You can fix this, end her pain.

A vision flashed in his mind: Donna embracing Felicity with profound relief. Maybe he could live with Felicity’s anger and disappointment if that was the price of returning a daughter to her mother.

But losing Felicity a different way, even if she lived–

This world makes no sense without her in it.

Could he have both? Bring her to Ra’s al Ghul, resurrect her using the Lazarus Pit, and still keep her respect? Impossible. She never wanted him to become Heir to the Demon. Everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed, would have been for nothing.

What did you really gain by ‘staying strong?’ 

Pride, in becoming who she wanted him to be.

His soul, intact.

What good is a soul if it’s dead?

His soul had died when Felicity did. If it wasn’t for Thea, or Diggle…he understood why people would choose the easy way out. He wanted to be where Felicity was.

But you don’t have to. You can bring her back. Thea and Diggle can keep their brother, and regain their sister.

He turned his back to the window and slid to the floor. He pulled his knees close, rested his elbows on them, and clutched his hair tightly, mirroring Roy’s posture. At the edge of his awareness, he noticed Roy jumping up and running away, his sister calling after him. Oliver understood that impulse–the temptation to run from his pain. Running to–

Ra’s al Ghul will save your beloved’s life.

He clenched his teeth and silently screamed, releasing only a whisper. Why was he fighting so hard? What was the point of everything they built if it all ended with Felicity’s death?

No! She wouldn’t want this.

She doesn’t want anything anymore, she’s dead.

He choked back a sob, and then another. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. His breathing grew harsh, each exhale explosive. He tightened his grip on his hair and focused on the physical pain.

Why are you fighting so hard?

This cut deeper than Tommy. Deeper than Sara. Deeper than his mother. He tried to imagine returning to the vigilante life but found only emptiness. It all seemed pointless now..

She can bring meaning to your life again. Just let Ra’s win.

Let Ra’s win. The phrase pulled at him like a siren’s song. The longer he resisted, the more exhausted he became. The idea of letting him–

Was it worth it? Holding onto your principles? At the cost of Felicity’s life?

He couldn’t say yes.

His resolve began to crumble.

“Don’t do it, Oliver,” he could imagine Diggle saying.

“ You’re the man that I believe in,” Felicity had once told him.

If he surrendered, she would lose faith in him.

But she’d be alive to do so.

He’d be sacrificing his soul.

Isn’t trading your hollow, empty soul worth reviving Felicity?

The argument was compelling. After all, what good is a soul if it’s dead?

What’s wrong with being a killer? An assassin? You’ve done it before.

There is more than one path to justice.

What had he truly accomplished as a hero? Starling City remained unchanged after three years of his crusade. Ra’s promised him a whole world to save. He could continue his mission on a global scale. 

No! Felicity would never–

Felicity’s dead!

Don’t do this. You’ll lose her forever.

He’d already lost her forever. But that could change. Even if it meant earning her hatred, at least she would breathe again.

He made his decision. 

The pressure constricting his heart suddenly lifted. He could breathe again.

This wouldn’t be the end.

***

While Diggle, Lyla, Laurel, and Donna were inside the room with…with Felicity’s body…Oliver left quietly. He had no intention of letting Diggle know what he was up to, knowing exactly what he would say. He would try to stop Oliver from doing this, but Oliver was determined.

He left the hospital and went to the van, started it up and drove toward the Glades. He found the abandoned fabric warehouse again and climbed the stairs, this time with purpose instead of rage. When he got to the roof, no one was there.

What he did find, however, was one singular flare, standing on its end. As if Maseo had known it would come to this and left him a way to contact the League. He walked quickly toward the flare and struck the bottom on the concrete, and it started emitting purple smoke.

Wouldn’t be long now.

Several minutes went by, and he finally heard footsteps coming from the doorway.

It was, of course, Maseo.

“Change your mind?” he asked.

Oliver nodded. “I’ll accept the position of Heir to the Demon. Just help me save Felicity.”

Maseo held out a hand. Oliver stared down at it for a few seconds, steeling himself for the irredeemable path he was choosing, and then grasped Maseo’s forearm.

***

Diggle stared down at his phone, wondering if he should bother finding out where Oliver went. He’d noticed movement in the hallway earlier, and when he went to look, Oliver was gone. He wished he was surprised, but he knew Oliver. Death, especially death of someone very close to him, usually caused him to run. After Tommy, he ran to Lian Yu. After Moira, he ran to his secondary base that he and Felicity didn’t know about.

He was worried where Oliver would run to now that it was Felicity on that list.

A sharp pang of grief pierced through his chest at the thought. He thought his brother’s death was the worst he would experience, but losing Felicity destroyed him in a way he didn’t think was possible. It almost didn’t seem real, that the brightness and vitality she once brought into his life was extinguished for good. It wasn’t fair.

Donna lay on the cot that had been setup near Felicity’s, after having been given a very light sedative. She was still awake, and still crying, but she was no longer in danger of literally breaking her heart. Lyla sat with her on the cot, lightly rubbing her back in comforting motions. Laurel had left to go update her father on Felicity’s status. Thea and Roy had disappeared, though Diggle didn’t know where they went. He figured Thea would keep Roy grounded enough to stop him from doing something stupid.

It was usually his and Felicity’s job to stop Oliver from the same fate. Diggle was on his own now, a thought that brought another pang of grief.

With a sigh, he pressed on Oliver’s contact on his phone and brought it up to his ear. It rang and rang, and then it went to voicemail. Of course.

“I’ll be back,” he said to Lyla.

She nodded.

He tried outside the entrance to the hospital; he tried the cafeteria; he tried the roof. He even went to look for the van and found it was missing, too. He tried the phone again, only to get the same result.

Diggle really, truly hoped Oliver wasn’t doing something stupid, like running away to Nanda Parbat. But it was not outside the realm of possibility.

He returned upstairs to the ICU, and shook his head when Lyla gave him a questioning look. Taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs near the cot, he made eye contact with Donna, who looked at him miserably.

“Did you find him?” she asked, her voice broken and wavering.

“No,” Diggle replied. “Don’t take it too personally. It’s how he deals with grief. He runs.”

Donna nodded. “I understand. Felicity does the same thing.”

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I don’t see it.”

“Oh yeah,” Donna said. “She ran away to MIT to get far away from me, then she ran away back to the west coast when she thought Cooper died. Even changed her whole aesthetic from goth to Barbie. Don’t let her fool you, she can run away with the best of them.” More tears sprang to her eyes. “She did, ” she corrected herself.

A figure walked into the room, and all three of them turned to the doorway.

It was Oliver. He stood staring at Felicity, his fingers rubbing together in his customary stress response. “Sorry I ran,” he croaked, clearly having heard their conversation.

Diggle observed him with a critical eye. “Where’d you go? You took the van.”

Oliver looked at the floor, frowning. “I just needed some air.”

“Oliver,” Donna whispered brokenly.

He went over to her bedside. She stood up, walked a short way toward him and fell into his embrace. “Don’t leave me,” she begged.

Oliver promised nothing, and for Diggle, that was red flag number one.

After a long silence, they all heard a very light snore from Donna. Oliver looked down at her, and half smiled. “Fell asleep,” he whispered. He rubbed her back, stirring her awake.

Diggle watched as Oliver talked softly to her, about leaving the hospital and getting some actual sleep. Donna wanted to stay with Oliver, but he shot that idea down.

“I don’t have a guest room, but John does.”

Bullshit , Diggle thought. Oliver almost never used his room at the loft, so it might as well be a guest room. Red flag number two.

“Of course you can stay with us,” Lyla offered.

Donna wiped her face. “Thank you, hun.”

As Lyla held Donna’s arm and walked her out, Diggle went up and into Oliver’s face. “You’re gonna do something stupid, I can tell.”

Oliver didn’t answer. Red flag number three.

“Don’t go to Nanda Parbat,” Diggle pleaded, shaking his head.

Oliver still didn’t answer.

“Oliver.” Diggle took hold of his shoulders, wishing Oliver would look at him. “I know this is the worst thing that has happened to us. But don’t sully her memory. Don’t do the exact thing she’d never want you to do.”

Oliver broke out of his hold and walked toward the bed, still silent.

Diggle started to get desperate. “Oliver, please. We still need you here.”

“I’ll stay,” Oliver whispered. “For Felicity.”

Diggle narrowed his eyes. That was too easy. “Why do I get the feeling you’re still gonna do something stupid?”

Oliver shrugged half-heartedly. “Because you know me so well.”

Diggle sighed. “We’ll be back in the morning for…for her body,” he whispered. “Will I see you?”

“I’ll be with Felicity,” he repeated.

It would have to be good enough. “All right, man. Get some sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“John,” Oliver said, finally turning to him and making eye contact. “Thank you, for everything.”

Diggle’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like a goodbye. Don’t do that stupid thing, Oliver.”

He half-smiled. “No promises.”

***

Morning came, and Diggle escorted Donna to the morgue, only to find out Felicity’s body was missing. And Oliver was nowhere to be found.

Diggle wished he was surprised, he really did. But once again he was proven right. Oliver did a runner, and he took Felicity’s body with him.

Chapter Text

Donna couldn’t muster up the outrage she should be feeling right now. Any other person would demand answers, accountability from someone, for losing Felicity’s body. But her heart was empty and cold. The only emotion she had room for was overwhelming grief. Her only baby, the light of her life, was gone. She would never see her be with Oliver, or watch her have babies of her own. She’d never be able to spoil her grandbabies like a grandmother should. And now, she couldn’t give her baby a proper funeral.

In someone else’s mind, this would have been insulting, a sacrilege, an act of utter selfishness. But Donna didn’t feel that way. Sure, it seemed like a crazy move for Oliver to pull, if it was Oliver, but she stood by her assessment that he was a good person, and he likely had his reasons. If only he had talked to her first.

There was another emotion, come to think of it. And it was confusion. Why? Why would he do this? What did it really accomplish? It’s not like her body would last very long, unless he put her in a freezer somehow. Was he so far gone that his grief drove him to madness? Well, she could understand that, at least. If only she could see him…

Diggle parked the car and looked over at Donna. “You all right?” he asked.

She laughed sardonically. “Am I all right, he asks.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Dumb question. How about, is there anything I can do for you? To make this less shitty?”

She turned to Diggle and grasped his hand. “Thank you, John, for offering. And you’re already doing plenty. Opening up your home, being here for me when Oliver can’t be.”

“Or won’t be,” Diggle retorted with a frown.

“Now, don’t be like that,” she said. “He’s not here to defend himself, and I for one wish I could hear what he’d say. Only then would I judge him.”

Diggle smiled. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Well,” she replied, noncommittal.

Once they walked into the apartment, Donna went to the kitchen to make some tea. She heard Diggle calling Thea and Laurel, so she made sure to boil plenty of water to serve everyone.

“Oh, Donna, you don’t have to do that,” Lyla said, coming over to her with baby Sara.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to. I need to keep my hands busy.”

“Well, how about–” Lyla passed the baby over to Donna. “You keep your hands busy with her, and I’ll make the tea.”

Helpless to resist such cuteness, Donna relented. “Oh, fine. You drive a hard bargain.”

Sara looked up at her with a baby toothy grin, grabbing the ends of her hair in her little fists. Donna took a deep breath to stave off more tears as she remembered Felicity doing the same, except Felicity also tried to eat her hair.

Her effort to stop the tears was ultimately unsuccessful. She held Sara close to her chest and let them flow. Her constant crying started to make her cheeks raw, and she reminded herself to moisturize at her first opportunity.

Ugh, the last few days have aged me.

A shallow thought, not very befitting of the circumstances, but it was there nonetheless.

The other side effect of so much crying was a dull headache that was growing increasingly painful. By the time Thea and Roy showed up, it was unbearable.

“This headache isn’t going away,” she said. “I think I’m going to go lie down.”

Lyla nodded, and took back the baby. “Go ahead. We’ll be okay out here.”

“Thank you, hun.”

***

Diggle paced the living room as he waited for their last guest, holding off saying anything to Thea and Roy so he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. Thea accepted a cup of tea from Lyla, while Roy just sat slumped on the couch.

Finally, after several minutes, another knock came at the door, and Diggle opened it immediately.

“Hey, John,” Laurel greeted. “What’s this all about?”

“Have a seat,” he said. “There’s tea if you want some.”

Laurel furrowed her brow. “You’re not usually one to stall like this.” She took a seat anyhow. “What’s going on?”

Diggle ran both hands over his face as he thought about how to break the news. He decided to stick to his tendency to be blunt. “Oliver is gone and he took Felicity’s body.”

There was a stunned silence from the group, until Thea cried, “Ollie did what?”

Lyla immediately shushed her, reminding them of Donna’s headache.

“Sorry,” Thea said, looking chagrined. “Ollie did what ?” she said in a lower volume.

Diggle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hospital administration was in a panic. Security found a fifteen minute window when all the cameras in the ICU, the elevators, and the service entrance were down. If Oliver did this, I don’t think he did it alone.”

“What are you implying, John?” Laurel asked.

Diggle took a beat before answering, “My best guess is that Oliver is going to Nanda Parbat, and that he had League help with Felicity’s body.”

Thea placed her tea on the coffee table and covered her face. Roy simply closed his eyes. Laurel looked confused.

“So,” she started, “he ran away again, just like he did when Tommy died. But why would he take Felicity? That makes no sense.”

Three slow knocks came from the door, and everyone looked at each other.

“Expecting someone else?” Lyla asked quietly.

“No,” Diggle said, standing up to answer the door.

It was Malcolm Merlyn.

While the rest of the team stood up with shock and anger, Merlyn simply said, “Oliver is gone, and he took Felicity’s body, and you’re wondering why.” It was not a question.

Diggle scoffed. “Let me guess, you have the answer.”

Merlyn nodded at Diggle. “It’s because Ra's al Ghul has the power to bring her back to life.”

More stunned silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” Thea asked. “How is that possible?”

“There are waters in Nanda Parbat,” Merlyn explained. “They’ve permitted Ra’s to live for hundreds of years. And in rare instances, told in legend, those waters have been used to restore the dead to life. It’s called a Lazarus Pit.”

“Lazarus,” Diggle repeated, “as in from the Bible, Lazarus?”

“It could bring Felicity back?” Roy piped up, taking a step toward Merlyn with what looked like hope on his face.

“No,” Merlyn said. He continued gravely, “The waters change a person. In the soul. Even if it works, the Felicity you get back will not be the one you lost.”

“Does Oliver know this?” Laurel asked.

Merlyn slowly shook his head. “I’m not sure. But probably not. I don’t think Ra’s would have warned him about it. It would lessen his leverage.”

“So,” Diggle wanted to confirm, “Oliver took Felicity’s body to Nanda Parbat, with the crazy hope of bringing her back, in exchange for being the next Ra's al Ghul?”

“That’s right,” Merlyn confirmed.

“Well then we have to stop him,” Thea said.

Roy looked away and bit his lip.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “Something on your mind, Roy?” Diggle asked.

Roy looked up at him. “If there’s even a chance–”

“Not at the expense of Oliver’s life,” Diggle stated emphatically. “I know what happened to Felicity hurts all of us deeply, but she would never want Oliver to give up his life like that, especially to go back to being an assassin. You know this, Roy!”

“Right,” Roy agreed reluctantly. “I know. You’re right.”

“So how do we stop him?” Thea asked.

Merlyn shook his head. “You can’t. It’s a suicide mission. You won’t be able to get within a thousand klicks of the palace, not now that Ra’s has his prize.”

Thea took a step toward Merlyn. “You could help us! You know how to get there, you know what to expect.”

Merlyn’s expression hardened. “I’m not keen on dying for Oliver. Not even for you.”

Thea took one more step. “Please,” she begged, her eyes widening with desperation.

Merlyn huffed a laugh. “You are your mother’s daughter.” He sighed. “All right. I can get you as far as one of the outposts, but after that you’re on your own.”

“Better than nothing,” Diggle said. “Get us a list of gear we’ll need on the journey, and then we’ll pack and head out, tonight, preferably.”

“I can’t,” Laurel interrupted.

Everyone looked at Laurel with a mixture of shock, surprise, or understanding (from Merlyn).

“Why not?” Thea asked.

“Because,” she explained, “I refuse to work with Malcolm Merlyn. He killed Sara. And if that’s not enough, someone has to stay behind and protect Starling City.”

“You can’t do it on your own, Laurel,” Diggle tried to reason with her.

“I won’t be alone,” she replied. “I’ll have Nyssa.”

“Can Nyssa help us?” Thea wondered.

Merlyn barked a laugh. “Nyssa would never go against her father, not for this.”

“So,” Roy started, “then it’s just the three of us?”

“Four,” Lyla piped up. “Well, I can at least support you remotely from ARGUS HQ.”

Diggle nodded. “Thank you, Lyla.”

As Merlyn began to list off the type of gear they would need while Thea wrote it down in her phone, Diggle took the opportunity to inform Donna of what they knew. Well, some of what they knew.

Opening the door slowly, he noticed her fast asleep on top of the covers, dried tear tracks on her face. “Donna,” he whispered.

It was enough to rouse her. “John?” She sat up

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Still hurts,” she replied. “But what’s going on?”

He sat on the bed next to her. “We think that Oliver took Felicity because he believes he can bring her back.”

Donna gasped. “What does that mean? Bring her back? Back to life?”

Diggle nodded. “I’m not sure how, but I think Oliver believes it to be possible. But it might not be. Possible, I mean.”

Doubt warred with hope in Donna’s expression. “If he believes there’s a chance, then–”

“Maybe,” Diggle cautiously agreed, “But it’s just as possible he’s been driven mad with grief and not thinking clearly.”

A look of determination passed over her face. “Either way, he needs to bring Felicity back, whether it’s one way or the other. If you’re right, and it’s not possible, then she deserves a proper funeral.”

Diggle nodded. “That’s what we’re going to try to do, me, Roy, and Thea. Lyla will help us from the ground here, so you can keep her company. One way or the other, Donna, we’ll bring Felicity back.”

“Thank you, John,” Donna murmured.

***

Merlyn and Laurel were gone by the time Diggle got back to the living room. Thea was rapidly typing on her phone, and Lyla was rapidly typing on her laptop. Roy was back to being slumped on the couch.

“What’s going on?” Diggle asked.

“John.” Lyla had that tone in her voice, the one that meant he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “You’re not gonna be able to leave tonight.”

Diggle let out an aggravated sigh. “Why’s that?”

“The kind of gear we need,” added Thea, “we’re not gonna be able to procure by tonight. Also, Malcolm said unless we want to stick out like sore thumbs, we need fake passports and fake IDs. He needs a day, at least, to get those.”

“What else do we need?” Diggle asked.

“Are you kidding me, John?” Lyla stood up and took a few steps toward him. “You’re going to the Himalayas. You’re gonna need cold weather, high altitude gear.”

Damn. In his rush to chase Oliver, he momentarily lost his mind. “You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t thinking.”

“No shit you weren’t thinking,” Lyla retorted. She moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. “I know you’re in a rush to get Oliver and Felicity back–”

“The later we leave, the chances of losing him forever–”

“I know, John. I know. But you won’t do Oliver or Felicity any good if you freeze to death or die from altitude sickness.”

Ok, Dig, get your shit together. “What’s our flight plan, did Merlyn say?”

“No,” Thea replied, still typing on her phone. “He said he’ll be back tomorrow to give us more details. He just said to pack layers for cold weather. And don’t bring any weapons.”

“Say what now?”

“Don’t bring weapons,” she repeated. “He said we’ll procure them over there.”

Diggle sighed. He looked down at his lovely, long-suffering wife. “Any of that tea left?”

She smirked. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

When Merlyn sent a location pin earlier, Diggle hadn’t known what to expect. He left no information besides “ Everyone will be briefed on-site” . Diggle didn’t think it was a trap, but you never knew with Malcolm Merlyn. 

He pulled up to a fenced-in area and drove through the gate. It looked like a private airstrip. The location pin directed him to a small building near the entrance. He parked next to Roy’s car, grabbed his duffel from the trunk, then headed inside.

The building was laid out like a standard office–rows of desks with black rolling chairs, industrial gray filing cabinets lined up against the walls. Two half-filled duffle bags sat on one of the desks, and a mountain of Cabela’s shopping bags topped the other. Thea was rifling through each one, and Roy gave Diggle the most pitiful look.

“Dig,” he said, “Rescue me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “From?”

“Oh, stop complaining,” Thea said. “We needed this stuff for the trip. Now try this one on.” She pulled out a green and brown hardshell jacket.

Diggle smirked. “Why are you doing this now? And here?”

“We ran out of time,” Thea explained. “When we got to Cabela’s to pick up my order, they said it wasn’t ready, so we had to wait for that. Then we had to stop by a thrift store to find broken-in hiking boots. Me, in a thrift store!” She turned her gaze on Diggle, jacket still in hand. “My mother is turning in her grave.”

“Hey,” Roy protested. “Don’t knock thrift stores. They clothe pretty much all of the Glades.”

Thea frowned at Roy apologetically. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She thrust the jacket into Roy’s hands.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, but tried on the jacket. “There, it fits. Can I pack it now?”

“Yes,” Thea capitulated, and gave him a peck on the lips.

Diggle huffed a laugh. He looked back at all the bags. “Did you buy out the whole store, Thea? Why so many bags?”

“Someone posted a list on reddit on what to pack for the Himalayas,” she replied. “So I pretty much got everything.”

“We may not have space for everything,” Diggle warned.

“Trust me,” she said. “I’m a Queen. I know how to get the most things in the smallest bags.”

“All right.”

Bright lights flooded through the window of the entrance before turning off. They heard a car door open then close.

“Malcolm’s here,” Roy said, “so let’s just pack everything. I don’t need to try on all of it.”

“Okay, fine.”

Roy muttered “ thank god” under his breath.

The door opened, and Merlyn came in looking like the businessman he was before Merlyn Global shut down. Suit and tie, hair immaculate, expensive watch and cufflinks.

Diggle frowned. “What’s with the getup?”

Merlyn pulled on the sleeves of his suit jacket. “It’s for our cover.” He pulled out several items from inside his jacket pocket: passports, IDs, and paper maps. He slapped down a passport and ID on a desk as he said, “I’m James Wells, wealthy businessman.” Another passport and ID slapped down. “Thea, you’re Jennifer Wells, my daughter. Roy, you’re Scott Hargrave, Jennifer’s boyfriend.” Merlyn looked at Diggle with a twinkle in his eye. “Diggle, you’re Michael Cotter, my family’s bodyguard.”

Diggle leveled an unimpressed look at Merlyn. “Why am I always the bodyguard?”

“Because everything about you screams ‘military.’”

Diggle sighed.

“Isn’t that a little on the nose?” Thea asked.

“Thea,” Merlyn said condescendingly, “remember this lesson. Every good lie should hold a kernel of truth. It makes it more believable.”

Thea rolled her eyes.

Merlyn then unfolded one of the maps and placed it on the desk. “My jet is fueling up outside. We’ll take it to a private airstrip in Kyrgyzstan,” he pointed at a spot on the map, “where someone from my network will provide us with a road vehicle capable of handling rugged terrain. We’ll transfer vehicles here,” he pointed at the south end of Kyrgyzstan, “and another one here,“ the south end of Tajikistan. “We’ll abandon the last vehicle here,” the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan, “where my network will drop the weapons and tactical gear. From there, it’s about a three to four day hike over the Himalayas, and that’s where we’ll have to blend into the environment.”

“Hold on,” Diggle held up a hand, perplexed. “This seems like the long way around. How long is this trip going to take?”

“I’d say about eight days, nine or ten if the weather turns bad.”

Diggle gaped at Merlyn. “ Ten days?! It took me and Oliver two days to rescue you from Nanda Parbat!”

Merlyn scoffed. “Rescue. Please. Who gave you that route, Nyssa? In case you forgot, that was a trap. Ra’s let you think you breached their gates, but it was practically a welcome wagon. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you can take that route again. It would be suicide.”

Diggle felt his chest tighten with anger. “There has to be a faster way!”

“Not if you want to live,” Merlyn spat. “And even with my circuitous route, it’s still dangerous.”

“We’ll have the element of surprise!”

“Oh, like last time? No, that man can’t be surprised,” Merlyn said confidently. “He already knows.”

“How could he possibly know?”

“Because last time , you went to Nanda Parbat to rescue a man you hate. You think he doesn’t already know you’ll try to rescue two people you love? ”

Diggle frowned, unable to come up with a reply.

“Now,” Merlyn said, “You can take your chances, go the way you did before, and certainly die. Or, we can take my way and have a very small chance of living.”

Diggle ground his teeth in frustration. “What makes you so sure he’d kill us, when he didn’t last time?”

Merlyn stepped toward him and narrowed his eyes. “Because last time he wanted Oliver. He couldn’t kill you because it would have destroyed Oliver’s loyalty before it even formed. This time, he’ll already have Oliver, and you’ll be less than useless to him.”

Diggle turned away from Merlyn and kicked a desk in his fury. Ten fucking days . It was unconscionable. It would already be too late. It probably already was. If Oliver took the two-day route, he would be close to or in Nanda Parbat already. But Diggle couldn’t give up. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

“Fine,” he said, giving in.

Merlyn nodded. “Now let’s go load up.”

Diggle grabbed his duffel bag roughly and followed Merlyn to the jet, while Thea and Roy followed silently.

***

The trip began in varying states of quiet for the party. For Diggle, it was a brooding and distrustful quiet. Distrustful as he watched Merlyn from the back of the plane. Brooding because he worried about failing, worried that he wouldn’t make it out alive. A quiet that furrowed his brow as he insisted to himself that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he gave up now.

For Merlyn, the quiet was mostly a confident one, though not without some anxiety. Confidently sitting up front, confident in his overall plan, but anxious because the chances of failure were high.

For Roy and Thea, the initial quiet was awkward, the argument between Merlyn and Diggle still lingering in the air. They sat like a literal buffer between them, in the middle row of the five rows on the jet. 

But as time went on, that quiet was overlaid with murmuring from the young couple. Thea took it upon herself to take care of Roy, making sure he slept during the calm parts of the flight, making sure he took some Dramamine for the turbulent parts. During waking hours, she worked hard to distract him from his own thoughts, to pull him out of his head.

“Do you remember,” she said, “when you mentioned running away together, before…everything? God, that feels like a million years ago now. Where would we even go?”

And so they played a game, listing off all the locations around the world that were on their bucket list. Roy played along, appreciative of Thea’s efforts to distract him. In the quiet moments in between, however, his thoughts fixated on Oliver’s belief that he could bring Felicity back, at the cost of his own soul. Roy was pretty sure Oliver would find that trade worth it, and Roy couldn’t really disagree. If Roy had the opportunity to give up his life for Felicity, he would do it without hesitation. 

After twenty-plus hours in a flying tin can (with one fuel stop on the way), the passengers took some time to separate from each other and stretch their legs. Though they had been in relatively close quarters for hours, it wasn’t nearly as close as it was going to be for the next several days.

Merlyn’s network contacts left an all-terrain SUV that, at first glance, looked like it had seen better days. But Merlyn assured it was reliable and would get them to their next stop.

The even closer quarters during those days were more awkward and fraught with tension, so much so that the plane ride seemed like a restful vacation. With Diggle driving and Merlyn navigating, strained bickering would occasionally bubble up through the generally silent stalemate. Meanwhile, the passengers in the back continued murmuring softly, incorporating the vast landscapes they drove through into their bucket lists.

The more difficult and less paved parts of their trip brought back Roy’s motion sickness, requiring more Dramamine. Thea ensured that he rested during the calmer, smoother parts of the journey.

The highlight of their difficult road trip was easily in the Pamir Mountains in Tajikistan, where they stopped at a remote village safehouse for the night. With zero light pollution to drown out the night sky, Thea, Roy, and Diggle stared up in awe at the beauty of the galaxy, seen in bright, vivid multicolors. The Milky Way wasn’t just a theoretical concept here. It was close, and real, and accessible. 

“I bet Felicity knows the names of constellations in this sky,” Roy whispered, mindful of the reverent silence between the three of them.

The Pamir Plateau made it onto their bucket list.

The scariest part of their journey before the Himalayas was at a border checkpoint in Afghanistan. Officials in uniforms with semi-automatic rifles, and a roadblock with a gate that would let you through only if you passed the test.

“Remember your covers,” Merlyn said. “Jennifer and Scott, look bored or nervous, either works fine. Michael, drive steady, stay calm. I’ll handle this.”

They all played their parts while Merlyn conversed with the officials in a pleasant, casual way. That is, Merlyn was pleasant and casual. The officials were intimidating and suspicious. Merlyn passed over everyone's passports. The officials checked all their faces against their pictures thoroughly, giving “Michael” a second and third look. 

Eventually, Merlyn gestured for one to come closer, and discreetly pulled some bills from inside his jacket pocket. The expression on the official's face relaxed a bit, and he took the bills while passing back the passports. 

They passed the test, and were allowed through. 

There was a collective sigh of relief.

The terrain as they approached their last stop turned rocky and snowy. The vista before them was filled with snow-capped mountain ridges that rose up through a forest full of pine trees.

Merlyn directed Diggle to park next to a small lean-to, where a large trunk sat waiting just for them. The passengers disembarked the final vehicle as the cold air bit through their travel clothes. They steadily put on layers to protect themselves from the frigid temperatures, and packed up the rest of the gear, including the weapons they found in the trunk.

Now that all were dressed in various shades of brown, green, and gray, carrying large weight-balanced packs on their backs, they started their three day trek into the most difficult part of their journey.

Chapter Text

Diggle took the lead and Merlyn brought up the rear, keeping Roy and Thea between them. It was both tactical–to make sure the kids didn’t lag and get left behind–but also to keep them as a buffer between him and Merlyn. Because God help him, he really wanted to punch the man. Sitting smug next to him in the vehicles, not even offering to take turns driving, navigating with an imperious air, like he was better than Diggle.

His ire caused his pace to be quick, as well as his need to get to Oliver ASAP. It was possible that he was already in Nanda Parbat, but it was also possible that he wasn’t. Like Schr ö dinger’s cat. Until he opened that box and confirmed for himself, it would always be both possibilities.

He looked back and noticed a significant gap between himself and everyone else. With a sigh of frustration, he stopped walking and waited for them to catch up.

“You all right?” he asked, more calmly than he felt a couple of minutes ago.

“Yeah,” Thea said, breathing hard. “It’s just that we both have shorter legs than you.”

Roy whirled on Thea with mock hurt. “Hey!”

Thea laughed.

“Sorry about that,” Diggle said. “I’ll slow my pace a little.”

He vacillated between keeping pace with the other three and pushing forward a little faster and leaving them far behind. As an experienced hiker, he knew this was fairly normal. It was impossible to match paces for extended periods of time. He just had to remember to look back and stop if necessary.

But each time he stopped, he felt the minutes slipping away.

The afternoon came far too quickly, and Diggle was very tempted to keep going, but his training and common sense told him they needed to descend and make camp for the night, before it got too dark to see. He led them forward and down the slope, descending toward the valley at an angle.

“Why are we going down instead of up?” Thea asked.

“Climb high, sleep low,” Diggle responded. “That’s what you have to do when hiking at high altitudes. The air is thinner, so it takes your body a while to get acclimated. Sleeping at a lower altitude prevents altitude sickness.”

“Oh.” Thea glanced at Roy. “What does altitude sickness look like?”

“Headaches,” he answered. “Nausea. Fatigue.”

“A headache like the kind Roy has right now?”

Diggle whirled on his feet to assess Roy. “You have a headache?”

Roy nodded. “But that could be from the concussion.”

“Has it been getting better, or about the same? Is this headache worse than it’s been?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s about the same. I’m fine though.”

Diggle sighed and put down his pack, looking for the med kit. “I’m going to give you something called Diamox to help prevent altitude sickness, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Roy said, accepting a pill and drinking some water from his high capacity water bottle. He scoffed. “I feel like an invalid, between this and the Dramamine.”

“Don’t forget, you got the concussion only a couple weeks ago,” Diggle reminded him.

Roy’s face fell. “Right,” he muttered.

Shit. The reminder of Felicity hurt all of them. “Sorry.”

Roy nodded, avoiding eye contact.

With a silent sigh, Diggle continued to lead their descent in order to make camp for the night.

***

Diggle took deep, calming breaths to settle his exasperation with all three of his fellow travelers. While he was efficiently building his and Merlyn’s tent, he had to listen to Thea and Roy bicker about theirs. He was resolved to help them once he was done with his, but the bickering was getting annoying.

Of course, building the tent would go faster if Merlyn bothered to help at all. He stood several paces away, looking down at what looked like the topographical map with a thin marker. Probably mapping out tomorrow’s route, which, fine. It was necessary. Didn’t make his mood any better.

Once he was done, he walked over to the young couple. “Let me help you out with that,” he said, taking over and giving them instructions. Within a few minutes, both tents were up.

“Not too bad,” Thea commented. “Thanks, Dig!”

“Yeah, it would have gone faster if somebody pitched in to help!” he shouted at the end, toward Merlyn.

Merlyn shrugged, still looking down at the map. “I’m busy marking down our camp before it’s too dark to see. And,” he added, looking at Diggle with a smirk. “Maybe I just like making you do all the work.”

Diggle clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. There was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to share a tent with that man. “Change of plans,” he said loudly. “Roy, you’re bunking with me. Thea, you’re going to bunk with your father, before I’m tempted to murder our guide.”

Roy and Thea giggled.

***

After a dinner of freeze-dried camp food reconstituted with boiled water, and a decent night’s sleep, Diggle woke up a little more optimistic. He could tell from the dim light outside the tent that it was still early, and that meant more hours today to make up for lost time. They still had to be careful with the altitude, but he was confident they’d make good progress.

He freed himself from his sleeping bag and exited the tent. Then, with a smile on his face, he channeled his days as a sergeant and spoke from his diaphragm.

“Rise and shine!” He clapped his hands as loud as he could, several times until he heard groans coming from both tents. “Come on, sleepyheads! Daylight’s wasting!”

“God,” he could hear Thea moan, “What time is it? The sun’s not even up yet.”

“It’s time to pack up and start hiking again,” Diggle continued relentlessly. “Come on, you lazy little shits, get up and get moving!” He laughed quietly. Treating them like cadets was so much fun.

Within a reasonable-ish time frame (totally unreasonable if they were actual cadets, but that’s beside the point), they were finally packed up and moving again.

His good mood only lasted so long.

“Not liking the look of those clouds, Diggle,” Merlyn remarked.

Diggle looked up. Most of the sky was bright blue, but he did notice several more thin, wispy clouds than there were an hour ago. “It’s fine,” Diggle argued. “Nothing to worry about yet.”

Another hour or so, the sky was covered with the thin wispy clouds. Blue sky could still be seen, but only in between swaths of white.

“It’s still fine,” Diggle said. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

By the time the sun reached its peak, the clouds thickened and came just a little bit closer to the ground.

Goddammit . All the signs of a storm, possibly a blizzard, were showing up in the sky.

“I think we should start descending,” Merlyn commented casually, as if unbothered one way or the other.

Diggle suppressed a sigh. “It’s only noon. We can go a couple more hours.”

“We need to find camp before the high winds kick in.”

“That won’t be for a while yet,” Diggle retorted, his mood starting to sour.

Merlyn shrugged. “Up to you.”

Within another hour of hiking, the clouds started to darken.

Shit!

Merlyn had a point. Long before any snow would start to fall, the winds would be unmanageable, and trying to set up camp in windy conditions would be a challenge, at best. Impossible at higher wind speeds, which could come on faster than they’d like.

“Diggle,” Merlyn warned.

“I know!” he yelled back. “You don’t have to tell me!” He stopped in his tracks. “We’ll start descending and find a place to camp.”

Thea looked like she was going to protest, but then snapped her mouth shut. She shared a glance with Roy, who shrugged in response.

Diggle kicked at a loose rock as he started downward, launching it several yards. He had woken up with so much hope and optimism. They had barely made it halfway through the day before calling it. And would most likely have to be stationary for another day to wait out the storm.

Dammit!

***

Diggle, Roy, and Thea worked together this time to set up both tents, and it was much faster. Which was a good thing, because as soon as the tents were done, the wind had picked up enough that it took some effort to walk against it. The first bit of precipitation prickled on their skin, and before long, large, fluffy snowflakes started coming down fast.

Thea joined Diggle and Roy in their tent for a bit, wanting to spend time with Roy and not her father. Diggle refused to sit with Merlyn, so it was a tight fit in one tent with three of them. No one complained, though.

“What do you think is happening over there right now?” Roy mused quietly.

“Trying not to think about it,” Diggle replied. His mind was on the next step of the mission, and right now, it meant staying in one spot until the blizzard was over.

“If what Malcolm says is true–” Thea started.

“It is true,” Merlyn interjected from the other tent.

“Shut up, Dad ,” Thea retorted. “We’re not talking to you.”

“Just saying.”

“Anyway,” she continued, “if what Malcolm says is true, then Ollie is probably having a really hard time. If they did manage to bring Felicity back but not as herself, he’s probably beating himself up about it.”

Diggle leaned his elbows on his knees and covered his forehead with a quiet sigh.

“The whole idea was to become the next Ra’s as long as they brought her back, right?” Roy speculated. “Maybe the deal’s off because she’s not really back if she’s not herself?”

Diggle squeezed his eyes shut.

“Or maybe they can fix that, if they can bring back the dead?” Thea theorized.

“You think Oliver would just do whatever Ra’s wants if she’s, you know, normal?”

Thea laughed. “You know Felicity wouldn’t put up with it. She’d probably yell at Ra’s and talk him down.”

Diggle dropped his head further and rubbed his scalp.

“Or maybe–”

“Guys,” Diggle interrupted with a hoarse whisper. “Can you please change the subject? I really don’t want to think about that.”

“Sorry,” they both said simultaneously.

It was, however, too late. Once a bubble is popped, that bubble is gone.

He couldn’t really believe that resurrection was real. It was probably an empty promise from Ra’s, to manipulate Oliver into agreeing to his deal. And the maniacal lengths that man went through to force Oliver’s hand proved he had no lines to cross, and no compunction about forcing compliance. Maybe he would threaten someone else, or everyone else. Maybe he’d threaten Thea.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Diggle had to find a way in there and get Oliver out of there. And hopefully find Felicity’s body to take back to Starling City, so her mother could give her daughter a proper funeral. If the mission failed–

Diggle shook himself out of his thoughts. He listened back in to Thea and Roy’s conversation, but now they were whispering about memories of Felicity.

Nope, no thank you.

“‘Scuse me,” he muttered, before grabbing his jacket, balaclava, and gloves, and making his way out of the tent.

It was a really stupid idea to take a short walk in a blizzard in the Himalayas, but Diggle didn’t care. Better to focus on the sting of snow on his face, the biting cold, the effort it took to stay upright in the wind. According to Merlyn’s map, they were a little over a day and a half from the outpost. Assuming this blizzard was over by morning, that meant they’d reach it two days from now.

The crunch of footsteps in the snow came from behind him. Diggle sighed. “What do you want, Merlyn?”

“Figured I should keep an eye on you,” he replied. “You know, in case the blizzard blows you away.”

Diggle gritted his teeth, not missing his emphasis on the word blizzard. “Yeah, I get it, I just needed some air.”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of it at thirty to forty miles per hour.”

Diggle whirled on him. “I get it,” he growled through his teeth. “You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“Apparently I do,” he replied. “Pretty sure Thea would be upset with me if you somehow got lost in this storm.”

“Oh, so you don’t really care about me,” Diggle said sarcastically. “It’s all been about Thea.”

“Of course it is.” Merlyn scoffed. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

Diggle turned away from him and kept walking.

“Why are you pushing forward so stubbornly?” Merlyn asked, sounding genuinely curious. “You know it’s most likely too late.”

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

Merlyn put a hand on his shoulder and forced him around. “No, actually, I wouldn’t. I was hoping Oliver would kill Ra’s. Maybe he still will, but not until Ra’s has turned Oliver into a copy of himself. Vendetta against me and all.”

Diggle, offended by Merlyn’s forceful contact, got up in his face. “He doesn’t need Ra’s to have a vendetta against you. You manipulated Thea into killing Sara. That’s more than enough.”

“And yet, you and he came to rescue me.”

He had a point. Diggle turned away and scoffed, continuing his ill-advised walk.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Merlyn spoke loudly over a sharp gust of wind. “Why are you pushing so hard when it’s futile?”

He whirled on Merlyn again. “Maybe it’s not futile!”

“Oh it most certainly is,” Merlyn assured him. “Are you actively suicidal, is that it?”

Diggle ignored him, and continued to walk.

“You’re going to widow your wife and leave your daughter fatherless over this?”

“Shut up!” Diggle shouted, not turning around.

“Get my daughter killed? Get Roy killed?”

He whirled again and shoved Merlyn, who barely stumbled. “I said, shut up!”

“Why are you so determined to die over saving Oliver?”

“Because then what was the point?!” Diggle shouted, voice cracking.

Merlyn looked satisfied, and said nothing in return.

Diggle started breathing hard, and to his alarm, tears sprung into his eyes. “What was the point,” he continued, voice still breaking, “of everything we did, everything we built, if all it came down to was everyone dying?!” The tears fell down his cheeks, and the grief he suppressed over Felicity’s death came roaring up through his chest, into his throat, and out of his mouth in a sob. He fell onto his knees in snow and doubled over in pain. He heard footsteps crunching in the snow, this time walking away from him.

With no one to witness his breakdown, out of earshot of the kids, Diggle finally let himself grieve for Felicity.

***

After he finally calmed down, he felt a lightness in his chest that wasn’t there before. Not that the grief was gone. He knew from experience that grief never really goes away, it just becomes less sharp over time. But running away from the grief, keeping it locked down, was doing Diggle no favors.

Why was he pressing on, even at the threat of death? Merlyn’s question still lingered. Well, he’s a soldier. He was driven by duty. His wife and daughter would survive his death. Lyla understood the cost of being with him, the chance that he might not come home. He promised Donna that he would try to bring Felicity home, one way or the other. If he didn’t try everything in his power to make that happen, he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.

So why was he pushing so hard? Because he can’t not. It’s not in his nature.

Feeling a little more steady, he made his way back to camp.

“Hey,” Thea said, greeting him tentatively, a look that Roy shared. “You okay?”

Diggle knocked the snow off his boots before entering the tent. “I’m good now.”

“You just left,” she accused, “and there’s a blizzard outside.”

He got settled back in his spot, and then turned to Roy and Thea. He decided to be honest. “I guess you guys talking about Felicity really got to me, and I needed a little time to actually…feel my grief. I haven’t really done that since…you know.”

They both nodded.

“I don’t think it’s really hit me yet, either,” Roy confessed. “Maybe because I’m hoping she really can come back. I don’t know, maybe that’s denial, but I’m functional right now because of it.”

Diggle nodded. “And I don’t begrudge you that feeling. Whatever you gotta do, man. Everyone grieves differently.”

“I guess I’m hopeful too, then,” Thea added. “Because I don’t feel like she’s really gone yet.”

Diggle took a deep breath and then sighed. “Well, I’ve always been a skeptic. I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

They nodded.

***

The blizzard slowed down to regular snowfall by the time morning came. Merlyn and Diggle both agreed that setting out now was safe enough. There was only one problem.

The snow accumulated up to their knees. That would make the trek even more difficult.

“It’s a good thing I got these!” Thea said, pulling something out of her bag triumphantly. 

“Snowshoes?” Diggle gaped. “How in the world did you fit those in there?”

“I told you,” she said. “I can fit a lot of things in tiny places. I was trained by my mother. Here.” She gave the largest pair to Diggle. “I got a pair for each of us.” She looked up at Merlyn. “Except you.”

Merlyn smirked. “Don’t worry, I have my own.”

“Of course you do,” Roy muttered.

The difficult trek Diggle thought they would take became that much easier, traversing on top of the snow. It did take Thea and Roy a little bit to get used to it, but by mid-morning, they were making good time.

With his head a little clearer since yesterday, Diggle almost enjoyed their trek across the snow. The cold air felt good against his sweaty face. At one point, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around his waist, the swift travel causing his body to heat up. Thea and Roy did the same. They stopped for a quick lunch of granola bars around noon, and then set out again.

About an hour after that, things took a dangerous turn.

From behind, he heard Merlyn shout, “Avalanche!”

Diggle’s attention went to the mountain peaks, looking for some movement, then he saw it. A puff of snow rolling down from miles above them. “Let’s go!” he yelled, instincts kicking in. “Run laterally! Out of its path, follow me!”

Within a minute of flat out running, he felt the vibration under his feet. He looked back and the snow was still relentlessly rolling down, its likely path still too close to them. Oh, it was a big one. “Keep going!” he yelled.

His attention bounced between Thea, Roy, and the avalanche. Trying to calculate what path the snow would take, making sure Thea and Roy were close behind. They had panicked expressions, while Merlyn looked determined but in control.

Another minute of running, and breathing became difficult. The thin mountain air was not providing enough oxygen for the burden Diggle was putting on his lungs. He started to feel pressure in his head. Altitude sickness , he thought. He looked back one more time, and the avalanche finally settled, about a hundred yards behind them. He slowed to a stop, and everyone else followed.

Diggle doubled over as he tried, unsuccessfully, to catch his breath. He started to feel lightheaded, and he knew he had to slow his breathing immediately. He checked on the rest of the team and found Thea and Roy in the same position as him.

“Copy me,” Diggle gasped, looking directly at Roy, then Thea. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his lips. Roy and Thea followed his wordless instructions. Each breath became progressively slower, progressively deeper. “Don’t breathe with your chest, breathe with your diaphragm,” he said, demonstrating with a hand on his abdomen.

Roy started to blink rapidly and sway on his feet.

Diggle grabbed his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Just keep breathing, Roy, don’t pass out.”

They did several minutes of deep breathing before finally finding equilibrium.

“That was pretty scary,” Thea nervously giggled.

“Yeah,” Roy agreed.

All three looked back at Merlyn, who seemed unfazed.

Diggle scoffed and turned his attention back to the other two. “You all right now? Caught your breath?”

They nodded.

“Good. All right. Let’s keep moving. Keep an eye on those mountain tops. Listen to the snow below your feet. If you hear a sound like a ‘whumpf’, or feel the snow under you fall, that could potentially start another avalanche. Not as big as that one, and probably not as deadly, but pay attention for it anyway.”

Everyone nodded.

“Okay. Let’s move out.”

***

They managed to avoid another, much smaller avalanche before beginning their descent for the night. As they started setting up for their third night of camping, a slight sense of unease trickled into Diggle’s gut. He looked around, but there really wasn’t much to see, except mountains. He looked back at Merlyn, who was staring at Diggle with what looked like concern.

“You all right?” he asked.

Merlyn raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

He decided to shake the feeling off. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Except the uneasiness didn’t go away, not completely. By the time the next morning rolled around, it graduated to a chill on his neck.

Instantly recognizing that feeling from his days in the Army, he pulled out his binoculars and scanned the area around them.

“What do you see?” Merlyn asked, uncharacteristically cooperative.

“Nothing,” Diggle said, lowering the binoculars. “I just can’t shake this feeling that we’re being watched.”

“I’d trust that feeling,” Merlyn remarked. “The League could have sentries scanning the area. We’re less than a day from the outpost.” Something in the sky pulled Merlyn’s attention, and he grabbed the binoculars from Diggle’s hands.

“What do you see?” Diggle asked, echoing his question.

Merlyn cursed. “A falcon. The League uses falcons for communication.” He handed the binoculars back to Diggle. “This mission is a bust. They know where we are.”

Diggle bit his lip. Conflict warred in his mind. He knew it was a long shot to begin with, but still. He had to try. Even if it risked his life. He glanced at Roy and Thea. But they don’t have to.

“I’m going to keep going,” Diggle finally responded. “But Roy, Thea, you should stand down. It’s too risky–”

“No!” Thea immediately interjected. “That’s my brother. I have to get him out of there.”

“It’s suicide at this point, Thea ,” Merlyn snarled. “They know we’re here, and they know we’re coming.”

“We still have to try,” she argued. “Back me up, Roy!”

Roy nodded, his expression dead serious. “Of course. We didn’t come all this way to give up now.”

“It could mean your death,” Diggle warned softly.

“It could mean yours, too, John,” Thea countered.

After a moment of silence, Diggle nodded. He wasn’t going to take away their right to choose. He turned back to Merlyn. “You promised to get us to the outpost. Are you gonna break that promise?”

Merlyn clenched his jaw. “I’ll get you within view of the outpost. Then that’s as far as I go.”

“That’s fair,” Diggle replied. “Let’s go.”

“Except this time,” Merlyn growled, “I lead, and you bring up the rear.”

Diggle nodded, and gestured for Merlyn to go.

After a few hours of hiking, they crested a ridge and Merlyn came to a stop. “There,” he said, pointing. “Use your binoculars.”

Diggle pulled them out and looked where he had pointed. He saw what looked like a small abandoned town, with a few stone buildings surrounded by a wall of stone, about fifteen or twenty feet high. In one section of the wall was an iron gate that stood open.

“Al-Hisab,” Merlyn said, “translates to ‘the reckoning.’ It may look empty now, but I’d bet my substantial fortune that the League is already there.”

Diggle lowered the binoculars, conflicted again. He glanced over and Roy and Thea, who looked back at him defiantly.

“Thea, please,” Merlyn pleaded. “Come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Thea said through gritted teeth.

Merlyn looked almost pained, but the veil quickly descended. “Fine. I hope you live.” He turned on his heel and went back over the ridge they just crossed.

Diggle took a deep breath. “You know what,” he said, putting down his pack. “Leave any non-essential items here. We go in light, and we go in armed. If the League is there, we’ll fight. Got it?” he asked, looking at his now reduced team.

“Got it,” they both said, and put down their own packs to arm themselves.

Roy swung his quiver over his neck, settling it on his back, and unfurled his compound bow, locking it into position. He then tucked one of the combat knives in his boot, and the other behind his back. Thea wrapped a scabbard around her waist and then sheathed her sword. She placed a combat knife in her boot and another on the scabbard. Diggle assembled an assault rifle and clipped the extra magazines to a utility belt, then put a combat knife in his boot and another on the belt.

“Move out,” he commanded, and led them into danger.

Chapter Text

It was late night by the time they got within a stone's throw of the iron gate. The entrance beckoned in a mockery of welcome. The height of the worn stone wall felt much higher up close. The area was completely silent, save for soft gusts of wind and barely audible footsteps from the team.

“Comms online,” Diggle whispered, and they each toggled the mute button on their shoulders.

“Weapons at the ready. Thea, on me.” Thea quietly unsheathed her sword and held it centered in front of her body, the blade tilted upward at a forty-five-degree angle. She slipped in behind Diggle. Roy nocked an arrow in his bow and kept it aimed at the ground to his side, walking forward with knees slightly bent. Diggle brought the rifle up to his chest, elbows tucked into his sides with the muzzle pointing down at a forty-five-degree angle.

“Clear the area. Find a defensible position. No more than three breach points.”

Diggle and Roy stepped through the gate and swung to each side, ready to fire at a hidden enemy.

“Clear,” Roy whispered.

“Clear,” Diggle echoed.

The first crumbling stone building on the left looked too exposed, as it was missing a roof and part of one wall. Diggle went to clear it anyway, to make sure no one was hiding there.

The next building to the right looked more promising. One doorway, solid roof, part of one wall crumbled but too small of an opening for someone to step through. Roy cleared the building.

The next several yards were filled with completely exposed stone structures that could hardly be called buildings. Diggle and Roy each walked behind the structures to clear the area.

The second to last building, on the left, looked like a good location. A doorway and a window, a solid roof, all walls intact, and one rear entry. It was an option. But because there was only one building left, and they were almost at the other end of the outpost, they moved forward.

That’s when the League descended.

They didn’t ambush them with loud shouts or screams. Instead, it was only the quiet shuffle of multiple footsteps that tipped them off.

“Take cover!” Diggle shouted, and as one they ran into the second to last building.

Diggle set himself up at the window on the left. It was not so much a window as a rectangular opening. He clicked off the safety and immediately started firing, aiming at feet. The attackers took cover behind the exposed structures.

“Roy, front entry!” Roy turned his back to the wall on Diggle’s right, then pivoted counterclockwise to shoot through the doorway.

“Thea cover our six!” Thea set herself up in her ready stance in front of the rear entry.

It was a chaotic frenzy of bullets and arrows flying in both directions. Several enemies attempted to push forward but Diggle dispatched them with ease. He silently thanked Merlyn for effective weapons against the League.

While the two holding projectile weapons kept the League at bay, several opponents breached through the rear. Thea, having been trained by Merlyn against multiple opponents, held her own against them and took them down. Another two entered, and she dispatched them quickly. Then a wave of five came in. She immediately took down two, but got overwhelmed with the other three. “Roy!” she shouted.

Roy paused his frontal assault and took cover behind the wall. At the same time, he nocked his bow with two arrows and aimed at two of the attackers surrounding Thea. “Down!” he shouted. She ducked, and he let his arrows fly, taking two of the combatants out of play. Thea quickly dispatched the third.

Diggle’s gunfire successfully kept the League on their backfoot, but he could see several making a run for it across the way toward them. “Roy!” he shouted, and Roy turned back to the doorway, firing his arrows.

They missed on several hostiles, however, and those fighters were able to flank them. A wave of another five enemy operatives poured in from the back. Thea shouted for Roy again, who spun around firing arrow after arrow to help Thea. 

Diggle continued to lay down fire and take down several combatants that remained in front.

The five from the rear were downed, but another five showed up and poured in. Another three followed after. Roy couldn’t shoot them all, so he abandoned his post to join the fray with Thea, using his bow as a melee weapon. He pulled out his combat knife from behind his back, using the bow to parry and the knife to strike. 

Thea’s sword was knocked out of her hands by one enemy, so she pulled out her combat knife to block the blades coming at her. She moved in aggressively to get inside the guard of one attacker, employing effective hand-to-hand combat to disarm him. But three other fighters were able to overwhelm her, knock the knife out of her hand, and pull her back toward the doorway.

“Thea!” Roy yelled in a panic. The brief distraction cost him dearly, and three adversaries pounced on him. All three combatants grappled with the bow. Roy was able to hang on and strike with his knife to take one down, but another took his place and they were able to wrench the bow away. Another two pounced on top of him and knocked the knife out of his hand, and then they pulled him to the doorway.

Diggle cursed. He pivoted to turn his back to the corner, effectively keeping all breach points in his line of sight. He quickly shot down all the remaining threats by the rear entrance, and then pivoted to the front when he felt movement from that corner. 

The magazine ran out of ammo.

“Shit!” He released the clip and shoved another one into the rifle, but by then one hostile came through the front and started grappling with his weapon. Diggle used the stock of the rifle to punch the enemy’s face. The attacker stumbled backward, giving Diggle just enough time to shoot him down. 

Then came fighters from both entrances, about ten or fifteen of them. Diggle did his best to shoot them all, but he was quickly overwhelmed. The rifle was wrenched out of his hands. As a last ditch effort, Diggle pulled out his combat knife and slashed it wildly, trying to take down as many as he could. But that, too, was knocked out of his hand.

Many hands descended upon him, picking him up and carrying him out through the front entrance. They threw him down onto the ground and three of them stepped on his back to keep him down. Diggle looked to his right, and saw Roy and Thea in the same position.

The silence that followed only amplified the sound of his rapid heartbeat and harsh breathing. He heard Thea and Roy struggling against their captors. One of the men took his staff and hit Roy in the back of the head, dazing him.

Fuck, he’s not recovered from his concussion yet, Diggle thought in a panic.

The League stilled as one. Diggle looked up, as much as he could from his position on the ground, and saw the man himself. Ra's al Ghul, with his fist in the air.

***

Ra’s al Ghul walked slowly toward the three, his expression cold and menacing. He looked at one of his agents and gestured with his hand to let them up. The feet disappeared from Diggle’s back. But before he could so much as twitch, his arms were wrenched behind his back and tied with what felt like leather, then he was brought to his knees. Roy and Thea were subjected to the same treatment, except Roy seemed disturbingly disoriented. His eyes seemed glazed over, his head hanging low, and he swayed where he kneeled.

Oh no, Diggle thought. Those were bad signs. He couldn’t afford to lose another person on his team. He prayed to God that Roy didn’t have any bleeding in his brain or swelling that would be life-threatening. He had to get them out of this situation.

Diggle turned his attention back to Ra’s who stood towering over him, calculating in his expression. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. Turning his attention to the other two, he walked toward Roy and lifted his chin with a finger. Diggle tensed, not knowing what to expect. Ra’s seemed to look at Roy’s eyes closely, as if he was medically assessing him. Apparently satisfied, he moved on to Thea, who struggled against the agent behind her and growled at Ra’s. Ra’s smiled with sardonic amusement.

“You come because you believe Al Sah-him is in need of rescue,” Ra’s began. “That he is held here against his will. But I tell you now: he came of his own volition. He came to fulfill his purpose…his destiny. Your efforts to reclaim him are not only futile; they are foolish.” His gaze sharpened as it turned to Diggle. “You made a grave mistake in attempting to breach my sanctum. One that shall cost you your lives.” He looked at one of his agents and nodded.

Diggle made quick eye contact with Thea and gestured with his eyes toward her captor. She immediately got the hint and threw her head back into his groin, causing him to double over. She then threw herself onto the ground with a scream, which brought Roy immediately out of his disorientation. Roy twisted and slammed his elbow into his captor’s knee before struggling over to Thea.

Diggle took advantage of the distraction to roll toward Thea, bringing his heels as close to his hands as possible, giving him access to the combat knife in his boot. Flipping it into a reverse grip, he continued rolling toward her, kicking out with his feet toward hostiles as he went. He finally got to her and threw himself on the ground, his back to her back, and blindly searched for her binds to cut them open.

When she got freed, with her quick instincts, she pulled the knife from her boot and quickly severed Roy’s binds. Then Roy, in his brief moment of adrenaline-fueled clarity, pulled his knife, and together, back to back, Thea and Roy fought off their attackers.

Diggle lost his knife in his scuffle with two enemies, who quickly subdued him. He looked up at Roy and Thea, still fighting, saw that the way toward the gate was relatively clear, and made the calculation. There was only one way this could go down.

“Get out of here!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Take care of Roy! Go!”

Thea looked back at him while Roy kept fighting. She made the same calculation he did, and nodded. “We gotta go, Roy,” Diggle heard her say.

He watched as they continued fighting off opponents as they ran toward the gate. Roy stumbled slightly, but Thea caught him, and Diggle felt relief when it looked like they were outrunning the League. Arrows flew through the air landing near their feet, but it didn’t stop their forward momentum. Before long, they were gone.

The chaos of the immediate fight stilled, and a pair of black boots filled Diggle’s vision. He followed those boots up to Ra's al Ghul’s cold expression. “They will not get far,” he assured. “Mr. Harper is concussed. Once the adrenaline fades, so too will his strength. My men will track them without difficulty. And when they are found, they will die.”

Diggle, still breathing harshly, frowned up at him.

Ra's al Ghul nodded at the agent holding him down. Diggle was dragged to his feet, spun around, and pushed forward. Someone shoved a black bag over his head, obscuring his vision. Two men were holding each of his arms, pushing him relentlessly forward.

Diggle’s heart dropped into his stomach. His throat tightened with grief. They had tried their best, but their best had not been enough.

They had failed.

Chapter Text

Thea ran flat out, side by side with Roy, for about ten minutes before exhaustion slowed her down. Roy instinctively matched his pace to hers. But after a few steps, he slowed down more drastically and started to keel over.

“Roy!” Thea managed to get under him before he crashed, preventing him from planting face-first onto the ground. She couldn’t support his now dead weight and ended up on the ground with him. “Roy, no,” she whined, placing a hand behind his head before rolling him over.

His eyes were closed.

“Roy, please,” she pleaded, “don’t do this to me right now.” She tapped his cheeks, shook his torso, called out his name, with no response. She got closer to his ear and shouted his name, and then he finally groaned, drawing away from her and blinking his eyes open.

“Oh thank God.” She fell over his chest with relief. “Come on Roy, we have to keep going. Can you stand up?”

“Wha’s ha–,” he said, looking around. When he laid eyes on Thea, he smiled. “Heyyy.”

Thea smiled back at him with tears in her eyes. “Hey, you. Can you stand up?”

He seemed to notice his position on the ground and furrowed his brow.

“Come on.” Thea offered her hand to help him up, and he grabbed onto her to do just that. “Okay, we gotta keep going,” she prodded, pulling him by the hand as they started walking again.

“Wha’s happ’ning?” he asked.

“We’re running away from the League,” she explained, starting to worry he might not remember the last several minutes. “We narrowly escaped, but we gotta keep going.”

“Okayyy.”

Roy stumbled, almost pulling Thea down with him. She quickly got under him again, supporting him with his arm behind her neck and her arm behind his back. She pushed forward, moving as fast as she could.

Desperation and panic kept her motivated as they made the slow, painful trek toward the ridge where their packs were, hopefully. With ample breaks in between short spurts, they got close enough for her to see someone standing at the top, looking down at them with his hands on his hips. Someone she was conflicted to see.

Malcolm Merlyn.

Her concern for Roy outweighed all other emotions. “Little help here?” she called out.

He descended with a sigh. “Only because you look tired.”

“Of course I’m tired,” she retorted. “I’ve been carrying his ass for the last hour.”

Together, they made it back to the ridge, but the packs were missing.

Thea cursed. “Did you happen to see our packs out here?”

“I took them with me,” he replied, and Thea looked over at him with surprise.

“Took them where?”

He didn’t answer.

Thea scoffed. His tendency toward being enigmatic was infuriating.

They walked for another hour before Malcolm slowed, releasing his grip on Roy. With only Thea’s strength to hold up his dead weight, they both stumbled to the ground.

“Are you ditching me?” she asked in alarm.

He still didn’t answer.

“Hey,” she shouted. “I’m talking to you!”

Then she saw him clearing away snow from a spot on the ground. What he uncovered looked like a hatch from a submarine. A metal wheel with four spokes that Merlyn spun with some effort.

“You have a bunker here?” she asked, laughing in surprise.

The hatch opened, and light shone from below. Then Malcolm returned to help carry Roy again.

“This part will be tricky,” he said. “The only way down is a ladder and I don’t think your boyfriend is gonna be able to maneuver on it. So I’m going to go down first and you’re going to let him down for me to catch him.”

“All right,” she replied.

She managed with some difficulty to lower Roy toward Malcolm. When he caught Roy and placed him over his shoulder, that’s when Thea noticed blood on the back of Roy’s head.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, freaking out. She hurriedly made her way into the bunker, leaving the hatch open in her panic. “He’s bleeding!”

Malcolm placed him on a cot at the far end of the bunker. “Where?”

“The back of his head!”

He rolled Roy away from him and inspected his scalp. “I don’t see any lacerations.”

“Well then where did the blood come from?”

Malcolm looked over at Thea. “Look at your arm.”

“What?” She glanced down at her arm and saw blood about halfway down her forearm all the way down to her wrist. And then she noticed a darker line at the top. “Oh,” she said, touching the cut she only now became aware of. “That must have been when John cut my binds. I didn’t even feel it.”

“Adrenaline will do that, sometimes,” he remarked, stepping away from Roy.

Distantly Thea heard the deep clang of the hatch closing.

She walked over to kneel by the cot. “Roy?” She shook him a bit, and then shook him harder when he didn’t respond. “Roy!” she shouted next to his ear, which had worked last time.

He groaned and turned away from her, and Thea sighed in relief. “Okay, I’ll let you sleep, but I’m going to wake you in an hour or so. Got it?”

He didn’t reply.

Thea frowned with worry, as she brushed some hair away from Roy’s face. “You better not leave me, too,” she begged quietly.

With the immediate crisis passed, she finally took in her surroundings. It was surprisingly roomy for what looked like a space designed for one occupant. The part of the bunker with the cot had two dark wooden cabinets on the wall at the head of the bed, and a dresser underneath. On the other wall, by the foot of the bed, was a metal doorway. Upon opening it, she saw a weird-looking toilet, a standing shower, and a sink with a mirror above it.

“Where does the water come from?” she asked, curious.

“There’s a pressurized tank beneath the bunker, filled with both melted snow and water from an underground spring. I wouldn’t drink the water out of the tap, though, you’d want to boil it first.”

In the corner opposite the bedroom and closer to the bathroom was a high-tech setup with monitors and a panel on a desk with a lot of buttons. The monitors showed the entrance to the hatch, the immediate surroundings, and two different vantage points of Al-Hisab.

“Were you watching us?!” she yelled.

“Yes, I was,” Malcolm replied casually. “I had to make sure you lived.”

“I’m touched,” she said sarcastically.

“What I don’t understand, though, is how you got away so easily.”

“What do you mean, ‘easily’?” she countered. “We just barely made it out of there.”

He turned to face Thea. “Exactly. You got out of there. If they were really trying to kill you, you’d be dead.”

She felt a sinking feeling in her gut. “You think…” She furrowed her brow. “You think they let us go?”

“They weren’t fighting very hard,” he remarked. “I’m intimately aware of League fighting styles, and they were holding back.”

Thea dropped her shoulders, stunned. “Why would they do that?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t know. It was definitely on purpose, though. Ra's al Ghul doesn’t make mistakes, and he rarely does anything without a purpose. Oftentimes more than one.”

A burst of hope emerged in her chest. “Do you think he’ll let John go?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. If it serves him somehow, then yes.”

She glanced over at Roy, conflicted. Roy needed medical attention, as fast as possible. But the possibility of John being let go meant she should stay to meet up with him. Besides, medical attention might not be possible all the way out here without making a very difficult trek back through the Himalayas. Maybe Malcolm could get a helicopter close? She turned to ask.

“Don’t even think about it,” he interrupted. “I’m not compromising the bunker’s location, not for your boyfriend and not even for you.”

Thea shut her mouth with a frown. “He needs medical attention.”

“We’re the best he’s got right now. I’m sure you remember how to do it, you did it before.”

“What?” Her brows furrowed. “How did you know about that?”

“It’s so obvious, Thea. He was already concussed before this whole trip. You kept waking him up every few hours when he slept. You asked him cognitive test questions. I’m assuming a doctor taught you how to do that.”

“Oh.” Yeah, it was pretty obvious. “He seems worse, though. He wasn’t this bad before.”

“That’s because he was already concussed when he got hit a second time. A hit like that when he hasn’t recovered from the first one is not a good thing.”

Thea sighed, looking at Roy again. Anxiety churned in her gut. She could remember almost everything Dr. Lockhart has said. 

If he has any trouble answering, or it’s increasingly difficult to rouse him…if he starts slurring, or if there’s any nausea or vomiting…you bring him back here.

There had been some slurring already. It had been difficult to rouse him a couple times, until she shouted in his ear. Thea wrapped her arms around her stomach. If he got worse, with no chance of medical help…she didn’t want to think about it.

“Here,” Malcolm said, dropping her pack by her feet.

“Oh.” She looked down at the bag, surprised. “Thanks.”

The next hour, she just knelt by the bed, looking at Roy. Hoping and wishing he was okay. After the hour passed, she tried to rouse him. It took her shouting into his ear to rouse him again.

“Wha,” he answered, eyes opening and squinting in the light. “Thea?”

“Do you remember your name?” she asked.

He frowned. “Roy?” he sounded unsure.

“You asking or telling?”

“Telling,” he replied. “Do you not remember my name?”

“Do you know what day it is?”

He frowned in concentration. “No idea. Do you?”

She huffed a laugh. “Honestly? No. Do you know who that is?” she asked, pointing to Malcolm.

He tried to look at where she pointed, but then squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s too bright,” he complained.

“Can we–”

“No,” Malcolm said immediately.

“You don’t even–”

“You were gonna ask to turn the lights off, or dim them, which I can’t.”

She huffed in frustration. “I bet you can turn them off. How would you even sleep with the light on?”

“Easy,” he replied indifferently. “I don’t.”

Thea blinked. “You don’t sleep?”

“Not the way you think, no.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Please turn off the light.”

Malcolm sighed, and then pressed a button on the wall near the entrance. The overhead lights turned off, and only the glow of the monitors lit the space.

“Thank you.”

When she turned back to Roy, he was already asleep.

***

Thea was running on fumes and felt the adrenaline crash after Roy fell asleep. She decided to sleep on Roy’s schedule, after extracting a promise from Malcolm that he would wake her in three hours. Every three hours over the course of the day, Thea woke Roy, with difficulty each time, and asked him the questions. Each time she asked, his responses got slower, and less intelligible. In all that time he managed two small sips of water, and complained about nausea the second time. Thea’s worry started to edge into scared, and scared into frightened.

By the end of that first day, she had significant trouble waking him up. Panic started to creep in. When he finally woke, he slurred heavily. The only word she managed to make out was ‘F’lic’y’. She convinced him to drink a little more water.

And then he immediately threw up.

Thea jumped back a few steps, both to avoid the vomit, and because panic took her breath away.

Slurring…Difficulty rousing…nausea…vomiting…bring him back to me.

All of Dr. Lockhart’s red flags were there. Did this mean he was dying? Her breath came in and went out rapidly, but it felt like no oxygen was making it into her lungs. She stumbled and landed on her butt, clutching her chest, tears running down her face.

“He’s dying!” she gasped.

She felt herself being dragged into a standing position. Hands landed on her shoulders, squeezing them tight. She thought she could hear someone saying her name a few times, but the only thing she could feel was her heart about to burst and her lungs about to suffocate.

Arms then went around her body, pulling her in tight to someone’s chest. Her head was turned so she could listen to a heartbeat, and the slow pull of breath into someone’s lungs, followed by a slow exhale.

“Breathe with me, Thea,” she heard on the edge of consciousness.

After what felt like a lifetime of panic, the slow and steady heartbeat finally made its way into her mind, and she instinctively mimicked the breathing.

“--in, and out.” The voice rumbled in her ear, vibrating on a low frequency. “In…” an inhale, “...and out…” an exhale.

Finally, she was calm. And within her right mind. She finally registered that it was Malcolm who helped her calm down. She furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Malcolm?” she asked, pulling back to look at him. “What just happened?”

“You were having a panic attack,” he explained. “And panic is not going to help your boyfriend right now.”

She gasped, looking back over at Roy, the panic threatening to re-surface.

“No, Thea,” Malcolm warned. “Keep your breathing slow. Keep your shit together. Roy needs you, and panicking won’t help him.”

His words finally pierced through the fog. “Right,” she said, still slightly breathless. “Keep my shit together. I can do that,” she said, trying to convince herself more than anything. She broke away from Malcolm’s embrace (which was kind of weird, he’d never hugged her like that before), and went to clean up Roy’s vomit, which really was only water and bile.

Three hours later, Roy vomited again, and Thea worked on her breathing to stay calm, even though her heart was stuttering and her mind was in a haze of fear. He couldn’t speak beyond a garbled mumble.

But by morning the next day, he seemed to be getting just a little bit better. He didn’t throw up, he managed a couple more sips of water, and he was capable of saying words. Throughout the second day, he was slightly easier to rouse, and his answers to the cognitive questions started to improve.

By day three he was able to eat some trail mix.

To say Thea was relieved would be an understatement. Feeling like the worst had passed, she managed to get a full six hours sleep, with Malcolm waking Roy once with the cognitive test to let Thea rest. By the time the fourth day rolled around, Roy was speaking full sentences, even though he still had a massive headache and the lights still bothered him. He could sit up with some effort, but couldn’t really walk straight. 

Roy didn’t remember anything past the blizzard, so Thea spent some hours during that fourth day explaining everything that happened. Roy seemed impressed that they made it out of danger, and expressed worry about Diggle.

“Did Ra’s say anything about Oliver or Felicity?” he asked.

“Just that Oliver went to him willingly, which I call bullshit on that,” Thea replied.

“Movement by the gate,” Malcolm interrupted, his tone tense.

Thea turned to Malcolm, rising to meet him by the monitors. She noticed four League agents dragging a fifth forward by his arms, the figure's feet struggling to keep up the pace.

“That’s Diggle,” she cried in relief, as the League removed a bag from his head and tossed him onto the ground right outside the gate. She watched Diggle get to his hands and knees, then slowly stand up.

“Ra’s let him go,” Malcolm said, sounding astonished.

Thea turned toward her pack by the entrance. “We have to go meet up with him.” She picked up Roy’s pack, then paused. “There’s no way Roy will be able to carry this.” She set down both bags and opened them, along with Diggle’s. She then proceeded to get rid of any non-essentials, to consolidate everything they could possibly need into two bags that would be carried by Thea and Diggle.

By the time the bags were ready, Roy followed Thea carefully up the ladder with Malcolm’s support.

“Are you coming with us?” Thea asked Malcolm.

“You don’t need me anymore,” Malcolm replied. “Get to Diggle, head west. That will take you into Afghanistan. I’m sure ARGUS has extraction points there.”

“Okay.” Thea bit her lip in consideration, then thought fuck it. She ran toward Malcolm and threw her arms around his back. “Thank you…dad.”

She heard him hold his breath, and then run his fingers through her hair. “Get out of here,” he said, gently pushing her away. “I don’t want you two stealing any more of my supplies.”

Thea laughed, her heart warming just a bit at his physical affection. “Oh please,” she responded. “I just left you a whole bunch of supplies, you’ll be fine.”

Malcolm gave her a half-hearted smirk, his eyes showing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. “Don’t die out there.”

“Okay,” Thea replied, and supported Roy as she walked toward the ridge.

Chapter Text

Diggle regained consciousness when the League pushed him out of the last vehicle, becoming alert when he hit the ground on his side. He wasn’t completely unconscious the whole time. He had vague flashes of memory during the long journey, probably in between sedative applications. He distinctly remembered the sound of horse hooves at a fast pace, and then oddly the sound of helicopter rotors and loud wind. Then the comparative silence of an engine, with movement over rough terrain. He thought he heard the distinct sound of comms inside the vehicle. The fact that the League had vehicles that ran on fossil fuels jarred with the picture in his mind of a technologically stunted group. He didn’t expect the League to have such modern equipment. 

He was pulled roughly to his feet and marched forward, with the bag still over his head. That body-dragging lethargy that came with waking from a sedative made him dizzy. He stumbled often as he was escorted to who knows where. Between working hard to keep up and the physical state of his weariness, Diggle didn’t have much room for thought.

That didn’t last long, however. They removed the bag from his head and tossed him unceremoniously outside of what he now recognized as Al-Hisab. As he lay on the ground, the thoughts that had been silent finally made themselves known.

Lyla. Sara. He had to get home. He had to protect them. There was a chance Ra’s had been bluffing, but Diggle wasn’t going to count on it. Getting home was the priority.

The next problem was how? He needed supplies. Thankfully, he knew where to find some. The ridge where they had left their packs.

They. Meaning Roy and Thea.

His heart squeezed inside his chest. He genuinely hoped they survived. Maybe they had the same idea about going back to the packs. Maybe he would magically meet them there. Unlikely, though. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was definitely more than two days. Maybe three? Four? The only reason he could tell was that the last night in that cell, after his chat with Ra's al Ghul, he had finally been given water. No food, just water.

Now he was back to the state of thirst he had been before.

Roy and Thea probably wouldn’t wait four days for him at that ridge. Not when the League was looking for them. The tiny spark of hope of seeing Roy and Thea died quickly at the thought.

Diggle slowly got to his hands and knees, and then struggled to stand upright. Vertigo tilted his vision of the landscape before him, and he slammed his eyes shut. After a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes again, and the view stabilized. He started the trek back toward the ridge, hope and doubt fighting for control.

When he got close enough to the ridge to see where the packs should have been, there was nothing there. His heart dropped into his stomach. Maybe they rolled away with the wind? He continued walking, trying to rationalize why the packs would be missing, looking for a reason that didn’t mean he was stranded with no supplies. But as he closed the gap, it was clear that the packs were missing. Gone.

Diggle hung his head and a quiet sob burst from his chest. Now what? There was no way he’d survive the trip anywhere at this point. Surrounded by the mountains of the Himalayas and the Hindu Kush, no food, no shelter from the cold, the only source of water being dubious snow. Basically, he was fucked.

Then, he heard something impossible. A voice, sounding very much like Thea’s, coming from the other side of the ridge.

With his heart racing, he threw himself into motion, climbing the rest of the way to the top. As he got closer, Thea’s voice became more clear.

“Just a little bit more, Roy,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

Diggle finally crossed the ridge, and tears almost sprang to his eyes at the sight. A tired-looking Thea, supporting a pale-looking Roy as she dragged two very large packs on the ground.

“Thea,” he tried to yell, but what came out was a cracked whisper. He tried again. “Thea! Roy!”

Both of their heads darted up, and Thea’s face split wide with a grin. “John!”

He wasted no time running down to them, throwing his arms around them both. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you two,” he said, voice rough.

“I have some idea,” Thea said, her voice wavering.

He pulled back with one hand on each of their shoulders. “Let me look at you.” He inspected them both, from top to bottom. He noticed a scar on Thea’s arm, probably his fault. Otherwise, she looked fine. Roy, on the other hand, looked awful. “How are you doing, Roy?”

Roy stared at him and blinked. “Diggle?”

Diggle frowned. “Do you remember your name?”

“Why’s ev’one keep askin’ me tha’ quest’n?” he slurred.

He shared a glance with Thea. “Not doing so hot,” she confirmed.

Diggle lifted Roy’s head to look at his pupils. “Have you checked–”

“Pupils are reactive,” Thea answered preemptively. “I checked.”

He looked over at Thea, impressed. “Good work.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“How long has it been?” he asked, looking around.

“Four days? I think? Not entirely sure, time is kind of blurry.”

He frowned at her. “You waited four days here?”

“Well,” she countered, “Malcolm found us, and took us to his bunker.”

“Bunker?!” Diggle gaped.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Apparently he has a bunker near here. It has cameras pointed at Al-Hisab. He saw the fight, he saw me and Roy coming up here, and I guess he took pity and brought us in.”

Diggle huffed and shook his head. “That man and his secrets.”

“Well, good thing for his secrets because that’s how we saw you get released.” Her brow furrowed. “Malcolm said we were let go on purpose, that they weren’t really trying to kill us.”

Diggle crossed his arms as the chill got to him. “Well, they did a really good job pretending otherwise.”

“That’s what I said!” She handed him one of the packs, the larger one. “Here,” she said, “Malcolm said to head west toward Afghanistan. Said ARGUS probably has a way of extracting us?”

His eyes widened and his chest expanded with real hope. Lyla. “Do we still have the sat phone in here?”

“It’s in your pack,” she replied.

He pulled it out. Still fully charged. Which was expected, since they didn’t use it on the trip here. Unfortunately, there was no signal.

“Damn.” Westward meant the Hindu Kush. Maybe there would be a signal at a higher elevation. “Okay. West it is.”

Once Diggle and Thea were geared up, they set off with Roy between them. Arm in arm with Diggle on one side, and over Thea’s shoulders on the other. There were a couple of moments of lucidity from him, but for the most part he stayed quiet.

About half an hour into their journey, Thea asked, “Did Ra’s talk to you about Ollie, at all?”

Diggle dropped his head and sighed. “I can’t believe I completely forgot.” He looked over at Thea. “He told me that Felicity is alive.”

“F’licity is alive?” Roy repeated, his head turning to Diggle.

“Well,” he dithered, “Depends on whether or not he was lying. Until I see her with my own eyes, I’m not sure I believe him.”

“Bu’ she could be,” Roy insisted.

“She could be,” Diggle agreed.

A palpable sigh of relief came from the young man. “She’s alive,” he whispered to himself, smiling.

Thea bit her lip, looking indecisive. “What about Ollie?”

Diggle shrugged. “Again, I don’t know whether or not he was lying, but what he told me is that Oliver was so grateful to Ra’s for…resurrecting Felicity,” he said with obvious skepticism, “that he pledged himself to Ra’s.”

“Hm,” Thea responded. “What about the whole thing with the Lazarus Pit? Malcolm said whoever is brought back is not the same.”

“Ra’s said that was easily fixed, and that she’s whole in mind, spirit, and body.”

Thea huffed in frustration. “I don’t know if I believe it either. There’s no way she would let Ollie do this if she was herself.”

“I don’t know,” Diggle replied. “He probably is grateful to have Felicity back, but I don’t see him pledging himself just for that. Unless maybe Ra’s threatened her again. I can see him staying to protect her.”

“Yeah,” Thea agreed. “That sounds like him. But still, Felicity wouldn’t put up with it.”

For a few beats, the only sounds were their breathing and the shuffling of feet.

“She loves him,” he finally said. “Maybe she thinks he’d be better off with her by his side than not.”

Thea hummed in agreement. “I could see that.”

They continued to shuffle-walk, catching each other up on the last four days. Thea remarked on Merlyn’s almost paternal behavior. Diggle told her about Ra's's surprising use of modern technology. They took frequent breaks to let Roy rest, and by nightfall they descended to make camp. With only one tent between them, it was a very tight fit.

The next few days had the same routine. Get up, pack up, climb steadily upward, then descend in the afternoon to make camp. Roy was still compromised. It was especially important to manage their altitude, because it would be hard to tell if Roy’s headaches were from the concussion or from altitude sickness. Diggle gave him Diamox every day, just in case.

By the time they reached the highest peak on the third day, Diggle stopped and put down his pack, instructing Thea to do the same.

“We’ll stop here for lunch,” he said, pulling out the sat phone. “There’s a lot of sky here, should be enough for a signal.”

With his heart in his throat, Diggle dialed Lyla’s number, hoping upon hope this worked. But all he got was a staticky silence. The message on the screen said Call Failed. He walked around the area while staring at the signal, and found a slightly better location. He tried again, but it failed again. With a sigh of resignation, he decided to send a text instead.

3 alive. R concussed. Need immediate evac. Coords attached. No voice comms, signal weak.

Diggle spent the next couple of minutes staring at the phone, willing Lyla to respond quickly, but knowing it wasn’t likely. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Thea holding two granola bars.

“Here,” she said. “I figured we should ration what we have. I’m not really sure how long we’ll need to ration, though.”

“That depends,” Diggle answered. “Hopefully Lyla will respond soon, and we’ll know more to make that call.”

“Okay.” She walked back over to Roy.

A reply finally came through.

Message received. R condition noted. RV coords attached. Extract team en route, ETA 36 hours. Stay safe.

Diggle let out a breath of relief. He walked back over to Roy and Thea, and gave them the good news. “Looks like we got a rendezvous point, possibly a two day hike from here. So let’s be conservative and ration for three days, just in case.”

Roy was lying with his head in Thea’s lap. She was running her fingers through his hair, trying to massage his headache away. She nodded at Diggle, but didn’t seem happy with the news.

“You all right?” he asked.

Thea sighed. “I don’t know. I feel like I should be relieved to go home, but we didn’t accomplish what we came out here for. Everything we went through to get here, it was all for nothing.”

“Well,” Diggle countered, “Maybe not nothing. Finding out Felicity is probably alive was worth it.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re right. That does make it worth it.”

Together, they finished their ration of granola bars and water, then repacked their gear and continued heading west toward extraction.

***

Two more days of climb high, sleep low. Two more days of rationing what food they had left. Two more days of sleeping cramped in a small tent, and finally they reached the RV point. One man Diggle vaguely recognized waited for them, standing next to a four-door all-terrain SUV.

“Sgt. Diggle,” the man said, holding out his hand, which Diggle shook. “Agent Byers, I’m your ride to the extraction point.”

“Byers,” he replied. “I can’t tell you enough how good it is to see you.”

Byers smiled. “I bet. We have a secure safehouse about a day’s ride from here. There are amenities you may want to use before heading out.”

Diggle leveled an unimpressed look. “What are you trying to say, Agent?”

He smirked in response. “Just saying. Probably been a while since y’all showered. Figured you’d want to feel clean on the journey home.”

“Mm-hm,” Diggle replied, lip twitching with humor. “Just drive, Byers.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, casually saluting.

Diggle helped Thea and Roy get settled in the backseat before taking the passenger seat up front. Thank God I’m not driving this time, he thought with a sigh of relief.

A day’s drive to the safehouse and a hot shower later, they were finally getting picked up by a helicopter. The helicopter would take them to a private ARGUS air strip to board a private jet that would finally take them home. Just a couple more days, and Diggle would hold his wife and daughter in his arms.

Chapter Text

Donna had finally pulled the trigger and quit her Vegas job, deciding to stay in Starling City like she’d often hoped. It was really thanks to Lyla that she made the decision. When Lyla asked Donna if she was interested in being a nanny for Sara, she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. It was much easier on her feet, and she could finally wear comfortable clothes for work. Lyla joked that she could even wear pajamas, if she wanted to.

Sara was a sweetheart of a baby, too. Slept through the night, had a good appetite, and had just started furniture surfing. A couple more months and she’d be walking, no doubt. It was an easy job.

But the real reason she stayed in Starling City, and said yes to being a nanny, was so she could be surrounded by people who loved her daughter. It was as close to the real thing as she could get right now. People who understood and shared her grief. People who had memories of Felicity’s life here. It could never replace having her daughter alive and safe next to her, but it soothed the emptiness in her heart all the same.

“All right, sweetheart,” she said to Sara, picking her up out of her high chair. “Let’s go change into something cute for the day, what do you say?”

Sara babbled with a toothy smile.

“That’s what I thought.” Donna booped her nose.

Sara giggled.

Once the baby was dressed and settled on the living room floor with her toys, Donna’s phone rang.

It was Lyla.

“ They’re coming home, ” she simply said.

Donna’s hand flew to her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes. “Did they find her?”

“ Sorry, Donna, it’s just the three of them. ”

Sara looked up at Donna with concern when she started crying. Donna did her best to reel in her tears. “Okay,” she croaked. “How long until they’re back?”

“ A couple of days.”

She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Thank you for telling me, Lyla. We’ll see you later?”

“ Yes. I’ll probably be home late, though. ”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’ll keep things nailed down here.”

“ Thanks, Donna. See you later. ”

“Bye.”

Donna turned on the television and scrolled to the Disney channel for Sara. She didn’t like to do this very often, but she needed a minute to herself. Mickey would keep Sara’s attention away from her for a little while.

John, Thea, and Roy were coming home, but they were coming without Felicity. She didn’t know what that meant. Were they just not able to find her body, or was there more? Either way, her baby would not be getting a funeral. 

Donna’s hand was on her lips, her shoulders shaking from holding back her sobs. She took a deep breath and held it, trying mightily to suppress her grief. It would upset the baby if she fell apart now. After a few minutes of deep breathing, she was finally able to regain her composure.

There was a knock on the door.

Donna glanced over at Sara, and seeing that she was transfixed on the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, she stood up to answer.

The gentleman behind it looked like something out of a fantasy novel. A handsome, distinguished man with a kind face, dressed in a dark green jacket that went down to his knees, adorned with jewelry of all kinds. His steely gray eyes held a warmth that both pierced through her and warmed her senses.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “hello!”

The gentleman smiled, and his eyes twinkled with joy. “Ms. Smoak. It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“Oh,” she said again, heart fluttering. “Please, call me Donna.” She reached out her hand to shake his. Instead, he took her hand and brought it lightly to his lips. Her heart fluttered faster. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid you have the advantage.”

“I am Ra's al Ghul, and I bring news of your daughter.”

The fluttering of her heart froze, her expression dropping with dread. “Felicity?”

He nodded. “I am happy to report that your daughter is alive and well, and living in my palace for her safety.”

She covered her mouth and tears filled her eyes. “My baby is alive?”

“She is,” he confirmed.

“And she’s living in a palace?” she asked in wonder.

The gentleman–Ras–smiled. ”Yes.”

“Oh!” She fanned her face, trying to control her tears. “Won’t you come in?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She let him in, closed the door behind him, and set herself to make some tea for her guest, which he accepted with grace. Sitting down at the table, with half her attention on the baby, she said, “Please, tell me more about my daughter. You said she’s living in your palace for her safety?”

He nodded. “The cause of her death was due to threats from her previous life, threats that are still active. Oliver brought her to me because he knew I had ways to bring life to the dead.”

Donna shook her head in amazement. “How is that even possible?”

Ras smiled. “The world is much stranger than most people believe, Donna. There are mystical powers beyond our understanding at work.”

“And these mystical powers brought Felicity back to life?”

“Yes.”

She leaned back in her chair as relief flooded her body. Her baby was alive. No funeral would be needed. “When can I see her?”

Ras frowned. “My apologies, but due to the active threats, it is safer for her to remain secluded. However, I promised to bring her a letter from you, to ease her worry for your grief.”

“Oh! I can do that.” She started to get up to find stationary.

“Donna,” he interrupted.

“Yes?” she said, turning back to him.

“For your safety and hers, I would refrain from giving her your current location. The people behind these threats are not beyond using you to force her out of hiding. If the worst should happen, and your letter falls into the wrong hands…”

Donna nodded. “Of course. I’ll be careful not to mention anything about where I am.”

Ras smiled. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. ”

With a skip in her step, she found her special stationary and returned to the dining table to write.

To my baby Felicity,

You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you’re alive. The last few weeks have been the worst of my life. I lost you, but then this handsome gentleman named Ras came to give me the good news. I know we can’t see each other right now for your safety, but know that I am always thinking of you. I love you so much sweetheart.

Ras tells me you live in a palace! It’s almost like you’re royalty now! Oh I hope one day we can meet again, and you can tell me all about it. 

It sounds like Oliver is there with you. I didn’t think to ask, but that’s what I’m assuming. Have you told him you’re in love with him yet? I found out while you were in the hospital that you broke up with Ray. Good for you, honey. Follow your heart. Make sure that man gives you all his love, and make sure you use protection. I’m not ready to be a grandma yet!

Sweetie, don’t you worry about me. Everything is going to be better, now that I know you’re alive and well. I’m thankful Ras is protecting you. One day, my baby, we’ll see each other again. Until then, remember that I love you, and that you’re my whole world.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I’ll look up at Cassiopeia tonight and think of you.

Donna carefully folded up the letter, tucked it into the matching envelope, and sealed it. On a whim, she refreshed her lipstick and kissed the envelope. She wrote Felicity’s name on the front in the fanciest calligraphy she knew. Then she handed it to Ras.

He glanced down at the calligraphy and smiled. “Beautiful handwriting,” he remarked.

“Thank you,” she said shyly, fluffing her hair.

He stood up and placed the envelope inside his jacket pocket. With one more kiss to her hand, Ras smiled at her and left.

Donna was overcome with joy. She picked Sara up from the ground and spun her around, singing about her daughter Felicity. Everything was going to be all right from now on.

***

Diggle sat wringing his hands as he stared out the jet window, watching as they taxied on the runway. Just a few more minutes, and he’d finally have his wife in his arms. His expression was pinched with worry. His heart beat wildly in his chest. The need to hold his family, to protect them, was wired deep inside his soul. He wouldn’t rest until they were safe from Ra's al Ghul.

As the jet slowed down, he saw three ARGUS agents standing by some stairs. Lyla was one of them. Diggle took a deep, shaky breath of relief. Even seeing her face was enough to unravel that tight feeling in his chest. 

Two more minutes.

He stood from his seat before the jet even stopped, anxious to leave. By the time the door opened, his fists were rubbed raw from the constant wringing. He marched down the stairs and over to his wife, pulling her tightly into his embrace.

“God, Lyla,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You seem really shaken up. What happened out there?”

He held onto her a little bit longer, grounding himself in the scent of her perfume. “Too much,” he replied. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but I really need to hold Sara right now.”

She looked at him with palpable concern. “Okay,” she relented. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He looked over at Thea, who was helping Roy down the steps. “No, I think Roy is the priority. He was concussed from the explosion, and then he got hit in the head again before he was fully recovered.” He looked down at Lyla, who was still in his arms. “Take him to medbay?”

“All right.” She withdrew from his embrace, squeezing his hands before letting go. “Meet you back here?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’m probably going to bring Sara here with me.”

“Don’t forget to bring Donna, then.”

He furrowed his brow. “She’s still here?”

Lyla grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I uh…I might have offered her a job as Sara’s nanny.”

Diggle huffed a laugh. “Oh really? Is she still staying with us?”

She nodded. “It’s basically her room now. She quit her job, saying she wanted to stay by people who loved Felicity. I couldn’t help it.”

He gripped her shoulders. “That’s perfectly fine. I’m glad.”

“Good,” she replied. “Because I don’t regret it.”

Diggle smiled, gave her a kiss, and then walked off to an ARGUS transport vehicle. On his way, he could hear Lyla taking control of Thea and Roy’s situation, calling for a gurney. Roy, of course, protested, but his wife insisted. Diggle smiled as he settled himself into the SUV.

Just a little bit longer, and he’d have the other half of his family in his arms.

***

He had run out of the jet without any of his gear, and thus left behind the keys to his apartment. He ended up knocking on his own door. Donna answered it.

“John!” She pulled him in for a hug. “Welcome home.”

Diggle smiled, walking in. “Thanks. I heard we have a new housemate.”

“I hope that’s all right,” she said, closing the door behind him. “It was a spontaneous decision.”

“It’s more than all right, Donna. It’s perfect.”

She squealed, and pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you!”

“As good as it is to see you, I really need to hold my daughter.”

“Of course.” She pointed toward the bedrooms. “I just put her down for a nap, but it hasn’t been long so she might still be awake.”

“Thank you, Donna.” He hurried to his daughter’s bedroom.

She was indeed still awake, her big brown eyes lighting up as she noticed him. She babbled excitedly, pulled herself up in her crib and held out her arms.

“Oh, baby girl, I’m so happy to see you,” he cooed, tucking her against his shoulder, rocking side to side. His heart finally settled, his breath slowed down, and his mind went silent. “I’m never gonna let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “I’m going to keep you safe. No matter what.”

After a few minutes of rocking, Sara fell asleep. He laid her back down in the crib and covered her with a blanket. Then he left the room and shut the door behind him softly, careful not to wake her again.

He found Donna pouring hot water into a mug, singing quietly under her breath. “You’re in a good mood,” he remarked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“I am! You’ll never guess what happened.” She didn’t give him time to guess as she barreled forward with her story. “A couple of days ago, a man came by and told me the best news of my life.” She turned to Diggle with a bright smile. “He told me Felicity is alive, and living in a palace!”

All the breath left his lungs as if he got punched. His face fell, and he suddenly felt cold. “What?”

“Yeah!” She placed two mugs of tea on the dining table, oblivious to his reaction. “I was worried at first when Lyla said you were coming home without her. But then, like an angel, he showed up at the door and told me the good news.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him. Donna continued chattering away.

“And he was so handsome, in a fantasy story kind of way. Very foreign, with a beautiful accent. I think he said his name was Ras something or other.”

Diggle doubled over, grabbing the chair in front of him. He was here. In his home. It was a gross understatement to say he felt violated. Outplayed, manipulated, exposed, toyed with. Not only did he threaten his family while he was in the dungeon, he came to his home to enforce his powerful reach. The message: there was no such thing as running or hiding from Ra's al Ghul. Diggle felt powerless.

“Are you okay?” Donna asked, breaking through his panic.

“Donna,” he croaked. “I’m very sorry to ruin your good mood, but Ra's al Ghul is not a good man.”

She frowned. “What?”

“He’s the leader of a group called the League of Assassins. He has Oliver and Felicity in Nanda Parbat against their will. That’s where we tried to go, Roy, Thea, and I. We got ambushed. He held me captive. He threatened my family.”

Donna’s face grew pale as he listed Ra's al Ghul’s sins. “What?” she repeated, not understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what he told you, but the man is a manipulator and a liar.”

She absorbed that in silence, and then asked, “What about Felicity? He told me she was alive.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not convinced yet. It might be true, or he might be lying.”

She dropped into a chair with a cry. “My baby,” she whispered brokenly.

“We have to get out of here.” He shook off his shock, going into battle mode. “This place is compromised. We’ll have to find a safehouse.”

Several minutes later, they were packed and ready to leave. He took both of their cell phones and removed the batteries and sim cards, crushing them under his heel.

Donna protested. “What if Felicity tries to call?”

“ARGUS has a program that can reroute calls to a secure line. If she calls, you’ll get it.”

She relented, and continued to follow him with Sara in her arms.

***

Once they reached ARGUS HQ, Donna was escorted to an office and provided with pen and paper, to keep Sara occupied. Diggle went directly to the medbay, assuming Roy and Thea were in there, and he wasn’t wrong. She was sitting by Roy’s bedside, who was asleep.

“John?” Thea looked surprised to see him so soon. “I thought you’d be at home by now.”

“Ra's al Ghul was in my home,” he said, wasting no time.

Thea’s jaw dropped. “ What?”

“Apparently he came to tell Donna that Felicity was alive, but I have no doubt he did it to send a message to me.”

She frowned. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence as she processed that information. Then, “So what’s the plan?”

“My place is compromised so we’ll have to find a safehouse. Then–” His eyes burned with determination. “We get back at that motherfucker.”

She nodded. “We’ll have to do it differently this time. More subtly.”

“Mm,” he agreed. “We need more intel, and more support. I have to stay under the radar as much as possible, Lyla and Sara are in danger from that psycho.” He looked at Roy, observing the numbers on the monitors. “How’s he doing?”

“Doctors said he has a grade two concussion. Just needs mental and physical rest. Wake him up every three hours, test his cognition, all the stuff I’ve been doing since…well, you know.”

He nodded. He did know.

“John.” Thea walked over and grasped one of his hands. “We’ll keep your family safe, and we’ll make that fucker pay. It might take a while, but we’ll get it right this time.”

After a moment of silence, Diggle nodded. “We’ll get it right this time.”

Chapter Text

Felicity sat on the chaise lounge with her nose in a book. She had been in the same position for about thirty minutes, and Oliver began feeling a little bit neglected. Not really, but he craved her attention. So he pulled out a tried and true method.

He exercised shirtless. It worked every time.

“You do that on purpose,” she laughed, shutting her book.

He shamelessly admitted it. “I was starting to get a little jealous.”

“Mm-hm.” She sauntered up to him by the bed and wrapped her arms around his back. “Well, you’ve definitely got my attention.”

He hummed in satisfaction, giving her a kiss.

A firm knock on the door interrupted them.

Felicity quietly sighed. “Guess he’s back.”

Oliver’s expression fell. There went his idea of a playful morning.

He went to open the door and nodded at Ra's al Ghul. “Sahib.”

“Al Sah-him,” he greeted, and turned to Felicity. “Ameera. I trust you are feeling well.”

“I am,” she replied. “Thank you. I hope your trip was fruitful.”

He smiled at her, amused. “It was.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of stationery. One that Felicity must have recognized, as she gasped and covered her mouth.

“Consider this a promise fulfilled,” he said, handing her the letter.

She unfolded it with trembling hands. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I am a man of my word, Ameera.”

Her gaze shot up, tension filling her frame. “I never doubted it, Sahib.”

“Very good,” he replied, his expression pleased. “Ameera, Al Sah-him,” he nodded at them.

“Sahib,” they returned the greeting.

Ra's al Ghul walked away.

Oliver closed the door and turned to Felicity. “What was that about?”

“Hm?” Her attention was already on the letter, her eyes darting back and forth.

“When he said he’s a man of his word, you tensed up.”

“Oh,” she dismissed with a wave. “Callback to a conversation we had last week.” She didn’t explain further.

He leaned over her shoulder to look at the letter. “From your mom?”

“Mm-hm.” Her voice shook.

He led her to the chaise lounge and sat her down, then took a seat right next to her. Tears tracked down her face. The letter shook in her hand. Oliver placed his arm around her shoulder, lending her his strength.

She burst out laughing and covered her eyes. “Oh my God, mom,” she muttered, grinning brightly.

“What?”

She shook her head. “My mother,” she said, as if that explained everything. (After Oliver read the letter, he realized it did.)

When she finished, she held the letter to her chest, tears still flowing.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded, handing it to him. “She knows I’m alive. And she said she’ll look at Cassiopeia and think of me.”

He read the part that caused her to laugh, and his cheeks turned pink.

Oliver looked down at Felicity, who seemed happy and at peace. It was a gift that he treasured in his heart. A gift that had come from Ra's al Ghul.

The man who engineered her death also brought her back to life.

The dissonance sat like a rock in his gut. Oliver had killed not long ago, due to the man’s manipulation. But he also freed him from his ghosts. When he reflected on Shado’s death, he no longer carried the weight of guilt. Maybe…

Maybe this situation wasn’t as black and white as he’d thought. Maybe Ra’s was a more complicated individual than his actions made him out to be. Sure, he was absolutely manipulative. But he was also a man with a code. With principles. A man who valued keeping his word.

He could have easily held Felicity hostage, to ensure his compliance. Kept her in the dungeon, threatened to kill her again. But instead, he treated her with respect, brought her a measure of peace with the letter from her mother.

Maybe he’d been wrong about Ra's al Ghul.