TWO CHAPTERS? IN ONE DAY? Yeesh. I must really love you guys.
Again: major love to quiveringbunny for being the best beta.
I hope you guys enjoy! Please review. They really help me with crafting the rest of the story!

Waiting outside the room was torture for Oliver, but he kept reminding himself he had to do what was best for Felicity. The urge to protect her, however, was strong. He leaned his head back against the wall in the hallway and balled his fists, attempting to gain some semblance of control over himself, but his thoughts kept returning to the way Felicity had jerked away from him moments before. He placed his hand in his breast pocket and withdrew her glasses. He'd had them fixed when she was still held captive, but he had yet to return them. She hadn't spoken to him since she had called his name as she woke.

She was traumatized, he reminded himself, but this did little to calm his anxiety. Did she blame him for what happened? He knew that he certainly blamed himself, so he couldn't be surprised if she did as well. Oliver was convinced he'd had every opportunity to protect her, and yet, he'd taken none of them. Each pivotal moment flashed before him and he could do nothing to stop the painful tightening of each muscle in his body as rage and self-hatred coursed through him.

Of course she can't stand me, he thought. He couldn't even stand himself.

Approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see Jane approaching and quickly returned Felicity's glasses to his pocket. She smiled and entered Felicity's room without a word. Oliver was relieved to see her. Dr. Hallman seemed a decent man, but Jane was a safe haven. There was something within her that was much like Felicity. Both women were capable of reaching straight for a person's soul and giving immense comfort in times of distress. Oliver was grateful such a person could find Felicity's being and wrap it warmly in love.

Alone again with his own recent memories, Oliver's mind flashed unbidden through the violence of several days past. He'd fought to keep his head in the present, but the gore would not be controlled. Vivid images of Felicity's broken body, bathed in the sunlight streaming through a broken window, her chest breathing in reverse, the gurgling death rattle that was her breathing, John Diggle falling to his knees, screaming at the sight of her. It was all too much.

Oliver dug the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, trying to blot out the pictures swarming through his mind's eye. The ten minutes in the back of Digg's car, Felicity's gurgling breath slowly becoming weaker and softer as the car sped through downtown Starling. His arms ached from holding her so tightly, as if he gripped hard enough, he could keep her in this world with him. If his fists maintained their grip, she wouldn't die. The mockery of her breathing was telling him differently.

"Go faster for fuck's sake, Digg!"

Digg's only response was to lower his foot on the gas pedal and inch closer to Detective Lance's bumper. Oliver looked back down into Felicity's ravaged face and smoothed her mess of hair out of her eyes. One was swollen shut and the other was splattered with gore, but it was still her. Oliver would have recognized her anywhere, even after what that animal had done to her. She was still warm, and she still exuded something that was so… Felicity.

With a strangled sob, Oliver lowered his forehead to hers. "I love you, Felicity Smoak. I swear, if you just stay here, stay here with me, I won't ever let anyone hurt you again. Please fight, Felicity. I can't do this without you."

The tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he hugged Felicity's limp body to him and sobbed. He couldn't stop the stream of whispered pleadings as they sped through the city.

When they'd finally reached the ER entrance, Diggle had passed Detective Lance on the access road and swung into the portico, using the handbrake to position the car directly in front of the automatic doors. Oliver gathered Felicity to him as quickly as possible without hurting her and John wrenched the door open. Lance had sprinted to them and was already through the doors, screaming for a gurney and flashing his badge when Oliver jogged inside holding Felicity. The gurgling was fainter than ever and Oliver was surprised to hear himself now pleading with the nurses and doctors who took her from him.

"Please, don't let her die." The trauma team wheeled her into the bay. "Please."

A noise jerked Oliver back to the present and the memory cleared from before his eyes to reveal the tiny form of Nurse Jane before him.

"Anybody in there?" Jane said, but with an unusual seriousness.

Oliver shook himself and leaned away from the wall to look at her.

"Good. You and I need to have a talk." She paused and eyed him. "Actually more like, I'll talk, you'll listen."

"I seem to be doing a lot of that lately," Oliver bit out, suddenly on edge, feeling the strain of the day land on his body.

Jane sighed, her stance softening, "I'm sorry, Oliver. I know this has been hard on you, too. Please, will you have a cup of coffee with me?"

"What about Felicity?" Oliver leaned forward to peer into Felicity's room but could only make out a sliver of her bed.

"She's asleep, and I imagine she will be for awhile. I gave her her pain meds before I left. And we can talk in the nurse's break room down the hall. We'll only be three doors away if she wakes up." Jane gave him a small smile of encouragement.

Oliver thought for a minute about refusing and going back to Felicity's side, but then he remembered the way she'd flinched when he'd attempted to show her affection. Perhaps he wasn't the best thing for her right now. With a sigh, he waved his hand in the direction of the break room and allowed Jane to lead the way.

Once inside the small room, Jane closed the door with a soft click and walked to the kitchenette counter to poor herself a cup of coffee in a doubled paper cup. She turned to Oliver and asked how he took it.

"Black," Oliver said, taking a seat in a flimsy, plastic chair at a round table. It groaned rather loudly under his weight.

Jane placed his coffee in front of him and took the opposite chair, stirring hers with gentle swirls. For several moments, she stared into her cup before taking a deep breath.

Oliver placed both hands around his cup to warm them and then looked up into Jane's face. He was surprised to find her eyes glistening with tears. He opened his mouth a few times, struggling to find a word or two of comfort for her, but he was at a loss. If anything, he was bizarrely comforted by her emotions.

"I'm sorry," Jane said hurriedly wiping away her tears. "It's been a long week."

She sounded deeply careworn. The nurse he'd encountered the first night in the ER who had stared him down from a foot below was not the woman that sat with him now. Jane's face looked older, the lines deeper, and the laugh lines seemed to have faded, like years of previous joy were slipping away in the face of new suffering. The bags under her eyes were deep purple and looked wrong on the face of such an experienced nurse, but as Oliver considered them he began to realize that Jane had been the only nurse in and out of Felicity's room recently, at least since her embolism. She had done everything from sponge baths and bed changes, to changing Felicity's medications and fluids. With a dawning comprehension, Oliver saw that he hadn't been the only one at Felicity's side for almost a week.

This revelation inspired a new feeling in Oliver, one he hadn't felt in a very long time: gratefulness. Removing one hand from his paper cup of coffee, he placed his warm palm on Jane's wrist. Jane looked up into his face and they stared each other for a moment. Silently, they both considered their commonality: Felicity.

"I can't tell you what she said, Oliver," Jane said finally, breaking the silence.

"I know. I wouldn't want you to anyway," Oliver said withdrawing his hand and placing it back around his cup. He took a sip. "She needs to tell me on her own."

"I'm glad you understand that." Jane went back to watching her coffee swirl. "You're going to need to step up for her."

Jane drank a gulp of coffee and look again at Oliver, finding a confused expression gracing his face.

"This is going to be a hard road, Oliver. She's been through… This is the worst case of trauma I've ever seen that was caused by another human, and I used to be a trauma nurse in The Glades when the vigilante was still killing people."

Oliver believed her. After everything he'd seen on Lian Yu, all of the violence he'd perpetrated himself, witnessed in his city, even when Slade Wilson had stabbed his mother through the heart, none of it compared to what he'd seen on the floor of that tenement building. Every time he closed his eyes now he saw Felicity's flail chest, breathing in reverse and heard the gurgle and rattle of her breathing. He was sure that as long as he lived, he would never be able to forget that moment.

"You can't bail." Oliver's attention snapped back to the present and to what Jane was saying. "You look like a good man, Mr. Queen, but even the best of men bolt when times are hard."

Jane fiddled with her bare ring finger absently. "She's going to need months of treatment for her physical wounds, and she will very likely need more surgeries in the coming years. But what she's been through, twice now, is where the true recovery has to happen."

"I know," Oliver said.

Jane peered at him sternly for a second. "Yes, I figured you would. But just because you've dealt with your issues, doesn't mean she's going to deal with them the same way. There's going to be night terrors, screaming, pain, fights, panic attacks, phobias, flashbacks, you name it. Hell, maybe even suicide attempts."

Oliver balked at the last statement, but the look on Jane's face kept him silent. She looked positively fierce now. "I swear to God, Oliver Queen, if you fuck this up for her, you're going to have me to answer to. You're not going to be able to 'save' her or some romantic novel bullshit. She's got to do that for herself. But you're going to be there, you hear me? You're going to do whatever she asks of you. You're going to open jars and pick up food. You're going to clean, change her sheets, do her laundry, help her get dressed, draw baths for her. You'll get her take out whenever she wants it, and you're going to make sure she gets to every single physical therapy appointment, every follow up with her surgeons and doctors, and every therapist session. And most importantly, you're going to listen whenever she is ready to talk. I don't care if the house is on fire. If she says to you that she wants to talk to you about what happened, you're going to drop the fire extinguisher and come running, you hear me?"

Speechless, Oliver nodded stupidly.

"Good. Now, this is my phone number—" Jane slid a piece of paper across the table to him "—You're going to call me if you need help. And I mean it. Call me."

Oliver looked at the precious piece of paper, emotion welling up in his chest. He folded it carefully and placed it in his shirt pocket.

"I know we're not going to be able to do this without you, Jane."

"No, I imagine not." Jane smiled a genuine smile. With that, she stood, dumped her tepid coffee into the sink and tossed the cup into the trash. "You can stay in here as long as you need, but I'm late for rounds."

As Jane turned to leave, Oliver stood and touched her shoulder. She turned to face him again.

"Thank you," he said, and on impulse, leaned in to hug her.

Jane returned the hug and squeezed him tightly. When they pulled away from each other, both had tears gracing the edges of their eyes.