I wrote this during season one and forgot about it, so if the characters are a little off I guess it's because they are a little out-dated. Yay for character development!

Some minor language, minor mentions of violence, no spoilers and no references to specific events.

Oliver stepped out of the side door of the club, intending to answer his ringing phone in the quieter air of the night. Dressed in one of his many suits, he was in billionaire playboy mode tonight, making an appearance at Verdant as well as looking over the business side of things to give Thea a break. It had been a couple of slow weeks on the Arrow front, and he had allowed himself, Diggle and Felicity a free evening from the foundry while he looked after the club. As such it was a welcome relief to step out into the peaceful night air, away from accountant reports and stock order forms.

Oliver cut off the ringing of his phone and answered, but before he could speak the call cut out from the other end and a familiar voice spoke from the darkness, "Mr Queen."

"Officer Lance," Oliver responded curtly, mirroring the officer as he put away his phone. Lance approached, walking away from his parked car. "Is this an official visit or are you here to check out the club?"

"Do not push me, Queen, the only reason I'm here at all is that my conscience would not leave this alone, what with your reputation."

"I'm afraid you've lost me, Detective," Oliver replied honestly.

"There was an incident earlier tonight involving one of your employees from Queen Consolidated." A cold feeling Oliver had not felt for a long time started to creep up his spine. "Some nut-job rammed her car, crashing it before tying her up in it. He then stole her purse and used it to find and gain access to her apartment where he stole anything of value."

"I'm sorry that happened, but I don't see how I'm involved," Oliver said hesitantly, not sure what the older man was getting at. At the same time he was trying to remember just how many females were employed at QC and the associated odds. "Queen Consolidated would of course assist in any way they could. Their employees are highly valued after all."

"As much as your compassion astounds me, Mr Queen," Lance said dryly, "the poor girl has nowhere to go and when pressed she said you might be able to help her. Knowing your track record I was hesitant to let her go before I saw for myself if you were willing to be a decent human being." Lance sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Look, she's a friend of mine and I need to know someone is looking out for her. Can you do that or should I take her back to the hospital." He gestured back at his car where Oliver noticed for the first time the woman sitting in the front seat.

"No," he said.

"So you can't help her?" Lance asked, but by then Oliver had already sprinted past.

Opening the passenger door of the car, Oliver crouched down so he could see Felicity's face, her bruised and scratched face, framed by her loose golden hair, glasses missing. Her eyes were closed and a blanket was draped over her with 'Starling General Hospital' printed on the edges.

"Felicity," Oliver said softly, not sure what state she was in. She snapped open her eyes and it only took her a few seconds to lock onto his and take in his panicked expression.

"Oliver," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I know you were busy tonight with the club, but Diggle is out with Lyla, not that I'm saying I would choose Diggle over you, but I didn't have anyone else to call, not that I actually called you because my phone was stolen…" she cut herself off and blinked away her tears. Oliver pushed forward so that he held one of her hands in his and cupped the back of her neck with his other.

"Felicity, it's okay. I want you to call me when something like this happens. I'm here whenever you need me."

"I'm sorry," she sniffled again.

He shushed her, rubbing the back of her neck in soothing motions. He turned back to face Lance who had followed him to stand within hearing distance. He had an unrecognisable look on his face.

"Did you catch the bastard that did this?" Oliver demanded.

"No," Lance admitted bitterly. "But this time he left evidence behind."

"This time?"

"Ms Smoak is unfortunately not the first to be attacked by this man."

Oliver gritted his teeth and would no doubt have said something he would regret when Felicity spoke up. "Oliver," she whispered, "please, I want to go home."

He took one look into her tired eyes and forced himself to calm down. "Her apartment?" he asked Lance.

"Is an open crime scene right now, and will need some work before it is habitable. But I need to know where she is for a follow up statement in a day or so," he told them.

"She'll stay with me. If that's okay with you, Felicity?" Oliver amended.

She nodded, "I just want to sleep."

"The doctor let her get away with not being admitted with the proviso that she have someone look after her," Lance warned. "She's got a minor concussion so needs monitoring, but everything else is superficial." It went without saying that Lance did not fully trust that Oliver was capable of looking out for anyone but himself.

"I'll look after her," Oliver announced before gathering Felicity into his arms. He stood up and Felicity immediately let out a small squeak and grabbed onto his jacket lapel.

"I can walk," she admonished, a blush on her cheeks.

"You're not wearing shoes," Oliver pointed out. "Just relax," he whispered in her ear, "I have you."

She did as he asked, slowly getting over the fact that he was holding her like she didn't weigh a thing. And that he was…well, Oliver.

"Thank you, Mr Lance, for bringing her to me."

"You better look after her, Queen. Don't make me regret this."

Oliver didn't reply, but held Felicity a little tighter as he walked around the corner to where he had parked his car.

"Where are you hurt, Felicity?" he asked softly as they walked.

"It's just a few bruises and a bump on the head, Oliver."

"Felicity."

"Fine, a concussion then."

"Felicity, I can't look after you if I don't know what to look out for."

"I just want to sleep and forget it all, please."

Oliver slowed as they reached his car and with only slight difficulty opened the door with Felicity in his arms. He set her down in the seat and rearranged the blanket around her as she shivered. Walking around to the driver's side he took a seat but didn't start the car yet. "Just tell me how bad the car crash was," he prompted.

Felicity took a deep breath and relented. "I wasn't driving that fast, so it could have been worse." She offered a smile, which turned into a grimace when one of the cuts on her face pulled. Oliver didn't return the gesture so Felicity continued, talking faster and faster, trying to get it over with. "A car came up behind me and hit the back corner of my car. I ended up swerving off the road and into a ditch so my car flipped. I thought it was some Good Samaritan helping me out of the car until he pulled a gun and forced me to crawl into the back seat and tied my hands together with the seatbelts."

Oliver had a feeling that Felicity had just oversimplified a deeply traumatic experience, but he wouldn't push her when it was still so fresh. "If I…" he trailed off, not sure how to voice his thoughts.

"Just don't drive at some ridiculous speed and I'll be fine," Felicity answered. She reached up to put on her seatbelt and Oliver noticed the deep bruising peeping out from under the snowy white bandage around her wrist. "Oliver," she scolded, "relax or you are going to break your incredibly expensive car."

Oliver released the white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and started the engine, though he didn't stop grinding his teeth together. He made the journey back to the mansion the slowest he had ever driven.

None of his family were at home when they arrived so it was a simple task to scoop Felicity back up into his arms and carry her up into his bedroom.

Felicity's eyes widened when she saw just which room he had brought her to. "Oliver, I can't-" she started to say but he thankfully cut her off before she could start with her deeply embarrassing rambling.

"The only spare room that is made up is in the other wing of the house and I don't want to leave you alone if you have a concussion," he explained, setting her down on his bed. "Times up, Felicity, I need you to tell me where you're injured."

"Oliver, seriously, I'm fine, just a few bumps and bruises."

"Felicity please, I need to know so I can help," he cupped the back of her head, "…so I don't hurt you."

She let out a sigh, reaching up to hold onto his wrist. "It really is just bruises, Oliver. Mostly where the seatbelt cut into me when I crashed and when I hit my head. My wrists are cut up a bit from being tied together, but it's shallow, and the rest are just scratches from the glass. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, just a tiny concussion."

Oliver frowned at her nonchalant attitude but accepted it for the moment. "I'll find some clothes for you to change into. Would you like a shower or do you just want to go to sleep?"

"A shower sounds amazing right about now."

Oliver led her over to his bathroom suite and pointed to where everything she needed was. "I'll just go find some clothes and leave them in here for you. Shout if you need me, I'll be able to hear." He left her alone with a last look, leaving the door open just a crack behind him.

It would be a painful process to remove her clothing she realised as she slowly unwound the bandages around her wrists. Her shoes, a nice pair of heels that she had loved, had been lost hours ago and it would be relatively simple to shuck herself out of her skirt. Her top was a different story. A colourful knitted jumper, it hugged her figure but was a modest cut, meaning that usually she had to peel herself out of it. With the bruising along her abdomen and shoulder from her seatbelt, stretching her arms up above her head was not something she was capable of. One of the nurses had to help her in and out of it when she changed for all the scans. The sleeves had already been ruined, the hospital staff having cut them up the seam to get access to her wrists, so it was with a thoughtful look that she considered the scissors sitting in the cup on the counter next to the sink.

A knock on the door broke her out of her contemplation. "Felicity?"

"Come in, I'm decent."

"I raided Thea's closet and found some clothes…is there something wrong?"

"I need you to take my top off." Oliver smirked and Felicity just gave a tired sigh. "I mean it hurts to move one shoulder which is a requirement to getting out of this top and I just…can't."

Oliver placed the clothes he had brought on the counter and stepped forward until he was facing her. Lightly he took her hand and together they pulled her out of her top, taking extra care around her shoulder. As Oliver pulled it over her head she had a few seconds to realise she was now standing in front of him with just her bra on, causing a deep blush to stain her cheeks, but she also thanked whatever deities that were watching that she had at least chosen one of her nicer ones.

"Felicity," Oliver whispered in a low voice, and it took her a moment to identify it as distress.

Looking down at herself she gasped. "Oh wow. They said that there would be bruising, but hey I think I can see a rainbow."

Without thought, Oliver reached out and tenderly brushed his hand along the mottled bruise crossing her stomach. Felicity inhaled sharply at the feeling of warmth from his fingers as well as at the pain of his touch. Oliver broke out of his reverie when she made the sound and stepped backwards, out of her personal space, hand clenching into a fist. "I'll just…," Oliver walked out keeping his eyes on the floor.

It was one of the longer showers she had ever taken, partly because she felt warm and safe, away from the horrors that had made up her night, but also because it was tricky washing her hair with one hand. The soap stung in all the cuts littered over her body, anywhere where her skin had been exposed, mostly her face, neck and hands. Eventually she made herself step out of the shower and dry off. The assortment of clothes Oliver had found were comfortable, some shorts of Thea's and an old t-shirt of his. He had also been considerate enough to include a crop-top, and knowing he would definitely like to look over her injuries himself she put it on and left the t-shirt for the moment.

"Hey," he said when she emerged in a cloud of steam, stopping his pacing. "Take a seat," he ordered, nodding at his bed, "and I'll re-bandage your wrists."

She did as he asked, relaxing somewhat when she knew she wouldn't have to move again anytime in the foreseeable future. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, Oliver looked over her injuries with hard eyes. He noticed her sway slightly and quickly changed positions so that he was sitting next to her with her leaning against his side. "This won't take long," he promised, taking one of her arms in his hands as she suppressed a yawn.

Felicity was almost proud when he kept himself from commenting on how horrible the tattered skin of her wrists looked. His hands were gentle as he wrapped fresh gauze around the wounds, first applying an antiseptic to the cuts along her hands, wrists, neck and face.

Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulders, supporting her weight as he tipped her back slightly so he could see the full extent of the bruising on her torso. "This is going to hurt," he warned her before taking a generous dollop of bruise balm in his hand and starting to smooth it along her stomach and shoulder. Felicity squeezed her eyes shut as she endured the unpleasant sensation, grasping the bed sheets so she didn't make a sound or grab onto something more inappropriate – like Oliver.

Oliver sat her back up and then a sound from the bathroom made her realise that he had silently left the room, the first aid supplies gone with him. When he emerged a minute later he was out of his suit and dressed in some sleep pants and a t-shirt, the t-shirt he meant for Felicity in his hand. He stepped up to her a final time, gently slipping it on, careful once again of her abused shoulder.

"Ready to sleep?" he asked.

She nodded, a huge yawn overtaking her and she wiped away the tears that leaked from the corner of her eye. Except the tears kept coming, and then a sob and then she couldn't stop. She hadn't cried or freaked out the entire night, something inside her pushing it off until later, until she was safe, and being with Oliver had always given her a sense of safety.

It took a while, but she eventually calmed down, helped by the fact that Oliver was now holding her tight to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on her back while telling her to just breathe and that she was safe.

"Thank you," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"Don't mention it."

He slowly released her, moving to help her under the covers. She sighed contented as her head hit the soft pillow. "Where do you buy your pillows?" she asked, muffled by the pillow itself. "It's like lying on a cloud, or a marshmallow, or a cloud of marshmallows."

Oliver smiled dotingly down at her. "Go to sleep, Felicity."

She settled in, finding a position that hurt the least while Oliver waited patiently, sitting on the edge of the bed. A thought struck her. "Will you stay?" she asked, sounding more desperate than she wanted.

"Of course. Doctor's orders, remember."

"No, but will you stay? Not call Diggle as soon as I'm asleep to babysit me, or ask your housekeeper or some other of your bevy of servants to stay, then go off and do something stupid."

His voice dropped an octave or two, "By stupid do you mean track down the wang bao dahn that did this to you?"

"That would be one such instance. But remember Oliver Queen does not have access to that information and Detective Lance already noticed your anger tonight. Also it would be a huge coincidence that the Arrow went after the bad guy only after he attacked little old me and not the earlier victims." Oliver went to protest but she talked over him. "He won't be attacking anyone else tonight. Tomorrow I'll do some hacking and then as the Arrow you can do some snooping, but for tonight, please stay and just be Oliver. Not Oliver Queen, billionaire. Not the crime fighter. Just my friend."

"Felicity," he said soothingly, brushing a new tear off her cheek. "I'll stay."

"Good," she said, sniffing. "Because that creep left me in my car for hours and I was freaking out even though he had left, leaving me alone, but I couldn't move and he had threatened me and it was dark and no one came." She took a deep breath, "I don't like being alone in the dark."

She was surprised when Oliver stood up, not saying anything. She was even more surprised when he crossed to the other side of the room and picked up his desk chair. Returning, he placed it right next to the bed, leaned over Felicity to grab a spare pillow, placed it on the chair, sat down and propped his feet up on the bed right next to hers.

Clearly settled in, he reached over and took her hand, entwining their fingers. "I'll always be here for you," he said quietly, "I'll always find you. I'll even leave the light on for you."

That got a smile out of her and a small giggle. "Thank you, Oliver." She blinked sleepily. "I like it best when you're not pretending," she said, eyes drooping. "I like you just the way you are." She fell asleep with a quiet sigh.

"I like you, too," he said, squeezing the hand he still held, "just the way you are."

Thanks for reading.

The Chinese phrase should translate as 'bastard' and comes from the TV show Firefly, where they have arguably the best insults and turns of phrase ever.