I couldn't resist the cliff-hanger, sorry.
This is the chapter that I'm mean to Laurel. So once more with feeling, opinions are great; for or against. Hate and insults are not welcome.
Thanks for all the reviews/follows/favourites, but I know you all want to find out what happens so here's part 2/3.
Felicity woke up slowly.
It was dark.
Everything hurt.
Her head hurt most which was why she was obviously having trouble putting her thoughts together.
The next thing she realised was that she couldn't move.
Her hands were bound, her feet as well, and she was lying on her side on a hard uncomfortable surface.
Her next realisation came with a heavy dose of panic; she wasn't blindfolded, her eyes were open and it was pitch black.
Reaching out in front of her she banged her hands on a course piece of wood. Rolling over, ignoring the pain, she frantically stretched up, hitting wood again with a solid thump, just inches above her head. A fine layer of dirt rained down on her and she coughed. Stretching out her feet and feeling around her, all Felicity could find was solid wood.
"Oh no," she sobbed as she finally understood.
She was buried alive.
The panic overwhelmed Felicity at first. She wrenched mercilessly at the plastic cable ties that held her feet and hands together, banging on the wooden box around her to no effect. She didn't realise she was screaming until her throat started to hurt. When she accidentally banged her head against the ceiling, right where the edge of her door had caught her earlier, the new pain hit her and knocked some sense into her.
"Okay," she whispered to herself, "First things first. Felicity, can you get out?" Running her hands around the box as far as she could she determined that it was rectangular, felt really small and was very well made. Hitting the roof and sides a few times she suspected that she was actually buried under dirt and it wasn't just an overactive imagination.
"Next, what have I got to work with?" Her pockets were empty, her glasses were missing and the most solid thing she had on her were her boots. Her boots…where she had hidden her phone.
"Please, please, please," she begged as she maneuvered her body in the small space trying to reach her shoes. Her ribs protested as she moved, cracked or broken she guessed from how Oliver and Diggle described the feeling, and the rough wood scratched at her where she pressed into it.
She finally reached her shoes, contorted into an unnatural position with her face pressed into the uncomfortable wood, ribs and bruises screaming in pain. Her fingers grazed over her still present phone. She sobbed in relief as she very carefully pulled it out of her boot and moved back until she was lying on her side, phone clutched tightly in her fingers. It took a second for her to get a hang of using the phone with her wrists tied together, but she managed.
Turning it on the sudden light blinded her. Forcing herself to keep looking into the light as her eyes watered she checked her cell reception, familiarity meaning she could read it without her glasses. She had a few bars and she breathed a little easier. She was obviously not too far underground.
Selecting her contacts list she dialed Oliver's number and held her breath as the phone connected.
Oliver was enjoying himself as he ate a late dinner with Laurel at a little Italian restaurant at the edge of the Glades. It was small enough that he wouldn't get harassed by the media but large enough to have a decent chef. It had been ages since he and Laurel had a chance to catch up. In recent months Laurel had been pushing to help Oliver and the others with their night-time activities, sometimes successfully as Diggle was taking a backseat with Lyla being very much pregnant. Yates and the fighting ring had been a point of contention though. Laurel had been chasing the ring for ages, but Oliver had pointed out that they needed to be stealthy which meant undercover and Laurel was recognisable as a lawyer in the DAs office. Felicity had won the role by explaining that people rarely noticed her; remembered the blonde hair but nothing else.
"How did you find this place?" Laurel asked. "I've been working in the Glades for years and didn't know it existed."
Her smile dropped as she remembered CNRI, both good and bitter memories. Oliver noticed but he didn't bring it up as she quickly recovered.
"Felicity found it," he said. "If we are working over dinner this is one of the places we get takeout from."
"She has good taste," Laurel said and changed the subject.
Dinner progressed and Oliver found the time flew. The only interruption was when a business woman, obvious from her attire, and her husband walked in.
"That's Imogen Lands, one of the Queen Consolidated stock holders," Oliver explained apologetically as he put down his glass and buttoned his suit jacket, "I have to say hello. Felicity identified her as one of the deciding weights on the board. Whichever way she leans the rest generally follow. Nothing is final but there might be a chance I can get Queen Consolidated back if I can convince enough people, so I should try to make a good impression."
"That's great, Ollie," Laurel said in delight.
"It was all Felicity's doing. She helped me come up with a great business model to present to the board based on renewing the R&D department. Hendricks nearly fell out of his chair when she admitted that over a third of the company's programming breakthroughs were because of her." Oliver laughed at the memory and Laurel offered a tight smile. "I'll just say hello to her and be right back. If I take you with me she'll probably offer to join our tables and we'll be stuck talking business all night."
"Go do business," Laurel smiled, shooing him away.
Laurel watched Oliver walk across the room before she made a show of sipping her water when the group looked over as Oliver explained his being there. For something to do she scanned the room and its many occupants and ended up fixing on their table when she heard a ringtone. Oliver had left his phone behind and Laurel quickly leaned over and muted it before it could disturb the other diners. 'Felicity Smoak' the screen read and she found herself frowning. Laurel was decidedly sick of Felicity Smoak; Oliver wasn't much of a conversationalist, but it seemed to her that Oliver mentioned Felicity in at least every discussion they had had in the last few months. When she had offered help in the Yates case, especially since they needed to infiltrate the ring, he had said Felicity could handle it. It wasn't jealousy per se, Laurel just needed to do something and Oliver had chosen the computer girl with little combat skills for the role instead of herself, who could handle just about anything thanks to her cop father. She hated feeling useless and she knew as soon as Felicity called it would no doubt be news that would cause Oliver to run off into the night, leaving her behind. He had promised that it would be an evening for them to reconnect but it felt like Felicity was invading their night. Deciding that Felicity was capable enough to deal the situation with the help of Diggle she picked up Oliver's phone.
"Hello, Felicity," Laurel said as she answered the phone. "Oliver is busy and will have to call you back later." She hung up before the other woman could say a word. Placing the phone back on the table, Laurel drained the last of her water, and ignored the guilt that crept up on her. She hadn't needed to be so rude. Felicity would call back if it was important and she would apologise, she decided.
Felicity stared at her phone in disbelief.
Laurel Lance had answered Oliver's phone and hung up on her.
That right there was unheard of, but with Felicity's situation as it was, she had no words to dignify what she felt.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring the side of her brain that was telling her about how much oxygen her box had left before she suffocated, Felicity considered her next choice of who to call. Diggle was the obvious answer and she was about to dial when she realised that his phone was broken. She had given him one of their burner phones as a temporary phone but she didn't have his number.
She was about to call the police, what any normal person would do if they didn't have a direct line to the city's hero, when something better came to mind. Dialing she held her breath again as the phone rang.
"Detective Lance," she said when the phone picked up, barely hiding a sob of relief.
"Felicity, what's wrong?" he asked immediately.
"I don't mean to be dramatic, but I-I think I'm buried alive."
He paused as he registered what she had said. "Okay…okay…I can work with that. Do you know where you are?"
"No."
In the background she heard him shouting for someone to trace the call. "How much battery does your phone have?" he asked.
"Couple of hours at least."
"Good, that's good. Are you hurt?"
She sniffed heavily. "I'm so glad you picked up your phone."
"It's going to be okay, Felicity. We're tracing your number now and that will lead us straight to you. You just got to hold on a little bit longer, sweetheart."
"I don't know how much air I have left," she whispered, "or how long I've been in here."
"Do you feel light-headed or dizzy?"
"Yes, but that could be because I probably have a concussion."
"You never make this simple, do you Smoak?"
She gave a watery laugh. Shouts sounded in the background of the phone and Felicity tensed.
"We've got you, Felicity," Lance said elatedly. "You're on the edge of the city at a junkyard. I'm fifteen minutes away, just hold on, okay?"
"Okay."
It was the longest fifteen minutes of her life, beating out that one awkward car ride with Isobel Rochev in Russia and the many times Oliver had managed to lose his earpiece in the middle of fighting the bad guys. Lance helped by talking to her, keeping up a constant stream of conversation that Felicity could focus on.
"We're here, sweetheart," he announced. "Just a couple more minutes, I promise."
There was silence over the phone as the digging started and Felicity lay there with tears dripping down her cheeks as she waited. The seconds stretched out but she started to hear noises, voices, shouts, all becoming clearer.
Suddenly the box shuddered and she held her bound hands over her face protectively as the lid was pulled off and light shone in her face.
"Lower your torches," the familiar voice of Lance ordered and then he was there, climbing down to her side and carefully picking her up.
"I got you, it's going to be okay," he said as he passed her to the waiting paramedics where an oxygen mask was immediately placed over her face.
Oliver and Laurel had just ordered coffee after their meal when Oliver's phone went off.
"It's your dad," Oliver said, frowning and picking up the call. "Detective Lance, is everything okay?"
"Your ex-assistant, Ms Smoak was involved in an incident tonight," he stated without preamble.
Oliver felt as if the world tilted.
"Is she okay?" he got out.
"She sustained some injuries, but nothing more serious than a concussion. You're listed as an emergency contact. I'm with her now at Starling General."
"I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and immediately stood.
"Ollie, is everything okay?" Laurel asked concerned.
"There's been…I've got to go to the hospital. Can you…"
"Go, I'll settle the bill and catch a cab."
"Thank you," he said and then he was gone.
Oliver wasn't aware how he got to the hospital. He quickly found that Felicity was in the private ward of the hospital, with her ties to him and the company Lance must have guessed her visit could result in a media presence. Oliver rushed through the halls until he came face to face with Lance who was talking with a uniformed officer. He looked between the older man and the closed door behind him, waring between wanting answers and just wanting to see her. Lance decided for him.
"She's in with a nurse right now, Mr Queen. They just took her for some tests and are settling her into her room."
"What happened?"
"She was buried alive."
Oliver had to reach out a hand to the wall to ground himself. "What?"
"I got a call from Ms Smoak earlier tonight. She had been attacked in her apartment but managed to conceal her phone in her shoe. She woke up in a box with her hands and feet tied. She called me knowing I could trace the call. She was in a junkyard under a foot of dirt in a wooden coffin." Lance paused and scrubbed his tired face. "I haven't told her that bit yet."
"Who would…?" Oliver asked, mind already going through the possibilities. Was it because of him, the Arrow or a random attack?
"Leonardo Yates," Lance said grimly. "Apparently it was a revenge play; though how Ms Smoak would be connected to Yates I have no idea." No one else would have picked up the sarcasm, but they both knew what Felicity did with her nights. "At this point we are thinking mistaken identity. Just in case I'm stationing an officer at her door while we track down the perpetrators."
Oliver swallowed thickly. "How is she?"
"Concussion, three cracked ribs and her wrists and ankles were cut pretty bad from the cable ties. She wasn't affected by oxygen deprivation for too long so they just want to keep her overnight for observation."
Two nurses appeared out of the hospital room and one went to talk to Lance. She eyed Oliver but didn't ask. "You'll have to wait until morning for an official statement, Detective. We had to sedate her for the tests so she'll be out for another hour or so."
"Sedation?" Oliver asked.
"The scans we needed involve putting the patient in an enclosed space and Miss Smoak was understandably upset by this. Sedation was needed if we were to determine the extent of her injuries."
Oliver's eyes flew from the nurse to the room where Felicity was.
The nurse left and Lance gave Oliver a hard look. "I have to go back to the station to finish off my shift. I didn't quite know what to think when Ms Smoak asked me to call you, I figured after you stopped being CEO she'd stop hanging around you." Lance looked over the younger man. Oliver was hard to read at the best of times, but right now Lance could see the underlying tension and how his eyes kept returning to Felicity's door. "Obviously there is more between you both than just a working relationship. I trust you'll look out for Ms Smoak."
Oliver met Lance's eyes. "I'll look after her."
"You better, Queen, or I'll make sure trouble finds you."
"Yes, sir."
Lance nodded and walked away.
Oliver finally opened the door to Felicity's room.
He stopped short when he saw her.
He fully expected to feel anger but instead he just felt empty as he tried to equate his bright IT girl with the woman on the bed.
She was asleep – sedated Oliver reminded himself – at the moment, arms placed over the hospital blanket with an IV in and an oxygen tube in her nose. She was still; the only thing moving in the room was the graphs and stats on the machines around her.
Letting out the breath he was unaware he was holding, Oliver moved further into the room. He stood next to the bed and looked down at Felicity who looked impossibly young and fragile, nothing like how Oliver pictured her.
Her face was the worst, butterfly bandages covering her forehead where a small cut was sitting, surrounded by a dark bruise that blended in with her black eye. She had an assortment of minor bruises and scratches on her arms and her wrists were heavily bandaged.
Pulling the chair closer to the bed Oliver dropped into it and only hesitated slightly before he took her hand in his own. He stared dumbly at her small hand, dwarfed by his own, the bright white bandages standing out against the dark bruises.
"I'm so sorry," Oliver whispered brokenly.
There was no answer.
Felicity woke occasionally throughout the night as the nurses came in to check on her but it was fleeting and she was asleep again by the time Oliver was allowed back to her side.
He took a moment to call Diggle and explain the situation. Diggle offered to come to the hospital but instead Oliver asked him to start looking into who it was that attacked Felicity and how Yates knew who she was. Oliver would stay with her for now in case they decided to try for her again and Diggle would come by the hospital in the morning with a change of clothes for Felicity, her spare glasses, and her beloved tablet.
It was just before dawn when Felicity woke up properly for the first time but it was not a gentle awakening.
She woke with a gasp and immediately tried to sit up but her ribs stopped her and she curled up on her side, hissing in pain between short breaths.
"Felicity," Oliver called, but she didn't hear and tried to throw her blanket off, upsetting her ribs more.
"Felicity," Oliver called again, catching and holding her arms trying to get her to go lie still before she hurt herself more.
"I can't get out," she whimpered, still in the nightmare, "I can't…trapped…you…you didn't come."
"Felicity," he said, crouching down so he was face to face with her. "It's okay, you're safe, I promise," he had to repeat it twice more before she calmed down. Slowly he released her arms. Cupping the back of her head he waited for her to meet his gaze.
"Oliver?" she asked, eyes open wide and filled with tears.
"Hey, I lost you for a second there."
"I…" Tears fell down her cheeks.
Brushing back her hair Oliver reached out with his other hand and took hers. She grabbed on and held it as tight as she could. "You're safe," Oliver repeated.
Felicity nodded and took several deep breaths. "I was back there," she explained, "except this time no one came and I was trapped…It wasn't a pleasant experience."
"No," Oliver laughed sadly. "No, it wouldn't be. But I'll always come for you, Felicity. You know that right?"
She nodded and then groaned as she jostled her head, tiredly blinking her eyes.
"You should get some rest," Oliver gently urged, helping her reposition herself and covering her again with the blanket. She didn't respond as she was already asleep.
When Diggle arrived he found Oliver sitting beside the bed watching over a sleeping Felicity. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and tie and suit jacket long discarded. Oliver looked wounded, Diggle decided, though not like any of the times he was physically injured.
"How is she?" he asked quietly, putting the bag of supplies on the floor except for the spare pair of glasses which he placed on the nightstand.
"She's…She'll heal."
"You've talked to her?"
"Briefly. She woke up from a nightmare and I had to convince her that she wasn't still trapped."
"She's strong, Oliver. She'll get through this."
"I know. I just wish she didn't have to."
Diggle could only agree. "Why don't you take a break, grab a coffee or something?" Oliver went to argue. "I'll look after her, man, don't worry."
Oliver sighed in defeat and followed Diggle's suggestion.
It was still early in the morning but the hospital was buzzing. Dodging several nurses and doctors Oliver made his way to the coffee station around the corner from Felicity's room. While waiting for the machine to slowly fill a cup he contemplated what had to be done. Felicity's safety was paramount so Yates had to be stopped, either by force or convincing him he had the wrong girl. Then there was the man that had physically attacked her. He would not get off easy. Felicity's apartment would also have to be re-assessed for security.
Picking up what would surely be horrible coffee Oliver sat down in one of the nearby chairs and pulled out his phone. Laurel had tried to contact him, but instead of opening the series of text messages Oliver instead went to his call log. The only information he had on what happened last night was what Detective Lance had told him and he hated working with so little. Finding out what time he had got the call from Lance and guessing about what time Felicity got home would give him an idea of how long Felicity had been in danger.
Scrolling through the incoming calls he had received he found Lance's but his eye was immediately drawn to the name below.
Felicity Smoak.
She had called him.
Felicity had called him while she was trapped in that box before she had called Lance.
He had briefly wondered why she hadn't called him; he was after all able to track her phone signal just as well as Lance, if not better. It had even hurt slightly that she wouldn't trust him to save her, but he had rationalised that she had her reasons and pushed it to the back of his mind because it wasn't important as long as she was okay.
But she had called him, had needed him and he had failed her.
Groaning, Oliver dropped his head into his hands, the guilt landing heavily on his heart. He thought back to how she had to be sedated for her to calm down. She was terrified by the ordeal and would probably deny it for as long as she could. She shouldn't be able to trust him anymore, hell, she should hate him, but she wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't. She'd just blindly believe in him like she always did. And that just made it worse. God, and her nightmare; she had said he hadn't come, that she was still trapped. He had thought it was just a dream, but no, it really happened – he hadn't come for her.
Oliver stood abruptly. He had to fix this, he had to apologise, he had to do something.
"Oliver," a voice called and he spun around to find Laurel standing in the hospital hallway. She was clutching her handbag to her chest and looking around nervously.
"Laurel, what are you…?"
"When I didn't hear from you I called my dad. He told me what had happened."
Oliver put on mask to hide his urgent need to return to Felicity and rubbed at his growing beard. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back, it's just with everything," he shrugged and gestured vaguely around him at the hospital.
"Of course," Laurel said immediately, "totally understandable." She paused, "How is Felicity?"
"She should hopefully be released later today."
"That's good," Laurel said.
"Yeah. Look, I should get back…"
"Oliver, wait!"
Oliver turned back at Laurel's pleading tone. "Laurel?"
"I didn't know," she gasped out. "She called your phone and I was just so mad that she was interrupting our dinner that I hung up on her. If I had known that she was in trouble I would never have done that. I'm so sorry, Oliver."
"You answered Felicity's phone call?" Oliver asked slowly.
"Yes," Laurel whispered, "and I am so, so sorry."
"I…you…I have to get back, Laurel." It was the only thing that made sense in amongst his heaving emotions. If he thought about what Laurel had put Felicity through, what she had done by not telling him about the call, he wasn't quite sure what he would do.
"I'm sorry, Oliver," Laurel said for the third time, reaching out to touch his arm.
"Stop," Oliver snapped. Laurel snatched her hand back, eyes wide in surprise. "Stop apologising to me, it wasn't my life on the line, it isn't me in a hospital bed. It's not me!" Oliver took a deep breath and tried to calm down.
Laurel took a step back, wiping away a single tear. "I should go. Will you please tell Felicity that I didn't mean to…"
"I will."
"I'll call you?" she asked shyly.
"I'll be busy for a while," Oliver responded sharply.
"Okay. Bye, Oliver."