Note:

Thanks again for the lovely response!

Finally, Oliver's going to tell us what he's been thinking. And he's doing his best not to think about the blonde who told him to go fuck himself the first time they met. No, really. He doesn't even want to know her name (it's Felicity, but you guys knew that).

Chapter 4

He should never have walked into that goddam bar with Amanda Waller. What was he thinking? As Oliver patrolled the fields with their psychedelic-looking flowers, and tried to pretend he wasn't staring at the tiny blonde who'd blown up at him a few days ago, he tried to retrace his steps, to figure out how the hell he'd gotten here.

Fine, he knew how – he'd trusted Amanda Waller. Scratch that, he'd had a drink with Amanda Waller. Like it wasn't obvious anyplace she went to would be completely under her control. And now he was back on Lian Yu, some kind of armed thug for a drug lord. And with orders to "infiltrate", whatever the fuck that meant. Why, why hadn't he gone home after Hong Kong? God, Hong Kong. He'd played so completely into Waller's hands while he was there, had allowed himself to be turned into a killer, and a torturer, and, apparently, the only one who could blend in with Reiter's men. And now he was here, watching over whatever fucked up drug Reiter was producing, with the scum of humanity, and the poor saps who'd gotten trapped here. Conklin had some nerve, calling them 'losers', like they'd chosen to be here. And Conklin was a piece of work.

Oliver had been there one hour when Conklin had pointed out the girl to him, and warned him off. And he'd had no intention of getting involved – thoughts of Shado, and Sara, and Akio were enough to dissuade him if he got tempted. Maybe Sara was dead, and maybe she wasn't, but it was his fault that she'd been here in the first place. All he did was fuck things up, so maybe he should just keep out of this one. So, of course he walked straight into her at the first opportunity. He hadn't been looking where he was going, and apparently she couldn't, and it had been like some scene from a bad chick flick. Except he was pretty sure the meet-cute didn't involve the male lead being an asshole. Or maybe it did – Laurel never liked that kind of movie much.

Oliver felt a prickle on the back of his neck – Conklin was glaring at him again. After the 'watch where you're going' incident, Conklin had been on his case, for, as he put it, 'muscling in on his piece of ass'. And because – actually, he wasn't sure what he'd been thinking when he just shrugged, and told Conklin, 'sorry dude, she doesn't like you much'. Maybe it was the fear in her eyes, which she'd turned into anger and let it out all over him. Very pretty eyes, a voice in his head mused. He froze, horrified. No, no, no. He wasn't interested in her that way. It was all about Laurel, right? He was holding out for Laurel. Oh sure, the same voice said nastily. What about Shado? That was just loneliness, he insisted. And it was a mistake, in the long run. Even if he'd never be able to make it up to Laurel (as he was secretly starting to suspect), he couldn't afford any distractions. And he felt sorry for the girl, whose name he didn't want to find out, but he had a job to do, and he was going to do it. Otherwise he'd never get home.

His resolution lasted a few days of watching the girl working the field on her knees, with that Tatiana chick hovering over her, and Conklin glaring at him, until he was woken in the middle of the night by the Russian chick. He must have said something to her, judging by her version of hello.

"I am Ukrainian, you idiot. And let go of my arm."

She didn't know how lucky she was – the last person who'd woken him out of a deep sleep had been in a choke hold before Oliver was fully awake. But that usually happened when he was having a nightmare. This time he'd been dreaming of a blond woman kneeling in a field of strawberries, and he'd been woken up just as she bit into one, the juice dripping down her chin. No, he had no idea what that meant. He tried to focus on the pissed off brunette who was still shaking him awake.

"I'm up," he hissed. "What the hell's going on?"

As Oliver focused blearily on her, he realised she was holding a cake of slam. The effect on him was like being hit by lightning – he rocketed up, grabbed his MK, and hustled her out of the hut. He was lucky the guys he shared it with were heavy sleepers. Standing outside in the moonlight, he realised that she was terrified, but not of him – of the drug she was holding. She pushed it on him, and rubbed her hands on her clothes, as if to scrub it off her.

"How did you get this?" he hissed.

She glared at him.

"Why don't you ask your friend Conklin? He's the one who left it next to Felicity, to make her look like a thief."

Her accent grew stronger when she was angry, he realised.

"Why would he do that? And who the hell's Felicity?"

Tatiana gave him a knowing look. Oh. Of course. His fingers tightened on the drugs, and he came to a quick decision. He'd handle this, and try to detach himself. Because his undercover mission wasn't going very well if Tatiana had come to him, trusting that he would help. There was an armed guard in front of the hut where all the finished product was stored, but he had a better idea. He knew where Conklin slept. As he snuck behind the hut, and quickly hid the cake of slam in some weeds, he knew it wouldn't fool the man for a second, but it was the best he could do on short notice. Tatiana, who'd followed him there, was still tugging on his arm, though.

"Look, it's ok," he said quickly. "Tell your friend it's fine – no-one will trace it back to her."

Tatiana was shaking her head.

"She's gone!"

"What do you mean, gone?"

He realized that the terror he'd been seeing on her face was just fear for her friend – her eyes were shiny with tears, and her voice shook.

"She saw the drugs, and she knew he was going to kill her. And . . . hurt her. And she had enough. She left."

The tone of her voice told him exactly what Felicity planned to do. He rubbed his face in frustration. She could already be dead, he told himself, though something inside protested wildly against that. Come on. She wasn't anything to him. And how could he help her? An idea came to him, gradually, and he cringed internally. She wasn't going to like it. And Tatiana would probably spit in his face once she found out. But it was something that could solve both their problems – her safety from Conklin, and his credibility as a scumbag with no conscience. Now, if only she was still alive. He had to move quickly.

"Which way did she go?"

Tatiana waved in the direction of the cliffs, and Oliver started running. There weren't many landmines that he knew of in that area, but there was a pretty sheer cliff.

When he burst through the forest and saw a small figure standing at the cliff's edge, he let himself stop for breath. He still managed to be pretty quiet, though, and only stepped on a twig when he was close enough to stop her if she decided to jump. Through the next few minutes, he quickly came to the conclusion that she wasn't in a state of mind to listen to anything he had to say – he had to get her away from that damned cliff. He made his move as soon as she turned away, and lifted her away from the edge, covering her mouth when she tried to scream. Didn't she realise how far sound travelled at night? Probably not, he thought, when her flailing leg caught him a glancing blow on the balls, and he had to suppress a pained grunt. Good thing he'd learned to compartmentalize pain on the island. When he stopped seeing stars, he focused back on her. She'd stopped struggling, but was probably just waiting for her chance.

"I just need you to listen to me for one minute. Please. You can't scream – you'll wake the camp and then I won't be able to help you."

He looked into her eyes, aware that he was asking for a lot. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. And nodded slowly. He put her down carefully and let go of her, backing away slowly, still managing to stay between her and the cliff. He noticed that she gave a couple of looks towards the cliff, and the forest, but didn't run.

"Let's just sit down here, and talk. Come on."

He tried to herd her a bit closer to the forest, and she gave him a doubtful look. But then it was like she just collapsed on the ground, and he felt a wave of pity wash over him. This was horrible. What Reiter and his men were doing to these people was fucking horrible. He didn't know if he had more sympathy for her because they shared a nationality, and she was young and pretty, but he hoped not. These people . . . all of them. It was just wrong.

She was sitting cross-legged, leaning back, staring at the sky, and he noticed that her fists were clenched on the ground, like she was fighting for control. Good. It was good that she was still fighting. He cleared his throat, and she looked at him.

"My name is Oliver Queen."

She nodded, not surprised.

"They told me . . . Tatiana, I mean."

He tried to look encouraging, hoping she'd take the hint.

"I'm Felicity . . . Smoak. That's 'Smoak' with an 'oa', not 'oke' – not that it matters how you spell my name. I mean, nothing matters here, right? This is hell, and we are in it, right?"

She was talking faster, and gesturing, and he knew she was on the verge of panic. He grabbed her hand as it flailed past him, and squeezed her fingers.

"Hey. Hey. You need to breathe." He did it for her, deep breaths through his nose, and out through his mouth, and after a few seconds, she followed his example. "A wise man once told me this – for everything, breathe. Always breathe."

She nodded, blinking back the tears that had been starting to form. She sniffed once or twice, but didn't try to let go of his hand.

"They said you survived a plane crash."

It had been Conklin who said this, but he wasn't going to mention his name, not after he'd got her to calm down.

"Yeah. Pure luck. No idea how I got out of that one. Look, we could exchange life stories and shoot the shit for hours, but I'm kind of on a deadline here. When they find the slam . . ."

She trailed off and shook her head.

"I put it outside Conklin's hut," he offered.

She snorted, and he looked at her in surprise. Then it turned into a giggle, and a smile which transformed her whole face. But it didn't last very long, and she sighed.

"Good call. Though it's not going to fool anyone."

"No. And he's just going to keep trying."

She nodded, looking sad. And scared. She visibly pulled herself together and pasted a determined look on her face.

"So. What was your grand idea that's supposed to fix all this?" she asked.

He bit his lip.

"Ok. The deal Conklin was trying to make with you. We could fake that," he added hurriedly, conscious of her pulling a deep breath, and curling her hands back into fists.

"I don't . . . how? Fake it how?"

Oliver stumbled through a couple of false starts and half sentences, trying to indicate that he'd get her things she needed, and would get Conklin off her case, and then they'd . . . go for a walk together. Every day. He'd been staring at his hands as he went through his mumbled explanation, secretly irritated at himself that he wasn't more eloquent. He used to be good at this, he thought, annoyed. What was the matter with him? She sighed again, and he looked up at her.

"Why?"

Her whole body radiated mistrust, but he pretended not to get it, at first.

"Why what?"

She cocked her head in a way he found utterly adorable. No! Not adorable! He was not falling for this girl!

"Why are you doing this? Why should I trust you to keep your end of the deal? What's in it for you?"

She peppered him with questions, and he realised he'd have to open up to her completely to get her to trust him. This would make him the worst undercover secret agent of all time. A little voice in his head, the one which reminded him of Thea at her most snotty, was yelling 'so what!' really, really loud. He'd never asked for any of this. Fucking ARGUS had no right to do this to him. Sure, he could turn on his charming asshole persona, and lie to her, but he had an idea that she wasn't going to fall for that. Also, he couldn't do that to her. What she was feeling was written all over her face, and it broke his heart. She was desperately trying to hold on to her composure, and her sanity, it looked like, and she deserved to know that she hadn't exchanged one rapist for another. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous. What if she didn't believe him, even then? He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"I'm here on a mission. Undercover. I need to be out of camp regularly, no questions asked. This way I'll have an excuse."

She punched the air in delight.

"I knew it! Stranded here for three years, my ass. You don't get muscle tone like that living on twigs and berries for three years."

He raised an eyebrow and she blushed.

"I noticed when I bumped in to you," she mumbled, looking down. "And just now you picked me up like it was nothing."

"I need to get in with Reiter and his men. And I don't think I've been-"

"Enough of an asshole?" she interrupted. "I guess. You didn't shoot that guy who ran. Though he had a concussion when you and Conklin carried him back."

"That wasn't me!"

He was aware that the words came out whinier than he'd intended and winced. And he'd played directly into her hands, he realised as she gave him a knowing look.

"You couldn't protect that guy from Conklin. Why should I believe you can keep me safe, if I stay in the camp? Can't you just hide me here . . . somewhere?"

Felicity waved her hands around vaguely, and he groaned inside. Yes, he'd thought of that. He'd fake her death and hide her in Yao Fei's cave. And it wouldn't work. He couldn't get away regularly to feed her, and he was sure she couldn't hunt. And if the others found her one day they'd both be in trouble. No, she had to stay in camp, where he'd have an excuse to leave for 'lunch' every day, and check in with Waller. He tried to explain everything to her, without mentioning Waller.

"Lunch, huh? Is that what we're calling it? What, was 'sex in exchange for toothpaste and tampons' taken?"

Oliver felt hopeful. She was leaning back on her hands, and still looked a bit sceptical, but seemed to be moving towards acceptance.

"I can get you toothpaste, sure. I don't know about the other . . . stuff," he added, embarrassed.

She smiled sunnily.

"You're in luck, mister, 'cos my time in this hellhole has so messed up my cycle I don't know when I'm getting my period next."

She enunciated the word 'period' with perfect clarity, enjoying the effect it was having on him, and suddenly he knew. She was in.

"Toothpaste, now. I've been moaning about toothpaste so much, I bet Tatiana will totally believe that I'm blowing you for toothpaste."

"She has to believe it, Felicity," he answered.

It was the second time he'd said her name, and he liked the feel of it in his mouth. Wow, that thought was pretty sensual, he realised. He pushed it aside.

"You can't tell her the truth. Look, I know she saved your life tonight, but it's not her that I don't trust, it's her brother."

Felicity nodded, fully on board now, it seemed.

"I wouldn't blame him," she said, wistfully. "They have to watch out for each other."

He nodded. He knew exactly how he'd feel if Thea was trapped in a place like this. He looked Felicity in the eyes and held out his hand.

"Do we have a deal?"

She raised an eyebrow, and her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. They shook hands, and she nodded, answering him.

"Deal. Though I think it's a crazy plan."

"Yeah?" he answered, puzzled. It wasn't that bad.

Felicity gave an exasperated sigh.

"You're supposed to answer, 'But it's crazy enough to work!'"

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, though he was cheering on the inside – this was the real Felicity, he realised; not the angry, terrified woman he'd met in the poppy field.

"Ah. Pop culture."

She rolled her eyes, and looked like she was going to say 'duh!' but then started shivering. He hardly felt the cold anymore, but it got pretty damp here at night. He got up, and pulled her up with him.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, and squared her shoulders. As they walked towards the camp, Oliver went over the plan again. He was going to save her. He was going to do one good thing, if it was the last thing he did. And then, if he survived it, maybe he could finally go home.

.

.

Notes:

The way Oliver tried to help Taiana on the show, that was a stupid idea. What he should have done was 'choke' her in front of Conklin, then pretend he's going to bury her and then take her to Yao Fei's cave. I mean, it's not very secret if Conklin now knows where it is. And didn't he tell her not to light fires in the daytime? Ugh.

So, I wasn't going to use that idea here, especially as I've already used it, in my other fic, All the difference (which I started writing long before the Season 4 premiere).

Anyway, hope you like this chapter - I've made a resolution for this fic, that I won't post a chapter before I have the following one almost ready. It's working so far!