a/n: Thank you to all of the reviewers. It provides me with the encouragement to keep writing. Enjoy!
The faint sounds of voices woke him. The green-rimmed eyes slowly opened, searching for bearings. "Felicity? Diggle?" No answer. The light from the hallway filtered into the room. His shoulder burned as he felt for the missing earpiece. His hands found the mangled pile of electronics. There goes that idea. Pulling himself up, he looked at his shoulder. A wound. From what? As he crept to the doorway, he spied the arrow piercing the wall. "The Dark Archer," he muttered to himself. Any other thought was interrupted as he heard the voices escalating. There's something vaguely familiar about that woman's voice.
"I was just getting ice. I twisted my ankle and need to ice it. It's just at the end of the hall, before it turns the corner" drifted to his ears. Felicity! The recognition came suddenly.
"Here you go, miss. Please return to your room," came a man's voice.
"Why are all of you here?" an anxious Felicity asked.
"The Hood is here. Please go back to your room and lock the door. This is a matter for the police," the first cop repeated.
Damn it! I need to get out now! Oliver raced to the window, slid it open and climbed out.
Felicity sat on the bed with her tablet, holding her hansa pendant in her hand as she watched. Four officers turned the corner and saw Greenfield lying in the hallway with an arrow in the chest. They rapidly approached the doorway and looked in.
"Diggle, are you putting plan B in to action?" she inquired.
"Suiting up now!" was his prompt reply. She could hear the revving bike engine as Diggle started the bike and drove away.
"The Hood has been spotted leaving the Plaza Hotel. He is travelling north on Main," came the dispatcher's voice over the tablet. Felicity could hear the sirens outside as cruisers started to follow the Hood. "Remaining officers are again requested to check on all attendees of the Art Gala."
"I'll check in on Oliver Queen." Detective Lance announced over the police radio.
"Drat!" Felicity got up, ripped out her earpiece and threw it into the electronics bag. "Where is Oliver? What am I going to do now? Pretend he's in the shower?" A cool breeze danced across her skin.
"Felicity, I'm right here. What's the problem?" asked the voice of the man she'd been thinking about. She jumped and turned around.
"Don't you ever knock?" Felicity replied indignantly remembering the first time he'd done that to her.
She watched as he did that little smile of his. "Hard to knock when you're climbing walls like Spiderman" he shot back, sitting on the bed. He held his shoulder awkwardly.
Concern entered her blue eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing a Band-Aid won't fix." He flippantly replied. Felicity walked over to the bags and grabbed the first aid kit. "Take off the gear, Oliver." She carried it back to the bed and unzipped it. Watching his muscles ripple as he pulled off the green hooded vest, she reached in and took out a swab and a butterfly bandage. His muscles tensed as she ran the alcohol swab over the cut. "So why the Odyssey Oliver?" she asked, trying to distract him.
He looked at her, standing there waiting for an answer. "It's special to me. It's one of the only books I read in school and it proved invaluable on the island," he calmly told her. He could feel her cool hands touching his skin as she applied the bandage. Minutes passed.
"Is that why you choose Penelope? Because she's the heroine of the Odyssey?" Her fingers absentmindedly traced the dragon tattoo on his upper back.
Surprised that she hadn't asked how it helped on the island, he gazed at her reflection in the mirror. His eyes became more vulnerable. "Partially. You remind me of Penelope. You're both women who use your exceptional skills and arts with cunning and resilience to reach a goal, staying loyal despite the unknown outcome."
Felicity looked at him, wondering how much deeper she could fall. He recognized her strengths and valued them. Oliver reached out for her, pulling her down on his lap. His eyes, still rimmed with the green mask, watched her. Her fingers gentle traced the outline of the mask. He could see her pulse quicken, hear the quick intake of breath. It matched his own. He leaned closer. Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she closed her eyes.
Knock, knock! The pounding on the door, jerked them back to reality. "Oliver Queen, it's Detective Lance. Open the door!"
Wide blue eyes looked at Oliver. "Your makeup….." she whispered.
Oliver gently stood her up, hands on her waist and pushed her towards to the door. "Answer it," he said brusquely.
Felicity went to the door. Looking back, she saw him disappearing into the bathroom. She swung the door open. "Detective Lance?"
"Pardon me Miss …" his voice trailed off, realizing he didn't know who the blushing brunette was.
Oliver walked out, wearing his dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist. He slipped an arm around the brunette's waist and kissed her on the cheek. "Detective Lance, this is Penelope Greenberg."
Lance's eyes searched the room beyond the couple, finding nothing but overnight bags and a rumpled bed. "Sorry to intrude Miss Greenberg, but we were checking on all the guests of the Art Gala," the detective explained.
"Why? What's happened?" she fretfully questioned.
"The Hood," Detective Lance paused to look at Oliver, "attacked one of the guests. We were just making sure everyone else was okay."
"Oh Ollie," she exclaimed. "This is horrible!" She turned into his chest. His arms hugged her tightly.
Looking at the detective, he asked, "My mother and sister, are they okay?"
"Yes, you were the last person to be located. Still up to your old tricks I see." Detective Lance couldn't help poking the playboy billionaire.
Oliver just grinned charmingly at him. "Come on Penny, back to bed." He swept her up into his arms and turned towards the bedroom. "Now that you know I'm fine, you can let yourself out Detective," he arrogantly called.
Slam! The door closed! Oliver dropped Felicity on to the bed. She broke into a peal of laughter. "He really didn't like that, did he?"
Oliver smiled back, one of those real Oliver smiles.
"Not in the least," he calmly understated. "I guess we get to spend the night here to keep up our image and my alibi. Why don't you set up your computers and we'll do a little work while we wait." Oliver grabbed the second chair and pulled it up to the desk that Felicity had been using. He turned it around and straddled it, crossing his arms and leaning them on the back of the chair.
Felicity watched him out of the corner of her eye as she connected the power cords to her machines. He projected raw strength, tired but determined. "I'm going to destroy the blood sample from Greenfield's room first. Then what would you like me to do?" she asked as she sat in her swivel chair.
He barely registered what she was saying. He kept reviewing the conversations he'd heard, trying to figure out how his mother was involved. "Can you tell me who else left the Art Gala around that time? We need to figure out who she was talking to." He stood up from the chair, watching his IT girl as he buttoned his shirt.
Felicity looked at him. Of course, identifying the Dark Archer could lead them right to Mr. Steele. "It might take a while to review all the security footage but I may be able to narrow it down." She turned her swivel chair around to work on the laptop.
"I'm going to call Diggle and fill him in." Oliver told her, walking out into the hallway.
"I'm sure he'd appreciate that. Bring me back a coffee while you're at it," she called after his retreating figure.
Felicity continued to watch the screens, wondering what was taking Oliver so long to get a coffee. She had been identifying the time gaps where people were not present at the Art Gala. So far she had identified 7 people, including Moira Queen, Jack Greenfield, his body guard, Malcolm Merlyn, Matthew Smith, David Doherty, and Tommy Merlyn who were not present at the times in question. There were several other people – waiters, bartenders, and caterers but she was having a more difficult time identifying them. Felicity's eyes were getting heavy and tired. She kept sliding her glasses back up her face, trying to stay focused on the comings and goings of so many people on the screen.
Two hours later, when Oliver came in, coffee in hand, he found her asleep at the desk. She didn't stir when he called her name. Her head was leaning on one hand. The other was still lightly holding a pen. Looking over her shoulder, he could see the list she'd scrawled on the hotel notepad. Walking to the bed side, he pulled back the white sateen covers. Returning to the sleeping beauty in the chair, he gingerly removed the pen from her hands. She stirred briefly, mumbling "the list". He carefully picked her up and carried her to the bed. She nestled into the warmth of his body. Setting her down gently, he removed her glasses and placed them on the night table. Pulling the sheets up, he tucked them in around her.
Knowing his sleep would be haunted, he sat in the arm chair and watched Felicity sleep. Her hair, still dyed brown, was pulled back off her face. Her lashes rested on her pale cheeks. She was curled up on her side, wrapped in the blankets. Peaceful and secure. He thought of the times when she'd called him on his lies, of the times when she could read him like computer code, and of the times he'd almost lost her. Twice too many times. He wasn't willing to risk losing her too. Could he really keep her safe?
His calloused hands reached over to the desk, picking up the notepad. His eyes went cold as he perused the list. Who was the Dark Archer and where were they keeping his stepfather?