A/N: I know this is a long time coming and I just want to thank everyone for your patience! I've got the rest of the fic almost finished and I hope to be posting weekly for the next couple updates.

Warning for graphic violence in this chapter.

Enjoy!

...

Chapter 7

Bang bang bang.

Felicity starts. Blearily, she blinks the sleep from her eyes and struggles to remember where she is and how she got there. She knows she's in bed because there are blankets piled up on top of her warm cocoon. But the bed is too soft to be hers and it doesn't have the fresh-laundry scent of one of the guest rooms in the mansion.

No, these sheets smell like Oliver, a musky combination of scents she can't name.

Her mind travels back to last night, back to arriving at the Queen Mansion with her mom and John Diggle. Thea and Roy had joined them for a movie night. Well...they had joined her and her mother. John had left to update the security and then to go home to Lyla.

She doesn't remember walking back upstairs, to a guest room or otherwise.

Without opening her eyes, Felicity reaches out to find the body of her soulmate. When she feels the cold sheets, she frowns, lifting herself up by her elbows and finally opening her eyes. She casts a look around the room for any sign that Oliver was ever there.

She comes up empty.

BANG BANG BANG.

"Oliver! You in there?"

Felicity frowns at John Diggle's voice, at the urgency in it, urgency that doesn't fit into her slowly awakening world. She stumbles out of bed to the large mahogany doors. She pulls her slightly mussed braid over her shoulder before pulling the door open.

"What's going on, John?" She asks through a yawn, blinking at him.

"Is Oliver here?"

Felicity glances behind her as she shakes her head. "No." She twists back to John. "I haven't seen him." She stretches sleep-filled muscles. "I must have fallen asleep waiting for him to get back."

"So you haven't heard from him," John persists.

She frowns, the urgency of the situation finally starting to get to her. Felicity walks back into the room to snatch her phone and her glasses from the night table. There are no new messages or calls.

She glances back at the bodyguard. "You haven't heard from him?"

John shakes his head. "Not since the tech store."

"I got a text from him before he went to check on two names on the list. That was at 9." She drops the phone on the bed and quickly finds her bag on a chair in the corner. She digs her tablet out and returns to the center of the room.

"There's a tracker in his phone," she mutters aloud for John's benefit as she searches for his GPS signal. The signal the phone sent out was protected, untraceable. There was no way...

Felicity's hand pauses over the tablet and the blinking red icon. "That's not possible."

She tosses the tablet on the bed beside the phone and races back to the bag for her laptop. She can do more with the laptop than the tablet.

In her periphery, she barely registers Diggle picking up the tablet and carrying it over to her new perch at Oliver's desk in the corner. She plugs in the Ethernet cable to increase speed and starts her attempt to track Oliver from the beginning again, desperate with the hope that the last 'no signal' was a fluke.

"Felicity," Diggle says, voice low, a warning.

"I can find him, John," she responds forcefully as she continues her search for the GPS signal through every method she can think of. "But that's not possible. The phone is always on him and always charged."

Her mind races, trying to find a reasonable explanation for why she can't locate him.

"If he was in the Foundry, would he still show up?" John asks quietly.

Felicity freezes, her mind a blur of information. "It's possible all that metal and concrete could block the signal...I've never tried to look for him when I knew he was there." She slams the laptop shut and starts collecting her things.

She's halfway to the door when Digg's voice brings her up short. "I would recommend getting dressed first."

When she looks down, her bright pink pajamas greet her. No. Those won't work in the Foundry. Yet, if Oliver's down there and hurt...she has to get to him. Absently, she nods and heads for the closet. Staring at her clothes lined up next to Oliver's, it strikes her how natural, how right it looks.

Also, she wasn't the one who unpacked the bags.

Felicity slips into more comfortable clothes as quickly as possible. She barely considers one of her favorite dresses before she settles on jeans and a shirt. Unconsciously, a hand runs over her mark as a frown mars her face. It's only now that she realizes the slight burning she's felt since she woke up could be an omen of something bad to come.

But at least it hasn't scarred over.

Oliver's alive.

She chooses to take comfort in that.

...

"Felicity, he's not going to answer his phone. It's going straight to voice mail," Digg repeats for what might be the thousandth time.

She's been so distracted she barely managed to convince Moira and Thea she was fine before she rushed out the door with Digg. There was no convincing her mother, of course. Donna had taken one look at her and known something was up. Thankfully, her mother just nodded and started talking about other plans she had for the day.

Basically it's just taking far too long for them to get to the Foundry from the mansion, and the traffic they're currently stuck in is not helping.

Now she understands why Oliver takes the motorcycle everywhere.

Once this is over, and she knows that he's safe, Felicity will have a stern talk with him about keeping his cell phone on for her sanity. Because this? This is not okay. She's a nervous wreck, which doesn't help her logical thought process.

That or she's going to put a tracker somewhere less removable. She even briefly entertains the idea of putting a tracker directly on him, but even she has to admit that's overkill...maybe just in the sole of his boot.

"Can you go any faster?" She demands, glaring at the red suburban in front of them.

John glances at her with something that might have been amusement if Oliver wasn't currently missing. "It's rush hour traffic. I can't exactly make it disappear."

"Aghhhhh! I just feel so useless!" Her fingers tap out a staccato on the dashboard and she bites her lower lip, unable to contain her agitation. Her tablet and the computer aren't networked into the Foundry. It had seemed like an unnecessary risk. That's another thing she's going to change as soon as she gets the chance.

"We'll be there soon enough."

She smiles rigidly at Digg's attempt to comfort her, because honestly that's not much of a comfort. She remembers Russia, and how quickly that man could inflict damage on Oliver. If he's in trouble – and she has the sinking feeling that he is – then every minute counts.

"Besides, you know he's alive, right?" John encourages, a careful glance thrown her way.

"Right," she mutters as her hand lands on the itchy mark. "For now."

Digg nods solemnly, but he also grips the wheel a little tighter.

Felicity would rather not think about how much more John knows about what could be happening to her soulmate, because what she imagines in her mind is bad enough. So instead she finds herself pulling out her phone to stare at the last text he send and the time stamp in little white numbers.

There has to be something more useful for her to be doing on the car ride, something more productive than staring into space. And she supposes there is, but right now, it's all she can think about.

Digg finally gets to their turn off and Felicity lets the phone with its now-dark screen fall into her bag so she can stare out the window. They're only a block away when Digg curses and suddenly changes directions. The turn is too tight. It throws her into the door and her seatbelt digs into her chest.

Her hands clamp down on the armrests as she looks around wildly. "What was that about? We were almost there!"

"We've got a tail," Digg announces gruffly as he makes another quick turn.

Felicity twists to look behind them, but all she sees is a couple cars, none that look malevolent, which – now that she thinks about it – would totally ruin the purpose of a tail. "Are suuuuu-"

The town car rounds a turn so quickly two of its wheels probably left the ground. She levels Digg with a glare. "Are these quick turns really necessary?"

He huffs. "Well, normally, I would call in back up and have us go to a mall or something while another team checked out the tail, but Oliver's MIA and Lyla's meeting up with her parents to share the good news."

Felicity frowns at the new information. "Shouldn't you be with her then?"

John rolls his eyes. "Her parents don't like me. They think I seduced her into a military life, but we have bigger issues right now."

"Well, why don't we just do what you said? We'll go into a boutique. You can sneak around back and catch our tail." She nods decisively.

"I'm not leaving you unprotected. Or did you forget the burly Russian guys from yesterday?"

"I'll make sure I'm surrounded by people. We do this and we can get back to finding Oliver. Turn here." Felicity leans forward. She grabs the idea like it's her last lifeline.

She sees Digg's stony face.

"You would do the same if Lyla's life were on the line. John! Please! Turn here."

He grimaces before swerving to catch the turn. "For the record, this is a bad idea."

"Pull up to Monique's. I like those bright colors." Felicity decides, ignoring Digg's trepidation.

He pulls to a stop in front of the store in question. He parks and climbs out of the car. Felicity preempts his attempt to open her door. With single-minded determination, she struts up to the store and yanks the door open.

"You could at least look a little more relaxed," Digg mumbles.

Felicity glares at him, but rolls her shoulders back and relaxes. A smile blossoms on her face almost naturally. She still feels stiff and she's sure Diggle can see the difference. The saleswoman just looks doubtfully up at her from the counter.

Felicity takes in the pristine white and single-outfit displays. Yeah, this is the sort of place Felicity Smoak could never afford. This was exactly the sort of place Thea liked to shop though, so it wasn't that outlandish for Oliver Queen's soulmate.

"Hi! Can I get some assistance?" Felicity slides up to the counter and the girl who curled her lip at Felicity's outfit.

"Sorry, Ma'am, but I don't think these things are in your price bracket." The girl sneers at her.

Normally Felicity would just be put off by the look and leave, but she's here on a mission. The sooner she can get rid of the tail, the sooner she can find Oliver. The clerk is the only thing in her way. So she's not getting nice Felicity, but angry Felicity.

She pastes a fake smile on her face. "That would probably be true, if I was the one footing the bill. However I have to go to this family function with my soulmate, and I've got access to his card. He said to get something pretty."

The girl still looks skeptical as she twirls her pen around her fingers. "These dresses probably cost more than you make in a week."

"Miranda!"

The clerk starts at the shrill voice and Felicity follows her gaze to another employee who looks shocked and outraged by the girl's reaction. "I am so sorry, Miss Smoak. Miranda is a new employee and still learning."

That the woman recognizes her disorients Felicity. She just barely keeps the smile on her face. "That's okay. As I was telling Miranda, here, I'm looking for a dress for a gala."

"Of course. The For the Children Benefit?" The woman asks with a pleasant smile.

Felicity nods slowly. "That's right..."

"Charlotte."

Felicity smiles brightly. "Thank you, Charlotte. And yes, that's exactly what this is for."

"Was there a particular style you were looking for? Or color? We have quite the selection we can bring forward. Or perhaps you would like a private room?"

Digg rolls his eyes as he turns away to sweep the street for their tail.

"A private room would be lovely. And I was thinking something with bright colors," Felicity elaborates as she follows the saleswoman towards the back. "Is there somewhere my bodyguard could go for a smoke break?"

Charlotte glances back at John cautiously and then points down a hall. "We use the back alley. It's right through there."

Diggle nods, but looks disgusted by the thought of smoking as soon as the woman looks away. However, he nods to Felicity in acknowledgement of her excuse as he abandons her to the mercies of the store clerks.

Felicity's soon swept up in the experience of personal shopping, where models showcase the designs until you find one you want to try on yourself and her mimosa glass is always full. She shouldn't be drinking, especially not considering the situation she's in. Yet, it's because of her situation that she needs the alcohol to relax.

Admittedly, the dresses are beautiful, although Felicity would hate to find out what they cost. She wasn't lying when she said she had Oliver's card. He'd given it to her for tech for the lair. She doubts he would care if she spent some of it on a dress, especially one with so much bare skin.

He probably wouldn't notice the expense at all.

"That one." Felicity points at the red cocktail dress. It's a little provocative for her, yet it calls to her. She glances at Charlotte. "Does it come in any other colors?"

"Miss Smoak," Digg interrupts. His face, if possible, looks graver than it did before. "It's time to go."

She offers Charlotte a strained smile and holds out the black card. "I'll take it. Have it delivered to Queen Mansion."

"Of course," Charlotte agrees, taking the card and disappearing out of the room.

She turns to Digg. "Please tell me how you got rid of our tail so I can stop thinking about how expensive that dress probably is." The dress she just charged to the Queen credit card. She really hopes this doesn't come back to bite her in the ass, as delectable as that feature might be.

"I couldn't. There wasn't just one car," Digg responds quietly, ushering her back into the main room. "We need to get you back to the mansion."

"No!" That isn't an option. Oliver could be missing. And they won't know for sure until they get to the Foundry. They don't have time to be waylaid by potential stalkers.

"They were men with weapons, Felicity. I can't put you in danger." Digg glances around the store, his stance shifting with movement by the door of the store.

"Here's your card, Miss Smoak."

Felicity takes the slim piece of black plastic back with a brilliant smile. "Thank you, Charlotte. Have a nice day."

Digg stands a little further back, which gives Felicity the perfect opportunity to step out the front door before he can block her path and stop her from confronting the familiar Russian waiting outside for them.

She walks right up to him and crosses her arms. "Alright. Where is he?"

The man blinks incredulously as a startled "What?" escapes him.

"Oliver," Felicity repeats slowly, in case there was some sort of miscommunication. "Oliver Queen. The man your boss threatened just yesterday. Where is he?"

She feels absurdly like she's sure Annabeth Chase felt brandishing a knife at a shoeless boy and demanding to know where her boyfriend was. The bodyguard looks just as blindsided as Jason must have been. Startlingly, it's his reaction that convinces her he knows nothing about Oliver's disappearance.

Instead, she just crosses her arms over chest and glares up at Dimitri. "Well, if you don't know anything about Oliver, why are you following me?"

"Felicity," Diggle growls in warning from behind her.

"Why. Are. You. Following. Me?" Felicity repeats, a poke to his chest with each word for emphasis.

Dimitri's too shocked to look intimidating. Instead, he bears a striking resemblance to a goldfish.

"Are you mute or something?" She demands.

His eyes dart around to land on something behind them, something that buoys his resolve. He straightens, intimidation returned in full force. "Good day, Miss Smoak."

Her glare bores into his back as he walks casually back to his car. She imagines it could actually set fire to him, but it fails to take effect before he slides into the car. So it is completely possible her powers could work.

Maybe she did drink I little too much mimosa.

Felicity's gaze slides to John's. "No more tail. Let's go check out the Foundry."

...

Oliver comes to slowly, like stumbling out of a fog to find himself on the edge of a cliff. Everything that happened flashing back in an instant before his eyes flutter open. Years of instincts honed specifically for waking up in unexpected situations.

With closed eyes, Oliver takes stock of his surroundings as much as he can. There's limited air movement, but there's the slight echo of water droplets: he's in a room, a relatively large one too to allow some air movement.

And it's damp. Although, the water drips made that evident.

It also goes with the cold.

Probably a basement.

Next he tries to move only to become aware of the heavy manacles that encase his wrist. They dangle in the air, not yet supporting his bodyweight, but he's been in enough situations similar enough to know that's the next step. Right now, they just keep him upright.

It's then he realizes the hood no longer conceals his face. He shouldn't have expected it would provide much concealment once he was knocked out. It was a naïve hope. It doesn't even feel like his jacket is on based on the cool air against the skin of his chest.

This is bad.

Beyond bad.

He can't say this is the worst situation he's ever been in – his first experience with Fryers definitely rates higher if only because he hadn't been trained at that point – but it definitely ranks. And opening his eyes can only serve to confirm that its worse.

It would also let his captor know he's awake. That's not a mistake he intends to make.

Oliver continues to mentally take stock of his condition. He can't feel any new cuts or bruises, so this interrogation, or whatever's about to happen, hasn't started yet. And they didn't intentionally wake him up. They were waiting for him.

He remembers the prick to the back of his neck. It was a sedative they hit him with. If they know what they're doing, then they'll have an idea of when he's going to wake up. And they have to know what they're doing; this is far too professional to leave anything to chance.

And there are bigger problems. Whoever did this was able to follow him without his awareness. Oliver was none the wiser and yet someone had followed him – the hooded version of him. It should have been near impossible. Sure, he'd been a little distracted, but he was good at spotting tails. It was what he did.

Oliver pushes the thought aside. He needs to open his eyes now. He needs to know who took him and why they want him, why they want the vigilante. He stalls for a moment, and that moment is all his captor needs.

"Good," a heavily synthesized voice says, "you're awake."

...

"Oliver!" The metal stairs clang under Felicity's feet as she races down into the Foundry. Against all doubt and common sense, part of Felicity still imagined she'd find Oliver down here in the dark.

The basement is still illuminated, waiting for Oliver to return. The case she bought for his suit stands empty, as if to mock her.

Felicity stands for a moment in the middle of the room, eyes blankly fixed on the case while Oliver's name seems to echo in the damningly empty room. Everything is just how he would have left it, which just makes the room seem emptier.

It's then that she first feels it: there – standing the middle of the room that represents her life with Oliver, their own private space where they conspired to save a city – that the pain erupts in her side and brings her to her knees with a single scream. It's explosive and white-hot. No vision of accompanies it: it's just a feeling, a debilitating feeling of pain, inexact and all-consuming.

She's aware of the Foundry, aware that the concrete is cold beneath her, that Diggle is at her side, that there are soothing words coming from his mouth, but none of it makes any sense to her. He might as well be speaking gibberish for all the sense she gets from the syllables.

No, she's preoccupied with the pain that emanates from that one spot.

As it dulls – dulls but doesn't leave – she gets enough function in her limbs to yank at her shirt, pulling it back to reveal her mark.

Only then, once she's felt it under her palm, once she's seen the inky black, does she relax slightly into herself. Sobs wrack her body. She doesn't remember when she started to cry, yet her face is soaked with tears.

"Felicity," John whispers carefully, a hand rested lightly on her arm as if afraid to startle her.

Her head jerks up to him as if he suddenly appeared out of thin air beside her.

"You're okay. The mark's still there." Diggle gains more confidence as his hand moves to draw circles on her back.

She leans into him, deep breaths slowly calm her racing pulse even as the pain lingers. She's glad John doesn't say that Oliver's okay because the pain makes it fairly evident that he's not. Something terrible is happening to Oliver and there's nothing she can do because she has no idea where he is.

But she also can't work through debilitating pain.

So with a grimace she turns to John.

"I need the strongest painkiller you've got that won't make me all woo-hoo." She twirls a finger around her head. She needs to think clearly. She can't be all loopy, and she can't collapse in pain every five minutes.

"What's wrong?" John asks, a frown looms on his face. "Felicity?"

She curls over with another wave of pain. She barely contains the scream caught in her throat as she blinks back painful tears to meet John's eyes. With labored breaths, she speaks through gritted teeth: "Whatever those Russians gave Oliver months ago, it's still active. Just not as extreme."

As the pain abates, she stands and hobbles over to the med table. Drawer after drawer, she frantically searches for something to ease the pain before it hits again. She can only block out so much of the pain.

Digg gently eases her back and takes out a couple pills. He passes it them to her and snags a water bottle almost simultaneously. Felicity takes a moment to admire the physical grace with which he manages that particular maneuver, before she feels another wave of pain rising and swallows the pills in one gulp.

"How bad is it?"

Felicity glares at him as she takes another swig from the bottle. "I'll be fine. We just need to find Oliver. NOW."

Her eyes take on a faraway quality as she realizes what she has to do, what she's determined to do. "At whatever cost."

...

Oliver bites back a scream as the blade is ripped from his abdomen. It causes more damage from the serrated edge and it leaks out in. It causes pain, but the wound isn't fatal. This man knows what he's doing.

"So, Mister Queen," the man in black rasps through the voice modulator, "this is what you got into after four years on a deserted island. Not what I expected."

His breaths are labored as Oliver tries to meet the eyes under the black mask. He forces a chuckle out in the face of the man before him. "And here I thought you were torturing me for answers, not to make small talk."

"I have many questions, and yes, most of them stem back to your stay on Lian Yu."

Oliver stiffens at the name. That wasn't common knowledge, or at least not the important information that people knew about what had happened to him. This man knows more, which means he was involved somehow.

His eyes slam shut as the blade slices into his skin again. He releases his pain in a grunt through gritted teeth. It's only sheer determination that allows him to silence the scream that wants to escape. He's had worse, rationally he's aware of that, but now he has so much more to lose.

As if conjured, an image of Felicity fills his mind. Her eyes are bright as she laughs, her smile almost splitting her face. It's her. She's his happy place.

"Ugh!" The pain of the sword sliding back out of his body drags him back to his painful present.

"So, Mister Queen, what did your father tell you before he died?"

Oliver wraps his hands around the chain holding him up by his hands. It steadies him. At least he knows this is connected to the list. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me, boy," the man in black threatens. "What. Did. Your. Father. Tell. You. Before. He. Died?" A punch delivered with each word.

Oliver spits blood and saliva on the dusty concrete floor. "He told me I was going to kill you."

The man laughs. "Sincerely doubt that, Oliver."

He lashes out, conscious of his injuries but desperate still to break out of his bonds.

A quick, bracing moment, and Oliver dislocates his thumb to slip it out of the cuffs. He uses the chain from the ceiling to pull him up enough so he can swing his feet out at the figure in black. One hand is still chained, but Oliver manages to push the man back towards a wall. It gives him enough time to set his hand back into place before he has to dodge the next hit.

The man in black knows what he's doing as he dodges each and every one of Oliver's hits like he's s sloppy child. It might just be luck that he finally lands one: a punch to the head that knocks the hood from the man's head and reveals the man beneath the mask.

Malcolm Merlyn.

He doesn't recover from the shock before Malcolm's fist knocks him out.

...

John thinks this is a bad idea. Felicity's well aware of that. But it doesn't matter because she tracked the Russian's cell phone here. They might not have Oliver, but the Russians are the only ones who might be capable of finding Oliver right now.

The nearest she can tell, a mysterious shadowy figure was following Oliver last night. Digg had been the one to spot the shifting shadow in the limited camera footage she had. It had been sufficiently humanoid and practically spelled "bad news."

It's how she ended up here.

The garage is sufficiently dark and dingy. It screams scary, especially for a small blonde girl. It's the kind of place she normally wouldn't venture into alone.

But she's desperate, and it's true that desperate times call for desperate measures.

The truth is, there's no other option for her. John disagrees, but then, neither of them could guarantee A.R.G.U.S. was a better resource. At least Felicity was sure the brotherhood was in the area, and that they had resources in Starling, people who knew things her machines couldn't track down.

It might not be the wisest option, but it was the best, which is why she strolls into the garage.

Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness and no less than three grease-covered mechanics stop working to stare at her. She glances over them. She stops her perusal as soon as she sees a familiar face.

"Dimitri," she announces as her heels click across the garage floor, coming to a stop on the other side of the car he's working on. "I need to talk to your boss."

He raises an eyebrow and glances around the garage. "He's not here."

"Now why I don't I believe that, Dimitri?" Felicity asks, faking bravado as another wave of pain assaults her body. Whatever Digg gave her, it's getting less and less effective. She really wishes she's opted for sneakers instead of heels today. It's easier to keep her balance. "I want to talk to Peter, or whoever's in charge here," she offers to the rest of the room.

"That's a bold claim for an American with no one to vouch for her," a strongly accented voice declares from behind her.

Felicity turns to face the man. He's shorter than her, a bit unimpressive in stature if she's being perfectly honest. If she didn't see the way the rest of the men in the room stepped out of his way, she might have overlooked him, which she guesses he used to his advantage.

"My soulmate vouches for me," she responds easily. Out of her depth or not, Felicity's not about to back down. She needs this.

"Ah, yes. Oliver," the man nods solemnly. "And where is he? He's not the kind of man who would let his родственная душа walk into this place alone."

"Sounds like you know him."

He chuckles, clearly not thrown by her ignoring the question. "I like you. You're strong, бесстрашный. I can see why you're his soulmate."

"And you are?" He's clearly one of the higher ups, and she needs to talk to someone in charge.

He grins. "Anatoli Kynazev."

Felicity pauses. She recognizes that name. Maybe she is in way over her head. She hasn't decided how to proceed with the head of the Bratva when Anatoli asks:

"Why don't we stop playing around? What do you need from me, Miss Smoak?"