AN: hey guys, sorry this took so long, and thanks for being patient with me. I rewrote this chapter twice 'cause it was being a pain in the ass, but hey - I finally finished it. I'm so sorry for the wait, and I hope that this chapter isn't completely disappointing. Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favorited/followed this story. You make my day. :)
Oliver bites the inside of his cheek, as if the sheer force of his will can somehow override the physical limits of his body and pop his dislocated shoulder back into place; he can't get out of the handcuffs without the use of both arms, and he has to get out of them. Digg is unconscious and bleeding a few feet away from him, also handcuffed despite his current incapacitation. They had both put up one hell of a fight, but Digg had been the only one with the gun, and apparently the only one their kidnappers had deemed a considerable threat. An oversight that will work in Oliver's favor, if he can manage to get these damned handcuffs off.
Focusing on what he can do is also the only thing that's keeping him from focusing on everything else, like the fact that Digg was shot several hours ago and is starting to look pale; or the fact that their car had been sideswiped and the last thing Oliver had seen was Felicity, unconscious and being dragged away.
He can't do anything about those things until he does something about the handcuffs.
There's nothing in the tiny room that can help him pick a lock and he can't reach his own pockets, but he's holding out hope that Digg might have something secreted away in a pocket or sock that could be of some use. Oliver scoots himself closer to his friend and turns around, keeping track of where he's placing his hands by watching over his shoulder. The last thing he needs is to have Digg wake up wondering why Oliver is groping him. He wishes Felicity were here, because he could probably make her laugh if he said that aloud.
Diggle's pockets are empty and Oliver is getting frustrated when his eye catches the pale glint of something against his shirt; when he looks closer, he realizes that their attackers have left Digg's tie tab on. If he had the use of his hands, Oliver would fist pump to end all fist pumps.
Everything takes longer when only one arm is viable, but he manages to get the tie tab off Diggle and pick the lock on the handcuffs in under twenty minutes. At least, he thinks it's twenty minutes; he really hopes it isn't much longer than that, because he can only assume that he's working against the clock here.
There have been few times in his life that Oliver has been truly grateful for the training he received on the island, but right now is one of those times. Only strict discipline keeps him from making a sound as he pops his dislocated shoulder back into place, and he only allows himself a few deep breaths before turning his attention to more pressing matters. The first of which is getting Digg's wound taken care of.
The bullet hit him in the shoulder and looks to have gone through and through, thankfully, because he doesn't have anything to extract a bullet with. Oliver strips out of his business shirt and rips it into several long strips, using it to pack the wound as best he can. Diggle stirs a little and gives a few wordless grunts of pain, but does nothing beyond that. The fact that he registers pain at all is a good thing.
"Hang in there, Digg," he murmurs.
Oliver's next dilemma is how the hell he's going to get out of this room. His best guess is that this is a cargo ship because there's a deliberate lack of windows and any sort of ornamentation; he fervently wishes that it was a yacht or a speed boat or something similar, because cargo ships are notoriously large and he doesn't have the slightest idea where to find Felicity.
He tries the door first, but it's locked. Oliver examines every hinge, every possible weakness, but comes up with nothing: there's no way for him to dismantle or otherwise circumnavigate the door. All he can do is wait and hope that someone comes along to open it.
He paces. He orchestrates and plans dozens of escapes in his head as he goes, trying to plan for every eventuality and foreseeable obstacle while knowing that he can't possibly think of everything; he checks and double checks Diggle's bandage, marking the gradual slowing of his bleeding and timing his breaths to make sure he's not getting worse. Oliver does everything he can think of to keep himself from thinking about the one thing that his thoughts keep turning to: Felicity.
Is she okay? Is she awake? Frightened? Where are they holding her? How will he find her? These questions and more are threatening to drive him crazy because he can't even begin to answer them until he gets out of this room. Thinking about the possibility that Felicity is anything but perfectly fine fills him with a burning rage, but mostly Oliver is angry with himself: he'd promised her – repeatedly – that he would keep her safe, and he had failed.
Oliver's ears catch a sort of double drumming that makes him immediately stop pacing; sure enough, there's another set of footsteps ringing against the metal and they sound like they're headed for him. A rush of adrenaline floods him as he quickly reseats himself in an approximation of his earlier position; he purposely sits closer to the door and then hides the handcuffs behind him. His shoulder may be back in its rightful place but it's still weak and a little sore, so he can't expect to exert as much force as he usually would in hand to hand combat. He'll have to compensate; luckily, whoever is outside that door doesn't know that, and he has the element of surprise on his side. Their captors think he's just some rich businessman, and he's going to use that assumption against them.
The door is still swinging on its hinges when Oliver lunges for the person stepping through it. He slams his good shoulder into the center of mass, dimly registering the grind of bone against bone as they stagger backward. The man cries out in surprise, but something about the sound of his voice surprises Oliver, who pulls the punch he's about to land.
When he realizes whom he has pinned to the wall, Oliver is stunned. "Eric?"
Oliver isn't always great with faces, but he knows the one in front of him: Eric Pyper does work for him, after all. At least, he used to anyway.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Oliver demands, not releasing his hold on the younger man.
"It's … a long story," Eric answers, obviously uncomfortable. "And now isn't really the best time for stories. You need to let me go, we won't get another shot."
"Shot at what?"
"Getting Felicity out of here."
Those are the magic words. Oliver moves away from Eric, although he doesn't take his eyes off of him as the other man shoves away from the wall and steps toward the still open door.
"Hurry up," Eric hisses at him as he steps out, "hopefully no one heard that little scuffle."
"What about Diggle." It's more of a reminder than a question.
"We'll come back for him. Now shut up and move your feet."
Oliver keeps one half of his concentration on following Eric, as quietly and closely as he can, which is made harder by the fact that it's still daylight out; Eric seems to have every corner and turn memorized, though, and doesn't falter in his duties as a guide. The other half of Oliver's concentration is spent on putting the pieces of it all together: Eric is obviously Tennyson's man, and must be how he knew about Felicity having once possessed Robert Queen's List. Which means that Queen Consolidated has had a mole for an alarmingly long time, and that both frightens and irritates Oliver; just another thing he'll have to deal with later.
They stop twice to avoid passers-by, all of whom look nothing like Oliver expected (not including the semi-automatic weapons): these men are not mercenaries, or hired muscle. They're dressed tactically but expensively, which leads him to believe that these men are loyal to their employer and aren't new hires.
Whoever Tennyson really is, he seems to have considerable resources.
Eric makes them wait for what feels like hours before ducking around the last corner and descending four small stairs down into what looks like the belly of the ship. Oh, Oliver does not like the look of this; if Eric is planning to double cross him or lead him into a trap, then Oliver is going to be hard pressed to get the advantage in these close quarters.
Traps and disadvantages fall away from his thoughts then, because Eric has opened the door at the end of the hallway and all Oliver can think about is Felicity.
She's tucked into the corner farthest from the door, and her expression goes slack as soon as she sets eyes on him. Oliver scans her quickly for injuries, but she seems outwardly fine.
"Oliver?" she questions, her voice small and tremulous. "How?"
Her eyes cut to a spot over his shoulder and Oliver knows that Eric has stepped into the room. Her surprise quickly turns to anger, spots of red blossoming on her cheeks as her mouth works in a silent mimicry of speech. Felicity's reaction – and knowing that they're together and he can keep an eye on her – drives his focus back to the situation.
Oliver spins away from his girlfriend, latching a hand around Eric's arm and pulling him farther into the room before the other man has a chance to register what's happening.
"What are you doing?" he splutters.
"You have about ten seconds to explain what's going on before I break your arm," Oliver hisses.
"I told you, we don't have time for this! If he catches us …"
"Who is 'he'?"
"Kaeden Ellis," Felicity says, before Eric gets the chance.
Kaeden Ellis. Oliver's hand goes slack around Eric's arm as the name bounces around in his head, drawing up an image of the polite businessman that Oliver has been meeting with every month for the last … well, however the hell long it's been. Kaeden Ellis is Lord Tennyson; that asshole is responsible for two attacks on Felicity's life, and the reason Digg is currently lying unconscious with a bullet in his shoulder. All the time Oliver has spent looking for the bastard after his girlfriend, and never once had he entertained the notion that the man could be right under his nose, cleverly concealed as a business partner.
"What does he want with Felicity?" he asks, already anticipating the answer.
"She has a book, something of your father's, and he wants it. I don't know why," Eric adds quickly.
"I don't have a book," Felicity tells him angrily, shifting slowly to stand. "Or anything of Mr. Queen's. Why does he think that I do?"
Eric swallows and looks away from her, chagrined. "Because I told him you did. I saw you with it, a little brown book with blank pages. I didn't think anything of it, just mentioned it in passing, and then he got all … I dunno." He finishes with a shrug.
"And who the hell is Kaeden Ellis to you?" Oliver nearly yells, squeezing his arm angrily. "How long have you been feeding him information?"
"I'm not feeding him anything, I swear!" Eric is sincere, Oliver knows, but he's also indignant in the face of the accusation and tries to wrestle his arm out of Oliver's grasp. "It was an accident, I had no idea this would happen!"
"Why did you tell him anything?" Felicity counters.
"He's my dad!" Eric roars in return. The admission startles both Oliver and Felicity, but he doesn't seem to notice. "You don't know what he's like!"
In the silence that follows Eric's statement, Oliver hears the distant sound of voices. He still doesn't trust the kid, but he needs him if he wants to get Felicity and Diggle off this boat.
"Why are you helping us?" Felicity asks then, her expression a mixture of kindness and caution.
"Because he's crazy, and I want out. Father or not."
"And you think we're going to do what, exactly?" Oliver asks, releasing Eric's arm and stepping to Felicity's side finally. He wraps her tightly in his arms and presses a kiss into her hair; a small moment of tenderness to reassure himself that she is there - that they're together again.
"Nothing," Eric answers. "I've already called in an anonymous tip to the police."
Oliver nods and then kisses Felicity once, perhaps a little desperately, and then turns his thoughts back to their safety. He grasps one of his girlfriend's little hands in his, letting her lean some of her weight into him as he leads her to the door.
"Can you get us back to Digg?" he asks Eric.
Eric nods curtly and steps out of the small room and down the hall to scout for passers-by.
"We'll be able to move faster if I carry you," he murmurs to Felicity.
"Yes, but you won't be able to fight if something happens. I'll keep up."
He stares at her for a minute, taking in the determined set of her jaw and the shadow of fear lingering in her blue eyes. Oliver hates that they're here, that he failed to keep his promise and keep her safe; he hates knowing that this is what he brings to her life.
"I'm sorry," he tells her, because he truly, truly is. "I …"
"Oh, no, you don't, Oliver," she retorts, squeezing his hand. "Don't even start that."
"Felicity …"
"No," she interrupts. "Let's focus on getting out of here, okay? We can have this argument at home. After I yell at Pirate for whatever he's done."
She smiles at him, vibrant even amidst the rust and peeling paint of an old cargo ship, and the corners of his mouth twitch in response. That light, floating feeling expands in his chest again, and Oliver swears that as soon as they're out of here - as soon as she's safe - he's going to name it.
He's going to tell her.
But first, he has to get her out of here.
"C'mon," Eric hisses.
Oliver doesn't let go of Felicity's hand as they follow Eric back through the maze of corridors. They have to stop more often, ducking into empty rooms and behind doors to escape the other inhabitants of the ship. Oliver isn't sure if it's because they are moving slower, or if there are more people milling about; he thinks it might be some combination of the two.
"Almost there," Eric mutters.
They turn a corner and Eric literally bumps right into none other than Kaeden Ellis.
As so often happens for Oliver in situations like these, time seems to accelerate around him. He reacts on instinct and muscle memory, dropping Felicity's hand and surging forward just as Kaeden latches a hand around his son's throat and drags him forward. Oliver crashes into them both, knocking Eric to his knees and out of the way; Kaeden is surprised, but recovers quickly and lands a right hook to Oliver's cheek.
Oliver can hear shouting but he's focused on the man in front of him, who is (unfortunately) more fit than he looks. Kaeden knees him in the stomach and as Oliver folds into himself, he catches the glint of a gun being pulled from behind the other man's back. He dives for it, misses, and gets the butt of it jammed into his back; Oliver ignores the jolts of pain as he catches himself and rolls away just in time to miss a kick to the ribs.
This time when he goes for the gun, he manages to catch Kaeden's wrist, and he snaps it by accident as the gun slides away from them; the older man snarls at him and drives the crown of his head into Oliver's chin. Oliver's vision swims and he tries to blink away the tiny spots of light that dance before him.
"Stop!" Felicity yells from somewhere in front of him. "Move again, and I'll shoot you."
Oliver knows his girlfriend, better than he knows probably any other person in his life; he has heard her laughter, seen her tears and felt her anger. But never, in all the time that he has known her, has he seen her like this.
He blinks rapidly to dispel the remaining white spots in his vision. He and Kaeden both have stopped moving, although Oliver still has a hold of his broken wrist; slowly, the other man angles himself sideways so that he can see Felicity. She's standing only a few feet from them, Ellis' discarded gun in her hands and aimed directly at him. Oliver's stomach churns almost painfully; she's standing just the way Digg showed her, the weapon steady in her hands as she stares grimly down the barrel at them.
No.
"Step away from Oliver," she commands evenly. "Now."
"You don't know how to use that," Kaeden sneers.
"Wanna bet?"
A tense few seconds pass in which Oliver doesn't breathe, and then he lets go of Ellis' wrist as the other man takes a few steps to his left. He can hear the stomp of many feet, undoubtedly Ellis' men drawn to the sounds of their struggle, and isn't surprised when a small contingent of armed men appear not far behind where Felicity and Eric are standing.
"Tell your men to put their guns down," she says without looking. "Or I'll shoot."
"You wouldn't shoot me, Ms. Smoak," Ellis counters.
"You keep underestimating me. You've had me attacked, drugged, and kidnapped. Shooting you would be easy."
Felicity cocks the gun and takes a step toward them.
"Guns down!" Kaeden barks. When his men have complied, he looks over at Eric. "And what about you? You'd just let her shoot me?"
Eric doesn't answer, but his gaze doesn't waver from his father's face. Oliver may have had his problems with his father, and Robert Queen had certainly been far from a hero, but he hadn't been a bad father. Certainly nothing like Kaeden Ellis, who would use his own son to further his plans.
"I'm not surprised," Ellis continues when his son doesn't answer. "You've always been a disappointment. Your mother gave you her last name to hurt me, but it's turned out to be a gift. You are not worthy of the name Ellis." Kaeden turns his attention back to Felicity then. "Your injured ankle? His fault," he tells her, hooking a thumb at Eric.
Oliver bristles at this, remembering how some of the witnesses to the accident had insisted that Eric had tripped her on purpose. He cuts his eyes to the son, who looks simultaneously angry and apologetic; he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by his father.
"I told him to cause a distraction," Ellis continues. "I needed to get your information off of Oliver's computer, but I needed him out of the office to do it. And what does my idiot son do? Nearly breaks your ankle."
Oliver can see how badly Felicity wants to look at Eric, to ask if what Kaeden is saying is true, but she's afraid to look away from her target.
"I didn't mean to trip you," Eric assures her. "Honestly. I was trying to get to the server room so I could trip an alarm. We may not always get a long, Felicity, but I would never hurt you on purpose."
Oliver hears it first: the whir of helicopter blades. He glances skyward, looking for the origin of the noise, and spots it as it approaches from the aft of the ship.
He's never been happier to see the police.
Everything goes to hell in slow motion, then. In the moment that Oliver's gaze drops back to the people on the ship, he sees it all: Felicity has looked away from Ellis and up at the helicopter, and in that split second the other man is charging toward her. Eric, who has also seen what's about to happen, moves just as Oliver does; they are three points of motion, converging on the same spot.
They are all moving straight for Felicity.
Someone is calling over a bullhorn for everyone to drop their weapons and stand down just as a shot rings out, muffled by the sound of the helicopter overhead and yet still terrible. Oliver's heart lurches painfully, a wild animal trying to claw its way out of his chest.
Eric comes to an abrupt halt, eyes wide and shocked. Oliver is still moving forward and suddenly finds his arms full of Kaeden Ellis, who falls unceremoniously against him. Oliver glances down automatically, horrified by the implications of what's just happened: Felicity shot him.
Blood blooms against Ellis' clothes like a grotesque flower, but Oliver feels a hot bolt of relief surge through him: the blood is coming from his leg. She shot him in the leg.
Oliver drops Ellis and moves to Felicity without a backward glance. Police are swarming the ship as he takes the gun from her unresisting hands, passing it off to Eric before almost smashing her against him. She smells a little like gunpowder, but he doesn't care; she's alive and safe against him, and that's enough. He rubs a hand across her back in wide circles, noting the way she's shaking, and then pulls back enough to look at her.
"I said I'd shoot him," she says dryly, her face pale. "I didn't say I'd kill him."
He recognizes it as gallows humor, a bid to stave off the panic that she's certainly entitled to feel, and knows that he probably shouldn't laugh, but can't help it. Oliver kisses her, firmly and repeatedly, until none other than Detective Lance appears at their sides.
"Are you alright?" he queries.
"For the most part," Felicity answers.
"Diggle's been shot," Oliver replies, "He needs medical attention."
"Where is he?" Lance asks as he waves over a man in a red and white uniform.
"I'll show you," Eric offers as he steps forward.
"Oh, no," Lance starts, only to be interrupted by Felicity.
"He saved our lives, Detective," she says. Then, with a watery smile that still manages to be teasing, "just don't let him trip you on the way there."
Eric and the Detective disappear, and Oliver allows another officer to lead them away from where Ellis is sitting on the deck, cuffed and glaring mightily at them while a paramedic cares for his leg.
"I need a bath," Felicity grumbles, looking down at raw palms. "And lots of ice cream."
"What happened to your hands?" Oliver inquires, taking her carefully by the wrists to look at them.
"Fell. It's nothing, Oliver. I just want to go home. What about Digg? How bad is he hurt?"
"Badly enough, but he'll be okay. The paramedics will take him to the hospital and he'll be up and kicking my ass in no time."
Oliver lets go of her wrists in answer to her tug, and then sighs as her arms wrap around his waist and her forehead comes to rest against his chest.
He holds her a little too tightly. "I'm sorry, Felicity."
"Don't be. You came for me," she whispers against him.
Oliver's heart clenches and swoops a little, at once painful and pleasant. "I'll always come for you," he answers, silently mourning the idea that something like this might happen again.
"Can we go home? I think I'd like to take a nap."
"Just a nap?"
"A nap," Felicity reiterates. "Just a little one; twenty four hours should be enough."
Oliver chuckles and closes his eyes as he tucks a cheek against her hair. "A nap sounds perfect. But I should warn you, once I get you into bed, I'm never gonna let you out of it."
"Mm, sounds like a deal."
He wonders how long it's gonna take her to figure out that he's only partially joking.