AN: some good Olicity interaction in this one, as requested. ;)
"You're a pain in my ass."
"Afternoon to you too, Detective Lance." Oliver turned his gaze over his shoulder to where the detective stood at the bumper of the ambulance.
"Let's be clear, Mr. Queen. If that man was sewing up a bullet hole in Sara's arm and not yours, we'd be having a much different conversation."
"We're having a conversation?" Oliver deadpanned. "And here I thought you came over just to threaten me."
"Don't make me arrest you, Queen. I hate doing paperwork."
The paramedic who had been quietly stitching and bandaging Oliver's arm set down his instrument and peeled off his gloves, drawing Oliver's attention.
"You're free to go, Mr. Queen."
"Thank you."
Oliver slung his suit jacket and shirt over his shoulder and climbed out of the ambulance. There was a small orange spot on the short sleeve of his undershirt – iodine, probably – but that and the bandage over his stitches were the only indications that this had not been a regular day for the Queen family patriarch.
"Where do you think you're going?" Quentin Lance groused when he started to walk.
Oliver didn't answer. He cut through the knots of paramedics and police officers that had gathered outside of the Queen Consolidated building with ease as Detective Lance followed closely behind him. He ignored the other man's presence and cast his eyes about in search of Digg, but he didn't change course. His friend would find him eventually.
He stepped around the back of the ambulance he'd been headed for and set his eyes on Felicity. She was grimacing and rolling her neck slowly from side to side, and had one hand massaging the muscles there.
"Hey," Oliver said softly. He cursed himself mentally for not calling out a warning of his approach the way that he'd noticed Sara did. He definitely needed to adopt that habit after today.
Thankfully Felicity didn't startle badly. She raised her head quickly and then groaned when the snap movement pulled at strained muscles. The blonde dropped her head a few inches toward her chest and then angled her chin toward him a little so that she could look at him without actually turning her head.
"Hey," she responded. "Are you okay?"
"Felicity." Oliver's tone was exasperated. "You're the one who was held at gunpoint."
"And you're the one who was shot."
"Cute," Lance interjected dryly. "You two are real cute."
Oliver was about to make a snide remark when a paramedic that he hadn't noticed before stepped out from the front area of the ambulance.
"You're wife is mostly unharmed, Mr. Queen. She has whiplash and some light bruising on her throat."
"She's also right here and fully capable of speaking for herself," Felicity said pointedly.
The paramedic looked genuinely surprised at her ire. "I meant no disrespect, Mrs. Queen. Talking to family members is part of my job."
Chastised, Felicity blew out a heavy breath. "Of course it is. Sorry. I didn't – never mind. I'm sorry."
"No problem, Mrs. Queen. You're free to go."
Oliver held a hand out for her as she stood and made her way to the bumper. Felicity didn't hesitate to slip her smaller hand into his and step down carefully; he thought maybe she would have kept a hold of it if Detective Lance hadn't extended his hand for her to shake as he introduced himself.
"Mrs. Queen, I'm Detective Lance," he said, and his tone was warmer than it had been with Oliver. "Glad to see you're all right."
"Hello, Detective." Felicity shook his hand. "Please, call me Felicity."
"Okay, Felicity. What can you tell me about the incident?"
"She's already given her statement," Oliver interrupted.
Felicity turned her head and then hissed. "Damn whiplash. How did you know that?"
Oliver shrugged. "I saw the officer leaving. And now if you don't mind, Detective, we'd like to go find my sister and go home."
"I've got an officer taking Thea's statement," Lance shot back. "Since it'll be a minute, what's the harm in asking a few more questions?"
"That depends. Are you going to threaten her with more of your conversational skills?"
Felicity scoffed. "You guys are giving me a headache. What is it with you two?"
"Detective Lance is Sara's father," Oliver explained.
At the same time, Lance said, "Oliver dated my daughters. Both of them."
Felicity paused and then started to nod before catching herself. "Uh huh," she muttered. "Well, as intriguing as this verbal sparring is, this has sort of been a nightmare of a day and I'm pretty sure there's, like, two inches of human blood and tissue on my shoe and even just saying that makes me want to vomit, and I'm seriously considering burning these when I get home and that really sucks because I love these shoes …"
"Felicity," Oliver interrupted softly. He wasn't unfamiliar with her rambles, but this one had taken on a note of rapidly growing hysteria.
Felicity tried to nod again and then made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat when she remembered that she couldn't. Her throat felt tight and the air was sitting oddly in her lungs; her eyes had started to burn.
On impulse, Oliver set a hand on her shoulder. Felicity took a deep breath and that shoulder moved under his hand. He recognized her attempt to steel herself and regain control, and the same impulse that had driven him to put a hand on her shoulder made him slide that hand across her back and to the other shoulder. A slight application of pressure had her half turning and stepping toward him until she could rest her forehead against his chest.
Oliver turned his attention back to Lance and asked politely, "Can this wait, Detective?"
Lance nodded. His acerbity had disappeared. "Sure."
Felicity turned her head slowly until her cheek was over Oliver's heartbeat and she could see the detective. "Sorry, Detective," she mumbled. "It was nice meeting you."
Quentin smiled kindly. "You got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I'll call if we have questions."
Oliver watched Quentin Lance disappear into the crowd. Felicity still had her cheek pressed into his shirt and her breathing felt faster than normal, so he didn't move. A moment later he felt one of her slim arms slide around his waist and her hand curl into the material of his shirt.
"Is Thea okay?" Felicity asked. "And Sara? Digg? Where are they?"
"They're okay," Oliver assured her. "Sara got Thea out as soon as we realized what was happening."
They fell silent again. Oliver was not opposed to physical affection, and had been a rather tactile person before the island. Much of that part of his personality had been forgotten or repressed in the years between then and now, however, and so it was a little strange for him to find his arms now full of a small blonde. Having Felicity pressed against him was disarming: they had not touched often in the weeks since she'd arrived, and he was unprepared for how easily it came to him. His fake wife was still a stranger to him, but there was a disturbing lack of strangeness about having his arm around her.
"Everyone hanging in there?"
Oliver turned his head to look over his shoulder. Digg was approaching. He came to stand in front of them, and offered Felicity a small smile when she could see him.
"Fine," Felicity answered. "As long as I don't think about my shoes. Or the gun. Or anything that's happened in the last two hours, really. Whatever, you get the point."
Oliver squeezed her shoulders gently. "Felicity."
The breath she blew out was warm against his shirt. "I'm fine."
"Thea and Sara are headed this way. We're gonna have to face the paparazzi and news crews. Can't get the car in here."
At the mention of the other two women Felicity released her hold on his shirt and pulled away from him. Oliver didn't have time to contemplate why, because seconds after one person had let him go another one was latching on to him.
"Hi, Thea."
"Don't 'hi, Thea' me," his sister snapped. "You got shot, Ollie. Shot."
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you threw yourself at me," he teased.
Next to him, Sara had pulled Felicity into a hug. "I'm so sorry," Sara was saying. "I didn't see him soon enough and when I did I thought he was just going to say something."
"It's not your fault," Felicity answered honestly.
Thea let go of her brother and swatted at Sara's arm until the other woman let Felicity go. For her part, Felicity was surprised when Thea took Sara's place and wrapped both arms around her neck in a tight hug.
"You okay?"
"Freaking out a little," Felicity responded. "And a little sore, but that's all."
Thea was visibly shaken when she stepped back. Felicity remembered the way the young woman had joked with Aaron when they were going through the security checkpoint, and the warm way that he had smiled at her.
"I'm sorry about your friend, Thea." She didn't know what else to say.
"Yeah, well, people aren't always who you think they are." Thea was clearly uncomfortable and angry.
"True, but that's not always a bad thing," Felicity hedged. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't thinking that she wasn't the person Thea thought she was either.
"Anyway, why are you apologizing to me? You're the one he attacked. Why did he attack you?"
Felicity's stomach rolled. Why had Aaron the bodyguard – and she really needed to stop calling him that – held a gun to her kidney? Because of the life she'd escaped, and the man who had claim to half of her parentage. Felicity couldn't tell Thea that Aaron must have been part of the Italian mafia, and that he'd been willing to kill her because he was ordered to do so. Well, she didn't know if that was true, really. He'd claimed that his orders were to bring her in alive, but he'd certainly been willing enough to kill her.
There's a pretty price on your head, Aaron had said. You have something De Luca wants.
"Money," Felicity finally answered. It was the truth, more or less. "He wanted money."
Thea made a disgusted sound. "Of course. It's always money."
"What else would it be?" Digg queried with wry amusement.
"I dunno. How about a lifetime supply of, like, kittens or something?"
"So let me get this straight," Sara said, "You want some crazy person to take someone hostage and demand a lifetime supply of kittens?"
Felicity recognized this: it was gallows humor. She'd used it back inside the building to fend off her rising panic, and Thea was probably using it now to do the same thing. The defense mechanism was an old one. What else was there to do when processing an event that felt impossible but make a joke of it?
Only, she knew what other kinds of things crazy people demanded of their hostages: work; and expertise; and skill; all of the things that her bastard father had eked out of her for the last few years.
Without thinking, Felicity said, "I'll be sure to suggest the kittens next time."
Four sets of eyes zeroed in on her with startling speed.
"Next time?" Thea repeated. "What do you mean, 'next time'?"
"Nothing," Felicity backpedaled. "I didn't mean anything. It was just a bad joke, and I said it without thinking, and can we please just go now? I really want to take a shower and get rid of these shoes."
"Your shoes?" Thea glanced at her feet.
Out of all of the things that had happened in the last few minutes – hours, somehow it was the innocent confusion on Thea's face that did Felicity in. She choked out a sob and veritably slammed a hand over her mouth to silence the sound, but it was too late. Her eyes burned and swam as tears fell heedlessly down her cheeks. The panic hit her suddenly, mercilessly, and Felicity bent over and started tearing at the strap of one of her heels. She couldn't stand it any longer.
"Hey," someone called.
Felicity sobbed. Purposely or not she'd chosen the heel that had stabbed into Aaron's foot, and the red smears of his blood stood out brightly against the matte silver stiletto. Her fingers were fumbling too much to undo the clasp on the strap; on the tail end of another sob, Felicity pulled viciously at the heel, but the offending material only dug into her skin and did not break.
"Felicity."
Strong hands curled over her shoulders and pulled her upright. She had to drop her foot to keep her balance and then she was pulled into a warm chest that smelled familiar. Wide, heavy arms banded around her back and pressed her firmly into another body.
Oliver.
She didn't realize she'd said his name aloud until he answered. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here, you're okay."
Felicity couldn't find the words to tell him that she might never be okay again.