Chapter: 28 - Item Tracking Service
Word Count: 3371
Notes: I apologize profusely for what I'm about to do to you all. ;)
I think that's the only real note I have right now, honestly. :P I just hope you all enjoy it, but, either way, thanks for reading, reviewing, and/or commenting. :)
Felicity very nearly jumps a foot in the air when the knock sounds at her door, somehow managing to avoid burning herself with her curling iron in the process. Even though she knows to expect Oliver, she didn't think he'd be this early. A quick glance from the bathroom to her clock in the bedroom informs her that he's right on time, and she wonders vaguely where the past two hours have gone.
Saphira leaves her feet, with her nose in the air, barking and wagging her tail. It's all Felicity needs to know it's Oliver at her door. "It's open!" she calls from the bathroom, leaning out so that her voice will carry better. "I'm just trying to finish up, so I'll be out in a minute. Feel free to have a seat."
"You know," he answers, presumably from the couch, "it's not exactly a good idea to keep your door unlocked in this neighborhood. It doesn't exactly seem safe." Quieter, she hears him speaking to Saphira, and Felicity can picture the little dog happily curled in his lap, getting fur all over his suit.
"I knew you were coming, and I didn't want you to wait for me," she answers. "Knowing my bad timing, I'd probably be only half-dressed or something." Then she flushes as she realizes the implications of that. "And we're five seconds in, and my mouth is already starting." She finishes the last curl, checks her makeup again, then moves to the full-length mirror in her room.
She's not sure that gold is an appropriate color for a cocktail dress—especially with the sequins—but that's what she gets by asking Thea for help. Felicity had nothing suitable in her closet, so she had called Thea for an emergency shopping trip. Somehow they'd ended up agreeing on the sleeveless number she's wearing now, a tiny slit up one side. She decides to take a risk and wear her hair in long curls, but keeps them out of her face with gold clips studded with emeralds that she couldn't resist. And it's definitely time for contacts—especially since she's kind of working for the Arrow tonight, too.
Sighing, she grabs her bag, knowing she can't stall much longer. Part of her wants to check the tracker she doesn't even have yet, just to see if the Dodger has stolen the item. But that's ridiculous because the event hasn't started yet, and she's far too nervous to be doing this. Still, Felicity reminds herself that this is exactly what she signed on for, and she should take a deep breath and handle it.
She expects Oliver to be on the couch, waiting as impatiently as all men do, but instead she finds him browsing through the bookshelves across the living room of her apartment, studying the spines carefully. For someone who said that the Queen family didn't appreciate books, he seems to, judging by the way he runs his fingers across the spine of one book in particular. Her eyes widen in surprise at first, but then she smiles. "The Odyssey is one of my favorites," she says quietly from behind him. "But then I've always been partial to the classics."
He hesitates for a long moment before saying without looking at her, "It was one of the few things I actually read in college—when I wasn't busy being kicked out of them." Another moment of hesitation crosses his features. "It's about a man trying to make his way back home—something I can relate to. 'Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.'" Finally he adds what's on his mind: "That line saved two of us on that island one day."
He gauges her expression carefully, as if curious to see what she'll say next. They both know he's not ready to expand upon that statement, since he was obviously alone when they found him. "That's a good line," she says finally, nodding slightly, "but my favorite has always been: 'Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.'"
He turns back to her immediately, understanding the message she's sending, but his expression changes as he looks at her for the first time that night. He blinks several times, and then his eyes fall over her, drinking in her appearance. He doesn't say anything for a long moment. "Are you ready, then?" he asks, carefully avoiding any praise for some reason she doesn't understand. But, then again, she doesn't need it; his expression is enough to tell her he's very pleased with what he's seeing.
She wraps one hand around the chain strap of the small purse on her shoulder, trying to brace herself. "Yeah," she says, a little breathlessly. "But, small warning? I think my foot-in-mouth disease is already acting up tonight, so I apologize preemptively if I embarrass you in front of someone important."
He offers her a hesitant smile, and she realizes he's a little nervous, too. "The most important person in that room is going to be on my arm," he answers, and her face bursts into flame immediately.
Still, she tries to play it carefully, turning it into something more lighthearted. She lifts an eyebrow at him, letting one corner of her mouth turn up. "Did you just drop a line on me?" she asks, a little incredulously. Because, really, she's going to be looking for portals into alternate worlds if Oliver Queen is trying to flirt with her.
He matches her tone and attitude instantly, only with a better smile. "I think that depends on if it worked," he replies easily, and yes, he's definitely flirting with her. She thinks about pinching herself, but, if it's a dream, she decides she doesn't want to wake up from it. His eyes turn intense—the kind of intense that makes her think of the Arrow. "And it's not a line when it's true," he corrects.
"Well, it was smooth, I'll give you that," she answers with part of a smile, "but it didn't work." She ushers him out of the apartment. "So, really, you succeeded in being cheesy instead of flirty." He raises an eyebrow at her, and she ignores it to lock the door, only to find him waiting with that expression after she finishes. "But it's okay," she adds finally, "because you're handsome and you've been on an island for five years."
He gives her a withering look that they both know he doesn't mean, and then he offers her his arm. She takes it without a moment's hesitation, and they walk together without a word. One of the beautiful things about their friendship, she thinks, is that they can make the walk down several flights of stairs in silence and it's not awkward—it's pensive and reflective, full of things neither one knows how to say to the other.
She's not surprised to find Diggle leaning casually against the towncar when they exit the building, and he opens the door for them immediately. "Miss Smoak," he offers with a smile, and she and Oliver slide into the car.
"Mr. Diggle," she replies right back with a smile, and, as she takes his hand to slide into the car, he slips her what she's sure is an earpiece, judging by the size and shape. Yet another reason wearing her hair down was a good idea—she can properly mask the earpiece.
"I'll set the bug in place," he murmurs to her lowly, and she nods discreetly before making a motion like she's touching her ear, instead inserting the earpiece.
"Holy cheese fries," she says when she enters, looking around the spacious interior. For what is essentially the backseat of a car, there are a lot of amenities, not limited to the bar over to one side. "I'm pretty sure that I could live in the back of one of these things."
His only response is a low, breathy almost-laugh. There's a long silence that stretches on between them, and she wonders for a moment what he's thinking about. There are a lot of thoughts slipping around her own mind; she wonders about what he's told her of the island, what happened to his friend (though she probably already knows the answer), how insane she is for building some sort of relationship between them that isn't quite platonic. His share of baggage is almost too much, and she's not sure he'll ever be able to talk about the island to anyone.
She also knows it's going to destroy him eventually, if he doesn't.
Oliver's hand on hers makes her snap out of her thoughts, and she's surprised to find that the twenty-minute ride has somehow already passed. "We're here," he informs her quietly, but there's something not quite right about his smile.
She's not sure she should ask, but she does anyway, as he takes her hand and assists her up from the car. "What's on your mind?" she asks carefully. "You look like there's a lot going on upstairs."
His smile falters ever so slightly, and she thinks that, under different circumstances, she wouldn't have noticed its change. She slips her arm in his, and she rather likes the idea of being on his arm; there's just something incredibly safe about it. "At the risk of sounding cheesy," he answers with a partial smile, "I'm glad you're with me."
She rolls her eyes as they enter the auction scene together, and suddenly the spacious room feels smaller than the elevator she hates to ride every day at work. She does not fit in here, and she knows she never will. And it only makes it worse that she's also partially spending the night looking for a jewel thief that likes to blow people's heads off.
It must show on her face, somewhere under the calm façade she's trying to cultivate, because Oliver asks her carefully, "Are you okay?" He shoots her a concerned glance before adding, "You're quiet, and you're never quiet."
She huffs loudly, slapping his arm. "I'm just, well, out of my element," she admits. "I really don't do the parties and things like this. I'm that girl whose friends convinced her to go to the party, so she brought a book and decided to read in the corner while everyone else gets wasted." She frowns. "I look like I'm trying to blend in, and I'm not succeeding."
"I think you look beautiful," he answers, his eyes a little too serious for such a casual statement. He hesitates. "And thank you for coming with me, even though this isn't your scene." He reaches across to pat the hand in the crook of his arm.
She waves her other hand casually, smiling. "That's fine," she assures him casually. "I had to make sure you didn't die of boredom while you were here." He smiles. "And what kind of friend would I be if I let you walk in on your own?" She shakes her head. "Well, silly question—we both know you could have found another date."
"Maybe," he agrees, and they both know he's being modest, "but I asked you for a reason. And—" He stops abruptly, turning them the opposite direction so quick it makes Felicity's head spin a little.
"Whoa, where's the fire?" she asks, staring at him. She looks back over her shoulder, frowning when she recognizes the woman leading the police squad as Detective Hall. "Is that the new detective working with Lance now? I think I heard she's on the Dodger case—the jewel thief that likes to blow people's heads off?"
Oliver winces. "Yes, it is," he admits after a long moment. "McKenna is… an old friend of mine." Felicity can't help the frown that graces her face, and he presses on, "She used to party with Tommy and I before." He hesitates, and Felicity thinks it has nothing to do with McKenna this time. "We decided to catch up over dinner last night, and she asked me about the island." She takes a deep breath for him, knowing how much that probably hurt. His expression completely shuts down and he says, "Let's just say I'd rather take my chances with a deadly jewel thief."
She doesn't think he's ready to talk about the island—especially not here—so she tries for something more casual and meaningless. "Well, you say that now," she tries, "but we'll see how you feel when the Dodger absconds with your family jewels." He stops, pulling away to raise his eyebrows at her, and his smile is pure mischief. "Damn it, that's not what I meant, and you know it. I'm not making references to—" She stops because self-preservation kicks in—and there's really no good way that sentence. Still, it makes him smile, so it must be worth something to babble like an idiot. "That came out really wrong, and I don't think there's any way I can fix it. Let's just pretend I didn't say that, okay?"
Felicity has never been so relieved to feel her phone buzz in her life. She knows that only means she's going to trade an awkward experience for an experience with a criminal, but suddenly it looks good to her. "It looks like they're starting to filter into the auction room," he says, watching the doorways. She can tell Oliver is on edge at the idea of walking into that crowded room, but he's trying to hide it.
"Yeah," she answers, then points to herself. "I'm just gonna go use the restroom," she somehow manages to lie with far too much ease. "I'll meet you in there in a few minutes?"
He nods, and she makes her way across to the display cases, simultaneously pulling out her phone to check the tracker. "Digg, the Dodger has taken the bait," she mutters into her comm, and she notices the Dodger is still at the display case. From a distance, she watches as the man pockets the piece Oliver donated, and it makes her mad a second time.
"It's just me and you, Felicity," Diggle answers. "The Arrow is here, but his synthesizer interferes with the comm system. Be careful, and, if anything goes wrong, let me know."
She ignores him this time, pulling up to the Dodger. "Hey," she snaps at him, "the Queen family donated those. If you want them, you have to bid."
The man only smiles at her, and it's not charming. In fact, it makes a chill run down her spine because he's kind of intimidating. "And are you going to stop me, love?" he answers in an English accent, a chuckle in his voice. Before she sees him go for it, he pulls some sort of cane. She expects him to knock her out with it, but he simply touches it to her neck.
The last thing she remembers is a jolt before everything goes black.
Oliver frowns because Felicity should have been back by now, but his concern is mostly because he knows she went for the jewels instead of the restroom. Part of him wants to call Digg, but he doesn't want to hinder the mission by distracting Diggle.
Sighing, he casually looks around his seat on the back row, wondering how long he'll have to be trapped in this auditorium with all these people. It's not something he's used to, and the idea of sitting this close to anyone immediately makes him tense.
So tense that he almost doesn't notice the woman sliding in next to him, and he fights back a grimace as McKenna Hall sits in the seat he reserved for Felicity. Now he hopes she doesn't come back until McKenna vacates it; otherwise, things will be more awkward between the pair. "I'm surprised to find you here tonight," she starts casually, but there's ice under it, and they both know it's from his outburst the previous night.
Part of him hates the idea of speaking to her after last night's disaster, but at least it will keep his mind off of Felicity. Chatting up McKenna on the premise of old time's sake had been a way for him to slip the bug in, and it would have been suspicious if he'd cancelled. Still, it was one of the worst dates of his life—and that's saying something. "I had to put in an appearance for the Queen family," he answers. "We donated a piece, so we were obligated, even though I probably won't buy anything." He motions to her. "I heard you were on this… Dodger case. I guess that means you're working." He throws her an insincere smile, acting like the old Oliver. "Don't you ever get a night off?"
"I had the night off last night," she answers. "Which we both know because I decided to treat you like a suspect instead of a person." She grimaces. "I was out of line, asking you about... that." He takes it for the apology it's meant to be, watching the way she hesitates to avoid the word island. "But you seem to rebound as quickly as always—I saw the girl on your arm tonight."
He immediately speaks up for Felicity's sake, not so worried about his own reputation. "Felicity is a friend," he repeats for what feels like the millionth time. This time, though, it feels like a lie; they're not exactly acting like friends anymore, not with the kiss she landed on his cheek—or the way he's been trying to kiss her for weeks. "I invited her to join me earlier in the week."
Her expression changes instantly, eyebrows knitting together in an expression that Oliver know to be trouble on both cops and women—meaning it sends some dread rushing through him. "Felicity?" she repeats. "Felicity Smoak?"
Oliver is surprised she knows the name; Felicity isn't exactly popular in the club scene, and she's never mentioned meeting the detective in person. "Yeah," Oliver answers with a slight smile. "She helped me out with a computer problem a few months ago at QC, and we've been friends since." It's the truth, even if he's left out the part about showing up on her fire escape as the Arrow and wanting to kiss her senseless.
McKenna's expression goes dark. "Look," she says slowly, "I don't want to come off as jealous, but Lance has been my partner since we went after the Count." She hesitates. "It's an ongoing investigation, so I can't say everything I want to. But the point is that Lance and I both think Felicity Smoak isn't quite as innocent as she looks on paper." She puts her hand on his shoulder, and he can't stop himself from tensing. "Just be careful, okay?"
He's saved from having to answer when his cell phone starts ringing, and he's relieved when he sees it's Diggle, probably calling to say everything has gone as planned. "Sorry," he says quickly, sliding out of his seat and past her, "it's one of my vendors for the club."
When he's sure he's out of earshot, he asks, "Everything successful?"
Diggle doesn't answer immediately, which gives Oliver pause—and sends another cold hand of dread clawing down his back. "The tracker is still active, but he's gone," Diggle answers, and he doesn't sound like that's all. When the silence stretches on, he continues, "He overpowered Felicity before I could get there." A sigh crackles across the line as Oliver's dread forms into something more like panic. "You're gonna want to suit up for this."
"I'm on my way," is his response before slipping out the door. The first sense of panic fades away as rationality kicks in—if she were hurt, Diggle would have said so—but then something deeper and darker works its way to the surface, something he's not used to feeling. He hasn't truly been angry in a long time, but the Dodger might just have done enough to incite some of that pent-up wrath.
And, if Felicity is hurt, Oliver is very certain that someone is going to die on the end of an arrow tonight.
