Oliver marveled at how quickly things could change. One minute you thought you knew what was going to happen for the rest of the day or maybe even the rest of your life. Then - in the blink of an eye - that future got turned on its head. The plane crash had been one of those times. He and Tommy had been relaxing in the luxury of Queen Consolidated's private jet, drinking beer and joking with the flight attendant. It was the last trip Oliver planned to make with his family before heading to New York to start a new job. He had graduated Stanford earlier that year and received a number of employment offers. The one in New York appealed to him because he wanted to see what he could make of himself away from Star City, without the Queen name supporting him - or weighing him down. The pending separation made him a little sad, especially the thought of leaving his sister, but he was also excited at the prospect of starting a new life.
Tommy had just told the flight attendant that she should dump her boyfriend and go out with him, when there was a huge bang and the plane began dropping toward the ocean. After fifteen terrifying seconds, the pilot managed to turn the plummet into a controlled dive, but they still hit the water pretty damn hard.
And Oliver's future as he'd originally imagined it was gone forever, lost under two miles of salt water.
Standing in an alley in the Glades and facing the hooded figure with the bow, Oliver felt much the same as he had on the plane. A second ago things had been easy. The spring sunshine was warm and gentle, he and Felicity had reached a tentative accord, and he'd decided he was going to do his best to persuade her to accept a dinner invitation during the drive to his house. If all went well, it was a plan that would take him happily into the evening, and possibly set him up for better things in the days to come.
Now he was in freefall all over again, with panic lurking at the edges of his consciousnesses and threatening to engulf him. He fought to remain calm, telling himself the figure in black was still a good distance away and there was time to act. But the hood on the archer's long leather coat shadowed his face, hiding his features, giving him a sinister, almost supernatural appearance. The archer stood, watching Oliver and Felicity from underneath that hood, not saying a word. Then, at an almost leisurely pace, he reached over his shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back.
And Felicity reacted. She pulled her hand off Oliver's arm and yanked her phone from her pocket. He heard her speaking into it, but her words were faint, muffled by the roaring in his ears.
"Detective Felicity Smoak, badge number 102012. The chief suspect in the Rochev murder has been spotted in the Glades. Suspect is on Edgemont Street wearing a long black coat with a hood, carrying a bow and arrow. Any patrol units in the area are requested to assist."
A mechanical voice gave some sort of response, but Oliver couldn't make out the words.
She returned the phone to her pocket and reached behind her own back, shoving her backpack to the side and lifting her sweatshirt. With a surge of relief, Oliver saw that she hadn't gone to her meeting with Anatoly unarmed, after all. She had her weapon holstered under her shirt. They were not defenseless.
Before she could grasp the stunner, he seized it. Then he stepped in front of her, and pointed it at the archer.
"Oliver!" she hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Keeping us from getting killed."
"My stunner isn't-"
He fired and watched in dismay as the stream became diffuse and then dead before it reached the archer.
"-intended for this range. I'm a detective, not a sniper."
"Now you tell me."
"We needed to get closer," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I was hoping to buy time and talk him nearer."
The archer hadn't moved. He continued to face them as if he had no nerves and all the time in the world. With the same deliberate pace he'd used to pull the arrow from the quiver, he nocked it onto the bow but didn't immediately draw the string. Oliver doubted it was a good idea to wait around until he did.
"We should run the other way," he said to Felicity. "Now. Fuck getting closer."
"What?"
"Your stunner may not be able to reach him, but I'm pretty sure his bow has more than enough range to hit us. A decent bow can shoot a hundred yards and he's about forty yards away. We should run back the way we came, to the main street, where there are better options for cover."
She nodded. "That's a good idea. You should do that."
"We should both do that."
"I can't. There's a decent chance I'm looking at Isabel's killer. It's my job to bring him in - I can't run away. You're a civilian and you should get the hell out of here."
Her words hit Oliver like a right hook to the face. All those times she'd said she was a cop he had thought, yes, yes, I get it. But he hadn't - not really. He'd thought of her sitting behind a desk using her computer to gather information, or interviewing someone in their home, the way she'd done with him. He hadn't thought about her deliberately facing a killer. He hadn't thought about her laying her life on the line - believing it was her job to lay her life on the line.
"Go," Felicity repeated. "Get to the main street. If you see the patrol units, point them this way."
Oliver wanted to do it - wanted to get out of that alley and away from the archer. She'll have help. We should be hearing sirens any second now. But he couldn't bring himself to go. Adrenaline was beginning to replace panic, giving him an eerie kind of focus, and his fight-or-flight response was definitely turning toward fight. He shook his head. "And leave you alone here? Not likely."
The archer raised his arm and pulled back the bowstring. Oliver kept his body in front of Felicity and watched him move his head very slightly, as if assessing options for his best shot. With his newfound concentration, Oliver evaluated the two cars on the side of the street and determined they were useless as cover. They weren't high enough, and getting behind them would require running toward the archer. A quick scan told him there was nowhere else to hide.
Where the fuck were those sirens? As much as Oliver wanted to fight, flight seemed like the better choice. And the time for discussion was over.
Stuffing her weapon in his waistband, he turned toward Felicity, put his hands on her shoulders and forcibly spun her around so that she was facing the way they had come. Then he pushed her hard between the shoulder blades.
"Run," he barked.
She took a step but didn't start running, so he pushed her again.
"Run!" he repeated.
She began to run and he moved behind her, just as he heard the snap of the bowstring. An instant later he felt a searing pain high in his back, close to his left armpit. It made him stagger for a few steps but it didn't bring him down. Ahead of him, Felicity ran, although not terribly fast. She was glancing at the doorways and garbage cans and he realized she was looking for a place to turn and make a fight of it. She didn't know that he'd been hit.
It might be her job to catch the archer, but he was damned if he was going to see her get killed trying to do it.
He sprinted to catch up with her, then wrapped his right arm around her waist and hauled her off her feet, catching her by surprise. Clutching her to his side with her arms and legs dangling, he continued to run, expecting with every stride to feel a second arrow piercing his back.
He didn't.
When they emerged back onto the main street, he took enough steps to get them around the corner and out of the line of sight. Then he dropped Felicity and rested his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. She landed on all fours and scrambled to her feet. He could swear her nostrils were flaring as she spun to face him.
"Oliver-"
Her glare changed to a look of horror. "You're shot!" she said.
He gave a weak laugh. "It sure feels that way."
"Shit." She herded him up against the side of the building, then moved cautiously to peer around the corner, back into the depths of the alley. "I don't see the archer."
"I don't think he followed us."
She reached up gingerly and touched the end of the arrow. He felt a shock of pain.
"Oh, man," she whispered. "That's really in there."
"You think?"
She pulled out her phone. "I'll call an ambulance."
As he watched her tap 9-1-1, he thought about what would happen next - the ambulance ride, the emergency room, and the multitude of people with cameras. Before the phone could even ring, he yanked it out of her hand and ended the call. "No. No ambulance, Felicity."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you nuts? You're shot. We need to get you to a hospital now." She reached for the phone but he held it up, out of her grasp.
"It's a shoulder wound," he assured her. "It hurts and it looks bad, but there are no vital organs involved. Let's get me to your apartment. We can take care of it there."
"Oliver-"
He shook his head, pain compounding his exasperation. "Christ, you like to argue, Felicity. Has anyone ever told you that? Could we make this one, simple thing easy? Let's just go."
"I don't think a shoulder wound is a simple thing."
"It's a cut - a deep cut, nothing more. If we go to a hospital, it's going to be on every news broadcast in the city. I don't want the publicity."
She narrowed her eyes. "You haven't minded being in the headlines before."
"Not for something like this. I don't want to have to explain to people, including my board of directors, how I got shot with an arrow in the Glades. Neither do you, when it comes down to it. Keep in mind that if I make the news, there's a good chance you will too. Oliver Queen arrives in the emergency room accompanied by homicide detective Felicity Smoak? I'm guessing you weren't too crazy about the Inside Star City blurb this morning. This will be worse. They'll have your name."
She bit her lip and he could see that he'd hit a sweet spot. She looked at him uncertainly. "My medical skills are limited. You'd be better off with a doctor."
"If you have antiseptic and wound sealant, I can manage. I was stuck in the wilds for two years after a plane crash, remember? I got pretty good at taking care of myself."
"Didn't you have Tommy?" Felicity brightened at her own question. "Maybe he can help. We could call him."
"No," Oliver said quickly. When she shot him a puzzled look, he added, "He's worse than my board of directors. I'll never hear the end of it. You and me, we can do this. In fact, let's leave before one of your patrol units finds me like this. Then it will be too late."
Felicity stared at him. He looks rational enough. And he was regarding her with a mixture of determination and hope that was strangely attractive. But the man was wounded.
"Oliver, I don't think-"
"You'll be on all the front pages, Felicity. Your name, your picture, the fact that you're investigating Isabel's death..."
"Fine," she snapped. "But you better not sue me or the department if you end up with gangrene."
He half-laughed, half-groaned as he handed her phone back to her. "I won't, I promise. And on that cheery thought, why don't you pull out the arrow and then we'll head to your place."
Her brow furrowed as she slid the phone back into her pocket. "What?"
"Pull out the arrow," he repeated.
She stepped behind him and studied his shoulder. There was a circle of hoodie fabric around the arrow that was sodden with blood. It was about the size of a cantaloupe; the rest of the hoodie was largely dry. At the moment, the wound appeared to be bleeding only moderately.
"Let's wait until we get to my apartment, in case it bleeds more when I pull out the arrow," she suggested.
He shook his head. "We should do it now. I can't be walking through the streets with an arrow sticking out of my shoulder. I'll attract attention."
"This is the Glades, Oliver. People walk around with all kinds of objects sticking out of their bodies - knives, screwdrivers, knitting needles. I once saw a man whose wife had shoved a turkey baster up his-"
"Okay!" He raised his good arm. "I get the picture. We'll take care of it at your apartment. Let's just go, please, before the patrols or the press get here?"
"Right."
And, despite her misgivings, Felicity left the scene of the crime.