Chapter: 4 - Rebirth
Word Count: 6056
Notes: Heh, every time I think of this chapter, I think of Kim making homicidal jungle cat noises. I would say I hope you guys don't make them, but I'd be lying.
Shout out again to my lovely artist, willowpelt, and the best beta to ever beta, leviosaphoenix. Y'all rock my socks (and other outdated sayings).
As always, I love to hear your thoughts, but thanks for just reading and being awesome. ;)
His lungs feel like they're on fire when he awakens. Oliver can barely breathe and his throat feels raw, making it burn, too. He doesn't have to ask to know he was screaming, deep in the throes of a nightmare. It isn't surprising and it certainly isn't new; whenever he knows crawling into a Jaeger is imminent, his subconscious mind decides to remind him of all the reasons he shouldn't. As much has he wishes he could stop thinking about Tommy's death, a part of him thinks it serves as a good reminder of what he's willing to risk on these missions.
What is new, however, is the way the door swings open. Frowning, Oliver squints at the small beam of light coming from the crack in the door. There's no mistaking the face in the door, and a part of him wonders how Felicity managed to hack into the keycode. Belatedly, he remembers that she's Felicity and she once hacked into the Pentagon. A simple electronic lock was probably child's play to her.
With a twist of the dimmer switch, she allows some light in the room, but not enough that he feels blinded by the harsh fluorescence. She's in a pair of black pajamas covered in brightly colored cartoon cats of various design, her hair sticking up at odd angles, squinting without her glasses. "Are you okay?" she asks into the space quietly. "I didn't want to wake you, but I could hear you screaming across the the hall. I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
"I'm fine," Oliver assures her, but he doubts the rasp in his voice aids in convincing her. Sure enough, the look on her face says she isn't buying it. Because there's no point in trying to lie to the woman he's going to Drift with in a few hours, he admits to her, "I have nightmares about what happened the last time I was in a Jaeger."
Instead of pity, sadness washes over her expression. "You know…" she starts casually, "I don't want to get in a Jaeger so bad that I would sacrifice your health to do it." Oliver opens his mouth to protest, but she holds up her hands. "If you have doubts, you should let me know before we do this in…" Felicity glances over to his clock. "Three hours."
He sighs, trying to find the words, and his new co-pilot pulls a chair from the table in the center of his quarters. She turns it backward before sitting down, resting her arms on the back of the chair. It makes him smile; instead of pushing for information, she just lends a supportive ear. "Felicity," he breathes out. "I want to do this." When he smiles, this time there's no happiness. "I used to love being a Jaeger pilot. To my parents, I was a screw up until Dad threw me into a trial arena. Being a pilot is the one thing I've ever been good at." Meeting her eyes, Oliver assures her in a firm voice, "I want to do this."
To his surprise, that's the end of it. She nods immediately. "Okay." Rising from the chair, she turns toward the door before declaring, "I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. In an hour, you better be down at the mess hall." Felicity points at him, and Oliver can feel himself swallow at the ferocity of the expression on her face. "And you better eat everything on your tray. I've watched you pick at your food for weeks, but you'll need that for energy today. I want you in full condition to Drift."
Though he's known Felicity for less than a month, it's long enough to know that arguing with her when she's like this is pointless. Throwing on the shirt by his bed, he answers, "I'll be down in the med bay." The confession takes her by surprise, so he explains, "I blew my knee out when the Alpha Omega crashed. I'll need pain meds if I'm going to be in peak condition."
Part of him doesn't want to tell her the rest of that truth, though she'll know it soon enough. While physically he can be one half of the Jaeger, the neural load is exhausting to him. Tommy had been his best match-up in his Ranger career, but the assault on Oliver's brain meant migraines by the end of an hour piloting the mech. His last partner had still taken most of the neural abuse—to the point that he had the trademark ocular hemorrhage. It had taken Oliver all of ten minutes to finish off Knifehead solo after Tommy's death, but by then he'd already ruptured the blood vessels in his left eye, his nose was bleeding, and he had the signature "shakes" that occurred just before what the pilots call "lights out." In his five years of piloting the Jaegers, he'd never been closer to death than that moment.
And he had hoped for it.
"I'll get them," Felicity offers. His eyebrows shoot up of their own accord at the offer. Before he can ask, the J-Tech officer smiles. "It's my first Drift," she explains with a shrug. "No one will think twice if I want to take precautions against the neural abuse. One of the side effects of the Drift is severe migraines." Of course she'd know about that. "With the extra physical load to keep up with you, I'd be at a higher risk."
"You don't—" he tries to protest.
"Partners," Felicity reminds him in a firm tone, crossing her arms. She tries for stern, but somehow it doesn't come off right when she's wearing pajamas with pink and purple kittens on them. "You try to pretend you don't hear what people say about you—and they're wrong, by the way—but I can tell it bothers you.
"I've been underestimated my entire career, Oliver," she suddenly declares, and it surprises him that she doesn't seem upset about that. It's just fact. "It's because I'm young, because I'm a woman, because I don't look serious enough." Felicity points to herself. "But despite what everyone may think, I'm still good at my job and I'm going to be a damn good Ranger." Oliver can't help but admire her confidence. "I'm done trying to prove myself to everyone. You, on the other hand, act like you still have a point to make to the world." She smiles. "The least I can do is give you the right weapons."
Before he can try to argue with her again, she slips out the door. In spite of himself, the Ranger laughs at her tenaciousness. He's met men with exemplary Drift records who don't sound as much like a Jaeger pilot as she does. If he can keep his shit together and if they work in the Drift, he knows that Felicity Smoak will be a name the Kaiju learn to fear. She's going to be the kind of Ranger whose name is written in the history books.
Oliver takes his time getting ready, pulling on full PPDC uniform for the first time in years. The uniform shirt isn't comfortable at all, though. At first he thinks it's because of the medals, but after removing all six of them, it still doesn't feel any better. Too rigid and controlled. He sheds it all, opting instead for jeans and a gray sweater.
Deciding he should leave before Felicity decides to send out a search party (and he has no doubt she would), Oliver weaves through the halls of the modified bunker to the mess hall. It takes him a moment to spot Felicity in the corner with an unfamiliar blonde, this one older and wearing a yellow dress with heels. He knows it has to be her mother, but they strike an odd contrast sitting next to each other: Felicity, with her pink, teal, and purple-streaked hair and PPDC uniform next to the blonde in a dress that wouldn't have been out of place in the clubs he inhabited before the Kaiju.
After he grabs his plate, the younger of the Smoak women waves at him. Because her sleeves are rolled up, the action flashes a delicate gold chain around her wrist he's never seen before. Her mother turns his direction as he approaches, her eyes widening as she mutters something to Felicity. Whatever it is, it makes her uncomfortable, judging by the way she colors.
"Hi," he says with a smile, placing his tray on the table across from them. He offers the older of the two a hand to shake. "You must be Felicity's mom." She shakes his hand without hesitation, though her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. "I'm Oliver Queen. If everything goes according to plan, I'll be your daughter's co-pilot."
It takes her a moment to recover, glancing between the washed-up Ranger and the J-Tech officer. "Nice to meet you in person, Oliver!" she declares in a cheerful, pleasant voice. "I'm Donna." As he sits down at the table, she continues, "I can't tell you how glad I am that Felicity will be your co-pilot." He tries not to frown at the wording; something about it indicates he'll be her superior. Judging by Felicity's soured expression, she feels the same way. "I didn't want her first time to be with a novice." She waves a hand. "Well, I don't want her to have a first time at all, but if she has to pilot a Jaeger and get it out of her system, I'm glad it's with a legend."
Both Oliver and Felicity flinch at her wording, and though he can let everything else slide as a family matter, there's one part he can't leave uncorrected. "Ms. Smoak—" he starts.
In what he now recognizes as true Smoak fashion, she cuts across him. "Donna," she corrects.
"Donna," he repeats, humoring her with a slight smile. She beams in response, and Felicity rolls her eyes while picking at her food. "Piloting a Jaeger isn't something you get out of your system." Her expression darkens a little at that, but he wants her to understand this isn't something to do for the sake of marking it off a bucket list. "It's not just about the adrenaline rush or the feeling of being invincible. In the face of the Kaiju, we feel small and helpless. Like it would be impossible to win. But when you're in a Jaeger, nothing feels impossible."
Before the conversation can turn awkward, Oliver points at the bracelet around Felicity's wrist. The gold chain is thin, and only now does he realize that a star of David is hanging from it. The realization comes as a surprise; ever since the first Kaiju attacks, the old religions have faded. Most find it hard to believe in a creator who would allow their creation to battle such monsters. For the most part, the religious are zealots who believe the Kaiju were sent from heaven because the gods are angry—except for a faithful few who still hold on.
Oliver's beliefs tend to center around the fact that even a Category Four can't survive a full plasma clip.
Still, he reaches out to touch it. While he may not be Jewish or believe in any sort of higher power, he admires the fact that Felicity still can. She has hope; that's more than most. "This is beautiful," the former Ranger states honestly. "Is it new? I've never seen you wear it before."
Felicity nods before reaching for her drink. "Mom brought it with her today as a gift," she explains with a glance and a small smile at Donna. "It'd be nice to think God was watching out for us today. We are planning to defy a decade's worth of Drift science." It's only then that Oliver realizes his fingers are still lingering on her wrist, and he pulls his hand away. "Of course, it wouldn't be the first time science was wrong. The first astronomers believed the Sun revolved around the Earth." She offers a bitter chuckle. "And we grew up being told that there wasn't life on other planets. The universe is a mysterious place."
"Speaking of mysterious," Donna interjects, causing Felicity to jump as though she's forgotten her mother's presence, "someone said the two of you put on quite the performance yesterday during combat trials." Leaning forward, she adds, "I know enough about the mind-meld thing—"
Tiredly, Felicity corrects, "Drift, Mom. It's called the Drift."
Ignoring her smoothly, Donna continues. "—to know that you two wouldn't have been paired up." She motions between the two of them before turning back to her daughter. "Felicity, how did you convince Oliver to give you a chance?"
The two partners laugh at the error in her statement together. "I had to convince her, actually," he corrects so Felicity doesn't have to. "She picked out my co-pilot candidates, but none of them matched right. Since the moment I met Felicity, she's talked about nothing but being a pilot." Donna is the one to frown at the turn of the conversation this time. "The traditional candidates didn't work, so I convinced the Marshal to give her a chance."
"And I kicked your ass," Felicity concludes, throwing a grape into her mouth.
Though he agrees, he doesn't allow her the satisfaction of an answer. Continuing his explanation to Donna, he adds, "Felicity and I work well together." That's an understatement; the two of them seem to coexist in a way that he never has with anyone else. She allows him to be quiet when he's in his somber moods, just continuing to speak because she doesn't like the silence and he likes listening to her talk. "She felt more Drift compatible than any of the other candidates, and I thought it was worth a shot."
Donna interjects, "And you've… driven it before?" His brow furrows, and, unsure of what she's trying to say, Oliver turns to Felicity for support. She shrugs. "The robot… thing you'll be driving today." She waves a hand. "The green one with the bow-like shooter things?"
Sighing, her daughter growls, "Green. Arrow." She shakes her head. "I'd like you to get just one Jaeger name right, for the sake of my sanity." Rolling her eyes, she adds while twisting her dog tags on the chain, "She's only the greatest Jaeger still in operation, and it also happens to be one of my Jaegers. And yes, the Arrow was made for Oliver—literally." With a wry smile she adds, "After fifty-one successful missions, I'd say he knows her pretty well."
Before any more can be said, Diggle walks up to their table. His smile is warm with affection as he states, "You two have a big day today." He nods at Felicity, his fondness for the blonde leaking through his expression as he does so. Despite his concerns about her being a Drift pilot, Oliver is pleased to see that the man is proud of her nonetheless. "Felicity, is the Green Arrow ready to operate?"
The blonde nods instantly. "I have all of the structural repairs completed," she answers. "The weapons systems are also completed, but I had them taken offline for this trial run." Oliver's brow furrows, and while waving a hand, she explains, "The last thing we need is the plasma bow or the cannons coming online in a closed space like this. I am not going down as the first Jaeger team in history to blow their own Shatterdome to hell."
Oliver chuckles and Diggle snorts. It's a good precaution, and protects them against anything worse than the failure they might face. The Marshal declares, "Then I see no reason why you shouldn't start getting ready. Felicity, we had your suit built and modified to your suggestions—report to J-Tech to pick it up before going to the Drive room." Felicity nods once, rising to her feet. The Marshal turns back to her partner. "Oliver, your Drivesuit is in the Drive room already. We were able to repair your old one for this, but Miss Smoak personally made a few modifications to update it."
In spite of himself, he swallows hard as he looks to Felicity. Of course she only winks at him, but it's such a thoughtful gesture that he has no idea how to respond to it. Instead of forcing him into a new suit, she just updated the one he used for five years. It might be battle-worn, but at least it will have some familiarity that he desperately needs at the moment.
The Marshal walks away without another word. Oliver rises to start toward the hangars, but Felicity stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Discreetly, she slips a small pill vial into his hand. "Take three," she suggests quietly. "I don't know how long they'll have us in there, and as the rookie pilot, I'm going to need you at your best."
"Thank you," he replies before swallowing the three pills and shoving the bottle into his pocket. Quieter, he adds, "And not just for taking care of this. The suit was a nice touch."
Felicity throws him a salute before starting to walk away. Over her shoulder she calls, "I'll see you in the hangar, Queen. Don't be late."
The hanger and the Drive room feel like miles away from the mess hall, but finally he reaches it. A particularly talkative technician who introduces himself as Barry offers Oliver a thin, black circuitry suit. As always, it feels a little restrictive and the synaptic mesh scratches into his skin, even through the protective layer. Despite that, it feels familiar, like returning home after a few years away.
The man who gave him the information about the Shatterdome last week in the control tower is one of his technicians. He introduces himself as Cisco and the other technician as Curtis Holt. Both men are content to talk amongst themselves and leave Oliver to his thoughts. Everyone used to know about his tendency to withdraw out of nervousness before a mission, but now, he isn't sure if the two are aware or just being polite. Every time he gets back in a Jaeger, it feels like the very first.
"The armor shell is lighter than I remember," he comments to the two techs as they bolt the emerald green plates of armor into place. It unnerved him the first time, but Oliver is more familiar with the sensation now. The chest plate and back plate are separate, held together by large screws, for lack of a better term.
Curtis laughs. "Your original armor shell was from a Mark One," he says. "I can't even imagine how you guys moved with that. It's like tank armor or something." He pulls out the spinal clamp, and already the metal teeth are moving. "We updated to Mark Five style—lightweight high-density armor. It's bulletproof, of course, and Kaiju claws can't penetrate it."
The tech locks the spinal clamp into place, and Oliver can hear the rest of the suit buzz to life. "Felicity spent, like, three hours last night making modifications," Cisco adds, waving a hand. "A lot of it went over my head—Drift tech is her baby, not mine—but she said she watched the cockpit feeds from your previous missions and made modifications especially for you." It doesn't surprise him; that sounds like Felicity.
Finally, Curtis passes the Jaeger pilot his helmet. Unlike the Drivesuit, it's completely new. The green polycarbonate layer looks as though it will rest lower on his forehead, the glass clear that will fall just under his nose. Instead of putting it on, he tucks it under his arm, thanks the two techs, and makes for the overlook.
He's the first to arrive in the cockpit, and he studies the two familiar docking stations. The one nearest the entrance would have been his a long time ago, but after the damage he did to his knee, the left station puts a higher physical strain on him. Moving deeper into the interior, he goes to the right docking station. A sad smile crosses his face; the last time he piloted the Arrow, it had been Tommy who took the right hemisphere.
The sound of a Drivesuit clomping against the floor draws his attention, and Oliver turns just in time to watch Felicity step into the interior. Like him, she carries her helmet under her arm, but she has on contacts instead of her usual glasses. Her suit's design is slightly modified from his to compensate for her feminine figure, but the plates are still emerald green with a black circuitry suit showing underneath in places. Her hair is loose, the multicolored waves hanging past her shoulders. Most female pilots elect to cut theirs short, but apparently she isn't going to give up her long hair. (Nor does he think she should.)
After a moment, he's able to find his tongue again. With a grin, he tells her, "You look good."
Felicity meets his grin with a wider one. "That's what you're gonna say?" she retorts, placing her other hand on her hip.
With a chuckle, Oliver answers, "There's no point in saying anything, Felicity. In five minutes, you'll be in my head." They both smile at that, and he hesitates. She might know a lot about the Drift, but there are some things only a veteran pilot knows. "I know this is your area of expertise, but can I warn you about a few things that only Drift pilots know about?"
When she nods twice with wide eyes, he warns her, "You know about the random access brain impulse triggers—memories. We call them RABITs. You'll be hit with my memories, which is going to make this harder than it already is. Your first instinct will be to latch onto one, but don't chase the RABIT. More than one pilot has ended up as a vegetable because they held onto a memory. Just tune them out. You'll know when you're in the Drift because it's quiet."
With that, Oliver throws his helmet on and steps into position in the docking bay. Felicity follows his lead, but slower with the unfamiliarity of the suit. Once they're docked and in place, Oliver calls through the comm, "Pilots Smoak and Queen on board and ready to connect." He can see the blonde smiling at him, and he can't help but return it. "Ready to commence trial run."
"Arrow, this is tower control," Diggle responds. He's all business now, no familiarity or friendliness to his tone—not with so much riding on this going according to plan. "Prepare for trial run. Commencing Drift protocols." His voice is slightly muffled as he adds, "Mr. Ramon, initiate neural handshake."
Though he's often heard the neural handshake described as a balance beam with equal weights, in reality, it feels more like he's suddenly being submerged in cold water. Felicity's memories mix with his, so intense and vivid that he can't breathe for a moment. The newest memories come first. Like always, he catches on his father's death, lingering despite still being in the Drift. Tommy's, however, hits him hard and fast, and he has to make an effort to push it away.
Time is infinite in the Drift. The flood of memories is endless, until finally it releases him. Leaving the handshake is like waking from a dream, and it's only then that Oliver can catch his breath, to the sound of his name on Felicity's lips. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice fluttering an octave higher than normal with a breathy edge. Her mouth is set into a frown. "You didn't align with me in the Drift like you were supposed to."
"A few strong RABITs," Oliver assures her. He's always been particularly susceptible to them, and now she knows exactly why. "It's nothing new."
"Neural Drift initiated," Cisco's voice reports. "You're off to a rocky start, Arrow, but it looks like you're lining up nicely." A moment later, he adds, "Left hemisphere calibrated without a hitch." That makes Oliver release a sigh he didn't know he was holding; Felicity fell in perfectly, a rarity on a first Drift. Of course, he didn't expect much different. Because she can feel his thoughts the same way he can feel hers, she throws him a smile. Flattery gets you nowhere, Oliver. "Right hemisphere falling into place… now."
In tandem, the two of them maneuver the Jaeger into standby position. As one, they swing the Arrow's arms so that its hands meet, one in a fist and one covering it. "Pilot-to-Jaeger connection complete," their tech adds. "Looking good, Arrow. Your Drift percentage is calibrating now—just stay steady for now. You can take her out for a spin just as soon as I get a read."
A moment later, there's a ding and an electronic voice in the background, but no one speaks. A hush falls over the control room, the silence odd and unnatural. Just barely, Oliver can hear the Marshal's command of read it. "Calibration complete," Cisco informs them in an oddly muted voice. "Alignment percentage of ninety-six-point-six."
"That's impossible," Felicity breathes out. Her confusion is palpable, and Oliver echoes it. "The highest recorded alignment is ninety-six-eight, but that was Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn, on their last ride in the Queen's Gambit." She winces, apologizing to her co-pilot in their linked minds. "No one has ever had a first alignment over ninety-four-nine."
"I ran it three times, and I think I know how to do my job by now," another voice cuts in, this one a little snide. Felicity was right; Cooper Seldon really is an arrogant asshole. The blonde snorts in agreement to that thought. Though it's none of his business, Oliver can't really see the two of them together. Do you really want me to start judging your love life? she thinks, which sobers him immediately. I feel like I just watched a really filthy porno. It's a little awkward. "All three bounced back ninety-six-six, Felicity."
"Rangers," the Marshal cuts in, "you have the whole hangar to yourselves. Permission granted to take the Arrow out in a trial run. Get used to each other—and the weight of the Jaeger." There's a short pause and a little more emotion enters his voice. "Smoak, this is your first Drift. When you've had enough, let someone know."
"Roger that," she answers. Her brow furrows slightly. "Or is it 'copy'? I always get those confused." A flash of amusement goes through him. "Oliver, stop laughing at me and start moving your ass." Though he chuckles aloud this time, he mentally answers her, Yes, ma'am.
They take a step forward, and he can feel the impact of the Jaeger's foot reverberate through him. They take another, then a third, slowly, but building up speed. Oliver allows Felicity to set the pace, but he's surprised to find her pushing harder and faster than he would.
After three passes down the corridor, he can feel his breathing pick up to match hers. Concerned, he looks over. Perspiration drips from her chin, her mouth turned in a frown. Belatedly, the pilot realizes she's taking her half of both the neural and physical load, overexerting herself in the process. He can feel that headache starting to form at his temples, but his knee is holding out well. Surprisingly, Felicity is taking the neural load exceedingly well.
I can't take the neural abuse well, he confesses to her. A start of surprise flashes through her at the statement, though she already knows the fact. She's surprised he admitted it to her. The physical abuse is hard on you. If you can take more of the neural load, I can handle more of the physical load.
Let's try it, Felicity decides. It takes several steps to shift into their new roles, at which point Oliver discovers his headache is fading and Felicity doesn't look as tired anymore. The comm buzzes to life only seconds later. "Arrow, this is tower control. What the hell did you two do?" Cisco calls, his voice an octave higher than normal. Concerned, the two pilots turn to their respective sets of gauges, but everything is in full working order. "Your alignment readings just jumped off the charts. You're at ninety-seven-two."
Oliver turns back to Felicity so they can share a grin, but when he does, the image that meets him isn't the one he expects. Instead of Felicity, it's Tommy he sees, in a battered set of bulky green armor, chipped and worn by battle. "Damn it, it went through the hull!" he screams. "My arm is shot—I don't think I can handle this. Ollie, you gotta—" Before he can finish the sentence, a set of jaws rips through the remaining part of the hull, snatching him out of the docking station. Though he can't see it, Oliver can feel his panic, his pain, the feel of teeth ripping through flesh. And the screams—
By the time he recognizes it as a figment of his own mind, it's too late. His heart rate is already accelerated, and Felicity's in line with it. The words in his ears are garbled and confused, but then he hears Digg saying, "…out of alignment!"
Shaking his head to try and make sense of it, Oliver assures him, "I'm okay, Marshal. Just let me get back in control."
"It's not you I'm worried about, Queen!" the Marshal yells back. "You both flew out of alignment!" A new edge of panic flicks through him, and Oliver turns back to Felicity. Her eyes are glassy and her expression vacant, clearly locked in her own head. He can no longer feel her, which means she's so far out they're not linked any more. Unnecessarily, Diggle adds, "Queen, you're stabilizing, but Smoak is still way out. I need a sit rep."
"Felicity?" Oliver calls out in a wary voice. When she doesn't respond, he tries again, "Felicity! Felicity, honey, stay with me! I need you here!" It's true in more ways than one; just fifteen minutes solo-piloting could be lights out for him. "Just focus on my voice and stay in the now!" To tower control, he calls in a high voice, "Damn it, she's chasing a RABIT! I had a flashback and it threw her into a memory. She in too deep for me to reach her."
"I'm calling Code Red," the Marshal declares.
The call means to terminate and shut down the Jaeger so both pilots can return to themselves, but Oliver has been in Felicity's mind long enough to know that it won't work. "You can't shut it down from tower control!" he calls in to them. "We're nuclear—analog. We're not under digital control!" His eye twitches a little, and the familiar ache follows. He's already starting to hemorrhage. In a quiet voice, he asks, "Permission to terminate manually?"
It's a drastic measure, one that's made for the rare events where one partner survives the other. It shuts down the Jaeger so that the pilot can take an escape pod out of the bay. Now, however, it would leave Felicity in the Drift by herself for two minutes or so. For a weak pilot, that could be enough to kill. Then again, chasing a RABIT isn't without repercussions, either—if she stays in the memory long enough, the incomplete Drift could cause brain damage.
If he terminates, it could kill her. If he doesn't, it could destroy her.
"Hell no," Diggle responds flatly. "If you undock, you could kill her, Oliver." He makes a sound like a growl in his throat, and Oliver can't help but agree with his frustration. It reminds him of a twisted game of would-you-rather that he and Tommy used to play as kids. Would you rather your Drift partner die, or live as a vegetable for the rest of her life? "We didn't have the time to run tests. We have no idea how she'll respond to a solo-pilot situation. Permission denied, Queen. Get through to her."
"No," he growls, his voice dropping an octave. Something wet drips from his nose, but he doesn't care. She isn't responding to him, and she's still linked to the Jaeger. He's been in Felicity's head now, and he knows how she'd respond to this choice if she was conscious enough to make it. "You can write me up for insubordination later."
Ignoring the protests that follow, Oliver undocks himself from the bay with the emergency release, ripping his helmet off and throwing it without concern for where it lands. Lights and sirens start up immediately, along with a computerized voice that repeats in an annoying monotone, Only one neural signature identified. Please redock right hemisphere. The advice is lost on him, as he runs (as much as he can run in his bulky Drivesuit) to the set of controls at the back of the cockpit. He wrenches open one panel, reaching for the red emergency release button.
The Jaeger goes dark instantly. Drift sequences deactivated. Mechanical systems offline in ten seconds, the AI helpfully informs him this time. Not wasting any time, he runs to the left hemisphere dock, removing the leads for the support system so she won't get tangled in them. "Felicity?" he calls of her, touching her face. Her shoulders are slumped now, eyes closed and breathing deep in unconsciousness.
The dock releases a heartbeat later, and somehow Oliver manages to catch her before she can be injured in a fall. The combined weight of her and the suit, along with his own incoordination, causes him to collapse in a heap on the floor, his legs splayed at an uncomfortable angle. His left leg goes numb below the knee, but all that matters is Felicity is half-sprawled in his lap.
Wrenching her helmet off and throwing it behind him, he pushes strands of hair from her face, slick with perspiration. "Felicity, honey? I need you to wake up," he calls to her gently. He reaches for a pulse, but he can't find one with the bulky gloves. Cradling her against his chest, he removes them to try again. "Felicity? I need you to talk to me right now." His hands are shaking too hard to find a pulse, his worst fears coming to life. Not again—not her. "Felicity, please." His voice breaks on the last word as he cradles her against his shoulder and pulling off one of her gloves. Oliver fumbles with her star of David bracelet, sliding it further up her arm so that he can press his fingers harder against her wrist.
When he feels the faint thrumming against his fingertips, he breathes a sigh of relief. He pulls her even tighter against his shoulder as he cups her face in his free hand. Slowly she starts to stir, and he sighs again in relief. Before her eyes even open, her first words are, "Oliver? Are you okay?" Of course she'd be the one to ask him how he was feeling. Her eyes finally pull open, and she frowns before reaching up to touch his face. "Your nose is bleeding." Understanding overtakes her features, and she gently pulls the bottom lid of his right eye down. Horror comes next. "Oh, God, I chased a RABIT so far down that you had to solo-pilot. I could have killed you."
"I think that makes us even," he admits to her truthfully. When her brow furrows, Oliver explains, "I couldn't snap you out of it, and the Arrow is analog, so I had to undock. You solo-piloted, too." He checks, and, sure enough, there's a tiny, red spot of blood pooling under her right iris. "You took it better than I did, though." He pauses. "It's my fault. I threw you into a memory, and you weren't prepared for it."
To his surprise, Felicity answers, "The first Drift is the worst." She smiles. "Next time, I'll know what to expect."
Playlist:
"Haze" - Eyes Set to Kill
"I Am the Fire" - Halestorm
"Hear Me Now" - Hollywood Undead
"I See the Light" - Mandy Moore & Zachary Levy
"Control" - Halsey
"The Drift" - Blackmill
