I'd Rather Die

Nerves of steel. He'd thought it of her more than once. Felicity was calm and collected when it mattered. So when Roy had called to say he'd found her cowering in the alley behind Verdant, Oliver didn't know what to think. Could Roy have mistaken someone else for Felicity? No. The kid was an idiot sometimes, but he wasn't that dumb.

Oliver had been on his way to the mansion to catch a few hours' sleep in an actual bed while he knew his mother would be out. But when Roy called, he had Diggle turn the car around. On hearing Felicity's name, Diggle had floored it. He'd driven the car into the alley, and they both got out.

She was cowering, just as Roy said, next to the Dumpster. She was still in her work clothes, but they were muddy and wet.

"Felicity," he said.

She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head.

Diggle looked over at Roy, who stood a good fifteen feet away. "What happened, man?"

Roy shrugged. "I came out with some trash, and she was on the ground over there." He vaguely indicated an area behind them. "She was sitting up, but she looked hurt. I said I'd call 911, and then she totally flipped. She jumped up and hid by the Dumpster, and when I came toward her, she said if I called 911, she'd start screaming and she wouldn't stop."

"So you didn't do anything," Oliver said, jaw clenched.

"Hey, man, I called you," Roy said. "I have a record. If cops or EMTs showed up and found an injured woman who screamed whenever I went near her . . ."

"You did the right thing," said Dig.

Roy ducked his head and went back into the building.

"I'll get the first-aid kit out of the car." Diggle got up, leaving Oliver alone with Felicity as terrified as he'd ever seen her.

He reached out his hand, but she drew her legs up. One of her shoes had a broken heel, and a red mark on her knee was already darkening into a bruise. He was ready to put an arrow in someone.

"Tell me what happened." He couldn't keep the growl out of his voice, but it wasn't aimed at her.

Felicity shook her head violently, then winced. "I know what you're thinking, but it's not going to happen," he said. "I'd rather die."

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"You're thinking you want me to go to the hospital, but I won't. I'll scream and scream like I told Roy—" Her eyes narrowed. "Actually, you look like you want to put an arrow in somebody."

"I was thinking about it," he said, fingers flexing.

Felicity frowned. "There's no one to—oh, Oliver, no one did this to me! I did it myself."

"You wouldn't lie." It wasn't a question.

"I would never. Not with you." She was the one to bridge the gap between them, laying her hand on his clenched fist. "Besides, you know I'm a terrible liar."

Oliver opened his fist and took her hand in his. "Then tell me what happened, and then we'll talk about this 'I'd rather die' business."

She sighed, staring down at their intertwined fingers. "It was stupid. I'd gotten a ping off that search I left running, so I really wanted to get downstairs, and I was hurrying across that patch of ice that probably won't melt until June because it's always in the shade. And I slipped, and my stupid heel broke, and I fell really hard. I think I bounced, Oliver."

Dig returned with the first-aid kit but wisely kept his distance.

"Why didn't you let Roy help you?" Oliver asked.

"Because he didn't want to help me. He wanted to call 911. I barely stopped him in time."

"What's wrong with 911?" asked Dig.

"911 means hospitals and doctors and the E.R.," Felicity said. She'd begun to shiver. "It means nurses cutting off my clothes and changing me into a hospital gown. It means being naked. In front of strangers. Without my permission."

Oliver had no idea what to say to that. He'd have laughed, but the fear in her eyes was absolutely sincere. He stared down at their clasped hands too and waited for her to continue.

"It's a full-blown phobia," she explained, pushing up her glasses. "I broke my leg when I was seven, and when they cut my pants off, I totally freaked out. I had to be sedated."

"Felicity—"

"No hospital," she said. "I'm up and talking. I'm fine. Just help me up, and I'll be fine."

He reached out his other hand.

"I mean it," Felicity said. "I will scream."

"No hospital," Oliver said. "I promise." With both her hands in his, he drew her up with him.

"Oh, my head." She let go of his hand and touched the back of her head. Her fingers came away bloody. "Oh."

Her knees buckled, and in one swift move he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the car.

"You promised," she mumbled into his neck. "And you don't break your promises."

"Not ever," he whispered. "Not to you."