(A/N: I've been wanting to do this scene for a while. In honor of Helena's reappearance last night.)
Do You Hear Yourself? –missing scene 1x17
"Hi. I don't think we had the chance to be properly introduced this morning."
Felicity lowered the receiver of her desk phone and looked up. The crossbow she'd just told Oliver's voice-mail about was now leveled at her heart, wielded by Helena Bertinelli in her whole Huntress getup. It seemed a little silly since everyone—well, she and Oliver and Dig—knew who she was, but I.T. had security cameras just like every other department at Queen Consolidated.
"What do you want?" Felicity asked slowly, trying to keep the nervous tremor in her voice to a minimum.
"I think you know," said the crazy masked woman. "You seemed pretty enthusiastic about this morning, before Oliver shut you down. Very rude of him, by the way."
"You want me to hack the FBI?" Felicity carefully set the receiver on her desk without actually hanging up the phone. Hopefully it would pick up their conversation until Oliver's voice-mail cut off. At least he would know where she was and what was going on with Helena.
"I need an address for where Daddy dearest is being held," said Helena. "Get to work."
Felicity sat down and turned toward her computer. Helena tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and came around the desk so she could see what Felicity was doing.
Helena spotted the phone off its hook. "Naughty, naughty," she chided, replacing the receiver on the base.
Felicity really didn't like the idea of using her work computer to commit a federal crime, but with Helena's crossbow still aimed at her heart, she didn't have much of a choice. She'd spent a lot of time thinking about how she'd go about sneaking into the FBI's secure database, so actually implementing the steps was quick work. She mumbled something that had Helena leaning in a little closer.
"What was that, blondie?"
"I like your coat," Felicity said. "I have a purple coat too. But it's wool, not leather. A wool blend, actually. Real wool is so itchy."
Helena laughed. Maybe it was just her active imagination, but Felicity thought she could just about smell the crazy coming off the leather-clad woman.
"Oh my God, you are precious," said Helena. "Where on Earth did he find you?"
"Here," Felicity replied.
"How did a nice girl like you get sucked into Oliver Queen's toxic orbit?" Helena asked.
"There was absolutely no sucking involved," said Felicity. "And you're assuming I'm a nice girl. I am committing a felony right now."
"Because I'm aiming a crossbow at you. I'm sure the crimes you commit for Oliver are done with the purest of motives."
Felicity did not like the familiar way Oliver's name rolled off the other woman's tongue. It was intimate in a way it shouldn't have been, and it made Felicity want to spin in her chair and throw a punch.
"I don't doubt you have some skill, but you're a nice girl through and through," Helena declared. "You have panda faces on your shoes."
Felicity glanced down at her feet. She'd added the whimsical shoes to her blah work outfit for a desperately needed bit of fun and color. Helena's tone implied that her choice was naïve and childish.
"Got an address yet?"
Felicity pointed at the monitor. Helena loomed over her shoulder, her warm, crazy, slightly minty breath tickling Felicity's ear.
"Great!" Helena said brightly, straightening up. "Well done." She grasped the back of the chair and spun it around until Felicity was facing her. "Stand up."
"Are you going to kill me?" Felicity asked, staring at the crossbow.
Helena yanked her to her feet. "No, I don't think so. I like the idea of Oliver knowing that no one around him is safe, even his pet I.T. girl."
Felicity raised her hand without even thinking what she'd do with it, but Helena caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back in a simple one-handed move.
"Easy there, killer," she said. "If you become a problem, I won't hesitate to bury one of these little arrows in your chest." Felicity stopped struggling. "I'd say your heart, but it's obvious you've already lost it to Oliver."
"You're wrong," Felicity said through clenched teeth as Helena bound her hands behind her back.
Helena laughed again, just a little too loud, just a little off balance. "Do you hear yourself? You can't even say those two words with conviction." Helena pulled on the bonds, testing them, and then turned Felicity to face her again. "I know Oliver, and I know what draws him to people. Your innocence and trust. He can shape your vision of him to suit his own needs. And you're just a cute little computer nerd, basking in the attention from a charming billionaire."
"You're wrong," Felicity said again, her voice stronger and more sure this time.
Helena laughed. She raised her crossbow so that it was pointed at the ceiling and then gave Felicity a shove. Caught off-guard, Felicity went down with no way to break her fall.
"Tell him I said hi." Helena's high-heeled boots made little pock-pock sounds as she walked around Felicity's desk and out of the department.
"Well, that was fun," Felicity mumbled into the carpet. She'd hit her head on the chair or something, and her glasses had come off. Should she scream for help? No, she was alone in the office, and if anyone did come, they'd see the FBI's database still up on her monitor.
Dig was right. Helena Bertinelli was totally psycho. Felicity had no doubt that the woman would have killed her if it suited her purposes. It was a sobering portrait of what Oliver might have become—or could still become—without Diggle and Felicity keeping him grounded.
She squirmed, trying to sit up, but she was a little dizzy from hitting her head. And without her glasses, all the office furniture was just a series of blurry, dark shapes. Maybe in a minute, when her head stopped spinning, she could try to get up and reach the phone.
Hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway. Her heart—which did not belong to Oliver, no matter what Helena said—leapt into her throat.
"Felicity!"
It was just one word, her name, but every time it fell from his lips, it meant something different. This time she heard his fear, guilt, and anger all wrapped up in the four syllables she knew best.
"Oliver . . . Oliver!" Relief weakened her voice, turned it soft where she'd meant to sound forceful, or at least uninjured. She wiggled her feet, hoping he'd see her shoes and come around the desk.
"I'm here."
In a heartbeat, he was on his knees next to her, cutting through the bonds that held her hands together. As he helped her sit up, his hand grazed her cheek and stayed there for just a moment, but it was enough to stop her breath.
"Are you okay?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
Felicity could only nod. She didn't trust herself to speak. Oliver's touches were complicated. Her first instinct was to purr, and her second instinct was to jump on him. Fortunately, she was pretty good at shoving those instincts into the same corner of her mind where she kept her daddy issues and the way Oliver's head-tilt and half-smile made her skin tingle.
Dig burst in then, gun drawn. Oliver flinched and pushed Felicity behind him before he realized who it was. The action made her knees go weak, and she had to grip the edge of her desk for support. He would have taken a bullet for her just now.
"I got your call," Dig said to Oliver. "What happened?"
"Helena."
"She found the address to the safe house where her father's being kept," Felicity put in. "She made me hack the FBI database. I'm sorry, Oliver."
"Hey." He gave her arm a squeeze, and she squeezed back. "It's not your fault." Then he walked out of her reach.
"Oliver, what are you going to do?" Diggle asked.
"What I should have done in the first place," Oliver replied. He crossed the room in two strides and disappeared down the hallway.
"Is he going to—" Felicity mimed drawing back the string on an imaginary bow.
Dig shrugged, which wasn't really an answer.
"So now that I've officially met her, I'm going to go out on a limb and say there's something wrong with that woman," Felicity said.
"Oh, she's crazier than a monkey on crack," Dig said. He handed Felicity her glasses. "Anything she might have said to you . . . You know better than to believe it, right?"
Felicity nodded, settling her glasses back on her face. "It was obvious when the crazy was talking," she began. "Everything she said about Oliver was wrong. She sees him through a lens that is completely unbalanced." She picked up the zip ties Oliver had sliced through and tossed them in the trash.
"Everything she said about Oliver . . . what else did she say?" Dig asked.
"Her opinion of me was creepily insightful," Felicity replied, rubbing her reddened wrists.
"Creepily." Dig snorted.
"Shut up, it's totally a word." Felicity jabbed his arm. "She called me his pet," she confessed. "And she said some other things that . . . Well, it's stuff I try not to think about, usually."
"Don't take stock in any of it," said Dig. "You are nobody's pet. You're a valued part of this team."
"I'm not—" She bit her lower lip. "I'm not just a nice girl who got sucked into Oliver's toxic orbit?"
"Oh, come on," Diggle said, taking her arm and leading her toward the door. "If you really thought that was true, would you be here? Would I?"
Felicity shook her head. "No. I'm not an idiot."
"Most definitely not. She rattled you, but she was talking from way on the other side of normal. You can't take anything she said to heart."
"Dig, you're the best," said Felicity, perking up a little.
"Yes, I am," he replied. "And you can take that to heart."
They headed out to the hallway but had barely taken a step out before Felicity remembered something.
"Oh!" she cried.
"What?" asked Dig.
"It might be a good idea for me to back out of the FBI database and cover my tracks."
"Might be," Dig said with a chuckle.