"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Felicity berates herself when she stumbles into her storage box. Her head's light from the blood loss and the makeshift bandage she'd made from her shirt is soaked through.
The ride, on Oliver's bike she stole, had been horrible. Between the frequent and agonizing bursts of pain and the faint-headedness from the blood loss it had been a miracle she'd got to her safe-haven without any more incidents.
She slams the door shut and sinks down against it.
"Stupid! So stupid!"
Her head falls back with a thunk and she's not sure the stars she sees are from the pain in her shoulder or from the fresh bump on her head. Not that it matters much. If she doesn't get up now, she'll pass out and slowly bleed to death.
The wound itself isn't that bad, she's sure there's no nicked artery, because she would have been dead by now if there had been. The trouble is going to be getting the slug out of her shoulder without doing more damage than it did going in. Luckily, it's in her left shoulder, so she doesn't have to deal with the awkwardness of doing medical procedures with a hand she's not quite used to using. At least not in this way.
She crawls towards her medical workstation. She's got pretty much everything on hand. She's been donating blood to herself since she started going out dressed in leather and swinging a bo staff, so she's got plenty of that. The other medical supplies she acquired via dummy corporations in the name of a few of the shadier doctors and surgeons around Boston, Gotham and Starling.
She'd been careful and meticulous in setting up this storage unit. The medical supplies are one example of that. Her workstation, with a direct uplink to the internet through QC's satellite is state of the art, like it would be for any self-respecting IT wizz. She installed a portable shower and a dressing room. There's even a washing machine. It's not like she can go out and wash her costume in public. Or god forbid, at Oliver's.
Felicity reaches her medical supplies and pulls herself up and onto the chair. Pulling out the stuff she needs without jostling her shoulder to much proves a challenge, but she bites through the pain. She's moving on auto-pilot now, her mind going back to the moment she realized Oliver would be the recipient of the bullet now lodged in her shoulder. Except, with him, it wouldn't have been his shoulder.
There's no doubt in her mind that the shot would have killed Oliver, probably instantly, if the shooter was a good shot. She'd frozen when she spotted the shooter though. Because she'd seen a ghost. An actual, literal ghost. The man who shot her, was supposed to be dead. No, scratch that. He was dead. She'd seen the body, when she was called in to identify his body at the morgue when she was 20. He'd been older, grey hair and more wrinkles, but it had most definitely been her dad.
He'd left her mother and herself to fend for themselves when she'd been just 7, but a mind like Felicity's never forgets anything, let alone the face of the man who was responsible for half her genes. She'd never admit it to her mother, but Noah Kutler probably gave her the things she values most about herself. Her brain and her love for everything tech-y. She's got her looks from her mother, and while that may be more important do Donna herself, Felicity would choose her intelligence above her high cheek-bones any day of the week.
She hadn't seen her father in 13 years when she was called into the morgue, but it had been him. She'd ID-d him and she'd been by his simple government-issued grave a few times. Because, while she resented him for what he did to her mother and her at such a young and impressionable age, she had been her father and she'd felt like she owed him at least that.
But now… He'd been there, working with Helix, blabbing about his bottom line. So, could it be that Noah Kutler, her father and a brilliant mathematician and computer-programmer was the leader of an organization that allowed young girls and women to be taken from their homes and sold like meat? That sold drugs so addictive there was little chance of kicking the habit before you OD-d? That dealt in guns so dangerous they could rip through body-armor like it was tissue-paper?
She let her thoughts go for a moment, when she pulled out the bullet. Luckily, it didn't splinter on her shoulder-blade, or it would have been a more serious endeavor to get it out. It fell into the kidney-shaped aluminum dish with a satisfying thunk.
She'd gotten off easy. A .99mm caliber bullet, while of course still deadly, mostly hits its target and stops, while a .45mm could have easily gone straight through Felicity's shoulder and into Oliver, which would have made Felicity's not-think-just-do act of heroism pointless and foolish. Or he could have shot her with a .22mm, which is smaller, but usually splinters on impact, so it would cause more internal harm. She'd take a cracked shoulder-blade and a hole in her arm over Oliver dying any day of the week. Hands down.
Sewing up a wound with only one hand is tricky, and isn't be as neat as it could be. But she doesn't really have the energy, or the time, to date, so she doubts anybody will see the wound while it's still fresh.
Felicity changes out of her clothes and into normal jeans and a shirt, it's a slow process with one of her arms incapacitated but she makes it work.
She just needs to get home before Oliver does, so he doesn't question where she's been at this time of night, but most of all, she needs answers. About Helix, Pavel and more importantly, her father.
When she walks into the loft, the lights are blessedly out, and she moves towards her room without hesitating. She needs to get to work, needs to make sense of everything that happened that night. Sleep isn't going to be for her, she knows that already, so she digs right in.
When she hasn't found anything by 6 o'clock, she's tempted to just call in sick to work, but because she actually lives with her boss, she probably won't get away with it. Even though he likes to pretend he is, he actually isn't that stupid and he'd see right through her lie.
To top that off, she's got some serious bruising going on all over the left side of her body, not to mention the bullet wound, from the fight with at the warehouse, so her mobility is limited and Oliver will most definitely notice that. She needs a good excuse to explain to Oliver why she's sore and blue. Which won't be easy.
"Goodmorning Oliver." She says as she walks down the stairs. He's in a blue suit, sans tie, with a dark shirt. The sight slightly overwhelms Felicity, and she has to tell herself to keep her breathing normal. He's a gorgeous man, all broad shoulders and coiled muscle. She felt that when they'd been fighting all those weeks ago. When he's Oliver Queen, he's all tightly kept control and rigid stance, but when he's the Arrow, all that power comes loose and he's like a jungle cat. Elegant lunges and strong limbs. Felicity isn't quite sure which part of him she likes more, Oliver Queen or the Arrow, but she's pretty sure she's falling in love with both of them.
It takes him a second to lift his eyes from the headline on the paper, but when he sees her, he drops his coffee and rushes to her side. "What the hell Felicity. Did you go 10 rounds with the Hulk?" The worry oozes from him in waves and his eyebrows crinkle in concentration as he gently turns her face.
"Who the hell did this to you?" His voice is so low and dangerous, it reminds Felicity of the Arrow. Oliver obviously doesn't actually need the voice-modulator.
She pushes him away gently. "Nobody did this to me Oliver. I'm just a massive klutz and I did a tumble down the stairs yesterday. It's nothing, really. Just a bit sore and blue. It'll go away soon." She mentally crosses her fingers, but his expression grows into suspicion, before it smooths into worry again. She puts her hand on his arm, "I really am fine, Oliver. Just some bruises, no real harm done." The lie comes out smooth, but then again, she's been lying to everybody over the past 5 years, so it's sometimes more natural than the truth.
He steps away from her. "You shouldn't go to work today. In fact, you shouldn't come in this week. You can work from home, but I'd rather you just rest and heal. The work on the new security system is happening over the weekend, and Dig will be there to make sure everything goes smoothly. Your new team won't start until the first of May and the meeting with the DOD for the new comm-system isn't until the 5th. Take it easy."
She's wavering between arguing with him, her sense of pride and accomplishment fighting to get the upper hand over her need for answers and revenge on Helix. But in the end her anger wins out. She deflates and nods her assent. "You're right Oliver. I shouldn't go into the office like this. I'm gonna take some painkillers and rest. If there's a problem, you can still call me, and I'll see how I'm feeling tomorrow to decide if I'm coming in the office or not."
There's surprise on his face, like he actually didn't expect her to give in so readily, but there's also relief and something else she can't or won't really identify right that minute. He picks up his briefcase and moves towards the door.
"Take it easy, Felicity. If there's anything, anything at all, just call me or Dig and we'll be here, okay?" His eyes bore into hers and she can only nod, her voice to cracked with guilt for lying to him, and the intensity of his stare to loaded for her to deal with at that moment.
When he's gone she puts on a new pot of coffee and brings her computer down to the kitchen. She'd been diving into the dark-web all night long without any progress, but she wasn't out for the count yet. She still had some aces up her sleeve.
It's not until a few hours later, she finally finds something she can use. Just a small breadcrumb, left unknowingly, probably by one of Helix' newbie hackers. She follows it back, through layer after layer, deeper into the web that is Helix' servers.
It should have caught her attention straight away, but her painkiller had been waring off and fatigue had set in. But when she finally notices the slight lag in her system, it's probably already too late. She flips over her computer and rips out the battery, effectively killing it instantly.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she screams to herself. That's the second moronic thing she's done in the same amount of days. First, she freezes during a fight, with life-threatening consequences and now she probably brought a Helix-hacker back into her home. Oliver's home.
Oh my god, what have I done. She picks up her tablet and runs every diagnostic she can on the network, this time making sure she's secure every step of the way. Only when she can't find anything, when she's completely sure she turned off her computer in time, she allows herself to relax.
The pain is killing her, and the complete lack of sleep is making black spots dance in front of her eyes. She takes two painkillers and settles on the sofa, thinking to take a quick nap before Oliver gets home.
Oliver opens the front door quietly, mindful of Felicity. He moves deeper into the loft and drops his briefcase and his jacket on the kitchen-island. Everything is quiet in the loft, shadows falling over everything in the twilight. He can see Felicity's feet, propped up on the armrest of the sofa and moves towards her. She's sleeping, her body curled up on her right side, right hand tucked under her head. He's torn between letting her sleep on the sofa, which is crazy comfortable, but not really practical when you're hurt, he knows this from experience, and picking her up to carry her to bed. He's worried she might wake up if he moves her, but decides she'll probably be better off in her bed.
He picks her up, one arm under her knees and the other at her back, and freezes. There's a bloodstain on her shirt, right over her left shoulder…