Technical Assistance

Chapter 20: Password Removal

Felicity frowns as she waits at Big Belly Burger for him, shaking her knee and drumming a rhythm with her fingers against the table top. She hasn't been this nervous since her freshman year of high school when Damon Wallace, the star lacrosse player of the college team, asked her out. And with how that turned out—a very nasty restraining order—how can she be blamed for being nervous?

Of course, that was a lifetime ago, and she doesn't think Oliver Queen is the kind to stalk her obsessively. She's always a little wary of the Arrow, though, and she has a feeling that's going to be an interesting conversation. But it's also a conversation that causes her stomach to turn, so she ignores it for now, willing herself to focus on the present. Honestly, she shouldn't be so nervous about it.

She looks out the window, thinking of ways to get out of this mess. She could fake an illness, say something came up at work—even that Barry needed her in Central City for a while. But, well, she's always been a horrible liar, and each lie would end much the same way: with Oliver asking her what was so important that she called him up at three a.m. And something tells her that he won't buy, "I had a nightmare and needed to talk to someone," as an excuse.  Especially since she's led him on this impossible wild goose chase.

The moment of truth passes, though, as she meets eyes with Oliver through the window. She waves cheerily before realizing she looks like a total dork, but it brings a dazzlingly brilliant smile to Oliver's face before he waves back. Part of her fills with dread as she realizes how this conversation is going to go, but part of her is glad because now there's no escape from it, and at least she won't have to second guess herself about her decision.

Then her eyes meet Mr. Diggle's, always at Oliver's side, and she shares a glance with him. The two have only met a handful of times, but it changes things now that she knows he's working with the Arrow. Before, he was simply a stoic figure by her friend's side who rarely spoke, but now he's more than that. He's a colleague, a co-worker, a member of whatever cause it is that they're working toward. And she would like him to know that, but there's never a time or place.

Oliver slides into the booth across from her, and something is exchanged in glances between the two men. Then Mr. Diggle breaks into an all-knowing, enigmatic smile to end all enigmatic smiles before shaking his head and taking a seat at the other end of the small diner, at the bar. Oliver flashes her a smile that has probably made at least one girl faint before saying simply, "Hi."

Felicity means to attempt something somewhat smooth, but of course that never works out for her. "I'm sorry," she blurts, clasping her hands and rubbing one thumb with the other on top of the table. "I didn't want to talk about this at work or home, and I'm too nervous to go to your house. Because that place intimidates me on a normal day, and with this level of the jitters, I just can't handle—"

His hand falls over hers, and she doesn't expect it to be so calloused and rough. She doesn't know how she didn't notice that before, and it makes her wonder before deciding it's absolutely none of her business. And then she realizes the more important thing—he reached out to comfort her. Usually it's the other way around, and she likes the idea that she can count on him, too. Because with one glance through her eyelashes at his face, and she knows that's exactly what his expression is trying to communicate with her. "Felicity," he says gently, and how can he possibly say so much with one word? People have been saying her name all her life, but no one says it the way he does.

She takes a deep breath, and something about the soft smile on his face encourages her to keep going with this. Why did she have to be the honest friend who never lets him down? It's suddenly more responsibility than she can bear. "I have something to show you," she admits finally in a whisper. She watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion before deciding it's best if she pulls out the book.