Technical Assistance

Chapter 25: Emergency Drive Repair

Felicity sighs as she unlocks her car remotely, ready for pajamas and a long night of mindless television. She has Oliver's laptop under her arm, and it's something she can work on if she feels like it, though she probably won't. With the tech support logs tonight, the last thing she wants to do is more computer work. In fact, if she never sees a computer again, she thinks it might be too soon.

She slides into the driver's seat easily, starting the car before she even thinks to shut the door. She's so focused on checking her gauges that she doesn't think to check her rearview mirror, and she lets out a scream as she sees movement out of the corner of her eye. It's muted, however, by the hand that clamps over her mouth. She immediately reaches for his hand, trying to move it so that she can bite it and run, but an unnaturally deep voice says, "I'm not going to hurt you, Felicity. It's just me." He releases his hold on her, and she tries to stop her hands from shaking.

She answers with a curse so violent that it makes her blush, covering her mouth as it slips out. It surprises her, though, when he chuckles about it. "What the hell is wrong with you? I don't care if you want to show up at my house like a stalker or at my office, but you just don't hide out in the backseat of a girl's car. That's just a whole new level of creepy that even I can't handle."

"I wouldn't have," he answers quickly, and Felicity realizes for the first time that there's something very wrong with his voice, "but it was urgent." Now she's able to hear his breathing in the quiet, and it's ragged and uneven, as though something is horribly wrong.

She turns in her seat to face him, and her eyes immediately land on the dark shirt that he's holding to his chest. It only takes her a second to notice the red spray underneath it, and ice cold dread claws its way down her spine. "Oh God, you've been shot," she says immediately. She tries to fight that pure feeling of terror, since it's more important to stay objective.

She means to ask him what he needs next, but he cuts her off with a dry, sarcastic, "Thanks for pointing that out. I hadn't noticed."

Her eyes narrow immediately. "Look, I'm going to give you that one because you're injured, but there's no reason for you to get sassy, mister." It earns her another soft laugh, which she figures is a good sign. She turns around, pulling her seatbelt across her shoulder. "So do me a favor and tell me where to go before I tell you where to go."

She feels a little silly for chastising him when he's injured, but he seems to appreciate the sense of humor. "Twenty-Second," he says immediately. "Remember the place you took me at Christmas?" She remembers it clearly; something about highly stressful situations seem to make her memory work overtime. He groans as she pulls out of the parking space. "There's an entrance in the lot behind it—it looks like a piece of corrugated tin lying there. Pull it up, punch in the code two five, four two. Got it?"

"Yeah," she says, and she's very glad her voice isn't shaking. Suddenly the stress feels real as she pulls into the street, and she tries to avoid the traffic lights as she weaves in and out of lanes.

He groans again, and this time it's because he's pulled the cloth away. Felicity pays enough attention via the rearview mirror to see that the wound is spurting blood, not a steady flow like when she gets paper cuts. Her medical skills may be lacking, but even she knows that probably isn't good. "So, um," she tries to ask casually, but her voice is too high, "just exactly how bad is this?"

"It's not good," he answers quickly, and it does nothing for her nerves. "Moira Queen shot me." Felicity goes blank for a moment because there's no way those words can be right. She's met Moira Queen before, and the lady wouldn't harm a fly if you asked her to. "It nicked an artery, and I'm probably going to be unconscious soon." She can hear that for herself in the slur of his voice, as if he's barely holding on.