AN: Ahh, the writers are doing an epic EPIC job on Arrow. Slow burn for Olicity, enough DC references to keep even the biggest comic aficionado thrilled, and lots and lots of little plot gems. I KNEW the hosen was going to end up being important J This little fic is my effort to keep myself entertained for the next two weeks. Inspired by Nickleback's song "I'd Come for You." I've always been intriqued by the lyrics to this song. "I'd come for you, no one but you. Yes, I'd come for you, but only if you told me to." So, this will start off during 2x07, State V. Queen, and go on its own tangent. Hopefully it will get us through the next 2 weeks. J Enjoy. The lyrics to the song and the characters aren't mine. Boo.
Chapter 1: Taken
Oliver leaned against the railing of the courthouse rotunda. He was tired of waiting. He knew that waiting for his mother's verdict could take hours, or even days, and the thought made him feel like a caged beast. Being idle was difficult since he had returned from the island. He spoke with Thea, to fill the time, but was secretly glad when his cell phone rang. Pulling it out and seeing Felicity's name, he felt a bit of relief. At least with her, he didn't need to pretend. Making an apology to Thea, he pulled out his phone.
"Felicity," he said, waiting for her to tell him her latest discovery.
"Oliver," said a voice who was decidedly not Felicity. He froze on the spot as the gravelly voice sank into his bones. A voice with just an edge of crazy. A voice he knew. "Is it okay if I call you Oliver? Surprised to hear from me, right? Not as surprised as I was."
The Count. The Count had Felicity's phone. Which meant the Count had Felicity. Oliver listened to the lunatic, wishing he would get to the point so that he could get into action.
"You see, I find this not unattractive blonde getting all up in my business." Oliver heard the Count take a few steps and then he can hear Felicity crying. " And what does she have on her? A Queen Consolidated ID badge. . . " Oliver could hardly hear anything beyond Felicity's terrified whimpers, closing his eyes against the pain of her terror. Finally the Count ended his tyrade with a flourish, revealing that he knows that Oliver is Arrow, and disconnects the call.
Without thought, Oliver stormed toward the stairs. He had to get to Felicity.
"Where are you going?" Thea's voice broke through the haze of red in his brain. He marched back toward her, searching his mind of an adequate excuse. He could find none.
"Something's come up at the office," he said lamely, immediately turning back toward the stairs. There was no time to debate this.
Thea called after him, but he couldn't worry about that. "I have to go," he called, then took the stairs two at a time.
As he rushed toward his motorcycle, he called Diggle. "How did this happen?" He demanded.
He heard silence on the other end for a moment. "How did what happen, Oliver?"
"You need to track Felicity's phone. The Count has her."
He heard a muttered expletive as Diggle took in what he said. "She went to go check out a lead."
Oliver growled. "WHY on earth would she do that, Digg? Why would you let her?"
More silence. "I shouldn't have. Oliver . . . "
Oliver cut him off, furious with Diggle and with himself for letting her get in harm's way. "Her cell, Diggle."
He heard Diggle typing on the keys. "Queen Consolidated."
Oliver hung up and gunned the motor cycle.
Fifteen minutes later he had arrived outside his own office. It only made sense that this was where the Count would take her. He had spent the entire ride here trying NOT to think of all of the things that could have happened to her in those fifteen minutes. As he strode toward his office, he tried to clear his mind and focus on the job at hand. He would see that she was safe. There was no other alternative.
He saw her then, in his office. She was tied to a chair and looked absolutely terrified. But she met his eyes, letting him know that she was okay. Then she cringed, and he realized the Count was stroking her hair. Something he himself had felt the urge to do, but resisted. That the Count was doing it made him see red again, but he measured his stride and approached the door slowly, assessing the situation.
The Count was hiding himself behind Felicity. Oliver knew immediately that he wouldn't be able to get off a clear shot. The Count began talking. Oliver only half listened, continuing to take things in. Felicity was shaking like a leaf, but continued to hold his gaze without making a sound.
And then the Count grasped Felicity's shoulders, making her jump. "You poisoned me and put me in a hole. You have no idea how much I hated you for that. Turns out, someone else hates you too."
"Who?" he ground out.
More soliloquy from the Count. And then FINALLY, it was time for action. The Count drew a gun and fired. Oliver dived behind the sofa, feeling a sting on his left arm. Nothing major, he had probably been grazed by a bullet. "You're going to have try harder," he taunted.
The Count fired again, then reached down to cut Felicity's bonds. NO, Oliver thought. He grabbed her by her hair and pushed her toward the windows, keeping her between himself and Oliver. The Count moved toward the sofa Oliver had hid behind, not realizing that Oliver was already up and circling around toward the door. By the time the Count realized he wasn't there, Oliver had an arrow nocked and pointed at his heart.
"So now we move on to Plan B," the Count growled, pulling out a double syringe and holding it to Felicity's throat.
"Oliver, don't!" Felicity cried. "Not for me."
It occurred to him that this was a stupid thing for her to say. He would do anything for her, did she not know that? Then the Count was talking again, telling Felicity to be quiet and demanding that Oliver lower his bow. Try as he might, he could see no other option. He knew from experience that the Count liked to keep pure Vertigo in the syringes like the one in his hand. He had felt the effects of it first hand, and it hadn't even been a full dose. Felicity was smaller, and he was certain that she would die before he could help her.
Even as he dropped his arrow to the ground, he had a feeling that it wasn't going to matter. The Count was not moving to jab that needle in her neck, and he would lose her. He had stayed away from her to protect her, and he was going to lose her anyway. Still he had to try. Could you reason with a mad man? "Your problem is with me," Oliver ground out. "It's not with her."
As he said it, the Count turned his head and nuzzled Felicity, eyes on Oliver to see his reaction. Oliver's muscles coiled, knowing that if he had a chance, it was coming in the very, very near future. "Well then, consider this your penalty for making me go to Plan B in the first place," the Count said calmly, swinging his hand back so that he could jam the syringe in Felicty's neck.
Woosh, woosh, woosh. In quick succession, Oliver shot three arrows into the Count. It was enough, much to Oliver's relief. The syringe fell to the side of the Count, and he stumbled backward toward the glass windows. For one horrible, indescribable moment, Oliver thought the Count would tighten his grip on Felicity and take her back with him, but the force of the arrows entering him was enough to push him back and away from her. As he fell through the window, Oliver exhaled in relief.
He closed his eyes and took a moment to calm down. To process, so that he wouldn't do anything rash. She was safe. The Count was dead. Felicity lay on the floor, where she had fallen next to the table, but she was safe.
He knelt down next to her. At his touch, she jumped a bit. "Hey," he whispered to her. "Hey, shh, it's okay. You're safe." He touched her shoulder gently, and felt her grasp his wrist.
She met his eyes, and their gazes held. He felt another rush of relief as it sunk it that she truly wasn't hurt, just scared. Her eyes drifted to Oliver's arm, seeing the tear in his jacket and the blood oozing from it. "You're shot!"
"Hey, it's nothing," he said, moving his hand to her cheek. Her hand covered his, and again their gazes locked. He felt as if they had an entire conversation in that moment. Words that couldn't be said, because they couldn't be felt, in order to keep her safe.
Except, she hadn't been safe. She was now, but only thanks to a combination of luck and skill. He thought again of all that could have happened in the time it had taken him to get there, and he had to stand before he did something incredibly stupid like pull her into his arms. He walked to the window, making sure that the Count was, in fact, dead. He saw his body, and heard Tommy's voice. Murderer. Surely Tommy would forgive him this one . . . it had been a choice between killing the Count or losing Felicity, and there had really been no choice to make.
Police cars were already arriving on scene. He turned back to Felicity, who had stood up and looked as if she was trying to compose herself. "We have to go," he said apologetically.