Technical Assistance

Chapter 35: Non-Resident Viral Infection

Pacing is not a good way to spend her time, Felicity decides, but it's the only one she can seem to manage. She has too much pent-up nervous energy for anything else, and, if it was still daylight, she might consider going for a run just to work it off—even take Saphira along. But it's pitch black outside, and she'd probably just run herself ragged to pace when she returned anyway. This energy has nothing to do with a desire to be active, she knows; it has to do with Oliver—with the fact that Oliver and Helena are out committing federal crimes.

And Felicity has absolutely no freaking clue how it's going because he kicked her out.

She understands it was for her own good, to minimize her role as a target, but everyone in that room knew that if Helena wanted to use her as leverage, she would have. Instead, Felicity gathered from Tommy that Helena had chosen to target Oliver's best friend, a far less elusive target. Apparently it hadn't taken much convincing on Oliver's part—understandably, Felicity knows—but it does make her wonder how much faster he would have caved if Helena had her instead of Tommy.

Pushing the thought out of her mind, she pulls out her cell phone, thinking about calling him. She sighs because she knows she won't; she doesn't want to distract him from whatever the hell mission Helena has him on. Still, knowing nothing about the situation only puts her nerves on high alert and she frowns as she tries to figure out what to do next. There are no good options, and she doesn’t think pacing the floor is still a valid option at this point.

She turns on her heel to walk back toward her bedroom, and she lets out a shrill yelp when she bumps into something hard. A steadying, gloved hand on her upper arm lets her know immediately who it is. “I really wish you’d at least try to make a little noise,” Felicity says to him, a frustrated edge in her tone. When she looks up, he’s already pulled the hood back, his mask hanging around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says flatly, then tacks on, “about earlier.” He sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. “Bringing attention to your skills only made you a bigger target to Helena, and I wanted you away from her.”

She takes his hand, not quite ready to forgive him, but understanding nonetheless. “I understand,” she states firmly. “But that doesn’t matter right now.” She pulls him over toward the couch, and she sits down next to him, leg brushing hers. Saphira, who has been asleep on her bed in the corner, wakes with a jolt and jumps up on the sofa, lying down across both of them. “What happened tonight?”

He frowns, and another hand over his face tells her that the story won’t end well. “I need your help,” he admits finally. “Helena was compromised—both vans were empty and it was a trap set for her.” He shakes his head. “By the time I got there, she was already in handcuffs. The police have her now. I don’t want to break her out, but if I don’t—”

Felicity already knows the end of this story. “She’ll give you up so that you’ll both go down together,” she finishes, and he nods once. She’s had a lot of time to think about the possibility of things like this while pacing the house, so she already knows what she’s going to say: “What do you need me to do?” He seems surprised by her reaction, and she rolls her eyes. “Please, Oliver. I’d feel safer with her in jail, it’s true, but never at the expense of you going down with her.” She crosses her arms before stating, “Tell me what you need me to do.”

Oliver smiles as he takes a deep breath, acting as though the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders. Part of her is insulted that he feels he needs to ask, but she thinks that he might be used to trading favors for favors; it’s probably a foreign concept to him that she’ll help him and expect nothing in return. “The SCPD is probably taking her in for questioning right now. I have a plan to extract her, but I’ll need you to scrub any video surveillance.”