Title: System Response
Word Count: 3118

Notes: I thought Chapter 18 was a little unresolved in places, so I decided to develop it. This side story takes place between the section break of Chapter 18. So, after meeting Oliver at the hospital, but before confronting Detective Lance. I think it helps to fill in some of the blanks. And also, as a bonus, the first part is entirely Oliver's perspective. :D Which was so fun I can't even begin to describe. ;) Reviews/comments are appreciated, but thank you simply for reading! :)

Also, I know I'm way behind in answering reviews. I'm doing the best I can, but the past 30 days have been insane at work. I write when I'm not so exhausted I can't, and I'm scrambling to finish each chapter on Tuesday. So I thought you guys might want the chapter more than you wanted to hear from me. I promise I'm working through them, but there are currently over 100 reviews/comments sitting in my inbox, along with a fair share of PMs. If you're waiting for me on that, I'm prioritizing those; anything that's urgent, I'll answer, but as for conversation, I'm waiting.

Oliver reaches the locked window, tapping at it a few times to get Felicity to open it for him. He frowns when she doesn't answer because she always answers. She left a message on his Arrow phone a few hours ago, after she drove him home from the hospital, asking for him to meet her. One of the things they've decided upon is that they won't discuss Arrow business over the phone anymore, and so he figures she has a mission for him. It probably relates to Thea and the new Vertigo drug in town, but she could have other problems.

Impatient and not in the mood to wait, he picks the lock—and makes a mental note to tell her to get a better one. Hers is incredibly easy to pick, so maybe she should upgrade to something a little nicer. After all, if he can pick it, so can a criminal, and he doesn't want her to get hurt. (Because he knows if some thief tries to break in while she's here, that Louisville Slugger against her wall probably isn't there because she plays baseball frequently. And he knows she's more likely to hurt herself with that bat than any intruder.)

He isn't surprised to find her asleep in the foyer, her head propped up on an arm as she looks at something in her lap. A notepad lays off to the side, forgotten, and Saphira is at Felicity's feet. Her head perks up when she sees him, and her tail starts wagging.

Saphira jumps up on his leg, expecting a treat of some kind, but he frowns. "Sorry, girl," he says quietly to the little dog. "I'm all out of carrots." He makes a mental note to send Raisa out for more baby carrots so that he has some for the next time. Apparently Saphira has equated him with treats, and, well, it's probably ridiculous, but he hates to disappoint a dog. Saphira, in her own way, is just as interesting as Felicity, and know he understands that saying about dogs being like their owners. He pats her head a few times before, out of curiosity, looking at some of Felicity's things.

The book she has open on her lap is empty, and the one next to it is full of all sorts of scribbled-out thoughts and ideas. He can faintly make out "stop messing around and call Barry" in her precise, legible handwriting, as well as, "something hidden in spine?" off to one side. Each letter is written in the hand of a perfectionist, her capital letters varying greatly from her lowercase, like someone used to writing down codes and keycodes with multiple capital and lowercase letters. Oliver shouldn't be surprised by the neat handwriting, since he's seen it before, but she's so meticulous and exact that it amazes him. That and he marvels at how easily she writes like that; his handwriting is pitiful after five years of using his hands to do things other than write, and he wonders if it will ever be so simple for him again that he can bear to angrily scribble out things the way she has.

The notepad on the side is more precise, with bullet points by each item. The first one has a checkmark by it and reads, "prosecutor: Iris West—call Barry," and the following two, without checkmarks, read in order, "lawyer: Laurel?—call Tommy," and "bargain needs sig. of arresting officer: Det. Lance—maybe use encry. phone as bargaining chip?" Finally it dawns on him that she's making notes on Thea's case—something about a plea bargain, and he's surprised by the sudden burst of fondness for Felicity. She has absolutely no reason to look out for Thea's well-being, but yet she is anything. It's not the first time he thinks that Felicity Smoak is just an inherently good person, but it is the first time the thought is accompanied by a smile.

Feeling slightly ashamed of himself for snooping, he finally says quietly, "Felicity?" He isn't sure how to wake her, but he doesn't want to startle her unless he has to. He has a feeling that shaking her could lead to screaming, and, well, that's the last thing he wants. He goes to extreme measures to avoid scaring her, though they probably aren't necessary all the time. She clearly isn't too terrified, or else she wouldn't be helping him anymore.

She jolts awake, putting a hand over her heart as her eyes go wide. "You have got to stop doing that," she says flatly. "Seriously, one of these days you're going to give me a heart attack, and then where would you be?" she chides. It's amazing to him how quickly her mind is coherent after sleep this time, since the last time she was practically the walking dead. He hopes that she spent more time sleeping tonight than on her specialty projects.

He decides to be honest with her this once; he hates lying constantly, especially to Felicity. "Completely lost," he admits, "and in need of a new IT girl." It's one of the most honest statements he's ever made. For someone who has been in his life for so little time, he's become attached to the fiery blonde.

She colors at that confession, folding the blank book discreetly under the notebook with thoughts and directions. He understands that it must be something private, so he knows better than to pry. After all, Felicity Smoak is a secretive person, which he admits is just part of her charm, and he will not take that from her. And he is willing to admit that its one of his favorite qualities about her.

She seems to have forgotten why he's here, so he prompts her, "You said we have something to discuss." He smiles at the completely blank look that crosses her features before she remembers that she called him.

The light finally dawns across her features. ''Oh, right," she mutters, a frown across her face that makes Oliver mirror the expression instantly. She holds up her notebooks, careful to flash him only the notebook. "Give me a second to put these up before we start in."

He waves a hand easily, and she walks toward her bedroom. He knows she won't appreciate it if she follows him, so he takes a moment to examine the interior of the room. The other night when he was here as Oliver, he noted the movie collection—ridiculously expansive and meticulously organized. A copy of a blue hardback book with a dragon on the cover sits atop her TV, proudly proclaiming itself as Eragon. Next to it, there's a DVD of some kind with an action-packed, bizarre scene on the top, and the title reads "Doctor Who Series 7."

Hands reach in front of him, and he notices again that her fingernails are painted emerald green again. He must have been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear her walk up to him. She picks up the two, and he turns to face her to find her flushing, though he can't understand why. "I'm sorry," she says as she stacks the book on one of her bookshelves and the movie in the cabinet by the TV. "I've been binge-watching. I do that when I get stressed or have a particularly tough challenge. Well, that and I binge-eat my way through a pint of mint chocolate chip." She fixes him with a wary look. "Don't judge—we all have our vices."

"Felicity," he reminds her gently, and he notices for the first time that something has happened to the space between them. The first time they met as Arrow and IT girl in her apartment, there was an entire room between them. Now, though, she's only a few inches from standing on his feet, and he wonders when that change happened. Then he wonders why he cares.

She shakes her head before biting her lip, and, for whatever reason, he can't allow her to do that. He touches her chin before using his thumb to coax her bottom lip from between her teeth. "I need a favor," she says finally, and he wonders why her voice is a little breathy in quality. First he asks himself if it's fear, but then he thinks she wouldn't allow him to stand so close if it was. If not fear, then what?

He drops his hand, because some things just too important to say while he's touching her. "Anything," he promises her, surprised to find that he means it. Before the island, such things were empty promises and hollow flattery, but now they're actually genuine. Then he marvels at how much things have changed.

It must not be the right thing to say because the color on her face deepens. "Thea Queen," she says abruptly, a little too loud, but it causes a smile to play at Oliver's mouth. "She's my friend, and she's in a little trouble. The legal stuff isn't important because I think she needs to learn actions have consequences. It's hard to believe, but I think it's a lesson she never learned." She waves a hand. "I know that sounds a little hypocritical coming from me, but I know that what I'm doing is illegal, and I accept my fate."

The last sentence stops him from arguing with her about Thea. Felicity says she's perfectly willing to go to jail so casually, so easily, as though she's discussing the weather. That sort of calm about a situation that potentially horrible unnerves him. And then it bothers him that she doesn't trust him to keep her safe, but then he realizes that she wouldn't even expect him to save her, as though it's just a happy coincidence that the Arrow shows up whenever she needs him most. Oliver can attest, though, that it isn't; he made that promise to keep her safe, and he needs her to know that she's not just an accomplice, that there is honor among criminals, and he's not going to let her rot in jail for him. No, he'll turn himself in before that happens. Felicity Smoak is just simply too special to be allowed to sit, bored and unchallenged, in a jail cell somewhere.

He starts to tell her that she should depend on him, but she continues on as if nothing has changed, shaking her head. "But that's not important. What's important is that there's a new drug in town, and I think we have enough problems in the Glades right now without adding drugs to the mix. So could you, maybe, help clear them out? It's called Vertigo, and it's pretty nasty." He nods once, and she shrugs. "I'll be glad to help if I can, but I have a side project for QC that needs to be finished yesterday, as well as this thing for Thea." She waves a hand dismissively. "A plea bargain thing. I think that I can keep her out of jail, and, well, working for a living might be good for her."

Oliver can actually agree with this one, and he wonders how he managed to find the best friend anyone could ask for. Here she is, risking a jail sentence so she can use the Arrow to help out Oliver. Again, there's no glory in it for her, no recognition, but she does it anyway because she wants to help. And this time, it's more about Thea than Oliver—which is absolutely ridiculous, seeing as how the two have only met a handful of times.

"I think I can help with that," he says. No, he wouldn't mind stringing some drug dealers up by their ankles at the docks for what happened with Thea. Because someone needs to pay for that, and, well, he can't find it in him to blame his sister for her mistakes. Heads need to roll, men need to learn to fear the Arrow, and whoever is trying to buy the Glades off with drugs needs to learn that it isn't happening in Oliver's city. And having Felicity's blessing to do so doesn't hurt, either.

She starts to turn away, and he finds his hand falling at her shoulder. "I'll keep you safe," he says abruptly, causing her eyes to flick to him in confusion. "If Lance charges you with anything—or if this job endangers you—I'll keep you safe," he clarifies and it's a promise, a confession, and a plea all at once.

She frowns like he's said something perfectly ridiculous. "You can't just say things like that," she says flatly. "You're absolutely ridiculous. You can't just make promises like that. I mean, seriously, what are you going to do if bad guys come after me—camp out on my fire escape for three weeks?"

He frowns because she obviously doesn't understand how devoted he is to the idea of keeping her out of harm's way. "If it comes to that," he says evenly, and she blinks twice, seeming to understand what he doesn't quite understand himself. "I promise, Felicity." He doesn't give her time to answer. He just squeezes her shoulder one last time before running out like the coward he is.

Give him arrows and near-death experiences any day—he'd rather face them than uncomfortable emotional situations.

As soon as the Arrow is safely out of her apartment, Felicity Smoak sinks to her knees on the floor, mentally and physically exhausted. For some reason, encounters with the Arrow are getting more and more mentally taxing for her, and she can't quite understand what's changed. Still, she's too tired and her brain is in too many places at once to deal with all of this chaos. She wonders when her life became such madness, but then she realizes it's when she let Oliver Queen and the Arrow into her life. They're not decisions she regrets, but they are ones she questions from time to time.

But this isn't the time to mope. This is a time for action. She has things to do—things that no one else can do—and they need to be done. The Thea situation is handled for now—she's talked to Iris and Laurel about the legal stuff, and she's contacted the Arrow about getting that drug off the streets. Now all that's left is Detective Lance, and she has a way to deal with that on Monday. And now all that's left is the damned book.

Never before has Felicity had so much rage aimed at an inanimate object. She thinks the book is taunting her with its secrets, and she's beginning to think that maybe it's just a blank book. But she knows better because it was hidden. She's tried every damn thing she can think of, all to no avail. It's starting to bother her that she's being thwarted by a book, and she knows she's not going to get any sleep tonight if she can't get some sort of answer.

Sighing, she lifts herself up off the floor, running over to the cell phone registered in her name. She scrolls to the first contact on the list and taps the button. Barry is going to be royally pissed, but Felicity is too tired to care anymore. She needs sleep, too, and the only way she's going to get it is if she exhausts all options. She can't fail Walter; he's already missing, and the book could be the last thing that ties them all together.

He answers on the third ring, which is pretty impressive, all things considered. "Jesus, Lis," he groans, his voice coated in sleep, "it's two-thirty. Can't you find someone else to answer your calls at this hour? I bet Oliver is up partying right now. And your buddy in the green hood seems to be a night owl."

She frowns. "First of all," she says flatly, her tone starting to sour, "if you ever call me 'Lis' again, I will find a use for that scalpel set your crazy aunt gave you because she thought that your Ph.D. in biochemistry was the same as an M.D." It's a nickname she hopes never catches on. "Secondly, Oliver doesn't really party anymore. Thirdly, I've already talked to the Arrow, but, lastly, I need your help with this."

He instantly sounds more alert. "Anything you need, Sherly," he assures her immediately. "What can I do for you? You know I'm not good with computer stuff, right? That's your area of expertise."

She rolls her eyes. Of course she didn't call him about tech; Barry's a little hopeless on anything past Word and Excel. "No," she admits, "it's a little out of my area of expertise." She hesitates, biting her lip before saying, "Let's say that, hypothetically—"

He groans immediately. "Jesus Christ, Sherly. Please tell me you didn't wake me up at two a.m. so that you could ask me a hypothetical question. I love you, but I could cheerfully kill you right now."

"Bear with me," she snaps, then decides to start over just because she's a bit spiteful. "Let's say that, hypothetically, you were entrusted with a book. Said book was hidden in a notable person's things, but the pages are blank. Judging by the fact they went to so much trouble to hide it, you know it's probably not blank, but has some sort of secrets in the pages. How would you reveal those?"

She can practically hear the cogs turning on the other end of the phone. "Infrared," he decides finally. "Infrared light would reveal most common invisible inks, as would heat. Heat's always a good source, but you'd need something like an actual fire—not just body heat. You might want to try that first, Sherly." There's a cough before he adds, "Hypothetically, of course."

She frowns. "Give me a second," she responds, already halfway to her kitchen. She keeps a lighter in one of the drawers for candles, and she pulls the trigger on it a few times before it lights. Finally, she holds it over the book, holding her breath. Nothing happens, but she gives the lighter another moment, staring at the flickering flames casting shadow on the pages. Slowly, letters start to appear, and then she's able to make out a name—Jason Brodeur.

"Barry, you're a genius and my favorite person in the universe—in all the universes," she declares suddenly. Then she has more important things to think about. "I've got to go, but thank you, Watson." She doesn't even wait for him to respond before hanging up, and then she lets the lighter extinguish before going for her hairdryer.

Because Felicity is apparently going to need a whole lot of heat to decipher this mystery.