Lies

Truth

"Careful," Oliver said into your ear as you sloppily drove his motorcycle through the street, dodging and weaving past cars, ignoring their annoyed honks. You've never driven a motorcycle, so the first time you got onto it, you weren't able to stay in a straight line. Oliver offered to drive, but you denied his request because of his injury.

"Easy for you to say," you snapped. "Why are we even going to your father's steel factory? We should be going to a hospital." The intersection up ahead was your final decision, despite Oliver's constant whispering in your ear, you had a decision to make, and you had to make it quickly. The left took you to where Oliver wanted to go, the right took you to the hospital, the destination you think is more appropriate.

"Y/N, please." Oliver's whisper was getting tinier within the passing seconds and, taking a deep breath and shaking your head, you crossed into the next lane and took a left, ignoring the constant horns behind you for cutting them off.

You could feel Oliver's grip loosening from around your waist, his head resting on you upper back as he was preparing to lose consciousness, but you weren't going to allow that to happen. "Wake up, Oliver," you said, taking the risk of removing one of your hands from the handles and patting his leg hard. "I am not going to go to your father's steel factory for nothing."

He laughed as you placed your hand back onto the handlebar before you could lose control. "When you get there, there's a door hidden in the back." His voice sounded tired, as if he hadn't slept in days. "It has to take a keycode, the code's the day we went on our first date."

‾‾‾‾‾

You walked down the stairs quickly, the blood from Oliver's wound all over you - especially since he was leaning against you on the ride over here - and you were terrified for his life. Too terrified to concentrate on what you were walking into.

"Hello?" Your voice broke as you took in Diggle - the man you know as Oliver's bodyguard - and Felicity - a woman you vaguely know as Oliver's assistant. A gun raised in your direction in Diggle's hand, shocked expressions on both their faces. "Uh... I need help and... I can't carry him and... He's injured." As Diggle and Felicity raced past you - Felicity's heels clacking against the concrete - you leaned against a nearby table, resting your hands on your knees, and took in shallow breaths.

Then you sat up straight and took in your surroundings. When you did, you found yourself holding your breath.

Arrow's costume sat in a display case along with the bow and rows of arrows. A few computer monitors sat on a table on the other side of the room with a single keyboard and mouse. The table you were sitting on was where the arrows were made, and the table next to it was holding an old box, a box you didn't have time to open.

Felicity raced down the stairs, Diggle not too far behind carrying an unconscious Oliver. They worked quick, as if they've done this before, Diggle mixing a cup of herbs and water into a small cup and forcing the liquid down Oliver's throat. Felicity began patching him up after cutting his shirt, using a needle and what looked like floss but obviously wasn't to stitch up the hole on both sides - the bullet went clean through.

When they were done, the wound covered in white gauze, they looked at you, a smile on both their faces, but you knew it wasn't real.

"Welcome to the Arrowcave," Felicity said.

"We don't call it that," Diggle assured you. He walked towards you, a hand out, but you stopped him by moving away from him, towards the staircase. "You must be pretty upset, but-"

"Upset?" You scoffed. "That may be an understatement."

Diggle nodded. "Okay, fair enough."

"Maybe you should talk to Oliver about this," Felicity said, speaking up. "He was the one to convince the both of us that we should stay, so he's obviously better at it. Plus, Diggle might say something that'll scare you off."