A Smart Girl, But Still a Girl

This is a little piece of flash fiction that stuck with me in the wake of the finale. Because why would Diggle have felt the need to tell Ollie he'd give he and Felicity a "moment?" And considering we don't know if Oliver ever told Felicity and John about the bugs prior to the execution of his plan, how That Scene unfolded could be interpreted in any number of ways. I'm going to go with Oliver hadn't told anyone.

Disclaimer: Yeah, obviously, I own nothing. Carry on.


"That was a hell of a bomb you dropped on Felicity."

To his credit, Oliver didn't act surprised or try to feign ignorance or even try to deflect. He was growing, John thought—but he had a feeling not so much so that the potential consequences of his actions would have registered. Or if they had, he'd argue that they'd been in the midst of battle and in battle, you used whatever weapons were available.

As a soldier, John understood that. Better even, he suspected, than Oliver. However, he also understood the cost of collateral damage. To both parties.

Oliver finally spoke, his gaze never leaving the cadre making their way up the ramp to the silver airplane they'd be using to transport Slade Wilson to his new accommodations.

"She's a smart girl."

Ah. So that's how he was going to play it. And Felicity, God love her, would play along because she was a smart girl.

"She is. She's very smart. Smarter than the two of us put together with I.Q. points left over. But she's also a girl."

Oliver turned, the setting sun bathing him in light and softening the rawness of the wounds suffered in his battle with Wilson. In that brief moment, John saw a flash of Oliver Queen, the Golden Boy of Starling City. That boy wouldn't have realized what he'd done. More importantly, he wouldn't have cared. As the sun continued its descent and the shadows lengthened and deepened, the façade slipped away and revealed the truth of the man—harder, honed to a razor sharpness in the wilds of Lian Yu. This man might also not realize—but he would care. Quite a lot. Which was why John felt compelled to speak. He knew better than most the damage words spoken—or left unspoken—could wreak.

"What are you saying, Diggle?"

"Come on, Oliver—" He huffed out an impatient breath. "You know what I'm saying."

Oliver turned his gaze back to the plane where Amanda's goons were making their way back down the ramp, Wilson apparently secured to their satisfaction. Or maybe not. John wouldn't put it past Waller to order her people to make certain Slade wasn't quite as secure as he should be, thus inciting an incident that would send them all plunging into the depths of the Pacific.

It would certainly be an efficient way to tie up a lot of loose ends.

"I couldn't tell her before we went to the mansion because I needed her to sell it."

"You needed her to believe it, you mean."

"Yes." Oliver shoved his hands in his pockets. "But the minute I put the syringe in her hand, she understood. She's a smart girl," he repeated softly.

To John, it sounded almost as if Oliver was trying to convince himself.

Or lie to himself.

"She is, but I repeat, she is also a girl. A woman," he amended. "A woman who's remained by your side through a helluva lot. Even when you didn't deserve it."

"Which is why she's the only one I would have ever trusted with this plan."

"Except she didn't know it was a plan, man." In the distance, he saw Felicity approaching and knew he'd have to speak fast. "Look, Oliver—all I want is for you to consider those few seconds before you put the syringe in her hand. Think about her face and her words and the look in her eyes before she understood what it was you were really saying. I want you to think about what it was you were really saying."

Oliver's jaw hardened into the stubborn, hard line that John knew signified he was close to shutting down.

"I said what I needed to say." The words emerged short and hard and very, very precise. As far as he was concerned, the discussion was over.

John sighed, undeniably worried about his friends. Oddly enough, Oliver more so than Felicity. The man needed her—more than he likely realized. Because if nothing else, Felicity was eminently practical. Despite her boundless faith he would always prevail, she'd long ago learned to live with the possibility there might be one night, one battle, from which Oliver would not return.

Oliver, on the other hand…

John had played through the scenario countless times in his head and what the outcome would have been had the plan fallen apart and Slade succeeded in killing Felicity.

Each time, his conclusion remained the same.

Oliver would not survive. Oh, he might physically go on, but if anything ever happened to Felicity, something in Oliver would die. Something integral from which there would be no recovery or return.

However, that was a realization he'd have to come to on his own. All John could do was try to keep the man somewhat aware.

There were days it felt like a task for which he needed a two-by-four.

Today, however, words would have to do.

"I know you said what you needed to, Oliver. But all I'm saying is even if now isn't the right time, you might want to make sure she knows it, too."


Read John and Felicity's "missing scene" conversation in A STRONG GIRL