Vincent Keller slowly lowered the unconscious young woman to J.T.'s bed, gently turning her so that she was lying facing down. They had briefly considered bringing her to a hospital, but decided it was going to be tough to explain how she'd gotten claw marks on her back while walking down 6th Avenue. Then there was the matter of the still unknown drug that would show up in her blood tests. And finally there was Vincent himself. He wasn't sure how much the girl had actually seen, but he didn't want to risk her regaining consciousness and telling stories of men with yellow eyes and superhuman strength to the police.

So instead they brought her to J.T.'s place. The wounds were messy but not life-threatening, and her pulse and respiration were steady. After all, Vincent was a doctor. Of course, after medical school he'd also been a soldier and he still was, at times, a Beast as a result of Muirfield's experiments. But he was confident he hadn't lost any of his skills.

He unzipped what remained of the top of her dress, pulling apart the fabric and studying the marks on her back. He heard J.T. inhale sharply. Most of the wounds were superficial but a couple of the gashes went deep, almost into the muscle. She was going to need stitches – a lot of them. It seemed a shame. She was young and, other than the claw marks, had fair and flawless skin. Vincent normally disliked suturing but resolved that, in this case, he would take whatever time was needed to minimize the scarring. She shouldn't have to remember this night every time she put on a bathing suit or stepped into the shower.

"J.T.," he said, glancing up at his friend, "Do you still have any of my medical gear here?"

J.T. nodded, "I'll get your bag."

Almost two hours later, Vincent straightened up to examine his handiwork. Conditions had hardly been optimal – his neck ached from awkwardly bending over the bed to put in row after row of tiny stitches using the finest sutures he had – but the results looked good. Other than a few fine, white lines, she shouldn't have any mementos of this evening. Whatever they'd injected her with must be pretty potent, because she hadn't moved once during the entire time he'd worked on her.

While Vincent had been suturing, J.T. had provided a little more information about the woman. Her name was Felicity Smoak and she was in town for some kind of computing convention. J.T. had met her at the convention and had noticed two men following her when she left to return to her hotel. To his surprise, one of those men had turned out to be a Beast; that was when he had called Vincent.

As he pulled off his surgical gloves, Vincent looked at the man who had been his best friend since grammar school. J.T. had done a good job keeping his head tonight and he'd been surprisingly effective as an assistant. He'd gently wiped away blood, snipped threads, and held the light in the right positions without being asked. He'd known when to talk and when to be silent so that Vincent could concentrate. It was on the tip of Vincent's tongue to tell J.T. that he'd make a great nurse when the phone in his friend's pocket buzzed loudly. J.T. pulled it out and looked at it, then shoved it back in his pocket with a sigh.

"You avoiding someone? Not Tess, I hope," Vincent grinned, referring to J.T.'s girlfriend. "You've already got some explaining to do," he teased, nodding toward the bed at the attractive and unconscious blonde.

J.T. shook his head. "It's Felicity's phone, not mine. You probably didn't notice because you were focused on your sutures, but it's been ringing every 20 or 30 minutes. Someone named Oliver keeps calling her. No last name."

"Oliver. Boyfriend maybe?"

J.T. shrugged, "Could be. Or a brother, cousin, boss or roommate. I tried getting more information but she's got her phone locked down with all kinds of fancy security. She's some kind of tech genius – like, seriously, a genius. A lot of people at the conference had heard of her and it seemed like most of them wanted to talk to her."

"People meaning guys?" Vincent glanced down at girl, with her blonde hair spread across the pillow and her toned legs stretched out on the bed. "I'm not sure her being a genius was the reason men wanted to meet her."

J.T. snorted, "Believe me, the guys I saw at this conference were much more interested in her hacking skills than her…" he paused, "other attributes. And someone was interested enough to follow her from the conference, drug her, and attempt to kidnap her, with help from a Beast."

"Do you think she knew who it was?"

J.T. shook his head. "No, she seemed pretty surprised."

Vincent rubbed the back of his stiff neck and suggested thoughtfully, "Maybe it's time to bring in the pro's. Catherine and Tess should be getting off duty right about now. We could ask them to stop by."

J.T. did not look terribly enthusiastic.

"You think we shouldn't tell them?" Vincent asked.

J.T. frowned. "I know you were joking a few minutes ago, but with Tess I really will have some explaining to do. I told her I'd be tied up for the next couple of days with this convention. I told her how it was all about computers and hacking – dry, techie stuff. Now I come home with a woman – a young and very pretty woman?"

"You were being a good Samaritan, helping her out. Tess will understand."

J.T. sighed, "Maybe. But Tess and I are a new couple, not like you and Cat. You guys have been together a couple of years and you're solid now. Hell, you've got that whole epic and destined to be together thing going for you. Tess is still pretty gun-shy about being in a relationship and some days it feels like she's just looking for an excuse to call things off. This," he gestured toward Felicity, "could be that excuse."

Vincent shrugged his shoulders. "Well, epic or not, Catherine has cop instincts and she'll know the minute she talks to me that something is up. She'll have my ass if she finds out I investigated a Beast-related problem without her. So that means I'm going to tell her - which means she's going to tell her partner, Tess. So you'd better start thinking about what you're going to say to your girlfriend."

Despite his worry over Tess's reaction, J.T. grinned suddenly. "Oh, man, you are so whipped. You've got super-strength courtesy of Muirfield, but you're frightened by a hundred pound woman."

Before Vincent could come up with a decent retort, Felicity's phone buzzed again. J.T. held it out to him; the name "Oliver" was clearly displayed along with the picture of a man who looked to be somewhere around thirty. Vincent was no genetics expert, but he didn't think the man appeared related to Felicity. That took "brother" off the table.

"Maybe you should answer it," Vincent suggested. "Could be a way to get more information."

"And say what? 'Hi, I'm answering Felicity's phone because she was attacked by a Beast and is unconscious in my bedroom'? I'm not sure that will go over too well."

Vincent smiled. "Fair enough. I guess we just wait til the sedative wears off and we have a chance to ask her ourselves." He slowly stretched the kinks out of his back. "I'm going to call Catherine so start thinking about what you want to say to Tess." He reached down to Felicity to take her pulse again. Still slow and steady. "I'm assuming you have a clean tee shirt for her?" he asked.

"Yeah – I did laundry last night. I'll get one," J.T. replied. He was about to head for the basket of clean clothes he'd pulled from the dryer when the young woman's cell buzzed once more in his pocket. He chuckled and shook his head. "God, I think this guy is more whipped than you are."

Vincent laughed. "You're not so different, buddy. Tess already has you tied in knots." He nodded toward the phone. "I'm really starting to think we should talk to this guy Oliver and give him some kind of explanation. Clearly he's worried, or has something he needs to speak to her about."

J.T. looked at Felicity's phone and raised his eyebrows in surprise, "It's not Oliver this time. It's someone named Digg." He frowned, "Pretty tough looking guy."

Vincent stiffened, "Did you say 'Digg'?" It couldn't be – it would be too much of a coincidence. There were probably hundreds of guys with the nickname Digg.

"Yeah, spelled with two G's." J.T. held out the phone to Vincent.

Vincent stared at the picture as the cell phone continued to vibrate. Digg. Sonofabitch. It was Digg. The face immediately brought back memories of another life, over a decade ago in a foreign country. A life when he'd left NYC, raw from the loss of his brothers during 9-11, attracted by the discipline and distance of a military tour in Afghanistan. Some of Vincent's army memories were hazy – Muirfield's experiments had clouded his mind – but he'd met John Diggle before Muirfield came on the scene and there was nothing hazy about his recollections of Digg. He'd stood out among his fellow soldiers for his intelligence, level-headedness, and maturity. Vincent had respected him the moment they'd met.

Without thinking further, he snatched the phone from J.T.'s hand and answered it. "Hello?" J.T. was staring at him as if he'd just lost his mind.

There was a long pause at the other end of the line, "Who is this?"

Vincent grinned. It had been a lot of years but the voice still sounded the same - a no-nonsense, kick-your-ass voice that made him want to straighten up and salute. He replied evenly, "I'll answer your question if you answer mine first. Is this John Diggle? Served with the 105th Airborne out of Kandahar?"

Another pause, then, "Who the hell is this? And what are you doing with this phone? If I don't hear from Felicity in the next ten seconds…"

Vincent interrupted before John Diggle could issue his threat. "Calm down, Digg," he said cheerfully, "is that any way to talk to an old army buddy?"

"Army buddy? What the fu—"

"It's Vincent, Digg, Vincent Keller."

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Vincent imagined that Digg's expression probably mirrored that of J.T., who was currently staring at him with his jaw dropped and his brow furrowed.

"Who did you say you were?"

"Vincent Keller. We served together in '03. I know you're not a kid anymore, Digg, but you're still a little too young for senility."

"Yeah, I remember serving with a Vincent Keller," Digg's voice was almost wistful. "I also remember he died years ago - killed in the line of duty." His voice hardened. "Pretty much anybody can look up my service record. So if you're trying to convince me we know each other, you're going to have to come up with something better."

Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and dug through his memories. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself to think about the war, and what recollections he had were typically not good. However, with Diggle, there had been a few bright spots; he searched for them now. "Let me think...There was the time I taught you how to do an emergency tracheotomy south of Khost City. Or how about the weekend we had off in Kabul? There was this brunette at the bar who was all over your…"

"Damn," Diggle cut him off, his voice sounding stunned. "Keller it is you. You get put on some special assignment back then? Is that why everyone was told you were dead?"

Vincent sighed, "Digg, it's a long story. Let's just say rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." He sat down on the side of the bed, suddenly tired. J.T. was still staring at him with a perplexed expression, no doubt confused by hearing only half of the conversation. "If you still don't believe me, you can Google the New York City news from about six months ago. My 'war hero is still alive' story had its fifteen minutes in the local press."

To Vincent's surprise, John Diggle laughed, "Yeah, well, believe it or not, you're not the first guy I know that's come back from the dead. Hell, it seems to be an epidemic these days." His voice became more serious. "Anyway, what does any of this have to do with Felicity? Why is she with you? Can I talk to her?"

Vincent glanced at the woman stretched out next to him. Felicity was still unconscious, breathing steadily. The stitches looked tidy and she was no longer bleeding. "At the moment, no, she can't talk – she's out cold." At Digg's sharp intake of breath he hastily added, "She's fine, Digg, just got injected with some kind of sedative and she's sleeping it off." Curious, he added, "Just how do you know her? And can you think of a reason someone might want to kidnap her?"

"Kidnap? What the hell happened?"

"She was leaving a computer conference with a friend of mine when two guys came after her. They managed to shoot her up with something before he could stop them. My friend didn't think they wanted to hurt her...just take her for some reason." Vincent opted to leave out the part about one of the kidnappers being a Beast. There were some things that couldn't be explained over the phone.

"But you have her and she's okay?"

"She's fine, Digg. A little banged up but nothing serious." Vincent paused, "Anyway, you didn't tell me how you know her. She's certainly attractive, but I recall hearing you got married in the service."

Diggle laughed again, "Married, divorced, now in a relationship and expecting a kid. Felicity's not a girlfriend - we work together, Vincent. I'm in private security."

"Really? And she's an employee?"

"Not of mine. We both work for the same boss – well, we used to, anyway. And she's a friend."

"Oh," Vincent glanced at J.T., who continued to follow the conversation attentively. "What about this guy, Oliver, who keeps trying to call her? Boyfriend? Husband? He's been very persistent."

Diggle sighed, "None of the above. It's…complicated." After a moment he added, "I can get in touch with Oliver and let him know what's going on." He didn't sound happy about the prospect.

"I think that would be a good idea."

"In the meantime," Diggle continued, "do you think she'll be okay until I can get there? Any chance those guys could come back for her?"

Vincent shook his head, then remembered Diggle couldn't see the gesture over the phone. "We got her, Digg," he said reassuringly. "I've got a couple of cop friends who are on their way here now. We'll make sure nothing happens." He added with a smile, "She must be a pretty good friend to have you willing to fly in from – just where are you flying in from?"

"Starling City. And, yes, she is a good friend. In some ways you might say she's a fellow soldier."

Vincent looked at the woman lying in J.T.'s bed and had a hard time picturing her as a soldier. Still, if she had Diggle's respect, there must be a lot more to her than met the eye. He gave Diggle J.T.'s address and their phone numbers, then ended the call. He shook his head ruefully; this evening had been full of surprises, and it wasn't even 8:00 yet.

He couldn't wait to see John Diggle again.

As J.T. had predicted, Tess gave the blonde woman in his bed a long, hard stare before turning to raise one suspicious eyebrow at her boyfriend. They were gathered, all four of them, in J.T.'s bedroom, talking in hushed tones even though Vincent was pretty sure they could have blasted some heavy metal songs and Felicity still would not have awoken. It probably didn't improve Tess's misgivings, Vincent thought, to see Felicity wearing one of J.T.'s old tee shirts that proclaimed: Once I told a chemistry joke – there was no reaction. In retrospect, it might have been better if they'd dressed her in one of Vincent's shirts still lying around from the time he and J.T. were roommates.

J.T. cautiously recounted the story of meeting Felicity at the convention, all the while keeping an eye on Tess's face. He mentioned becoming worried when he saw the two men follow her, and calling Vincent when one of those men had revealed himself to be a Beast. Vincent had added to the tale by relaying the bit about Felicity knowing his old army buddy, John Diggle.

Catherine had listened intently and interrupted a few times to ask cop-like questions about timing, location and descriptions of the men. Tess, on the other hand, had said nothing, and it was clear to Vincent her silence was making J.T. nervous. When she at last chose to speak, it was not likely to put his pal at ease.

"Really, J.T.?" Her voice was calm, but Vincent could detect her New York snark lurking just below the surface. "You go to a computing conference with over two hundred men and this is who you decide to approach for help? You're seriously telling me this…this…blonde…is an IT genius? Crap, she looks like she belongs in a bikini on a surfboard."

J.T. looked helplessly at Vincent, his expression clearly conveying I told you this would happen. Vincent was torn between the urge to laugh and the imperative to obey the bro-code and bail his buddy out. He searched his brain for something – anything – that would restore Tess to a better frame of mind. Before he could open his mouth, however, Felicity's phone buzzed for what felt like the hundredth time. J.T. pulled it out of his pocket.

"Oliver calling Felicity again?" Vincent asked.

"Yeah."

"Digg must not have had a chance to talk to him yet. This guy, Oliver," Vincent began to explain to Tess and Catherine, "has been calling at least—"

"Give me that!" Tess's voice was sharp.

"Huh?" J.T. looked genuinely frightened.

"Give me the phone - now," she repeated. J.T. started to hand it to her, but apparently he wasn't fast enough because she reached over and snatched it while he was still extending his arm. She stared open-mouthed at the picture, then turned to Catherine completely flabbergasted. "Holy shit," she said softly, then passed the phone to her partner.

Catherine's reaction wasn't all that different from Tess's. She, too, gaped at the picture, then raised her eyes to Tess with a look that Vincent might have compared to the rapture if he'd known Catherine to be at all religious. The two women regarded each other intently; there was clearly some silent, female communication going on that neither he nor J.T. were privy to.

Both women turned to glare at J.T.

"You're a moron, J,T.," Tess said bluntly, although to Vincent's relief, some of her anger seemed to have dissipated. "You mean to tell me you have no idea who this is?"

J.T. shook his head, looking both confused and relieved that Tess's rancor was fading. He assumed an apologetic expression. "No, neither Vincent nor I know who he is. Should we?"

Tess laughed and rolled her eyes. She glanced at Catherine as if to say men are such idiots and Catherine returned much the same look. "This is Oliver Queen," Tess explained slowly, "Oliver—fucking—Queen."

J.T. looked at Vincent helplessly again. "Should that mean something?"

Tess shook her head disbelievingly, "I could possibly understand Vincent not knowing…he was in hiding for most of the time when he wasn't Beasting out. But you, J.T.? This was all over the news – the national news. Oliver Queen, son of billionaire Robert Queen?" When J.T. still showed no understanding, she continued, "He and his father went missing seven years ago when the family yacht sank in a storm. Everyone assumed he was dead, until he was found two years ago on a deserted island. God, I can't believe you didn't recognize him."

When Vincent and J.T. remained silent, Catherine took up the narrative. "He returned home to Starling City and eventually took control of Queen Consolidated as CEO." She frowned, "Although I remember reading something in the Wall Street Journal about the board of directors ousting him a few months ago."

The four of them stared at the phone which had at last stopped vibrating, as if expecting Oliver Queen to suddenly materialize in J.T.'s bedroom. All of this was interesting, Vincent thought, but it still felt like there was a piece missing – something that would explain Tess's and Catherine's very strong reaction.

As if he could read Vincent's mind, J.T. spoke up. "Okay," he said to Tess, "so she has some rich CEO calling her. It's not all that unusual. Hell, we've got at least one billionaire on every block in mid-town Manhattan. I'm not sure I'm appreciating what is evidently a very huge deal to you and Cat."

Tess smiled at his naiveté. "Oliver Queen is a perennial on People's Sexiest Men list. He's hotter than…," she struggled for a comparison, "Liam Hemsworth and Chris Hemsworth combined. Hell, he walks into a room and women's panties drop to the floor of their own accord."

Vincent laughed, "Okay, you made that last one up." He turned to Catherine for corroboration, but she only frowned and looked thoughtful. He suddenly felt a little insecure.

"And," Tess continued, "he's calling your friend, Felicity, here. A lot, apparently."

They all turned to stare at the blonde in the bed.

Tess cleared her throat. "Let's recap, shall we?" she said, suddenly sounding more like a cop. "According to you," she tilted her head toward J.T., "Felicity Smoak is an expert hacker. Your old army buddy," she nodded at Vincent, "called her a fellow soldier. And she's got Oliver 'Sexiest Man Alive' Queen on speed dial." She grinned at Catherine. "This case suddenly got very interesting."

J.T. said a little sourly, "Well, at least you don't seem angry at me for meeting her anymore."

Tess laughed, "If she's hanging out with Oliver Queen, I don't think I need to worry about her poaching my boyfriend."

"Thanks, that does wonders for my confidence."

Tess's expression softened, "Don't worry, J.T. You have plenty of other amazing qualities." J.T. frowned - her voice wasn't entirely reassuring.

"Well," Catherine said practically, "How much longer do you think it will be before she wakes up and we can get some answers?"

The four of them stared once again at Felicity Smoak.

John Diggle was normally not an indecisive man. He knew himself to be observant, a good judge of character and unafraid to act when the moment called for it. He'd been bombed, shot at, imprisoned and had even taken his young nephew to see a department store Santa two Christmases running. He was battle-tested.

So why was he finding it so hard to tell Oliver Queen that Felicity Smoak was not answering his calls because she was unconscious, albeit perfectly fine, in NYC?

It was the unconscious part, Diggle thought, which was the stickler. Oliver hadn't been too happy about Felicity traveling to NYC – even conscious – but he'd eventually accepted it with his typical ill grace. It was this last wrinkle that was likely to put him over the edge. Digg was sorely tempted to say nothing, just get on a plane and head to New York, but the repercussions of both he and Felicity going incommunicado at the same time were unthinkable. He wouldn't be able to spar with Oliver for six months for fear of losing a body part.

If he were honest with himself, he'd also have to admit that some of his reluctance stemmed from the fact that – dammit – the man had been right. Oliver had said that Felicity had a talent for finding trouble and Digg had assured him she could take care of herself in NYC. She was headed to a hacking convention, for God's sake, a place filled with computer nerds who considered moving a mouse to be physical exercise. What could go wrong? And yet now, inexplicably, she was sleeping off a sedative after an aborted kidnapping attempt. Oliver had been right. Diggle enjoyed his role as the senior statesman on the team. Oliver might have super-human reflexes and abs off which you could bounce a quarter, but when it came to judging people and situations, Digg ruled. It bothered him to even contemplate that he'd made an error; to have to actually confess it to Oliver was downright humiliating.

Still, he had to tell Oliver something. The questions were; what precisely should he say and how should the news be delivered?

He answered the second question first – he decided to tell Oliver in person. History showed that various parts of the foundry tended to get damaged when Oliver was upset, and after fighting Slade's Mirakuru army they really didn't have equipment to spare. They also no longer had unlimited funds for repairs. As it was, Felicity had had to scrounge for parts to return her computers to working order. Digg felt that by being there when he delivered the news, he could limit the collateral damage.

More importantly, if Laurel were also there - as she often was these days - the conversation with Oliver was likely to be shorter. For reasons still not clear to Digg, Laurel had a funny habit of diverting the discussion away from Felicity whenever Oliver brought her up a topic. Normally Digg found this annoying and dismissive, but this evening it might actually be helpful. You worked with what you had.

As to what he should tell Oliver, Diggle figured he would play this one by ear. As a rule, he abhorred lying and he certainly had no intentions of fibbing this time. However, it might be one of those situations that benefited from telling the truth, but not exactly the whole truth. He didn't like himself for making that distinction – he normally considered it a cheap tactic used by philandering husbands – but desperate times called for desperate measures.

So he arrived at the foundry a little before dinner time. There was good news and bad news. The good news was that he found Oliver training hard, his fists flying as he pummeled the dummy, sweat running down his bare back. Typically when Oliver had expended nervous energy he was less prone to overreaction. All indications were that Oliver had been at it for at least an hour.

The bad news was that he was alone; no Laurel to serve as a buffer.

Digg girded himself up mentally, and waited until Oliver took a break to grab a sip of water. "Hey," he said as an opening, "looking good. Seems like you're fully recovered from fighting Slade." It was a light and positive start to their conversation, he thought.

Oliver shrugged, wiping his face with a towel. "Yeah, almost back to a hundred percent. Right shoulder is still a little stiff but it's time for the Arrow to get back out there. Maybe we can go out tonight – start with something simple until Felicity gets back."

Damn - so much for easing into the discussion. He was going to have to tell Oliver right away that he was heading out of town. And he couldn't help but notice that Oliver had already brought up Felicity's name, evidence that she was very much on his mind. Digg chose his words carefully. "That sounds good and I'd like to Oliver, but unfortunately I'm going to have to go away for a couple of days starting tonight. Not a big deal," he assured quickly, "just a small, personal thing." So far, that was a true statement. Felicity was, after all, a friend and that made going to help a personal act.

"Lyla okay?"

"Yeah, she's good. Still on assignment. I…," Digg hesitated, keeping a watchful eye on Oliver's face, "I just got a call from an old army buddy, a guy I served with in Afghanistan. He's got an issue he could use a little help with." Still true. Oliver looked thoughtful, but not suspicious.

"Other than Lyla, I don't think I've ever heard you mention friends from the army before."

"Vincent and I go back a long ways, more than ten years. We lost track of each other – mostly because I thought he was dead, killed in the war – but I found out tonight he wasn't." Great, now he was starting to babble like Felicity. "Anyway, he could use my help. Shouldn't be more than two or three days."

Oliver frowned, "And he just reached out to you, out of the blue, after all these years? How did he know how to get in touch with you?"

Good question. Digg opted to respond briefly with, "Mutual friend." He assumed Vincent was ready to call Felicity a friend so that this was still a true statement. He hoped he didn't have to explain further – things were getting a little fuzzy.

To Digg's relief, Oliver didn't pursue it. "No problem, Digg. I'll hold off patrolling til you get back." He started to stretch out his shoulder, grimacing slightly. "Anything I can help with?" he offered.

Digg shook his head. "Thanks, Oliver. Appreciate it, but this should be quick and easy. I'll touch base as soon as I'm sure of my schedule." He took a deep breath; now for the tricky part. He needed to give Oliver a reason for Felicity not answering his calls. He did his best to smile casually. "Sounds like Felicity had an exciting first day at her conference."

Oliver's head snapped up. "You talked to her?"

Digg said carefully, "I heard about her day."

"I tried to call her a couple of times but she didn't answer." More like a couple hundred, Digg thought, based on Vincent's comments. With mention of Felicity, Oliver's energy level rose immediately. He dropped to the floor and began a series of one-armed push-ups.

Digg watched him complete his first set, then said, "Well, at this point Oliver, she's probably asleep. Remember there's a time difference, and she did take an overnight flight. She must be beat." Still true, but now he was starting to tread into slippery territory. He didn't like himself too much at this moment.

Oliver rose from the floor and reached for his water bottle. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said slowly. He added, almost reluctantly, "I'll wait til tomorrow and give her a call then." He resumed stretching.

Digg exhaled; mission accomplished. He had just bought himself twelve hours to get to NYC and get the situation under control before he and Felicity had to reveal anything more to Oliver. Time to get out of here. He made a show of looking at his watch. "Well, I have to get going, Oliver. Good to see you back in fighting form. I'll catch up with you tomorrow." He tried not to run as he headed toward the foundry steps.

He'd started to ascend and was less than ten feet from the door when Oliver called out.

"Where is this buddy, anyhow?"

Oh shit. This one was going to tough to answer with anything but the truth. Diggle thought briefly about pretending that he hadn't heard Oliver, but his hesitation on the stairs had already given him away. He turned to face back down into the foundry and put on his best poker face. "New York," he replied, matter-of-factly.

Oliver reached for a hoody and pulled it over his sweaty torso. "New York," Oliver repeated slowly, "New York City?"

Digg pursed his lips and nodded.

"The same city Felicity is in."

Digg nodded again. He had the sickly sense of things starting to unravel but did his best to regroup. "Yeah, Oliver. It's one of those small world things. My friend Vincent…bumped into Felicity, and he found out they both knew me - that's how he ended up calling. Quite a coincidence." He hoped his grin didn't look as stupid as it felt.

"She okay, Digg?"

"Yeah, Oliver, she's fine."

"Does this have anything to do with her not answering her phone?"

"It might. She was pretty busy with Vincent." Oh hell, that came out wrong.

"Busy? Busy how? What is this guy like?"

Digg hastened to reassure, "He's a good, honorable guy, Oliver, and one of the best soldiers I've known." That much he could say with a clear conscience.

"But you haven't seen him in ten years. People change."

"We talked, Oliver. He sounds exactly like the man I knew in Afghanistan. Believe me, whatever they're doing, she's in good hands." Damn, that didn't come out any better.

"What did Felicity have to say about him?"

Digg sighed, "I didn't talk to her about him."

"But she's okay."

"Yes, Oliver, I told you, she's fine."

"I don't like the way you keep saying 'fine'."

"What word would you like me to use, Oliver?"

"I don't want you to use a different word. I want the truth, Diggle. What happened to Felicity?"

Diggle blew out his breath. Game over. His vision of a quiet trip to NYC quickly dissolved as he descended the steps back into the foundry. "She was leaving her hacking convention and walking back to her hotel," he explained to Oliver. "A couple of guys tried to kidnap her." Oliver's eyes narrowed and Diggle hurried on, "But my army buddy, Vincent, and a friend of his were able to stop them. She's with them now and she's…well, she's fi-good."

"Did she say if she knew either of them?"

"I didn't get a chance to talk to her yet."

"Because…?"

Digg closed his eyes. "Because she was still unconscious, Oliver. The kidnappers shot her up with some kind of sedative when they tried to take her. She hadn't woken up yet when I spoke with Vincent."

"Your definition of 'fine' isn't really working for me, Diggle."

"Look, besides being an army buddy who I would trust with my life, Vincent is also a doctor. He checked her over and, other than a few scrapes and bruises, she's...okay."

"A few scrapes and bruises. Your story just keeps getting worse."

"I'm well aware of that."

"And you were thinking you'd go to New York, find out who tried to kidnap Felicity, bring her back home, and I'd be none the wiser? Oh, and catch up with your army buddy as well?"

"You're busy trying to get your company back. I thought I could do a recon and get some facts before you had to get involved. I was planning to tell you once I had a better idea of what was going on."

"Someone tried to kidnap Felicity, Digg. You thought I'd consider getting my company back more important than that?" Oliver sounded indignant, almost righteous.

Diggle felt an answering spark of anger at Oliver's tone. For the first time since he'd set foot in the foundry, he did not feel at a disadvantage. He looked Oliver in the eye. "When it comes to Felicity, Oliver, I don't know what you think," he said quietly. "You care about her safety, but you set her up to take down a homicidal lunatic – alone. You don't think you love her, but you always want her with you. You didn't like it when she showed interest in Barry, but you were fine with bringing your relationship with Sara into the foundry." He shook his head, "So no, Oliver, I really wasn't sure how you were going to react. I'll admit I didn't think you'd take the news calmly."

Oliver stared at him for several seconds. In typical Oliver fashion, he changed the topic. "Well, you realize I'm going with you to New York."

"I figured as much."

"Let me just pull my stuff together. Should be ready in fifteen. We ought to be able to get to NYC before morning."

"You're not the CEO of Queen Consolidated any longer. You understand you're going to have to fly commercial?"

Oliver laughed, "Of course, Digg."

"Coach."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. For a second Digg thought the tackling dummy was going to lose an arm. Then Oliver nodded in acceptance.

"It's for Felicity."