"I'm pretty sure that's an $800 wine."

Felicity pointed to a bottle, one of many in William Martin's extensive collection. She and Vincent were standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling wine rack in the Martin basement and Felicity was studying labels with great interest. She looked none the worse for wear after their run-in with the Beast, now identified as Billy Martin.

Vincent shook his head. "What?" The situation felt surreal. Billy Martin wasn't the only person to have revealed himself as a Beast. Vincent had also transformed in front of Felicity no more than twenty minutes ago, yet she remained casually next to him as if they were picking out a wine for dinner in their local supermarket. If she was freaked out about his alter-ego, she sure as hell wasn't showing it.

"This cabernet." She tapped the bottle. "It's made by a boutique vintner in California. He only produces 75 to 100 bottles a year. All the oenophiles swear that drinking it is a religious experience. I read that 2011 was a particularly good year."

Vincent stared at her. Logically, he knew he should be relieved that she wasn't shrieking and screaming; still, no one had ever reacted to him Beasting-out quite like this. Alex, his fiancée before the service, had been unable to come to terms with it and she'd been in love with him. Catherine, accepting as she was, had taken a little time to adjust. Felicity, on the other hand, was acting like it was all in a day's work. She'd even managed to use the word oenophile in a sentence. Vincent made a mental note to Google it later.

He noticed a few goose bumps on her bare arms and saw her shiver slightly. The physician in him decided that her blasé response might be attributed to shock. It would explain a lot.

"Felicity, I'm going to check your vital signs for minute."

She frowned at him, puzzled. "Really Vincent, I'm o-"

"Humor me."

He shrugged her shoulders and stepped closer to him. "Fine."

He put his hand on her forehead. It was dry and cool, no clamminess whatsoever. He held two fingers against the pulse in her neck and looked at his watch. Her heartbeat was slow and steady – so slow, in fact, that he decided she must do some kind of regular aerobic exercise. Her pupils were dilated slightly, but then the light was dim in the basement. Her breathing was deep and regular.

She submitted to his examination with a patient grin and then said, "Really, I'm not in shock."

"You shivered a minute ago."

"Yeah, well it's cool down here and I'm wearing a sleeveless gown."

He studied her bright, intelligent face. It was true that everything looked perfectly normal – in fact, better than normal. She was a pretty woman to begin with, but in formal clothes with her hair up she transformed into a classic beauty. At the moment, Felicity reminded Vincent a little of Grace Kelly in the old movies his mother used to watch on TV – fair, with flawless skin and lovely eyes.

He sighed, "Fine, you're not in shock." After a few seconds he shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and handed it to her. "Here, why don't you wear this? It could be a while before someone finds us."

"Thanks."

She slipped on the jacket. It hung almost to her knees, and the sleeves covered her hands completely. It made her look very young and vulnerable, and Vincent could easily understand how she might arouse Oliver Queen's protective instincts. Any man with a soul would see her intelligence and optimism and want to guard her, to keep her as she was. She glanced at Vincent, and then quickly averted her gaze. Something was making her uncomfortable.

He wondered if they were about to have the Beast-talk. "What's wrong?"

She pointed at him. "It's you - the suspenders with the white dress shirt. Do they give men a handbook that says how much women like that look? Cause it really works, at least for some guys and definitely for you." She shook her head ruefully. "I swear, there were times I used to think Oliver took his tux jacket off just to torture me."

Alright, so maybe not the Beast-talk. Vincent glanced down at himself. "Actually, Catherine's never mentioned it," he said dryly. He made a second mental note, this time to ask Catherine about suspenders and dress shirts.

Felicity raised her eyebrows. "Really? I can't believe she hasn't noticed. Maybe she hasn't said anything but, believe me, any evening you want to get lucky, just walk in looking like that." She paused and added, "Not that you need help getting lucky. I'm sure you and Catherine have a very healthy sex..." She stopped, and a flush came over her cheeks. "Sorry. As you can probably tell, my brain-to-mouth filter sometimes goes on the fritz. I keep working on it but…" She turned abruptly back to the wine rack and resumed studying labels, clearly embarrassed.

Vincent checked his urge to laugh. To save face for both of them he said, "You know, I've never had an $800 wine before."

She shook her head and appeared relieved at the change in subject. "Me neither. You'd think I might have had something at one of the Queen parties, but Oliver's mother always saved the best stuff for the family. Of course," she muttered thoughtfully, "it might have just been me. Moira didn't like me all that much."

Vincent was tempted to ask how anyone could not like her, but instead said, "Well, I'd like to try a really expensive wine now."

She looked at him questioningly. "Really? You think it's okay?"

Vincent glanced at their surroundings. "Yeah, I do. I doubt William Martin ventures down in his basement very often. If he does, he'll notice that his son seems to have set up some kind of secret camp here." He pointed to a couple of chairs and a small crate overturned to serve as a table. "I'm pretty sure Martin will figure Jeff drank it."

She frowned. "I'd feel kind of bad about Jeff getting blamed for something we did. He's already got a rocky relationship with his dad."

Vincent shrugged. "I don't feel the least bit bad. He's tried to kidnap you twice and his brother the Beast just attacked us. I think it's only fair."

After a thoughtful pause, she smiled. "Okay, you talked me into it. Is there a corkscrew somewhere around here?"

Vincent quickly located one, along with a couple of glasses. In doing so, he also found assorted bags of chips, popcorn and jerky, a couple of blankets and a case of bottled water. "It certainly looks like Jeff and Billy have spent time down here – and probably found time to enjoy their dad's wine, among other things. This must be one of the places they get together to talk. If Jeff gets blamed, something tells me it won't be totally unjustified."

And without waiting further, he slid the ultra-expensive bottle out of the rack and carefully uncorked it. He and Felicity both stared at the wine as if expecting some kind of magical mist to emerge from the bottle, but instead it looked like every other wine that Vincent had drunk. He poured a couple of glasses and handed one to her.

"To uncovering the mystery of Billy Martin." He raised his glass in a toast.

She clinked hers gently against his. "To Billy Martin."

They slowly brought their glasses to their lips, both taking cautious sips at the same time. Felicity held the wine in her mouth for a few seconds and then swallowed.

"Oh," she said softly. "Wow. Talk about complex. There's about five layers of flavor going on." She took another sip and closed her eyes. "That's almost orgasmic."

Vincent laughed. The wine certainly was good, although he wasn't sure that it was worth several days' pay. And, as enjoyable as this was, he really did need to talk about the whole Beast thing with Felicity. Eventually they were going to get out of this basement and he had to know what she planned to say and do. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that his entire life could change depending on her actions.

"Let's sit," he gestured to the chairs the Martin brothers had set up. "I think we need to talk."

"Isn't that what we've been doing?"

He shook his head. "We need to talk about what you saw."

"Ah. About the whole Grrr thing." She made a claw-like gesture with her hands.

"Exactly."

"Okay." She lowered herself slowly into one of the chairs, careful not to spill her wine. "How do you want to start?"

Vincent sat in the chair next to her. "Maybe we should start with your questions."

"Right. My questions." Felicity ran one finger gently around the top of her wine glass, and then turned to him. "You told Billy Martin that the army changed you into a Beast. That was true?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes. I enlisted not long after 9/11. My brothers were firefighters who died in the Towers and I was anxious to do something." He saw a fleeting look of sorrow pass over her face and continued quickly, "That's where I originally met Digg. I'd been in the service for about 18 months when they asked for volunteers for a special program. They told us they had an experimental training regimen that they hoped would make us better soldiers; stronger, able to stay awake longer, stuff like that. It involved daily injections – which they said were nutritional supplements." He exhaled sharply. "None of us knew that they were really modifying our DNA, inserting specific animal genomes into the human sequence."

She frowned as she pondered his words. "So they wanted to create Beasts?"

Vincent shook his head. "I think the army really did just want to create super-soldiers. Muirfield, the organization that ran the program and gave us the injections, might have had a different agenda - I don't know for certain. At any rate, the program was a failure. The army certainly got soldiers who were able to perform incredible physical feats. We could run faster than a normal human and were unbelievably strong. Unfortunately, we were also unstable, especially when our adrenaline kicked in. We couldn't control ourselves, and were just as likely to kill a friend as the enemy. Not very useful in a war."

"So what happened?"

"Muirfield ended the program and tried to get rid of us."

Felicity's eyes grew large. "You mean, kill you?"

Vincent replied matter-of-factly, "Yes – they didn't want to leave any evidence. I managed to get away. At the time, I thought I was the only one who escaped, but I've since learned there were others."

"Oh." She took a long sip of wine. Vincent smiled to himself when she took time to savor it, in spite of their current grim conversation about Muirfield and Beasts. She really was an unusual woman. After a moment she said carefully, "You told Billy that J.T. has been trying to cure you. That's true, too?"

"Yes."

"So J.T. knows you're a Beast. What about Catherine?"

"Catherine and Tess both know, along with a couple of other folks who are connected to them, like Catherine's dad. Other than that, I've tried to keep it quiet. There are people out there who are aware of the existence of Beasts, but not that I'm one – and I'd like to keep it that way. I'm trying very hard to have a normal life."

Felicity nodded. Her face clearly showed that she understood the magnitude of the secret she was now privy to. Vincent waited for her to say something about her intent to keep it, but instead she asked, "Why do you think someone took Billy Martin and changed him? I mean, if Muirfield's experiment was such a bust, why keep creating Beasts?"

Vincent shrugged. "I can think of a number of reasons. The first is that there's a handful of people out there who figure that if they just keep experimenting, they'll eventually get the DNA right – create a super-human with animal speed, strength and reflexes but without the mental and emotional instability. So they need people as test subjects. As Billy said, there's a good chance he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"And the other reasons?"

Vincent sighed. "I think there may be people, like J.T., who are trying to develop a cure. It's a little screwed up, I admit it, but in order to test the cure you have to create beasts." He paused, and then added reluctantly, "And the last reason I can think of isn't as benign. I think there are organizations who like Beasts exactly as we are, and want to use us. We can get past a lot of obstacles, human or otherwise, if we transform at the right time. We can be a powerful weapon."

She stared at him thoughtfully. "Yes, I can see that."

They both paused to a take a sip of William Martin's very expensive vintage. Vincent hated to ask, but he really had to know what she planned to do. Would she tell Digg and Queen? He felt confident about Digg's secrecy. When it came to Queen, he didn't have a clue. Felicity's decision could be the difference between packing up and making a run for it, or someday marrying Catherine and settling down in New York City.

"So, Felicity," he said softly. "Now that you know my secret, what do you want to do about it?"

She frowned and looked at him as if it were an odd question, as if there could only be one answer. "Keep it, of course," she said evenly. She stared down at her wine glass and swirled it gently, watching the red liquid rise inside the bowl and form legs as it ran back down. "I may not seem it," she added with a wry smile, "but I'm very good at keeping secrets."

"Even from Digg and Oliver?"

She nodded. "Even from Digg and Oliver, if that's what you wish. It's not my secret to tell."

He could see she meant it. Vincent let his breath out in relief. He had no real proof of her ability to keep silent, of course, but her reaction to events over the last hour suggested that she might not be exaggerating her clandestine skills. It was reassuring, and it also reminded him of a couple of questions that he had for her.

"Felicity?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"I'm curious," he said, "why you're not freaking out more over the whole Beast thing. No one has ever reacted so calmly, not even Catherine. You said something to Billy Martin about having experience with weird. Is that why?" When she nodded, he continued, "What kind of experience?"

She pulled his jacket more tightly around herself, hesitating as she studied his face. Vincent got the impression that she was assessing how much she could trust him, just as he'd weighed his trust in her a few moments ago. At last she said cautiously, "I'm not sure how much the Starling City news reaches the East Coast, but we've had an interesting couple of years. We had a man-made earthquake take out a good chunk of the city a little over a year ago. And I think I already told you something about the army of soldiers drugged up on Mirakuru that tried to take Starling over. Our city seems to be a magnet for weird events."

Vincent frowned. "Yes, both of those are odd, I admit. But I get the feeling there's something more, something about you personally. How did you even know about the Mirakuru, for example? What is it about you that gets you involved in these events?"

She laughed. "I just told you how good I was at keeping secrets and now you want me to spill the beans?"

Vincent grinned. "Which I take it means there's beans to be spilt. So, yes, I want to know." When she smiled mysteriously but said nothing, he added, "C'mon, Felicity, I showed you mine. The least you can do is show me yours."

She stared at her wine glass, clearly deliberating. He noticed that the glass was almost empty and reached over with the bottle to refill it. She gave him an ironic look, but didn't object and raised the glass to her lips for another sip. Finally, she said, "Okay. I can probably tell you a little more. But only so far as it concerns me."

Vincent sat back eagerly and waited for her to continue.

"We have a vigilante in Starling City," she began. "He's been taking on the criminal element for a couple of years now. He tried to avert the earthquake and he was the one who stopped the Mirakuru army. No one knows who he is – he uses a disguise, and his weapon of choice is a bow and arrow."

Vincent nodded vigorously. "The Hood. Yeah, we've heard about him. For a while there were a lot of blogs saying that New York needs its own vigilante to take care of the city." He saw a small smile appear on her face. "He gets mixed reviews, though," Vincent added. "It sounds like the Starling police weren't always so crazy about him – they thought The Hood might part of the criminal element."

She shook her head firmly. "He's not. He does what he can to save the city. And he prefers The Arrow to The Hood."

"Prefers? Does that mean you've met him?"

Felicity hesitated, and then said, "I work with him. That's my secret."

Vincent felt his jaw drop a little. This light-hearted, optimistic woman worked with the Starling City Vigilante – who was reported to be ruthless, violent and tough as nails? He looked at her bright, honest face and asked, "Work with him how?"

"The same way you've seen me work this week. I hack into systems to help him find criminals. I follow money trails and break into encrypted laptops to find out what the bad guys are up to. He's not the best guy with computers, he needs a little help now and then."

Vincent sat back in his chair, nonplussed. This certainly explained a lot. Apparently taking on villains really was all in a day's work for Felicity Smoak. Talk about looks being deceiving. "Do Digg and Oliver know?"

"They do."

"I can't imagine they're too happy about it."

She smiled a rather odd smile. "They know it's important to me to be doing something that matters, to help people. They've been…supportive."

"Oh." Another thought struck him. "Does this mean you know who the Vigilante is?" he asked curiously.

"I do. And I keep his secret, just as I'll keep yours."

"Oh."

Vincent drained his wine glass and reached for the bottle to refill it. He wasn't quite sure why, but it felt like he had something to celebrate - probably because he was feeling more confident that Felicity wasn't going to reveal to the world that he was a Beast. If she'd managed to protect The Hood's identity for two years, she could certainly keep the story of Vincent's alter ego to herself as well. J.T., of course, was going to freak out when he learned that she knew, but J.T. was a world-class worrier and nothing Vincent said was going to reassure him. Catherine, he thought, would understand. In the end, they both knew that Vincent had had no choice except to Beast-out to protect Felicity.

He watched the blonde woman as she continued to drink her wine. The whole secret-sharing thing had made him feel closer to her and had also made him more curious. He thought about the support that he and Catherine provided for each other and wondered whether she had similar support in her life back home. He didn't like the thought of her putting herself in danger with The Hood and then going home alone – it seemed wrong, somehow. He decided to cross a few boundaries.

"Felicity?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you another question – a personal one this time?"

She flushed. "I suppose so," she said slowly. She looked at him a little nervously.

He went for it. "What's with you and Oliver?"

Her flush grew deeper, and she didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "There's nothing with me and Oliver," she said shortly. "We're friends."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Really? That's all? Because Digg's his friend, too, and – believe me – he doesn't look at you the same way he looks at Digg. I get the feeling there's a lot more going on."

She smiled ruefully. "Yeah - that's what people keep telling me this week."

"So maybe it's true."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Look, I know Oliver cares about me, but I'm pretty sure it's not in a romantic way. We spend a lot of time together. If he wanted it to be more, he's had plenty of chances to do something. And," she added flatly, "I don't think it's because he's not ready for a relationship. He seems to find time to be with other women. He's not exactly celibate."

"Maybe he's afraid of what a relationship with you might mean…that it would be the real deal."

She stared at him. "Is that why you were reluctant to get into a relationship with Catherine? You were afraid that it might be the real deal?" When he didn't answer immediately, she continued, "Cat, Tess and I talked when we were dress shopping. Tess said that you didn't think a relationship was a good idea, but Catherine wouldn't take no for an answer – she kept coming back to you even when you pushed her away."

Vincent thought about his early days with Catherine. He certainly hadn't given her very much encouragement. Thank God she hadn't listened. "It's true," he said slowly to Felicity, "I told Catherine when we first met that she should stay away." He looked down at his glass and chuckled softly. "I'm so grateful that she didn't, that she kept coming back. I can't imagine my life without her…I really wouldn't have a life without her."

He could tell that his words had struck some kind of chord with Felicity. A variety of expressions flitted across her face and he guessed that she was revisiting memories of herself and Oliver. "I don't know," she said at last. "You had a reason to be worried about a relationship – the whole Beast secret. Oliver's got no…" she stopped herself. "Well, I don't know if Oliver's got a reason for avoiding a relationship. He's got his own secrets, I suppose, especially after spending five years stranded on an island. Whatever they are," she continued shortly, "they haven't seemed to stop him from forming attachments with other women. If he were interested in me…well, I've been right in front of him the whole time. "

Vincent shook his head. "Felicity, I can't tell you the reasons he's reluctant. Maybe Oliver's scared. Maybe he thinks he's no good for you…I don't know the man well enough to say. The one thing I can tell you is that he cares about you – and I mean really cares. A blind man could see it." He looked into her honest blue eyes and added gently, "And if you think you really care about him, maybe you should give him a little encouragement, just as Catherine gave me encouragement. When it comes down to relationships, we're all cowards in the beginning. Someone has to make the first move."

Her eyes were very bright as she looked at him, and he wondered if they were full of tears. After a moment, however, she shrugged slightly and turned her gaze back to her wine glass. It was empty.

"Do you think it's okay to open another bottle?" she asked.

Oliver was surprised that William Martin didn't have better security at his benefit. He'd figured that he and Digg would be able to get in, but he'd assumed that he would have to resurrect the old Ollie charm to talk his way past the check points. After all, there were a number of prominent people in attendance.

It turned out Ollie didn't need to make an appearance. Instead, Oliver Queen strolled confidently through the front door with Digg at his side and no one lifted one finger to stop them. As soon as people recognized him they either smiled eagerly or gave him a cool, bemused why the hell is Oliver Queen here? look. Oliver didn't give a damn either way. It had been much too long since they'd heard the growl over the comms and finding Felicity was the only thing that mattered. He didn't see her anywhere in the midst of the party-goers, but then he hadn't expected to. That would have been too much good luck.

The host, however, spotted him and began making his way over.

William Martin was accompanied by a statuesque woman with light brown hair. She clung possessively to his arm and Oliver could tell the instant she recognized him because her eyes lit up. Her look was beyond eager – it was almost predatory. William Martin, on the other hand, fell more into the bemused category. His greeting was polite, but cool in its correctness.

"Mr. Queen, I believe," he said crisply. "How nice to see you. Clearly this is a spontaneous gesture on your part." He gestured at Oliver's casual attire. "I'm glad to hear the New York City hospitals are of such interest to you that you want to drop in and show your support." He held out his hand.

Oliver shook it, doing his best to smile through gritted teeth. It was frustrating to take time for small talk when he was worried Felicity may have been attacked by one of those man-creatures. Offending the host, however, was not going to help. So he replied neutrally, "Thank you for your hospitality. I apologize for dropping in without an invitation." He could feel Digg shuffle nervously on his feet next to him.

"May I introduce Marjorie Headley-Gardner," Martin continued, gesturing to the woman. "She devotes considerable time and energy to our fund raising efforts. We'd be lost without her." Oliver thought he could detect a note of irony in Martin's tone, but the man's face betrayed nothing. Mrs. Headley-Gardner smiled, exposing a set of white, even teeth. Her slim height and long hair made Oliver think of an older version of Laurel – although with a couple of fewer college degrees, he suspected, and a couple of more cup sizes. Her bosom certainly seemed to defy gravity.

Mrs. Headley-Gardner extended her hand, taking a firm hold of Oliver's. "Mr. Queen," she just about purred, "it's such a pleasure to meet you. I must say, your photos don't do you justice." After a few seconds during which Oliver tried – unsuccessfully – to extricate his hand, she added, "I'd be happy to talk to you now about our efforts for the hospitals. I'm sure when you hear what we've been able to do in New York you'll want to try something similar in Starling."

Oliver tried to maintain his smile. He wondered if it was beginning to appear as phony as it felt. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Headley-Gardner, I'd love to hear about your work. However," he added quickly, "I first need to find a friend who, I believe, is at this benefit." He turned back to Martin. "I'm looking for Felicity Smoak. I think she's here tonight?"

"Felicity?" William Martin seemed surprised. He stared sternly at Oliver before moving his gaze to Diggle. "Of course," he said to Digg more kindly, "you were here with her yesterday – you're a friend of hers. I thought you looked familiar. How are you this evening, Mr…"

"Diggle," Digg finished for him. "I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Martin." Glancing at Oliver's anxious face, he hurriedly continued, "We're sorry to disturb your benefit, but as Oliver says, we're looking for Felicity. Have you seen her? It's important that we speak with her."

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Oliver got the sense that he was considering the question only because Digg had asked. He suspected that if Oliver Queen had crashed the party alone, Martin would have told him to take a hike. "She was dancing with her doctor friend a little while ago," Martin said. He scanned the large room. "I don't see them now, but you're welcome to take a look around."

Oliver breathed out in relief. At least they were going to be allowed to look for her without interference – that would help. His relief disappeared, however, when Martin added, "Whatever it is you need to see her about, it had better be urgent – otherwise I'd suggest leaving them alone. They were having a good time dancing and I wouldn't be surprised if they went someplace to be alone. It happens every year with a few couples at this benefit."

Oliver clenched his teeth more tightly. Based on the growl he'd heard on the comms, he doubted that Felicity and Keller had snuck away for a romantic moment. The fact that they appeared to Martin like a couple wanting to do so, however, was a little disconcerting. No one had ever mistaken him and Felicity for a couple at any of the events he'd attended with her. Things had always been very…businesslike.

Marjorie Headley-Gardner's eyes narrowed. "Felicity," she said slowly. "Small blonde woman, red dress, about so tall?" She held out her hand at shoulder height.

"Yes," Oliver said eagerly. "Have you seen her?"

The woman shook her head. "Not for an hour or so. It looked like she and Dr. Keller were headed down the first floor hallway toward the kitchen." She gave Martin a sarcastic smile. "Not exactly where I would go if I wanted to get down and dirty, but maybe the girl's not as innocent as she looks." She turned back to Oliver and Digg, assessing the two of them openly. "Apparently, she's got something special, though, because she appears to be some kind of hot-guy magnet. First Vincent Keller, now you two." She pursed her lips. "I don't understand it myself, but there's no accounting for taste."

Oliver stopped listening after her second sentence. Felicity had headed with Keller down the first floor hallway? It wasn't much, but it was a place to start. He watched William Martin intently when Digg reminded him, "And you said you don't mind if we look?"

Martin shook his head. "Not at all," he replied to Diggle. He gave Oliver a sharp glance, but his face softened as he turned back to Digg. "I hope whatever the urgent matter is, it's not bad news. Such a lovely, smart young woman. I was happy to see the doctor with her. He seems like a good fellow and she deserves good things in her life."

"Yes," Digg agreed shortly, "she does. Thank you, Mr. Martin, for your patience. We'll find Felicity as quickly as we can and then get out of your hair." He began to move away, urging Oliver along with a brief slap on his shoulder.

Oliver didn't need to be told twice. With a nod to Martin and the Headley-Gardner woman, he followed Digg across the room, past the curious glances of the elegant party-goers. They exited quickly to the first floor hallway and looked around.

"It looks like the kitchen's at the end," he said to Diggle. "Let's check there first and then work our way back." He pointed to the handful of closed doors on either side of the hallway.

"Right," Digg agreed. They walked into kitchen and were greeted by the smell of food, the sound of cutlery and the bustling catering staff. Everyone was moving about their jobs purposefully and no one seemed agitated, so Oliver doubted that the creature had made an appearance. There was certainly no sign of Keller or Felicity. Digg looked at Oliver. "Should we ask anyone?"

Oliver shook his head. "Waste of time. If they'd seen anything, they'd already be talking about it. Let's check the other rooms."

They headed back the way they came, opening doors one by one. There was a utility closet, a half-bathroom, and a small study - all devoid of both the creature and Felicity.

The fourth door was locked. It felt out of place to Oliver when all the other rooms had been open; the fact that there was something behind that door that someone didn't want people to see made him want to see it all the more. He placed his ear close to the door and listened intently. He heard nothing – not a growl or any indication of movement on the other side.

"Think we should break it down?" Oliver asked Digg. "I'm guessing I can do it with my shoulder."

Digg stared at him. "Or we could just try unlocking it." He reached down and twisted a small knob; Oliver heard the deadbolt release with a sharp click. "The lock is on this side, Oliver."

"Oh."

They cracked the door open cautiously, revealing a set of stairs leading down towards what Oliver assumed was the basement. He was about to take the first step when he recalled Martin's words a few moments earlier. He wanted to discount the notion - it wasn't like Felicity - but Martin had seemed to think it possible and he was the one who'd seen Keller and Felicity dancing. Oliver reminded himself that Keller had a girlfriend and Felicity liked Cat and wouldn't want to hurt her. Still, he also knew that strange things could happen when two people were together on a mission, and it would explain Vincent taking himself and Felicity off the air.

"That noise we heard on the comms," he said to Digg uncertainly. "That was a growl, right? It wasn't a…a…"

"A what, Oliver?"

"A…moan." Oliver cringed when he said it.

Digg stared at him for a long moment. "No way," he said at last. But he didn't sound entirely sure either.

Oliver shook his head. "Felicity wouldn't," he said flatly, more to himself than Digg.

"And Vincent wouldn't either."

They continued to look at each other. Oliver reminded himself that Felicity might lie dying somewhere below and every minute could matter. It wasn't a time to be shy.

"Right," he said to Digg, "Let's go." He pushed the door open wider and, at the last minute, shoved Digg, forcing him to head down first. Digg gave him a dirty look over his shoulder but kept moving. Oliver followed.

The stairs were dark, but he could make out a dim light coming from somewhere down in the basement. He also thought he could hear the low rumble of a masculine voice talking quietly. There certainly were no creature-like sounds. If the thing really had been there he was gone now, leaving whatever damage he'd done behind.

"Felicity?" Oliver called out softly.

There was a silence, and then Keller's voice responded, "We're down here." He sounded subdued, almost overly calm. There was no answer at all from Felicity. Oliver felt his anxiety surge. Why hadn't she answered?

He pushed his way past Diggle to run down the stairs, all thoughts of disturbing the couple gone. He wound his way frantically through the basement clutter, heading toward the source of the light. A number of images flashed through his mind; Felicity nursing a broken limb, Felicity unconscious and bleeding, Felicity cold and still…

Felicity…sitting and enjoying a glass of wine, apparently.

She looked fine – absolutely fine. There was a slight flush on her cheeks and she was wearing Keller's tux jacket, but otherwise she was in exactly the same condition he'd seen her in when she'd left for the gala hours ago. She was just about lost in Keller's jacket. It made her look tiny and ridiculous and…utterly adorable. Oliver was struck by the fact that he had never once, in all their times in the foundry, offered Felicity his jacket to wear. Keller had known her five minutes and he was giving her his clothes. It felt very wrong.

Keller himself also looked fine, although he was sporting a couple of red welts on one cheek and his hair was a little disheveled. His bow tie was undone and lay open on the unbuttoned collar of his crisp, white dress shirt. He had his own glass of wine and Oliver noticed an empty bottle sitting on an overturned crate, with a second bottle that was at least halfway gone. Keller and Felicity looked completely at ease with one another, as if they'd known each other for years. That felt very wrong, too.

"What happened?" he heard Digg ask. He hadn't realized that Diggle had caught up.

Vincent gestured to the area that he and Felicity were occupying. "Welcome to the Martin brother's secret lair," he said, before taking a sip of wine.

"Martin brothers?" Digg asked.

Vincent nodded. "Yes. Apparently William Junior isn't as dead as everyone thinks. Felicity and I ran into him tonight."

"You ran into Billy Martin?" Oliver repeated. "Is he the one who locked you down here? Digg and I could have sworn we heard a growl over the comms. We thought you were being attacked by the creature."

"We were," Felicity said softly, speaking for the first time.

"You were?" Oliver studied her anxiously. "And you're alright?" She certainly looked fine - no blood, no limbs sticking out at odd angles. "What the hell happened?"

She glanced briefly at Keller, almost as if for permission. When he said nothing, she replied, "Vincent fought him off."

Oliver narrowed his eyes. Keller had fought the creature off? How the hell had he managed to do that? Oliver and Digg together had been almost useless – they'd been thrown around like rag dolls the other morning. Apart from a couple of scratches, Keller appeared totally unharmed. His damn dress shirt wasn't even dirty.

Before he could ask, however, Felicity continued. "You were half right yesterday, Oliver, when you said you thought that Jeff Martin was somehow turning himself into the…" she hesitated and looked again toward Keller "Beast," she said carefully. "Someone did transform, only it was Billy Martin, not Jeff."

"What the hell?" Digg's voice sounded as incredulous as Oliver felt. Digg turned toward Keller with a puzzled expression. "This isn't making a whole lot of sense, Vincent," he said curtly.

Keller sighed. "I know. And I know you want to hear everything that happened. Still, we should probably get out of here first, before either Martin brother comes back and decides to lock us all in. Felicity and I were able to talk to Billy for a few minutes. The good news is that he and Jeff don't want to hurt her. They tried to kidnap her because they wanted her help. The bad news is that I'm guessing they still want her help. And Billy is probably worried about someone other than Jeff now knowing his secret."

Oliver frowned. He had a few dozen questions – about how the Martin brothers thought Felicity could help, about how Keller had managed to fight Billy-the-creature off, and about whatever it was that Keller and Felicity had been discussing that had her looking flushed and vaguely disturbed. For all her youth and optimism, Felicity didn't rattle easily and something clearly had her rattled. Still, Keller was right. They could talk about all of that someplace else.

"You're right," he said to Keller, "we should go."

Keller turned to Felicity. "Ready to head back up?"

She nodded uncertainly. Oliver watched her place her wine glass almost too carefully on the crate and slowly get to her feet. She immediately bobbled, unceremoniously.

"Oh dear," she said. "Apparently three-inch heels and a bottle of $800 wine don't mix." She smiled apologetically at the three of them. "This may take me a few minutes."

Keller grinned. "Here, Felicity, let me give you a hand." He reached over and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.

And something in Oliver snapped – not a big snap, but enough to decide that if Felicity needed help getting up the stairs, he was going to be the one to supply it. Not Keller. Whatever personal discussion the two of them had been having earlier, it was over now.

"I've got her," he said abruptly to Keller.

"What?" Keller appeared confused.

"I've got her," Oliver repeated. "You can let go." And without waiting further, he pushed himself between the two of them, bent his knees and scooped Felicity up in his arms.

There was a few seconds of silence during which he could have sworn that meaningful stares were exchanged all around. Digg glanced at Felicity and then Oliver thoughtfully, and Felicity looked toward Keller with her eyebrows raised in question. Keller flashed her a brief smile in return, and Oliver got the feeling that some kind of words were shared silently in those few seconds.

"Well, alright then," Felicity said to the three of them in general. "Problem solved." After a short hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Oliver's neck and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt a strange surge in his gut. The last time he'd carried her she'd been unconscious after their van had been overturned and surrounded by Mirakuru soldiers. This time she was awake and a willing participant. It was…well, better than nice. It was…satisfying. He began walking toward the steps.

There was a sharp crackle and suddenly J.T.'s voice was in his ear.

"What did I miss?"