A/N: Sorry for the wait on the update. It's a long chapter, though. Hope that makes up for some of it. If you're sticking with this...thank you.

Team Arrow huddled in John Diggle's hotel room while Team Beast presumably was meeting at J.T.'s house.

At least that was what Felicity was calling the two groups in her head, ever since Vincent had unexpectedly shown her his alter ego a few hours ago. She'd better not use those names out loud, she reminded herself, since she was the only one who knew the secrets of both parties. None of the New Yorkers were aware of Oliver's extracurricular activities and she was the only one from Starling who was now clued in to the whole Beast thing – most particularly that Vincent was one. She wondered vaguely how she got herself into these secret-keeping predicaments. She certainly seemed to have a gift for it.

She'd suggested to Vincent that they split up to talk to their respective groups of friends back when they were sipping wine in William Martin's basement. Vincent hadn't been too crazy about the idea. "Beasts can track, Felicity," he'd said soberly. "Billy Martin's been close to you a couple of times now, he'll know your scent. There's a chance he'll trace you to the hotel. It puts you, Digg and Oliver at risk. I think you should come straight back to J.T.'s."

But Felicity had insisted. She'd wanted Vincent to have time to tell his friends that he'd revealed himself as a Beast without the constraint of having to be polite in front of her. She didn't know J.T. all that well, but she was pretty sure he was going to have a minor conniption and Catherine would be worried about what it might mean for Vincent to have a relative stranger know his secret. They needed to discuss it openly, something they could not do if she were there. Besides, now that they knew Billy was alive and had only wanted to enlist Felicity's hacking skills, it seemed unlikely that he would make any further kidnapping attempts. Vincent hadn't been so sure about that, but she'd eventually gotten him to agree – reluctantly – that she would go back to the hotel with Digg and Oliver while Vincent talked to his friends. Once things calmed down, she'd promised she'd return to J.T.'s.

The thing about Beasts being able to track had been unexpected and promising. She'd thought about the challenges Team Arrow often had in locating villains. Being able to sniff them out would be helpful. "Can you track, too?" she'd asked Vincent hopefully.

He'd nodded, "Yes."

"So that means you could also track me if Billy Martin were to take me? Or you could find him if we wanted to talk to him more, for that matter." She'd been enthusiastic about the possibilities. Maybe they could locate Billy and do something to help him. The guy wasn't inherently evil, after all; he was just desperate. Despite the kidnapping attempts, she felt a little sorry for him.

Vincent had replied carefully, "I can track him within reason. If he gets on a plane with you all bets are off. And it's trickier tracking another Beast versus an ordinary human. He's got my scent now, too. If he's paying attention, he'll know I'm coming."

"Oh."

Felicity had tempered her excitement over Beast tracking. Apparently it wasn't the silver bullet that would solve the problem of Billy Martin. Still, it was another weapon in their arsenal…a weapon which they couldn't use around Oliver or Digg since neither of them knew that Vincent was a Beast, she'd reminded herself.

Sitting in Digg's hotel room now she wondered how Vincent's conversation with his friends was going. Overall, hers could be going better. Unfortunately, she and Vincent hadn't thought to come up with a good cover story for his ability to defeat an unstoppable assailant so she was left dancing vaguely around the issue while Oliver and Digg pushed for details. Coming straight to the hotel after the benefit also meant that she was still wearing her evening gown, a situation she dearly wished she could rectify. It was late, she was tired, and she was dying to put on something she could breathe in and lie down on the bed. Instead, with all of her clothes at J.T.'s., she found herself perched on the edge of the hard hotel chair, mentally counting fibs as she answered – or didn't answer - Oliver and Digg's questions. Oliver was staring at her with that familiar mixture of affection and exasperation that was uniquely his and she doubted he was buying much of what she said. Digg looked less frustrated, but with his uncanny bullshit detection capability she was certain that he wasn't fooled either. She really hated lying to both of them.

"Felicity," Oliver sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What aren't you telling us? Unless Vincent had a weapon, which I'm pretty sure he didn't, or is really the Incredible Hulk, there is no way he could have taken on that creature by himself. He had to have had help. So what happened?"

Felicity shrugged weakly. "Really, Oliver, I don't know what to say." (Definitely true.) "Once the Beast appeared I did my best to hide." (Sort of true.) "I could hear fighting, but I didn't see any of it." (Alright, that was a fabrication.) "And then there was a break in the fighting and the Beast transformed back into Billy Martin and we talked with him." (Mostly true.) "He told us that the kidnappers had messed with his DNA and he was looking for a way to reverse what they had done. He thought I might be able to help him find the kidnappers or a scientist who had done similar cross-species genetic experiments. Then he ran up the stairs and locked us in the basement before we could stop him. (True.)" She exhaled and did her best to look Oliver in the eye. "That's all I can tell you, really." Overall, the tally wasn't too bad, she thought; a couple of true statements, a couple of mostly true ones, and one outright fib. Four to one. Except when she put them all together and looked at her two best friends, it felt like one big lie.

It must have felt like that to Oliver, too, because he continued to stare at her for a moment and then broke his gaze to glance first at Diggle and then the floor. He frowned. "This doesn't feel like you, Felicity," he said almost sadly. "I know there's more to this story. I thought you trusted me."

Ouch. She'd expected an impatient or even angry reaction and had prepared herself for a reprimand. But Oliver seemed…hurt, which was a thousand times worse. She felt the sting of tears forming in her eyes and looked away. "I do trust you, Oliver," she said softly. "More than anything."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

"I…just…can't… tell you anymore."

"Because of Vincent?" His tone was a little sharper.

"No…yes…well, kind of." She blinked and to her dismay, felt one tear escape her eye and roll slowly down her cheek. Ugh – that was embarrassing. She'd never liked women who tried to cry their way out of difficult situations and now it appeared she was one of those women, even if unintentionally. Add that to her list of failings for the evening. Oliver must be ready to get on a plane back to Starling and forget the whole mess.

She looked up to find him studying her with a peculiar expression, almost as if he felt the need to apologize. To her surprise, he reached out and cupped her chin, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. He sighed and said, "Okay, we'll leave it for now. It's late and you're tired. We should get you back to J.T.'s so you can get some sleep." He dropped his hand from her face, but kept it resting lightly on her forearm. Wow. Apparently this was why those women resorted to tears in tough conversations; it clearly worked. Oliver had gone from looking like he wanted to shake her to looking like he wanted to hug her. Go figure.

Felicity thought about Vincent's advice. When it comes down to relationships, we're all cowards in the beginning. Someone has to make the first move. According to Vincent, Oliver might be nervous about declaring his feelings and she should encourage him. She wondered what constituted a good first move. Was Oliver carrying her out of the basement his first move? When they'd reached the top of the stairs she'd expected him to put her down, but instead he'd walked right through the party with her still in his arms, past a surprised William Martin and a resentful Marjorie-the-Piranha. In return, she'd buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him for all she was worth. Would Oliver interpret that as her move? Who the hell knew? There was already an element of physicality to their relationship; they held hands in times of crisis and she'd hugged him plenty of times. So what would signal the desire for something more? When you were very good friends who spent most of your time together, where exactly did platonic affection end and romantic love begin? It was all very confusing.

Oliver was right. It was time to get some sleep. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.

Vincent wondered whether Felicity's discussion with Oliver and Digg was going any better than his was with J.T. As expected, his best friend had pretty much freaked out when Vincent had told him that he'd Beasted-out in front of Felicity. Catherine and Tess appeared to take the news more calmly, but maybe that was because J.T. was doing enough talking for all of them.

"We've known her for what – all of four days? And you decide to Beast-out in front of her? Why don't you just post a picture on your Facebook page? Better yet, next time Oliver Queen drops by you can give him a live demonstration. He's got a great reputation for discretion, after all." If this were a cartoon, Vincent was pretty sure little wisps of steam would be coming out of J.T.'s ears.

He sighed heavily. "What exactly was I supposed to do, J.T.? We were being attacked by a Beast. Let him take her and hope that he didn't hurt her?"

J.T. shook his head. "No, of course not. But you could have grabbed her and gotten out of there. With your speed, there's a good chance no one would have even seen you, let alone recognize you."

Vincent shrugged. "Maybe. But that would have left one Beast still in the house. And I don't think Billy Martin has nearly as much control as I have. It could have gotten ugly; he could have tried to follow us and people might have gotten in the way." Before J.T. could spool up for another counter-argument, Vincent added quickly, "Anyway, it's done and I can't undo it. And I'm pretty sure Felicity won't tell anyone. She's good with secrets."

"And you're sure of this how?"

Vincent hesitated, and then said, "Because she's known the identity of the Starling City Vigilante for a couple of years, and she's told no one – not the police, and not Digg or Queen."

There was a stunned silence in the room. After a minute, Tess broke it. "She told you this? That she knows who The Hood is? And you believe her?"

Vincent nodded. "I do. She was amazingly calm after I Beasted-out. When I asked her why she wasn't freaking out she explained that she'd seen some strange things working with The Hood. She uses her hacking skills to help him from time to time."

Tess frowned. "That's not exactly a ringing endorsement of her trustworthiness. It's great that she can keep a secret, but I've got to question her judgment. From what I've read about the Vigilante, he isn't the most law-abiding guy out there."

"To be fair, neither are we…at least if you go by the book." Catherine spoke up for the first time. "We've harbored a fugitive," she glanced briefly at Vincent, "and withheld information from time to time. And yet we still think of ourselves as the good guys because we're doing it for the right reasons. Vincent's got pretty solid instincts when it comes to figuring out who he can trust. If he thinks Felicity will keep his secret, then I'm inclined to believe him." Vincent felt the familiar, warm sensation that he always got when Catherine showed her faith in him. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"Maybe," J.T. said skeptically. "But what about her friends? Your army pal, Digg, might be okay. But Oliver Queen? He's got a lousy reputation."

"Like I said, she hasn't told either one of them who the Vigilante is," Vincent reminded him. "They know she works with him, but they don't know his name. She promised she wouldn't say anything to them about me being a Beast either."

J.T. gave a low whistle. "Well, that's a hell of a secret to keep from your friends. Those three look like they're pretty tight. I'm sure Queen and Digg are pumping her for information even as we speak."

Vincent had no doubt that J.T. was right about that one. It was one of the reasons he didn't like the idea of Felicity going back to the hotel with Digg and Queen without more time to process the whole Beast-thing. It was never fun keeping secrets from your friends, especially friends who seemed as invested in Felicity's welfare as those two. In fact, he thought to himself, she'd probably had enough questions by this point and needed a break. He pulled out his phone and texted her that the coast was clear to come back to J.T.'s place. She texted in return almost immediately with a relieved smiley face.

"Well, she's on her way," Vincent told J.T., "And I'd appreciate it if you don't treat her with suspicion when she gets here. My guess is she's had a pretty tough time with Queen and Digg."

J.T. shrugged and nodded reluctantly.

Walking back to the hotel from J.T.'s house, Oliver tried to sort through the odd kaleidoscope of emotions that kept taking turns surfacing. It had been a hell of a strange night; one that had started with seeing Felicity looking beautiful and content on Vincent's arm and ended with Oliver leaving her at J.T.'s home, looking subdued, tired and almost apologetic. It was a little past midnight, but the sidewalks still held plenty of people returning from their Friday night revels in the Big Apple. Beside him, Digg strode quietly, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

First and foremost, Oliver knew that he felt relief. Relief that Felicity was not injured, relief that the…Beast, or whatever it was that Felicity was now calling him, had not hurt her. That hour or so between the time Oliver had heard the growl on the comms and then finally found her safe and sound in the basement of Martin's house had been one of the longest ones in his life – in some ways worse than when Slade Wilson had taken her. Slade had been a plan, after all; Oliver's plan. Slade had been a calculated risk and Oliver had been reasonably confident that, because the man wanted to see him suffer, he would make no attempt to harm Felicity until Oliver was there to see it – which gave him the chance to stop it. This thing with Billy Martin, on the other hand, had been entirely outside of his control. Feeling powerless had added a new, unaccustomed dimension to his worry. He didn't like it.

Then there was frustration. Frustration because Felicity clearly knew more than she was telling him but for some reason wouldn't or couldn't say more. Frustration because Felicity was supposed to keep secrets for him, not for other people. Frustration because he could see that she wanted to confide in him but was holding back because her integrity or courage or whatever it was that made her different from other people – better than other people - wouldn't allow her to talk. It was that Felicity-quality of honor that had made him stop questioning her. He knew all about impossible choices and he was pretty sure that by demanding to know what had happened he was pushing her into one. If he pushed so hard that she eventually told him, then she would be disappointed with herself for betraying some kind of confidence. He didn't want to be the cause of that.

Oliver picked up his pace as the kaleidoscope flipped and another, less defined emotion emerged. He wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling when he had seen Felicity with Keller, but he knew he didn't like it. It had left him with a sense of unease that refused to go away, even when he'd found her in the basement and was carrying her in his arms. Digg, no doubt, would say it was jealousy – and maybe it was, to some extent. But Oliver thought it was more complicated than that. Seeing Felicity looking happy with another man, he'd realized, was peering into the future. It was inevitable. In some ways it was surprising that a man hadn't already found her and swept her off her feet. She was intelligent, she was beautiful, and she had a brightness that made everything about her better. What guy wouldn't want that? The only saving grace thus far had been that she was so busy being by Oliver's side that she hadn't had time to look elsewhere. But at some point that would change and he would have to watch her go home to someone else, hold hands with and hug someone else. He would have to not think about her making love with someone else.

"It's not a race, man." Digg's voice broke into his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said, 'it's not a race,' Oliver. You're walking so fast you're practically running."

"Sorry." Oliver tried to make himself slow down. He took a deep breath and shortened his stride. "Better?"

"Yup."

Oliver glanced over at Diggle. The man was gazing down the sidewalk with what only could be described as a poker face. Come to think of it, he had been quiet the entire evening, which was unusual given all that had happened. Though he thought he might regret it, Oliver couldn't help asking, "You want to tell me what's on your mind, Digg? You haven't said much of anything since we got Felicity out of that party – which isn't like you. Typically this is the time when you dispense advice, particularly for me."

Digg shrugged. "I thought I'd give it a rest tonight," he replied blandly. "There's clearly a lot going on in that head of yours. Maybe you need time to sort it out on your own."

"Which means you think there's something I need to sort out?"

That got more of a reaction. Digg rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Really, Oliver? That's how you want to play it? You want to pretend that this whole evening – hell, this whole week with Felicity in New York hasn't shaken you up just a little?"

"Of course I'm shaken, Digg. Someone's tried to kidnap Felicity twice and tonight I believed she'd been attacked by that…Beast. I'm worried about her and hell, yeah, I'm shaken."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Oliver, and you know it."

"I'm not sure I do, Digg. Why don't you explain it to me?"

Digg exhaled sharply. "Fine, if that's the way you want it. Ever since we got to New York you've had to watch Felicity work with someone other than you. You've seen that other people value her skills and appreciate her for what she is. You've seen her make a connection outside of Starling City."

Oliver frowned. "Where exactly are you going with this, Digg?"

Diggle shook his head impatiently. "Oliver, like I told you back in the foundry before we left, I don't pretend to understand what goes on between you and Felicity. You always want her with you and you definitely care about her, but whether it's more than that – well, I have my ideas but they don't really matter. It's what the two of you think that counts. The one thing I do know is that the ace up your sleeve has always been Felicity's desire to do something important, to be more than an IT employee. Working with you has given her that – it's given her a chance to be a hero and that's kept her by your side, even when she's had to watch you with other women. But this week…this week she's learned that she can do important things with other people, that what makes her a hero is her – not being with you."

"And?"

"And she knows she has a choice now. And if you want to keep her by your side in the long run, Oliver, you're going to have to give her another reason for staying besides being part of the team."

Oliver was silent for a few strides. Finally he said, "Wow, that's quite a speech, Digg."

"Well, you asked. I told you I was planning to give it a rest."

Oliver sighed, "Yeah, I suppose you did." He stopped walking, bringing Digg to a halt as well.

"Something else you want to say, Oliver?"

"Do you mind walking back to the hotel on your own? There's someone I need to talk to."

Catherine closed the door to her apartment and kicked off her shoes. "Well, that was an eventful evening," she said to Vincent. Her tone was sarcastic, but there was an impish smile on her face that reassured him that she was handling things with her usual optimism. He smiled in return, and tossed his tuxedo jacket over the back of a chair.

"I know it's late," Vincent said, "but would you like a glass of wine? I realize I probably had my fair share from Martin's wine cellar, but I could use something to help me unwind now. Listening to J.T. yell for nearly an hour has me a little on edge."

Catherine laughed, "Sounds great. I was on duty, so I haven't had a damn thing to drink all evening. I'll go get out of this," she gestured to the evening gown she was wearing, "and into something more comfortable. You pour."

"Right." Vincent stepped behind the island in her kitchen and located a bottle of red wine as Catherine padded barefoot down the short hallway to her bedroom, the stiff fabric from her dress rustling as she moved. He barely had time to uncork the bottle and fill two glasses before she returned in a tank top and drawstring pants, her favorite choice for pajamas. Vincent wasn't sure which look he liked better. She was stunning when she dressed up for an evening out, but this was pretty great too.

"Oh, I think this will hit the spot." She took a glass and settled onto one of the kitchen barstools with a deep sigh.

From across the counter, Vincent leaned toward her and clinked his glass gently against hers. "I'm not sure what we should toast to," he said, "but thank you for not freaking out as much as J.T. I don't think I could take two lectures on the risks of Beasting-out tonight. I haven't seen him this wound up in a while."

"He's your best friend. He's just worried about you."

"And you're not?"

Catherine shrugged. "I decided I'm going to trust your instincts about Felicity. I like her, too, and if you think she can keep it a secret, I'll run with that." She took a deep swallow of her wine.

"I really think she can. And besides, I didn't feel like I had much of a choice."

"I know that, too." Catherine paused in mid-sip to study him, her smile gradually transforming into a puzzled expression. "You're not going to change clothes too? Usually you can't wait to get out of the penguin suit."

Vincent shook his head. He'd recalled Felicity's words about suspenders, dress shirts and getting lucky when they'd walked into the apartment and thought it might be fun to put them to the test. After all he wasn't particularly tired, Catherine's support over Beasting-out reminded him once again why he loved her, and she looked particularly attractive in her PJ's. "I'm okay like this," he replied. "Besides, I'm checking out a theory."

"What theory?"

"Just something Felicity told me."

Catherine put her wine glass down and gave him another long, assessing look. Then she frowned and rolled her eyes. "She told you about suspenders, didn't she?"

Vincent nearly dropped his wine glass. "Yeah – she did. How did you know?"

"It's pretty commonly known among women to be a major turn-on, right up there with good facial scruff and six pack abs." Catherine traced the top of her wine glass with her finger – a little seductively, he thought. "Does this mean you're thinking our evening isn't completely over yet? I figured you'd be tired and just want to sleep."

"I'm not that tired."

She grinned, a sparkle emerging in her green eyes. "Well, that's good news. I'm glad to see you saved some energy for me." His heart leapt when she continued, "I think we'll have to find out how much." After a short pause, however, the sparkle faded and she added with mock seriousness, "I'm a little disappointed in Felicity, though. She kind of violated the girl-code when she told you. Maybe she's not so trustworthy after all."

Vincent laughed. "No, please don't assume she can't be trusted. We shared a moment down there in the basement and it got a little personal. She told me about suspenders and I gave her some advice about Oliver Queen."

"Really? What exactly did you advise her to do?"

"I told her he might be nervous about a relationship and suggested she encourage him a little. You know, the way you encouraged me."

"Encouraged you? I chased you shamelessly."

"Precisely." Vincent put his wine glass down and walked around the kitchen island til he was standing in front of Catherine. He gently took the glass out of her hand and slid it to the side. "You did chase me," he agreed softly, "and I will be forever grateful." He ran his hand up her bare arm until it rested on her shoulder. "Now, about testing Felicity's theory…" He slowly lowered his face to hers until he was inches away. Right before making contact he said, "Why didn't you ever tell me about the suspenders thing?"

Catherine smiled. "You have enough going for you in the hotness department. I didn't think I needed to give you another one. But since you now know …" She gently grasped his suspenders and pulled him down until the short gap was closed and their lips met.

And Vincent felt the last remnants of his tension leave his body – at least the tension from J.T.'s lecture. A different, more pleasurable tension began to replace it as their lips moved, and he gave in to the urge to clasp Catherine around the waist and lift her from the stool until their faces were level. She wrapped both arms around his neck and her legs around his middle, and deepened the kiss further. Vincent barely had time to register that he owed Felicity for the suspenders tip, before he began backing out of the kitchen and heading slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. At the same time, Catherine started undoing the buttons of his shirt, never stopping her enthusiastic kisses. All in all, the evening had taken a sharp turn for the better.

And then there was a knock at the door.

They both froze. History showed that late night knocks were almost never good; typically they were Beast-related, and ended with either him or Catherine being arrested or at least taken somewhere for questioning. He wondered if Jeff or Billy Martin had called in an anonymous tip to the police or decided to seek him out themselves. Maybe Martin Senior had reported that he was missing a couple of very expensive bottles of wine.

"Give me a second to get my weapon," Catherine whispered in his ear. He nodded, and lowered her to the floor. She quickly ran to the kitchen to retrieve her gun from its holster on the kitchen counter. Once she had it in hand and gave him the thumbs up, Vincent silently went to the door and glanced through the peephole.

He stepped back and stared at Catherine, perplexed. "It's Oliver."

"Oliver Queen?"

"Yup."

"By himself?"

Vincent nodded. "Just him."

She frowned. "Well, that's a surprise. I suppose you should let him in; he must have something important on his mind to come by this late." She gave a small shrug. "On the bright side, at least I'm not going to have to shoot anybody."

Glancing once again through the peephole at Queen's rather fierce expression, Vincent mumbled, "I'm not so sure about that, but okay…" He unlocked the two sturdy deadbolts on Catherine's door and slowly swung it inward, not moving from the opening.

Queen met his eyes steadily. The fierce expression didn't lessen. "Can we talk?"

Vincent felt compelled to stare back for a few seconds, if only to establish that he could be equally as fierce. Then he stepped away from the doorway and gestured inside the apartment. "Come on in."

Queen entered and immediately began scanning the interior of Catherine's main room. Vincent couldn't help thinking that it was a move a covert ops professional would make, not a playboy CEO. Queen caught sight of Catherine returning her weapon to its holster on the counter and asked dryly, "Do you always answer the door armed?"

She looked at him and pursed her lips. "Well I'm a cop, this is New York City and," she glanced at the clock, "after 1:00 in the morning, so yeah, answering the door armed kind of comes with the territory."

There was a few seconds of silence. Queen didn't exactly relax, but he did give a shadow of what might pass for a smile. "I'm sorry for coming by so late," he said at last, "but I'm really trying to figure out what happened tonight." He gazed down at his feet. "Felicity hasn't exactly been forthcoming with the details, which isn't like her, so I figured maybe you could tell me."

Vincent glanced at Catherine, and when she nodded her assent pointed to the sofa and chairs that formed her living room. "Have a seat," he said reluctantly to Queen. He was pretty sure he didn't want to have this conversation. Felicity had probably told Oliver as much as she could, short of revealing that Vincent had Beasted-out. He didn't know what else he could say to put Queen's mind at ease. He was also afraid of saying something that might contradict whatever story Felicity had given him.

Queen selected an armchair and lowered his body into it. It would be an exaggeration to say that he settled into the chair. The man had a restless energy that filled Catherine's apartment and made the place feel smaller. Vincent wondered what, if anything, he did for fun. He had a hard time picturing Oliver in a movie theater or falling asleep in front of the television. He had too much edge, too much something. Maybe that's what happened when you survived five years on an island. Once again Vincent was reminded how little the public reputation of Oliver Queen seemed to fit the real person.

Catherine came over and joined Vincent on the couch. They both looked at Queen expectantly.

"I can't figure it out," Oliver said shortly. "I can't figure out how you were able to fend off that creature, that Beast, as Felicity says, without one or both of you being killed. Something else must have happened in that basement. She won't say what, and it has me worried."

Vincent felt Catherine rest one hand lightly on his thigh. It was her way of saying we're in this together and, as always, it gave him reassurance. "What did Felicity tell you?" he asked. He was curious and a little anxious to hear how Felicity had spun the tale.

"She says she hid as soon as she saw the Beast, and that somewhere in the middle of it all he chose to transform back into Billy Martin. When he did, she came out of hiding and you both spoke with him."

Vincent nodded, hoping his relief wasn't evident. "That's pretty much what happened," he agreed.

Queen gave him a skeptical look. "So, after two previous kidnapping attempts in which he physically attacked J.T. and then Digg and me, he decided this time that talking would work better? I'm not buying it. He's pretty much unstoppable. He could have easily killed you and grabbed Felicity. Why didn't he?"

Vincent shrugged. "It's hard to say what goes through another man's mind," he replied, hoping he didn't sound glib. "I'm certainly glad he chose to become Billy again and give us the chance to talk. Otherwise, as you say, it wouldn't have been pretty."

Queen's face darkened. "I'd appreciate if you didn't insult my intelligence or screw around with me," he said to Vincent tersely. "I've got common sense, despite what the media might say. There was no reason for Billy Martin to just talk to you both and then leave. Something happened in that basement to stop his attack, something that neither you nor Felicity are willing to explain. I don't know what kind of secrets you keep in your relationship," he gestured toward Catherine, "but Felicity and I have always been honest with each other. She's keeping something from me now, and the only reason I can think she's doing that is to protect you." He paused to take a deep breath and some of his anger seemed to evaporate. "Look," he said more evenly, "I have very few people in my life that I trust completely. Felicity is one of them. I don't want to see that trust erode over this. It will hurt me and, believe me, it will hurt her too. She's not going to be happy in the long run keeping secrets from me. So, please, can you just tell me what happened?"

It was a decent speech. Vincent was certain the man was being earnest, and yet…something didn't add up. If Oliver and Felicity didn't keep secrets from each other, then how did he handle her working with The Hood? According to Felicity, she hadn't shared The Hood's identity with anyone, and being with Starling's vigilante had to introduce an element of danger into her life that Oliver wouldn't like. How on earth had he been able to make peace with that? Vincent decided the question needed an answer.

"So how do you deal with her working with The Starling City Vigilante?" he asked Oliver abruptly.

Queen's jaw dropped. "What?"

Vincent frowned. Apparently Felicity hadn't told Oliver she'd disclosed her Hood-support arrangement to Vincent. In fact, it was appearing like she hadn't told Oliver much of anything. "When we were in Martin's basement, I asked Felicity why she seemed accustomed to dangerous situations," he explained, "and she mentioned that she did some tech support for The Hood. She said you and Digg knew. I hope I didn't just speak out of turn."

Queen shook his head. "No, Digg and I are aware of it. And I agree about her being accustomed to danger. Probably more accustomed than she should be. But I don't see what you think working with The Hood has to do with her not telling me what happened tonight."

He seemed sincere about not making the connection. Vincent was evidently going to have to clarify further. "You said the two of you don't keep secrets; that secrets will eventually damage your friendship," he said carefully. "So I was wondering how you've been able to cope with her keeping that secret – the identity of the Vigilante. It's pretty big and it certainly puts her at risk. I'm sure he has enemies. You must worry about that." Vincent felt Catherine squeeze his thigh gently. He placed his hand over hers as they both looked at Oliver Queen.

And for the first time since he'd walked in, Queen's face showed some emotion other than stubbornness. There was surprise, followed by guilt, and then uncertainty. Reminding Oliver of Felicity's support for The Hood had clearly struck a chord. It would almost have been comical, except that the emotions were too raw, too real. Queen seemed vulnerable, and a little lost. This, thought Vincent, is what it looks like when a man who likes to have control feels some of it slipping away. Queen stared at both of them indecisively for a long moment, and then appeared to come to some kind of resolution.

"The answer to the first part of your question is easy," he said quietly. "I'm able to cope because Felicity isn't keeping a secret from me about The Hood…The Arrow," he corrected himself. After a pause he added, "And that's because I am The Arrow. As for the second part of your question – yes, I worry about her. I worry about her constantly."

You could have heard a pin drop or, in this case, Vincent could make out the slow plink, plink of the faucet dripping in the bathroom down the hall. He looked at Catherine and suspected his face mirrored hers; astonishment, incredulity, suspicion. He stared at Queen. "Yeah, right," he said at last. "You ran a Fortune 100 company by day and found time to hone your archery and hand-to-hand skills at night. After all, everyone needs to have a hobby. Why not pick fighting criminals for amusement?" When Queen said nothing, Vincent continued, "I'm not sure what you thought you'd get me to reveal with that story, but – nice try. You get points for originality." Queen frowned, but remained silent. He no longer looked so vulnerable.

"I think I believe him." Catherine's voice was soft, but steady.

Vincent turned to her. "What? You're buying that?"

She nodded. "Think about it, Vincent. That perfect kick when the guy tried to grab Felicity from the car? The decision to go into Martin's house even though he thought a Beast was in there? And the fact that Digg never behaves like a bodyguard around him? It's because Oliver doesn't need protection, he can take care of himself."

"Catherine…"

"Seriously, Vincent, it all adds up. I mean, you saw him when he walked in here tonight. He cased the place in 30 seconds. That's a professional move. And think about the timing of the Vigilante. He went into action a couple of months after Oliver was rescued off the island. It fits." When Vincent continued to gape at her she added, "You have a pretty good…sense…for lies. Why don't you…check?"

In other words, Catherine wanted him to use his Beast senses to see if Oliver was telling the truth. Probably not a bad idea. Vincent pushed his skepticism aside and made himself go still and focus entirely on Queen's vitals. Heart-rate was steady. Respiration – steady. No rise in temperature. No excessive swallowing. All indications that Oliver was being honest and was, indeed, The Hood…no, excuse me, The Arrow.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said softly. Catherine was right. It certainly did explain a lot.

"You're what? A human lie-detector?"

"Sorry?" Vincent looked up to see Queen almost glaring at him.

"I said - you're some kind of human lie-detector? You did something just now to figure out that I was telling the truth. Does that skill have anything to do with the secret that Felicity won't tell me?"

Oh hell, the man just wouldn't give up. A minute ago he had been shaken by Vincent's reminder that working with The Arrow put Felicity at risk, but now he was right back to digging into what had happened earlier in Martin's basement. Vincent stared at Queen and shook his head. "Can't you just let it go?" he said tiredly. "It's been a long night for everyone."

Queen moved to the edge of his chair and leaned toward Vincent, resting his elbows on his knees. "I just told you something about myself that gives you a lot of power. You could call the police in Starling and report me. You could create a blog and start rumors flying. I told you because Felicity trusts you, and I trust her. I did it because I don't want to have this thing, whatever it is, coming between me and Felicity. So do me the courtesy of trusting me in return. Please tell me."

Vincent turned to Catherine. Queen was relentless and – worse – he had a point. Vincent was certain that Felicity trying to keep a confidence from Oliver really was going to come between them…at some time or another. He wasn't sure it was right to ask that of her. And now that he knew Queen's secret, he felt a kind of empathy with him. Like Vincent, Oliver could reveal himself to very few people in his life. Felicity was one of those people; a lifeline, just like Catherine was his lifeline. He looked at her now, the question in his eyes. After a long moment, she smiled and took his hand. "I'm okay with it," she said.

"You are?"

"Yes. I think he can be trusted."

Vincent nodded. "Okay, then." He turned to Queen. "The way I was able to tell you weren't lying, and that thing that Felicity won't tell you?" Queen looked at him anxiously. "It's that I'm a Beast, too."

It was Oliver Queen's turn to look incredulous. "You're telling me you can transform into one of those…creatures?" he asked flatly.

"Yup. Felicity saw me, and promised not to tell."

Queen digested that information for a few seconds and then shook his head. "I don't know, you seem pretty normal to me. I've seen you off and on for four days now. No sign of claws, no yellow eyes, no climbing up sides of buildings."

Vincent almost laughed. "I've been at it longer than Billy Martin. I have much better control." When Queen continued to look doubtful he added, "It's how I was able to beat Billy Martin when he transformed in the basement. You said yourself that Beasts are pretty much unstoppable. The only way to defeat one is with another Beast. That's exactly what happened. And that's what Felicity wouldn't tell you."

"Why?"

Vincent smiled wryly. "I'm a physician in a major New York hospital. How long do you think I'd keep that job if people knew about my other… personality? You said I look pretty normal to you? Well, that's exactly what I want. A normal life. I want to get up every morning and go to work, then come home and be with the person I love." Catherine squeezed his hand tightly. "It's as simple as that. When Felicity promised not to tell anyone she saw me Beast-out, she was honoring my wish to have a normal life."

Queen sighed. "It sounds like her," he said thoughtfully.

"She's pretty amazing."

"I know that." Queen's voice was almost defensive.

There were a few beats of silence. Vincent glanced at the clock. It was close to 2:00 am. New York really is the city that never sleeps, he thought.

"So," Catherine said cheerfully, "Now that we both know each other's deep, dark secrets, what happens next?"

Queen shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I still have a lot of questions, but I don't think it's the time to delve into them. It's late, I'm pretty sure I interrupted the two of you, and I really think I should talk to Felicity."

Vincent hesitated, and then said, "Do you mind if I offer you some advice about her?"

Queen rested his head in his hand and laughed. "Sure, go ahead. Why should you be any different?"

Vincent chose his words carefully. "People like you and me, people who have to walk around with a big secret? It gets tiring. And it sure as hell gets lonely." He turned to Catherine and ran one finger lightly down the side of her face. "When you find someone you can share it with – who can handle it – well, it seems a sin to waste that. I thought it was impossible for me to have a real life until I met Catherine. Now, with her, my secret is part of me but it doesn't define me." He looked steadily into Oliver's eyes. "Felicity? She strikes me as a woman who can handle it."

Queen stared back for a few seconds before dropping his gaze. He clasped and then unclasped his hands on his lap. "I'll say goodnight now," he said finally, never acknowledging Vincent's words about Felicity. "I'm guessing we'll talk later about Billy Martin." He got to his feet but gestured for them to continue sitting. "I can see myself out," he said, and headed to the door. Just before leaving, he turned and added, "Thank you for your honesty." And then he was gone.

Vincent turned to Catherine. "J.T. is really going to blow a gasket," he said.

She smiled. "I know he is. But for now, I want to get back to our conversation about suspenders. It's late, but I'm still pretty wide awake."

That suited Vincent just fine.

Felicity lay in the bed in J.T's spare room and stared at the ceiling. She was exhausted…exhausted...and yet somehow sleep eluded her. She'd known the conversation with Oliver was going to be upsetting, but she'd thought she'd be able to handle it. After all, they'd had arguments in the past and things had eventually sorted themselves out. This time, however, she could see no light at the end of the tunnel. There was a secret she needed to keep - a lie she needed to tell Oliver, and keep telling Oliver forever. She wasn't sure she could do it. She tried to remind herself that there were plenty of things he didn't tell her. She only knew a fraction of what had happened to him on the island, for example. But somehow that didn't help. She sighed and rolled onto her side. She thought briefly about getting up and going on J.T.'s computer, but decided that might wake him and Tess.

There was a gentle tap on the door. So gentle that she thought it must be her imagination. She listened intently for a few seconds but heard nothing and decided to roll over onto her other side.

The tap repeated itself. This time, the door swung open after the tap, and Oliver's voice followed it. "Felicity," he called softly into the room, "are you awake?"

"Oliver?"

"Yeah, it's me. I was wondering if you'd mind talking for a few minutes."

"Oliver, how did you get in here? It's," she squinted at the clock across the room, but without her glasses the LED numbers were a red blur, "really late," she finished.

"I know that. I kind of let myself in so I wouldn't wake up Tess and J.T. I didn't like the way you and I left things back at the hotel and wanted to talk to you some more." When she didn't respond to that, he added, "I went to see Vincent. He told me what happened."

She sat up in bed. "You did? He did?"

"Yes. Can I come in so we can talk about it?"

She lay back down and pulled the covers up to her chin. Which seemed silly when she thought about it, because the room was dark and she was wearing a tee shirt that showed off absolutely nothing. She pushed the covers back and sat up again. "Yes, you can come in."

He moved silently into the room and sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. The tension from earlier in the evening seemed to be gone from his body, although she couldn't quite see his facial expression. He slumped a little, and sighed. "I think I owe you an apology."

"You do?" As far as Oliver went, this was uncharted territory.

"Yeah. Vincent told me what happened, the secret that you were protecting."

"Which is?"

He laughed softly. "The secret you're still protecting, evidently. I'm not trying to trick you, Felicity. Vincent told me that he's a Beast too, and that you saw him," he hesitated, "Beast-out? Is that the term?"

"Yes. That seems to be the proper vernacular."

He chuckled again. "Well, I understand now why you wouldn't tell me. It was his secret to tell, not yours, and you were respecting that. I'm sorry I put you in a position where you had to choose between loyalty to me and doing what was right. I'd like to say it won't happen again, but I'm not sure I can promise that."

She sighed and lay back down in the bed. "I understand, Oliver." She felt some of the tension easing out of her body. She began to think it might be possible to get to sleep after all, knowing that Oliver was no longer angry with her, no longer disappointed in her. She closed her eyes, comforted by his nearness.

"I told him I was The Arrow."

"What?" She shot back upright.

"I told him I was The Arrow," Oliver repeated. "It felt like the right thing to do. I was pushing for his secret, it seemed only fair to tell him mine."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, you can say that again." He ran one hand through his cropped hair. "It's been a hell of a night."

"Morning, really."

Oliver sighed. "Right, morning." He stared at her. For a second she thought he might take her hand, but he finally just said, "I'm really beat. Do you mind if I lay down here and close my eyes for a few minutes?" He pointed to the other side of the queen-sized bed.

"No, Oliver, that's fine."

"Good." In the darkness, she could hear one and then the other of his shoes dropping to the floor. Oliver moved around the bed and lay down next to her, on top of the covers. She lowered herself back down as well and closed her eyes again. Her heart really should be thumping, she thought. After all, she was in bed – sort of – with Oliver. But instead it felt natural, normal. As if this was something they always did.

"Sleep well, Felicity."

"You too, Oliver."