A/N: Yes, I'm back with a new chapter. It may not have seemed it for the last couple of months, but I'm committed to finishing this story...

John Diggle never kidded himself that he was the smartest guy on the planet, but he knew with certainty that he was a pretty damn good at detecting bullshit.

It was a skill he'd honed over years of military service, enhanced by even more years in private security. Diggle had been lied to by enemy soldiers and clients alike (Oliver in the early days was a perfect example), and there had been times when believing those lies could have resulted in someone's death, including his own. So he'd become skilled at reading people, at picking up the little tells that indicate when someone is being less than absolutely truthful. The fact that the woman he loved and the mother-to-be of his child was an ARGUS agent didn't hurt either. It had given him exposure to Amanda Waller, one of the smoothest liars in the world.

So he didn't ignore it when his bullshit alarm began going off as the gang convened in J.T.'s home the morning after the hospital benefit, even though he was surprised by it. It wasn't a huge, resounding ring; just a gentle, persistent buzz that told him something wasn't quite as it appeared, and that something was related to Vincent. He had no idea why Vincent might lie and he didn't think the reason could be bad enough to shake his belief in the inherent decency of his friend. As wingman to The Arrow, he knew firsthand that people kept secrets for all kinds of reasons. Still…it made him curious why Oliver wasn't pressing for an explanation about what had happened in Martin's basement and equally curious about what Vincent wasn't saying. Eight hours ago, Oliver had been obsessed with learning how Felicity and the doctor had walked away from one of those creatures with barely a scratch; Digg had expected him to be in pursuit of the facts this morning like a dog after a bone. Instead, the normally moody Oliver offered to spend the day with Felicity taking in the sights of New York City as if he hadn't a care in the world – or at least as close as Oliver ever came to appearing carefree – and Vincent was silent whenever Billy Martin's name came up. Digg was pretty sure Mr. Queen and Dr. Keller had come to some kind of understanding last night.

The group at J.T.'s eventually whittled down to just three; Digg, Vincent and J.T. himself. Shortly after Oliver and Felicity left, Tess and Cat were called on their day off to process a murder scene. Tess grumbled about being summoned to work so shortly after providing security at the benefit, but Cat promised to buy her a latte and assured Tess that they'd hand the case over to an on-duty team as soon as possible. She also reminded her partner that they'd get overtime, and with Tess's shopping habits, overtime was not a bad thing. Tess reluctantly agreed and the two women left.

The smaller group suited Diggle just fine. When he'd told Oliver he wanted to stay behind and catch up with Vincent it wasn't a ploy to push Oliver into some alone-time with Felicity (although he hoped to God it would help the pair resolve a few issues after the whole Slade thing). The time Digg had spent talking with Vincent earlier that week during the hacking convention had been dedicated to their present situations; Vincent's work at the hospital, his relationship with Catherine, and Diggle's impending fatherhood. They hadn't talked about the last ten years. Digg wanted to learn more about the path Vincent had taken once he'd left the service. His own transition to civilian life had been difficult and it sounded as though Vincent's had been even crazier. Yet, somehow his friend had managed to wind up in a good place, with a successful relationship and a fulfilling career. There had to be a story there.

It seemed like a reasonable conversation for two army buddies to have. J.T. must have felt differently, however, because he hovered around like a nervous mother, interrupting every time Digg began asking Vincent how he'd gone from 'killed in action in Afghanistan' to 'alive and practicing medicine in New York'. J.T.'s interruptions were subtle at first but became more obvious over time, and Digg's bullshit alarm starting sounding louder. He found himself alternately frustrated and amused at J.T.'s efforts to keep certain topics off limits.

After a while, even Vincent appeared affectionately exasperated by his friend. "J.T.," he admonished, grinning, "I thought you were going to the college to grade exams today. Digg and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours. You don't have to stick around."

J.T. stared pointedly at Vincent. "It's not a problem - I can catch up on my work next week. I thought I'd stay here today in case you need me for anything." To Digg, it sounded more like a warning than an offer.

Vincent shook his head, still grinning. "We're fine, J.T. I'm sure we can manage by ourselves, without getting into trouble."

J.T. frowned. "I wouldn't bet on it. It seems like trouble's followed us around all week – I'd hate to see any of us find more."

"J.T., we're just going to sit here and talk. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Do you want a list?"

Vincent sighed, his grin fading. "No, I don't want a list. I'm sure you could manage to come up with a long one and convince Digg that you're completely paranoid. Look, I promise you we'll be careful – I'll be careful. Okay?"

J.T. gazed at his friend for a moment, clearly undecided. At last, he shrugged. "Fine," he said shortly. "I am behind at the college after everything that's happened this week and I could stand to spend time in my office. I trust you," he hesitated, searching for words, "will make sure things don't get out of hand." There was a load of meaning in the statement.

"I think I can manage it, J.T."

"Right." J.T. located his keys on top of the bar and pocketed them. "Then I'll see you guys this evening." And, giving Vincent one more meaningful stare, he retrieved his sweatshirt from a chair and left.

The big room was silent for a few seconds. It felt surprisingly empty without J.T.'s nervous energy filling it. Digg glanced at Vincent, unsure of what to say, and then decided it was time to stop beating around the bush. It wasn't even lunchtime yet. He didn't feel like having a half-truthful conversation for the rest of the day.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about?" he queried mildly, nodding his head toward the door J.T. had just walked out.

Vincent frowned and didn't pretend to misunderstand the question. After a few seconds, he hunched forward on the sofa and dropped his gaze to study his hands where they lay in his lap. Digg could almost see the internal debate going on in the man's head. It was one he was familiar with; he'd gone through it regularly when he came back from Arrow missions and Carly would ask how he'd spent the evening. There were things you wanted to say but knew that once you did, nothing was going to be the same. It was scary, one of those pivotal moments in life where you could lose something very dear to you. On the other hand, as he'd once told Oliver, secrets had weight and carrying them around was tiring. Today, he and Carly were essentially estranged and he saw his nephew infrequently. He wondered whether things would be different – better - if he'd told her the truth about working with The Arrow.

He remained quiet. This was Vincent's decision.

After a long minute, the doctor inhaled deeply. "As you can probably tell," he began slowly, "J.T. likes to protect me. We've been friends since we were ten – it's an old, old habit."

It seemed like an opening - an invitation. Digg decided to accept it. "And you're trying to decide whether you can tell me what he's protecting you from now," he said gently.

Vincent lifted his eyes from his lap and looked at Diggle. "Yeah."

"Whatever it is, you were able to tell Oliver last night." Digg made it a statement, not a question.

Vincent's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"I know Oliver. When we got back from the benefit he was all over Felicity about what happened in Martin's basement. And then suddenly this morning he drops the subject and runs off with her to play tourist without one question? There's no way Oliver would do that unless he already got the answers he wanted. I'm pretty sure he didn't get them from Felicity. She can be as stubborn as he is when she puts her mind to it. So that leaves you."

Vincent rubbed one hand tiredly over his face. "You always were good at reading people," he said dryly. "You're right, of course. Oliver came to see Catherine and me after midnight to ask what happened with Billy Martin – and I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to tell him, but we talked for a while and I realized that he and Felicity were never going to be in a good place with her keeping a secret from him. So I told him what happened in the basement." He hesitated and added, "Catherine was okay with it, and she's almost as protective as J.T."

Diggle regarded his friend steadily. "Are you going to tell me?" he asked.

Vincent shrugged half-heartedly. "At this point, I suppose I don't have a reason not to. Hell, if I can trust Starling's playboy billionaire, I should be able to trust a fellow soldier." He still sounded doubtful, as if he were trying to convince himself. Digg wondered if it was harder for him to make up his mind because Catherine wasn't here to confirm his decision.

Once more, he waited and said nothing.

After a minute Vincent continued, speaking slowly as if the words were being pulled out of him. "The thing that Oliver wanted to know, the reason I was able to defeat Billy Martin when he turned into a Beast last night in the basement?" He paused. "Well…it's because Billy's not the only Beast in New York. I can transform into one, too." He raised his eyes cautiously to look at Diggle, measuring his reaction.

Digg opened his mouth to reply…and then stopped. That sure as hell was not what he had been expecting. He'd been expecting Vincent to say that he worked for the CIA, military intelligence, or some other spy agency, and that his assignment was to search out the…what was he calling them?...Beasts to find out how and why they were created. He'd expected Vincent to say that he had some kind of neutralizing drug or special weapon that disabled Beasts, like kryptonite disabled Superman. He'd expected to hear that Vincent's intelligence assignment had led him from the army to New York City and Catherine. All of those things made some kind of sense, and Vincent had always struck him as a sensible guy.

Apparently Digg's instincts weren't as good as he thought.

"When?" he finally asked, unsure of where to begin.

"When did I become a Beast?" Vincent clarified.

"Yeah."

"In my second year of military service. The army was trying to create the perfect super-soldier. I was part of the group they experimented on. They called it Operation Muirfield."

"Experimented," Diggle repeated in a flat voice, not liking the word. "Experimented how, exactly?"

"Genetic modification via daily injections. We thought we were getting vitamins and other supplements. In reality, they were splicing non-human genes into our DNA sequence, creating cross-species DNA."

"And those genes turned you into…Beasts?"

"Yes, although it wasn't apparent immediately. In the beginning, it looked like the experiment was an incredible success. We were stronger and faster, and could stay awake for days at a time without any loss of performance. We were amazing soldiers."

"So what went wrong?"

"Over time, our capacity for self-control and rational thought diminished. Any situation that triggered an adrenaline spike led to an animal-like response. We could perform amazing physical feats but we were just as likely to attack a friend as an enemy, and once we started fighting we couldn't make ourselves stop."

Digg could guess at what came next. He'd had enough experience in the military to know how big failures were dealt with. "And so the army killed the program," he said matter-of-factly, "and got rid of any evidence that Operation Muirfield ever existed by killing off the test subjects as well. That's why we were told that you were killed in action."

"Exactly."

"Except you seem to have made it out very much alive."

Vincent shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth for the first time since J.T. had left. "I did. Beasts are not easy to kill – as the army discovered. I managed to get back to New York and J.T. hid me for years because Muirfield was constantly trying to find me and eliminate me. I might still be hiding out if it weren't for Catherine."

"She got rid of Muirfield?" To Digg, it seemed like a big conspiracy for one New York detective to take on by herself, no matter how capable she was.

Vincent shook his head. "Not entirely on her own, but she convinced me that it was worth fighting them to have a real life again. It's a long story that we should probably save for another time, but without her persistence I wouldn't be able to walk around in public or practice medicine again. She's the reason I was able to come out of hiding. Of course, no one beyond Catherine, Tess and J.T. knows that I'm a Beast. People just believe I'm a soldier who was left for dead overseas and eventually managed to find his way home. It could still all fall apart if my alter ego is discovered."

Diggle sat back and thought about what Vincent had just told him. His friend, his former colleague in arms, had become something that was not quite human – at least not human all of the time. It was shocking, to say the least, although not as shocking as it might have been a couple of years ago before he'd seen men that had been transformed by Mirakuru or met a billionaire who'd trained himself to be a hard-as-nails vigilante. Ever since he'd teamed up with Oliver Queen, Digg had begun to appreciate that the world had a lot of grey in it; black and white was the exception rather than the rule. So…his former army pal, Vincent, was a Beast. The reality was the man hadn't had much choice in the matter; he'd been changed without his consent or knowledge. And Vincent seemed determined to do good in the world – to be good. Looking over at his friend, at his mild brown eyes and the hands that saved lives every day in the ER, Digg resolved that he was going to be okay with the whole Beast thing. Besides, if a woman like Catherine Chandler - a cop and clearly honorable woman - was on board with it, who was Diggle to say differently?

"If it makes you feel any better," he said at last, "Lyla often compares me to a number of animals before I've had my coffee first thing in the morning. Bear is usually at the top of her list, although every now and then she mentions an ox." He kept his tone light and free of judgment.

Vincent laughed, clearly relieved. "Catherine does the same thing. Maybe I'm not so abnormal after all."

Digg smiled ruefully. "The longer I live in this world, the more I realize that there really isn't such a thing as normal. We're all a little warped in some way. The trick is to find people who care about us in spite of it." After a short pause, he added, "And if I haven't told you already, I like Catherine. She seems like an amazing woman."

"She is," Vincent's voice was proud. "She's smart and brave, and always tries to find the good in a situation. Kind of like your friend, Felicity."

"Felicity?" Digg mulled that over and had to agree that the description fit.

Vincent chuckled. "She was a real trooper in Martin's basement last night. She kept her head, and reacted to my Beasting-out as if she sees weird stuff like that happen every day. I expected her to scream and cower in a corner, and instead we ended up drinking wine and having a calm discussion. There are not many women – not many people – who would handle the situation that way. And I believe her when she says she can keep a secret. She's rare."

Digg nodded. Of course he'd known Felicity was remarkable, but hearing someone else say it reminded him how lucky they were to have her on the team. He and Oliver had come to expect miracles from Felicity, and he didn't think he could remember the last time they'd said 'thank you' when she'd produced one. He made a resolution to be a better friend going forward.

"I gave Oliver some advice about her." Vincent's voice broke into his thoughts.

"You did what?" Digg thought he must have misheard. He knew from experience that giving Oliver advice about Felicity was a bit like holding a lit stick of dynamite in the rain; it might fizzle out, or it might blow up and take your head off. Seeing that Vincent's head was still attached to his body, Digg assumed the conversation must have fizzled out - or perhaps even gone okay.

"I gave Oliver some advice about Felicity," Vincent repeated. "He reminds me a lot of me when I first met Catherine. I didn't think I could be with anyone either, so I kept pushing her away. It was a bad idea. Eventually I figured out that she wanted to help me deal with the bad stuff in my life – that keeping her out of it only made her unhappy. And we're better when we're together – we've proven it time and again. So that's what I told Oliver. I told him Felicity struck me as a woman who can handle his…issues…and it would be a shame to waste an opportunity to be with someone who cared for him and accepted him just as he is."

"His issues?" Digg asked curiously, zeroing in on the word. Just how much did Vincent know about Oliver's issues? What else besides Beasts had they discussed last night?

He looked over to see Vincent regarding him carefully, as if the doctor could read Digg's thoughts. "Oliver was trying to get me to talk," Vincent explained. "He told me a few…private things… in order to encourage me to tell him my secret. He said Felicity knew about those…things, and was even helping him with them. That's when I gave him the advice."

Diggle frowned. The biggest private thing he could imagine Oliver sharing would be his penchant for archery and green leather. Was it possible he had gone as far as revealing he was The Arrow? After all, the man hadn't always been circumspect about his secret identity; he'd told Helena, Tommy, Roy, Sara, and now Laurel - not to mention Nyssa and a good chunk of the League of Assassins. Would he tell Vincent in order to find out what had happened in Martin's basement and relieve Felicity of the burden of hiding something from him? Digg decided there was a decent chance that he would. Digg also decided, however, that it would still be good idea to proceed carefully because – seriously – how bad would it be if he blurted out that Oliver was The Arrow when, in fact, Oliver had shared something entirely different? The man had a lot of secrets. Maybe he'd talked about the island or his father. Digg felt the situation called for caution.

Looking warily at Vincent, he asked, "Are you saying that Oliver told you about his…other job?"

Vincent frowned. "Other job," he repeated slowly. "You mean his other job besides being CEO?"

"Yes."

Vincent's brow creased. "He didn't call it another job," he said carefully. He stopped and stared at Diggle, unwilling to say anything further. Evidently, he had decided the situation called for caution as well.

Great, Digg thought, we're playing chicken with revealing Oliver's secret. He tried again. "How about we call it his other, demanding, unpaid job?"

Vincent brow creased further. "Yeah - I'm pretty sure there's no pay involved. Still don't know about the job part, though."

Digg sighed. Damn Oliver and his secrets and damn Vincent for keeping them. He decided the job angle was a dead-end. "Okay," he said briskly, "how about I use the word activity? Oliver's unpaid, very physical activity that requires a lot of hand-eye coordination. How does that work?"

Vincent thought about that. There was a small gleam in his eye. "Yes, it definitely would be physical and I believe there would be hand-eye coordination involved," he agreed.

"And Felicity's helping him with it?"

"Yes."

What the hell else could it be but being The Arrow? Diggle was fairly certain Felicity wasn't helping Oliver get physical in any other kind of activity. First of all, Digg would know about it; and secondly, the two of them would be a lot less tense. He decided it was time to just say it. If he didn't, he and Vincent might be playing twenty questions all night.

"Oliver told you he's The Arrow," he said flatly.

Vincent sat back and exhaled loudly. "Oh, thank God," he said. "I thought we weren't going to get there. Yes, he told me he's The Arrow and that Felicity works with him. Since you know, I assume you must work with him as well? After all, he clearly doesn't need you to be his bodyguard."

Diggle nodded. "Yes, I work with him. Been his partner for a couple of years now."

"What on earth possessed you to team up with a billionaire-turned-vigilante?"

Diggle shrugged. "I really did start out as Oliver's bodyguard. It was clear right from the start that he wasn't the idle, superficial guy he pretended to be and that he'd had some kind of training. I didn't find out he was The Arrow, though, until one night when I was shot with a poison-laced bullet. Oliver took me to his hide-out and saved my life."

"And that's when you joined him?"

Digg shook his head. "Not immediately. It took Oliver a while to persuade me that I could do some good for the city by working with him. Felicity became a part of the team a couple of months after that."

"The three of you seem pretty tight."

Digg nodded. "We are. We've been through some scary shit together."

Vincent looked thoughtful. "That's why you referred to Felicity as a fellow soldier."

"Excuse me?"

"Tuesday night, when we talked on her phone. You called her a fellow soldier and I thought it was kind of strange. I get it, now."

Digg grinned weakly. "Yeah, I'd go into battle with her and Oliver any day. They're both pretty incredible." He paused. "Look, I normally don't like when Oliver tells someone he's The Arrow, but I'm glad that you and he exchanged secrets. Felicity really was going to be miserable if she had to keep something from him. And it will make conversations between all of us a lot easier. It was going to get tricky keeping track of who knows what."

Vincent frowned. "You're forgetting one thing."

"What's that?"

"J.T. doesn't know Oliver's The Arrow. More importantly, he also doesn't know I told you about being a Beast."

Diggle mulled that over. "And when he finds out, he's not going to be happy?"

"Damn straight."

Contrary to Felicity's dire predictions, Oliver did not end up wearing her breakfast as a result of their ride on the Cyclone. She clung to him fiercely for the three minutes the roller coaster was in motion, but all food and drink stayed on the appropriate end of her esophagus. She emerged from their car with shaky legs and a voice hoarse from screaming, but otherwise seemed fine. Oliver didn't think it was a good idea to ask her if she wanted to ride again, as much as he wanted to. He already suspected his forearm was going to be sore from where she had gripped it with her surprisingly strong, small hand. Two rides in succession and he might not be able to lift the bow when they returned home.

She tucked that same hand more gently into the crook of his arm and continued to lean on him as they exited the ride and began strolling through Luna Park. Oliver didn't think she intended the gesture to be flirtatious. She still seemed shaken by the Cyclone and he guessed that her energy level was low from skipping lunch. Felicity had refused to eat a hot dog before the roller coaster, saying that she didn't want to tempt fate any more than was necessary. He thought she could probably use a bite now.

"Want to find Nathan's?" he asked her. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

She grinned weakly. "Yes, I think it's probably safe to eat, unless you're going to make us ride the Thunderbolt next."

He shook his head. "One roller coaster is enough, I promise. You did great, though. Did you enjoy it?"

She frowned. "I'd love to tell you that I'm as wild and brave as Sara and had a great time, but the reality is I kept my eyes shut and held onto you. I'm glad it's over."

He chuckled. "You don't need to be like Sara. You have your own talents. Anyway, I thought we could grab a hot dog and wander out onto the beach. Coney Island has really soft sand. Not like the rocks on Lian Yu."

"Sounds good."

She kept her hand on his arm as they headed toward Nathan's. He liked it; it felt surprisingly natural, the same way that waking up together this morning had felt natural, or laughing during their carriage ride in Central Park had felt natural. He thought about what Vincent had said last night, how Felicity was someone who could handle his secret and it would be shame to lose that – to lose her. For Oliver, that wasn't exactly news. Felicity had been on board with him being The Arrow for two years and he was certainly aware how much it helped to have a friend who knew his secret. What had caught him by surprise this week was the realization that their relationship went deeper than her knowledge of his other identity. Sara, after all, knew more facts about him than Felicity. She knew he was The Arrow and she knew much of what had happened on Lian Yu. Yet his connection to her didn't feel as strong as his connection to Felicity. He couldn't help thinking that Felicity really saw him – not just his actions, but his heart, his dreams and his true intentions, even when things didn't work out the way he planned. She saw his darkness and accepted it, but she also saw his light – or at least his potential for light. It brought a level of truth to their friendship that was amazing…and occasionally frightening.

In a flash of insight, he realized that lack of honesty in his relationships was a characteristic that extended back further than the island, maybe even earlier than his teenage years. It wasn't just about cheating on girlfriends, although he'd certainly done plenty of that. It was about failing to be himself, about putting up walls and pretending to be something he wasn't. With Laurel, he had feigned a devotion that hadn't existed. With Tommy, he had pretended to be carefree, even when something hurt him deeply. He had subscribed to the notion that opening yourself up meant exposing a weakness, becoming unnecessarily vulnerable. He suspected he still subscribed to that notion. It was just that with Felicity, he didn't seem to mind when she saw the real him. Perhaps because he knew she would never take advantage of his weaknesses.

They located Nathan's and ordered hot dogs and fries; enough fat and sodium, Oliver figured, for at least ten people. The food smelled amazing, though, and he decided he wasn't going to worry about nutrition this afternoon. In the process of loading up the takeout bag with napkins and small packets of ketchup, Felicity let go of his arm. He found he missed the contact. As they left Nathan's, he reached down with his free hand and gently clasped hers. She wiggled her fingers uncertainly before entwining them in his.

They were within sight of the beach when Oliver heard a woman's voice call out, "Hey there. Want me to tell you your fortune?"

He looked around and spotted a booth sporting a sign that said, "The Amazing Zelda." In smaller letters under her name, the sign added, "Fortunes Guaranteed to Come True." He wondered if you got your money back if your fortune didn't come to pass. Somehow, he doubted it. There was a middle-aged woman in the booth, with the requisite black wig and heavy eyeliner – an attempt to look like a gypsy, he supposed. Her real name was probably something like Carol Smith.

"Want me to tell you your fortune?" she repeated. "Handsome young couple like yourselves, you must wonder what's in your future. I can tell you, for twenty dollars."

Oliver glanced down at Felicity. He wasn't surprised to see her wearing a skeptical expression. Felicity was a scientist, after all, and more likely to believe the predictions made by algorithms run on her computers than the words of someone claiming to be a psychic. Oliver, on the other hand, was less inclined to dismiss the mystical. He'd seen enough on the island to know there were plenty of things that science couldn't explain. In this particular case, however, he didn't think The Amazing Zelda had a direct pipeline to the future. He was pretty confident she was just a suburban housewife dressed up to earn grocery money. He suspected his expression mirrored Felicity's.

Before he could answer, Felicity replied to the woman, "Thank you, but no thank you. We already know our immediate future involves hot dogs and fries on the beach. After that, we'll take it as it comes." The words might have been facetious, but Felicity's smile was kind and The Amazing Zelda shrugged and smiled back. Oliver guessed that her services were often declined.

Still, the fortune-teller gave it one more try. "Your lives have always been entwined, you know," she said. "And they will remain entwined for as long as you live, even though you may not always be together. Your joint life-force is strong – I can see it from over here."

Felicity looked up at Oliver and rolled her eyes. "Our joint life-force is strong? I'm pretty sure she says that to everyone," she said in a low voice. "Standard material, guaranteed to please the customers. Your lives are entwined…your love is destined. The truth is you walked into my office with a busted laptop. And she can't be much of a physic when she doesn't even see that we're not a couple." She shook her head. "Let's get to the beach. I'm really ready for the food." She started walking again, pulling Oliver along by their still-clasped hands.

"I see an interruption in that life-force," Zelda continued, calling out after them. "One or both of you may experience death – although it will not be a true death. As long as the two of you can find each other, real death will not touch either of you for a long time. Your combined life-force is that strong." Her voice faltered and Oliver had the sense that she had surprised herself. He didn't think this last statement was part of her standard fortune-teller routine.

He stopped walking and turned to stare at the woman. She returned his stare with a perplexed frown, as if he and Felicity were alien beings, outside her realm of experience. After a few seconds, she shrank back into her booth, apparently finished observing their life-force. He pondered going over to ask her what she had meant, but Felicity tugged on his hand. "Please tell me you don't buy any of that crap," she said lightly. "For all we know, she recognized you and is familiar with the news stories of you coming back to life after five years on the island. Let's get to the beach. It's a beautiful afternoon and the only life-force I want to think about comes from the potatoes that died in order to become crispy crinkle fries."

Oliver laughed, even though he couldn't dismiss the woman quite as easily as Felicity. "Fair enough," he said.

They got to the beach and sat on the soft sand, warm from the sun's fall rays. Felicity applied ketchup liberally to her fries and tucked into them with gusto. The ketchup stained her lips and a drop lingered at the corner of her mouth, even after her fries and hot dog were gone. It made her look very young, giving Oliver a sense of Felicity as a teenager or even a child. She must have been adorable. He was sorry he hadn't known her then, although if he believed The Amazing Zelda, their life-forces had already become entwined – they just hadn't known it. He grinned at her.

"What?" Felicity asked, frowning.

Oliver chuckled. "You've got a spot of ketchup on your face. I didn't realize how much you like it. I don't remember you using this much when we eat at Big Belly. To be honest, I wasn't sure just now if you were having ketchup on your fries or fries with your ketchup. "

"I like the ketchup that comes in the packets. When it's warmed by the sun and eaten outside, it tastes better than the stuff in a bottle." She pointed to the takeout bag. "Hand me a napkin."

Oliver reached for the bag and then stopped. "I have a better idea," he said gently. And before he could second-guess himself, he leaned toward her and kissed her softly on the mouth, making sure to capture the corner with the ketchup. Then he sat back. Her face was clean.

The kiss couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but Oliver could have sworn he felt the sand shift underneath him. Her full lips were as soft as he'd always imagined – maybe even softer – and after a second's hesitation, they had moved in tentative accord with his. The kiss had been too short to be passionate, but a shade too long to be a peck between friends. He wasn't sure why he had done it, other than the joy of the day, the warmth of the sun on his back, and the peace he felt being with Felicity.

Felicity opened her eyes and stared at him, as if she doubted the reality of what had just happened.

"Oliver, did you just-"

He nodded and decided not to overthink it. "I like ketchup, too."

It had been a while since Vincent had done any real male-bonding. J.T. wasn't opposed to kicking back with a beer now and then, but he and Vincent were typically joined by Catherine and Tess and it changed the dynamic considerably. As great as the girls were, certain topics and activities became off limits.

So Vincent took advantage of the few hours he and Diggle had by themselves to share a six pack, talk sports, and joke about the idiosyncrasies of their girlfriends. They ordered a pizza for lunch, topped with four kinds of processed meat and absolutely no vegetables. They turned on a college football game and put their feet up on the coffee table as they watched. And they made no effort to suppress their beer belches. It was good, manly stuff.

Catherine returned to J.T.'s in the mid-afternoon, still sipping the green smoothie that served as her lunch. She took a long look at the empty pizza box and beer bottles and shook her head.

"I guess I don't have to ask what you two have been up to," she said dryly.

From his seat on the sofa, Vincent waved his beer bottle at her and grinned. "Look on the bright side – we stayed out of trouble."

She laughed. "I think it depends on your definition of trouble. I'm sure you've done at least one thing J.T. can worry about."

Vincent sobered instantly. "Well, that's certainly true." Might as well get it out of the way, he thought. He looked up at Catherine cautiously. "I probably should tell you that I gave Digg the full story on Beasts. And I mean the full story."

The smile faded from her face and she glanced between him and Diggle. After a minute she nodded. "I thought you might." She fixed her gaze on Digg. "You don't seem too disturbed by it."

He shrugged. "Hey, we all have our quirks."

A smaller version of her smile reemerged. "We do, don't we? I guess that's why we have friends who can overlook them. Thank you for being such a good friend to Vincent." Her eyes were warm as she looked at Diggle.

Digg basked in that warmth for a few seconds before turning to Vincent. "Is this the part where your girlfriend hugs me?" he asked. "Because I wouldn't mind at all if she did."

Vincent shook his head. "She's supposed to hug me first." Still seated, he held out his arms and Catherine came over to the sofa and stepped into them. She leaned down to kiss him below the ear. As always, her touch made Vincent feel as if he'd found something he hadn't known was missing. "Speaking of friends," he added, "where's Tess?"

Catherine straightened, but didn't leave his embrace. "She went to the college to see J.T.," she said. "I think she was going to take him out to lunch."

Vincent nodded. "I hope she gets a few drinks into him, too, because he's going to hit the ceiling when he finds out I told Digg about being a Beast."

Catherine laughed. "He sure is." She sat down on the sofa next to Vincent and pointed toward the television. "Who's playing?"

"Auburn and Clemson."

"Holy crap, good game." She raised her eyebrows hopefully. "Any beer left?"

Vincent glanced at Diggle. "I think there might be one."

"Well, hand it over."

Vincent complied, and the three of them settled back to watch the rest of the game. He couldn't help but appreciate the normalcy of it. Three friends watching a football game on a Saturday afternoon – one of whom was his very beautiful and amazing girlfriend. It was a long cry from hiding out in a warehouse with J.T. He hoped he never took moments like this for granted.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly. Clemson won the game on a field goal with ten seconds left, and it was close to 6:00 when the door opened and J.T. walked in. He looked at the three of them seated on the sofa. "Well, hello," he said cheerfully. "This looks cozy." He peered carefully at Vincent. "Did you have a good afternoon?" Vincent was pretty sure the question was code for: I hope you didn't tell Diggle your secret. He sighed quietly to himself and started to think through his explanation. The tranquility of the afternoon was about to be shattered.

Before he could say anything, however, Catherine asked, "Where's Tess? Did she head for home after lunch?"

J.T. frowned. "What do you mean, where's Tess?" he asked. "I haven't seen her today."

Catherine stared at him, perplexed. "She went to your office to ask you out to lunch – at least four hours ago."

J.T. shook his head. "I wasn't in my office. I spent the afternoon in the lab with a grad student helping him with his experiment."

"And she didn't call you?"

"No." Just as J.T. uttered the word, his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared at it. "Ah, this is her, now." He smiled and raised the phone to his ear. "Tess?"

Vincent watched the smile fade from J.T.'s face and transform into an angry glare as he listened to his phone. After a few seconds, J.T. said tersely, "If you hurt her..." He listened again, his forehead wrinkling in consternation. Vincent could sense his heartbeat accelerating and could smell the adrenaline as it flowed through J.T.'s body. After another long minute, J.T. dropped his hand to his side, the call over. "They have Tess," he said shortly. "The Martin brothers kidnapped Tess and say they'll release her when I give Billy a cure…"