Felicity Smoak shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as she looked up at a red-painted building almost crisscrossed with cast iron staircases.

"Who would've thought cast iron would be so popular for building?" she asked John Diggle, who stood next to her, half playing tourist and half keeping an eye out for potential danger - though aside from an incredibly stupid mugger, Felicity wasn't certain what danger they might face so far away from Star City.

"It's hard to believe you want to look at architecture instead of the Apple store," Dig countered. "Especially when Oliver gave you his credit card."

"I can build better, cheaper," Felicity said. "Besides, there's nothing like this in Star City."

She held up her phone to take a picture of the building, knowing she looked like the tourist she was, but too interested in the architecture to care.

Just as she was about to take the picture, a text message from Oliver filled her screen. Felicity swore quietly, swiped the text away, and snapped the picture. Oliver might be here on business, but she was going to enjoy playing tourist as much as she could.

And apparently that enjoyment ended now. With a silent sigh, Felicity called up the text from Oliver. As usual with him, it was terse:

Sparring with Danny. Chikara Dojo.

After a moment, her phone pinged with another text. If you want to come.

"At least he remembered his manners this time," Felicity murmured as a third text came in, presumably the address for the Chikara Dojo.

"What?" Dig asked.

"He's invited us to a sparring match."

"Sparring? With who?"

"Danny Rand, apparently." Felicity called up her phone's GPS system and checked the address Oliver had sent. "Not too far from here."

"Manhattan's less than twenty-five square miles, Felicity," Dig said. "Nothing's too far from anywhere. Does he want his gear?"

Felicity eyed the backpack he wore, surprised that she hadn't questioned it before. Part of that tourist mindset, probably. "Why are you carrying Oliver's gear around?"

"You'd rather I left it in the hotel for the maid to find?"

"That's … a good point, actually," Felicity admitted. "Let me get a few more pictures, and then I'll tell Oliver we're on our way."

=A=IF=A=

Chikara Dojo was on the second floor of a multi-use building that looked only slightly less run down than its neighbors - certainly not the kind of place Felicity would have expected a billionaire to go to train.

Then again, the Arrowcave wasn't what she would have expected, either, so she reminded herself not to make assumptions and rang the bell for admittance.

"Yes?" It was a woman's voice, caught between annoyance and some other emotion Felicity couldn't identify.

"Oliver Queen invited us," she said, and a moment later, a buzzing noise told her the door was open.

Dig held up a hand as he opened the door, and Felicity stood back to let him precede her into the building. She'd long ago given up any hope that either Dig or Oliver would let her enter an unknown building first, whatever manners might dictate. Both of those men would rather die themselves than let any harm come to her, which sounded great in the romance novels her mother loved but in real life was often more irritating than not.

Still, she loved her life, and if staying alive meant Oliver or Dig stepping between her and some unknown potential danger, Felicity could tolerate the apparent lack of manners.

She followed Dig up the stairs and down a corridor to a windowed door. Despite Dig's bulk blocking most of the doorway, Felicity could just make out two shirtless men on the far side of the room. She knew Oliver's silhouette immediately and assumed the other man was Danny Rand.

Then the door to the dojo was closing behind her and she was facing a woman of Asian ancestry about her own age.

"Hi." She knew enough about Asian manners not to offer her hand. "Felicity Smoak. Friend of Oliver's."

"John Diggle," Dig added. "Also a friend of Oliver's."

"Colleen Wing, owner of the dojo," the woman replied. "I don't usually have spectators, but I pulled the chairs from the dining room."

Felicity smiled her thanks and moved toward one of the chairs lined up against the wall.

"I'll stand, if that's okay," Dig said.

Colleen nodded. "There's a shelf for your shoes there."

Felicity slipped off her shoes and put them on the shelf Colleen had indicated before taking her seat. Across the room from her, a bare-chested Oliver glanced at them and nodded a greeting before crossing to take a position between two wooden support posts facing the other man in the room.

Felicity stared, unable to take her gaze from the stylized dragon tattoo emblazoned across the stranger's chest. Inky black, it almost gleamed in the muted light from the dojo's shuttered windows.

Danny - and Felicity would have to remember to call him Mr. Rand, despite the mental habit formed thanks to the news media - offered Oliver a fist-to-palm salute. Oliver nodded in return.

Beside her, Dig muttered, "Ten dollars on Oliver."

On her other side, Colleen scoffed. "Twenty on Danny."

"I've watched Oliver do some crazy things," Dig said. "A hundred."

"Danny's the Iron Fist," Colleen countered. "Two hundred."

"No offense," Dig said, "but do you have two hundred to lose?"

Felicity appreciated Colleen's confidence when the woman smiled. "I won't be losing."

Dig's expression conveyed his doubt, but all he said was, "Two hundred."

"What about you?" Colleen's question made Felicity glance up. "You in?"

"No," Felicity replied, memories of Dig and Cisco's bet when Oliver had to fight a crazed Barry Allen crowding into her mind. "It's not a fight to the death, but…no."

Colleen shrugged, but before she could turn away, Felicity pulled a package of microwave popcorn from her purse. "Do you have a microwave?"

Colleen chuckled and took the packet into another room - the kitchen, Felicity assumed. A moment later, the hum of a microwave confirmed that assumption.

Neither Oliver nor Danny had moved by the time Colleen returned with the bowl of popcorn, and Felicity frowned.

"I thought you guys were going to spar," she said.

"We are," Oliver replied without looking at her.

"I'm winning," Danny added with a grin that was more joyous than any she remembered from Oliver, though he, too, didn't even glance her way.

"No, you're not," Oliver countered, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

Danny's grin widened. "Prove it."

Felicity just saw the edge of Oliver's answering grin, and then the two were moving, striking faster, harder, than she'd seen even Oliver and Dig fight before. Despite that ferocity, she had the sense that they were testing each other.

She'd long ago gotten used to watching a shirtless Oliver - not that she didn't enjoy every moment of it, but it was far less distracting than it had been at first, even when the distraction was less about his body than about the fact that he felt comfortable enough with her to expose himself that way.

So today she focused on Danny Rand. At first, he seemed a lot like Oliver - maybe an inch shorter, compactly muscled, confident when he moved. It was only when she looked more closely that Felicity realized Danny moved with far more grace, less effort, than Oliver ever had. He, for lack of a better word, owned the space where he stood, as if he were the dragon emblazoned on his chest and not simply a man.

Somewhere during her contemplation of the men sparring, something changed. It was more a feeling than any movement or expression Felicity could specifically identify, but where they had been testing each other, warming up as Oliver would have said, now they engaged in earnest, their moves quick, efficient, precise, punctuated by the occasional grunt of pain or acknowledgment of a blow well landed.

Felicity couldn't name half the moves Danny and Oliver went through - not beyond the basics of strike, dodge, or block, at any rate - but she could enjoy them nonetheless. She especially enjoyed the way the wings of the dragon tattooed on Danny's chest flexed with every move.

"Looks like neither of them are going to lose," Felicity observed after a while. A glance at her phone told her, "They've been at it almost thirty minutes."

"If Danny wants to win, he'll win," Colleen said. "But he'd better do it soon. I have students coming."

Danny didn't verbally acknowledge Colleen's words, but in a move almost too fast for Felicity to follow, Danny slammed his palm into Oliver's chest and Oliver flew backwards, landing hard on the tatami mat covering the floor. Danny followed the movement, and Felicity would swear she saw Danny's fist glowing as he brought it down.

She almost screamed, but the sound caught in her throat when Danny's fist stopped a bare inch above Oliver's ribcage.

"Yield," Danny said.

"I yield," Oliver answered immediately, his tone respectful.

"Pay up." Colleen extended a hand, and when Dig didn't reach for his wallet, Felicity looked up to see him staring at the two men on the mat, blank surprise on his face.

"John?" she prompted.

"Was that - did his fist glow?" Dig demanded.

"It must've been a trick of the light," Felicity said.

"No," Colleen said. "That's his chi, his life force. The Iron Fist."

"I wish I was actually hallucinating." Finally, Dig reached for his wallet even as Danny stood and offered a hand to Oliver. To Felicity's surprise, Oliver accepted the hand and the assist to his feet.

"Better?" Oliver asked so quietly that Felicity read his lips more than heard the question.

Danny nodded once, then turned to the far side of the dojo where he grabbed a towel to dry his sweaty face. Once he'd done that, he dropped the towel to the floor and bent to scrub the sweat from where it pooled on the mat.

Felicity had barely wrapped her mind around the idea of a billionaire mopping a floor when Oliver dropped to the mat beside Danny, matching the other man's pace as they worked their way across the mat and back, and again, and again until they'd wiped the entire floor.

They spoke quietly together as they turned to tend to their dirty towels and gather their clothes - which was a shame, really, but probably required before they set foot outside the dojo.

Felicity shook off that thought and turned to thank their hostess…who wore a similar appreciative expression. Felicity smiled to herself and hoped that Colleen and Danny worked out better than she and Oliver had.

Then Oliver was approaching, fully dressed though with his sleeves rolled up and his suit jacket slung over one shoulder.

Oliver bowed to Colleen. "Thank you for the use of your dojo, sensei," he said. "What do I owe you?"

Colleen started, then shook her head. "Danny's a friend-"

"But I'm not," Oliver said gently.

Colleen looked like she wanted to argue. Felicity caught Colleen's eye and shook her head, minutely. That was a fight she wouldn't win - and Felicity should know.

Colleen frowned briefly before her gaze flicked back to Oliver. It was only a moment before she said, "Use of a comparable space in Star City."

"When?"

"The next time I'm there."

Felicity wondered whether Colleen had ever been there, but Oliver only pulled a business card from his wallet and a pen from his backpack. After jotting something on the back of the card, he offered it to Colleen. "My personal cell. Call whenever you need it."

Colleen bowed as she took it from him, and Oliver returned the gesture before turning for the door.

"Danny?" Colleen asked, and Felicity heard a pleading note in the other woman's voice that made her heart clench. Maybe Colleen and Danny weren't what she'd thought they were.

"I'll be a minute," was all Danny said, and Oliver nodded.

The door closed behind them, and Felicity frowned at Oliver. "What's going on?"

"More than I thought, less than I expected," Oliver said, which wasn't an answer at all. Before Felicity could call him on it, he continued, "So I need to stay here a couple of days while we figure it out."

"We?" Dig's quiet comment carried more skepticism than Felicity would've thought possible.

"We," Oliver said firmly. "There's a lot more going on than I can tell you right now, but trust me when I say Danny's on our side."

"We have sides?" Felicity asked.

"We do," Oliver said. "And right now, that's all I can tell you."

"Can or will?" Trust Dig to call Oliver on his evasiveness.

Oliver shrugged. "More can than will."

Felicity echoed Dig's sigh. "All right. How can we help?"

"You can't right now," Oliver said. "Other than by helping Walter keep QC running smoothly."

"Is he brushing us off?" Felicity asked Dig. "Because I feel like he's brushing us off."

"He's brushing us off," Dig agreed, and Felicity gave an inner cheer. "But that doesn't mean he's wrong."

Felicity's inner cheer turned to an inner pout. Still, with Dig supporting Oliver, she knew she was on the losing side of this argument.

"All right," she said. "But don't think I won't be keeping track of you, too."

Oliver smiled - the smile that used to make her heart melt. "I know you will. And I'm grateful."

Felicity couldn't bring herself to smile back - there were still too many unknowns in the situation for her liking. Worse, those unknowns weren't the kind she could hack into a database somewhere to find out. But Oliver had decided, and it would take the world's strongest crowbar to pry him away from that decision. So she gave in with as much grace as she could muster, resolving to call Barry as soon as she could. Having backup on standby was never a bad thing.

"When do you expect to be back?" Dig asked.

"A week, more or less, at least for now," Oliver said. "I'll have a better estimate tomorrow and let you know."

Felicity couldn't help saying, "Be careful."

Oliver quirked a grin. "As careful as I always am."

"Somehow, that's not reassuring," she said.

=A=IF=A=

When the door closed behind Oliver and his friends, Danny waited for whatever Colleen might want to say.

"It's been a while since we've hung out," she said. "I thought maybe we could have dinner?"

"I can't tonight," Danny said automatically. "Not while Oliver's here. We have things to discuss."

It was as much as he felt comfortable telling her, and he wondered at his own reticence. He'd forgiven her for her lies by omission - how could he not, when the Hand had duped her, shown her only what they wanted her to see? - but despite his affection for her, that didn't feel like enough.

Enough for what? He wondered.

"I know," Colleen was saying. "And I don't want to intrude. Just - after he's gone?"

Danny wanted to accept her invitation, or he thought he did. That he hesitated told him he should answer otherwise. Her expression suggested she understood his hesitation, too.

"I'm sorry, Colleen," he said. "I shouldn't have come here today, but it was the first place that came to mind when Oliver suggested we spar."

"You're always welcome," Colleen said immediately. "Even if we're not…. We're not, are we?"

"No. I'm sorry," he said again. "I wish we could be."

And there was his answer: it wasn't enough for him to let himself get close to her again, to trust her again. She'd hurt him, maybe even betrayed him, once. He wouldn't let her do so again.

"Be happy, Colleen." He bowed to her briefly, then turned and walked away from her.

=A=IF=A=

Danny waited in the limo they'd hired for the run to the airport while Oliver said farewell to John and Felicity. It was simple courtesy, to give them privacy, but it also gave him a moment to compose his own emotions.

It had been difficult, at dinner, not to compare the obvious affection his visitors had for each other to his own strained relationships with Ward and Joy Meachum. Their circumstances weren't exactly the same, but Oliver's ease with Felicity and John sparked the barest hints of envy deep within him.

So while Oliver spoke to them, Danny closed his eyes and breathed in and out, a centering pattern to calm himself, only opening them again when the door opened and Oliver climbed into the seat opposite him.

"What now?" Danny asked.

"We wait," Oliver answered after a glance to make sure the privacy glass between them and the driver was still closed. "I contacted Nyssa, and she'll be here sometime tomorrow."

"Nyssa." Danny tested the name. "From what I know of the cities of Heaven, it's unusual for a woman to rule."

"It's not exactly common for a woman to lead the League of Assassins," Oliver said, and Danny wondered again if they were talking about the same people. With luck, tomorrow would bring clarity.

Still, he couldn't help asking, "How is she their leader, then?"

"By right of birth and by right of combat," Oliver answered as the limo pulled away from the curb.

Danny felt his eyebrows rising, whether in surprise or respect he wasn't certain. "Who did she defeat?"

Oliver winced, ever so slightly. "I fought for her. It's a long story but the gist is, I was to be her father's heir by marrying her. Instead, I stopped her father from destroying my city, killed him, and handed over the mantle and title of Ra's al Ghul to Malcolm Merlyn. A few months later, I arranged a combat between Nyssa and Malcolm, and then, as her husband, took her place."

"You killed this Malcolm Merlyn for her?" Danny asked, careful to keep any censure from the question.

"No," Oliver said. "I couldn't - he's my sister's biological father. But I cut off his hand."

Danny shook his head and breathed out a laugh.

"What?"

Danny shrugged. "I was thinking, as you were saying goodbye to your friends, that I envied your return to people who care for you. Now, I don't think I do."

Oliver was silent for a few minutes before, "I think we both got a raw deal."

"Raw deal? Not miracles?"

"You asked me why I assume heaven is all good. Why do you assume miracles are all good?"

"Fair point," Danny allowed. Then he blurted, "I don't know that I'd change it."

He glanced up, half-expecting to see reproach in Oliver's expression. Who, after all, wouldn't change their parents' death? Instead, he saw only understanding.

"Me, either."

Danny blinked, then decided he shouldn't be surprised. He and Oliver were a lot alike, after all.

Then Oliver frowned. "This doesn't look like the way to my hotel."

"It's not," Danny said. Oliver just raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "My apartment. Plenty of room and more privacy than any hotel."

He held his breath, waiting for rejection, but Oliver only nodded agreement.

=A=IF=A=

"I didn't know they made apartments this big in New York City," Oliver observed as he followed Danny into the other man's apartment. Dominating the wall opposite the door was a wall of windows overlooking the skyline.

"I had to do something with my million-dollar-a-year housing allowance," Danny quipped.

Oliver took in the clean, modern lines of the furniture and the spacious layout and had only one question. "Do you like it?"

Danny crossed to the kitchen tucked in a corner and ran water into a kettle. "My room at the monastery was maybe six by six - I had to lay diagonally in the room if I wanted to stretch out. There was a mat on the floor. I had a blanket, a pot to piss in, and a couple of pegs on the wall to hang my clothes. What's not to like about this?"

"When I got home, my room was pretty much as I remembered it," Oliver said. "Old money opulence, with a nod to the teenage boy who lived there once. Big, soft bed, duvet, comforter - everything you'd expect from the Queen family. The first night I got back, it rained. Stormed, really - hard and long. I threw the windows open and slept on the floor as the rain blew in."

Danny pulled two handle-less cups from a cabinet. "I slept in the park the first couple of nights. Then a suite at the Waldorf - obscenely big bed, too-soft pillows. I grabbed a blanket and slept on the floor."

"So it's not so much that there's anything not to like about this apartment," Oliver said. "It's that it's not what you're used to."

Danny laughed. "Not even almost."

"Why not get something closer to what you're used to?"

"Because I don't know if that's who I am."

Oliver recognized the desperate honesty in Danny's declaration. He'd had a similar identity issue when he returned from Lian Yu, and all he could say was, "It's part of you, even if it's not all of you."

Danny nodded once, then poured the tea and offered a cup to Oliver. Oliver dropped the backpack Dig had given him, along with the carry-on suitcase he'd brought - by the kitchen counter and accepted the cup with a nod that was almost a bow.

Tatsu Yamashiro had taught him the basics of Japanese tea, and he could only hope that Chinese rituals were similar - or that Danny wouldn't take offense. Whichever was the case here, Danny raised his cup to his lips and sipped. Oliver followed suit.

Then Danny gestured him toward the living room. Oliver followed, joining Danny when he sat on the floor to look out at the skyline that slowly came to light in the late summer sunset.

"I was trained for one purpose," Danny said. "To defend K'un Lun from the Hand - to defeat the Hand. After I became the Iron Fist, I guarded the entrance to K'un Lun. Every day. They never came."

"Guard duty sucks, wherever it is," Oliver said when Danny seemed to need encouragement to continue.

Danny gave a half-laugh. "It does. Day in, day out - nothing. Not the faintest breath of movement. After a while - I don't know how long. A year? Two? - the gates opened, and I came back to New York. I wanted my name back, my life back."

Oliver just sipped his tea and waited for Danny to continue.

"Then I found out the Hand were in New York - even within Rand itself. I thought I'd made the right decision, that I'd been drawn back to fight them here. Now you show up and tell me their reach is further than I'd ever imagined. Doubt leads to death - but how am I supposed to defeat the Hand when it's not just K'un Lun, not just me, they're after?"

"That's not the doubt that leads to death," Oliver said without thinking.

Danny frowned at him. "Then what is?"

Oliver took a moment to consider his words before saying, "Doubting your purpose. We'll all die someday, but if you die living your purpose, then your death isn't wasted."

Danny sipped his tea, and Oliver could almost feel him thinking about the conversation. Briefly, he wondered if their tea should be spiked with something, but a quick glance around the apartment didn't reveal a bar.

"No alcohol," Danny confirmed.

"You can read minds, too?"

"When the thought process is that obvious. Can't you?"

Oliver chuckled and allowed an inner sigh of relief. If Danny were joking, he was back on an even keel, or approaching it, at least.

"Off-topic question?" Danny asked.

"Sure."

"How the hell do you run a billion-dollar company?"

Oliver laughed. "Going to need more tea for that."