Title: Peer-to-Peer Networking
Word Count: 3483

Notes: Time for another side story! This really doesn't fall within an episode tag, except maybe a teaser/build up for Chapter 15 and the start of 1.10 Burned. It also serves to kind of break up some of the leftover intensity for Chapter 14. And maybe some Olicity of course, but it's not my main goal in this.

Also, Diggle makes an appearance. I have a terrible time writing him, so any constructive criticism is welcome. :) And there's a playlist at the end of the chapter (to avoid any spoilers) for what sort of inspired this one. This one was particularly music-inspired, so I felt like I should include the songs that kept it going strong. :) I'll meet you at the end with the playlist. Hope you enjoy it, and reviews are much appreciated. Either way, thanks for reading! :)

As soon as Detective Lance leaves, Felicity leans against the door, slowly sinking down it with her head in her hands. Now she remembers her hesitance to help the Arrow—she believes that he's the good guy, so she's forgotten that the rest of the world is convinced he's the bad guy. And—oh yeah—she's breaking the law by helping him. She's forgotten that, too—she's always been helping people in her mind, and it's easy to believe that, because she's doing good things, she's also legally correct.

But she's not. And Detective Lance is highly convinced that she's helping the Arrow. Which she is.

Taking a deep breath, she tries to clear her head. As if sensing trouble, Saphira pushes her head into Felicity's lap, tail wagging. Felicity gathers most of the dog into her lap, stroking her and thinking solely about the facts. Lance suspects she's helping the Arrow. He hinted at his suspicion because he's hoping she'll panic—so that's the last thing she needs to do. She knows her hacks are clean, so it's only suspicion. And then the important thought hits her.

The Arrow knows none of this.

Springing into action, she leaps to her feet and runs to her bedroom, digging into the bottom shelf for the burner phone she purchased for backup when she started working with the Arrow. She knows her phone is encrypted, but, if Detective Lance decided to put in a request for a wiretap, well, her cell phone is under her name. She could check, but time is of the essence, so she'd rather take excessive measures and warn her early.

She dials the number—which she memorized, just in case she needed to—and she's not surprised when it goes directly to voicemail. She doesn't hesitate to leave a message. "Hey, it's Felicity. Call me back at this number as soon as you get this—it's urgent." She almost hangs up, but then remembers to add, "Don't drop in without talking to me first."

She has to wait just long enough for him to listen to the voicemail before he calls. He doesn't wait for her to answer after she picks up before asking, "What's wrong?" She's never been so glad to hear that synthesized voice in her life, and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Everything's fine," she replies, frowning when her voice goes higher than normal, and decides to elaborate a little. "Well, fine-ish. I'm just a little paranoid, and I think I'm too rattled to do this over the phone."

"I'll be there," he promises instantly, and she's grateful that he doesn't ask her any more questions about it.

She's about to agree when she remembers. "No!" she yells, a little to forcefully, and winces. "Sorry. No, don't come through the fire escape like usual." It's exposed to the street, and she doesn't think it would help for some onlooker to confirm the detective's hunch. After a little bit of thought, she says, "There's an alleyway behind my building. Meet me there in about five minutes."

"It won't take me that long," he assures her, then hangs up. She throws the phone on her bed, then picks a random pair of jeans to replace her pajama pants. After she pulls them on, she slips her feet into a pair of slip—on tennis shoes and her phone into her jeans pocket. As she turns to leave, she sees a black, floppy hat and, with a burst of inspiration, tucks her hair up into it. A glance in the mirror informs her that she looks like trouble—but in the form of a sixteen-year-old boy, not a blonde IT girl.

She grabs her keys from the table and locks up after herself before flying down the stairs. On the ground floor, she uses the back exit she always thought was shady, and she's glad she didn't call that wrong. There's a chill in the air, but the thermal shirt that was once the Arrow's helps block it. As a side note, she reminds herself to look into that label and get a few for herself—she's incredibly cold-natured, and it's the warmest thing she owns.

He's already standing there when she arrives, and his head swivels to her instantly, hand flexing on the bow. "It's me," she says quickly, and he relaxes. The alleyway is incredibly narrow and blocked by dumpsters, so she's already nearly standing on his toes. She looks up and realizes he probably scaled the roof of the bar next door to get down here. Maybe the alley isn't as ominous as she thought, since it has virtually zero access.

His head tilts to the side in confusion, and she already knows what he's going to ask. Still, she doesn't stop him from questioning her with, "Why are you dressed like that?"

She huffs testily. "Seriously?" she asks, incredulous. "I'm in my pajamas most nights when you show up, and you question actual clothes? I think you're backwards." He chuckles and she continues, "And, for your information, I'm incognito. That's why the run-around and the lame, stupid hat I haven't worn since that horrible haircut I had in grade school. I had to burn the pictures, it was so horrible." She rolls her eyes. "Well, most of the pictures. Barry still has one tucked away somewhere—or so I'm told—for blackmail purposes."

"Felicity," he says gently, reminding her that the purpose of this meeting was not to regale the Arrow with the most embarrassing stories of her youth—and, oh God, she actually just did that.

"Anyway," she says, drawing out the word as she takes the hint, "I called because I'm having a semi-freak out, brought to me courtesy of our friendly neighborhood I-have-a-vendetta-against-the-Arrow cop." She shrugs, surprised that she's not in hysterics by now. "It was pleasant on the surface. But Saphira didn't like him, which means he's solemnly sworn he's up to no good."

"What did Detective Lance have to say?" he asks casually as he leans against the building. To the casual observer, he'd probably appear relaxed, but Felicity knows better; the tension appears in the set of his shoulders and jaw. Being outdoors clearly unnerves him because he always appears so relaxed in Felicity's apartment. Probably something about being out in the open.

Her eyes narrow as she looks at him. "Who said it was Detective Lance?" she counters easily, crossing her arms. If he has some sort of tail or bug on her, she decides she's going to turn his ass in faster than he can blink. Lord knows she has enough to help said detective, should she decide to change alliances. Then she shakes her head, knowing she's just stressed, and her loyalty doesn't waver for a little stalker-ish behavior.

"I did," he replies, mirroring her stance, arms folded. "You said a cop—I assumed it would be the one who would like to bury me under the jail. And he does have quite the vendetta." His calm rationale reminds her that she might be a little paranoid since the encounter. She looks away, embarrassed, but he doesn't allow that. He cups her chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting her head back toward him. "What did Detective Lance tell you, Felicity?" he asks, and this time his voice gentle yet firm, letting her know that he's not going to let this go.

"I think he knows I'm helping you," she breathes out in a rush as he releases her. He opens his mouth to speak, but she holds up a finger. "He indicated as much—and he wants me to help break the encryption on that phone you sent him. But he did say he thought you had an accomplice, and I thought it would be suspicious to try and convince him otherwise. I didn't know what to do, other than warn you about it." She bites her lip. "What do you want me to do?"

His mouth turns down in a frown, and she knows he's really putting some thought into her question. "If anyone could break the encryption on that phone," he muses slowly, "it would be you. Detective Lance is smarter than I thought." It's a veiled compliment, but Felicity takes it with pride—he's not exactly flooding her with praise. "Try to avoid the SCPD, though," he continues. "I think that could be a set-up to see if you would manipulate evidence." More hesitation, then, "I think you made the right call with Lance. He wanted you to disagree with him. Is all of your IT work clean?"

She gives him a frosty glare. "Do you even have to ask? Of course it is—I did it." She puts a finger into his shoulder. "When you break into a guy's house, do you trail evidence all over the damn place? Of course you don't. You're good at your job—I'm good at mine. That's why I don't ask you stupid questions about your work." She bites her lip. "But I think we should be careful. Call my burner phone from now until we're sure Lance isn't onto us. Don't come by Queen Consolidated. Be a little more careful about using the fire escape—we may have to start meeting here."

He nods once, letting her know he agrees. "I'll be careful," he assures her, and it takes a weight off of her shoulders. Part of her wonders if she was a little more traumatized by the Dark Archer incident that she thought; somehow, the thought of never seeing the Arrow in her apartment again turns her blood cold. The rest of the world may think he's some sort villain, but she has to admit she's grown rather attached to the green-clad archer that haunts Starling City.

Some of that must show on her face, because he puts a hand on her shoulder—the same place his hand always seems to fall. "I'll be careful," he repeats, more forcefully this time. "Trust me."

She bites her lip. "I do," she answers instantly. "That's the problem." When his head tilts in confusion, she continues, "Detective Lance just gave me a hefty little reality check to think about. I keep forgetting that the rest of the world sees you as a villain—that I'm breaking the law for you. I've never even received a speeding ticket, for God's sake, and now I'm aiding and abetting a fugitive." With a smile, she adds, "I think that's a big jump in criminal activity."

The corner of his mouth lifts, ever so slightly. "If you ever become a menace to society, I'll stop you," he promises. He hesitates, looking away before adding, "And I know how much you've risked to help me—don't ever think I don't realize that." His sigh sounds mostly like static through the voice modulator. "I should leave you alone," he admits slowly, "but I don't think I know how."

Without hesitation, she pokes a finger in his shoulder, and his attention jolts back to her immediately. "If you abandon me now," she says flatly, "I will rain digital fire down upon your entire world." Hesitating a moment, she reaches out and takes his hand, surprised when his fingers immediately tighten around hers. "We're in this"—she gestures vaguely with her left hand—"crusade together. I don't know what you're fighting for, but I grew up here, and it hurts me to see the Glades collapsing. People used to at least try to help make this a better place, but no one cares anymore." She smiles. "Except you, I mean." She crosses her arms, pulling her hand gently from his. "So long as there's something to fight for, I'm with you—no matter what."

His hand presses into her shoulder again, giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, Felicity," he says simply, and she can tell by the weight of his words that he could fill an entire library with a look and the meaning with three little words. The man, apparently, holds an Olympic record in laconic speech. He motions finally to her shirt—or rather, his—and the patch that falls over her heart. "You may have created yourself," he says slowly, cryptically, "but you've also created me, too." It takes her a moment to realize what he means—the Vigilante was already putting arrows in people before she met him—but then she realizes that he hasn't killed anyone since she gave him that information on Matt Isthook all those months ago.

With a single, "Goodnight, Felicity," he's gone, swinging on his rappelling arrows like Spider-Man on a web again. It leaves Felicity to wonder just exactly when her real life started to feel like a dream, and this... thing with the Arrow started to feel like the reality.

Oliver knows he's in for it as soon as he leaves Felicity. Even before he left, Diggle started asking questions about where Oliver had been and where he was going. Still, as he walks into the warehouse, he's calm in face of the upcoming Spanish Inquisition. Vaguely, he wonders if this is how one feels when marching to their death.

Diggle's arms are crossed as he leans across the desk where the computer sits. "I don't appreciate you dodging my calls," he states flatly. "I'm your partner, not a jealous ex-girlfriend." He stands upright, uncrossing his arms. "You wanna tell me why you stopped long enough to pick up the suit? I guess it has something to do with that phone call that you received." He frowns. "Is Thea in trouble again?"

Oliver frowns at the mention of his sister, reminded that she can't be counted on to keep her mouth shut. The last person he wanted to know about his "motorcycle accident" was the person who pulled him out of it. She's learned too much already in her short time working for him, and he knows it's only a matter of time before Felicity puts the pieces together. He responds to Digg's question, "Felicity has a problem. Apparently Detective Lance is trying out some new theories about the Hood." With a loaded look, he adds, "He thinks the Hood can't do high-level hacking on his own, so Lance thinks Felicity is his partner."

Digg's expression says more than any words could ever express. "Oliver," he starts, in part reproach and sigh, "I know I was wrong about the girl—she's loyal and tougher than I expected." The look turns disapproving. "But now, her safety is compromised. This girl could end up in jail for you—do you really want that on your conscience?" Without waiting for the answer he already knows, he presses on, "Look, man, I know you like her. I do, too. But this isn't about us. Cutting her loose means that she stays safe. You promised that we could keep her safe, and this is the only way." He turns away, sensing that he's won the argument before it could really begin.

Oliver means to say nothing and ignore him, but somehow words slip out of his mouth in the form of, "But what about her?" Diggle turns on the spot, raising an eyebrow as if to say, Go on. It takes Oliver a moment to gather his thoughts, to form a coherent argument, before finally saying, "I didn't promise to keep her safe. I promised to protect her, Diggle. You didn't talk to her tonight—she isn't ready to give this up. She's wary of Lance, but she's not quitting." He hesitates for a long moment before adding, "And we need her, Digg."

That, for some reason, earns him another lift of an eyebrow. "We or you?" he asks in response, with that same cryptic demeanor Oliver has come to expect from his business partner. If he understood the message, he probably wouldn't answer anyway. Still, Oliver admits, somewhere deep within himself, that he understands much better than he'd like. But he can't even make the admission to himself, much less someone else.

Saved by the proverbial bell, his cell phone—his Arrow cell phone—starts ringing, and he doesn't hesitate to take the call, if only to avoid Diggle's question. Too late, he realizes it's Laurel on the line, using the cell phone he thought she'd never use again. After the prison riot and his outburst, she had told her father that the Arrow was a murderer, which further cemented the growing gap between her and Oliver. "This better be important, Laurel," he states flatly, and Diggle's eyebrows shoot up in alarm, expressing the feeling Oliver is trying to mask.

She seems a little hesitant. "It's important," she replies finally in a small voice. "How soon can we meet?" It strikes him how much things have changed—Felicity was the hesitant one at first, and Laurel was always staunchly in control of her meetings with the Arrow. It seems now that Felicity is the one in her comfort zone with the hooded vigilante, while Laurel is the one displaying weakness.

"If you want my help," is his swift reply, "you'll tell me now. I need to be sure this isn't a set-up."

She seems a little hurt by the accusation as she replies, "I've never set you up in the past." When silence meets her response, she asks, "Where have you been? No one's seen you for a while."

"You said this was important," he reminds her, nearly growling. He won't refuse her request when there are people dying on the streets, but that doesn't mean he should like it. Laurel is a complication that he's not prepared to face in light of all the other complications in his life.

She sucks in a breath before explaining quickly, "My best friend's brother died fighting a fire two days ago. Everyone—police department, fire department, arson investigation—they all think that it was an accident, but the coroner's report shows otherwise. My friend thinks he was murdered, and she's probably right. He burned hotter than the fire that took his life. His murderer needs to be stopped, but no one's looking for him."

His response is biting as he replies, "So you're asking one killer to find another?" It's the one thing he's never been able to shake since committing to his role as the Arrow. You were right, she had said to her father. He's a killer with no remorse, and it was a mistake to trust him. It was a mistake for him, too—he should never have thought Laurel would understand his role as the Arrow. She sees the world in black and white, but what Oliver needs on his team is someone who sees the grey shades in between. And he has—in Felicity Smoak. She says nothing, and he continues, "I heard what you said to your father. You called me a killer. You said that I have no remorse."

Her reply stuns him into silence for a moment, a soft timid, "Do you?" It isn't the question that hurts, but the burning curiosity behind it. She genuinely isn't sure if he regrets taking lives. To say those words pierce through like the arrow in his shoulder is an understatement.

Finally, he responds to her with, "I may be cruel, but I'm still human." He holds back the, And if you knew me at all, you wouldn't have to ask that question. He wants to say it, but to do so would reveal too much. Instead, he adds, "And I was wrong to trust anyone who would question that." He may be a murderer, but that doesn't make him a monster. He sees it differently now that he's surrounded himself with people who understand. Felicity and Diggle may never like the killing and the violence, but they've never called him a killer. Because they understand that, sometimes, to make a change for the better, you have to be just as horrible as the evil you're fighting.

Felicity knows that, and she still thinks of him as a savior. He isn't quite ready to believe that yet, but he knows he's going to try.

Laurel doesn't respond directly to his statement, instead opting to change topics. "I have the file, if you want to take a look at it," she says finally, snapping him out of his thoughts. "If Danny de la Vega was killed, we have to bring his murder to justice."

She's played to his weakness—he wants to stop the senseless violence and destruction in Starling City, and to do that is to bring the criminals to justice. Frowning, he says finally, "I'll look into it." He gives her the address of the rooftop of an abandoned building in the Glades. "Meet me there in twenty minutes—bring the file." Without waiting for a response, he terminates the call.

"We have a mission from Laurel," Diggle states, though it would be a question from anyone else.

"We do," Oliver answers anyway, already putting the green hood back on. After all, he can handle Laurel for the sake of this city.

Because he's already failed it once by allowing the Dark Archer to escape, and he's not going to do it again.

In no particular order, the songs that inspired the main storyline (before the section break). Some are a little more obscure than others, but here goes:

"Heaven in This Hell" - Orianthi
"Paradise (What About Us?)" - Within Temptation feat. Tarja
"Wreckage" - Ben Jelen
"(Don't Fear) the Reaper" - Pierce the Veil (or the original by Blue Oyster Cult, take your pick)
"My Life Would Suck Without You" - Kelly Clarkson
"The World is Ugly" - My Chemical Romance