A Strong Girl

I appear to be on a bit of a roll—another short "missing" scene, this one the conversation that I imagine could have transpired between Diggle and Felicity, based on that look they exchanged.

Seriously, Diggle needs to start charging by the hour.

A companion piece to A Smart Girl, But Still a Girl.

Disclaimer: The usual. Own nothing. Just playing in the sandbox.

The cove waters were calm, the breezes gentle, the foliage lush, and the beach blessedly deserted. Nothing to remind one of all that had transpired in the last few days… weeks… hell, year—that is, until one turned to take in the half-submerged wreckage where it had all begun more than six years earlier.

Taking that into account, it was as good a time as any, he figured.

"Felicity—"

"Don't, John."

"Don't what?"

She shot him one of those sidelong glances at which she was so adept—accompanied by a half-smile that was as sad as it was self-deprecating. Dammit, she'd already begun putting up her walls. And Oliver thought he was the master of hiding behind impenetrable walls. Boy had nothing on Ms. Felicity Smoak. The more John learned about her, the more he suspected she'd been at it a whole lot longer than Oliver.

A lifetime.

He studied her profile as she looked out toward the distant horizon.

"You don't need to have The Talk with me. Outside of what a phrase like 'The Talk' implies because, you know, ew, it's really not necessary. I know it was an act. I know he said what he needed to say. I even know why he did it. I know a lot of things."

"Do you now?"

"I know he needed me."

John felt a flash of anger, not unlike the one he'd felt when he'd heard about how the situation with Wilson went down. "He used you."

"Well, yeah."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

Gaze still fixed on the horizon she nodded. Her mouth moved, her voice impossibly soft.

"What was that?"

She tilted her head back, turning her face toward the sun. Eyes closed she said, "I'm used to it." Shoulders rising with a deep breath, she straightened and opened her eyes, her steady gaze finding his. "Where Oliver's concerned, I'm used to coming second. To Helena, to Isabel, to the Lance sisters."

She smiled and it was one of the saddest things John had ever seen. Honest to God, if Oliver had been standing right in front of him at that precise moment, John would have taken great pleasure in punching him. A lot.

"I think you've got that backwards, Felicity."

"Oh, I don't think so. You said it yourself—he used me. Bait to save Laurel."

"He used you as bait to save all of us," John countered. "He used you as bait to defeat Wilson. I'm not saying it was right, but I do know he wouldn't have ever asked that of Laurel. Hell, I don't think he would have even asked that of Sara."

A pink-clad shoulder rose. "I'm expendable."

"Oh, hell no—" And really, he could cheerfully punch Oliver. A lot. Not like he could blame her for her line of rationale. This was Oliver they were talking about. It wasn't as if she didn't have plenty of reason to believe every word she was saying. Plus, he reminded himself again—she had to believe it if only to protect herself. But he had to nip this nonsense in the bud. Especially considering his conversation with Oliver.

"It sure as hell isn't because you're expendable. If anything, it's because he trusts you above anyone else in the world."

"Oh, John—" Another one of those painfully sad smiles crossed her face as she grasped his arm. "I know you really believe that, but—"

"But nothing." He put his hand over hers. "Look, I know why you feel as if you have to protect yourself. Our boy doesn't always think before he acts or speaks and this is yet another stellar example. Maybe not Isabel Rochev levels of stupid, but pretty high up there. And honestly, I think in this case, it might have been a good thing he pulled this harebrained stunt without thinking too hard. Otherwise, who knows how much longer it would have taken him?"

She cocked her head, her gaze turning quizzical but for once, remained silent.

"Think about what he said. Think about how he sounded. Think about the look in his eyes, the expression on his face, the way he touched you."

She shook her head. "He said what he needed me to believe."

But she didn't sound as certain as she had, even a minute earlier.

"Come on, Felicity." John smiled. "You and I both know he is quite possibly the world's worst liar."

Felicity's mouth parted, allowing a small, surprised noise to escape.

"Especially where you're concerned."

Her mouth opened further as she blinked and clearly attempted to process his words and their deeper meaning. After a long moment of gaping at him like an adorably bespectacled guppy, she dropped her hand from his arm and turned to face the cove once again.

"Let's say I believe you—which I don't, necessarily, because let's face it, it's crazy and unbelievable and…and…downright unthinkable, but for the sake of argument, let's say I believe you—what good does it do? Oliver's got a lot on his plate right now—the last thing he needs is the sort of distraction that… this—" she waved her hand in vague circles— "would create. Right now, he needs to believe that I believe it was a ruse and that it didn't matter and that only the mission mattered."

Two years of parsing Felicity-speak allowed John to quickly respond with a firm, decisive, "No. He really doesn't need to believe that."

She swayed as if slapped. "John—"

"You think you're protecting him—that you're protecting yourself—but you're not. What you're really doing is creating a liability if you allow both of you to labor under such a massive delusion. He needs to know, Felicity. He needs to know that you know."

Her lips pressed together as she clearly fought her own inclinations to disagree, to deny….

To hide.

"Let's say I believe you," she began hesitantly. "At the very least, he has to believe I have no immediate expectations that the status quo's gonna change. He doesn't need that sort of distraction. Not right now."

John released a long steady breath. Slowly, he nodded. He might not necessarily agree, but he'd known Felicity long enough to know he'd reached his limit with her. She might be willing to consider a lot, but on this one, she wouldn't budge. It was the only form of protection she had remaining. The only person for whom she'd lower those defenses was the very one against whom she kept them shored up.

A loud metallic screech shattered the silence. As one, they turned to watch Oliver emerge from the subterranean access port.

"What I wouldn't have given to have a dozen of you in my unit."

An inelegant snort escaped. "Why? So you could have a dozen of me panicking, and Kermit-flailing, and needing to be rescued every five minutes?"

It was his turn to snort. "Is that how you really see yourself?"

"D'uh."

He glanced down at her as she kept her gaze trained on Oliver's steady approach. A look in his friend's direction revealed Oliver to be equally focused on Felicity, the distance separating them rendered nonexistent by the strength of their connection.

"That's not how I see you," he said quietly. "And I know for a fact that's not how he sees you."

While her being remained focused on Oliver, the curiosity nevertheless radiated off her in nearly palpable waves.

"You're one of the strongest people I know, Felicity. One of the strongest women. We all rely on that strength." He dropped his voice.

"Oliver, most of all."