Coming Home
CONTENT:
Rating: Teen
Flavor: Drama
Language: no
Violence: no
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none
Author's Note:
Forget what you think you know about where Oliver's been the five years he's been dead and gone, and what he's been doing. It's more fun that way ;)
NOTICE: I have no clear idea where this story will eventually go, or how it will end. It might end up being closed as unfinished. I thought I'd warn people now, just so you know.
I DO know what the CHARACTERS want to do. I also know that if they get their way... that would be bad. So I need to figure out some sort of satisfactory resolution. ... I got nothin' :/ Perhaps some folks can help when I reach the end of my rope.
Coming Home
==#==
Oliver stood looking out the hospital window, over the glittering lights of Starling City. His city, his home. His heart swelled. Home. Land of comfort: Heat, Food, Light. After an interminable Hell on Lian Yu, it was Heaven.
He heard a noise outside the door. He turned, automatically tensing for a fight, but that was a thing of the past. The door opened and his little sister burst in. "Ollie!"
Thea threw herself into his arms, and he caught her, a laugh escaping his chest. How long has it been? The siblings hugged tightly, and then Thea made way for their mother.
Her eyes glittered with unshed tears of joy. "Oliver..." So much love in that one simple name. She held him tight. "Oh, my beautiful baby boy."
"Mom..." He closed his eyes, let himself dissolve in the strength of her arms.
"Hey hey, buddy!" Tommy came in next, grinning ear to ear. "Yachts suck," he proclaimed lightly, startling another laugh from Oliver's chest. "Jets are the only way to fly."
Moira moved aside so Tommy could close in to shoulder slap and hug his best friend, but she kept hold of Oliver's left arm, unwilling to let go of her miraculously returned son, not even for a moment.
"Tommy, man," Oliver said huskily, "I missed you so much."
"Me too, me too." The normally jovial playboy's voice almost broke. He stepped back, now shy in the face of such strong emotion.
Then Oliver's breath caught, for behind Tommy, hesitant, dark eyes guarded, stood Laurel. Hope sprang in him like a snared rabbit. "Laurel," he breathed. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry..." How could words convey the depths of his feelings? His heart clenched, like his fist around her image every night on that island.
She stepped forward, once, twice, her eyes searching his face, looking into his soul. Then, "I know," she said, and he was in her arms, his arms holding her tight, her warmth against him, the silken fall of her hair on his cheek, the smell of her.
"You're not mad?"
"I was," she confessed. "For the longest time." She pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. "But you died, Ollie. And so many times I wished you were back, wished that we could talk, wished that we could have another chance." Her eyes sparkled. "Now we do."
"I'm sorry I pushed you away," he blurted, his words tumbling out. "I'm sorry I was such a douche. It was the stupidest thing I have ever done, the worst thing I have ever regretted. I could never deserve you, Laurel, but I want to try. I want to be a better man, a man worthy of you, that you could really love."
And he did. He dedicated his life to her; his love, all his time and attention. They shopped for an apartment together, for housewares, for Laurel's quirky decorations. Soon it was time for a brand new tuxedo and a white wedding dress. Butterflies chased each other around Oliver's stomach.
A distant rumble of thunder brought his thoughts back, briefly, to Lian Yu. A dark place, cold, violent, full of pain. Where every day he prayed for salvation and every night he curled up in fear. He hadn't laughed in years, hadn't smiled, hadn't seen a smile. Suddenly, his Heaven seemed so very fragile indeed.
"Ollie?" Laurel entered their room behind him. "What's wrong?"
"I'm afraid." His voice was a bare whisper as tears spilled from his eyes. "I'm so happy. I'm afraid."
The lights went out; he wheeled, eyes wide, searching for Laurel, lost in the darkness. A moment later there was a blinding flash, then a roll of thunder. The afterimage of the fuselage was burned into Oliver's retina. Then sheets of rain rattled down on the old metal roof.
A dream. It had all been nothing but a dream.
Oliver felt a pressure in his chest, like a giant fist crushing his heart, squeezing tears from his eyes. He curled up, tried to choke down his sobs, but it hurt. It hurt too damned much. His body ached everywhere, inside and out. All he felt was pain, it was all just a matter of degree and flavor. Sharp pangs of hunger. Dull aches of bruises. A twinge when his right lung filled and stretched its scarred tissue. Grinding fatigue in his joints. Burning stiffness in his muscles. Pounding headaches. Everything, even down to stubbed toes and blisters on his hands, everything hurt, and worst of all was the crushing despair.
His family, his friends, his life; they were nothing but a dream. He'd never see them again; his only reality was this hell.
Oliver gulped and held his breath when he heard Slade shift. He didn't want the man to know he was crying again. Slade was a rock, a lump of iron. Oliver was just a mewling little kitten next to him. He didn't know how, or if, he could ever become tough like Slade.
Shado tried to teach him. It stung that she was with them now, and Oliver was still the only 'girl' in their company. A soft, helpless little girl that Mommy and Daddy had to take care of. At worst, he was the unwanted foster child they were stuck with. On good days, Slade treated him like a brother. Though often he was the pesky little sibling the bigger kids really wished hadn't tagged along.
Sometimes, Oliver just wanted to curl up and die. But that, too, hurt too much.
He curled up tighter, pulled the blanket over his head. He tried to pretend he was in his room, to pretend that Laurel was here and still in love with him. It was stupid and childish, but if he could just remember, for a moment, what it felt like... perhaps he could escape back into the dream and never return.
==X==