Constantine had given him one last present before he had left. Well, according to him it was more of an experiment than a gift.
"It's something that I found in the remotest areas of Greece. The book of spells called it 'The Hope'. It's supposed to show you the brightest or the happiest moments of your life. Your past or present or future, wherever or whenever you are the best version of yourself."
And Oliver had been curious. After four, almost five years of hell that he had gone through, and was still going through, any sense of hope had just felt like waiting disappointment. The first year on the island, he had still been naïve, had believed that maybe if he wished hard enough, stared at the picture of Laurel hard enough, he would have enough drive to want to get home. And it had worked for a little while. But a lost love, a love that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in, didn't give him hope as much as it gave him crippling longing.
So when Constantine had offered him hope, no matter how strange the concept felt to him, he agreed. He was curious. And he was already living his worst nightmare. What could possibly happen?
Constantine had grabbed him by the back of his neck, and pulled him till their foreheads knocked together. He chanted in that strange language of his that Oliver didn't even try to understand, and then suddenly there was white hot fire burning in Oliver's mind. He screamed, and screamed and screamed for god only knows how long till the pain stopped just as instantaneously as it had come. He opened his eyes to Costantine looking at him with raised brows,
"So?" Oliver gave him an irritated glare, still panting from the phantom pain,
"So, nothing. It didn't work." Constantine grimaced, and the emotion in his eyes was too close to pity for Oliver's liking for him to be comfortable, so he pulled back.
"We should go back." He gruffly replied.
And that was that.
At least, that's what Oliver thought.
The dreams started that night. Oliver wasn't used to sleeping normal hours anymore. He slept for maybe an hour or two whenever it felt like he was about to collapse from lack of it. And usually these couple of hours were filled with the nightmares that he lived through in the previous years. But that night when he slept, he felt warm even in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year. He felt comfortable even on the cold hard ground beneath him. And as he closed his eyes and waited for the monsters to come like they did every night, all he heard was a soft breathy voice, unfamiliar in a sense that wasn't exactly strange.
'Oliver…' The woman breathed, and for a second Oliver almost felt it against his ear. She sounded happy, she sounded like routine. Like Oliver knows her, or will know her. She sounded like clear bells in the summer sky, and Oliver twitched in his sleep, as if turning in her direction only barely, but then there was a distant cracking of a branch, the ground beneath him suddenly hard, the air in his lungs dark and cold again,
Oliver stared uncomprehending as a squirrel scurried past him, his mind still lingering, trying to reach the phantom warmth that had surrounded him like a blanket in his sleep,
What the hell was that?
He had never heard that voice before.. he rarely ever went by his given name. Before he was stranded, everyone called him Ollie, or Mr.Queen if he was interacting with his father's employees or the authorities. But the woman, if she was even real somewhere, had called him with an easy familiarity that he had been too immature before to share with someone else. Oliver shook his head, trying to clear the warm hazy quality his mind was latching to. It wasn't real. It can't have been… he must've eaten a weird mushroom of some sort at some point.
That had to be it.
He didn't even think about the 'Hope' that Constantine had been talking about.
The next time he felt that strange warm presence near him, he had been walking around the perimeter, he had been gradually losing his sleep with every day he spent being one of the monsters terrorizing the innocent people that were forced to work like animals on the island,
"Hey," It was that voice again, but Oliver wasn't asleep this time, and he hadn't had anything to eat in the last two days. He froze, and heard the slight clicking of heels against floorboards even as he thought he was losing his mind. He was on an island. The closest thing to polished floorboards this place had were a few wide and flat rocks, but the footsteps were coming closer, and he felt a hand on his shoulder,
Oliver whipped around, and suddenly, he wasn't on the island. Suddenly, he was standing in a well-lit room, minimal furniture and high ceilings that even though wasn't the mansion in Starling city felt a lot like home. But it wasn't his sudden change of clothes to a simple henley and jeans, or the familiar Starling City skyline from the other side of the floor to ceiling windows that had him shook,
It was the tiny woman in front of him, blonde hair soft and swept behind her shoulder as she looked up at him, biting her lower lip as if trying to contain the smile that was threatening to spread across the face,
"That was Mrs.Fitzburg!" She spoke excitedly, her hands coming over to take hold of his t-shirt, knuckles brushing his chest as she stretched herself up and made him slightly bend down so that their faces were almost level, Oliver felt his lips tilt up slightly at her antics even as confusion hit him full force, he didn't know what was happening, he hadn't ever seen this woman in his life before, but he didn't think for a second before placing his hands on her waist, supporting her as she balanced herself precariously on her heels, "She wants to discuss asking William to skip a grade." She laughed, giving him a playful stink-eye that did nothing but warm Oliver's heart, "Apparently he's been acting like an annoying little know-it-all." She says and pokes her bright green painted nails against Oliver's chest, "I wonder where he got that from?"
Oliver's hands slide from her waist to meet at her back, pulling her closer and in response her arms wound loosely around his neck, "I'm pretty sure you're the know-it-all in this relationship, hun." Oliver spoke without having actually thought up a response. He didn't know what was happening, how he could be in two places at the same time, how he could think of two thoughts at the same time. He didn't know what was going on, but he really didn't want the blonde woman to stop smiling at him, so he stopped thinking and just watched, just took in the scene, the feeling of her tiny frame against his calloused grip, her unyielding trust as she leaned on him completely,
The woman laughed lightly, blushing slightly as she pushed her glasses back on her nose before returning her hands to his shoulder, "I suppose he is a bit like me, isn't he?" Oliver felt his smile widening as he leaned closer and brushed their lips together,
"Let's see, he's crazy smart, he talks super fast, and he plays those video games where the characters have those weird anti-gravity haircuts." The woman leans back, most of her weight almost carelessly trusted in Oliver's hand, and his grip on her back tightens to make sure he never even accidently lets her go,
"He's also incredibly charming, passionate when it comes to what's right and wrong, and not to mention, has the perfect aim." She replies, and Oliver can feel laughter bubbling up in his chest, it's an almost forgotten feeling to him now, but with the way his other-self? Hallucination? Huffs out a breath and closes the distance between himself and the blonde woman, Oliver can tell that at least this version of him is used to that light kind of happiness that Oliver is feeling now,
"Well," Oliver murmurs between kisses, "He is our son."
Oh.
Oh.
Oliver doesn't realize the breath he inhales loudly, is almost disoriented at the sight of endless darkness and looming tall trees as he stumbles back from that dream to his reality, but then his arms are warm, as if he hadn't been standing for what feels like hours in the middle of an island in the North Pacific China Sea, and the phantom weight against his shoulders where his… that woman placed her arms feels too real to just not be real. He knows he's not dreaming, and hallucinations are generally fuzzy in the corners. So the question that remains is, what is it that he's seeing? He knows that whatever is happening to him, it's because of whatever magic Constantine did on him, but he still can't wrap his mind around suddenly being on a stranded island for one second and being in a warm and well lit home in the another.
Oliver breathes out roughly, and tries to rid his mind of the image of that woman from his head, he doesn't know enough about what's happening to him to know if he likes it or not, but he does know that he would maybe like to see her again, that woman who shone like an angel against the light coming from the windows and who looked at him like he was the most important thing in her life.
*
Oliver's starting to figure out slowly when he's going to have another vision. It's always after he's feeling particularly lost or hopeless, and it always starts bit by bit, as if the visions themselves don't want to threaten him with their suddenness, first with sounds, then feelings, and then he sees her. It's always her. The third time he sees her, he can still feel the cold metal of the gun he pressed into his face himself, he can feel the nothingness that ran through his body at the idea of dying, how just for a second there he almost would've been glad to die already; As it is, he's not dead. Instead, he's staring into the dark waters, standing at the shore of Lian Yu wondering if he'll ever really be able to get out of here that he hears her,
It's not the sound of her heels this time, but suddenly the white noise of the island quietens, and he can feel himself gradually getting warmer, he closes his eyes, breaths out and when he opens them again, it's still dark, only the beach has been replaced by the familiar skyline he saw in his previous vision, only this time it twinkles under the night sky, and Oliver hears light shuffling behind him, He's in a bedroom this time, the bedsheet of the king sized bed a soft-grey, blocks of different warm colours in a generic geometric pattern printed over it, but it's the photos on the bedside table that make his breath hitch,
There's one where both he and that woman stand together with their sides pressed together, the scenery behind them suggesting that they're on a hill somewhere, and beside that is another picture of the two of them, her in a pretty white dress that hugs her curves, him standing beside her in a tux with his arm around her waist, both of them wearing the biggest grins--
It's their wedding photo. He can see the shiny rings of their fingers, and instinctively he looks down at his own hands, the ones that have been perpetually dirty ever since he landed on the island are now clean, still calloused, but he can feel the band on his left ring finger. He slowly pulls it out, and stares at the elegant script inscribed on the inside,
Your Always, Felicity.
Felicity. Oliver breaths. Her name is Felicity. She is his always.
As if on cue the door to the bathroom opens, and she comes out in a pair of pajamas and a tank top. She is the opposite to how she looked when he last saw her, whilst that woman was beautiful with her impeccable dress, sexy with those her heels, and adorable with that ponytail and glasses, this version of her is just as gorgeous, wild hair free from any product or elastics, face fresh and free of makeup, lips a pretty light pink but just as distracting as the bold magenta they are during the day; she leaves him breathless. And he doesn't even know her.
Quickly he pushes the ring back around his finger, and walks closer to her when she looks over at him and smiles.
"Hey." She says as she wraps her arms around his waist, "Long day?" she tilts her head adorably, her nose scrunching as if just the thought of him getting tired makes her uneasy. Oliver smiles, and pecks that scrunched nose till she relaxes her muscles to laugh at his antics instead,
"Hmm…"Oliver sways her in his arms, and loves the way her eyes light up at his actions, "It was. But, I'm good now. Sooo good."
"Yeah?" She breathes out as she pushes herself up. She's not wearing heels this time, he has to bend down even further to press her lips against his, Oliver huffs in amused exasperation when she tries to stretch herself impossibly further, and then grabs her by the thighs and just hoists her up, She squeals against his mouth, and he laughs against her lips as he walks blindly over to their bed, he can feel her ring as her hands comb through his hair, and can hear her moan his name lowly, more like soft breaths around the syllables of his name than anything else, and with every moment, he can feel himself lighten up a little, can feel himself falling as he lowers her into the mattress, can feel himself losing his mind in exchange for the heady warmth she brings with her as his hands slip inside her top, trace the ridges of her ribs and the shallow of her stomach as she arches into his touch,
"I love you, Felicity." And just for moment, he's terrified, because he doesn't know if it's her husband that uttered those words and meant every word, or if it was him.
Her face softens at his words, a special kind of awe gracing her eyes that Oliver almost can't believe he put there, "I love you too, darling." She murmurs as her eyes follow her fingers tracing his face. His eyes fall shut, trying to take in all the warmth and love and soak himself in it;
But all that greets him is darkness, and the cold hits his chest like a punch in the stomach: He eyes snap open and he's back in hell again, back to perpetually wet clothes and dirty skin. Back to being alone and hapless but something is burning inside his chest this time, a sort of drive he hasn't felt since he was stranded on this miserable place,
It's hope. And determination. Hope for the life he wants to build. Determination to find the woman he wants to build it with.
*
Oliver's phantom life in his head isn't always sweet or perfect. It's isn't always soft declarations of love and fluffy fluttering at the base of his stomach. Sometimes he gets flashes of Felicity's glares directed at him, sometimes she looks a little younger and behaves a bit more distantly, sometimes she looks at him like he is breaking her heart, and sometimes she's telling him that she doesn't want to be the woman he loves, that she can't be with him, that she can't marry him;
But every single time he feels his heart breaking further for a woman he hasn't even met, under her anger and disappointment and tears, there's always love. Love for Oliver. Faith in Oliver. It's unwavering, almost feels unconditional. So, no. He knows their relationship, it's not perfect, it's not a dream, but it feels real.
The visions aren't always conversations with Felicity. Sometimes they're short enough that all he manages to see is a brush of blonde here, or a splash of bold pink there, Sometimes they're so detailed and long, Oliver forgets that he's actually still at the island, and not really wrapped in her small arms. Those hurt the most, but Oliver learns to live with them even as he fights day after day on the island to survive, first Conklin, then Reiter, and all the others he meets and defeats throughout the years both on the island and off, and through everyday, there are sporadic moments, moments of his life that aren't really his, but where Oliver is happy.
It takes him months to wonder if Felicity is even real, wonder if she isn't just a figment of his imagination, because she feels too good to be true, too sweet, too pure, too innocent. But then he remembers how she can also sometimes be a little mean, and how she can sometimes just stab him with her words or how sometimes that particular look of disappointment on her face directed at him makes him feel like the ground is opening up under him, and then if that isn't enough of a proof, he remembers her,
The vision this time feels weird, it's not as warm as it was before, and he doesn't feel as comfortable in his skin than he's used to when he's in these visions. In fact, he feels very similar to how he feels these days, like he's carrying a million responsibilities on his shoulders and there is absolutely no one he can trust because everybody is either a target, or a threat. He's walking alone through what he remembers is Queen Consolidated, and when he looks down, there is a shot up laptop in his hands. His strides are purposeful, as if he knows exactly where he's going, and then he stops in front of a door that reads the IT department.
Olivers feels himself straighten up, as if preparing for battle and unleashing all the intimidation he is capable of, and enters the doorway, walking over to a cubical that reads Felicity Smoak.
Oh.
He clears his throat, and his muscles tense up further, the action so foreign for him to do in front of the woman who's back is to him that Oliver's confused for a moment, before he speaks and everything becomes clear,
"Felicity Smoak?" Oliver asks, and falters when the blonde turns around, "Hi. I'm Oliver Queen."
So, this is how they meet- With Oliver tense as a board and carrying a bullet-ridden laptop and Felicity--
Felicity's so different. Younger than he's ever seen her, with her hair curled and in a low ponytail, her tight-fitting dresses that make him want to run his hands along her sides, replaced with a pink button up shirt and a modest black pencil skirt, she's chewing on a red pen, and looks more like a sexy librarian than anything else. Oliver's already shocked, but then she opens her mouth and he remembers her,
"Of course. I know who are. You're Mr.Queen." She's nervous, on the verge of babbling and with a pink blush rising in her cheeks. He's enamoured instantly.
"No," Oliver replies, and he can feel his lips itching to stretch in a smile but he tamps down the urge, "Mr.Queen was my father."
"Right, but he's dead." She flinches, shakes her head, "I mean, he drowned." She soldiers through, and Oliver can't fight the amusement he's feeling, "And you didn't. Which means you could come down to the IT department… and listen to me babble. Which will end, in 3...2..1."
Oh. She's the polka-dot girl.
Oliver remembers her, vaguely but he does. That pretty girl in his father's office when he broke into QC while working for ARGUS. She found him cute, and that tiny reminder, how he used to feel like he was at the top of the world when an attractive woman found him attractive made him smile.
She's been making him smile from the very start.
She babbled then, and she babbles now, and Oliver smiles again, just like he did then, and suddenly there's this one person who he doesn't want anything from, and who doesn't want anything from him. She's not a threat, and she's certainly not a target.
She's just… just Felicity.
Just a pretty girl who makes him smile.
Just a person.
"I'm having some trouble with my computer and they told me you were the person to come and see." He says and places the laptop on her desk, he takes a breath as she rolls her chair closer, and tamps down the urge to take a step closer too, It doesn't matter who she is, she's still a civilian. And nobody can know Oliver's secret. He doesn't have a story behind the bullet ridden computer, he thought he could just intimidate the employee to do his work with his name and general stance. But, he doesn't want to intimidate Felicity, doesn't want her to find him dangerous or think of him as an asshole, so instead, he comes up with something last minute. "I was in a coffee shop surfing the web when I spilt a latte on it."
Felicity raises a dubious eyebrow at him, and even irritated, she's adorable, "Really? Cause, these look like.. Bullet holes."
"My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood." Oliver replies, thinking that maybe if he just made his excuse ridiculous enough, she'll leave it alone.
She doesn't. Of course she doesn't. Instead she tilts her head and gives him a judgey look, and even though she's annoyed, she's also so cute than Oliver ends up smiling back. "If there is anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."
He makes sure to keep maintaining eye-contact, asking her to not ask questions, and after a few moments of staring back, she simply nods, hmm-ing an agreement and plugging the laptop in.
Oliver is still smiling even as the office around them melts away, and he's back on the island again, But, it's not for long this time. He's leaving the island, but he has a promise to keep before he can make his way back to Starling City. To Felicity.
He falls asleep in a Russian motel room that stinks of cigarettes and alcohol, and wakes up surrounded by a now familiar warmth that makes him smile even before he opens his eyes.
Felicity-
His arms tighten around her petite frame even as he opens his eyes, only to meet his excited blue ones staring intently at him from inches away,
"About time, handsome. I was thinking I'd have to leave without you."
This version of Felicity is young. After so many times seeing so many different versions of her, he's begun to vaguely understand at what point there relationship is by how she dresses, or how she keeps her hair. It's arguably one of the best parts of these visions, trying to figure out how close they are, knowing in that moment, how close they actually do become with time. Like a secret he keeps to himself. Sometimes, she blushes when she sees him looking at her, sometimes she just looks back and smiles, sometimes still she unabashedly winks at him saucily, and walks closer to press herself against him. He loves all three of those reactions. Cherishes the red that spreads her cheeks, tries to memorize her smiles and bright eyes, soaks in her touches and kisses, and feels warm all over for hours afterwards.
This time, her hair is long, so, they don't live together yet. But, it's not curly, so they're much closer than just friends or acquaintances. Though, waking up in her arms sort of established that. That would mean that they are in the early stages of their relationship. Oliver sighs happily, looks around and realizes he's never seen this place before. The room is smaller than their bedroom, and the bed a bit more cramped, but the place is just as warm, and bright with light colors and open windows; there are two duffle bags in the corner, a bright purple over a dark grey, and his heart constricts and lightens at the same time at the sight.
Felicity's eyes follow his and when she sees what he's looking at, she sighs contently and buries herself deeper into Oliver's chest, his arms going around to pull her closer instinctively-
"You still want to do this?" Felicity asks him softly, her eyes look like the ocean, liquid like any moment they'll shift like the waves do. Oliver smiles, a calm certainty that comes from knowing that for the first time in a long time, he's doing something right.
"There is nothing I want more." Oliver tells her, and her answering smile is enough for him to know he said the right thing. She pulls herself on top of him to press their lips together, talking against his lips,
"Well then Mr.Queen, let's go far, far away."
They're leaving? To go where? Oliver knows it's not forever, but they don't. And from what they're saying, it doesn't look like they're planning on coming back,
"Felicity Smoak," They're still talking against each others lips. It shouldn't feel this good, what with morning breath and all, but Oliver doesn't want to move ever. And from the way Felicity hmms happily, she doesn't either, "I can't wait to start the rest of our lives together." He continues, and is rewarded with a kiss, his eyes closing as his arms tighten around her back in preparation to flip her back on the bed-
Only when he opens them, he's back in the god-awful motel room.
Oliver huffs, frustrated. As much as he enjoys knowing the future version of him is getting some, it's still not very good for his blue balls. But, it doesn't matter. Not yet. Right now, he has more important things to do. Like finding Konstantin Kovar and killing him. After, after he'll find Felicity, and be the hero she believes him to be.
She's his hope. And she might know this yet, but he's going to do everything in his power to come home to her.
He's on the boat back to Starling City when he hears her voice,
"Oliver?" He startles, which is unusual all on it's own because the visions never startle him. Instead, they always blend in with his surrounding, slowly taking over his senses until all he sees is them, but then he turns around and sees her, and nothing else has changed. He's still on the Chinese boat, still in the middle of the ocean. He still feels cold, and hungry, and nothing like her Oliver. But, she's still smiling at him as she walks closer, her feet bare, her hair short and wild blowing everywhere from the wind. She's only wearing a long white shirt, and Oliver's breath hitches as she kneels across from where he's sitting, smiling at him prettily-
She been in front of him, talking to him, touching him, loving him for the past two years, but this is the first time it feels like she's really looking at him. Not her partner, or boyfriend, or fiance, or husband. Just Oliver. Damaged, broken, Oliver.
"My Oliver." She murmurs, and her hands reach out, her fingers trailing over the side of his face, tracing his nose, lips, grazing over his chin, jaw, caressing his neck, roving over his shoulders and settling there, "You were so brave."
The tears come unbidden, and his throat feels clogged with the need to touch her, to hold her to him, and this is usually the time when his body would move without his command, because even though he's Oliver, he's not her Oliver, but nothing happens, except she keeps smiling at him, and he has to consciously lift his hand up to push the strands of hair from her face-
Oh.
"Yo- you're real?" His voice is broken, because this feels so sacred. He knows she's not actually here, because she's in Starling City, but whatever version of Felicity she is, She is just his. He shares her with no other version of himself. He didn't realize how much that would mean to him,
"I'm just as real as everything else." She says cryptically. His brows furrow, Felicity is never cryptic. She doesn't know how to be. His woman wears her heart on her sleeve, and he loves her for it.
"You're Felicity." He doesn't know if he's asking her, or telling her. But, whatever way she interprets that sentence, it makes her laugh,
"Close. I'm your hope."
Oliver stops breathing, he thinks he's starting to understand what's happening, and just the thought of it has him wanting to freeze this moment and never leave, to stop everything from happening, and just… just stay with her. Forever.
"The Hope." He says without thinking. It's the magic. It's Constantine's magic. It's not Felicity. He hasn't thought about that spell in years, hasn't let himself believe that it was all an illusion. It's not Felicity, but it's the only Felicity he knows, and he doesn't want her to leave him. She can't leave him.
"That's right, honey." The magic sounds like her. It looks like her. Hell, the hand that reaches out to intertwine their fingers together feels like her, "You're going home now, Oliver. You don't need me anymore."
Oliver doesn't know when he started crying, but he can't make himself stop, and the Felicity in front of him is quickly turning into a beautiful blur because of the tears in his eyes,
"I need you. I will always need you." His breath hitches, and he wonders if this is it, if this is how it all ends, if his lungs give up on him, because from the way Felicity is fading away at the corners, it sure feels like his heart is. "Please don't go."
"Oh, honey… I have to." She pulls him in her arms, and Oliver clings to her even as he feels her getting lighter against him, getting less real,
"Don't go. I- I can't do any of this without you." A phantom pair of lips against his temple, a breath of voice in his ear,
"You don't have to. You just have to find me."
"Felicity Smoak? Hi. I'm Oliver Queen."
~fin~