She peered at him through the doorway. She could not help the smile that came to grace her face. Seeing him lying on their bed in their room. Writing. It had become such a familiar sight, so comforting. Yet, she was hesitant to enter and disturb this quiet scene with the conversation she knew they needed to have.

That Oliver liked to write was one of the best surprises of the five months they had spent together. At first, she did not really understand the habit. She would sometimes find him writing, but when she asked about him, he always distracted her with a question or a kiss.

Then, one night in Greece, she had found him on the beach of the B&B where they were spending the night near a bonfire, burning pages.

"What are you doing?" She asked with a smile.

"What? I thought you were having a shower, I'll join you in a moment." He said, his back still turned to her, and hesitation in his voice.

Felicity lightly touched his arm, as if to tell him to look at her. "Everything okay? Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Am sorry. I guess, this must look weird" he answered pointing to the pages slowly burning away. "It is just a habit I developed".

"You want to tell me about it? I mean you don't have to, but I know we have both been trying to be more open about everything, and that seems like something you may to talk about. But really you don't have to…" She rambled hesitant to push him. She had learned that Oliver was a delicate animal; it was always a balancing act between knowing when to push him to share and when to give him the space to find the words.

"Let's take a walk" He answered taking her hand in his own. They walked towards the water silently. After a few minutes of silence, Oliver started.

"You know it's difficult for me to talk about all that happens during the five years I was away, and even since then. It is not only that these experiences are painful to talk about, to explain to those who did not live them. It's also that for all those years, there was no one I could really talk to. No one to listen as I tried to process the crazy around me. After Hong Kong, for a while, I thought I was going crazy, all I could think about were the past three years of horrors but there was nobody I could tell without endangering them. So, I started talking to myself. I know. Crazy, I know. I could not escape the nightmares. I kept reliving each death, each fight. The days started blending together. I was drinking a lot. Then, one day, I remembered something Tatsu had told me about writing down your fears, and burning them to relieve the pain. I think it is a Buddhist tradition. So I started writing, not just what happened but how I felt about it. It was difficult at first to find the words, but knowing I was just going burn them away, made it easier. And it helped. At first, I had to burn the pages immediately, I could not bear to re-read anything, all I wanted was to burn the memories away. The hurt, the pain.

So, I still do it now. When a thought becomes too much, I write it down. But now I try, and wait a few hours, sometimes even a few days to burn them. I try to first come to term with my feelings. I have even been thinking about keeping some pages. Some of the things I write down these days are about the good things. Things I want to remember." As he said these last few words, he looked up to her, with a shy smile. He raised his hand to her cheek slowly caressing it.

Felicity had listened as he spoke, biting her lip not to interrupt him. Every time he opened up to her, felt so special. But now, she could not help herself, she raised her lips to him. "Thank you", she whispered just as she kissed him slowly.

She felt his arms embracing her in a tight hug, her head now resting on his chest. "Any day, you want to share any of these pages with me. I'd love to read you". She said quietly.

"Maybe".

A few days later, she had bought him a leather-bound notebook. "For the thoughts, you want to keep close." She had told him.

Now, as she was watching him write. She felt jealous on his notebook. Of the secret it holds. Although, Oliver has become much much better at expressing his feelings. Sometimes, she just wished she could take a quick look inside.

But, no, like a grown up, if she wanted to resolve this situation with her boyfriend (argh she hates that word), she would have to woman-up and have a conversation with him.

"Hey." She said in a quiet voice. "We should talk about today."