The sound of screams jolted me awake. The screams were not real, of course. They were a memory. A memory that will not let me rest. No matter how much time has passed by, it would always find its way to the front of my mind. I reached up to brush whatever it was tickling my forehead away. The feeling of wetness startled me a little. Sweat. Why am I sweating? I rolled over to see Ray, my boyfriend, fast asleep. That must be why I am sweating. I am not used to having someone else in the bed with me and Ray gives off heat like a furnace. He rarely sleeps over; usually only when it doesn't make sense for him to go back to his place. Tonight was one of those nights. Thanks to all the rain we got early in the day and the cold front that was moving in from the north the roads were going to be hell to travel. I turned back to check the time. I don't know why, it is not like going back to sleep is even a possibility. I had to squint my eyes to read the small numbers that were doing their best to illuminate the dark room, 4:24 am. I tried to move as gently as I could, as not to wake Ray. Just because I couldn't sleep doesn't mean he shouldn't. I slipped on my TOMs™, which doubled as slippers, and threw a cardigan on before walking out of the room and started towards the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of raspberry tea from the fridge and made my way towards the living room. On these mornings, I took advantage of the extra time to do some reading; and it helped to get the images of my nightmares out of my mind.
The hours went fast once I entered the world of Westeros, but it was time to come back to reality. I heard Ray's footsteps as he walked down the hall.
"Hey, you. Where'd you get to?" he asked in his morning voice that was much deeper than how he normally talked.
"I had a bad dream and couldn't go back to sleep. So, I just came in here to read for a while." I explained.
"Oh, do you want to talk about it?" He asked, running his hand through his messy bed head that somehow made him look like a little boy.
"No, I'm fine now." I said with a simple smile. He accepted it with a smile of his own before heading into the kitchen. I believe that is why we have lasted almost a year, Ray and me. He never presses for more than I am willing to give; he never asks why. That is something I need.
I glanced to the clock on the side table next to the couch; it now read 7:30 am.
I guess I should be getting ready for work. Ugh, work. I hate my job with a passion. It is the best I could do with my credentials. I didn't work long before I went into the military and despite what you may think it's hard for soldiers to find work after they come home. I stood up and began my morning routine –make the bed, put on my uniform, brush my hair and put it up in a ponytail, brush my teeth, grab my keys and out the door by 8:00. It's not all the different from my morning routine during my days in the Marines. The only real difference is that my uniform now is a peach colored dress and an apron.
I pulled into my parking spot behind The Rose Café, an old family friend runs the place so when she heard I was having a rough time finding a job since I returned home from Iraq, and she called me up. I hate it, but money is money. I locked my car and started towards the back door of the cafe.
The day went by as most of them do these days; slowly. I spend most of my time playing the role everyone around me needs to see. The well put together ex-marine who lost the love of her life but is okay now. That's not even remotely true but no one notices. They need to believe I'm okay and I need them to believe I'm okay, everyone wins; right?
I pulled out my keys and unlocked the front door to my house. My house is my fortress. It's my constant. This is the only place that doesn't want me to be someone I'm not. It simply allows me to be. After today, I need to be alone. I don't understand why but some days the 'acting' leaves me exhausted; most days I can manage it just fine.
"Felicity? Is that you?" Ray called from the kitchen.
I let out a sigh. Why is he here?
"Yeah." I replied. I'm not in the mood to deal with him or anyone for that matter. I walked to the kitchen slowly, preparing myself for more 'acting'.
"Hey, I know we didn't have plans tonight, but I thought we could have some dinner and watch a movie. Sound good?" He asked once I entered the room.
"Yeah, sounds good." I lied.
"I thought you'd say that. So, I ordered us some Chinese and I dug out my Blu-ray of Jarhead. I still can't believe you've never seen that movie. Everyone says it's the truest representation of the Marines and you were a freaking Marine, Felicity. You will love it."
"Cool, I'll go set it up." I did my best to sound excited about it. I fail understand why people think that soldiers, marines, or anyone in the military wants to relieve those days through movies and TV shows. Those forms of entertainment are for civilians who have no idea what that world is really like. They've never had to deal with the heat of Iraq, fire a gun at innocent people, shoot people, kill people and they've certainly never been blown up by a grenade launcher.
I heard nothing but a ringing. It was amazing I could hear at all, could I? Or is this to be the only sound I hear for the rest of my days. The sound of a high-pitched scream told put those fears to rest but brought a whole new set of fears with it.
I opened my eyes for the first time since closing them, when I can't recall. I saw nothing but darkness and smoke from where I lay. I began to move my muscles and joints waiting for the moment I willed something to move and it did nothing. When my report told me that there were only minor injuries I turned my head and all I saw was fire.
I quickly turned my head in the opposite direction and found the origin of the scream that relieved me of the fear of deafness. Diggle sat on his knees a few feet from me. His face from where I could see him was one of pure agony. Then I moved to go to his aid and saw the reason for the agony. The other half of his body was engulfed in flames. I stood there motionless, frozen in terror.
Diggle turned to see me standing there and his face changed. It was as if I watched the life drain out of him and then their eyes met. I saw nothing in them, nothing. I stifled her emotions, which ones I can't be sure, as he fell to the ground.
It was then I realized that I'd broke the only true order Diggle had ever given them, "When under attack where the odds are against you, play dead". I didn't obey.
"Oliver." I said to myself. Where's Oliver?
"Felicity." Ray beckoned so lowly it was almost a whisper.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"Everything okay?" He asked, accusation dripping from his every word.
Don't start asking questions now, please. I don't think I can 'act' my way out of it right now.
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" I defended while setting down my container of Chinese food.
Wait, when did the food get here? And when did I get some? I looked over to the TV and saw the movie well past the opening credits; glancing down to the Blu-ray player the minute counter said we were twenty minutes into the movie. That can't be right I just put it on.
"I'm not trying to pick a fight, honey. You just seem uneasy. Can't I just want to make sure you're okay? You are my girl after all."
Don't call me that. I'll only ever be his girl.
"I know. I'm sorry. I guess, I'm just more tired than I realized." I explained.
"Felicity, I don't think that's it." Ray challenged.
"I just told you it was."
"You tend to forget that I'm a lawyer. I've learned how to read people. I've been reading you for a while now, Felicity."
"Oh really, and what have you read?"
"You're struggling; with what I don't know. You're so closed off I can't even begin to figure it out."
"You're wrong." I scoffed before adjusting my position on the couch, adding a little space between us.
"Felicity, I care about you. I want to help but I can't if you want talk to me."
I know he's right. I just don't know if I'm there. Oliver was everything to me, everything. I told him everything. He was the one person I wanted to tell everything to. He would listen and offer advice where he had it and when he didn't he would just let me speak. With him there was never any judgement or pity. I know it's insane, but I can't help feeling that if I talk to Ray right now, if I really talk to him, I'm somehow saying I've let go of Oliver. I should let go of Oliver. I mean he's gone, dead; lost to me forever. But if I let go of him then what else of him is left but memories. Memories aren't permanent. They can fade away or even be lost forever. If that happens then Oliver will be nothing more than a name on a rock. I can't let that happen, not to him. Minutes passed before anything else was said and when the silence was broken it was by Ray accidentally unmuting the TV.
The TV roared with gunfire and bombs exploding and people screaming, "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Felicity, what the hell are you doing?!" Rene screamed as he ran after her.
"Rene, I can't leave him!" I screamed to my best friend while doing my best to find Oliver through the thick smoke and darkness.
"You have to! We have to go or we're dead! Felicity, now. NOW!"
"Go! I can't leave until I find him!" I exclaimed before turning back to continue the search.
"Felicity!" Rene screamed, his voice pleading with me to heed his words.
"Either help me look for him or go!"
"Fine!"
We began sifting through the remains of what used to be their convoy, the darkness, and the sea of dead bodies that lay around them.
I checked every face of every dead body and begged the god I no longer believed in to spare me from adding Oliver to the ever-growing list of names of the dead I was compiling. Rene did the same on the other side and when the two of us came face to face again we shared the same expression, confusion.
"Where is he?" I asked to no one in particular.
"Where are they?" Rene asked.
I was so consumed by the need to find Oliver I never stopped to wonder why we weren't engulfed by a swarm of bullets the moment we revealed ourselves to be alive.
"I don't know. It's like they all just vanished."
"FELICITY!" Ray called.
"What?!"
I'm not sure when but at some point, during all this Ray went from sitting beside her to standing on the other side of the room. He was probably pacing, over the months I've spent with him I've come to recognize that as a sign of him being upset.
I looked up to meet his eyes and guilt washed over me, as it often does when I make that mistake. Ray is a good man. He deserves more than me. More than being used like this. It's not that I don't care for him because I do. It's just that I need the world around me to see that I'm okay. Part of that is moving on. It's been two years since I lost Oliver. To the world, that is more than enough time to mourn a fiancé. For me, there is no time limit. Oliver Queen has my whole heart. He has since the moment he said my name. It's buried six feet underground in an empty coffin. Ray deserves someone who has a heart to give him. That's not me. I should end it, let him go. But if I do, my act falls apart. If my act falls apart then so does my world. It's selfish, I know, but what other choice do I have?
Ray lets out a heavy sigh, one that I could tell he'd been holding onto for a while.
"I didn't realize how hard it would be to love a woman who's in love with a ghost." He admitted.
Shit. Did he just say love?
"Ray, I didn't reali- "He cut me off before I could finish.
"You don't have to say anything, Felicity. There's nothing to say. I know you don't love me." I stopped him there.
"Ray, I care about you. I'm just. . . a mess." I confessed, letting out a sigh of my own along the way.
"I would be worried if you weren't a mess. You've been through more than anyone should have to endure and you're only twenty five." He assured, "I guess all I'm saying is that, I'm here. I see you, not like the other people. I see you. I want to help you clean up the mess that you say you are. But I need to know that you're willing to do that."
"I don't know. Can you give me some time and a little space to figure it out?" I asked.
Was I willing to clean up the mess? Is it possible to clean up the mess?
"Of course. How about I go home and you call me when you're ready to talk? Yeah?"
"Yeah." Ray moved toward me and I braced myself.
He leaned down and kissed my lips before saying goodbye and leaving.
A sharp banging rocketed me out of my slumber. What the hell is that? I reached under my pillow and grabbed my pistol. The loud banging came again, this time followed by the ring of my doorbell. I checked the clock, 2:47 a.m. Who would be attacking my door at this time of night? I got out of bed and started down the hall, cocking the gun as I went. I looked through the peephole and saw a man standing on my porch. I couldn't make out his face even though the porch light was on. He wore a hood that came down low on his face. I unlocked the door and began to open it, placing the gun at the peephole as I did. Whoever this asshole is has one chance. I get so much as bad vibes and he gets a bullet.
"Can I help you?" I asked, doing nothing to mask the agitation of being awoken from my voice.
"You always have." A familiar voice met my ears.
"Rene?" I questioned in dismay.
"Yeah. Can I come in?" He asked, a shake in his voice, "It's colder than a well diggers ass out here."
"Uh, yeah." I answered stepping aside to let him enter. I'm really glad Ray's not here. Nothing good is about to happen.
I lowered my weapon and shut the door but made no move to uncock the gun or stow it. I'm still not sure what's going on. I haven't seen Rene in two years. The day we buried Oliver to be exact.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here. I don't really know how else to say this other than to say it so here it goes." Rene blurted out taking a deep breath at the end.
I waited for him to speak. I'd heard from an old friend about a year ago that Rene had run into some problems since coming home, the addictive kind. I'm sure he's here to either ask me for something or attempting to make amends for vanishing on me.
"Felicity, I don't think Oliver is dead. And I have proof."
