Light and Dark
(Part 2 of The Vow Not Taken)
By Leilah Ali
It was a rare lazy morning in the Queen home. Felicity woke up with a groan, white sheets tangled around her legs. Sun was streaming through the open windows, temporarily blinding her with the blaze.
Looking at the time, she gasped at the late hour, silently chastising herself for sleeping in. Sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet with her.
"Morning sleepyhead," he said. She looked up to see Oliver Queen leaning against the doorframe, gazing at her with amused eyes. He was wearing loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. Her cheeks reddened as she thought of the activities of the previous night—when did he wake up? She certainly still felt slightly drowsy and more then a little sore.
Well that's where all the training and salmon ladders come in for him. Look at him, all perfect looking with his perfect scruff and perfect eyes and perfect abs and ugh—he's so pretty it's annoying.
Felicity panicked slightly when she thought of how she must look, and her hair was probably a rat's nest and she didn't even want to think about her breath—
"Brought you some breakfast." Felicity had failed to notice the breakfast tray Oliver was carrying, laden with sweet smelling pancakes and very red strawberries. And, yes, coffee.
"Bring me coffee!" She cried, hands stretched towards the mug, "Gimme gimme, yess."
He laughed as he handed her the mug, watching as she sipped hesitantly at the liquid. She felt content as the bitter taste of the hot drink touched her tongue. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, settling himself next to her on the bed.
She set her cup aside and lay next to him, snuggling into his chest.
"I never want this to end," he breathed into her hair.
"It won't," she replied, turning her head so as to look into his eyes. "It won't end, Oliver. I'm not going anywhere."
A look of doubt lay in his blue depths, but he kissed Felicity on the nose, eliciting a giggle out of her. She knew he didn't believe he deserved love, but she was going to work the rest of her life to make he knew he did.
There rest of her life.
As Mrs. Queen.
Felicity Smoak awoke with a start, gasping at the sudden departure from her dream. She touched her face to make sure she was awake only to find it was covered in tears. She wiped her hands furiously on her Gi, the pajama like clothing that she trained in, and got up. She walked right out of her small bedroom, moonlight filtering through the windows to light her way. She slid open the familiar door that led to the training room, taking in the sight candles encircling its outside.
Striding to the middle of the room, she sank to her knees and began to take deep and slow breaths.
In, out.
Oliver.
In.
Stop thinking about him.
Out.
You were to going to be Mrs. Queen.
In.
Out.
The steady breathing calmed her heartbeat and cleared her mind. Felicity rose to the tips of her toes, raising her arms up and out in a stretch. It was a traditional meditation technique R'as Al Ghul had taught them to begin their days—and in Felicity's case—nights.
She had trouble sleeping.
Her dreams were plagued with memories of the past, preventing her from real rest, from the perfect solitude that slumber gave.
It was as if she were haunted by ghosts of her past.
"Smoke." His voice was a whisper in the dark, a tendril of vapor from the shadowy recesses of her mind. She turned to face him.
"Master." She bowed in reverence to the feared leader of the League of Assasins. His black eyes looked limitless, cold when they should've been warm in the flickering candlelight.
"Are you prepared for your test? It seems—" he paused, stepping lightly to join her in the middle of the room, an almost amused smile on his face, "that you could not wait." Felicity knew that the smile was a lie, for it did not reach his eyes. She felt like they were laser beams into her soul, as if he could see the ghosts that haunted her, the memories that tore at her emotions.
She feared he could see the real reason she came here.
Not to become a member of the League of Assasins, that's for sure.
It was for Oliver. But he couldn't know that. He couldn't read minds.
But when she stared into the hardened face of the R'as Al Ghul, she questioned whether in fact he could.
R'as Al Ghul snapped his fingers. Two hooded figures appeared, carrying a box between them. They set it lightly on the floor, and disappeared just as quickly as they appeared.
It was a plain box, nothing elaborate. Dark wood with no clasp to hold the lid in place.
"It is time to see if you are truly one of us." He stood behind the box, lifting the lid he added, "Face your fears."
Smoke rolled over the lip of the chest, falling to the floor and traveling to her at a remarkable speed. It was like a blanket of cloud that was racing towards her. She stepped back, shocked by what she was seeing. A yell from the shadows made her jump, "Face your fears!"
The tendrils found their way to the tips of her toes, circling up her leg like a snake constricting a rat. The vapor touched her face, softly, like the caress of a lover. Oliver. Her heart beat faster in her chest. The smell of cedar and mud engulfed, a mad earthly scent that filled her nostrils and traveled to her core.
"Oliver!" She burst into the foundry, blond hair flowing behind her as she raced down the steps. "Oliver Queen!"
For a moment he thought his Felicity had come back to him. For a moment he believed the blond hair and worried tone belonged to her, but that allusion ended when the face of Sara Lance stood in his line of sight.
She shook him by the shoulders. Why did everything seem in slow motion? Her mouth was opening and closing, muted shouts seemed to come to him from under water. He shook his head.
Diggle's face appeared next to Sara's, looking to her for an explanation to her sudden reapparance. It had been two years since they had last seen year. Oliver supposed he should've been alarmed.
Sara relayed her information to Dig, but it still seemed to be muffled to Oliver's ears. Diggle's face fell, fists clenching.
"Oliver. Felicity's in trouble. Ollie." Sara shook him by the shoulders, her words ringing true and clear, engraining themselves in Oliver's brain with a painful heat.
"She needs you Ollie."
She needs me, Felicity needs me.
He stood up abruptly, shocking both Diggle and Sara a step back. His face was contorted in an anger that Diggle had only seen once or twice before. Oliver strode to the glass case that sat by the desk Felicity used to man.
Grabbing his bow, he turned to his companions, steel in his voice when he said, "Let's go."
Pale light blinded Felicity Smoak. It was silent, too quiet to be reality, and cold, frost on her eyelashes making it hard for her to open her eyes. When she did, she took up a fighting stance, ready for whatever attacker she had to face.
But when her pupils adjusted to the bright light, she was surprised at what she saw.
It was a study of shades of gray, colors varying from white to black. She was in a forest, trees stripped of all their leaves, bare in the stark landscape. They were silent sentries, branches gnarled and grasping towards the sky, seeking a sun that wasn't there. Snow fell from above, drifting aimlessly to the floor.
Felicity took a step forward expecting the crunch of the ice beneath her feet, but there was none. Nothing she did made a sound. It was like she was in a glass box, and the world was on the outside.
She turned around, searching for anything, anyone, out here. Where was she?
Her silent breaths came out in puffs, as she began to trudge through the trees. The temperature was dropping; she could feel it on her skin, a tingling sensation on her arms and a lightheadedness in her brain.
Felicity stopped abruptly and blinked once, twice. A man kneeled facing away from her, about forty paces to the north. He was dressed all in black, a startling contrast to the white scenery, like ink on parchment.
"Hey! You there!" She called out. The man did not respond. She walked towards him, "Hey! Sir? Are you alright?"
She reached where he kneeled, walking around him to see his face. Covered by the hood, all that was discernible was the outline of a nose covered by shadow. He had his hands cupped before him, a single lit candle placed on the crevice. The flame flickered in the non-existent wind, sending a chill up Felicity's spine. This entire experience was creepy, eerier then her worst nightmares.
She tried to speak to him again, "Sir? Where am I?"
The silence was deafening. Her voice seemed to go nowhere, echoing nowhere, reaching nowhere. The silence was louder than anyone rock concert. It reached into her mind and curled there, making her eyes flicker about nervously, her hands wrap around herself, like they could be the shield against harm.
The man turned his head up to look at her, the flame in his hand flickering to and fro. The shadows fell from his face revealing pallid skin. Dead-like blue eyes bored holes into her, familiar lips pressed in a line, lips she had touched—oh god.
It was Oliver.
"Help me Felicity." He whispered, voice hoarse and pained, coming out like a scream in the soundless forest. "Help me."
Blood began to seep from his eyes, his mouth opening in an inaudible scream as the scarlet liquid began to leak out of there as well.
Felicity screamed, falling back in the cold snow, scrambling to move away from there, away from Oliver.
Blood pooled in a circle before him, it was almost like a still portrait. A man in black, laying in a pool of blood, with nothing but snow around him. Oliver Queen blew out the candle.
Then, darkness.