A/N: Okay, I know I've sucked at updating lately but I finally managed to get this done. Hope everyone is doing ok! I promise I'm working on other chapters haha just lately I've been burying myself in true crime novels, Overwatch and roller skating. Not to mention a few writer's blocks.
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THIRTEEN
Between Lucid and Limbo
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Her progress was slow but it was steady. Every day she seemed just a little bit more lucid than the day before. Still, she often stumbled and became stuck. She had to be reminded of simple tasks but alas, Lana was determined. Oliver saw it in her whenever she accomplished something by herself, her eyes brightened and she became alive. He knew she had it in her; he knew she was worth saving. He knew it all along.
But with every little step Oliver began to realize that there was nothing about her past that she remembered. Or at least it didn't seem like it to Oliver. She never spoke about her life before Briarcliff; she hadn't thought to ask to contact any of her relatives. Not even of Wendy Peyser. There was no word spoken of her outside of Lana's manic episodes. It was only then that she seemed to remember the woman she had once been in love with.
Maybe it was for the better, he thought. He wouldn't know what to tell Lana if she ever asked about Ms. Peyser.
Lana sat in front of the window, gazing out onto the street. She liked to watch the few cars drive by and the occasional child on a bicycle. She seemed to be in good spirits that day. Oliver sure hoped so; she had slept through the night without a single nightmare to wake her. A well-rested Lana was a happy Lana, Oliver thought to himself. Not to mention the fact that she was less clingy when she was well rested. It made working much easier for Oliver.
On that day he decided to clean out the spare room for himself. He was growing tired of sleeping on the sofa every night and since Lana would be with him for quite a while, he saw no harm in getting himself comfortable in his own home. Lana could have his previous room; he didn't mind it at all. It was all the same to him. Besides, she had already settled in quite well into his old bed.
When he purchased his furniture, he had bought an extra bed. It was a full, slightly smaller than his queen-sized bed but he had only planned it to be for a guest or even a roommate but no such thing happened. Until now…
Oliver emerged from the room that was right across from the one that now belonged to Lana. He had moved the majority of his things over and moved a lot of boxes and filed documents to the garage. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Perhaps because now Lana's situation with him was a permanent one.
"Well, that's done for now." He placed his hands on his hips and looked at Lana who still had her attention out the window. He smiled, "It's lovely out, isn't it?"
"Yes." Lana answered softly. She was reacting more and more.
Oliver stood next to Lana. "Once a few more days pass and I'll take you out for a stroll. Who knows when we'll have some unwanted visitors."
"What are…visitors…" Lana asked, softly trailing off.
"Um. They are people who visit you at home. They come over for a little while and then return to their own homes." Oliver explained.
Lana processed the word in her mind with a pensive brow. "Am I…visitors?" She glanced up to meet his gaze with those innocent doe eyes.
Oliver smiled and placed his hand upon her shoulder, "No, Lana. You're already home."
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When night fell, Oliver sat in the living room with Lana to read a book while she watched television. She seemed fond of Bonanza and a cartoon show called The Flintstones. Oliver, however, was a bit worried on how the cartoon would affect her learning process. He didn't want her thinking that's how cars ran, with the power of human feet. Nonetheless, he convinced himself not to pay the show any mind and let Lana enjoy herself.
Lana turned around from her spot on the floor where she sat with her legs crossed and glanced over at Oliver. She noticed the book in his hands and asked, "Poms?"
"What was that?" Oliver had not heard her correctly the first time, too entranced in his reading.
"Pomegranates."
He frowned lightly, "…Oh! Persephone? No, this isn't that."
Lana climbed up onto the sofa, cuddled close to him. Oliver smiled; he was pleased to see her curiosity over his reading material. It showed she was growing more and more out of her shell and not just living in limbo.
"This isn't anything interesting—well, not to most people." He chuckled sheepishly to himself, "It's called The Myth of Mental Illness by Thomas Szasz. It's about—" he glanced at Lana's blinking gaze and gave a soft sigh, "I don't suppose the topic is quite appropriate but I have to admit that it is a quite interesting one."
"Do you like…to read?" She asked. Her words were often slow, like she was remembering them before she spoke.
"I do. I love to read. Do you?"
"I like…" her gaze wandered, "When you read…to me."
Her response surprised him but no doubt made his heart skip a beat in such a strange way. Oliver cleared his throat, "Well, Lana, I'm always willing to read to you."
"Now?" She perked up, suddenly excited as could be.
A bit confused by her sudden reaction, Oliver answered, "Sure? Why not?"
Lana jumped to her feet and scampered off to Oliver's study. She came back moments later with an arm full of books she had randomly plucked from the shelves and dumped them on Oliver's lap.
"Read, please?"
Oliver laughed, "Okay, okay." He looked through the books. "Let's see. Oh. Here, you might find this one pretty interesting."
Lana took the book from him and studied the cover. Her eyes scanned the words, trying to remember how to read. She knew how, she was slowly remembering but she struggled to concentrate. Oliver sat patiently while she figured it out. "Madame Bovary." She finally answered.
"Yes. Great job, Lana." He took the book back. "I didn't really finish this one but I suppose we can finish it together. How's that sound?"
Lana's lips cracked into a wide grin and an excited giggle escaped them. "I like that."
"Me, too."
Oliver cracked the book open and began to read out loud in his most clear voice. Lana sat next to him, her shoulder against his, eyes downcast upon the pages, following his voice and imagining the story that unfolded before her.
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However, not all moments were smiles and soft sighs. Lana's therapy sessions seemed to take a toll on both parties. Lana grew frustrated with her inability to remember much of anything while Oliver struggled with his own impatience and determination to get her to function like a normal adult. She was still so childish in many ways and that worried Oliver. It often made him feel some strange guilt. He couldn't quite pinpoint it.
When Lana grew frustrated with her own memories, she slapped and hit herself in the head, crying and screaming nonsense. It took great effort to get her to calm down from her rampage. Oliver had to hold her down on the floor or on the bed, arms at her side, careful that she didn't kick or scratch him because she would and had already.
"Pepper!" She screamed, "Pepper! Where's Pepper?"
"She's at Briarcliff, Lana. She's fine." Oliver tried to calm her. Pepper if anything was one of the most well cared for patients. He had never seen any kind of cruelty hurled her way. He supposed it was because of her naïve innocence. Oliver didn't quite believe she had drowned her nephew like Sister Jude had informed him. He had seen her play with the stray cats that came around the grounds. She had never harmed them.
Oliver got the sense that a few patients that were there didn't need to be.
"It's hot…" Lana breathed, "It's hot. It hurts." Her mind was back in the scolding bath tubs.
"You're not hot, you're okay." Oliver calmly repeated to her.
"I'm burning! I'm burning!"
"Shh, it's okay." He sat her up and brought her against his chest. "It's okay. I promise you. You're fine."
Lana cried into his chest, uncontrollable sobs until she managed to calm down. "Why is this happening to me?" She was more lucid than most days. It was those moments during and after an episode in where she seemed her old self. "Why did they do this to me?"
Oliver rested his cheek on top of her head, holding her trembling body close. "There is real evil in this world, Lana. Evil that wishes to consume us. Don't let it. You can't let it."
Lana closed her eyes and cried, "Why are you helping me?" She gazed up into his eyes, her mind clear as day.
Oliver gazed back at her unsure of what to answer her. He had told himself he was helping her because she wasn't insane. Because the world had wrongly accused her. Because his head and his heart told him it was the right thing to do. Because she was slowly becoming the only person he had ever felt a real connection with. Which answer would satisfy her best? Which would satisfy himself?
Oliver exhaled, "Because you matter in this world."
Lana buried her face back into his chest and released the breath she was holding. Her body relaxed into his and the world seemed to stop spinning so quickly. For a moment, she felt sane. If only for that moment.
