Title: Wilted Flowers
Author: QueencestQueen
Pairings: Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)
Rating: M (or E, depending on the rating system)
Summary:
What is this place? The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?
Notes/Warnings:
- AU for the entire series.
- Inspired by/Fusion with "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews
- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.
- Religion is briefly mentioned in this chapter.
- Bold-ed words in this chapter are Thea's journal entries.
Dedicated to:
- Nanashi77 for expressing interest in the future of this story
- Logan for letting me talk his ear off about Queencest endlessly.
Disclaimer:
All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
For a few moments, Oliver sat in the stiff chair looking down at the velvet-covered book that Thea entrusted to him. It was a big deal that she'd chosen to share what was quite clearly a journal with him. Start at the beginning; that was what she had said. Where else does one start reading a book? As if the pages inside would turn to dust if the journal was opened too quickly, Oliver peeled the cover back carefully.
Dear Ollie,
Mom gave me this journal last week 'cause it will make my time in this room easier if I act like this book is a friend to share everything with…at least that's what she said. I was so mad at the time that I just tossed it into a corner in the attic and left it, but then I figured I might as well use it, right? It certainly couldn't hurt me to write things down. Besides this way, I can give this journal to you when you come back and then you'll know everything without me having to say much.
So, where to start? I've been in this room for three weeks now. I've been keeping count on these old school desks in the attic. I'm pretty sure no one will notice the marks; the dust was so thick on them that it must have been generations since anyone's used them. Mom used to come up and visit with me every day, usually after I'd eaten my 'dinner,' but it's been a couple of days since she's been here. I hope she's okay.
Her mother is so mean! I'm afraid she might have hurt Mom real bad…but then I think, why would Grandmother keep bringing me food without Mom to make her do so, right? So Mom's gotta be fine. She's probably just busy trying to make her Daddy like her again. She says that when he does, I can come out of this room. I don't understand why her Daddy doesn't like her already. Our Daddy loves me….even when I broke that fancy vase in the hallway. What reason could her Daddy have, Ollie? Daddies are supposed to love their children no matter what, aren't they? It's what Daddies do.
I miss Daddy. I miss you, Ollie. I miss everything. Every minute of every day I miss you. Wherever you are, Oliver, I hope you know that.
Love,
Thea
One letter in and already it was hitting him hard just thinking about the implications of the words she'd written. That his mother had thought a diary would replace actual human interaction was insane. Thea was a young girl back then; she had needed people to talk to, friends, and she'd been denied that. The fact that their mother had left Thea alone for several days for whatever reason, when she was Thea's only real human contact, was irresponsible. Where did her parenting skills go?
Then there it was, four sentences in, Thea's casual certainty that he wasn't dead as everyone else believed. Moira had mentioned that very fact during their initial conversation, but it was another thing entirely to see it in Thea's own handwriting. It made his heart beat just a little bit faster.
He looked up from the slightly yellow pages towards the dressing rooms. He wanted so badly to see her coming out of the curtained off area so he could tell her that he'd missed her too, that he'd felt their distance just as much as she had. But she stayed behind that door and he didn't dare to interrupt. Getting a whole new wardrobe was going to take a long time and it certainly wouldn't go any faster if he was constantly interrupting the process every time he finished one of her letters. With that in mind, Oliver turned his blue eyes back down to the book in his hands.
Dear Ollie,
Soon after the Gambit disappeared, I had a dream. I know what you're thinking, so what? People dream all the time, Thea, it's not a big deal. This dream was different though, it felt more real then all my other dreams. I was in some weird all-white version of my room, with a dress to match, and just as I was about to leave, the door opened and Daddy walked in! He was glowing slightly, like he was an angel and I think he was. I wish you could have seen him, Ollie. He looked so at peace. He told me that he is happy where he is.
This is the important part that you need to know though… He told me that you're alive out there. That's why I'm writing to you. I told Mom about my dream, but she didn't believe me! She said it was just a dream and to quit bothering her with such nonsense. It isn't nonsense. You are still out there somewhere. I won't stop believing. I won't stop writing to you either. Never.
Always hopeful,
Your Speedy
It made him chuckle, seeing her having written his part of the implied conversation into her journal. It was such a youthful thing to do. He was glad to see some of her waning childishness in the pages; hopefully he could help her find her way back to that outlook in the future. The more he read though, the further his happiness dulled. He wasn't sure what it was that he personally believed about the afterlife, but if believing in this dream of their father helped Thea go on, who was he to deny the truth of it?
Besides, there was a sort of peace that even he found from her dream. If he let himself believe…then his father was happy, not suffering. Oliver always felt that it was his fault his father had died, that the wrong man had come home from that island, but now he knew the truth. Oliver was the right man to come home because Thea needed him. She was the reason he'd survived in so many ways. Who knew what would have happened to her if his father had come back instead of him?
If it had been their father to find Foxworth, given the story that Moira had told Oliver, Robert wouldn't have been invited to stay the night, therefore he wouldn't have been there in the morning to see Olivia sneaking into the locked bedroom. As such, the Queen patriarch would have had no reason to investigate further and, even if he'd had one, there would have been no way for him to do so since he wouldn't have been given an invitation to that gathering that had allowed Oliver the chance to explore the room.
With a creeping dread, Oliver realized that Thea very well could have spent her entire life in that room if he'd failed to return from Lian Yu. Horrified by the idea, he quickly turned the page, needing a distraction from the darkness of that possibility.
Dear Oliver,
Lately, and by lately I do mean all the time, I've been thinking about where you are. Clearly you are somewhere far, far away or you would be here, right? You would be here if you could, wouldn't you, Ollie? You aren't out there having fun and just don't want to come home, right?
The big question is: where are you then? You aren't here so…where are you?
Do you miss us where you are? Do you miss me? I miss you. Lots. Do you even remember us all? I had this horrible thought that you hurt your head and have forgotten us. I hate all these questions, Ollie. I hate that I don't know.
But then, when I really stop to think, I'm glad that you're not here. I'm glad you're somewhere else. This place is bad. I don't want you in this bad place, stuck in this room with me. It is better that you're out there because at least you are not in here.
Love,
Speedy
He took a deep, shaky breath as he finished this letter. His hands pressed down on the pages as he stared blankly ahead of him. His heart panged painfully as he read Thea's confusion; it hurt to see her doubt her worth to him. He couldn't blame her for worrying that he'd just taken off; If he was in her situation, it would have crossed his mind too.
His eyes watered with unshed tears as his gaze dropped down to read the second paragraph again. Of course, he'd thought about them; he'd thought about all of them on a near constant loop. The pain he'd caused Laurel, the pain that the Lance family had to be going through with Sara's disappearance, and the pain his mother had to be experiencing. These thoughts never left him alone. Then there was Thea. Oh, how he'd thought about Thea. He'd wondered how she was growing up, if she was taking to school or still struggling to find her place among her fellow students. Every day he'd thought about her. In fact, she was the subject of most of his nightly thoughts; his memories of her, uncomplicated and bright, gave him the strength to keep fighting for life, fighting to get back to her.
It didn't surprise him that these worries had troubled her. He'd had the same concerns himself. As that fishing boat carried him further and further from Lian Yu, he started realizing that everyone he missed had moved on without him in their lives. Would he be able to find his place with them again or would he constantly be out of step with the rest of the world? These questions had played upon his mind even after he met back up with his friends. Unfortunately, these uncertainties proved to be true in a way. Tommy, who had at one time been as much a party-boy as Oliver had been, had matured and become a man in love. Laurel had transformed into a more cautious woman with a determination and fire that made her a fantastic lawyer. Even his mother had changed since he'd been missing.
So, yes, Oliver fully understood how Thea could be concerned that he'd changed, forgotten her, but it simply wasn't true. She was the only one he hadn't worried would have outgrown him. He'd always known that, no matter what, Thea was his sister; nothing could change that. As he read her journal, though, Oliver found himself actually wishing that she'd had a true chance to evolve like everyone else had. Instead, she had been locked up in that room and so her personality, and her height and health to a degree, had frozen at thirteen-years-old.
Oliver's hands clutched white-knuckled to the velvet-covered book as he re-read the last paragraph. He wanted so badly to shout at someone, scream until he could undo what had happened to his sister. Even at thirteen, Thea had enough maturity to not wish her situation on another person. Not even to alleviate her loneliness and sorrow. It made him want to howl with rage and take blood from those who had caused her such trauma.
"Are-are you okay, sir?" the tentative question forced Oliver to focus on something else besides the book. It was only then that the billionaire realized his hands were shaking so violently that the book was rustling enough to draw attention to himself. He took a shaky breath, steadying himself back in reality once more, and nodded. The young salesman slowly returned to straightening the shoeboxes on the shelves behind the row of seats in which Oliver sat.
He devoured page after page, entry after entry, letter after letter as time ticked on. Each turn of the paper weighed him down with heavier and heavier dread. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion; he knew how it was going to end and yet there was no stopping anything.
The only times he dared look up from the journal was when he heard movement from the dressing rooms. Most of the time it was simply another patron entering or exiting, but every so often it was Jenn, the woman assisting Thea. The first time she exited the room, Oliver accidentally met her gaze and the woman gave him the coldest glare he'd ever been on the receiving end of. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she approached another employee, handed her some cash and gave whispered instructions. The other woman quickly nodded and disappeared through the racks nearby. Odd.
Dear Ollie,
Time is endless in this place. I've tried everything to keep track of the days, the weeks, the months, but my make-shift calendar ran out of space a long time ago. How long have I been here now? A month? Two? A year? I don't know. It freaks me out that I don't know. I feel like I'm starting to lose my mind, Ollie, and that truly scares me.
My art has helped a little. It keeps my memories fresh. I'm terrified to forget anything. Memories are all we have, they make up who we are; without my memories I'd be nothing. I've drawn the moments I can't risk losing and the important people: Daddy, Mom, you, Tommy, even Laurel and Sara. I've drawn you the most though. I don't want to risk not recognizing you when you come back for us.
Grandmother would be furious if she knew that I was drawing on the attic walls, but it's not like I have a lot of blank paper. I'm not about to draw on paper from my journal either; there are only so many pages in this thing and who knows how much longer I'll be locked away. I suppose that's one perk to claustrophobia, huh? Grandmother can't bear to come up the attic stairs so my safe place remains mine to do with as I please.
One day I hope you'll get to see my art, Ollie. I really do.
Love,
Thea
Oliver knew well the perils and pitfalls of endless time. He'd suffered much the same fate on the island. Days, weeks, months, years. It was all the same. He hadn't even been aware how long it had been since he was lost until a reporter told him. Even now, the number had no real meaning to him. They said five years, but to him, it had felt like so much longer. An eternity. Clearly, it was the same for Thea as it was for him.
The mention of her art brought a smile to his face, making a mental note to stop by an art supply store on the way back to the hotel. He recalled the pieces he'd seen along the walls as he had ventured further and further into the attic. They'd grown in complexity and style as he walked on and he knew an artist of that talent deserved better than to have her art seen only by spiders and mice. Thea's small act of rebellion wasn't a surprise to Oliver. His little sister had always been something of a scamp, defying the rules in little ways. She was always testing the limits, seeing how far she dared to go. It was good to know that her time in that horrendous mansion hadn't dulled her nature too greatly.
He only wished he could force that evil grandmother up those stairs. Make her see the beauty Thea had managed to create, despite her treatment. Make her see the lovely spirit she tried to ruin. Of course there were many, many things he wished to do to avenge his sister, but the time was not yet right. Thea was still too fragile to be left alone for long periods and he knew she couldn't handle going back into that place, not that he'd ever ask her to do so. They'd have to seek justice through a more legal method: the police.
Dear Oliver,
You know what I've been missing lately…other than everyone, that is? Flowers. Silly, isn't it? But it's rapidly becoming spring outside. I know this because when I'm on the roof I can kind of see the changes, but even more so I can smell them. The garden is beyond my view and climbing to the edge of the roof is too risky, but the flowers are blossoming so I can smell them.
Sometimes I dream about smelling the flowers up close; they are beautiful, with vivid colors, and so cheerful. Nothing in here is bright or happy. Are there flowers where you are, Ollie? I hope so. I hope they remind you of me. That would be nice; to be remembered by flowers.
Missing you & flowers,
Thea
Such a small thing to miss, but Oliver understood it completely. There were many things he'd missed as well when he was cut off from society. Some of them were little things that no one else would ever understand like ice-cream, machine-washed clothes, and mattresses. He fully understood how sometimes the weight, of missing such inconsequential things, could drag someone down to the saddest levels.
He turned the page quickly, frowning as he spotted a fragment of yet another torn page. This was the second piece of paper missing. His index finger ran down the remaining pieces lightly. Thea had written earlier that she wasn't going to use the paper from her journal for anything else, but obviously that had changed at some point. He was curious, though, what it was that had made her change her mind. Maybe she tried leaving a 'Help me' note for the maid? Maybe she wrote Mom a letter? The options were endless.
His attention quickly shifted to the next letter in the book.
Dear Ollie,
I haven't seen Mom in…well, awhile. I don't know, actually? I've lost track of time in here, but I do know that it's been awhile. Do you think something could have happened to her? Grandmother probably wouldn't tell me if it had. She'd just let me rot up here, alone and forgotten.
I can't lose mom too.
I mean, she hasn't been around much, and when she is, it's definitely not where she wants to be. It's like she is always far away, further than even you. She's still Mom though. That's what is important, right? She's all that I have left anymore.
Scared,
Thea
Moira was obviously not dead for he'd seen her, alive and well. What could have kept her from her daughter? Oliver had to assume that something had happened to her. She certainly didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt, what with having locked Thea in that room in the first place and then denying that she was there, but Oliver couldn't help hoping she had a reason that would explain everything away. It was a childish hope, he knew that; there was no explanation that would ever undo the harm Thea had suffered for four years, but Moira was their mother.
Four hours later and Oliver was truly becoming concerned by what he was reading. No longer were the letters conversational nor even hopeful. Within these pages was the chronology of Thea's descent into depression. It made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest to see it written plain as day.
Dear Ollie,
Every day is exactly the same. The only thing that ever changes is my height…oh and the food that Grandmother brings me. Not even her clothes change. Every single day she wears that same grey dress. It's a horrible, hideous thing. I've been tempted to ask her why she wears it, but I never dare to do so. Grandmother isn't exactly the most talkative person I've ever met. I'm imprisoned in the room where time stands still!
Thea
So, it wasn't just laundry day the night I stayed there, Oliver thought as Thea made mention of that terrible bland, grey dress he'd seen Olivia wear both days. Hell, even the dress that she'd worn to the party had simply been a slightly fancier variation on that same dress. He'd found it odd because the woman was married to a man who clearly had money to burn. Why would his wife be forced to wear such boring dresses? Especially when, one considered that, the daughter, he supposedly didn't care for, wore expensive designer dresses. Maybe it's a control thing?
Dear Ollie,
Some days it feels as if I've always been in this room, under Grandmother's rule. On these days, it's actually easier in here. I feel at peace because then it's just the way that my life is. My life before here, before this room, this attic, it was just a dream. The mansion, Dad, even you…everything feels distant and foggy, fleeing with the rise of the sun. The longer I'm here the harder it becomes to remember that my life wasn't always this room.
Is it possible that I have been here all along? Is it possible that everything I struggle to remember is just my imagination? Are you even real, Ollie? Were you ever? Or are you just a figment in the mind of a lonely girl? It scares me that I'm not certain anymore. Am I hoping, praying, for someone to come home who doesn't even exist?
I think I'm losing my mind.
Even if you are just someone my mind created to save my sanity, Ollie, I don't care. I'll gladly live in the fantasy if it means that it'll once again all feel real. Maybe that makes me insane, but I'm pretty sure the past is the only thing keeping me alive anymore.
Lost & Confused,
Speedy
Oliver was about half way through the diary fifteen minutes later when the curtain was pulled open. It drew his attention from the most heartbreaking entry so far. He swallowed back the swell of emotions that threatened to choke him as he watched both Thea and Jenn exit the dressing room. Thea was wearing a brand new outfit and Jenn was wheeling out two, connected, silver clothing racks with clothing hanging from every inch of the poles.
Now was not the time to deal with the emotions the entry inspired in him, Oliver realized. He closed the journal and held it tight to his side as he walked over to join the two women.
"Hey you," he greeted Thea with a gentle smile, "get everything you need?"
But it wasn't Thea who answered. It was Jenn, who was thankfully no longer glaring daggers at him. "Actually, Thea's told me of her situation and, if it's alright with you, sir, I'd like to take her over to the makeup counter and start her on the wonderful journey of makeup. We have beauty consultants who can help her find her best look while I bag up her new wardrobe. It'll take about thirty minutes."
"Do you want to, Speedy?" He wasn't about to deny Thea anything, but he didn't want her to think she needed makeup either. "I think you're beautiful without it, of course, but it's entirely up to you."
A grateful little smile tipped her lips up at the compliment, but soon it faded away. One glance at her face told him that Thea wasn't sure; she seemed downright torn. There was a war going on behind her green eyes. Weighing his opinion versus that of the kindly stylist shouldn't be causing her that much turmoil. What's she thinking?
"I guess…it couldn't hurt to look into it, right?"
It was spoken like a question, but Jenn didn't hear the uncertainty in Thea's voice. She simply led Thea towards the makeup counter, two sections away. Oliver followed behind them silently; his fingers stayed locked around the journal by his hip. He watched as Thea took a seat and began to discuss makeup things with the young woman behind the counter while Jenn slipped away to bag up Thea's new purchases. Despite the fact he was dying to read more of the journal, Oliver didn't dare to let his attention lapse. He could see that Thea was nervous under the focus of the woman who talked a mile a minute. With each new element applied to her face, Thea's eyes darted to him, seeking his approval. He made sure to give her all the nonverbal encouragement he could.
By the time her face was based out, slightly less pale thanks to the color applied to her skin, Thea was looking a little more comfortable with the woman, but she still looked over at him every few seconds. He smiled softly and shot her a thumbs up after eye-shadow was lightly dusted over her lids. Jenn, who had recently rejoined them, was briefly pulled away from the group as the woman to whom she'd slipped money earlier returned and handed her a single, white, plastic bag.
Half an hour later, the two saleswomen, Oliver and Thea were piling the bags upon the counter while someone else tabulated their purchases. It all fit on his debit card and soon enough the two siblings were headed out to the car. The journal was sitting atop a pile of clothing in one of the Nordstrom bags as they walked.
"What's in the plastic bag?" His curiosity would be denied no longer.
"Oh…um," Thea shifted the weight of the bags she carried before stepping off the curb carefully. He noted that her cheeks were pink and it wasn't because of the blush they'd brushed on. His curiosity peaked. "bathroom items and…girl stuff."
Girl stuff? What does that- "Oh." Now he was the one blushing as they reached the rental car. It was a bit of a trick to get the keys out of his pocket without dropping bags. He popped the trunk and gestured for Thea to unload her arms first. She let out a muffled groan as she dropped the bags inside. They landed haphazardly and she quickly straightened them before she turned to Oliver and began to take the paper bags from him one by one.
"Who knew clothes could be so heavy?" She asked rhetorically as she placed the ninth bag in the very last open space in the trunk. Wordlessly, Oliver opened the rear passenger door and stuffed the final four packages inside. With nothing left to distract them, the siblings stood rather awkwardly by the car. "So, do we go back to the ho-"
"I read some of the letters." His declaration abruptly ended her question and everything around them was silent for a moment. Thea seemed frozen, and for the briefest of seconds, Oliver wondered if time had stopped.
Then, as if it never happened, Thea said, "That's why I gave it to you." Her shoulders rose and fell as if it was no big deal. It was. It really was. "I didn't want you to be bored and I thought it might take forever, which it did, so..."
"Thea," he said, frustrated by her attempt to write off the monumental act that it was. Her expression shifted slightly and he immediately regretted his tone. He put his hands on her shoulders, bones protruding under her skin more then was healthy, and waited until she gave up trying to avoid his eyes, "Thank you for trusting me."
Gently, Oliver tugged her forward into a hug, "Thank you for always believing in me." There was so much more that he wanted to say, thoughts rushing one after another, but he held his tongue.
It took a second, but eventually Thea's arms encircled his waist. She wasn't quite tall enough to rest her head on his shoulder, a side effect of lack of sunlight and fresh air, so she had to turn her head against his chest so as to be heard clearly when she said, "it wasn't always easy."
"I don't doubt it."
He held her just ever so slightly tighter as her written words echoed in his thoughts. She'd suffered a quiet, yet still uniquely painful torture for years while their mother sat willfully ignorant just down the hall. It was a travesty that, despite reading and hearing bits of it, Oliver struggled to comprehend. The mother he could recall loved her family. How could that woman, who used to smile so brightly when their father came home, be the same one who locked Thea in a single room with only a dusty attic as her escape? It was inconceivable.
"Hey, now that you've got clothes that fit you properly, what do you say we grab dinner out? Not in the mall food court, too many people even for me, but I think we should try it."
Immediately, Thea pulled away, eyes downcast, and Oliver worried that he'd screwed up again. Perhaps he'd been foolish, but he'd hoped that new clothes would have eased her worries about her appearance at least slightly. He opened his mouth to take it back, to say they could just get something to take back to the hotel, but then he noticed she wasn't outright objecting to the idea. From the way her eyes moved to the way she was chewing on her lower lip, he knew she was thinking about it. That was a step forward.
"You can do this, Thea." It was spoken as though it was a simple observation, but he knew she needed to hear it. The 'Free People' patterned tunic, which he only knew because he read the tag after he pulled it from the shirt as they were leaving the store, was a mix of red, peach, gold that made Thea's pale skin look like an intentional style choice rather than a horrible consequence. In fact, when paired with the makeover the beauty department gave her, Thea looked like a fragile, porcelain doll. But he wasn't about to mention that aloud. He was trying to build up her confidence, not diminish it.
She looked up again, fingers tugging at the sleeves of the sweater she wore over top of the tunic, and nodded. He smiled, and soon a smile began to form on her face as well. The siblings were quiet on the short drive to the closest restaurant, but the silence didn't concern Oliver. He was rapidly learning that Thea spoke when she had something to say and otherwise he should just let her be. He put the car in park outside of a small, independent restaurant; best to start her off slowly.
When they entered, for a few seconds, both siblings were blinded by the lighting transition from the sunset outside to the dim, intimate lighting of the small main room. It was a cozy cafe with carefully placed throw rugs adorning the floor, seven scattered wrought-iron tables, a couple of pieces of local art adorning the walls, and black grand piano in the corner adjacent to the door. All in all, a very unique little place.
"Go ahead and sit anywhere, sweeties," the bartender half-shouted to them, "I'll bring you menus as soon as I can." The volume of her voice in the relative calm of the restaurant made Thea jump and, in an attempt to disguise that fact, she quickly took a seat at the nearest table. Oliver followed without hesitation.
"So...how was it, having your wardrobe professionally handled?"
A tired huff escaped her lips, "Exhausting. I don't think I've ever tried on that many clothes in my life. There were so many styles and colors. It felt endless." She paused for a moment and something subtle shifted behind her eyes. "Not that it was bad or anything. She was really kind and I know all of those clothes, and the makeup too, must have been a lot of money so, thank you."
He waved off her attempt to backpedal; it wasn't necessary. "Tedious things can't always be avoided."
"Ain't that the truth," praised the bartending waitress as she came up to their table. "My name's Brenda and I'll be your waitress this evening." She handed them each a laminated menu and then added, "I'll go get you some waters while you read, m'kay?"
Oliver read over the menu in silence, narrowing down the number of choices in his head until it was a manageable number. Before he could make a final decision, Thea's menu slapped the table drawing the attention of the other few patrons for a second. "Sorry," Thea mumbled, her voice quiet as could be while she seemed to shrink under the attention.
He barely resisted the urge to sigh aloud; one step forward and two steps back. He forced himself not to get discouraged. She's only been out of that room for a couple of days; four years of harm will take some time to work through. He couldn't expect any more from her. In fact, he felt guilty for even momentarily feeling discouraged. She was doing exceptionally well, all things considered. He just had to remember to be patient.
The waitress came back, the black tray balanced on her hip. She placed both water glasses on the table before inquiring if they'd like additional drinks. Thea surprised both the waitress and himself by ordering food immediately after choosing just the water.
"What? I'm just really hungry."
Brenda replied, "Don't you worry, sugar. I'll make sure you get your spaghetti with meat sauce as soon as it's ready."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could almost swear he saw a tiny playful smile on Thea's lips. "Thank you."
Following his sister's lead, Oliver too ordered his food and once more the heirs were left alone. His fingers drummed absentmindedly to the beat of the soft song that played throughout the restaurant. There was still so much he wanted to say, worries long ago written that he wanted to put to rest, but now that he had the chance he couldn't seem to put any of them into words. It felt like cowardice not to speak about what he'd read; there was just so much emotion, both in what she'd written and inside himself from learning these things, that no words seemed to capture it all.
"Sorry if Jenn was…weird with you."
The nonsequiter brought Oliver back into the conversation real fast. "What?"
"When she was taking the necessary measurements of me, she seemed to take note of my lack of weight and before I could come up with something to explain it, she was summoned away." Oliver could see the slight indent in her cheek from where she was biting it. "When she finally returned she was whispering to me about things like 'domestic violence' and asking me to 'blink twice if I was there against my will.' I eventually calmed her down enough to explain that you weren't hurting me. I told her that you were my older brother rescuing me from a possessive boyfriend, but by that time she'd already been out of the dressing room. I was worried she might have accused you of something."
That certainly explained the earth-melting glare she'd thrown him. He didn't blame her for jumping to that conclusion. Here was a full grown man with this girl, tiny and frail. It would have worried him if she'd not thought he was dangerous after seeing how malnourished Thea was. He was glad that the saleswoman had enough awareness to see what might have gone unnoticed by others. He shrugged off Thea's unnecessary apology, "it's okay. I'm glad actually."
"Glad?"
He nodded, "She was looking out for you. There's nothing bad about that."
They talked about the various things Thea had discovered about herself while waiting for their meal to arrive. She now stood at five foot four inches tall and petite sized jeans fit her best. As it turned out, the spaghetti strap look didn't work for her just yet. Thankfully, she didn't tell him what size bra she was fitted with, though he suspected she thought about telling him just to watch him squirm. Thea talked about the various products that had been applied to her face too, but she seemed decidedly less enthused about that topic. Perhaps she'd taken his words to heart and decided she was beautiful without the painted lips.
Normally, trivial talk about clothes and makeup would have had him zoning out. Even before he'd been lost to the sea, he'd only pretended to listen to such conversations if there was a high probability of sex at some future point. Now, with Thea, he just relished in the chance to hear her voice. This was the most he'd heard her say at one time since he found her in that attic. He didn't care what she said so long as she kept speaking. It was like music to his ears.
When the waitress returned with their food, Oliver actually wished it would have taken longer to arrive. Yes, they needed to eat, but the woman's presence made Thea go quiet again. They ate in companionable silence; though Oliver did have to remind her to eat slower every once in a while.
"Sorry," Thea replied meekly, using her napkin to wipe the red sauce from her face. "It's just so good to have hot spaghetti again. It was served very rarely in Foxworth and by the time, I ate dinner it was usually stone cold." She frowned, watching as her fork twisted in her noodles. "I put the plate in the sunlight that came through the attic window, but it didn't really make it hot. Not like this anyway."
Oliver's appetite plummeted to nonexistent as he pictured the scene in his head. He kept up the pretense of eating just so she wouldn't feel as though she couldn't freely share her stories with him. "It's alright," he assured her, "I just don't want you to get sick from eating too much too fast."
Once more silence encapsulated their table while Thea ate her meal at a more reasonable pace and Oliver fiddled with his. The information she'd just given him filled his mind along with all the other bits he'd learned over the last few days. It was impossible to think about eating his dinner while he was picturing his little sister having to draw her memories on the walls because she was terrified of forgetting.
"Something wrong with your meatloaf, Ollie?" Thea asked, drawing him out of his negative thoughts. Her plate was almost completely cleared now and he still had half a plate left to eat.
He sighed, "Just cannot stop thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
Oliver hesitated. Is this the time…or the place? Probably not, but he wasn't able to keep his thoughts to himself anymore. He'd waited days for Thea to mention it and apparently she wasn't going to do so. "I think we should go to the police soon, Speedy, so they can take pictures of the physical effects of your…imprisonment on your body."
Under his watchful eyes, color faded from Thea's face and her fork dropped with a small clank to her empty plate. She looked shocked. Surely, it occurred to her that we would need to go to the cops. "No." Her voice was firm on the single word.
"What?" Oliver asked, disbelievingly. She cannot be serious. "Thea, we can't just-"
She interrupted him with zero hesitation, "Yes, we can. I don't want to press charges."
"You've got to be kidding me."
Her shaking hand pushed her long hair back from her face. "After you and Daddy were lost, the papers focused on you two for a while, of course, but then when those stories dried up, they turned their attention to me. They labelled me 'Little Girl Left Behind,' did you know that?"
It didn't surprise him that the media had squeezed every drop out of the story of the billionaires lost at sea. He found it distasteful that they turned the spotlight to Thea when the other stories had run out. She was just a young girl back then; a child that had lost half her family. Who the hell thought it was okay to plaster her story and her face all over the tabloids? More pressing in his mind though was, what did this have to do with going to the police about the neglect and abuse she has suffered?
"I don't want to go through that again, Ollie." She fiddled with the sleeves of the light-weight sweater she wore. "Can you just imagine the feeding frenzy the media would become if 'Little Girl Left Behind' became 'Little Girl Locked Away?' The heiress of a fallen family locked up for years in a dusty attic?" She shook her head vehemently, "I don't want to go through that. I can't."
Silence fell over their table then. Thea slouched down in her chair and folded in upon herself. Oliver continued to push the meatloaf around his plate as his thoughts whirred loudly in his mind. Her words hung heavy in the air and he forced himself to think before he opened his mouth. This was a fragile situation and Thea was clearly in a delicate frame of mind. Who knew what would happen if he just blurted out his feelings on the matter without first considering her words? He couldn't risk ill-phrased thoughts pushing Thea away when he'd only just found her again.
If it were solely his decision, they'd be headed to the nearest police station as soon as he paid their bill. What the Foxworths had done, shutting Thea up in that room when she was only a little older than thirteen, feeding her only the barest food, no doubt the scraps of their own meals, denying her sunshine and human interaction was beyond wrong. It was deplorable. It was inhumane. If it were up to him, Olivia, Moira, and even Malcolm, if he even had the slightest inkling that she was up in that room, would be charged and imprisoned for the neglect and abuse of a child.
But it wasn't up to him. It was Thea's decision whether or not to report her mistreatment. He couldn't force her to do anything that she didn't want to; if he even tried that would make him as bad as the very people he wanted jailed. He had to convince her somehow. The only problem was...she was right.
Though he hated to admit it even to himself, Oliver knew better than most that juicy news stories could follow a person for life. When he'd been rescued from Lian Yu, the clip or picture every news outlet chose to use was the one time he got pissed and trashed that paparazzi's camera. They had more than enough clips and pictures of him, yet they all chose that same one from many years before.
He thought about telling her that it wouldn't matter; they'd just travel awhile until the press in Starling City moved on to some other story, but he was aware that was a naïve way of looking at the world. Once Thea reported what happened to the police, it would without a doubt reach the media and news stories didn't fade like they used to. The internet would preserve the story for everyone to see. Future employers, friends, maybe even future boyfriends, would type her name into a search engine and this mistreatment would be the very first result. It would be inescapable. So yes, he understood her not wanting to go to the police. Oliver didn't agree with the decision, but he understood why she didn't want to share this story with anyone else.
"You're right," he said. Thea jumped as though a grenade came through the window when he spoke. He offered her a small smile in an unspoken apology. "Your whole life should not come down to this. This was a thing that was done to you, it shouldn't define you or your future." She nodded in agreement, though there was a slight hesitation to it like she was waiting for the coming counterpoint.
The discussion was briefly interrupted by the reappearance of Brenda. He took the white Styrofoam box from her with a thank you.
"No problem at all, honey. You two want dessert? We have apple pie, homemade donuts, and of course, ice cream."
"I'm full," Oliver said by way of explanation as he inserted the tabs into the designated slots in the Styrofoam to keep his meal secured for the ride back to the hotel. "Thea?"
"No thank you."
"You sure? The newest batch of donuts are freshly made. still warm and everything."
Thea was frozen in her seat and Oliver decided to intercede, "Just the check, please." Brenda held the bill out to Oliver and he immediately handed over his debit card.
Less than ten minutes later, the duo was once again climbing into their rented car. He made a mental note to pick up art supplies for Thea another day. Night was rapidly descending and it was clear, from the way Thea was huddled in the passenger's seat, that exhaustion was weighing upon her. It was a great deal of interaction for her in one day. He would feel guilt, but she had done so well; pride for her personal strength overwhelmed his guilt.
As he gently stopped the car, the red color from the stop light shining in through the front windshield, his attention turned back to the conversation that was left unfinished at the restaurant. "Don't you want justice, Thea? Can you really let what they did to you go…unavenged?"
Oliver couldn't imagine that. He does understand Thea's rationalization for not wanting what happened to her publicized everywhere, but he couldn't believe that she was okay with those who harmed her getting away with it. Just the thought of their maternal grandparents, living out the rest of their days without a care in the world for the pain they'd caused Thea, infuriated Oliver. How could it not bother Thea in the same way?
Her breath fogged the glass of the passenger's window before shifting her weight to look at him. "What other choice do I have?" Her green eyes blinked slowly, her sleepiness becoming even more obvious. "If it's either getting justice or living the rest of my life out from under that place, there's no choice at all." A soft, almost sad, smile graced her face as she added, "I have to trust that God will see their wrongdoings and make sure they are punished."
The light flipped to green and Oliver put the car into drive while he processed Thea's unusual response. God. While the Queens were religious on paper, they weren't the most devoted family; when Oliver was young, they only ever really attended church on religious holidays like Easter and Christmas Eve. By the time that Thea was old enough to remember, they'd fallen out of even that annual habit. Rarely if ever had he heard the youngest Queen talk of God, especially not so ardently. He didn't quite know what to do with that particular assertion so he said nothing as they drove on.
It was when Thea yawned, her jaw cracking slightly as she did so, and rested her head against his shoulder, that Oliver realized that the only options weren't legal system or letting the three individuals escape the consequences. His time on Lian Yu and the task his father passed down to him provided another recourse.
As he put the vehicle into park, outside of the hotel, Oliver took his cellphone out of his pocket. A quick glance down confirmed to his satisfaction that Thea was sleeping peacefully against his right side. He smiled softly, ducking his head a little to feel her hair against his cheek for a moment, before he typed out a succinct text message to Diggle: I need you to send my gear and my bow. He shut off the device and looked down yet again at his sister. She deserved to live her life and she deserved justice. He would get her both, no matter what. It was the least he could do for his Speedy.
A/N: I apologize for how long this chapter took. I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.
