You guys aren't feeling Dick Oliver? That's the best kind! Just kidding! Kind of.
Lucky you, the next few chapters, Oliver's got nothing to be grumpy about.
R.I.P Dick Oliver; I'll revive you in chapter 5.
2.
The next time I wake, it's with a groan.
"Why the hell are you hung over?" I mutter to myself, rubbing my aching head. I dig my body further into my sheets and pull a stray pillow tight to my face.
I ignore the scent, vanilla and so not mine, loving it all the same.
Just as I'm about to doze off again, I feel a finger tracing my calf.
That better not be Dig.
I slowly pull my leg away and pause. Whoever it is, they don't want to kill me. If I scream? They just might.
Instead of a voice, my action elicits a small giggle, light and sharp. For some reason, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Maybe I'm dreaming.
The finger reaches out to brush my calf again and I recoil just the same. This time I notice how small it is.
The same giggle hangs in the air before I hear a throat clear.
"Daddy?"
My eyebrows furrow and I freeze.
"Daddy?" The voice asks again, sweet and smooth. I'm sure I'm not breathing. I have to be dreaming. I slide my hand under the pillow until I'm grabbing at my forearm. I squeeze hard.
Nothing.
The little voice grows impatient. "I know you're up daddy, I just saw'd you."
I close my eyes tightly and open them. I'm not in my room.
I know this isn't my room because it's not blank and lifeless. The walls are painted a deep red and there are books everywhere. A bookshelf wraps around the walls and frames hang on any available blank space. I know this isn't my room because there's a television dangling from one wall, and I've always refused to put an entertainment system in my sleeping area.
The whole room smelt of vanilla and sandalwood and so familiar and so...not.
But I knew this wasn't my room because of the little girl. She was rocking side to side with a stuffed bunny in her hands, a frown etched on her face.
She had curly blonde hair and blue eyes and there was something in her face that looked unarguably like mine. But that couldn't be possible. None of this could be possible.
My heart beats heavily in my chest and I feel on the edge of a panic attack. The realm of possibilities that could lead to this...thinking of them made me dizzy. I can feel the books on the walls moving closer and my breathing intensifies. My chest begins to clench in that God awful way it does when I feel this way over now seemingly insignificant things, like business meetings.
And then I look at her.
She remained at the foot of the bed. I expected her to scream, knowing her dad wasn't here and replaced with a random man. Instead, when she saw she had my attention she giggled again.
It was a great sound.
"You always trick me!" She accused playfully. "You pretend you're a'sleepin, but I know better."
I don't know how to use my voice. She notices and frowns again. She didn't just look like me when she did that, she looked like someone else, too. Someone I couldn't put my finger on.
"Daddy did you have a bad dream?"
I shake my head and a strangled noise breaks free of my mouth. I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming.
"Honey," I try, cringing at the pet name. She frowns at it, too. But I need to know what's going on, and I can't be clueless. Her normalcy was frightening, and I needed to think fast."Do you wanna play a game?"
Her eyes widen and sparkle. "In the morning?!" She asks loudly, positively scandalized. I can't hold my smile any longer and she grins back at the gesture.
"Sure. I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you answer, okay?"
It was stupid, but she loved it. She nods enthusiastically and jumps up and down in her spot. "Okay."
"What's your name?" I ask her first. That could give me some indication of what I'm going through, right? She gives me an odd look and then smiles.
"Marley. Duh." Her impediment stretches her 'r' sound adorably and I chuckle.
Marley. Was she named after a dog? "Okay, Miss Marley," I say with a grin, "what-"
She jumps up again. "Miss Marley too. You call me Miss Marley all the times and Uncle T calls me Mar and Munchkin all the times. When we went to the pumpkin patch, Uncle T told everybody Princess Mar won the big pumpkin and all my friends clapped for me. That was on my birthday."
She smiles sweetly, caught up in all her talking. I had to stop myself from saying something impassive, like "cool."
Instead, I smile. "That sounds like fun." Before she can cram any more information down my throat, I continue. "Do you know my name?"
"Daddy, silly."
I grimace. I should have expected that. "No, Marley. My real name."
She purses her lips and she looks so cute and familiar that I want to scream. "You mean your adult name?"
"Yes," I answer anxiously. "My adult name."
She smiles cheekily. "Oliver," she says quickly. "This game is dumb and I'm so hungry. I might have to eat bunny that's how hungry I am." She looks down at him sadly.
I clear my throat and rub the back of my head. "Why don't you go run down to the kitchen and I'll be there in a second, okay?"
She looks at me and her eyes begin to water. I immediately grow alarmed. "What? What's wrong?"
"Do you not love me anymore?"
"What?" I ask loudly. "No, that's not...why would you think that?"
"Is it because I don't want to play your dumb game?"
I hold back my smile and shake my head. "No, you don't have to play the dumb game anymore."
She still frowns. "Why did you not give me good morning hugs and kisses?"
Oh fuck.
"I'm sorry Miss Marley I forgot." Hugs and kisses? I haven't given anyone a hug since college. Maybe.
But before I can overthink it any, she catapults her small body into my arms and squeezes me as much as her little arms can. I try to hug back without thinking about how awkward it is. She makes it easy though, because hugging her is the simplest thing in the world.
She pulls back and kisses me on my cheek. She turns her head and I take the cue, kissing her puffy cheek until she's grinning again. I smile back at her and shake my head.
"I thought you said you were hungry."
"I know. I zaggerated' cause your game was so dumb."
I laugh, full and real, and she laughs too until her stomach aches. I know because she tells me.
"It's too early for too many giggles. Do you want our kind of cereal?"
I raise an eyebrow at her, enamored. I'd take whatever cereal she gave me.
"Our kind is Cap'n Crunch and see we both like him best. Mommy likes the other kind I don't eat. 'Member the time Mommy told you to throw away Cap'n Crunch because it was all sugar so you did and then you ate nasty oatmeal? And then..."
I freeze. Mommy?
When Marley is out of my room I immediately hop up and lock the door. For how unfamiliar the room is, I move in an impossibly comfortable fashion toward the adjacent bathroom.
It's decked out in black and silver, with highlights of red thrown inside. I'd assume, due to the stark differences of my home and this one, the decorations had nothing to do with me and all to do with Mommy.
I can't even allow myself to think about that.
I rush over to the bathroom sink and look up.
My cheeks are flushed and my hair is a longer, the blonde ends curling around my face. My once almost sallow complexion is now a glowing pale with smile lines. My facial hair is visible but trimmed to a socially acceptable length. I was different, but undeniably me.
This was me.
My eyes widen in the mirror almost comically and I laugh without humor.
"Joke's over!" I say to myself. When no one answers, my smile fades. "I want to go home."
The words sound bitter on my mouth and I wish I could take them back just so I don't feel them on my lips. The man in the mirror looks at me, except there was no other man inside to help. I didn't have a guardian angel, or some magical guide. I was just here.
Where was here?
There are too many questions to tackle, Queen. And I needed to take it a step at a time, just like I did with Marley.
Wherever I am, Marley exists. And as far as I can tell, she's my daughter. And there's a mother. A mother who lives with us and decorates our house very well.
Please don't be Laurel.
Maybe that's it. Maybe Laurel is one of those witches and she wants me to really see what I'm missing. Maybe I shouldn't have called her a crazy bitch.
But Marley was nothing like Laurel. If Laurel were her mother in this dream and in control of it, I'm sure she would've made her daughter look like her own.
So I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming. And dreams are meant to tell you something, right?
The thing is, I never had any relationships that were important to me. At least, none that would call for me to reflect on a time where the relationship escalated to this point. All of my relationships could barely even constitute as such, just small occasions where I'd take a woman out and bed her consistently. There weren't any stand-outs.
There were certainly stand-out individual women, but I-
No.
My subconscious couldn't be that cruel, could it?
It adds up. It makes sense. Because, well, Marley. Everything she is is her.
But I need to know.
I pace out of the bathroom and yank open the bedroom door. There are a bunch of random doors, but I follow the staircase and the noise.
I can vaguely hear pots and pans moving around and focus on the clambering sounds of metal. My feet carry me all the way down the steps and to the right. Before I turn the corner, I feel it. I know it.
My mouth opens and closes several times before her name comes tumbling out of my name in an almost relieved sigh. "Felicity."
She stands, stirring something in a pot rapidly. Her head tilts up toward me, glasses laying precariously across her nose. Her hair is tied up in a loose bun, golden tendrils escaping that she blows out of her face in annoyance.
She's wearing a red dress that comes around mid-thigh. I'm granted the amazing opportunity to ogle her legs and I don't pass it up.
She doesn't respond to my gaping. "Marley wants cereal. I'm trying this new recipe, and it keeps telling me to boil these for 5-10 minutes or until I've reached a desired tenderness. Do you have a desired tenderness I don't know about?"
She asks jokingly, but her eyes are fixated on the pot below intensely. I can't speak. She notices.
Her eyes gaze into mine and she senses something's wrong immediately. Some things never change, even when we're dreaming.
"Hey, are you okay?" She lowers the heat on the stove and moves toward me. "I know you didn't sleep all that well last night."
She reaches for me and wraps her arms around my waist.
For the first time all morning, I don't hesitate. I pull her close to me and cup her face in both of my hands. I lean down so my forehead presses against hers and I smile.
Warm vanilla invades my senses and the mingling of her breath and mine makes me want to hyperventilate. And her lips, oh God, the one part of her body I've been thinking of and craving for the last ten years.
I have to thank my brain for doing her so much justice.
I lean closer and she's already smiling. Of course she is. "This is the best dream I've ever had," I whisper into her. She starts giggling and pulls away.
Eyeing me oddly she shakes her head. "What are you talking about?"
I close my eyes tightly and open them again. She's still here.
"Just...I'm just so happy to see you." It's so truthful, so real. I think it may be the most honest thing I've said in years.
She smiles, big and just for me. "I'm happy to see you, too."
"Mommy the food is burning!" I notice Marley for the first time, standing off to the side of the kitchen with a pot over her head. I frown.
Felicity curses and rushes over to the smoking pot. "Dam-darn it," she corrects herself. Before she can burn herself, I pull the pot from her and toss it in the sink. A load of steam rises and Marley cheers.
"Now we have cereal?"
Tightening her bun and tiptoeing toward the pantry, Felicity groans. "Yes, we're having cereal."
"I spent over three hours on the line with her, only for it to be a slimy piece of malware. Probably one that she got from trying to watch seedy celebrity tapes," Felicity rants with an eye roll. She pops a spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth and shakes her head.
I can't stop looking at her. Watching her. Everything she does is exactly how she used to be except impossibly more.
Like, she still pushes her glasses up all the time, but not at the bridge of her nose like so many others. No, Felicity takes the time to grab them where they meet both of her ears and readjust them accordingly.
She still scrunches her nose up, most recently when Marley talked about a frog she found outside.
She still tilts her head to one side before saying something she thinks is funny, something I don't have the heart to tell her is not.
And she still rambles, adorably, but not like when I used to know her. Back then, it was a nervous trail of words she was dying to get out so she could run and hide or facepalm herself into oblivion. Now, she said the words just as quickly and confidently because she knew I would understand. I did.
"Wow," I breathe. I haven't even eaten a bite of the Captain Crunch in front of me, much to the dismay of Miss Marley.
"Hurry up and eat, daddy, before I finish before you do and eat your cereal, too."
Felicity giggles. "A demanding Queen, I wonder where she gets that from?"
I chuckle and shake my head. "I truly cannot imagine."
Marley smiles cheekily, knowing we're talking about her. Now that I watch them side by side, I can see that the resemblance to her mother is nearly uncanny.
Truthfully, I wasn't hungry. I also didn't know if I even liked this cereal, since I'd never had it before. I didn't eat breakfast food that came in a box.
Looking around our house, I could tell we were by no means struggling. This house wasn't as big as my estate, but it wasn't too humble either.
I swirl the pieces of cereal in my bowl that are nearly soggy. I scoop up a couple, inspect it, and bring the spoon to my mouth.
It is sugar. It's also delicious. I shovel in another mouthful, surprised. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Felicity staring at me oddly.
She doesn't comment on it though. Instead, she stands to dump her empty oatmeal bowl in the sink.
"I have to get to work." My heart plummets and she rushes over to give Marley a kiss on her cheek.
She waltzes over to me next and kisses my cheek as well. "I know you have to work tonight, so I should be back by six."
Tonight? Am I an exotic dancer? Why wouldn't I go to the office?
I nod and she pouts at my confused expression. I smile.
"If I have to reach you, I'll just..." I trail off, hoping for an answer. She nods slowly.
"Call the office."
"Alright," I say quickly, "Then what should I say?"
She stares blankly at me before beginning to giggle. "Oliver, Helena will not give you a hard time, okay? I will never understand your fear of her."
Before I can respond, she kisses my cheek again. "I have to go. I love you," she says easily.
Easily. I'm thankful she doesn't wait for a response.
What could I have done in any universe to make Felicity Smoak be in love with me? And I saw the way she looked at me; it was all so genuine. There was adoration in her eyes that simply could not be faked.
At the same time, I realize that this was it. I'd wake up soon, and her exiting the house obviously meant she was exiting my dream. It meant that I would never see her again. I would never feel her sincerity again.
I stand from my chair and exit the kitchen to the foyer. She's grabbing her coat off of the coat rack when I see her.
She spots me and her eyebrows furrow. "Didn't I say bye already, Mister?"
She still smiles and rushes over to me until I'm holding her in my arms so tightly I'm surprised she's still breathing.
I don't speak, I just press my lips to hers for the first time since I got here, since the first time in ten years, since the very first time. Because it was about to be the last time.
She doesn't pull away and I'm so grateful because she's everything I remember and more. She's always been more. You'd have all these expectation and she shatters them into tiny pieces of glass that tear up all of bad inside of you and make them somehow good.
The way she kissed was like...like my heart being cut into a billion ribbons only to be pasted back together with honey. I didn't know how to stop because I didn't want to.
I don't realize how much I'm smiling until she's giggling against me. "Why are you smiling so much?"
I smile harder and shrug. "I'm happy," I say.
She hums into my mouth. "Well stop, I feel like I'm kissing a jack-o-lantern." I chuckle which makes her laugh and eventually snort.
And just like that, a kiss that was once all lips and tongue is exhausted into uncontrollable laughter and teeth against teeth.
Whose hair do you connect with more? Pre-Island Ollie or gloom & doom Oliver Queen?