July 30, 2012

Oliver

Oliver sat in his old bedroom, looking around. Nothing in this room felt like home anymore. Not quite sure what else to do, he got up off the desk chair, stripped off his shirt, and headed towards the bathroom to shower, leaving the rest of his clothes in a trail across the floor as he went. He left the door open and turned on the shower, letting the hot water pelt down and become a reasonable temperature before stepping under the spray. He poured a generous amount of soap into his hand and began to scrub at his skin. He felt like he was still covered in the dirt and grime of the island. The thought of the box under his bed, with Yao-Fei – no, his – bow was haunting him. He knew he had a job to do, but he couldn't make himself act like Ollie again when the island and Hong Kong and everything had wormed its way under his skin so that he couldn't focus. He needed to be able to act like he was less damaged than he was. Nobody could know about the killing or the list or the box with the green hood and deadly weapon under his bed. So he scrubbed and scrubbed, trying to wash the feeling away until it felt like he could pretend.

His skin raw and red, Oliver climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed a second luxurious towel to rub his hair dry as he walked out into his bedroom. There was a bottle of Johnnie Walker blue label on his desk, and he walked over to it. He picked it up and broke the seal. Taking a swig, he saw the note left next to where it had been sitting. Oliver picked it up and read it over.

"Oliver, I hope you don't mind me leaving this here. Your mother probably wouldn't understand, but you looked like you could use a good, stiff drink. I hope you can accept me as a part of your family. I am so happy that you are alive. All the Best – Walter. P.S., Don't worry about being on time for breakfast tomorrow morning. I have convinced your mother that it is best to let you sleep in," read Oliver. He had only had a few swigs of the amber alcohol, but it was enough to loosen his tongue into saying whatever was on his mind. He vowed to thank Walter in the morning, but, for the meantime, he fished out a pair of boxer briefs, dropped the towel, pulled them on, and sat at the foot of his bed. He continued to swig from the bottle, head hanging and bottle dangling between his knees. He swallowed a few more mouthfuls of the bitter liquid, his head buzzing. He hadn't often had opportunity to drink on the island, so his tolerance was way down, and his head was spinning after a quarter of a bottle. He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his crumpled jeans and stared at it. He wondered if he remembered Tatsu's phone number. Or maybe Mrs. Zhang's. They'd be happy to hear from him, that he was alive. Maybe. Mrs. Zhang would be. Tatsu, not so much. He pulled up the screen to dial numbers and dialed in a sequence of numbers that he knew he had dialed before, so they must belong to one of the two Asian women. He clicked the green call button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?"

Felicity

Felicity was curled up with a tub of mint chocolate chip and a very large bottle of crappy wine. Tears were rolling steadily down her cheeks as Doctor Who played on the television in front of her. The Doctor was making some ridiculous joke, but Felicity just couldn't find it in her to laugh. She looked down at her phone; she couldn't believe that Dick had run off with another woman. They had been together for almost two years, and, in two hours, he had packed up and left her. She sobbed as Amy and Rory were reunited, wanting nothing more than to throw the tub of ice cream at the TV. She took a long pull from the bottle of wine, wincing at the taste of it mixed with the mint ice cream. She took another long pull from the overly large bottle, chasing it down with a huge scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her phone rang, and she grabbed it, hoping and dreading that it would be Dick. The number was unfamiliar, but she picked up anyway, too far gone to give a shit.

"Hello?"

"You're not Tatsu, or Mrs. Zhang," slurred the man on the other end of the phone. "Who's this?"

"This is Felicity. Who the hell are you?" she replied, wondering if this was some prank by one of her friends. She knew this voice. This voice had made her laugh before, and had given her nightmares a couple years back.

"It – I'm – ah, nevermind, I'll let y'go," he slurred.

"Wait, no. Don't you dare hang up again without an explanation. Not again. If you're who I think you are, then you have a shit load of explaining to do. Start with how you called me when you were dead," she growled into the phone, happy to push her energy towards something other than feeling heartbroken.

"I called you when I was gone? What?" he asked, incredulity in his voice. "Wait, wait, are you that girl Tommy was goin' out with?"

Felicity bared her teeth at the tub of half-melted ice cream in her lap as she spoke, "Oliver. You have called me three times before this; do you remember any of them? You called me two years ago, while you were dead. How much do you think that fucks a person up? That a veritable stranger can fuck them up and give them nightmares for months, putting a strain on a brand new relationship that only made it more susceptible to being ruined by a gorgeous redhead genius who can steal away the man you love with just three words. Three. Fucking. Words."

"I-I'm really sorry, I had no idea," he mumbled into the phone. "Look, I don't – I didn't mean to hurt you or ruin anything. I – apparently I remember your number. And I don't know why. I'm sorry; I'll never call again."

Felicity paused, not wanting to end this badly. "Um, wait. Just – save this number. I'm sorry I yelled at you; it's been a stressful day, and you don't deserve that, what with just coming back to civilization and all. You can save me as "Drunk Dial Only" if you want. I can't promise I'll always be able to answer, but, if I can, I'll be here if you need to talk or vent when you've had a few too many." Felicity curled up tighter around the tub of ice cream and took a swig from the bottle of wine, phone pressed tight to her ear.

"I – yeah, that sounds . . . nice. Thank you – I don't remember your name, I'm sorry," he said, his voice distant and broken. Felicity's heart cracked.

Oliver

The woman on the other end of the phone sounded so sad and heartbroken, even through her anger. Oliver could imagine what she was feeling, and he felt responsible. For some of it, at least. He should never have tried to call Thea from China. He managed to ruin someone else, someone he sort of knew, by doing it. He took a long pull from the bottle as the silence grew more and more pregnant.

"Felicity. My name's Felicity."

A/N – Hey loves! I hope you enjoy this chapter There's gonna be one more afterwards, and I might write up some of Felicity's dates with Tommy, just for kicks. I'm still working on the Bucky/Darcy fic, and I'm starting a Bones-Supernatural crossover, too. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm so thankful for all of the support on this fic. All my love- Rose