felicity's ghost story

An Olicity Ghost Story

I’m not sure how many parts there will be to this story, but the narrative came into my head and it started to haunt me. I am compelled to follow it. Please bear with me as I get it out of my system. I wrote this before tonight’s episode aired, (a good one by the way.) I hope nothing like this story happens on the show.


Part 1

Oliver woke up, and like he did before he fell asleep last night, he could feel the emptiness of the room.

It surrounded him, filled every part of his senses. After only six weeks since his life was shattered, Oliver could still smell traces of Felicity’s perfume lingering in their bedroom, a ghostly mist reminding him of what he had been so fortunate to have in his life, but also how dark and empty it has become now that she was gone.

As he lay there in the bed, Oliver also  had a peripheral sense that Felicity was lying next to him, a similar feeling that amputees sometimes get, as if they can still feel their missing limbs. Oliver’s memories took hold of him again and he closed his eyes, powerless to stop them. Six years of them poured into his heart, visions of love and happiness—and also regret. And on top of all that, an underlying anger threatened to push everything else away and take him to private place, his inner island, which is still so familiar to him.

Oliver reflexively clenched his fists, and like he had been doing every morning, tried in vain to fight against the darkness. And like every morning, he failed.

Last week, John had come to the loft, mostly to check in on Oliver, but also to give him an update on the aftermath of what happened with Helix. John told him that the Feds raided their secret lair, information provided to them by Felicity. She opened the door on Helix, after they threatened her, making it clear to Felicity that once she agreed to join their evil organization and letting her in on their plans to overthrow the government, Felicity’s commitment to them was for life. it was not a decision she could change her mind on, and just a week before Helix made good on their threat to her, they told Felicity that death was the only way out for her.

The anger Oliver was feeling intensified as he let what John told him crash back into his mind. He tried to shut it off, but it gripped him and wouldn’t let go.

The particulars of Felicity’s murder was not anything he wanted to hear. But John told him anyway—something to do with a staged car accident. John thought telling Oliver about it would motivate him to fight against the grief consuming him. It didn’t, but Oliver listened anyway. It was too little too late.

So Oliver was able to put the pieces together, and in doing so, felt a remorse and regret so deep, he wasn’t sure if he could live with himself. He wasn’t sure that forgiveness would ever be given to him again.

Helix contacted Felicity shortly after Billy died. She was overcome by the grief of that loss, but she also felt rage and a desperate need for revenge. She thought she could direct it at the actual person responsible—Prometheus. She fell into that darkness, internalizing it and keeping everything and everyone she cared about out of the loop.

At that time, Oliver was beginning to recognize that something was wrong with her, and not only because of what happened to Billy. His instinct was to go to her and try helping with her need to be comforted and assured. But he had just killed her boyfriend and Oliver felt it wasn’t the right move then, given their own history together.

But Felicity had told herself that Oliver was not a person she could rely on for that kind of intimacy because of that history. His intention of wanting to ease her pain was something she would not let herself accept. Oliver was dealing with his own grief over killing Billy and the pain he caused her because of it. He had started his romance with Susan as well. His heart was conflicted—by his need to move on and away from what he and Felicity had before he betrayed her, by the turmoil Prometheus set in motion with hurting those Oliver most cared about, by the political upheaval over Billy’s murder and the ensuing cover-up. Felicity had watched all this crash in on Oliver, consuming him in the same way that she had lost herself.

These were the things Oliver wanted to talk about with her. As the memories and regret filled his mind, they also strengthened his clenched fists, bringing physical pain to Oliver. That kind of pain had always been something he could endure. It was the emotional kind that always beat him down. He ignored the pain in his hands as  more images and thoughts continued to haunt him.

So Helix came into Felicity’s life when she needed something to provide her with answers. They gave her a seemingly endless cache of files (Pandora Files they called them) and enticed Felicity into, or back into, the world she left behind after college. The information on the files empowered her and gave her something else to focus on besides Billy and losing Oliver and the loneliness it all brought her. When she realized that Oliver had “moved on” with Susan, and when the rest of the team seemed to exclude her has well; the sense of family she had built with all of them began to feel false. Felicity would not find what she needed from the people she loved. So she embraced Helix and jumped back into the kind of life they offered her.

And then they took it from her.

As Oliver continued to stay in bed, tears started to fall from his unfocused eyes. Grief took a firmer hold on him, and he wanted nothing more to do with the legacy he had built all these years, the legacy he built with her.

The mist of Felicity’s perfume suddenly got stronger, and as Oliver breathed it in, he felt movement on the bed next to him, on her side…

“Oliver, “Felicity’s voice whispered to him. “You have to get up. You have to fight.”

Oliver turned his head and there was nothing, nobody there next to him. But her perfume was still there, strong and overpowering.

“Oliver,” her voice whispered again. “I’m here. Please, you have to get up.”

Oliver was too far gone to realize that he was probably hallucinating. Felicity was gone. Forever. It was self-abuse that he would create—what, a false hope, a painful need to have her back.

Sudden footsteps on the stairs outside the bedroom turned Oliver’s head in that direction.

In the doorway, a shimmering fog-like substance coalesced and then formed an ethereal shape.

Felicity stepped into that shape, transparent but as beautiful as the first day Oliver met her. She smiled at him.

“Oliver, I’m here. I will always be here.”

@hope-for-olicity @almondblossomme @louiseblue1 @tdgal1 @swordandarrow @dmichellewrites @jamyjan @it-was-a-red-heeler @marytagus @cruzrogue @miriam1779

Shall I tell you a story? A new and terrible one? A ghost story? Are you ready? Shall I begin?
Once upon a time there four girls. One was pretty. One was clever. One was charming, and one… One was mysterious. 
But they were all damaged you see.
Something not right about the lot of them. Bad blood. Big dreams. Oh, I left that part out. Sorry, that should have come before. 
They were all dreamers, these girls. One by one, night after night, the girls came together. And they sinned. Do you know what their sin was? No one? Pippa? Ann?
Their sin was that they believed. Believed they could be different. Special. They believed they could change what they were - damaged, unloved. Cast-off things. They would be alive, adored, needed. Necessary. But it wasn’t true. 
This is a ghost story, remember? A tragedy.
They were misled. Betrayed by their own stupid hopes. Things couldn’t be different for them, because they weren’t special after all. So life took them, led them, and they went along, you see? They faded before their own eyes, till they were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. What can’t be. 
There now. Isn’t that the scariest story you’ve ever heard?
—  Felicity (A Great and Terrible Beauty)
8

Once upon a time there were four girls.

One was pretty. One was clever. One was charming, and one…one was mysterious.

But they were all damaged, you see.

Something not right about the lot of them. Bad blood. Big dreams"

They were misled. Betrayed by their own stupid hopes. Things couldn’t be different for them, because they weren’t special after all. So life took them, led them, and they went along, you see? They faded before their own eyes, till they were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. With what can’t be.
—  A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray