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.
up, and like he did before he fell asleep last night, he could feel the
emptiness of the room.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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
they took it from her.
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.”
turned his head and there was nothing, nobody there next to him. But her
perfume was still there, strong and overpowering.
her voice whispered again. “I’m here. Please, you have to get up.”
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.
on the stairs outside the bedroom turned Oliver’s head in that direction.
doorway, a shimmering fog-like substance coalesced and then formed an ethereal shape.
stepped into that shape, transparent but as beautiful as the first day Oliver
met her. She smiled at him.
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?
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.