oliver sparks ☆ oliver queen. (nock) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-11-14 17:11:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * kit, c: oliver sparks |
WHO: Oliver Sparks
WHEN: Thursday, November 14, 2019; Early Evening
WHERE: The Square
SUMMARY: Oliver remembers everything.
WARNINGS: TW for severe anxiety attack. S7 spoilers.
”Why is it so important to you that it be true?” “Because...because if-- if it’s not, then...then I left them behind for-- for nothing.” Oliver clutched his hand over his heart, fingers digging into the freshly pressed linen of his work uniform as he slid down to the floor. When had it become so impossible to breathe? The room too hot, too small, too wrong for how big his pain was, how hard his heart was breaking. Closing his eyes, he felt hot tears spilling over his cheeks as image after image flashed behind his eyelids. Everything he had ever fought for on that Earth that no longer belonged to him. Every enemy, every threat, every certainty that a day would be his last day. He remembered every bitter and sweet second of it. Felicity and the way the ring looked on her finger. William and the pride Oliver once saw in his eyes. Pregnant. Felicity had been pregnant. But he saw everything else, too. Rene’s betrayal. Prison. Saving Barry and Kara. Losing William… Saying goodbye. Three months he got to know Mia. His precious, beautiful, wonderful girl who he knew would grow up to be as smart and perfect and strong as her mother and he-- he wouldn’t be there to see it. After everything they had been through, every war they had fought with others, with themselves, there would be no happy ending. That had never been meant for him, not after everything he had done. ”Why is it so important to you that it be true?” Because this sacrifice tore him apart more than anything ever had. More than the culmination of over a decade of surviving and fighting and failing and making hard and often wrong choices and dying and clawing his way back to her, to them, to everything he loved. All of that combined was nothing, nothing in comparison to the feeling of having the best parts of himself so close and feeling them slip away. Irrevocably. Forever. His heart pounded in his chest, the breaths becoming harder and harder to grasp. He tried and failed to reach for something, anything to pull him back to his feet but his heart was like a drum in his ears and with each pound his chest and throat tightened. He hadn’t looked back. Oliver was vaguely aware of others rushing to him, the sound of his sous chef’s voice muffled and panicked but he couldn’t help her. He could barely breathe and the room was spinning and he would never see Mia walk or hear her first words or know what she’d become. He’d never wrap his arms around his son again and tell him how proud he was of the man he was becoming or the man he made Oliver want to be. “Because...because if-- if it’s not, then...then I left them behind for-- for nothing.” He pressed his cheek to the cool exterior of the oven that had yet to be turned on. He held the images of his baby girl in his mind as the rest pounded against it, trying to be seen and remembered and heard. Mia. Mia. And then-- Nothing. |