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Oliver stood rigidly in the doorway, whilst the world careened around him in a bustle of mad activity. It was as though he were watching through a filter, his feet rooted to the floor, unable to move, forced to observe. The world was muffled, the pale green of surgeon’s scrubs seemed muted against the beige walls of the hospital, set in vivid contrast to the lurid red of his sister’s blood as it seeped from her chest. Every noise, every movement, every frantic shout blurred together, leaving white noise in its presence that seared itself through his brain, numbing his mind and body and leaving him helpless. It was the frenzied screech of a heart monitor that cut through the fray, a rhythmless squeal that tore at his senses, sending bolts of ice cold terror shooting into his heart, freezing it solid and leaving him fighting for breath, as the chill seeped into his very core and formed a frigid band around his chest that locked it tight. Fragmented cries ripped at his subconscious,
“Charge to 200!”
He’d been leaving the foundry, shoulders slumped, weighed heavy by the constant burden that rested on his shoulders and pulled at his heart, the load growing greater with each passing day. First it had been Lance’s vendetta, then Roy’s departure. It seemed as if the world were spinning madly out of control, and every attempt to steady it was another push that sent it lurching on its axis.
“Clear!”
The sharp trill of his phone jolted him from his brooding, and he quickly ducked a hand into his pocket, pulling out the shrieking object, to be presented with Thea’s face beaming up at him. It was a candid photo; he’d been trying to take it subtly, but his sister had turned at the last moment and caught him, nose scrunched up, eyes squinting as he tried to work the phone. The action had sent a giggle bursting from her mouth, lighting up her eyes with laughter, the moment forever captured with a quick click of his thumb.
“No rhythm, charge again. Push one milligram of epi.”
Those eyes shined up at him now, his fingers repeating the same motion on the phone, before bringing it up to his ear.
“Speedy, hey-”
“Ollie.” It was a choked whisper, a broken thing that shattered into a thousand pieces as it crackled through the phone, each shard shooting straight into his heart and digging deep.
“Help me.”
“Charge to 300.”
“Clear!”
The high-pitched whine of the charging defibrillator launched him back into reality, its piercing screech bringing his vision into sharp focus, every detail enhanced, as he watched his sister’s body bow off the bed, crackling with the electricity that coursed through her veins, before crumpling back to the pillows like a rag doll. The heart monitor continued to blare, a never ending cacophony that set his own heart stuttering in its chest, breaking free of its icy prison to launch into a pounding refrain that echoed in his ears, blocking out all but the chilling howl of the monitor that cut across the thundering thump of his blood. Mouths moved, spewing empty commands to white coated ghosts that flew about the room, but all he could see was the bright red blood that stained her shirt with startling vividity, his blood, theirs, set against the deathly grey of her skin.
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.
The mantra drummed against his senses in time with the rocketing rhythm of his heart, and though his mind screamed falsities, the reality was laid bare by the mind-numbing cry of the monitor that seemed never to end.
Until it did.
The sudden silence was a void, a vacuum that sucked the air from his lungs and brought the world to a shuddering halt. Time ceased to exist, instead replaced by single, unending moment of utter stillness. The world seemed to hang in the balance, set teetering upon a knife point of noiselessness.
Until it wasn’t.
Beep,
It was pure, a single tone that cut through the silence, shattering it with a single blow
Beep,
It rang out again, clear and sharp as the blade that had halted it.
Beep,
A steady rhythm. A third staccato that ripped through his chest and broke the barrier around his consciousness.
Beep,
Heavy waves of relief crashed through him, sending a flood of exhaustion coursing through his limbs, to replace the adrenaline that had seized his limbs in the tight grip of terror.
Beep,
Doctors flooded to the bedside, obscuring her from view, until Oliver had only the steady tone of the monitor for reassurance.
Beep,
The gurney swept past him, tearing her from his view, the sound of her heart growing hushed, the tone fading, as until it, too, was gone.
Oliver was wrecked.
It was all too much, too quick. One moment she’d been there, her bright smile flashing up from the screen, the next in their apartment, lying in a pool of her own blood, the grin wiped from her face, and replaced instead with the quivering of lips and the hollow wheeze of air, as she gasped for breath. Now she was in an operating room, fighting for her life as doctors struggled to save her, to put right the damage that he’d caused, that he’d inflicted. Ra’s had done this because of him, and it was almost as if Oliver had plunged the sword into her chest himself. He had been foolish to think that the Demon’s Head wouldn’t strike again, and now it was his sister who payed the price. His sister, who never should have been brought into this terrifying world of swords and offers and violence. His sister, who was to be ripped from it all too soon.
All of a sudden, he felt the iron vice of terror clamp around his lungs once more, squeezing them tight, blocking his airways and cutting off his breath in a choking sound that tore its way from his mouth and hung upon the air, sharp as broken glass. The world swung by in a blur movement, leaving him defenseless once more to the cutting claws of fear. He had to get out of here. Had to get away from this place, still fresh with the scent of her blood. With staggering steps he stumbled from the room, eyes swinging along the hallway, brushing past a flash of glowing blonde hair, before seizing on the grey wood of a closet door. With the last of his strength, Oliver lurched into the closet, his knees finally giving out as he sank to the floor, hitting the lacquered surface with a stinging crack that barely registered over the shuddering gasps of his breath as he fought for air. Distantly, his brain registered that he was hyperventilating, that he needed to calm down, but his body refused to listen, instead convulsing as he shook with dry, heaving sobs that wracked through his ribcage and burst free from his mouth to penetrate the air with small, cutting cries of misery.
Oliver was drowning, the world becoming hazy and distant, until a sudden press of warm skin against his cheek had his eyes flicking up and widening, met with a shock of blue, mere inches away.
“Oliver, breathe.” Her voice was soft as a caress, mirrored by the gentle stroke of smooth fingertips against stubbled flesh. “I need you to breathe, Oliver.”
Her gaze burned into his own with a force that cracked against icy wall around his chest, thawing it slightly, allowing the barest of reprieves.
“In.” He gulped in a breath, a short, sharp pant.
“Out.” He released, sending it stuttering from his lips to fan out against her cheek and puff against her hair. She nodded, and repeated the sentiment, her gaze latched upon his own all the while, fingers brushing soothingly against his jaw, his hair, his neck as she slowly pried him from the constricting grip of panic.
Her touch was a fire that burnt away the icy terror permeating his skin, replacing it with a warmth, a solidness that sunk into his chest and settled deep in his bones. Though it couldn’t mend the fractured pieces of his heart, it clung to them, kept them in place for later mending. For now, a hasty bandage would do to staunch the bleeding, the heat of her gaze enough to cauterize the wound. For now, she was here, her presence an anaesthetic that soothed his damaged soul and let him give in, just for a while