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Oliver took deep breaths as he stood barefooted in the back yard, filling his lungs with the cold air. The pinprick of the grass against his ankles was a welcome distraction from his thoughts as he dug his toes into the wet ground. The cold air made each exhale condense into mist and he idly watched as it dispersed around him. With an ease born out of repetitive practice, Oliver quieted his mind as he breathed in, and out.
A few moments of just breathing and he slipped into a meditative state. His heart rate slowed down, after having gone up when he jogged onto the yard following an impulse that he rarely indulges in these days for to indulge was to lose control.
But something had pushed him, the compulsion strong enough that he’d stripped down to his boxers and gone out into the pouring rain. As the raindrops hit his skin, goosebumps rising along his skin, Oliver realized that the burgeoning headache he'd carried for what felt like days was gone.
He tilted his head back, feeling the chill of the night wrap around him in a familiar embrace and Oliver smiled. For all that he'd been accused of being selfish, a self-absorbed little prick, this was the first time he'd taken any time for himself. It was a luxury, to just be; to not have all the issues that wanted to crowd in on him every moment of every day fill his head. It was just the sound of the rain hitting the lawn, washing him clean.
He doesn't know how long he stood there when a sound startled him out of the stillness he’d managed to achieve. Looking around his found the source immediately.
"Hey, Raisa, what are you doing outside?" he asked the old housekeeper at the same time he realized that she was carrying a thick towel folded over one of her arms, the other hand holding a large umbrella, her face obscured in the deep shadows. Looking at her he suddenly realized that he was shivering.
"The same could be asked of you, Mr. Queen," she responded. Oliver noted that in spite of her comment she didn't ask, she just let the towel slid down to her hand and reached the towel out in offer. Oliver shook his head, dispelling water all over the place before he walked up to her. Raisa brought the umbrella up over them both and asked, worry evident in her tone, "Are you alright?"
Oliver looked past her shoulder at the quiet house and then down at her. Was he? He didn't know if answering with yes, would be all that truthful, though he had an ambiguous relationship these days with truth, to say the least.
"I am," he finally said simply watching her as her eyes flickered over the scars and the tattoo on his chest. He could see tension tighten the expression on her face, and around her eyes before it smoothed out into quiet acceptance.
"I will be," he reiterated and accepted the towel. He briskly rubbed his head and his chest before wrapping it around his shoulders and he smiled as her brow arched, a pointed look at their surroundings.
"It's familiar," he said as he tried to reach for the umbrella. Raisa tsked, and tugged the umbrella away. Tilting her head towards the house she stepped back and waited. Nodding, Oliver started walking towards the house, Raisa falling in step with him, the umbrella steady above them.
Still feeling something of the odd mood he'd been in Oliver continued, knowing he had her full attention. "Five years, Raisa. The Island was a cold place. Sometimes I think the cold seeped into my bones. It's familiar. It's what I'm used to."
Reaching the patio doors she wordlessly opened the door. Moving past her into the house he turned around and watched her shake the umbrella out before folding it and closing the door, the cold once again confined to the outside.
"You didn't need to come out." Oliver said in lieu of anything else, slightly unnerved by Raisa's continued silence.
Raisa smiled and patted him on the arm as she walked past him. "Yes, I did."
As he watched her disappear down the hall he contemplated the fact that this too was familiar. Raisa had always sought him out, unnervingly consistent, whenever he was in a mood and wandered off to sulk or get lost in whatever petty grievances he´d harbored against the offending party, didn't matter who.
She would coax him back to civilized company with quiet words and even greater compassion, even when he might not have deserved it. Her quiet strength always managed to anchor him down, at least enough to give him the respite he needed to shore up his own shields and face whatever he'd left behind when he walked away.
Since his return a lot has changed, to the point as to be unrecognizable, and he resented those instances when he was confronted with that fact. A lot has remained the same as well and he resents that even more. What he told Thea was the truth; he wasn't the same man anymore, the core of who he is has changed.
In the few moments when he isn't about the mission when the pretense grows weary, he wants everything around him to reflect that change and when it doesn't, when they still expect the same behaviors that defined him 5 years ago...
Sometimes though, the things that haven't changed are the things that remind him that he is home. He is not on the island anymore. Raisa’s quiet mother-henning has so far been the most important one.
Wrapping the towel tighter around himself Oliver turned and made his way to his bedroom. Perhaps now he will be able to get some sleep.
As Oliver disappeared upstairs, Thea quietly closed the door to the living room. Turning around her heart skipped a beat when she found Raisa standing only a few feet away, a steaming cup of what could only be tea in her hand.
Looking between the steaming cup and Raisa's dark eyes Thea couldn't find any judgment, but then, she’s never been able to read Raisa all that well. For all the lack of any judgment on Raisa that she could see Thea could feel her cheeks grow hot. The nagging guilt she felt for spying on her brother grew.
Flicking her hair behind her shoulder Thea straighten up and shrugged. She reached out and deposited the thick quilt she’d been carrying on the back of the couch closest to her while keeping an eye on the older woman.
She could feel herself tense up when Raisa walked up to her, and she didn't relax even though Raisa did nothing more than pat her on the shoulder and give Thea the cup.
“Just give it time,” the older woman said. Thea hid her face in the mug, opting to keep her mouth shut. With a final tap to her shoulder, Raisa left the room, carrying the quilt with her.
Signing, willing the tension away, Thea sipped the hot drink. Deciding to copy her brother, she went to her room. Maybe she too could get some sleep now.
Though she wondered as she walked up the stairs, Oliver was home, her brother was back; why couldn't that be enough?
Finis