Return to Dirt
SETTING: Multiple Places Around Wicked
TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @oliver–fox (with cameos from @debauchfairy, @cursedmaestro, @echoingmuse)
WARNINGS: Parental Death, Terminal Illness, WR Spice, Drug Manipulation, Vomit, Suicidal Ideation (nothing explicit)
SUMMARY: It's Oliver's Last Day
24 Hours Before
Oliver can’t exactly name what woke him. It didn’t feel like a nightmare; there’s no fleeting memory that fades away as consciousness resurfaces or a quickened heartbeat underneath his skin. No pain that would indicate anything has happened to him or his trees. He heard Izzy’s soft breathing towards him, still asleep under the glow of the cave. Oliver shifted, careful not to awaken the other, and checked his watch. 12:01. There was a certain amount of finality that Oliver felt as he saw those numbers. This is my last day alive. The fact filtered through his mind so fast that he’s unable to stop it, barely keeping the sharp intake of breath that it causes to run through his lungs concealed. Oliver sat up slowly, gripping the blankets tightly. He didn’t…feel all that different from the way he had when he had lain down for sleep. He could feel the ache in his bones, the soreness that radiated throughout his body; the tiredness that never abated, no matter how much he slept. However, now, there was almost a sense of relief. The knowledge that the pain would stop today. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain what he knew; just that he did.
Oliver took a deep breath and let it out slowly before lying back down. His gaze fell on Izzy again, and he felt his chest twist painfully. He wouldn’t allow his friend to bear witness to his death. That wouldn’t be fair. ‘It’s going to hurt him more if you don’t tell him.’ A quiet voice whispered in the back of his head, one that he shook off like a nat. No. Oliver’s positive it would be worse if Izzy saw it happen. Izzy’s already been a witness to so much death, adding another seemed cruel. He shut his eyes, determined to fall back asleep before his brain could come up with any further arguments against his plan. The sleep he got is fragmented at best.
16 Hours Before
He woke to the sound of movement. The cave was waking up. It’s one thing he missed about his home: the silence that surrounded the area. The cave reminded him of when he lived with roommates, surrounded by people in all walks of life. Though there’s a sense of desperation down here that he can’t say he ever felt in the homes he shared. Oliver opened his eyes, finding Izzy had already left. The ball of anxiety in his chest loosened slightly. The plan he had been formulating throughout the night is easier to complete if Izzy doesn’t come back until later.
Oliver groaned as he got up, his body stiffer in the morning than he would like. For not the first time, he wondered if this was what he would have felt as he got older. If he had been able to think about the aches and pains as ‘normal aging things’ rather than the incessant warning signals it sent his body now. He took his time getting ready before he made his way to the surface of the cave. Crossing the threshold back into the world causes such a shockwave to pass through his body that Oliver stumbles for a moment, catching himself on the wall next to the entrance. Thankfully, there’s no one else around to see him. He’s been noticing the drop in the magic levels, feeling it every time he goes outside. The way his energy dropped faster, the headaches that came with more regularity and intensity, the nausea that circled within his stomach, and the way his abilities faltered over the easiest task. However, today it seemed like they had officially dropped closer to the threshold of him being able to stay upright than it ever had. Oliver’s hands shook as he pushed himself off the wall. He couldn’t let himself falter now. Not when he still had work to do.
14 Hours Before
His first stop is selfish. He knows it is. There’s no reason his first stop of the day should be to have sex. However, that doesn’t stop him from pulling his car up to his destination. Oliver’s fingers tapped on the top of his steering wheel as he stared at Kieran’s place. He had found their meetings to be supremely helpful in calming his nervous system down, and it at least seemed like Kieran got something out of them too. He needed something to help settle him, to ground himself for the day ahead. Otherwise, his body will be so tense it’ll hurt, and his mind will be overwhelmed with the rest of the decisions he must make.
Kieran doesn’t seem surprised when he knocks on the door. Oliver doesn’t know if he wants to consider that perhaps the two have been meeting up more than people who supposedly hate each other should. Making up for lost time, he supposes. The initial hook-up in the cave had broken the dam of tension between them, and now Oliver couldn’t look at the faun’s lips without wanting to taste them.
They don’t spend long together. Oliver gently asks that the marks Kieran leaves not be in visible places. He has places to be today and doesn’t want questioning glances from anyone he may run into. Kieran bitched about it, teased him about making demands, but ultimately relented. By the time they're done, Oliver’s mind is clear. There’s a certain amount of tension in his shoulders, different from the times he’s turned to putty in Kieran’s hands. A small headache has formed in the back of his head. Not particularly painful yet, just a small underlying presence that reminds him of what’s to come. Oliver allowed himself to lie there for a few minutes, curled into Kieran’s side. He can see Kieran attempting to puzzle Oliver out, but he doesn’t say anything, and Oliver doesn’t offer an explanation.
He glanced at his watch. He had to get moving sooner rather than later. Kieran joked about a third round, promising to show off something new. Oliver rolled his eyes and whispered, “Next time.” He ignored the way his stomach clenched at the lie, face buried into Kieran’s shoulder to help hide the grimace. There’s a sense of guilt, the fact that Oliver is the only one between them to know this will be the last time. However, he wasn’t sure Kieran would even want to know. The two of them aren’t the type to have heartfelt conversations, and Oliver wasn’t looking for pity. Oliver sat up, placed a hand on Kieran’s chest, and kissed him deeply before he grabbed his clothes from the ground beside the bed and changed. He’s out the door with barely a farewell.
12 Hours Before
Oliver turned the key to turn the ignition off in his car. He leaned back against the seat with a sigh, and he allowed his eyes to shut for a moment. The coffee he had gotten wasn’t doing its job in waking him up; instead, he just felt on edge. Even after meeting with Kieran, it felt as if there was a live wire running under his skin. He had stopped by the flower shop he frequented and had ignored the worried glances that Sally kept shooting his way. It wasn’t until he was paying, focused on not dropping his card as his fingers trembled, that she placed her hands over his.
“Are you ok? You look pale” She had asked, her forest-green eyes searching his face. He had stiffly nodded, eyes focused on the machine in front of him.
“Yeah, just a bit under the weather.” Oliver had murmured, swallowing thickly as an ache bloomed in his stomach at the lie. He could feel Sally’s gaze on him before she released his hand with a sigh.
“Well, you should go lie down in bed, you look like a gentle breeze could knock you down.” She said as she put the flowers in the bag he had asked for. “You know, my daughter is on this baking kick? She bakes when she’s stressed. So we are practically giving away these cookies.” Sally picked up a wrapped cookie and placed it in the bag when Oliver didn’t immediately reject it. Oliver just gave a small nod, pairing it with a smile to attempt to assuage some of her worries. He bid her goodbye before he made his way back to his car, driving to the graveyard soon after.
The cookie is left in his car, but the flowers make the journey with him to his parents' grave. He cleared the old flowers away and placed the new ones down. The graveyard was empty and quiet apart from his own breathing. He ran a hand over his parents’ names that were etched into the stone all those years ago. “This will be my last visit.” Oliver said quietly, “I’m sorry-” His voice caught on the last syllable, and Oliver could feel the tears that gathered in his tear ducts. “I-I don’t know what’s going to happen.” A tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another. “I’m scared.” Oliver’s voice broke, and he reached up to wipe his tears away with both hands. Like a toddler, he sobbed in front of his parents over a problem that they couldn’t fix.
Eventually, the tears slowed and then stopped. Oliver’s breathing turned from harried and hiccuping to small gasps. He used his sleeve to wipe away the lingering wetness on his face, and cringed at the way the cold wind felt against it. “I h-hope I’ll b-be seeing you s-soon.” His parents had been good people; he didn’t doubt that if there truly were a heaven, they would end up there. Oliver was less convinced he would also end up there. “I-I love you.” He whispered. Oliver did a quick cross on himself as he stood up, pressing two fingers against his lips before he placed them against the stone. The walk back to the car is hard; he was emotionally spent, and his body felt heavy and hard to maneuver.
9 Hours Before
Oliver woke with a start and blinked a few times before the world came into focus. He was … in his car. Right…he had closed his eyes for a moment. He groaned as he sat up, eyes falling to the dashboard clock. A sharp intake of breath at the sight of how long he had slept. Fuck.
He couldn’t help but crinkle his nose at the stale scent that hit him when he opened his front door. He had forgotten how long it had been since he had come back. What had started as going down to the Oasis every few days had grown to going down daily, before Oliver had determined that it made more sense just to stay down there. He moved cautiously around the living room, using his hand to catch himself on different furniture as he went around and opened some of the windows before he returned to the couch. His heart was beating faster from a simple walk around his home than it should have. It was perhaps the worst part of everything, the weakness he felt. Over the last two and a half decades, Oliver’s felt his powers weaken; he’s learned how to adjust—learned to use less power and do less with his abilities. Dance around the ever-growing problem. He’s had time; something that isn’t available this time around.
The process of pulling the floorboards up is more labor-intensive than usual, and Oliver pointedly ignores the dash of red on the tissue he used to wipe his nose at one point. Different from the box of memories hidden away in his closet, the items beneath the floor are instead a mix of more practical items. Large quantities of cash; different currencies placed in neat stacks. An array of forged birth certificates and old IDs. Weapons that couldn’t be easily hidden under a couch or in a bedside drawer. Oliver’s eyes scanned the small area until they landed on the item that he was looking for. An old, dusty bottle of red wine. One that wouldn’t make sense to have out in the open; too old to not prompt questions. Oliver stood slowly, the world tilting dangerously. He inhaled slowly before letting it out, allowing his vision to stabilize. He set the bottle on the table; the memory of getting it floats through his mind.
He’d been in Boston, attending MIT’s doctoral program, when a friend had mentioned going to an auction house. Oliver had tagged along, more to watch his friend spend his parents' money on something stupid than for any interest to him. He had gone with him before (was his name Jamie? Tommy? No, Richie! That’s right; he’d had green glasses that were always resting on the top of his head) and seen him buy old art and useless trinkets that just ended up in corners of their apartment. However, during this outing, a hush had fallen over the crowd as the auctioneer had described a vintage wine that was over 100 years old at that point. It had been brought out by someone holding gloves and placed in a special box. “It’s a rare 1875 Bordeaux! From a legendary harvest year!” The auctioneer had called out before starting the bid at 10,000. One paddle went up, and then another, and Oliver is raising his paddle before he even realizes it.
Richie had turned to him, eyebrow raised, “Really?” He had asked, tone a mix of confusion and delight. Oliver had ended up getting the bottle for 50k, beating out a red-faced older gentleman who had glared at him as if he could set him alight with his eyes alone. Technically, Richie had paid for it because they didn’t take credit cards for that high a price, and Oliver didn’t have his checkbook or that amount of cash on him. Richie had just placed a hand on his back and shaken his head before writing out his own check and slapping it on the counter. The bored worker glanced between the two of them, the auctioneer’s voice still happening in the background as another sale occurred, before they wrapped the bottle up in its special box and handed it over. When they got home, Oliver couldn’t help but stare at the bottle, running a hand over the paper label before he glanced towards the kitchen. “Don’t you fucking think about it, Isaac!” Richie’s voice had come from the left of him. “That’s a bottle you save for your wedding day! Or the birth of your first kid! Or the funeral of someone important; you don’t just open that for no reason.” So Oliver had tucked it away before getting out his checkbook and paying Richie back. “What made you bet on that anyway?” Richie had asked as he tucked the check into his wallet, “You’re not much of a wine guy.”
Oliver couldn’t help but shrug, “I don’t know, it called to me, I guess.” Richie had hummed quietly before moving on to a conversation about a party he wanted to go to. How old would Richie be now? 50’s, 60’s? He’d moved out in ‘95 after graduation; headed to…somewhere. Oliver couldn’t remember now.
Was it in poor taste to drink to your own death? He supposed it wasn’t as if he was going to fulfill any of the other options Richie had left behind in his instructions. It wasn’t as if he was going to get married again, and kids were never an option to begin with. Oliver sighed, leaving the bottle on the table as he replaced the floorboard and moved throughout his home. There…wasn’t much he wanted or needed. It wasn’t as if he could take anything with him. However, that didn’t stop him from taking several blank pieces of paper and moving to the kitchen table.
Once he was done, Oliver placed the letter in an envelope, sealing and labeling it, fingers shaking slightly. He tidied the home, emptying the fridge and trash, and picked up around the place before going around and closing the windows he had opened. He stared up at the box of memories in his closet for a moment before leaving it untouched as he shut the lights off. It wasn’t as if looking through it now would do any good. When he locked his front door, the key felt heavy in his hand.
7 Hours Before
He stopped by his shop on the way back. The renovations had been completed, and it had reopened without much fanfare a few weeks ago. He was lucky that Martha was at the cash register when he came in; her bright red hair bounced as she spoke with a customer. He offered her a small wave and watched as she paused in her conversation, a hesitant hand raised before she blinked and turned her attention back to the customer. Oliver let out a small sigh of relief. If he could get in and out quickly, then he wouldn’t even give her the chance to come track him down. It’s just about closing, so she would be busy. He’d more or less turned over the day-to-day operation of the store to his managers; he worked remotely, placing orders and issuing paychecks. Oliver knew there were probably rumors circulating, but he chose not to give them much of his attention.
Thus, it only made sense that River was in the office, working on the next schedule. They raised their eyebrows at Oliver’s entrance, and Oliver noted that they had changed their hair color to a dark blue bob with blue eyebrows to match. “Hey, Boss, I didn’t know you were coming in today.” They said, eyes raking over Oliver in a way that made him feel like he was overly exposed.
“Ah, yeah, I just had to pick up some documents.” Oliver noted as he moved to one of the metal cabinets. The silence that followed was tense, broken only by the sound of papers flicking through as Oliver looked through the files. He can see River shifting in their chair from the corner of his eye. He collected the paperwork he needed, and as he shut the cabinet, River’s voice broke the silence.
“Is..there something going on? Between the construction happening and then you disappearing from the schedule…Well, I just-I’m-no We’re concerned.” River stated as they ran a hand through their hair. “Joey said that he saw the place before the construction started and said that it looked like a…fight or something happened. Jenny said she saw you with a bandage around your arm afterwards.” Their gaze falls to Oliver’s arm, covered by a loose, long-sleeved shirt. “So..are you ok?”
Oliver stiffened at their questions. The questions were valid, and in fact, almost made him feel guilty for not being more forthcoming with at least a story of what was going on behind the scenes. “I’m ok!” He said quickly, fingers digging into the cabinet as his stomach twisted with the lie. He pulled up his sleeve with his free hand, showing the scar from Rory. “I got bitten by a dog, that’s why I had a bandage for a while.” Oliver explained. “It wasn’t a fight in the store; it was an earthquake. Too small for us to feel, but it made the roots come up and cause issues.” Oliver grimaced as another ache permeated from within. He hoped the grimace came off as more a reaction to the situation than to the pain.
River pursed their lips, eyebrows furrowed. “Oh…ok. So, are you coming back soon? A lot of customers have been asking where you’ve been.”
Oliver's gaze shifted from River to his old workstation. He’d never been able to actually use it after the remodel. “Ah, no. Actually, I guess you can tell the others if they ask, but I’m actually going to be leaving town.” He bites the inside of his cheek to stifle the groan from the next flare of pain that hits him. He can see River’s eyes widen at what he said, and quickly waved the hand holding the documents. “The store isn’t closing! I plan to have a friend of mine take it over and everything. So, no need to worry on that front.” The panic receded from River’s features before they gave a small nod.
“Oh…ok.” They tapped the pencil they’ve been using on the table. “Where are you going?”
Oliver has already started moving towards the door, desperate to get out of the room before any further lies need to be told. At their question, he paused; his hand stuck on the knob. Glancing over his shoulder, he smiled softly, “I’m not sure yet! Still figuring that part out.”
River blinked at him, before they smiled back. “Well, I hope you have fun. Come back to visit when you can!” Oliver didn’t answer, not wanting to inflict more pain on himself or make it so Izzy has to follow a script on where he went.
6 Hours Before
His last stop before going back to the Oasis is the grocery store. His hands trembled in a way that tells him that he’s pushing his luck with staying out as late as he has already. His nose started bleeding on the way over, and it took a few minutes too long to stop for his liking. Oliver’s vision grayed when he went from sitting to standing, and he needed to catch himself on the shopping cart to keep from keeling over. His vision cleared after a moment, but it’s a warning sign that he needs to be quick. However, that didn’t stop him from standing in front of the bakery section for several minutes as his eyes roamed over the options. He’s...not even really hungry, even though he barely ate anything today. Oliver still felt like he needed something. You celebrate your birthday, you should celebrate your death day, right? Especially if you know it’s coming. Plus, cake makes the wine make more sense, even if Izzy can’t eat the cake. Oliver’s eyes landed on a slice of red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, and he knew that it was the right one. He placed it in his cart and then went and found a candle. His last stop is the medicine aisle, where he grabbed crushable sleeping pills. He ignored the glances the gum-smacking cashier gave him as she rang him up.
Re-entering the oasis is the polar opposite of leaving it. There was still a shockwave that traveled through his body as he crossed the threshold, but this time it almost felt as if he were a phone that’s been plugged into its charger. The headache that had been pulsing behind his eye immediately lessened. It hadn’t fully disappeared; that would take longer, but he at least no longer felt like his head was going to explode. The dizziness dissipated, and the edges of the world sharpened again. He felt stronger, less like he needed to put all his focus on making sure his knees didn’t buckle.
By the time he got back to his corner of the cave, Izzy had sent him a text that he would be back soon. Which meant he had to work fast. He set the bag of wine, cake, and candle against the wall and slipped the letter under his pillow. Oliver pulled out the pill bottle and an almost-empty water bottle. He emptied it before he took the cap off and set it aside. He opened the pill bottle and turned it to its side, shaking two pills out into his hand. Oliver stared at them for a moment before shaking the bottle so a third pill fell into his palm. He couldn’t leave things to chance. He slipped the cap of the pill bottle back on before placing it behind some pillows. Oliver placed the pills on a piece of paper, then took a cup and pressed until they turned to dust. He carefully transferred the powder into the water bottle’s cap before hiding it with the bottle of pills. Just as he had finished shifting the pillow back in place, his internal alarm went off, and he recognized the sound of Izzy’s footsteps. “Welcome back!” Oliver called out, forcing a smile.
3 Hours Before
Thankfully, it didn’t take much convincing for Izzy to agree to have some of the wine. However, as Oliver had dumped the powder into one of the wine glasses that Cleo left behind, he couldn’t help but feel vaguely nauseous. Izzy trusted him, and he was essentially betraying him. He’s never been good at being devious; he almost always waits for someone to strike first before he retaliates. He was more likely to flee than fight if he could help it. It felt wrong to be doing this, and deep down, Oliver knew that it was.
Breaking the seal on the wine feels like he is breaking a rule. Like he was ruining something. Ruining an expensive and treasured bottle because he was a child who wanted one last hurrah. Oliver grit his teeth as the aroma entered his nose as he filled the two glasses. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it was a heavy scent of blackcurrant with a hint of smokiness. There had been a small part of him that had assumed that it would have gone bad at some point, that this whole plan would have fallen apart right before the finish line because it wasn’t as if they were going to drink bad wine. It was too late to go out and get a replacement, so he was sure Izzy would have shrugged it off, would have talked about how they could have had a wine night the next night. How that would have messed everything up, because he would have been able to stop Oliver from sneaking out. But the wine is fine, which means his plan is still in place.
Oliver bit his lip hard enough to taste blood as he dipped a spoon into Izzy’s drink, while the other is focused elsewhere, assisting the powder in dissolving until it looks identical to his own. He carried them over carefully, giving Izzy his as Oliver took a seat in front of the cake he had bought. He tells Izzy that he just felt like celebrating, and Izzy doesn’t question it. Oliver is pretty sure the other is just happy he’s eating. They did a quick cheers before they both took a sip of their respective glasses. The wine tastes good, almost unfairly so. Oliver’s eyes watered, and he blinked away the unshed tears, blaming them on the smoke from the candle.
2 Hours Before
They finish off the bottle between them. Izzy ended up drinking more than Oliver, but he’s still pretty tipsy by the end. They talked, shared stories, and laughed over drinks, as if enveloped in a protective bubble where they could forget the state of the world. Oliver watched how Izzy’s eyelids started to get heavier, how he started yawning more, and how he eventually stood up and announced that he was going to bed. A cold realization washed over Oliver as he gave a small nod, explaining that he’ll be going to bed soon, too, as he ignored the twist in his stomach that accompanied the lie.
He cleaned up and set up his bed like he would any other night. Instead, he waited, listened until Izzy’s breathing evened out, until he felt a little more sober. Once he was certain the muse was out, Oliver rose quietly. He tiptoed as he took the letter out from under the pillow and set it near Izzy’s bed. He turned his phone off, set it down along with the AirTag that had been around his neck for the last few months. Oliver’s finger fidgeted before he set the bottle of pills down with the items as well. Seemed only fair to explain what happened. He paused once he was done, his gaze shifted from the items to where Izzy was lying. He moved before he could talk himself out of it, kneeling next to the other. His nose burned, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. It worked, at least for the moment. Oliver opened his eyes again slowly, before he looked down at Izzy. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He whispered before he lowered himself slowly and carefully and kissed Izzy’s lips. It was a soft kiss, barely any pressure behind it at all. A final act of intimacy hidden under the darkness of the cave. The other didn’t so much as flinch, which caused Oliver’s breath to catch in the back of his throat. He pressed his palms into his eyes for a moment, but it was not enough to staunch the tears that had started to flow.
He sat there for a few minutes, trying to regain control of his emotions, until the tears finally stopped. Oliver shakily rose, using the cave wall as a support as he made his way towards the exit. He saw one of the faun protectors standing near the entrance, and was immediately concerned that there was some sort of curfew that he wasn’t aware of. A million thoughts fly through his mind, centering on whether he was going to be stopped and what would happen if he were. However, any worries fell away as the faun simply gave Oliver a small nod as he left. Leaving is just as painful as it was before, and he could hear the faun take a few steps towards him when he had to lean against the wall to catch his breath as his body was alight with pain. He hasn’t recharged enough; he’s starting from lower than he should. Oliver waved them off, a soft “I’m fine” floating into the night. He at least made it around the corner before he gagged from the stomach pain brought on by the lie, from all the lies he told today. The faun must have heard him as he vomits up the wine and cake, but no footsteps follow him. Oliver wasn’t sure whether he was happy or sad about that.
1 Hour Before
It took longer than it should to drive to where he needed to be in the Pines, but Oliver was just thankful that he didn’t get pulled over or end up in an accident along the way. It was a struggle to stay in his lane, his body protesting with every flicker of movement. It felt so heavy, like he was wading through water just to move a finger. It didn’t help that every time he moved, his nerves lit up like they were on fire.
By the time he pulled into one of the parking lots, he was a shaking mess. Oliver stumbled getting out of the car, landing hard on his knees as he attempted to breathe. His fingers curled around the rocks as he pushed himself back up, closing his door with one hand while the other clung to the front of his car. The scent of iron hits him, and he realizes that at some point, his nose started bleeding. He wipes it with the back of his hand and sees the dark streak that appears. His hand shook as he locked the car and placed the key on the windshield. Someone will come across this at some point, and he wondered how long it might take.
30 Minutes Before
The trek through the forest is slow; his typical pace was reduced to a shuffle as he leaned against the trees for support. He was thankful that his feet would lead him where he needed to go without any actual thought be required. Thoughts are hard, his brain feels too full, and his body feels too heavy for them to communicate. The forest was quiet, making the sound of his struggle only seem louder. At one point, he missed the tree as he reached out to it and landed on his side. Pain radiated from his shoulder, and there was a moment where he considered just lying there, allowing his journey to end there. How easy it would be.
Instead, he stood slowly. There’s a large stick by him that he picked up. His jeans were covered with dirt now, he noticed idly as he got both feet under him. The stick reminded him of one he would see people use as a walking stick. It helped him take another step forward.
5 Minutes Before
Oliver breathed out a sigh of relief when he walked into a clearing and saw his trees. The golden leaves are visible even in the darkness that engulfs the rest of the world around him. More and more of his body weight was on the walking stick as he trudged forward. Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising when it gave way under his weight, snapping in two when he was mere steps away from his end goal.
“Fuck” Oliver whispered, tears springing to his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the pain, the exhaustion, or the embarrassment. He tried to stand again, but his legs were trembling too much to get farther than to be on his knees. He groaned, hands curled into fists as he brought it down to the forest floor. “Fuck!” He shouted this time, before shaking his head and squinting at the trees in front of him. He rubbed his face into his shoulder
If his understanding was right, then he knew a tree would be born from his…remains. Which meant he couldn’t get too close to any of the current ones, terrified of messing with the roots that had already formed. He pulled his shoes off, no longer needing them and not wanting their coloring to pull someone’s attention to his resting spot. He wanted to feel the dirt below him. He slowly, but surely, crawled towards an area about 50ft from the tree he was found under.
1 Minute Before
Oliver’s breathing was labored, and he could feel the way his heart was racing a mile a minute as he finally came to a stop. He was not directly under any of the bushes nearby, but he hoped that he would blend in enough once the bark started to show up that no one would be able to notice. Thunder rumbled above him, and he watched as snow started to fall and lightning crackled across the sky above him. Oliver shivered as the wind whipped through the area. He lets out a shaky breath and waits.
00:00
He gasped as a sharp jab of pain radiated from his chest. He was weak enough already that his body was racing through the previous steps that a full blackout had caused. Oliver’s vision blurred near the edges, and when he blinked to try and clear it out of habit, the blurring instead grew. The snow above him turned to streaks, like his eyes were on a time delay. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he took several measured breaths.
Oliver turned his head to the side, head pounding with every heartbeat, and stared at his tree, as tears landed on the ground next to him. The golden leaves ruffled in the breeze and offered nothing else. Black spots appeared in his vision. Oliver sniffled and turned his head back to the sky above him. The black spots grew, and Oliver let out a shuddering breath before closing them slowly. He felt a blanket of warmth wash over him, even as the snow stuck to the ground around him. An array of memories flashed in front of him. Hunting with his father, baking with his mother, his parents funeral’s, arriving in front of his mentor's home in Vermont, seeing the Colosseum in Athens, proposing to Victoria at her father's farm in Tennessee, signing divorce papers two years later, hooking up with a guy for the first time in Barcelona, meeting Cleo on the streets of Paris, meeting an elder nymph in the deep forest of Washington State, camping in the Nevada Desert with friends, running across the Golden Gate Bridge as the sun came up, the fear in a hunters face as he brought a knife down in a german alley way, sitting on a rooftop watching NYC continue to be a bustle of activity even at 3 am, his academic advisor welcoming him into the room as Dr.Branch in the quiet halls of Oxford, slow dancing with a date in Shibuya Crossing, exchanging rings with Percy outside of Trinity Church, fidgeting with the same ring as he sat in the creaky hospital chair at Percy’s bedside four years later, the first instance of pain causing air to rush out of his chest, planting seeds in Georgia, lying in bed in his home in Virgina feeling as if his body is being burned alive as a forest of his trees are caught in a wildfire elsewhere, arriving back in Wicked.
Oliver felt himself fading; he could feel his consciousness being pulled, the way the world around him was muffled, and his body had gone numb. He took one last inhale, letting it go slowly before the inkiness of unconsciousness fully pulled him under. No inhale followed, and alone, in the wintry forest not so dissimilar from how he was found, Oliver Fox died for the last time.
4 Hours After
When Izzy woke, perhaps earlier than Oliver would have anticipated, he would find the letter waiting for him. Inside, he’ll find Oliver’s message, which reads:
Dear Isidore,
First, I must apologize for being cowardly and leaving this letter for you. I couldn’t bear to think of you having to witness another death that was out of your control. I know you have been desperately searching for a solution, but there isn’t one. At the very least, not one that will come in time for me.
I need you to know how much I appreciate all you have done for me over the last few months. I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you have acted with grace and kindness that I could never even try to repay. You’ve been a rock that I can cling to to keep myself afloat from the sea of despair that has threatened to pull me under more than once.
You’ll find inside this envelope the deed to my home, the paperwork to take over as owner of Everlasting Garden, and the keys to both. Do what you want with the house; it’s a nice place, but it would also do well on the market if you don’t wish to have it. There are items in my closet behind the Christmas decorations that need to be removed, as well as some things beneath the floorboards in the living room, but other than that, you can keep or toss the furniture; it holds no sentimental value for me. As for Everlasting Garden, it’s fairly self-sufficient. The instructions for how it’s run, along with the current roster of employees and payroll, are all explained. I thought it could be a fun project for you to take over!
I know this will be overwhelming. I hope you allow yourself to lean on Cleo, on anyone whom you trust. Grief, even when you know it may be coming, isn’t easy to deal with. Don’t fall into the shadows, no matter how much they may tempt you.
I hope that in the future, you are able to continue to allow yourself to follow a path of your own happiness. I’m so proud of you. Of the fact that you have chosen to change your outlook. I know how easy it is to be drawn back down the wrong path. So I hope you are able to listen to whatever rings true for you. Not that of your aos sí, not that of revenge over Vaughn, and not the path you think you should follow, but the one you want to. You have such a beautiful smile, I want the world to see more of it. You deserve to travel, to have experiences that are only ever written about, to create the most breathtaking art that has ever been created.
Don’t come looking for me. It will only bring forth more pain. Instead, know that I am always with you in the nature that you surround yourself with.
Again, Thank You, Izzy. Our time together may have been short, but I am thankful for every moment we shared.
L
-
Oliver Fox
The scream Izzy lets out is one Oliver won’t hear.
3 Days After
The mailman pulled out the letter, unassuming in appearance, before placing it in Cleo’s mailbox. Delayed by the storm, it arrives later than Oliver had thought it would. The letter, dated three days prior, reads:
Dear Cleo,
I want to thank you. Over the last few weeks, this exercise in writing and sending these letters has brought me a sense of happiness I hadn’t felt in quite some time. That said, I must apologize that this is going to be the last letter I send you. I believe today is my last day. I…don’t have any way to prove it; just call it a gut instinct.
I know you had wanted to be with me when it occurred, but I simply can not have you witness that. No one should have to, and if I get my way, no one will.
Can you believe we’ve known each other for nearly a century? You’ve been a consistent calming force since the moment I met you, and I truly think you have influenced me more than anyone else I’ve ever interacted with. Even when we spent decades apart, the letters we shared let me truly never feel lost. I miss our chats on my rickety ass fire escape outside that shoebox apartment in Brooklyn. I wish we had laughed more. You have a beautiful laugh; more people should hear it. I know you will continue to create extraordinary music.
I’m sorry that this is where our story ends. I think there is much that we never spoke with each other about, about experiences that have shaped us and molded us, that separated us from the beings that met all that time ago on the streets of Paris. I hope you find someone you can share those experiences with, someone you can lower your many, many walls for. You have a good heart, C. You deserve to have someone get close to it again.
Just as I asked that you allow Izzy to lean on you, I hope you allow yourself to lean on him as well. I know this will likely stir memories of Harley and his passing; I hope you do not try to weather this wave on your own. Don’t isolate yourself; let the people who care about you help.
Don’t try to find me. Just know that I am with you always. My spirit will live on in the nature that surrounds you. From the tallest trees to the tiniest speck of grass, from the flowers to the herbs, know that I exist within all of it.
Thank you, Cleo. For everything.
À toi pour toujours,
Oliver Fox
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Naomi asked, voice muffled underneath her scarf. Jamie had been talking for months about getting a shot of these trees with supposedly golden leaves against a snow backdrop, and had been lucky enough to make it in time for the snowstorm. Naomi was an LA girl, born and raised, so the frigidness of Maine had been a bit of a culture shock. The hotel they were staying at was a little weird, but then again, from everything she had found while researching Wicked’s Rest, the town itself was a little weird. The roads had been cleared, and it no longer felt like you were getting attacked by the wind, but it was still cold enough that none of the snow had melted.
“I think so!” Jamie called out from up ahead, black hair bouncing as she moved with confidence through the deep snow that covered the forest floor. Naomi wasn’t sure how much she trusted Jamie’s sense of direction, not after the disaster that was the 2023 Roadtrip from Hell. However, she kept her mouth shut as she followed behind her, boots sinking into the snow with every step. “There they are!” Jamie exclaimed with a cheer as they came out of the clearing.
Naomi couldn’t lie; the golden leaves were beautiful. “Oh wow.” She said quietly as she took out her phone and pulled her glove off with her teeth to take her own picture. Jamie had her professional camera out, and quiet clicks filled the silence. “What are they called again?” Naomi asked, moving a piece of purple hair out of her face and sticking it behind her ear.
“Dusk Trees!” Jamie explained as she moved to get a shot of multiple trees. “There aren’t that many left anymore; this is really the only place you can see them. It’s actually a pretty interesting story-” She cut herself off with a frown when she felt her foot hit something. Reaching down, she pulled up a…shoe? “Huh, how do you think this got here?” She asked, turning to show Naomi.
Naomi tilted her head to the side, “Maybe someone left it behind by accident when they were clearing up from camping? This is a big camping forest.” Jamie hummed in agreement before she set it back underneath the snow. The shoe looked too big for either of them, probably a man’s. Naomi couldn’t help but feel bad for whoever had left a shoe behind; that had to be a pain to deal with. She shrugged the thought off and instead turned her attention back to Jamie, who was going on about more of the history of the Dusk Tree.
Not far from where they stood, a sapling peeked out of the snow.
