#thread:mickey

Oliver leaned against the counter in his bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Mickey was coming over, and he knew that the Doctor would be looking him over from head to toe. Oliver knew that he could absolutely have told Mickey to come another time, and the other would have likely accepted it. He wouldn’t have been happy about it, but would have respected Oliver’s wishes. However, there was something about being around someone who knew his secret. There was a part of Oliver that was desperate for an interaction that wasn’t shrouded in paranoia or dealing with half-truths. The anger that had been coursing through his blood earlier as he screamed at Izzy to leave had faded; now, leaving him feeling incredibly hollow. There was also a speck of fear that buzzed around the back of his head about the length of time he had been down this time. If Mickey wanted to fuss over him, perhaps it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

 His coloring was off, making the bags under his eyes look darker than they probably should. It didn’t matter that he had slept, and that he had actually slept far more than typical. Exhaustion laid its claim to his body. Fortunately, Oliver didn’t feel like he looked any thinner than he had been previously. When he had overused his abilities in the past, it had often looked as if he had gotten the nutrients sucked out of him. He supposed that this didn’t exactly fit into that category this time around. 

 Oliver held his arms out in front of him, nose wrinkling at how the skin around his fingers was rougher, resembling bark more than skin. It had made holding just about anything tricky. The skin itself was a shade or two lighter, making them appear almost dusky. It was a color match to the tree trunks of the Dusk Tree; something Oliver opted not to focus too hard on. Fortunately, it appeared these after-effects would likely fade. He had noted last night, before falling asleep, that the roughness had extended to about an inch and a half away from his elbow. Today, it only extended to the middle of his palm. His legs had been in a similar state. His limbs still felt stiff, but it was manageable. Oliver ran a hand through his hair. It too had improved. Last night, it had felt almost waxy and smoother than hair did. Luckily…Oliver hadn’t coughed up any more leaves. He didn’t enjoy the connotations associated with it. The dizziness and headache had mostly disappeared after hanging around a bit in the morning as well. He was well on his way to getting back to baseline.

Oliver jumped when there was a knock on the door. He slowly crept towards it, knowing that it was probably Mickey, but you could never be too careful. Oliver felt a weight release from his shoulders as he spotted Mickey through the window. Opening the door, Oliver smiled softly, “Hey, how’s it going?”

-

As soon as the door opened, Mickey wasted no time launching forward and pulling Oliver into a hug. “You scared the shit out of me dude.” He had managed to keep himself distracted the night before, mostly by jumping at the opportunity to go to Owen and help out his friend. Still, he spent the entire night checking his phone obsessively. Mickey hated the idea of thinking Oliver was out there alone and defenseless. It was at least somewhat comforting to know that he had a friend there that had been able to help him. It didn’t change how shitty Mickey felt about not being there himself. 

Finally freeing Oliver from the hug, Mickey grabbed onto both of his shoulders, “Sorry. Should have asked before I did that. I’m just really relieved to see you.” The grocery bag on his wrist sliding down to the crease of his elbow. “I didn’t know if you’d eaten or how you would be feeling after everything, so I grabbed the comfort food essentials. Soup. Smoothies. And lots of chocolate.” 

Mickey waited for Oliver to lead him inside. He had considered the last time this happened and how heavy the mood had been afterwards. The awkward tension was not something Mickey was good at, so he had psyched himself up on the drive over to make sure he didn’t do the same thing this time. “Sounds like a lot of weird shit went down last night. The hospital was nuts, apparently. I was off so I just heard about the craziness later. Tons of monster sightings apparently.” He could manage this. Seesaw back and forth between light hearted and doctor mode. It didn’t always have to be one or the other. “How are you feeling? You’re up and moving. That’s basically a miracle in itself.”

—-

Oliver had to fight every nerve ending in his body to avoid stiffening when Mickey hugged him. The last thing he wanted to do was make his friend feel bad. Instead, he laughed quietly as he hugged the other back. “Yeah, sorry.” Another person worrying about him, another person to let down. “How was your night other than worrying about me?” Even if Mickey were human, Oliver was sure there had been a certain amount of chaos that he would have experienced. Had he been in danger? Was it even Oliver’s place to ask about it?

He waved off the other’s apologies as he led him inside. Oliver glanced down at the bag that Mickey was carrying. “I…hadn’t yet, but I could maybe try something like soup?” He would have to eat at some point, and soup sounded like a safe option. Besides, he was pretty sure that if he turned it down, Mickey would frown his frustrated frown, and Oliver would rather avoid that. 

“Oh, that’s lucky you were off.” Probably safer too. Oliver sighed and nodded. “Yeah…that sounds about right.” He rubbed his neck. “It’s kind of interesting, you know, how it’s affecting everyone differently?” How many lives were getting ruined as different secrets got forced into the light? “Even within species, it’s impacting people differently.” There weren’t many Nymphs that Oliver knew, but his conversation with Estella had at least told him that she wasn’t having the same problem that he was. “It’s all just…very strange.” 

Oliver shook his hand back and forth in a so-so motion. “I’m ok.” He said before holding up his hand for Mickey to see the bark-like details. “New development: with how long I stayed…” Oliver paused as he tried to find the right word, “...down, it seems like my body started to change? It had only gotten about halfway up my arms when I woke up, and it’s retreating now so…” He shrugged. “I coughed up a leaf when I came back, but that hasn’t happened since. I mostly just feel like I overextended my abilities.”

—-

“As if any of that was in your control, dude. Don’t be sorry.” Making Ollie feel guilty about going AWOL hadn’t been Mickey’s purpose in coming here. He was usually better at brushing that stuff off or dissolving tension like this. The situation had clearly kept him off his game, and he was already off his game. In a lot of ways, Oliver felt closer to family than just some random friend. It wasn’t as easy to keep a happy facade going through tough times with him. “You know I don’t like staying still on normal occasions. It’s even worse when I’ve got something like this on my mind. But I ended up letting myself get dragged into someone else’s drama and trying to help them out. I guess it helped keep my mind off things.”

Sifting through the bag, Mickey found the soup and pulled it free. He set it on the counter before abandoning the rest of the bag there too. “Soup it is. Don’t feel obligated to eat it. I just wanted to make sure you had something here.” He dug into the bag until he found a piece of chocolate for himself to snack on while the two talked. He didn’t want to launch right into doctor mode, he was pretty sure Oliver would rather have a friend than a doctor here for the moment.

Mickey wasn’t sure if he considered himself lucky for being off. Usually, events like this were what he lived for. He loved the chaos of a busy ER room. It felt electric, alive. But last night he would have been completely useless at work. Even when helping Wyatt he kept worrying about Oliver. He was lucky that Wyatt was just one person. Having Owen menacingly hovering over him the entire time had probably helped too. “Yeah, it’s definitely weird. My knowledge is pretty lacking in that area, but the few people that I know have all been affected though. None quite like you though.” Mickey admitted, unhappy with the statement.

On instinct, Mickey reached out for Oliver’s hand before stopping himself. He had to remember this wasn’t a hospital and Olvier hadn’t come to him for help. He couldn’t just grab at the man without permission. His hand hovered a few inches from Oliver’s hand instead as he studied the wooden features. “Woah. That’s uh- different.” There was obviously no medical explanation for this, and Mickey struggled with what to even think about it. “Does it hurt? Can you feel anything around it at all?” Mickey resisted the urge to knock on it to see if it sounded hollow or not. He wondered if the nerves were still active or not. “You know, I coughed up a leaf once too. But in my case it didn’t happen after a magic coma where I turned part tree. It’s because I was riding my bike on a trail and I hit a dip and went flying off my bike. I also made the mistake of screaming bloody murder as it happened. I rolled down the hill and felt like I swallowed half the forest on the way down. When I got back up I coughed up a leaf and some dirt and probably a lung. I’m more concerned about the leaves I might have swallowed though.” In an effort to keep things light he had gone off on a tangent. Luckily, Oliver knew him well enough by now to probably not be surprised by it. “Sorry, not important right now. And I obviously want to make sure you’re okay and everything, but I don’t want to just be here as your doctor friend. I want to check in on you and see how you’re feeling about… all of that. It couldn’t have been easy to wake up to.”

—-

“That’s…good?” Oliver offered when Mickey said he had ended up getting involved in someone else’s drama. Though Oliver would rather the other have just stayed at home, avoiding everything entirely. However, Mickey was too good a person; if someone asked for help, then he wasn’t the type to turn it down. Oliver glanced the other up and down quickly, but didn’t see anything out of place that would suggest he had run into any major trouble. “Glad it wasn’t too bad for you.” He added with a shrug. 

Oliver's mouth quirked upwards when Mickey grabbed the chocolate and started nibbling on it. “Yeah…I should try to have a bite or two at least. Don’t want to pass out again.” He joked, though it fell slightly flat at the honesty behind the words. Oliver glanced at the bag of things, and it made his chest twist. The other didn’t have to do this; he was doing it because he cared enough about Oliver to be concerned. “Thanks…for coming by and for-” He motioned to the bag “For you know, bringing things and everything. It means a lot.” He was sure that if he had any tears left in his body, they would have started collecting, but it appeared they had already all been shed for now. Oliver was almost thankful for it; he wasn’t sure if he and Mickey had a relationship where crying would do anything but make the other panic. 

He hummed in agreement with not much being known about the whole situation. “Yeah…I don’t have a ton of info either. I know the Aos sí are being affected too, so they aren’t even safe.” Oliver said with a sigh. “My guess is that my pre-existing issue is just compounding the problems of the blackouts. So…no one else should be having the same problems, thankfully.”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Oliver explained, before pointing to the tips of his fingers, “These are numb; can’t feel them at all really.” He moved his finger to point to where the edge of the bark was, the middle of his palm. “This feels more tingly, like it’s asleep, you know?” Oliver’s theory was that as the barkness retreated, his nerves came back online. Oliver blinked at Mickey’s story before he laughed; his first laugh since everything had happened. Catching his breath before falling back into giggles, Oliver shook his head. “Sorry, that’s just-heh- that’s such a you story.” He said, sobering up as Mickey asked more about how he was doing. “I ’m-I mean, I’m…” Oliver trailed off, eyes falling to the ground. “I’m getting through it.” He landed on. “I was…lucky. I had a friend find me and bring me somewhere safe during everything.” Oliver chewed on his bottom lip. Flashes of the fight with Izzy dance in his mind. “It’s…happened enough now that I know what’s going on when it happens.” Not that the knowledge helped all that much. “I just wish it would stop happening.”

—

“Definitely good” Mickey nodded confidently and grinned, “I mean, not great obviously. I’m not always great at communicating it but it’s not like I like it when people are injured or hurt. But I hate being bored. And I really hate being bored when I’m stressed about something. So this was a good distraction.”

Passing out didn’t seem entirely out of the realm of possibility. The thought concerned Mickey and he felt the doctor in him trying to jump out of his skin. He fought the urge though. He had to trust that if Oliver truly needed Dr. Hartmann, he would say so. “Of course. I mean, I’m not great at the super vulnerable or sappy thing, but” Mickey trailed off for a moment. It wasn’t like him to not know what to say, but diving deep into emotions wasn’t something he even really did with his own family. He liked to keep things surface level. “I don’t know. I have a lot of friends. But I’m friends with them in the way that I like go out with them and have a fun night and send memes and back forth. I’m not even sure I could tell you all of their last names. I don’t have a lot of, like, super close friends.” with a sigh, Mickey powered through the rest of the statement, “I guess I just wanted to let you know that since we started hanging out again I’ve felt closer to you than I do with most people. You feel like family in a way. I’d do whatever it takes to have your back, y’know?” 

Now that that was out of the way, Mickey could focus on something else. Anything else, preferably. Even if that something/anything was more talk about the blackout. Not ideal, but he could stop feeling sick to his stomach. “Everyone seems to be affected by it, but nobody seems to have any answers. That’s some bs.” Huffing and puffing, Mickey shoved the remainder of the chocolate in his mouth and dug back into the bag to find something to replace it with. “There’s got to be someone out there with some answers. I don’t think I’m being nosy enough.”

Mickey supposed that not being able to feel the bark fingers was technically a good thing. Or rather, a preferable thing to them feeling pain. Though the lack of pain wasn’t always a good thing in medicine. Not that a tree hand had any real ties to medicine. Despite this, it was an incredible relief to hear Oliver laughing at something. The room had felt so stifled here, with Mickey holding himself back to not overwhelm Oliver. A moment of brevity seemed to let some air back into the room. “Yeah well, my bad leg was pissed at me for weeks. It does not have the same sense of humor as I do.” Even if brief, there was so much relief coming through Mickey’s voice now, knowing that things just might be okay. “I wish I had been there to help. Not that I could really do anything really, but just to be there. And I’m glad that someone was there and was able to get you somewhere.” Mickey wanted it to stop happening too and it wasn’t even happening to him. He couldn’t imagine the way that Ollie must feel each time he comes to after it’s over. The closest Mickey had probably ever gotten was waking up in that hospital bed after his parent’s death. “Is there anyone else around that’s like you? I know nymphs are all pretty unique, but anyone have similar systems? It really feels like you drew the shortest straw here.”

—-

Oliver huffed out a breath, “Well, if there’s one place that’s never boring, it’s Wicked.” That should really be the slogan of the town at this point. He gave a small nod as Mickey started speaking, relating heavily to the idea that he had friends, but that none of them were people he would consider himself very close to. Oliver knew a lot of people, but he rarely lowered his walls for them. When his backstory was always a lie, it meant that there was no steady foundation for a friendship to grow from. 

He felt his cheeks heat up when Mickey explained Oliver’s importance to him, and despite everything, he felt his eyes start to water. “I-” He cleared his throat, eyes glancing upward to the lights to try keep them at bay. “I don’t think you know how much it means to hear that-” Oliver sniffed before shaking his head, using his palms to press into his eyes before tears could threaten to fall. After a moment, he took a steadying breath,  “I feel the same about you, though. If you ever run into trouble, let me know.”

Oliver laughed weakly at Mickey’s assessment. “You can absolutely keep digging, but I think part of the issue is that no one has ever experienced something like this. So no one knows what could be causing it, or if there’s a solution.” He tilted his head to the side. “My theory is that whatever has been powering the town is failing. I feel like if this were happening everywhere, the world itself would be in a lot more chaos, you know?” Oliver didn’t know how likely his theory was, but he was clinging to it since there wasn’t a better alternative. He gave a small nod as Mickey mentioned wanting to be there, but didn’t say anything. If both Mickey and Izzy had been around, Oliver was pretty sure a fight would have broken out; it wasn’t as if either knew the other, as far as Oliver knew anyway, and he doubted Mickey would have just let Izzy take him somewhere. 

He shook his head gently at the question of whether there was anyone else. “The only other Nymph I know of around here is Stella.” Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “And her’s is the sun; so a totally different system.” He ran his thumb over the bark of one of his other fingers. “I know it’s impacting other fae too, but not in the same way.” He wet his lips nervously. “Find someone else who already has a dwindling supply of their power source, and you might find that they are having the same trouble I am. But I think this is a solely me issue, unfortunately.” 

—-

“True that.” Mickey agreed. He hated to admit that Wicked Rest’s lack of boring was part of the reason he loved it so much. It felt like a shitty thing to mention right now, considering this town seemed to be causing whatever was happening to Oliver. The thought crossed Mickey’s mind and he knew it to be true: He’d take every boring day for the rest of eternity if it had been a substitute for Ollie. He kept the thought to himself, but Oliver had no clue just how much that actually meant. To Mickey, a boring day meant a day of thinking and remembering. It was something he would normally avoid at all costs.

Admittedly, Mickey wasn’t sure how Oliver would take the confession. It didn’t feel like much of a confession honestly, more just speaking aloud how he felt. But sometimes Mickey neglected to realize how his own extroverted and social tendencies could look to others. When he treated everybody like they were old friends, even strangers, he often forgot that close friends could think Mickey thought of them like that as well. He was pretty sure that Oliver had felt similarly, though he hadn’t known about the fae thing until more recently, and even that had mostly been a forced admission. Mickey needed to be better at reminding people like Oliver and his sister just how important they were. Even if the idea of vulnerability made his head spin. Even if Oliver trying to fight back tears right now made Mickey’s own eyes threaten to water. “Oh god. Don’t cry” Mickey warned, focusing on a very interesting wall behind Oliver, “Then I’ll start too and we’ll never stop and we’ll both end up with headaches.” 

Mickey couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that this was a first for the town. This weird ass town had never had magical blackouts before? Okay, sure, that doesn’t even sound like a real thing to begin with. But since it clearly was, how could this be the first time in history that it was happening? Oliver’s own theory was just as baffling and hard to comprehend, which basically meant it was completely logical for Wicked’s Rest. “Sounds like you think there’s some kind of magical generator powering the town?” Mickey questioned, though it was more out of curiosity than disbelief. As wild as the theory sounded, Mickey didn’t think it implausible. “I guess it sounds kinda similar to you and Stella, yeah? Like you both have sources to your powers too. To feed a whole town it’d have to be much bigger. Can’t we just add some gas or something? Or plug it into an outlet?”

Thinking back to that night, Mickey remembered something odd about it as well. “I don’t know that it’s just fae.” His hallucinations had practically gone into overdrive that night. The spirits, or whatever was in his head, had been everywhere around him. He had been lucky that he had Oliver and then Wyatt to worry about. It made the spirits easy to ignore. Not that he could explain that to Oliver now. “I’ve just heard from some others that things have been weird all over. Makes sense if you’re theorizing that magic is being wonky. It would affect anyone that used magic.” Stella was lucky in this regard. Her power source was practically the same as everybody else’s. If her power source went out, she wouldn’t be the only one in trouble. “Right. Well I guess the plus side is you’re super special and not like other girls. On the other, fuck. Like not good at all.” it must feel incredibly lonely to have to go through this by himself. Mickey could try to be there for him all he wanted, but it didn’t change that he couldn’t know what it felt like. “I know I wanted to come check on you, but I don’t actually have to do a check up. If the cause of it is magic, or the lack thereof I guess, I don’t know that any kind of medical exam will tell me anything. But I’ll do whatever you want.”  

—-

Oliver huffed out a weak, wet gasp of something that sounded like a laugh before he shook his head. He brought his hand, pinching the bridge between his eyes. “Right, can’t have that.” He said, glancing up at the lights for a few moments until he no longer felt like tears were going to escape. 

He hummed quietly before shrugging at Mickey’s questions. “Something like that. I mean, there’s a reason this is a hotspot for supernaturals, right? Like, they exist elsewhere in the world, but something is pulling them here.” Oliver explained, trying not to sound like a madman who was trying to connect dots that didn’t belong together. “There’s gotta be something that is fueling the town as a whole, and maybe whatever it is, it is needing to be refueled. I just-I have no idea what that would even be.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nobody else seems to have any answers either, so everyone’s just as lost.” Oliver couldn’t help but be frustrated about the whole situation. There had to be someone who had answers, right? 

Oliver nodded when Mickey mentioned it was affecting everyone. “No, you’re right. It’s making the undead go crazy with hunger and messing with the shapeshifters. I can only assume it’s causing chaos for everyone else, too.” If the pattern held and the magic went out again, for an even longer amount of time, what would happen? If it went out for good, how long would it take for the town to fully devolve into chaos? Would anything be left behind? How many lives would be cut short? Oliver didn’t want to think about it. 

He smiled, holding his hand flat under his chin, turning slightly like he was modeling for a hidden camera. “I’m just sooo special.” Oliver giggled before dropping his hand; his smile slipping as the rest of the statement hit him straight in the chest. “It’s…really not.” He said quietly, gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before it flicked back up to Mickey. “It’s up to you, if it would make you feel better, you can check me out. Or we can just… hang out. I’m fine either way.”

-

Mickey had never considered before why the supernatural came to town. He supposed his knowledge on the population was already lacking. He knew that the supernatural existed. He knew the town was weird. The two had always seemed connected, but Mickey never really had a concrete reason why. “Have you considered that they just really love the small town vibes? It’s hard to beat the appeal of a town with a mime themed hotel, yeah?” Mickey laughed it off, but stored the question in his brain for future pondering. “Okay, so the town is running on duracells and we’ve exhausted the juice. That implies that there’s a source somewhere. Either a battery that needs replaced or one of those rechargeable battery ports that just needs plugged in for a minute.” It sounded ridiculous when he said it, sure. But Ollie was definitely onto something. “Or we just go full IT Tech support and try turning it off and then back on again.” Technically, it felt like that’s what the blackouts had already been and that had ended disastrously. 

The next question was figuring out where this alleged battery source was. There was no shortage of weird spots in town. But Mickey remembered what it was like working through med school and turning to the library when times were desperate. The ability to hunker down in one place and study all night wasn’t exactly an award being presented to Mickey anytime soon, but he could give it the old college try. He had managed it a few years ago. He’d have to use one of his off days this week to see if he could dig anything up.

“Right, so all around chaos.” Mickey agreed. He could only imagine what a prolonged blackout would bring to the hospital. Or worse, what it wouldn’t bring. He’d rather people make it there than not at all. “Odd, you’d think that without magic the town might actually be a bit more normal. Guess not.” Mickey carried himself with a decent amount of confidence, but he wasn’t afraid to admit when he was in over his head. This had gone far past that already, doubling his height and then some. 

“Thank you for admitting that!” Mickey grinned, happy to hear it even if it had been stated sarcastically, and clapped his hand on Oliver’s shoulder, “And the next time I get you to say it I actually want you to mean it.” He considered the benefits he could get from an exam. Even if the cause was magical, the effects were physical. He saw what had happened to Oliver after the small blackout and now even worse with the longer one. There were physical after effects of the blackout and it was possible that an examination could tell him something about that, get him better prepared should another blackout come up. But he wasn’t sure how much he could learn from something that had happened a day ago now. He’d rather not put his friend through the discomfort or stress than waste both of their times. “We’ll compromise. We’ll mostly just hang out, but I do want to take a look at that hand. Just to take some mental notes and observations. Deal?”

—

“Ah, yes, the mime hotel is definitely the thing they are putting up on their ‘must haves’.” Oliver deadpanned before a small smirk found its way on his lips. He nodded at Mickey’s logic. “Right, exactly. Whatever was powering the town seems to have stopped working at some point, but I have no idea when that may have happened. It could have been months ago, years, or even decades.” That was really going to be the crux of figuring out what had happened. If they could at least narrow down a time period of when the town had gone from being ‘plugged in’ to having to survive off of its reserved power, maybe they could figure out what needed to be fixed. There had to be someone smarter than him who would know the answer. Oliver just wasn’t sure who he could even try to track down. 

Oliver could, technically, take flowers from his shop when it came to going to the graveyard. He never ended up doing so, though, choosing instead to go to a flower shop that he had found not long after he had gotten back to Wicked’s Rest. It was run by a woman, Sally, with short grey hair and wrinkles around her eyes that showed Oliver that she had lived a life that was filled with smiles. She didn’t ask him about his monthly visits, didn’t try to pry information about who the flowers were for, just quietly wrung him up while talking about whatever topic she found fit for the situation. It was how Oliver knew that the shop had been around for generations, that she was planning to officially have her daughter (Carolyn, who was currently getting her MBA at the University of Maine) take over the shop in the next few years, and that they were planning to re-paint the exterior this summer. 

Walking to the cemetery, Oliver spotted Mickey near the front entrance and raised an arm to get his attention. The two of them didn’t always go together, but every once in a while, they both ended up in the same place at the same time. Oliver wasn’t sure who Mickey visited, just like he was pretty sure Mickey didn’t know who Oliver was visiting, but neither of them ever tried to pry that information out. It could be nice sometimes to have someone else around other than the maintenance crew or the random mourners who were around. “Hey.” He said as he stopped next to him. “Are you visiting today too?”

-

Mickey’s birth parents should rest easy knowing that he must really love them. Otherwise, he would never torture himself by bringing him to a cemetery. Ironically, he loved them as a kid. It seemed every time he came to one there was a new ghost to chat with. Most of the time they were even friendly, and the unfriendly ones had always seemed more dazed or sad than angry. Unsurprisingly, cemeteries were a minefield for the apparitions dedicated to ruining Mickey’s life. Despite this, he felt a desire to respect his parent’s memories in some way, so he could throw on some sunglasses and avert his eyes for an hour or so. 

Luckily it was a sunny day, so Mickey didn’t look quite as insane in sunglasses. He was well practiced in ignoring anybody around him at the cemetery, just in the off chance that it wasn’t a real person trying to catch his attention, but when he noticed the small wave coming from the figure it didn’t take long to realize that it was the very real and very alive Oliver. A welcome change, Oliver may be one of the few people he knew who could attest that in rare circumstances, Mickey did actually know when to shut the fuck up. The graveyard required a certain decorum, and Mickey had learned from other times that the two had run into each other that senseless yapping was not the vibe that Oliver was going for while here. “What’s up?” Mickey asked casually, pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head to establish actual eye contact. “It’s been a minute, so I figured I should swing by.” Oliver had flowers again, and if Mickey had any belief that his parents were watching over him he knew they’d have some sarcastic comment about ‘how that boy always brings flowers and you never have once’. The thought brought a smile to his face.”You been here recently?”

-

“Nothing much, you?” Oliver asked, running a hand through his hair. “I get that, the nice weather offered me a good excuse to get out of the house.” Oliver joked. For anyone else, it may read as weird, the two of them going to the graveyard with a certain amount of frequency, but Oliver supposed that it was probably only came off as stranger to anyone who had never lost anyone. Anyone who had, well, Oliver had a feeling they had their own level of frequency that visited if their loved ones were the ones buried here. In some ways, Oliver felt fortunate that he had a place to visit when he wanted to. While graveyards held a certain amount of sadness and grief within them, sometimes it was nice to know that anyone who was there was shaped by loss just as he was. 

Oliver shrugged at his question, “It’s been like a month.” Exactly a month, actually. He tended to try and come at the end of the month if he could help it. After so long away, it seemed only fair that he shouldn’t avoid his parents' graves when he now lived in the same town where they were buried. Visiting every month allowed him to keep the graves clean and stocked with flowers, plus practically forced him to at least think about talking to them. He rarely did, instead taking the time to focus on his memories and say a silent prayer. He wasn’t all that religious anymore, but he knew that it would be something that his parents would appreciate.

“I was just about to head in, are you just getting here now too? Or heading out?” Oliver asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

-

Mickey smirked, wondering just how often Oliver came here. The cemetery wasn’t the first place the two had crossed paths. It also wasn’t the last. He knew that Oliver knew his sister at least, and they had seen each other outside of the big iron gates of the cemetery. Still, Mickey mainly saw Oliver here, which implied that the two came often enough that they ran into each other in between their solo trips. Either that or the two had incredible, albeit unintentional, coordination. “I’ve been incredibly bored and desperate for something exciting to happen.” That was a bit hyperbolic, but a general response that he gave to most people admittedly. His residency kept him busy, but it rarely kept him entertained. 

A month. More frequent than Mickey’s visits, then. At least if Oliver kept any sort of consistency. Mickey’s consistency was shit, and he was pretty sure it had been a few months since he had stopped by. In fact, the last time he was here he thought Oliver might have been too. So maybe he was onto something with that unintentional coordination theory. 

“Heading in too, actually. Was thinking of going for a run after, if my leg is in agreement.” Despite having known each other for multiple years now, the two barely talked outside of surface level conversation at the cemetery. They hadn’t had any sort of deep conversation since Mickey was just starting medical school, if he remembered correctly. “I realize now that that sounds weird without context.” Mickey laughed, pulling up his shorts far enough to give a glimpse at the large scar that stretched along the front of his thigh, “Accident from when I was a kid, but sometimes it acts up if I put too much stress on it.” Sure, Oliver had seen his leg before. But it had been a long time, who knew if he remembered the scar. Mickey figured that until they reached the graves, conversation was fair game. “You got big plans for the rest of the day?”

—-

Oliver smirked, “I wouldn’t advertise your boredom to the universe, especially here at Wicked’s Rest. That’s just asking for something to happen.” He teased, although he was only half kidding. The town had a way of causing chaos; one could only wonder how often it was because someone taunted it. “You’re still working at the hospital, right? What year of residency are you in now?” If there was one thing that Stella was going to do, she was going to ramble, which meant that her brother came up every once in a while, which meant Oliver got random information occasionally. Which meant that he rarely got the background information necessary for any of it to make sense. 

He nodded as they made their way through the gates, raising an eyebrow when Mickey mentioned his leg, and grimacing at the sight of the scar. Oliver had seen it before, but it had been largely forgotten due to the…other activities that were occurring. Deep conversations about scars weren’t exactly the greatest bedroom foreplay after all.  “Ouch.” His gaze flicked from the scar back up to Mickey’s face “That sucks.” It didn’t seem like it was an appropriate time to ask how he had gotten the scar, and it wasn’t much of Oliver’s business anyway.

Oliver shook his head, “No, not really. The shops closed today, so this was my main plan. I might go on a quick hike later, though, since the weather isn’t bad.” He added with a shrug

—

Mickey knew that Oliver had a point. He liked adventure as much as the next guy, but he didn’t love it when that adventure ended in death and tragedy. It seemed to be a common theme in town. Mickey’s idea of adventure started and ended with a simple philosophy: Have fun. That could mean any combination of things as long as the night resulted in that. Death did not usually make the cut for his nights of fun. Still, he couldn’t help but hope that something did happen, just to shake things up. “About to start my second year. Mentally it feels like my fifth though.” Despite the complaining, he actually enjoyed being a doctor a lot. The job let him talk to a lot of people and the residency meant he was constantly switching up and changing so he wasn’t overly bored either. But it consumed so much of his time that it made it difficult to enjoy the rest of life. A few more years and a fellowship and then he would hopefully have a lot more free time. “I’m sure Stell Bell has exaggerated and told you that I’m like about to graduate to being the #1 doctor in the world or in line to be the next Pope or something, but it is a lot less glamorous.”

The scar didn’t bother Mickey much anymore. There were a lot of things that reminded him of that night and even more that reminded him of his parents, but they had varying levels of hurt. At this point, the scar was so second nature to Mickey that he associated it more with who he was now than who he ever was before the attack. “Eh. It’s so old now I don’t think about it much. But it still acts up sometimes if I overwork it. Much like me, it will not be silenced.” By some combination of trying to be respectful and what must be an actual miracle, Mickey usually kept himself respectful and quiet during his time at the cemetery, but if Oliver remembered him at all from the times they talked a few years ago he’d remember that Mickey was anything but that outside of these gates. 

“Speaking of the shop, it’s probably time for me to order some new ones for my mom.” Mickey wasn’t nearly good enough of a son to claim that he consistently got her flowers, but he kept up a consistently inconsistent schedule of randomly showing up to their house with a bouquet for her. He had tried plants for himself, but gave up after one too many deaths.Oliver would have been so offended. “I should have known you were a hiker!” Mickey gasped excitedly and hopped from one foot to the other as he followed Oliver towards the headstones. “We should go together, if you end up hiking today. We could get milkshakes too. Make it a whole thing. Movies too? Nah, movie’s too much. Unless… ” Mickey took a deep breath. He was starting to get a little too involved and had to calm himself down and remind himself of the silent and self placed rules of the cemetery visit.

—-

“Oh, nice! You’re getting there then.” Oliver said with a grin. “You know, I don’t think she’s mentioned the odds of you being the pope.” He joked, “However, she has absolutely talked up your doctor abilities. So, you’ll be my first stop if I ever need help.” Oliver tended to stay away from hospitals if he could help it. There was probably minimal risk of anything bad happening, but he would rather not risk something weird coming up on an exam. He wasn’t even sure if his body looked any different on the inside than humans, and would rather not have to explain something like that on the fly.  It helped that he had a pretty decent immune system and rarely had to wait longer than a day or two for any injuries he managed to obtain. 

He gave a small nod “Yeah, still sucks that you have to deal with it. I’m glad it doesn’t flare up that often.” Oliver laughed at Mickey’s statement about not being silenced. “No worries, I think that your noise makes the world a better place; plus, it would be weird if Stella were…Stella and you were quiet? She needs a sibling who matches her energy.”

Oliver hummed quietly as they walked further into the graveyard, moving away from the newer graves and into the older parts of the area. “Of course, what kind of flowers were you thinking?” It was sweet that Mickey got flowers from his mom, especially because he seemed to do it more than on just the ‘typical’ holidays that most people did. At the other’s excitement about hiking, Oliver raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised Stella’s never complained about it. I tend to make her experience the wilderness more than I think she would prefer.” Technically, the forest was the best place for both of them to use their powers, but that didn’t stop Oliver from being thrilled that it was the solution to their problem. “Milkshakes could be fun; we could hike a bit and then get them? Have them be a nice little treat as a reward.” Oliver added with a wink. They were coming up on his parents' grave, and he flicked his gaze from the path in front of them to Mickey. “Ah, you don’t have to come with me to the grave itself if you don’t want to. I’ll only be a few minutes.” 

—

“I’m good. But I’m not nearly as good as she talks me up to be.” Mickey laughed. A warning to Oliver before he bet his life on Mickey saving him. From the moment Mickey had met Estella she had been putting him on a pedestal. Talked him up to be some sort of fairy tale hero. She was too kind hearted to have learned that that had never been true. Probably too stubborn to be talked out of it now. “But she’s an incredible wing-woman, if you ever need it. I fall a tiny bit in love with every person she decides to tell me about. She really has a way with words.” In about seven hundred different languages to boot. “Anytime she talks about you she’s like ‘Oh Mickey he’s so nice and helpful. He’s too cool for modern stuff. He reminds me of an old painting.’ As if I didn’t already know all that stuff about you.” 

Mickey had been told many things about the rate and consistency that he talked, but he wasn’t sure that he had ever been told that his noise made the world a better place. “I think that’s genuinely the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me. And you’ve met my sister. Thank you.” He said it as a joke. Hell, he meant it as a joke. But there were definitely some genuine feelings buried deep down there. Oliver was right of course, they did match each other’s energy well. Even if his sister’s positive attitude was more optimistic than his own. It was hard to beat her positivity. 

“I’m pretty sure her favorites are the ones that I let you freeball.” Horrible choice of words, but whatever, “I think deep down she knows it too. She can tell which ones were me and which ones are you. I’ll pay you extra for the extra thought.” Mickey loved seeing the beauty in things, but that didn’t mean he was particularly skilled at picking it out himself. Oliver had a talent for it on the other hand. Oliver’s agreement to hang out afterwards sparked another round of over the top excitement from Mickey, he bounced up and down a few times, “Hell yes! This is exactly what I needed today.” he had to force himself to calm down again. Be respectful and all that. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’ll give you a few minutes and pop over to mine on the other side. Meet you after?” 

—-

“Gotcha, so you suck as a doctor.” Oliver deadpanned before laughing to show that he was joking. “Nah, I’m sure you’re plenty good. She just wants to hype up her favorite older brother.”  Oliver nodded, “She’s like the sun. She brings levity and warmth to basically every interaction.” He grinned, internally laughing at that inside joke he was making. Oliver had never pushed Stella on whether her family knew about her abilities; it wasn’t really any of his business either way. He felt his face heat up at Stella’s description of himself: “An old painting?” Oliver shook his head. “We are like, 5 years apart or something; how on earth can she be calling me old?” He asked, pointedly ignoring the fact that Mickey had mentioned that he was aware of Oliver being nice and helpful. 

Oliver blinked at the other's statement. He had just been honest, but he was glad that it had seemed to resonate with him. “Oh! Uh, you're welcome. Though I guarantee that you say that to Stella, and she will manage to find you a better one.” 

He gave the other a thumbs up, “Gotcha, but you can absolutely take credit for it this time if you want. Make her think you have a secret talent,” Oliver winked. While flowers weren’t his specialty, he had become good enough at it that at this point he could make bouquets without having to spend too long thinking about it. Sometimes, he forgot that it didn’t come as naturally to others as it did to him. Oliver smiled softly at the others' excitement. “Same, I think it’ll be nice.” It would be a good change of pace to go on a hike with someone else rather than alone. It was nice, sometimes, to be one with nature, but having someone else with him helped remind him that he wasn’t totally alone in the world.” He nodded at the other's suggestion, “Yeah, we can meet at the entrance again?” Oliver asked, before turning back down the path. He walked to where his parents' graves were and knelt, removing the old flowers and replacing them with new ones. He shut his eyes and said a mental prayer before rising again. “Nothing big to report this time. See you next month.” Oliver said softly, before heading back towards the entrance. 

—

“Someday I’ll be your own version of universal healthcare and you can decide for yourself whether I suck or not.” Mickey wasn’t nearly vein enough to declare himself a great doctor. He reserved that arrogance for declaring himself the funniest person in the room. “She’s always been my pocket full of sunshine.” Even without the supernatural element, she felt like the sun. But he couldn’t ignore the coincidence there. Not that it was any of his business who Estella did or didn’t tell about her own secret. “Oh please, you’re totally an old painting.” Mickey couldn’t describe exactly how that made sense, but he knew that it fit. “To be fair, I think she meant more in the way you act than your actual age. Plus the whole being pretty thing really lends to the painting vibes. But that could just be my own opinion” he held up his pointer fingers and thumbs to frame Oliver as if he really was a painting. It was a good fit. 

Mickey shook his head at the suggestion, “She wouldn’t buy it even if I tried to take credit for it. She appreciates the gesture, but she knows I’m not the brain behind it. Besides, I don’t like lying.” He hardly ever did it, unless it involved his family’s secret or talking about his birth parents old job. Or if the joke demanded it. 

Mickey gave a thumbs up to Oliver before skipping off to his own parent’s grave, side by side in the cemetery and freshly cleaned. Thank you to whoever was in charge of that. “You totally saw that didn’t you? I know, I know. He brings flowers to whoever he is visiting. Maybe you should have birthed him.” he joked, talking to the stone casually. He never tried to picture his parents' faces when he came to visit. He was afraid that he’d manifest them into some apparition or spirit like he used to as a kid. “Short visit today, I know. But I just made plans and I know how much you used to push me to try to be more social. So in a way I’m actually honoring your wishes. Twenty years too late, but still.” he waffled about a few moments longer before admitting defeat that he couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

“You’ve really saved me from a day of boredom.” Mickey declared once he got back up to the entrance and spotted Oliver, “it’s been a long time though, I’m excited to catch back up.”

—-

“Can’t wait.” Oliver winked before humming in agreement with Mickey’s statement. Sometimes, he wished he could carry Estella’s optimism around with him. He wondered when he had lost so much of his. He hoped she was able to hold onto hers for longer than he had. At the other’s agreement that he felt like an old painting, Oliver couldn’t help but shake his head. “Again, that makes no sense. You can’t just feel like an old painting and have it mean anything other than I feel old” Oliver laughed. That was the second time this conversation that Mickey had complimented him. Being called nice and helpful may seem normal, but adding 'pretty' to that? Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if Mickey was hitting on him. Would it even be considered hitting on him if they hooked up before? “Well! I think you are pretty enough to be someone’s muse as well, so you deserve to be seen as a painting too.” Oliver said, only a little bit flustered. He wasn’t even sure if what he had said made sense. 

“That’s fair. It was you’re idea, though, so you can take credit for that at least.” Oliver offered. Best of both worlds, he thought. 

No longer having the flowers in his hands to distract himself, Oliver instead leaned against the wall by the entrance, eyes focused on the clouds above him. He had done a glance around the cemetery to make sure he hadn’t missed Mickey leaving, but turned his attention upwards after finding him. He didn’t want it to seem like he was watching the other. At the sound of Mickey’s voice, Oliver turned his attention back to the area around him. “Same! I think it’ll be fun, and certainly better than if I were doing something alone.” Oliver stated, hands interlocked around his head as they made their way out of the cemetery. 

“I think you just have to water it a little less.” Oliver glanced up at Mickey from where he was crouched. He didn’t blame him for it, balcony plants tended to get a lot of sun (though in Maine it wasn’t as much of a concern as it would be in, say, California), and so people would water them more because they thought they needed more. However, that would often just drown the plant’s roots, stunting the plant's growth. “I would say maybe once every 2 weeks or so. You can always test it by sticking your finger about two inches in. If it’s dry, then it needs water.” Oliver explained. 

It was nice hanging out with Mickey again like this. They had been hanging out more ever since they ran into each other at the graveyard. The two moved around each other with a practiced ease, falling back into the rhythm that they had like no time had passed at all. It was why he hadn’t even blinked at Mickey’s request to check out some of his plants after they had gotten dinner. It was far from the first time it had been something asked of Oliver. Noticing that Mickey was checking something on his phone, Oliver let a finger rest on the plant’s leaves. His eyes flashed gold for a moment as he allowed a small burst of power to go into it, causing the plant to rise slightly from its leaning position. If Mickey followed his instructions, then it would probably pull through. 

“Anyway! I should probably head home, but dinner was great. I think Stella is going to start going insane if we hang out without her again, though. Maybe we all get brunch or something next weekend?” Oliver asked, checking his phone as he started walking back towards the front door. 7:59 flashed back at him, along with several texts. Looked like Mara was calling off tomorrow. Pocketing it for later, Oliver glanced around the apartment. “I do love your place by the way, especially the-” The world suddenly tilted on its axis. Oliver instinctively reached out, for what he wasn’t sure, hand landing on Mickey’s arm. “S-Sorry.” He let go like he had been burned. “I just got... really dizzy for some reason.” Oliver said, blinking rapidly as if to clear his vision, but his eyebrows furrowed when it didn’t clear. In fact, his vision was continuing to darken, black spots appearing on the fringes of his sight.

-

“You can over-water plants?” Mickey asked incredulously. The idea seemed completely preposterous. These things were meant to survive the wilds. The wilds which included rain. He couldn’t believe that social Darwinism was killing his stupid balcony plants. “Next you’re going to tell me that humans can be over-watered.” They actually could. People have died, insanely enough. It was only due to Oliver’s influence that Mickey had these balcony plants anyways. It gave some extra character to the house that had been sorely lacking. Mickey didn’t spend a ton of time at home, so half the time his apartment felt more like corporate housing than an actual residence. Once Rory had moved in the place had start to feel more lived in, thankfully. With Oliver’s help now, it may even be homey. If he could stop killing these damn plants. “Aye aye, Captain Oliver. I’ll follow your instructions and even be mature and not make a joke about fingering the plants.” he smiled at the man innocently and mimed a halo above his head.

Mickey took notes on his phone so that he wouldn’t forget Oliver’s instructions. He had a pretty good memory, but usually only after two or three times of reading it back. Luckily, once it was locked in it was totally locked in. Until it wasn’t. “I think that the plants just like you better than me, but I can’t prove it. Not that I blame them or anything, but it does feel personal at this point.”

After a long time of not seeing each other, the two had been spending quite a lot of time together recently. Honestly, more than Mickey was used to hanging around one person that wasn’t his sister. He lived a pretty active social life, but that social life tended to include acquaintances he only knew on the most basic of levels and then strangers he’d meet on the spot. So time with Oliver was a welcome surprise to Mickey’s normal M.O. “Hell yeah. Anytime. Just name the time and place and I’ll be there.” Mickey gave Oliver the thumbs up as confirmation. “As much as I’d love to take the credit, my HGTV skills are pretty lacking actually. I guess it’s-” Mickey had been talking absent mindedly while facing away from Oliver, but stopped when he felt Oliver’s hand on his arm. Mickey twisted his hand to grab onto Oliver’s forearm instantly, in an attempt to steady him if he were about to fall. “Dude, you okay?” Oliver let go quickly and Mickey retracted his arm, but kept both arms held out as if he might need to catch him at any moment. “You’re not looking so great right now. You need to sit down?”

—

“I…I don’t know” Oliver said quietly, eyes darting around the area. The world around him was streaking every time he looked elsewhere, like a wet paintbrush moving through his field of vision. There was a certain amount of deja vu about this whole situation, and with a twist of pain in his chest, Oliver was suddenly aware of where these symptoms had led to last time. Flashes of memory were shoved to the forefront of his mind: the graveyard, Caleb, the sense of powerlessness. He brought a hand up to his chest, squeezing his shirt in between his fingers. There was something worse about this the second time. The first time had been nothing but fear and confusion, things happening too quickly for any of it to truly hit its mark. However, this time, Oliver was able to feel the cold sense of dread envelope him, the knowledge of what would happen next, but the uncertainty of whether he would come out of it as he had last time. How long did he have? 

He turned his head towards Mickey, lips parted, without the faintest idea of how to explain what was going on. Words felt heavy on Oliver’s tongue, but he could see that Mickey was saying something. The words sounded muffled over the sound of Oliver’s quickened heart rate. He squinted, trying to read the others' lips. Something about…sitting down? Sitting down sounded nice. Oliver gave a small nod, reaching out and loosely holding onto Mickey’s hand as he took a few steps towards the couch that was nearby. He only made it two steps before his leg went out from under him. He reached out with his free hand, catching himself on the ground before his face could get there first. The scent of iron was suddenly apparent to him, and Oliver could see a few drops of blood land next to his fingers. “Fuck…” Oliver mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. 

There was something excruciatingly humiliating about this whole situation. To be on his knees, brought down by an unseen force, forcing Mickey to bear witness to it all. He could practically feel the magic within him flowing out of him; his strength disappearing, his body feeling heavier and heavier with every breath. “I-” Oliver cut himself off, swallowing. What was there to even say?  “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” The darkness pulled Oliver down, and his hand slipped out of Mickey’s. He fell sideways, curled in a ball. His heart beat once, and then twice before cutting off suddenly like a record player’s needle being taken off its path in the middle of a symphony. Oliver’s phone lit up with another notification, the owner’s time of death being shown with it: 8:01. 

This was not how things were supposed to go. The uncertainty of what was happening made Mickey chuckle at first, a reflexive reaction to the idea of feeling so awkward in the moment. Mickey had put himself through countless states of conditioning since he was fourteen to try to avoid awkward encounters as much as physically possible. Especially with people he considered friends. He had spent so long not doing it that he barely knew how to react when it actually happened. So he froze up, a state of awkwardly giggling while he reached out for Oliver. It took too long for Mickey’s doctor brain to finally kick in, and it was too late. A few steps forward and Oliver was buckling forward and Mickey was reaching out to grab him. The two met in the middle, both on their knees so that Mickey could stay eye level with his friend. A few seconds later and the man was completely on the floor.

Mickey should have noticed the signs, but he had been too busy in friend mode and not in doctor mode. He flipped that switch hours ago, tucked away somewhere for charging. Now, things started to move in slow motion as the panic began to set in. “Shit, shit shit.” Mickey repeated over and over again. A patient being in distress in front of Mickey was nothing new. He had spent countless hours helping them. But seeing his friend’s face on what should be an anonymous patient’s body made Mickey’s breath catch. This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t be happening. Mickey’s hands were trembling in ways they never had before, and he balled them into fists to try to steady them. One deep breath. He let himself panic long enough to take that deep breath before he forced himself forward, rolling Oliver onto his back. He felt for a pulse first, allowing for another deep breath when he couldn’t find one. No time for panicking. “Siri, call 911!” Mickey yelled, pausing just for a second to wait for her response. His mouth started speaking for him after that, saying words he couldn’t remember as he put all of his effort into starting chest compressions.

Minutes ticked by, and Mickey’s arms ached in retaliation. In the hospital somebody would have subbed in for him by now, but that wasn’t an option right now. He refused to take any break. He just needed Ollie to wake the fuck up. He had no clue how long had passed by now, but every moment was critical. Every minute without the heart pumping could damage his brain. Too long and the damage would be irreversible, if he woke up at all. Mickey’s eyes stung from the tears but he settled for uncomfortably rubbing his eyes across his shoulder so he wouldn’t interrupt the chest compressions. He wasn’t counting time now. He couldn’t bring himself to care to. If he knew the time, the logical part of his brain might start to tell him to give up and he refused. He’d go until his arms gave out.  

—

Pain. That was the first sense that registered to Oliver as his eyes flew open, a gasp escaping him as air re-entered his lungs. It was odd; pain hadn’t been an issue last time. Perhaps more concerning, Oliver didn’t remember anything between blacking out and waking back up. He had long ago moved away from religion, but he had always believed that something happened when you died; whether that meant going to a heaven/hell situation or ending up as a ghost or some secret third option, Oliver hadn’t put that much focus on it. However, there was something almost unnerving about the fact that he hadn’t experienced anything other than darkness. If he were an optimist, then he could simply believe that whatever had happened, the memory of it hadn’t been able to cross back into the world of the living. Oliver had never been the best at being an optimist, though. 

As his eyes refocused on the scene around him, the answer to his question suddenly became obvious. Of course, Mickey had been doing CPR on him. He supposed that if he had to have anyone do CPR on him, Mickey was a good option since he actually knew what he was doing. “Hey…” Oliver said, using one hand to try to sit up while the other pressed on his chest. He flinched at the pain that came with movement. Probably have a broken rib or two. 

“I’m okay.” Oliver tried to tack on a smile, desperate to reassure the other, though it came out as more of a grimace. His eyebrows furrowed as he took stock of his body. Last time, after his powers had collapsed, there had been a surge, followed by his powers returning to baseline. This time, though…the surge wasn’t happening. His powers felt like they were at baseline, like whatever had just happened had been nothing but a hallucination. If only. “Are-Are you ok?” He couldn’t help but ask. Oliver didn’t have a reason to believe Mickey was anything but human, but he hadn’t had any reason to believe Caleb wasn’t, and nearly got a bite taken out of him because of it. 

—

Mickey must have been holding his breath too. As Oliver finally woke up Mickey found himself gasping in surprise. Fucking finally. His heart felt like firecrackers in his chest and he hoped that it could finally start to slow its pace now. His arms had never burned like this before, begging for a reprieve from the non-stop action. Ironically, they hurt worse now that the motion was done. Must have been their way of warning Mickey to never do that again.

Oliver tried moving and Mickey immediately reached out to stop him. "Maybe let's just rest for a minute." His hands were still sore, but holding onto Oliver's arms to try to keep him in place. The man had been unresponsive for nearly five minutes, it wasn't like he could just hop up and start doing jumping jacks. "You should lay on your side for a moment, it keeps the airway clear." Mickey's voice felt like it was trembling. He wondered if it was as noticeable as it felt. "Here, I'll join you." Mickey repositioned to lie flat on his back on the carpet and look over at Oliver. His arms both felt like dead weight lying limp on the floor at his sides.

Was Mickey okay? It felt like a loaded question. He wasn't the one that had been clinically dead mere moments ago. It felt insane and perfectly in character for Oliver to be worried about Mickey at a time like this. But Mickey's face must have been red from exhaustion and soaked with a mix of sweat and tears. His hair was wet and stuck to his skin. He couldn't possibly look okay. He sure didn't feel it either. "I'm fine. I'm just- are you okay? That scared the shit out of me. There's an ambulance on the way."

—

For a moment, Oliver had forgotten what this scene had looked like for anyone else. But now, watching as Mickey stumbled through an explanation, the way his words stuttered together, Oliver felt a cold flash of embarrassment wash over him. He had scared his friend; and he really didn’t have an easy answer for why it had happened. It would be one thing if he had just simply collapsed; he could blame it on skipping too many meals or a fever, or anything else that may sound far-fetched, but that someone would be willing to accept. However, the whole heart-stopping thing complicated everything. He opened his mouth before closing it, instead of following Mickey’s instruction to lie on his side. Oliver bit the inside of his cheek, a stab of pain radiating from his ribs as he moved, but he wasn’t going to refuse to follow what was being asked of him.  “Ok…” He said softly, eyes flickering over to Mickey as he joined him. That was good, right? That Mickey wasn’t immediately fleeing from the interaction?

“Sorry, I’m-” Mickey’s statement of an ambulance made Oliver cut himself off; eyes widening. An ambulance meant being examined by far too many people. It meant tests, scans, and questions that Oliver wasn’t prepared to answer. Especially when he still wasn’t confident that things had settled back down. “I can’t go to the hospital.” Oliver said quickly, reaching out to grab Mickey’s arm. “We-We just need to lie to them and tell them I fainted; that I don’t need to go.” Oliver pleaded. Taking a deep breath, Oliver let it out slowly, flinching slightly from his ribs. Mickey deserved an explanation. If anything, the fact that he already knew about the supernatural world from Estella was helpful. It meant he didn’t have to explain as much. 

“I-Well. I think I know what happened. This…there’s a reason for it.” Oliver started, using a free hand to run a finger over a spiral in the wooden flooring. “I’m a Nymph, like Estella? I control nature, but the Dusk Trees are my true domain. And, well, there aren’t many left?” Oliver explained with a frown, keeping his gaze averted from Mickey. “There is…something happening with the magic within Wicked’s Rest. I think this was another…blackout of it. It happened a few months ago, too, and the same thing happened to me. Last time was only for a few seconds, though.” That was another part of this that was concerning. If the time everything blacked out was getting longer, did that mean the magic would just, one day, not come back? “It makes sense; since the fewer trees there are, the weaker I am; so I guess when there’s no more magic-” Oliver’s voice broke, “I die along with it?” It was the first time he’d ever said the words out loud, allowing the fear and emotions that whirled around the statement to tinge his tone. 

—

Mickey didn’t want to take his eyes off of Oliver. He was afraid that any time unsupervised could put his friend back in danger. As if watching him had any power to stop whatever the hell had just happened to him from happening again. Still, it was better than nothing. So while his body felt too sore to move, he could still keep a watchful eye over the man. His anxiety had eased, but it still loomed over the two. If it happened again, Mickey wasn’t convinced his body could physically handle the routine of keeping up with chest compressions again. He supposed he was lucky that the ambulance should be here soon. 

Or not, apparently. Oliver rejected the idea of a hospital immediately. Not the first time he had been told that in a situation where a hospital was desperately needed, but definitely one of the most egregious examples. If anybody needed a hospital right now, it was the one who had just been medically dead for the entire length of a No Diggity listen. “Ollie…” Mickey began, disgusted by the level of worry in his voice. He always tried to keep up a positive attitude, even if it was a facade. Something about this situation feeling so personally had blocked the capability. Before Mickey could argue, Oliver explained himself further, and things started making a lot more sense. “Oh. Shit.” Mickey sat with that silence for a minute, processing the rest of what Oliver was saying. He wasn’t surprised Estella hadn’t told him about Oliver. The two rarely kept secrets from each other, but this wasn’t that. This was somebody else's secret. Not something for her to share. He would have done the same thing, if the situation had been reversed. 

“That can’t be true. It can’t just disappear, right?” Mickey questioned Oliver, though it felt more rhetorical than anything else. Of course it could be true. Magic disappearing made about as much sense as magic existing here at all. None. Mickey sat up too quickly for his exhausted body to follow and his head began spinning. After pausing and making sure he wasn’t going to vomit from the sudden mental merry-go-round, he fell back against the carpet. It had never felt comfier honestly. “Well there’s something people are doing about it, right? To fix it? There’s going to be a way to like, bring it back.” It didn’t answer the looming statement about the trees disappearing, but one problem at a time. Right now, Mickey’s biggest concern was keeping Oliver from dying. Again. “What if you stayed here tonight?” He suggested. A compromise. “No ambulance or hospital. But you should have someone around to make sure you’re safe. Technically anyone, but bonus points that I’m licensed to do it.” Mickey could already picture Oliver politely declining the offer. Probably thinking himself too much a burden to be babysat or something. Mickey tried to sweeten the pot and clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture, “Please, Ollie? For my own sanity?”

—

“Yeah.” Oliver said quietly at Mickey’s statement. He kept his eyes focused on the ceiling, putting all his effort into breathing normally even while his heart raced. The last thing he needed to do was have a panic attack and freak Mickey out even more. His fingers curled into fists as he mentally counted through counts of ten. The silence that had lapsed between the two wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy as Mickey seemed to digest the information that Oliver had provided. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the panic that was starting to build underneath his skin as he kept his ear out for the sirens that Mickey had promised. Assuming the power outage hadn’t been an isolated incident, Oliver could only assume that there had been quite a few calls made to 91,1, and it wasn’t as if Wicked’s Rest had an abundance of ambulances to use to begin with. 

“Believe me, it did. Like…a stopper had been pulled and it all just drained out.” Oliver risked peeking over at the other, eyes widening a fraction as he took in Mickey’s pallor as the other shot up. He…didn’t look great, and really, having EMS break down the door to find Mickey sick and Oliver dealing with his ribs would be the icing on the cake. “Do you…need water or something?” Oliver asked, calculating how much pain he would be in if he got up. As Mickey lay back down, Oliver let himself relax a fraction. At the question of if someone is working on solving things, He hummed quietly. “It’s back now…that’s why I woke up.” Oliver explained, a small, sad smile gracing his lips. 

“I’m sure someone is trying to figure things out, but I think it’s tricky since this is now the second time it’s happened, and it just happens. Like a light switch being turned off and then turned back on at some point.” Oliver sighed. “There’s no warning from what I’ve noticed, so it’s not as if you can plan for it.” If anything, Oliver had been lucky that this happened here. What if it had happened when he was outside? Or worse, driving? “I know that I had hoped the thing in April had been a one-off, and I’m sure everyone else did too. It's happening again this time, and with it taking longer to come back…well…I’m sure there will be more chatter about it this time around.” When Mickey asked him to stay, Oliver’s instinct was to decline. However, lying here on Mickey’s carpet, there was a part of him that wanted to stay. This was a comfortable environment for Oliver, and even lying on Mickey’s floor was more inviting than the thought of returning to his empty and cold bed. Mickey’s pleading was really what pushed the needle. “Ah-well.” Oliver wet his lips, “Ok. I can stay tonight.” 

—

It was really hard trying to be positive with news that sounded so hopeless. Mickey hated that. It felt him with a rage that he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. He pressed his palms against his face and ran them through his hair in a physical attempt to wipe it from his brain. Feeling hopeless and solemn wasn’t going to solve anything. He had cultivated such a carefree and positive persona the last few years that it felt so weird feeling like this again. He certainly didn’t want it to show, at least not any more than it already had. Oliver had already checked on Mickey and offered in water now despite being the one who actually needed the help here. This sour mood of his wasn’t helping anyone, especially the friend he was trying to help right now. He let out another long breath before smiling again. “There are some incredibly smart people in this town that are probably working on it right now. Like the scribes. You know the scribes? I’m somewhat familiar with their purpose, if not entirely clear on the how or why.” This felt more like normal. 

“I do need water. But I’m going to get it. Not you. And I’ll get you some while I’m at it.” Despite saying this, Mickey didn’t move yet. Not until Oliver had confirmed that he would stay and Mickey could come up with a real game plan. Sticking next to Oliver twenty four seven to keep watch on him wasn’t a viable game plan, so he’d start with tonight and go from there.

“Perfect!” Mickey chimed enthusiastically once Oliver agreed to stay. He launched himself back up onto his butt, tucking his feet under his legs as he did so. “It’ll be like a sleepover!” Despite the desperate need to return to normalcy, he had to make one last shift to Dr. Hartmann when he noticed how ginger Oliver was being around his ribs. “I’m going to touch you really quick, okay? To check your ribs.” Once he got permission he checked along the side for tenderness. He checked Oliver’s hands for any discoloration before lifting the shirt slightly to check around the rib cage, wincing slightly, “Sorry. If I had known this was a magic thing I wouldn’t have gone so hard on the compressions. You heal quickly, right?” His knowledge of nymphs was greater than most other supernatural creatures because of his family, but he knew how different nymphs could be. “I’ll get you some water and some pain killers. There’s a few things I’ll want to keep an eye on just to make sure there’s no internal bleeding or damage to the lungs. So you and I are going to be inseparable tonight, like it or not.” 

Mickey’s legs wobbled as he finally stood on them, a testament to just how much that had taken out of him. He’d say he was ready for bed if he hadn’t just signed himself up for a mock sleepover. He moved quickly to grab the water and pain killers before returning to Oliver, “Let me help you get onto the couch or something for now.” It took a minute to realize that he still had the ambulance to deal with. “Shit. I forgot about the 911 call. Let me call them back and try to catch them. I’ll be right back. Scream if magic disappears again!”

—

“I know…of scribes.” They were a population that Oliver always had a bit of an awkward relationship with. He thought their research skills were impressive, and their vow of secrecy was important to the health of the supernatural population. However, Oliver was never particularly keen on being the one studied in the first place. Which meant that he tended to keep his distance the best he could. “I don’t know any of the ones around here, though…so I can’t vouch for how smart they are.” Oliver joked, before sobering. “I’m sure people are trying to figure it out, I just don’t know if they’ll be able to figure things out in time to stop whatever is happening.” 

Oliver gave a small nod at Mickey’s question to examine him. He was fairly sure he wasn’t actively dying, but if it made Mickey feel better, Oliver wasn’t going to deny him that. He grimaced at the prodding, sucking in a sharp gasp as he grazed the more tender ones. “You w-were trying to save my life, no issue with that.” It could probably be argued that Mickey had still saved him. If he hadn’t been getting CPR during his downtime, would it have been as easy as it had been to come back? He wasn’t immortal after all; he could still die in any normal way, he just had a longer lifespan than most. His healing factor only came into effect if there was something to heal after all. “Yeah, I’d say that by tomorrow morning, they should be better.” Oliver explained, giving a thumbs up at the offer of water and painkillers. He tended to just ride things out when it came to pain, but he had a feeling Mickey would be upset if he tried to do so in this situation, and really, there was no reason for him to say no.