Lost in Purgatory

Chapter 9

Felicity was worried. Cold, hungry, uncomfortable – all those things described her at the moment. Worried took number one, though. She tossed and turned on the blanket which had been her bed for the last few weeks, and told her stomach to shut up. Not having finished her lunch was the least of her problems at the moment.

She hadn't seen Oliver again after they were, eh, interrupted by Conklin, but there hadn't been any whispers about another kidnapping, so she guessed he was ok. There was a weirdly efficient rumor mill among the workers, so she'd have heard if something had happened to him. She was worried about . . . something else.

It had seemed like a perfect idea at the time – pretend they were fucking like bunnies, and Conklin would leave them alone. She didn't know if that part of it had worked – also, maybe flashing the rapist hadn't been one of her most brilliant ideas. Her main worry, though, was Oliver – he'd been pretty stunned when she took her pants off. For someone with such fast reflexes, it had taken him a few seconds to get with the program.

Then, once he'd got on top of her, she'd realised she'd seriously underestimated what effect it was going to have on her, as well as Oliver. It had been so long since she'd been held, been touched – to have him so close to her, to feel his breath on her face and neck, his body on top of her, radiating heat like a furnace . . . she shivered at the memory. His reaction, then – wow. She'd caught a glimpse, and . . . holy shit. Pretty impressive. She blushed, glad that it was pitch dark in their hut, pretty sure that what she was thinking about was all over her face.

She turned over one last time, telling herself she wasn't moving again. She was going to get some sleep, and would straighten things out with Oliver during lunch. If he actually came for her, in spite of the fact that she'd acted like she was losing her mind- came for her? Really, Felicity? Now she was even thinking innuendo? Sleep. Now.

Felicity sleepwalked through the next morning, yawning so much that Tatiana started giving her worried looks. Then, when everyone stopped for lunch, she wandered past Oliver, who had to clear his throat loudly before she noticed him. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she yawned again, and headed towards the forest. They went towards the clearing in silence. She was still wondering how to broach the subject of her impromptu sex party when Oliver's voice woke her out of a semi-daze.

"Are you ok?"

When she looked at Oliver, he was staring at her in that intense way he had. Her mind caught up with the question. Then she yawned, this time so widely it was almost painful.

"I didn't get much sleep last night." That wasn't what she'd intended to say, dammit!

His brows creased. "I don't . . . you didn't finish eating."

"Yeah," she said tiredly. "No, I mean, ugh. Sleeping on the floor is killing my back. And it's getting colder. Not that you'd notice . . . you're like a space heater or something . . . " Too late she realised where she was headed, and tried to cram the words back in.

His face looked even more worried. "Felicity-"

"No – wait." She raised a hand, while trying to work out what she was going to say. They'd arrived in the clearing by then, and he was looking at her, more puzzled than ever. "I want to apologize to you."

"What?" He looked dumbstruck. "Why?"

"I called you a pussy. Apart from the fact that I don't usually go for gendered insults, but I'm blaming it on the general situation here, and I should have explained the plan before, not that we had the time." Felicity paused for breath, and lost her train of thought. She looked up, and Oliver was still staring at her, eyes wide.