BLUE EYES: Chapter 7

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in posting this. I was able to squeeze in posting this at AO3, but life has been crazy these past few days. I had to help out in taking care of my Papa who is in the hospital. Anyways, I hope you still enjoy this chapter. Thanks to the Guests who have left reviews, and especially those of you who leave reviews for every chapter. I truly appreciate you.

Summary: Oliver and Felicity have their first honest-to-goodness conversation.

Oliver had been watching her for the last couple of hours. He couldn't sleep, and from her body language, he could tell that she couldn't sleep either. She had already stopped crying for some time, but judging from her uneven breathing, she was still wide awake, perhaps deep thought, just like he was. He wished she would fall asleep. He was certain she must be very tired, having gone through what she had gone through in the past forty-eight hours, physically and emotionally.

When Felicity turned and lay on her back, Oliver immediately shut his eyes closed, feigning sleep. It was too late, though, for she had already caught him staring at her.

She sighed, and then said, "You know, since I can't sleep, and you can't sleep, we might as well make wise use of our time and get to know each other somehow. We are, after all, supposed to be…" She paused to clear her throat. "…man and wife." She cringed, relieved that her supposed husband didn't see it. "And, about that. Forgive me for my outburst earlier today. You'll have to give me… time… a lot of it… to get used to the idea. Because you kind of… forgot to ask my opinion on the matter. But we could start with talking. I can do that. Very well. In case you hadn't noticed. Which is, even for a stranger like you, quite difficult to not notice."

Oliver opened his eyes as Felicity turned to lie on her side to face him. Even in the dimness of the night, with just a little glow of moonlight reflecting on the soft skin of her face, Oliver thought she was very beautiful to look upon. He focused on her captivating eyes to drown out the words cascading from her lips faster than raindrops fell from the sky.

Felicity noticed that he had stopped listening to her talk, babble rather. "Oh, I'm so… sorry. I didn't mean to overwhelm you. Again. My mouth tends to do that without my brain's permission. I'm going to stop now, since-"

"Yes," Oliver interrupted her. "Felicity, talk. Oliver, listen."

His eyes were piercing blues that seemed to penetrate into her soul, causing her heart to flutter a little and her tongue to stammer. "Well, uhm… Alright, th… then. Wh… What would you like me to talk about?" At last, she got her tongue to work again.

"Family," he replied, still holding her gaze.

Felicity took a deep breath. She had just gotten her emotions and her tears under control. How could she talk about her family without reminding herself that she had just lost her beloved father?

Sensing that she was hesitant to respond, and realizing that he had asked for something that might still be too painful for her to talk about, Oliver spoke first. "Oliver. Asintado. Same man," he said, placing his hand on his chest to show her that he was talking about himself. "Oliver, son of white man and white woman. Asintado, son of Chief Muidatu, of Kinanyao people."

Felicity's eyes narrowed as she processed the information he had just given her. "I think I understand what you mean. Your real name is Oliver, and you have white people as parents."

"P… parents?" he asked.

"Parents. Your mother and father," she clarified. "Your real parents are white people, foreigners… like me. That means, you must have come from where I come from – somewhere far, far away from this island. Am I right?"

Oliver nodded. "Oliver remembers. Father, mother, boy Oliver come here."

Felicity nodded in understanding. "Oh, so you were still a child when you and your family came here."

Oliver nodded again.

"How young were you when you came to the island?"

Not remembering the English words for any number, Oliver held up nine fingers.

"I see. What happened to your parents?"

Oliver couldn't answer, not because he didn't want to – he had come to terms with his father's death a long time ago. He couldn't answer because he had forgotten the English word for dead.

Felicity sensed that he was having trouble expressing himself, what with the sadness that had taken over his face at the mention of parents. She regretted having asked for something that might have opened up old wounds. Oliver had been nothing but kind to her ever since, and he seemed willing to open up, only, he didn't seem to know how. Thinking that he had earned the right to hear even just one piece of truth about her, Felicity decided to share it with him. Hopefully, he would be willing to share with her one more piece of his truth in return.

"My father is gone," she began to express. She wouldn't say dead, but saying it out loud that her father was gone brought tears in her eyes again; this time though, her heart felt a tad bit lighter than it did a few hours ago. Felicity didn't realize it yet, but talking with Oliver about what had happened was cathartic and therapeutic. "He was killed when the warriors of your tribe ambushed our traveling party."

Her first tear fell, and Oliver would have told her to stop speaking, but her next words beat him to it. "When we left Paradise Point, I wanted to ride alongside him. But, my father is my father. He insisted that I sit inside the carriage instead of hopping on a horse, because it was safer. It turned out, it was." She paused, as another tear oozed out of the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. "I survived the violent attack that left everyone dead along the path we traveled on. Sadly, my father did not."

Felicity stopped speaking. She pulled her blanket up to her face and used the edges to wipe her tears away. Oliver wished he could have done that for her instead. He wanted to reach out and touch her tear-stained cheeks but thought the better of it and stayed in his spot.

"My father promised he would ride right beside my carriage the entire time," she went on to say, "until we get to Christentown, which was our destination, by the way. That's where my father and I were supposed to settle and start our work."

"Work?"

"Yes, work. My father and I came to the Island to help people. My father was a doctor. He helped sick people get well. He was also a minister, you know, someone who tells people about God."

"God?"

"My father and I… well, actually, most of the people where I come from… where you and I come from… we believe that there is a God that created everything, an unseen but real Person who is all-powerful and in control of everything, and yet so loving that He cares about everyone, including you and me. We wanted to tell everyone on this island who would listen, that God cares about them too. But now, I guess, my father won't get to tell them anymore." Her voice quivered and faded with those last few words, words laced with sorrow and pain.

"Felicity tell Kinanyao people," Oliver responded unexpectedly.

"It's not that simple."

"Felicity tell Oliver."

"Well, I guess I could start with you. It's not going to be easy, seeing we can hardly communicate well enough to scratch the surface when it comes to theological things. I loved conversing with my father about these things and a host of other interesting things. He always made complicated things easy to understand. And now, I'm beginning to miss him, and I think I'm going to start crying again if I don't stop going off-tangent here. As I said, it's not that simple. I'm not a preacher like my father. I'm just a school teacher."

"Teacher?"

"Yes. I help people learn new things, specifically children. Mostly, I teach them how to read and write in English, and how to count."

Oliver's lips curled up slightly, and Felicity noticed a small smile forming. He was excited about something. "Felicity help Oliver read," he requested.

Felicity sat up and smiled back at him. She was pleased that they were actually going somewhere in this conversation that they both dared to carry on. "I think that can be arranged," she replied. "Tell you what. I will teach you how to read and write in the language, which I'm certain was your mother tongue, if you teach me how to understand and speak the language of the Kinanyao people. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal?" Oliver's forehead crinkled in confusion. This time, he sat up too.

"Yes, a deal. A deal means that you and I agree about something. Do you agree with me about us teaching each other?

Oliver thought for a moment, and then said with a nod, "Deal."

They smiled at each other, and then both lay down again.

"Good night, Oliver," Felicity said, pulling up the blanket to her chest.

There was no answer. When she turned to look at Oliver, she saw him staring at the thatched roof above him. Apparently, tribesmen didn't greet each other 'good night' before retiring, she thought. She closed her eyes and was ready to sleep.

Several seconds after, she heard him say, "Oliver's father, gone. Kinanyao warriors killed Father, too."

Felicity sighed. Strangely, she felt a pang in her heart over his loss. She and Oliver had taken the first step, and they had found that their connection had more to do with the experiences they'd both gone through, rather than just the color of their skin. That was her last thought before sleep finally claimed her.