ISLANDS
A/N: Yet another farewell fic for Arrow. I think this imaginative streak will last until the series finale. ;-) I know I've been aiming to stop, but once again I beg your indulgence.
This one is dedicated to a special reader who's cheered me on and believed in me even after a very discouraging time in my fanfiction writing phase. Thank you, toodles , from the bottom of my heart.
Chapter 1
The first thing Oliver noticed about this woman is her porcelain white skin. It isn't too hard to notice since the pair of perfectly shaped, unblemished limbs are barely covered by her denim beach shorts. Her arms and most of her back are also bare, as she walks barefoot on the sand, approaching the mildly crashing waves on the shore.
From where he sits under the shade of one of the shorter palm trees that lined the beach, he has a perfectly clear view of her, with her back turned against him. He hasn't caught her attention yet, as her enjoyment of her tropical seaside surroundings is making her pleasantly oblivious to his presence. He's been watching her quietly for some time now, and without even seeing her face, he already thought she was a beautiful woman. He smiles to himself, realizing that this is the first time in a very long time that he feels mildly attracted to a woman.
Not that there's a dearth of beautiful girls on the island. He's been living in this small, rural fishing village on the island of Culion for three years now, ever since he'd been washed up on its shores a few days after he'd suffered shipwreck due to a tropical storm in the South China Sea. The young women in town have since been more than fond of him, especially because he was a white-skinned foreigner, and a very handsome one at that. However, he has never fancied any one of them, by choice, feeling that he could never be worthy of someone's love or affection because of the despicable things he'd done that led to his well-deserved misfortunes – that is, not until Mang Mario approached him a few months ago about his daughter Celia.
He owed the kind, old fisherman a lot.
Mang Mario was the one that had found him unconscious in the life raft on the shores of Culion that fateful day. He and his family were the ones that cared for him and nursed him back to health. He was the one that taught him how to fish, a trade that he never thought (in his wildest imagination) a once spoiled billionaire-playboy like him could learn. Mang Mario became a father figure to Oliver, helping him deal with the struggles of adjusting to a new life on the island, a life that was worlds apart from the life he'd lived in Star City since childhood.
The thought of Mang Mario and everything his family had done for him, as well as Celia's innocent smiles that were always directed his way, break him out of the reverie of watching the lovely stranger that stood on the beach, holding her broad-rimmed native hat in place to keep the sea breeze from blowing it away. No, he can't afford to imagine that he could ever fall in love with someone he could develop genuine affections for. Happiness isn't his to look forward to. Even matters of the heart are part of his penance. After all, giving up his happiness is just a small sacrifice in exchange for the two precious lives that were lost when the Gambit sank during the typhoon – all because of his imprudence (which cost a dear friend her life) and the necessity of his existence (which cost his father's life).
His old self would have already pranced to the pretty woman's side and worked his charm to get her name and number (not that there's a cell site in the islands that would make it possible for them to keep in touch), but not this new Oliver. This man has accepted his boundaries and the sacrifices he needs to make to be able to forgive himself at last. But when the woman steps into the water and begins to wade further, deeper, he instantly stands and hurriedly approaches her.
"Hey!" he hollers frantically. "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"
His loud, anxious voice rings out, and fortunately, the woman hears him. She turns and sees the alarm on his facial expression and body language as he waves at her and motions for her to turn back to the shore.
When she is just a few feet away from Oliver, she removes her sunglasses and asks him, "Hi! Is there something wrong?"
"Yes, uhm," he stutters, not knowing how to respond. Her smile is brighter than the sunshine that very pleasant morning, and her eyes are as blue as the cloudless sky above. For a second or two, he forgets what made him call out to her worriedly a moment ago.
"The waters… The waters here aren't really safe. Jellyfish and sea urchins," he explains as he somehow composes himself. "And there's lots of corals here. They're pretty, but sharp. You don't want to get your feet cut."
"Oh," the woman says, nodding. "Thanks for the warning. The water feels so nice and cool. I was tempted to go for a dip." She flashes him a winsome smile again, showing how grateful she is.
"This isn't the place for that. Locals and tourists usually swim on the other side of the island where there aren't too many corals and sharp rocks underneath the waters," he explains further. "See those boats over there?" He points to the row of fishing boats in the distance. "This is where local folks go out to sea to fish."
"I see. Well, thanks again for calling out to me in time, Mister?"
"Uh…" He isn't sure how to answer a simple question. The look on the woman's face as she smiles at him, expecting a response, is one of sincerity and honesty and light. For a fleeting moment he considers not lying to her like he's lied to everybody else on the island for three years, but he relents.
"Jonas. Jonas Dearden," is the response he settles on.
"Hello, Jonas. It's very nice to meet you," the woman greets him cheerfully. She offers her hand for him to shake. "My name is Felicity. Felicity Smoak."
"Hi," Oliver greets back succinctly. He shakes her hand, and then he lets go far too soon. The contact makes him flinch, as if he's burned by the touch. He already feels guilty about lying to her, and he knows it.
"Are you from here, Oliver?" she asks.
"Yes."
"Really? I thought you were probably a tourist. You kind of stick out like a sore thumb in this place, if you know what I mean." There's an inquisitive look on her face that Oliver finds quite amusing, but he reins in his feelings just like he always does when he remembers that he doesn't really have a right to be happy.
"I've lived here for a few years," he tells her briefly and vaguely.
Apparently it makes her even more curious, so she asks, "Oh? What do you do here?"
"I fish."
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she bites her lip. She looks even more adorable as her searching eyes study his face to see whether or not his claims are believable. "That explains the tan then," she says, her fingers pointing at his arms and shoulders, "and the well-toned biceps… and the abs…" She clears her throat and looks away. She removes her hat and begins fanning herself with it, obviously embarrassed and self-conscious over her slightly inappropriate remark. The gesture allows her golden blonde hair to cascade down her neck and shoulders.
Oliver is nervous. He woke up that morning to yet another ordinary day in his island life, and he isn't prepared for this complication. He knows that if he carries on this conversation any further, this adorable, petite blonde is going to begin inching her way into his heart. He's precariously hanging on to the last bit of restraint that holds his emotions together, hoping that it doesn't give way.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to respond because Felicity finds her bearings once again and speaks. "Well, I'm here for work. It's a mission, really, at least for me," she tells him. "I'm the new ALS teacher for the children in town. You must have heard about it. The UNESCO computer literacy project?"
Oliver purses his lips and shrugs. "No, sorry."
"It's okay," she assures him. "I've just arrived yesterday. The people are really nice and friendly and very accommodating. But the language is… challenging."
He feels like he is warming up to her, not because he's the one adjusting. She seems to be the one responsible for making him feel less edgy. "I know," he says. "I felt that way before. But the language is not that hard, really. I've learned to speak well enough to carry on a decent conversation. Reading is a totally different story."
"You think maybe you could show me around town sometime? I could use someone who can speak enough Filipino for me not to humiliate myself unnecessarily," she requests.
Her nose scrunches in a really cute way, and without much thought or hesitation, he agrees. "Sure. If you're not doing anything now, I'm free until lunch time."
"Great!" says Felicity.
The rest of the morning is spent getting to know each other and Oliver introducing Felicity to some of the townsfolk. Oliver brings her to the door of her rented beachside cottage and leaves, wondering what he has gotten himself into. Felicity Smoak has barged into his life unannounced, and he has a nagging feeling that she is going to turn his quiet, solitary, self-imposed exile around.