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Oliver had been given a clean bill of health when he left the infirmary. No longer distancing himself from the events that had occurred might have been his first step towards processing those memories and moving on with his life, but they made for some horrible nightmares. Every night since his release from the infirmary he had dreamed of hunters being skinned and dissected, and giant beetles, and having to fight that Famine creature while his friends lay helpless behind him…

It was past midnight, maybe two or three in the morning when Oliver woke in a cold sweat, having dreamed of his friends splayed out on those dissection tables. Aro and Finn and Harley and an impossible number of other people he knew or had met, they were all being pulled apart and there was nothing he could do to save them. When he jerked awake he was crying, and those dream thoughts were not going to disappear in his dark room.

So he staggered out of bed, wearing only dinosaur boxers and a faded (and probably dinosaur related) t-shirt, and made his way to the empty washroom. Nobody was already there at this hour, so Oliver was free to wash his face in whatever peace his mind would give him. The running of the faucet drowned out his little whimpers and sobs, but as the cold water woke him, it also began to let memories of the nightmare fade.

Oliver yelped loudly and jumped. Not his usual yelp, but something more terrified, and loud enough to echo in the tiled room. Nor was it just a casual startle. The boy nearly tripped as he stumbled back against the wall, his heart beating a mile a minute.

When he saw Chance standing there, just looking as calm as ever, Oliver slid down to sit with his back against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest.

"S-sorry, I d-didn't know i-it was you," he stammered, rubbing his face with the back of one hand, his voice on the edge of breaking. All it did was smear fresh tears across his face. He didn't want Chance to see him so distraught, not now while he was a brand new Intermediate and should be stronger than the nightmares that woke him.

While Oliver usually tried to play the 'I'm okay' card, he knew with that reaction alone he was clearly beyond that point. There was no way he could convince anyone he was fine.

"I-I c-can't sleep," he stammered instead, rubbing his eyes again. Those words couldn't begin to describe the horrors that had woken him, and kept him awake in the dark that night, but it was the best he could manage. When he thought about saying more, giving a better explanation, his lower lip quivered and he had to choke back tears.

"S-sorry," Oliver managed to stammer.

Oliver knew there were many possible reactions in to a situation like this, most of them not good. Many hunters on the island would have a good laugh at him. Some might call him all sorts of names, some might feel some pity, and some might even try and comfort him. Oliver wasn't sure what would be worse.

However, Chance was an unknown quality. Someone who didn't appear swayed one way or another by his tears. All he knew was that sitting on the floor of the washroom in his boxers crying his eyes out was setting a new bar for the most pathetic thing on the island, and Chance was offering an alternative.

Without a word, Oliver got to his feet and followed Chance, wiping his eyes one more time. Every time he thought about the nightmares he couldn't stop more tears from coming.

Oliver was mostly silent following Chance back down the hall, only letting the occasional sniffle be heard in the stillness. The invitation into the Sun hunter's room was not a surprise.

The boy sat on the edge of the bed somewhat tensely, and he watched as Chance began getting out something to drink. Oliver didn't recognize the bottle, but it reminded him of the night Finn and Ripley smuggled whiskey into the infirmary to share with him. It had tasted terrible.

Oliver nodded. Chance had already pulled out two cups, and who knew, it might settle his nerves somewhat.

Oliver knew the drill, don't think, just drink. He tipped back the cup and took a mouthful,but whatever Chance had given him was at least as potent as the whiskey he had tried with Finn. The boy coughed, but quickly washed it down with another sip of the burning liquid.

"The deal..." Oliver repeated shakily, staring into his cup. "N-nothing, just nightmares..." He took a long, shuddering breath. "I-it's hard... seeing y-your friends... all cut up. But I c-can't forget, a-and in nightmares i-it's not always the hunters I didn't know..."

Either the talking or the whiskey had taken a little bit of tension from his shoulders, but it didn't stop the tears.

"I-I was on a mission," Oliver started, a slight tremor in his voice. "We rescued a couple hunters from a horseman lair, b-but they had been cut open... Like a dissection, but still alive."

At that point he downed the rest of the glass, wincing. "I keep seeing that. I a-almost died protecting those hunters on the mission, sometimes in the nightmares I do. A-and then they die. Sometimes it's my friends, a-and I can't save them."

Oliver's temporary calm began to crumble once more. "I-I know they are h-here, when I wake up, b-but I'm so afraid, a-and it hurts t-to see them- t-to s-see them..." He couldn't say it, instead he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them tightly, as though trying to curl up into a ball and disappear entirely.

Oliver didn't want to raise his head, not with tears on his cheeks and all the terrible imaginings those nightmares could leave in his mind, but he couldn't fight Chance's hand. He closed his eyes tight, expecting judging stares, or maybe a tissue dabbed against his cheeks, but he was not prepared for what the Sun hunter had in mind.

Shock value indeed.

The boy's eyes flew open, but by the time he had processed the move the kiss was already over. One hand lifted to cover his mouth, and surely whatever light in the room would be enough to see the blush forming on his tear-dampened cheeks. He had just been kissed. Was this how it was always going to happen, without ever seeing it coming?

"Um..."

He sat there quietly for a minute, and then slowly scooted backwards until his own back was to the wall. "That... I-I don't... uh..." Cogs and wheels were ticking, but the teeth were clearly not lining up. That kiss kinda tasted like whiskey.