The Grey Blood #2

Wasted Time

Oliver's frowning into the trees, smoking a cigarette and trying to ignore the exhaustion that plagues him when he hears footsteps. He sighs, blinking grainy eyes, reminded yet again that he didn't sleep at all last night and spent most of the night sitting in the cold watching the Ghuls work.

He lifts his head and rolls it from side to side, trying to ease the strain in his neck, but as he does, he sees someone approaching through the trees. Oliver crushes his cigarette beneath his heel and reaches for the gun under his coat. Then his brain registers what he sees.

Alicia stumbles towards him, looking half dead and shaking like a leaf in the wind without her coat and her clothes still damp in some places. Blotches of red stain her shirt and his stomach heaves to realise it's blood.

He's at her side in the next moment, relief washing over him as she meets his gaze, hazel eyes shining. He strips from his thick coat and goes to drape it over her shoulders but she shakes her head, stepping away from him. Oliver freezes, his grip tightening around the coat.

"Don't," she says, her voice strained. "Don't come near me."

Those words knock the breath from his body and he can't move, towards her or away from her. "Alicia," he murmurs, near pleading with her though he doesn't know what he wants.

She lifts her gaze back to him, pressing a hand against a tree to keep herself standing and he wonders what happened to her. And why she didn't ask him for help.

Rejection is a bitter pill to swallow.

She drags in a rattling breath, tears forming in her eyes, and everything within him tells him to go to her, but he respects her wishes, even as her shoulders shake and she closes her eyes, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"I killed Warren," she utters and the words freeze the blood in his veins. Not because the man is dead, but because it was Alicia who did it. "I did it for me." She cries then, pressing her hands to her face and slumps against the tree. "I did it for revenge, and I hate myself. Kathryn died because of me. I should have been the one brought to justice, not Warren."

"Alicia," he says again, the only word he seems to be able to speak. He steps towards her, but she lifts her hand, stopping him.

"I said don't come near me."

Looking away from her, he finds he doesn't want her to witness how her words are tearing him apart, but if anyone sees through him, it's her.

"Oliver," she begins, struggling upright.

Oliver swallows and finally throws his coat at her.

Catching it, Alicia holds it to her chest. She looks down at it, her hands running over the material before she slips it on, the black fabric near engulfing her, and she tugs it close. "Thank you."

He nods, pressing his lips together. He goes for another cigarette, not sure what to do with his hands if he can't reach for her, comfort her.

"I think—" She stops, closes her eyes, and takes a breath as Oliver lights his cigarette. "I think I have the Ruga flu."

All he can do is stare at her, wondering if he heard her wrong. "How?" he asks, unable to form full sentences.

"Warren, he had it." She presses her palms to her eyes, sucking in breaths, trying to calm herself. "I won't risk you getting it. I won't do that to you."

"Let me help you."

"How?" she bites back.

"I don't know, Alicia." He throws up his hands, anger spiking. "Maybe if you hadn't lied to me I could have helped you, prevented this."