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Jay's POV

Parting my lips from Erin's was the hardest thing I've ever done.

There was a moment right before we kissed where we just looked at each other. Communication flowed freely – our desires expressing without words. And when her lips touched mine, I was gone. Her scent, a powdery sweetness with an underlying hint of smoke teased my nose. It reverberated through me, straight to my groin. Her mouth tasted warm and sweet. Sweet. This one word keeps circling in my mind. Wonderfully, incredibly sweet. Then I got a little greedy – selfish even. I can't help it. I want what she is giving and more. It took every bit of my willpower to pull away from her.

What in God's name was I thinking? Unfortunately, the answer comes all too quickly. I wasn't thinking. I have no willpower when it comes to Erin.

We didn't talk much the following morning. Erin looked more than angry with me; she looked hurt, and the betrayal written all over her face got to me. I had to fight back the self-loathing. We went about our route without any mention of what had happened. Later, I tried to apologize to her, but she wasn't having any of it. She was curt and abrupt. I selfishly wanted her to talk to me, but it was apparent she was not going to. As high as I built my walls, Erin's were built much higher, enforced with barbed wire that prickle my skin, and not in a good way.

I should be happy. I got that distance I wanted. I don't need to worry about her safety anymore, I tell myself bitterly. I try to tell myself that this is a good thing. That I should be overjoyed. But my brain won't compute. I should feel relief, but I don't. I should feel euphoria, but I don't. All I feel is emptiness.

At one point, on our way back to the Refuge, we stopped to take a break and I watched her lean against a dead tree and pour water over her neck. She looked absolutely miserable and seeing her hurting almost crumbled my resolve. I knew her ankle was bothering her (she tried but failed to hide her limp), and I Just wanted to go to her and pull her to me. I wanted to tell her everything – make her understand. I'm not a jackass. But I left her alone instead, because aside from the truth, I didn't know if words strung in sentences could mend whatever I had broken.

When we arrived safely at the Refuge, the first words out of Erin's mouth, after almost a 24-hour stretch of silence were, "You were right. We don't work well together."

As I opened my mouth to speak, object, argue, she interrupted me, "I get it." I saw the muscle on her jaw pulse from her gritted teeth as she tried to contain her emotions. As she tried to rationalize my rejection and hide the hurt I saw flash in her eyes. "No explanation needed."

Then she turned on her heels and walked away.

Thing is, she doesn't get it. Not. At. All.

It's been two days since we've returned and the faint taste of her lips still lingers in my mouth. Her scent still invades my nose and my mind, even though I've barely seen her since. At first I thought the distance would help. I would forget all about the kiss, about her, and this shit feeling would disappear. But it doesn't. It only makes me want her more.

x

The next mission to the Aedes is approaching and the unit is working tirelessly to insure its success. The goal is to obtain a hard copy of the master blueprint. We are currently going by what I remember (and only places I had access to). If we obtain the blueprint, we can pinpoint weak points and use it to our advantage. The Aedes has to be taken down. The oppression and manipulation the has governed the past decade needs to end. Blood can't be the currency. If we succeed, we show other factions that it is possible. The Refuge can be possible everywhere.

I'm sitting in the cafeteria (three days after we returned - not that I'm counting), looking over my drawn-up blueprint – trying to remember doors and crawl spaces that I might have overlooked. I spent nearly five years within those walls, and I have most of the hallways and rooms memorized. But there was only a handful of times that I was brought to the outside, thus the exit path is buried somewhere deep in my head.

I'm in deep thought, semi-listening to the clatter in the kitchen, when suddenly without a word of warning, a siren starts shrieking. I jump out of my skin as the horn, high and very loud, blares into my ears. I look around and see people running into the hallways, screaming, away from everybody else. I venture out into the hallway and try to ask what's going on, but everyone is in full panic mode.

Then a patrolmen whizzes by.

"Hey!" I say, running after him. "Stop!" But he continues striding down the hall. I leap in front of him, preventing him from going anywhere. He halts and stares at me. "What's going on?" I ask.

"Someone's infected," he tells me hastily.

A cold chill runs down my spine. "W-Where? Who?"

"Just go to your room until you hear that it's safe to come out." He sidesteps me and runs past the elevators and continue to the door with the stairs.

I pick up my pace, pushing my way through the chaos, and go to the bullpen, but the doors are locked. I head down to the infirmary, but the doors are locked as well – probably a safety provision. I think quickly on my feet and realize the loading dock is probably not incorporated in the lockdown system, since it looked like it was built after the fact.

I head down and that's where I find Hank leaning over a lifeless body, bleeding freely from everywhere –mouth, eyes, ears, nose. I look closer and it's Jules. I watch several waves of shudders roll through her body until it suddenly stills. This scene never loses any of its impact, no matter how many times I've witnessed it. I can see Hank started a line from his arm to hers, but she's far too gone, and his attempt at saving her is an absolute loss.

Still, I roll up my sleeve and start toward him, but Hank raises a hand to stop me.

He heaves a heavy sigh. "She's gone."

We stare at each other for a moment, Hank's expression is tinged with something that looks like sorrow, before he composes his features into something more stoic.

Then there is a frantic pounding on the door to the loading dock. I look back and see Erin pushing her way through. She looks desperate as she rushes in. Tears are welling in her eyes and as one spills onto her cheek, she swipes it away with such force it sends her honey hair swinging in an arc back over her shoulder. I get a whiff of her scent.

"Jules?" Her lips tremble as she chokes her name out.

"Erin, stay back," Hank warns.

Erin chokes on her tears and lunges towards the body. I jump to hold her back, but I underestimate her strength and she spins out of my grasp. I twist her back and pull her close this time. She struggles, trying to claw her way out. I secure my arm tightly around her to steady her.

"I need to see her," she gasps, her voice a strangled croak. Her breaths come in small, gusting pants, and I realize I'm a little breathless from the effort too.

"You can't go there," I tell her, pulling her farther back. "It's not safe."

"Hank do something, please?" She pleas.

"She's gone," Hank mutters. "She was gone before I got to her."

Erin's hands reach to push me away, but when they meet my chest, they seem to lose much of their strength. Her legs begin to shake and she starts to lose her balance, and then her entire body goes limp in my grip. If I let go, she will most certainly plummet to the floor.

Then Antonio is there. His eyes also bulged with tears and his face pale from the pain of seeing Jule's lifeless body on the ground. His right hand goes frantically through his hair. "God, Jules," he murmurs under his breath.

"C'mon," I begin dragging Erin out. "We shouldn't be here."

There is no fight in her. I hug her tightly, pressing the side of her head against my chest, feeling her tears on my skin. A lump in my throat grows large.

We reach the hallway and Erin pushes me away with the hand trapped between us. "Let me go."

"Erin-"

"Let me go," she bites out, giving me a full-body push. "Now, Jay."

"Erin-" I insist. This time her name comes out breathlessly, as emotions I don't want to name splinter through me. I continue looking at her, but do not loosen my grip.

"Jay," she says through tight lips. "Let. Go."

I give her arm a gentle squeeze, and release her.

Erin stomps up a set of stairs. I don't follow.

Hank banishes everyone, but I come back and help him burn the body and disinfect wherever blood has touched. We work silently. There are no words. Nothing really to discuss, nothing one can say to make it any better. The air feels heavy, like there is a lot of dust in it, and filled with great sorrow—deep, deep sorrow.

"Do we know how it happen?" I ask tentatively.

"No," Hank shakes his head. "She went out scavenging this morning. No distress call came through. The lookout was the one that spotted her approaching covered in blood. By the time I was notified, she had already bled out." He shakes his head. "I don't even know if I was her blood type."

"I could've helped," I tell him.

"I don't think there was anything anyone could've done," Hank admits. "She had already lost too much blood."

"I'm willing to help anyone here," I assure him. "If this happens again, don't hesitant to come find me."

Hanks nods his head appreciatively. A silent acknowledgement passes between us. Hank gets it. There is a strange comfort in knowing that I'm not obligated to donate my blood. But like Hank, I'm willing to do it for to save anyone here. This is how it should always be.

x

The lockdown is lifted. Despite the air being charged with a solemn reverence, people begin to return to their regular activities. I look for Erin, but I can't find her anywhere. We have a damage control meeting and she's a no show. She's also not in her room, and she skips dinner too. It's an hour later and I'm walking towards the only place I know she will be. I'm probably the last person she wants to see, but I'm going there anyways. I need to make sure she is safe.

I reach the small opening to the roof and place my hand on the brass metal handle and turn it; the latch easily gives in and I slowly open the door.

I climb my way up to the roof and when I get here, I find her looking out at the dark horizon, a shining flask in hand. She sits on the edge of the roof, her feet dangling, but perfectly still. There is a soft bluish light on her face, coming from the moon up above us. I start to open my mouth - apology ready at the tip of my tongue - but then I take a closer look and realize Erin hasn't noticed me. In fact, she's just starting off into space.

I suppose Erin is just trying to digest it all - attempting to come to terms with losing a family member. I move to get a closer look at her and what I see in Erin's face causes my chest to tighten. She looks empty and despondent. I take a few steps closer, standing only a few feet away; she should be able to see me. But judging by the far-off look on her face, she doesn't even know I'm here.

I know I'm about to do something stupid. I should leave her alone, because while I want to help her, I'm also trying to bury my feelings for her. My motives aren't innocent, I know that. What she needs right now is a friend, and yes, I can be a friend, but can I stop there? After what happened merely three days ago, I don't think I can.

In the end, I tell myself that my heart is in the right place.

"Thought I would find you here," I say as even and as softly as I can – not to startle her.

Erin doesn't start. She remains motionless. Her gaze doesn't waver. She continues to look ahead, her eyes focused on some faraway nothing when she says, "Why are you here?" Her words are slurred and bitter. "Did Hank sent you to find me? You can tell him I'm feeling grrreeeat."

"Hank didn't send me. I wanted to see if you're okay," I tell her honestly.

"I'm fine, everything s'fine." Her words blend together. Her voice also seems too high-pitched – almost squeaky. She takes a sip from the flask. "You can leave. It's what you'll do anyways." She states the last bit cynically under her breath.

A strange heat creeps up my neck, making my face burn. Guilt. That's what this is. I've had plenty of reason to feel like this, but her words make it curdle even more inside of me. Despite it, I stay put.

"Erin-"

She turns to look at me. Tears spill down her cheeks, and one look in her eyes tells me she is beyond words. Nothing I can say will pull her out of the void she's in. So instead, I take a seat next to her.

"Don't you have somethin' better to do," she asks, a bite in her voice.

"No," I shake my head. Then I tell her, "I know there is nothing that I can say that can make you feel any better. I know that no matter what I say, it won't have any effect on you. You don't have to even look at me, but I'm just going to keep you company."

She doesn't respond – no fight left in her I presume. She just sighs a bit annoyed.

We sit in silence. I don't know how long, though it is long enough for the air between us to become comfortable. Long enough for my pounding heart to ease its pace. The only noises come from the occasional patrolmen walking the beat path below.

At some point I can't stand the stillness anymore, so I motion to her flask, "Can I have a sip?"

"Of this?" Her eyebrows raise in question.

"Yes," I nod.

She offers me the flask and I lift it to my lips and feel the liquid burn as it slides down my throat. It tastes like fruit and strong, strong alcohol. I cringe and my face probably bares my displeasure. She looks at me amused, so I get ready for her knock-back.

"Too strong?" she asks.

I smile slightly, though still cringing, and nod. "Do I want to know what's in this?"

"Nope." She shakes her head.

I take another sip, letting the liquid erode my esophagus once again, though this time it lands softly in my stomach and radiates warmth to my fingers and toes. Erin smiles, though it doesn't reach her ears, nor does the small delves in her cheeks appear.

"It's good," I say. I hand her the flask and she takes another large gulp.

"I haven't had a drink in…." I can see the cogs in her head turning, then, "…longer than I can remember." She extends me the flask once more and I take another swig. "I used to drink to forget, but then I started shooting up. Made my life bearable."

I don't say anything – this is probably information she wouldn't have offered if it was not for the liquid courage.

"If it wasn't for Hank, I would be six-feet under by now." Her words are slurred, but her eyes are focused.

"Where were you before coming here?" I ask, not actually expecting her to answer.

She smiles sadly, tucking her shoulder up in a half shrug. "Everywhere, I guess. My mom, she um…" She takes another long pull from the flask. "She provided services to men. So we never –" She stops all of a sudden, as if she's said too much. "Never mind."

Erin was a drifter.

"Is your mom still around?" I try to keep my voice as even and as emotionless as possible, though it isn't easy.

"Nah," she shakes her head. "Hank tried to help her, but she wants nothing do to him … or me." She sounds a little hurt. Of course, this is her mother she is talking about. I understand this too well.

"My dad blamed me for everything bad that happened in our family," I say. It isn't the alcohol that makes me say it. I just want her to know.

I see the brow that was furrowed become a little less furrowed and her tight lips and jaw eases a bit and softens, I think. "Why?" She asks.

I shrug. "He just needed someone to blame and I was an easy target."

Erin nods. A look of complete understanding falls on her face. She raises the flask, mocking a toast. "May we never turn out like our parents."

I will drink to that. I raise my empty hand and we take turns sipping from the flask. The liquid flows through my veins like a scalding hot liquid. I keep drinking until my vision turns hazy. God, I'd forgotten how good this feels. I'm at ease, like everything is fine. Deep inside I know it's all an illusion. But I'm basking on this feeling right now.

"Why are you so mysterious?" Erin asks bluntly. Her eyebrows come together and a small frown furrows her forehead. "What are you hiding?"

I'm taken aback by her sudden questions. I want to reply it with, why do you think I'm hiding something. But I don't. I can't because it might make her think too much about it. Or maybe I'm afraid I will tell her. "I'm not hiding anything," I lie.

Erin is silent. For some odd reason I feel that she knows it's not the truth.

Then, she turns her whole body towards me. "I'm just confused; you know? I can't read your signals. One moment you're hot, the next you're cold. You keep making me think one thing and then you end up going in a completely different direction." She takes a deep breath and says, "You kissed back."

Her voice is so quiet that I'm not immediately sure I heard right. But when she looks up, she's giving me a raw, aching look that says she's said something she shouldn't have. The moment that passes between us – is too raw.

Tell her the truth. The thought flickers through my mind. But instead I say, "I don't want to confuse you. I'm sorry if I've made you feel this way. But," I pause. "We can't." The potent combination of disappointment and anger that flashes in her eyes cause my insides to flip. "It's the only way to protect you," I add.

Erin chuckles low and even, a sarcastic amusement woven with bitterness. "Protect me from what? You got an STD?"

"No," I shake my head. "But I do I have a lot of baggage and I don't want to unload it on anyone, especially not on you."

"Maybe," she looks at me. Eyes clear as day. "It would be easier if you shared your load."

A fresh wave of longing crashes down on me. I circle my arm around her and touch my lips to her temple. The simple kiss I give her could be considered innocent had it not been for the fact that I'm lingering. The alcohol loosening my inhibitions. I don't think she even registers my lips on her – the alcohol dulling her senses too. I pull away because I still care enough to stay away. But when my arm fully disconnects from her, she turns to face me. I dare to look into her eyes.

"You're leaving?" Slurs out of Erin's mouth, though it's not a question - more of a statement.

"Let me walk you to your room?" I ask her.

She releases a small laugh. The alcohol tickling her in all the right places. "Sure. Mr. Protector."

We walk back to her room and I support her stumbling legs until she flops on top of the bed. A strange expression crosses Erin's face, and I sense something's wrong. Her face visibly pales, her eyes narrow, and every muscle tenses. I reach out to her, but she jerks away and places both hands on the bed to steady herself. Her eyes close, then her eyelids come open and she gives me a weird look, like she's going to be sick.

Then she nearly jumps out of the bed, and starts for the bedroom door but before she can make it there, she begins throwing up all over the floor. I Immediately go to her and she continues spilling the watery contents of her stomach until there is nothing left in her to throw up.

I hold her hair back and feel how hot and clammy her skin is. I lean over to her. "Are you okay?" I ask. Her eyes look sunken, and her breathing's rapid and shallow. "Hey?" I run my knuckles against her cheek when she stays silent.

Erin shakes her head and rubs a wrist over her forehead. "M'okay," she says, but her face still looks a bit green.

I lean in and brush a stray hair from her face. Making contact with her skin makes my heart beat wildly against my ribcage. "I'll clean up," I tell her, or maybe I only think it. The alcohol is making my head swim, making the edges of everything fuzzy. "You just go lay down on the bed, okay?"

Erin does as I say, muttering a shaky, "thank you."

I clean up the mess and decide to stay until I know she won't be sick again. I watch her reddened eyes close and her breathing even out as sleep takes her under. I think I sink into the chair next to her (or the floor?), for just a moment. I think I imagine Erin tugging at my arm and I sink into her bed. Then I feel the weight of her head on my chest. I dream of her sweet scent on my nose, like a little piece of her is still with me. I can see her honey strands fanning over my shirt. I lean in even closer, her hair tickling my nose, and I inhale. I have no idea if I'm dreaming, but it doesn't matter. My eyelids begin to feel heavy and I feel so comfortable that I fall into a dreamless sleep.

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