Title : Small Steps

Author : Helen C.

Rating : PG-13

Summary : Oliver is back, and makes a mess of things again. Set in season 2.

Spoilers : Everything that's been aired up to The Rainy Day Women is fair game.

Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Many thanks to my beta, Joey51.

Prologue

For a long time, Ryan sat on the floor, the gunshot still echoing in his head and Oliver's eyes dancing in front of him, wide with something Ryan couldn't quite identify.

Of all the things he had expected when he had entered the house, this had not been one of them.

He felt as if his brain was a gripped engine, refusing to kick into gear. Every time he tried to think about what had happened, his thoughts came to a screeching halt, his whole being rebelling against the consequences of what he had done.

Ryan wondered if this was what shock felt like.

He was paralyzed, unable to move, to do anything about the situation, or even to think logically.

It was like being blindsided by a train, he decided. One minute, he was fine and going about his business, the next he was reeling from the shock, wondering where it had come from and what was happening to him.

Marissa's sobs began to enter his consciousness, the sound irritating him. He caught himself before he could tell her to keep quiet. She had had a shock too; she was entitled to a few tears.

Ryan looked up to see her curled up on her chair, hugging herself, shaking. Then his gaze fell on Oliver's body, on the red liquid spreading on the carpet. He was submerged by such a strong feeling of unreality that he was suddenly sure someone had slipped drugs in his drink earlier, and he was hallucinating dead bodies and blood. With his luck, he'd probably wake up in the loony bin, a disappointed Sandy sitting on the chair next to his bed, and-

"Ryan?"

He looked at Marissa again and shook his head violently, as if that would be enough to clear his mind.

It wasn't.

"What?" he asked.

"Is he?"

She didn't finish her question, and Ryan's eyes returned to Oliver. The blood had stopped spreading. Which meant Oliver had stopped bleeding, because his heart had stopped pumping the blood into his body, and his heart had stopped because-

Again, Ryan felt his brain disconnect itself before it could go further. "Temporarily out of commission, come back later." This was growing annoying, he decided.

He forced himself to breathe, to react, to do something, anything to get him out of this state of limbo.

Releasing the gun was probably as good a starting point as any, so that's what he did. With slow, careful movements, he put the gun on the floor. Then he rose to his feet, just as slowly and as carefully. Somehow, it would have seemed inappropriate to move more quickly. He swayed, dizzy from the adrenaline. His own heart was still pumping blood all right, and at top speed.

"Marissa?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She was intent on looking anywhere but at the body on the floor. Ryan could sympathize.

He approached her. "It's okay."

She shook her head vehemently. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

There was a pause. Ryan wouldn't have been surprised to learn that life outside had stopped, people frozen in what they were doing when the gun had gone off. But it was only his world that had stopped spinning on its axis when he had pulled the trigger. He wondered what the next days would be like, knowing he had ki- defended himself. The cops would want to talk, certainly, and at the idea of landing back in juvie, his stomach did a summersault.

But he hadn't had a choice. Surely, they didn't put you in jail for ki- for refusing to let someone kill you.

Right?

Ryan shivered. He wondered if he could chalk up his distrust of the cops to atavism - he did, after all, come from a family of criminals.

"Ryan?" Marissa said.

"Hum?" He stood there, at a loss for what to do. He distantly noted that he was supposed to be able to react to crises better than that.

He felt stuck in a bubble, out of time and space, alone with Marissa, a corpse and a gun, and he understood now why there were people who refused to leave the place where they had been held hostage. How could people be expected to face the world outside when their inner world had been so shaken?

Marissa had stopped crying. "You okay?" she asked.

He crossed his arms, shivering. "Yeah." He closed his eyes, and forced himself to look at the situation logically. What should he do? He thought for a few seconds that seemed to last several lifetimes, and then said, "We need to call someone."

"Who?"

He heard the sirens before he had a chance to answer, and sighed. "Never mind."

He tried to prepare himself for what was next, he really did, but when the two cops entered the room, telling Marissa and Ryan to stay still and to keep their hands in sight, he knew that nothing could have ever prepared him for that.