(Supplemental to Part 4 of the Welcome Back Assignment)
Alana’s half surprised to see Ollie at the door to the hotel room. He’s wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, and looking a little sleepy, considering the time.
“Morales is going to escort you home,” Rye says evenly, her eyes going from Alana to Ollie, “And keep an eye on her while she’s recovering…”
Ollie nods, not saying a word just yet. He glances once or twice at the sprawled out form of Emmett on the bed, but doesn’t question it. He’s learned not to ask too many questions in his life, and in this business. Rye hands him a set of car keys. “The black Buick in the parking lot.” Another nod from the man. He looks over at Alana questioningly and she slowly stands, a little unsteady. The shorn-haired man is beside her in an instant, arm slipping around her to steady her.
“You good?” he asks.
Alana nods. “Y-yeah. I’m good.”
He leads Alana out the door, giving Rye a nod before the blonde closes the door behind him, locking it again.
“That was weird,” he finally comments as he moves with Alana toward the elevator.
“He’s recovering,” she tells him, “Got hurt in a big fight.”
There’s a moment or two and realization hits, Ollie giving a slow nod. “Ohhh OK. You were there, too?”
“I was healing him after,” she says, “It’s just… a lot sometimes.”
“You heal people?” he asks, pressing the elevator button.
“When they need me to, yeah.”
Ollie seems to think on this a moment, nodding. “That’s pretty cool.” He guides Alana into the elevator as it opens.
The ride down is quick and silent, and they head out together through the lobby, Alana doing her best to look normal in front of the clerk. Once they’re outside, though, she pauses, wavering a little.
“I need to throw up,” she announces. Ollie quickly ushers her to some bushes off to the side, steadying her as Alana vomits into the plants. He tries not to watch, keeping an eye out in case the sound attracts attention. He glances once she seems finished, watching her to gauge.
“Feel a little better?” his tone softens. She nods, unceremoniously wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Alana’s almost surprised by the empathy in his voice. She’s witnessed his wrath, thankfully secondhand. This side of him is almost foreign.
“Car ride probably gonna make it worse, huh?” he asks, looking from Alana out toward the parking lot in search of the aforementioned black Buick.
“I should be OK.”
“Alright.”
He leads her to the car, opening the back door for her.
“You wanna lay down for the ride?” he asks.
She cants her head. “Are you a good driver?”
Ollie shrugs.
“That is *not* reassuring, Ollie!” she laments.
He immediately smiles. “Uh. I’m the best driver. Total pro.”
“Not better,” she says, reluctantly climbing into the backseat and managing to buckle her seatbelt before flopping down on the seat.
Ollie watches her, then pulls his hoodie off over his head, balling it up as he offers it to her.
“Here. You can use this for a pillow. Just… don’t throw up on it. Please.”
She accepts the offered sweatshirt, giving him a half smile.
“No promises.”
He sighs, almost regretting the decision, but closes the door behind her and moves for the driver door, opening it and sliding in. He adjusts the mirrors and makes every effort to appear careful at least. He decides not to tell her about the time he and a friend stole a cop car and went joyriding in their teens, instead staying silent as he pulls out of the parking spot.
The drive to the anima well is only about 15-20 minutes, but Alana passes out pretty quickly. Ollie checks on her in the rearview mirror throughout the drive, mostly to make sure she’s not suddenly throwing up or changing colors or some other weird thing. He parks at a nearby service station that’s been closed for a few hours. Once he takes care of Alana, he’ll return to deal with the car.
Alana stirs once they’re stopped, sitting up groggily.
“Anima well’s a little more than half a mile from here,” Ollie tells her, watching her in the rearview mirror at first, but half turning to continue. “You think you can walk that far?”
Alana’s head is starting to pound and she can feel exhaustion deep in her bones. “I should be good, yeah,” she tells him, offering back the hoodie. Ollie slips it on as he exits the driver’s seat, then gets Alana’s door for her. She slides out and stands, holding onto the side of the car for a few seconds. She’s definitely dizzy still, and a little pale. He assesses her for all of about thirty seconds before changing his mind.
“Yeaaaah I’m gonna carry you,” Ollie says, moving in front of her to scoop her right up. Alana squirms almost immediately.
“Noooo this is super weird,” she says with a whine.
Ollie looks slightly annoyed as he looks at her. “You can’t walk,” he says firmly, “Your ass is gonna fall over and probably start throwing up again or… worse.”
“Set me down, please,” she says again. Ollie sighs and sets her back on the ground, reaching to steady her as she wobbles. He fights the urge to roll his eyes.
“So, what then?” he asks, then immediately follows it up with, “What about a piggyback ride?”
Alana sighs some, looking him over, then finally relents, nodding. Ollie smirks and turns around, kneeling slightly so he can scoop her onto his back, Alana barely helping the process. He stands back up, waiting for her to shift and find a comfortable way to hold on.
“So you don’t want me to carry you normally,” he remarks, “But you’re perfectly cool with me carrying you like a toddler?”
“Shush,” she manages, fighting a laugh. “I’m not proud, OK?” Ollie can’t help but keep that snarky smirk.
The trek the rest of the way to the anima well is pretty easy, and Ollie doesn’t seem to tire, despite carrying a full-grown woman on his back. Half a mile isn’t much for a bee anyway. Their talking is mostly kept to a minimum, Ollie focused on making sure he doesn’t lose his footing or trip on anything weird in the darkness of the early morning, and occasionally pausing when Alana groans too much and he’s worried she’ll throw up on him. When they do finally reach the little cavern obscured by brambles and vines, Ollie stoops some so he can set her down, Alana holding onto his back to steady herself again.
“You’ll probably start to feel better inside anyway,” he offers, leading her through the overgrown plants and deeper inside, the orange glow ahead of them growing stronger as they move, the sound of hundreds of buzzing bees sounding a chorus around them. The plants seem to part for the pair, allowing them passage into the space, and soon they’re being ushered through, the swarming bees encircling them a time or two before they step through the glowing portal and into the bright light of Agartha.
“I’m probably good from here,” Alana says. Agartha’s paths are always strong for her, and she knows the route to New York will present itself if she only asks. Ollie shakes his head after watching her for a few seconds, seeming to study her.
“So, I don’t know if you heard my handler,” he says, “But she told me to stay with you til you get better…”
Alana watches him as he says this.
“…so you’re stuck with me a while longer,” he finishes, “Because I’m not trying to get shuffled around again. Cool?”
“Alright,” Alana says, “But I think I can walk in here.”
Ollie looks her over again, seemingly making his own assessments. “Alright, but if you start feeling ■■■■■■ again, tell me, and I’m gonna carry you again.” Alana nods reluctantly.
Once they start to move, she seems to do alright, staying relatively steady. The brightness of Agartha and the Buzzing in her head and all around are a little much for her throbbing headache, but there is also something soothing about the space, and she manages to keep moving, despite a few waves of nausea. Her innate ability to find her way makes for a relatively easy walk. Ollie definitely would have had to consult his notes on his phone to make it back to New York otherwise. Once they exit, they’re semi underground in a familiar warehouse, Ollie reaching for Alana’s hand to help her up the little embankment back to the warehouse main floor.
The walk to her apartment building is only a few blocks away, but Ollie can definitely see Alana is once again looking drained. He wordlessly kneels a bit in front of her, and Alana doesn’t hesitate to let him give her another piggyback ride.
“The fxcking cameras are totally picking this up,” Alana laments.
Ollie can’t help but smirk. “Good. Maybe it’ll earn me some brownie points with the higher ups.”
“Or they’ll think I’m drunk and I’ll lose some,” Alana remarks.
Ollie’s smirk stays. “So it’s a win for me either wa–ah!” Alana’s legs clamp slightly around him with the remark and Ollie laughs. “Someone’s not skipping leg day. You should be carrying me.”
For the rest of the walk, it’s mostly Alana guiding Ollie until they finally arrive at her apartment building. He leans so she can scan her hand and the outer door opens. Ollie carries her inside, though Alana squirms her way down once they near the elevator doors, pressing the button herself. And once they’re inside the elevator, she presses for floor 11, Ollie immediately whistling.
“Damn, girl, they have you way up in this ivory tower, huh?” he remarks. “Somebody must like you.” He shakes his head. “You don’t even want to know the shithole apartment they have me in. My roommates are basically a family of rats…” Alana makes a face, though there’s something akin to empathy mixed in her horrified expression. Ollie laughs, reaching to reassure her. “It’s all good. I’m sure they’re looking for a spot in a penthouse palace for me, too… I just gotta earn it, probably.”
They exit onto floor 11 and Ollie is a little surprised to see multiple apartment doors, even if there are only four. He’d half expected to just walk out right into some swanky apartment. His eyes assess the camera setup, not at all surprised to see the motion tracking with each of them. The pair move to door 11D, Alana once again scanning her hand as the man leans against the wall, glancing from the nearest camera to the unsubtle Illuminati insignia ingrained in the pattern of the floor tiles. “We really like ourselves, huh?” he says, pointing it out. Alana gives a lazy laugh, nodding. “Yeaaaah.”
Ollie follows Alana into the apartment, taking it in after she turns on the main light. For a moment, he cracks a hint of a smile, though it quickly fades.
“This is nice,” the man remarks, following Alana further into the space. “I like all the… foliage.”
“Thanks,” she says. She turns back to look at him looming there behind her, a brief moment of trepidation hitting her before her eyes connect with his. There’s hardness to them, but also something softer hidden deep inside, something much less menacing than the man might usually present. Ollie can probably read the look of relief on her face.
“You’re, uh… probably OK to go home, you know…” she says.
Ollie shakes his head, almost looking determined. “She said stay.” He pauses, watching her. “You can go get some sleep. I’ll chill out here and just… watch some TV or something. You probably have every streaming service there is…” There’s a smirk with these words, Ollie glancing toward the TV.
“I do, actually,” Alana admits sheepishly, trying not to laugh.
He tries not to roll his eyes, the smirk staying. “Figures. Anyway, I’ll be out here. Just rest, recover, all that. If you’re feeling better, I’ll take off when you wake up. Cool?”
There’s genuine reassurance in his words, Alana nodding along with them. “Alright. I’ll go lay down then.” She pauses here. “Um… There’s… food and drinks and whatever in the kitchen. Probably some beers or something, too. You can help yourself to anything, since you’re on babysitting duty.”
He glances toward the kitchen, nodding. “Cool. I might make a sandwich or something in a while then.”
Alana lingers at the hallway entrance, watching him. It’ll definitely be hard trying to sleep with a semi-stranger parked on her couch.
“Alright. Anyway… goodnight, Ollie.”
“Night, Alana.”
She finally moves for her bedroom and closes the door behind her. Ollie smirks as he hears the sound of the lock from the other side.
“I wasn’t gonna try to come in there,” he calls out.
“I know!” Alana pipes. “It’s just… it’s weird, OK?”
Ollie laughs.
“Goodnight, Alana!” he calls.
“Goodnight, Ollie.”