This is actually more of a fanfiction than a stand-alone, but as it is a fanfiction of a now defunct roleplay, I couldn't really post it on . All the persons mentioned here were characters in the roleplay, (if you want background history, PM me and I'll summarize for you, it's too long to post here.) If you're not interested, you can still probably enjoy the story.

Olivia died when the person playing her quit the site due to personal reasons. They were one of my favorite couples and so I felt compelled to write her death. (Especially after someone else's character started flirting with Aiden and I needed some way to drive her off. -_- )


Tears ran freely down Aiden's face as he dug the grave. A few feet away lay a body wrapped in a white blanket. He paused a moment to wipe the back of his hand across his face, dirt mingling with tears to make muddy streaks. He couldn't bear to look over at Olivia's shrouded body, even the thought of doing so dragged a whimper from between his lips. He didn't know how he could go on without her - the sweet, innocent, wise, smart girl who'd protected him, patched him up, showed him the way, and loved him, loved him as no one else ever had or would. And in return, he had given her all his love, all his devotion, his heart, his will, his mind, his protection, his whole life. And she had been cruelly ripped from him.

He knew she'd been training to be a nurse, she'd told him so one time as she tended the wounds he'd received from Klaus. She knew remedies and healing. But Aiden, a fighter, didn't. So when Olivia fell gravely ill, he hadn't known how to treat her. He'd tried to keep her hydrated and cool, hoping the best thing would be to let the fever run its course. But the fever had run her straight to death.

Near the end, he had known what was inevitable. He'd debated on risking Daniel's fury and taking her to Arianna, but he realized he didn't know where their camp was. So he had desperately fought a lone, vain battle to save her.

The sickness was swift, severely setting in within three days. Within four, she was delirious. Not quite two weeks later, Aiden knew it was the end. He held her in his arms, helpless with sobs, as her life faded out. As he felt her heartbeat vanish and heard her last breath, something deep inside him went out like a candle, something essential. He bent his head, sobs wracking his body, tearing his soul, his heart. He kissed her forehead and gently lay her back on the bed, drawing the white blanket up over her face.

Going down the ladder, he sat at the base of the tree with the house he'd built. He stared up at the sky, not knowing how to let go of his grief. All night he kept vigil, watching the stars, tears running silently down his face. As dawn broke over the treetops, he slowly rose, collecting the shovel he'd made when still planning to plant a garden. Setting it at the base of the tree, he ascended into the house, fetching her covered body from the bed. Carefully climbing down again, he cradled her in his arms. Picking up the shovel with one hand, he headed towards a glade they'd often picnicked in together.

Laying her gently in the shade, he began digging, right in the middle of the clearing. There was no sound besides his own laboured breathing and the shovel in the dirt. It was not long, almost too short a time, before the grave was deep enough. Tenderly lifting her body, he carried her over to the rough hole, tears falling onto her shroud like rain. He hesitated a moment, longing to lift back the blanket and look at her face one more time, but he knew that if he did he wouldn't have the will to put her in. And so, without one last look, he carefully, gently, lovingly laid her frail body in the bottom of the grave.

As he began to place the dirt back over her, he finally broke the silence that had covered him since the day before, sobbing brokenly. Each shovelful felt like a betrayal, an abandonment of the girl he loved so dearly. Only the knowledge that if he didn't animals would savage her body kept him going. Finally all the soil was back over the grave. Smoothing it down, he gently lay a small, already wilting bouquet on top of the fresh dirt. Turning, he left the clearing without a backward look.

Getting to the base of the tree in which he had been building, he pulled out his small glass he used for starting fires. Catching the tinder, he watched the tree burn, careful to keep the blaze from spreading to any other trees around it. All he had left now was his knife, and that was all he'd had when he came. Turning away from the slightly smoking stump and ash, he strode into the jungle, head lowered in defeat.