Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’ve been alone since the beginning. The day the nightmare began is mostly a giant blur. But the things you do remember continue to haunt you. Witnessing people being ripped apart—the wet tearing sound their bodies made. You watched in horror as creatures who looked like people greedily stuffed their bloody mouths full of human flesh. The screams…the cries of agony. The growls and moans and the coppery smell of fresh blood. The deep burgundy color soaking the carpeted floors of the airport terminal. You can’t even count how many times you’ve woken in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with tears stinging your eyes.

Luckily now your night terrors happen less often the more time goes on. Sleep finds you faster these days when you’re actually able to. The violence you now encounter on a daily basis gets easier too. Then again you were never a stranger to this. Growing up in a military home, you were taught certain skills, gun safety, hand to hand combat, among other things. Your ex marine father believed you and your brother needed to know this stuff. You didn’t know it at the time but he was giving you the tools to survive in this new world. With ammo being scarce and gun shots attracting the dead, knives were the best way to go when dispatching them. One swift slab to the brain was the only sure way to get them down and keep them that way. You’ve had to kill many since you started your “journey”.

Before The Fall as you called it you lived in Dallas. You worked as a trauma nurse in the Medical Center downtown. When the world fell apart you were about to board a plane to Boston to start your summer internship. You enjoyed what you did…it was your passion. It afforded you many opportunities and you had plenty of amazing experiences because of your career. It wasn’t all sunshine’s and rainbows twenty four seven but you truly loved it. You thought you had seen plenty of carnage from your three years on the trauma floor. But none of your training could have prepared you for life during the apocalypse.

Your brother Micah had died over seas in combat years earlier. You were your parent’s only surviving child so of course ya’ll were extremely close. You would visit every two weeks to spend the precious time you had left with both of them. They were already older when you were born so now being twenty six yourself, you couldn’t say how much longer y'all had together. You smile through the tears now when you think of them. Remembering how your father may have been practically elderly but you swore he could still kick anyone’s ass. Being a veteran he was tough as nails but could be so gentle. You would watch how he would kiss your mother’s cheek while she stood at the kitchen stove. How he would fill up her iced tea whenever it ran low—then of course returning to refill yours while you and mom sat on the porch talking. And your mother…she was the sweetest person you had ever known. The way she would braid your hair even as an adult and make you your favorite meals whenever you’d ask. Her compassion and patience never wavering. Growing up your house was always filled with laughter and warmth. You always felt safe and wanted here. It was a bit lonely when Micah joined up, you had just turned thirteen. Even though he was six years older than you the relationship y’all had was one of the most important in your young life. He was an amazing brother and friend. He took you everywhere with him and always made you feel included and important. You loved him.

But when he passed you thought your family would never recover. Momma shut herself in her room for weeks it felt like. And daddy although he tried he was just as lost. Both of them drowning in the sea of grief. You were seventeen when it happened. All you remember from that time was how empty you felt—how devoid of feeling and emotion you were. You saw how broken your parents were. How they would sob openly and bore their hearts for all to see. You didn’t cry til the day of the funeral. When they lowered his coffin into the ground was when out of no where almost sounding like it was coming from behind you a loud cry rang out. You didn’t even recognize the sound as coming from you until you felt tears blurring your vision. The pain coming from your chest so intense you grabbed at it—unable to catch your breath.

The same breathless sounds now spill from your mouth as you see your parents laying side by side unmoving in their bed. The pale bluish shade of their skin tells you what you already knew, your father’s hand hangs limply off the side of the mattress. A bottle of empty pills stands alone on the nightstand…all you can do is stand there.

When you finally peel your eyes from the scene you spot a handwritten note sitting on the dresser. Picking it up you immediately recognize both momma and daddy’s handwriting. In it they wrote how much they loved you and how much they loved one another…how confirming with their own eyes the horror going on outside left them feeling hopeless and scared. How they weren’t sure if they’d ever see you again but that they knew you were strong enough to survive and make your way home. They apologized for you having to see them this way but to know in your heart that this was how they wanted to go—together.

Your father reminded you to use your training—to keep moving and always trust your gut. With your backpack filled to the brim and weapons secured, you looked over your shoulder and said a quiet goodbye to your childhood home. A place that once held so much love and laughter was now tainted. You knew once you left this place that that was it…there was no turning back—the only way now was forward.

Chapter Text

You didn’t know much about geography but you had gone on enough road trips growing up to know the basic layout of the South. You recognized most of the areas on the map you held in your hand. You remember one specific trip while visiting Georgia. You didn’t mind the city then but you did enjoy the more rural parts. Miles and miles of nothing but trees and open country. An occasional farm here and there but mostly nothing but vegetation and livestock. You don’t know what made you choose Atlanta as your next stop but you liked it enough and thought what the hell.

You figured once you got there you could decide where to go next. It made more sense to you that the dead would most likely stay in more populated areas like downtown. Them roaming out hundreds of miles to nothing but farm land didn’t really sound right. And from what you saw in your travels they still seemed pretty must stuck in the city.

You had already managed to pass through Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Had even been able to help out a few people along the way. With your knowledge and experience as a nurse you used your skills as a tool to trade and barter. Sometimes for food or toiletries but mostly you just enjoyed helping. It gave you a sense of purpose than just simply trying to make it from one day to the next. Everyone you were able to help was grateful. Even if they couldn’t trade for your services you still offered them nonetheless.
There were times where their injuries or illnesses were too severe or complicated for you to cure but you still tried. Unfortunately there were people out there who weren’t good or kind. People who were willing to do anything to survive…even if that meant taking an innocent person’s life.
You came to understand that not only would they take your supplies but they would take everything you could give. Living in a world with no law and order was rough enough but being a woman alone was a risk.
Not only were you scared of the dead but you were terrified of the living. Offering aid to the strangers on the road became more and more risky. With supplies dwindling you never knew who you could trust and you’ve had to defend yourself from more than just rotters. Killing the living wasn’t something you’d planned on but you did what you had to do. Taking on a single man was one thing but a gang? The thought sent chills down your spine.

Your father’s written words of keep moving flashed in your mind on repeat from the moment you opened your eyes til the moment you reluctantly shut them. Wondering if you would survive to see another day. You had to keep going and not stop until you got to your forever home. Was there even such a place? You didn’t know but you sure as hell would try to find it. There was no way that all this was for nothing. The killing. The crippling fear and anxiety that consumed you. Sneaking around and cowering like a frightened animal at the slightest noise. Your combat knife glued to your hand at all times. Always ready to protect yourself. Not sleeping or eating for days on end. As you got closer to the city you knew downtown would be swarming with the dead.

The sweltering summer heat made the smell unbearable. Enough to make anyone sick to their stomach. The way their tattered moldy clothing hung off their boney frames. The putrid odor wafting off their decaying bodies. The flesh just seemingly melting off their faces in the heat. A horrifying color wheel of browns, blacks, greens, and reds. The sound they made gave them away as well. The grunting and snarling a definite giveaway that they were near. Their animalistic noises sending goosebumps all over your body.

While out on foot whenever the rancid smell would invade your nostrils or the hissing wails would pierce the stillness of the day you would sprint in the other direction. Always keeping an eye on the map. It was dirty and crinkled from your months of being on the road but just clear enough to see where you had marked the best route with red marker.

Once you ditched your latest broken down car you decided walking to the city was easy enough. But finding a route around it without being swarmed by the dead or spotted by raiders was something else entirely. You stumbled upon an abandoned house about fifteen minutes outside of the heart of the city and you figured you’d stay there and come up with a plan. After two days of resting on a dirty but surprisingly comfortable mattress and scarfing down a couple tinned raviolis you finally decide which direction to go.

Before heading out you raided the pantry and riffled through the closets for any clothes. You didn’t know when you’d be able to switch them out again so you took a few things. Without being able to wash your clothes properly you liked to switch them out when you could. As you were changing out of your grimy clothes you remembered to look around for any toiletries. After rummaging around in all the hallway closets and underneath the sinks you hit the jackpot.

“Fuck yes!” You said squealing. Your eyes landing on deodorant, an unopened tube of toothpaste, and a hairbrush. There was also body wash and shampoo in the shower.
Oh god what you’d give for a steaming hot shower.
But Instead you settled for scrubbing your most intimate bits—using your canteen water to lather up a clean rag. Even that made all the difference—it felt amazing.

After finishing you wet your toothbrush, instinctively looking up into the mirror you were shocked by the reflection. You look like shit. Your raven hair is greasy and frizzy. Skin covered in a thin layer of dirt and sand. Your lips chapped and slightly bloody from constantly biting them. The bags under your eyes are so pronounced and your face is very slim almost gaunt.
You barely recognize yourself. The only thing that was familiar to you were your eyes. Still their same golden brown. Thick dark lashes framing their honey color. Thinking back to the matching color of your mother’s your throat grew tight. A single tear falls leaving a clean streak down your cheek in its wake.

Taking a deep breath trying to compose yourself you grab another rag from the towel rack. Wetting it you drag it over your face as well as down your neck and chest. When satisfied you brush your teeth and apply deodorant. You use your new brush to try and tame the rats nest of hair on top of your head…took a good ten minutes but finally you were able to smooth it all out. You braid it quickly—letting it fall down your back before heading to the front door. Grabbing the backpack from the kitchen counter and the new duffle bag filled with supplies, you walk out the door quietly and start down the front steps with your map in one hand and hunting knife in the other.

You figure you’d have about a four to six hour walk ahead of you before it got dark…about half that time if you could find a car.

The scorching rays of the southern sun beating down on your shoulders and the top of your head had you rethinking your decision to sleep in this morning. But you were exhausted—having not slept longer than three to four hours a night for months now…sometimes not at all. Now fully rested and recharged you were ready for anything.

You figure when you get to where you’re going you could decide the next move or maybe just stay there. Either way you were determined to settle down. All this running was exhausting. Maybe you would stumble on a settlement of some sort that was in need of a nurse. Or a small group who were willing to let you join them. Your resourcefulness and determination could be valuable. You just had to be given the opportunity to show it.
Little did you know that your chance to prove yourself would come far sooner than you could have imagined.

❧

You look out onto an empty intersection from behind a rusty blue dumpster, a very uneasy feeling crept over you. Why is it so quiet?—you ask yourself. Every shop that lines the street looks untouched. No broken windows or busted down doors. No blood smeared sidewalks or moaning corpses shuffling around either. As much as the alarm bells are going off…you know you have to find shelter.

You had seriously misjudged how long you’d be able to walk for. Now you’re exhausted and hurt—the hot sun slowing you down and that’s a big no no these days. Cursing yourself for being so careless you zero in on the aching pain from your feet and lower back. The sensation reminding you to stay focused.
Not to mention the nasty cut on your arm that now throbs painfully. You sliced it on a chain link gate trying to get away from a rotter who had a steel grip on your backpack. You thrusted your knife into its temple so hard you had trouble removing it. The anger you felt at hurting yourself only added to the power of your strike. The blinding pain shooting up your forearm was enough to make you cry out. Hot crimson blood started free flowing from the wound and tricked down your arm and into your palm.

You needed stitches, but that would have to wait til you were able to sit down and properly clean and dress the wound. The way your hands were shaking would never allow you to handle a needle and thread anyway. So you reached into your med bag and pulled out some fresh gauze. Scanning around, you made sure it was clear and after a few breaths you pressed it firmly to the tear. You hold back a painful gasp from the sensation of the gauze making contact with the tender flesh. You then hurriedly secured it with medical wrap…it would have to do.

Now here you are scanning the front of a little mom and pop Pharmacy on the once quaint Main Street. You really need soap and disinfectant. You ran out weeks ago and had been unlucky scavenging for them since. Even though the area looks clear you can never bring yourself to just run across an open street…around the back of the pharmacy seems like the safer option.
You waste no time, crouching low and moving as swiftly and quietly as possible. Somehow you’re able to sneakily weave your way to the other side of the street. There were cars upon cars parked all over and ducking behind them without being seen is easy enough.
Noticing there are still no dead in sight you start to worry.

What if the reason there aren’t any biters roaming the street is because they’re all crammed inside the buildings. It would be just your luck that the one place you need to get into is jam packed full of those fuckers.
As you creep up to the back of the pharmacy and reach for the door you stop yourself.
What if it’s locked? What if it’s open but there’s an alarm? What if a hundred rotters spill out all trying to get you?
What the fuck would you do?
You turn scanning all around you. A couple of feet behind the building are a few houses and some trees. If worst came to worse you could just bolt in that direction—break into one of the homes or hide in the trees til the danger passes.

You grip the leather handle of your blade tightly, your knuckles running white. Your heart thumps in your chest so loudly all you can hear is the sound of it in your ears.
You try to steady your breaths…in from your nose and out your mouth.
After counting to ten you swing the door open and throw yourself back against the wall. You wait to hear the wailing of an alarm or the growls of the dead but all you hear is the sound of the door creaking open.
You stand there frozen expecting something to drag itself out—but there’s nothing.

After what felt like a long enough time you pull out your flashlight from your pocket, clicking it on and stepping inside quietly you close the door behind you. Raising up the light with one hand, you clutch your knife with the other. Taking in your surroundings you realize that the store isn’t that large. Pretty small really and relatively tidy aside from a few pieces of mail scattered near the front window. To your left is a door labeled private which you assume is an office. You grab the door knob and turn it, only to find it locked.

The less open doors in here the better—reminding yourself of that you reach over to lock the back door.

To the right is the pharmacy counter. You step toward it cautiously, scanning the dimly lit room for any signs of life, dead or otherwise. Looking down at the register area everything seemed to still be in its original place other than a single dirty coffee mug. Whoever was working here when the world fell apart must have just bolted out the back door leaving it open. You continue walking, looking around the shelves and down every isle. There are only a few and they’re short enough to see over but still—you don’t want to take any chances.

After you’re satisfied with your sweep of the store you walk down the aisle labeled wound care. Opening up your empty med bag you grab everything you need. Boxes of assorted bandages, gauze, tape, and disinfectant. You could almost cry when you see a brand new first aid kit—you really needed this. Also spotting the Advil and Tylenol you crouch down grabbing a few boxes.

Then you hear a soft sound. A muffled creak…the door maybe? No…something closer—like something creeping around the wood floor of the store…coming up from behind.
The hair on the back of your neck stands straight up as your breath hitches. Before you can think, you whip around clutching your knife—reaching out to slice whatever it is trying to ambush you.

When your weapon doesn’t make immediate contact with whatever's standing there you know that the figure jumps back—barely missing the edge of your blade. You stand up rapidly, taking a step back ready to do whatever it takes to get out of here alive.

Your fight or flight instinct takes over making you crazed like a wild animal. It takes you a few moments to realize in front of you stands a large man with a gun in his hands pointed straight at you. His weathered face shows both caution and fatigue.
Then you really get scared. A million thoughts run around in your mind—every horrible scenario you can think of flashes before your eyes. Your heart pounds harder.
Then the man suddenly puts his hands up, palms out, a concerning look plastered on his face.
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” He shouts. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Let's just calm down alright?”

You hesitate, eyes darting between his face and the gun in his hands.

“Listen I’ll put this away.” He says while sliding his weapon into the holster on his hip…never taking his eyes off your face.

You swallow hard, the grip on your knife tightening.

When all of a sudden a small smile breaks upon his face.
“Seems like we’ve both had a pretty rough day,” he says with a touch of humor in his voice.
“Name’s Shane.” He states, lifting up his hand as if to offer it to you to shake. His pearly white teeth contrast starkly against the grime on his face.
“What’s yours?”

Chapter Text

You look at the stranger with wide eyes—confused and unsure of what to do.
Does this guy really think you’re gonna shake his hand? Does he think you’re fucking stupid?
Your grip on your knife tightens, not willing to trust him.

“Look I’m real sorry I scared ya. I shoulda spoke up faster—didn’t get a chance to announce myself when I saw you weren’t a walker before you swung on me”. Shane continues, trying to read your expression.
His deep voice sounding genuinely sorry—that southern drawl made his apology sound almost sincere.

Even so there’s no way you’re backing down. Here you are just 5’2 hundred-forty something pounds standing up against a hulking stranger. Being able to get a better look at him now you realize just how big he is. With toned shoulders and a wide back easily visible under his dark shirt, he towers over you, a stark reminder of the sheer strength he holds. Not knowing what else to do you just stand there staring at him—silence stretches between you two, the tension palpable.

Shanes lips part to say something when three loud bangs come from the back door making you both jump. You step back kicking the bags towards the front door ready to make a run for it. You’ll bust through the store window if you have to.

When he holds his hands up again you freeze,“Wait it’s just my people. I promise we’re not gonna hurt ya."
His eyes are wide and pleading now.
“Stay here alright?”

As he turns and walks away your eyes shift to the back hallway leading to the door. Bending down and snatching up your duffel bag you start filling it with the boxes of meds you dropped when he startled you—hearing the back door open along with voices you panic. Automatically turning towards the front entrance you yank the handle towards you, but it wont budge.
You glance back, heart racing. Realizing there’s no time you sheath your knife, grabbing the gun from the back of your jeans.
Never wanting to waste any ammo unless absolutely necessary—you figure using it now as a last resort for self-defense is worth it. Flipping the safety off you raise the weapon, waiting for whatever comes next, your back up against the front door.

Moments later, hearing footsteps you tighten the grip on the gun, sweat drips down your forehead. Your breath is shallow and erratic with anticipation.
The footsteps grow louder…and suddenly you see the man named Shane along with four strangers appear—three men and one woman. Your heart skips a beat, still keeping the gun raised. You manage to control your fear the best you can so they wouldn’t know how absolutely terrified you are. How are you gonna get out of this?

Shane raises his hands again, trying to calm you. "Easy now," he says softly, taking cautious steps forward.

“Don’t.” You shot back taking a step forward. The word is sharp with tension as it hangs in the air. The room feels smaller with every passing second.
Shane pauses, his eyes locked on yours.

At that moment the woman raises her gun and one of the men lifts a crossbow.
“Stop.” The man to the right of Shane says, his accent the same calm yet authoritative.
"We don't want any trouble here.” Turning to you, he continues, "We're not here to hurt you. We’re here for supplies. Please, put the gun down and we can talk. I’m Rick.” the man introduces himself with a gentle nod.

“This is Andrea. Glenn. And Daryl.” He spoke motioning to the others. “You have my word that no one here will harm you.” His voice is steady, but it did little to ease your anxiety. The tension in the air is stifling.

“I don’t know you people.” You speak up, keeping your voice steady and strong. Theres no way in hell you’re letting your guard down—not yet.

“We don’t know you either…but we’ll put our weapons on the ground. If you’d do the same we can talk,” Rick continues. The woman who you assume is Andrea slowly looks you up and down. A look of disgust forms on her face.
“Hell no.” She spits.

Ricks head snaps towards her.
“Now Andrea.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.
Andrea hesitates but drops her gun to the ground with a thump. Never taking her eyes off you she slips her hand behind her back.
Grabbing another weapon she has hidden no doubt. Everyone else follows suit, grudgingly lowering their weapons to the ground.
They all have their eyes on you…waiting.

Slowly you crouch down placing the gun right in front of you. Your eyes never leaving Ricks. As you stand steady you remember the holstered blade to your side and the small knives you have hidden in your boots. If these mother fuckers wanted to try something you’d be game. You were deadly with a blade—it was always your strong suit during training. They may end up killing you but you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Great.” Rick smiles clearing his throat. “Now that’s out of the way—whats your name?”

Hesitating your eyes shift between the group, assessing their trustworthiness.
“Talia” you finally say.

“It’s nice to meet you Talia.” The man says. His smile making you feel slightly at ease.

He takes a few steps toward you reaching out his hand—not quite closing the gap between you two. But if you walk in that direction you’d be face to face with him. Feeling the blade next to your thigh gives you the courage to uproot your feet from the floor near the closest exit. Taking three slow steps you lift your hand to meet his. His deep blue eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles. His warm skin felt nice but foreign against your palm. It had been weeks since you had seen another living person let alone touch one. Rick then releases your hand gently.

Shane walks up next. “Shane—but you already knew that.” He chuckles. His smile deepens when your hands collide. His dark eyes lock to yours. You watch the dark orbs travel down your face and linger.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Andrea watching the interaction between you two with squinted eyes.
Her expression venomous. You watch her warily, slowly withdrawing your hand from Shane’s grasp.

“Hi.” A young skinny Asian guy chimes in, grabbing your hand and shaking it hurriedly. The baseball cap on his head made him look like a kid. He was Korean if you had to guess—looks like he could be at the most twenty.

“I’m Glenn. It’s nice to meet you. We don’t meet a lot of new people these days.” He chuckles dryly, releasing his grip.

“Yeah only dead ones.” The crossbow guys says. His voice is deep and gruff with a southern twang. He has shaggy hair and a scruffy beard. “Names Daryl.” He mumbles not reaching his hand out but nodding his head up in silent approval.

“Hi.” You say, not sure how to react to their kindness.

“And…this is Andrea.” Glenn says turning after a few moments of waiting for her to introduce herself. Everyone looks her way, while she just stares straight at you. The same look of distain plastered across her face.

What’s this lady’s problem you thought to yourself. Waiting for a response or any sort of reaction you just stand there not backing down from her. Obviously she’s trying to intimidate you but you’re not the type to crack so easily.

Realizing the tension, Shane steps in quickly?
"Alright, alright, so before you tried to gut me you were stockin up on meds. Is there someone is your group who needs help? You hurt?”
He say smiling slightly.

Finally peeling your eyes away from Andrea, you face him and shook your head.

“I don’t have a group.”

Then all their eyes are on you. “You mean you’re all by yourself out here?” Rick asks.

Now you’re wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have shared that information with these people you’d just met.

”What happened?” Shane asks, motioning to the sloppy bandage on your arm.

You pull back instinctively, unsure of his intentions.

“She’s been bit.” Andrea states coldly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You snap your eyes towards her.
“No I wasn’t.” You shot back glaring her down.
“I sliced it on a chain link tryin to get away from a rotter…came here to stock and stitch up.” You look around nervously hoping these people wouldn’t just shoot you without confirming that you were in fact not infected.

“Could you show us.” Rick asks calmly.
“We just needa be sure.” He says.

Angry you rip off the medical tape and pull back the gauze. Showing them the deep bloody cut on your arm.
“Happy?” You say.

Glenn sucks in air through his teeth then quickly turns around, shaking his head.

“Can never be too sure.” Shane says, huffing with amusement at the kids reaction.

You rewrap your arm quickly, the throbbing from the wound growing more intense.

Rick looks to you, “Listen if you need medical attention we have someone in our group who knows a thing or two. He used to be a vet but he knows how to dress and stitch a wound.”

“I was a trauma nurse before...” You speak up.

This comment earns a light chuckle from the leader.
Rick nods, a hint of respect in his eyes. "Alright.”

“I was gonna stitch up here before headin out.”

Shane chimes in. “Do you have everythin you need?”

“Yeah.” You reply meeting his eyes before walking back to gather your things.

“This is fucking bullshit!” Andrea shouts.

“That’s enough!” Shane yells stepping up to her.

Her eyes stare daggers at him. She shakes her head slowly with a smirk.
Her voice laced with anger, “We’re putting ourselves at risk! We don’t know her—this girl could have a whole gang out there surrounding this place right now waiting for us to just walk out so they can slit our fucking throats!” She spits furiously.

Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. The sound of her nagging completely severs your already fragile connection to calm, pushing you further into a suffocating haze of quiet rage.
And just as she’s about to open big her mouth again you lose your cool.

A loud clash rang out through the small store, stopping everyone in their tracks. Their heads all snap towards the sound—your large serrated knife sticks straight out of the wall. It bobs back and forth from the force it took it pierce the drywall. It’s only inches from Andrea’s face.
They all turn back to you, eyes wide with shock.
A smile slowly breaks across Shane’s face while everyone else just stares.

Your voice is strangely calm and even despite your anger, your eyes are glued to hers.
“If I wanted to kill you—you’d already be dead…Andrea.”

Her face turns bright red and she begins to tremble.
“YOU FUCKING CRAZY BITCH!” She screams, stomping toward you. Both Shane and Daryl grab her—taking hold of her arms.
“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME RICK! SHE AMOST KILLED ME!” At this point she’s hysterical and you can’t help but grin a little at her reaction.

Risk steps in front of her his back now facing you.
“STOP NOW ANDREA!” Ricks voice booms over hers.” He places a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to silence her hysterics—his voice calmer now.
“Calm down.” He says.

Rick turns to face you. Admittedly you’re nervous what he'll say but he takes you by surprise when his icy blue eyes land on you—no anger behind them.
“We’re gonna let her cool off. You do whatever you need to do—when you’re done let me know so we can finish our conversation.” His expression is hard to read but you couldn’t help but notice the side of his mouth pull-up into a small grin.

Rick, Daryl, and Glenn both lead the still fuming Andrea to the office. Daryl shoots you a wink before disappearing behind the shelves.

“Holy fuckin shit!” Shane roars as he pulls the blade from the wall—you’re sure pissing Andrea off even more.
“How’d you do that?” He asks stepping closer as he hands your knife back, his large frame dwarfing yours.

Being this close you can see just how dark his eyes are. Their depth seems endless, a chasm of inky darkness you hadn’t noticed til now. His features are chiseled, even rough in a way. With a sharp jaw and wide nose that looks to have been broken at least once—only adding to the ruggedness of the large man. You have to admit he’s really good looking.

A dark tendril of hair fell to his forehead just before he ran his fingers up to smooth it back. His thick arm flexing from the motion, causing his shirt to slowly rise—revealing a small section of the tan skin on his midsection. And suddenly your head goes blank and mouth bone dry.

Clearing your throat you move your gaze from his stomach to his face…only to see he’s already looking straight in your eyes, flashing a cheeky grin.

Embarrassment blushes across your cheeks, hot and persistent. “It’s a long story.” You mumble, returning back to rummaging through your bag for the first aid kid.

“Good.” His voice rang out deep and confident making you look back to him. “I like long stories”.

That devilish smile widens and you can’t help but let out a small nervous laugh.

❧

Shane’s intense eyes are making you anxious as you pull the surgical gloves over your hands. Still feeling him watching, you thread the needle to begin suturing your skin.

“Could you hand me the hydrogen peroxide please?” You ask him.

“Here.” He mumbles softly. The tips of your fingers lightly brushing. The heat radiating from his skin sends sparks up your arm.

“Thanks.” You say blinking rapidly. Looking down quickly to the table you begin prepping the freshly clean skin around the wound with a gauze pad, sliding it gingerly around the edges of the gash. Taking a deep breath to ready yourself you finally begin. As the needle pierces your skin, you can feel Shane's eyes still glued on you.

“Doesn’t that hurt? ” he asks, his voice softer now.

“It doesn’t feel good.” You mumble barely louder than a whisper.
His concern is palpable, but you press on, pulling the needle through with meticulous care.

After you finish suturing the wound you run another soaked gauze pad over it. Satisfied with the work you let a small smile slip. It’s been awhile since you had to stitch anything up. As strange as it sounds you missed the sense of accomplishment that came with it. You rewrap the dressing on your arm when it crosses your mind that maybe it’s a good idea to look behind the counter for some antibiotics or any other useful meds. Lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice Shane inch closer.
The faint scent of mint and sweat wafts towards you making the butterflies in your stomach flutter.
“I’ll go let Rick know you’re done.”

He stands straight up and walks out the swinging door of the pharmacy counter. Standing up you walk to the shelves, rummaging through the paper bags and baskets holding any pill bottles looking for anything ending with the letters CIN, LIN, or XIN.

After a few minutes of intense searching, you finally find a couple that seem promising. Spotting a canvas bag hanging off a coat hook on the wall, you grab it, tossing the bottles inside. As you walk towards the isles of the pharmacy you hear voices coming from the back room.

Recognizing the men’s and Andrea’s snappy tone, you sigh deeply hearing her voice because holy fuck is she a pain in the ass.
You continue packing your things, only stopping when you notice Shane and the rest of the group walk into the room.

Rick is the first to speak,
“So it’s gettin dark out. What do you say comin back to our camp with us? At least for the night.”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling torn. The safety in numbers is appealing, but you weren’t ready to fully trust anyone…not yet anyway.

Shane can see your hesitation and steps closer.
"Look, you know it’s not safe out there at night. We’ve combed through every house around town and then some. There wasn’t much left to begin with but now they’re bone dry.” He says.

Rick speaks up.
“You could leave early tomorrow mornin…we’ll bring you right back here. Whatever you decide.”

You look up searching everyone’s faces and see genuine concern etched into their expressions. Purposely not peering in Andrea’s direction from not givin a shit about her feelings towards you.
Turning your gaze back to Shane and seeing his earnest eyes focused on yours, you take a deep breath.

“Okay.” You agree, swearing you see him release a small sigh of relief then quickly mask it with a smile. His eyes continue to watch you intently.

Rick turns to Glenn,“Grab everything we can then let’s get the hell out of here.”

Glenn looks to you and smiles before pulling supplies off the shelves.
Taking a quick inventory in your head of what was essential you quickly get to work also.

Walking out the back door to the pharmacy is way easier this time around. Being flanked by the group provides a sense of security that you haven’t felt since the beginning.
Shane offers to carry your duffle bag that had become quite heavy after being stuffed with supplies from the shop.

“This way.” Rick motions towards the side of the building.

Everyone moves quickly, keeping low and close to the wall. The sky is growing darker, the shadows longer, offering some cover as the group makes its way to the vehicles parked a few feet away.

Once you reach them Daryl and Andrea jump into the first SUV while Glenn runs around to the opposite side of the other and climbs in. Shane opens the back door and motions for you to enter.

"Hop in.” He says in that deep southern voice, sounding both reassuring and commanding at the same time.
Your eyes shot up to his face. It was briefly illuminated by the faint light of the setting sun, casting a soft glow on his features.

Rick shoves the last of the supplies into the trunk, slamming it shut. Startling you from your trance like state.
“Everyone in?” He calls after shutting the passenger door closed.

You look back up to Shane, giving a quick nod before clambering into the back seat before he shuts it behind you.

"Good, let's get home before it gets too dark," Rick instructes as Shane climbs into the drivers seat, shutting his own door.
The SUV roars to life and you’re were off. But you can’t help but slightly worry—being in a car alone with these strangers. Going towards their supposed “camp”…for all you knew they could be psycho’s.
New fears race as the car sped down the desolate road. The sound of Glenn munching on a candy bar he found in the store and the hum of the engine only add to the tension.

It not until you glance up at the rearview mirror that you catch Shane's eyes staring back at you. His rosy lips curled into a small, reassuring smile. It was as if he could sense the unease. Your anxieties seem to melt away along with a small piece of the wall of distrust you had built around yourself. You knew it would take time for it to completely break down but you were willing to start.

Maybe this was what you’d hoped for. Maybe their forever place could become yours too.

Chapter Text

By the time you get to their camp the suns almost completely disappeared behind the horizon. So everyone coming back from town would be getting a late dinner…which you guess now includes you.
The feeling of eyes on you as you sit around the camp fire trying to eat set your nerves on edge—you were beginning to second guess your decision to come here. And the gentle crackling of the fire did little to mask the whispers and hushed conversations that darted around the circle.
But soon you realize everyone’s friendly enough…except Andrea of course—who still sends poisonous looks your way from over the flames.

Rick introduces you to Hershel—an older man with a calm demeanor and kind eyes. His white hair neatly slicked back, face cleanly shaven. He owns the farm and allowed Rick and his group to stay on his land.
His farmhouse is a faded chalky white color with forest green shutters. Rich terracotta bricked stairs lead up to a wide wrap around porch. Multiple rocking chairs sit along the front, each one seemingly older and more weathered than the next.

You smile thinking how much it reminds you of your parent’s place, where summer evenings were spent in serene bliss, watching the fireflies light up the backyard.

There are a handful of tents and one old camper trailer located a couple feet in front of the house. They surround a huge oak tree that stands as a sentry. The campfire flickers under its sprawling branches, creating dancing shadows that seem almost alive. Theres an odd sense of community here, despite the chaos outside these boundaries.

After your host invites you up to the house to sit at the large dining room table along with Rick, Shane, and a few others the farmer asks you a few questions. About your family and life before the fall. He seems almost relieved when you tell him that you were a nurse. Then he chuckles making his eyes scrunch up at the sides when he smiles. The thought popped into your head that if he grew a beard he would make the perfect Santa Claus.

“Does that sound alright to you Talia?”

It took you a second to realize he’s speaking to you.
“Yes.” You blurt out before even knowing what it is that you agreed to.

“Great Patricia will set up the room for you. Whenever you’re done with dinner just come up. You’ll go up the stairs and it’s the third door to your left.” He says as he stands up, wishing you a good night as he turns to leave.

“Thank you—thank you so much sir.” You say trying to give him your best smile. His warmth and hospitality made you feel a little more at ease in this unfamiliar place.

After thanking Hershel again for his hospitality you decide its time to turn in for the night.
Returning to the camp fire you thank Lori, Ricks wife. She’s a pretty woman with long brown hair and from what you could see warm hazel eyes. She’s nice and helpful—taking your hand in hers and introducing you to everyone. Their son Carl’s great too, he makes you feel comfortable from the start. He has the same dark hair as his mother but eyes the same shade of blue as his father’s.

“Thank you—goodnight!” You shout back to everyone as you walk up to the farm house.

“Talia!”
A familiar voice shouts, just as you reach the first step of the porch.
Turning you recognize Shane jogging up. His smile almost glowing under the moonlight, eyes shadowed yet intense. His features perfectly outlined by the soft light.

“Goin to sleep this early?” He grins.

“I’m tired.” You smile. “I’ve got an early day tomorrow—goin back to the pharmacy.”

His grin drops slightly as he nods.
“Yeah, of course,” Shane replies, running a hand through his hair.

Clearing your throat you try to remain focused.
“Will I see you before?” You ask.

His smile returns.
“Of course.”

You can’t help but smile back. “I’ll see ya then.”

As you turn to ascend the front steps you notice a figure standing in front of the fire. Based off her previous attitude you assume it’s Andrea.
But you recognize the long brown hair as belonging to Lori. She stands there staring at the back of Shane’s head as he wishes you goodnight.
He turns to whatever had stolen your attention. Their eyes met and she immediately looks down—scurrying off to clean up the mess left behind from dinner.
You turn and enter the house before he looks back to you.
Walking up the stairs to the room reminds you just how absolutely exhausted you are.

After closing and locking the bedroom door, you peel off your clothes and climb into bed. The feeling of the cool clean sheets on your skin has you practically melting into the mattress.

You lay there just listening to the sound of crickets chirping and the crackling of the fire from outside your window. You can make out the familiar bellowing voice of Shane—he must be sitting by the fire. The thought sends goosebumps prickling over your skin and jolts of heat down between your legs.
Thinking of him being so close by while you’re laying naked in this bed makes your tummy do flips.
You stop, scolding yourself—your exhausted brain is obviously making you think crazy things—you don’t even know the guy.
Then again you can’t stop your mind from racing. Imagining what his lips feel like against yours…his big arms wrapped around you.

Eventually somehow you manage to push the thoughts of the rugged stranger away—telling yourself it’s just fatigue playing tricks on your mind. Focus on survival, on today—not some random man.
You laid there for what felt like forever just listening to the symphony of sounds coming from outside. Then slowly you drift off to the deepest sleep you think you’ve ever had. However even then you can’t escape it—your dream picks up right where your thoughts of him left off.

❧

Its been a few weeks since that first chance encounter at that pharmacy. You had every intention of leaving the farm and getting back on the road…never wanting to stay in one place for too long.
But the morning you were planning on going Glenn came running up the front porch. Where you, Hershel, Rick, and Hershel’s oldest daughter Maggie were standing just about finished saying your goodbyes.
“Jimmy’s hurt!” He shouts.

Everyones heads shoots up. Your ears burn thinking what could have possibly happened to him.
Internally you’re screaming to please not let it be a bite.

“What happened?” Hershel questions concern obvious in his tone.

“He fell off the shed ladder.” Glenn answers breathing hard. His forehead glistening with sweat—obviously out of breath from sprinting here.
“I think it’s his ankle—but his heads pretty banged up too…it looks bad.” His eyes are full of fear.

“I’ll grab my med bag.” Instantly you turn and swing open the screen door running up the stairs.
“Patricia!” You shout. “I need you!”
Grabbing hold of your bag, you yell for Maggie to get warm water and towels ready. Not knowing what kind of situation you might walk into you try to remain calm.
You burst through the front door with Patricia right your heels, the both of you sprinting behind Glenn. According to him the kid was doing work on the roof of a shed behind the house.

Walking up you see him slumped down leaning against the outside of the small structure.

Otis is crouched down talking to him, reassuring him help’s on the way. Relief splashes across his face once he sees you.

As soon as you look at Jimmy’s ankle you know it’s broken, his skin already a deep shade of blue.
"Stay still, Jimmy. I've got you," you say, kneeling beside him and opening your bag. He has a pretty deep laceration to his forehead. Blood slowly trickles down his face, mixing with the sweat and dirt. Patricia wipes around the wound with a thick rag, He most definitely has a concussion. His blown out pupils are the size of dimes, struggling to focus.
"Maggie, bring those towels here!”

❧

Once yall were able to safely and carefully get Jimmy up to the house you finally treat the rest of his injuries. The panic you once felt starts to subside. He’s in some pain but after setting his ankle and popping a few pain pills he’s doing better. He’d have to remain on strict bed rest due to the concussion and broken bones.
Hershel asks if you would consider staying longer just to keep an eye on the kid—you say yes of course. Its your responsibility to keep up his care. And you’re happy to do it…it almost feels like old times.

That was about three weeks ago. Since then you’ve gotten to know everyone pretty well. Hershel’s daughters Maggie and Beth are great hosts. As well as Otis and his wife Patricia. The others from Ricks group have become the closest thing to family you’ve had since the beginning. Dale, Glenn, T-Dog, Carol and her daughter Sophia are always happy to talk and help you.

Every day felt like a step closer to a new normal, and you find yourself growing more attached to these people. Andrea’s still an unpleasant bitch for the most part but she keeps her rude remarks to herself now. You two can work together if needed but you wouldn’t be becoming friends anytime soon.

Daryl mostly kept to himself but somehow you both always end up sitting around the camp fire shootin the shit and smoking a cigarette with anyone else who was brave enough to stay up late. Lori, Rick, and Carl always want to hangout. They like to ask questions about your job and what Texas is like.

And then of course there’s Shane..who tried to hide his excitement when you told him you’re staying.
Ya’ll start going on runs together—sometimes Glenn and Andrea would tag along—occasionally Daryl. But mostly it was just the two of you.
You’d drive around talking for hours about anything and everything. He’d have you laughing so hard your side would feel like it was splitting.
And even though you’re still getting to know him you notice a strange intensity in his eyes. It was like he wanted to say something but held back, a silent language passing between you—forged in survival that only brought you closer together. You two could clear through walkers like it was nothing…always in perfect sync. An unspoken rhythm eventually developing there…along with feelings you couldn’t deny and emotions you couldn’t quite place. There was tension in the air, a mix of fear and desire that kept you both on edge.

So when the opportunity for another run came up, you were happy Shane offered to go and insisted you come along. But this run was going to take longer than the usual few days. Recently the group has been having to travel farther and father away from camp to scavenge for anything. Daryl is a damn good hunter so the camp always has fresh meat but other necessities are dwindling. Plus you need more medical supplies. You and Hershel didn’t expect to go through it all so fast.

When preparing for the run you pack for a couple extra days…you hope it won’t come to that but who knows.
No one ever really knows when they’ll be back let alone if they come back at all.

Chapter Text

Feeling the cool breeze lightly kiss your cheeks from the open car window never felt so good. It was finally starting to cool down and the crisp air is a refreshing change from the oppressive heat. You look over to Shane as he stares straight ahead. He must feel you looking at him because he looks to you with a smile on his face.

“You ready for this?” He asks.

Nodding in response you turn back to the window still feeling his eyes. Their warmth burning a hole through you.

Why does he always do this?

His ever changing moods had started to give you whiplash. Some days, he seemed distant and aloof, other days, like today, his presence was almost suffocating. The way he looked at you could melt ice. Yet, he always stopped just short of saying what was really on his mind. And the feeling of his hand touching your lower back when he steers you forward was electric, a fleeting connection amid the chaos.
As the car continued down the deserted road, you couldn't help but wonder what was brewing inside his head.

Your mind flashes back to the night when he walked you all the way up the porch until you were both standing just outside the screen door.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He teased.
That now becoming an inside joke between you two.

“Of course.” You reply with a smile. Not really wanting to say goodbye you try to work up the courage to invite him up for a drink.
A full bottle of whiskey sat in your nightstand practically begging to be drunkenly shared between the two of you. But the words catch in your throat. Instead, you reach out and touch his arm lightly.

“Goodnight Shane.” You turn to grab the door handle but he stops you by grabbing hold of your wrist.
His touch sends shivers down your spine while his warm eyes lock onto yours—there he goes licking those damn lips.

“I’m really happy you decided to stay.” He says softly as his fingers entwine with yours.
His touch burning your skin as they trail along your palm. His eyes search your face for something, what exactly you don’t know.

You can’t focus on anything else but him stepping closer until your bodies are just inches apart. The heat radiating from him mingles with the cool night air, creating a tantalizing contrast. He smells like mint and campfire smoke, a scent that's become so familiar and comforting. And the way his shoulders tense against his flannel shirt—your heart skips a beat when he leans down—internally you’re screaming.

The world seems to stop for a moment, every sound fading into the background. When suddenly his face slightly turns missing your mouth entirely. His lips press against your cheek, sending a jolt through you. He pulls back, lingering there longer than necessary.

The tension so thick between you both you know he must feel it too. Your eyes meet again then but he pulls away—shattering the illusion of what could be.

His breath comes out sharp—igniting chills throughout your body.

“Goodnight Talia.” He says. His face shadowed in the moonlight, but you can still see the longing in his eyes.

Then he just turns away, leaving you alone on the quite porch.

You stand there for a moment—confused and wondering you did something to upset him. The look he gave…the hunger hiding behind those eye’s made you think for sure he felt it too.

The lingering warmth of his touch seemed to contradict the abruptness of his departure…maybe you were wrong about him.

Eventually you made your way upstairs, closing your bedroom door you lean back against the cool smooth wood, letting it sooth your searing skin. Your interaction with Shane left you feeling confused, out of breath, and disappointed. You swear you could still smell him…still feel where his fingers played with yours.
Your arousal starts swirling deep inside you—forcing you to strip down and crawl into bed, lying flat on your back you stare at the ceiling.

Each breath felt heavier than the last.
Your mind raced with thoughts of him.

You trace a finger up and down the valley between your breasts, before running your hands over your chest.
Closing your eyes you imagined Shanes hands being the ones to touch you instead of your own. You let them travel down between your thighs. Gliding back and forth you reach the spot you wanted him to touch the most—sending electricity down your legs. You swirl your wrist in circular motions before dipping two fingers inside your warm heat.
A quick gasp spills from you, quickly closing your mouth you try to keep quiet.

You see his face above you…feel his tongue brush against you own—his strong fingers pleasing you.
A white hot flame grows inside you—his eyes stare deeply into yours heavy lidded with lust.
Moans slip between gritted teeth.

“Talia please.” He begs. The speed of his fingers increase threatening to push you over the edge.
That smooth southern draw made you shudder—his words are soft but dripping with desperation.
“Cum for me.” He whispered.

It happens so abruptly—the gates burst open…waves of ecstasy drown you.
Leaving you gasping for air as your body trembles repeatedly.

When you opened your eyes you realized just how hard you were gripping the pillow under your head—your fingers ache as you release it. Your body felt like jello…barely having enough strength to turn over, your heart pounds in your ears as you try to breathe through the aftershocks.
You look out the window which was slightly open to allow a cool breeze to float in, you focused on the sounds outside and your shallow breathing.

Soon sleep overcame your body and you drifted off—only to feel his hands upon you again in your dreams.

❧

Standing outside the next day surrounding one of the cars with other members of the group, you were trying really hard to push any filthy thoughts out of your mind.
You shake your head slightly, trying in vain to toss the embarrassing thoughts away.
You could barely look Shane in the eyes…especially anytime he touched you—no matter how innocent or accidental it may be. Flashes of your fantasies start back up on constant replay.
Him looking down at you on your knees or his tongue defiling you between your legs. You swear a slight sweat broke across your forehead despite the light breeze.

Now sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV as Shane drove to your next destination, you keep thinking how much easier it is when someone else tags along on runs with you two.
Whenever it’s just you and him you mostly sit in silence—occasionally speaking when necessary but not engaging in casual conversation…you think it’s because he can feel the tension too.

After that night on the porch everything changed…silence filled the spaces where words once flowed freely.
You didn’t like it—you enjoyed Shane’s company and you only hoped he felt the same.

Whenever it was time to go on a run he’d alway ask if you’d join him. And of course you said yes…mostly just to get off the farm but also to be around him, your body almost drawn to his.

The hope you once had that maybe he felt the same pull too started to dwindle. Deep down, you wondered if that night had affected him as much as it did you. But doubt began to creep into your thoughts the very next day when he acted as if nothing had happened.
The spark you’d seen behind his eyes during that brief moment next to the screen door seemed to have vanished.

You convinced yourself it was a fleeting moment, one that meant nothing. All that mattered now was fulfilling your duty to the group. Of course you’re still attracted to him…if the opportunity came up you’r take it of course. But you weren’t about to chase him around or pout because he didn’t like you like that.

But occasionally you’d steal glances at him whenever he wasn't looking. All the while continuously reminding yourself that you needed to focus on keeping everyone safe.
Your wants had to come second, no matter how much they consumed you.

Chapter Text

The oppressive silence of mid day is broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the howling of the wind. You and Shane have been on the road since sunrise, and now the shadows were beginning to lengthen.
Continuously jumping in and out of the car and climbing through windows of abandoned houses. Desperation marks your every move, as you scavenged for supplies crucial to survival. More and more dead start to appear the further the two of you ventured into unfamiliar territory. Each encounter left you and Shane more shaken, less composed.
“Tal.” He whispers.

You turn to your right, locking eyes with him. He gestures his head towards a small group of walkers shuffling down the street. Your heart rate spikes—nodding to him, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Ya’ll need to cross the street somehow. But how to do it without drawing the attention of the dead is the real challenge.

Scanning the area, you search for any possible route or distraction that could buy enough time. At the opposite end of the street there’s a line of police cars…someone must have tried to block the street off you guessed.

“There.” You say quietly pointing to the road block.

Shane squats down next to you, looking in that direction.

“We can cut across the street using the cars as cover and make our way through the alley way then to the houses.”

When he doesn’t answer right away you look at him and notice a distant look stirring is his eyes as he stares at the police blockade. “Shane.” You whisper placing your hand on his arm—this seems to bring him back.

Meeting your gaze he chuckles softly.
“You know I used to be a sheriffs deputy.”

You smile.
“Yeah I know.”

“Really how?” He asks grinning.

“The way you hold your gun and your…demeanor.” You say trying to hide your sly grin.

“So I’m a dick is what you’re sayin.”

Both of you stifle a laugh.

“Sheriff Deputy Walsh at your service ma’am.” He winks.

You roll your eyes wonderin just how many women had melted at that introduction.

After a moment he stands up quickly and you mirror his movements.
”Let’s go.” He turns and ducks behind the building next to the alley, motioning for you to follow.

Moving quickly but quietly, breathing is the only sound you dare to make. You crouch behind the first vehicle before scanning all around. Still seeing the group of walkers a few feet away, you notice they seem to be moving towards the blockade. You motion for Shane to go, hoping that the creatures won’t notice you.

The two of you move swiftly past the road block, each shadow your ally. You’re a little more than half way when you hear a guttural moan from beyond the wall of cars.
Fuck.

That hauntingly familiar foul odor wafts towards you on the wind. You steal a glance through the window of the car you’re leaned up against, noticing more shuffling figures than you'd counted before.

Shane must feel your concern because his eyes dart from the group now inches from the blockade to yours, probably wide with fear.
“Let’s go.” He mouths silently .

You nod—trusting him completely and knowing that hesitation could be fatal, you instinctively follow his lead.
Just then you feel something cold and clammy snatch your ankle, yanking you down to your knees. Barely having time to look down as you tumble, you recognize the hand of a walker emerging from beneath a car.
You stifle a scream, kicking at the creature desperately. Trying and failing to grab at your knife, your clumsy fingers fumble with the handle.
You’re unable to take your eyes off its face as the corpse begins hissing and snarling, the empty look in its murky eyes piercing yours. Grey decaying flesh hangs loosely from its face, exposing the skeletal structure beneath. It’s jagged yellow teeth snap desperately at you—clawing at your pants trying to pull you closer.

The distant groans of the dead grow louder by the second.
Realizing its coming from the horde pushing against the blockade with a renewed frenzy, panic surges through you, but Shane's steely grip on your shoulder brings you back.
With one swift movement his machete comes down severing the corpses hand from its wrist, instantly freeing you from its grasp.

“LETS GO!” He roars pulling you up to your feet.
Grabbing the gun that fell from your hands when you fell, you regain your footing. Then the both of you sprint past the rest of the cars towards the first row of houses—praying the herd wouldn’t follow.

Once inside you make sure to secure every exit.
Finally able to have a moment you sit down, ripping up the leg of your jeans. Your hands tremble as you move all while praying not to find any wounds. You let out a sigh of relief when all you see is smooth unblemished skin—no scratch or bite.
You take a deep breath trying to calm your pounding heart.

Shane appears in front of you dropping to his knees. He pulls your leg towards him quickly, inspecting for himself, his dark eyes scanning over your skin not missing a single inch.
Finally releasing your limb he grabs your face, drawing it roughly to his.
“Are you ok??” He asks, concern evident in his tone.

“I….” You mumble—unable to get the words out fast enough.

“Answer me!” He shouts, making you jump. His strong voice bellows throughout the small room.

“Yes!” You cry out, “Yes I’m ok—it just scared me. But I’m…I’m okay.” You assure him releasing a shaky breath.

“Thank Christ.” He says barely above a whisper. Leaning his forehead to rest against yours he mumbles,
"We're ok.” His breath is warm against your skin.
He releases your face and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. His heart hammering just as hard as your own. Once he lets go his hands slide down your arms and grabs ahold of your hands—his eyes shoot up to yours.

“Thank you Shane…you saved my life.” You say softly.

He doesn’t reply but his grip on you tightens.
With everything you had just gone through, words felt inadequate. Instead he only stares with an intensity that almost makes you forget everything.

Not knowing what else to do you slowly free your hands from his and stand. The expression on his face seems to change from something like relief to disappointment.
“Talia…” he began.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t felt that same disappointment when he rejected you on the porch. The memory of his confusing demeanor in contrast to his current tenderness swirls in your head. As he gets to his feet he keeps his eyes down.
“We should eat something.” You say as the all too familiar emptiness of your stomach starts to ache.

“Yeah” he mutters.

❧

You both finish up the last bits of dinner quietly. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

Once done he places his can down in front of him, he perched his arm on top of his knees. The room feels even smaller now, the weight of everything pressing in. He continues to stare at the floor until finally he speaks.
“I’m sorry. ” His voice is almost a whisper, barely breaking the tension between you.
“I’m sorry for how I’ve been,” he continues, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.
“I never meant to shut you out." His brows furrow in genuine remorse.

However grateful for his admission you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge that he hurt you. You’d be damned if you let that be known.

“It’s not just that,” you reply.
“We used to talk about everything. Now…you're different, and I don’t know why. If you don’t wanna be friends, then just say so. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings Shane…I’m not a little girl.”

Glancing to the empty can of beans in your hand you set it down by the wall.

Looking even more wounded by your words, he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“Listen Tal I…” he starts.
“I can’t do this.” His deep voice cracks slightly.

You cock your head to the side.
“Do what?” You ask.

His brow furrows.

Looking at him more intently you ask again, “You can't do what Shane?”

He rubs his forehead, the frustration evident in his eyes.
“This, Tal.”

You shake your head, huffing slightly.
“What's this, Shane?” You demanded.
“There is no this.” Your voice coming out sharper than you intended.

He sighs standing to his feet, closing the space between you.
“Talia I…”

”Ok stop.” You stand up cutting him off _”Just stop, Shane.”

He pauses, his fingers flexing at his sides. Pent up anger obvious across his face.

”You followed me up those stairs that night—ever since then you’ve been different. I’ve always been the same—I never changed!”

His eyes narrow, “So it’s all my fault then?”

”What it’s mine?” You’re angry now.

He shakes his head, eyes blazing. "I never meant for any of this to happen, Talia.”

“For what to happen Shane? Nothing’s happened…and now you’re what? Trying to let me down easy? Don’t flatter yourself Walsh.” You huff.

How dare he try to make you feel like this. Like you’re some pathetic high school girl he’s breaking up with. When did you ever say to him that you wanted something to happen between you?

“You don't get it, do you?” He shouts back, his voice rising with frustration.
He stands right in front of you, “I’m tryin to look out for you!”

You laugh—now you’re trying to hurt his feelings.
“Ok just stop seriously…in case you didn’t already know I don’t need anyone to look out for me.”

His jaw clenches, “Really? Cause you sure needed my help earlier.”

You grip your fists tighter, shaking your head in disbelief.
“Fuck you.” You spit furiously, close enough now to feel his breath on your cheek.

To your surprise Shane doesn’t argue instead he stands there. His chest rising and falling under his black thermal. The top two buttons are open. Revealing the silver chain around his neck, resting against his deep skin. His warm gaze trails down you face to your mouth.

Slowly he leans in, his lips inches from yours. He hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching your face for any sign of backing down. And when he doesn’t see one—he finds you, kissing you furiously, your lips matching his with the same hunger.

You wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his thick hair.

His hands grab your waist, fingers gripping you tightly. Pulling you into his chest as your bodies melt into one. His tongue invades your mouth while his strong body pins you up against the wall.

He breaks the kiss making your eyes shoot open. Finding your neck, he feverishly kisses your delicate skin, setting your body ablaze. You roll your head back, giving him better access, his hands travel up the front of your shirt. A low groan escapes his mouth when his fingers slip under the fabric of your bra.
The bulge in his pants brushes against your thigh—your legs open up just enough for him to fit perfectly between them. You lift one until you feel him rub up against the fabric of your jeans.

He slips his hand underneath your thigh, holding you there. Grinding into you he releases an unsteady breath as his mouth finds yours again, making you dizzy.

Shane kisses you like it’s all he’s ever known—like it’s all he’ll ever need.

Drunk off him it takes you a moment to recognize the sound of pants being unbuttoned and a zipper being yanked down. You gasp when his warm hand slides into your jeans, slithering into your panties. He slips one thick finger between your lips, slowly circling your clit. He breathes deeply when your head falls back against the wall.

An intense heat spreads throughout your body. And you stifle a cry as he pushes a finger inside you.

His eyes are glued on your face, heavy lidded with lust. You can tell he likes watching while he pleases you.

Your fingers claw at his shoulders as he starts moving his hand—causing desperate groans to come pouring out of you.

That familiar burning sensation starts to toil deep inside you.

He pushes in as far as he can, curling his finger deep at the knuckle.

Your hips rock back and forth against his hand. And a low broken sound came from the back of his throat.

Then suddenly and without warning the rubber band of your release finally snaps. Explosions of color burst behind your eyes leaving you reeling.

Shane continues to pump into you, helping you ride out that high.

Fluttering around his fingers your legs continue to tremble.< br/> You eye him in awe as he pulls his hand from you and slowly slips his fingers into his mouth—savoring the taste of you.

Chapter Text

You can feel Shane’s eyes burning into you from across the dining room table.
How many times do you have to tell him?
You really don’t want anyone here in your business. Not that you’re embarrassed of your relationship by any means, but some things are best kept private.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to brush off his intense gaze.

“Just act normal—like before.” You told him.

He just grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer and whispered,
“How can I when I can't stop thinkin bout you?”

You have to admit you catch yourself daydreaming often. Savoring the feeling of his lips on yours, devouring you like a man starved until all other thoughts fade away.
But here, surrounded by people, you know you have to focus on maintaining your composure. Flashes from your last run a little over two weeks ago flicker in your mind. You recall how the night started out with him saving your life to it ending with your legs wrapped around his waist.
You blink several times trying to remove the image from your head, unintentionally glancing up at him. And catching that wicked smile with those narrowed eyes he flashes when he knows exactly what's on your mind.
It makes your heart skip and cheeks flush against your will.

Quickly looking back down at your plate you take another bite of cake—you try to focus on the surrounding commotion at the table. It’s Beth’s twenty first birthday. The room buzzes with laughter and chatter, but you feel his gaze like a tangible weight. The group passes around plates of birthday cake, just as Beth playfully tosses a handful of confetti at you, bringing you back to the moment.

After cleaning up and saying your goodnights to Hershel, Patricia, and Otis everyone else steps outside to gather around the fire.
For a few weeks now while on runs everyone had started hoarding bottles of liquor. Waiting for this very day.
You join the circle, accepting a bottle passed your way, letting the warmth spread through you.

Watching the birthday girl over the fire you smile—she reminds you a lot of Micah. She’s sweet and generous, witty but reserved and not afraid to speak her mind if she has to. With her golden blonde hair in a high ponytail and bright olive colored eyes. She always wore cowboy boots and a soft smile.

As a birthday present you gift her a dainty silver bracelet with a horse charm on it. Beth beams at the present, her eyes glittering under the flickering fire light as she admires the jewelry. You found it one day while out on a run and thought she might like it. You’d seen dozens of horse posters covering her bedroom walls and an old faded stuffed pony sitting on her bed, beloved and worn.
The bracelet dangles perfectly around her slender wrist.

“Thank you Tal!.” She says with a smile, her arms wrapping you in a tight hug.

“You're welcome, Beth," you reply, returning her embrace.

“Now.” She says pulling back to face you, a large grin on her face.
“Let’s get messed up!”

❧

The cool night air is crisp, the chill making you grateful summer is officially over. The campfire feels good. You pull the knitted blanket in your lap up to your chin. Taking another swig of whiskey and savoring the warm burn as it slides down your throat.
Laughter and voices fill the air around the fire. Rick, Lori, Dale and Carol to your right while Shane and T-Dog sit to your left. Both Daryl and Andrea stand around the picnic table trying to teach Glenn and Jimmy how to play whiskey pong. Same rules as beer pong but with no beer…Yikes.

“She’s gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” You say shaking your head watching the youngest Greene girl take what had to be her fifth or sixth shot of pure liquor, Maggie shooting one as well. They both stagger a bit and laugh uncontrollably.
Stumbling slightly, Beth leans into her sister for support, her giggles mixing with the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the night. You can't help but chuckle, knowing these moments of joy are fleeting in this world. And as much as you want to stop Beth she had said she wanted to experience a real twenty first birthday party. Even if that meant getting black out drunk tonight.
She made you and Maggie promise not to try and stop her from having fun or scold her for being wild. But just to please not let her wander off with Jimmy while she was trashed.

“She’ll be fine.” Rick chuckles, taking a drink from his cup.
“I think her dad kinda had an idea of what would be goin down tonight so he’s lettin her skip chores tomorrow.”

“That’s good.” You reply, keeping an eye on the blonde, who’s dancing wildly now.

Examining the cups sitting around the fire you grab the handle of whiskey you left resting next to your chair and start topping them off. Everyone is in high spirits, laughing and listening to the faint country music that played from Otis’s old sterio.
Glancing up you notice Lori doesn’t have a drink in her hand.
“Lori do you need a cup? I have some over here.” You ask her motioning to the plastic cups laying down in one of the camping chairs.

“I’m not drinking tonight.” She says smiling.

“Oh ok.” You smile back.

“She’s Rick’s dd.” T-Dog chimes in, making everyone laugh.

You see out of the corner of your eye Lori give a small smile. But something seems hidden behind her calm demeanor.

❧

A few hours later it’s time to take the birthday girl to bed. You and Shane help her up the stairs, trying to be quiet, Maggie two steps behind.
As Beth lays down you tuck her under the covers, she mumbles something incoherent then giggles.
After placing a trash can by the bed, some Advil and a couple bottles of water on her nightstand you and Shane turn towards the door. The both of you slipping out just as Maggie climbs into bed next to her little sister.

Closing the door quietly, you release the knob, leaning up against the wall next to the door frame. The whiskey you indulged in all night made your head feel fuzzy. And across the hall, Shane mirrors your movements. The familiar warm pull between your bodies lingers in the air. You both exchange a loaded glance before silently heading towards your room.

As soon as you shut and lock the door, Shane’s lips are on you. His hands grip your waist tightly, crushing you to him as you both stumble toward the bed. Your heart races as the back of your legs hit the mattress. His hands flying to the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, then down to your jeans—the denim fabric jerking down past your knees.
You hurriedly kick them off, looking up to see him removing his own shirt.

The chain that lays against the tight muscle’s of his chest gleams with every move he makes.
Your eyes graze over him, traveling down his abs to his waistband while your fingers unhook your bra.
Grabbing at his belt, unbuckling it quickly you pop the button and zipper down.
But before you can slip your hand down his underwear he spins you around quickly. His fingers looping the side of your panties, yanking them down and off your feet.
His palm pushes down on your upper back, arching your body against his. You breathe comes out sharp feeling his touch brush along the inside of your thighs just before he ghosts over your entrance.
Goosebumps prickle along your skin as he dips inside you. And you choke on a cry at the sudden intrusion, reaching for a pillow to bring to your lips, biting down to stifle any deviant sounds that may come from you.

You have to be quiet.
Even though the room next to yours is vacant, the rest upstairs are all occupied. But his fingers are relentless, making your eyes roll back.
Shane leans forward, his warm chest flat against your bare back. The feeling of his breath on your skin sends shivers down your spine. His kisses you from your shoulder blade to just below your ear.
“Fuck…you’re so wet.” He groans.

His southern accent more exaggerated from the whiskey—all you can do is whimper in agreement. He pulls his fingers away and you recognize the sound of his pants hitting the floor. You barely have a second to breathe before he pushes in, stretching you to fit.
The sound he makes sends heat flooding to your core. You arch your back more, biting the pillow so hard you think you’ll crack your teeth.
He leans down to drag his tongue along the side of your neck—nipping at your soft skin. His hand snakes under you, skimming over your breasts and his steely grip makes you whine as he tugs and rolls your nipples between his fingers.
And when his hands fall to your hips you suffocate another cry when he thrusts against you slow and deep.

“Shane.” You whimper.
The soft sound of your pleasures brings you closer to your peak.
He takes a fist full of your long hair and pulls back, lifting your head up to meet the chilly fall air coming from the cracked window.
The bright moon light peaks through the glass casting a haunting shadow over the room.

He quickens his speed, grunting behind you and setting your whole body alight. Tightening his grip he maneuvers your face to look at him.
He bends down, his lips crashing into yours, tongue breaching your mouth as you moan into each other. Both of you frantically chase that same high. His smell is intoxicating…the way his dark eyes stare into yours, wanting to see exactly what he does to you.
His other hand grabs your throat and squeezes.

The whiskey pumping through your bloodstream makes you brave, so you start rocking back into him—your bodies moving as one. Shane breaks your kiss, his heavy gaze meeting yours. With his mouth slightly open, dark hair now disheveled.
His eyes close tightly as his forehead falls to yours. Your heart beats so loudly in your ears you barely hear the strained words slipping from his mouth.
“Good girl.” He whispers.

He releases your hair and returns to your sore hip, making you whine lowly.
The pain and pleasure you feel mixes into one giant puddle and his grip around your neck grows tight enough to make you gasp for breath.

He drills into you harder and faster than before, the sound of your bodies meeting pierces the dark room.
He groans, snapping his hips, making you muffle another cry.
Your favorite feeling creeps up your body, a slow throbbing that starts to grow.
He tugs your hair back again, releasing your throat to clutch your jaw. You crane your neck to reach him as his bucking hips send you straight to the clouds.
Those dark eyes are glazed over and a small whimper slips from his lips.
You can tell by the way his eyes roll back that it’s coming.

“I’m close.” His husky voice makes your legs shake.

You don’t realize til it’s happening, his thumb pressing to your clit. A loud cry almost tears from your lips as you arch your back again—but he shoves your two favorite fingers inside your mouth.
“Shut up.” He spits.
His ragged voice and thumb rubbing small circles on your sweet spot push you over the edge.
Your body quivers uncontrollably as wave after wave of your climax rolls out of you. You bite down on him unintentionally, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Then just as your body is about to give out Shane loops his arm around you, just under your breasts. He holds you up as he pulls out with a breathy groan. Finding his own release as it spills hot and wet on your backside.

After trying to catch his breath he stands up straight, turning to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand. He slowly wipes off your back. His strong hands now so tender compared to how rough they were not one minute ago.
He tosses the soiled tissues in the trash can from where he stands and leans forward, once again his chest is flush against you.
Still trying to regulate your breathing he peppers lazy kisses along your back.
“Come on girl.” Shane breathes, his sleepy voice makes you smile.
He helps you down off the bed.

Your legs barely keep you standing til he slips his arm around you, holding your body to his. His other hand pulls back the thick white duvet cover along with the flat sheet. Setting you down on the mattress you scoot yourself back to make room for him—hoping that he’ll get the hint and climb under the covers with you.

Normally by now you’d be saying your goodbyes before he snuck back downstairs to slip into his tent. But tonight you want something else. You always pass out tangled together on runs…but that’s when you’re alone. Back home you never wake up in the same bed. Maybe it was the booze but you need him—need to feel him next to you. Arms around you, cradling you. He looks up confused.

“Stay.” You say barely above a whisper, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his lips.
He meets yours with the same tenderness, breaking away you whisper, “Please.”

A sweet smile appears on his face.
And without hesitation he lays down, pulling the covers over both of you.

You turn on your side scooting back up against his wide chest. His strong arms wrap around you.
You sigh deeply…happily.
He places small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. Shooting chills right down between your thighs.
You smile—already knowing you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

Chapter Text

Weeks had gone by since Beths birthday.
The cool breeze the night of the party started to appear gradually more often, signaling the change of the seasons.
You step out onto the front porch feeling the chilly air whip around the empty front porch.
You love fall—It’s your favorite time of the year. All the colors and traditions—the warm feeling the season brings always used to make you feel cheerful and grateful.
Although this year would be different, it seemed everyone was determined to make this one just a memorable. Carol and Patricia had already started planning for Thanksgiving. How they were gonna pull that one off you had no clue…but if anyone could do it, it would be those two.

Hershel’s pumpkin patch is coming in beautifully. Carl and Sofia have already chosen which ones they want to carve when the time comes. The tilled earth is a rich, dark brown, lined with rows of robust pumpkins that glisten under the sun. A large bounty that fills everyone with a small, precious sense of hope. The days have become shorter, the nights colder, as autumn settles over the land.

Lost in your own thoughts staring down at the dirt, you examine the vegetation. Not noticing the figure that’s walked up behind you until you’re lifted straight up and off the ground, your feet dangling in the air momentarily.
You release a shrill yelp recognizing the faint scent of mint and the two calloused hands that grip your waist.
“Shane!” You squeal.

He sets you down slowly.

You turn to face him, your heart jumping seeing that cheeky grin, his pearly teeth peeking through. And those dark eyes are glued to yours as he leans in.
Reaching out, you place your hands firmly to his chest, stopping him. You flash a quick glance towards the quite house—the camp just around the corner.
The sun is barely coming up, brilliant streaks of burnt umber and canary yellow dance across the morning sky.

Shane turns his head towards camp then back to you and sighs, “Just kiss me.” His voice is deep and calm.

Your lips meet—feeling like it’s been years.
Even though they were attached only a few hours ago—right before he silenced you from waking the entire camp.

This kiss holds an intensity that speaks to all the unsaid words between you.
His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you oblige giving him entry. The kiss deepens as you slip your arms around his neck and his hands glide down your hips to your ass, palming your flesh roughly.

Then the sudden sound of someone clearing their throat makes you jump. Ripping your body away from Shane’s, your stomach drops when you see Daryl standing on the other side of the garden. His eyes are pointed at the ground—failing to hide the smirk on his face.

“Daryl!” You say.
“I…I um…I didn’t know you were…” You turn to Shane, who stands there with his hands on him hips. His eyes going from you to Daryl to the ground.

“Hey.” Daryl smiles, putting his hands up.
“Don't need to explain nothin…s’none of my business.” His grin deepens.
“Just comin to ask if Shane’s still gonna head out for a hunt…didn’t mean to interrupt.” He chuckles lightly.

You glance towards camp, then back to him.
“Daryl…” you start.

“S’ none of my business.” He repeats cutting you off, his expression serious.

You give a small smile, knowing Daryl is a good guy.
“Thanks.”

He looks to Shane.
“So you ready to head out or…?” His sly grin returns, earning an eye roll from you.

“Yeah…give me a minute.” His tone seemed cold.
You turn to him. His brows are furrowed and his jaw clenches tightly.

“Alright…”Daryl says raising an eyebrow before turning slowly towards the house.

Shane’s eyes meet yours, pausing momentarily before speaking.
“Are you gonna keep this a secret forever?” His hand gestures between the two of you.

You stop, taken back by his question, “Shane…”

“Are you?” He asks, his voice louder than before.

Unable to hold his gaze, you let your eyes fall to the grass below your feet.
“Im not keepin anything a secret.”

“Really?” He asks.
“What was that then? You embarrassed or somethin? Don’t want anyone knowin bout us?” He’s angry...maybe even a little hurt.

You take a deep breath shrugging.
“I just...”

“You what?” He snaps back.

Now you’re the one who’s mad. You whip your head up, glaring back at him.
“What do you want me to say Shane?”

“I want you to answer me.”

You take a deep breath.
“It’s not about keepin this a secret ok I just…I think what we have right now is good…it…it works.”

He huffs loudly, shaking his head as he gaze shifts to the yard.
“Me sneakin in n’out of your bedroom when everyone’s asleep?” His face is hard as stone when he looks back at you.
“What I’m good enough to fuck you in the secrecy of your bedroom but god forbid anyone finds out? That good enough for you?

“You never had a problem with it before—but now it’s an issue for you?” You snicker.

He steps forward quickly til you’re face to face. His stare intense, jaw clenched.
“Yes!” He shouts.

Your eyes grow wide with rage and disbelief, “Im done with this conversation.”
You turn to go and he snatches your wrist, stopping you there.
“Let go of me Shane.” You say through gritted teeth—every word dripping with venom.

He doesn’t relent—only tightening the grip. His eyebrows furrow while he locks onto your eyes, scanning your face like he’s running through in his mind what to say.

“Let go of me.” You repeat forcefully. Yanking your arm away from him roughly and turn on your heals, not giving him a chance to speak.

You speed walk up the porch, entering the house while trying to be as quiet as possible. Taking two stairs at a time you hurry through your bedroom door and close it softly. You sink into the bed as you try to calm down—your anger still red hot.
Releasing a few deep breaths you try to understand what just happened. Analyzing everything. Why was this a problem now?
Your arrangement worked perfectly. Keeping it private really had nothing to do with Shane—you preferred it this way.
Regardless of the state of the world you’re still entitled to your privacy. And how fucking dare he try to make you feel guilty for that. What else did he expect?
You care for Shane more than you’d admit…but this was all you could give right now.

You knew deep down you couldn’t survive losing another person you truly cared for. So you remained guarded—to protect yourself.
He had to understand that.

❧

By late afternoon you’re just about done with your daily duties. That includes anything from wound care, cleaning and counting medical supplies.
It was a nice distraction to keep you from thinking about Shane, who had been out hunting all day.
Maggie and Patricia shadow your every move—keeping you too busy to worry about him.
You had begun teaching them both and sometimes Carol important medical skills, hoping it would help the camp in the long run. They were eager to learn and you enjoyed their company.
Recently Daryl brought you some medical books from the doctor’s office in town. You spent a lot of time reading through them. It was really nice being able to return in a way to something you truly loved.

“Talia.” Rick’s booming voice jolts you from the anatomy book you were scanning.

“Hey Rick.” You say with a smile.

The camps unspoken leader lingers right inside the front door.

As you stand from your chair you slide the textbook towards Maggie. Pointing to a specific section of the paragraph you were reading, you say,
“Continue from here.”
Patricia pokes her head out from the kitchen.
“I’ll be back.” You inform her. She smiles and nods in agreement.

Walking over to Rick you see him smiling.

He motions towards the office just off the side of the living room—and you follow behind him.

“What’s goin on?” You ask curiously. Pausing briefly.

“Lori’s pregnant.” He says practically vibrating.

“Really? Rick thats amazing.” You say hugging him. He returns it tightly.

“It’s still pretty early but we’re excited.” His smile is infectious.

“Congratulations! Im so happy for ya’ll.” Your grin growing with your excitement.

He takes a deep breath.
“Listen Tal…I know you don’t have much professional experience with this kind of stuff I..I know this. Your expertise is in a different field. But—" he pauses, looking a bit unsure,"We could really use your help. Do you think you can handle this? That we can handle this?”

Looking at him, his eyes are filled with worry and fear. Your heart swells with a sense of responsibility mixed with uncertainty.
"Of course, Rick. I'll do everything I can for Lori and the baby. There should be plenty of time for all of us to prepare as much as we can til the birth. Hershel will know what to do.” You say with a reassured smile.

He lets out a deep breath, “Thank you Talia. Really I don’t know where we’d be without you.”

You smile,“I’d like to preform a quick check up on her just to make sure she’s good. If thats alright.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll bring her in.” He says before he turns to walk out the door.

Moments later he returns with Lori. His arm wrapped protectively around her smiling from ear to ear. Her face is surprisingly unexpressive.

“Congratulations.” You say sweeping her up in a hug. Her small arms surround you, giving a light squeeze. The side of her lips tugging up just a bit.
“I just want to check your vitals really quick and see how you’re feelin. Is that ok?”

“Yeah sure.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

You try to read her. “Rick could you wait out here while I speak with Lori.”

His eyes shoot to hers.
When she doesn’t meet his gaze he opens his mouth to say something.

Cutting him off you say,
“It won’t be long. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

Before he can protest you turn to walk out of the room.

“Sure. Yeah I’ll…be out here babe.” He leans down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead.
She gives him a sweet smile before following behind.

Passing through the doorway leading to the hallway, you reach the door to the camps makeshift exam room.
You close the door and watch her walk to the bed. Her thin body slowly sinks onto the mattress.
Quietly you sit on the rolling stool across from her.
“So Lori how are you feeling? Any nausea? Fever or chills? Any pain or discomfort at all?”

“No.” Her voice is flat.

Curious you take out your blood pressure cuff to check her levels.
“How far along would you say you are—if you had to guess?”

When the arm cuff is pumped full she answers back.
“Maybe around fourteen…fifteen weeks.”

You turn the knob on the cuff, the only sound in the room is the rushing of air being released from the pump.
“So you’re already in your second trimester. That’s great.” You smile at her while her eyes remain glued to the floor.

"Yeah." she mutters, barely audible.

Her blood pressure reads normal and scribbling some notes, you try to bridge the silence with a question.
"Have you had any trouble with your appetite? " you ask.

“I’ve been really nauseous but it was the same when I was pregnant with Carl. I'm just tryin to manage it now," she responds, her voice wavering slightly.

Releasing her upper arm from the velcro ban, you set the tool down on the desk to your right.
“I can give you some nausea tabs to help with that.” You say but when she still doesn’t meet you gaze you take a deep breath.
“Lori.” You start out, “Is there somethin you wanna talk about? Any questions or concerns you may be havin?”

When her eyes finally meet yours, they’re brimming with tears. Instinctively you grab her hands and bring them to her lap.
“Talk to me.”

One solemn tear falls to her cheek. Her mouth in a tight line. As if she trying to hold back a sob.
“I….” She mumbles.
“I’m really scared…I had Carl by C-section. My doctor told me if I ever had another baby I’d probably have to deliver the same way.” Her chin trembles, quiet cries escape her lips.

You squeeze her hands tighter and say, “Listen…it’s ok to be scared. What you’re doin isn’t gonna be easy, but you already know that. You’ve done this once before so you know what to expect. I promise to do everythin I can to make sure you and this baby come out of this. Me, Hershel, Patricia, Maggie…you’ve got a whole team behind you Lori.”

Her head falls to her chest.
“I’m worried….about Rick.”

“How so?” You ask.

“I…I…I don’t know if he’s…” soft knocks interrupt her.

“Yes?” You call outl.

“It’s me.” Instantly you recognize the voice.
“Come in Maggie.”

Lori’s hands lift from her lap, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Maggie walks over to stand against the wall with her notepad in hand. She gives Lori a sweet smile.

“Maggie’s gonna start helping me out more now.” You say smiling.

Your patient’s facial expression makes you question if your new helper should sit this appointment out.

“If you prefer it to just be me, she can step out.”

Hearing this Maggie looks up from her notes.
“Yeah it’s no problem. Just call me if you need me.”

“No.” Lori says slightly louder than any of you expected.
“It’s no problem at all.”

“Great.” you say, turning your attention back to the expectant mother in front of you.
“You were saying?”

She pauses slightly,“Nothing really.”
“Im just…worried about Rick. He’s had a lot on his plate recently.”
She flashes a tiny smile, your lips curling up to return one.

You reach for her hand again, giving it another reassuring squeeze you say,
“Everything will be fine. I promise.”

Chapter Text

Feeling the rough bark of the sturdy tree against your back, you allow your eyes to continue counting the stars above. A large chorus or cicadas sing all around. The autumn wind nips light at your exposed neck and shoulders.
You roll your head against the hard skin of the truck towards the glowing fire. There you spot Shane. He sits lazily in a lawn chair around the blaze. His gaze is downcast, staring into the flames. But as if he can sense it, his eyes dart up to meet yours. The raging look that once blazed in those deep brown irises is now replaced with something enigmatic.

You haven’t spoken since this morning, you’re still upset with how he acted.
But truthfully you still hope you’ll hear his quiet knocks on your door later tonight. As you watch him, you notice the way his sturdy hands grip his cup and how his tongue slides across his bottom lip after taking a sip.
The chill from the night air mixes with your desire to create a heady sensation, enveloping you in a bubble of momentary escape.

You return to your chair by the fire and pull your knees up to your chest—savoring the warmth radiating from your body. You couldn’t help but steal another peek in Shane’s direction—praying you’ll catch him staring at you again. But when you do his focus is entirely on the fire.
The sight leaves you deflated so you return to nursing the whiskey in your hands.
You start to wonder if maybe the decision to keep him at arms length was a mistake. You never meant to hurt him…you were just protecting yourself.

These thoughts continue to race through your mind even as you’re lying alone in your bed hours later.
You stare towards the cracked window, the symphony of the farm doing little to calm you.
Where the hell is he?
He should have been here by now—there’s no way he’s still pissed at you for this morning.
But even so when has being mad at eachother ever stopped anything.
With Shane it’s almost like you two are bound together by this invisible line. And in the silent moments that connection grows so strong it possesses you both, making you throw out any logic or reason and just focus on that hunger—that need. Then before you know it you’re both right back to where it all started. This high you chase can never be satisfied with just one hit.

Slowly you climb out of bed and slip on some sweats. You tiptoe through the house, the moon being the only source of light and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.
Once you reach the bottom of the stairs you slip through the front door and onto the porch. In the dim light of night you recognize the silhouette of Dale holding his rifle on top of the camper.
The fact that he didn’t turn around must mean he didn’t hear you sneak out.

Silently you step off the porch and creep towards the clearing where Shane’s tent resides. Briefly scanning over the camp ground you squat down and grab the zipper of the tent slowly, careful not to make a sound. The camp sleeps, and you feel the weight of secrecy as you slip inside.
Shane sits up, panting heavily, clutching his knife against his chest. You freeze as your gaze locks onto his figure. His skin has a slight sheen to it while his messy hair looks effortlessly handsome. His expression turns from panic to surrender when he recognizes your face.
He gives you a sleepy grin, sheathing his blade and tossing to the side. You watch as he slowly maneuvers his body to walk forward on his knees. Then he’s right in front of you, close enough now that his body heat radiates through his thick shirt. His hand reaches around you to pull the zipper down, closing the tent.
Your breathing shudders as he leans in, gently cupping your face. His lips hover over yours for a few moments and then plants the most tender kiss to your lips.

Then he pulls back and stares deep into your eyes.
But you can’t slow down or wait another moment—you grab ahold of the collar of his shirt and forcefully pull him forward.
His kiss makes you want to cry—the feeling of finally getting your fix overwhelms you.
You think maybe he’s trying to take his time but you need him now and with unsteady hands you yank his shirt up and off before your lips find his again.
With a hand flat against his warm chest you give it a firm push.

Shane extends his arms back, catching himself.
Once his legs are stretched out you climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. His hands snake under your shirt and over your breast’s with warm palms.
His tongue slid against yours slowly and with purpose.
You grind down onto him pushing a deep moan from his lips and he drops his hands to the floor by your legs.
It’s then you notice his kisses aren’t desperate like yours—they seem to fade in their intensity. He leans his head back and takes a deep breath.
Your hands land on the sides of his neck as you shift against him and your mouth drags slow kisses along his stubbly jaw.

“Talia,” Shane breathes. “I need to tell you somethin.”

You continue moving your hips and answer with a small hum of agreement.
“I’m…I’m serious Tal.” He struggles to get out, his pants growing tighter by the second.

You tell yourself you’re not ignoring him on purpose but fuck he feels so good. Against your better judgement your body just doesn’t seem to care about anything that might slip from those lips at the moment.
Almost instinctually your hand slips between your bodies and into the waste line of his sweats. You push down further, noticing he isn’t wearing any underwear.
You watch his face when your fingers brush over his length.

His breath hitches in his throat as he lifts up his head, fixing his gaze on you. His rough hands grip your hips.

A smirk breaks across your face at how he grows under your touch.

But suddenly he grabs your wrist, stopping you.
“Wait.” He says, his chest rising and falling.

Seeing that he’s serious you stop moving.
He brings your hand to his chest, resting between his pecks. Looking at him you see his expression turn solemn. His mouth opens to speak but he’s silent for a few moments. His eyes seem to search yours almost looking for the words there.

Feeling his uncertainty you speak up,“Just say it Shane—what’s wrong?”

He sits there staring, the sides of his mouth pulling up into a small lopsided smile but his eyes look off. Its then that you start to panic…What’s going on?

Suddenly he blurts out something—words you haven’t heard in what seems like forever.
Words you never thought you’d hear again…ones you’ve taken for granted.
“I love you.”

Now it’s your turn to be speechless—you sit stunned staring into his eyes.
Although your first instinct is to say it back, as much as you hate to admit it, you stop yourself, unable to let go completely.
Fear and uncertainty swirl around in your head, keeping you silent.
The way he spoke them so freely—how they slip from his lips like they’re weightless.
But to you they hang in the warm air of the tent feeling like the heaviest thing in the world—crushing your chest and stealing your breath.
You know repeating them would release you but nothing comes out.

But as if to silence any questions or doubts, he kisses you. His hands release yours and travel up your back.

You bring a hand up to your mouth, breaking the kiss your eyes flicker to your fingers. Then gliding your tongue along your palm to gather as much spit as you can, you feel him watch your every move.
Using one hand to open his waistband you find your way back to his soft skin. You slowly rub spit from the head of his cock down, gripping him firmly before moving your wrist up and down.

His mouth falls open, dark eyes locking on yours.

You kiss him hard—taking out the need you felt in your bed onto him.

“Fuck.” His words burn.

You lean forward and bury your face into his neck. Sucking at his flesh as his grip tightens under your thighs. He moves so quickly and without warning you yelp out as he lifts you up to lie on your back.

He sits up helping you undress then removes his own clothing, revealing his thick erection.

The sight lights every nerve on fire.

He settles over you, your ragged breaths fill the dark of the tent as his hand moves between your legs. And his fingers brush along your center before breaching your walls.
The wet sounds of your slick and quick pants are the only things to break the silence inside the small shelter. His mouth travels down your jaw to your chest, leaving small red marks from his teeth. You arch our back as his lips close around your nipple. His mouth and fingers working has your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

The pulsating in your ear matches the strong throbbing that courses through your veins. And when his fingers curl a loud whimper falls from your lips.
He clamps his hand tightly over your mouth.“Shhh.” He hisses as his fingers continue their assault.

The sly smile on his face tells you just how much he loves making you squirm. He leans down and kisses you wantonly, his mouth greedy for yours. The cold silver twenty two charm from his chain brushes against your throat as he pushes in knuckles deep. The burning pleasure thrumming inside you finally breaks land—carrying you higher and higher to the heavens. You clench around him desperately even as he removes his fingers from inside you.

And with one hand still placed tightly over your mouth, the other positions himself at your entrance. He sinks into you, letting out a deep sigh.
Your muffled cries threaten to escape his palm but his grip simply moves to your throat and squeezes to seal up any sound right at the source.

You slip your hands under his arms, grabbing ahold of his back and try to hang on as he picks up speed, bucking into you hard. He groans deeply as your nails dig into the muscle of his back.

Shane stops abruptly, pulling out completely. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting up til your legs rest on his shoulders. Leaning down he enters you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His lips press against yours, coaxing your mouth open with his tongue.

You give into him just as he starts rocking against you at a tender angle. Your hands reach out, trying to slow him down. But the discomfort soon disintegrates as he sinks even deeper. You release a breathy moan feeling every inch of him.
Then he starts moving again and before long he’s pounding into you. Trying to stifle the lewd moans that threaten to burst from your mouth, you bite down on your bottom lip hard.

He braces himself on his elbows, til the back of your thighs are resting against his tan chest. Your eyes close with the unbearable heat simmering in your chest.
He grips your jaw, jerking your face to his. Those dark eyes meeting yours nose to nose.
“Look at me.” Shane says.
His face is slightly illuminated by the pale moonlight shining on the tent.
“You feel so fuckin good.” His deep voice ignites that spark, reviving the cooling embers inside you.

“Mmm...more..” You exhale shakily, letting your legs fall from his shoulders to wrap around his waist. Your arms hook around his neck. In pulling him down, your lips melt together as if they were made for eachother.

He pins you down to the ground with his thrusts, you whine into his mouth as your fingers grip the dark curls at the nape of his neck tightly.

The both of you forget about the camp just outside in the heat of the moment, the slapping of your skin growing louder. Your soft whimpers turn to choked cries as you feel yourself start to tense under him.
Molten pleasure courses through your veins, burning through you at lightning speed as you lose yourself. Your walls clench desperately. And he releases a choked whimper of his own as he falters—those dark eyes lock with yours. Heavy lidded, his jaw slackens.
Your body trembles as he slams into you sloppily and you feel the faint twitching of him inside you.

Feeling it build, you squeeze your legs around him tighter fusing your bodies together. More quick breathes spill from his mouth as his muscles flex. He slams into you one last time, forcing the release from your body. He looks down, locking eyes with you as he pulls out, pouring himself on your stomach. The pulsing sends shivers down your spine as it spirts out, milky white and warm.

Shane regains his composure as he grabs a roll of toilet paper from his open backpack. And like always he gently cleans up the mess before collapsing next to you. His chest heaves up and down as he turns, draping an arm over your chest to pull you closer.

“Wait.” You breath, sitting up to reach for your clothes.
Once dressed you crouch down ready to unzip the tent but a hand on your wrist stops you.

“You’re comin back right?” He asks, his eyes filled with concern.
You give him a small smile and whisper a quick “of course” before turning to leave with the roll of tissue in hand.
Once outside you tip toe towards a shaded area a few feet from the camp site to pee.
And after you’re done you creep back towards the tent—flashing a glance in the direction of the camper and recognizing Dale’s figure you slip back inside the tent opening.

He watches you undress. You climb under the blanket, seeking warmth and solace beside him, his blazing skin melting the chill from outside. Every muscle in your body relaxes as the tension of the day drains away, replaced by the comfort of his presence. He wraps you up in his big arms, fingers lazily skim along the curve of your back.

Pressing an ear to his chest you hear the steady beat of his heart.
The sudden inhale of air rushing through his lungs rumbles like distant thunder, grounding you in this moment.
“I love you Talia.” He tilts his head down to look at you.

“I know.” You whisper but before you could think better of it, the words just slip out.
“I love you too Shane.”

The smile that breaks across his face makes your heart skip a beat. Perfect teeth against slightly swollen lips—it was enough to make you want him again.
He kisses you softly, the warmth of his lips spreading through you like a gentle fire.
Soon the sound of his calm breathing turns to soft snores.
His figure encompasses you completely, providing a protective shelter against the unknown threats lurking beyond the canvas walls.

This new found sense of security lulls you to sleep faster than you expect. And as you drift off you can’t help but think how there’s no other place in the world you’d rather be than right where you are, wrapped up in his arms.

But somewhere in the back of your mind a certain uneasiness begins prickling your brain. The feeling works its way down before settling heavy in the bottom of your stomach like a bag full of rocks.
You scold yourself for trying to sabotage the moment so you shove the ugly thoughts to the back of your subconscious.
But deep down you hope that this fleeting peace can last just a little bit longer.

Chapter Text

Releasing a rigid breath, you set down the book you've been reading on the table in front of you. The words Obstetrics and Gynecology in big white letters on the front stand out against the deep blue shade of the book cover.

You and Hershel had been preparing for Lori’s imminent birth everyday for months. If your calculations were correct she had to be around thirty weeks…so about seven months along.
Taking another breath, you try to wrap your head around the fact that you would be helping to deliver a baby soon. The idea consumes your every waking moment. Although you had a lot of faith in yourself and Hershel, anything could happen. To you this child represents everything that could be. That regardless of how fucked up the world was, love and life would always prevail. But if something happened to either of them you don’t think you could ever forgive yourself.

Rick and Lori are extremely excited as is everyone else on the farm, but you can also see the fear behind their eyes. Their happy demeanor slipping whenever you’d grow silent looking at the sonogram screen. Then quickly regaining it before the other can see. Hershel helps to calm them with jokes and pleasantries.
And raiding the local hospital just outside of town turned out extremely beneficial to the group. Restocking the groups dwindling supply shelves gave you a huge sense of relief. Glenn and T-Dog were able to get an ultrasound machine working with the help of an old generator. The amount of weight lifted off your shoulders when that screen flickered on made you feel light as a feather.

Now as you lay down on the bed of the makeshift exam room back at home, you unbutton your jeans, causing Shane’s eyebrows to raise. That familiar grin growing as he stands up from the wall.

“I need to make sure the machine’s still working properly..calm down there.” You chuckle.
Pulling your pants down past your bellybutton, you squeeze the ultrasound gel onto yourself. Allowing the ice cold jelly to settle onto your lower abdomen before using the probe to smear it across your skin.
Your eyes flicker to the screen, recognizing the outline of your uterus and quietly breathing a sigh of relief to see your womb is empty.

“See anything interesting?” He teases.

Laughing you say, “Nope!”
“Could you hand me some tissues please?”

He quickly grabs some from the table next to him.

Handing them over you wipe off your stomach as well as the probe. Shane watches you for a moment as he leans back against the wall.

“Did you ever want kids?” He asks. “Before I mean?”

Looking up from your zipper, you think back…that topic crossing your mind feels like a faded memory now. Something from a time almost forgotten.
“Uh I don’t know…I didn’t really think about it. After my cyst diagnosis I kinda put that out of my mind. Plus my job pretty much consumed my life—never even had time for a pet. I always really wanted a dog though.” You smile.
“Children? Probably not…a dog? Maybe one day. What about you? Ever picture yourself with a family?”

He huffs slightly as he shifts on his feet. He looks down for a moment before glancing back up at you.
“I thought so…just never really got round to it I guess.”

“Hmmmm…” You hum raising your eyebrows.

“What?” He lets out a hearty chuckle as he stands straight, walking over to you.
“Whats that mean?” He wraps his arms around you from behind.

”Oh please Officer Walsh—you already told me how you were.” You giggle.

It’s always been pretty obvious to you that Shane was no stranger when it came to women or sex—even before he disclosed that information. You didn’t necessarily mind. You were no angel…besides the past didn’t matter so long as you both were responsible for yourselves before.

Shane brushes your raven hair from your shoulder, leaning down to place a soft kiss there. The chill his lips give makes goosebumps print down along your skin.

“Even now you’re still the same.” You whisper.

His body goes rigid.

“You must have done a real number on Andrea huh?” You smile feeling him finally exhale.

He leans back releasing his hold on you.
“Talia...”

You grab ahold of his wrist.
“I’m just teasin—it’s not like you’re the only person I’ve slept with since the world fell apart.”
You think back to the time you and a stranger met on the road and shared a bed one sweltering summer night. The need to feel anything good caused the both of you to abandon all common sense and lose yourselves in one another. He never said his name and you never offered yours. The next morning you slipped out the back door before he woke up.

Shanes face turns serious. “Who else?”

“I met him on the road last summer.”

“What’s his name?”

“It was one night Shane.”

“So you don’t know his name?” He chuckles.

“Nope…We know Andrea’s name though.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “That was one time.”

“Hmm…you must have done something extra special to make her so obsessed with you.”

“I didn’t do anything “special” and she’s not obsessed with me.”

“ I see the way she watches you. How she hangs on your every word…how much she hates me. I just wanna know what you did.”
Leaning into him you grab ahold of his waist, burying your face in his neck. And feeling brave you drag your tongue up the side of his throat to just below his jaw. You can hardly contain your excitement when you feel his dick jump in his jeans against your thigh.
“Show me.” You whisper into his ear.

He reaches down, lifting you up to sit on the nearby desk. Pushing your legs open he positions himself in between.

You fell the hard bulge in his pants rub against you, setting your flame alight. The fact that you’re alone with him and done for the day has you thinking you should just go for it.
“I want you.” You say.

Without another word his hands shoot to your waistband—undressing your bottom half ferociously before he’s tugging at his belt. He frees himself from his boxers and snakes his arm behind you, splaying his palm flat against your back to hold you up.
His eyes never leave yours as he brings his fingers up to your mouth, slipping them between your lips.

You brush your tongue over his skin, lathering his digits in a large amount of spit before he removes them.
A small sigh slips from your mouth seeing him rub the wetness all over the swollen head of his cock.
You lean back on your hands before he guides himself into your warm heat causing the both of you to let out a deep sigh. Scalding hot waves of pleasure pulse through your body when he buries himself to the hilt.

You cling to his neck with one hand while the other grips the edge of the wooden desk. Shane rolls his hips once letting you adjust. The angle allows you to see him fully enter you, the sight ignites something primal in you.
He rocks up into you rather than just back and forth and when he moves it forces a sinful moan from your chest.
One of his skilled hands finds its way between your legs, the stimulation causing your head to fall back with closed eyes while you try not to fall apart already. His mouth fuses to your neck, sucking greedily. His teeth catching the flesh sends zaps of electricity straight to your core, every prod of his hips silence any sound from you now.

You’re completely lost in his euphoria, hopelessly drunk off him. His smell, his taste. The way he looks at you like you’re a piece of artwork in a museum somewhere and you only hope he knows you look at him the same way.

“My girl.” He whispers against your lips.

Shane’s words make you white knuckle grip the desk. He never breaks his stride even as he gently pushes your chest back before dragging your lower half closer to the edge of the table.
He pulls both of your legs to rest on his shoulders. One large hand tugs the bottom of your shirt up and over the curve of your cleavage, letting the fabric bunch up just under your jaw. He yanks your bra up to reveal your bare chest and ducks down to nuzzle his face to your breasts, flicking his tongue over your nipples.
You choke on a moan as more part from his.
His thrusts grow slower…more pointed, allowing him to reach somewhere blinding.

“Fuuuck...” You whine.

“Mine—you’re mine” He says as he presses his lips to yours deeply, your tongues tangling together.

The sensual rhythm of his speed mixed with the feeling of his warm body flush against yours swirls the rising tides about to drown you both…until you hear loud knocking against the door.

Staring wide eyed at each other you both freeze.
“Talia?” The tough southern draw belonging to Rick echoes from behind the door.

“Just one second!” You call out trying not to sound out of breath.

“No problem! I’ll…uh be in the livin room.”

“Ok I’ll—I’ll be right there!”

You stifle your laughter before sitting up on your elbows preparing to stand.
But suddenly Shane grinds his hips into you—your bodies still connected.

“Sha…”

He cuts you off by cupping a big paw over your mouth. His carnal yes lock onto yours, his bottom lip caught with his front teeth. He starts fucking you harder and faster than before. Your breasts bouncing with every ram of his hips.

He dips down to whisper against your skin.
“You like that…almost gettin…caught? Someone…walkin in—and seein you like this?”

The desk under you begins to shake and your body betrays your better judgment as you dissolve into pleasure. Your muffled cries almost slip out from his large palm. His filthy words have you dripping as every pound he delivers brings you closer and closer. Sinking back down flat against the smooth wooden desk your hands reach for his arms before your fingers claw at his skin and without warning your body starts to shatter beneath him.
Bright stars flash behind your eyes as you’re swallowed whole.
Shane pants deeply as he hunkers down, one hand still covering your mouth.

He gives you a few more strokes as his body locks up, filling you deeply and trembling through his release. Both of you stay in place to catch your breath, then you remember that Rick is still waiting for you.

“Fuck.”
You hiss pushing back and quickly cupping your crotch so you don’t leak everywhere.
He falls back onto the bed and covers his face with his hands.

“Shane get up.” You hiss yanking your bra and shirt down.
“Get up and get dressed please. Rick is waiting out there. I can’t believe I just fucking did that.” You mutter under your breath.

His head perks up, that sly smile on his face. You try not to smile back as you throw away the soiled tissues you just used. Slipping your underwear on he grabs your forearm, pulling you on top of him.

“Shane!” You yelp quietly.

He grabs ahold of your face, bringing you in for a kiss. Breaking away after a few moments you stand up quickly.

“Come on.”

“Ok ok.” He says still smiling.

After sneaking out to use the bathroom you start walking towards the living room, praying this interaction will be quick.

Your heart stops when you look up to see both Rick and Lori sitting on the couch in complete silence. Rick has the biggest shit eating grin on his face—knowing instantly they must have heard your stomach does a somersault. You turn to Lori for some kind of reassurance but her grin says the same thing. Your face felt red hot as you clear your throat…

“What’s up?”

“Um…we were wonderin if we could take a peek at the baby.” Rick says still smiling. His hands rubbing Lori’s while she beams at him.

“Of course…just let me get everythin sterilized first.”

“Sure.” He says flashing a wide grin with raised eyebrows.

You give him a smile before turning on your heels back towards the room.

When you swing open the door Shane is standing looking out the window.

“I need the room.” You say grabbing the disinfectant, spraying it over the bed as well as the desk you were just sprawled out on. You shake your head as you hurriedly rearrange the disturbed stationary.

“How long will you be?” He asks smiling.

“Maybe an hour.” He saunters over, “Ok. I’ll see you after…I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He cradles your face leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

Suddenly the door busts open with a loud bang startling you and Shane. Lori and Rick stood on the other side obviously ease dropping. The look of pure shock on their faces tells you they weren’t expecting this.
Rick lets out a slight chuckle.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t realize you were….sorry.”
He trails off smiling ear to ear but Lori’s face catches you off guard. Her eyes dart between Shane and you intently, looking sullen.

“It’s ok…Shane’s just leavin.” You look up at him—a unreadable expression on his face.

“Yeah I have to meet Daryl.”

He turns to you, giving your hand a firm squeeze before walking past the couple in the door.

“I’ll walk you out!” Rick offers too quickly, slinging his arm over his best friend’s shoulder.

Shane shoots you a glance before disappearing from frame.

Lori stands there staring at you, her feet planted in the same spot.

“So how about you hop up on the bed so we can get started.”

She walks over silently, sitting on the mattress as you click on the generator to start up the ultrasound. You can feel her glaring into your back.
Chocking it up to pregnancy hormones you begin disinfecting the probe.

“Go ahead and unbutton your pants.” You say slipping your hand into a latex glove. Just then Rick walks in with that same beaming look on his face.
“Just in time—let’s get started.”

❧

Weeks later sitting at your desk in the exam room you’re rubbing your eyes trying to stay awake. You haven’t been sleeping lately.
Lori’s due date is fast approaching and a constant worry on your mind. She’s been complaining of some discomfort which isn’t super concerning at this point but when she mentioned some light spotting a sense of unease crept up your spine.
You advised frequent sonograms as well as strict bed rest. Rick moved her to a downstairs bedroom at the back of the house. Her being closer makes it a lot easier for you and Hershel to attend to her around the clock.

“She’s ready.” Maggie says, peaking in the open door frame.

“Ok.” You call back chugging what remains of your coffee before walking out of the exam room.

Sitting down on the stool beside the bed you glance up with a smile,
“Do you wanna wait for Rick?”

“No it’s ok. He’s with Carl right now. They’re spendin some quality time together before the baby comes.” She says.

“Thats good. Im sure it’ll be an adjustment but a good one.”

She nods in agreement.

You’re really happy for them. The Grimes’s are devoted parents to Carl. And you’re looking forward to seeing the same with this baby. Plus Lori’s demeanor has seemed to improve within the last few weeks too.

The whole incident of her and Rick hearing you and Shane having sex then walking in on ya’ll kissing was a bit awkward to say the least. But what was really weird was the way she acted after. Like she was upset…acting extremely short and almost passive aggressive towards you which made it all the more strange.
You understood—your behavior was extremely unprofessional and you’ve apologized for it. Besides Lori’s known Shane a long time—Rick and him are like brothers. She doesn’t know you super well and maybe she’s just lookin out for him.
Other than that you were absolutely mortified after everything and told Shane it’d never happen again.
Rick however was practically elated when he caught up with you at dinner—saying all he ever wanted was for Shane to find someone. That we both deserved all the happiness in the world.

“So like I said everything looks perfect.” You say wiping the gel from Lori’s swollen belly.
“Baby’s heart looks good. Placenta and amniotic fluid look normal. Body measurements are all typical for this far along.”
You smile at her feeling a deep sense of pride with how much time and work you’ve invested in this pregnancy.
“Do you wanna know the sex? I think I’ll be able to see.

“No! No we want it to be a surprise.”

“That should be fun! Im so excited.” You grin.

Her expression turns serious as she takes a deep breath before sitting up in the bed. Her hazel eyes met yours,
“I just need to tell you that no matter what…this is Rick’s baby.”

Her comment takes you by surprise and confused you furrow your brow, “I’m sorry Lori I don’t…I’m not following.” You say chuckling awkwardly.

She takes another deep breath.
“Whatever Shane may have told you about us you need to know that Rick is the father of this baby.”

A sick feeling swirls around in the pit of your stomach.
“Somethin happened between you and…Shane?” you ask.

She looks perplexed, squinting her eyes and searching your face. Then her hand flew to her mouth as she audibly gasps.
Her eyes grew wide welling with tears,“Oh my god.”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest when you finally understand.

“Talia sweetie I’m so sorry.” She reaches out, making you jump back off your stool as if her touch could burn.

Your mind reeling you march out of the room without another word—feeling bile start to bubble up in your throat.
Passing by the kitchen you see Hershal and Patricia laughing while Maggie sits at the dining room table flipping through an old medical journal.
“Tal are you ok?” The younger Greene asks standing up quickly.

“I’m not feelin very good…Lori is all done…I need some fresh air.”
Slinging your coat over your shoulders you push open the screen door. The cold winter air burns your bare cheeks and your eyes sting as tears blur your vision, you don’t know where you’re walking, you just have to get out of here.

Once you reach the small creek on the edge of the property you squat down before collapsing on a large boulder next to the water. Sitting there, staring into the stream you can feel your heart slowly breaking. The cracks forming, spreading slowly and threatening to shatter.
The pain in your chest silences any cries that could come from your lips. You gasp for air, trying to calm your racing thoughts while wave after wave of nausea tickles the back of your throat.

“Talia?”

You whip your head around towards the voice—almost sobbing out loud when you see Shane’s face staring back at you. His eyes full of worry.

“Maggie said you were sick…are you ok?” He asks.

You exhale slowly, locking your eyes on his.
“How long have you known…that you could be the father of Lori’s baby?”

His face drops and his mouth falls open while pure panic fills his eyes. “Tal…”

“How long?” You ask again.

He hangs his head, looking down to the faded leaves that litter the ground. After a few moments his gaze shifts up to yours.
“Since the first appointment. That’s…that’s when Rick told me she was pregnant.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve known about this for months and you never said anything?”

“I tried to tell you that night. I tried….”

“You tried?! Was that before or after you fucked me?!” The venom in your voice stinging.

“Hey you crawled into my tent!” He shouts.
“After he told me I needed some time to think of what to do and how to tell you. I…I didn’t wanna lose you.” His voice cracks slightly.

“So instead of bein honest from the beginning about ya’ll, you decided to lie to my fucking face this whole time? You fuck me…say you love me. I trusted you with my life Shane—how could you do this??”
Tears spill over your cheeks.

He steps closer, “Talia I meant every single word I said. Everythin I ever did I meant it. I love you so much…please.” His hands grip yours, squeezing them tightly, his voice laced with desperation.
“What happened with Lori happened way before we came to the farm. We thought Rick was dead…I was dealin with the guilt of feelin like I abandoned him. And Lori she…she was alone and needed help. Carl was really struggling without his dad. So I…I stepped up and did what I thought Rick would have wanted me to.”

You laugh out loud, snatching your hands away from his.
“By fucking his wife?! Your best friend…someone you call brother was lyin alone comatose in a walker infested hospital while you and her were playing house….you both make me sick!” You yell.

“Talia please please listen to me…I never meant to hurt you baby…I love you please!” He pleads.
“Please.” His eyes glisten.
“I know I screwed up. I knew it back then—after the first time it happened with her. But I didn’t realize just how bad until I saw Rick walkin up to our camp that day. He was so happy he found em and I was happy for him too. But deep down I was…jealous. In a fucked up way I felt like they had become my family since he wasn’t around.
After that Lori acted like nothin had ever happened between us and that was hard.” Rubbing his creased forehead he continues.
“But then I met you and everythin changed. I tried to fight it at first, but I couldn’t…I was so happy. Then I found out she was pregnant…and I didn’t know what to do.”

You glare at him, “You said Andrea was the only other person you’d been with since everything. But it’s funny now cause looking back…your behavior…Lori’s…it all makes sense—does Rick know?”
Your throat constricts painfully as you exhale a shaky breath.

“I don’t know.” Swallowing thickly, his tone is low.
“I’m so sorry Tal.” He whispers looking close to tears.

“Stay the fuck away from me Shane.”
You push past his broad frame—needing to get as far away from him as possible. You hear him call your name, but you keep walking.
Waiting until you’re in the privacy of your bedroom to let the soft sobs you’ve been holding in finally tear through your chest.

Chapter Text

Lori had been laboring for almost the entire day—the last few hours have been filled with nothing but relentless contractions and tears. You can tell she’s exhausted, your nerves are on edge thinking she could pass out at any moment. And as you sit on the side of the bed, you take note of even the slightest change.
You offer pain meds but she refuses, insisting on waiting to see if she could deliver naturally. Hershel explains this likely wasn’t possible, but she still wanted to try nonetheless. You admire Lori’s bravery but you’re not sure how much longer she can keep this up. Her eyes are puffy and red, forehead beaded with sweat.

Hershel and yourself hover around her all day—occasionally going outside for fresh air or to stretch your legs. Patricia and Maggie continue to make themselves useful by readying the exam room for the impending cesarean.
You can feel their eyes dart around the room every time Lori lets out another anguished groan. But you maintain your composure as to not worry Rick, who had been by his wife’s side the whole time.

You remember what you said to him when he shared the news they were expecting.
”I'll do everything I can for Lori and the baby.”
And you meant every word.

Lori’s cries become more and more distressing with every passing minute.

“Lori honey I need you to lay back so I can check how dilated you are.” Hershel says calmly.

You and Rick shift to help her lay flat as Hershel lifts up her night gown, peering beneath. Panic sets in when you see the look on his face.
The Doctor removes his gloved hand and his gaze shifts to Rick.
“It’s time for us to move her.”

Rick grabs ahold of his wife’s hand, kissing it sweetly.

You see her features scrunch up tightly as fear splashes across her pale face.

“No! No I can wait—please just a little longer.” She cries.

“It’s been too long Lori. The baby has to come out now.” You say squeezing her clammy hand.

Tears pepper her tired eyes.
“Just a little longer.” She whispers.

“Baby.” Rick says, stroking her hair. “Everythin will be alright…but we have to do this now.”

Lori lets out a strained scream as her whole body tenses up.
After a few moments her head fell back against the pillow. Her warm hair sticks to her glistening forehead and she pants heavily with every breath she takes.

“We have to move her now!” Hershel says sternly.

Standing up you instruct Rick to help lift his exhausted wife.
You guide her with one arm around her waist while the other pulls her IV pole.

Regaining what little strength she has left she lifts her head up, slowly shuffling her legs down the hallway to the exam room.

“Come on baby.” Rick whispers against her temple. “It’ll be over soon—you can do this.”

Tears trickle down her red cheeks as her chest heaves up and down.

After laying her down on the table you give Rick and Carl time to say their I love you’s. You and Hershel spend the time scrubbing up and dressing for the surgery.
And once they leave the room the two of you immediately begin by hooking her up to the respirator and placing her under.
You throughly disinfect the surface of her hard belly before Hershel cuts into her flesh, slicing through the layers of her abdomen then her uterus. Patricia hurriedly mops up the blood that oozes from the large incision.

When you see the baby’s head you dip your hands down and gently pull the taunt skin of Lori’s belly back as Hershel begin maneuvering the infant out. Once the head was free soon the shoulders appear, allowing you to help guide them out completely followed by the torso and legs. You clamp the umbilical cord before snipping it once it was time.
Hershel turns to Maggie, handing off the infant before returning his attention back to Lori. The placenta is delivered soon after allowing you both to begin stitching her up.
You breathe a sign of relief when the baby’s high pitched wails ring through the silent room along with Maggie and Patricia’s joyful giggles.
Tears of relief well up in your eyes as you look up to Hershel who has a smile of his own peering through his face mask.

❧

When Lori’s operation is finally finished and her brand new little girl is sleeping peacefully next to the bed—you head out with Hershel to fill Rick in on their condition.
Exiting the room you see him sitting in a chair across the hallway, his head in his hands. His expression changes when your eyes meet.

Hershel holds up his hands grinning .
“Everything went great. They’re both ok…just sleepin now.”

“Thank God!” Rick says, releasing a deep sigh.

He wraps his arms around Hershel, a deep bellowing laugh coming out as he squeezes the man. You smile as he reaches for you, enveloping you in a warm hug. Returning his embrace you can’t help but laugh—his happiness warms your heart.
“Thank you—both of you.” His voice cracking slightly.

“It’s a girl.” You say.

He releases you smiling ear to ear.
“A baby girl?” He asks, his hands coming to his face.

“Lori will be in pain when she wakes up but she’ll be fine. They’re both in there sleepin if you wanna have a peak.” Hershel turns motioning Rick towards the room.

Maggie walks by looping her arm through yours.
“Let’s go tell everyone.” She smiles.

Minutes later loud laughter erupts once you and Maggie fill everyone in, hugs and happy tears are shed.

Turning to her you say above the roar of the group gathered in the living room,
“Im gonna go outside for some air.”

She smiles at you before leaning in for a tight hug.
“You did amazing today Tal—really you did.” Her strong voice wavers.

“Don’t make me cry Maggie.” You chuckle before breaking your embrace.

Finally stepping outside you take your first deep breath of the day. The setting sun sends the frigid January breeze to fill your lungs. You feel all your muscles unclench as you lean back against the siding of the house.
Thinking back to the events of the day you remember just how absolutely fucking terrified you were but oddly how strong and confident you felt. You beamed with pride seeing that sweet baby swaddled up next to Lori while also feeling the smallest ping of sadness in your chest. Wondering if you had just helped deliver the baby of the man who broke your heart.

Unexpectedly a deep gravelly voice carries across the porch.

Looking in that direction your eyes widen as your breath stutters.

Shane stands up from one of the rocking chairs situated against the wall. He has a beard now and the dark curly tendrils of his hair touch his ears.
This is the first time you’d really looked at him since that day by the stream.

“You alright?” He asks.

Too stunned to speak you just nod.

“Is everythin ok in there?”
He motions to the noise coming from inside.

You nod again.

“Good.” He whispers, his dark eyes staring into yours.

You take a deep breath, “It’s a girl.”

He smiles and his eyes light up.
“Really? Wow that’s…that’s great.”
He says softly, his focus shifting to the front door.

Releasing another deep breath you look out onto the front yard.
The dim light from the horizon casts a warm blanket over the land and you swallow the dry lump in your throat, trying to blink away the tears welling your eyes.
“You should go in…I’m sure Rick is wonderin where you are”.

“Talia I’ve…”

“Don’t—just don’t.” You whisper.
You can’t take it…the overwhelming feelings of rage and sadness that swirl around in your chest, making your head spin. Your feet move to the porch railing—trying to create some space between the two of you.
But instead of leaving he just stands there silent.
You pray desperately that he’ll just go as you look out onto the farm, focusing on the old barn across from the house.
Refusing to turn around until you hear the creaking of the door opening and shutting quietly.
Then finally you release the unsteady breath you’ve been holding as you try to calm your racing heart.

❧

- Three Months Later -

Now that baby Judith is a little older now, you finally feel comfortable enough to start going out on runs again.
As much as you enjoy being home, you need to get away.
It seemed like now that you weren’t inside the house all the time attending to Lori you were always running into Shane. And you couldn’t deal with that.
The feeling of him constantly staring at you, almost willing you to look. Of course no one knew the real reason for your falling out other than Lori.
Although you think Daryl kind of had an idea, he asked once why you ended up paired with him and not Shane.

“It’s complicated.”

He just nodded his head in understanding. One of the things you like most about Daryl is that he doesn’t pry—he knew you and Shane were seeing each other at one point but he never brought it up.
Another is that he’s always out and about. Going on runs for days sometimes weeks at a time. Only coming home to drop off game, stock up on supplies if needed, then he’d turn right back around and leave again.
He knows the area outside of Mert County better than anyone on the farm, so you figure it makes the most sense to pair up with him.
Plus you both get along really well—you feel safe with him, he has your back and you have his.

Now a days your priority on runs is to bring back as many baby supplies as you can find. Medicine, diapers, clothes, anything. Today ya’ll are traveling farther out than anyone has before, trying to find new untouched places to scavenge.

With this big of a run Rick wants more than just you Daryl on it, which you understand. You felt one other person would be enough so when you ask Glenn you’re relieved that he happily accepts.

As you and Daryl finish packing the car you catch Glenn strolling hand in hand with Maggie towards the driveway.
Watching them always brings a smile to your face. They’re so sweet and so obviously crazy about eachother, always giggling and touching.
But your happy demeanor dissipates when you spot Shane’s tall figure walking up just behind them holding a dark duffle bag slung over his shoulder. His beard is thick and full now with his mocha colored hair curling at the nape of his neck.
His eyes are pointed down with lips fixed in a tight line.

“You ready?” Daryl asks closing the rear door of the car.

“Yeah.” You reply sliding into the seat before closing the passenger door, forcing yourself not to look in Shanes direction.

The drive took about two hours. Daryl doesn’t talk much on runs, or really ever. Only speaking up with the occasional question about directions.

Once you reach the destination, after scoping out the area Daryl decides this would be a good spot to start looking.
The town is a decent size, amount twice the size of Senoia.
Daryl and you break into a large grocery store, scoring some of the baby supplies you need while Glenn and Shane come back with a large amount of cans.

Ya’ll continue this routine until the sun began to set, cutting down any walkers who get in the way.

By nightfall the first car is packed full. And as soon as the temperature drops the familiar guttural moans of the dead can be heard from outside the store’s walls. You exchange a look with Daryl and quietly sneak out the back door with your other companions right on your heels.

The four of you settle in for the night in an abandoned house a couple blocks away, you offer to take first watch.
Glenn immediately passes out while Daryl tries to argue.
“Just go to fuckin sleep Dixon—I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” You chuckle shaking your head.

“Alright.” He mumbles in that low husky twang as he lays back, turning to face the wall.

You look back down to your lap, toying with your knife. Rolling it between your fingers and tossing it up to catch it by the worn leather handle. You wanna see how many times you can avoid the blades bite.
A strange feeling comes over you, glancing up slowly you see Shane.

He’s sitting down with his back to the wall on the opposite side of the room. His arms crossed against his broad chest while his long legs are stretched out in front of him. His ebony eyes watching you.

Suddenly feeling self conscious, you stand up and walk towards the front room of the little house.
You exhale sharply when you hear him follow.
“You can go to sleep…I already said I’d take first watch.” you say peeking out the curtains.

“I don’t really sleep on runs anymore.” He huffs.

Annoyed you ask, “Since when?”

“Since last summer.”

You swallow thickly. You stopped going on runs with him then due to Lori’s pregnancy.
You couldn’t risk something happening to her or the baby when you weren’t there. But then you had your falling out and hadn’t spoken since the birth.
You can feel him staring, not wanting to meet his gaze you continue you look out onto the front yard.
The deafening silence quickly wore your patience paper thin. The fact that he had the nerve to look let alone speak to you makes your blood boil.
“Fine. I’ll go to sleep and you take first watch.” You add as you exit the room.
Climbing into your sleeping bag, you tuck your unsheathed knife under your pillow. You snuggle into the fabric around you, turning your back to the wall. Your eyes catch sight of Shane standing in front of the window. The smooth steel of a handgun poking out the back of his jeans catches your eye—revealing the smallest sliver of his olive skin.
And trying your best to look anywhere other than at him you finally turn away.

The dingy grey color of the peeling wallpaper being your only view until eventually the drowsiness of another day overtakes you.

❧

By late afternoon the next day your group is still gathering more necessities. Tactfully slipping in and out of every building that’s entered.
Clutching your knife fervently, you follow behind Daryl who heads the group. Behind you is Glenn, then Shane brings up the rear.

You look to your left and spot a tall red brick office building. All its windows and doors are still intact.
Walking up the front steps, you see the directory next to the front door. And briefly scanning it you recognize multiple different types of medical practices inside. Dentistry, physical therapy, pediatrics, and others.
Perfect.

“This one. We have to get in.”

“We’ve got about two hours til sun down.” Glenn says looking down the sidewalk.

“I’m down.” Daryl agrees.

They both look to Shane.

“Let’s do it.” His voice low as he turns to you.

Nodding in agreement you reach for the front door, your blade clutched to your chest when Shane’s hand grips your wrist.

“I’ll go first.”

You pull your hand back down to your side before stepping out of the way. He grabs the handle of the bulky metal door and pauses for a moment before swinging it open. All four of you back up against the wall on either side, waiting for the well known sound of shuffling feet and spitty hissing to emerge from the dark building.
But you're met only with the slow creaking of the door.
Shane stops it with his foot before stepping through the doorway, motioning everyone to follow.

Once inside Glenn turns on his flash light, illuminating the dusty front office area. The silence casting an eerie shadow over the group.
You grip your knife tighter—your eyes going to every dark shadowed corner expecting a reanimated corpse to crawl from it.
Everyone’s on high alert, weapons drawn and pointed forward.

Shane motions to follow and clearing the first floor of the building you notice the place seems almost untouched besides the occasional corpse huddled in a corner or decaying where it fell.
A couple of the office’s are locked but others remain open. And as you pull your blade from the soft skull of a walker you notice a large wooden door with a sign on it that read—
PEDIATRIC CARE
Dr. Richard Swanson

“This is it.”
You whisper to the guys walking up behind you.
Opening the door you’re met with the putrid smell of death. It’s so strong it makes your nose burn and eyes water.

“Wait.” Shane says, stepping forward.
He pushes his way inside—leaving the rest of you standing there.

Annoyed now you go to say something but think better of it. So instead of arguing you enter the office, pushing past him. The sound of his annoyed huff sets your nerves on edge..
With your knife in one hand and flashlight in the other you go room to room, nervous what you may find.

It’s not long til you make it to a door labeled Dr. Swanson. It’s shut, slowly you push it open to find a walker standing in the corner of the room.
The white medical coat it wears is stained different shades of brown. It’s rotting flesh a sickening an unnatural color while its abdomen hangs open, organs hanging to the carpeted floor.
The stench in the air is horrible. The growling walker stumbles forward efore falling to the floor. It’s then when you see the half eaten body lying behind the desk—dressed in what used to be a colorful pair of scrubs now a soiled burgundy color.
You crouch down and thrust your jagged blade into the walkers temple and immediately the corpse goes limp. Standing to scan the room, you spot a water dispenser in the corner and fill your canteen before exiting the office in search of other stuff.

Entering a back storage room you lift your flashlight up, illuminating shelves full of supplies. Dozens of doses of antibiotics, syringes, and disinfectants.
You whistle for the others before placing your flashlight down, turning your attention back to the shelf in front of you.

“Here.”

You immediately recognize Shane’s voice.
He holds out a large open duffle bag.

Without a word you start tossing everything you can fit.
And after filling two bags you enter the hallway where Daryl and Glenn are arranging their own stashes.
“Find anythin good?” Daryl asks as he slings a bag across his chest.

“A bunch of drugs and medical supplies. You?”
Shane says.

“Water, coffee, soap, couple hand sanitizers.” Glenn answers smiling.

“Good.” You chime in.

“We’re gonna go checkout the locked rooms downstairs.” Daryl says motioning to Glenn. “See if we can find anything else.”

Your stomach drops.

“Meet by the front door in an hour.”
Shane’s strong voice booms down the empty hallway.

As the others walk away you’re struck with the realization that you’re stuck with this fucking guy for at least an hour.
Not saying a word you turn back towards the storage room.
You clear off a few shelves before entering another office, your flashlight back in one hand with your knife in the other.

Finding the break room at the end of the hallway, you peer inside before tiptoeing in. And seeing you’re alone you start ransacking the drawers and cabinets, discovering a couple cans of soup and some water jugs.

Eventually you manage to move everything to the hallway, adding to the impressive stock pile of goods. You walk into the last room scanning the space from wall to wall, a large conference table sits in the middle of the room. A dozen large black chairs placed all around it.
You spot a small refrigerator in the far corner beckoning you over. Opening the flimsy door to reveal a stash of mini water bottles lined up neatly inside. You grab as many as you can carry before turning to the table.

The sound of light knocking grabs your attention, your eyes shoot up and your hand grips the handle on your holstered knife.
But you exhale slowly when you see Shane in the doorway before returning your gaze back to the table top.
You focus on counting the waters as you throw them in your backpack, trying your hardest to ignore the heavy footsteps walking towards you then stopping to your left.
You clench your jaw painfully knowing exactly how this is gonna play out.

Mentally you’re dying as you hear him take a deep steadying breath before speaking.
“Talia.”

Chapter Text

Somehow you manage to swallow down the exasperation building in your chest, giving the bottle in your hand a strong squeeze, you toss it in your bag.

“I know you don’t wanna hear from me but please…lemme just say one thing.”
Shane’s tone is soft but resolute.

You turn slowly, lifting your gaze to his.

Those dark eyes stare into yours as he stands up straighter, his arms down at his side.

You take a deep breath,“Shane…I don’t care about what you have to say.”

His jaw tightens and his brows furrow in frustration.

“Everything’s already been said. All your excuses and bullshit—so that’s it. There’s nothing left to talk about.” You say matter of factly.

Taking a step closer, he lays his hand flat on the table. “I never meant to hurt you Talia. I felt trapped and had no way out. So I just…”

“Pretended like nothin had happened? Like you didn’t possibly have a baby on the way with your best friend’s wife? What kind of person does that?”
Your tone is sharp—sharper than it needed to be.

He hangs his head while you glare at him.
“You think I don’t have regrets? Regrets about Lori…or you? That I don’t regret fuckin this up?…throwin away the best thing that ever happened to me?” He says barely above a whisper.
“I loved you more than anythin Tal…I still do.”
He finally lifts his gaze to yours.

A painful lump forms in your throat.
“Those are just empty words Shane…you don’t lie to the people you love. Not about something like that.” You return to shoving waters into your bag.
“You think you can just come back into my life…spew some fucking apologies and declarations of love at me and I’m just supposed to what? Forget about everything? How you hurt me? How you fucking humiliated me?”

“I know I can’t change the past. Never take away that pain—all I’m askin is for you to hear me out…let me explain…”

“For what!?” You shout staring wide eyed at him.
“Jesus Christ Shane. Just…let me move on and you should…you should do the same. So stop…please just stop.” Your eyes begin to sting.
“Just go do whatever you need to do. There’s plenty of other rooms to be looked through—the sooner we finish here the sooner we can get home.”

“So you can go back to ignorin me? Act like I don’t exist?” His voice growing louder.

Looking down to the open bag on the table you try to keep your voice steady,
“Just go Shane.”
You hear him inhale sharply and you know he’s not done.

“Lemme ask you somethin girl what did you expect exactly? Right after we met say by the way I’ve fucked a couple people in camp? One of them bein Lori…Is that what I should have done?!” He shouts.

The sudden change in his tone surprises you, making you snap back, “I expected you to be fucking honest with me! If you would have told me the truth from the start maybe it would have been different! But it doesn’t matter now…what’s done is done.”

“What’s done is done huh?” He scoffs.

“Yeah.” You agree.

He laughs slightly, turning around as if to storm out of the room but suddenly his closed fist slams into the wall next to the door.
The sound of crunching drywall makes you jump as a sharp gasp falls from your mouth. The silence between you two grows louder by the second as you stare at him in shock.
His chest heaves heavily, his eyes darker than before. You think he’ll speak up…maybe apologize for his outburst but instead he just walks into the hallway.
The sound of his steps gradually fade as you stand there, tears trickling down your cheeks.

The pain you’ve suppressed for months seems to pour out of you. You try to hate him, try to remain numb but you can’t deny your feelings.
You love him—you still do. And that’s what makes it hurt so much. You’ve never experienced this type of pain. The horrible achiness of it all.
His betrayal cut you deeper than any knife could. And distancing yourself from him was the only thing that seemed to keep you sane.
But the constant reminders of him back home, hearing his voice echo through the house. Seeing him working on the fences surrounding the property and the baby you tend to that could possibly be his daughter.
It was too much.

The creaking sound of the floor outside the conference room takes you out of your head. Thinking its one of the others you hurriedly wipe your face, zipping up the duffel and slinging the strap on your shoulder.
But when you don’t hear any footsteps you stop, shifting your gaze to the doorway while your hand grips the handle of the knife at your hip.
Expecting a rotter to stumble into the room you drop your bag, taking a few steps forward til your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of an unknown man appearing in the doorway.
He’s tall with stringy sandy blonde hair, his face caked in dirt. Thin cracked lips part to reveal crooked teeth.

“My you are pretty.” He says.
Your heart rate sky rockets when you see the small gun in his hand.
“I’m Tyler,” his voice makes the hair on your arms stand straight up.
“N’ you must be Talia.”

Your stomach drops. How did he know your name? Was he listening to the group?…To you and Shane? Was he alone?

“What are you doin up here all alone?”
His bloodshot eyes scan you up and down.

“I’m not alone.” You say sternly.

“Oh you mean the dude in the police cap? Yeah he’s prolly pretty busy with my guys right about now.”
Your hearts beating so fast you can feel it hammering against your rib cage.

“Or maybe the Asian kid or the guy with the crossbow? Yeah they’re hol’ up by a nice little heard of geeks outside. So it seems to me that ya are in fact alone.” He chuckles wickedly.
“But don’t worry…my friends wanna meet ya. Sure they’ll be up soon.”
He brings the gun to his hip, pointing it in your direction.

“You can take whatever supples you want…the bag’s full of water and meds.” You kick your duffle bag towards him.
“Take it. There’s jugs of water and a couple cans of food in the hallway too.”

He drags his pale tongue across his chapped lips.
“Oh we’ll take all that too.”

You feel your body vibrate with adrenaline, clutching your knife harder you ready yourself for whatever comes next.

“I wouldn’t do that sweetheart. We both know you’d be dead before you got the chance to stick me.”

“I’ll take my chances.” You snap, wishing now that you had a gun with you.

His sneer deepens, causing panic to course through your veins. His shrouded murky eyes stare at you the way a predator stares at its prey.

The seconds tick by until you decide your best bet is to make a run for it—and if he gets too close, you’ll stab him.

You push off suddenly to sprint towards the door but he reaches one grubby hand out to stop you.
Pulling your knife from your holster you slash it across his face, slicing the thin flesh of his cheek. His dirty hand flies up to the bloody wound while his cries of pain scream for you to keep running.
But surprisingly you feel yourself being yanked backwards by the hood of your jacket—the force slinging your side against the edge of the table. The knife in your hand flies under the chairs as pain throbs from your sore hip .

Tyler tucks the gun into his waistband, distracted, and you step forward, balling up your fist to strike a blow to his nose. The sickening crunch you feel against your knuckles causes blood to pour from his nostrils, he stumbles back howling in pain.

Your gaze shifts to the door for a split second so you don’t see his arm reach back to pull out the weapon from his belt.
When you look back, something dark and smooth swings towards you, making impact with your temple.

The strike brings you to your knees as intense pain blooms across your forehead, small dark splotches appear behind your eyes. And the loud ringing in your ears leaves you disoriented—but you can hear the muted clanging of whatever he used to hit you with hit the floor and his pained voice spewing out profanities.
Your eyes grow heavy as drops of thick crimson form a small puddle near your hand that laid flat on the floor.

His boot suddenly collides with your stomach knocking the air from your body.
You gasp, desperate for breath as he kicks you again, this time in your side, a deep splintering pain shoots across your ribs.

A brutal hand seizes your hair, jerking you roughly to the floor. The back of your head slams to the ground making your vision blur. You blink a few times trying to focus on your surroundings when an unbearable weight settle over you, pinning you to the dark carpet underneath.
Your head still spins from the sudden change in direction, but through the haze you feel your body being jerked down along with the sensation of denim rubbing against your bare thighs.

It’s not until you recognize a damp hand pushing both of yours down above your head that you fully realize what’s happening. Wild panic forces you awake through the harsh throbbing of your head.
Tyler’s piercing eyes glare into yours, dried blood is smeared across face while small droplets from his still bleeding wounds drip onto you. The musty smell of body odor and filth fills your nose, his free hand grabs ahold of the collar of your shirt, pulling it down.

“STOP!” You scream.
You kick your legs up and twist your arms from his grasp. But he hits you again hard making your body go limp from the stinging that radiates from your now busted lip.
You’re completely helpless as the world spins uncontrollably.
His voice sounds muffled one second but blaring the next.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!” He spits.
“I’M GONNA FUCK YOU BLOODY—THEN ALL MY BOYS WILL GET S’ME!”
His stained hands yank apart your shirt, tearing the fabric and painfully freeing your breasts from your bra.

“Please don’t…” You beg.
Loud pitiful cries pour from your mouth when you finally see that this is really happening—one of your worst fears coming true.

A truly terrifying grin creeps across his face as his sleely grip returns to your wrists, his nails digging into your flesh.
Horrific images flash in your mind seeing him reach down to his waist.
The strong smell of booze wafts from his open mouth making bile rise in your throat.
Your heart pulses violently as your mind races—trying to focus on how to escape.

“Pl—please…don’t do this!…PLEASE!” You cry, straining to get the words out through your sobs.
Your arms ache from trying to pull yourself away from him and your head pounds severely as tears stream down the sides of your face and into your hair.
You look towards the door, praying for help to come.
“SHANE!” You cry out hoarsely, “SHANE!!”
His name rips through your throat into the pitch black hallway.

Just then screams ring out through the building followed by the booming of gun shots.
Blind with panic you scan the room, looking for anything that can help. You spot your serrated blade under the table and weep harder seeing its out of reach. Your chest stutters with each sob, straining to catch your breath from the ragged gasps.
Your body tenses up knowing what he’ll do next, you feel his rough hand against the inside of your thigh.

He leans forward, biting down hard on the side of your neck.

You yell out from surprise at the burning pain from your throat—but in that moment you see your one chance and decide to take it. Aiming for the closest thing you can reach you turn your head, craning your neck to reach his ear.
Your teeth latch onto the hard tissue. And with all your strength you bite down, feeling the tip tear off into your mouth as it fills with blood.
Tyler’s loud screams ring through the room as he swings his body back towering over you, his hands cupping his ear.

Spitting out the blood and flesh, you desperately try to reach down your legs. Frantically you find and pull out the small pocket knife that’s always clipped to the inside of your boot.
You flip it open, reach up and thrust the blade into his neck. Driving deep into the muscle, you twist before pulling it from his throat as blood sprays from the tear. It splashes onto your chest, warm and sticky.
His hands cover the open wound as if trying to stop the inevitable, he slumps back onto the carpet. Gurgling noisily as he claws at his throat.

You watch as the color drains from his face. His eyes dart wildly to the door then back to you. He chokes and coughs causing blood to spurt and bubble from his mouth before raining down on himself.

After a few moments he stills and you’re frozen, not knowing what to do.
It’s then you notice how dark the room is, how sticky your hands are, and how badly your head hurts.
The pain in your temple reminds you of your head injury and that you have to get somewhere safe.
Looking down you see you’re soaked in blood, your jeans are down around your ankles. While your soiled shirt hangs open exposing your chest. Your hands tremble uncontrollably as you whimper through the shock of what just happened.

With great effort you stand up unsteadily, bending down to redress you wince from the pain coming from your bruised side. Your unsteady hands zip up your jacket and when the sound of running footsteps come towards the room you pause.
You snatch Tyler’s gun from his waist, cocking it and wait, pointed directly at the door.
The end of a shot gun appears from the dark, recognizing the shooters hand you let the weapon clatter to the ground.

Shane walks through the doorway, eyes scanning the room. When his gaze falls on you his jaw drops.
Instinctively you run towards him, grabbing his shirt desperately.
A thick arm wraps around your back while the other cradles your head. He squeezes you tightly, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Oh god.”
His voice cracks.

A great tremor overtakes you, muffled sobs escape your lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Suddenly low moans from the reanimated corpse of your attacker cut through the darkness. Those once menacing eyes are now a cloudy grey, bloody hands reach for you, his mouth hanging open.

A bead of sweat falls down your forehead as your stomach starts to churn.

Shane releases you before marching over to Tyler’s body. He lifts his foot up and he brings it down on the walkers skull with enough force that it starts to cave. He repeats the action until you can’t recognize the mans face—the wet crunching sound his boot makes against the flesh and bone is the type of noise you’d never forget.

Breathing heavily, Shane turns back. He reaches you, cradling your face, forcing your eyes away from the bloody mound of crumbled flesh.
“Let’s go.” He whispers.

You notice a deep cut above his eyebrow along with a badly bruised cheek. Maybe what Tyler told you was true, that they’re really were others in the building.
Your head feels extremely heavy all of a sudden, intense pressure pulses from your split temple. The adrenaline is wearing off…the unsteadiness of your legs grows more wobbly as you see Shane looking to you, his mouth moving like he’s speaking but you don’t hear any words.
The dull ringing in your ears turns up to a deafening volume and just as your knees buckle, he catches you. Scooping your legs up with one arm while the other slips behind your back, cradling you to him.

When he enters the dark hallway your eye lids grow heavy, taking note of the distinctive smell of gun powder as you finally lose consciousness.

❧

The groaning of the dead, the smell of dirt, and the dripping sound of your blood hitting the floor of the car brings you back from oblivion. Your whole body hurts and the throbbing from your head is excruciating.
As much as you try to keep your eyes open they seem to close just as fast on their own. You hear Shane’s soothing voice whisper to you…you can’t make out all of his words but you recognize,“Stay awake.”

You feel the familiar sway of the car making turn after turn. The sound of panicked voices shouting directions. And the sensation of being lifted and cradled to a broad chest, lowered onto a pallet of soft fabric then everything goes dark again.

Blinding light filters in through your eyelids, your body feels like a ton of bricks. You’re tired…so tired.
Something wet presses to your sore skin surprising you. You slowly open your eyes, seeing a dark figure looming over you, then two more appear. Their hands are on you—pushing your shoulders down and grabbing your wrists.
An overwhelming sense of fear jumpstarts your heart as it beats wildly inside your chest. Pure terror takes ahold of you, squeezing your sore throat so tightly you’re unable to scream. A small squeak manages to fall from your sore lips.
“Noo—no…”,you whisper.
You grab at the hands but they’re too strong. Tears well in your eyes.
“Stop—do—n…don’t..”

You feel a warm grip on your hand and a soft kiss pressed to your knuckles. Finally opening your eyes, you recognize Shane. His eyes are wet and red and one side of his face is horribly discolored and swollen.
You then recognize the familiar faces of Glenn and Daryl. Concern and fear evident on their expressions. You see now that they’re trying to help.

“You’re gonna be okay Tal.”
Glenn says placing a cool rag on your burning forehead.

You turn your gaze upward—recognizing the peeling grey wallpaper from the house you’d stayed in the day before.

“We need to close the shades…she’s gotta be in the dark.” Daryl says, his voice slighty panicked as he moves toward the window to draw the heavy curtains across the room.
“No way she ain’t got a concussion.”

“Yeah shut em.” Shane agrees, his eyes remain on you..

The room grows darker as Daryl pulls down the shades.

“Sh..Shane…” you whimper, fighting to stay awake.

“I’m here.” He whispers squeezing your hand tightly, he brings it to his cheek.

“Do—don’t go…please.” You mumble incoherently.

“I won’t Tal. I promise I won’t.” He says softly.
“I’ll never leave you…,”
Just before you’re consumed by darkness, you hear one more low whisper next to your ear.
“I love you.”

Chapter Text

Slowly opening your eyes you take in the dimly lit room.
Your head doesn’t feel heavy anymore but you recognize a dull ache all over your body. You try to sit up but a sharp pain in your ribs stops you, with a sharp gasp you slide back down to the sheets.

“Hey hey take it slow.” A soft voice says.

Looking up you recognize Maggie hovering above you with a concerned look.

“It’s okay, just lay back.” She reassures you, gently guiding you back to a more comfortable position.
“I’ll get you some water. Stay right here ok?”

You nod weakly, watching her leave the room.
Looking around you notice objects and furniture that seem familiar. Taking a moment you recognize the exam room, you spot a dozen vases of multicolored wildflowers while hand made cards cover the desk to your left as well as both nightstands.

Lying there, fragments of memories start to come back. You remember the attack, the struggle, the terror. Your hand comes to your head as you feel a thick bandage there. Trying to piece things together, you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.
The last thing you remember is seeing Shane, his face etched with worry as he kissed your bloody hands.
Before you slipped into darkness, his voice, full of anguish, whispered promises you barely heard.

You swallow thickly, hearing voices echoing faintly outside the door, one of them unmistakably Shane’s. Your heart picks up speed wanting to see him.
You try to shift again, but the pain in your ribs holds you firm. Hugging your abdomen to catch your breath your head whips towards the door.
It creaks open slightly, revealing a familiar silhouette. They step inside, eyes immediately finding yours.

"Don't move," Shane urges, rushing to your side.

Tears fill your eyes to finally hear his voice.
"Shane," you manage to whisper, your voice cracking.

He reaches out his hands for you but hesitates, noticing your discomfort.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly.
Slowly he sits on the edge of your bed before placing your glass of water on the night stand.
Even through the haze of pain, your heart aches at the grief etched in his expression.
Just then you notice the swelling and bruising on his face is almost completely gone. You frown, confused by the rapid healing.

"Your face…how long was I out for? " you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His eyes softened, but there was a shadow lingering in them.
"Not long," he replies, hesitating.
"A few days, maybe.”

“A few days?” You say louder.
The throbbing pain in your ribs intensifies, but your mind races even faster.

“You needed rest. You were coming in and out of consciousness.” Shane says softly, trying to soothe your concern.
“You had a really bad concussion. Hershel wanted you to stay in bed and rest.”

You frown, trying to piece together fragmented memories. Your whole body aches, when you reach your arm up to massage your sore shoulder you feel bandages covering your wrists.

Looking at him with confusion he says,
“You were covered in cuts there. And on your neck I guess you had a…a bite mark.”

Reaching up, you felt the bandage on your throat and looking to Shane you see his gaze shift to the comforter.

His voice is heavy. “I’m so sorry Talia.” His voice trembles.
"Im so sorry I wasn’t there.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand but something stops you.
"It's not your fault, Shane. None of this is your fault.”

His hand trembles as he brushed his hair back.
“You don't understand," Shane mutters.
“If I wouldna’ lost my temper and stormed off, I could have stopped him. I could have protected you.”
Clearing his throat while trying to keep his composure, he looks at you with eyes full of guilt.
"I should have been there," he says, his dark eyes well with tears.
"I heard you call out for me.”
He squeezes his fist tightly, knuckles turning white against the coverlet.
“I tried to get to you…I tried.”
A single tear slippes down his cheek before he hurriedly brushes it away.

“Shane," you say softly.
"You did everything you could.”

He shook his head and huffs.

“The man…the man who…” You say trailing off.
“He said there were others but I didn’t believe him completely.” You look down to your lap.

“There were two. I offered ‘em my supplies but they wanted more. Figure they must have been watchin us since we walked in that damn building.”
Shane's face contortes in anger and sorrow.
"Those bastards," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenches.
“I could have stopped him from—hurtin you," he says, his voice stern.
He shut his eyes tightly taking a deep breath.

Shuddering from the flashes of your attackers face. Your hand reaches for his, trembling as it closes around his fist.
“He didn’t.” You whisper, knowing what he really meant.
“I killed him before he got the chance to…” You say with a firm, quiet strength.
Hot tears stream down your face as the weight of the pain settles between you and him.

He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

You lean into his embrace, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. The silence between you speaks volumes as you clung to each other.

"I'll never let anything happen to you ever again I promise," Shane murmurs into your hair, holding you tighter.

You nod against his chest, the warmth of his embrace providing a fleeting sense of security.
While turmoil swirled inside, you manage a small smile.

"I know," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.
The sorrow you feel lingers in the air, but the connection between you and him is undeniable. You love him deeply, and in that moment, amidst the pain and tears, you feel almost whole. Everything that tore you apart before seems almost insignificant to what you feel now.
You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be present in his steadfast hold.

He releases you briefly, only to gently cup your face, searching with mingled sorrow and determination. Staring into each other's eyes, you both share a silent understanding. He lean in and kisses your forehead softly, before pulling you back into his embrace.
“No matter what…I’ll always be here.”
His voice is a gentle reassurance, a balm to your aching heart.

Tears well in your eyes as his words sank in, the sincerity in his voice resonating deep within you. Your outer shell breaking with the weight of the raw emotion.
But through your warm feelings for Shane, an ugly feeling suddenly creeps in once more. The reality of the situation threatening to shatter the fragile bubble of comfort you both had created.
How dirty you feel…it gnaws at you, your memories are so heavy. Tyler hadn’t fully violated you but he might as well have.
You can still feel his filthy hands on you. His tongue and teeth against your skin. The smell of him…those empty eyes.

Pushing away from Shane you painfully snatch up the trash can next to the bed and vomit into it. Immediately he’s by your side.
An overwhelming feeling of disgust and shame dominate your senses.

He starts rubbing calming circles on your back as you empty your stomach.
"Shhh…shhh it’s ok." He whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of your retching.

When you finish, you collapse back onto the bed, utterly spent.
“Here.” He says handing you the cool glass of water.

You take it with trembling hands, sipping slowly to rinse the bitter taste from your mouth. Spitting the foul water into the trash can you look up to him, “Sorry.”

Shane shook his head, his expression softening.
"You have nothin to be sorry for," he utters.
His words are gentle and full of reassurance.

He takes the glass from you and places it back on the nightstand before standing up to take the trash can to the bathroom.

With a deep breath, you try to steady yourself. The room feels stifling, memories cling to every corner like shadows.
And as happy as you had been to see him now all you can think about of is how desperate you are to escape his gaze. His presence brings conflicting emotions, a battle between comfort and the haunting reminders of what had been.

You look to the window with longing, the sunlight casting soft beams across the room. His eyes on you make you feel even more exposed, raw in your vulnerability.
Shane's concern cut through your wandering thoughts as he gently places a hand on your shoulder.
You flinch under his touch, and he immediately pulls back.
“I’m sorry.” He says with a sad grimace.

“No I—I’m sorry. I just….I need time," your voice barely above a whisper. “Alone I think…” you say staring out the window.

"Okay, take all the time you need. I’ll be here." he replied softly, his hurt eyes betraying his words.
“Always.”

With his back turned you watch him walk out the room, the air heavy with unspoken words. Your heart aches at the sight. The sudden quiet of the room presses in, amplifying your solitude and the echo of his retreating footsteps.
You need him but the space between you feels insurmountable. How can he even look at you…after everything? The guilt gnaws at your insides, feeding on the self loathing that oozes from every pore.

Tears well up, blurring your vision. You sink deep into the mattress, curling you legs to your chest, shivering with emotion.

“Talia?”
Maggies voice breaks through the silence, soft yet firm, as she steps into the room.
“What’s wrong?”

Carol just behind, concern evident on their faces.

Quiet sobs escape your lips as you struggle to find the words.

“Sweetie tell us please. What happened?” Carol said gently, walking over to sit beside you.
The warmth of her presence offers a small comfort, but the walls of pain hold firm. You take a deep breath as Maggie sits down on your other side.

You try to compose yourself enough to speak,“I feel so…so dirty. How can he even look at me?”
You finally manage to say, your voice trembling.
“He was so sweet…an—and understanding but all I could think about the whole time was…what happened. He blames himself…but I—I’m the one who let m—my guard down. I’m the one who—who broke the rules of going on a run. How could I—let this happen?" you say between sobs.

Maggie exchanges a worried glance with Carol before scooting closer to you.
“Talia.” She says softly, “You could have died…but you didn’t. You didn’t need anyone to save you, you saved yourself. What you went through was horrible. And it wasn't your fault or Shane’s." Her words are sincere, a lifeline in a sea of despair.
“He was so worried about you. When they brought you home he was beside himself. You were both covered in blood—all of you were. He was out of it when he thought you weren’t gonna make it. He held your hand the whole time.” Maggie continues softly, her voice trembling wiping her own tears away.

Carol took a shaky breath. “He paced back and forth all day and night by the door. And when Hershel finally let him in he didn’t leave your side for a second. He was only out today to clear his head, to find some way to feel useful. We literally had to drag him out. Everyone’s been a mess without you.”

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat.

“We’ve all been so worried,” Maggie continues.
“Everyone’s pitched in where they could. The kids picked the flowers for you and made the cards.” She smiles.
“They made everyone sign em.”

An involuntary smile flickers across your face at the thought of the children's determination.
“So everyone’s ok?” You ask.

Maggie nods reassuringly. "Yeah, everyone’s fine.”

Taking a deep breath you feel the weight of everything start to settle in.

“We’re here for you.” Carol whispers. She reaches out and gently brushes your hair
"We're here," she repeates softly.

More tears well in your eyes as you look around the room. You see the love and concern etched on their faces, as you feel your heart squeeze. The gnawing feeling of isolation began to slowly reignite.

“You’ll never forget the pain you feel now.” Carol says.
“But in time…it’ll become a piece of you…that you learn to live with, not a shadow that overwhelms you.” Her words resonates deep within you, providing a small yet significant comfort.

“Thank you.” You whisper as small cries escape your lips.

Maggie grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. “And as far as Shane, he’ll wait.”
Her voice is firm yet soothing.
“He loves you enough to wait.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you try to find some solace in her words.
Taking a calming breath you pull the covers over your shoulders.
“I’m really tired.” You sigh.

“We’ll go then. But we’re right here if you need us.” Maggie says, her grip reassuring.

You nod again, closing your eyes, you allow their words and presence to seep into the cracks of your heart.

Hearing the door shut softly you turn to face the window. A light rain begins pattering gently against the glass, mirroring the tears trickling down your cheeks.
You can get through this.
With a deep breath, you sink into the quiet, letting the rain's soft rhythm calm your stormy thoughts.

❧

- Three weeks later -

Standing naked in front of the bathroom sink you study your reflection. Wet trails glisten on your cheeks, you barely recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes are red and puffy, the weight of grief had etched lines into your once-smiling face.
Your bottom lip is tight, decorated with a red scar.
A light brown crescent shaped mark on the side of your neck is a stark reminder of the night you wish to forget, but can’t.
Your fingers brush against the scar gingerly, wincing mentally as you remember the sensation of teeth piercing your flesh.
While the deep purple bruise across your torso is still sore to the touch.

Scenes from the attack flash before your eyes, your heart starts pounding painfully. Placing both hands on the sink to regain your balance you remember to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth.

“Everything ok?”
Maggie asks from behind th door.

“Yes!” You shout back. “I’m good…just getting in right now.”

“Ok. Holler if you need me. I’ll be downstairs.”

You turn cautiously stepping into the steaming shower, letting the hot water flow over your tired body.
The scent of lavender fills your nose as you take a deep breath in, your tight muscles unraveling slowly.

Glancing around the shower you grab the shampoo, applying it to your long hair followed by conditioner.
Looking down to your feet you gasp seeing the water stained a dark shade of red.
Are you losing it?
You rub your eyes, blinking a few times to clear your vision. Then the panic starts to creep in again, you twist your hair into a thick rope squeezing out the remaining water.
Seeing it run clear you shut your eyes tightly, trying to calm your rapid breathing.

You start furiously cleansing your scalp.
The memories of that night rush back vividly, small insignificant details play back in your mind. The scratchy blue carpet of the conference room rubbing against your back, the smell of alcohol on Tyler’s breath as he leaned in close, whispering slurred threats.
Soft cries fall from your lips as you snatch up a washcloth, lathering it with soap. You scrub your arms and legs hard, your skin feels raw, yet you still feel filthy no matter how hard you try.
Sobs escape your throat, echoing in the small, steamy bathroom.

“Talia?”
A voice falters as it reaches you through the muffled haze of the steam.
“Talia?” It asks again, knocking on the bathroom door.

You want to answer but your voice catches in your throat, strangled by the weight of everything you can't express.

“Im comin in.” The voice says.

A gust of cool air wafts into the humid bathroom as the door opens.
You continue scrubbing, determined to erase every trace of the night from your skin.

The person steps closer, their voice softer now, full of concern. “Tal…”

You stop recognizing the deep voice.
Shane.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, “I heard you from the hallway…answer me please.”

Your heart races at his presence, you swallow hard. “Yeah.”
Taking a deep breath you fold the washcloth over the spout of the tub.
And slowly you pull back the shower curtain only revealing your face. You see him standing there, a look of concern twists his features. His eyes search your face, finding the tears, the redness, the pain.

“I’m fine. Could you hand me a towel?” you ask gesturing towards the shelf.

“Of course.”

Turning the shower off before you grab the thick towel from Shane’s hands, you wrap it around yourself tightly.

Quickly he turns to exit the bathroom.

“Wait could you help me? I’m kinda dizzy from the water being so hot.”

He immediately turns back.
“Of course,” Shane says, stepping closer to offer steadying help.

When both of your feet are planted on the soft padded shower rug you look up to him and notice his eyes are glued to your arm.
Your skin is blood red and speckled with minute bruises, the remnants of what you did to yourself in the shower.
“Thank you.” You add rubbing your hand over the area.

“No problem.” He answers.
“I’ll go tell Maggie you’re done.”

You reach out, grabbing ahold of his hand.
“Wait”

He pauses, his eyes locked on yours, full of worry.

Slowly you lift his hand to cup your cheek. The warm feeling of his palm brings a sense of comfort and familiarity. His thumb gently brushes against your skin, and for a moment, the world stills.
You’ve felt so empty…no amount of scalding showers can make up for what you’ve lost.
After a few moments you word up the courage to say what’s on your mind.
“Touch me." You whisper.
Your chest heaves up and down. You needed to feel something, anything.

“Talia…” he sighs.

“Shane.” You answer loping your arms around his neck, grabbing ahold of his thick hair.

His dark eyes search yours.
Nervous he’ll see fear you crush your lips to his.
Breathing him in, your senses come alive. Sparks flash behind your eyes, the cold embers in your belly reignite.

He kisses you back deeply. Your lips meeting again for the first time in months sends tingles down your entire body.
You feel his hands against your lower back, pulling you into him.
Unhooking one arm from his neck you reach down, cupping your hand over the hard bulge in his pants.

He steps back quickly,“Wait.” He says breathing heavy.

Confused you cock your head to the side.

“I don’t think we should…” he says.

“What?” You ask raising your eyebrows.

He searches your eyes.

You huff sharply, wiping your mouth. “Ok.”
You walk past him to the bedroom.
Rummaging through your dresser for a change of clothes you hear him come up behind you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…I just…I don’t want you to do somethin you’ll regret.” He mumbles walking forward.

“No it’s fine…I understand.” You answer back quickly.

“It’s just…you’ve been different since you woke up…and the last time we were…ya know together was months before that.” His tone deep.

Tears burn the corners of your eyes, releasing a shaky breath because you know everything he’s saying is true. You place a hand on the opened drawer to steady yourself.
The sting of his rejection runs up your spine forcing you to swallow the hurt that quickly shifts to anger.
“What does that matter? Either you wanna fuck me or you don’t.” You say harshly.

“Where is this comin from Tal?” His deep voice turning serious.

You turn around to face him as he looks at you bewildered.

“For weeks you’ve barely looked at, let alone touch me. Now you try to start somethin…I don’t know what you want from me…I don’t know what to do.” He says.

Anger bubbles in your chest, “We used to screw around in secret before? We never touched—barely looked at each other then but that never stopped us. I mean hell you were secretly fucking Lori in a camp full of people for weeks. What does me not lookin or touching you have anything to do with wanting you now?” Your tone is sharp.

Shane takes in a sharp breath before continuing.
“So because I won’t do what you want, you have to try an hurt me? Bring up old shit that I can’t change?”

“Old shit?” You chuckle. “Just because you’re over it doesn’t mean everyone else is Shane.”

“Ok Talia.” He huffs.
“I’m just lookin out for you alright? Listen I…I don’t know everything that happened to you that night. And you know I’d never ask. It’s just…you haven’t been the same since.” His eyes stare fiercely into yours.
“Before then we didn’t speak. You kept your distance and I understood that. I deserved that and more. I hurt you. And I hate myself for it. It’s somethin I regret everyday Talia. Along with all the other mistakes I’ve made.” He says before pausing.
“Look I meant what I said when I told you I’d never leave you.”

You could feel your heart clench.

“No matter what…we are to each other. Just don’t push me away again…please.”

You want to reach out to him, but stop yourself.
Your body starts to tremble, wrapping your arms around yourself. The raw feelings you’ve been trying to keep to yourself come up suddenly. “I’m sorry—I’m just…just fucking lost.” a cry falls out with your words.
“I don’t know how to act or—or feel anymore. Everything is—so fucked up.” Your chest heaves as sobs start to fall from you.

The flood gates of your pent up emotions begin to crack. Tears stream down your face, cooling your hot cheeks.
“I see his face…hear his fucking voice everyday. His hands on me…it’s like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.”
Salty tears trickle down your face, falling from your chin to your chest. Cold despair pierces your heart, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Then a deep warmth envelopes you as Shane cradles you to his chest. His body heat thawing the frigid armor you’d built around yourself.

You’ve kept everyone at bay making it nearly impossible for anyone to get too close to see the cracks you try to hide.
Forcing the fear and anxiety out of your body you finally begin to allow yourself to feel the one thing you really need.
Intimacy, real intimacy.
The comfort and protection he offers…that he wanted to give makes you feel weightless. The sensation of his heart beating strong in his chest matches yours. Your lips curl up into a small smile when he plants a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

You look out the window of your upstairs bedroom and notice the colors of the setting sun. Cotton candy pink with splashes of tangerine orange and a deep burgundy splash across the setting sky.

Shane’s hand rubs your back while the other twirls strands of your raven hair between his fingers. His touch allows all the shame and fear you’ve been holding run from your puffy eyes. And you can’t help but remember how it used to be between the two of you. You realize now how much you miss it but deep down you’re not sure which is scarier, having it all back or never having it ever again.

Chapter Text

Hey stranger!”
A warm familiar voice rings out through the screen door of the farm house.

Turning towards the sound you see Rick, a big smile splayed across his face, glancing down you notice the infant in his arms. Judith’s auburn hair curls around her small ears while her warm eyes twinkle.

“We’ve missed you—how ya feelin?”
He beams, his arm wrapping around your shoulder while the other cradles Jude.

“I’m doin good Rick thank you.” You say smiling, thankful for his friendship.
You chuckle when Jude’s chubby hands reach out for you. As soon as she’s in your arms she starts babbling furiously.

“Hi angel. I missed you too.”
Your heart melts when she flashes you a gummy smile.

You, Patricia, and Hershel were all gathered in the kitchen, writing up a list for the next supply run.
“I’m afraid we‘re not quite finished here just yet Rick.” Hershel says.

“That’s alright. Daryl isn’t goin out for a few days.”

You shiver thinking about leaving the safety of the camp again.

“Where’s Lori?” Hershel asks.

“She’s comin up right now—we wanted to see how Tal was doin.” Rick grins.

You chuckle happily as Jude lightly tugs on your hair. But the sound of boots against the wood porch turns your attention away from the baby on your hip.
Lori walks through the front door to the dining room. Her umber colored hair piled high on top of her head, her warm skin exposed by the deep tank top she wore.
“Tal how are you doin sweetie?”
Her slender hand reaches out to brush against your forearm.

“I’m good—happy to be back at work.” You give her a small smile.

“Good.” She says returning the smile.

Shrinking under her stare you decide retreating back to your chores would be best.
“As much as I don’t wanna give her back—I really need to finish downstairs.”
You chuckle handing the infant back to her father before blowing her a kiss.

“Do you need a hand?” Lori asks.

“Uh no…no it’s ok. I’ve got it.” You answer walking towards the hallway.

”Please I insist. It’s been so long, we needa catch up.” She says, and you can feel everyones eyes on you.

“Ok.” Your stomach drops slightly…you really don’t need this right now.

Hershel turns to Rick. “Actually since you’re here Rick I was wonderin if we could discuss the back field. It’s about time we start expanding those crops.”

You hear the men’s voices fade as you and Lori walk down the basement stairs, where all the extra supplies are stored.

Standing in front of a back shelf you pick up the clip board you left there earlier.
Scanning down the list you glance up at the shelves, scribbling the number down of how many bottles of disinfectant there are.

Lori stands next to you reorganizing the bandages.
“Ya know we were all so relieved when Hershel said you woke up. Rick and I tried to come and see you with the kids but Maggie said you weren’t ready to see anyone just yet.”

Staring down at the paper in front of you, you take a deep breath.
“Yeah…I was havin a hard time apparently. I don’t remember much—I slept most of the time…at least that’s what they told me.”

“I’m so sorry Talia.” Her voice lowers, a tinge of genuine sympathy there.

“It’s ok…I’m better now.” You pause thinking just how untrue that really is.

“That’s really good to hear.”

“Yeah I don’t think I could have gotten through it if it hadn’t of been for Maggie and Carol. I know I wasn’t the easiest person to be around.” You smile, the emotion not quite reaching your eyes..

“I’m sure you were fine. The whole situation was so scary—not knowin if you’d make it or if that group would follow y’all back here. Rick upped the security round the farm. Got everyone who could on lookout, besides Shane….Rick wanted to put him in the rotation but he wouldn’t do it. Went lookin for him and he was camped outside your door. It was crazy, he slept on the floor the whole time.” She chuckles slightly.
“So you guys are ok now? Thats—thats great.”

The slight edge in her tone causes you to look at her.

Not receiving a reply Lori finally met your gaze.

“What are you really doin down here Lori?”

Her eyebrows furrow.
“I just told you—I wanted to check on you and make sure…”

“That I’m not gonna to tell your husband about your affair?”
Her eyes widen and her jaw clenches.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave that to you…By the way have you told Rick yet?” You ask meeting her gaze.

“I—I will when I...”

“So that’s a no then.” You say cutting her off, returning back to the clip board resting on your forearm.

Her hand comes down on the shelf as she turns to face you.
“There are some things that I need to handle before I tell him.”

“Like what?”

She takes a deep breath, “I need to make sure that Shane understands…”

Your eyes lock with hers. “You love punishing him don’t you? Like he’s the only one to blame for bein in the situation you find yourself in?”

“I don’t need your judgment Talia.”

“No but you need my trust right?” Your tone is sharp.

“Lori!” You heard Rick’s voice ring down the stairs, breaking up the silence between the two of you.
“You ready to go?”

“Yes. I’ll be right up!” She answers back.
“Listen I know you don't owe me anything but I need some time”.

“Thats your business Lori. But don’t try to make it sound like you haven’t told Rick just because of Shane—he wasn’t the only one who fucked up.” You say through gritted teeth.
“Rick deserves to know the truth and he needs to hear it from you. You’re his wife for Gods sake. And the only reason I haven’t been the one to say anythin is because of your kids.”

“I will tell him Talia.”
She mutters before you both start up the stairs.

After saying your goodbyes to the family at the front door of the farmhouse, you sit on one of the rocking chairs decorating the wrap around porch.

Releasing the breath you’ve been holding you think about how much you really didn’t want to be involved in this mess anymore. But from the minute Lori told you about her and Shane you inadvertently were. It wouldn’t have even mattered if you and Shane were together or not—ultimately you were making your peace with the hurt he caused but you hadn’t yet dealt with the betrayal you felt from Lori.

You thought she was your friend, and the memories you have of her strange behavior towards you regarding Shane had left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Even her comment in the basement about him rubbed you the wrong way. Her tone was tinged with just a hint of contempt.

Forcing those thoughts out of your mind you gaze out onto the camp taking in the last bit of spring. Azaleas and Dahlias cover the garden beds, while the fruit trees in the surrounding fields blossom full and ripe.
The fresh air smelt sweet with the faintest hint of rain.

In the distance gathering storm clouds remind you that in a few weeks the searing hot Georgia summers would return, and you’d all start praying for rain again.
Stepping off the porch you walk into the camp, grabbing one of the wicker baskets resting on the picnic table.
“Hey Dale I’m gonna go pick some fruit before the storm rolls in.”
You call out.

“Let me call someone down here.”

“No it’s fine. I’ll be quick.”

“Talia…” He starts.

“I’ll be fine Dale. I’m armed and I’ll be fast. I promise.”

He didn't look entirely convinced but he concedes anyway.
“Alright…I’ll be watching. Those clouds are moving fast so keep an eye out!” He says lifting up his hefty binoculars.

“Ok.” You smile.
The orchard is almost a ten minute walk away from the house, the path connecting the two places cuts through the yard.
Dale would be able to keep an eye on you the whole way at least til you reached the orchard.
The thick tree trunks and low hanging branches made the perfect picnic spot but did make it hard to see through from afar.

Last summer the group fortified the fences all around the house as well as the fields behind it, totaling about ten acres.
Every day whoever’s on guard rotation walks the grounds to make sure the fence is secure as well as seeing to any repairs.
Only recently had you become comfortable enough to walk this far away from the house alone.

As you enter the orchard you start by scanning your surroundings, always maintaining some sort of visual of the area around you.
Bending down you examine the fruit that had already fallen to the ground. Searching for any insect activity or bruising on the flesh of the fruit.
Grabbing some candy apple reds, you gently place them in your basket and continue strolling through the trees.
A delicious citrus scent floated in the humid air. You stand up on your tippy toes craning your neck to reach the most flawless apples you could find.
Their unblemished glossy red skin catches the sun beaming through the leaves as you place another in your basket.

Just when you’re about to enter the field of peach trees you hear the echoing sound of a hammer.

Curious you quietly walk over to the back side of the fence next to the fields where the cattle graze.
Instantly you recognize Shane’s back, his olive skin was beaded with sweat. He was working on the newest look out tower facing the front of the farm.

You thought you were being quite enough until he glanced over his shoulder. Immediately standing up straight he threw down the tools in his hands.
Removing his old police cap he rubbed the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
His dark curls stick to his skin while his stubbly jaw and neck glisten in the light. You notice the thick veins protruding from his forearms.

“Talia?”

“Yes?” You answer back quickly.

“I was asking if there’s something you needed.”

“Um…uh n—no.” You stuttered trying to regain your composure.
“I was just getting some fruit before the rain—didn’t know anyone was back here.”

“Yeah..just bout finished with it.”
He mutters before looking up, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “It is gonna rain huh?”

“Yeah any second now. Got dark pretty fast.”
Glancing up to the sky you see that the once light grey clouds that were yards away are now a deep charcoal looming right above you.

Booming thunder suddenly crashes across the sky, making you jump.

Looking back to Shane he’s tossing his equipment into the tool box.
You run over to him and help, grabbing any tool you see and throwing them in the box.

The rain starts coming down in a light sprinkle but soon turns to giant droplets.
Within minutes you’re both completely drenched. You turn on your heels to sprint back to the house when Shane grabs hold of your hand, pulling you to the tower.
Opening the door he ushers you to enter.

Once inside you realize just how big this place actually is.
Scanning the interior you notice a large stack of firewood next to the door. A small built in shelf covered with canned jars is situated on the wall across from the entrance, right next to a sturdy wooden ladder that leads up to what looks like a trap door—you’re assuming thats where the look out point is. While a few guns are piled in a big blue bin next to a lumpy black futon.

“Wow.” You mumble.

“You like it?” Shane asks flashing a wide smile.

“Uhhh…yeah. All you’re missing is a few mounted deer heads. And a couple bottles of liquor.” You chuckle.

“Pretty sure Daryl’s already on that. Maybe not deer heads though…prolly squirrel.” He laughs.

“Ew.” You grimace at the thought of animal heads decorating the walls of the wooden shack.

“And as for liquor…” He pulls out two large handles of whiskey from a box stacked against the wall, the rich amber liquid sloshing softly.

“Wow this really is a man cave.” You nod before setting the basket of apples down on the coffee table.

Shane pulls back the curtains covering a small repurposed window next to the door. The rains coming down so hard the house is barely visible, while the wind howls furiously.
“Shit.” He mutters to himself. “We should stay here for now…hopefully it’ll pass soon.”

A rule at the farm in case of extreme weather is to find shelter and stay put til it passes.
Little to no visibility could be a death sentence out here, you could fall and break an ankle stepping onto some uneven terrain.
Run into one of the barbed wire fences or stumble upon a herd of hungry walkers.

“Yeah ok…” you say, your teeth chattering slightly as your drenched clothing clung uncomfortably to your skin.
Shane strode across the room to one of the bins situated up against the wall. Digging through it he fishes out a couple towels along with a change of clothes for you both.

“Here.” He says handing yours over.

“Thank you.”
Grabbing it from his hands you can feel his eyes on you.

“I’ll go change over there.” He points to the furthest wall.

You give him a small smile before walking over to your corner.
Turning to face the wall you kick off your boots, removing your soaked shirt and bra before quickly running the towel over your damp skin.
You slip the fresh shirt over your head, pulling your drenched pants down before replacing them with the new pair.
The dark shirt you wore was oversized. It hung just above your knees, the dark fabric drowning your small frame. But the pants actually fix quite nicely—hugging to your curves comfortably.
You turn your head slightly, twisting your dripping hair to drain the rain water into the towel.

When you catch sight of Shane sliding on a light flannel you freeze momentarily. The front of the shirt hangs open, revealing his wide chest. The deep v from his hips travel down to his waist line before disappearing below his jeans. You look away quickly before he can catch you staring, swallowing hard as you bend over to gather up your clothes. You try to fold them neatly as Shane reaches out with a small empty tub.
“Thanks.”

“Are you still cold?” He asks from behind you.

“A little.” You say rubbing the towel against your damp hair.

He walks over to the futon, bending down and pulls out a few blankets.

“You wanna sit?” He motions to the couch.
You walk around the coffee table, grabbing one of comfy blankets. Slowly sitting you wrap the fabric around yourself as you sink into the futon.

“How bout a drink?” His tone soft as he stands there with his hands on his hips.

You nod quickly,“Yeah…sure.”

Shane grabs a handle of whiskey, grabbing two cups before pouring a good amount in each. He hands yours over before raising his glass, giving you a smile and says,“To surviving.”

“To surviving.” You repeat back.
You take a sip of the whiskey, wincing slightly as the liquid burns the whole way down til it settles at the bottom of your empty belly. The alcohol warms your insides, making your limbs sink deeper into the cushioned sofa. Your mind drifts somewhere between fear, desire, exhaustion, and hope.
You missed this.

“So how are you feelin.”
He asks walking over to sit on the other end of the futon.

You stare down at your glass,“Good. Im—good.”
A sense of guilt sank into your chest, blooming beneath your ribcage as you remember everything you’ve been through. You still struggle to hold on to normalcy everyday, now you hope he doesn't notice your change in demeanor as your hands tighten slightly around the glass.

“I’m glad.”
You feel his eyes scanning your face. The heat from the whiskey making you hot.
“You seem better…It’s nice. I could tell you were comin back.”

“Yeah just needed some time.”
You look up to his face, those dark eyes still staring back at you.

Seconds tick by as the two of you keep your eyes on one another. Your heart pounds from thinking he can see your anxiety growing, the memories clawing just beneath your composed expression, threatening to spill out. But loud static from the radio in Shane’s tool box breaks the connection.

Dales voice comes through the speaker.
“Shane do you copy? Whats your location? Do you have eyes on Talia? This storm is getting pretty serious.”

He grabs ahold of radio, bringing it to his mouth.
“Dale I copy. Tal’s with me. We took shelter in the tower north west of the house next to the orchards. We’ll hold up here till it passes.”

“Thank goodness. We’re closing everything down up here and heading into the house. The wind is whipping stuff all over the place. Keep me updated if anything changes. Be safe you two.”

“Thanks Dale you too.”
He takes a deep breath, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.
You watch him grab the bottle, motioning to fill both cups.

The booming thunder outside kickstarts your anxiety, realizing this storm could last hours and you’d be drunk, stuck in this little shack with the man who had completely turned your life upside down.

While you recovered, you and Shane spent a lot of time together. You’d grown close again—reigniting that fire inside that burned hot and fierce. His presence alone during those moments was enough to keep the shadows away…the dark thoughts that plagued you constantly seemed to quietly fade into the background.
He gave the space you needed to breathe but was also there when you couldn’t catch your breath. You’d spend hours in bed talking and laughing and sometimes crying. His unwavering support and kindness opened your heart. There were times when you’d think to yourself just kiss him—just kiss him! But you never did…was it fear that held you back? Maybe. Or could it be the crushing guilt anchored to your past, tethering every unspoken desire in silence.

When he reaches over to top off your cup you speak up, “I think I should prolly slow down.”

“You’re gonna make me drink alone?” He says, the corner of his mouth curling into a small smile.

Not wanting to tell him the truth you quickly think of an excuse .
“I haven’t eaten anything since early this morning…”

He nods before walking across the small room, grabbing a jar of canned peaches and an apple from your basket.
Popping open the jar then cutting into the apple, he sliced the skin with his pocket knife before handing you a piece.
Juice from the fruit drips down his thumb and you watch in silence as he slips it into his mouth.

You shove the slice between your lips, silencing the thoughts swirling around in your head. Chasing it with a swig of the spicy whiskey followed by a bite of the preserved peaches cools the burning on your tongue and in your chest.

A while later you finally notice the empty jars of peaches and apple cores strewn across the table. You realize how easy it is to forget the outside world with him, how quickly time seems to pass just talking, your guard always slipping with every familiar smile or gentle brush of his hand.
The half empty bottle of whiskey teeters on the edge of the table, reminding you of the strong smell it left lingering in your mouth. The room grows quieter around both of you, drawing your attention to the sound of rain outside. Your vision is slowed by the alcohol, blurring the edges of the dying suns soft glow as you move gently in your seat, blinking hard against a sudden wave of dizzying warmth. You sense his eyes watching you again, steady as a lifeline offered just when you need it most.

The blanket you had wrapped around your shivering frame now hangs halfway off the couch. Your long hair no longer damp from the earlier rain falls thickly past your shoulders as you lean back, trying to hold onto this delicate stillness that feels threatened by every heartbeat. Sitting your glass down on the table you can still hear thunder outside, echoing against the window pane.
“This is nice.” You smile looking at him.

He gives a lopsided grin, laying his head against the back of the couch. “Yeah it is.”

In the next heartbeat, lightning flashes, illuminating the window followed quickly by a crash of thunder that shakes both of you from your reverie, making the air between you crackle with sudden tension.

He looks to you, eyes glossy as his warm hand rests against your knee.
His calloused palm feels so good against your skin…it sparks something.
Those warm eyes lock onto your face as he scoots closer.
You hold your breath when his arm curls around your shoulders, pulling you closer, nestling against his shoulder.

Both of you sit in silence for a long moment, listening to the harsh rhythm of the rain as it pounds relentlessly against the wood foundation.
Your eyes grow heavy as you snuggle closer to him.

You’re almost asleep when he quietly asks, “Do you feel safe with me?”

Your mouth opens, searching for honesty, but the words stumble out in a breathy whisper before you can stop them. “Yes,” your voice trembling.

He takes a deep breath, almost out of relief before he finally lets his hand settle fully, fingers gently tracing circles on your knee. His other arm squeezes you gently, anchoring you to this moment as the storm rages on beyond the walls of the small shack.

You feel him gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing the crown of your head.
Your heart flutters, but the sparks from his lips do little to keep your eyes from drooping.
No longer being able to fight sleep you give into it.
Slipping into the place that calls to you—hoping that maybe you’ll find him there too.

Chapter Text

Slowly blinking your eyes open you have to remind yourself where you are.
It’s night time, only a small sliver of moonlight shines through the fraying curtains of the dark room.
Hard rain still falls outside— you can hear the distant wind shifting the tin roof, rattling it like bones lost in a grave.
Your head still swims from the whiskey, thoughts tangling with each other as the sound of snores fills the air, letting you know that Shane is right here.

You’re lying on your side, feeling his warm chest against your back while his arm is draped over you.
The blanket from earlier covers you both.
He must have unfolded the futon while you were sleeping, giving the both of you room to lay down. Careful not to wake you while making sure you were comfortable, but intentional enough that his touch lets you know just how much he cares.

You hear his soft snores and feel his breath tickle the back of your neck.
Slowly you turn to face him scooting your body closer to his.

When his eyes open lazily, taking a deep breath he whispers, “You ok?”

You nod, pulse quickening when he pulls you in closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist as if asking for reassurance.
Reaching up your fingers trace over the edge of his jaw, feeling the stubble under your fingertips, he smiles sleepily at your gentle touch.
Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you steady yourself against the urge to lean in closer, wanting to lose yourself in the warmth that is him or maybe wait, keeping you both suspended between comfort, desire, fear, or something else uncertain.

An unknown force inside pushes you forward, lips brushing his just as the rain hammers louder against the roof, drowning the world outside in a rush of white noise.

Shane tenses just slightly, uncertain, before his fingers curl tighter around your waist with steady conviction.

The kiss is slow at first, hesitant, like you’re both testing whether this moment is real or just another whiskey dream you’ll forget. His lips feel warm, sure, the taste of him settling in your memory as a promise you don't want to lose.
A tinge of whiskey lingers on his lips.

You pull back just enough to see his face, searching for any sign of doubt in his expression as the storm inside you builds, threatening to spill over as his eyes meet yours with a fierce tenderness you didn't expect.
“I need you.” You whisper.

“ Tal—.” He says softly, catching himself as emotion builds in his throat, leaving him unsure how to finish.

You know that he doesn’t want you to do anything you’ll regret or something you’re not really ready for so you thread your fingers through his hair, reassuring him with a gentle squeeze that you know what you want too.

A warm buzzing courses through your body—you want him now more than ever.

You shift, shaky hands come up to his chest as you slowly undo the buttons, your finger tips brush against his skin.

He closes his eyes from your touch, sitting up to slide the shirt off his shoulders before lifting yours over your head.

You lay back down, opening your legs to him.
He fits between them before littering slow kisses against your neck.
You unbutton jeans in the process, before he helps by sliding them down your legs.

Your heart beats wildly as you watch him shift back on the couch, taking your panties down with him.
Anticipation crowds the dark room when his head dips between your thighs, dragging his warm tongue through your wet folds.
A deep swell of pleasure builds in you as he closes his lips around your clit, swirling his tongue.
Strangled breaths fall from your mouth as he continues.
Lapping and dipping into you before replacing it with a thick finger while his other hand grips your thigh.

You tense when he slips another inside, slowly pumping.
Intertwining your fingers through his curls your skin erupts in goosebumps hearing a low groan come from him, vibrating against you.

You grab at his shoulders, making him look up before he crawls over you.
He settles between your thighs, the hard bulge in his pants brushing your leg. Then his lips find yours again, making you moan at the taste.
The feeling of denim against your legs remind you both of the barriers still between you, hearts pounding as he fumbles desperately to peel away the layers.
His button gives, jeans slipping aside to reveal the electric heat beneath. You’re skin to skin now, pulse racing as his hands slide lower, pulling you closer until there’s nothing but want between tangled limbs.

Your breath catches when you feel him push against you.
He rolls his hips slowly, splitting, pulling a lewd sigh from you.
You feel yourself opening up to him as your body relaxes completely..

Shane lowers himself to his elbows then grinds against you again, snaking one hand underneath the back of your thigh.
He brings his face down and devours your mouth. Tongues entangling wildly as his pace quickens.
Driving into you with a new sense of need his grip tightens.
His breath is ragged, but his eyes remain on you—watching.

Like this you knew it would be over sooner than you wanted. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly—his eyes full of worry.

“Lay back.” You whisper next to his ear.

When he’s lying flat you crawl over him—slowly straddling his waist.
Grabbing his shaft you slide it through your lips, gathering your slick before sinking down.

A low groan comes from his throat as you bottom out.

You let your head fall back from the sharp sensation.
You can feel him everywhere all at once but it still isn’t enough.
The insatiable need you have for him to be even closer leaves you feeling dizzy.

His warm hands travel over your body all while his eyes are glued to yours—his gaze is heavy and focused on you. Wanting to see everything.

You lift your hips up slowly then drop them down onto him.
Placing both hands flat against his chest you move faster til you’re practically bouncing on his lap.
A loud moan escapes your lips.

His reaches up cupping the back of your neck then pulls your face down to him.
You never break your rhythm even as he brushes his tongue against your lips teasing them open.
He kisses you as you jerk your hips down harder, your body burning wildly.

“Hmmm…Shane.” You whine.
Leaning up straight you start rolling against him, while his hands grip your hips.
You feel fire pooling low in your stom and blood pounding loudly in your ears.

He sits up abruptly, making you whine at the change of angle—now hitting something tender.

Your hands grip the back of his neck, using it for leverage to bring yourself up and down along him.
A deep hum vibrates in your throat when he squeezes the plump flesh of your ass firmly.

“Fuck I missed y—you….” His slurred voice makes you melt.
“I miss—missed you so much…” He brushes your hair from your shoulders, exposing your neck to him, dragging his tongue along your throat.

You start shaking hearing his strangled breath low against your ear.
Your whole body quivers, the spring of your orgasm uncoils rapidly, nothing but pure ecstasy crashes over you.

Shane’s body tenses, wrapping his strong arms around your back, crushing you to his chest as you ride him.
He inhales sharply when he finds his own release.
Breathing shakily into your open mouth as he tightens his grip around your frame.

You sigh deeply feeling warmth flood between your thighs.
He rests his face between your breasts as he finishes deep inside you.

Slick with sweat and panting heavily you both relax against each other.
He lifts his head up from your cleavage to plant a languid kiss on your lips.

You release your grip on his shoulders before sliding off and collapsing on the sofa.
Looking up to the ceiling your tight muscles relax against the soft fabric beneath you.

“Tal?” Shane whispers through the dark.

“Yeah?” You answer breathlessly.

“Look at me.”

Lazily you turn towards him.
You see he’s lying on his side as the light from the window illuminates the silhouette of his body. He slowly reaches over you, gliding his finger tips up and down your arm.
“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You sigh.
You know why he’s asking. What happened that spring still took up a lot of space in your head. The wound left behind not completely healed—but you wanted this…you want him. There’s no doubt in your mind about that.
“Are you?”

He huffs lightly.
“Yeah.”

His tone makes you think there’s something he’s not saying.
“What is it Shane?”

“You don’t…feel bad?”

You take a breath before answering,
“If you mean do I regret it then the answer is no…I wanted to.”

“Good.” He whispers squeezing your shoulder.
“I um—I wanna know somethin else.”
He pauses before speaking again.
“Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is this it? Like is this a one time thing. I wanna know.”

Your heart beat quickens,“Do you want it to be?”

He lifts his hand up to your face, gently brushing his fingers along your jaw.
“No. I want you…always. I love yo—.”

You crush your lips to his, cutting him off.
Pulling back you look to him through the dark of the room.
A part of you wants to say it but you can’t—your walls are still up. You need more time.

You both lay there for a while in silence just listening to each other’s breaths.

You feel his hand grip your arm before traveling down to your elbow where his warm fingers dance over your hip. The tension between you two rises again.
He leans forward and kisses you, his tongue slipping between your lips as he climbs over you.

Your hands move down his wide back, gripping it tightly when he sinks into you once again.

❧

It’s not until the warm morning sunlight peaks through the curtains that you remember last night wasn’t a dream.
Looking up from Shane’s chest you see him sleeping soundly. His heart beat steady against your ear while one of his arms is situated under your head, the other rests across his toned abdomen.
You think back to last night—how he said he loved you…how you couldn’t say it back.
The uncertainty of not knowing if you could go back down that road with him again weighs heavy on you…but really what did you have to lose? You felt different, not quite a shell of your former self but something close.

You were moving past the pain of his deception…and trying to deal with the fear and trauma from the attack. It gnawed at you incessantly. Threatening to overwhelm your senses at the simplest things that had now become triggers.
Although you knew you’d never forget anything that happened—all you can do now is live your life the way you want to.
And one thing you know for sure is that Shane has to be apart of it.
No matter what.

Chapter Text

A lot can happen in eleven months.
Seasons change. People grow. Relationships blossom.

Its late April.
The front of the house is decorated with flowers.
A few cows nurse new babies.
The gardens full of fresh fruits and veggies.
Giggles and squeals from the children carry from the yard to the open windows of the house.

You often stand at the kitchen sink meticulously washing freshly picked produce, while your mind drifts back to winter.< br /> When the bitter winter wind hit camp everyone moved inside, piling into the farmhouse.
It was cramped but it worked and surprisingly actually kinda nice having everyone so close. Even though the only time it was quiet was late at night.
And of course Shane moved into your room—he basically already lived there anyways.
The two of you spent every night tangled up in between the sheets—the same way off the farm.

A few months ago you finally worked up the courage to go out on a supply run.
You and Shane ventured into town like you had dozens of times before. But this one was different…this was the first time you’d left the safely of the farm since the attack.
Stepping out of the car you swallow down the fear and anxiety bubbling up your throat.
It’ll be like riding a bike you tell yourself…it’ll be fine. And before you knew it you realize just how true that was.
Your muscles remembering what it’s like to clear a building.
To stand back to back with Shane as you both take down a dozen walkers at a time. You watch in awe as you cut each down with your blade effortlessly.
A familiar exhilarating buzz courses through your body when you look down to the bloody mess left in your wake.
Then after clearing every building in your path and finding enough supplies you both settle into the designated safe house the group set up in town.
You watch Shane as he walks in the room.

He glances back at you, sweat streaking his temple, a small smile spreads across his face. God he looked so alive in this light—sweaty, shoulders squared, like he could take on anything now. A warm chill traveled down your spine as you stepped closer, realizing for the first time how much you missed this version of him—sharp, deadly, fully present with you in every moment, the world narrowed only to survival, adrenaline thrumming fiercely between you. The two of you stand there, surrounded by echoing silence, until Shane drops his bag, crossing the distance to pull you in.
Then suddenly you’re both desperately clawing at each other’s clothes, not even undressing all the way before your bodies are melting into one.
Breathing wildly as you both ride out that high.
The earth seems to still as you two dissolve into pleasure.
Then you’re left panting, lying broken and spent.
Smiling like idiots as if the world outside hadn’t turned to shit.

❧

You sling your heavy backpack down onto the kitchen counter, taking a deep steadying breath.
In your eyes a good run meant everyone got to go home—even better if you brought back needed supplies.
Looking up your eyes fixate on a picture frame hanging on the wall across the room.
A family portrait, perfect smiles etched on pretty faces…frozen in time, reminding you what normal once felt like.

You jolt when you feel strong arms wrap around you, shaking you from your depressing thoughts.
A comforting smell fills your nose…spearmint.
Goosebumps prickle your skin when you feel Shane’s breath against your ear.

You both stand there for a moment just savoring the feeling of one another and exhaling a sigh of relief that everyone is safe and unharmed.

He kisses the delicate skin of your neck making you lean back onto his chest. A strong hand dips into the collar of your shirt and traces a finger tip over your skin.
You can’t get enough—his touch sets every nerve in your body on fire. Blazing through you like a fever.

You know what he’s thinking by the way his breathing shudders as he brushes over the curve of your breast.
His other hand grabs your jaw, making you look at him.
Then he kisses you hard, slipping his tongue into your mouth before he reaches down deeper into your shirt, kneading your chest leisurely.
Stealing your breath away with every hungry press of his mouth, his hands anchor you fiercely.
You can feel the bulge in his pants pressing into you as he pushes you against the counter.

His touch leaves your chest before finding its way to the front of your jeans.
Slipping his fingers past your panties then drawing through your folds.

All the air in your lungs evaporates so all you can do is stand there gasping.
You arch your hips into his touch as he ghosts over your entrance, teasing you.

A small whine escapes your lips while you grip the edge of the laminate counter top.

His ragged voice is low in your ear.
“You like that? You want me?”

You just nod in agreement, struggling to articulate real words.

Not satisfied with your answer he pushes two thick digits inside you.

You cry out abruptly.

He curls his fingers.
“No—say it. Open that pretty mouth girl…tell me whatchu want.”

Fuck.
Your legs already feel like jello.
You can’t deny that Shane knows his way around your body—or how good he is with words. That deep southern draw feels like velvet against your skin.

“I w—want you.” Your voice trembles.
“Inside m—me..”

He drives himself in knuckles deep making you gasp loudly.

“I’m already inside you.”
You can hear the smile in his voice.
Forcing the words out you grind your ass into him.
“You—your cock. I-I—need you. Inside…inside me—please Shane.”

With that he roughly snatches his hand from between your thighs.

“Take your pants off.” He orders.

With trembly hands you hurriedly undo your jeans, clenching around nothing while you kick them off.
Your heart starts pounding from the sound of his belt buckle clinking behind you.
Although apparently you didn’t undress fast enough because the next thing you knew you were being shoved down onto the counter.
Feeling your panties being yanked over your ass makes your body buzz with excitement.

“Gimme your hands.” He tells you.

You reach back and he pins them together against your spine.

“Spread your legs.” His tone is so serious.

You’re confused…was he gonna frisk you or?
“What?” You ask breathlessly.

Without speaking you feel his boot knock against the side of yours. Pushing your legs open.
Is he serious? Was this some sort of cop role play thing? You can’t help but giggle at little at the thought.

A sharp slap collides against your bare ass making you yelp.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asks sternly.

“N-nothing I just…”

Another slap.

Jolts of electricity shoot down your thighs.

His warm hand rubs over the sore flesh.
“I can’t hear you…I asked what’s so funny?”

Your words are stolen from your mouth when you feel something blunt pressing up against your core. Deep shivers roll over your body when he starts slowly rubbing the head of his dick back and forth through your lips lightly kissing your clit.

Your toes curl from the sensation.
“I d—didn’t mean to…”

Another palm cracks across your backside.
You moan loudly, the sound obscene.
His dick dragging along your pussy has you practically dripping wet. You can feel your slick covering the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck yeah…” Shane groans.
He delivers one more slap against your stinging cheeks sending you up on your tippy toes.

A strong hand grads ahold of your braided hair, pulling it back. Your excitement turns ravenous knowing what comes next.
He bends down slightly, lining up his head with your entrance.

You stand there waiting—the anticipation alone was enough to push you over the edge.
Then he quickly tightens his grip on your braid as he slams into you.
You cry out, your muscles tense up hard as stone. The sharpness from him spearing you makes your body lean more towards the counter.

“Shit…” he growls, locking his arm up against your chest, crushing you together.
His mouth finds your throat, kissing it before muttering low in your ear,
“Take it…j—just take it baby.”

You release a raspy moan as you focus on his voice and slowly melt into him at the sensation of his teeth edging along your skin.

He pounds into you wildly, leaving your mind reeling. Your lungs burn from gasping for air so hard.
Finally he releases your hair, shoving you back down to the counter. His hands grip your hips tightly holding you in place.

Your arms fall limply from your back, dangling at your sides before coming up to grip the edge of the counter. Exquisite euphoria pumps through your veins feeling him inside you. Sparks from your skin seem to leap at his touch, igniting something raw between heartbeats as you cling tightly to the edge.

“Sh—Shane.” You whine.
“I—I’m—gonna—…” Tears prickle the corner of your eyes as you begin to lose yourself. Your walls flexing around him.

“Fuck, I c—can feel…it.” He groans. “You, get s-so wet when—when you’re about t—to cum…”
He barrels down digging agonizingly deep, colliding with that spot inside you that sets blistering wildfire across your body.

You take a sharp breath trying to regain control of yourself as your body shakes.
The vulgar sound of slapping skin shoots you higher.
You told yourself you could hold out longer…but the way he’s clinging to you, that smoky voice mumbling your praises has you coming apart at the seams.

Shane’s grunts behind grow more breathy, while his grip on your hip becomes steely. He picks up to an unforgivable pace.

You cry out for the last time as your orgasm rips you apart.

“Fuuuck…fuck—fuck” he breaths dropping his head between your shoulder blades.
He gets in a few more thrusts before burying himself once more. Shuddering as he pumps his release deep inside you.

The aftershocks of your orgasm shatter the world around as you try to catch your breath. Your knees could probably buckle right now if he wasn’t still holding you.
You feel his breath against your skin between what you think are words but you can’t exactly tell. Your heartbeat still drums loudly in your ear.
He leans his still clothed chest forward, resting against your back.
“Are you—ready?”

You hum in agreement, it's surprises you when a rag appears in front of your face, so with a skaky hand you take it.

He pulls out slowly, before bending down to plant a kiss on your sore behind.

You wince slightly bringing the rag between your legs then waddle slowly to the bathroom just off from the kitchen. Over the sink you wet the rag with your canteen before cleaning up. You mop up the mess slowly as the door opens. In walks Shane with his pants still down, his own rag in his hands.

You can’t help but grin seeing him basically naked from the waste down. His chiseled lower torso flexes tightly with every move he makes.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asks.

“No…” you answer, looking up to him coyly. “I liked it.”

He leans forward, “Good.” Flashing you a smile then kissing you sweetly as he secures his belt.

You finish redressing then follow behind him to the kitchen.
Unzipping your backpack, you remove dinner. Stabbing the top of two tinned raviolis with your serrated knife you carefully pry them open. You fish through the drawers for silverware, finding a pair of spoons you place one inside each can. The both of you sit down at the dining room table just before you slide a can towards Shane.
After a few bites you speak up, “We should head out early tomorrow morning.”
When he doesn’t respond you look up from your food. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah I heard you…” he mumbles, his eyes downcast.

You take a deep breath, setting your spoon down. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation.
Tensions at the farm have been rising for awhile now, threatening to boil over.

The newest arrivals to the group had changed the dynamics back home. You didn’t want to admit it but you were nervous, nervous about what could happen. Scared even of things changing for you and your family. These thoughts weigh on your mind constantly.

“Shane we have to. We’ve been gone for four days…was only supposed to be two.”

“I know…you’re right.” He slips a spoonful of ravioli into his mouth.
Swallowing he finally looks up at you and gives a small smile but his eyes look somber.

“Shane…” You start.

“First thing tomorrow…we’ll go.”

Chapter Text

- Flashback -
The sun was still high in the sky. The cool air drifted through the trees, carrying the scent of wet earth and faint rain from the brief storm the day before.
While on a run you and few others from the group came across some people in town. Two men and a woman, they were filthy and gaunt, their clothes torn, eyes flickering with caution as you approached.
You could see that the woman was injured.

“How many of you are there?” Rick asked.
One of the men spoke up, his dirty ginger hair hung loosely over his eyes.

“Just us three…we had more but they’re gone now.” He muttered watching Rick closely.

The other man stood up too quickly, startling everyone. His dark shoulder length hair was full of grass while his face and clothes are caked in grime.
Shane and Daryl immediately set their weapons on him. While you, Rick, and Andrea raised yours on the other two

“Hey hey I’m sorry!” The man shouted. “Im sorry! Im sorry!”

“Your camp, where is it?” Rick said.

The red headed man just stared back.

Stepping closer Rick pointed his revolver at the strangers forehead.

“We dont have a camp.” The man replied.
“We stay where we can. Scavenge what we find. That’s it.”

“Bullshit.” Daryl said raising his crossbow.

“It’s the truth—Please, it’s the truth!” The woman yelled out. Her trembling hands covered in drying blood. She’s slumped against the brick wall of an old building.

The long haired stranger interjected, “Listen we’re barely surviving out here man. Whatever we have to do we’ll do it but please help her…she’s bleedin out.”

You glance back to the woman. Her pale skin and shallow breaths tell you she must be really hurt.

“What’s her wound?” You speak up.

“We were robbed by another group coupla days ago….they took everything. Killed the rest of our people. One of em came at Brina with a knife.”

You look to Rick, who nods.

“Put down your weapons, we’ll dress and clean her wound. Provide you with some supplies then point you in the direction of the nearest town.” Rick said firmly.

“And who’er you to tell us to leave the area?” The red headed man hisses, his hand going to his belt.

“The fuck you say?!” Shane shouted.
Everyone in your group took a step forward.

“Everybody calm down!” Rick barks.

“Please just do it so I can help her…she doesn’t look good.” You say.

“Listen to ‘em Eli…just do it.” The dark haired man whispered to his companion.

The two men reluctantly threw down their knives.

“You two over there.” Shane gestured to the men with his weapon still drawn.
Lining them up against the opposite wall.

You holstered your gun, glancing to Andrea to follow you. She points hers to the ground while you both walked over to the woman.

Kneeling down you scan her face. Slate blue eyes rimmed red stared back at you. She put both of her shaky hands up.
“I—have a..a knife.” She whispers.
You slowly reached for her belt and pull out the small weapon before handing it off to Andrea.

Slinging off your backpack you unzip it, taking out the supples you think you’d need. You hand Andrea a pair of gloves before slipping on a pair yourself.

“You know—what you’re doing?” She breaths.

“I was a nurse before.” You replied.

She nodded her head slowly.

You lifted up her tattered shirt. It was damp with fresh and old blood.
Just from looking you could see the angry slash stretched from one side of her abdomen to just above her bellybutton. It didn’t appear deep but she was still actively bleeding. Based on what the man with the dark hair said and what you could see the injury wasn’t very fresh, which wasn’t a great sign. You couldn’t really know how bad the damage was until you got a good look—and you couldn’t do that here.

You grabbed some gauze, folding them up thickly before placing them firmly to the wound.
She whimpered weakly as tears streamed down here dirty cheeks. Her red eyes started to droop.

“Hey!” You said loudly. “Stay awake.”

“What’s your name?! Tell us your name.” Andrea added.

“Sabrina…my name’s Sabrina..” she mumbles.

Glancing down you felt the warmth from her blood soaking through the gauze.

“Andrea—put pressure on this please.” You stand as she kneels down to help the injured woman.

Walking over to Rick you whispered to him, “I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty how bad the wound is. I do know she’s lost a lot of blood and if I don’t stop it she could be dead by tonight—but I can’t do that until I see if there’s any internal damage. We have to move her somewhere.”

“Is she gonna be ok?” The second man spoke, his voice frantic.

Rick turned to Daryl and Shane.

“No Rick—we cannot bring these people back with us.” Shane said walking towards you two.

“We can’t just leave her out here to die Shane.” Rick tells him quickly.

“Bad idea man.” Daryl mumbles still looking to the two men with his bow raised.

You all stood there in silence for a few seconds.

“Blindfold ‘em.” Rick said firmly. “Lay her in the back of the car.”

“Rick.” Shane warned.

“Let’s go.” Rick’s tone was serious and final. He turned away from Shane, leaving his friend standing there.

“Come on.” You said to him, as you tried to swallow the uneasy feeling that was now lodged in your throat.

❧

You and Share finally get home, pulling into the driveway of the cozy and familiar farmhouse. You catch sight of his hands gripping the steering wheel—his jaw tightens as he puts the car in park.

You place a hand on his knee,
“It’s ok.” You say in the sweetest tone you could muster.

“Yeah.” He mumbles staring ahead.

“Let’s go upstairs.” You whisper low against his ear, moving your hand up his thigh.

He chuckles deeply—that warm sound stirring something inside you.
Turning, he presses a deep kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smile.
He nods his head towards the house and you both exit the car before grabbing the supplies from the trunk.

Shane walks up to the porch first carrying the largest box while you crawl up into the trunk to pick up the few cans that fell out on the journey home.

“Hey!” A loud voice comes up from behind, startling you.

You almost hit your head on the roof of the car with how far you jump.
Looking over your shoulder you recognize Eli—the red head from the group in town.
You see his eyes glued to your ass.
Crawling backwards quickly you land on your feet almost bumping into him with how close he’s standing next to the trunk. A part of you thinks that may have been intentional on his part. The way he looks at you up and down makes you slightly uncomfortable. It’s something he always seems to do.

You chuckle nervously, “Eli…hi.”

“How was the run?”

“Um—it was good. Came back home so.” You throw the runaway cans into the second box before picking it up and start to walk past him when he quickly steps in front of you.

“Let me help.”

“It’s fine…I got it.”

“No, no I insist.” He says taking the box from your hands.

Flashing a slight smile you turn to close the trunk, hoping you can make it to the front door before Shane walks back out.
A few others in the group are crowded around on the porch talking and laughing.

You begin walking towards the house, but he catches up, walking right beside you.

“How’s town? Anything exciting happen?” He asks.

“Uh no…everything was normal.”

“Good good. Glad to see you back safe.” He smiles, staring at you a little too long.

“Yeah. Me too.” You say hurriedly glancing up to the house.

He chuckles. “Ya know I found a bottle of wine in one of the look out towers. How bout a glass?”

Just when you’re about to decline his offer you catch sight of Shane leaning up against one of the pillars of the porch. His eyes glued on you.

“What do ya say?” Eli asks.

You reach the front stairs just as Shane steps down into the grass.

“I think she’s good man.” He answers for you.

Eli snickers looking up to meet Shane’s gaze.
“Oh yeah? Well I think she can answer for herself.”

“What?” Shane asks taking a step towards Eli. His tone is sharp, his jaw tense like he’s daring the man to say more in front of everyone.

“I said— she can answer for herself.”

Huffing slightly the side of Shanes mouth curls up into a snarky smile. The air sharpens, thick with the hush of challenge, drawing stares from those nearby. Everyone on the porch is watching, out of your peripheral you can see Daryl walk up, his eyes on Eli.

You step towards Shane sensing his anger and pause when you notice his hands balled into fists. You had to stop this before someone said or did something reckless, risking the fragile peace between everyone. Slowly you bring your arm in front of Shane’s chest.
“Don’t.” You whisper.

You take the box from Eli’s hands, looking up to him whose gaze is still locked on Shane.
“Thanks Eli but Shane and I have chores to do.”

He finally looks back to you and smiles.
“Alright, another time then.”

You push past Shane trying to get away from the awkward situation, his feet are still glued to the same spot.
Taking a deep breath you make your way into the house, feeling everyone’s eyes on you.

You quietly shut your bedroom door and turn to watch Shane enter the bathroom.
The sound of running water sends you following behind him.

He’s leaning over the sink, splashing water onto his face. Letting the droplets fall into the bowl before standing up straight. He glances in the mirror, he eyes meeting yours.

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?” He asks.

You take a deep breath, “Did you really have to do that in front of everyone?”

“Are you joking?” He raises his eyebrows as he reaches for a hand towel. Wiping his face then returning it back to its place.
“That guy’s a fuckin creep. You said so yourself.”

“I know I did. And I appreciate you looking out for me…but starting a fight with him in front of everybody is not goin to help anything.”

He exhales sharply before walking past you.
“It’s not just the fact that he can’t take a fuckin hint that pisses me off Tal.”

“I know Shane….I know.”

He stops by the bed and turns to you, “Ever since Eli saved Rick at the river…everythin’s changed. Now he follows him around like a lost puppy.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s somethin bout him. All of em that doesn’t feel right.”

“I get Eli, but Sabrina and Jordan. They seem ok.”

“And what makes you think that? Because you stitched her up one time? And Jordan? What he helps peel potatoes for dinner? Everyone seems to forget what happened the last time we ran into new people.”

You look down at your feet. Your stomach starting to churn thinking back.

Shane hurriedly walks towards you, grabbing both of your hands and bringing them to his chest.
“I’m sorry baby—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No it’s ok—I…I’m ok.”
You look up to meet his eyes.
“Really Shane, I’m alright. I understand what you’re sayin.”

“It’s just…I don’t trust em. I don’t trust anybody outside of this farm. And I’m not the only one. Daryl and T-Dog feel the same—even Carol. There’s something off about em.”

Knowing he won’t drop the issue you try the one thing you know will take his mind off of it and cool his temper.
“Are you sure it’s not just because Eli likes me?” You tease.

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start what?” You ask innocently, batting your eyelashes knowing full well what you’re doing.

As childish as it sounds you like messing with Shane. Seeing his possessive side was a bit of a turn on and you know its silly but you can’t help yourself.

“You know what.” He shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement.

“Nope I don’t…I mean now that I think about it Eli is really nice…and helpful.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, leaning in to you.

“Yeah.”

He starts walking forward, pushing you towards the bed.
“You love messin with me don’t you?”

“Hmmm…” you grin.

Pressing his lips to yours, he releases your hands and grabs your waist.
While you wrap your arms around his neck.

You hum against his mouth feeling the familiar sensation of his fingers dancing up the front of your shirt.
The both of you eventually undress, finishing what you hinted at in the car.

Of course Shane has nothing to worry about when it came to Eli.
He knows how you feel about him and vise versa.
And he’s right, you do tend to feel a little awkward around the new people.
You can tease Shane all you want but the way Eli watches you, always stands a little too close.
How he never seems to take no for an answer…it makes a strangely familiar chill run up your spine—and you’re not exactly sure why.

Chapter Text

Tempers in camp simmer beneath the surface, like an unsteady flame threatening to ignite everything you hold dear.

Rick and Shane’s relationship slowly deteriorates, their once strong bond unravels with every clash. It seems like any interaction between them ends up in some kind of heated argument.

Shane blames Rick’s new friendship with Eli. He couldn't understand what his friend saw in him, or why Rick trusted a newcomer so easily. It’s true that Eli did save Rick from a walker not long after he arrived on the farm.
But that one act of bravery couldn't erase the questions that surrounded the three new survivors. You wondered if Rick’s behavior towards his old friend was due to Shane’s dislike for Eli or because he knew the truth about Lori. When you asked her she swore up and down she still hadn’t said a word. But you couldn’t exactly take her at her word these days. She seemed to feel the same about Eli as Rick did.
And Shane was right about not being the only ones not to trust the newcomers. A handful of others shared his skepticism, casting sideways glances and whispering their concerns in hushed tones.

But oddly it felt like Eli thrived on the attention he received, always finding a way to be in the center of things. He seemed to relish the chance to prove his worth, keen to show that he was indispensable as long as it was doing something he wanted to do.
He’d find every excuse to insert himself into tasks he wasn't needed for, charming everyone with a mischievous grin as he swapped stories by the fire. Then you’d catch him staring at you over the flames with an unsettling intensity.

After the incident in front of the house you try to avoid him as much as possible, knowing Shane was itching for a fight.
Even though you didn’t mind being friendly with Eli you promised yourself to put an end to his antics if he continues making you uncomfortable.
The awkward stares and his constant questioning was getting harder to dismiss. Ultimately you decide to keep that to yourself and only tell Shane if you absolutely have to. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, you’ve proven that. Still you’d prefer to keep the peace—and telling Shane that Eli’s still being a creep is definitely not going to help that.
There’s already a fragile sense of trust barely holding the group together as is.
Eventually the need to survive takes over and everyone continues on with their lives, while the few who are weary of the new people work hard to mask their uncertainty. Instead focusing on securing food, reinforcing the fences, and keeping each other safe.

Even Andrea had come to you with some concerns. She noticed a few guns were missing from the communal ammo bag.
At first, she thought she had miscounted, but the same inventory continued showing discrepancies.
Since she was one of the two people in charge of all the weapons she asked around—no one had any idea, but when she asked Eli he became furious…claiming that he’d been wrongly accused. His anger was excessive, almost theatrically so, which only deepened Andrea’s suspicions.

You assume Eli brought it up to Rick, because the next day he came up to Andrea, asking her questions about the situation.
Her, Carol, and yourself all sat around the camp picnic table preparing dinner.
"What does Eli have to gain from hidin a weapon?” Rick asks.

“It’s not that I think he’s hiding anything Rick—I’m not even insinuating that someone took the guns. I only asked Eli because Dale said he was one of the last ones in the camper…thats it.” Andrea says, her eyes darting between you and Rick.

“Gossipin won't get us anywhere, and we don't need any more problems in camp. " Rick replies folding his arms—after a few moments he takes a deep breath. You can hear the impatient tone in his voice—like he’s growing annoyed with Andrea.
“Just—tell everyone to keep an eye out for the guns." Rick insists, looking between the three of you.

“Sure.” She answers.

You simply nod.

“Of course.” Carol says smiling, peeling away at a potato with precision.
You watch her carefully, she had changed in the past year. She went from being a meek and reserved presence to someone more confident and outspoken. She was always watching and observing. Her eyes would flicker over everyone, taking in details most overlooked. It seemed like the wheels were turning in her head—she was plotting something, or maybe just seeing how the pieces fit together.

As soon as Rick walks away, Andrea leans in, lowering her voice.
“What the fuck was that?”

You shrug, glancing around to ensure no one else is within earshot.

“Someone took those guns.” Carol says sternly.
“And we need to find out who—fast”
Her voice is as soft as a whisper, yet carries an intensity that makes you shiver.
❧

A few weeks have passed since the guns went missing. Everyone’s conversations are now laced with suspicion and unease. The once harmonious community now felt tense and brittle, like a frayed rope tethered to fraying hopes. Even so, there are still jobs to be done—and yours was camp medic.

You’d see normal day to day injuries—cuts, scrapes, and the occasional sprain. When you were on the road Hershel or Patricia would take over and Maggie would help out too.
Today she’s running down to the basement and back to count supplies, while you manage the small medical crises that arise in the exam room.

Your heart slowly sinks when you hear Eli’s voice coming from the living room. He’s notorious for having ailments that often seem to appear when there’s hard work to be done elsewhere.

Hershel asks him what he needs while Patricia remains quiet—they were among the others who didn’t really care for him.

“Yeah I was wondering if I could get this looked at?” He asks.

“Sure…Let me grab a few things…I’ll be back.” Hershel spoke.

“No—no it’s fine I know where to go.” Eli says, walking past the kitchen.

Before you can get up he enters, closing the door behind him.

You take deep breath, looking up to him,“Eli, uh—what’s up? I was actually just leavin so...Hershel can help you.” you add, keeping your tone neutral but direct.

“I was hoping you’d help me," Eli replies, a hint of sincerity flickering in his eyes.
Lifting up his hand you see a small cut along his palm with blood slowly oozing from the wound. It’s not deep, but also not clean either.

"Okay, sure." you agree reluctantly, gesturing for him to sit.
You look to the door briefly before settling on the task at hand.
Grabbing the first aid kit from the drawer of your desk you can feel his eyes on you.
It makes you uneasy, though you refuse to show it. With steady hands, you pull out a disinfectant wipe and some bandages.

“Thanks. I can get a little clumsy sometimes,” Eli admits with a sheepish grin.

You nod while flashing a small smile. Trying to keep the conversation light but minimal as possible.
Opening the wipe packet, you gently clean the cut on his palm. He continues to stare deeply at you.
And still refusing to return his gaze, you focus intently on your work, applying the bandage with precision.

“Just keep the area clean. It should be healed in a few days.” You say, trying to fill the silence with something other than his watchful eyes.

“Sure thing, thanks,” Eli responds softly, but he lingers in his seat, seemingly hesitant to leave.

You can feel him wanting to say something. Instead of giving him the opportunity you walk towards your desk, “You’re all good to go. ”

The sound of him getting up makes you sigh in relief. You hope that would be the end of it. But his foot steps behind make you spin around quickly.
And there he stands, again too close. Something unreadable in his eyes that makes you feel uneasy all over again. You clutch the edge of your desk, trying to ground yourself.

“Something told me you didn't really want me to leave," Eli says, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with an unsettling certainty.

“What?” You ask, genuinely taken aback.

“It’s ok—listen I don’t know what you have going on with Mr. Bad Cop but I can tell how you really feel—by the way you look at me," Eli continues, his voice edged with an intimacy that made your skin crawl.

“Eli you definitely have the wrong idea here.” You shook your head, trying to dispel any misunderstanding.
You take a deep breath, hoping to defuse the tension.

His face tightens imperceptibly, as if he’s steeling himself against something.
“Look it’s ok if you don't wanna talk about it right now, but just know that I'm here, whenever you're ready," he says, a benign smile on his lips.

“No you’re not hearing me at all—you and I are just friends. I’m with Shane.” You spoke softly.

“You’re with him because you’re scared and need security—and I can offer that. I know you’ve been with this group a long time and if you’re worried about what people might think or say, you shouldn’t be," Eli interrupts, ignoring your attempt to clarify.

You raise your hands in exasperation, realizing that reasoning with him is futile.
“Eli listen I—”

He grabs your wrists tightly, bringing them down slowly between you.
His skin feels cold and clammy against yours, sending a shiver up your spine.
“Don't brush me off that easily,” He moves closer, those swampy green eyes bore into yours.

Instinctively you try to take a step back, but there’s nowhere to go.
Now you’re starting to panic, the cold knot in your stomach tightens.
You already told him what he needed to hear, yet he stands unwavering. It’s like speaking to a wall—a wall that was closing in.
“Eli. ” you say sternly, “You’re my friend. But thats all you are—thats all you’ll ever be.” Your tone is resolute, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

A sly smile curves across his lips, as he squeezes your wrists tighter.
Your fear quickly turns to anger, sharp and jarring. His grip locks your breath in your chest, fury claws at your resolve.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?

"Ok stop," you demand, your voice steady despite the chaos inside, pulling with an unexpected strength. You snatch your hands free.

Surprise flashes in Eli's eyes, but only for a moment.
It’s your opportunity to move away from him.
Stepping to the side, you walk towards the door. Turning the knob and opening it, but you gasp when his hand appears against the door, slamming it shut.
You whirl around, anger sparking like flint.
“Just hear me out Talia,” Eli implores, his voice edged with desperation.

“No," you say firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I already told you that I’m not interested in you in that way at all. I was fine with us being friends but you cornering me like this isn’t ok."
The air between you feels heavy, charged with a heavy frequency that buzzes like live wires.

Your heart thunders in your chest, seeing his flat unmoving palm against the door, a silent barrier to your escape. The room shrank around you, compressing air and hopes alike.
“Get the hell out of my way now Eli! ” You shout, hoping that someone on the other side could hear. Adrenaline pumps through you as your fight or flight instincts kick in. You realize then that you’d have to fight.

He takes a step toward you, his eyes darkening as he lifts his hands to your face, cupping your jaw. Before you can get away he smashes his lips against yours. Shock stiffens your body, but only for a beat. He then sticks his tongue against your clenched lips, but you turn your face, wrenching free with a cry of disgust.

“STOP E—ELI! ” you yell, voice breaking with panic and revulsion.
He pulls back just as the door swings open.

Shane stands there, eyes wide with fury as he takes in the scene. Glenn stares in shock behind him ready to intervene.
In one swift motion, Shane lunges forward, grabbing Eli by the collar and yanking him back.
The man stumbles, his arrogant demeanor falling away, fear flickering through his eyes.

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER! " Shane snarls, before delivering a solid punch to Eli's jaw.
The man staggers, clutching his face, surprise mingling with pain.

Shane hit him again as Hershel came through the door, pulling you out of the way.

Eli slouches over when a punch is delivered to his stomach, causing him to fall to his knees.

Looming over the man, Shane continues hitting him over and over again.

Blood spurts from Eli’s mouth as Shane’s fist makes contact with his already swollen face.

“SHANE STOP!” You scream, scared that he might kill him.
Just then Patricia runs to Hershel. Right behind her are T-Dog and Daryl.
It takes both of them to pull Shane off.

His wild eyes stare daggers down at the injured man, who’s lying on the floor groaning.
Hershel wrap’s an arm around your shoulders while Patricia grips your trembling hand.

The sound of running boot steps in the hallway catch your attention.

Rick walks in, his weapon drawn at his side. Jordan and Sabrina right on his heels.
His expression is full of rage.
He takes in the scene then looks to Shane,
“What the hell did you do?”

Chapter Text

“Nobody is goin anywhere til we figure this out.” Rick’s deep voice bellows across the fire pit everyone is gathered around. The night air is warm, and the light from the flames dances across their worried faces. Shane’s on one side of the pit while Eli’s on the other.

Daryl spoke up, breaking the tense silence.
“There’s nothin to figure out man—this dude is the fuckin problem!” He shouts, pointing his finger towards Eli.

“Fuck you!” Jordan snaps back, stepping protectively in front of Eli.

“What?!” Daryl barks back, stepping forward with his fists clenched. Now face to face with Jordan you see T-Dog and Glenn come up behind the archer.

Shane gets up before you grab his hand, trying to hold him back. "Shane." You plead, but he shakes his head.

Rick quickly steps between Daryl and Jordan, holding up his hands to keep the peace.
“STOP!”

“No!” Shane shouts. His eyes flash with defiance as he squares his shoulders. You stand up from your chair as everyone turns to him.
“That piece of shit’s been walkin round here like he owns the place. Goin unchecked by everybody—by you. And when he gets caught doin somethin you wanna try’n figure it out?!” Shane continues, fury crackling in his voice like the fire before him.

“That’s enough Shane!” Rick commands, his voice firm but tempered with authority.

“No, it’s not!” Shane spoke up louder. “I walked in on him forcin himself on Talia and you wanna just talk through that?!”

You look to Rick whose expression turns from confusion then anger as he glances towards Eli, Lori stands next to her husband. Her eyes wide with shock, trying to process Shane’s explosive revelation.
Everyone turns towards Eli, a mixture of disbelief and outrage. The camp fell silent, tension lying thick in the air.

“You don’t know what happened.” Eli mutters.

Shanes eyes snap up, before taking the few steps between them.
He’s on him in a second before Daryl and T-dog step up as well. Andrea cut through the crowd to stand beside you, her brow furrowed with concern.
Jordan plants his feet ready to intervene if things escalate further.

Shouts and gasps ring through the group as it erupts in a fight. Fists fly, and bodies collide, a chaotic blur of rage and confusion. Carol and Beth console the children who are now crying, before ushering them to their tents.

“STOP IT! ” Rick's voice booms once more, cutting through the chaos like a sharp blade.
“THAT’S ENOUGH! BREAK IT UP NOW!” Hershel intervenes pleading, walking next to Rick, his voice seems to drown out by the rising clamor of conflict.

You stand there, caught in the whirlwind of violence unfolding before you.
This is what you were afraid of—the camp falling apart—your friends…your family falling apart.

Suddenly you hear a loud boom, a deafening note echoing through the clearing, freezing everyone in place.
You turn towards the sound to see Sabrina gripping a still smoking gun in her hand. Her face a mask of cold emotion and her mouth is pressed into a thin line.

A sharp gasp cuts the silence.
“DALE!” Andrea let out a scream, rushing to his side as he staggers back, clutching his chest.
Dark crimson blood soaks the front of his shirt. Pandemonium ensued as he collapses, the shock seizing the crowd with icy hands.

Everyone is frozen with shock and fear—too distracted to notice Jordan stand up.

Terror grips you as you turn to look for Shane.
You’re even more confused to see Sabrina give her companion one of the two handguns tucked in her waistband.

Jordan points it right at Shane.
“Get up.” he commands, his voice low and steady, filled with steely resolve.

The sound of Andrea cries and Dale’s groans fill the air, but Jordan remains focused on Shane, who slowly rose to his feet.

Your heart stops as you watch him stand, both hands raised.

Without taking his eyes off Shane, Jordan bends down to help Eli up with one hand.
Eli winces in pain, grasping his friends arm tightly for support as he stands up straight.
You watch with wide eyes as he takes the gun from Jordans hand, Eli looks to Shane, smiling slightly before bashing him across the face with the butt of the gun.

You let out a whimper watching Shane lean over, groaning from the pain. He spits out blood from his mouth before standing back up defiantly.
Eli lifts the gun up to his forehead, cocking it slowly.

Instinctively you step forward, grabbing Shane’s hand, “Please don’t.” You whimper.
“Eli we can fix this please put the gun down.”

The plea hung in the air, heavy and desperate. Time stretches, every breath a lifetime as Eli's finger hovers near the trigger.
His murky eyes flicker to meet yours and they soften only for a moment.
“Ya know this reminds me of the first day we all met—when you told us to put down our weapons so you could help Brina. And this guy…” He pokes the muzzle of the gun to Shane’s head, “tried to tell ole Rick not to bring us here.”
He looks to your leader, “Guess ya should have listened huh?”

Alarm squeezes your chest painfully, watching with dread as Eli narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
He’s enjoying this—the fear and panic he’s creating.

“P—please…” Lori whispers. “Our families…our kids please. Dale he’s—he needs help.”

You hear Dale’s ragged wheezing breaths behind you while muffled sobs rise up from the soft night sounds of the farm. Each gasp a reminder that time is running out for him—maybe even everyone.

Eli's gaze shifts to her, his eyes hardening with an intensity that could shatter stone, a wicked smile spreads across his lips.
He chuckles softly, a sound that sent chills running down your spine.

An exasperated sigh leaves Sabrinas mouth, “Who gives a fuck!? Come on E! Let’s just do what we came here to do—ask ‘em what we need to know, take their shit and leave!”

Eli flicks his eyes at her, annoyance briefly overriding his amusement.
“You’re right…I have a couple things I wanna talk about with you fine folks.” His voice drips with sarcasm, each word a sharp blade cutting through the terror.
“So—no one has come right out and said it but…I’ve gathered that y’all ran into another group before—round last year right…couple hours away from here…”
He gestures vaguely with his free hand to the sky, as if pointing to ghosts.

You grip Shane’s hand achingly tight.
Fear coursing through your veins, you pray for an end to this nightmare.
Why is Eli of all people bringing this up?

You can feel Shane’s muscles clench up under your palm—he was right all along about them. His instincts, though brash at times were sharp. He had tried to warn Rick—warn everyone before this mess had unfurled its chaotic tapestry.
Now with Eli mentioning Tyler and his gang, you feel the invisible noose tighten.

”The contact was brief…we didn’t know ‘em.” Rick found his voice, though it came out hoarse.

“Well they were apart of our group.” Sabrina spoke up.

Your heart sank—everything seems to be unraveling all at once.
Tears begin to burn your eyes, but you try with all your might not to cry in front of them. You always knew what happened that day would come back to haunt you. Images of the fateful meeting flicker like ghosts at the edges of your memory.

“Three of my guys went out to that day. They were only supposed to be gone a few days. But when they didn't come back, we knew somethin had gone down.” Eli says, his finger still pressed against the trigger of the gun in his steady hand.
“The last time we spoke they said they’d found a big ass building full of food and drugs. But when we got there—they were dead. Butchered like animals.” His eyes darken, while his jaw clenches.

No one makes a sound. The weight of his words hang heavy in the air. The group stands paralyzed, absorbed by the chaos.

“We don’t know anythin about ‘em bein killed.” Rick says breaking the oppressive silence.

Jordan stomps over, sticking the gun right in his face.
“DON’T YOU FUCKING LIE!” The man yells, emotion evident in his tone.

Lori’s sobs can be heard next to Rick as she grabs desperately at his shirt sleeve.

“Ty—my brother—Tyler was one of ‘em. I know he wouldn’t of gone down without a fight. Someone killed him and I wanna know who fucking did it!” His voice cracks, a tremor betraying the rage that threatens to consume him.
“I’ll kill everyone here if I have to.” He points the weapon at Maggie who’s crouched on the ground next to Rick trying to comfort Dale, she presses a bawled up flannel against his wound. She gasps as the barrel lands on her before Glenn steps in its path.

You see Shane look to you from your peripherals, turning your head you notice something in his eyes—like he’s trying to tell you something without actually saying it. It’s then you realize he’s going to say it was him…that he was the one who killed Tyler.

“It was me.” Daryl bellowed out.

Everybody’s heads whip towards him.

“I did it.”

“You killed my brother?” Jordan asks Daryl, sounding surprised.

“Yeah—bashed his head in…I was wearin these boots.”

Jordan froze momentarily, struggling to comprehend the cold confession before standing in front of Daryl, gun in hand.
Cocking it, he plants both feet firmly to the ground.
“Now you’re gonna pay for what you did mother fucker.” Jordan’s tone drips with pure rage.

Eli chuckles before shaking his head.
“Nah—see I don’t buy that. I don’t buy that for a second.” He says with a devious smile, narrowing his swollen eyes at Shane.
Seconds tick by as he stands there with the gun still raised.

Before you could react he turns and fires a single shot at the closest person to his right. Patricia’s head jerks back violently. Screams ring out as you all watch her body crumble to the ground. Otis chokes on a cry before dropping to his knees, hovering over his wife’s body he grips her shoulders—almost trying to shake her awake even though it’s obvious she’s already gone.

A painful sob bursts from your mouth watching as another of your group falls victim to this senseless violence playing out on the once quite farm. How were y’all going to get out of this?
You hear a shuddering breath from Shane—his hand squeezes yours tightly as his eyes return back to Eli.

Everyone is reeling as you all watch still frozen in shock. The place you all came to know as home is now tainted and ugly. A place you all love and fought time and time again to protect isn’t what it used to be.

“SOMEONE BETTER START TALKIN RIGHT FUCKING NOW! AND IT BETTER BE THE TRUTH!” Eli bellows, bringing the weapon back in front of Shane.
“OR SO HELP ME EVERY SINGLE ONE A YA WILL DIE TONIGHT. I SWEAR TO—“

He quiets when another loud boom roars from behind him, making both you and Shane jump.
Eli groans loudly as he drops the weapon in his hands. Jordan and Sabrina turn to him—shock evident across their faces. The man falls to his knees coughing hard, bright blood painting the inside of his lips. When he drops you see Carol standing behind him, a large rifle in her hands. The expression on her face is one of fierce determination.

Just then Shane takes a step forward—picking up the gun that lays on the ground in front of Eli. He lifts the weapon up pointing it towards Jordan before pulling the trigger.

Chapter Text

Jordan hits the ground with a resounding thud as his gun clatters to the dirt. His hand flies to his upper thigh as blood soaks his blue jeans. His cries of pain seems to echo out to the dark farm silencing the singing cicadas. Sabrina lunges towards Shane, growling with fury as she raises her weapon. But Daryl gets to her first—coming up behind her, raising his huge hunting knife to her throat, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her eyes lock onto Shane before glancing an her accomplices. T-dog retrieves Jordan’s weapon before turning it on him. And Daryl pries the gun from Sabrina’s hand before forcing her to her knees.

Seeing all three of them incapacitated you rush over to Dale who’s lying flat on his back. Andrea holds his hand while Maggie still presses her shirt tightly against his wound. Dale's breaths come in ragged gasps, eyes fluttering open as he notices you nearby.
Seeing Beth you yell for her to bring you your medical bag.

“Dale! Dale can you hear me?” You ask squeezing his free hand.

He nods weakly, barely clinging to consciousness.
“I’m—I’m ok…I’m ok," Dale rasps, his grip slackening.
You release his hand as Beth sets the bag on the ground next to his body.
Frantically, you rifle through its contents, searching for the tools you desperately need to stabilize him. Yanking on a pair of gloves you snatch up some gauze and instruct Maggie to remove the shirt from his chest. A deep bloody spot is visible in the middle of his sternum.
You press the gauzes to his injury. He groans weakly as blood appears in his mouth, a chilling sign of internal damage.
“Dale, just hang on!” you plead, tears rolling down your cheeks, pressing harder on the wound as blood seeps between your fingers.

Beth returns with more supplies, dropping them hurriedly beside you.
You open up the front of his shirt and see dark purple bruising spreading dangerously across his chest. Time is slipping through your fingers like sand.

Andrea cries when she sees the damage. She cups his hand with both of hers and brings it to her chest.
Maggie sits in the dirt as Glenn crouches down beside her. She turned to him, crying into his shoulder.

You’re determined to save him even if you have to do it by yourself. You reach over and lift up his shoulder slightly. Snaking your fingers into his collar and feeling across his skin you can tell the bullet didn’t go straight through. You have to remove it now.
“Hershel we need the operation table set up! This bullet has to come out right now!” You shout.

When you don’t hear a response you look up to see him standing in front of you. His eyes look red and lost.
“Talia sweetie.” He says softly. “There’s nothin we can do.”

You narrow your eyes as anger began to seep into your chest.
“Hershel I can save him—help me get him inside!” You shout again.
Looking to Andrea on your left then Maggie on your right you see their faces wet with tears. The group is sinking into despair, but you refuse to let go of hope.
“Help me please!” You plead desperately looking around to the faces of your group.
You jump when you feel warm palms land on your shoulders.

“Tal.” Shane’s voice is calm but firm, cutting through the tension.
“He’s gone…he’s gone.”

“What?” You answer back almost absentmindedly.
You look down to Dale who was speaking to you only moments ago.

His dark eyes stare up at the night sky, lifeless and unseeing. The once warm blood that soaked the gauzes in your hand is now ice cold. The truth grips you like a vice, squeezing the breath from your lungs.

You fall back onto your knees, the realization crashing over you like an icy wave. A hard dry lump forms in your throat as more tears burn your eyes.
You’re covered in blood up to your forearms, sticky with the last remnants of Dale’s warmth slipping quietly away in the dark. Looking around you see Otis still cradling Patricia’s limp body. It’s then you notice, the world seems to blur, the edges of reality losing their sharpness in the haze of grief.
You feel Shane’s arms envelope you, collapsing against him, your shoulders shake with painful sobs. He whispers softly into your hair, voice steady despite the emotion that trembles beneath each word, “It’s ok—you’re ok…we’re gonna make it through this, I swear…I swear.” But the sound of his warm voice seems to fade into the background as your gaze settles on the blood pooling beneath Patricia’s lifeless form.

Your eye catches the gleam off a blade as Glenn removes his from it’s sheath, ready to ensure Dale doesn't turn—his hands tremble slightly.
You shut your eyes and turn away, not wanting to witness. The world feels heavy, and the darkness seems closer than ever.
A wet fleshy sound tells you that Glenn did what was necessary.
You open your eyes slowly, seeing the sorrow etched on everyone's faces.

The sounds of painful sobs are soon drowned out by the dull thump of Daryl’s fist hitting Eli over and over again. His groans echo in the crisp air, a haunting symphony of anger and anguish.
Eli coughs up more blood, each heave punctuated with the distant cries of loss.

“How many more of you are there?” Daryl shouts.
Only pained groans come from Eli’s lips.
Looking at him you recognize how desperately he gasps for air. He might have a punctured lung and if that’s the case…he doesn’t have much time left.

“I don’t think you’ll get much outta him.” Hershel speaks up.
Daryl looks up to the older man then to Shane—retreaving the gun from his waistband, he offers it to his friend.

When Shane releases you, you watch as he walks over to Daryl—taking the weapon from his hands he raises it to Eli’s head and cocks it.

You stand up then Andrea follows. You feel the fury coming off of her in waves so you grab her arm before she can step forward.

“Wait!” Rick shouts.

Everyone turns to him—hoping he won’t try to spare their lives.

“This was my doing…I brought em here.” Rick whispers, his voice trembling with guilt.
He looks up to Shane. “I need to do this.”

Shane looks to Daryl who nods his head.
They both take a step back as Rick takes his revolver from his holster. Cocking it he points it to Eli’s head—he stands there for a moment.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” Rick asks, his voice growing firmer.

Eli lifts his head up with defiance. His languid eyes look Rick up and down. A small grin appears across his mangled face as bloody spit dribbles down his chin. “I—I’m—no—not…tellin—y—you..shit…” he whispers, gasping between every word.

You hear Rick speak the faintest words…but you’re surprised with how much venom they carry.
“I know.”

Eli’s expression turns to fear as the shot rings out, echoing through the silence.

Your body jumps from the abrupt noice.

He slumps to the ground, lifeless and still. The air is heavy, Sabrina and Jordan cry out watching their partner die before their eyes.

Their sounds of anguish send a cold satisfaction coursing through your body. You want them to hurt—to feel the pain you all feel now.

The men turn to the two living assailants.

“Tell us where the rest of your group is.” Rick says, his voice deep and matter of fact.

“FUCK YOU!” Sabrina screams.

“So you wanna die like your friend? That’s alright by me.” Daryl speaks up, pointing his knife towards her.

Shane kneels down. He looks from her to Jordan then to his hands. He rubs them together slowly before meeting her eyes again.
“I don’t think either of you understands the gravity of the situation—y’all will talk one way or another.”

Jordan groans as he struggles to sit up. The wound in his leg continues to bleed, the stain spreading rapidly down his thigh. Blood soaks through his jeans and trickles onto the dusty ground. You notice see from where you are the pale shade of his lips .
“You’re just gonna kill us anyways. Why would we tell you shit?!” Sabrina hissed.

“Cause if you don’t we’ll start cuttin pieces off the both of you.” There’s a certain terrifying calmness to Shane’s voice.
And Sabrina’s once defiant demeanor seems to shrink under his stone cold stare.

Daryl walks over to Jordan, lifting his boot before pushing down on the man’s injured thigh.
Jordan screams in agony as more blood flows downwards around Daryl’s foot.

“OKAY! STOP PLEASE STOP! ILL TELL YOU JUST STOP HURTING HIM!!” She yells.

After a few moments Daryl steps away from Jordan.

Sabrina’s eyes lock with Shane’s.
She takes a deep breath before beginning, “When Eli and a few others…came back from town—after they found Ty—Tyler and the two who went with him…Ron and Tristan..” her voice is so quiet you can barely hear it.
“He told everyone how they—they looked..and our group panicked. They thought someone had..had hunted them down and killed them for…”

“Revenge.” Shane interrupts.

“Revenge?” Daryl’s confused tone mirrors your own thoughts.

“Because you’ve all done this before right? That’s what yall’s group did right? Steal and kill?” Says Shane.

“It didn’t start out that way—but Eli said this was a brand new world…with—with no rules…no one in charge. And it was our right to create our own world…he told us that takin was the only way to survive. So when everyone thought another group had killed our guys because of the things we did—they freaked out—took off with all the supplies in the night.” Sabrina’s voice starts trembling as tears run down her cheeks.

“And y’all went lookin for ‘em—thats how you got hurt.” Shane says sternly.

Sabrina looks to you, her eyes filled with a plea for understanding.
A small sense of betrayal aches in your gut as you process her words.
You saved her life after she had taken others without a second thought. It’s difficult to reconcile the woman before you with the actions of her past.
She had been apart of this group that had caused so much suffering, and yet here she was, desperate for mercy.

“Kill them.” Andrea hisses, her voice cold and unyielding.

You reach for her hand, trying to offer a calming touch.
"Andrea." you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.
There's a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath.

Around you, the others stand in tense silence, wrestling with their own harried thoughts.

“Wait just a minute.” Rick spoke up,

Andrea’s head whips towards him.
"What?" She shot back, her eyes blazing with anger.
"You think we should just sit back and listen to this bullshit? You don’t get a say anymore!" she snaps, incredulous.

Rick hung his head before looking back at her.

“This?” She turns to the scene behind her. Motioning to Dale and Patricia’s bodies, “This—is your fault! All of this is your fucking fault!”
Ignoring Rick’s attempt to interject, Andrea advances a step, her voice unwavering.

“Andrea please.” Lori interjects, she stands up slowly from the grass. Tears welling in her eyes, glistening under the dim light.
“This isn’t going to help—Rick didn’t know this would happen.” The words trembled from her lips.

“And you—.” Andrea turns to Lori lifting her finger to her face.
“You are just as much to blame as him. You’ve encouraged his decisions—you accepted these people even after everyone said not to. You both welcomed them into our home—around our children—your children.” Her voice is a sharp blade, cutting through the tense silence. She points to Jordan who’s still laying in the dirt. “His brother was a fucking rapist. Their whole group were thieves and murderers. And Eli—was a danger to us all, and Rick knew it. But, he did nothing! How can either of you stand there and think you have a say in anything that goes on here anymore?!” She yells.

“Calm down Andrea.” Rick says, his voice hardened. His eyes drift towards the group behind them, each face shadowed by fear or anger.

“CALM DOWN?!” Andrea's voice echoed through the clearing, eyes blazing as she faced them all. She walks closer to Rick who looks at her with an expression of utter defeat. He knows he’s not without fault, but the blame and guilt are drowning him.

The feeling of dread is stifling. You need fresh air—the smoke from the fire pit swirls around all of you, thick and choking.
You walk towards the tents a few feet away from the fire.

Carol silently follows, her presence a soothing balm to the turmoil. She still holds the rifle she used on Eli.
“Are you ok?” She asked.
Her voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding them.

You take a deep breath before looking to her—not really knowing how to answer the question you nod slowly, casting a glance back at the others.

She steps closer, giving you a gentle side hug. As you both stand there watching the interaction between Andrea and Rick, the tension grows palpable. Rick's fatigued facade melts away, revealing a sternness.

Everything Andrea says is true. It’s exactly what you and everyone else feels—you can’t deny it, her words cut deep, resonating with the unspoken concerns you all share.

Glenn stands up trying to meditate but this only angers Andrea more. More of the group spoke up too, their voices joining Andrea's in a rising tide of unrest.

You turn your back to them and face the darkening sky. Stars prick through the smoky haze, offering a momentary distraction. Closing your eyes you try to block out their voices—the crackling of the fire rose along with the rhythmic chirping of bugs, filling the night with unlikely serenity.

The groups voices grew louder and more forceful with each revelation, echoing through the camp. The friction is impossible to ignore, a storm that had begun to unravel everything you’d built together. They’re tearing each other apart when unity is desperately needed.

You quite your mind when you notice the sudden silence of the night—the crickets and cicadas have stopped singing. An unsettling sensation crept in as you open your eyes, scanning the field ahead.

Carol must have noticed you stiffen, for she edged quietly closer, her voice barely a whisper. “What is it?”

“Do you hear that?” You say, your eyes darting nervously through the shadows.

She looks out to the grass and tree line as well.
“I don’t hear anything.”
Her words linger in the air like a question hanging unanswered.

“Exactly.”
A soft rustle made your heart quicken, the hairs on your neck rising instinctively.
The branches in the tree line shuddered suddenly as if something unseen disturbed their natural stillness.

You hear Carol’s grip tighten on the rifle as she zones in on the forest edge, vigilant as ever.

The rest of the group, still engrossed in their argument, paid no mind to the eerie silence that envelopes the woods.

Stillness stretches across the clearing, the cool wind whipped across your exposed skin.

Above, the crescent moon slips behind a cloud, dulling what little light there is.

You squint into the twilight, trying to discern vegetation from something sinister.
A cold shiver traverses your spine.

Just then you lock onto a specific spot in the trees where dense shadows seemed to pulsate, a subtle movement that defied reason.
A dark figure swayed lazily between the branches, its form indistinct, yet undeniably present.

Your heart thunders in your chest, urging you to keep your eyes trained on the anomaly.
You step back—grabbing Carol’s arm.
Both of you gasp in unison as the figure slips silently out of the shade and into faint moonlight.

Suddenly the whole tree line seems to shift as more dark silhouettes emerged, shuffling through the branches like spirits in the night. They seemed to pour from the darkness of the woods.

Horror grips your throat, freezing your breath in your lungs.
They’re here.

Chapter Text

“Shane!” You yell, still unable to take your eyes off the eerie procession, each figure moving with an unnatural grace.

You and Carol backpedal slowly, your feet crunching against the brittle dirt as you retreated.

“They’re here.” The words trembled on your lips, barely audible over the rising hum of the night air.

Shane looked out onto the field where the shadows congregated, his face went from confusion to terror.

The rest of the group quickly came to a halt, their eyes widening in disbelief.

The forms advanced wordlessly, their footsteps soundless as they began crossing the clearing.

Carol disappeared into the tent—returning moments later holding Judith with Carl and Sophia right behind her. The bag of guns slung over her shoulder.

At that moment everyone sprung into action.

“What do we do?” Beth said, her eyes wide with fear as she clung to Hershel’s arm.

“We can try’n lead em away with the cars.” Daryl spoke pulling his crossbow off his back and into his hands.

Shane shook his head. “It’s too late for that now.”
His eyes locked onto the approaching horde, each figure shrouded in shadow, draped in gray.
“Grab what you can then go for the cars. Meet on the highway.” His voice was firm, a resolute edge punctuating the urgency. “Go!”

Everyone took off to the tents and the house. Grabbing what they could and stuffing it in their pockets or bags. The chaos of their hurried motions matched the frantic pace of their heartbeats.
Adrenaline coursed through their veins, each member relying on instinct to guide them through the pandemonium.

Rick lingered for a moment—he and Shane’s eyes met. He opened his mouth as if to say something but seemed to think better of it. Eventually he took a few steps back before turning away.

Shane looked to T-Dog who still had his weapon drawn on Jordan.
“Go.” Shane said—removing his own gun from his waistband.
When T-Dog didn’t move Shane shouted—almost pleading, “Go!”

He reluctantly turned to camp to join the others, his footsteps heavy with hesitation.

Daryl stood there with his crossbow ready, his senses sharpened as he looked down to the prisoners.

“What bout them?” He asked, casting a wary glance towards Jordan and Sabrina who were now frantically looking between you all.

Shane studied them for a moment, his jaw set.
“Leave em.”

Jordan and Sabrina exchanged a fearful look, the weight of Shane's decision settling like a stone between them. They both began begging—their plea’s and tears falling on deaf ears.

You realize then that Andrea’s still standing there glaring at Sabrina.
She slowly walks towards the woman kneeling in the dirt and squats down herself. It all happens so fast it didn’t seem like Sabrina even knew until it was too late.
Andrea drove her knife deeply into Sabrina’s thigh before quickly pulling back.

The woman’s scream tore through the air, a deafening wail echoing off the encroaching walls. Her shaky hands flew to her wound as she curls almost into a ball.

Andrea as calm and cool as ever simply turns and jogs towards the tents, not sparing a second glance. You watch her retreating figure, momentarily frozen by the cold decisiveness of her actions. She hurt Sabrina so she couldn’t get away.

“Go.” Shane says, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Daryl nods, his gaze lingering on Jordan, who seems to be on the verge of tears before leaving with a silent promise hanging in the air.
He sprints to catch up with Andrea, the group's tactic agreement unspoken but understood.

You turn to Shane, your heart pounding with mixed emotions—trust, doubt, fear all swirling together.

He grab your face with his hands, his eyes searching yours for the briefest moment.
“Grab what you need from the house. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

“Ok.” You nod, swallowing hard against the rising tide of panic threatening to overtake you.

“I love you.” He says.
Why does it sound like a goodbye—like he’s sealing his fate with finality? But there’s no time to dwell on that now.

“I love you too.” The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach clashes with those words. His eyes are glued to yours—you can’t help but notice how they seem to glisten. He presses his lips against yours…and in the back of your mind you say a simple prayer that this isn’t it.

When he pulls away you turn and run as fast as you can to the house. Crashing through the front door. Passing by Hershel, Beth, and Jimmy in the process who are stuffing clothes and supplies into backpacks.

Hershel looks up, his eyes somber yet urgent. He follows you into the exam room with an empty duffle. You open every drawer—practically pouring their contents into the bag. Just then Beth and Jimmy enter the room “Dad—Tal,” Beth's voice trembles with anxiety, her eyes wide with uncertainty, “What do we grab?”

“Anything!” Hershel spoke up.

All of you rifle through the medical supplies, grabbing everything you could carry.

You look up to the clock on the wall—realizing ya’ll need to leave right now, “We have to go!” You shout.

“Let’s go!” Jimmy yells before swinging the door front open.

Just then a walker emerged in the doorway.
Beth screams and staggers back.
It grabs Jimmy’s arm—bringing it to its mouth before biting down onto his bicep.
Jimmy wails in agony, the sound echoing through the house.
More walkers appear on the porch—seizing him. Their dirty hands clawing desperately at his chest and face. Dark blood soak his cream colored shirt as they tear into him.

The three of you stand there in horror at the sight. His body is still stuck in the doorway, but when you see the chance you slam the door shut with a force fueled by panic.

Jimmy’s cries continue as the moaning of the undead grow louder.

Beth begins sobbing as she covers her ears.

“The back door!” You yell.
Hershel wraps his arm around his daughter and leads her down the hallway to the back.
Once you reach the door you turn to them both.
“If they’re already at the front that probably means they’re comin from all directions. We’ll have to make a run for it—as soon as we’re in the truck we go!”

Hershel looks up from consoling Beth…his eyes red and unfocused.

“Maggie and Glenn know where to go—everyone does…if we ever get separated we meet upthe pileup on the highway.” You say trying to reassure him.
Reaching out for Beth you grab her shaky hand tightly. She looks up to you, her breathing frantic.
“Don’t let go of me—or your dad.” You whisper to her squeezing her hand.

You turn, pulling back the small curtain that covers the window to the back door. Reaching for the knife at your hip you watch for a few moments—when you don’t see any movement you turn the knob, opening the door ever so slowly.
Slightly tugging Beth’s hand you grip your weapon tightly. All three of you slip out the door hand in hand into the harsh moonlight, hearts pounding. The back yard is eerily silent, save for the distant groans that seem to be creeping closer.

Hershel quietly shuts the door, leaving his hand on the wood for a moment—perhaps an unspoken farewell or prayer. Then, steeling himself, he looks to you.

With your backs pressed up against the wall you shuffle towards the edge of the house. The waiting truck is parked in the shadows just a few feet away—a mere sprint's distance…pre-loaded and waiting for this exact scenario.

When you reach the vehicle you slowly open the door and usher Beth inside as you scan the area warily. Every rustle in the night sends an electric jolt through your nerves. Hershel opens the creaky passenger door and climbs in before shutting it slowly—trying to be as quiet as possible.

Seeing that they’re both inside, you face away from the truck, walking backwards to get into the driver’s seat.

Beth frantically grabs the sun visor, the keys falling into her lap.

A loud hissing sound abruptly pierces the quiet, dreadful and menacing.
A shadowy figure moves closer, grabbing at you.
The walkers face lunges at yours with hungry eyes gleaming in the dark—you slam the truck door shut just in time.
Your heart races as you push it back before plunging your blade into its skull.

Watching it fall to the ground you see more behind it—more than you can take on alone. You turn to Beth and Hershel, their faces are pale with fear, Beth frantically reaches over to open the door, tears streaming down her cheeks while Hershel nods resolutely.
"Go! Now!” You urge.
Heart pounding, you take off around the group of walkers that are now surrounding the vehicle.
You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear the ignition of the truck start.

The engine roars to life, cutting through the tension like a lifeline—it takes off towards the back fields.

Rounding the corner of the house, you frantically look for Shane…but he's nowhere to be found, lost in the chaos.
“SHANE!” You yell.

A herd of walkers are trampling the tents and fire pit—sending embers flying everywhere, igniting the dry grass.

The sound of screams and crashing debris fills the air as the scene unfolds into complete chaos.

You see someone on the ground thrashing under two walkers.
You rush forward, your instincts taking over—struggling to pull one monster off them before it's too late. The surge of adrenaline fuels your strength as you grapple with the undead.
You barely recognize the person on the ground as Sabrina—the flesh of her face is mangled and she’s choking on her own blood. The walker that turns to you has lips painted a deep crimson. Your stomach churns when you see it’s Otis—the second corpse struggles to stand up and follow—the reanimated face of Jordan stares back at you with cloudy eyes.

You stumble back—terror filling your entire body as you take in the greying skin of your friend—soulless milky eyes staring back at you.
Tears sting your eyes as panic squeezes your chest, expelling every bit of air from you.

The once small fire in the grass spreads rapidly to the flower beds and up the porch. Traveling to the pillars and upwards.

Dodging Otis’s bloody hands you turn around and sprint to a small section of the tree line that looks clear.
And as much as you want to look back you know you can’t.
You tear through the brush, running as fast as you can.
Three words echo in your mind as your boots hit the hard ground.

It’s all gone.

Chapter Text

You've been running for what seems like all night.
Twigs from the branches at your side nick your exposed skin as you rush by.
Your lungs burn like fire in your chest and the muscles in your legs could slough off your bones at any second. The duffle bag of medical supplies at your side weighs a ton.

Every nerve in your body screams for you to stop and rest but you have to keep going. You have to find the highway—the rest of the group should be there.

Doubt began creeping into your mind when you still hadn’t found any signs of civilization. The forest felt endless, each shadow a reminder of impending danger.
Moonlight streams through the trees, casting silver beams across the forest floor.
The further you run the fewer walkers you come across.
It was easy to dispatch them at first but the more tired you become the more you struggle to keep up the pace. Your movements grow sluggish, and each fight took its toll on both your body and spirit.

After taking down another you nearly fall over in exhaustion, leaning heavily against a nearby tree to catch your breath.

Visions of the rest of your group being lost flood your mind. Their faces, gripped with fear, haunt your every step. Thoughts of them being torn apart as you run made your heart ache with guilt and urgency, the mingled emotions urging you forward despite your fatigue.

Golden sunlight began to peak over the distant horizon, casting a faint golden light over the trees.
The dawn gave a shred of hope amid a sea of despair, painting the world in a hue of promise.

When the vegetation around you starts to thin out and the terrain give way to open meadows—you slow your pace, scanning the expanse for any sign of the highway or your family.

Just when despair threatens to overcome you, you see a faint glimmer in the distance.
You move out of the tree line—looking closely, you recognize the reflection of sunlight off a vehicle.
Scanning the area, you take a hesitant step forward, feeling a surge of cautious optimism. You squint through the bright sunlight to see lines of cars parked haphazardly along the highway.
With hope rekindling, you press onward, your heart pounding as you navigate the tall grass.

Running towards the road you pray for a sign of safety—a promise of reunion with the group. Unsheathing your knife when you reach the first car—the anticipation almost unbearable when there’s no movement.

However you still know better than to walk straight onto the highway without scouting the area properly. The dead could be anywhere, their relentless hunger driving them forward.
Keeping low to the ground, edging closer to the nearest vehicle, you pause every few steps to scan the road for any signs of danger.

You study every car you pass, trying to see if you recognize any of the cars that were on the farm.

The familiarity of an old blue sedan struck you, its paint chipped and windows dusty. It’s on the other side of the divider.

Your heart leaps at the sight, and you quickly glance around, ensuring the coast is clear.
Slightly crouched you hurry across the road, keeping a vigilant eye on every shadow and rustle of leaves. When you reach the sedan something on the window catches your attention.
A message scrawled hastily in mud, cracked from the sun:

"Tal, Herd coming. Lori’s Hurt. Going North. Stay on highway. We will find you. Be safe.”
Looking through the back window you see a collection of hastily packed supplies—a large backpack, a wool blanket, and a few water bottles.

You open the door carefully, trying not to make a sound. Pushing the supplies over you climb inside before quietly shutting the door. Scooting down in the seat you open up one of the water bottles and take careful sips, savoring every drop.

Anxiety creeps up your spine when you realize you’re alone. The last time didn’t go so well, you remind yourself bitterly, shutting your eyes.
You feel your heart pounding in your chest, every beat a stark reminder of the urgency encoded in the hasty message.
You have to keep moving. That’s all you have to do. Follow the highway and you’ll find them. If Lori’s hurt badly she may need you. You can’t stay here much longer. Silence envelops the sedan, broken only by the subtle rhythm of your breath.
Unzipping the backpack you see a few cans, a flashlight, a map, and at the very bottom a small gun. You whisper a quiet thank you before tucking the weapon in your waistband.

You take a deep breath—gather up the supplies the group left and open the door.
Slinging the backpack over your shoulder you look around cautiously, scanning the trees and the open road for any signs of movement. Out of the corner of your eye you see a shadow move down the highway. Instinctively, your heart races as you squint, trying to make sense of the figure.
Recognizing the familiar shuffling silhouette, a wave of energy washes over you as you start speed walking in the opposite direction.

“Going North.” The group’s message said. “Stay on highway—we will find you.”
With steps quick beneath the bright daylight, determination fuels your strides.

❧

Its nearly ten miles to the next gas station marked on the tattered map that was left in your backpack, a journey punctuated by the relentless chorus of cicadas.
The suns gently lowering itself, casting long shadows across the pavement. The heats starting to die down too but the humidity is still thick, clinging to your skin with each stride.
You’re trying to conserve as much water as you can but you’re so thirsty, each drop feels like a fading treasure.

The darkening sky above was painted in strokes of dusky pinks and purples, a serene canvas contrasting the turbulence inside your mind—reminding you that you needed to set up camp for the night.

Some of the dense woods lining the roadside might offer refuge, but the trees also hid unknown dangers. You figure if the gas station is clear maybe you can stay there.
Best case scenario, it would have water and shelter, enough to get you through the night.

❧

Walking up to the gas station just as the sun kisse£ the horizon, you scan the area for signs of life. You pull out your knife— its worn handle familiar in your grip—and cautiously approach the door.

Opening it quietly you step back and listen. The creaking of old hinges echo into the stillness. Inside, faint footsteps shuffle in the dim light, sending a chill down your spine.
You wait til the walkers right next to you to surprise it, slashing with swift precision.
Another slips out through the door frame quietly taking you by surprise. Whipping around you lose your footing and fall backwards, narrowly dodging its gnashing teeth. A sharp pain shoots through your ankle as you land hard on the concrete. The walker lunges, but you scramble back just in time, your pulse thumping hard in your ear. Your knife flashes quickly, its blade slicing through the stale air, and the walker crumples silently to the ground.

You listen again for anymore movement and when you hear only silence you slip through the door, limping slightly but trying to remain steady on your feet. Your weapon in hand you scan the isles. Shelves loomed like specters, lined with scattered remains of looted goods. Wobbling your way to the back of the store you see a stair case leading up.
With your back against the wall you inch closer, wary of hidden threats. The darkness is thick, obscuring your view of potential dangers.
When you get to the top your ankle is throbbing furiously, but you grit your teeth and press on. A single door at the top of the stairs was left slightly ajar. Knocking your knife against the wall you hear slow footsteps coming towards you.
As the walker gets to the door you slide your blade through the crack—and feel the resistance of flesh easing under the pressure.

Hearing its body slump to the floor you enter the room making sure it’s clear, you move cautiously inside. You drag the walker by the arm towards the stairs and push.
Its lifeless form thuds down each step like a grotesque marionette, limbs splayed.
You shut and lock the door, pushing a wooden chair against it to barricade yourself in.
Looking around you see a small window, offering a view of the desolate street. Through the glass, the world outside seems endless and unreachable, a barren landscape ripe with danger.

There’s a couch sofa already pulled out into a bed, offering a semblance of comfort against the impossibility of sleep. A small table in the middle of the room along with a modest kitchen.
There’s a sink…with running water! Surprised at the luxury, you fill a glass and drink deeply, savoring the taste on your parched lips.

Empty cans and candy wrappers fill the trashcan. It seems like someone lived here at one point. The place has an air of abandonment, yet traces of life linger.
You scour the pantry for anything edible, coming up with a few stale granola bars and a single can of beans. Grateful for whatever you can find you stash them in your bag before returning to the window.

The street remains devoid of movement; even the wind seems to have abandoned the world.

A pang of sadness hits you, a reminder of the faces you miss. Shane’s continues to haunt your thoughts, his laughter echoing in the quiet room. You remember the feeling of his hands on you.
The feeling of his lips against yours. Every line and freckle etched in your mind as if he stood before you now, a fragment of your imagination.

Exhaustion takes over you as your eyes grow heavy.
Closing the blinds, you retreat back into the comforting shadows.
You limp over to the bed—wrapping yourself in the blanket the group had left you.
Now that you’re off your feet you feel just how badly your ankle throbs, each pulse a reminder that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings like you should’ve.

Lifting up your pant leg you see bruising spreading, an array of blues wrap around your ankle. You notice a stinging pain coming from your elbow as you reposition yourself. Pulling back your sleeve to reveal a fresh gash from your fall.
You open the med bag a take out the supples you’ll need to attend to your wounds. In the dim light, the antiseptic sting brought clarity. Wrapping your ankle tightly with a bandage, you wince and carefully lay back, getting comfortable before propping your leg up with your duffle.

Eventually laying there half asleep you can’t help the tears from falling silently onto the pillow. Each droplet a tiny shard of the life you once knew.
Night gradually envelopes the world outside, a somber reminder of days long lost.
Finally letting your eyes close—your dreams are filled with images from the past. Sunlit afternoons spent on the porch, laughter shared over whiskey by the fire, and the warmth of Shane’s chest against your cheek.
❧

Early morning light crept through the cracked blinds, nudging you awake. A loud clanging sound crashes into your consciousness, pulling you fully from the remnants of sleep.
You sit up quickly and look around the room, trying to discern where the noise is coming from.
Pulling back the covers you look down your leg, splotches of dark purple marred your swollen skin. You gingerly set your feet on the floor, testing the weight on your injured ankle.

You look over to the door—making sure that it’s still secure. Then you limp towards the covered window. That same clanging noise is there again, louder this time, making you flinch.
Curiosity tugs at you, urging you to uncover the source of the disturbance.
So you pull the blinds back with one finger and your stomach drops instantly to your feet when you see dozens of walkers shuffling past the gas station in the dim glow of morning.

Their moans seem to grow louder by the window.
They’re here now—maybe they followed you…maybe they’re migrating…or maybe this isn’t the same herd as before. You can see now where the clanging nose is coming from—an unhinged gate, hitting against itself whenever a walker bumps into it.
Terror grips your entire body as you look out over the group—maybe fifty all swaying in unison, like a macabre dance orchestrated by the wind.

You quietly hobble back over to the bed, sinking down with a sigh.
There’s no way you’ll be able to go back to sleep. Your mind churns with thoughts of escape and survival, each more desperate than the last.

Maybe when the herd passes you could try to go downstairs and see if there’s any remaining supplies anywhere.
But with the pain radiating from your swollen ankle you doubt you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon—you really hurt yourself.

Now all you can do was wait. The minutes dragged into hours, each one a torturous eternity.
Endless questions float around in your mind.
Where was your group?
Would you ever see them again?
Would you see Shane?
Was the farm your only chance at a safe haven, or was this purgatory your new reality?

Chapter Text

About three weeks has passed since the herd surrounded the farmhouse.
You’ve spent all but one day in the gas station. Your ankles healing slowly, but it remains painful to walk on for long.

You have to get on the road soon.
Supplies are running low and the small amount of hope you did have with reuniting with the group is diminishing with everyday that passes.
You wonder if the herd caught up with them—if they’re safe.

Alone with your thoughts, fear takes root deep within you, threatening to overwhelm.
Other than the farm this is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since the fall. And being on your own made you vulnerable—an easier target for walkers and…raiders. The thought sent a chill down your spin.

Alhough you managed fine before running into your group at the pharmacy.
Before you ran into—him.
Into Shane.
A deep ache squeezes your heart when you think of him. You wonder what he’s doing…and if he’s thinking of you as much as you were of him.

You spend most days pacing in the upstairs room of the gas station—trying to stretch out your ankle and build up its strength.

Rays from the sun beam through the windows as you pull out your map. Sitting at the table you mark all the possible routes the group may have taken following the highway. Paying extra attention to any towns along the way. They could be hold up somewhere—a house or a building of some kind. Maybe Lori’s still hurt or healing like you are.

The familiar hissing of the dead tore your attention away from the map, bringing you to the window. A handful of them stumble by, bumping into the gas pumps as they trail behind one another.

You pay more attention to them now that you can watch closely from the safety of the window—noticing things about their behavior you hadn’t before.

They follow each other—if one takes off in one direction another will follow then another and so on.
Almost like a pack…it makes sense.
In a way they’re stronger like that. More dangerous. Less likely to be taken out or picked off.
But then it made them slower, easier to trick. Easier to get away from.
You could hear a small group of them from a mile away at least. And a herd like the one at the farm was no different, but you could hear them coming from twenty miles out. And the summer heat putrefied their already rotting flesh—making their stench undeniable.

Now sitting here in this stuffy room felt like you were being cooked in an oven during the day. You opened the windows for some fresh air but all you were met with was foul scorching air.
How you were missing the farm right about now. The gentle breeze that always whipped across the fields and up to the house.
You swear you could feel the crisp water of the stream that ran near the edge of the property.

The whole group would spend most of the summer there during the day. Splashing in the knee deep water with the kids—enjoying whatever T-Dog had on the grill. Sometimes it would be something caught by Daryl that day. Maybe some chicken or beef that Hershel was able to contribute.
You’d all sip whiskey and listen to tapes on Otis’s stereo or Beth would sing old country songs.

You wondered about Beth and Hershel after that night at the farm. If they made it to the others. You hoped they did—that everyone was together.

Sitting back at the table you decide your next move and just like old times you trace out your route. You’d leave first thing in the morning and travel til sundown.

Later that night you struggle finding sleep. You toss and turn, unable to get comfortable. Staring at the ceiling or out the slight cracks in the blinds.
You mind racing a million miles an hour with anxieties, eventually you try convincing yourself these were problems for another day.

In time your eyes grow lazy and your body feels heavy.
You let your mind settle on the one thing that keeps you going.
Him.
❧
You felt better in the woods. More comfortable, more at home than the gas station. You knew what to expect out here. You walk in the tree line next to the highway. Far enough in that you’re covered by the foliage but close enough to the edge that you always have eyes on the pavement.
You’ve been traveling for a few days now. Stopping and resting when you can, your ankle isn’t completely healed. It throbs late in the day so you’d stop for the night when the pain grew too intense.

The hours drag by, beads of sweat trickle down your forehead to your neck.
You’re exhausted but you keep pushing to make it to your destination.

Just then you see a sign next to the road that says [ Entering Meriwether County ]
This kickstarts your anticipation, you know it won’t be much longer til you reach the railroad station you planned on staying in for the night.
And by morning you could start searching the area for your group.

Passing by a dilapidated house you wonder if maybe there’s be anything worth taking inside. It’s a ways outside of town and looks abandoned.

You tip toe up the back deck to the door. Looking inside you don’t see any movement. You check that your gun is loaded and ready to go before tucking it back into your waistband.
Unsheathing your knife with one hand you open the door with the other.
Quietly slipping your way inside you’re unsurprised to see that the inside of the house matches the outside. It’s practically falling apart and looks to have been abandoned long before the apocalypse.

You make your way through the small house, room to room. It seems you’re the only thing walking around in here—living or otherwise. Turning your attention to the kitchen you start opening cabinets and drawers.
You look anywhere you can think of where something could be stashed.

And it must have been your lucky day because right when you’re about to give up you notice one single can of chicken noodle soup tucked in the corner of a bottom cabinet.
Recognizing the brand you smile to yourself thinking how nice it’ll be when you heat it up over a fire. Throwing it in your backpack you recognize the sound of tires hitting dirt.
You freeze and listen again…trying to figure out where exactly it’s coming from.
Realizing it’s from the front of the house you back up slowly to the back door.
Trying to be as quiet as possible you turn the doorknob, opening it just enough to slip out.
You you hear car doors opening then closing—and men’s voices.
Panic pumps through your as you sheath your knife and remove your gun. Tightening your grip on the weapon to prepare yourself for whatever.
Cautiously stepping down the stairs you slip behind some overgrown shrubbery leaning up against the back of the house.
You crouch down and listen—the sound of boots against pebbled dirt made goosebumps prickle across your skin.

The creaking wood of the front porch told you their location.
Looking from side to side you see enough room for you to crawl on the ground along the edge of the house.
If you made it to the front and the coast was clear you could run back to the road and into the woods.

Going through your options you can’t come up a better plan so you wait and listen. Sure enough the sound of the front door creaks open and footsteps echo inside the old house.

There was definitely more than one person who got out of the car.
Seconds tick by as you sit there in the dirt—the heat is growing unbearable just sitting here.
Then a dark shadow catches your eye—the silhouette wanders just on the other side of the shrubbery. It cuts into the sunlight that streams through the leaves in front of you as it walks by.
This is your chance—wait for it to move away then continue on til you can take off towards the highway.

But strangely it stays put and you start to worry if maybe they can hear your breathing.
Just when you think your covers blown the shadow moves towards the back of the house.
Slipping the gun back in your pants, you crawl away but continue to glance back over your shoulder to make sure the figure doesn’t turn around.
Releasing a shallow breath you sit up on your knees.
You see a big truck parked in front of the house—it appears empty but looks like some kind of army issued vehicle.
This puzzles and worries you at the same time.

Turning back one last time, you freeze when the figure struts back towards you.
You stand up, putting your back against the house—just in case you have to run. Reaching for your knife, you clutch it tightly at your side.

”Push back then run—I’ll kill them if I have to.” You think to yourself.
You know it’s the only way you’ll have a chance of getting away now.
Steadying yourself, your feet remain planted firmly on the ground.

Just as you feared the shadow stops in front of the shrubs. You see the tip of an automatic weapon stick through the leaves.
You don’t move or make a sound…just watch as the gun disappears and a black gloved hand reaches out.

You push through the vegetation with all your might, causing the figure to fall back with a groan. They manage to grab ahold of your wrist almost pulling you down too but you slash your blade at them quickly—barely missing their skin.
When they let go you drop your knife and reach for your gun, cocking and locking just as they do the same to you.

But wait—you recognize the face hidden under a dark cap.
A familiar mouth opens slightly as wide eyes stare back at you.
“Talia?” It says.
You think your heart stops.
“Shane?” You ask.
He stands up slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. Leaving his gun lying in the dirt he takes one slow step forward before rapidly closing the gap between you.
His big arms wrap around you tightly—squeezing you to his chest.

Shocked you stand there for a moment before the warmth of his body against yours awakens you out of your daze.
You slip your arms around his neck, breathing him in as your eyes well with tears.
You weren’t sure this day would come. But here it is—here he is in front of you.

Shane pulls back to look at you again. Tears of his own well in his eyes before one trails down his cheek.
“You’re alive.” His warm voice cracking slightly.
He hugs you again fiercely.

You’d think this was a dream if you couldn’t feel his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

Breaking the hug, he rests his forehead against yours and smiles.
“You’re alive.” He repeats—almost like he’s reassuring himself that it’s true.
“Where were you?” His tone sounds serious as his eyes meet yours again.

You go to speak, to tell him everything. But the burly voice of another man on his walkie talkie cuts through your reunion.

“Walsh, you good?
The device cracks to life loudly.

Shane’s face changes slightly. Alarm flashes in his eyes as he hurriedly wipes his face with a gloved hand.
He reaches for the walkie talkie from his waistband but the sound of heavy footsteps in the house cuts him off.

Grabbing both of your arms he looks down at you with an intensity that’s borderline scary.
“Follow my lead.” He says.

“What? Shane I—.” You speak up confused.

“Please Talia—trust me.”
You recognize fear behind the eyes you love so much. Panic starts swirling in your stomach as the muscles in your legs practically scream for you to run.

Boots on the porch kick your heart rate up a notch. Shane removes the gun from your hands before sticking it in his waistband. Then hurriedly picking up his gun and your knife off the ground, he slings his weapon over his shoulder.
“Everything will be ok. I promise.” He whispers.

A large man dressed in the same military type clothing as Shane walks up.
His warm skin is the color of fresh coffee. With ebony colored eyes and short cropped hair, he looks like a soldier. His expression was one of surprise when his eyes land on you.

“Found her hiding in the bushes.” Shane spoke up—his tone commanding authority.
“I took her weapons.”

The other man looks at you up and down.
“What are you doin all the way out here?” The deep baritone of his voice practically vibrates your eardrums.

“I—I’m lookin for my group.” You say, looking up to meet the mans eyes.

He stares at you intently.

Seconds tick by as you stand there. Shane’s grip on your arm tightens slightly.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

“Talia—.” Shane interrupts. “Her name’s Talia.”

The man looks confused. His eyes shift between you and Shane.
“You know each other?”

Shane answers before you even open your mouth, “We were part of the same group.”

The guy nods before slinging his gun over his shoulder.
“There’s nothing in the house—If we leave now we’ll make it home before dark.”
He takes a step back before motioning to you.
“Bring her.” He adds turning and walking to the truck.

Bring you where?
You unintentionally tug your arm away from Shanes grip.

“It ok.”

You look to him—his eyes pleading for you to comply.
When he starts towards the truck you follow beside him.
Your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Tentatively you walk up to the car as Shane stops to open the back door.

The other man appears handing Shane a cloth bag and zip tie before crossing his arms at his chest.

Shane carefully bound your hands together before coming to stand in front of you. His eyes meet yours momentarily—then he slips the bag over your head.

Darkness consumes you as you focus on the sounds around you. A hand grabs ahold of your arm before you hear the sound of a vehicle door being opened. Recognizing Shanes grip, he helps you climb into the back seat.
Your breathing quickens as you grow claustrophobic. You can feel him reach around you for your seatbelt…buckling it quickly before brushing his hand across your thigh.
His touch gives you momentary relief before it’s gone in the next second.

You jump when the door is shut. Followed by more opening and closing. The sound of keys jingling has your palms sweating. Suddenly the engine roars to life.

What have you gotten yourself into. Maybe you should have just taken off when you had the chance. But you couldn’t leave Shane. And you knew he would never do anything to hurt you or put you in danger. That was the only reason you didn’t put up a fight.

The truck starts moving slowly. You recognize the swaying as the vehicle turning right onto the road. Going in the direction you were planning to take prior to entering the house.
Trying to be positive you tell yourself maybe your group is wherever they’re taking you.
Maybe you’re being taken to your new home—maybe you weren’t.
But now it’s too late to second guess.
For now you’re stuck and there’s nothing you can do but wait.

Chapter Text

Your eyes slowly scan the room, taking in every detail of the small medical trailer. Everything is neatly organized along the shelves and it smells faintly of rubbing alcohol.
Shane and a guy who went by Monroe had escorted you here after taking you out of the truck. They didn’t remove your restraints or the bag over your head until you sat down on the exam table.
Both men now stand on either side the door.
Monroe occasionally looks down at his feet or fidgets with his walkie while Shanes eyes never leave you.

An older woman walks over to greet you—she’s welcoming and warm, flashing a kind smile. It’s obvious to you that she must have been some sort of healthcare worker before the fall.
Introducing herself as Dr. Stevens but she adds you can call her Trudy.
Her eyes are soft but observant, scanning you from head to toe as she retrieves a stethoscope from her pocket. Her voice is gentle as she asks you to breathe deeply, listening intently through the cold metal pressed against your chest. Then she grabs a clipboard with a paper and pen, taking occasional notes.
She asks routine health questions—like the ones you’d ask during a physical exam.
You answer them all honestly, mentioning your recent sprained ankle.

She asks you to scoot back on the table before lifting up your pant leg. The swelling of your ankle had almost completely went away and the bruising was gone.

Crackling from the men’s walkie talkies broke through the silent room.
Monroe brought it up to his ear before mumbling into it.
“I’ve gotta go. But you’re good here?” He asks turning to Shane.

“Yeah I’m good.”

Monroe nods before slipping out the door.

Shane turns back to you, crossing his arms.

“Sprained it pretty bad huh?” The doctor asks.

“Yes ma’am…it was rough.”

“You poor thing. You’ve done a good job takin care of it—I’ll rewrap it for you.” She smiles, placing a soft hand on your back.

After finishing up with your ankle she picks up her clip board again.
“I just have a couple more questions for you sweetie—all standard for women who enter the community.”

You nod.

“Date of your last menstrual cycle?”

You had to think back—it was before you fled the farm.

“How long do they normally last?”

“Four maybe five days.”

“Are you sexually active?”

You swallow dryly.
“Uhh…yes.”

“Is there anyway you could be pregnant?”

Your stomach drops, “Uh no…I mean I don’t think so. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was younger…my doctor said I could have trouble with fertility.”

“But it’s not impossible?” She asks.

You shook your head.

Trudy looks down to scribble on her clipboard again.

You glance over to Shane who continues watching you, his face unreadable now.

She walks over to the drawers, pulling one open she reaches for something before turning back. Now in front of you she hands over what you immediately recognize as a pregnancy test.

“The restroom is just down the hall to the right. Bring it back when you’re finished.”

You grip the stick tightly in your hands as you stand. And as you walk along the narrow hallway of the trailer you hear Shane quietly follow.

You know the test is negative…but what if it’s positive?
What would you do?
You couldn’t imagine having kids before the apocalypse—how could you have one now?
❧

Your heart thumps in your chest as you glance down at the test for a moment before slowly opening the door.
Shane suddenly sits up from the wall against across the hallway, concern paints his face.

You hold it out—pointing the screen towards him.
The words Not Pregnant visible in small black letters.

He releases the same deep breath you had a minute before.

Trudy’s voice rings down the hallway, “Are you done sweetie?”

“Yes ma’am.” You call back before slipping past him.

You and Trudy continue chatting while she finishes up your exam. Telling her about your career she lit up.
She said if it’s allowed she would love to have you join her here.

“Allowed.” That word sets off alarm bells in your head…allowed by whom?
You say your goodbyes before Shane lead you out of the trailer.
When you look outside you're shocked to see clean streets illuminated by the warm golden color of the fading sun.
Small shops and businesses are everywhere—flowers and street lights add to the small town feel.

“Come on.” Shane says.

He brings you to a small building.
Two men holding rifles stand by the door. They both look you up and down before letting the both of you pass.

Following behind Shane you scan the hallway trying to take it all in.
It looks like some sort of office building that had been converted into small apartments. The only sound in the empty space are your foot steps.
Shane comes to a stop in front of a door to your right. Slowly pushing it open, he allows you to enter first.

You take in the space—it’s small with only enough room to hold a bed with a table and single chair.
It’s clean and warm and that’s all you need.

Turning around you see Shane still standing in the doorway.
You raise your eyebrows wondering why he’s still standing there.
He leisurely walks through the threshold, shutting the door behind him. Turning to face you, he removes his cap and places it onto the small table.
“I’m sorry bout earlier—they’re secretive when it comes to this place.”

“It’s ok…I can see why.” You whisper, your heart fluttering as his hands grip yours.

He stares into your eyes intently, seconds tick by as you both stand there, “Where’ve you been?” He asks.

“Looking for the group—for you. Are they here?”

“No…they were tryin to get ahead of the herd last time I saw ‘em. Lori got hurt escapin the farm.”
He looks down for a moment before returning his gaze to you.

“Is she ok?” You ask.

“I don’t know. I only stayed with ‘em for a few days—made sure they were safe before I went lookin for you. I back tracked for a while—then I ran into this group. I was in rough shape…I couldn’t find you. But they helped me out and asked if I wanted to stay—figured I’d have a better chance lookin with supplies and extra help.”His fingers intertwine with yours.
“I was startin to think I might not...” He shook his head slowly seemingly unable to finish his sentence.

The sadness in his voice hurts you.

“I looked for you…and never saw anythin that told me you were alive.”

Taking a deep breath you try to reel back the tears that sting your eyes. You remember the hopeless hollow feeling that washed over you everyday you were out there alone. Not knowing if you’d ever see your family again—if you’d ever see him again. At least now you knew that the group made it off the farm.
“Im here now…that’s all that matters.”

He smiles faintly, flashing those pearly teeth against rosy lips.
God he’s handsome. Dark ringlets curl loosely around the edges of his forehead and neck.
Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest.

Whiskey eyes stare back as you admire him. You swore you had memorized his face but looking at him now you notice more freckles. The length of his hair had changed.
Looking deeper you see dim circles hung under his eyes—he looks tired.

“Earlier you told me to follow your lead—why?”

He shifts on his feet. “I figured it was best that I talk first.”

“Ok...” You say hesitantly.

“They shouldn’t know that we were together before.” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s better…if they don’t know.”

“Better? Why? Who?” You ask, concern swirling around in your head.

“When you come here and they help you…you owe ‘em for that.” His tone changes.

“Owe them? For help—like medical help?”

“Yeah…Im sure you owe now…I do. They assign you to a job and you work it off that way. I don’t want anyone to be able to use us against each other.”

You pull your hands away from him, “Use us? What kind of place is this?”

“Listen all we have to do is square our debt and we can leave. They’ll send us off with supplies and weapons. We need that to find the group.”

After a few moments you reluctantly nod your head. There isn’t anything you can do about it right at this moment. But at least you have eachother.

“You‘ll have to meet the Governor first.”

“The Governor?”

“He’s in charge here—he assigns the jobs.

“Shane I—.”

He reaches out for your arms, bringing you closer to him, “Everything will be ok.”
Leaning down he kisses you, his lips melting into yours.

You savor every second—sparks practically fly from your body as you bring your arms up, tangling your fingers in his hair.
The questions and concerns about this place seem to drift away.
But as quickly as it begins it’s over too soon.
He pulls back taking you by surprise—his thick hair wild from your hands and his shaky breath matching your own.

“It’s almost curfew…I’ve gotta go.” He reaches for his cap, slicking his hair back before placing it on his head.

A strange hollow feeling rings in your chest as he prepares to leave.

“Goodnight…I love you.”

“I love you too.” You answer back.
Your heart skips a beat hearing those three words.

He kisses you again, his lips lingering on yours. You can tell he doesn’t want to leave—you don’t want him to either.
But he steps back, turning towards the door and flashes you another look before he disappears down the hallway.

Thoughts of Shane, this place, and the whereabouts of the group crowd your mind as you ready for bed.
You’re not allowed to have your weapons within the walls so you remain alert. Locking the door and barricading it with your table gives you some peace of mind. Although you don’t realize just how exhausted you are until your head hits the pillow. You soon drift off into a deep dreamless sleep.

❧

The Governor speaks clearly with a smooth southern accent that exudes intelligence and demands attention. You can’t help but sit up straighter whenever he speaks.
He’s middle aged with mousy brown hair and deep navy eyes. A handsome face and a tall lean build. He looks you up and down behind his large desk.

“Merle told me you and Walsh have known each other since almost the beginning.” He says.

“Yes sir. We were apart of the same group.”

He smiles.

You figure he’d like the yes sir. He seems the type who likes being in charge—likes being respected.

“He also said he’s known Walsh even longer.”

“Yeah.”

“Merle and his brother Daryl used to run with Rick and them until they…parted ways.”

“Its a small world.” You say grinning.

Returning the smile he brings his hands together on his desk.
“I was also told that you have extensive experience in the medical field. As well as knowledge of combat and survival skills.”

“I was a trauma nurse before everything. And my father was a marine. He spent a lot of time teachin my brother and I all he knew. It’s made my life a lot easier than most in the apocalypse.”

“I bet.” He smiles again, his eyes staring deeply into yours.
“It’s important that everyone knows their strengths in this world. Especially now. Every person here has a job that helps this community run smoothly. That’s why we’ve been here so long.”

“I understand. I wanna be a productive member here. Wherever I’m needed.”

He nods slowly, swiveling in his chair slightly.
“Tomorrow I want you to go down to the trainin yard. Merle is in charge of security. He’ll take you through everythin and see if you’re a good fit. I’d like to have someone with real medical experience on the team to go out with my men. If Merle says you can handle it—jobs yours.”

You take a deep breath.

He rises slowly, walking around the desk to reach his hand out to you.

You stand up taking his hand.
“Thank you Sir.”

When you exit his office a sense of anticipation blooms in the pit of your stomach.
You would have to prove yourself tomorrow and needed a way to be able to work off your debt, get the supplies you and Shane needed and get out of here.
The armed guard that waits by the door follows behind you once you pass.
Stepping forward he opens the door leading out to the street. You walk out into the warm sunshine—taking in the humid air before following behind the man down the sidewalk.

Before meeting with the Governor you hadn’t taken a good enough look at the town. Looking at it now it’s even more beautiful than you thought. Quaint Greek revival store fronts litter the street. Every windowsill is beautifully adorned with fresh flowers. Every bush and tree perfectly manicured. The houses down the street are gorgeous too—it looks like something out of Stepford Wives.

A large white brick building catches your eye as you walk by. It has a tall black fence around the back. The garage door is open and full of workout equipment. There are multiple men using the machines while a few others stand around laughing.
They all wore the same dark colored clothing—every one of them exuding military vibes.

Your heart studders when you spot Shane leaning against the doorway to the garage. His arms are crossed against his broad chest as he laughs in response to whatever conversation he’s apart of. The blank tank he wore shows the taunt muscles of his biceps. He turns in your direction, his expression softens once his eyes lock with yours.
The last time you saw him was the night you got here…when he kissed you. It had been a few days but that moment is on replay in your mind. Especially when you’re alone in your room at night—your mind would drift back to the time the two of you shared a bed.

Looking at him you can't understand why he hasn’t at least spoken to you since then. It’s not like you’re expecting him to show up at your door every night but he seems distant. Maybe it was unintentional—maybe he’s been busy. But then again here he is hangin around—fuckin off with his buddies.

You break eye contact first, swallowing the dry lump lodged in your throat you continue to follow behind the guard.

He stops in front of your housing building. The same pair of men stand on either side of the door way.
Not acknowledging either, you open the door and slip inside. Walking down the hallway you feel their eyes on you.
You hurriedly open the door before shutting it quickly—allowing yourself the peace and quiet you need.

You spend the rest of the night in reset mode, cleaning your room, eating dinner, soaking in a hot bath to try and relax. You manage to read for a while before settling into bed—set on being rested for tomorrow.
You have to be ready.
You have to.

Chapter Text

Walking to the training yard the next morning you feel the heat of the summer sun on your face. It’s early, the first light of dawn barely peeking over the horizon.
The tank top and workout shorts you have on do little to keep from breaking out in a light sweat.
You follow closely behind the guard who escorts you to “the barracks” as their called. Basically it’s where all the armed guards in Woodbury sleep and congregate. It’s where you saw Shane yesterday.

Walking up the driveway you couldn’t see any other women around, just rows of stern-faced men lifting weights or running laps.
You notice a few of them look up as you pass by.

When you enter through the back gate you can hear grunting and yelling.
You turn a corner and see a group of men circled around a large black mat, cheering on a pair who are enthralled in a boxing match, throwing punches and blocks.
They’re really going at it—you wonder if you’d have to do the same.

Anticipation tingles in your hands and feet…its been a while since you’ve sparred.

Your escort stops suddenly—in front of him stands a man who turns towards you.
He’s older with graying hair and short stubble the same color. He looks you up and down slowly as you stand up straighter.
“Names Merle.”

So this is Daryl’s brother.
Looking at him you can see a resemblance between the men. Other than the identical southern draw they both have the same deep blue eyes.

Merle moves to reach for your hand.
Looking down you notice it’s not the typical one a person would offer.
That’s when you see in place of his right hand there’s a metal stump.
You look up quickly to meet his gaze grabbing onto his free hand.
“Talia.”

He offers a mischievous smile before releasing you.
“What’s your last name? Security don’t go by first ones.”

You haven’t said your last name out loud to anyone in a long time.
“Cain.” The word almost felt strange comin out your mouth.

“Well Cain this is where we figure out whatcha got…see if you have what it takes to be part of this team.”

“Yes sir.”

“I like that—manners. The Governor said you can fight, know your way round weapons. That right?”

“Yes sir.” You answer.

“Good.”

He turns around, facing the group that has started crowding the mat.

“Perez, step up.”

A young Hispanic guy cut through the crowd. He’s a few inches taller than you with trimmed arms and short curly jet black hair.

“Perez meet Cain. Cain meet Perez.”

Perez reaches out his hand, a kind smile flashed across his handsome face.
“Nice to meet you.” He says.

You nod quickly.

“You two on the mat now.” Merle motions forward.
He takes out wraps for your hands. You thought it would be with gloves like the spar you saw before.
You’d definitely feel everything with these…maybe Merle wants to see just how much you can take.

When everyone’s wrapped you watch Perez walk to the mat.
The feeling of everyones eyes made you nervous.

Perez steps back before planting his feet firmly on the floor.

You look to Merle on your right. “Get your little ass on up there sister.” He chuckles.

Taking a deep breath you join your sparring partner.
Grounding your feet you see him look up to Merle who gives a quick nod.
Suddenly Perez throws a right swing in your direction, catching you completely by surprise.

You barely have enough time to dodge it by stepping back.

He continues jabbing furiously at you obviously trying to knock you on your ass.

You expertly dodge every one of them.

But he’s really fast—a lot faster than you were counting on.
Changing his combo up suddenly he reaches down for your abdomen. Making sharp contact with your stomach and knocking the air out of you.

You stumble back, struggling to catch your breath. Shaking your head, you try to clear the fog of pain that now clouds your vision.
You see out of the corner of your eye he’s preparing to throw a right hook—maybe he’s hoping it’ll connect with your jaw and end the fight.
But ducking quickly you deliver a single sharp jab to the lower part of his rib cage—the liver shot as it’s called.

Immediately he stumbles back, pain mixed with surprise flashes across his face.
The men crowded around the mat began whooping and clapping loudly.

If you wanted respect it looks like this is how you’d get it.

Perez shook off the pain as he returns right in front of you, bringing his fists up to his chin.
You can see his eyes scanning your legs. He may try to bring you down…if he got his arms around you, you might be in trouble.

His fist suddenly flashes before you making contact with your cheek.
You were so busy worrying about him looking at your legs you didn’t notice him wind up to take a shot.
The spectators let out more yells of entertainment.

White hot pain splinters across your face.
The adrenaline that flows evenly throughout your body now pumps violently in your veins.
You turn your attention back to him. Dancing around the mat you see an opportunity. His left leg is out and unprotected.
Taking the chance you kick the crease of his thigh, making him crumple down to his knees. You step forward, slamming your fist into his lip.

He only reacts for a second before grabbing your wrist, yanking it towards him to deliver what would have been a solid head butt.

Instead you curl your arm under his chin as you slip around to his back. You throw your body down to the mat, bringing him back with you, forcing him to release his grip on your wrist.
Tightly interlocking your arms together, you snake your legs around his abdomen, trapping his arms and squeeze with all your might.
You constrict his air ways as he tries to break free. His squirming only making you squeeze his throat tighter.

All eyes are on you both as the crowd falls silent.

“That’s it break it up.” Merle orders.

This earns cheering from the even larger group of men that huddles around the mat.

You release Perez and quickly stand up, your chest heaving up and down.

When he’s on his feet he bends over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
Standing up straight he reaches his hand out to you with another smile.
It takes you by surprise but you shake it anyway.

“Good fight. You’ll have to teach me that wrap around move sometime.” He says laughing.

“Yeah…sure.” His kindness takes you off guard. It seems genuine despite the fact that you and him were just beating the shit out of each other.

Merle walks up to you with a smug smile on his face.
“Good job there candy Cain. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you—sir.” A sharp jab of pain shoots through your jaw when you try to smile. You knew you’d have an ugly bruise there later.
You couldn’t help but scan for a familiar face in the crowd of dispersing men.

Merle’s voice brings you back to your conversation, “If you’re done daydreamin we got some weapons drills you need to run through.”

“I’m sorry. Yes sir weapons drills.”

“Well come on.” He motions forward, further into the backyard. Where the sounds of gunshots and metal against metal ground you to earth.
You’ve done well so far. All you have to do now is show off the skills you’d spent most of your life building.
It should be a piece of cake—Right?
❧
You still hadn’t seen Shane. It had been about a week and a half—apparently him and the group he was assigned to were on a special run outside the walls. Scouting out a nearby town to see what they could find. You only hoped maybe Rick and the rest of the group were somewhere safe and sound.

You couldn’t lie to yourself that you weren’t upset when Shane had left without a word. You had hoped for at least some kind of reassurance before he went…that night you got here he told you he loved you but his actions spoke otherwise. Despite your anger, a part of you just wanted him back safely.

Now that sometime had passed you felt more comfortable here. The walls offered a sense of security you'd almost forgotten existed—but you hadn’t forgotten how to keep your guard up.

In the mean time the Governor had assigned you the job as security medic. You would be going out on runs with the soldiers to provide combat assistance as well as offer immediate medical care when needed. It wasn’t a glamorous position, but it was vital. You felt a sense of purpose, yet you couldn't shake the turmoil within you.

You were given the option of staying in the barracks or another apartment that was next door to the medical trailer.
Obviously you chose the second option as it allowed you privacy and quick access to assist any injured.

Now laying out in the front lawn of the barracks you try your best to ignore the stares of the men walking around the house. Despite their curious gazes, you remained focused on enjoying your down time as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

Perez was sitting next to you lounging shirtless enjoying sun. In the time you’d been here you and him had become fast friends. He shared that his first name was Leo and that he grew up in Atlanta.

When the fall happened he found his way here…he was a few years younger than you but had an air of resilience that defied his age.
You both sparred together often during your free time, exchanging tips and tricks for the drills you had to run. A breeze ruffled the pages of the book resting open on your lap, distracting you momentarily from your thoughts.

"You know," Leo said, breaking the silence, "I've been thinkin, they should set up a weekly sparring tournament. Be a good way to keep everyone sharp and watch a few get knocked on their asses.”

You glanced over laughing, considering the idea. "That’s a great idea actually.

Recently Leo had shared with you that he was gay.
He said he hadn’t disclosed this to anyone else due to not knowing how they would react—which you understood.
Trust was a rare commodity these days, but between you and Leo, it felt natural to confide in each other. The bond that had formed between you wasn't something either of you took lightly.

He had become a real friend in a world where true connection was a scarcity. It was a bond forged through trials and laughter.
Leo was hilarious and made the dreary days a little brighter with his jokes and laughter.
He made you feel at home in a way when you were together—which was nice considering how strange and uncertain everything felt. The world was different now, and finding solace in friendships like this was rare.
There was a small part of you that didn’t like the feeling of growing close to anybody again because you feared the inevitable losses that the new world often suffered.

“When do you think we’ll be sent out?” You asked, turning to face him while peaking over your sunglasses.

“I figured we would have already. Maybe Merle just wants us to wait. Who knows—I’m enjoyin the time off.” He chuckled, stretching his arms wide as he soaked up the sun.

A loud rumbling sound interrupted your conversation.
You sat up from your lawn chair, removing your sunglasses you looked down the street.

To your right you see the gate entrance being opened and a few large trucks enter the community.

You immediately recognized them as security.
Shane.
Your heart leapt in your chest to know if he was okay.

“Leo—they’re back!” You nudge his arm.
You slip on your shoes as Leo throws on his own.

The both of you start walking down the sidewalk along with a few others from the barracks til you’re all a few feet from the vehicles.

Truck doors start opening and people begin pouring out.
Your eyes scan their faces looking for just that one.
Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar silhouette climb out of the truck.
Relief floods over you as Shane closes the door behind him before adjusting his cap.

Over his shoulder, he notices you. His lips were set in a line but his eyes held a warmth that told you everything was ok—that he was ok.

You wanted to go to him but more and more people starting packing the street, creating a crowd that made it impossible to get through.
Soon you lost sight of him but Leo grabbing your hand kept you grounded.

"We'll see everyone later tonight," he reassured.
“Let’s go get some somethin to eat and then we’re gettin drunk.”

You nod in agreement, the adrenaline of relief slowly dissipates, leaving you hungry and eager for the night's celebration.

As you and Leo made your way to the dining hall, you could feel the tension of the day melting away with each step but at the same time your anxiety of seeing Shane again was growing stronger.
Leo had the right idea—you’d definitely need alcohol’s help to get through the night.

Chapter Text

Finishing up dinner you and Leo grab some drinks before heading outside to join the party.
You both walked into the back yard, finding a spot against the side of the house.
Leo was commenting on the state of the supplies that the group brought back.
Although you tried to focus on his words, your eyes continually scanned the yard, searching for any sign of Shane amidst the shadows and lively chatter.
The festivity in the air was vibrant, yet, the anticipation of confrontation gnawed at you.
Sipping the unbelievably strong drink Leo made, you feel its warmth spread through your veins, quelling your nerves, even if just for a moment.

You had lost sight of Shane earlier in the crowd when people came to welcome the group home.
But now, laugher and music replaced chatter, your eyes kept scanning the yard. Civilians weren’t allowed in the barracks but everyone who wasn’t on guard duty was here, either packed into the garage or scattered around the backyard. You caught glimpses of familiar faces, their smiles flickering in the dim light.
A couple of guys are playing bean bags while others were enthralled in a game of cards at the worn wooden table, their focus unyielding despite the surrounding noise. Loud cheers roared from the men winning at beer pong, their triumphant shouts echoing into the night.

This part of the community is surprisingly relaxed. The men move with an ease that felt foreign yet comforting—like a strange memory from the past you could almost touch.
However there are things here you don’t know—places you’re not allowed in. You’d ask Leo about it but he’d always give a vague answer, all while promising that you really needn't worry.
This community is one of the good ones he’d say and all you could do was believe him. Shane had pretty much said the same thing. Their words echo in your mind, failing to reassure you—all you need is more time then maybe you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.

“Perez!” A deep voice says, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Hey man!”

Your head immediately snaps up to look at the figure walking up to you and Leo.
“How are you Walsh?” Leo asks reaching out to shake his hand.

Your heart skips a beat when your eyes lock onto Shane.
He’s freshly showered with his still damp hair hanging against his forehead. A five o’clock shadow decorates his chiseled jawline.
Your eyes travel down his neck, resting on the chain that lays below the hollow of his throat. The Georgia heat has suddenly become scorching on your face—it only adds to the already simmering anger you feel towards him.

You take a couple unsteady gulps of your drink—trying to act nonchalant as his eyes pass over you.
Realizing now that you haven’t been listening to the conversation you try to catch up. The men are discussing the success of the run by the time you immerse yourself in the conversation.

“Tal you knew Walsh before—was he ever any fun?” Leo asks laughing.

You look up from your drink to see the two men staring at you.
Realizing that was a question you swallow the liquor now swirling in your mouth. You scramble for an answer then smile slyly, unable to control your tongue.
"Depends on what you call fun," you reply, your tone matter of fact.
You lock eyes with Shane from behind the red solo cup you raise to your lips.

Leo laughs awkwardly, looking between you both while Shane just stares at you—his mouth fixed into a straight line.

“Cain!” A loud voice booms out over the crowd.
The familiar face of one of the guys who lives in the barracks cut through the crowd. He went by Baker—he’s handsome, tall, and clean cut with buzzed warm chestnut hair and emerald green eyes. You’d train with him sometimes if Leo was busy.
He’s respectful and a friendly face in a sea of unfamiliar ones.

He walks up to you grabbing your arm lightly while flashing a dazzling smile.
“We have a bet goin for who can hit the target the most with a throwing knife. Hope you don’t mind that I volunteered you.” His smile only grew when you laugh.

“Yeah sure.” You smile back, before glancing over to Shane whose eyes are glued on Baker. His jaw is fixed tightly as he stands there frozen.
He looks—mad.
A feeling of satisfaction rushes through you.

You reach for Leo’s hand before tugging him along.
“See you later Walsh.” You call before following Baker through the crowd.
The same sullen expression is plastered across his face before he disappears into a sea of people.

❧

The handle of your knife forms perfectly in your hand. You rub your finger along the flat side of the blade—the coolness of the steel feels good against your skin. The crowd around stirs with anticipation, eager to see who would prove victorious.
When you slip your knife back into its holster you take another drink from your cup.

The knife throwing competition has been going on long enough to remove two others. Now it’s between you and a guy named Brooks.
He’s the leader of one of the groups who frequently goes outside of the walls—so therefore he thinks he’s hot shit.
He has a thick greying beard and a shiny bald head. With a large muscular frame that’s impressive for his age.
You have to admit he’s a skilled fighter but you really want to beat him.

Its obvious he’s had a lot to drink which made him act even more entitled than usual.
You both only have one more turn left to decide who would win.

“Alright buttercup—you ready to get your ass kicked?” Brooks asks, belching loudly.

You huff, “Are you gonna go or just stand there all night?”

He gives you a shit eating grin before turning around and adjusting the grip on his knife.
Holding it by the blades edge he looks down the way to the thick piece of wood that has a large red bullseye painted on it.

He unsteadily plants his feet before reaching his arm back behind his head.
You wait with anticipation as you and everyone in the gathered crowd holds a breath.

After a few seconds he quickly brought his arm forward, releasing the knife.
The blade hit the target with such force that its swayed slightly before standing straight again. Its pierced just outside the inner red circle.
Loud whooping and cheering ends the silence as Brooks turned to you flashing a smile with a wink before walking off to join the cheering crowd.

Fuck.

You grabbed your cup from Leo’s hand, taking a big swig from it.

“That’s right drink up!” Leo says laughing.

Baker leanes in close, “You got this Cain.”

You give him a smile before handing Leo your cup back.

Turning to face the target you take a steadying breath before unsheathing your knife. Flipping it around to hold the blade part you settle it between your thumb and pointer finger.
Lifting it over your head you take a huge inhale—your eyes glued to the target. Closing one eye you snap your arm down. The knife flies from your fingers, flipping over and over til it meets the wood.
The loud thud it made allowing you to release your breath.
Opening your other eye you see the knife sticking out the target—a direct bullseye.
Holy shit.

Cheers and clapping erupts over the quiet.
Leo jumps from his seat running full force at you. He picks you up with a big bear hug and spins you around, his laughter infectious.

Baker stands up and shouts, “Hey asshole time to pay up!”

You follow Bakers gaze as it lands on Brooks. You hadn’t realized that he was the one who started the bet.

He sulks over to you three. Baker stands with a satisfied smirk and his hand out waiting for his reward. Brooks took out a rather large amount of ration tickets and slaps them into Baker’s hand.
He turns to you glaring.

Flashing him a large smile you watch him turn and walk off.

Baker pulls you in for a hug.
“I knew you could do it.”
He flashes that movie star smile before holding out the ration tickets.

“I can’t take those.” You say looking down at the paper.

“Why not? You earned it?”

You open your mouth to argue but he just folds the paper and shoves it into your pocket.

He slipped his arm around your shoulders before turning to face Leo.
“Let’s get another drink.”

“I’m down!” Leo says as he finishes off the drink in his cup.

You chuckle looking at his flushed face with slightly droopy eyes. Baker led the way back to the bar, pushing through the crowd that had gathered around to congratulate you.

The undeniable feeling of being watched comes over you.
You know it’s Shane—suddenly Baker’s arm around you feels all wrong.

“I’m really tired actually. I’m gonna head home and get some sleep.” You said shimmying out from under the weight of his arm.

“Aw no come on. It’ll be fun” Baker says.

Leo must have sensed your apprehension because he spoke up quickly, I’ll walk you home Tal.” He says standing.

“Yeah ok…goodnight Baker. We’ll all get together soon.” You say, giving his arm a light squeeze and a smile before turning away to join Leo.

Ya’ll made the short walk to your apartment within a few minutes. You’re happy Leo said he’d walk you before Baker offered.
It’s obvious that he has a crush on you and you did like him—but you don’t want to give him false hope for something else.

Once you say your goodbyes to Leo you shut and lock the door.
Throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter of your studio apartment you walked over to your dresser. Changing out of your training clothes you slipped on a large T-shirt, leaving only your panties on underneath.

You pour yourself a glass of water before downing it in a few large gulps. The alcohol you indulged in after dinner has you feeling dehydrated.

Three soft knocks at the door startles you.

Flashing a quick glance to your sheathed knife on the counter you walk slowly over to the door.
Peering into the peep hole you’re surprised to see Shane standing on the other side.
You take a deep breath before turning the lock and opening the door.
Light from the hallway shines into the dim entryway of your apartment.

Shane’s eyes meet yours with a soft smile.

“Hey.” You say gathering your composure as you felt yourself shrinking under his stare.

“Hi.” He answers.

“What are you um—doing here?”

“Were you expectin someone else?” He asks raising an eyebrow.

“No…no I just uh I wasn’t expecting you—or anyone.” You laugh awkwardly, shifting on your feet.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”
You step back to open the door all the way, allowing him to enter.

He walks inside before taking a look around the apartment—seemingly taking in his surroundings.

“Nice place.” He comments.

“Thanks yeah I like it—reminds me of my apartment in Dallas.” You chuckle thinking back to your old life.
After locking the door you turn to see him looking you up and down.

Butterflies start fluttering in your stomach watching the way his eyes trail over you. You lean back against the door as he stands there in the middle of the room.

“So whats up? Is everythin ok?” You ask trying to distract yourself from where your mind is wandering.

“Yeah I just wanted to see how you were doin…and to check on you.”

“Im good.”

“That’s good…that’s real good.” Shane says resting his hands on his hips.
“You seem to be fittin in well.”

“Yeah Leo’s been amazing,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant. “He introduced me to a lot of people, got me all set up. He’s been a really good friend—kept me company since I joined security.”

Shane nods before changing the subject. "Baker and you seem pretty close too.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.
“Yeah he’s a good friend.”

“Does he know that?”

“That he’s a good friend? Yeah I think he does.” You didn’t even bother to reel in your sarcasm.

“Seemed like he thought you and him were more than friends.” Shanes tone is sharp.

You shake your head slightly as your entertainment turns to annoyance.
It quickly crept up your spine as you fold your arms over your chest.

"It’s not like that," you reply, standing straighter.
“He's been really supportive and helpful just like Leo—thats it.”

“Yeah I’m sure.” Shane says taking a step closer, his face serious, searching yours with an intense gaze.

Your pulse quickens from the look in his eye however you need to remain calm.
“Jealous much?” you add, your voice firm.

“Jealous?” He chuckled.

“He’s a friend Shane but even if he was more than that why would you care?” You snap trying to mask the warmth rising in your cheeks.

His smile fades as his expression hardens and his mouth settled into a straight line.
“Why wouldn’t I?”

You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a retort.
For a moment, silence fills the air, thickening the tension between the two of you.
Shanes dark eyes bore into yours, unmoving, unwavering.
Goosebumps prickle across your skin when his gaze travels down your chest, your hard nipples on display for him under your sleep shirt.
You shift slightly, the urge to look away battling with the intense pull of his gaze.
A warm familiar charge buzzed in the air—an energy you can’t ignore, even if you want to.

He stands there frozen, as though wrestling with words that yearn to spill from his lips,
“You really don't get it, do you?”

Chapter Text

You both stand there staring at each other, a tense silence envelopes the room.

You shake off his question to navigate the conversation in the direction you want.
“You haven’t spoken to me since the night I got here Shane…and now that you’ve got some free time you just show up at my door and question me about the company I keep?” you press, letting the frustration seep into your voice.

His jaw tenses as he runs his palm over his hair, clearly agitated.

You can’t stop yourself from continuing, “Then you left Woodbury without even saying goodbye—you were gone for over a week. Is that how it’s gonna be? No one can know we were together before so now we’re strangers to each other? Do you know how confusing that is for me?”

His eyes flicker with something that looks like regret before returning to their steely gaze.
“No I just...” He pauses, his voice softening.
“I wanted to give you time to adjust to life here—I didn’t wanna hover. They were watchin you and I didn’t want them suspecting anything. And as for leavin I never meant to just go without seein you. The orders were given so we had to leave right then. The assignment…took way longer than it was supposed to.”
He seems earnest now, a hint of vulnerability sneaking through his guarded demeanor.

He walks a few steps closer, until he’s standing just in front of you, the space between charged with a mixture of tension and understanding.
“Im sorry…it wasn't right.”

You take a deep breath, his apology catching you off guard.
Honestly you expected him to argue—but this made your anger subside.

He grabs your hands tentatively, as if seeking permission.
You don’t pull away, letting his grasp linger.
“We could never be strangers to each other." he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I just wanted to protect you. It wasn’t right, but the circumstances—” he trails off, letting silence fill the gaps in his explanation.

“What circumstances?” You ask, searching his eyes for some clue.

His grip tightens as though trying to anchor you both against the tide.

“Shane…” you start, your voice a mere breath framed by uncertainty.

He leans down and rests his forehead gently against yours. A tense exhale broke the fragile silence.

Your heart beat quickens as the warmth of his skin washes over you. Suddenly you feel extremely self aware that you’re practically naked under your t-shirt.

His hands slowly travel up to grip your arms.
Lifting both your gazes, eyes meeting beneath the dim light of the room.

“You trust me?” he asks, his eyes searching your.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of his question.
In that moment, everything seems to still—the world around you holding its breath.
But despite your apprehension you nod, willing to set aside your persistent questions, if only for a moment.

“I know I keep promisin you but—everything will be ok.” He murmurs, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes.
“I swear." His words hang in the air, filling you with affection.

“Ok.” You whisper back, surrendering to the implausible belief that Shane will always look out for you.
Living in this fucked up world the one thing you cling to is the unwavering bond between you. It wasn’t always easy, but together, it seemed possible.

Shanes gaze lingers on your mouth for a moment before he cautiously leans in, capturing you in a tender, reassuring kiss.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to give in.
You just seem to mold against him perfectly, like puzzle pieces that have been searching for their match.
He squeezes your arms harder as his tongue slips between your lips.
Your hands fall against his chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart beneath your palms.

He pulls you closer, slipping his hands around your waist as the scent of mint and whiskey surrounds you.
Oh god he makes you feel so alive and safe, as if nothing else matters but the two of you in this moment.

Suddenly his mouth leaves yours and peppers small kisses across your jawline, moving toward your ear.
You hear a ragged breath as his lips ghosts over your skin, moving softly against your earlobe.
A warm surge spreads through you and settles between your legs .
Moving your hand down his stomach you cup your palm over the bulge in his pants, giving it a light squeeze.

Shane inhales sharply, responding to your touch with a hushed whisper of your name. Then he presses a kiss to your neck gently, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your hands go to his shirt, hurriedly removing it to reveal his bare chest. You see his eyes flicker with an intensity you miss—no, need. The room feels smaller, the air heavy with the want you both feel.

His hands grip you tighter as he kisses you hard.

You run your fingers across the taunt muscles of his abdomen, teasing the area just above his waistline.

He leans into you abruptly, slipping his hands under your shirt, gripping the meat of your ass harshly.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when he yanks your underwear down before tossing them to the tile floor.
His tongue brushes against yours while one hand gropes your clothed breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
The other dips between your legs before brushing against your glistening folds.

You take in a sharp breath as he slowly circles your clit—your body instantly relaxes, turning to putty in his rough hands.

When he pushes two fingers inside, you can’t contain the moan that falls from your open mouth.
You grip onto his thick hair tightly as he moves into you, curling his fingers to reach a spot that has you choking on his name.

He pulls back, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes blown out completely.
“Beautiful.” He whispers lowly, grabbing ahold of the back of your neck before bringing his lips to yours.

The pressure in your body builds when he starts fucking into you with his fingers.
Releasing your hold on his mocha curls you move down to his jeans, popping the button and zipper.

Shane shudders watching you bring your hand to your lips.

You spit noisily into your palm before pushing into his waistband.
Slowly snaking into his underwear you brush your fingertips across his soft skin. Smearing saliva over him you stroke slowly but firmly.

He thrusts his fingers into you faster, making your hold tighter.
“Shane.” You half-pant, half cry.
You feel the spring of your release coil deep within your stomach.

He releases your neck and grabs the bottom of your thigh, bringing it up to wrap around him.
Letting out a soft strangled moan against your mouth, his eyes shut tightly when you move your hand up and down on him.

You quicken your pace til he stops you.

“Wait Tal—wait.” He sighs, his once husky voice sounded desperate against your lips.

You freeze in place before he takes a few unsteady breaths, feeling how he jumps under your palm.
Glancing down your eyes widen at the small bead of precum glistening at the head of his cock.
It’s thick and throbbing and you want it.

You kneel, sliding your back against the wall, pulling his pants and underwear down with you. Grabbing ahold of him, you let your tongue slip over the tip, dragging it along his length.

Listening to his soft sighs, you smile to yourself. Relaxing your throat you take him slowly driving deeper and deeper with every movement.
With one hand you softly his balls while the other tightens around him.
You twist your palm along his shaft while you bob you head back and forth.
Gathering up enough spit that it rolls down your chin and drips onto your legs.

You look up to see his mouth hanging open slightly and his gaze locks on you.
Pulling him from your mouth with a pop you stick your tongue out, never breaking eye contact as you stroke him deeply.
The deep groan that comes from him sent chills rolling down your back, squeezing your thighs together tightly.

He rests a hand firmly on the back if your head before threading his fingers through your hair.

Leaning forward again, letting your lips envelope him, you flex your throat as you take him deeper. Your gag reflex flutters feeling the tip of him kiss the back of your throat, tears rolling down your cheeks freely from the sensation.

His grip turns to steel in your hair when you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft.
“Fuck—.” He sighs, letting his head fall back. “Your mouth feels—fuck…feels so good baby.”

Shane’s obvious enjoyment made you hum deeply against him. You delight in feeling his whole body tense up when you take him as far as you can.

Suddenly he moves back, pulling himself from your mouth. He swiftly grabs you under your arms, lifting you to your feet.
Crushing his lips to yours his hands go to your jaw, pulling your face to his. He shoves his tongue through your lips before licking wildly into your mouth.
Without breaking the kiss he kicks off his shoes along with his pants and underwear before pulling your shirt over your head.

He bends down slightly, snaking his hands along your hips before grabbing under your ass and lifting you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist, curling your arms around his neck.
Clutching onto the thick hair at the back of his head you pull back, kissing him deeply.

Shane’s hands grip your backside tightly as he walks away from the door.

When he stops you open your eyes, stretching your hand back as he leans down, you feel the soft fabric of your linen comforter against your fingers.

He lays you down gently before allowing you to scoot up on the bed. Crawling over you silently he captures your lips again.

You open your legs, your body buzzing with need.

He reaches down, dragging the himself through you and up.
The wet squelching sound ignites something in you—something you’d almost forgotten.
You sigh against his mouth at his teasing, pulling back you look up at him.

He hovers over you, even in the low light by your bed you see his dark eyes watching your face.

“Please...fuck me.” You whisper, unable to wait anymore. Wrapping your thighs around his waist you bite down on your bottom lip in anticipation.

He goes down to his forearms before slowly breaching your sensitive walls.

You both let out a breathy moan when he enters you.
The delicious burn that came with him filling you up makes your toes curl.

Shane’s eyes flutter closed as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning into your mouth.

Your hands move to his back, sliding down you grab the thick muscle of his backside, pushing him into you more.

He stills for a moment before pulling out completely. The sound that left his mouth as he slid in once again made you squirm under him.

His calloused hands grip your hips tightly.

You cry out when his hips snap against yours over and over again.

One of his hands travels up your chest, grazing over the soft skin of your breast to seize your throat.
His pace quickens—leaving you reeling.

He squeezes, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Shit.” Shane breathes.
His other hand goes to the underside of your thigh, lifting it up under his arm. Reaching somewhere inside you that sent you writhing desperately.
Him pushing down on your windpipe only allows strained gasps and pants to escape your lips.

The corners of your eyes begin to water unexpectedly as your whole body tenses.

He keeps pounding into you, even when he releases your throat. Bringing both his arms down on either side of your head, his deep grunts turn more breathless—more needy.
It’s obvious he’s just as desperate as you are.

The look in his eyes with the feeling of him inside you made everything buzz like a live wire.
“I’m—I’m…oh fuck.” You whimper.
Every nerve in your body is on fire, you struggle to catch your breath.

He reaches down between your thighs dragging his rough thumb against your clit.
It’s all too much as this finally pushes you over the edge, tumbling down so quickly you can’t catch your breath.

You close your eyes, arching your back against his touch as your orgasm crashes through you like a wrecking ball.
A deep almost burning sensation pulsates from within—forcing all your muscles to flex and push downwards.
You choke on a moan as euphoria floods your system making your body shudder.
When suddenly you feel empty, and a warm wet sensation on your thigh surprises you.
Your eyes shoot open to see Shane, who’s looking down between your bodies.

“Oh fuck.” His voice sounds wrecked.

You try say speak up but you can’t find the words. You feel boneless, like you’d melt into the mattress at any second.
All you can do is whimper as he pushes himself back into you. Returning to that unforgivable pace, he’s fucking you like his life depends on it.

You grip onto the sheets with what little strength you have left.

He leans down mumbling in your ear,“You’re mine—you hear me?”
His deep voice is a heavenly melody that sends ripples through you.
“Huh baby? Do you—do you hear me?”
He grabs your jaw, angling it up to him. His ebony eyes piercing yours—waiting for your answer.

“Ye—yes.” You moan—you second release building quickly.

“Say it.” He says through gritted teeth. His grip on your face tightens, holding your attention.

“I’m—I’m yours Shane…fuck I’m yours!” You choke as you cum again. Your most sensitive spot buzzes as your release burns a whole through you.

He kisses you hard capturing the loud moans that spill from your mouth as you clamp down on him again and again.
His hips stutter when he comes with a drawn out groan.
After a few seconds he shifts slightly as to not crush you before collapsing on the bed. Laying his head on the pillow he faces you while his chest rests comfortably against your shoulder.

Both of you pants hard trying to catch your breath.

Mentally you remind yourself to get up and pee but everything feels so heavy.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you see Shane’s face inches from yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.
His own heavy lidded eyes still filled with lust and something deeper, something tender that makes your heart skip a beat.

Goosebumps spread across your body as he drags his hand across your abdomen to your side. He gives you a soft squeeze as he sighs deeply.

You cant fight it any longer, the comforting darkness pulling you under like a warm blanket.
The rhythmic sound of your breathing and the beating of your hearts slowly fade as you drift blissfully into the void.

Chapter Text

You wake up to the soft pattering of rain as the early morning sun casts a cool faint light in your apartment.

Your vision eventually focuses and you realize that you’re laying on your side with Shane's arm draped across you like a protective shield.

His chest is pressed up tightly against your back, neither of you bothered getting under the covers last night.

Its then that you notice the dull ache of your muscles,
A chill runs through you, remembering what happened.
You cant help the small smile that creeps across your face as memories of the night flood back.
Snuggling closer to Shane you savor the warmth of his body—unintentionally rubbing yourself against his crotch.

He grumbles softly, squeezing you as an amused chuckle escapes his lips.
“Good mornin’.”

“Good mornin,” you whisper back, voice slightly muffled as you bury your face into the pillow.

“How’d you sleep?”

You take a deep breath and allow yourself a moment to relish in the calm before answering. “Really good—you?”

“Same,” he murmurs, nuzzling closer, the scent of sleep still lingering around him. The tranquility in the room is nearly palpable, the distant raindrops further lulling you both.

“I’m still tired.” You say.

Shane kisses the back of your shoulder.
“I’m not,” his voice drowsy yet hopeful.
The arm laid over you traces shapes on the skin just under your breasts, encouraging you to respond in kind.

Your shift slightly, allowing yourself to melt into his embrace.

His hand slowly travels down your tummy and inbetween your legs.

You release a shaky sigh, his touch thrilling in the quiet of the morning.

He slips one thick finger through your damp folds.
Circling your clit lazily as he stamps wet kisses on the side of your neck.

He finally pushes in before curling up, touching somewhere inside you can never reach on your own.

Your pants grow louder when he starts moving his arm back and forth, working you open.

He hums deeply in your ear.

You know you can cum like this, a lazy drawn out orgasm pulled out of you from his fingers.
It seems like he’s content with just getting you off but you need to feel him again.
So you reach your hand behind you, releasing a wanton sigh feeling the evidence of his arousal.

Shane inhales sharply as you grab him, roughly stroking his dick a few times before maneuvering it between your legs.

He angles his hips up slightly and glides effortlessly into you.
“Greedy.” He chuckles, his voice rich but still groggy.
Tender hands grip your side he rolls his hips slowly—moaning against your skin.

You gasp when he grinds up—digging deep and pushing your ass out further you allow him better access to the spot that sends shockwaves through you.
You grab his hand at your waist, squeezing it tightly as you lose yourself.

Shane presses his mouth to the back of your shoulder, running the edge of his teeth along your skin.
He releases a few unsteadily breaths of his own, his body tensing up as he follows behind you.

You both lay there still connected for a few moments just enjoying the euphoria still pumping throughout your bodies.

But the stickiness between your legs spreads, pushing you to finally get up.
“I’ve gotta take a shower.” You sigh.

“Me too...you want coffee?” Shane says, kissing your shoulder once more.

You hop off the bed and hurry to the bathroom, throwing a quick yes please over your shoulder.

❧
Walking from the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel you’re pleasantly surprised to see Shane standing at the counter still naked. His wide back facing you as he pours two cups of steaming hot coffee.

He glances over his shoulder, flashing you a smile before grabbing the tall glass milk container from the fridge.

You let your eyes wander over his olive skin. The muscles in his back rippled with every move he makes. And looking down to the perky fullness of his ass, you cant help but grin.
When he turns to greet you with the beauty of his naked figure, you’re marveled at how perfect he is—like a marble masterpiece carved by Michelangelo himself.
His smooth chest and cut abs, the deep v that starts at his hips and travels all the way down to…
The kitchen island abruptly cuts off your daydream as it obscures your view.

You clear your throat as you take the warm mug from his his hand and have a seat at one of the barstools.

His dark eyes watch you intensely with a cheeky grin.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Leaning closer, he allows you to inhale the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with his musky allure.

You set your mug down on the marble counter top as you lift your arms up, stretching your tight muscles. A dull ache pinged in between your legs and lower back, making you wince slightly.

Shane must notice your discomfort because he pushes his hand across the counter towards you.
“You alright?” He asks, looking at you intently.

“Yeah just kinda sore.”

He smiles behind his coffee cup.

You giggle lightly trying to look nonchalant as you think back to why you’re sore.

“I was surprised you were able to go this morning—hoped I coulda got you to squirt again but…”

What did he say?
You stop with your coffee lifted halfway to your mouth, dumbstruck.
“Did you just say squirt?” You asks with raised eyebrows.

He looks perplexed, searching your face.
“Uh yeah?” Now he’s grinning ear to ear.

“I mean I didn’t know exactly at the time…but now—I guess yeah I—I did.”
You remember the intense pressure that bloomed inside you, leaving you gasping for air. And the glorious ecstasy right after that brought with it a warm wetness against your skin.

Noticing Shane rubbing his stubbly jaw with his hands brought you back to the present.
There was a certain amount of amusement behind those deep eyes.

The room grew a few degrees hotter under the heat of his stare—you decide to change the subject even though you can’t help but wonder if the current topic of conversation has him hard.

Clearing your throat again you resume your coffee before asking him about his plans for the day.
He gave you one of those sly all knowing smiles he’s so good at, his gaze traveling down to the cleavage that peaks out of the top of your towel.

You break into a light sweat as you know you don’t have the willpower to stop yourself if he tries anything.

Instead however he decides to humor you by answering your question.

You both stay there for awhile enjoying the coffee and talking til warm light began filtering through the curtains.
The rain had stopped but the dewey morning air clung to the world outside. It was a rare moment of peace, a bubble suspended in time.
❧
After Shane took a shower and you both managed to get dressed and ready instead of jumping back into bed you walk over to the small entryway table next to the door. Opening one of the raw wood drawers you fish out the spare key to your apartment.
You thought about giving it to Leo—but now that it seems you and Shane are back doing—well whatever this is you figure he can use it.

Shane walks to the door and pauses, looking at you with those deep, thoughtful eyes that seem to speak more than words ever could.
You hold the key out to him with raised eyebrows.

His gaze went from your hand back to your eyes—a huge grin quickly spreads across his handsome face.

You lean forward, tucking the key into the front pocket of his jeans.

His hands come up to cup your face, pressing his lips to yours and gently pushing you til the cool wood of the door presses up against your back.
He brushes his tongue against your lips, inviting but not demanding.

You melt into the kiss, momentarily forgetting the world beyond that door.

His movements become more urgent, his fingers gripping you tighter.

If you didn’t stop this now, you knew where it would go.
You shifted slightly,“It’s almost seven Shane.”

When he pulls back he rests his forehead against yours.
Releasing a reluctant sigh his eyes met yours before grinning.
“I’ll see you later?” The need in his voice makes your cheeks hot.

“You’ve got a key now so—yeah probably.”
His grin deepens as you move out of the entryway.
And kissing you once more he opens the door, leaving the apartment.

Now by yourself you figure you’d strip the bed to kill time.
You were gonna wait a little bit longer to exit the building to start your laundry then head for the barracks— giving him enough time to get home and change.
Neither of you were sure if anyone was up walking around this early so leaving at separate times seemed safe. With both of you agreeing to keep your past relationship private you preferred to keep whatever y’all were doing now the same.

You throw your sheets into a small laundry basket, making your way next door to the medical trailer. Turning the key in the side door you open it and head straight to the washer and dryer.
Doctor Trudy the woman you’d met your first day here lives in the apartment on the other side of the trailer.
She had given you a key once you moved in to your place and said you could use the appliances all you wanted.

Once you press start on the dryer you leave the trailer, locking the door behind you. Crossing the street you head towards the barracks, trying to avoid the rain puddles that litter the ground.

Coming around the corner, the white brick building slowly comes into view.
You swallow the nervous feeling bubbling up in the pit of your stomach at the thought of seeing Shane.

How were you supposed to focus with him around—not when all you could think about was last night.
The way his eyes wandered over your body, the sound of his uneven breathing cutting through the quite of your apartment.

You take a deep breath as you walk up to the back gate—today was gonna be a long fucking day.

Chapter Text

It had been a weeks since Shane came back to Woodbury.
And every night since then ended the same as the first with you two being carefully reckless under the eyes of a hidden sky, wrapped in each other until dawn crept in.

Your daily routine however hadn’t changed, starting your day with morning coffee in the kitchen with Shane—you’d share a cup before going to training. Once there it was hard to focus at first knowing he was around somewhere but after a few rounds of getting your ass kicked by Leo during sparring forced you to focus.

Its Friday which meant there would be a party going on at the barracks to celebrate before a group was sent out on a run the following Monday.
Merle hadn’t explicitly said you were going out this time—but you assumed so. You wanted to be prepared so you put in work at the gym and training.

You're not planning on going to the party tonight, actually you’re gonna head home and get your new med bag together.
Trudy had come over the day before to discuss what to expect from the runs with the guys.
She invited you to take whatever you needed from the medial trailer and also gave you a small list of items to look out for on the road.
Then out of no where she surprised you with the bag.

You were touched by the gift. It was sturdy, well made, and seemed brand new.
She said one of the soldiers snagged it from an abandoned medical supply store a while ago—having no need for it she kept it.
But now it seemed like the perfect time for someone to get some use out of it.
You thanked her with a smile and agreed to come see her soon.
❧

Now walking into your apartment you strip off your sweaty training clothes and jump in the shower.
Letting the hot water run down your back you can’t help but hope that Shane will show up here later tonight.

Once you’re changed into your comfy clothes you walk to the kitchen and start setting up the bag, sipping on a glass of Cabernet.
Finally finishing the task you slip under the covers, grabbing the book off your nightstand you flip through the pages til you find the ear marked page.
You read for a while, finishing off your glass when knocking at your door cuts through the quiet.

Taking your time walking up to the entry way you hear Leo’s impatient voice behind the door, “Hello?!—put the wine down abuelita and open up!” He calls.

Opening the door to your friend you see his grin deepen. He’s dressed in casual clothes with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

“Are we having a sleepover I don’t know about? If so I hope you brought more wine.” You ask with raised eyebrows.

He releases an exaggerated laugh as he enters the apartment. Throwing down his bag he turns around to face you.

“What?” You ask looking at him with confusion.

“We’re going out.”

You shake your head, “Leo I wanted tonight to be chill, we go out every Friday.”

“Ok true but this isn’t like the usual backyard barbecue.”

This peaks your interest slightly, “What kind is it then?”

“The fun kind ok? Now you needa get ready…what are you gonna wear?” Anticipation obvious in his voice.

“Um—I dont know?…A tshirt and shorts probably.” You say looking towards your dresser.

“Yeah no—this place is nice. You're gonna to need something a bit fancier than that babe.”

“Fancier?” You echo, hesitating.
“Leo seriously what kinda get together is this?”

Instead of answering he just flashes you a mischievous smile and starts searching through your drawers before walking over to the large closet where he began rifling through your clothes.

“Get ready please.” He calls.

You walk into the bathroom still puzzling over Leo's insistence.
Images of what a “fancier party” looks like filled your mind as you start freshening up.

❧
Running your fingers through your freshly blown out hair you take one last look at yourself in the mirror.
The rosy shade of blush you applied to your cheeks stood out against your warm skin—you and Leo laying out in the sun most of last weekend had definitely payed off.
The cool mocha eyeshadow you wore complimented your eyes, making them appear lighter while your lips look nice soft and plump with a subtle sheen from your lipgloss.

A strange feeling comes over you watching your reflection—getting all dressed up to go out.
It makes you feel like the old you, the person you were before everything changed.

But then something quietly crept in, a whisper reminding you of the reality outside the mirror—a post-fall world where nothing was ever the same.
It had plagued you in recent weeks. Gnawing at your conscience, telling you that even in survival, you were somehow betraying something fundamental about who you had become.
Living here—living this life of makeup, parties, coffee every morning in your own apartment felt wrong…it felt like a lie.

“Tal are you done?” Leo's voice echos through the apartment, pulling you back to the present.

“Yeah!” You shout back giving one more glance at the reflection, hoping it would boost the confidence you needed.

Walking out you’re pleasantly shocked to see Leo had changed his clothes.
He wore dark blue jeans that hug his waist and a crisp white shirt that brought out the depth of his warm eyes. His dark black shoes complete the ensemble, their polished leather reflecting the dim light of the room.
His curly hair is effortlessly tamed, giving him a polished yet casual look—he looks really good.

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.

“Don’t act so surprised hermana—but I do look good though huh? ” Leo replies with a playful grin, spinning around once for effect.

“Yes you do,” you admit with a chuckle. “Feelin all fancy now, huh?”

“Definitely…but look at you! You already look beautiful—not that you ever don’t,” Leo adds with sincerity, admiration flickering in his eyes.

You chuckle, feeling your cheeks warm under his compliment. “Thanks, Leo.”

He flashes you a smile before walking over to your bed where a deep red dress has been laid out.
You look at the garment—not recognizing it at something you own.

“Where did you get this?” you ask, puzzled by the beautiful piece that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“At the market. I saw it and thought it would look gorgeous on you, so you know I had to get it for my girl,” Leo explains, his tone casual but his gesture thoughtful.

You smile as you drag your fingers across the soft material. Tier upon tier of ruby fabric are stacked upon each other, creating an elegant cascade that promised to move fluidly with every step.

“Go put it on.” he urges, nodding toward the door.

❧

Once you slip the dress on you call Leo into the bathroom to zip you up.
The zipper ascends with a soft whir.

"¡Que hermosa!," he smiles, stepping back to admire the full effect.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and felt your breath catch.
The dress stops just above your knees—the deep crimson material hugs your frame perfectly, accentuating every curve.
Its straps rest gently on your collarbones before curling around your neck, adding a touch of delicate elegance. Your full breasts are supported, and the flattering halter top cut kept everything in place while revealing a tasteful amount of cleavage.

Before you can ask Leo produces heels in front of you.
They’re extremely high, but the heel is thick. Black almost velvet like fabric cover them, complementing the color of the dress perfectly.

You chuckle walking to the dining room table before taking a seat in one of the chairs. Slipping them on and carefully strapping them around your ankles with nimble fingers.
Standing again, you teeter slightly before finding your balance and chuckling at your reflection in the long mirror that leans up against the far wall of your apartment.

The transformation felt complete now, a strange boldness emanating from the ensemble.

“You ready for this 'fancy' Friday night? ” Leo teases, flopping down on your bed with ease.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you reply, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror.

❧

After much unsteady walking with Leo’s help you notice the faint sound of base thumping from a distance—possibly promising an adventure you weren't sure you were prepared for but eagerly anticipated.

“Where is this place?” You ask Leo, looking around at the unfamiliar streets. The street lights flicker above, casting a soft glow on the damp pavement.
Large buildings you soon recognize as warehouses used for storing the communities supplies and weapons lean against the cloudy night sky, their windows dark and imposing.

“I think it’s just around the corner.” Leo says confidently, guiding you on along the sidewalk.

Bright flashing lights shone from the windows of a large building nestled between the looming warehouses, pulsating in rhythm with the music.

There are a pair of men you recognize guarding the entrance, their expressions stern yet familiar.
They’re opening the door to a group of guys who were laughing and jostling each other, their excitement palpable.

You glance inside—a world of swirling lights and vibrant energy unfolds before your eyes.

“Cain?” One of the bouncers at the door spoke up.
You smile in acknowledgment, hoping your nervousness wasn't too apparent.

His eyes widen as he looks you up and down.
Swallowing your apprehension, you stood up straighter.
Trying to exude a specific air of confidence you know you posses.

They seem speechless as their jaws drop. The bouncer who recognized you finally regains his composure, shaking his head as if clearing his mind.

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions.

Leo smiles deeply looking at their bewilderment, his confidence buoying yours.
He steps forward slightly, before one of the men clumsily pushes the door open.
Grabbing your hand, Leo led you inside the dark club, the music washing over you like a tidal wave.

As the door shut behind you both, you look around—trying to take everything in.
Your eyes dance over the thrumming crowd, the kaleidoscope of colors, the intoxicating blend of smells.

There are round tables and couches scattered all around the room. A large dark wooden bar dominates one side, stocked with bottles of every shape and color, the bartenders behind the counter are busy pouring an array of colorful drinks.

You and Leo maneuver through the room, weaving between dancing bodies and lively clusters of people.

“Welcome to Eden—what can I get you babe?” A woman asks with a friendly nod, her eyes flicking between the both of you.

You recognize her immediately. Her name is Anna, she works in one of the shops in town.

“Four shots of silver tequila—chilled and dressed please.” Leo calls out, flashing a cheeky grin at her, who nods and begins an elegant dance of preparation.

“Tequila? Holy shit Leo we’re not even warming up to that?” you chuckle, widening your eyes at the huge shots she’s pouring.

“Hell no!” He shouts over the music, leaning closer. "This is just the beginning!”

Anna pushes the shots towards y’all while giving another smile, “Enjoy!” She says before swiftly turning her attention to other customers.

“Wait we didn’t pay.” You say as Leo shook his head, grinning at the shots.

“We don’t pay here.” He winks, picking up one of the glasses effortlessly.

“Ever?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by the air of mystery and privilege he seems to possess.

“This place is like the barracks. Only for us—except for the workers.” He gave an enigmatic smile and tilts the glass toward you.

You take the cold glass from his hands. The liquid shimmers under the dim club lights, promising both exhilaration and chaos. The strong smell of lime and something like liquid fire fills your nostrils as you salute him with a raise of your glass.

“To us.” He says, eyes locked onto yours. You clink glasses, the sharp sound punctuated by the thumping bass surrounding you.

Licking the salt from the glass rim you down the shot, feeling the warmth spread through your veins.
Instantly your gag reflex kicks in, but you manage to hold it together, savoring the burning sensation as it fades from the sharp bite of the lime you bit into.

Before you know it Leo shoves the second shot into your hand.
“Let’s go!" he laughs with a daring look.

Clinking your glasses again you repeat the process for the second time.
This round, the tequila seems smoother, the burn more welcoming.
Throwing your spent lime into the empty glass you feel the effects of the liquor hit you.

You look around the room again, noticing the colors becoming more vivid, the music seeming louder and more immersive.

Leo orders a round of drinks to sip on for you both—a vodka soda for him and a dirty martini for you.

Something caught your eye—at the very back corner of the room there’s a stage.
A tall silver pole stood gleaming under the spotlight.

Is that a stripper pole?

Suddenly someone walks up the stage. It’s a woman who’s practically naked beside a tiny strappy outfit that glimmers in the flashing lights.
It barely covers her rather large breasts and left little to the imagination. She wore sky-high heels that click against the stage floor as she moves.

She’s beautiful—her bright milky skin contrasts sharply with the dark backdrop of the club, her every move fluid and seductive as she drags her hands along her body.
With full pouty lips and eyes surrounded with dark smokey makeup, she welcomes every gaze, her presence magnetic.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you felt an overwhelming urge to watch her performance unfold, she commanded attention without uttering a word.
Bone straight icy blonde hair cascades down her back, accentuating the grace with which she swayed.

The room, previously filled with the symphony of chatter and clinking glassware, fell silent.

Her movements are sultry and confident, captivating everyone in the room.
She grasps the pole with expert ease—walking around it slowly.
The crowd seems to hold its collective breath, drawn to her like moths to a flame.
Loud whooping and clapping broke the silence, echoing off the walls as she began her routine.

After watching her for a few minutes, you feel a strange pull, a connection maybe, that causes you to look away.
You scan the room—recognizing faces of men from the barracks.

One stops you—you’d know that profile anywhere—Shane.

He’s leaned up against the wall looking down at his glass. His features are shadowed, obscured by flickering light and tobacco smoke haze.
Despite the lively scene, he seems lost in his own world, detached from the spectacle unfolding on stage.

He looks good in a disheveled kind of way—a loose button-down, sleeves carelessly rolled to his elbows, and light washed jeans.

Before you can stop yourself you grab your drink along with Leo’s hand, tugging him gently in Shane’s direction.
“Come on.”

Chapter Text

Walking up to Shane you can feel the tequila’s effects swirling around in your head, dulling inhibition and emboldening your steps.

Just as you reach him, he lifts his gaze, a deep smile crossing his lips when he recognized you.
You see his eyes light up with a familiar warmth, the kind that makes the room shrink away like it's just the two of you standing there.

A sense of satisfaction washes over you when his gaze travels down your body. Momentarily stopping to rest at your cleavage before meeting your eyes again, a playful glint dancing in them.

Releasing Leo’s hand you take a step closer, “Hey,” you manage, voice coming out steadier than you'd expected.

“Hey.” Shane replies, his tone soft. “You look gorgeous.” He leans forward placing a soft kiss on your cheek, his lips lingering there for a brief, electric moment. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, mixing with a clean, minty aroma —familiar and intoxicating.

A faint flush warms your cheeks at his words, and you flash a small grin.
“Thanks. You look great too.”

He really does wear that confidence well, radiating a nonchalant charm beneath the dim bar lights.
The light shirt he wore fit his large frame perfectly, accentuating every detail.

“Hey Cain!” A familiar deep voice calls out from across the small round table next to you, interrupting the bubble enclosing you and Shane.
Turning you recognize Monroe—the solder who was with Shane when you found eachother. A few other guys either stood around the table or sat in the chairs. They all greet you with small waves or friendly nods, their glossy eyes tell you they’d all been here for awhile.

“Monroe—hey how are you?” You greet, your tone warm and genuine, trying hard not to sound like you’re tipsy.
He looks you over with a sly smile, eyes gleaming with the same mischief you'd grown accustomed to.
“You look damn good!”

“Thanks.” You reply, attempting to balance between appreciation and modesty.

He raises his drink before downing it in one go.
“Shots? Anybody want shots? Cain, Walsh, Perez?” Monroe asks looking around the table with an overenthusiastic grin.
Shane chuckles, patting Monroe on the back.

“Hell yes!” Leo pipes up from next to you, already leaning in eagerly as his eyes glint with excitement.

“Come on then.” Monroe motiones towards the bar.

As Leo left and the others turn their attention back to the stage where the woman is still dancing, you walk closer to Shane. He pulls out an empty chair from a neighboring table, bringing it to the one in front of you.
Trying your hardest to gracefully climb into the seat without falling from the spinning sensation that suddenly crept into your head, you smile at him, grateful for the support when he offers his hand to you.

Once you’re seated you face him. His eyes meet yours with a wry smile, reflecting the flickering lights of the crowded room.

“You alright?’ He asks.

“Uh huh.” You hum before taking a few large gulps of your martini.

“Havin fun?” Shane inquires softly, genuine curiosity in his voice as he observes your expression.

“Um yeah I mean…this is kinda wild.” You swallow the last bit of your drink.
Motioning to the club around you, adding, “There’s literally a stripper.”

He huffs before looking down at his drink—“Yeah.”
His gaze turns for a moment before he continued, “Kinda surreal, isn’t it?”

”Definitely.” You chuckle.
Looking back to the stage, you feel his eyes linger on you, a ridged silence hung in the air.
Your breath catches in your chest when his fingers brush against your knee—a fleeting touch that sent shivers down your spine.

The music's beat pulses through the room as if syncing with the quickening rhythm in your chest.

You meet his eyes and warmth rises to your cheeks, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty swirling within.

He turns to face you head on, his back towards the stage.
His looming figure casts a shadow over you as the lights shift and sway, reflecting off the mirrored walls.
Moving his fingers up higher on your thigh, you shift in your seat—crossing your legs so his touch is hidden.

The noise of the club, the revelry around fades into a distant hum as his intentions became increasingly clear.
“You’re so beautiful," he whispers, his voice low enough to rival the bass thrumming through the floor.

The tequila seems to amplify every sensation, every touch, every whispered word.

You reach for his wrist, feeling the steady beat of his pulse beneath your grasp.

His eyes are locked onto yours, searching for some unspoken permission or assurance.

“SHOTS EVERYONE!” Leo bellows, interrupting the moment with a boisterous cheer that broke the tension.

Your hands fall to your lap as Shane’s disappeared.
Momentarily, your eyes go from his face to the clinking glasses being passed around.
Taking a glass from Leo, you raise it along with everyone else, immediately recognizing the liquor as being another shot of ice cold tequila a deep chill ripples down your spine.
You’re going to be so hungover tomorrow, but at this moment, it seems a distant consequence.

Toasting to the upcoming run—everyone downs the shots in one swift motion, the burn of the alcohol chases away your lingering hesitation.
And just like before, it goes down smooth and hot, leaving a citrus burn in its wake.

“Here hermana!” Leo exclaims, sliding another dirty martini gently across the table towards you, his grin wide and infectious. His eyes are droopy and filled with mischief.
You can’t help but smile back as you reach for the glass.
“Thank you babe!” You answer back, giving him a wink.
Lifting the glass to your nose you can smell the strong aroma of vodka with a hint of olive.
With Shane still watching closely, you savor the moment before taking a sip.

His eyes narrow slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as he raises his own glass in silent acknowledgment.

“What the fuck Walsh?—take this!” Monroe yells pushing a forgotten shot on the table closer to Shane.

You hadn’t even released the glass before Shane let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning reluctance.

“I don’t drink tequila Monroe—you know that.”

“Just fuckin take it man,” Monroe insists, rolling his eyes. "It's not every day we get to celebrate like this—Captain Walsh.” Raising his eyebrows at that last part, you look to Shane, finally realizing that he must have been promoted.

"Captain Walsh, huh? " you tease, lifting your glass in a mock-toast.

Shane grins, giving in to Monroe’s insistence.

You watch as he drags his tongue along the salted rim of the glass before tilting his head back and taking the tequila in one swift motion.
Biting into the fresh lime slice, he winces slightly before discarding it in the used glass.

Monroe laughs and slaps Shane on the back, clearly pleased with himself.

“Hell yeah! Here you go!” Leo says pushing a fresh neat whiskey across the table.

Shane hesitates, his hand hovering over the glass before finally accepting it with a resigned smile.
“Ya’ll tryin to get me drunk tonight? ” he jests.

“Yes! Yes we are!” Monroe declares triumphantly, raising his own glass in a toast.
“We’ve gotta get you relaxed enough for a lap dance Cap!”

The table eruptes in laughter, everyone raising their glasses in agreement.

A sick feeling settles in your stomach, but you quickly shook it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie surrounding you.

Shane chuckles dryly before flashing you a look.

You see him clench his jaw and take a deep breath. He looks uncomfortable as he downs the whiskey with a grimace. He slammed the glass back onto the table and ran a hand through his hair.

He turned his attention to Monroe who’s eagerly suggesting another round, a playful spark dancing in his eyes.

Shane’s hand returns to your thigh under the table, a small reassuring squeeze that seems to ground him. Lightly ghosting over your skin with his fingers—you tried to focus on the warmth of his touch, letting it counter the unease gnawing at your conscience.

Drinking down your martini his fingers seemed to dance further and further up the side of your thigh.
You look around the table, the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses blending into a comforting background noise.
Leo’s right next to you, regaling the group with stories from his college days, his voice animated and full of mirth.
You see his hazy gaze fall to your lap—he must have noticed Shane’s hand because his eyes went wide and he gave you a deep smirk with a raised eyebrow.

A teasing glint in his eye, you quickly slid Shanes hand away from you as you lean in towards Leo—trying to think of an excuse before he teased you mercilessly in front of everyone.

Suddenly a loud burley voice caught your attention.
Everyone’s head turns to watch Brooks walk up to the table with a large beer in one hand and his arm around a woman who wore a very small sequined dress, her heels catching the colored light from above as she laughs at something Brooks whispers to her.
A wide smile plastered on his face as he bellowed, "You all weren't gonna start the next round without me, were ya?”

His eyes are bloodshot but erratic—filled with an air of arrogance that only Brooks could muster.

The girl under his arm broke away from him when he reaches out to shake hands with everyone at the table, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity.
Brooks starts talking animatedly about his latest grandiose adventures, captivating half the table with tales of the wild exploits to expect outside of the walls—eventually his voice is drowned out by the distant sound of raucous laughter from neighboring tables as even more patrons pour into the bustling club.
Once he finishes his pleasantries with Leo his eyes went to you.
"Holy fuck Cain!" he shouts loudly, flashing a grin that makes you chuckle despite yourself.
“You look—damn.” He reaches his hand cross the table to you, his eyes traveling down your face to your cleavage before you take his hand in a light shake.
Releasing his grasp you notice the hand Shane has on the table grip his empty whiskey glass, his knuckles running white.

Brooks eyes linger on you, sending a slight chill up your back.

Out the corner of your eye, Shane sits back in his chair, draping his arm on the back of your chair.
You turn to look at him, his lips are set in a stern line, betrayed only by the tension in his jaw while his eyes are locked onto Brooks.
Trying not to bring any attention to his behavior you focus back on the conversation at hand.
Brooks continues his animated stories, occasionally glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The woman who came up to the table with him startes up a conversation with one of the men to her right, her laughter light and airy, filling the gaps between stories.
The way she looks him up and down made it clear she had her own agenda…of course you couldn’t fault the girl for trying to milk these guys for whatever they could give.
In fact, you respect it—the way they all watch her like she’s an enchanting predator, assessing her prey with keen eyes.
You chuckle—all these men are easy targets. They all hang on every word she says, every smile, every swish of her hips—like some sort or siren.

You’re just as hypnotized—her skin a deep bronze, and her eyes sparkle like molten gold in the dim light. This place has the perfect atmosphere to cast shadows that dance over her pretty face, highlighting her every feature like a masterpiece in a Renaissance gallery.
You try to focus on Leo’s words, but your attention drifts back to her effortlessly. She saunters over to Monroe, her confidence unshaken. Of course he’s dumbstruck by her—she stands there twirling a strand of her curly dark hair in her fingers as she looks up at him innocently through dark lashes.

Her eyes go from him to Shane, she flashes him the same small mischievous grin she had given everyone at the table.
Shane, never one to miss anything stands up straighter, leaning into you his deep voice practically vibrates your eardrum. “Let’s get a drink.”

Nodding your head in agreement you grab your empty martini glass from the table, turning to ask Leo what he wants from the bar you see his back facing you, engrossed in an animated conversation with a handsome stranger.

Getting up from the table the woman’s eyes meet yours as she sits in Monroe’s lap as his hands travel down her thighs, tracing invisible patterns.
She’s a living, breathing magnet, pulling everyone's attention effortlessly.

Your breath hitches as she flashes you an enigmatic smile before winking playfully.

Shane grabs ahold of your hand, breaking the spell.
He pulls you through the crowd to the bar—once there he lifts you up into the bar chair.
“Another martini?” He asks, flagging down a bartender.

The tequila shots you’ve been shooting are pumping through your veins—almost calling your name like some distant echo urging you to drink more.

Anna the bartender appears in front of you with a knowing smirk. “More shots?”

Shane is about to protest but you cut him off. “Another round please, for the table.” You say—flashing a smile at Shane.

He releases a deep breath but relents, his face painted with a mixture of amusement and resignation.

You turn your attention to the middle of the club. This is crazy—it’s a scene from the type of nights you didn’t think you’d ever see again.
If it weren’t for the horrific reality outside the walls of Woodbury, you’d think you were back clubbing in downtown Dallas.

The music pulsates through the room, a relentless beat syncing with the rapid thump of your heart.
A familiar hand grabs your wrist—looking up you meet Shane’s gaze.

His dark eyes are intense, filled with something that has your pulse quickening. In that moment, the thrumming bass fades into the background, leaving only the electricity of his touch.
Gently pulling you up from the bar stool, he maneuvers you to stand between him and the bar, his back now facing the dance floor.
He places both his hands on either side of you—leaving you cocooned in the small space.
He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your face, the mingled warmth of your liquor filled bodies creating a heady, intoxicating aura around you.
Shane's voice, low and clear, cuts through the din. “Let’s get outta here.”

As much as his intensity pulls you in like an irresistible undertow—you know that isn’t a good idea. To everyone else you two are only supposed to be good friends…nothing more.
And after Leo already saw Shanes hand practically up your dress at the table, you couldn't risk stirring the pot further.
“You know we can’t do that right now.” You say, hoping your tone doesn’t betray you.

His eyebrow raises, “Right now?” His smirk is as dangerous as it is persuasive, making your stomach flip.
“So you’re expectin this to happen later tonight?”

All you can do was blush, realizing the implication of your choice of words.

“Here you go babe!” A voice from behind you calls out.

Turning around you see Anna placing down a handful of shots.
You start reaching over to pull them closer to you, pushing your ass into Shane's front in the process.
His sharp intake of breath makes you smirk—you over exaggerate your movements and roll yourself against him.

You love to tease, relishing in every subtle reaction it elicits.
But Shane isn’t one to back down—his hands grip your sides tightly, sending shock waves through you.

Anna sets one more drink down—a perfectly chilled dirty martini with a couple olives dancing around in the frosted glass.

“Hey babe I didn’t order that—these are gonna do it for me.” You swear you’re getting more drunk just looking at the shots sitting on the bar.

Anna shrugs, a knowing glint in her eye. "It’s from the Governor.”

You stop mid-reach, your hand hovering above the cool glasses.
Shane stiffens behind you.
“The Governor?” You ask.

She nods her head towards the back wall of the club.
It looks like a separate room—there’s a doorway made of black silky curtains partially drawn open.
You can’t see inside but a few dancers drift in and out, their laughter echoing across the dance floor.
A couple guys stand around the entrance sipping on drinks and looking out over the club.
Then you see him—the Governor standing at the very far end of the bar, he’s barely visible through the crowd at the bar trying to order drinks.
He flashes you a big smile, the kind that makes your skin prickle.

“He said he wants ya’ll to join him in VIP.” She says with a smirk playing on her lips.

Nervousness threads through your veins, but curiosity pulled stronger.
You look back to him just as he raises his hand in the air—motioning for you to come over.

Chapter Text

You can’t shake the uneasy feeling that’s now wraps around your chest like a vice. Something about this invite, this timing, felt…strange.
And you couldn’t place why—you didn’t dislike The Governor but you also never felt fully comfortable around him.
It’s true he’d always been polite, generous with his words—and sometimes with more than just words.
Your apartment and seemingly unlimited ration tickets were silent witnesses to the way he freely lavished gifts on those who caught his favor. You’d never insinuated nor asked him for anything but he seemed more than happy to give it regardless of your reactions to his offers.

He would visit the barracks during the day—going around greeting and shaking hands with everyone he passed. Always seeming to find you in the crowd, his gaze sometimes lingering just a beat longer than necessary.
He acted eager to talk and ask questions about your previous life or even your opinions about past events or current challenges everyone faced since The Fall.
Those conversations were mostly one-sided, his intents concealed behind a practiced ease.
It was flattering in a way at first, but the attention became a lot—you found yourself internally shying away from his persistent interest, feeling more a subject than a person.
Maybe it was because you were the only woman in Security and maybe that interested him—in the past you were never one to shrink from attention, but this was different.
Since the farm, you had noticed a change in yourself, you were more reserved, aware.
You tried to ignore the stares, the whispers of the men in the barracks, and you did for the most part.
But the way The Governors presence seemed to cast a long shadow wherever you went—it unnerved you in an almost primal way, igniting a flicker of unease deep within.

Whenever that panicky feeling crept upon you, threatening to tighten its grip, you'd retreat internally.
Taking your frustrations out on a sparring partner or sometimes on yourself in the gym.

Now walking to the VIP room with Shane leading the way, you swallow the lump that’s now lodged in your throat.

You glance over your shoulder to the round table where you were just sitting, Anna is dropping off the shots.
More women surround it—giggling and chatting animatedly with all the enamored men.
Even Leo is busy leaning in, flashing that disarming grin, fully invested in their conversation, seemingly oblivious to your departure.

Walking along the length of the crowded bar, still trailing behind Shane, you catch his hand reaching back for you.
You hesitate briefly but take it, feeling the warmth of his grip anchoring you, significantly solid in a room that now has your head spinning.
Shane’s thumb brushes across your knuckles softly, offering a sense of reassurance while directing you smoothly toward the waiting man.

Once you both turn the corner you drop his hand.
You step around Shane and look up to meet eyes with The Governor.

His smile is radiant but holds a certain ferocity; a sun shining with hidden storms.
“Miss Cain!” He greets you with an enthusiasm that belied the tension in the room.
Grabbing your hand he brings it to his lips, “You look absolutely beautiful." His gaze sweeps over you, lingering.
He releases his grip on you and looks up to Shane whose presence you had momentarily forgotten amidst the Governor's. He raises his hand, posture tense, yet collected.
“Captain Walsh.” He says, taking hold of Shane tightly before giving his a firm handshake. His voice booms over the music with excitement.

Shane smiles back but his eyes portray a wariness that matches the practiced grin on his face. It seems like you two are more similar in ways you can’t deny, both burdened by caution lurking beneath the facade.

The Governor turns his attention back to you, “Shall we?” He asks, holding out his hand to you.

You smile politely as you take it.

His grip is firm, yet controlled, a dance of power and propriety.
He helps you walk up the small set of marble steps leading to the entrance of the VIP room.

Walking through the silk draped doorway you find yourselves in a dimly lit room, a stark contrast from the vibrant chaos beyond.
The volume of the music is low enough where you won’t need to shout but the base still vibrates deep and low in the dark room.
The walls are a smooth cream color that reflects the red lights that line the ceiling and bar next to the door—art depicting sensually posed women adorn the walls. While the floors mirror the even color and texture of the walls.
A large black velvet sectional lines the wall to the right of the entrance and a dark marble-top table sits in front of it, covered with half-empty bottles and scattered glasses.

There are a small handful of men sitting at the bar or standing around the room. You recognize some as being higher ranking members of Security, The Governor's inner circle.

Three silver poles line the back wall, on top a small stage.
More beautiful women dance seductively under the crimson glow, their silhouettes moving fluidly with the rhythm of the music drifting from the club.

“Please have a seat.” The Governor said, gesturing to the plush sofa. His voice is smooth, yet oddly commanding.
He holds his hand out again to help you around the table, you sit down—crossing your legs as your body sinks into the couch.
Your eyes meet Shane’s who stands by watching you with an intensity that makes your cheeks hot.

The Governor sits next to you—close but not intrusive.
He motions for Shane to sit and once he does you release the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Drink?” The man asks.

Your head is still buzzing, the bass from the music pounds in your ears. You had chugged the one Anna gave you at the bar—and you didn’t really want another but his tone didn’t exactly sound like he was really asking.

“Yes—thank you.” You say.

The Governor snaps his fingers loudly and out of the corner of your eye you notice a woman walk from behind the small bar. She walks towards the couch, you try not to stare—she’s nude expect for a fish net jumpsuit that covers her voluptuous curves, shiny sky high heels click against the smooth floor as she moves.
She looks ahead, while an iridescent shimmer covers her eye lids—standing out breathtakingly against her warm mahogany skin.

“A chilled dirty martini for Miss Cain—Cap?” He asks, turning to Shane, a wide smirk slowly plays on his lips.
“What’ll it be?”

❧
After nursing your latest martini you can’t help the nervous jitter that seems to take over your body.
Merle had joined you on the couch—his eyes are droopy and his speech slurred. A girl is sprawled out on his lap, her expression one of seduction when his attention is on her but changes to indifference when she thinks no one is looking.

The Governor had somehow managed to scooted closer to you—his arm draped over the back of the couch.

You can feel Shane’s stare so you scoot over slightly, further away from the man next to you.

Conversation with The Governor had started monotonous but the more liquor he consumed the more casual it turned—he asked if you were having a good time…if you liked the club.
You said you were enjoying yourself—however leaving out the fact that this all seemed unnecessarily extravagant, ridiculous, and a little strange.

Then his eyes shift in a way that makes that prickly feeling come over you—his gaze moves to the women dancing on the stage across the room.

“I’m glad Miss Cain truly…whatever I can do to help make your transition here easier. Woodbury is a wonderful place…truly a livin breathin garden in this broken dead world…an Eden.” He says, emphasizing that last word as he turns to face you.
“Whatever you want…you can have. A beautiful place to live…good food, nice weapons, new clothes,” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “…companionship.”
His words are vague yet pointed, and you feel your heart begin to race. You understand the implication—a suggestion loaded with unspoken promises and expectations and it makes you feel sick.

You glance around to see if anyone else caught the exchange—avoiding Shane, but your colleagues seem oblivious, lost in their own conversations and laughter.
You have to keep it together; you can’t let him see how his words affect you.

“All you have to do is prove your worth and swear to always protect our home…our garden.” He flashes a smile before looking up and out over the room.

You follow his gaze and notice a woman at the bar fervently kissing a man who sits on a bar stool. His hands run all along her body, grubbily grabbing at her clothing.
You look back to The Governor, whose gaze is on you again, seemingly gauging your reaction.

Then just as quickly his attention switches over to Shane who hasn’t said much other than to answer any direct questions, “By the way, congratulations on your promotion Captain—you earned it.” He says slapping a hand down on Shane’s leg.

“YES SIR HE DID!” Merle interjects loudly, grabbing onto the girl grinding on his lap.

The Govenor raises his glass, “A TOAST TO OUR NEWEST CAPTAIN—SHANE WALSH!” He yells.
Everyone in the room turns to face him, toasting loudly in unison before downing their drinks.
He looks back to Shane, “Whatever you want tonight it’s yours. Just say the word.”

With that you pick up your glass, gulping down the rest of your martini to keep yourself from drowning under the unrelenting pressure radiating from the powerful man next to you.

More loud snapping grabs your attention, a stunning red head walks towards the table, a lacy pink body suit stands out brightly against her porcelain skin.

She looks oddly familiar but you can’t quite place from where.
In her hands you notice a black tray—she saunters around the table, bending over slowly in front of Shane.

He glances at her for a moment before looking down at whatever she holds.
You watch him release a deep breath and take a long swig of his drink—his eyes return back to you with a look you can’t quite place.

From your peripherals The Govenor leans forward towards her, expecting another round of drinks you glance up.

You blink in disbelief, heart racing when you see a square mirror—multiple thin lines of white powder are lined up next to each other with a rolled up bill resting on the tray.

What the fuck?

You glance back towards Shane hoping for some clarity but his eyes are trained downward to the glass in his hand.
The sound of loud sniffing make a nervous feeling bubble up furiously in your stomach.
The Govenor sits back in the couch, pinching the end of his nose tightly before looking at you again, “Miss Cain?“ he says with a finger pointing towards the woman—his hand coming to rest on your knee.

You felt a rush of shock and disbelief wash over you, your mind racing.
“No, thank you,” you say with a grin, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside. You didn’t want him to see the uncertainty that was toiling underneath the surface of your calm exterior. “I’m good with just the drinks—trust me.”

You force yourself to keep on the casual expression, even though your mind was reeling—his gaze locked with yours once again then travels down to rest on your mouth.

“Walsh?” He asks without turning.

“No sir—I actually have to get some sleep tonight.” Shane’s deep voice sounds light—opposite of his expression just before.

“Bunch of pussies!” Merle shout, cackling loudly and motioning for the woman to come around with the tray.
“More for me!” He snorts noisily.

You sit calmly watching as he rubs his gums hastily with a finger before you look away, noticing The Governor is still watching, you smile.

He chuckles—his blown out eyes creasing at the edges.
“Ya know Miss Cain…I bet your friends might be wonderin where you and Captain Walsh are.”

The tension in your shoulders seems to melt from the relief of finally getting out of this room but peering into his eyes again you see them change slightly…like he’s holding something back.

Anxiety buzzes up and down your body, your legs tingle from wanting so badly to just take off. But instead you play it cool and wait for him to stand, his hand reaching out to offer help.

“You’re probably right.” You laugh, releasing his hand once you’re at the doorway.
Shane’s already up and waiting—you feel him watching the interaction closely.

“I enjoyed our talk…if you ever need anythin don’t hesitate to ask.” The Govenor says, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“Yes sir…thank you.” you reply, forcing a smile.
You could feel the unease creeping in as he leans in a little too close, invading your personal space.

“Have a great rest of your night.” His voice is low, and before you can react, he presses a kiss to your cheek.

You freeze, the unexpected gesture sends a rush of mixed emotions through you—disgust, anger, and a deep-seated concern for how to navigate the situation—your instincts scream for you to pull away.

You take a deep breath, forcing another smile as you straighten up, your posture strong and confident.

“Congratulations again Walsh.” The Governor added.

“Thank you sir.” Shane answers back, shaking the mans hand once more before you both turn to leave.

Walking back into the main club you breathe a huge sigh of relief—thanking god that was over. All you want is to go back to the table, scoop up Leo and leave. Everything that happened in that room had already settled heavily on your mind—a sick feeling churning in your stomach.

Shane moves through the crowd with ease, you reach out for him once you’re in the thick of it.
Your fingers brush against his when suddenly you feel a grip on your arm.
You whip around to see Baker standing there—a wide grin of beautifully white teeth shine back at you.

“Cain!” He shouts. His glassy eyes light up like you’re his favorite person in the whole world.
You hadn’t seem him since the knife throwing bet but the sight of him sent a jolt of excitement through you.
“Baker! Hi!” You reply, honestly happy to see him.
His laughter rings out above the music, the way his eyes sparkle with joy.

Maybe it was the alcohol but you feel a slight pull toward him that made your heart flutter.
He’s a good guy, kind and understanding—always there to talk or sometimes not even talk—just listen.
There was an attraction there and you sense it’s mutual.
A small twinge of guilt settles in your stomach as you think of Shane.

Baker looks you up and down with raised eyebrows, that charming smile of his causes a surge of excitement to well up in your chest.
He makes a twirling motion with his finger and you oblige—spinning slowly to show him your outfit.
“You’re a goddess!” He exclaims, exaggeratingly bowing his head and arms down in front of you.

You can’t help but laugh out loud—that last martini making your head buzz.

Bakers eyes shift to something behind you—“Walsh, congratulations on your promotion. That’s real—really amazing…you deserve it.” He said smiling, reaching his hand out, his words slurred.

You turn expecting to see Shane doing the same but he stands there stone faced.

His eyes went from you to Baker then down to the man’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks.” Shane’s voice is cold and gruff, taking you by surprise.
Then he turns around without another word, disappearing in the crowd.

Taken back by his rude behavior you turn to Baker who still had his hand out—“He’s not a happy drunk—don’t take it personal.” You say, trying to soothe his embarrassment but to your surprise he didn’t really seem to notice.

Baker shrugs it off, laughing lightheartedly. “Hey it’s no—no problem. He’s got a lot on his plate now that he’s a Captain. Big…big responsibility.” He says, dismissing Shane's behavior.

“Yeah—listen I’ll see you later.” You need to catch up with Shane before things get out of hand. Stepping away from the warm laughter and chatter, you weave through the packed room.

“Ok…hey lemme know!” He shouts from behind as you move deeper into the crowd.

Your mind races, piecing together what to say to Shane.
Slipping through the crowd you spot him standing at the bar gulping down a glass filled with a rich, dark beverage.
You come up beside him watching as he twirls the empty glass in his hand—already sensing the uncomfortable strain lingering in the air between you two, an unspoken weight that hangs heavily. “What was that?” You ask.

“What was what?” Again his tone is dark and cold, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Why did you act like that? He was just tryin to be nice.”

“I said thanks didn’t I?” He answers back sternly, his body rigid with tension.
He flags down the bartender and orders another drink.

“You know what I’m talkin about Shane—that wasn’t ok.”

He grunts lowly in response, seemingly ignoring you as the woman behind the bar whom you didn’t recognize places down a fresh drink in front of him—her slender fingers wrapped around the short glass.
Shane gave her a polite smile which she returns coyly—her eyes lingering on him for too long.

You reach over, swiftly snatching the glass from her hand.

Surprise flashes across her face but when she sees you she shrinks under your glare, quickly retreating to the other end of the bar.

Shane chuckles lightly, obviously humored by your reaction.

Annoyance prickles the back of your neck—“How many times do I have to tell you that Baker is just a friend.”

“Again with that friend bullshit.” He mumbles, his eyes still cast down at the bar top.

Your stomach twists at the accusation, the weight of guilt crashes down on you like a wave.
“It’s not bullshit Shane—you’re drunk and just tryin to start shit and I’m not in the mood. Please let’s go.” You say lifting your free hand to brush against his outer leg.

“Did you fuck him?” He asks, his voice low, it cut through the noise of the club like a knife.

“What?” You reply, your heart racing. The thought of betraying Shane sent a wave of nausea through you. “You think I would do that?”

“I don’t know…but you want to right?”

The accusation stung, and you can feel your anger rising.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You shoot back, frustration bubbling over. “Just because Baker and I are friends doesn’t mean I wanna be with him. I love you—I don’t want anyone else.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to be with him—I asked do you wanna fuck him…yes or no? It’s real simple Talia.”
He stands up straighter, his voice rising slightly, fueled by the alcohol.

The anger inside you flares, burning hot and bright.
But you don’t want to argue; you want to forget this ridiculous fight ever happened and end the night the same way you always do, together.
But the shame swirling within you morphs into a defensive rage, and you can’t help but lash out.
“No Shane I don’t wanna fuck him. And I never have—not even when you disappeared for a week with no goodbye.” You spit, patience running thin.

He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Ok.” His voice is thick with finality.

Your frustration turns, “Please let’s just get Leo and go,” you murmur quietly as you step closer to him.

“Nah—think I’m gonna stay out tonight. Enjoy myself—maybe take Monroe up on his offer. After all I am a Captain now...” His voice feels like gravel against your skin.

The edge of the warm liquor pulsating throughout your body mixed with your hot temper is a really bad combo.
“Oh yeah?” You ask, failing to keep your voice neutral.

“Yeah.” Shanes voice remains stoic.
“Ya know I think you should stay too—bet Baker would love that…hell I know the Governor would.” His eyes finally meet yours—they’re glassy and unfocused, yet they hold a steely resolve you hadn't seen before.

His words sting—no matter if he’s drunk or not they still hurt.
Through your clouded mind you begrudgingly convince yourself this isn’t worth the headache but the weight of it hits you hard, and your chest and throat begin to burn.
His rejection feels like a knife buried in your gut, and the guilt only twists it in deeper and deeper.

“Okay Shane.” You say, pushing his drink to him before turning away from the bar and heading towards the table.

When you reach Leo you notice Shane hasn’t followed. The loud hum of chatter around you blends in with the persistent ache in your chest.
Looking to your friend you see he’s a little worse off than you but surprisingly he doesn’t need much convincing to leave.
❧

Stepping out of the club, the cool evening air hits you like a splash of cold water, a stark contrast to the warmth inside.
Leo stumbles slightly beside you, leaning heavily against your arm for support. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, illuminating your path as you navigate the quiet streets.

As the two of you walk, the night is filled with the sounds of rustling leaves and chirping crickets. The world feels slightly surreal, a blend of sensations and emotions that make everything seem both vivid yet hazy in the afterglow of a night out.

You keep up a steady stream of banter, anything to keep Leo engaged enough to stay awake. There’s no way you’re going to be able to take him all the way back to his place alone. It’s a few blocks further than yours and he's already proven quite incapable of walking without assistance.

As you approach your apartment building, you feel a sense of relief wash over you.
Helping Leo up the steps, laughing at how he nearly misses each one.
Finally reaching the door—you fumble with the keys for a moment, your own drunken laughter mingling with his.
And once inside, you help him to the bed, where he flops down dramatically.
“I love you…her—hermana,” he mumbles, his eyes heavy with sleep.

“I love you too Leo, goodnight.”
As you turn to close and lock the door, you run through the events of the night in your head.

That familiar ugly feeling begins to crawl up your back thinking of The Governor, lingering like a shadow, refusing to dissipate.
Then your mind flashes to Shane—you replay the argument in your mind. Words were exchanged in anger, emotions had flared, and now, a deep ache settles in your chest.
Bakers face appears, always smiling—there to offer help when necessary and comfort when it was needed. You quickly push the thought to the farthest corner of your mind…hoping it would disappear on its own.

Taking a deep breath you try your hardest not to dwell on anything that went down tonight—mentally bracing yourself to face whatever happens tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Warm light streams through the open curtains, illuminating your apartment—the unmistakable scent of stale alcohol lingers in the air.
Slowly peeling your eyes completely open, you’re met with the sight of Leo sprawled out on the bed beside you still in a deep sleep.

You groan, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow, wishing for just a few more moments of peace. But as you shift, a wave of nausea hits you hard, and panic surges through your body.
Propelling yourself off the bed, the room spinning, you bolt toward the bathroom.
Your legs feel like jelly, and every step is a struggle as you stumble across the room. The taste of tequila lingers in your mouth, a grim reminder of last night’s reckless decisions.

As you reach the bathroom door, you barely manage to swing it open before you fall to your knees in front of the toilet.
The cool tile floor like a relief against your skin, but there’s no time to think about comfort. Your stomach churns violently, and you lean over just as another wave of nausea crashes over you.

The sound of retching echos in the small bathroom, and you clench your eyes shut, wishing you could somehow erase the memory of those shots.
One, two, and then too many—you were worried you’d be sick the next day but you wanted to have fun. Now, the consequences were crashing down hard, and regret settles heavily on your queazy stomach.

“Never again…” you mutter into the toilet bowl between heaves.
The smell of vomit and sour citrus is overwhelming, and you try to focus on anything else but the sickening reality of your situation.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally stopped, panting and feeling utterly defeated. You weakly flush the toilet before slumping back against the wall, your head spinning as you take a moment to collect yourself.

Your throat burns fiercely and your head continues pounding painfully. But eventually you somehow manage to stand up.
And looking at yourself in the mirror you almost laugh—your eye makeup is smeared all over your face and pieces of your hair stick to your skin from the thin sheen of sweat that covers your body.

Shower.

That’s the only thing you can think of—a nice steaming hot shower would cure you.

You hear light rustling to your right and see Leo stir in the bed.
His head turns slowly side to side before landing on you hunched over the sink.
He looks pale and his dark matted hair is sticking up from all angles and he’s missing a shoe—he looks just as bad as you.

The sight was both comical and tragic.

He squints—his eyes barely open, and the moment your gazes lock, the absurdity of the situation hit the two of you all at once.

You both burst into laughter, a sound that felt foreign yet delightful amidst the haze of your hangover.
❧

Later that afternoon you and Leo are still laying in bed but freshly showered, you were scolding yourself now—disappointed that you got that drunk.
You couldn’t really remember everything from the night...you do recall the craziness of the club and the drinks—you shudder immediately reminiscing.
Then there was The Govenor, Baker…and Shane.

Fuck.

Fragments of your fight rush in—his anger, his pain. How he didn’t want to leave with you, how he wanted to stay and celebrate—take Monroe up on his offer.

Hurt seeps deep into your bones—churning your already sensitive stomach. You settle deeper into the bed, pulling the covers over you to try and breathe through the nausea.

You didn’t have the slightest clue how to fix that mess.
Glancing at Leo, seeking solace in his presence, you chuckle seeing him passed out. The sound of his light snores fill the room, providing a strange comfort amidst your inner turmoil.
❧

All of Security is gathered in the backyard of the barracks that Monday morning—you and Leo find a spot near the back fence.

The sun is still hidden behind the horizon. The cool air sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the early morning, the anticipation is thick among the crowd.

Rested and finally recovered from the mother of all hangovers you’re feeling more than prepared for the run.

Merle stands in the middle of the grass, barking orders about procedures and expectations for going beyond the walls of Woodbury.
“Now listen up!” He yells out, grabbing your attention when you hear Shane’s name and the sound of a hand clapping on something solid.
“Captain Walsh here is in charge of group A.”
Looking to Merle’s side your eyes land on Shane—he’s standing at attention, his eyes staring forward.
“Lieutenant Monroe is in charge of group B.” Monroe stands tall and looming on the other side of him.

Merle claps his hands together loudly before reaching for the clip board on the table behind him.
He begins yelling out the assigned names for both groups—hearing yours you hold your breath.

“Cain…group A!”

You almost look at Shane—but stop yourself, keeping your eyes locked on Merle.

“Perez…group B!”

A slightly disheartening feeling washes over you at the thought of you and Leo being separated out there.
He must sense your unease because he bumps his shoulder lightly against yours.

“The groups stay together most of the time…don’t worry hermana.” He whispers flashing a small reassuring smile.

“Alright girls,” Merle’s voice cuts through the stillness, steady and reassuring. “Grab yer shit—y’all move out in five.”

And with that the crowd dissipates, everyone heading to their assignments for the day. Whether it’s going on the run, guarding the walls, or fulfilling specific duties inside the community—everyone has a job to do.

You secure the straps on both your bags and glance around, noting the frenetic activity as everyone readies themselves.
A mix of excitement and apprehension settles over you as you climb into the backseat of the truck assigned to A, the rest of your group follows.

The mission is basic; search for supplies.
Everyone’s job is the same, except you’d be there to offer medical care.

Truthfully you’re itching to get out of here…to escape the walls of Woodbury that now seeme to be closing in on you.
Ever since your night out you’ve been haunted with the realization that this place was not what you thought.
Sure it was safe, clean and secure. With plenty of supplies and firepower…that you couldn’t deny but in a way it was a front to hide the things that went on behind closed doors—away from the eyes of the regular people in Woodbury.

Under the crimson glow of that backroom you saw the Govenor’s mask slip ever so slightly. Outside his underground world he presented himself as a dedicated leader, someone who prioritizes the welfare of the community, but you sensed then that there was something darker lurking just beneath that polished exterior.
Like who you saw that night was the real him—and the holier than thou community figure he shows to the public was a falsity.
The more you think about it, the more you remember the little almost insignificant things: how he dances around certain questions, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and the moments when he seems to enjoy the authority a bit too much.
He often speaks about sacrifice and honor, but there’s an edge to his rhetoric—a self-serving undercurrent that makes you question his true motivations.
Constantly rallying the team with inspiring speeches, but you can't shake the feeling that he’s manipulating their trust. It's as if he knows how to play the part of the hero, while hiding a more sinister agenda.

And everyone here just eats that shit up…like what he says is gospel.
If the Govenor says it’s ok well then it must be—and that doesn’t sit right with you.

His behavior that night in the club set off all your warning bells…and you haven't been able to ignore your suspicions that something was wrong.
You just hope that whatever happens doesn’t unravel everything you’ve fought for.
❧

As the sun rises higher in the sky, illuminating the world around, you feel a mix of determination and caution as you scan the surrounding area from the backseat window of the truck.
This was the first time you’ve been outside the gates since Shane brought you to Woodbury. The familiar sounds of the community had long since faded away, now replaced by rustling leaves and the hum of vehicles driving down another desolate road. The air feels different out here—fresher, lighter.

You grip your weapon tightly, finger off the trigger.
It had been a long time since you’ve carried one like this but the weight feels good in your hands—there was something strangely comforting about it.
It reminds you of the farm where target practice was a typical occurrence…of course a lot of the time it would start out that way but end with you and Shane sneaking off for some alone time.

A bitter ache squeezes your chest at the thought of him.
Y’all hadn’t spoken since you left him alone at the bar—his words still stinging.
Every time you replay the events of the evening in your mind, the anger and hurt resurface.
His drunken outburst, fueled by jealousy and insecurity, cut deep.
The things he said still echo in your ears, and the ache of those words reminds you of the fragile state of your relationship.

In a world already crumbling around you, the thought of losing what you share feels like too much to bear—but you quickly shifted your thoughts back to the preset.
You can’t allow yourself to wallow in that—something as superficial as your fight seems insignificant when it comes to being out here…in the real world.
Where there are no walls or rules to protect you, there was only life and death.
The living and the dead.

Looking around to the stoic faces of the men in your group you feel grateful to be surrounded by people who know what they’re doing out here. Once the gates of Woodbury had closed the caravan fell silent.
Their eyes sweeping the landscape same as you while holding onto their weapons like a lifeline.

A deep voice cuts through the quiet inside the cab, you’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts you don't react until the truck comes to a sudden stop.

You close the door of the truck, securing the straps on your shoulders and lifting your weapon up to hold it flush against your chest.

Monroe walks up with his group to join everyone who had already piled out of the other vehicles.

Leo appears next to you, his face a mask of seriousness, lips pressed tightly with deep furrowed brows.
As he adjusts his pack, you take a moment to appreciate the bond you share—yet, that bond also deepens your concern.

You can’t shake the fear of what could happen out here. The possibility of losing him, is a thought you try to push away but can’t entirely escape.
Standing a little bit straighter you grip your gun tighter and approaching the sidewalk, everyone pauses to assess the area.

There’s an old grocery store in the distance, partially concealed by overgrown weeds and debris—cars left abandoned all over the road.

“Group B! We’ll be clearing every building on this street—starting with the grocery store.” Monroe says cocking his weapon.

“And Group A will break off into smaller groups. One finds higher ground to take out any stragglers. The second stays positioned near the vehicles. We need to keep this road clear.” Shane speaks up, his eyes scanning over the crowd.

Both groups nod in understanding at the orders.

Everyone begins walking, navigating the desolate streets, a heavy silence envelops, amplifying the sounds of footsteps on the cracked pavement.
This once-bustling town now stands eerily still, with abandoned shops that seem to whisper tales of what was lost.

Once the groups begins to split off, you look over to Leo.
“Stay safe,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, a reassuring smile breaking through the tension. “Always...you too.”

With that, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lies ahead as you watch him walk off.
You, Shane and the others in Group A stop in the middle of the road.

“Cain you’re with me.” Shane mutters.
A deep blush rises to your cheeks as you adjust the strap on your shoulder, pretending not to care.
“The rest of you find cover—keep your eyes open and radios on.”

The three others in your group take off in different directions, disappearing behind rusted cars and empty structures.

You stare down the road, watching the debris thats tumbles across the street. Looking anywhere other than Shane whose gaze you can feel burning a hole in your back.

“We should get moving.” He says, his voice low but firm.

Without turning, you nod—clutching your weapon tightly in your hand.

It’s only when you hear his departing footsteps that you look to him, his shoulders tense and rigid.

You take another deep breath to ready yourself for what lies ahead—quietly following just a few paces behind.

❧

The street below is eerily quiet—but the tension between you and Shane is deafening.
After ascending the stairs of a nearby abandoned shop the two of you set up a good vantage point overlooking the street.

You try focusing on the remnants of the world before the apocalypse, but your thoughts remain distant because of him.
Lifting up your gun to rest on the window seal you stare into the scope, your finger off the trigger, steadying your breath.

Ya’ll have been up here for a while, neither one of you spoke or made any effort to start up a conversation.

You can feel his gaze on you, heavy and searching, but you still refuse to meet his eyes.
Instead, you turn to the task at hand—keeping your sight locked on the target area to drown out the turmoil inside.

“I’m sorry.” He says, his husky voice cutting through the silence of the upstairs room.
You can hear the underlying desperation, his desire to bridge the chasm that feels like it’s growing between you. But the hurt is still too fresh, and you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Instead you zero in on the guttural growl that cuts through the air, pulling your attention to the street. A single walker stumbles into view, its decaying form lurches awkwardly looking for its next meal.
Inhaling sharply you pull the trigger, the silenced shot from your weapon flies through the air, striking true.
You finally release the breath as the walker crumples to the ground in a heap on the pavement.

“Good shot Cain.” A voice comes through the walkie talkie on your belt.

You smirk sitting up straight to admire your handy work from the open window.

“Talia.” He presses, stepping closer.
You feel the heat radiating from him, but you keep your eyes glued on the scene below, unwilling to give in.
“I was an asshole…”

“This isn’t the time Shane”. You shoot back, the words spilling out before you can stop them.
You readjust the gun against your shoulder, resting your finger off the trigger.
When you finally look to him the sincerity in his eyes is obvious.

He flinches at the sharpness of your face, and for a moment, silence hangs between you like a heavy curtain
Giving you a small nod, his expression is pained but understanding.

A part of you aches to reach out, to close the distance.
But the memories of his words still linger, and you can’t help but let their sting pierce your already shaky resolve.
You scold yourself for bending—you have to be tough.
Finally breaking his smoldering eye contact you shove your feelings down deep and return back to the mission.

Another figure shuffles along the street, followed by another.
Their haunting moans are cut short by your bullets cutting through them with ease.
A light burst of discolored blood sprays from the back of their skulls, painting the cars they slump against.

Adrenaline pumps through you, your fingers move with as much speed as your eyes when you see other walkers appear—more than you can take down alone.

Multiple silenced shots ring out, your team joining in to bring down the threat.

As the last of them fall, you take a moment to catch your breath.
The silence returns, but this time it feels different—charged with a sense of accomplishment and the reminder of your shared purpose.

Before you knew hours have passed.
Shane and yourself continue to work in silence, only speaking to pass around food or ammo.
The sensation of his eyes on you is growing harder to ignore—however you remain steadfast and focused no matter how difficult it is.

Chapter Text

Closing the door of the truck you caught sight of Leo walking towards you—relief flooding your system seeing he was safe.
The grin he flashed was infectious, erasing the shadows of your brooding thoughts.

He slipped his arm around your shoulder before giving you a tight squeeze.
"See? Both of us came back in one piece!" he said, his voice warm against the damp air.

❧

After finishing unloading the latest supplies, you say your goodbyes and head home.
The need to rinse off all the dirt, sweat, and walker blood that clung to your clothes and skin became impossible to ignore.
Hot water was a luxury you loved, and today it was a necessary indulgence.

Stepping into the shower you stand under the warm spray.
Letting it stream down your body—taking with it not just grime but the weight of the day.

For a moment, you allow yourself to rest, relishing the sound of water splattering at your feet.

Shanes face lingers in your mind, a deep imprint refusing to fade.
Today helped soothe your tense nerves and anger but did little to erase the ghost of his gaze or the lingering dread that clung to your thoughts like a stubborn shadow.

You breathe in the warm steam, letting it fill your lungs, enveloping you in a temporary sanctuary. The heat seeps into your muscles, loosening balls of stress knotted from the ceaseless tension.
The sensation is ephemeral, yet blissful—a brief reprieve from the chaos that is your life.

The cool air of your apartment hits you exiting the humid bathroom, wrapping a soft towel around your body, you savor its warmth.

An unopened bottle of wine stares at you from its spot on the kitchen counter—after the day you’ve had a glass or two wouldn’t hurt, you reason.
Pouring the crimson liquid, the rich aroma wafts up, you watch it swirl slowly in the glass's depths, a liquid oasis promising solace.
The tart taste of it fills your mouth, spreading warmth throughout your chest and easing the tension that clung stubbornly to your muscles.

You walk around the apartment, lighting a few candles, the flickering flames casting soft shadows that dance across the walls.

Picking up the most recent book you’ve been reading, you settle into your bed, the plush pillows forming a comforting embrace around you.

The story is about a woman who lives in a far away land—she’s enchanted by the mysterious forbidden forest that surrounds her home.
As you turn the pages, the words conjure vivid images of towering trees and whispered secrets, transporting you further away from the your reality.

You find yourself drawn into the forest's allure alongside her, each word weaving an intricate tapestry of mystery and wonder.
Suddenly a man appears in the story, emerging from the shadows of the trees.
He’s described as both alluring and dangerous, a guardian of secrets untold—with piercing dark eyes that seem to see straight through her soul, eyes that seem to draw you in as well, compelling you to keep reading.

Your mind drifts back to Shane—his eyes hold a similar intensity, a depth that made your heart skip a beat whenever they meet yours.

Pouring yourself another glass you’re surprised to see it barely half-full now. Clearly, you've been more immersed in the book than you'd realized.

Savoring the taste you keep reading—the characters go from strangers to friends to lovers. Their bond grows in the midst of the mysteries they unveil together, each revelation pulling them deeper into the forest.
The description of their physical intimacy has butterflies dancing in your stomach, a testament to the author's skill at blending passion with mystery.

Shane’s face appears in your head again, his smile melts the tension built up in your chest.
The memory of his touch sends chills down your spine while the wine’s effect only amplify the warmth spreading through you.
Exhilaration and excitement courses through you as the characters navigate their newfound closeness, daring to tread paths unknown—their passion for one another mirroring your own desires.
The pages turn swiftly in your hands, each chapter unfolding another layer to the enigma binding them.

Finishing off your glass you look over to the clock on your nightstand.
Time has slipped away; it's now way past midnight, the quiet of your room is accentuated by the soft sounds of night in the background.

You know you shouldn’t ignore the late hour, but you feel unable to resist the compelling story drawing you in—or rather drawing you to Shane.
You’ve already made up your mind before really even thinking it through. Looking back to the clock, hesitation mingles with anticipation that taps persistently at the edges of your resolve.
Ultimately, your desire wins out, deciding to take the chance.
You shouldn’t have much trouble actually getting into the barracks but you’d never been to Shanes room.

He had told you what floor and room number, though, and unfortunately the thrill of doing something forbidden tugs at the edges of your rebellious spirit.
Worst case if you get caught wondering the halls you can always say you’re headed to the gym or looking for Leo—and knowing him he’d play along.

Throwing on some sweats over your tank top and slipping into a pair of sneakers, you tread quietly through your apartment—blowing out all the candles before tiptoeing through the darkness.
Once you made it to the sidewalk, the cool night air greeted you, refreshing and full of possibilities. Pulling the hood of your jacket over your head and shoving your hands into your pockets, you set off towards the barracks, the excitement building with each step.
The wine made your steps slightly uneven, adding to the thrill, your heart racing like a wild drum in the stillness of the night.

The building came into view beneath the muted glow of flickering streetlights, its imposing structure looming against the starlit sky.
One guard sat in a chair leaned up against the white brick wall, his cap pulled low over his eyes—he seemed oblivious to the world.
Walking up closer you see he’s asleep…the soft sounds of his breathing the only indication of life.
Perfect.

You grab the door handle gently, careful not to make a sound as it eases open.
Slipping inside you allow it to close before stopping to listen for any signs of alertness or disturbances.
You’re met with only silence as your eyes adjust to the dim environment.

The interior is stark and utilitarian, with concrete floors and faint moonlight filtering in through the shaded windows.
To the left there are stairs leading up to the second floor and to the right a narrow hallway stretches out before you, lined with closed doors.
Walking down the hallway you can hear the faint echo of your footsteps and the occasional creak of the floor, sounding louder than they should in the stillness.
The last door on the left catches your attention—the numbers matching what Shane told you. A warm light from the bottom on the door suggests that maybe he’s awake.

You take a deep breath and try the door knob, not wanting to knock first and risk waking someone.

A shadow moves under the door, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

Holding your breath, as it opens slightly, Shanes face emerges from the narrow gap, eyes filled with surprise and curiosity.
It doesn’t take long to recognize you and when he does he reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside quickly.
As he shuts and locks the door you see the room is dimly lit by a candle on the desk at the far side of the apartment, casting flickering shadows across the walls.
Papers are scattered across the desk, covered in hurried scribbles and hastily drawn diagrams.

You turn around, raising an eyebrow watching him place a large knife down on the counter of his small kitchen.
Before you can move he closes the space between you, his expression shifting from caution to urgency as he crushes his lips to yours.

Surprised, the weight of his kiss pushes you back, making you remember why you came here in the first place.
You didn’t want to talk—you just wanted to feel something beyond it all.
To feel him, as if nothing could pull you apart.
His arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you close into his broad chest.

You shift, snatching off your jacket, feeling the warmth of his breath against your cheek.
Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, the noise of it nearly deafening in the quiet room.

The both of you make quick work of removing most of the clothing that separates you while stumbling to the bed.
The mattress creaks under your weight as you collapse onto it, breathless and full of need.
He climbs over you, slipping under the covers and positioning himself between your legs.
Tangled sheets and hushed breaths fill the air, creating a cocoon of heat.
It’s all messy but deliberate as he pushes in slowly—allowing you to stretch around him.

His mouth falls open as he sinks deeper.
Rolling his hips against yours he releases a strangled breath—like he’s struggling to keep in control.

Watching has you aching, the knot in your stomach curling tight.
You gasp when he moves faster seemingly not wanting to waste any time.

Then the bed suddenly creaks loudly—you both to freeze.

“Dammit…”, He mumbles under his breath.

You almost yelp out when he rips the covers back, scooping you up bridal style then dropping to his knees on the floor.
It all happens so fast you barely have time to adjust yourself before he sinks into you again.
His thrusts are deep and deliberate, sending waves rippling through you with every motion of his hips.

You grab his biceps that rest on either side of your head.
His unruly hair falls, tickling your cheek while he whispers low in your ear—cursing through gritted teeth.

Goosebumps prickle along your skin from open mouthed kisses touching the side of your neck.
Your hands move up and over his flexed shoulders, the hills and groves of his muscles feel like rocks under your fingers.

The candle light casts a warm glow over him—illuminating his face.
His broad nose and sharp jaw, a slight stubble that catches the light just so, plumped lips parted to trail his tongue along.
And those eyes…heavy lidded with longing but searing with a fervent intensity, bore into yours, like endless pools of raven colored darkness, drawing you in, leaving you both breathless.

He slams his hips down hard—making you shudder under him, tightening your thighs around his waist.

You choke out a moan right before his palm wraps tightly around your mouth.
His skin is feverish against your own while the rhythm he’s set is rough.
All you can do is lay there, melting into the floor, savoring the sharp sensation of him splitting you open—your whimpers muffled under his hand.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck—ragged breaths brush against your skin.

The tension inside you is wound up so rigid it coils tighter and tighter with every move.
You feel yourself squeeze around him, then arching your back off the smooth wood floor he moves with you, lifting himself higher.

He hits somewhere that makes your vision blur—the carnal urge to reach the peak seemingly possessing him.

And then its there, pummeling you til you’re left with nothing but the echo of your heartbeat in your ears.

He drives into you once more, burying himself deep with a low groan.

You shake watching him—his head falls back, the thick veins of his neck visible as he exhales a sigh.

He slouches back from the effort, looking to you, his eyes are hazy with exhaustion.
Then he lays down beside you on the cool floor—savoring the calm, the only sound being your steadying breaths.
The world outside is momentarily forgotten in the stillness of the moment.

His fingers slowly intertwine with yours—his touch grounding you to earth.
You turn your head, he reaches over, brushing a finger softly across your bottom lip, an unspoken vow echoing in the silence between you.
His eyes search yours momentarily before pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

The kiss grows deeper and you return it, as if pouring every unsaid word into the embrace.

But just as quickly you pull away, standing up to redress.
You can sense his eyes on you, slipping your sweats over your hips.

The low creak of the floor lets you know he’s moving too, watching you.

Securing your shoes you reach for the door before he can question your departure.
Though your back is turned, you feel his gaze pierce through the moment, offering a silent plea.
But you don’t turn around—you cannot, not when every fiber of your being calls for you to stay.
You had to get home before the guards shift change, making it that much harder to sneak back unnoticed.

Shutting his door quietly you walk down the dark hallway, pulling in a deep breath to steady your pounding heart.

Voices from behind the front door echo faintly, muffled by the thick metal and distance.
Panic pulses through you, quickening your steps.

You crept through the back door.
The cool air hit your face as you entered the dimly lit yard, shadows from the moonlight casting patterns on the ground.

Slipping through the gate you walk into the quiet night, where the street lights buzzed, casting their faint glow onto the pavement.

The breeze tousled your hair as you walked, feeling a slight tug to turn around and go back to him.
You wanted to…but in truth you wanted to get back at him for his behavior the other night more.
Showing up at his place in the middle of the night to hook up and then leaving without saying a word was stupid and toxic you know that—but it felt like the only way to level the scales.

Blaming the wine and romance novel combo you shake the thought from your mind, reminding yourself of all that rested on your shoulders.

You then quietly slip into the shadows, disappearing into the night, leaving behind the echo of your footsteps that fade with each step.

Chapter Text

The following day dawns clear and crisp, sunlight filtering through the trees onto the road leading back to the barracks.

You’re running on about two hours of sleep and caffeine, your mind a blur as you lean forward—your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath.

The drills have been relentless, pushing every muscle to its limit as you try to keep pace with the others.
There’s still another mile to go and every bone in your body protests with exhaustion.
But you can’t afford to lag behind, not with the scrutiny of eyes trained on you specifically.

You take a deep breath and force your legs to move, one aching step after another.
Embarrassment clung to you like a second skin as you stumble, the mistake burning in your mind like a brand.
One of the officers yells out encouragement that feels more like a spotlight on your struggle.
But you keep going—even though your legs threaten to buckle beneath you, betraying the fatigue that weighs you down.
❧

Once you mke it to the barracks, you catch Leo in the gym.

He's boxing with an intense focus, each punch landing against the swinging punching bag with a sharp crack in the air.
When he catches sight of you in the mirror that lines one half of the gym he stops mid-swing, lowering his fists with a grin.
"Finally…I was worried I’d have to send a search party after ya.”

You give him a snark smile, flashing your middle finger before sinking down on a nearby bench.
"You’re hilarious," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm.

He chuckles deeply before returning back to his routine, the rhythmic thuds of fists meeting vinyl blending into the background noise of the gym.
“So why are you draggin ass?…stay up too late?”

You swallow hard, considering whether to tell him the truth.
"Yeah, couldn’t sleep," you say, brushing it off with a shrug.

“I bet.” Your friend mumbles under his breath, low enough for only you to hear it.

Your eyes shoot up to his reflection—a small smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows something but isn’t saying.
You go to speak but pause, opting to watch his reflection instead.

The sight of a familiar figure caught your attention in the mirror, someone you’re not prepared to see.
You keep your expression neutral but Leo notices the change in your demeanor immediately.

“Walsh!” He shouts.

You whip your head towards him dumbfounded that he would call Shane over but he’s already looking past you, his voice cutting through the clamor of the room.

Shane turns, locking eyes with you briefly before walking toward Leo.

They greet each other with a handshake before Shane fixes his gaze on you.
Still sitting on the bench you speak up, “Walsh.”

“Cain.” He nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable.

He sits next to you on the bench, stretching his arms while keeping his eyes forward on Leo.

They continue talking about training routines, the intensity of the drills, as if Shane hadn't just thrown a small grenade into the comfortable bubble of the gym.

You can’t help but be painfully aware of how close he is—his bare arm occasionally brushing against yours.
His slightly damp skin sends an electric current through you every time it makes contact.

“I was just tellin Tal that she needs to stop stayin up so late.” Leo remarks, trying to lighten the atmosphere but only making red hot embarrassment creep up your cheeks.

You look up to him—shooting daggers with your eyes, silently pleading for him to stop.

But he just smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort for what is happening.

You force out a chuckle, attempting to appear unfazed by his comment.

“Yeah I saw you were havin a hard time durin the run. ” Shane chimes in with a casual tone, though you detect a hint of amusement dancing in his voice.

“Well I can’t be perfect at everything." you reply, trying to maintain lightness in your tone hoping the joke would deflect some of the attention.

Shane chuckles, the sound a low rumble that somehow sent another wave of nervous excitement through you.
“True.” He conceded, looking to him you recognize a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You narrow your gaze in warning.

His grin widens, clearly relishing in the banter.

You turn back to Leo who’s standing with his hands on his hips watching you, his eyes seem to twinkle with a mix of curiosity and excitement as they move between you and the man beside you.

"And Walsh how was your night? " Leo asks, raising an eyebrow.

Words seemed to become caught in Shane’s throat as you eyed Leo with exasperation.
You should say something to diffuse the tension, but your mind draws a blank.
Sitting next to him now with last night still lingering in your thoughts, you couldn't find the words to brush off Leo’s teasing.
It was like the wheels of your tired mind were spinning but not gaining any traction.

"Like every other one," Shane finally manages, sounding nonchalant.

Heat spread up your neck thinking how he normally spent every other night.

Leo hums in response while tilting his head slightly, clearly unconvinced by his vague response.

Did he see you last night in the barracks? There’s no way—no one should have.
You can feel Shane shift beside you as he stood up, not meeting your eyes.

Maybe it was time to really tell Leo about Shane—even though you were certain now that he already knew. Your heart races at the thought, but the secret had been suffocating you long enough. He was your closest friend—he'd understand, wouldn't he? But the consequences, the potential ripple effects of fessing up, scared you.

The room fell silent—Leo drops his arms to his side quickly, standing up straighter. His wide eyes go from your face to something past you.

Shane’s hand grips your arm tightly, pulling you to your feet.
“The Governor.” He whispers lowly.

You spin around quickly to see the man standing by the entrance to the gym. He’s facing a group who are standing at attention—laughing and bantering about something out of ear shot.

Shane stands tall next to you, his presence alone providing a small sense of relief.

The Governor shakes hands with everyone he passes before turning to face the crowd that’s assembled the open gym.
Flashing his all too familiar smile that seems to put everyone at ease.
But it only unnerved you more—he clears his throat loudly, bringing all eyes to him.

“Now I won’t take up too much of y’all’s time…but I wanted to stop by and say a few words. First off I wanna welcome any new recruits…this job is not easy by any means but it’s essential. Any soldier here will tell you that every sacrifice, every hardship they’ve had to face was worth it. We are survivors. We endure. And we thrive,” he yells, his voice booming across the room.
The acoustics amplified his words, making them echo against the high ceilings. “The hard work and dedication ya’ll put into this place—your commitment is what keeps us goin!”

As he continues speaking, you shift your weight nervously from one foot to the other, your eyes darting around the room.
The crowd hang on his every word.
They clap and cheer, their enthusiasm palpable, but you feel that growing knot in your stomach.

“I also want to personally thank the groups that went out on the last run—leaving the walls of our home is not easy. It’s not safe out there…we all know that. But your bravery is inspiring—this community relies on you to bring back the precious supplies we need to live. So thank you again.” The crowd erupts in applause, but you remain fixed in your spot, feeling more like an outsider.

His eyes scan over the crowd as they began to dissipate, your stomach dropping when he lands on you.

He made his way across the room quickly. Standing in front of you and Shane, shaking your hands before turning to Leo.
Through their small interaction Shane glances over at you, his brows furrowed. Concern lines his face.
You shut out the Governor’s sly voice as he addresses Leo, forcing yourself to focus on Shane instead.
He presses his arm against yours—a gesture so small and insignificant that no one else noticed but it groundes you in a way.

“I want y’all there—understand?” The Governor says with another grin, pulling you back into the present and away from Shane’s face.
“You’ll love the arena…I guarantee it.” His eyes met yours, giving your shoulder a lingering squeeze before turning to walk though the rest of the barracks.

You return to your seat on the bench, still feeling the ghost of the mans hand on your skin.
The invitation to this “Event” had come directly from him, there was no way you could back out, even as a gnawing sense of unease settled in your stomach.
The word "Arena" echoed in your mind, conjuring images of something far more intense than a simple community gathering.

You look up at Leo and Shane, who had resumed their conversation, their voices low and serious.
They seemed to be discussing something important, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it had to do with the event.
Glancing between the two of them, you speak up, your curiosity piqued. “What’s the Arena?”

The moment the question left your lips, their expressions shift. They exchange a look, and you feel a chill of apprehension wash over you.
You knew then that your instincts were right—this was more than just a gathering.

Leo hesitates, glancing at Shane for guidance before finally speaking.
“It’s…well, it’s not what you think,” he says cautiously, his brow furrowing with concern. “Its where people can go to blow off steam, have fun—I guess but…”

“But what?” you press, sensing the tension in the air.
They look at each other again—pressing one to continue.

Shane finally met your eyes, “You’ll see.” His voice came out cut and dry—leaving no room for more questions.

That old familiar sinking feeling settles deep in your stomach, a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t shake off.
“You’ll see” felt like a warning, a vague promise that something was off but not enough detail to prepare you for what was coming.

You cross your arms, trying to maintain a calm façade even as your heart races. “What does that mean?” you press again, but the look in Shane’s eyes tell you he is’t going to divulge any more information.

“Trust me Tal,” Leo says finally, his tone softening a bit. “It’ll be…different but fine.”

You trust them both with your life, but the unease gnaws at you.
The fact that the Governor was personally involved in this “Arena” event raised all sorts of red flags.
You’ve seen too many scenarios where his spectacles turn into something different, and the vague nature of their explanation only heightens your anxiety.

As the gym begins to quiet down, you take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tension in your chest.
The clock on the wall ticks loudly, each second drawing you closer to the scheduled occasion.
You can see people laughing and chatting, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of concern swirling around you.
Swallowing your pride down, you surrender to the men in front of you even as the tight knot of apprehension keeps you on edge, squeezing you so tightly you can barely breathe.

Chapter Text

Walking home in the cool night air you couldn’t believe what you’d just experienced.
The scene flashes before your eyes—the cheers, the smiles. The thundering music that bounced off the tall warehouse walls.
Rows of stands were situated on either side of a makeshift arena.
The floor covered in sand—blocks of concrete stood all around with steel chains attached.
Your chest seized tightly seeing that the end of the lines were connected to multiple walkers. Only held back by leather belts around their waists, the monsters reached out desperately for the two men who were enthralled in a brutal fighting match in the middle of the arena.

Merle was one while another man, Martinez fought ferociously against him. Blood pounded in your ears as you watched, fists clenching unconsciously.
The men would shove one another towards the snapping beasts, using every ounce of strength and skill to avoid their deadly grasp.
You had to stop yourself from rushing off the stands, heart screaming to intervene when a walker grabbed ahold of Martinez before he managed to wriggle free, barely escaping its mouth.
The air was electric, saturated with tension and primal thrill.

You shudder now, trying to shake the image from your mind.

Leo had walked off towards the barracks after saying his goodbyes, shooting you a smirk hearing Shane’s offer to walk you home.
His voice cut through the dispersing crowd exiting the warehouse, casual, as if the barbaric spectacle he’d just witnessed didn't exist.

Walking down the cracked sidewalk you and Shane both stroll in silence.
Him trailing a few steps behind, the night air cooling the remnants of the feverish events you unwillingly watched.
Despite the day's turmoil, the hue of the black sky speckled with twinkling stars painted a stunning backdrop.

Lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice Shane come up beside you, until his voice breaks through the quiet.
“You ok?” He asks, though his eyes suggests he already knew the answer, his expression is grim.

You nod absentmindedly, though your heart feels heavy.

“It’s all for show.” He says.

You look up to him puzzled by his comment.

“The walkers—they’re just for show. Merle and the guys pulled all their teeth.”

“What?” You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at him in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Shane replies, his voice low, “it’s an act.”

Anger swirls within you, mingling with confusion.
You struggle to digest this new revelation, your mind racing to reframe the nights events in a new light.
“That’s sick.” You hiss, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Shane’s eyes cast toward the ground. "Yeah I know.”
His voice barely a whisper, a quiet acknowledgment of the twisted reality you face.

You glance around, the familiar street now seemingly darker, more twisted than before.
Spotting a few people walking in the distance, shadows under the flickering streetlights, you shudder thinking how they enjoyed the grotesque performance. Their figures blanketed by the uneasy silence of the dark.

You lower your voice, enough that only the two of you can hear. “There’s something wrong with this place Shane.”

He met your gaze, nodding slowly. His eyes are filled with a weary resignation, as if he'd already accepted the madness.

“Why didn’t you say anythin before?” Your voice carries an edge of frustration.

Shane sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t wanna scare you—and it’s not like we had a’ bunch other options Talia. But I never would have brought you here if I thought you couldn’t handle it, or if you’d be in some kind of danger.” he admits, regret lining his voice.
His words hang in the still air, a stark reminder of the constraints that bound you both to this eerie town.

You shake your head, feeling a pang of helplessness knowing he's right.

It was like the closer to Woodbury’s inner circle you get the more sinister everything appears
The odd sense of being watched still follows you everywhere, gnawing at the edges of your nerves.
Shadows seem to grow longer, whispers more cryptic and now this.

The crowd at the area acted like the walkers weren’t dangerous—like it was a game, tying them up for sport.
It was unsettling—they reveled in the masquerade, each playing their part in the twisted charade.

“Does this have somethin to do with that Milton guy everyone keeps talkin about?” You ask, hoping to glean some clarity in the tangled web of secrets.
“That he does experiments and messes with the walkers, plays god by figuring how they work?”

Shane nods slowly, eyes darkening with caution.

You shake your head as you turn towards home, unable to shake the disgust settling in your gut.
But Shane’s quiet footsteps remain close behind, the two of you continuing down the lonely street.

Finally entering the dark apartment, you leave Shane to shut and lock the door. Turning your bedside lamp on, it illuminates the room with a dim, comforting glow. It was a stark contrast to the chill outside—a small sanctuary amidst the madness.

He stands by the door, hesitant to break the silence.

"You don't have to stay if you don't wanna," you offer, but part of you is relieved when he doesn't move.

He removes his jacket, laying it over one of the bar stools.
“Why would I wanna leave?” His rich voice steady, an anchor in the midst of the storm.
His presence grounds you like always, dispelling any ominous shadows.

A small smile spreads across your face, easing some of the day's burdens.
You sit on your bed, kicking off your shoes and letting out a heavy sigh, the tension draining from your tired body at last.
Leaning back on your hands you look back up to him in the kitchen pouring a large glass of water.

You watch him lift the glass to his lips and take a slow sip, his eyes meeting yours over the rim.
“So Leo knows..,” You say, the looks your best friend flashed you the whole day held an unspoken knowledge.

Shane swallows, his adams apple bobbing in his throat, before setting the glass down with a soft clink.
“Leo knows.” He echos, his tone one of knowing resignation.
White teeth peak from beneath his lips, forming a wry smile.
His dark eyes continue to watch you, holding your gaze intently.

"Well," you manage, heart pounding lightly against your ribs—firm now beneath his stare.
“If anyone were to know I’d rather it be him.” You say with a soft chuckle.

Shane just continues to stare at you in silence—his expression soft yet unreadable, like the calm surface of a deep ocean.

You furrow your eyebrows, wondering what’s going on beneath those dark, unwavering eyes.
"It's not like it changes anything," you add, trying to dismiss the lingering tension.

He turns to place the empty glass in the sink, with his back to you, scooting a little further back on the bed, you criss cross your legs.

His steps bring him around the kitchen island to the foot of your bed—his hands clench at his side while his gaze goes from you to the floor and back again.
He looks nervous—almost uncomfortable. Unsure of what to do.

You’ve never seen Shane like this—his personality always so strong and confident. A strange feeling of vulnerability washes over you, a sensation foreign and unexpected coming from him.

"Are you...,” Your voice comes out softer than intended, barely a whisper. “Alright?

When his eyes finally meet yours again, there is a flicker of something raw, vulnerable, hidden within the familiar depths.
“You know I love you right?”

The unguarded nature of his words catches you off guard. You know then he must be working up the courage to take that leap—to reveal whatever has been resting heavily on his mind.

“Right?” He repeats, as if needing reassurance. His voice sounds fragile, breaking through the silence.

“Yes ,” you reply, steady and sincere, feeling the weight of the moment settling into the room like an uninvited guest.
“I know that. I love you too.”

A sweet smile breaks across his face, pushing away the shadows.
The apprehension you felt seconds ago dissipates, replaced by a tender warmth blooming between you.

He takes a seat next to you on the mattress and places his hand on your exposed knee, visible through the tear in the faded fabric of your jeans.
His fingers begin tracing unfamiliar patterns on your skin, swirling lazily as if writing out the words he’s trying to say.
“I always have,” he confesses, the honesty in his husky voice reflecting the courage he'd mustered.
“Since that day at the pharmacy—I’ve loved you then. ”

You blink rapidly, processing the weight of his confession. Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest, the memory of that day flooding back to you.

His gaze remains fixed on your knee, a focal point for his thoughts—and you sense there's more to come.

“I know I’ve done things in the past to make you question what kinda man I am…the person I am…but please know," he implores, his eyes lifting to meet yours, holding a depth of sincerity that pulls you closer.
“I never wanted to hurt you—I never meant to cause you any pain. Those moments replay in my mind," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper, yet resonating with a profound sincerity that almost makes your heart stop.
“I’d like to think I learned from ‘em…that I’m different now. "
The words hang heavy in the air, his vulnerability laid bare.

You place your hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.
“You are different—I can see it, I feel it," you assure him, your voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you.

His front teeth catch his bottom lip as he breathes out a relieved sigh, almost as though he had been holding it for too long. “I wasted so much time holdin onto regret," he says, and the admission seems to lift a weight from his shoulders.
“And after what happened to you…” Shanes eyebrows furrow as his eyes glance up to the small scar on your temple peeking from beneath your hair.
His fingers brush over it lightly, a harsh reminder of the past and everything you’ve both survived.
“When I almost lost you I…but then you woke up. And I was scared Tal…I was so fuckin scared you’d shut me out forever…but you didn’t. You let me back in, after everythin. You were always there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it," Shane murmurs, his eyes lifting back to yours, more earnest than ever.

“You deserve happiness Shane ," you whisper, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand.

”Ya know I did a lot of thinkin when we were apart—I watched the group…Hershel, Glenn, Maggie…Rick and Lori. " He continues, his voice tinged with sadness.

Your heart aches for him—Rick despite their broken relationship, was once his brother.
And Lori…regardless of your feelings towards her, was someone Shane once cared deeply for, and that was plain to see. Not to mention Carl and Judith.
He hardly talked about them or the rest of the group. Perhaps too painful of a memory, too much to mourn the family you both once shared…the people you’d killed for, bled for, and unwillingly left.

“They were all lost without you. I could see it in their eyes, even when they tried to hide it from me," he said softly.
“And I was…” His face scrunched up reliving the memory of being separated, isolated and burdened by decisions that couldn't be undone. He had to leave the group behind to find you—only able to hope and pray that everyone would survive and be reunited again.
“I was a broken man, hangin on by a thread.” Shane confesses, voice breaking, eyes darting away, as if ashamed.

Your vision blurs as tears well in your eyes, threatening to spill.
His vulnerability pierces your heart, making you realize how deep the wounds of the past run.

“I thought,” The tone of his voice crackes, emotion overwhelming him.
You grab his hand, bringing it up to your cheek where the warmth of his skin anchors you, offering a shared solace in a world that felt endlessly cold and unforgiving.
“I can’t live without you Talia, I can’t—I won’t.” Shane whispers, his voice strong and full of an earnest plea that resonated in the quiet room.

Slowly he maneuvers off the bed and onto the floor. He faces you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His eyes, once guarded, are now open, vulnerable like a soldier laying down his armor.

You notice then that he’s kneeling before you, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on you.
Your heart races, a tempest of emotions swirling within as you grasp the significance of this gesture.

His fingers reach into the pocket of his worn cargo pants, fumbling to retrieve what felt like the weight of his fears and hopes combined.
With a shaky hand, he reveals a small ring, its gold band and dainty oval diamond glimmer in the dim light.

You let out a small gasp, tears finally escaping the confines of your eyes.

“I love you, Talia Eloise Cain." Shane began, his voice determined and sincere despite the trembling in his hands.
“I promise to love you—forever. No matter what happens, I wanna face it all with you…Marry me?”

The words hang heavily in the air, and time seems to slow as the weight of his proposal settles into the marrow of your bones.

His deep eyes watch your face, waiting for a response.

This is something you never expected—you love Shane more than life itself, but the thought of such a commitment had always been overshadowed by more important things like survival.
But now in this moment you’ve never been so sure of anything in your life.

You swallow, emotions thundering like a tidal wave, your heart swells with gratitude and joy as you nod, barely trusting your voice to give shape to the elation inside.
“Yes.” the word tumbles out with a relieved breath as a radiant smile spreads across his face, one that mirrors the joy now coursing through your veins.

He grabs your hand and slides the band onto your ring finger, the fit perfect as if its always belonged there.

You stare down at the ring, a classic and beautiful design that catches the light of your bedside lamp and threw a halo of shimmering brilliance in every direction.

He brings both your hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, his breath warm against your skin.

Wiggling free from his grasp you grab his face and plant a loving kiss on his lips, sealing your promise with a lingering tenderness.
The kiss deepens as you turn your head slightly to the right, savoring the familiar taste of his warmth and comfort.

His hands travel to your hips, gripping you a little tighter as you widen your mouth, allowing your tongue to dance with his in a slow, gentle rhythm.

You grip onto the strands of his thick hair, pulling him closer with a need that matches the intensity of your heart's silent vows.

Eventually he stands up—pushing you back against the soft fabric of your bed.
His body hovering over yours, you wrap your legs around his waist.

Your mouths grow desperate against eachothers—the promise of the future and the fear of the unknown push you closer together.

Your hands go to his belt buckle, unlatching it with practiced precision, it’s not long until you’re both skin against skin beneath the dim halo of light.

Whispers of love fill the room, echoed by the gentle creaks of the bed beneath your entwined bodies.

The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you completely lost in eachother—engulfed in the other’s flames.
Burning and burning and burning til there’s nothing left.

Chapter Text

The smile on Leo’s face grows bigger and bigger as you finally admit the whole truth about you and Shane.
He leans back in his wooden chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting out a low chuckle—watching the sun dip below the horizon with a blaze of vibrant colors.

You both lounge out on the small porch next to your front door.
The early fall air is nice, carrying the scent of dried leaves as a gentle breeze rustles through the nearby trees.

“How long have you known?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Leo's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Since the day he came back from that run,” He replies. “The way you looked at eachother—I had a feelin.”

You shake your head at how you thought you were bein slick.

“Then that night at the club—I knew.” He says, smiling.

You groan, your cheeks growing hotter as the memories flood back.

“Hermana you’ve known Walsh a lot longer than me—but I do know he’s a good man," Leo says softly.
“If anyone bothered to look they’d see he loves you—plus he can’t keep his eyes off you…like ever.” He teased, nudging you playfully with his elbow.

You laugh, feeling a warmth that wasn’t just from the summer air.
Looking down to your lap you glance at your now bare ring finger.
It stung to take off the jewelry when you left your place this morning but it was necessary—both you and Shane knew that.
The promise it held was stronger than the original one to keep your relationship a secret but you had to be smart.
It was replaced by something profound, something deep.
In private the two of you are engaged but outside you’re what you’d always been—fellow survivors.

Looking back to Leo you notice him watching you, his gaze gentle yet probing.
“You really love him, don’t you?” He says.

“Yeah," you admit, a soft smile playing on your lips. "More than anything.”

Your friend nods, understanding in his eyes. "That's all that matters," he replies.

“He asked me to marry him.” You say smiling.

Leo's eyes widen, then his face breaks into a broad grin. He jumps up from his seat and wraps his arms around you pulling you into a warm embrace.
"What?! Oh my god hermana! You said yes right?!” He pulls back, still grinning, and looks at you with wide eyes full of excitement.

“Yeah, I said yes," you respond, returning his enthusiasm.

Your friend lets out something between a laugh and a cheer, clapping his hands excitedly.
He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him, trying to examine the ring. When he sees it missing, he looks puzzled. "No ring?" He asks, expecting to find it glittering on your finger.

“At home.” You whisper.

“Why?” Leo frowns, clearly confused.

"For the same reason I didn’t say anythin about Shane in the first place," you explain softly, looking around to ensure no one is eavesdropping.
“We both agreed it’s probably safer this way. ” You pause, studying his reaction.
“I know that you don’t trust this place completely either Leo—regardless of what you say.”

He sits back down slowly, his expression is a mix of understanding and concern. "Yeah…I get it—makes sense," he murmurs, nodding.

The warm sunlight casts a golden glow over the street below.
The hum of distant engines fills the air.
Silence stretches between you two as he mulls over your words.

You lean forward in your chair, resting both hands in your lap.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about us.” You say, guilt tinging your voice. "It's just...”

“Don’t apologize," Leo reassures, smiling faintly. “I understand why—you did what you thought was best.”

You give him a small smile before releasing the small breath you’ve been holding. The tension eases slightly as you both settle into the delicate truce forged by shared secrets.
“There’s one more thing,” you speak up.

“You’re pregnant?” His eyes widen in surprise.

You shake your head quickly chuckling.
“No Leo!”

"That would be crazy though huh?" He grins, trying to lighten the mood.

You sit up a little straighter and meet his eyes, your expression more serious.
“After Shane and I work off our debt we’re leaving.”

Leo's smile fades a little, and his brow furrows deeply.
“Leaving? And go where?”

“To find our group. They’re out there—who knows what’s happened since we got separated.”

“Exactly.” He says. “You don’t even know if they’re alive. It’s too risky Hermana.”

“They’re alive.” Your tone is firm.
Something deep in your bones tells you they are.
Surviving somewhere out there—waiting.
The thought of a reunion fills you with hope, keeping the fire inside you burning.
“This place isn’t right Leo—it’s not.” You say matter of factly.
“Come with us.”

He hesitates, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Hermana…” He murmurs.

“I know you’ve squared your debt already.” You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.
“I love you Leo…you’re my brother. When we go, you should come.”

You search his eyes for signs of resolve, willing him to see the truth and respond.
“My group…they’re good people. Real people, fighters. They’re family—and they don’t put on some show for survival; they live it.”

Leo looks down, his thoughts racing—his thumb fidgeting with the gaudy ring that adorns his pointer finger.
It's a habit of his, one you've noticed over time, when he’s deep in thought.
You knew his life here was stable, predictable, yet there had always been something missing—a sense of belonging…of family.
Squeezing his hand again he meets your gaze, determination slowly kindling in his eyes.

“Ok ,” he finally says, his voice steady. “I’m in.”

❧

Time passes slowly—the rigorous daily routine you’ve come to know becomes second nature.

You find yourself smiling as your fingers fumble with the ring that now hangs from the thin chain around your neck.
Shane gifted the necklace to you not long after your engagement.
“Now you can always wear your ring.” He said as he secured the clasp.

It feels good against your skin.
Almost like a silent reminder of him, in a way he’s always with you.
You tuck the chain underneath your collar—holding onto the sensation.

The ghost of his lips linger in your mind, and for a moment, you close your eyes, letting the memories wash over you.
The way he’d looked at you that night, the warmth of his smile, and the promises whispered in the quiet moments.

But as you open them the reality of your current situation suddenly grounds you.

The sound of the Governor’s voice shouting over the crackling of flames and the groaning of the dead break you out of your pleasant daydream.
You jump out of the large truck—gun in hand and your med bag strapped to your side.

The scene before you makes you pause.
A black hawk helicopter lay ahead in a clearing. The tail and other parts are strewn across the ground. The smell of smoke and fuel hangs heavy in the air.
And as you draw closer the all too familiar scent of blood wafts towards you on the wind.

“Fan out.” The Governor says, his eyes scanning the trees surrounding the accident.

You look over to Shane who’s walking up slowly a few feet away—his rifle up and close to his chest.
His dark eyes meet yours, a tinge of worry visible in them.

“Cain.” Your leader orders, motioning his head towards the fallen heli, signaling for you to attend to any wounded.

You trudge through the overgrown grass, careful to avoid any mangled metal parts or fuel puddles.
Stepping in front of the open side door of the helicopter you recognize fresh blood splattered over its smooth interior.
There’s lone figure slumped over in the cockpit.
A low moan comes from a soldier still strapped in his seat to your right.
You inch closer—not quite sure if the sound is from a dying man or a dead one.

“Soldier?” You ask.
The man stirs before coughing weakly.
Blood bubbles out of his mouth and slowly drips down his chin.

“Hey soldier…can you hear me?” You repeat.
Holstering your weapon, you step up and into the fuselage. Seeing that he’s grown still and quiet you check for a pulse.
But disappointment immediately follows when you feel nothing under your fingers—no sign of life.

You sit back on your legs, releasing a deep breath. “I got one dead.”

“Another out here.” A voice calls out from outside the wreckage.

Out of the corner of your eye you see The Governor walking around to the cockpit.
It grows quiet again, he’s no doubt checking the pilots pulse.
“Got a breather!” He shouts.

You scramble out of the chopper and over to the wounded man as he’s being pulled from his seat and laid on the grass.
He’s breathing but unconscious and covered in red angry burns with many deep lacerations across his skin.
You rip open your med bag, pulling out the necessities.

Faint growling catches your attention.
You look up from the pilot to see another soldier just a few feet away.
His bisected body lay next to the heli’s bloody rotor blade. Bright red blood and entrails paint the ground around him.

The dead soldier reaches up to The Governor who stands there for a moment looking down at the creature.
The wet squelching of flesh from inside the chopper is followed by your leaders knife entering the mangled walkers skull.

The pilot regains consciousness suddenly, groaning weakly.

“Sir, we have to get him back to Woodbury now.” You speak up as you place a fresh bandage to a bloody cut on his forearm.

More groans and a faint clinking sound draws all eyes to the thick woods ahead.

“Help Cain get him in the car.” The Governor says, still looking out towards the trees.

Shane and another guy carry the pilot to the waiting vehicles.
As you follow you hear some commotion towards the wreckage but you don’t turn around.
Instead you look down at the injured man—knowing there is plenty else to worry about.

“Think he’s gonna make it?” Shane asks as he sets the pilot down in the back of the truck.

“Honestly…I don’t know.” The words feel heavy on your tongue.
This man is lucky to be alive but you weren’t even sure if he’d survive the night.

On the drive back to Woodbury you do what you can in the hatchback of the truck, cleaning the pilots wounds and setting his badly broken wrist in a makeshift sling.

Once in the medical trailer you and Trudy are finally able to assess and treat his injuries.
Burns cover most of his body and he’s suffering from multiple serious fractures. The pilot would need a lot of care and time to fully recover.

Trudy calls you over from his bedside. She’s holding another chart in her hands.

“Someone else got hurt while we were out?” You question as she passes you the clipboard.
You scan over the paper growing more puzzled with each written word.
“There wasn’t a woman in the crash. Only three men—two deceased on scene and the pilot.” You recount.

“She wasn’t in the helicopter…her and another woman were found near the crash. Apparently one of em’ is in pretty rough shape.” Trudy says closing the door to the pilots room.

“Weird…I didn’t see her.” You follow behind the doctor into another exam room.

You continue reading through the patient chart, there isn’t much information on her injuries.
And everything else was left blank which makes you all the more curious.

Two guards follow silently behind you into the room, standing on either side of the open door.

“Hello my name is Dr. Stevens and this is Nurse Cain. We’re here to help—what’s your name dear?” Trudy’s honeyed tone is enough to calm even the most anxious patient.

“Michonne.” A warm voice speaks.
You look up to see a woman standing at the edge of the bed.
Her deep chocolate skin gleams softly in the dim light of the room, her presence is striking.
Dark dreads fall to her shoulders, her eyes scan over you and Trudy—then to the guards.

You watch the woman closely. Her gaze is intense, as if she’s assessing the situation.
Her apprehension charges the air with tension making you wonder what she might do.

“It’s nice to meet you Michonne.” Trudy replies. “And this is?”

You walk around the Doctor to get a better look at the injured woman on the bed.
As you step closer, details begin to register.
Even as she lay disheveled and unconscious, you recognize her.
Someone from your past—someone you’d thought was long dead.

“Andrea?”

Chapter Text

A faint sense of calm washes over you closing the door to your apartment.
The familiar creak of the hinges sounds like a soft welcome, reminding you that you’re stepping into your own space, away from the lingering shadows of the outside world.
The muffled sounds of night fade, replaced by the light snores coming from your bed.

You walk towards the mattress, quietly peeling off layers of clothing as you go. Climbing into bed, you seem to melt into the warmth of the soft sheets.
Everything else fades even further as you sink into the mattress, feeling the fatigue of the day slip away.
You breathe deeply, allowing yourself this moment.

Shane stirs next to you, “Tal?” He whispers in the dark. “You alright?”
A hand snakes up and over your stomach, pulling you closer.
His bare skin creates an instant cocoon of comfort.

You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against you, a silent reassurance.
His touch is gentle yet possessive, and you can’t help but fall further into him.

"I'm fine," you whisper back, your eyes glued to the ceiling.

The glow of the moon filters in through the curtains, bathing everything in a soft light.

Shane’s fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, igniting a comforting warmth that spreads through you.
But you can sense his concern.
“Everythin ok? The pilot…is he?” he asks, shifting slightly to get a better view of your face.

“He’s alive for now.”

“Then what’s wrong? Did somethin happen?” He turns his head to glance at the clock on the nightstand.
“It’s three am. Where ya been?”

You nod, letting out a soft sigh.
“Andrea’s alive and she’s here—in Woodbury,” you finally say, your voice barely above a breath.
Emotions you’ve suppressed for hours bubble up to the surface.
Your throat constricts as tears prickle your eyes.

“What?” He asks.

“She was there at the crash. Her and another woman named Michonne saw it go down and they followed the smoke. Andrea’s pretty sick…but she’ll be ok.”

“Holy shit.” Shane's expression softens as he absorbs your words.

“If she’s alive then Rick and the others could be too.” You add.

His eyes widen in disbelief as he processes the implications of your words.

The weight of hope mingles with the fear that has clung to the both of you for so long.

“Does she know anything else? Has she seen them?”

Blinking back tears, the gravity of the situation crashes down around you.
“No—not since the farm.”

His brow furrows with concern.

You turn to face him fully, “They’re alive Shane. I know it in my soul. I don’t know how I know—I can’t explain it but…they are.”

He shifts closer, his body radiating heat.
“I know—I feel it too.” he reassures you, his hand still stroking your skin soothingly. “You don’t ever have to explain somethin like that to me Tal.”

The sincerity in his voice sparks something inside you.

“We’ll find em’…I swear.” He says, his other arm slipping under your head.

You nod, allowing yourself to take a deep breath, the weight of the night feeling a little lighter.
Glancing at the clock again, the late hour reminds you of the exhaustion pulling at your eyelids.

A lazy yawn escapes your lips as you snuggle up to the man beside you.

He watches you, lips curling into a sleepy smile and tightens his grip around you, like he never wants to let go.

Yet as you lie there, the urgency of the situation mingles with your fatigue, creating a buzzing undercurrent that radiates through your body.
You feel Shane’s arm draped protectively around you, grounding in the present moment.
The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath serves as a soothing reminder that everything will be ok.

“Go to sleep,” He mumbles, sensing your inner turmoil.

“I will,” you reply softly, though your mind races with possibilities and the hope of reuniting with your group.
The thought of their survival ignites a fire within you, pushing you to strategize even as your body craves rest.

Shane shifts slightly, pulling you in even closer, tucking your head underneath his chin. “Close your eyes baby—you need to sleep.”

You snuggle against him, with every heartbeat, a sense of calm begins to wash over your racing thoughts.

“I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you too,” you reply, your eyes fluttering shut as you lean into his embrace.

As you drift off, you cling to the hope that soon something will bring with it the possibility of finding your loved ones. Reuniting with them somehow, together as a group—as a family is where you all belong.
And with that comforting thought, sleep finally takes you.
❧
“How the hell did y’all manage to survive with her bein so sick?” Shane asks looking up to Michonne and Andrea from across your dining room table.

Andrea chuckles faintly, her eyes distant with memories.

Michonne takes a sip from her glass before replying,
“It wasn’t easy—did what we had to.”
Her voice is flat and her eyes never waver from you or Shane.

In the few weeks her and Andrea had been here you’d gathered that the woman doesn’t trust easily.

You’d managed to have a few conversations with her late at night.
Her guard would drop just a little then, asking questions about yourself and Woodbury, but never offering up anything about herself.

If anyone could appreciate her reluctance to open up, it was you.
Secrets were a form of survival now more than ever. You knew Andrea but this woman—was a mystery.
But strangely there was something about her that told you she was someone you could count on…maybe even eventually trust.

Now Andrea? Bless her heart—you’d never pegged her as being a naive woman especially after everything that happened on the farm but her willingness to integrate into the community of Woodbury surprised you.
Something about the way she watched The Governor and the way he spoke to her unsettled you, yet Andrea appeared oblivious to the unease radiating from him.

Shane mentioned that Merle thought she and The Governor were sleeping together.
For Andrea's sake, you hoped that wasn't true, but part of you wouldn't put it past her, wanting to feel secure in this tumultuous world.

A knot of worry curled tightly in your stomach—you’d confided in her when she’d first arrived that she needed to keep you and Shanes past hidden from people especially The Governor.
She was confused and questioned you, you’d given her a vague reason and that it just needed to remain private.
Yet you reminded her of everything you’d all been through—how far the two of you had come. Starting off as enemies then becoming family at the farm, threaded together by struggle and loss.

But it seemed the longer she was here the more she slipped away, severing those once resilient ties and molding herself to fit what The Governor wanted her to be—a loyal follower, blind to his true nature.

But you…you knew better. You've seen the darkness lurking beneath his charismatic facade. So had Shane—now you were thinking maybe Michonne had too.
Somehow you’d managed to convince the both of them to come over for a drink.
Andrea seemed more than willing while her companion—in contrast—appeared hesitant as her steely gaze swept across the room.
Although you and her were on good terms you could tell she was wary of Shane probably due to his high position in security.

Sitting around the table you, Andrea and Shane continue talking—occasionally laughing over memories of the farm or life before all this.
Michonne remained quite fidgeting with her cup.

You’d glance over at her, noticing the tension in her clenched jaw and carefully neutral expression.
It was only a matter of time before she spoke her mind.

Leaning forward, she finally says, "So what’s his Deal?—The Governor.”
The discomfort in the air settled like a fine mist; no one dared to break it.

Andrea sighs deeply. “Michonne please, not this again.”

“We have a right to know.” The woman presses looking at Andrea with determined eyes. "Blind loyalty won't save us when things go bad.”

“She’s right.” Shane spoke. “What do ya wanna know?”

You grip his leg under the table—warning him to tread carefully.
Conversations like these carried weight, and you aren’t entirely sure if Andrea can be trusted.

Michonne narrows her eyes at him and asks, "What aren't they telling us? There's something off about that man, this place…and I wanna know what it is.”

You met Andrea’s eyes over the table. Her expression is a little too carefully crafted. Her smile tight, more defensive than reassuring.

Shane clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak but you stop him.
“If you don’t trust The Governor or this place—or us,” You motion between yourself and the man next to you, “then why are you still here?”

The woman’s eyes glint with defiance.

“You’re free to go Michonne…you know that.” Your tone is calm, but the challenge was clear.

Michonne’s gaze wavers slightly, but the fire in her eyes doesn’t dim.
“I’m not leaving without Andrea.” She says.

Andrea flinches, obviously stuck between her friend and the loyalty she has for this place.
You knew then that your apprehension in speaking the truth in front of her was the right move.

Shane spoke again, reiterating the fact that they could leave at any time—that there was nothing going on here.

Your eyes never leave Michonne’s, hoping that she can understand what you’re trying to say without words.
The stakes here are high, and a misstep could spell disaster for all involved.

She narrows her gaze, studying you with a new intensity. Her skepticism is rooted deep, and rightly so.

With that she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, signaling the temporary truce.
Her posture remains tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
❧
Later that night you spot the newcomer leaning up against one of the buildings in the square, hanging around on the outside of the large group gathered around to hear The Governor address the town.
He spews some rhetoric meant to reassure them, he stands tall and commanding while Milton the resident Dr. Frankenstein of Woodbury lurks nearby, taking in the scene with his usual detached interest.

Michonne watches the crowd with calculating eyes, assessing every detail.

You catch sight of Andrea in the front row of people, her face a mask of unwavering devotion. Her transformation was strange, a glaring reminder of the influence The Governor wields.

You leave Shane and Leo to finish talking with Merle and approach Michonne cautiously.

Her eyes land on you but she doesn’t move from her spot.
She simply tilts her head, acknowledging your presence with a slight nod.
“Come to tell me more bullshit?” She asks.

“I’m sorry about that—can’t exactly trust that Andrea will keep what we say to herself anymore,” you reply, motioning to the crowd.

Michonne's eyebrows arch slightly, her skepticism unyielding.
“Yeah…guess not.”

You glance around making sure no one is listening before you continue,“You’re right—about everything. Woodbury…The Governor. Andrea doesn’t know him. Not like Shane and I…she’s blinded by whatever she’s thinks he is or whatever he tells her.”

The woman’s face remains impassive, though her eyes harden slightly. “And why are you telling me? We barely know each other.”

You release a breath and meet her steady gaze. "Because," you admit, "I think you see things a lot clearer than you let on. And if Andrea trusts you…then so do I.”

She huffs lightly, pushing off the brick building.
“Im not sure if I believe in all that trust shit anymore, especially around here," Michonne reply’s, a hint of conflict in her voice.
“Andreas different. She wants to believe in something good—and so do I, but this…this whole place and everything it stands for is a lie. ” She shakes her head, the weight of her words evident in her tone.

You turn meeting her gaze, trying to convey all the sincerity you feel, “No it’s not. The people here aren’t…the families. The wanting to return to some sort or normal isn’t.” you implore softly.
“But The Governor—the shit he says and does. It’s not just a lie; it's dangerous. And that's the part Andrea doesn't see yet. But she will—she’s just gotta open her eyes first.” You pause, considering your next words. "Before it’s too late.”

“Then let me ask you, knowing all that why are you still here?” She inquires, curiosity tinged with suspicion.

“Shane and I need supplies, weapons and preferably a vehicle to get to our group out there. But the Governor won’t spare anything if we haven’t earned it.” You whisper.

“Earned it?” The woman raises an eyebrow, her skepticism palpable.

You shake your head slightly, knowing how ridiculous that must sound.
“It’s complicated.”

Michonne nods slowly. "Sounds like it…then I can't say I blame you for bidin your time.”

“Yeah.” Your tone is somber, yet resolute.
“But the longer we’re here the more I’m startin to believe they’ll never let us leave. Maybe the real lie is thinkin we ever will.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean he’s dead?” You stare back at Trudy— your mind swirling with questions about the pilot, hours ago he was alive, now you hear her words echo in your ears, realizing something must have happened.

The Doctor clenches her jaw, avoiding your eyes, then says, “Apparently he passed during the night.”
She presses her nails into her palm, voice flat, “I came in this morning expecting him to be asleep, but he was already gone—his bead was empty.”

You look at her, searching her face for a clue or explanation that might reveal what really went down.
“He’s been healing well…everything was fine lastnight. He—he was coherent and talking. What happened? Who told you he was dead?”

Trudy glances toward the hallway as if someone might overhear, then lowers her voice so only you can hear. “Milton. Him and a few guys were standing around the front door when I came in…honestly I’m not exactly sure what happened. But if he died then we must have missed something, especially since he seemed stable. But anything can happen…you know that.”

Anger surges inside you, thickening your voice as you speak, "I’m gonna go talk to ‘em.”

Trudys hand grabs your wrist, her grip steady as she warns, “Don’t Talia.”

You look to her, confused , waiting for her to explain the sudden panic written in her eyes and her seemingly unwillingness to get to the bottom of this.
“Why wouldn’t I…he’s our patient—our responsibility. We’re in charge of caring for these people…you said that to me.”

Trudy shakes her head, a look for defeat paints her face as she pleads with you not to stir up any trouble.

“Trouble? What are you not sayin Trudy?” Your eyes move from her hand to her tense jaw, demanding she reveal the truth behind her apprehension.

Right then footsteps echo in the corridor, interrupting your question before the Doctor can respond.
She steps back, releasing your hand, turning to peer over your shoulder, her whole demeanor shifting as a tall shadow suddenly fills the doorway, casting both of you in suspense.

“Hello Mr. Dixon.” She says with a smile.

Merle nods his head towards her, returning the greeting.
He scans the room slowly, lips pressed thin as stone, then fixes his eyes on you with intent.
“The Governor wants to see ya Candy Cain.” That familiar smug smile spreads, sending a pulse of dread down your spine.

You freeze, pulse pounding in your ears.

Merle’s gaze doesn’t waver as he tips his head back toward the hall, issuing a silent invitation for you to follow, leaving you no real choice but to obey.

“I’ll be back.” You say flashing Trudy a reassuring glance, though inside your chest the anxiety spirals rapidly as you steel yourself to face whatever The Governor has planned next.

Stepping into the hall, Merle follows behind.
The both of you exit the trailer, soon you fall into step with him trying to prepare yourself for another dreaded encounter with the man in charge, heart hammering in your chest.

“What’s got your panties all in a wad there sister?” Merle speaks up.

You stiffen, cautious to give him any hint about your real anxiety, shifting your eyes nervously toward the looming guards manning the walled entrance to the community.
Over the months you’ve been here you’ve grown close to Merle. There’s a mutual sense of respect between the two of you. Like you could be honest with him, despite the risk, hoping he'd keep your confidence under the Governor's ever-watchful glare.

He glances your way, reading your hesitation, then slows his stride when you don’t answer right away.
“The pilot? Thats what s’bout?”

No, it’s not the pilot, you want to say, but the truth feels jagged on your tongue, heavy as you think of the possibilities surrounding his death.
“What happened to him?…Really?”
You look over to Merle as he lets out a long breath, his eyes darting around.

“He died during the night…s’all I know.”

“Bullshit.” You glance sharply at him, searching his face for cracks that betray something he’s not telling you.

He stops suddenly, his eyes narrowing at you.
The same way he does when reprimanding the men under his command.

But you don’t back down, instead digging your heels in, you demand he stop dodging the truth, refusing to accept any more secrets.
“Tell me the truth Merle…please.” You plead as your voice falters.

The man chuckles dryly, a look of defeat settling into his shoulders.
He looks towards the guards ahead before he leans closer, but the sound of footsteps interrupts him, you both turn as a figure comes into focus, coming straight towards you.
Milton.

“Hello Miss Cain.” The man glances between you both nervously, clutching a clipboard, his brow drawn tight.
“Merle.” His voice is flat as he adjusts his glasses.

Merle just shrugs, keeping his good hand on his belt, waiting for Milton to spit out whatever summoned him here.

The man looks to you, standing up straighter.
“Come along—best not to keep The Governor waiting.” He turns briskly on his heel, his footsteps echoing sharply as he leads you both across the sidewalk toward the Governor’s place.

You glance back at Merle whose eyes are trained on the back of Miltons head before they shift to you.
Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves, body rigid as you silently follow behind the nervous man sent to collect you.

Merle catches up, his voice a low warning in your ear, “Don’t do nothin’ stupid Candy Cain.”

❧

“I know it’s askin an awful lot…but you’ve proven more than capable of handlin yourself in stressful situations, especially when things don’t always go accordin to plan.” The Governors voice surprises you, rising from the calm of the office while his fingers drum lazily atop his desk.

Milton sits in the chair next to you, eyeing Merle who’s leaning against the wall.
A tight, uneasy frown on his mousy face as he adjusts his glasses nervously, glancing at you.

“Ok.” You understand there’s more to this than he’s saying, so you fix The Governor with a determined stare, your fingers curling tight in your lap.

He gives you a smile which you return, hiding your uneasiness knowing this isn’t the only reason he’s called you here.

“You’ll head out in a couple days. Lieutenant Brooks and his team as well as a few select members are going out—including Merle. The mission is the same as always but expect to be out there for several days this time due to increased walker and possible hostile activity.” His eyes flick briefly to you, grave but resolute, as if weighing whether to trust you with even darker details than he’s willing to speak aloud in front.
“You may encounter people who are desperate or dangerous, so stay aware at all times. But you are to answer and report back directly to me and only me. Any information regarding what you see out there…camps, supplies, small groups, anythin. Doesn’t matter how insignificant it seems, I wanna know every detail. Understand?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you as his words settle, forcing you to nod despite the chill forming at the base of your spine.
“Yes sir.”

“Good.” He continues, voice soft but sharp as a blade, “There’s something else I’d like you to handle.”
Tension lingers in the air as Milton abruptly shifts, reaching into his satchel to retrieve a folder thick with reports.

Merle folds his arms across his chest, an annoyed look spreads, barely disguising his suspicion as he eyes the folder like it holds unwelcome secrets you’re expected to unravel.

Milton places the folder on the desk in front of you. The words Operation Lazarus catch your gaze in bold print, hinting at something even more sensitive hidden within these pages.

You glance at the man waiting for him to explain but he simply gestures for you to open it, his hands trembling just enough to notice as you look over the stiff cover.
You oblige him, flipping through the first few pages past dozens of papers splattered with black and red ink, numbers and diagrams until you come to a faded sheet marked with detailed drawings that have been circled in urgent marks.

Depictions of wounds and body parts suggest something sinister—each illustration labeled with cryptic paragraphs that seem to tell a buried story hidden from the rest of the community.
Turning to the next page, your heartbeat stutters as you see dozens of Polaroids stapled to pages.
Images of walkers—all in differing stages of decay and dismemberment, staring blankly back at you, glazed with a haunting resignation that chills you to your core.

You look up, swallowing hard as Milton leans in closer, voice so low you almost miss his next words but the curiously in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Do you think they remember anything after their transformation?” He asks.

It takes you a second to realize he’s being totally serious. You grip the folder tighter, searching his face for some sign this is a joke, but all you find is his unwavering focus, his bold inquisitiveness daring you to answer honestly.
“No…I don’t.”

“Milton believes there’s a gap—a window—where something of their former selves remains conscious…but trapped beneath the decay, strugglin to emerge.” The Governor speaks up, his hand on his chin as he watches you with unsettling patience, waiting for you to concede even the slightest insight.

So it’s true—what Milton’s been doing. The experiments, the tests.
Gathering unease settles as the man next to you smiles, his eyes shining with secret triumph.
“I’ll be preforming a series of tests tonight on a specimen, hoping to capture traces that will reveal fragments of their consciousness… I’d like your help with that.” He gathers the papers carefully, aligning them in a practiced motion, then tucks the folder beneath one arm before nodding for you to follow him.

“Andrea will be joinin ya’ll…keep an eye on her.” The Governor leans over the desk, issuing the final order that you know better than to ignore.

“Yes sir.” You nod standing up, swallowing your protest.

Merle falls in step behind you, unresolved tension clinging to your skin as you follow behind Milton not knowing how deep this experiment will go or what hidden consequences might arise before the night ends.

❧

You’re trying your hardest to remain calm, watching as Mr. Coleman the dying man who volunteered to be apart of Milton’s experiment, reanimate on the gurney he’s strapped to.
Andrea’s looks at you, the same haunted expression mirroring your own, she grips the knife holstered at her hip.
Determination flashes in her eyes, her jaw tightening as the corpses eyes flutter open.

“It’s happening.” You speak up, standing from your chair across the room, pulling your blade to steady your nerves as Andrea moves quickly. Milton sits up at attention with obvious excitement.
He grabs the singing bowl to his right, gliding the wooden mallet along its rim, sending a deep resonant tone cascading across the cold room, almost making time slow.

Andrea cues up a song on the old record player, static momentarily crackling through the small speaker before the smooth music begins to play.

The corpse growls lowly, pulling at its restrains—getting more and more riled up as Milton speaks.
He asks the same questions from before Mr. Colemans transformation, almost like reading a script.
The tension in the space twists tighter with every syllable uttered.
Milton pulls out a picture of the dead mans wife, holding it out closer to see but instead the walker leans forward, snapping it’s teeth at the photograph, drooling as it’s jaw works desperately to bite or chew anything within reach.

Your eyes are trained on the monster, watching the way its fingers flex against the straps.

”Did you see that?” Milton blurts out, desperation creeping into his voice as he motions to the walkers hand, saying the involuntary movement is a trained response to the rehearsed questions.

Andrea shakes her head, “Their fingers move. That could be anything.” She says.

“No it’s the angle—he can’t raise his hands.” He insists, holding the gurney in place while his eyes dart between you and Andrea, incredulity painting his face as he waits for confirmation.

You stare back at him—seeing the flicker of hope.
This man really has no idea the danger awaiting everyone in this room if the walker breaks free.
He admitted to never seeing anyone turn—his naivety is astounding.
Living here has shielded him from the reality outside the tall walls of Woodbury.

You can hear Andrea disagree with him warning that the walker will attack but the man is defiant to any reason. His desperate need to believe is thicker than the fear gathering in the corners.
If he’s not careful, someone could get hurt or worse before the experiment is truly over.

You step forward gripping your knife tightly feeling Milton’s resistance as he raises his voice demanding you and Andrea’s compliance as if volume or will alone can break through the fog of death holding Mr. Coleman fast in his monstrous new form.
Your heart pounds furiously in your chest as you brace for chaos.

Suddenly Milton reaches over and unfastens one of the walker’s wrists, causing the gurney to jerk violently as it’s freed arm whips towards him, grabbing the front of his shirt.
It pulls itself up, mouth open wide, teeth inches from Milton’s face, you lunge, driving your knife hard into the corpses head before it can bite.

You pull back your blade, Milton is frozen, the room echoing with Andrea's quick gasp of horror at the close call.
Breathing heavily you lower the knife, eyeing Milton, gauging his reaction.
You’re at a loss for words, watching him adjust his shirt and calmly stand up.

“I think I’d like to record my findings while they’re fresh.” His voice cracks with emotion.
He glances at Mr. Colemans body again, eyes still wide, fumbling for his notebook before walking off.

After a moment you holster your knife, looking at Andrea with disappointment settling in your chest; her mouth is tight with concern as she glances down at the floor, the air in here is stifling.
She meets your eyes at last, then shakes her head, regret raw in her expression.
The both of you turn quietly, exiting the lab, filled with the stench of blood and sweat.

You wonder if Milton will ever truly understand what just went down or what could have happened if you hadn’t reacted, the thought conjures up a truly unsettling feeling.
It crawls up your spine as you and Andrea’s footsteps echo down the sterile hallway, leading out into the unsuspecting community you’ve come to rely on for comfort, safety, or at least a few brittle moments of normalcy during this never ending nightmare.

Chapter Text

The mid fall air whips bitterly against your face, stealing heat from your body as you wrap your jacket tighter, shapes in the gloom shifting with every quiet step you take.
You’ve been outside the walls of Woodbury for two days now along with the group you’re assigned to.
It didn’t take long to realize that this run was more than just survival; but a test of loyalty.
To see if you would follow orders.

Merle’s in charge while Brooks seconds coordinating the run, their sharp eyes darting between abandoned cars and houses as they bark out directions.
The group is ten strong—Shane and Baker among them.

Early this morning you overheard the leaders talking about a missing supply truck, discussing their concerns in hushed voices as Merle talks tightening patrol routes to compensate for the shortfall, heightening the situation.
You pick up on their stress as the sun rises red behind broken fences, shadows stretching long across the cracked pavement, the silence pressing in hard.

Merle’s eyes land on you before he jerks his head towards the others, muttering a command to Brooks.
You walk over to Shane securing your weapon and awaiting further instructions, your grip tightening as the realization hits that something could happen next—something violent or final—before you even make it back to Woodbury.
❧
Everything outside the community looks the same.
The sight of rubbish and decomposing corpses strewn across dying grass or shattered tile floors reminds you that safety is a flickering illusion, gone the moment you let your guard slip.
More and more walkers shuffle around during the day, forcing the group to keep moving cautiously through ruined storefronts or thick vegetation as tension mounts.
And the silence is oppressive, even in the woods—each breath echoing loud enough that you startle at the slightest sound, rendering whispered conversation nearly impossible.

By midday your arm aches from taking down the dead and hauling your pack, the constant tension twisting muscles that haven’t relaxed since sunrise, your senses straining for any clue of approaching danger.
The only moments of rest you get are when you’re all packed into the vehicles driving towards the next area to search.
You stare out the window, taking a mental note of anything you see. The Governor’s instructions echoing in your head with every passing field, reminding you to report back to him with details—locations of any fuel caches, groups, or threats that could jeopardize the community.
A part of you doesn’t want to help, but the threat you know he poses keeps you compliant, watching the tree line for movement.

“Here.” A warm voice to your left offers you a canteen.
You turn to see Shane smiling tiredly, the creases around his eyes deepening as he waits for you to take it.
He searches your face for reassurance as he nudges your shoulder.

Gratefully, you accept the water, your parched throat burning as you drink carefully, never letting your eyes stray far from the road.
You feel his gaze linger on you, silent concern shadowing his expression while the rest of the passengers stare out the windows in tense silence, their hands resting anxiously on battered rifles or knives in their laps.

You give a quiet thank you, glancing over trying to smile, but your voice cracks with exhaustion as he watches you closely.
After a moment you look back to the road, watching burned-out husks of vehicles appear along the lonely blacktop and through the trees, their twisted metal marking failed escapes.
In the distance, over the treetops you see a thin curl of light smoke rising slowly above the pines, signaling a fire or camp nearby just beyond the next ridge.
“Wait.” You speak up tapping Merle’s shoulder, “There’s somethin over there—a dying campfire, maybe, or something’s done burnin.”

From the passenger seat he turns his head slowly, squinting in the direction you indicated.
He motions the driver to stop and the screeching of brakes jolts everyone upright, hearts pounding as the second truck skids to a halt behind.

“Good eye there Candy Cain—let’s go.” Merle nudges open his door, attaching a long blade to his prosthetic, scanning the roadside for threats.

Everyone piles out of the vehicles, boots crunching on stale leaves as Merle motions for silence with his good hand, his eyes narrowing as he signals toward the treeline in the direction of the rising smoke.

Gravel crunches sharply to your right as something—a shadow—breaks from the treeline. Your instincts on edge, loaded weapon already raised, half convinced they're hostile or infected.
You breathe a sigh of relief when a single walker lurches into view, although shambling faster than expected, its mouth twisted open in a silent scream.

A silenced gunshot echoes from behind you as Shane drops the walker with a practiced shot, his eyes flicking rapidly over the treeline for more movement.

Brooks steps up beside you, his grip tense on his shotgun, eyes never leaving the direction the walker came from, ready to act if more appear from the dense forest.
The rest of you stand still with your weapons up, bracing for sudden chaos in case a whole pack rushes the clearing at once.
When nothing else stirs from the shadows, tension drains just slightly from your body, the group exchanging wary glances before inching cautiously toward the trees.

Merle leads the way forward, his boots barely breaking the silence along the shadowed edge, moving steadily as he signals for everyone to follow closely behind.

You walk slowly, entering the forest, carefully stepping over tangled roots and uneven ground as silence presses down, alert to possible threats from every direction.

The forest is thick with tangled undergrowth, branches clawing at your jacket as you push further through dead leaf mulch, each step sounding alarmingly loud in the hush.

You can feel Shane’s presence behind you, steady but tense, his breath shallow as he keeps constant watch for movement just beyond your line of sight.

The group creeps forward, guns raised, each member expertly scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.
One behind the other ya’ll advance softly, wary of twigs snapping, each person straining to catch the slightest sound of danger.

You see Merle up ahead looking through a pair of binoculars, his knuckles white as he looks for the smoke—then he motions to continue forward.

Time seems to slow as you walk. Your heart pounds in your chest with mounting dread, instinct screaming that something is coming.

The woods begin to thin as you approach a small clearing, you see a faint column of pale gray smoke rising barely visible, prompting everyone to close in together, adrenaline surging, readying weapons in case of any danger.
Abandoned train tracks covered in overgrown grass and a row of decrepit warehouses appear through the trees—they sit silent and alone, hulking in the clearing with shattered windows, with one pair of large warped doors hanging open as if inviting trouble to step inside.
Black soot clings to the old bricks, the acrid smell thick in the air, hinting that at least one of the buildings were on fire recently, suggesting someone—or something—could still be lurking within the walls.
Looking more closely you see the dying smoke slowly wafting from a third story window, curling outward in thin ribbons that dissolve quickly into the cool air around the abandoned structures.

Brooks lifts his shotgun, eyes trained on the open doors, signaling everyone to spread out along the edge.

You go left, body crouched low as dirt crunches under your boots.

Shane moves with you, everyone circles the warehouse perimeter while making silent signals to maintain communication.

You come up behind Merle who’s peering intently through one cracked window, his finger raised in warning.
After a moment he signals to follow him to the back while Brooks slowly disappears around the corner, the others in the group ready to provide cover fire out front in case someone emerges from the shadows inside.
Merle holsters his gun, taking out his knife and you do the same.

You turn to Shane, motioning to hold back until he’s given the all clear signal.
His eyes shift briefly toward yours, then return anxiously to the darkness beyond, jaw set in a straight line as he steadies his rifle, his muscles taut with anticipation for whatever might be waiting inside.

Merle crouches down, moving slowly along the brick wall of the warehouse, his breath steady as he inches forward.

You’re right behind him gripping your knife tighter, feeling the cold steel, heart racing as you near the rear entrance.

The door is wide open and the ground around the entry is muddy, clearly trampled with several shoe prints.
Your mind races as you register the tracks, realizing they’re pressed deep into the earth which suggests a large number of bodies must have entered the warehouse recently, maybe still somewhere inside.
Merle seemed to realized that too because he motions for Shane and the others forward.

Brooks comes around the corner with Baker on his heels.
Their eyes dart immediately to the muddied entrance, scanning for movement or any signs of life within the gloom.

You all gather to decide the next course of action, whispering quickly as tension crackles between the group.

“Baker, Walsh, you’re with Brooks.” Merle motions to them then turns to you and the two men standing behind you.
“You three follow me—let’s go.”

You glance up at Shane, catching his eyes, the look of fear flickering across his face before he clenches his jaw. He’s worried about splitting up, but he nods anyway, steeling himself for what comes next.
You give a nod of reassurance as he silently takes point directly behind Brooks while you settle into position.

Merle enters quietly, scanning the gloom for movement, boots sinking into the muddy floor as he advances forward.
With your knife raised you move soundlessly behind him, every step deliberate—creeping toward the shadows ratchets the tension higher, every sense alert.

You take cover behind the warped metal shelving near the loading dock doors, breaths shallow as you strain to catch the slightest sound.
Everyone then steps inside as you strain to see through the gloom, every heartbeat loud, expecting the low groans of the dead or sudden, human movement echoing from deeper in the warehouse ahead.

The door shuts quietly, blanketing the room in darkness except the little light streaming through the broken windows.

You strain your eyes for shapes among smoldering scattered pallets, anxiety building as stuffy air presses against your face.

Smoke stings your nostrils as a sharp clang echoes suddenly overhead, sending everyone immediately into a tight crouch near the crates.
You scan the room, looking for a door leading to another level or maybe a hidden corridor.
Spotting an exit sign you whistle lightly for Merle’s attention, pointing to a door half-hidden behind crates piled with old barrels.

He nods his head and moves forward slowly, signaling for you to stay low as another crash erupts somewhere above, making everyone freeze in place.
Reaching the door he grabs the handle and slowly pushes it open, gun drawn, exposing a narrow stairwell choked with shadows that spiral upward into darkness.
Without taking his eyes off the stairs, you slip in behind him, Shane next then everyone files in.

Your heart pounds as uncertainty prickles across your skin, taking out your gun you keep it aimed up as you listen for footsteps or voices above you.

Everyone’s steps are silent except the gentle creak of the stairwell beneath your feet as you ascend warily, uncertain what might be waiting above.

Once you reach the top of the stairs Merle pauses momentarily before putting his ear against the door, listening for any movement coming from the other side, signaling to everyone to get ready for anything.

He twists the knob and the two of you exchange a look when it sticks slightly, resisting his grip just enough to make your pulse spike as you brace for what’s about to happen.

You grip your gun tightly, forcing yourself to steady your breathing as Merle pushes again, your eyes locked on the seam of the door as it finally groans open.

The air is heavy with dust, mingled with stale smoke, making it hard to breathe as your group pauses momentarily, ears straining for any sound.
Within seconds, a scraping noise erupts from deeper inside, immediately forcing you back against the wall, holding your breath as you raise your weapon, barely daring to blink, hoping the shadows conceal your position.

Shane moves quietly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he steps in front of you with his weapon raised and ready.

Brooks takes out his flashlight, flicking it on quickly, illuminating the soot covered room.
Piles of burnt rubbish litter the floor, scorched furniture broken beyond use, shards of glass glinting dully in scattered sunlight from a window.
He moves the spotlight around the room looking for the source of the noise when suddenly it glances over a hunched figure in the corner, motionless except for a tremor in its shoulders.
Brooks moves the light up slowly, the beam seemingly catching the figures attention.
When it turns your breath catches as you see the walker in all its ragged horror, its ruined face twisting toward you with a guttural moan that slices through the choking silence.
Its skull visible through the charred flesh of its head.
Burnt clothes hang loosely off its body as it shuffles forward with every movement, pieces of blackened flesh peeling away in sticky strips as it closes in.

Merle steps forward and thrusts the long knife of his prosthetic through its temple, dropping the corpse where it stood.
Everyone’s on high alert—nerves buzzing like live wires knowing there could be more walkers here.

The group leaders signal everyone to spread out with flashlights up.

You walk around the room, keeping tight with the wall.
Clicking on the light, you illuminate any dark corners or shadows that might be hiding anymore threats.

It’s then you see a body on the ground. Its skin grey with ash—burned beyond recognition.
You grip your knife tighter, your knuckles aching from the effort.
Fear grips your chest as the spotlight illuminates more remains.
Bodies—a dozen or so smoldering corpses litter the ground. Some lay motionless while others reach out towards the light, moaning faintly.
Their bodies weakened from the fire but their hunger still remained.

“Holy fuck.” Merle whispers lowly to your side.
His eyes glued to the same scene you find yourself unable to look away from.

“God dammit.” Brooks hisses from behind.

You turn expecting to find more bodies but instead you see the group gathering around.
Multiple shelves of melted or destroyed rubble line one whole wall of the upstairs, some fallen while others stay standing.

Brooks rummages through the ashes until he manages to pull out a few disfigured cans.
He shakes his head, his shoulders tensing as he stands slowly.
“These were our supplies…these were our fucking supplies.” His voice dips low and dangerous.
“Months worth of food and meds and it’s all fucking gone.” He spits.

“Well whoever took ‘em is dead.” Merle says looking around the room again.

“What happened here?” Baker speaks up, even in the dim light of the room you can see the worry in his eyes.

Shane comes closer, standing to your left, eyeing the ruined shelves with suspicion as he wipes sweat from his brow.
“How do you know it’s ours?” He asks.

One of the other men speaks up, a burly guy named Carson, who kicks aside debris before frowning at something hidden beneath a fallen shelf.

Everyone turns when his flashlight lands on a singed red backpack with the words First Aid printed across it, stuffed partly underneath burned pieces of broken wood.
There was one just like it in the missing supplies.

You walk forward, squatting down, maneuvering a hand to pull the bag free, adrenaline surging through your veins.
Unzipping the bag you see bloody bandages, an empty bottle of antiseptic, torn gauze, but no pain medication anywhere inside.
In the front pocket you remove a folded piece of notebook paper—Trudy’s undeniable handwriting scribbled across the page.

Taking a deep breath, “It’s ours.” You say, taking note of everything left behind.
“Someone must have been hurt—there’s hardly anything left and it’s full of bloody bandages.”
A deep creaking noise fills the dark room.
Unable to decider where it came from you quickly stand and turn to Merle who meets your eyes with a look of unease.

“Somethin ain’t right here.” He almost whispers to himself.

With that everyone grips their weapons tighter and starts moving towards the staircase.

Shane looks up, nodding for you to move forward, heart pounding as the sound echoes again, causing dust to trickle down from the old banister above.

Brooks turns, motioning for everyone to hurry when a loud crack rings out under your feet.

You freeze as the floor shifts dangerously, threatening to collapse if you move.
Looking around you see Brooks and Baker on either side of you, still as statues. Your breath catches as another groan reverberates through the weakened planks, the weight of everyone pressing against the charred wood.
Just then, a sharp pop splinters the silence near Bakers boot.

The last thing you see before darkness engulfs everything is the expression on Shane’s face—twisted in horror, his mouth open mid-shout, desperately reaching out as you fall.

Chapter Text

A faint light begins to seep into your blurred vision...as the darkness dissipates, you find yourself lying on a cold, hard surface.
Your body aches furiously, an head spins with confusion, but you try and force yourself to focus.

The muffled screams of your name echoes uncertainly, growing closer as panic rises in your chest.
Hurried footsteps from above reach your ears, bringing you back to the present.
The light you initially saw illuminates the dusty air of your surroundings. You’re in a dark room, the walls lined with cracked concrete and debris littering the floor.
You look up to find a gaping hole far overhead, faint light visible through splinters of wood where the floor gave way.
Pushing yourself up, you glance around, disoriented.
Your eyes frantically scan the dusty floor around you—looking for your gun but it’s nowhere in sight, only splintered wood.
Where are Brooks and Baker?

Panic surges through you as you look, searching for them—for anybody.
Heart racing as you whisper their names, but only silence answers back, echoing through the dim space.
Suddenly a hand cups over your mouth.
You freeze, a rush of panic coursing through your veins as you turn to see who—or what—has grabbed you.

It’s Baker, his eyes are wide.
His finger presses to his lips before he points ahead to a large dark doorway, outlined by the dusky light.

A heavy stench hits you, mingled with smoke and dirt.
Terror grips your chest and turns your limbs to stone as you recognize the putrid odor as death lingering heavily in the still, stagnant air around you.

Baker grabs your arm and pulls you to him, his grip tight and frantic.
“Come on,” he whispers urgently, his eyes never leaving the shadowed door.

You nod, your throat dry as you try to suppress the rising panic.
A groan rises from your left—the sound making your heart stop.
You look over and see someone lying there, visible from the dim glow—Carson, half covered in plaster, his face smeared with something dark you can’t make out in the low light.
A sigh of relief escapes you, but your relief is cut short as you see the state of his limp body.
His legs are twisted at unnatural angles, one boot pinned beneath a fallen steel beam that glints faintly.
He groans louder as he regains consciousness, the pain twisting his features as he tries to sit upright but collapses back in obvious agony.

Baker moves to offer assistance but a sudden, inhuman rasp emanates from the dark doorway, drawing both your gazes in terror.
Something moves within the darkness—long, dragging footsteps shuffle closer, scraping across concrete with a slow, purposeful rhythm.

You grip the handle of the blade still sheathed at your side, adrenaline flooding your system as you prepare to take out the creature but the sight of more shapes looming behind the first makes you stop.
Terror grips you realizing the number of figures—menacing and swaying, hissing with hunger, their faces hidden in shadow beneath matted hair.

Carson moans again—drawing the figures in his direction before you can react.
When he sees them he panics, trying to crawl away, his hands scrambling desperately on broken plaster as the shadows loom ever closer.
His sounds of anguish draws the creatures directly to him, leaving you paralyzed as you watch the nearest figure reach out with a twisted, grasping hand.

You pull out your knife but your hand trembles so badly the blade wobbles, forcing you to sheath it again.
Looking to Baker for some kind of reassurance, you see only fear etched deep into his face, realizing neither of you can save Carson.

Just then you notice another figure come up beside Baker whose eyes are still fixed wide open in disbelief and horror at the scene unfolding ahead.
You recognize the newcomers torn jacket—Brooks.
His face is battered with trails of darkness visible down his cheek.

He grabs Baker, yanking him back before turning to get you to your feet.
Then he pulls the both of you against the farthest wall and deeper into the shadows.

Carsons bloodcurdling screams echo around the chamber as the creatures seize him, their hunched forms momentarily blocking your view while you struggle to stay silent.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from the carnage when a walker tears into him with a primal ferocity, its boney fingers ripping into the fallen man's flesh.

The sound of tearing skin and the sickening squelch of blood fill the air, drowning out the frantic beat of your heart.

Every instinct in you screams to run, to flee from the horror unfolding before your eyes, but your body feels paralyzed with fear.
Your stomach churns as more walkers join the frenzy, their grotesque forms emerging from the shadows like a nightmare come to life.
They lurch forward, drawn by the scent of blood and the sounds of struggle, their hollow eyes fixated on the gruesome feast that Carson has become.

You can’t breathe…the air feels thick and suffocating, weighed down by the reality of what’s happening.
You watch, horrified, as they feast on your comrade, their movements frantic and ravenous, a sick ballet of desperation and hunger.

Carson’s wails mix with the sound of munching teeth, a symphony of carnage that reverberates through your very bones.
Each dying cry of torment echoes in your mind, a chilling reminder of helplessness as you witness the visceral brutality before you.
“Stop!” you want to scream, but the word is lodged in your throat, choked out by the rising tide of panic.
Instead, you find yourself trying to suppress the screams that threaten to escape.
Tears well in your eyes as you feel the weight of despair pressing down, you want to help—to end his suffering…but how?

Baker is near, his face pale and eyes wide with terror.
You see the fight in him, the urge to help Carson battling against the urge to escape.
“We have to go!” Brooks whispers urgently, gripping your shoulder as if to ground you.
“We can’t help him now.”

Baker stills watches the figures with a clenched fist, “We can’t just leave him like that.” He hisses lowly taking a step forward, emotion obvious in his voice.

Brooks grabs ahold of his arm, “Every walker in here will be on us—we’ll be next if we don’t move now…” His voice is a mix of urgency and desperation, a plea for Baker to understand the gravity of the situation.

You feel the tension in the air, a palpable struggle between the instinct to help and the primal urge to survive.
The grunts and growls of the walkers grow louder, a reminder that time is running out.

“Baker…” you whisper, trying to reach him through the fog of emotions.
“We have to go.”

He turns to you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, a mixture of anger and pain. “But he’s—”

Brooks interjects, his quiet voice firm. “Gone…now we have to make a choice, and right now, the only choice is to go.”

“Please,” you plead, your own heart aching.
Slowly you grab Baker’s hand—intertwining your fingers with his before pulling him back.

His expression falters, the battle in his wet eyes clear as he looks between you and Brooks.
He nods slowly before stepping back—allowing the Lieutenant to lead you both toward another darkened corridor.

With one last glance back, you let the grief twist inside you, then force yourself to focus on the narrow path ahead, following Brooks into the shadows.

❧

Smoke chokes you, burning your lungs as you press forward through the haze, thick with the scent of scorched wood.
You press the collar of your jacket to your nose, breathing shallowly as you continue calmly but quickly walking behind Brooks with Baker behind you.
The blade in your hand gleams faintly in the hot, swirling gloom, ready for whatever might lurch out or block your desperate path.

The groans of the feeding dead fade as you move deeper into an unfamiliar hallway, ash drifting like filthy snow across the cracked floor.
All three of you walk down the long hallway toward a set of battered double doors, their paint flaking.
Light shuffling behind the doors you pass along the way makes you wonder just how many walkers are trapped inside those ruined rooms, waiting for one careless noise to set them loose.
This place is a death trap—and Brooks doesn’t slow down, pushing forward with determination etched on his face as he scans every shadow.

Suddenly Baker touches your back, grabbing your attention.
You turn, recognizing the look of worry in his wide eyes. So you reach your hand out and bump Brooks lightly on the shoulder, signaling him to pause.

The man stops mid-stride, his body ridged and tense.

Baker raises his hand to signal silence, listening hard.
Quiet shuffling echoes faintly back down the corridor.
Everyone’s eyes turn towards the source, tense with dread.

Your heart races as the muffled sound intensifies.
Then raspy groans emanate from the darkness behind, drawing closer with every passing second as you grip your knife.

Brooks grabs your sleeve urgently, forcing you to hurry as the sounds grow louder.
Then Baker follows behind—glancing back over his shoulder, scanning for even the faintest movement.

You finally reach the doors, standing aside while Brooks reaches for the handles.

Baker stands tall, facing the dark hallway with his machete blade raised defensively, the pale tendons of his wrist flexing as he waits for the first shadow to break into view.
Brooks yanks on the handles, but the battered doors resist him.
He turns to you—his eyes flick with fear, pleading for your help to force them open together, knowing time is quickly running out.

You grab the other handle, bracing your feet as you throw your weight back, desperately hoping the doors will open.
Glancing over your shoulder you shudder seeing a shadowy figure in the darkness.
Terror courses through your veins, spine tingling as the shape staggers forward followed by more—deep growling fills the air, the horde advancing fast.

Your hands ache from straining against the cold, rusted metal to no avail.
It’s no use; the doors hinges screech in protest, unmoved, while the hungry moans close in, smothering hope.
Dread fills your chest as you watch Brooks take a steadying breath before taking out his pistol, preparing to make a final stand.

Feeling defeated you turn and unsheathe your knife, bracing for the chaos that’s about to erupt.
Baker stands a few steps in front ready to defend against the inevitable.
Then he turns to you—his eyes lock with yours for a moment, sharing a fierce, silent moment of resolve before the shadows descend.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, adrenaline coursing through you, desperate for any escape but knowing ultimately there is none.
This is it.
All the faces of everyone you’ll leave behind flash in your mind in a dizzying rush.
Every person you ever cared about is suddenly there before your eyes, their voices blending with the guttural moans pressing closer, blurring hope.
You fish out the necklace from around your neck, pressing the diamond ring tightly between your fingers.
Shane…his voice echos faintly as you grit your teeth.

The world slows around you, muffling the chaos as Baker yells, charging into the closest shadow with his machete swinging as darkness paints the floor.
The deafening boom of Brooks gun erupts beside you, jolting your senses awake and shocking your eardrums.
You step forward, sinking your blade into rotting flesh when another shot rings around you, adrenaline blotting out everything else as your ears ring loudly.

Words you never got to say weigh heavy on your heart, your regret sharpening every breath as Baker takes down another twisted figure.
More walkers surge from the darkness, their twisted faces illuminated by the guns flash, forcing you backward.

The sharp blade in your hand melts into instinct, you slash at the nearest walker, feeling flesh part beneath your grip.
Wetness splashes against your skin as you draw the knife back again and again.

Then a faint sound, muffled by the gunshots draws your attention momentarily.
It’s shouting…people shouting from behind the locked double doors.
What are they sayin? You can’t make it out….
You look up to see if the men noticed too but a loud bang hits the door making you jump.

Your gaze meet Brooks who lifts his gun higher—his eyes frantically moving from the door to the encroaching wall of walkers.

“GET BACK! GET BACK!”
The sudden words ring out true and clear from the other side.

You move up against the wall out of reach from the door.
And across from you Baker and Brooks do the same on the opposite side.

Automatic gunfire echoes abruptly through the room and another loud boom shakes the door making it bust open.
The bright flashing of muzzles illuminates the doorway—the encroaching walkers begin to fall like dominoes.
One by one piling up on top of each other as dozens of shell casings clatter to the ground.

You don’t even realize the shooting stopped until a hard hand grips your arm and hurriedly pulls you out of the room.
You’re back on the first floor—recognizing the burnt pallets still smoking along the muddy concrete.
The light from the busted windows hurts your eyes as they adjust to the change in brightness.
Then more shots ring out along with screams—you try to turn back but the grip on your arm only tightens.

Following closely behind, you exit the warehouse doors into the cool air—the sky is a faded shade of orange.
The rough bricks of the building press into your back…the muscles there finally started to ache.

“Talia!”
Someone says your name over and over—the voice, sharp with urgency as you search for its owner, noticing a figure standing in front of you.
Their hands hold both sides of your face, desperation clinging to every word, pleading for your immediate attention.
You look forward but your vision blurs for a moment, then snaps back just as the figure grips your shoulders hard, shaking you, forcing you to focus on their face—the panic in their eyes unmistakable.

“Shane.” You whisper—your throat contracts tightly, the name barely escaping as your knees threaten to give.

Before you fall he pulls you in against his chest—gripping you tighter as if he's afraid you'll disappear, his breath fast with fear.
“You’re okay—you’re okay…I’m here…I'm right here.” Shane whispers almost reverently, breathing hard.

The both of you stand there huddled together in the patchy light, caught somewhere between relief and dismay.
His big arms squeeze you tighter in a desperate attempt to ground himself amid the chaos engulfing everything around you.

Chapter Text

“MOVE MOVE MOVE!” Merle shouts.

Glancing over your shoulder you see the frantic look in the men’s eyes as you all sprint through the woods, branches tugging at your clothes while birds scatter overhead in a frenzy of wings.

Merle and Brooks hold up Baker between them, half-dragging him over gnarled roots as blood trickles from his head down, soaking his collar as you glance at his paling face for any sign of consciousness.
Another one of the men named Fisher shouts ahead for help, voice cracking under strain as he tries to clear a path while holding up another wounded soldier, sweat streaking through the grime on his forehead as panic rises.

You fumble slightly but move to offer help when Shane steps in front of you and hands over his rifle, the weight cold in your palm as his steady eyes demand you stay close, no matter what happens next.
Everyone stops as Shane helps Fisher.

Peering through the scope, scanning the tree line for signs of movement, your heart hammers as distant sounds echo closer through the tangled underbrush.
Something dark moves across the lens —a streak just big enough to suggest a human figure swaying slowly through the trees as you hold your breath.
You squint harder as the shadow shifts again, revealing the ragged edge of a sleeve fluttering eerily in the wind—then you see more following closely behind.

“We’ve gotta move—right now.” You say maneuvering the gun tighter to your chest, signaling to the others as your pulse pounds louder with every passing breath.

Daylight is fading fast, the last rays filtering weakly through the tangled branches as the figures in pursuit move through the trees.

You don’t even know where you’re running. The chaos of escaping the warehouse had left everyone disoriented, your sense of direction dissolved in the desperate rush for safety.
But through the confusion you caught a figure fleeing into the woods behind the warehouses, just before Merle and the other guys appeared in the doorway, panting hard. Behind them the wall of remaining walkers followed closely behind.
The small herd poured out the back entrance, forcing everyone to head deeper into the forest away from the mounting danger.
You recall the person was limping heavily as if wounded, leaving a faint trail of blood you were able to follow until suddenly it vanished beneath a thicket, marked only by crushed leaves.

Terror swirls around your thoughts, obscuring any sense of direction or purpose as exhaustion claws at your legs.
You don’t know which way is towards the road—and with night fast approaching, a horde on your tail, and a possible hostile lurking in the brush somewhere, your choices feel brutally narrow as you debate what to do.

“We need to find shelter.” You say stopping to catch your breath, squinting through the gloom as every shadow suggests danger lurking only feet away.

“No—we need to get to the trucks.” Brooks speaks up, grunting as he adjusts his grip on Baker, who is now groaning quietly, his face slick with sweat as more blood drips down his cheek.

“We’re lost and losin the light. We don’t know where the road is anymore, or if the trucks are even still there. And I can’t see in the dark—can you?” Shane says, frustration edging his voice as he glares at Brooks.

The Lieutenant huffs deeply and scans the dense trees for any possible way forward or sign of the limping stranger.

Fisher chimes in, “We can’t stay out here in the open. And I don’t know how much longer we can keep goin like this.”

You look over to the two injured men being held up by your fellow soldiers.
Baker is unconscious with a large laceration to the side of his head.
And the other man, named Azer still hasn’t spoken since being pulled from the overrun warehouse, his breaths shallow as if each one hurt.
You worry that without shelter soon you all might not survive the night.

“Candy Cain’s right—we gotta find somewhere to hol’up for the night. Throw the dead off our trail and find the prick that ran off. I’ve got some questions for ’em.” Merle says smirking.

You hear the sarcasm in his voice but also recognize the look of anger and desperation beneath his bravado, his hand trembles slightly as he wipes sweat from his brow, scanning the shadowy woods for any movement.

Everyone is still shaken up by the scene at the warehouse, the echo of walkers and gunfire haunting your ears.
And the sound of crunching wood and falling concrete as the ceiling collapsed, taking with it the lives of two more men still rings through your memory, clenching your fists with the reminder of how quickly everything changed.

Tense silence stretches between your group.
Finally you speak, your voice hushed as you recount spotting a cabin about half a mile northwest of the warehouses. If y’all were careful and doubled back then maybe the dead wouldn’t catch your scent before reaching the safety of shelter.
Everyone quickly agrees.

Your adrenaline rises as you map out a quiet, winding route through the trees—praying to make it there before the darkness swallows you whole, fearing what might linger in the shadows.

❧

The night is quiet.
The only sounds being the snores of the men and the occasional rustling from outside the cabin walls.

You’re sitting in the dark on the floor, leaned up against the rough plank wall, rifle propped in your lap as you listen for anything unusual.
Your eyes are glued to the front door—ready.
Since the memory of the day has your nerves fraying at the edges, every sound outside makes your heart slam faster than you’d like.

There’s no light except the faintest glimmer of moon pooling through a narrow gap in a boarded up window, allowing shadows to appear across the battered floor around your feet.
Sleep evades you like a phantom, taunting you with relief just out of reach as your mind replays the chaos again.

Even though you’re exhausted—the come down from adrenaline makes your mind wander.
It goes back to the warehouse…to that long dark hallway.

You can hear the sound of footsteps approaching—slow, drag-shuffles echoing closer with every breath.
The smell of decay in the air, muddled with blood, making your stomach churn despite your efforts.
Your chest tightens remembering the fear…the possibility of death.
In your heart you thought it was the end—that you’d die there alongside Brooks and Baker.
But the universe had other plans, bringing you out bruised but alive into this silence, unsure if you can trust in luck holding twice.

“Hey.” Someone says—cutting through the fog.

You jolt and turn to see Merle kneeling down next to you.
His face is shrouded in darkness but your eyes adjust as he slowly reaches out, laying his steady hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

“You alright?” He asks.

You nod, forcing a shaky breath, unable to find words.

Merle’s touch lingers a second longer, then he quietly glances toward the living room of the cabin, where the others are lying spread out in awkward piles, clutching their weapons tightly even in restless sleep.
He turns back to you and sits down, his back pressed to the wall beside yours, silently offering comfort as you both listen to the uneasy stillness outside.
Seconds pass before he releases a deep sigh, his voice low as he whispers, "Brooks tol’ me what went down in there—with Carson."

The memory twists your guts, making it hard to breathe.

“It was the right move Cain—now I know you…you got a big heart. And that’s a good thing…but ya can’t let it bring you down. Not now—not in this world.”
Merle’s words hang in the dusty air between you like a verdict.
He glances downward, thumb tracing a groove on his battered prosthetic.
“And I’m no genius but those men in there need you to stay sharp, not fall to pieces. Cause come first light me, Walsh, and Brooks are headin out to find the road—soon as we do we’re comin back for y’all.”

Your eyes meet his.

Merle nods, determination flickering in his eyes.

“Can’t we call Woodbury? Ask for help—you saw that herd and what about the person I saw…we don’t know where they are.” You speak up.

He leans his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly as if weighing every risk before answering, "We can’t, Cain—hell, there’s trouble there too.”

Panic grips you, your breath catching as you realize trouble at Woodbury could mean Leo’s in danger.
“What? Wait what do you mean?”

He hesitates, rubbing his jaw, before muttering, “Nothin too wild—Martinez didn’t say exactly. But said somethin bout Michonne.”

Questions swirl around your mind, each one growing heavier as you remember Michonne’s voice, full of warning, the last time you saw her before leaving Woodbury.

“Besides we’re still standin—I’m not bout to call them askin for a damn thing. We made it out that building alive. You fell through the god damn floor girl—fought through a herd of walkers…don’t tell me you’ve lost your nerve now,” He chuckles softly.

“I’m ready for whatever happens next," you reply, voice steady. Your eyes meet his as silence settles between you both for a long heartbeat.

“Good.” Merle leans forward, lowering his voice, “You best get some sleep—got a few hours ‘for sunrise, then we’re movin fast.”

Exhaustion prickles beneath your skin but your mind keeps racing, haunted by the image of the herd.
Your legs wobble slightly as you stand and walk towards an empty corner. Just as you’re about to settle in, you recognize Shane’s familiar silhouette.

You didn’t know he was awake.
He’s sitting beside another boarded window, his face slightly illuminated by the light from outside while his dark eyes are fixed on you.
He motions you over without a word.

Quietly you approach, heart thudding as you try not to disturb the others, keeping your eyes locked on his tired face as the night deepens.
He offers you his jacket wordlessly, his movements gentle, then gestures for you to move beside him.

You maneuver your pack under your head as a makeshift pillow and use his oversized jacket as a blanket, grateful for the extra warmth in the drafty room as exhaustion finally begins to settle in.

Shane’s presence is comforting, keeping your fears at bay while you drift, uncertain but not alone in the cold darkness.

Chapter Text

“Sugar?” A sweet voice coos.

“Talia—baby where have you been?” Another says.

Your vision clears slowly, the haze lifting to reveal familiar faces hovering above you, their brows furrowed in concern.
“Mama? Daddy?” You say slowly sitting up, looking around.
“Where am I?”

“Yes shug you’re home—we’ve been waitin for you.” Daddy takes your hand in his—callous fingers rough against your skin but warm, grounding you as emotion swirls in your chest.
Mama’s palm cups your cheek, “We’re so happy you’re here.” Her honey colored eyes creasing at the sides as she smiles.

You stand and look around—recognizing the back yard of your family home, the old tire swing swaying gently from the lowest branch of the oak tree where you learned to climb as a child.
The dusk-lit breeze carries scents of cut grass, barbecue smoke, cicada song echoing faintly as your mother’s sunflowers sway near the fence, filling you with warm nostalgia.
You’re home.
Tears well in your eyes as you turn back to your parents who stand close together, arms extended, offering you comfort.

You fall into their embrace as the sun bathes everything in golden light.
“Ive missed ya’ll so much.” Your voice trembles, thick with longing as memories flood your mind.
You squeeze them tighter, feeling their warmth surround you, anchoring you to the softness of this moment.

The three of you stand quietly, their grip holding you firm.
Unexpectedly the sunlight changes casting long, shadows that touch your feet, warping the idyllic scene into something unsettling as dread stirs beneath your ribcage.

“We’ve missed you too shug.”

You know their voices, but something feels off, like they're echoing from a place you can't quite reach.
Shifting slightly you step back but their hold only tightens, their arms unyielding as their smiles slowly begin to change, twisting into shapes you barely recognize.
Panic catches in your throat as you feel their fingernails dig into your arms, far too strong to break free.
“You’re hurting me.” You say—your pulse throbbing at the base of your throat.

Pulling away they cling harder, their faces now mask like with strange shadows deepening beneath their eyes, whispering in voices you never heard.
Their flesh changes under your grasp, skin growing unnaturally cold as their mouths stretch wide, filling the air with an unnatural sound that makes you shudder in terror.
“Daddy stop! Mama please you’re hurting me!” Darkness pools at your feet, swallowing the golden light whole.
Your heart pounds as you manage to break free, falling to the ground.
Their bodies warp—hunching forward their skin turns a sickly shade of blue-gray before it sloughs off their bones. Their eyes grow pitch black and teeth morph into jagged points, baring them in a hungry snarl.

You stare up in horror, scrambling backward as slick shadows ooze from their mouths, staining the grass black as ink.
Out of the corner of your eye you see more figures appearing beside your parents, their faces half-hidden, watching with hollow eyes as they slowly drift closer.
A cold sweat prickles along your spine as you recognize their faces.
Rick, Dale, T-Dog, Leo—every one now rising slowly from the ink-black grass to join the others.
They shuffle slowly, groaning, reaching out with arms elongated by darkness, their fingernails scraping the air hungrily as you struggle to inhale.

You look around as more claw their way up through the ground, moaning loudly as their dirty hands stretch blindly, ripping up the dirt around you.
Then one rises ahead of the rest.
With matted sandy blonde hair and blood strained clothes, it lifts its face to the pale sky revealing a deep jagged wound to its neck.
Its familiar cloudy grey eyes lock with yours in a gaze that freezes your heart.

“No—no no no…” You whimper, your body frozen in fear.

It moves closer, its movements jerky but purposeful, lips twitching as it rasps your name in a voice you’ve tried to forget.
The darkness closes in as the sounds of moaning reach a fevered pitch, muffling your breath with a pressure so heavy you can’t move.

A boney hand reaches out—you try to fight but your limbs are weak, weighed down by an invisible force, unable to resist as the tide of shadows presses closer around you.
“NO! NO!” You scream but your voice is swallowed by the darkness, the rising cacophony drowning out every desperate word you try to shout.
The figure ahead presses its icy palm against your skin as you gasp, fighting to breathe under its crushing grip.

Then everything blurs, the world flickering as you feel yourself falling, your vision fragmenting as searing warmth rushes through your veins, pulling you abruptly from sleep.
Your eyes snap open as your body jerks upright, skin clammy, heart pounding as early morning light bleeds through boarded windows, illuminating the silent room.
A hand lightly touches your shoulder as you flinch, turning to see Shane kneeling on the floor beside you, his worried eyes searching your face.

“Hey!” he says, voice shaky and edged with panic, “Hey, hey it was just a dream. You’re safe—it’s me, alright? Breathe baby, you’re okay.”
He lifts a hand to your face, wiping away the tears as your chest shudders, the nightmare’s grip lingering while his touch grounds you gently.
“You scared me,” Shane murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “I thought you stopped breathin.”

Taking a deep breath you place a shaky hand over your heart trying to steady yourself as he gently squeezes your arm, bringing you back to the present.
You look to him, eyes searching for reassurance, grasping for relief that you’re safe in the fragile calm of his presence while the ghost of your dream presses dangerously close.

His arms encircle you with a gentle protectiveness, anchoring you just enough to remember where you are.
You stop—looking around the room, recognizing the small cabin walls warped by water stains, morning sunlight glancing off dust motes as uncertainty prickles along your skin.

“Where is everybody?” You ask, sitting up straight.

Shane glances away, his jaw tight, then mutters, “They’re outside—checkin the walls and windows ‘for we head out.”

Anxiety swirls around and questions spiral rapidly through your mind, wondering where the wounded men are. “What about Azer and Baker?”

“They’re ok. Just outside, helpin reinforce the door with whatever they can find—look, they’ll be in soon.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it tight as he glances toward the warped door, clearly worried.
“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I’m good—I promise.” You try your hardest to breathe evenly, forcing your muscles to unclench as you sit upright beside him.

He watches you closely—not entirely convinced but needing to believe you, his own fear barely beneath the surface as he looks around the cabin.
“Told Merle I’m stayin back—to take Fisher out instead.”

You nod, the fatigue heavy in your bones as you weigh his words, knowing Merle won’t like this change but understanding that Shane's loyalty is impossible to argue with sometimes.
“Merle wouldn’t have asked you to go if he didn’t need you. I’ll be ok…Fisher’s a good shot...and I can handle myself. I know you’ll do whatever you have to do to get back. Go—just please be careful.”

Shane releases a small sigh, tension in his shoulders easing just enough to show he trusts your resolve, then pulls you into a fierce hug.
“S’like every time I take my eyes off you somethin happens.” His breath hitches, betraying the depth of his fear.

Your words catch in your throat, but you press back softly, reassuring him you’ll stay careful, no matter what comes today.
The sound of his heartbeat drums against your ear, quick with worry as the voices of the others outside signal time is running out.

His palms slide up to steady your jaw, eyes locking onto yours, searching for any hint of hesitation laced with fear or uncertainty.

You lean in, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss, feeling your own resolve strengthen with the warmth of his touch as you prepare for what’s next.
Your hands tangle in his hair, clinging tightly as if letting go might shatter the fragile moment between you.
But heavy footsteps thunder on the porch, breaking the spell.

Breaking the kiss you both stand, “I love you.” You whisper, feeling the ache of it echo between you before turning towards the door.

“I love you.” Shane repeats, voice uneasy as he grabs his pack.
He slings it over his shoulders before sliding another magazine into his rifle, glancing at you before moving closer to the entrance.
He grabs your hand tightly for a moment as you walk forward, a cold draft slipping through the crack beneath the door makes you shiver.

You release him, shoving your hand into the pocket of your jacket, fidgeting with the torn hem as boots scrape against the dusty wood outside.

The door creaks open with a loud groan, the men stand around the porch, their grim faces shadowed by strained expressions.
You both walk up as they’re talking about Merle’s plan for the day ahead, their voices low with uncertainty as they assess the situation.

You watch with apprehension as Fisher hurriedly stuffs one of the packs with extra supplies before handing it off to Brooks.
In this light you see just how beaten and bruised up everyone is, with dried blood streaking their faces, swollen knuckles, bandaged arms, the whispered aftermath of yesterday’s events.

You unzip your med bag, rummaging through its contents to pull out some necessities you think the group might need for whatever is out there waiting. Your hands move quickly to gather a few bandages, some gauze, and antiseptic spray despite your shaky fingers.
“Here.” Handing over the collection to Shane, he gives you a small nod.

“Alright ladies.” Merle says as he sets his rifle on the porch rail, “Time to get a move on…Walsh you with us?”

You glance down at the floor as anxiety spikes in your chest, tightening with the weight of uncertain danger lurking beyond the safe walls the men are about to leave behind. Every instinct screams for you to go with them but you know your place is here…the burden of responsibility tethers itself tightly in your bones.
Baker and Azer may be up now and Fisher’s a capable soldier but without your help, they won't stand a chance if someone else tries to force their way inside or a new threat emerges.

Shane’s stoic voice breaks through your thoughts, “Yes sir.”

"Let's hit the road." Merle hesitates for a moment, his gaze resting on you just a fraction longer, as if trying to read your thoughts.
He strides ahead, the old porch boards groaning beneath him as the others adjust their bags.
With a playful flick of his hand, he taps his knuckles against your chin, a teasing grin on his face. "We'll be back soon Candy Cain," he assures you.
“Keep an eye on these boys will ya?”

You force a light hearted chuckle as he turns to the remaining men—offering his good hand out for goodbyes, then gives Baker’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Shane looks at you, determination flickering in his storm-dark eyes as he shoulders his rifle, his gaze lingering just long enough to say what words can't. Then he slowly turns before following behind Merle and Brooks. .

You bite the inside of your cheek, their boots thudding heavily on the steps as the group disappears into the morning fog hovering over the yard.

❧

“That should do it.” You say as you finish dressing the wound on the side of Baker’s head.

He winces slightly as the antiseptic stings, but he manages a grateful smile, relaxing a little under your steady hands.

“This will scab up thick—don’t mess with it. Just let it heal, alright?” you remind him gently, securing the bandage with a final tap.
His hair is lightly stained with blood and dirt, but you can see the determination in his eyes, even through the haze of pain.

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” he replies, trying to sound nonchalant about it. “Just another battle scar to add to the collection.”

You chuckle softly, “Yeah.”
But the underlying tension in the room doesn’t escape you. The mission had gone awry, and while you’re alive, the stakes have been raised significantly.
The warehouse, your dream…Shane being gone.
It was hard not to picture worst-case scenarios gnawing at your resolve as silence pressed in.

“You alright?” Baker asks, sounding thoughtful.

You look up to meet his gaze, his worry more evident now, struggling for the right words to reassure him everything is fine.
“Yeah just tired.” You lie, focusing again on the battered gauze to avoid his searching eyes.

"How's your back feeling? That was a long fall yesterday—are you okay?"

You sit up with a bit more confidence, recalling how you had already inspected yourself in the mirror not long ago, running your hands over your skin to confirm that everything felt intact and appeared normal.
The dim light that streamed through the small bathroom window revealed the dark purple bruises blooming low on your back, extending down toward your backside.

“It’s bruised and sore but I’m good—nothin feels broken, just kinda hurts when I breathe deep or bend. But I’m alive.”

“Ok—yeah.” He adds but his voice is hesitant like he’s wanting to ask something else, his eyebrows pinched together impatiently as he waits, fingers fidgeting nervously with the zipper of his coat.
“I can’t—I can’t stop thinking about what happened…about Carson.”
He looks away quickly, thumb worrying a scar on the back of his hand, as if searching for a way to steady himself despite the uncertainty clawing at him.

You see the guilt flare in his eyes, worry shadowing his features as his jaw tightens ever so slightly, making you realize you’re not the only one wrestling with the weight of regret from the warehouse dead, the memory of Carson’s fate etching deeper into your thoughts.
“Me either.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the stillness only broken when Baker shifts on the floor, the creaky springs protesting under him.
He runs a hand through his hair, taking a shaky breath before lowering his voice.
“What are we supposed to say when we get back home?...that we just stood by and watched him get ripped apart?”
Baker's gaze is fixed on his boots, shame etched across his features, and the weight of the room feels heavier.
“What do I say to his sister?”

Your heart tightens, guilt eating away at you as you relive each chaotic moment. Then Merle’s weary voice reverberates in your mind, urging you to remain steadfast and not allow your determination to slip, despite how the past claws at your conscience.

“You can’t let that get to you right now. We’re on our own out here—you have to keep your head clear. Merle’ll be back soon.” You reassure him, hoping the certainty in your tone will dispel even a sliver of the doubt etched on his face, though fear continues to roil in your chest.

“You’re scared.” He catches your hesitation with a keen gaze, his fingers tightening around the worn sleeve of his jacket.

There's no point in pretending, so you give a reluctant nod, allowing the truth to hang in the air of the cold, desolate room.
Your gaze wanders around the space.

Fisher is lingering by a window, his eyes darting nervously at the flickering shadows beyond, his body rigid as he grips his rifle tightly.
Meanwhile, Azer slumped against the crumbling wallpaper, absentmindedly turns a jagged knife in his hand while his other arm rests in a sling across his chest.

“Is it the herd? You think they’ll track us down?” Baker questions.

You exhale slowly and shake your head. “No… if the herd had picked up our scent, they would have blown through here last night.”
You close your med kit, fighting the fatigue that threatens to cloud your mind, aware that you’ll need to stay sharp.
“It’s the person I saw yesterday…outside the warehouse.”

Baker squints, concern etched on his face. “Brooks said they were injured—bleedin…maybe they’re dead”

“Or maybe they’re not.”
You notice Baker’s expression tighten as the weight of your words hangs heavily in the air.
“That’s what I’m scared of.”

Chapter Text

The faint glow of early afternoon seeps through the rickety windows, creating stark shadows on the weary faces of your friends while the outside world remains eerily still.

Your fears about the possibility of another survivor lurking nearby weighs heavily on everyone’s thoughts as quite stretches, thickening the air with unease.
Everyone tries to busy themselves with small tasks—checking gear, passing water, or fidgeting with the remaining walkie talkie, flipping it over in nervous hands while waiting for the static to crackle with unexpected news from outside, but the relentless hiss of white noise drags on.

Anxiety ripples across your body as you pace back and forth near the front door, ears straining to hear the faintest shuffle, flexing your hands open and close with anticipation.

Where are they? They should be back by now…what if something happened?
The herd?—the stranger?
Fear churns your gut, your heart ricocheting as you debate risking a call over the radio, worried it could draw attention to Shane’s group at a bad time.

"What do we do if they haven't arrived by nightfall?" Azer asks, his accent heavy with worry as he shifts uncomfortably against the wall, glancing between you all for a decision.

Baker looks over to you, his eyes soft with understanding before he clears his throat, “They’ll be back.”

Azer meets your eyes, “But what if—.”

“But nothing—,” Baker speaks up. “They’ll be back and when they show up we need to be ready to get the hell out of here.”

Everyone releases a collective breath, but a sharp pain pierces through you—deep in your back.
The more time passes the more sore your body feels, forcing you to lean heavily against the peeling walls for support.

“You look like you need to sit down Cain.” Fisher says looking up from his rifle by the window.

Baker stands slowly, crossing the floor to your side before gently offering his arm to steady you.

You recognize the look of worry written across his face, etched deep in the hunched set of his shoulders as he moves closer.
Maybe Fisher’s right; you grab Baker’s forearm and lower yourself carefully, trying to ignore the ache that throbs with each shallow breath.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re alright?” he repeats, concern obvious in his expression as he kneels beside you, searching your features for any indication of deeper trouble. He rummages through your medical bag and retrieves some painkillers.

“Yeah—just extremely sore.” You grimace as you lean forward to grab the pills.

“Then you need to rest. Lay down—maybe try an get some sleep.” He kneels closer to offer you water as reassurance.

“I can’t.” You throw the pills back, chasing it with cool water from his canteen.
The memory of your nightmare still haunts your mind, keeping sleep at bay even now.
Restless vigilance churns inside your chest, unable to relax you keep peering at your watch, each second dragging your nerves tighter as shadows lengthen around the door.

He slowly sits down beside you, wincing himself as his knee cracks loudly against the warped wooden floorboards, drawing a quick jump and anxious glance from Fisher by the window.
“Sorry.” Baker mouths with a smirk.

Fisher shakes his head trying to hide a fleeting grin while Azer chuckles lowly clutching his midsection.
You giggle too, but pain shoots up your spine, making you bite your lip hard as the laughter fades away.

“Sorry.” Baker says watching you struggle with the pain and humor simultaneously, his arms out for support, hovering uncertainly near your shoulders as he tries not to make things worse.

You try to move into a more comfortable position against the wall but the angle makes it worse, sending a sharp jolt up your side that steals your breath for a moment.

“Hey—hey wait.” Baker say, his face scrunching up watching you struggle, he reaches back down into the med bag, pulling out an instant ice pack.
He cracks the packet between his hands quickly, looking up at you expectantly.

You reach back, trying to lift the layers of your jacket but the fabric barely budges. A deep ache spreads across your skin as you struggle to shimmy your coat upward.

Baker leans closer, “Here.” He steadies your shaking hands, sliding the coat higher with gentle fingers.

You feel him pause before pulling the soft fabric of your thermal shirt carefully out of the way, revealing the bruising pattern beneath, sprawling purple-black down your back, the chill biting deeper as he places the pack tenderly against your skin.
Steadying yourself, breathing through clenched teeth until the cold lays soothing relief into your tender muscles.
You carefully scoot backwards, pressing your weight against the wall, relieved as the pain ebbs just enough for you to finally catch your breath.

Next to you Baker’s arms cross against his wide chest. His eyes remain on you watchfully, as if he’s gauging how serious your injury is by the depth of your wince.

“Thanks Baker.” You manage, forcing a shaky smile despite the pain lingering beneath your words.

He smiles softly, “Cade.” His eyes a deep viridian meeting yours, searching your face as his voice softens just a fraction when he repeats, "My names Cade."
He outstretches a hand slowly, palm open, inviting your fingers to thread through his.

Returning the smile you give a small nod, letting your hand slide into his gentle grasp as the fear slowly drains from your chest.
“Talia—it’s nice to meet you Cade.”
For as long as you’d known him first names had never really come up between you, the ridiculous camaraderie of soldiers shaped your bond in ways that words never could, especially in moments stretched thin by pain or fear.
His warm palm settles over yours, anchoring you, offering a brief calm in the chaos that presses in from the daunting silence of your surroundings.
His stare stirs something inside you, a subtle warmth rising in your chest, woven through the tangled ache of your injury.

Finally dropping his hand you lean your head back against the wall, grateful for the small sliver of warmth from his presence as the bitter air circles above.
The cold of the ice pack settles along your spine, soothing your inflamed muscles but sending deep shivers through your chest, making you fight to keep your teeth from chattering in the empty room.

Next to you Baker gets comfortable until his knee brushes against yours.
His body heat calls to yours, reminding you that you’re not alone in this devastated place, even while danger still claws at the battered entryway.

You scoot a little closer, and when he notices he offers his shoulder tentatively, staying absolutely still in case you need to lean for support or stability.
Your head settles on the sturdy muscle of his arm, finally relaxing as your breathing steadies with each measured inhale.

Everyone sits in silence for a minute before someone shifts their boots, the faint scraping echoing along the dirty floor.
Your eyelids flutter close as exhaustion tightens your limbs, urging you to surrender to uneasy sleep.

❧

You don’t know how long you drifted, but the sudden lurch of your body yanks you awake, heart thundering in your chest as you snap upright searching the chilly room.

Baker is still next to you, sitting up straight but his gaze is fixed on the doorway, brows knitted as if he’s straining to catch a distant noise that might signal approaching danger.
A loud but far-off sound from outside jolts both of you, hearts hammering as you look to the other men searching their faces for answers.

When nothing but the familiar silence of the woods returns, you let out a shaky breath, realizing your hand clenched Baker's sleeve tightly during the tense moment.

He stands quickly before turning and offering his arm in a silent invitation, watching your face before you gather yourself enough to accept, your fingers shaking as you grip his arm to steady your stiff legs.

Silence envelopes the cabin again as you all tip toe around the bare room, watching out the windows for movement that could mean unexpected visitors.

Baker hands you a weapon with a firm but reassuring grip, silently insisting you clutch it tightly as you scan the trees outside.
Fisher and Azer stand on either side of another window, clutching their guns as they exchange tense glances, waiting for any movement that might force them to act quickly.

A distant crash splits the silence, making everyone flinch.
You take deep breaths as you peer through one narrow gap between the boards.
A deep rumbling fills the air then the familiar screeching of brakes as the gleam of metal appears through the sun lit trees hinting at a vehicle approaching.

Panic grips your chest, icy cold as you realize the vehicle is coming closer, its heavy tires churning up muddy ruts.
It quickly turns and follows the overgrown gravel drive, headlights bouncing as the vehicle lurches to a stop just beyond the splintered fence in front.

“That’s ours.” Fisher says quietly, voice low as he peers through the scope of his rifle.

Anxiety thrums between you, pulsing stronger with each second of heavy silence.
The drivers door swings open before the vehicle stops completely. Someone jumps out and the light from the sun glints off something in their hand.
It takes a second but you recognize that battered prosthetic arm—it's Merle, limping hard but waving frantically, face bloodied as he stumbles toward the passenger seat.

You move quickly, going for the door when Baker reaches out for your arm, whispering frantically for you to stay back but you don’t wait to hear him, already moving to wrench the cabin door open as someone calls your name from behind.
Your feet seem to float above the muddy porch as you lunge into the dusk, heart hammering as Merle shouts something you can’t quite catch.

A slumped figure practically falls out of the passenger seat as Merle struggles to keep them upright, clearly trying to drag them forward.

Your pulse thumps deeply as you realize who Merle is dragging, horror twisting your gut with every uncertain dread.
The dark hair and bruised cheek unmistakably belong to Shane, barely conscious as Merle hauls him toward the porch, his wide eyes pleading for help.

"What happened?" you ask, but your voice echoes in your ears, overshadowed by the pounding of your heart reverberating in your head.

Merle shouts for the men inside as he stumbles towards the steps, struggling to support Shane’s sagging weight against his battered frame.

The front of Shane’s shirt is smeared with dirt and dark blood pools near his side, his breath coming in harsh, shallow gasps while Merle shouts again.
The sound of running steps behind seem muffled as Baker and Fisher rush over not even bothering to take the stairs instead jumping off the low porch.

You reach down grabbing Shane’s face in your hands, lifting it up you examine the bruises blooming across his jaw, sweat seeping down his neck, searching desperately for any sign that he might still respond.
“What the fuck happened?!” You yell, tears burning your eyes as emotion pools low in your chest.

Merle looks at you, eyes wild with panic as he sucks in a breath, his voice trembling when he finally manages to choke out a handful of words between gasps for air.
“That asshole you saw yesterday—him and his buddies were tryin’a jack our rides. He pulled a gun…everyone started shootin. Walsh got hit…noise attracted walkers—they tried to take off but didn’t make it far.”
You look at him as Fisher slips an arm around Shane’s midsection, lifting his body up to help carry him inside.

You follow Merle’s gaze towards the truck.

Brooks and Baker pull another body from the back seat through the fading light.

The man’s tied up with a gag in his mouth, the rag stained with dirt and blood.
His face scrunched up in pain, eyes squeezed tight as the others wrestle him out, legs kicking feebly against the muddy ground near the porch steps.
They drag him fully into view, revealing a jagged hole in his pants, dark blood mixing with the mud.

“Who the hell is he?” Azer asks next to you on the porch, clutching his gun with his unbroken hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans forward anxiously watching the others struggle to keep the man still.

Merle shuffles to the door, pulling Shane inside, his shoulders hunched, sweat dripping steadily from his forehead.
A look of despair flickers across his face as he glances back, uncertainty clouding his eyes as if silently begging for help.