Author's Note: I have been planning this story for literal months. I haven't had the guts to write it out. Not to spill my entire life story on here, but I've been struggling with some pretty deep depression that kept me away from writing. This story spoke to me for some reason. I'm hoping it leads me to finish this and the other stories I've abandoned for months (I mean years!). This story isn't light and fluffy. I will warn anyone for any triggers. This story focuses around a woman who's been a victim of domestic violence.

I am also not a police officer. I'm a nurse, so please take this into account when you're reading it! (Googling is not always the perfect solution!) Please be gentle on reviews, this is the first story I haven't felt like posting in 2+ years! There may be some mistakes, I read through it about 2-3 times and edited as I saw fit.

This will be a slow burn love story. And Shane is not evil, or insane. The beginning of this story starts out a year before the zombie outbreak. And if this chapter seems to flow very slowly or seems boring, I promise the next chapter will pick up the pace.

I don't own anything you already know, please enjoy! :)

10/27/16 - I edited some of this to make more sense and flow more with the story. Fixed some errors I saw.

CHAPTER ONE

Most days, it was relatively humid in the northern part of Georgia. The wind would blow with no relief, the humidity made the air feel like a warmed oven, each breath felt like choking on cinders. Face red and hot, Jennifer Morgan stood in line before her superiors. Sweat formed an uncomfortable barrier between her and her uniform. She felt the sticky sensation every time she moved. Fidgeting just enough to not be noticed, she kept her body pointed forward, arms at her sides, head straight. Another soft gust of wind blew past. This time, she could not resist the urge to move, stepping out of place after the gust had dissipated. The heat was unbearable, letting her feel every itch and scratch of her recruit uniform. Shane Walsh's eyes settled on her as she moved back into place. He had a bit of a five o'clock shadow, his wavy, dark brown hair sticking up around his head. Her eyes met his and she looked down before stepping back into line. He hadn't seen Jennifer before in the interviews that they had with the recruits. He found himself intrigued, unable to take his gaze off of her. They held eye contact briefly before she broke it, blinking rapidly before exhaling and refocusing herself.

Men and women stood at her sides, standing in the same stance, arms stiffly at their sides, jaws tense, eyes cast on something in the distance, all fresh graduates from the North Central Georgia Law Enforcement Academy. Six graduates had been handpicked for the King's County's Sheriff's Department, Jennifer Morgan included. Shane stopped before Jennifer and smirked at her, her green eyes focused on the landscape far off in the distance, making it a point to not make eye contact with him so close. Making eye contact once had been bad enough, but now he was in front of her, almost challenging her. His head cocked to the side, waiting for her to make another move. The recruits had been dragged out into the heat to listen to Sheriff Deputy Rick Grimes instruct them over how the next few weeks would go in accordance to orientation and preparation for the actual field. Rick took the chance to look over the two women and four men with scrutiny. He looked over every single one of them, from their haircuts down to the hems of their pants. It may not seem like a big deal to the average person, but uniforms were held in high regard. It was borderline military.

"I'm not saying these next few weeks won't be as tough as the academy, but realize you're halfway there. At the end of these eight weeks, Shane and I will deliberate, and we will only pick three of you. Understand that what will be expected of you is not out of spite, it's to prepare you and see how you will handle real life police work," Rick spoke. His brown hair was trimmed into a perfect brush cut, uniform pressed, and a fresh clean shaven face. Rick Grimes worked hard to maintain his appearance. All of his gear gave him a slight jingle as he walked before the six men and women. "For five days a week, eight hours a day, you'll follow a fellow deputy around. Any time you are not here, you are to have your handheld radio on you at all times. You will have a strict on call schedule. Miss any calls while you're on call and you might as well find a different department to work in." Jennifer took this moment to look at Rick. Rick looked from recruit to recruit, none of them making eye contact with him. When it came to Jennifer, she did the same, quickly looking away, focusing on the same tree line she had focused on when Shane stood before her. "Head on inside and change into the uniform, recruits. Anna at the front desk will get your handhelds assigned to you."

Each one of the recruits was hopeful in attaining a position on the unit. Most of them had dreams of becoming police officers as children, with the exception of Jennifer Morgan. There were only three positions open on the unit for patrol. For actual police work. If you didn't make the cut you were expected to do some meaningless task inside of the precinct. The small group broke off from Rick and Shane, heading inside to the locker rooms. The air conditioning was welcomed on Jennifer's skin. Heading inside made her understand just how unbelievably sticky she was. She exhaled slowly upon entering, allowing herself a moment to think about how far she had came. "This is such bullshit, I hear that the recruits in Atlanta are hired no matter what," Casey Brown, one of the male recruits groaned, slamming the door to his locker closed. Jennifer glanced at him as she unbuttoned her shirt to replace her graduate uniform. She and Casey had been friends since the beginning of the academy. The other recruits were doing the same, slowly pulling themselves out of the uniforms they had worked so hard to obtain.

"Tell me about it, man, I don't even wanna hear that shit," another recruit spoke, slamming his locker in the same fashion. Jennifer resisted the urge to jump at th loud noise and continued the task of unbuttoning her recruit uniform.

"This was the first place that accepted my application," Jennifer spoke, looking down the line of men and women beside her. Her uncle Terry had begged her to come out and stay with him in King's County. And it's not like she could really refuse, he was the last of her family aside from her older brother, Trevor. Who had went off and became some busy, detached lawyer in Dallas. Casey followed her soon after she made up her mind to come to King's County. It was their plan to become partners together. It was a deal they had worked out during their first week at the Academy. Jennifer worked to pull her thick, brown curly hair into a tight knot on the back of her head, stretching out another elastic in the process. She may have given her uncle the satisfaction of taking a potential job offer in this city, but her heart had been set on Savannah, somewhere near the coast. Terry had driven a hard bargain. He wasn't going to charge her rent. His only request was that she help him rebuild/work on his house and spend some time with him. She could hardly refuse.

"Mine too," the other female recruit, Tiffany Mann, replied. She was all of five feet tall, her voice low, and hushed. Jennifer knew better than to underestimate her strength, she had watched her outrun plenty of their peers in the academy. The locker room became quiet again after that, only filled with the sounds of snapping or zipping. Jennifer shoved her academy uniform into her locker and set out into the office area of the building, hoping to find Anna rather easily. Being in a new environment around new people made her feel as though the entire world was sitting on her shoulders, making it hard to concentrate on anything in particular. Her stomach turned at the unfamiliar area, her eyes quickly bouncing from name tag to name tag on the desks before her. She swallowed hard past the panic that was settling in her throat. Casey waved to her from across the room. She gave him a small smile and approached him and the desk he was standing before. The panic released it's clutches from her as she walked calmly to her friend.

"Found Anna," he whispered as Jennifer stood behind him. A red headed woman was hunched over a mound of paperwork, speaking out loud to herself as she scribbled Casey's name down on a form.

"Now," Anna drawled, her accent thick, "keep this on your person at all times. The battery life is about three to four hours, you wanna make sure you always got your power adapter handy. An' if you lose it, you're lookin' at about three hundred dollars of your hard earned pay, so please treat it like a baby." She smiled sweetly before handing over the bulky black radio. Casey smiled to her, his brown eyes crinkling as he took it. "Your number 's 406."

"Thank you, ma'am." He placed the radio carefully into a holster on his right side, side-stepping for Jennifer to take his place.

"Your name?" Anna asked.

"Jennifer Morgan," she replied, giving her a small smile. It took an immense amount of concentration on her part for her to be able to even muster that smile. She glanced over to Casey who patted her on the shoulder. There was an unspoken vibe between them, something that neither one of them could quite explain. He just knew things about her. He just knew when she needed help.

"Same thing applies to you, sweetheart. Your number's 407." Anna slid the radio over with one hand while the other continued to write. Her smile was wide and bright, it was all Jennifer could do to not return the smile, holding the large, bulky radio in her hand. Shane approached Casey and Jennifer from behind. He clapped his hands together and smiled.

"Who's ready to head out to the ammunition locker?" Shane asked, looking between the two recruits. Jennifer stood, frozen, staring at Shane with the same knowing expression she had given him in the line-up outside. She was afraid of everything at this point.

"We're both ready," Casey answered, helping Jennifer tuck her radio into its holster on her right side.

"Well then, let's head on that way." Shane smiled as he as extended his hand in the direction of the locker. He assisted the both of them in the right direction, giving a quick, teasing bow as they entered. Shane equipped them both with handcuffs, mace, a taser, and a standard glock 22 before escorting them to the car garage in the back. "Morgan, you're with me today," Shane spoke after showing them where they could find their schedules for the next eight weeks. Jennifer barely glanced over the small cork bulletin board in the garage. She was more concerned with how the day was going to go more than how the next few weeks would. "Brown, you're with Deputy Hansen." A man approached Shane from behind, aviators gleaming in the industrial lights above them. He had the same five o'clock shadow, his light brown hair slicked back. His smile exposed the dimples on both sides of his lips. "Hansen, this is Brown. Brown, this is Hansen." The two men shook hands, Casey smiling while they walked to a police car in the garage. She took a moment to internally damn herself for not being as friendly and outgoing as her friend. It came all so easily to him. He turned to give her a look before walking off with Hansen. He already knew how the day was going to to go for her. "You ready to go, Morgan?" Shane asked before pulling his aviators on.

"Yep," she answered, following along behind him. Shane drove them into the city, commenting occasionally on any particular points of interest. Jennifer kept her eyes outside of her window, watching the various fields of green pass by them. Most of the land was flat, compared to Chattanooga, her hometown. The car's radio was low, playing a sad, crooning country song. She would never admit it out loud, but she hated country. It was his favorite music. She bit down on her lip and tried to keep herself even, trying to think of anything and everything but him as he drove.

"So," Shane said, dropping his right hand heavily on the steering wheel for emphasis. She flinched and turned to look at him, her green eyes snapping over to meet Shane's. "Why law enforcement?"

"I like helping people, protecting them…" Jennifer replied, giving an answer that she had used numerous times before. It was the best line she had came up with. It was a lot better than the other answer. No one particularly liked hearing about abuse. It wasn't a conversation topic. For most, it was better just to pretend nothing like that ever happened. And that was the case with most people. In the academy she had learned how to give the same generic answer everyone else did. Whether recruits liked to admit it or not, there was almost always some kind of hidden childhood trauma that revolved around them becoming police officers. Only Jennifer's didn't stem from childhood.

"Please spare me the classic bullshit answer." Jennifer made what she assumed was eye contact with him and gave a curt nod. Shane was a veteran in the police force. He knew the classic answer. Jennifer knew it. Shane knew it. It was common knowledge among police officers. Everyone always liked to protect people. Everyone liked to help.

"I didn't realize that was a classic answer." Shane nodded, throwing a piece of gum into his mouth. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew better than to say that. But she didn't know how to shift the attention from her. She didn't like it.

"Everyone gives that answer."

"That's seriously why I joined." He smiled and looked out of the window briefly before settling his eyes back onto the road, smirking as he did so. Jennifer felt her skin began to prick up. Her thoughts fell back on her time with her ex-boyfriend, her face being pounded like a mound of clay. She could feel herself retracting back into that state, the time where she was not herself. Her mind began to take her back and she struggled to hold on, only breaking from the internal movie when Shane spoke again. Sweat beaded on her already sweaty forehead, redness crept up her neck. She could feel every prick and scratch from the new clothes she had put on. She shifted in the seat slightly, hoping SHane would change the subject.

"I'll get the answer from ya. One way or another, I'll find out what it is… might as well be honest now." There was a hint of warning in his voice. Jennifer could feel the knots forming in her stomach. She didn't want to be seen as 'that girl.' The girl who had been abused, therefore was now a fragile ball that didn't value herself. She hated that stigma, it had followed her throughout most of her time in the academy. Most of the men and women at the academy didn't feel comfortable being around her. They saw her as weak, trapped, and responsible for what had happened to her, even though they were all studying to become officers of the law. She vowed to prove to herself and others that was not the case. It was struggle every day. She was going to be the voice for those who didn't have one, she was going to prove that she wasn't weak. She wasn't that person anymore.

"It runs in my family," she answered quickly. She went with the same lie she had told some of the recruits who hadn't heard about her past yet. It was so much easier to talk about. It was a lot harder to say well, my boyfriend used to beat me with a bat, so I decided I'd try to help stop that. "My dad didn't have a boy, like he had always dreamed of, so I decided to finish off his wishes." Shane nodded, a look of approval on his face.

"Your dad's a cop?"

"Yep." The knots slowly began to untangle themselves in her stomach, allowing her to breathe once again. She could feel the redness crawl backwards on skin. He was actually believing her story.

"Where at?"

"Chattanooga, for the last fifteen years." Lying seemed to come so easy to her anymore, it was baffling. It wasn't something she enjoyed, but her private life was not something she let out to just anyone. He let out a low whistle.

"Don't show off in front of the rookies too much, okay?" he joked. "Try to give 'em somewhat of a chance." Jennifer laughed with him, her smile falling when he looked away. He pulled the squad car into a parallel spot among what could only be assumed as the main part of town. People were out walking, carrying bags of all sizes. "C'mon rookie," he laughed, opening his car door. Jennifer got out behind him slowly, shutting the door carefully in response to Shane's enthusiastic slam. He gave a short greeting to those who past him, his hands on his belt. "This here is the main area of town. Lots of businesses, lots of people, lots of action." He smiled, raising his eyebrows towards the crossroads before them. "You'll patrol this area pretty often." He gestured with his hand for her to follow him as he began to walk down the sidewalk. "Wouldn't hurt to get to know the lady who owns the bakery either," he added, lowly, giving Jennifer a broad smile. She smiled back out of politeness, not feeling comfortable enough to put her hands on her utility belt yet.

"When does the traffic start to cool off around here?" she asked, peeking into a few of the shop windows as they walked. Focusing on something else helped calmed her nerves significantly. It was an easy habit to hide. It was easier to pretend to be interested in something rather than the opposite. It made people less interested in you and more interested in what was going on around you.

"Ehh, roughly 7 or 8 at night. Count on 9 or 10 on Friday and Saturday." She nodded, attempting to appear interested in a sun dress at the boutique they passed.

"Do you get a lot of trouble?"

"Mostly it's just'a bunch'a high school kids out tryin' to enjoy themselves." He stopped and perched himself up on a street light, taking care to smile and wave at anyone that passed him. Shane was one of the celebrities of the town. He was the go-to man next to Rick. If Rick wasn't able to help you, Shane was. That's how most of the townsfolk saw him. He was the man they looked to for safety and reassurance. He loved every second of it. "You familiar with small towns like this?"

"Sort of, Chattanooga is a little bigger than King's County." He nodded, cracking his knuckles as he looked out onto the street. She followed his gaze, noting the women who were going out of their way to say hello to Shane.

"Hey baby," a voice rang out from a passing truck. A bright, blonde-headed woman was hanging out of the passenger window, arms extended towards Shane. Shane's smile widened and he waved with his fingers to her, offering a blown kiss in her direction.

"That a part of the patrol, too?" Jennifer asked sarcastically before continuing down the street.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We should hit that bar tonight," Casey announced, tying the laces of his combat boots. "That little one right off of Main." I felt my stomach began to boil over at the word. Bar. I had spent plenty of time inside bars over the last two years, trying to erase whatever memories I had of that asshole. "Seemed mostly decent." I looked down to Tiffany, who was struggling to shove her swollen foot back into her shoes. I wished that was the majority of my problems at the moment. Most of problems seemed to stem from the unknown. Like what in the actual fuck was I doing. I tried to concentrate on unbuttoning my shirt.

"Mostly decent for a hick town." I assumed that was spoken by Rob or Jon, who had spent most of their days in the same position as me, following around our superior, being introduced into the town. I don't know what I had expected exactly, a massive shoot out? A car chase? It was my orientation. This wasn't Hollywood. But still, I was hoping for something more. I was hoping to jump straight in. This introductory shit was wearing on my nerves. I was never good with first impressions. And this was not working out for me at all. I wanted the beach. I wanted normalcy.

"C'mon, Morgan," Casey stated, slapping his hand on my shoulder. "Don't leave me alone to fend for myself." I smiled and shoved my foot down into my boot, wiggling my toes to make sure it was on tight enough. Casey knew I wasn't going to leave him out there alone. We were best friends. He was the one who followed me to King's County. We had an unspoken debt to each other now. I was going to do whatever he asked for because of it. Not just because I had to, but because I wanted to. Casey was one of the few people I could trust.

"What time?" I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to win this fight. Casey always had the ability to drag me out of my self-pity. If it wasn't for him, I don't think I would have any friends at this point in my life.

"Ten?" I nodded, hooking my handheld onto my side. "Great!"

"Slow down, cowboy," I warned him as he shook me by my shoulders from side to side.

"Tease all you want, Morgan. Don't be jealous that I got to arrest someone today." I turned on my heel to face him. He had a smirk on his face when I turned. "Yep," he started, "Hansen and I arrested a guy today. Come by tonight and I'll give you the full story."

"Mhmmm," I stated, shutting the lock on my locker. He was going to tell me one way or another. The bar was just an excuse. I dragged myself out to my beat up Honda, buckling my seatbelt before taking off to my Uncle Terry's. Terry lived on the outskirts of town. He hadn't moved in ten or fifteen years. I don't remember a time he wasn't living in that old ass house. He was an old veteran and basically a complete hermit, unless it required him to get cigarettes, beer, or food. He lived in an old, broke down farmhouse that probably hadn't been updated since the 80's, but given that it was a free place to stay, I could hardly complain. He spoke of numerous repairs and upgrades that I would have to make in order to pay him for my time. In reality it didn't appear to be that much, but when I had arrived a few days before I slowly realized that may be buying my own place could have been cheaper. It was a worn down two story farmhouse that had seen better days. Paint was peeling outside, the roof leaked in one spot, the far end of the porch was drooping for some unknown reason. The longer I walked through the house the longer the list grew. I marched right up the stairs of the deck, fearing that I would fall through as I walked into the house to be greeted with the strong scent of marijuana.

"Really Terry!?" I shouted, waving a hand in front of my face. I heard him coughing in the living room next to the entrance and the sound of a window opening. Terry's other stipulation was that I say nothing about his love for marijuana. As long as all of this was okay, I was free to stay in the house. He even agreed to let me have the house one day, bearing that it didn't crumble around us.

"Shit! You're home early!" he shouted through a cough.

"Not really!" I shouted back, glancing at the black watch around my right wrist.

"Don't arrest me, okay? Family rules! You can't arrest your uncle who's higher than a Georgia Pine." I laughed quietly, adjusting the duffel bag on my shoulder. I chucked it into the corner before hunching down to untie my boots. Just because I had to agree not to tell about the marijuana didn't mean I had to accept it.

"Family rules," I replied, holding my fingers up like a good old fashioned girl scout, trying to erase any and all amusement from my voice. "Remember your niece and nephew are in with the law nowadays."

"Right, right…. At least one can help me avoid jail time, and by that, I mean that fancy pants ass lawyer brother of yours."

"Can we please not talk about that steaming pile of shit?" I groaned, plopping myself down on the sofa opposite from my uncle. Trevor and I hadn't spoken in years. Most of our contact had stopped when I start dating that asshole, but I didn't even know if I had his right cellphone number these days. Uncle Terry grumbled, his recliner squeaking as he stood up and stretched. He was my dad's twin. They were perfect replicas of each other, which would be easier to prove if my dad was alive. My dad died when I was 18 from a severe brain bleed. He was on his way to work when some jackass hit him sideways while he was waiting to turn at an intersection. My mom had left us when we were little, leaving us for some dreamboat boyfriend. I stayed in Tennessee to finish up college and that's when I met him… and soon after him, I graduated and went to the Law Enforcement Academy.

"Oh stop that," Terry snapped back. It was hard for me not to see my father when Terry spoke. They were too much alike. "He may be a little prick, but he's still the only family you got left, show 'em some respect." We sat in silence for a few minutes, my fingers drumming on the armrest of the couch. "How was your first day?"

"Pretty much bullshit," I answered, stretching my arms overhead. My eyes closed on their own. The couch felt so nice compared to the passenger seat of the squad car. It was nice to have a few moments without feeling like I was being examined by Shane Walsh.

"That bad?" I listened to the flick of his lighter. He took a long, slow draw of his joint before blowing it out around himself.

"Uncle Terry, you don't even understand. I had to follow around Deputy Walsh today while he showed me the main areas of town." He coughed through a laugh. Terry was well acquainted with Shane Walsh. He and Rick were the main officers to arrive when Terry was 'misbehaving.' He still wouldn't explain to me what those calls entailed, but I could imagine.

"Hey, I told you that the army was the place to be. You're the one who went off and took it a step further."

"Yeah, yeah…" I grumbled, eyes opening. Terry had tried to get me to join the military first, he said it'd be easier when I started police work. I couldn't wait. I didn't have the patience to wait it out any longer. Some part of me felt like becoming an officer was the easiest way to provide safety for myself. I didn't think I could handle having someone yelling in my face everyday either. A drill sergeant was surely going to make my stay at boot camp a rendition of Full Metal Jacket.

"It was only the first day, don't give up on it just yet."

After a much needed nap and shower, I began the tedious work of getting ready for the bar, pulling out a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt, something simple. I clipped my radio onto the belt before looking over my tanned skin, admiring how it popped out against my shirt. The amount of time I had spent outside was definitely paying off in a good way. Tipping to my side, I shook my curly mess of hair once more. The bar was insanely packed when I arrived. It was nothing more than your average dive bar, dark, reeking of alcohol, cigarettes and desperation. Those smells had began to smell like home to me. Casey gave a loud, sharp whistle when I made it inside. I smiled when he raised his beer up and motioned for me.

"I forgot how nicely you cleaned up," he laughed, sliding a frozen mug of beer before me.

"Not so bad yourself, loser," I replied, sinking onto the red leather stool at the bar. "Anyone else show up?" I asked, before giving the beer a small taste. I didn't really want to know who else was there, considering it would mean I would have to socialize, but I figured asking would prepare me.

"Nah. I didn't expect them too either. They can't handle the competition." He gave a wiggle of his eyebrows. Casey: chronic pester and chronic flirt.

"I'm sure that was it. But in all reality, they just couldn't stomach the exotic scenery of this bar," I teased, using my beer to point to the pool tables to the right of the entrance. Surrounding the pool tables were various ages of men and women. Each one appearing to be more inebriated then the next, cigarettes peppering everyone's hands, laughter rolling from their mouths at anything remotely humorous. It was the place to be in town.

"Don't kid yourself, Jen, they're afraid of both of us. And all of the guys think we're sleeping together." I felt the beer clog my throat and coughed, setting the mug down and trying not to slam it. He paused right after he spoke, placing his beer down on the bar for a second. Casey knew better than to think I would find that funny. Because it wasn't. I had worked damn hard.

"No," I replied.

"Yes," he quipped back, taking a long drink. Now, I knew Casey wasn't saying this just to get me angry. He was telling me because it was true. I shook my head. Unable to find the fun in drinking anymore.

"That's not something I'm okay with." Just one more reason for someone to doubt my skills: 'oh, the only other girl in the group is sleeping the strongest guy to try and keep herself in the game, look at how soft and weak she is.' I felt the grip tighten on my mug.

"Relax," he murmured. "You don't think I know that?" He laid his hand on my arm and squeezed. Avoiding any and all eye contact with him, I positioned my body straight towards the back of the bar. Casey knew me well enough to know that I didn't like that kind of attention. And as much as I may have figured that the guys thought we were intimate… I couldn't handle actually hearing it. I had worked my ass off to get to where I was. I didn't need anyone's help. I didn't need pity. I had pushed myself through that academy and I was going to be damned if anyone thought it was just because of Casey that I had a job.

"I thought you came here to gloat about your big arrest, not gloat about how all of the guys think we're fucking." He released my arm and smiled, giving me a small shove. This man knew every single one of my darkest secrets, yet he always tried to make light of it.

"I wish you could have seen it," Casey laughed, taking a long drink.

"What happened?"

"We came across a drunk driver out on the highway, his BAC was about point sixteen. He was a hot damn mess, Jen. I mean, this guy – " he stopped to laugh. "This guy thought he was being chased after zombies! Literal flesh eating zombies! I mean, it was just too great. Hansen told him he was going take him somewhere safe, far away from his zombie friends." I smiled and finally brought myself to make eye contact with him again. His classic subject change. He was trying to keep me from losing my shit right in front of a bunch of strangers.

"Did you remember your Miranda Rights this time?" I teased. His mouth dropped into the most pathetic pout.

"You just had to go there!"

"Did you?" I pressed. This was Casey's weakness.

"I remembered four of them," he admitted, looking down at his feet. I laughed and called for four shots of whiskey.

"That deserves four rewards."

"No, no, not tonight! I can't, I'm driving!" he exclaimed. The bartender smiled and placed the four shot glasses down before him.

"Too late, tough guy, I already put the glasses down," she teased, filling them up with my favorite amber colored liquid.

"Don't make her job harder, Casey! She's already got the glasses down!" I shook him a little, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

"Please don't listen to this one right here," he added, pointing at me. "She's a very bad influence. She may look sweet and innocent, but she's just not. " The bartender just continued to smirk at him, pouring whiskey into the glasses. "Are you sweet and innocent? Because I'd love to find that out." Rolling my eyes, I slid his number over on a piece of paper. I already knew what he was getting at. He was trying to pick her up. The sly ass he was. The door opened and closed behind us. I didn't motion to turn and look, but judging by the way Casey was talking, it was the rest of our group.

"Slap me," he whispered through a smile, his hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I asked, leaning back.

"Slap me," he whispered again, squeezing one more time, his smile fading slightly. "And leave." He took one of the shots quickly, his face scrunching up as he swallowed its contents.

"Are you out of your mind?" His brown eyes felt like microscopes. I felt so small in an already unfamiliar place. I tried to pick up on his reasoning, but in a matter of seconds I was trying to remember every conversation we had ever had.

"Morgan, if you don't slap me right now…" he broke off and looked over my shoulder, before his eyes landed on mine again. I pulled my hand from my beer and backhanded him across the jaw as hard as I could. "Leave," he growled. Confused, and unable to process what had just happened, I stalked towards the door, slack jawed. My shoulders directed themselves out of the way of the incoming crowd. I could feel them staring at my back as I pushed out of the door and into the street. I glanced down each way of the sidewalk before heading off to my Honda. Just after placing myself in the front seat, I felt my radio vibrate and a loud, overbearing noise fill the entire car.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I screamed, punching my horn. I calmly smoothed out my hair and rubbed my knuckles before bringing the radio to my mouth. My throat felt like it was on fire. "This is 407, over," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and even.