Hello again, TWDG fandom! I really enjoyed writing my previous Walking Dead one-shot, so here is another fanficion. This one will be a continuous story. School starts for me tomorrow, September 2nd, so I won't have as much time to write. But I'll try to update when I can during the week, and hopefully more frequently on weekends.
[!] SPOILER ALERT [!]: This fanfiction contains spoilers for S2E5, No Going Back. If you have not completed that episode, don't read this yet.
All right, so this fanfiction is begins with the struggle between Jane and Kenny. I chose to save Jane because I like her more, so the rest of the story will be Jane, Clem, AJ, and a few other characters (canon and OC's) that we'll come across later. (Sorry to the Kenny fans—I've just never really liked him that much. I'll try not to let that bias my writing too much, though.)
Also, the dialogue in this probably does not match the game. I didn't feel like re-watching part of it just to get the dialogue correct, so I tried to go by memory and made up the rest as I felt like it. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but it makes it more my own. (:
Anyways, that's enough of my A/N. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think! Good or bad, I'd like to know. Honestly, reviews make my day and inspire me to continue writing. If you read this, please just drop me a review, even just a line. I'd love to hear from and talk to you. (:
"Clem, help me!" Jane shouted, struggling against Kenny's weight, her own knife's blade mere inches from ending her life. With her back pinned against the frigid, snowy ground, her body shook with the effort of keeping the grown man from overcoming her. Her leg, oozing hot blood from where Kenny stabbed her, throbbed, and the blood loss made her light-headed. She pushed upwards with all the brawn she could muster, willing herself not to give up and succumb to her weakness. She was relatively strong for a woman of her stature, but Kenny, a forty-something-year-old man, was much stronger—it wouldn't be long before his strength won out and the razor-sharp blade became embedded in her chest. As many times as she'd been almost ready for death, wished for it, nearly not caring if it came for her, she had never in her life so fervently wished to live. After witnessing the horror Kenny could bestow upon another—even one on his side—Jane knew she needed to get out of this alive. She could not leave Clementine with just Kenny. Despite the short time of knowing her, she had come to care deeply for the girl, and she had to protect her—which meant she could not give up.
But if she was going to die here, she sure as hell wasn't going down without a long, zealous fight.
Soon, though, she realized she wasn't going to escape this one by herself. She was becoming weaker and weaker from blood loss, and the man's sheer fury only fueled his strength. His features were twisted in an enraged scowl, face turning red and a vein in his neck popping out from the intense anger. Her arms shook and sweat coursed down her pale face with the effort. "Clem, please!" she begged the younger girl, fighting to turn her head slightly to meet the girl's eyes. A gun lay a foot in front of Clem, and she stared at Jane, eyes widened in shock and countenance frozen in pure terror. The young girl looked back and forth several times between the gun and her two friends.
Gun, Jane. Gun, Kenny. Back to the gun. Jane. The knife. Kenny.
Her strength was quickly diminishing as the woman turned her attention back to her attacker. Beginning to despair, she knew she had no more than ten or fifteen seconds before her arms would give and a knife would be lodged in her. "Clementine," she pleaded desperately, voice growing weaker as she used all her strength to fend off Kenny. "Please... please..."
Using the last of her energy, she turned her head towards Clementine one last time and locked eyes with the child. She breathed heavily and felt tears prick her hazel orbs, quickly blurring her vision. Too fatigued and weak from holding Kenny off, she pleaded one last time with her eyes as her vision started fading, becoming dimmer around the edges.
Please, Clementine, please help me... I'm doing this for you...Clem...
Then suddenly, in a split second, Clementine had snatched up the gun, cocked it, leveled it at Kenny, and hesitated only a moment before pulling the trigger.
CH-BANG!
In an instant, the weight on top of her was lifted, and Kenny fell in a heap to the side, knife clattering on the ground beside Jane. Exhausted from the struggle, her arms fell limp at her sides as she laid on the snowy ground, heart racing, breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. A second later, she gathered the strength to sit up.
Thank you, Clementine, thank you so much...
"Are you okay?" Clementine cried, still trembling in fear as she ran over to her side, touching her friend's leg.
Still struggling to catch her breath and calm her wild heart rate, she answered, "Yeah, yeah, I... I think so..." Clementine gazed at her, concern written all over her chilled face. "Thank you, Clem," she added, relief clear in her tired, raspy voice. Clem answered with a nod and slight smile, then turned her attention to her dying friend who was lying in a quickly-expanding pool of his own blood.
As Clementine tearfully exchanged goodbyes with Kenny, Jane allowed herself to fall back down onto the concrete beneath her. Though guilt for provoking the man riddled her being, and fear for how Clem would react to AJ's safety ran circles in her mind, she momentarily rested with the peace that she was alive and could—hopefully, with the girl's forgiveness—continue on with her and AJ.
She didn't know how long they'd been there.
A few days? Maybe a week? There was no sure way to tell—nothing but the blazing orb occupying the day and glowing crescent inhabiting the night could give the two even the slightest hint of what month it might be. Clementine knew it had been at least a few days since she, Jane, and little AJ had found their way to Carver's old camp; but she had lost count of the sunrises and sunsets that might indicate how long they'd been there. She supposed the time span didn't matter much, though, because they were safe, the three of them. That, Lee had taught her years ago, is the most important thing—safety of the ones you care about. Little AJ was soundly asleep in his makeshift crib of cardboard, tiny stomach satisfied with the formula they had found thanks to Bonnie's heads up.
Bonnie. Clementine missed her. Mike too, even though they both tried to rob them of everything they had. As angry as she was at first, she could now see why they were so anxious to retire from a certain man's presence. After the ordeal with Kenny and Jane nearly getting killed, Clementine saw Kenny for what he really could be. As heartbroken as she was to have to shoot her friend and watch him die, she knew she had made the right choice—Kenny even told her that himself. He was much too broken, and his temper far too short. She missed Kenny, but she knew Jane and the others were right: Kenny was, in the end, extremely dangerous. He had nearly murdered Jane right in front of Clementine's eyes, hardly even blinking as he struggled to drive the knife through the woman's heart. How long would it have been before Kenny turned on Clementine? If it had happened, the girl knew it would have been the end of her. Jane was significantly stronger than her, after all, and she would have died if Clem hadn't shot the man.
And Jane was her friend. The two had become rather close despite their short time of knowing each other. Though she harbored deep sorrow at the loss of Kenny, she was very glad Jane was alive. She didn't know if she would have been able to forgive Kenny if he had killed Jane.
Shortly after arriving at Carver's ex-camp, a family of three approached the gate, desperately begging to be let in. Their son, they told the duo, was starving, and none of them would make it another day without something to eat or a safe shelter to rest in for the night.
"What should we do?" Clementine asked her friend quietly, clearly torn between showing compassion and further ensuring their safety.
"There isn't much food left," Jane murmured to her, brow furrowed slightly as she scrutinized the family, "and they're probably armed. It'd be dangerous." Wordlessly, Clementine continued her questioning gaze, silently imploring Jane to speak for her. The older woman had made her opinion on the matter very clear, however, and she folded her arms over her chest, glancing down at Clem. The young girl knew it was up to her—in this broken world, she had to learn to make her own decisions, regardless of how difficult they might be.
If she invited them inside, she was running the risk of endangering the life of both her and her companion. Neither of them knew who these people were, and although they seemed trustworthy, they were still strangers. They claimed to be unarmed, but Clementine wasn't stupid—she knew there was no possible way the three would have survived this long without a weapon or firearm of some sort. It would be extremely risky, should she choose to invite them in, and she could see why Jane distrusted them. But how could she turn them away? She made the mistake of glancing at the young boy who looked to be about Clementine's age, maybe a bit younger. It could very well be her in that situation: starving, freezing, and desperate for help. How could she turn them away?
"Please," the father repeated, arms still in the air in surrender. "We just need help. Our boy is starving."
Clementine glanced again at Jane, but the other woman had averted her gaze and instead stared coolly to the side. When she glanced her way, her eyes seemed to urge the girl to make a decision—quickly.
The young girl squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists, a feral war waging in her head.
"Leave," she finally said, opening her eyes.
The father, surprised and clearly stung by her firmness, exclaimed, "What?! Please, no, you can't do this... Look, we just need food, and my boy—"
"You heard me Leave," Clem repeated, eyes hardening in hostility.
"How do you know we're not dangerous?" the man spat, resentment burning in his gaze.
"Maybe I'm dangerous, too," she replied calmly, countenance still set in an unyielding scowl as she unholstered her gun, pointing it at the father's head. The wife and son gasped, instinctively stepping back and pulling the man towards them.
The man was about to open his mouth in an angry retort when the wife gently prodded, "C'mon, honey, she said we need to go."
Though anger still glistened in his orbs, he haughtily turned around and the family, very slowly, began trudging away. As the father turned, Clementine noticed a gun, safety on, tucked into the belt of the man's trousers. She glanced up at Jane and silently motioned to the weapon, eyes widened in realization and surprise. Though she deeply regretted denying the poor family food and shelter, Clementine knew she had made the right choice. She could have put them both in danger, had she given in to her natural compassion. Jane looked sullen as she nodded, taking note of the concealed firearm as they watched them walk away. The young boy stopped and looked back, helplessly staring at Clementine, silently begging her to change her mind. Clementine winced and turned away, unable to make eye contact.
Jane gently placed a hand on the young girl's shoulder. "Thanks for doing that," she relayed quietly. "I know that was hard. And I'm sorry for not stepping in. I just... thought you should start making some of your own decisions like that. I'm sorry."
Clementine nodded in acknowledgement. "It's okay, Jane," she replied. "I know they could've been dangerous, and they could've hurt us. I just... wish we could've helped them."
"I know," the woman replied, giving Clem's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Me too."