SUMMARY: Carol and Ezekiel have to survive, cut off from the Kingdom.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of The Walking Dead

RATING: T+

PAIRING: Carol/Ezekiel

ON THE RUN:

They were cut off from their detachment of men, fleeing through the woods with the sound of pursuing Saviors nipping at their heels. Carol tossed her rifle away; it was out of bullets. Her little revolver only had two shots left, and they might need them later. Ezekiel was two paces behind her, and slowing down. She looked at him over her shoulder and caught sight of blood. Skidding to a halt, she went immediately to his side. He was leaning against the trunk of a tree. Carol took a moment to listen to the sounds around them. For the moment it was quiet, except the pounding of her heart in her ears.

Ezekiel felt drained and in pain. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep going. There was a bullet wound in his shoulder, and blood trickling down his chest. The faster their pace had increased, the more blood he lost. "We are in need of shelter," Ezekiel said to Carol when she came closer to him. She gave him a knowing look, but remained silent. He grit his teeth when she probed his bullet wound. An agony filled growl rumbled in his chest as she checked his back, and from the way she framed her hands on his shoulder, there was an exit wound. Small miracles.

Carol knew that if they didn't stop somewhere, hole up for the night, Ezekiel was going to bleed to death. She had to take care of his wound as best she could. The problem was they were in the middle of the woods. Begrudgingly, she knew they had to keep moving. Going to his right side, she took his arm and brought it across her shoulders, "Come on. We'll find somewhere to lay low."

"I endeavor to never argue with a lady," Ezekiel joked halfheartedly. He tried not to put too much of his weight on Carol. She would need to unburden herself of him quickly should they come upon trouble; Saviors or the wasted. It was hard to tell which was the deadlier threat.

Carol rolled her eyes, wrapping her left arm around his waist, and curled her fingers into the band of his pants to help hold him up. She had to split her focus between Ezekiel and listening to the surrounding woods. They moved as one, carefully, and as silently as they could.

The sun was a few hours from setting when Ezekiel just happened to look up and what he saw had him laughing. "God smiles on us."

Carol was busy scanning the surrounding area to notice where he was looking. "Yeah, how's that?" the had kept a steady pace for the last half hour with no sign of shelter in sight. No little cabins or shacks. Hell, at this point she would settle for a rundown little lean to. Anything would work right now.

As much as it pained him to do so, Ezekiel lifted his left arm so that his hand could touch the underside of Carol's chin, urging her to look where he had set his gaze, "Look up."

Carol did as he bade her, and there she saw what had made him laugh. "You've got to be kidding me…" she breathed out. Up in the branches of the two large trees in their path was – for lack of a better description – a tree house. It was concealed in the right manner that Carol could imagine hunters used it back when the world hadn't been overrun with the dead.

"Our humble abode for the evening, it would seem," Ezekiel smiled.

"Will you be able to make it up there?" Carol asked, looking at him.

"I will," Ezekiel promised. He had just enough left in him to make the climb.

"Ok," Carol loosened her hold around his waist, and helped him to rest against a smaller tree. She left him to go and find a way into their oasis in the trees. Circling the base of one tree, she found no obvious means of entry. Then, she went to the second where she found a rope tied off. She pulled it free and then jumped with a ladder dropped down behind her.

Ezekiel pushed off from the tree he was resting against to go and find Carol. She was glaring at their means of ascent into the canopy. "Did it attack you?" She turned that glare on him, but he could not muster the energy to be properly scathed by it.

"It's a risk, one I'm not sure…" Carol trialed off. This was the only place, probably for miles around, and Ezekiel needed to stop running. "Let me go up first, and check it out."

"No, we go together. It may be quiet, but that does not mean it is safe for me to linger on the ground with an open hole in my shoulder." Ezekiel argued wisely.

"No," Carol said. "I'll clear it, and then you'll come up." Before he could argue with her some more, she placed her hand over his mouth. He nodded his consent. Then, she turned to the ladder, and started up it. Halfway up she had to stop and look over her shoulder. From what little she was able to see, the area was clear of walkers, and of other living people. Though, with Ezekiel bleeding, that could change real soon. A few rungs from the top, she secured her hold with one hand, and then reached out to test the trap door above her head. It opened with a loud creaking. If there were any walkers inside, they would be drawn to the sound, and she would be screwed.

Ezekiel gathered all the strength he could muster to remain standing, and then he called upon more so that he might have the resolve he needed to climb all the way. He watched Carol disappear inside, and waited a few moments more to see if she tossed any of the dead out. Nothing happened. He was free to begin his climb. Part of the way up, he had to stop, to sway in midair for a moment to catch his breath. He looked up again and found Carol watching him, silently urging him on. With the promise of rest and medical attention in his immediate future, Ezekiel began to climb again. He made it to the top, and heaved himself up through the trap door with Carol's help.

Carol wanted to take a minute and get Ezekiel settled, but in this dark world there was no safe minutes assured to them. She scrambled over to the door, reaching down she pulled up the ladder until nearly every wooden step was inside. Then, when she closed the trap door, she found that two holes had been cut out to accommodate the rope. With a sigh of relief, she pushed the bolt closed. The pressure on her chest eased a little bit. Fortune was smiling on them for some reason.

Ezekiel heard the sound of a bolt sliding home in its lock. This meant they were safe for as long as they were here. He glanced around, seeing stacks and stacks of supplies; camping gear, and various other things they could use. "Was there no sign of who could have taken up residence here?"

"No," Carol answered moving away from the entrance. She went over to the open section of wall, her foot resting on the catwalk that led over to the other tree, and the other half of the tree house. "I'm going over to secure the other section. While I'm over there, see if you can find a first aid kit." She knew he wouldn't remain idle. It was better he have something to do while she took care of the dangerous task.

"Are you ordering the King about?" Ezekiel teased. It was all he could to take his mind off of the pounding in his shoulder. He was lucky not to have bled out by now. It just went to show him that his time was not over, that he had much more yet to accomplish. And he was even more fortunate to be out here with Carol; a true survivor.

"You're damn right I am," Carol show back, but with no trace of venom in her tone. Pulling her knife, gripping it tight, she stepped up on the catwalk. For one terrible moment she thought the wood would give way under her weight. Each step was cautious, and carried with it the silent hope that beams under her feet would not break, sending her plummeting to her death. Finally, she made it across, and heaved a sigh of relief. There were no walkers in sight, but there were things there she could use.

Feeling Ezekiel would be fine for a few more moments, Carol went to inspect the provisions. She picked up two sleeping bags, still in their nylon draw string sacks. Carol went back over to the opening, and tossed the bags over to the other area. Then she repeated the process with two thin rolled up foam pads. Silently she thanked whoever had laid in these supplies. And then with one last look, she found nothing they could use immediately. So, she stepped back up on the catwalk to return to Ezekiel.

Carol's heart stopped upon seeing him slumped over. She went to him, her hands going to his chest. "No, no, no…." her voice was frantic as she felt for his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. "Ezekiel…. Ezekiel, open your eyes," she jostled his armor in hopes that he would do as she said. Carol hadn't felt like this since the prison, since Hershel had lost part of his leg. Then his eyes fluttered open, and gasped out, "Oh, God…"

"I was merely resting…" Ezekiel mumbled. The exhaustion and loss of blood had finally caught up with him. When he looked at her, he could see the fear in her eyes. "Carol, I'm not going anywhere," he tried to sound reassuring, but this world was full of uncertainties. She was one of the people he was fighting for.

"Just… don't close your eyes," Carol tried to sound stern, but her words came out broken. There was no time to waste on how relieved she was that he hadn't died. She needed to clean his wound and stitch it up. "Did you find any medical supplies?" she asked as she removed her armor.

"In the box," Ezekiel pointed to the olive drab container marked with the red cross.

Carol pulled it over and was dumbfounded by what she saw. "Suture kits, surgical tools, and medicine. Whoever put this, they had access to a hospital…" she said more for herself than for the King. Pawing through the contents, she pulled out what she needed, and then turned back to him.

Ezekiel shrugged out of his coat, removed his gloves, but he encountered trouble when it came time for him to remove his armor. She saw it, and immediately came over to help. Carol was close to him, her face just a hairs breath away from his as her hands made quick work of the buckles. Then, he was freed from the weight of it, and somehow that made his wound hurt more.

Carol moved aside the neck of his maroon shirt, so she could inspect the wound. "It's a clean entry, and the bleeding has slowed considerably." She moved to his left side, pulled him forward gently, and checked for an exit wound. "You are one lucky man," Carol said.

"Hmm…" Ezekiel muttered. He knew what had to come next. Using his right hand, he pulled up the bottom of his shirt. It was then that Carol stopped him. She helped divest him of the blood-soaked garment. He felt a shiver run up his spine. The evening was getting chilly, and that meant the night would be cold.

Carol picked up the bottle of peroxide, twisted off the cap, and held it over the exit wound, "This is going to hurt. You should find something to bite down on." She waited until he had a mouthful of his coat and he nodded. Carol picked up his shirt and held it under the wound as she tipped the bottle up. Ezekiel's agony filled growled was muffled, and his body was shaking. "I know… I know…" The Peroxide bubbled up pink, running down his shoulder until it soaked into the red cotton.

Ezekiel spit out the sleeve of his coat. For now, the pain was nothing more than an intense stinging he could deal with. It was an odd sensation to feel the liquid bubbling in his wound, cleaning it. The sound nearly made him flinch. "How bad is it?"

Carol sighed, "It could be worse. The edges are jagged, and I'm not skilled at stitching up human flesh."

"I know you'll do your best," Ezekiel said, conveying his total faith in her to tend to his wounds.

Carol scowled at him, knowing that he couldn't see it. She dropped his shirt before she took two of his dreads in her hands so that she could tie the mass into a bundle and keep them out of her way. With that taken care of, she ripped open a pack of gauze and set about cleaning the area around the wound. From the first pass of the sterile white pad over the gun shot, Ezekiel growled. It was a sound that would rival the one she had heard come from Shiva so many times. "I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but…"

"But you have to clean the wound, I'm aware. Indulge me the occasional utterance of discomfort," Ezekiel bit out. When she touched the clean gauze to his back, it felt like she was wiping a red hot coal across the open wound.

Carol set to work again cleaning away the foam from the peroxide. Each time his back muscles jumped, she stopped for a second. He would nod, and she would start again. Finally, the wound was cleaned, and that allowed her to start suturing. She opened the kit, pulling out the needle, and this time she had to take a minute to keep her hands from shaking. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, again. Carol looked down at her hands to see they were relatively still.

Ezekiel grunted upon feeling the first stab of the needle. Then the second came and he flinched. Steadily, she worked to close the wound, and with each tug, his body grew accustomed to the pain. Enough so he could unclench his fist's. His breathing was another matter, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps, followed by short bursts of him holding his breath for no reason.

Carol tied the last stitch, and then used the small scissors in the pack to cut the thread. It wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be; the line was straight at least. But she wasn't finished yet. She still had to clean the front of his wound and suture it. Carol covered her handy work with a clean gauze pad, and taped it to keep it in place.

Ezekiel was happy when Carol moved into his line of sight. He had a moment to catch his breath, to recover some of his strength before she started on the entry would. If she didn't finish with him soon, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay awake. He crossed his legs, resting his forearms on his knees, and slumped forward. The new position put a little pressure on his open wound, but he was so drained already that it made little difference to him.

Briefly, Carol rested her hand on the back of his head. Then, she pulled a crate over so that, when he was ready. He could lean back against it, so he wasn't expending so much energy sitting up. She opened up one of the sleeping bags, and draped it over the edge of the crate giving him a little cushion against his back. Once that was taken care of, she moved back to his left side, and touched his arm. "Hey, you ready for the last part?"

Ezekiel nodded slightly, and did not fight her when she started to push him backwards. His back came into contact with the cool material of a blanket and the unyielding strength of a box. When had she moved that behind him? This alone proved that he was in dire need of rest. "You didn't happen upon pain meds in that box, did you?" he asked. With her, he could let the King act lapse. Ezekiel liked being the King for his people, but with Carol, he liked being himself more.

"I did, but I need to finish this first, and then find you something to eat. Pain pills should always be taken on a full stomach." Carol said in a tone that gave little room for him to refuse her. Picking up his ruined shirt again, she held it just under the entry wound. Then came the peroxide. The moment the liquid came into contact with Ezekiel's wound, his hand rested on her thigh, his fingers digging in slightly.

As means of distracting himself, and to stay awake, Ezekiel asked, "What do you think happened to the people who built this place?"

"They're probably dead." Carol glanced at his face, "Look around, there's a thick layer of dust on everything in here. Whoever did this, they didn't make it." She knew it pained him to think of thing like that. It was one of his more endearing qualities.

"It's our gain, is that it?" Ezekiel questioned, not intending to sound harsh. The reality of the world was the driving force behind him making the Kingdom a place of refuge for his people. He wanted them to feel safe, and to feel that they lived in a better place.

"Unless you wanted to bleed out on the ground," Carol shot back. She clamped her mouth shut. It wasn't him she was angry at. Being shot at by a big .50 caliber gun always put her in a foul mood. Then her run through the woods just added to her irritation.

"Carol…" Ezekiel reached up, his hand touching her cheek, but she knocked it away.

"How's that 'certain victory' looking now?" Carol snapped.

"We're alive," Ezekiel answered. That was a victory in and of itself.

"But our people could be dead or walkers…" Carol was trying not to let all of this get to her. She hadn't been at the prisoner when the Governor attacked. She hadn't been there to try and prevent Glenn and Abraham's deaths.

"They're alive, and until we know otherwise, we are going to hold tight to that," Ezekiel stated fiercely. This time when he cupped her cheek, she didn't push him away. He could see she was battling past demons. Being out here, alone, and with only him as company had her reliving things she might have put behind her.

Carol looked at him, and then saw his wound. She didn't have time to do a backwards slide into self-doubt, or to give into the instinctual need to be somewhere else. He needed her to stay focused and on alert. If she went to pieces now, then his condition would get worse. "Until we know otherwise," she repeated his words back to him.

"Hold tight to that," Ezekiel repeated.

"Ok…" Carol said in a shuddering breath. She picked up another box of sterile gauze pads, and returned to the task at hand. The last she wanted to do was make him have to sew up his own gunshot wound.

Since Ezekiel already knew what was coming, he was better able to brace himself for the waves of pain that would radiate out from his wound, and over his chest. "Who taught you first aid?" he asked as he watched her tending to him.

"Maggie's father, Hershel, he showed me a few things," Carol answered. "Don't be too quick to sing my praises, though. He was a veterinarian."

Ezekiel laughed, and then groaned in pain, "I shouldn't be laughing."

Carol smiled gently at him. With the wound, and the surrounding area cleaned, she reached for the second suture kit. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ezekiel replied. He leaned his head back, sighed, and waited.

After having sewn up the wound on his back, Carol made quick work of the entry wound. This time, he didn't so much as flinch. Looking at him, his eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Ezekiel was only unconscious. That was the best outcome she could have hoped for, and it would give her time she needed to poke through all the boxes around them. In another crate marked with a red cross, she found a few IV bags of saline solution. She checked the date, and remembering what Hershel told her, knew it was safe to use on Ezekiel. He'd lost a lot of blood from their run through the woods. He needed fluids.

Carol went back over to his side, after finding a small broken branch she could hang the bag from. She tied the tourniquet just above his elbow, and waited until she saw a good vein bulge. 'Let me get this on the first try,' she thought, and with needle in hand, proceeded to stick the King's arm. She got it on the first go around. Carol breathed a sigh of relief. She taped the needle to hold it in place, and hoped he would be out for a little while longer.

Getting up, Carol went to the catwalk to surveil the area down below. Everything was quiet, too quiet. Nightfall was about an hour away, so where were the Saviors that had been pursuing them? They were at war, and a rule of was to never let an enemy live. So, why were they? Though, it was better she not to look too far into the gift horse's mouth. She stepped out onto the bridge, going over to the other side. Once over to the second section, she picked through what was mostly cold weather gear, blankets, and a stack of pillows. She picked up two of them, as well as two blankets that they would need for the coming night. Neither of them had any energy, or bullets, to roam through the woods where they could potentially meet a herd of walkers.

Carol picked through the boxes where she found a clean shirt – as clean as it could be – for Ezekiel when he woke. Just then a groan reached her ears, and for one heart stopping second, she thought she missed a walker. She pulled her knife, searching for the source of the sound.

"Carol…"

Carol put her knife away, feeling foolish for thinking it had been a walker. Getting the other supplies, she hurried back over to Ezekiel's side. He was right where she left him, and he was looking at her. "Just checking things out while you were sleeping."

"I passed out," Ezekiel scoffed. He moved his left arm, but something tugged. Belatedly, he realized there was an IV in his arm.

"Stay put," Carol ordered. She made quick work of unrolling the foam pads, placing them side by side. Then she unzipped a sleeping bag, laying it on top, and then put a pillow down. All of it was close enough to where she had the IV mounted that Ezekiel wouldn't have to move far. "Come on, come lay down."

"How can a King refuse an invitation like that," Ezekiel chuckled. Mindful of the needle in his arm, he lowered herself down to the makeshift pallet, and breathed a sigh of relief at lying down. Even though he had a hole in his shoulder, it felt good to be stretched out.

For now, Carol covered him with one of the blankets she had brought over. When full night was upon them, she would open the other sleeping bag to use for cover. "Are you hungry?" she asked, but got no reply. Checking on him, she found his breathing had evened out, and his eyes were closed. The more rest he got, the stronger he would be to travel in the morning. Giving in to her own exhaustion, Carol stretched out next to Ezekiel. She gave him her added warmth, and pulled the second blanket over them while she slept for a little while.

TBC…