I own nuthin. Nuthin except what's obviously mine. Couldn't help writing this :) Rating might go up someday, but who knows? Well, thanks for reading - more chapters will be added, hopefully sooner rather than later. Lemme know whatcha think, m'kay? mkay. Thnx.

Segen watched as Gerry clambered out of the boat as the snow continued to fall. She ignored the chill in favor of smiling as he went to embrace his children, his wife - his family. Her smile was only half-false, though. She was momentarily distracted by a sharp pain in her chest. It made the falseness in her smile come out a bit more, but she was happy for Gerry. She was. He'd saved her life. He'd gotten to come back to his family.

But the pang in her chest distracted her from the ache in her left wrist, where her hand had once been. It didn't hurt as bad anymore, but the ache that was left over from the sudden and unexpected amputation would probably never fade - not really, because you just don't get over something like that. And she knew this. She understood it all too well.

But what she didn't understand was the irregular, erratic throbbing in her chest. It was like her heart was hurting, hurting more than she actually was. She wondered if it had been from the injection, from the sickness she'd been given, in order to survive in the world full of those gone-rabid shells that used to house human beings. She figured it wasn't that, though. Because the pain she was feeling was somewhat familiar. Familiar enough that she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on what was going on outside of her existence.

Gerry pulled away from his kids, a smile on his face as Segen clambered out of the boot and steadied herself in the shallow water. The sand crunched under her boots as she stood up straight, cracking her neck as she twisted it from side to side as the man who had saved her from becoming one of those - those things - turned his head to look at her.

Segen didn't think that he knew how lucky he was at that moment. Maybe he had some idea, but he had his family - his daughters, his wife - in his arms and they weren't dead. She had lost people - friends. Long-dead family. And he was so lucky.

"Karin, girls, little man," he said, not leaving them - only smiling at the Israeli soldier as they looked up at her. The younger looking one's eyes shot up towards her head, and Segen had to resist the urge to frown back down at her. Segen didn't like children that much. No - that wasn't the right way to say it. Children - it didn't matter how old they were - made her . . . made her feel uncomfortable. They didn't know any better. They didn't have any idea what the real world was like. They didn't know shit. And that - that was what she didn't like about children. They weren't supposed to know anything. They got in the way, they didn't know what was what - she knew this. And that was why she had to keep herself from frowning.

"Who's this, Gerry?"

The woman, who the Israeli soldier presumed to be his wife, Karin, looked exhausted - as exhausted as she felt. She probably was, from all the worrying she must have done while waiting for her husband to come back to her.

"This woman, she's from Israel," Gerry answered. "She's a soldier. 'Name's Segen."

"You're a soldier?" Karin asked. She seemed dubious. But she was used to that.

"You're name is Segen?" the smallest one asked.

"You're a soldier?" the older girl wondered.

She tried her best not to sigh at their naïvety, despite everything that had happened since - since whenever this whole disaster had happened.

The boy kept quiet. He just continued to watch her, holding the older girl's hand. This didn't slip Gerry's notice, but Karin and the younger sister were somewhat oblivious.

Segen just smiled as best she could and nodded.

"I'm Karin," the woman said, remembering manners that usually would have been forgotten at a time like this - with rabid humans (zombies. She had to remember to call them zombies, since there was no cure, and they weren't really people anymore) running around and biting people who weren't terminally ill.

Immediately, she wiped her mind of any thought relating to what the W.H.O doctors had done to her - had injected her with.

Thinking about it wouldn't do anyone any good.

"And this is Tommy," the small Hispanic boy just continued to look at her at the mention of his name. "These two are Constance and Rachel. It's . . . nice to meet you, Segen." Karin had pointed out each of the children with slight movements of her chin, indicating which name belonged to whom.

Segen nodded. Her smile eventually faded as the family, once again, embraced. She felt awkward, watching this. It felt private. It felt like her presence was unnecessary. She'd done her part, she'd gotten rescued. She'd gotten out of there. She was sick, but she wasn't one of those things (zombies).

She turned to leave, to get back on the boat (because she really didn't picture herself staying on an aircraft carrier or with Gerry's family, even if she had tried to save him a few times, but she was, essentially, useless, and no help to anyone with just one hand, even if it was her right hand, and she was right handed), because she wanted to get out of there.

But the little one, Constance - the smallest of the three children - spoke up before she could leave. No need to keep the soldiers who held a backpack of supplies for her waiting.

"Is Se - Se - is that your real name? Are you gonna leave now? Because if you saved Daddy then you can stay with us back on that ship."

Karin looked like she didn't really care what happened to the soldier, and that was fine.

Gerry opened his mouth to answer, but the Israeli could do it herself.

She was useless to them, as a fighter, as a soldier - but she still had her voice. Her vocal cords hadn't been cut out of her throat.

Segen shook her head, the expression on her face growing grim. There was no trace of happiness in it, unlike the looks of the family reunited. She was not a part of this family. She couldn't be.

She was useless; who would want a soldier with one hand? A limp, a twitch, a stomach bug - those were things you could have that wouldn't make you completely useless. You could deal with this.

A woman with one hand?

Worthless.

"I will be heading off on my own," Segen answered the girl, ignoring the beginnings of Gerry's protests. She silenced him with a look - no, a glare was more like it. "You won't see me again."

"Why? You can still fight - they'd let you stay, wouldn't they, Daddy?" The older girl - Rachel - looked to her father. She looked shaken, pale. Just like her mother. The boy was solemn - quiet. He looked like the Israeli had - when she had lost everyone. She knew that look.

She could only imagine what pain he was feeling, yet she did her best not to. She didn't know this boy. It was not her place to guess the amount of pain that he was in over losing his family - or whomever he had lost - though it looked like he'd been taken in by Gerry's family.

"I have a backpack, of supplies," Segen jerked her head in the direction of the boat, which was still waiting on them - she was sure they were all going back, but maybe they could drop her off somewhere nearby. Maybe. "If I can be dropped off somewhere away from the ports, I will be fine." Probably not, but she could make her own.

"No, we can take you back to the carrier," a soldier, from behind the family, called to her. Her eyes went to him. "You need a few more things, before you go. 'Sides, don't you want a bunk for the night?"

Segen didn't know what to say. Honestly, she didn't want to say anything. She'd never spoken so much around people she knew so little about. It irked her, but Gerry had saved her. Saved her from becoming one of those things (zombies), saved her from being left behind, had helped her with amputated hand - if it weren't for him, she would have been dead.

Dead and gone, most likely one of those things.

"C'mon, since you're only staying for a while, I'm sure Thierry will let you stay a night and give you some more things - you won't survive long with just that little pack." Gerry gave her a half-smile.

The idea was tempting, but Segen could take care of herself, now that she was infected with something else, something from the W.H.O doctors - now that she was camouflaged.

But they were having none of her reasons - reasons that, in the soldier's and family's eyes, seemed like excuses.

Hardly.

Segen shook her head, helpless, apparently, as it seemed that her fate, for the time being, was decided.

Americans, she thought, with a sigh as the family headed towards the boat, hearing another not far off - probably for the soldiers.

Were these people always so insistent?