A/N: Hello! Welcome to my latest story. The OC (Laura) is of my own invention. Be warned, this story contains mentions of and allusions to past rape, but no explicit or graphic descriptions. Also, this story contains spoilers for events in season 4 and season 5.

The story will be 11 chapters long and there may be a follow-up story set around the end of season 5 and season 6, depending on how people receive this one. Please R&R and let me know what you think, what you like and don't like, what you agree with or don't! I am curious to know your thoughts. And most importantly, enjoy!


Before the world ended, there used to be those people that said a pregnancy can never result from rape. The body's just too traumatized to allow the egg to fertilize or something like that, they said. Well, I for one, can tell you that is bullshit. I know. Because it happened to me.

They had a code. "Claiming" they called it. It meant something. But claiming only means first dibs when it comes to women. We are a rare enough commodity that everyone gets a piece. The only thing that "claimed" settles is who gets the first and freshest slice. In my case, it was a man named Joe that claimed me that day.

When he was through, the others got their chance. Most of it is hazy now. I still remember the pain. And the fear. I wasn't afraid of dying. No, I was afraid the others in my group would find me while the men still had me. I was afraid the men would try and claim or kill the rest of my group. My friends. My roommate. My brother. I couldn't let it happen. So I lied. I told them I was alone. I told them I wouldn't fight – I'd make it real nice for them if they just let me live afterwards.

Joe stood by his word, but not until he let his boys beat me bloody when they'd finished.

But I was alive. I remember Joe's hazy face in my line of sight when it was over, just before I passed out on the ground. "See? I'm a man of my word."

I never found my group again after that day. By the time I cleaned myself up, found some clothes, and made my way to camp, the group was gone. Walkers had attacked, by the looks of it, and I could see where footsteps led off into the forest. I followed them for a while, then night fell and the rains came. I slept in a tree that night. By morning, the tracks were gone. I wandered alone for a while, in clear violation of rule number 1 (never go anywhere alone). But I didn't have a choice anymore.

I should probably explain – my group had a code, too. It was more like a set of rules. We stuck together in groups, no one went anywhere alone. That was rule #1. That day Joe found me, I wasn't alone, even though I told him I was. I said it loud and clear. I said it so my companion on the run would hear. I said it so that she wouldn't get herself seen. The men in Joe's group were dangerous, that at least was clear. And at least, knowing my group was gone when I returned to camp, I knew that there was a chance that they were safe.

I looked for them for a while – almost three months in fact. I scouted a pretty wide perimeter, but it was slow going on my own. I was injured, still healing, and the only people I found in all those months were dead. I did, however, manage to make myself a decent camp, scavenged supplies, and even a gun, and when I felt strong enough, I made a run to the pharmacy – the one where Joe had found me.

The building gave me the creeps. I shuddered, as the memory of all those eyes and guns on me came flooding back. But I pressed on. I didn't need a test to tell me I was pregnant. Three months of nausea and lack of period had given it away, as did the hardening in my lower abdomen. What I needed, though, was food, vitamins, and a hell of a lot more water.

Finally stocked, I decided to strike out, search for survivors, and maybe, if I was lucky, find my group again. Another month passed. I was completely on my own.


The day I went shopping for maternity clothes was the day I finally saw my first living human in over 4 months. I'd gotten pretty far north from where I'd started, and I'd found myself a little boutique in a town that looked, for the greater part, deserted. I tread slowly and quietly, my scavenged camp axe at the ready. The door was locked but a window was broken. Wrapping my hand in a dirty t-shirt, I broke enough of the glass to get the door unlocked and slipped inside.

One eye always looking over my shoulder, I quickly rummaged through the shop, finding a pair of pants with a stretchy waist and a couple of shirts designed to stretch with a mother's belly. Nothing too loose – no dresses either. I needed clothes I could move in, but a walker couldn't grab itself onto easily. Putting them up against myself, I figured they would work and stuffed them quickly into my bag. I found a few more pieces that looked more or less my size and took those, too. I'd sort out what I was taking later on.

That's when I heard it. That's when I heard the laugh. I ducked quickly, hiding behind a clothing rack and waited, breath hitched.

"Here we are boys. Home for the night." It was Joe. I closed my eyes tightly, and for the first time in a very long time, I prayed. I prayed they wouldn't find me there, prayed that they would just get off the street.

And that's when I heard the gurgling moans. From the back of the shop, a walker came hissing, moaning and squelching as it limped, bowlegged, towards the front of the shop. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. My grip tightened on the camp axe.

"Somethin' wrong, Daryl?" I heard Joe say.

Then, after a moment, I heard a gruff, gravelly voice. Daryl apparently. "Naw – just a walker." The voice was close. He was just outside the window I had broken. I heard him test the door. It opened. Footsteps. Then, the thwack of a bowstring. I knew that sound. One of my people, back from my former group, she'd been an archer as a kid. She used a bow herself, never liking the feel of a gun, and it was useful for sure.

Without a sound, I stayed crouched on the ground, one hand planted and ready to use as leverage to scoot around the corner of the rack. Go, I prayed, just go. Instead, the bowman moved, taking swift steps to the Walker. As he put his boot on the ugly thing's face, and yanked his arrow out of its skull, I ducked as quick as I could around to the side of the rack. I winced at the sound of hangers knocking together. Shit, I cursed myself. Shit, shit, shit.

For a moment, all was silent, but then I heard the steps approach slowly, almost cautiously.

Axe at the ready, I waited for him to approach. Waited for the sound of the cocking gun, or the sound of the knife unsheathing.

The footsteps stopped. I turned my head just enough to bring him into my line of sight. He was looking at me, bow pointed and ready. I felt my skin go cold. Daryl's eyes ran over me quickly, like he was sizing me up.

"Daryl – you all right in there?" called Joe. He was closer than before. Maybe approaching. Shit.

Fear – heart-wrenching, throat-closing fear – gripped my chest and stopped my breath. My eyes widened. They darted towards the door and back at Daryl. I raised my axe. He took a step back, his bow still aimed at me.

He opened his mouth and I waited for it, waited for that horrible word. Claimed.

Instead, he lowered his bow. Still looking my way, he turned his body away and shouted, "Yeah. Thought I heard somethin'. S'nothin'." Then, he finally turned his eyes away and stalked towards the door. He opened it, and left, letting it swing closed behind him. I let out a shaky breath into my hand, and stifled the sound of relief.

I gave them until the count of 10 to turn their backs to me, then without looking again, slipped across the floor, behind the clothes, into the back to hide. I had to bring down two walkers with my axe, but it was worth it to avoid the front. Joe would have a lookout, I was sure of it. Normally I'd have stayed in the store overnight. Instead, I waited until dark to slip out the back.

By leaving after sundown I was breaking Rule #2 – never go out after dark. But the way I saw it, I had little choice. Joe and his group were far more dangerous than the walkers, and I needed the cover of night to get away from the bigger threat.

I didn't know why the man named Daryl had not revealed me. Part of me wanted to believe that maybe he was not at all like the rest. Part of me, though, was afraid he might have had something worse in store for me if I stayed. I managed to make it a few miles into the woods, guided by moonlight, before the sun finally rose.