A/N: This was originally a one-shot from my Clem's perspective on the events of Season 2, Episode 3, "In Harm's Way," I wrote when the episode was first released in May. However, after the release of the season finale (which was filled with more feels than I knew how to process), I had to add a second part based on my Clem's final (at least for the season!) journey. Though some things in this first part are different from how Episode 4 actually went, I decided to keep the chapter as I first wrote it.

Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Despite everything, Clementine finally felt she could take a moment to catch her breath. Despite Christa and the bandits, despite the shed, despite the ski lodge, despite Carver and his prison camp. Despite losing good people along the way.

They had eventually found Sarah, miraculously unharmed after charging head-first through the herd, but virtually catatonic. Ceasing to function, just as Carlos told her just some couple days ago. Only from some coaxing and encouragement from Clementine had she begun to break out of it, but barely.

Rebecca was currently trying to talk to Sarah about something, anything, to keep her from retreating into herself. Rebecca may have been unpleasant to Clem when they first met, but Clem could see Sarah had brought out the maternal instinct Rebecca had doubts existed. She had also been taking Alvin's death as well as could be expected, the pain somewhat dulled from the satisfaction of seeing Carver's head beaten to a pulp and the determination to live for the sake of her unborn child.

And Sarita…

Clementine kept replaying the scene in her head, everything slowing to a crawl as she watched the walker clench Sarita's arm and take bite after bite after bite. In a moment of instinct, she swung the axe at Sarita's arm. If it had worked for Reggie, it could work for her too. But just like with that teacher Lee tried to help by cutting off his leg, she lost too much blood too quickly before they could properly stop it. Just like with Lee, her arm was cut off, but it still hadn't saved her.

She thought, feared, Kenny might hold it against her for her actions, but even in his grief, he told her it was the right call. A slim chance of things turning out okay was better than no chance at all. It still didn't make her feel any better.

Clem found herself looking over at the bearded man near her whose bandage over the eye were a testament to his sacrifice, to spare her from any punishment Carver might have belted out to her. Though she was not sure she would have gotten a similar beating as Kenny if she had been able to admit she was the thief. If he had let her.

Yet another person hurt because of her.

Clem pulled off her hat to retie her hair, feeling her little ponytails start to come undone. It felt weird to let her hair loose now, only doing it the too few times to wash it. She dared not do it anywhere else. As Lee instructed her, she had to keep it short and back. Or she could be looking at another Andy St. John scenario, his hand pulling at her hair, into harm's way.

Once she was finished, she reached for her hat, a hat that had seen as much as she had, yet somehow managed to avoid the wear and tear, its only battle scars the splatters of blood. She stopped herself from putting her hat back on, turning it this way and that in her calloused hands. She remembered the day her dad had given it to her. His baseball hat from his school days (he never did tell her why he hung onto it for so long). She had always been interested in it as far back as she could remember, toddling to the closet every chance she could just to touch it and flop it onto her head, until finally on her eighth birthday he surprised her with it, saying with a large grin plastered on his face that it needed to get out of the dusty closet, put to more use than he'd ever give it.

It was strange. She had known her parents for almost nine years, but the memories of them, of making chocolate chip cookies with her mom, of her dad teaching her how to ride her bike for the first time, had lately been occupying less of her thoughts while the memories of those she had known for less longer had been at the forefront, especially of Lee.

She had been happy to get the photo of him when she and Christa passed through Macon on their trip south (only to shortly afterwards decide to head north instead), have something to remember him by. No matter what Luke or Kenny said, nothing would stop her from the guilt, from wishing that she hadn't been so gullible to believe the stranger's honeyed words.

During their time together, Lee filled the void left by the disappearance of her parents, looking out for her, taking care of her needs before his own, comforting her with a hug when she needed it most. It was only natural. She had only been a scared little girl, needing protecting from the bogeymen which stalked the outside world. And Lee had offered that too, willing to do whatever it took to keep her safe and be her defender, as well as her teacher to prepare her for the times when he couldn't help her, to take care of herself. He may have never been a dad before, but he did the best he could. Most importantly, she felt cared for. Even loved.

That had definitively been missing the past year and a half. Sure Christa had been doing a good enough job picking up where Lee left off, teaching her how to survive, and she was grateful for that, but the affection was cold. Christa had once told her Lee had asked Omid and Christa to watch out for her. That she'd be safe and relatively happy with the two of them.

Lee had been right about the safe part, but happy? That would have been true if she hadn't been so careless and held onto her gun, if Omid hadn't been shot, if Christa hadn't lost her baby. They could have been a happy family. Instead, she had felt more like an obligation Christa carried with her. Christa hadn't been outright vindictive towards her, but Clem could never shake there was a distance between them since Omid's death she couldn't close.

She glanced over at Kenny, his one good eye intently staring at their makeshift firepit, embers already weakening. Not that they had built it to be strong in the first place. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves.

He hadn't said a word since she had asked him if he was ok, since in a burst of lightning frustration at her insistent prodding he had snapped at her to leave him be. His face and eye softened when he saw the startled and hurt expression cross her face, just as he did when he snipped at her in the truck on the way to Carver's prison. The subtle slump in his shoulders then set in, a pose she had seen twice before.

"I'm sorry, Clem, just…please. I just need to take a moment."

Luke had overheard part of the exchange before he headed out with Jane to wander around the civil war site for more possible supplies that could be of use to them while Bonnie, Mike and Nick maintained a patrol of the perimeter. She had to be thankful. He could have made the situation worse by demanding Kenny why he had snapped at her if she hadn't been there. She told Luke it was fine, asked him to drop it and go with Jane. He did as she asked, though the concern didn't disappear from his face. But she knew Kenny hadn't meant it. Not with her.

That wasn't to say she didn't appreciate Luke looking out for her. Despite their rough start, she liked Luke, she truly did. He was the first one to try and make amends for locking her in the shed. On the bridge, he had trusted her abilities and they worked as a team, just as she had with Lee. He tried to do the right thing when he could and think things through. And he was very likeable. But she could already sense Luke and Kenny would butt heads, just like with Lilly. Two different personalities, one prone to caution, the other to swift action. Both wanting to lead. It was inevitable how it would turn out. And there she'd be, in the middle of the two of them, just as Lee had been. She just hoped she could prevent it from playing out for the worst.

After Luke left and she checked in with Rebecca and Sarah, she sat back down by the fire pit. She could have tried to make conversation with Kenny, but she didn't know what else could be said. Except that she was sorry. About Sarita, about his eye, about how everything had managed to go so wrong.

Her hand drifted up to her cheek, where Troy had struck her across the face with his rifle when she had rushed to Kenny's aid. The bleeding had long since stopped, but it still hurt even to brush her fingertips against. Her wound would heal in time, though. Kenny's on the other hand…

But he had taken the risk. All for her. Just as Lee had done.

A blast of cold whipped through the air, right through her clothes. She had taken the ski jacket off when she was cleaning herself up, washing off the walker guts best she could, allowing herself that luxury while they had the opportunity. She left it by the fire to dry, but upon touching the sleeve realized it was still damp. That wouldn't help her keep warm, least not for a couple of hours. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to still her chattering teeth, the goosebumps rising on her skin.

Just as she resigned herself to the cold, she felt something come around her, covering her from the wind. She looked down at the greenish jacket now around her and then up to Kenny with only his long sleeve shirt to shield him.

The gesture touched her more than she could say. All she could get out was a string of words. "I can't, you…you might need…"

He stopped her, his previous irritation towards her completely gone. "I'll be alright, darlin'. No need to go worryin' about me," he said, trying to sound reassuring, but she was. About his eye, about how he was coping with losing another person close to him, about what would happen if he was pushed to the brink one more time.

She didn't say any of that, though, not wanting a repeat of last time. Instead she sent him a small smile of thanks, which Kenny accepted, shooting her one of his own, albeit weak at the edges, still plagued by dark thoughts.

Clementine curled the jacket more tightly around her like a blanket as he sat back down on the ground, back to his solitary reminiscences in front of the dying fire. Her gaze fell on the blood splatter on the collar, another blatant reminder of what had happened.

Her next words were out before she could stop them. "You didn't have to take the radio. Carver wouldn't have hurt me like that."

That brought Kenny back again, sending her that same tender look as when he first regained consciousness. "Course I had to. No tellin' what that asswipe would have done to you." His good eye closed and his bruised and bloodied face contorted itself into barely restrained grief and remorse. "Had to save someone."

Was he talking about Sarita? Walter? Katjaa? Duck? It didn't matter; her heart clenched at hearing such emotional pain coming from him just the same.

Her hand drifted down to her side pants pocket, hand reaching in for the drawing she had folded inside there. Even after all this time, she had still hung onto it and despite her journey down the river, neither it or the photo of Lee had suffered much damage. Another small miracle.

She lifted herself up off the ground, Kenny's jacket still draped around her shoulders. She slowly approached him, getting down on her knees across from him. She waited until his attention was back on her before extending her hand out with the drawing to him.

"I drew it the last day at the motor inn. Before…" Before the raiders. Before Duck was bit.

He finally moved to take it from her, holding the crayon renditions of him, Kat and Duck up close to his face. She kept her eyes on the ground, chancing another look when he didn't say anything right away. The light of the fire caught at the right angle, allowing Clementine to see the shine of his eye and the streak running down his cheek to his beard.

She made to get up, about to apologize for giving this to him and making him upset, when his hand found its way onto her shoulder, keeping her grounded.

"No. Stay, it's…" He brushed away the lone tear with his free hand, his voice rough and strained from the effort of holding himself together. "I'm alright…just…" He sent her a weak grateful smile. "Thank you, Clem."

She hugged him, then, feeling like this was the only other thing she could do, his jacket falling away from her shoulders ever so slightly. She tried to ignore the smell of dried blood on him, close it off. She felt him hug her back and for one brief second, things felt right again.

She wasn't blind. It wasn't always going to be so easy. She had seen him at his worst. She knew his faults. He was short-tempered and let his emotions control him. He could be vicious to those he perceived as a threat, reckless, overly-stubborn and unwilling to back down when he thought he was in the right. But he knew what it took to survive, never just quit because the going got tough. More than that, he was also loyal, protective and selfless to those he cared about. And she knew he cared about her. Why else would he have given himself up back at the lodge when Carver was pointing a gun at her head? Why else would he have expressed concern for her every time someone or something hurt her (or tried to) at Carver's camp?

Why else would he have done what he did for her?

At the motor inn, he had treated her kindly, watched out for her when Lee wasn't around. And even when things got tense between him and Lee, he never took it out on her. Still, this level of concern, of protection. That had been Lee's role, not his.

But Lee was gone now, and Kenny was more than willing to fulfill that role.

He had been there for her and now she'd be there for him. Not just because she owed him, but because she wanted to, cared for him too. More than that, she wanted to remember what it felt like, to have a real family again, for however long it lasted. She wasn't about to turn away from that chance now, not after everything she had lost.

Once she pulled away, she repositioned herself so she was sitting cross-legged beside him, with him straightening the jacket so it fit more snugly around her, leaving his hand on her shoulder. Both acting as comforting presences for the other, without needing to say a word.

He wasn't her dad. He wasn't Lee. But he was close and that was good enough for her.