It has been a while since I've started a new FF. Kind of excited. I also heard there isn't much happening in the FTWD section, so that also has me excited. I hope to reel people in.

For the most part this is just a preview to see how you all respond. I'm still working on a bit of this so it may be a few weeks before I get seriously started. I hope you all enjoy!

The character limit for story description too damn short so I've provided the full below:

Miracle. Second chance. Yeah, whatever. All he knew is that he couldn't mess it up. Not this time. Not again.

Once the lights went out for Troy Otto that was it. He got what he deserved. But then he wakes up after a blow to the head that should've ended his life. A blow to the head he doesn't remember at all.

The sun is blistering hot in the bayous outside New Orleans and Troy is lucky to be alive. With no idea how he made it to Louisiana and no memories of the last few months, he starts over with the group of people who found him. There are no walkers within twenty miles. Food is fresh, for the most part. Defenses are strong. But, Troy can still feel a shadow lingering over him, the one that is so distrustful of everyone and everything, but he can't listen to it. He afraid of what might happen if he does.

The past somehow finds him and it isn't long before all hell breaks loose, threatening his new friends and his new life, making walkers seem like the least of everyone's problems. What will he do to keep it all?

"Is he alive? He doesn't look alive. He looks bludgered. He looks dead, Tuck."

"He's still breathing." Whoever this Tuck was, he sounded surprised.

A snort. It was something caught between sarcasm and disbelief.

"Barely."

That was three voice he could track, but only faintly. They sound far away and garbled like he was under water. He wasn't alive. He knew this much. No, he was very much dead. Had to be. Knew on some deep and hazy level that he deserved to be.

"He's still breathing and we're going to do whatever we can to keep him that way."

"You're a softie, Tuck." There was a chuckle.

He couldn't do that though. He couldn't even move. His entire body ached and surged with sharp pain. Why would these people save him anyway?

"Have you seen Ryan?"

"No." There was an audible sigh. "You know Ry's a free spirit. Very imp-like."

"I know, Ryan's a personal pain in my ass."

"Don't you worry about that. I've got it under control."

"With what? That ESP bullshit?" A grumble of laughter. This one was from deep down in one's stomach. A raw belly laugh.

"Precisely. Ry's fine."

The light argument kept on. Who was Ryan? Was he mad? By the sounds of it, possibly.

A soft tickle brushed across his face. Was that wind? He tried to move, wanted to move, but there was no such luck.

"Find Trick and have him check on our newest arrival here."

"Got it."

"I still think he's dead." The first voice said again. She sounded young. A kid. A snotty one, too.

The voices faded away, but there were no footsteps suggesting that they were walking away. They were gone. Then so was he.

The Canopy

A deep inhale. His lungs filled, lifting his chest. The first real breath he'd taken in god knows how long. And it felt good. The air was fresh and humid.

"Hey, I think he's waking up."

He worked his eyes under his lids, skating them side to side. They were heavy.

"Open your eyes."

As if on command, he did. Bright sunlight forced him to close them again. His head ached and throbbed on an unbearable level. It felt like his skull was on fire and was getting pounded over and over. Enough that he wanted to be dead. Dead dead. Not grunting and oozing and walking dead. He shuddered and more pain shot down his body. He opened his eyes again and was met with a grin attached to a man. He was blonde, close to his age it seemed, though the crow's feet around his eyes and his stubble made him look older than that. Today's world aged everyone quicker.

"He lives." His voice dipped with a long, drawn out drawl. Very much like the kids back on the Ranch that stole off to get stoned out of their minds.

He looked at the man as a whole. He certainly wasn't from around The Ranch.

"Dude, you know who you are?"

No words. They were in his head. Yeah, sure. He knew who he was. The words just weren't making it past the lump in his throat.

"We found you washed up on the shores of a river that broke through here. You were barely kicking. Soaking up water and bleeding pretty bad. You're a fighter though. Hung on like a koala to its mama. I did everything I could…oh, right." The man whipped out a pen and clicked it. He flinched as a bright light flashed in his eyes. He blinked rapidly. "Follow my fingers would you? Gotta check for brain damage."

He did. It was easy enough. His head still ached, making his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and sticky.

"Do you remember how you got here, bro? I mean I know I said you washed up, but uh, you look far from wherever you hail from."

He shook his head. He couldn't recall much of anything. His head throbbed harder, spikes of pain shooting around in his skull. The man sighed, pursing his lips. Not disappointment. Confusion and frustration. He knew those feelings.

"Well, hm. How about you try your name again? You know who you are? It'd be real helpful. Everyone has been coming up with their own names for you."

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth.

"Troy." There was no sound behind it, just air and like there was gravel lodged in his throat.

"Like the city. Nice." The man nodded and then frowned. "Well, the city got destroyed a lot originally, so not really nice…anyway…I'm Trick. Your caretaker."

Over the next couple of days, Trick was in and out of the room, keeping track of the amount of water he was getting, giving him food, making sure he wasn't brain dead. Why wasn't he braindead? He'd felt the dent in his temple. He should be a goner. And why didn't he remember how he got it? Or anything before that? The only things he could recall was not long after the walker breakout. People had started showing up at the Ranch…and then it was foggy.

He'd been confined to his room until he could move around stably—or even just get up—and keep down food. Both were difficult. And this room…really weird, round room, was his prison. Though, as far as prisons went, this one wasn't so bad. It was better than the one mother and father put him in back home. He got fresh clothes. Free food. There was a window. It looked out over a wide forest of trees and sky. The room, which was a decent enough size, was holding to the side of a trunk, which is what made it round. The ground was more than fifty feet down. There were other room/buildings, too. All of them looked expertly crafted. Each were connected by bridges. He'd seen a few people cross them, but they didn't see him. Nobody saw him but Trick.

That was fine. He got a feeling that was for the best. He didn't know this place and this place didn't know him. Maybe they were hoping he'd lead them back to the Ranch for resources. They'd kill him once they discovered there was no ranch. It was what he deserved, too.

"How are we feeling today, sunshine?"

Trick had gotten in a habit of calling him that. It was annoying as hell.

"Head is killing me." It was the same answer that he replied with every time he came by.

They went through the drill of questions; all of them being for his benefit to make sure he was getting better. And to also see if he was remembering anything.

Troy hadn't been keeping track of the days very well, but it had to of been at least a month since his arrival.

"I brought Tuck today," Trick said. "He wanted to wait until you were copasetic before bombarding you. He's a chill dude."

Troy nodded numbly. He honestly didn't care. The leader of this place was bound to come around.

An older gentleman, one who looked very close to his father's age, though he was much taller than the man, walked in. He smiled kindly enough. He was a big man, filled the doorway well enough. Troy swallowed hard. Was this the moment they tried to get info out of him or worse?

"It's good to see you up and around. We were worried for a while. Trick is good, though for a drop out med student. He took good care of you." Tuck smiled wider with pride.

"I do with what I got," Trick said.

"Where am I?" Troy asked.

"Where are you from?" Tuck countered.

"Uh," for a moment he couldn't recall. "Texas, I think."

Tuck whistled. Trick's eyebrows shot up. Both of them were surprised and that made Troy nervous.

"Bro, you're damn lucky to be alive. Like, you got an angel or somethin," Trick said.

"You're in Louisiana, son," Tuck told Troy.

Louisiana? How the hell? Troy's eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a moment. How was he alive? This was majorly fucked up.

"Come on," Tuck said, ushering him toward the door. "You must be stir-crazy. Let me show you around. Dinner will be soon. The guys will be back from fishing and checking the traps."

"Ah, yeah," Trick droned out happily. "craw-dad night. Mmmm."

"What is this place?" Troy asked as he took his first step out of the room onto the balcony base that circled around the place.

"It's the end of the world, son." Tuck laughed dryly. "This is a home for anybody we find. Up here, we're far enough from the dead that they just walk on by and we don't get eaten."

"Isn't it dangerous up here?"

"Isn't it dangerous everywhere?" Tuck's eyebrows rose.

Troy nodded stiffly. Point made. Turning his head side to side, taking in all of the architecture, it was pretty nice. Not grand or perfect, but enough. It was livable and more so than other places.

"This the dead guy?"

The third voice he recalled belong to a young girl. The one he'd first heard upon waking up. She was not even half his height. She craned her head all the way back to take in the full view of him.

"It's Troy, Sophie. I told you. He's obviously alive," Tuck said. His lips pressed into a thin line in effort to not laugh.

"He still looks dead. Look how pale he is!" She exclaimed incredulously.

"Tiny human, I swear…" Trick trailed off, agitated.

Sophie shrugged, but winked.

"Glad you aren't dead. Hoping to hear a good story. You must have one or two." She walked.

"Hey," Tuck called. She turned. "Have you seen Ryan?"

"Nope. Ask Reed."

Trick hissed inward, grimacing.

"Oh boy."

"I'm going to whip that—" Tuck didn't finish. He pressed his pointer and middle finger to the bridge of his nose.

The comment made Troy curl up inside, but he could tell that Tuck wasn't serious. He wasn't angry. He was just scared. This guy was important.

"Trick, go find Reed. Ask him if you would."

"On it." Trick disappeared across the bridge off to the left that lead to another building.

Troy got a closer look at all of this. The trees were massive. Sturdy. Able to handle all of this weight. Built for it. This was a damn village. Completely unreal. He could hardly believe it.

By dusk, Troy had seen the med-quarter, pantry, more rooms—most people shared, though by choice. The rooms weren't mega huge so there were a couple of them and they were built in threes, stacking up on each other. Most of them. Troy and Tuck and a few others had the solo rooms. Bathrooms were limited and bathing was done on the ground at the lake about a half a mile off. The area for twenty-five miles around was clean, so Tuck had said. Troy hadn't noticed until he made that mention that he hadn't heard a single grunt or groan of the dead.

"The folks are really looking forward to meeting you," Tuck finished up.

"What's the catch?" Troy asked. He couldn't help it. Like any place that looked too good, there had to be something wrong. He looked down at his clothes as an example.

Tuck chuckled.

"You were almost dead. People are hard to find these days. We like to hold on to as many as possible. Have as close to a normal life as possible. No catch, Troy."

"And if you find a person who's…" his gut clenched, "done terrible things?"

He looked away from Tuck. The guy was so kind, but surely he had his limits.

"Then we do what we can to steer him clear of it. Help him. If he can't be helped then he goes to ground. We do our best not to kill people. Of course, that's not to say there haven't been accidents."

They strode across a bridge, its center bowing under their feet, that led to an open fire pit. The space was wide and people had already begun to gather. The trunk holding it up was large and it's thick, spanning branches held up around the edges. A coned roof hung over the open fire pit deck. Some shingles on it were worn or missing.

"I gather that you believe you've done some things before you came here." Tuck said. Troy stiffened and stopped breathing. "Think of this as a second chance. Don't waste it. Use it."

He smiled. The corners of Troy's lips pulled but he couldn't manage a full smile in return. He couldn't recall what got him here. It was still murky. And honestly? He hoped it stayed that way. He had a heavy feeling that it was horribly bad, so he didn't want to remember.

"Reed." Tuck called. A young man trotted over. Troy eyed him carefully. He was younger than him, but not by much. His hair was dark and cut short. "Have you seen Ryan?"

"Nope. Not since yesterday morning," he replied. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Tuck inhaled deeply.

Who was Ryan and why was he stressing everybody out?

"What about Lindsey and Grant?"

"Lindsey hasn't and Grant is the one who went along on the sudden trip."

"Who's Ryan?" Troy spoke up. The first time without being asked anything.

Reed looked at him, just realizing he was standing there. Odd. Over six feet tall, and he just noticed? Okay.

"My, uh, twin."

"Twin." Troy nodded on the word. "Hm. He can take care of himself, right?"

Tuck laughed softly. Reed smirked and shook his head, making it apparent that he was missing something.

"Yeah." Reed said plainly, his eyebrows flicking upward.

Was there a joke he didn't catch? Troy looked between the two of them, confused.

A loud thump and thunder rumbled across the fire pit and Tuck, Reed, and Troy turned to see a large sack on the deck. A man with flaming red, curly hair climbed up onto the deck, out of breath and pouring sweat. He wore cargo pants, boots and a green T-shirt. Sweat trickled over cheek. His eyebrow had a shiny ring through it.

"Holy feck, I'm starvin'." Giggles from two women erupted over the thick accented comment. Irishman.

"Grant." Reed greeted, walking over and patting him on the shoulder. "Where's Ryan? You two are late."

"Eh, Ry's around. You know your twin better then I."

"The little…" Tuck trailed off, his agitation rising again.

"Why's everyone worried about this person? I'm confused." Troy's face muddled with more confusion. Was this person God or something?

Reed ignored Troy's question and looked at Tuck.

"Alright. I'm going out and when I find Ry, I'll be back," he said.

Another stomp, much lighter than the ogre's, touched down behind Troy. He spun around fast, his fists clenching. Automatic reflex that made his heart jump up his throat.

Instantly, he released his hands as he took a sudden sharp intake.

"Geez, you guys talk like I'm the devil or something." Her voice was raw with giddiness.

Ryan was not a guy. He was a she. A short, small girl in green denim shorts and a grey tank top. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail that moved down the center of her back. Not girl, a woman, barely if that. Maybe twenty, like Reed. Maybe. Her eyes were wild and she smiled as if she just rolled in from the world's greatest adventure. There wasn't a lick of fear anywhere on her and, shamefully, he looked.

"The devil? Child, the devil has nothing on you," Tuck muttered.

Ryan smiled wider at that, like it was best compliment she'd ever received, and then looked at her brother.

"Oh come on, you knew I was going out on a scavenge. Don't look at me like that."

"You were out two days,' Reed said.

"It was farther off than we thought," Grant said. He turned and dug into the sack he'd dropped onto the deck. "And anyway," he pulled out a case and two dark green glass bottles of liquor, "we found libations."

"Holy shit," Reed laughed. He took one of the green bottle and opened it. His face puckered as he smelled. "Strong. Good."

Troy started at seeing Ryan standing in front of him, staring at him. The look on her face had morphed into one of curiosity, her exotic shaped eyes narrowing. She eyed the side of his head. The puncture to the side of his head.

"It's going to scar. Nasty by the looks of it," she said, looking at his bandaged head. She shrugged. "Didn't mess up your pretty face though. That's a plus."

She took a step back. And then another, but didn't look away.

Tuck had moved off to talk to Reed and Grant.

"You're tall, too." She didn't blush or flick her hair. She just stared…observing, measuring him up. To what, he didn't know and wasn't sure if he wanted to. "No wonder the girls around here were waiting on you. You're quite the dream, babe."

She shook her head to the side once, as if to say damn. Then, turning on her heel, she grabbed a pack, much smaller and ratty, off the floor and headed to where Trick and Sophie were. She sat between them and instantly they were laughing.

"She's cute, eh? A little sprite." Troy looked away quickly. A hand shot out in front of him, making him jump. "I'm Kenny."

Troy took the man's hand. The look in his eyes made him wary. He was dark, from the sun, and the tip of his voice was accented as well. Cajun, but not full. Scruff spread over his cheeks and down his throat. His broad jaw and shoulders told him he was tough, or liked to think he was.

"There are plenty of women around here. All very curious about you," Kenny said. The joking tone in his voice couldn't hide the threat. Kenny nodded at Ryan. "She's spoken for. Okay?"

Troy's eyes narrowed. Had he missed something? What had he done to give such a strange impression? Before he knew it, he was nodding. She hadn't been on his mind…not until now, when he said that.

"Okay."

Kenny grinned big, flashing his teeth, the strange, hidden threat vanished. That was even more unnerving and sent an alarm going off in Troy's head.

"I like you. We're going to be good friends." He patted Troy on the back.

Troy stiffened, trying to suppress a groan and a whimper, as a surge of pain racketed through his frame. Trick had told him to resist touching his temple. The gauze there kept it covered to avoid infection, but damn if it didn't itch and ache and everything else under the sun that made him want to dig his finger in it.

"Let's eat." Kenny guided him over to a bench that was open and they sat, all the while Ryan watched him carefully. Troy wasn't sure, but was it worry that he saw in her eyes. Worry for him? Did he even know what that was? He wasn't sure. No one had ever looked at him with that regard.

Kenny was a talker. A big one. And it wasn't hard to decipher truth from bullshit. He had this laugh that labeled him a blatant asshole. A few times, Trick made his way over to chat. Ryan hadn't once come over. She was visiting everywhere else but this very spot and Troy got the feeling that her being spoken for by Kenny was a load of shit.

The crowd thinned after a while until only Reed, Tuck, Grant and Troy remained at the pit. The three gentlemen were still in intense talk about a trip to thin out the dead. Troy mostly listened and spaced out, staring at the embers of the dying fire.

"You're still awake?"

Troy looked up. Ryan stood off to the side. He hadn't even heard her come over.

"Yeah," he replied. "What's your excuse?"

Ryan chuckled.

"I forgot my lucky pack." She jiggled the strap on her shoulder. The scrappy thing looked like it was ready to fall apart.

"Oy! Ye need to git rid of that thing already. Seriously!" Grant exclaimed. He held a CB radio–one of his finds from today—and was talking about repairing it.

"Suck my dick, Grant." Ryan said it so sincerely and sweetly that Troy laughed under his breath. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his stubbled jaw.

"Oh, darlin, I been waitin' a long time for ye te ask me to." Grant held his chest. Reed punched him in the shoulder.

Ryan smirked and turned back to Troy. Troy caught the look Reed threw his way. A protective one.

"You have no idea how to get back to your quarters, do you?" She asked.

"I—no." Troy replied. He rubbed his eyes and blinked away drowsiness.

"Come on," she said.

"Ryan," Tuck said firmly. She turned. "Do not toss our newest addition over any of the bridges, please."

There was a hint of joking in his voice. Troy stuffed his hands in his pockets. He still wasn't completely comfortable here, but he felt like he could be. It wasn't impossible.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't dare," she said utterly offended. "He's an original lost boy, this one."

Troy followed Ryan over multiple bridges. She'd called him a lost boy and he hadn't stopped thinking about it. He was feeling pretty damn lost. Then again being up in the trees like this was very much like the hide out of the lost boys in Peter Pan.

"I heard you thought I was a guy," she commented.

Troy followed the swish of her ponytail in the dark. Lanterns lit the way here and there.

"Uh, no." He shook his head, glad she couldn't see the small bit of embarrassment on his face.

She stopped and turned in the middle of a bridge. It swayed in the night breeze. He grabbed the rope railing, shaking nervously. Ryan crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's not the first time it's happened. It never fails to make me laugh though. Always being mistaken. The looks on peoples' faces…" she laughed softly, gaging his reaction.

She turned back around and started walking again. Troy hadn't moved and was still trying to breathe. She had no sense of boundaries.

"We're taking a quick detour," she announced as she stopped at the doorway of one of the mini-dorms. Sophie was relaxing one her cot inside. "Hey."

The tween looked up from whatever magazine she was looking at. The pages were wrinkled, probably from her reading so many times. The cover was gone.

Ryan reached into her pack and pulled out something Troy hadn't seen in a while. A book.

"Got this for you," Ryan said and tossed it. In the soft light of the lanterns, he could read the title. War and Peace. Sophie's eyes regarded it with disgust.

"This looks boring," she stated flatly.

"I don't know. It looked good to me. Just give it a try," Ryan said with a nonchalant shrug. The corners of her lips twitched with anticipation.

Sophie rolled her eyes and muttered incoherently under her breath. Opening it, she gasped. Her eyes enlarged to the size of those collector's plates his mom used to have.

"No way!" she squealed. She flung the book down, showing that he center was cut out, and held up a Milkyway. "How did you find this! I figured chocolate would've been a goner by now!"

Sophie bounded off her cot and wrapped her arms around Ryan's waist, squeezing tightly.

"Grant and I hit random store and a hardware store. There were still some good leftovers," she said, hugging her back. After parting, she reached back in and pulled out another book called Poison Princess. "Trust me on this one. It's worth it."

"It's looks apocalyptical…"

"Then it's perfect." Ryan winked.

Sophie hurried back to her cot and opened the book, munching away on her candy bar. Ryan turned and brushed past Troy on the way back over the bridge. The entire way was silence and that was fine. He didn't have much to say himself…until their next stop. The room was dark. Ryan felt her way over to an oil lantern. It lit up. Her facial features glowed softly. The lantern lit the entire place. Troy followed her gaze.

"Holy shit," he mumbled low.

He didn't see this room on the mini-tour. This place was a library. Books were strewn everywhere. There were two comfy chairs. Well, not comfy. The cushions were ratty and deflated. They were good enough that you could pretend they were comfy.

Ryan smiled. She set her pack down on a small end table and started pulling out books. She had eight in total.

"You can come here whenever you want. Anybody can. This is about all we have in the way of entertainment," she told him as she put away her treasures.

Truthfully, he wasn't looking at the mass collection, though it was impressive. He was looking at her. She stood on her tippy toes, trying to put one book on a top shelf that was just out of her reach. While it was entertaining to watch her struggle and bite her tongue, he grabbed it from her hand and slid it into place.

"Thanks, tall, dark and tad broody." There was that smile again. What the hell did she have to be happy about?

He nodded.

"Alright. Detour over," she said.

Troy began to follow her when his eyes caught on one title in particular. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He grabbed it and caught up with Ryan. She was small but fast.

"And here you are," she said, stopping at his door.

"Thanks," Troy said, sheepishly. He was going to have to walk around tomorrow. Get more familiar. "Uh, maybe sometime I can go with you and, uh…"

"Grant?" she supplied.

"Yeah. I can help out, scavenging. Pull some weight maybe."

"Maybe." Her reply was small and wary. "Sleep well."

She made it back halfway across the bridge and then paused. The half-moon up in the sky lit her facial features in pale light. Her lips pressed into a thin line and Troy could see right then the similarity she had to her twin, Reed. They shared the same troubled look.

"I know I barely know you, but some advice? Steer away from Kenny if you can. Don't try to be friends with him. Okay?" Her head canted to the side.

Weren't they together? That's a weird thing to say if they were.

Troy managed a nod and she nodded back then sauntered off into the dark. He looked down at the book he'd plucked from her ever-growing library. He could see the cover just faintly. Both a man and a beast twisted into one face. He sighed and turned in. Tomorrow the real shit began.

Darlings, don't forget to review. It's always an ego booster. Kidding! It does let me know what you think, so tell me what you think.