I had a story burning at the back of my head and it needed me to write it down. So I battled a migraine and started writing. Instead of the romance story between Merle and Wren that I thought I was writing, this one was born. Almost entirely Wren centric, this story traces Wren as she gets kidnapped and escapes, only to be caught again and the lives she changes as she does what she always does - survives in the Zombie Apocalypse.

This is the third installment to She Bends But Does Not Break, sequel to Life Isn't A Fairy Tale.

Unfortunately my favourite character Merle doesn't make too much of an appearance in this fic, but that's not to say he's gone entirely! We all know that Wren and her Merle are a packaged set! He just comes in later in the story.

Entirely unbeta'ed and written and posted in one night - so all mistakes are mine and probably obvious. Feel free to point out any glaring mistakes for me to fix.

The usual Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. Its all for fun so don't be a sourpuss and ruin it please!

Warnings -

Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Swearing, Adult Language, Wren/Art centric, OC centered fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Angst, Action/Adventure, Drama, not a lot of romance, Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Abuse

It was the whimpering that roused Wren awake. Not normally a noise that she heard when she was sleeping and that was enough to shake her from her exhausted state.

The not being able to move thing was what brought back the memories..

Abigail wouldn't have been Wren's first choice for Daryl, but she wasn't one to judge. She just always thought Daryl would pick someone more like himself - tough and self reliant. Instead, she was one of those 'Lady Ladies' that the communities around them seemed to have so many of. Those strange women that puzzled Wren on how they had possibly survived the Apocalypse, all gentle touches and mothering ways. Someone who needed protecting. When Wren thought of it that way, she supposed that's why Daryl seemed happy. He was a carer at heart.

It wasn't a real problem until Abigail had Daryl's kid though. Wren knew she made the women of Alexandria very uncomfortable - the incident with Merle and the Saviours just adding to her reputation - and Abigail had been just the same. Wren could feel the woman's nervousness and for Daryl's sake had tried hard to remember how to be friendly like she had been Before The Dead Rose.

When Abigail had yet again rushed to take the baby from Wren after hovering around worriedly when Daryl had passed the infant over, Wren tamped down the hurt and sought out her lover.

Wordlessly, she had slipped up behind the older Dixon and slid under the wildly waving arm as Merle empathised something he was loudly conversing to the group around them. Without even taking a breath in his speech, Merle's arm wrapped down and around the tiny woman and hauled her tight to his side, the blade that had replaced his hand safely turned away from her.

Wren buried her face into the warm fragrant side and breathed in deep, the familiar scent and hard hold all she needed to push down the stinging hurt.

Then when Merle went to move away, something about showing the group something, Wren merely let her arms drop as her love walked away without even a glance back at her. Wren heard the whispering and glanced to the communal kitchen doorway where the gossiping Lady Ladies squarked and fluttered away inside at her notice. Wren simply shook her head. She had given up trying to understand the women and doubly given up trying to fit in.

The whimpering died away at the sound of a shushing noise and Wren tried again to move. This time she was able to at least roll from her side to her back, her muscles screaming at the long-needed movement. But the tied ankle to wrists meant that she was laying on her lower legs as they curved up under her butt and her hands throbbed as her hips pressed on the aching wrist bones. Wren felt her lower arms and was unsurprised to find her wrist guards gone and therefore her flick blades missing as well.

It wasn't a problem though, just meant it was going to take a little longer to get free. Around her, the quiet sounds slowly made their way known and Wren could hear muffled sobs and shushed whispers as the women shuffled and murmured to each other.

Wren forced her eyes open and winced sharply at the stabbing it caused, even in the dimness around them all. As Wren's hands sought out the tiny blades in the hem of her shirt she waited for her eyes to adjust, ignoring the tear-inducing pain. Gradually Wren could make out the shapes of people huddled against the walls, larger and smaller together. Many were weeping softly, often clutched in the arms of their neighbours and Wren noticed that no-one else was tied up.

Finally she got her blades out and the ropes between wrist and ankles parted smoothly and just as quickly the ones wrapped around her limbs followed. Wren could feel the still wet blood that had seeped from the tight bonds and knew that she would have to clean it off or cover it somehow to stop the scent attracting any predators. She flexed her limbs, forcing blood into the painful muscles, not allowing a hint of the pain she was feeling to show on face or voice.

Rising smoothly to her feet, she ignored the harsh whispers that told her to stay down and be quiet - as though she could have made more noise than this lot if she had tried! - Wren made it to the closest wall and ran her fingers along it.

Rough splintery wood and crumbly dirt met her hands and she followed the wall around until she felt the texture change to just hard wood. Running her fingers over the wood, she realised it was a window frame and with the edge of a blade, scraped away some of the black paint from the glass.

Pressing her eye to the small opening, Wren blinked a few times before she was able to make out the scene in front of her.

From her spot, she could see movement and gradually Wren realised that she was looking into a camp of some sorts. Surrounding a worn dirt clearing of sorts, broken with a few sprigs of weeds and piles of rotting rubbish everywhere were rusted walls of neglected buildings and filthy vehicles. A few men, rough and feral, crossed the clearing and Wren had to force herself not to flee at the sight of them. Just as filthy and disgusting as their surroundings with their torn bloody clothes and tangled greasy hair, Wren swallowed down the bile that burned at her throat.

Behind her, the sobs and whimpers were growing. Wren hadn't paid them much mind until she realized that someone was harshly whispering her name.

"Wren! Get away! You WANT them to come back? Christ sake you freak, just stop!"

Wren froze at the harsh words. Clara and Simone, two of the more leaderish women of Alexandria, were glaring at her as Abigail stared in horror as she clutched baby Turner to her chest. Wren realised that Turner had been the crying baby that had woken her earlier.

Wren made her way to the women and crouched by Abigail and reached out a hand to the baby but paused when Abigail flinched back.

She nodded towards baby as she looked up at Daryl's wife. With a barely hidden shiver, Abigail hugged the infant closer and looked for help from the women beside her before glancing back at Wren.

"She's fine." She finally whispered reluctantly but was cut off by Clara.

"No thanks to you if you bring them back! They have already taken Emily and Kilimai and Diinia! They threatened to kill the babies! Do you want to kill them and let them take the rest of us?" The hiss was venomous in its hatred. Wren blinked slowly at the raging woman.

"You think hiding here will stop them coming back?" Was Wren's response in her normal husky voice, and Wren noticed it sent the rest of the women flinching and scuttering back against the walls as though they could hide in the rough wood. That started the woman off on some whispered rant about what a freak Wren was, but Wren tuned her out. She moved around the cell they were all locked in - 8 women in total. Including the 3 that had already been taken, that counted 11 women taken when the walls were breached. Scattered amongst them were children, mostly babes still at the breast with 5yr old Sammy and 9yr old Betty being the eldest. Wren forced herself not to think of the other children she knew weren't there. All up, there were close to 20 people in the small room.

Wren knew it would be pointless asking the women anything. They were either sobbing stupidly or following Clara's lead and glaring at Wren as though she was personally responsible for their capture. Instead, Wren got down to the task of escaping.

When the trucks had sped into Alexandria screaming their warning, Wren and Merle had just been getting ready to return to the Prison with the others. But at the alarm of a close community being overrun by walkers, all able hands had sprung into action! Daryl had caught Wren's hand as she had clambered up onto the truck next to Merle and begged her to stay with Abigail and Turner. Without a thought, Wren had nodded and hopped back down with a nod to Merle and hadn't even stayed to watch as the caravan sped out to the close neighbour community.

It had been a trap. After a year of peace, with even the walkers under somewhat control, they had gotten lax. The rest of Alexandria had been watchful and wary but went about their day, the women mainly being the caretakers of the community rather than the protectors.

They had paid for that laxness.

At the first sound of crashing destruction, Wren had shoved Abigail and Turner into the downstairs closet and ordered her to stay put as she raced out the front door to see what was happening. She watched as 4 trucks of ferals poured though the now gaping hole in the rear fence. Walkers streamed in after them and Wren watched as the attacking men didn't even blink at the dead threat. Using them, Wren thought.

Wren watched as one of the attackers ran Timothy Greads through with a hunting knife as the young man bravely tried to fight off the vicious newcomers. From the corner of her eye, she watched as another man grabbed Imani Skyya by her hijab and punched the side of her head, causing the teen to collapse before throwing the limp body over his shoulder.

That sealed it for Wren. With teeth bared, she flew from the protection of the porch and within seconds, she had sunk her ever present flick blade into the man's side. With a vicious yank upwards, Wren felt the gush of warm fluid that signified she had hit a vital spot and the man went down without a single sound. Wren paused only long enough to drag the young girl out from under the dead man and to stab the corpse in the head before she moved on to another attacker.

She had taken down 3 more before they had realised that she was their greatest threat. Wren took out one more - his split carotid artery had drenched her and blinded her - before she had been tackled and punched into unconsciousness.

Now she counted the weapons she had managed to find. There were her 8 blades - 3 small and 5 large enough for the smaller hands of women and older children. She had also scavenged some metal bits that would work in a pinch as well.

Next was getting them all out. Wren wasn't as concerned with the threat of walkers as she was with the attackers. She had no idea how many there were or where they were, so she had to go carefully. She also wanted to find whoever else had been taken.

As she slid the metal shiv into the door hinge, her arm was grasped and she felt herself being shoved forward into the rough wood, her face scraping harshly and Wren knew that she would pay dearly for that wound later. Without even glancing back, Wren kicked out hard and felt the hit connect nicely.

Turning slowly as she gingerly touched the splinter-filled grazes on her face, she stood over the gasping Clara, who clutched her stomach as she tried vainly to suck air into winded lungs.

As the gasping grew less panicked, Wren squatted down by the woman's face.

"I don't care if you hate me. But touch me again and I'll cut you and leave you here."

"Bi..bitch! You're..you're gonna kill...us all!" Clara gasped, her rage turning to tears as her terror swamped her. Wren leant down.

"No. I'm going to save you."