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"Clarke, she is burning up!"
I can make out a male voice, but I am too tired to open my eyes. Consciousness comes in waves, and it never lasts long.
"She's septic. I need medicine!"
Before I comprehend what was said I am already gone again. I fall back into yet another feverish dream, combining memories with nightmares. They usually involve walkers coming at me. I am trying to defend myself but the gun I am holding has no bullets. I am trying to slash at them with my machete but I somehow cannot move my arms, it feels like they turned into jelly. Then the walkers disappear and are replaced by the dark haired man yelling at me, and suddenly I am back in my chair, hands and feet tied. He is telling me that I will now be punished for killing him, and his face distorts in gruesome ways as he approaches me.
These dreams keep repeating themselves, only ever changing slightly, sequences altering, yet each version is just as frightening as the last. Only sometimes these dreams are interrupted with voices. They don't seem scary, even though I cannot make out what they are saying. Sometimes it is only one voice speaking, closer to me, deep and gentle and calming. But every time the nightmare wins and I am pulled back under the cloak of darkness.
Birds. The first thing I hear when I wake up are birds, chirping lightly in the distance, not a care in the world. The next thing I am aware of is how dry my throat is - it feels like sandpaper. What happened? I slowly open my eyes and the light is so blinding that I need to close and open them a few times before my pupils manage to adjust. Where am I? I can see a dark wooden ceiling, and I remember Raven, the cottage - Bellamy! I slowly turn my head and try to make out where I am. I am not lying on the couch anymore, instead I am in a separate room, lying in a bed. To my left I can see a partially open window. Birds, I think. Outside I see the meadow, and the forest further in the back. The sun stands high in the sky with not a single cloud in sight, a perfectly lovely day. I move my head again and try to take in the rest of the room. When I look down I see that my arms are covered in clean bandages and say a mental thank you to Clarke. When I look to my right I smile, because I see the sleeping form of Bellamy next to my bed. He is sitting on a chair and his upper body is leaning on the bed, his head positioned on his folded arms so I cannot see his face, only his dark flock of hair. How lucky am I, to have found him? The more I think about it, the more unlikely it seems to just run into him. Yet here he is - sound asleep right next to me, unharmed.
I slowly reach out my right arm to touch him, and the movement reminds me how sore my body is. I carefully place my hand on his head and use my thumb to stroke his hair, my hands easily picking up the familiar movement. His hair has lost its familiar softness, instead it feels dry and tangled. The toll of the apocalypse.
Under my hand Bellamy is starting to stir, my touch waking him up.
"Hi there," I whisper, my voice so raspy it is barely audible. He looks up and his dark eyes find mine. He takes my hand, the one that I used to stroke his hair just a moment ago. I give him a small smile. "You need a haircut," I smile.
He stares at me for a moment before he drops his head and breaks into a small chuckle. When he looks back up at me he gives me my favorite smile, which lightens up his eyes and gives him small wrinkles. "Jokes," he starts. "Really?"
I laugh at his comment, but as soon as I do a shooting pain soars through my side. My rib isn't hurting as bad as it used to, yet it is far from healed. "Do you have some water?" I ask.
He quickly leans over his chair and picks up a bottle, handing it to me as soon as I ask. I drink up thirstily and feel my throat becoming softer. I hand the bottle back to Bellamy, and after he puts it down on my nightstand he makes to get up, to get Clarke I assume.
"Don't," I say and reach for his arm. "I just got you back."
I carefully lift the blanket to my right and motion to the free space. "Come on. I promise I'll be fine until Clarke checks up on me."
He gives me a stern look. He is worried, I know as much, but eventually he walks over to the bed and slips in next to me, my head automatically lifting as he puts his arm under it. I turn to the side, ignoring the protests of my rib, and snuggle up to him, my head resting on his chest. His arm is around me, his left hand positioned on my waist, and my free arm is resting on his stomach, my fingers drawing imaginary circles.
"You know, I thought I was hallucinating when Raven showed up with you," he starts. "Mableton was the first city that was bombed, I was so sure you were dead..and.." he trails off and it is evident he is blaming himself for leaving.
"Hey," I lift my head and look up at him. His features are hard and his eyes full of regret. "I'm here now," I add. He nods and places a kiss on my forehead, but I can tell that I didn't make it better.
"I was so worried about you," he continues, staring at the wall ahead. "You show up here... and then you almost die." He looks back to me, his eyes finding mine, his expression more urgent than before. "You can't do that to me." He doesn't say it as reproachful, nor as a joke. It almost sounds like a plea. As I look at him now, his stern, worried expression is gone, replaced by a face of exhaustion. The bags under his eyes are enormous and I wonder how much sleep he got since I came here. Looking at him like that, I wonder how I would feel if our positions were switched. If Bellamy showed up at my camp, looking like I did, almost dying. A shudder runs down my back. I would go mad. I try to give him a reassuring smile. "I didn't come back to you just to die on you," I say gently. "Here," I add, pulling out my necklace from under my shirt. I open it carefully and take off our rings, handing him his. "This one's yours."
His eyes grow in surprise. "How?" he smiles, perplexed.
I put my own ring on my finger and lie down on his chest again. "I was in our apartment," I say, remebering the pool of blood. "Whose blood was that?"
He hesitates for a second. "Jaspers."
My heart drops. Up until I ran into Raven I assumed my friends were dead, but hearing it confirmed still hurts. "What happened?"
"We were planning on leaving the city," Bellamy starts, his voice quiet. "All of us. The plan was to gather up everything; clothes, food, whatever we can carry, and then meet at Ravens place to leave together. I took Jasper back to our place because he wasn't feeling good, he was white as a sheet. I didn't think he could make it back to his place alone. Turns out he was bit." Bellamy pauses and swallows hard. "Only I didn't know what that meant. I put him on the couch and went to gather things, trying to keep him talking, but pretty soon he didn't answer anymore and when I went to check on him...he wasn't Jasper anymore. He attacked me. I tried to stop him but nothing worked, I even stabbed him eventually - multiple times - but he still came at me. I didn't know to go for the head yet..so at some point I pushed him off of me and just ran with everything I managed to pack until then."
"I'm sorry," I say and put my arm around him a little tighter.
"Don't be. What's done is done." His tone is not harsh, it is the tone of someone trying to forget. I look up at Bellamy and his face is stern, the toll end of the world took on him clearly visible in his expression. I am just about to reply when the door opens and Clarke comes in.
"I thought I heard voices," she says as she casually walks over to the bed.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I chuckle.
She only smiles. "How are you feeling?" she asks as she starts examining my arms, and I can feel Bellamy moving out of the bed to give her space, which makes me want to protest, but I restrain myself.
"Better. I mean, exhausted and sore, but better. How did you fix me up?"
"You can thank Finn and Murphy for that. They went to get meds."
"Really?" I smile at the thought. It feels good to have my friends back. "Where are they? Get them in here. Raven and Octavia too."
Clarke starts to object but I interrupt her. "Please, I thought all of you were dead."
She looks at me for a minute, and I know she will give in eventually. Clarke always had a soft spot, and I am grateful for it now. "Also thanks for, you know, saving my live," I smile and give her a little nudge on the arm.
"Alright," Clarke rolls her eyes but can't hide a smile. She walks back to the door and when she opens it, Raven walks in immediately, as if she had been eavesdropping.
"Was about time," she says casually. She is wearing a grey shirt, her hair up in her signature ponytail. She walks over to the bed and does not take any extra caution, instead she almost leaps into it and pulls me in for a big hug.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you! You know, conscious," she jokes and I laugh.
"Good to see that you haven't lost your spirit."
She settles in next to me, locking arms with me while she does so. When she gets comfortable I lean my head casually on her shoulder. Raven Reyes has been my best friend for over half a decade, and she is probably one of the most brilliant people I ever met.
After Raven, the others make their way into the room, all of them giving me smiles. Octavia, looking fierce in a black leather jacket; Finn and Murphy, joking with each other as they enter, Monty trotting in last, almost shy. Bellamy settles back into his chair next to the bed. We are also joined by two people I don't know yet. The man I saw with Raven in the woods, whose name I cannot remember for the life of me, with an expression that somehow looks like he is annoyed yet angry. The other one is a woman with dark brown hair and dark eyes, not much taller than I am. I can't help but think that she is beautiful, even though she looks stern. Fierceness seems to radiate off of her.
"So Zoey, these are Lincoln and Lexa," Clarke says.
"Hey," I say, and add to Lincoln: "Well, I sort of met you." He gives me a small grin and nods his head.
"So, I think it's about time you tell us how the hell you ended up here," Raven says and nudges me in the side.
"First of all, ouch," I tell her. "Second of all, I hope you have some time." I dive right into the story. I tell them that I made my way to Atlanta, even though I knew that they would most likely be gone if they survived. I told them about meeting Rick, Glenn and Daryl, about how they took me in and brought me to their camp. I tell them about Lori and Carol and Andrea, about the CDC and about how we lost Sophia. I talk about our time on the farm for a long time, about Maggie, about nights at the campfire, about how we grew into a small family, and finally about the day Shane opened the barn.
"That day was bad," I say and drop my gaze. "Hershel disappeared that afternoon. Rick and Glenn were about to go into town to look for him, and I decided to join them last minute. Turns out Ricks instincts were right and we found him at the bar, and while we were trying to convince him to come back, two other men showed up, and that's when everything went downhill. It started out as chitchat but soon enough they wanted to come and join us on the farm. When we declined they got angry. One guy pulled a gun on Rick, and Rick shot him just before the guy could pull the trigger on him." I swallow. "I shot the other one."
I pause and look over at Bellamy. He gives me a reassuring nod. I did what I had to do.
"We tried to get out of the bar, but just as we were about to get out of the door, more of those people came looking for the guys we just shot, so we holed up. They started shooting the front of the bar. I tried to get out of the back to get our car, but just when I got to the car...they grabbed me." I avoid eye contact. "They put me on the back of their car. Rick and Glenn were coming out of the bar and tried to stop them from taking me, but it was too little too late."
I take a moment to swallow, the memory of that night too vivid in front of my eyes. The horror in Ricks eyes, Glenn's attempts to take shots at my captors. I take a deep breath and continue my story, talking about my days in the small room, tied to a chair for most of the time. I leave out details, just give them enough information to understand how I was injured.
"How did you get out?" Clarke asks quietly.
"There was this woman who brought me food. One day she came in, gave me a knife and a jacket and helped me slip away. I raided a store for some makeshift bandages and food and then made my way back to the farm." I pause and swallow hard. "When I got there...everyone was gone. The place was on fire and there were walkers everywhere... After that, I just strayed through the forest for days, trying to stay awake." I look over to Raven. "Luckily I ran into this one," I say and give her a small smile, trying to sound more cheerful than I feel.
No one says anything for a while, and eventually the silence becomes awkward.
"Well, that's...unfortunate," Murphy says dryly, breaking the tension. I have to laugh at his poor attempt to respond. "Tell me about it," I say.
"Alright, enough catch up. The patient needs rest," Clarke says and orders everyone out of the room. Raven squeezes my hand before she gets up and joins the others.
Bellamy stays and closes the door. Then, he sits back down in his chair and takes my hand, his face heavy.
"I'm glad you got out of there," he starts.
"Yeah.." I say and drop my gaze, my head full of memories I don't want to remember.
"Hey, what is it?" He asks and carefully lifts my chin up with his free hand. All of a sudden his features drop.
"Did they.." he starts and his eyes grow wide in shock.
"No, no,.." I quickly interrupt him and shake my head. "No, they didn't. It's not that."
"Then what is it?" he asks gently.
I take a deep breath. "I ran into one of them just as I got out...one of the two that did this," I say and gesture to my bandages. "He came at me, and he was about to shout...so I put my knife in his throat." I drop my gaze, not bearing to face Bellamy. My eyes are starting to fill with tears, the pressure and fear from the last weeks finally finding an outlet. Bellamy squeezes my hand and tries to reassure me.
"You did what you had to do.."
"NO - Bellamy..." I almost shout suddenly, but my voice is choked by a sob. I am overwhelmed and when I finally talk my voice sounds angry yet desperate. "I killed that man just like I killed the one in the bar! I walked up to him and I put a knife in his throat, and then I used my other hand to cover his mouth so he wouldn't scream!" My eyes pierce Bellamy, begging him to understand. "And I could feel his hot blood running down my arm, and I saw the shock and fear in his face, and I could see the life go out of his eyes! .. I dream about him. I dream about him all the time. And every time I close my eyes I see his face..." The anger is gone from my voice at the last part, all that is left is desperation. All energy has left my body.
I try to continue but my sobs have become too hard for me to say even one more word. I can feel the tears running down my face and dropping onto the sheets, the reality of having taken another persons life not once, but twice, sinking in and making my stomach turn. My chest hurts so much that it is hard to breathe. My vision is blurry from the tears, and my right hand blindly reaches to my right, to where Bellamy is sitting. I can feel him at my side immediately. His arms are cradling me as he pulls me closer until my head leans against his chest. One of his hands rests on the side of my head and carefully stokes my hair.
"I'm sorry," he keeps repeating.
And so we sit there, me sobbing uncontrollably, holding on to him for dear life, until my eyes grow tired again.