"Dez." She tries to push him away. "Stop coddling me."

"I'm allowed to worry," he insists, moving aside on the couch to give her some space, but keeping a steady hand on her shoulder. "You're not okay," he tells her softly, his voice barely audible. His inhales and exhales are unsteady. "You're not okay, and that's my fault."

"I'm not getting into this with you again." Her tone as built as stone, he retreats, unwilling to upset her further. He resolves to quietly sitting beside her, cross-legged on the couch, staring at his twiddling thumbs down in his lap. Feeling useless.

Austin watches the two of them sit in strained silence for a minute or so before he decides he cannot take it anymore. He makes his way over, pulling a confused Dez up by the arm and dragging him out of the room. Trish places her head in her hands, feeling a dizzy spell coming on. This isn't what she'd pictured happening. Though filled with relief knowing that the three of them had survived— that they're alive and at least relatively well—she's wary. How long will she be able to keep in control? How long before…?

Her thoughts are interrupted as the chestnut-haired girl sets a bowl of oatmeal down in front of her.

"Eat," Ally insists, taking a seat beside her, with her own bowl of oatmeal. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Eat." Trish had missed it—her best friend's motherly tone that rivaled her own mother's. It is firm and strict, but not without warmth and tenderness. A tone unique to her and her only. Trish takes a bite of her oatmeal.

"Why, Trish? Why'd you run from us?" Ally asks her, requesting rather than demanding as she was before. She patiently waits for a response from her lifelong friend, her eyes filled with concern and apprehension. "Trish, you can talk to me. You can always talk to me. I love you. You know that." Ally sets her bowl down on the table before them and scoots in closer to the other girl. "Please, Trish. I'm worried. Please tell me there's nothing for me to be worried about. Please." Her eyes on the brink of tears, her hands clasped around Trish's shoulders, she pleads.

Trish glances at her, straight in the eyes, for what couldn't have been more than a second. She wishes she hadn't. As her gaze returns to her oatmeal, the guilt eats at her. She cannot keep anything from Ally—at least, not for long. A few more moments of silence with the brunette staring her down is all it takes.

"I told you. I'm not safe. You're not safe with me." More silence. Ally shifts backwards, releasing Trish's shoulders and taking pause before responding.

"That's not true. Self-defense doesn't make you a murderer, Trish. She could have killed you both."

"I didn't know that for sure. I killed her—took her life. Just like that. When I wasn't even sure." Trish shifts around uncomfortably in her seat, setting her bowl down next to Ally's on the coffee table.

"You were scared!"

"I was impulsive. I didn't think. I wasn't in control, Ally." She turns her head to look the other girl straight in the eyes. "Don't you see? Ally, I…I wasn't in control. I wasn't thinking. It just happened. I lost control."

"Trish—"

"—No, Ally!" she stops her. "I don't lose control like that. That's not me. Sure, sometimes I have trouble dealing with problems head-on, but I don't lose control like that. I-I...I don't know what's wrong with me. And it's not just with Etta, I…" her gaze falls back down to her lap. Ally watches, listening in heavy silence. Her heart aching for her best friend.

"It's okay, Trish. With everything that's been going on, who can blame you? You were trying to survive. You were protecting yourself—you were protecting Dez."

"I'm scared, Ally. I don't want to lose control again. What if it happens with you guys? What if I can't control myself? What if I hurt one of you?" Tears in her eyes, she buries her face in her hands, releasing a pent-up sob. Ally glides her hand up and down her friend's back.

"You have to trust yourself, Trish. You're a good friend. You've always been there for all of us. Dez tells us you're the only reason he's still here." She reaches into Trish's curls and gently glides her fingers down through them. "We trust you. You need to let yourself trust you, too."

"But what if—"

"—Trish. There's always going to be what-ifs. I'm barely pulling it together, myself. Who's to say I won't lose control? Who's to say any one of us won't?"

"You didn't kill anyone, did you?" Trish challenges. Ally sighs.

"Well, no, but—"

"—I just...I need some time."

"We're not leaving you," Ally affirms. "It's a miracle we even found you at all. We're not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. We love you."

"I…" No longer any fight left in her, the dark-haired girl submits. "I love you guys, too."

"You're stuck with us..." Wrapping her arms around the shorter girl, Ally pulls her into her embrace. "...and we're gratefully stuck to you."

"She won't let me help her," Dez groans, dragging his hands down across his face. "She needs help. She needs comfort—but she won't even let me near her."

"Give her some space, buddy. She's dealing with a lot right now. I mean, she took someone's life. Well, an alive someone's life, anyway. We can try to reassure her it self-defense all we want, but it's still heavy. The rest of us never had to do that—she did. Give her some time. She'll be okay," the blond tries all he can to soothe his friend. The redhead remains dissatisfied.

"How can she be okay if she won't let any of us be there for her? She's trying to isolate herself, Austin. She's already been alone for too long. How's giving her more space gonna help her?" The pace of his breathing picks up quickly.

"Calm down, buddy," Austin insists.

"I am calm!" he shouts out, causing a concerned Ally in the other room to respond.

"Everything okay, you guys?" she asks them, peeking her head into the room.

"Yes. Don't worry, Als, I have it under control," the blond reassures his girlfriend. She gives him an uncertain "okay" before ducking out, and he returns his attention to Dez. "Maybe you should focus on yourself for a while? Me and Ally are here to help with Trish now. You should get some rest while you can."

"I'm fine."

"Now who's the one who won't accept any help, hm?" the blond teases, patting his friend's shoulder as the redhead rolls his eyes at him. "Seriously, man. We found you lying at the side of the road like roadkill. I don't...I don't ever want to see you like that again. Ever," he maintains, hardened in tone. The image of his friend lying there the way he had—it wouldn't leave his mind. "Go rest. Let me and Ally worry about Trish. You've done plenty worrying already."

"But—"

"—Dez!"

"Okay, okay, okay." He exhales heavily. "I'll go take a nap or something. But you and Ally better hold up your end. Talk to her for me. Maybe she'll listen to you."

"I'll see what I can do."

"So Dez told me to talk to you," the boy states frankly, seating himself next to a sullen Trish.

"He's mad at me, isn't he?" She breathes out slowly, staring at the coffee table. "That's why he's not here, right? He's mad, and he doesn't want to talk to me."

"No, that's on me. I told him to rest." Puzzled by her answer, his brows scrunch together. "So...Do you want him here or not? Earlier you wanted him to stay away from you."

"Honestly? I don't know what I want right now." She stares out the window at one of the limbless, jawless creatures she had chained up who had its face pressed up against the glass.

"Did you do all that?" The boy turns to match her line of sight.

"Hm?"

"Those creepers chained up outside. Did you find them like that, or…?"

"No. I did all that," she states matter-of-factly, her expression calm.

"Oh." He gulps, starting to put the pieces together. "You've...You've been taking it all out on them, huh?"

"Austin—"

"No, no, I get it. I mean, I can't say that I approve. But, I get it," Austin reassures her.

"It keeps the others away. It's defense; their scent masks mine. They can't smell me, they can't find me. That's all that is," she quickly explains. Of course, this is also how she's been explaining it all to herself.

"But did it help?"

"What?" She looks at him.

"Did hacking their arms off help you deal with...everything that's happened?" He questions her with pleading, concerned eyes. The girl stays silent, her eyes moving off him and back to the window.

"I told you. I'm not safe to be around."

"It's not like you've lunged at any of us. Or hunted down other people. I think you're more in control than you believe, Trish."

"I think...You should go help Ally make pancakes, I think I smell something burning," she sneers at him. He nods, raising his hands and getting up from the couch. "Just let us know if you need anything."

"Fine. Okay. Just...Just go." He obliges and leaves the room, just as his redheaded best friend enters.

"No. No. Out! I don't want to talk to you," the girl is quick to rebuke him. Undeterred, Dez walks over and pulls her up onto her feet by the arms. "What are you—?" she stops mid-sentence as he places his hands on her cheeks. She wants to fight it. She wants so badly to be able to fight it. But she wants it even more. Her arms wrap around his neck and she pulls him down closer towards her. She presses her lips hard against his—hating the feeling of her desperation, but reveling in the warmth. He kisses her with his every emotion. He kisses her, conveying his hurt, his determination—his worry. He holds her restrictively, as if hanging onto the edge of a cliff for dear life. He battles her push against him with his own against her, slanting his head, falling deeper and deeper…

The kiss doesn't last all that long, but it serves its purpose. It conveys its message. He finally releases her, after leaving one last peck on her upper lip. She looks up into his reddened eyes without a word.

"Ahem." The duo turn to a disconcerted Ally; awkwardness floods the room. Austin stands beside her with wide eyes, his mouth in mid-chew, and a half-eaten stack of pancakes on a plate in his hand, threatening to topple over. Trish steps away from Dez, abashed, her eyes drifting away from the eyes fixated on her and her swollen lips.

"I'm going to go take a nap," she states briskly, rushing herself out of the tension-lit room. Austin and Ally watch her leave, wordlessly, then turn to Dez, an abundance of questions in their eyes. He had told them about his travels with Trish, but now they're certain that he must've omitted some particularly crucial details.

"So, are you going to tell us what that was all about, or…?" Ally is the first to speak.

"Oh, I, uh...That? Yeah, we do that now." Uncomfortable, he shifts his weight from one leg to another, rubbing his right arm as he avoids any eye contact with the couple.

"So, are you two a thing now?" Austin asks, setting his plate down on the coffee table as he couldn't trust himself to keep calm enough not to spill it.

"We haven't really discussed that. I guess we're just...Okay, so we kiss. We're friends who...Kiss on occasion." He gathers the nerve to look up at them, noting the tenderness on their faces, rather than the appall that he'd expected. Though he does notice a flash of darkness in Ally's eyes for not more than a second. She purses her lips.

"Dez, this better not be you using her just cause she's the only person you've been around. Unless, of course, you have a mutual understanding?"

"Ally—" Austin tries to stop her, noticing the hurt look upon his best friend's face.

"No, Austin! I care too much about her to let this go. She's had her heart broken too many times before, and I'm not letting that happen again!" The brunette remains adamant, but one look in Austin's warm, hazel eyes is enough to cool her down. She breathes out, then turns to Dez again, with tightened lips. "If you hurt her, I will destroy you." Dez smiles.

"I know." He runs his hand through his greasy hair. "C'mon. I'm more protective of her than you are. You should know that by now." Ally scoffs, but smiles back at him.

"Sure, okay," she relaxes, Austin's hands squeezing her shoulders being of help.

"Welp. I'm gonna go take my first shower in…" He pauses to check a non-existent watch on his wrist, as if the time on a watch would help him recall. "…I really have no idea how long it's been." He looks to Austin. "Save some pancakes for me?"

"Of course, bud," the blond grins, rejoicing inside; his friend is actually willing to eat. They'd tried to coax him into eating earlier, to no merit. Perhaps the knowledge that Trish is safe had ultimately been the thing that brought his appetite back? "Go get cleaned up. I didn't want to say anything before, but you smell really bad." Dez laughs out in response as he starts down the hallway.

Trish is awakened by cool drops splashing onto her face, gliding down her cheeks. Her eyes open and she sees him sitting there, monitoring over her. His auburn hair damp, and wearing only a towel tied around his waist. He frowns.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He sweeps his wet hair back upon noticing the droplets of water falling onto her face. He shifts back a little as she sits herself up on the bed. "You have a good nap?"

"Yeah," she replies softly, wiping the water off of her face. "You better not have used the rest of my conditioner." He smiles.

"I didn't use all of it," he assures her. "But I can't make any promises for Austin. He's in the shower now and you know how he is with conditioning his hair." She nods, donning a smirk at the thought.

"So. What's your plan?"

"Plan?" His brows pucker together.

"Yes. Your plan to get to Miami."

"You mean our plan. If you think we're leaving without you—"

"—I didn't mean it like that." She sighs. "I...I am going with you guys."

"Aw, how cute." He boops her on the nose playfully. "You think you have a choice." She grumbles inaudibly. "Seriously, Trish, if you refuse, we'll probably chain you up and take you with us anyway."

"That may not be such a bad idea." She pulls her legs in towards her body. "It'll keep you all safe." He shakes his head, dropping his smile.

"You need to stop thinking like that. You are in control, Trish. You're not going to even attempt to hurt any of us. I know you aren't. That's not you."

"I haven't been feeling like myself lately, Dez."

"None of us have. For pretty good reasons, too."

"I feel like...I feel like I'm not even in my own body. I feel like I'm just watching it all go on, like some kind of lucid dream. It all feels so...Surreal." She hugs her knees closer. "That kind of thinking is dangerous. Especially with...How I've been dreaming lately. All the things that I've done in those dreams…"

"Those are just dreams, Trish."

"But what if I stop knowing the difference?" She holds his gaze sternly, her very real fear finally starting to penetrate into his understanding. He bites his lip.

"Even if that's...Even if you lose control...We can handle ourselves, and we can handle you. We'll get you help," he promises her. "You need to stop worrying about us so much."

"I don't want to hurt you guys," Her sight falls to her knees, and tears begin to trickle down her face. He leans in towards her and wipes them away, then cups her cheek with his hand.

"You're not going to," he insists, his hand still in place on her face. She rests her own on his for a moment before pulling his hand off.

"Can you go put on some clothes? This is weird." She gestures at his towel and bare torso. He smiles, nudging her with his elbow.

"It's weird in a good way though, right?" he teases, smiling even wider at her eyeroll. He missed it so. "Ally's doing laundry. I have to wait."

"There's clothes in there. About your size, I think," she nods her head at the closet. Dez picks himself up and heads over to sift through them.

"These'll work." He pulls out a simple salmon-colored button-up and a pair of black slacks. "Kind of boring, but, they're clean. You know, for a guy who lives in the middle of woods, he sure does have a lot of formal office-wear."

"I think this might've been a summer home or something. Feels more like a getaway than a home. There's no family photos around at all." She lets her legs hang over the side of the bed.

"Maybe." He sets the clothes down on a chair. "I can't believe this house still has power. You really lucked out finding this place."

"Yeah, lucky me. All alone, surrounded by only zombies, and likely having a mental breakdown - but, hey! At least I can do laundry and turn the lights on." She scoffs.

"You're alive." Dez states solemnly, taking a seat again beside her on the bed. "You're alive and you're here talking with me like we used to. That's all the luck I need." He gives her a quick kiss on the cheek, gets up, and retrieves the clothes that he'd picked out. He turns to her before walking out the door. "You'll be okay. We'll be okay."

Somehow, she allows herself to believe him.

So. It's been forever and a day. My bad.

Hope you like this new chapter!