Out on a Limb
Summary: If Clementine had to make a more difficult choice with her cleaver and a bite victim.
Rating: T
Notes: If any of you are on Tumblr, you may see some familiar names mentioned in this chapter. It should be noted, however, that I created the characters for this story - I just included them on my Troy roleplay blog because I could do that first (and hadn't gotten to this part of the story yet).
Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead Game.
"Alright, Sarah, remember that it ain't a toy." Once Clementine was within earshot of Troy and Sarah, she heard the man begin his instructions on handling the gun. Troy held the weapon gently, as though it was a child, and had the barrel pointed down and away from them. If nothing else, it could be said that he knew how to hold a gun properly.
Truthfully, Clementine was quite nervous about this; she still couldn't trust Troy one hundred percent, and his little outburst a few moments ago didn't do him any favors in that department. As she approached the pair, her eyes were locked onto Troy, ready to intervene if there was trouble.
However, the man nodded towards her once he noticed her presence, straightening himself. "Great, Clementine, you're just in time. I'm gonna teach Sarah how to shoot one'a these." Lifting up his pistol, Troy gave it a once-over and stepped towards the fence. Near the edges of their caged perimeter, a few run-down crates were set up with bottles on top of them.
"How'd you, uh…" Clementine began, pointing to the makeshift targets. They were unpleasant reminders of shooting things like that on the train with Lee.
"We found those just thrown around this place. I think they're beer bottles or something…" Sarah replied, her face scrunched up in disgust.
"Thank God for litterers," Troy added with a snort, earning a halfhearted glare from both of the girls. "What? Had they not been careless, we wouldn't find their shit tossed everywhere. Don't blame me." He gave a shrug, inspecting the targets. Crouching down and placing the gun on the ground, he adjusted the bottles to make sure they were in a good spot on each of the crates. After they met his standards, Troy turned back around and handed the gun, handle-first, to Sarah.
The older girl simply stared at the object as though she didn't really see it there, chewing on her lower lip and raising her gaze to look into Troy's eyes. Clementine caught the fear and hesitation almost hidden behind the red glasses, noting the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the next anxiously.
"I, um… I don't know if I can… um…" Sarah stammered, fiddling with the strings of her hoodie in apprehension. "One of those… sh-shot my…" Her voice trailed off and she lowered her head, eyes screwed shut in mental pain.
Clementine placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, I know it hurts, but you do need to learn." How else would Sarah survive this cruel world? If she couldn't shoot a gun, she'd have to rely on other people to live, and that wasn't safe or really possible anymore.
"Clementine's right," Troy remarked, though his voice didn't hold its usual menace. "S'time to grow up, Sarah." Pushing the weapon further, he placed it in her palm and stepped behind her. With more gentleness than Clementine would have thought the man was capable of, Troy guided Sarah's arms with his hand as best he could, lining up the barrel of the gun with the bottles near the fence.
Sarah whimpered, glancing back at him with fearful eyes. "But… but what if… what if I hurt someone?"
Troy scoffed. "That's kinda the fuckin' point, kid. But if y' mean your 'allies,' check what you're doin' now: takin' your eye off the gun. Not a good idea, see, and could get people killed if you ain't careful." Correcting her aim even further, he added roughly, "Shoot to kill. Aim for the head, but if y' can't, the kneecaps." He pointed towards the bottle squarely, squeezing an eye shut in concentration.
The girl was visibly trembling, a sheer contrast to the last time she'd held a gun. While Clementine was glad she wasn't foolishly holding a weapon to her head as a joke, she still was worried about her apprehension. An itchy trigger finger was not a good thing to have, even if it was triggered by nerves.
"It's okay, Sarah," she encouraged, remembering Lee's lessons to her. "To start, you should take a deep breath and let it out slow while you pull the trigger. And for aiming, look through that notch at the top. Line it up with your target." Going through a mental checklist of things she'd learned, she quickly added, "Oh, and always pull the trigger steadily - don't yank it."
Sarah blinked incredulously, as though it was hard to digest all of this new information. It probably was very difficult, but she had to learn. Troy had put it in a rude manner, but Sarah did need to be an adult.
After a few quiet moments, the girl nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. Um… here goes…"
"Wait a second." Another voice sounded before she could continue; when Clementine turned, she noticed Mike approaching the group, his arms crossed. "Troy, are you crazy? You didn't tell anyone you were doin' this kinda shit? What if we just heard gunshots and came running?" His eyes narrowed, clearly trying to glare holes into Troy.
The one-armed man wasn't fazed, though. "Oh, fuck off. You're lucky I'm willin' to do this in the first place." He scowled, turning back to Sarah to line up her aim.
After Mike waved over to Bonnie and made a motion to indicate what was going on, he walked a bit closer to the two to inspect Troy's work. "Man, you're way off. Here, Sarah." Stepping in, his hands guided a more accurate place for her to shoot - much to Troy's irritation.
Once she seemed to have the approval of both adults and a nod from her friend, Sarah sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and squeezing the trigger. The resulting shot rang out and barely missed the mark, making her yelp and drop the gun immediately.
"Hey! Don't fuckin' drop it! It could go off!" Troy hissed, picking it up immediately. "Try it again."
"Don't yell at her," Clementine snapped. "Sarah, that was good. Maybe aim a little to the left now." She smiled, trying to be encouraging.
Sarah reflected that smile. "O-okay, Clem. I know what they're supposed to sound like, it just… I guess I wasn't expecting that."
Memories flooded Clementine's mind - memories of the train and how hesitant she'd been to hold a gun at first, too. "It's okay, that's normal," she assured, "Remember, it's just a thing."
Sarah merely huffed, doing as her friend had instructed and aiming towards the left. At the second shot, the bottle she'd been aiming for exploded into dozens of glass shards.
This time, when Sarah shrieked, it was of joy. "I did it!" she exclaimed, looking as excited as a child at the accomplishment. Clementine couldn't help but smile and murmur her approval as Sarah lined herself up for the next shot, casting an unsure glance at the two men.
Mike smiled. "That was good. Now, a little to the right this time, Sarah."
"I'd say she's dead-on," Troy mumbled.
"You would say that," Mike shot back. "But I think I know what your problem is, man."
"And what the fuck is my problem-"
Another shot burst through the air before they could continue, visibly startling them both. Another bullet had hit the fence behind the bottles, barely missing the mark. A frustrated cry of "Dang it!" escaped Sarah's lips as she stomped down.
Clementine chuckled. "It takes some getting used to. But Mike was right; try to the right."
Grimacing, Sarah once more lined up her shot; Clementine could visibly see her trying to do as she'd instructed, sucking in a long gulp of air and pressing it out slowly through her lips. Her eyes narrowed behind the red frames, a deep concentration embedded into them. Her gaze was completely locked with the target bottle, and once she squeezed the trigger, the bullet shot right through it.
"Attagirl!" Mike cheered, pumping a fist in the air. Even Troy nodded his approval. Clementine flashed her a thumbs-up.
With a bright smile, Sarah made sure her next shot was in range and fired a bullet with almost no hesitation. After she'd barely missed the bottle, another shot rang through the air, hitting the target dead-on. Grin widening, she bounced up and down. "I did it! Yes, yes, yes!" she cheered.
"Hey!" Troy squawked, leaning forward to take the gun by the top of the barrel. "Don't be jumpin' with this in your hand." Growling, he snatched it from her and added hastily, "Seriously, Sarah, I mean it - not a fuckin' toy. You use this to kill."
"Or hurt," Clementine pointed out. "If it's not a walker."
Rolling his eyes, the one-armed man snapped, "It's better to kill regardless. Keeps you and the people you're with safe. Clementine, I figured you'd know that, survivin' this long." His eyes flickered with a boldness she wasn't comfortable with, almost like he was mocking her.
Thankfully, Mike glared his way in response. "Lay off them. Sarah, that was awesome. Keep practicing and you'll be used to it in no time."
Sarah nervously chuckled. "I'm not so sure I'd want to be used to it, but… I guess I have to. Thanks, Mike. And Clem. And - and Troy." She nodded to each one of them in acknowledgement.
"Hey, anytime," Mike placed a hand on her shoulder and replied, "I'm serious, you're doing good, kid. You're learning how to protect, and that'll keep us all that much safer." His smile faded after a moment, however, and his eyes cast over to Troy. "Speaking of learning…"
Troy blinked, hostility clear in his gaze. "What the fuck are you lookin' at?"
"I'm not blind, man. You're strugglin' with that arm and being left-handed now. Lemme guess - you weren't trained on how to shoot with both hands? I could see it plain as day before - where you were telling Sarah to shoot was way off target." He took out his own gun and pointed it with his left hand towards the remaining bottles. "Try holding it like this."
Troy seemed as though he was about to maim Mike on the spot, his eyes widened with rage and his lips curling like a dog's. Clementine shot him a warning glance, but he didn't catch it; thankfully, though, he calmed himself down and recognized when he needed help (for once, at least), attempting to mimic Mike's stance.
"How d' you even know how to do this?" he murmured, clearly unhappy.
Mike smirked. "I'm ambidextrous."
"Fuck, is that contagious?!"
"...what? No, you dumbass - it means I can do shit with both hands. Taught myself in middle school. Figured it'd come in handy someday… no pun intended. Though I didn't know I'd be teaching how to shoot lurkers."
"Yeah? No shit you didn't know. And what do you want from me?" Troy demanded. "I know how this works. Y' ain't gonna give me tips or nothin' for free. So, what're you after?"
Almost seeming offended, Mike wrinkled his nose. "You're joking, right? Troy, we're not in Howe's anymore. It don't work like that now."
Clementine glanced between the two, noting the way Troy looked once more a bit out of touch with reality. In the end, though, she said nothing and turned back to Sarah. "We should go," she whispered. "I can help you out with shooting more later, if you want."
The older girl nodded. "Sounds good." A yawn passed through her quickly, and she rubbed at her eyes behind the glasses. "I'm getting tired."
"Me too," Clementine agreed, turning to the two men. "We're going to go join the others. If you keep shooting, try not to attract any walkers…"
Troy scowled. "Well, it's like everyone's been sayin' - place is secure enough. But we still got Kenny doin' security."
Quirking a brow, the girl pointed out, "He can't do it all night. We need someone to take over for him about halfway through."
A roll of eyes was her answer. "Fine, fine, I get what you're playin' at. I guess I'll have to do it next, then."
The answered startled her; she hadn't even asked him to do so, nor was she implying anything of the sort. He just assumed she wanted him to - and he was going to do it regardless. Blinking a few times in shock, she eventually forced herself to reply her thanks, which Troy waved off almost immediately.
"Just get t' bed. We leave bright an' early tomorrow, I'm sure, if Kenny has anythin' to say about it," he muttered lowly with a frown.
Sarah beamed. "Okay! You're probably right. Goodnight, Mike! Goodnight, Troy! Get some sleep too, okay?" She gave a small wave to them and left with Clementine towards the fire.
Once the two returned, everyone seemed to be drifting away into sleep. Everyone but Luke and Nick had curled up to sleep around the fire, huddled into themselves for warmth. The two young men were just about to settle down when they noticed the girls.
"Hey, how'd it go, Sarah?" Luke asked. "Did y' learn some stuff about shootin'?"
Nodding, Sarah exclaimed, "Yes, I sure did! Um, it's a bit scary still, but I got some bottles! I think I'm getting better." Clementine nodded her agreement. She was impressed with Sarah's learning; was Lee proud of Clementine like that when he taught her?
"Good job!" Nick praised, patting her lightly on the head. She giggled in response and pulled both Luke and him in for a hug. The three held each other closely for a few moments; Clementine smiled at the scene, happy that the cabin survivors were growing into closer friends.
She almost felt like she was intruding - until Luke placed a hand on her shoulder. His expression bright for the first time in a while, he simply nodded to her and wished them all a good night.
"Goodnight," Clementine murmured, finding herself reflecting his happy look. She gazed once more over at Troy and Mike, catching the way the former man's shoulders slumped almost in defeat, and the way he looked like he was in another world.
Maybe he had simply zoned out, but Clementine couldn't stop thinking that something was wrong - that Troy hadn't been himself ever since they'd gotten here… or perhaps even earlier.
Not like he'd ever tell her anything, anyway; she shook her head clear and banished the curiosity, deciding that sleep was much more important. It probably wasn't anything serious, anyway.
"Goodnight, Sarah," she whispered to her friend, closing her eyes and drifting off almost immediately.
She had been enjoying the quiet of the night, the way the snow had stopped and the gentle glow of the dying fire licked at her face. The flickers of the flames lulled her to a light sleep, her small body curled up like a cat's next to Sarah's. The warmth of the other girl's body only added to Clementine's comfort; for a long while, she felt like she was floating in a comfortable, warm bubble, away from the harshness of reality.
It was so perfect. She honestly had not felt like this in ages; it almost felt like she was back with Lee, safe as a child in his arms…
A loud crash broke through her warm half-dreams, her eyes snapping open and a hand darting for the gun at her side. Expecting a walker right in her face, she hyperfocused on the area around her, eyes darting wildly to locate the danger.
To her surprise, she couldn't spot anything wrong. Sarah was still asleep next to her, Luke and Nick sleeping across from them. The fire was low but not completely out, and the sky was still black and the sun hadn't yet peaked over the horizon.
Blinking the rest of sleep from her eyes, the girl gazed around the whole site, seeking what could have made that noise. Perhaps it wasn't as loud as she'd thought, but it still was enough to wake her from her comforting sleep, so she was a little irritated. Everyone else was spread out a few meters away, probably floating on their own warm clouds and not yet ready to move on. Clementine had been jerked away from her own dreams and, consequently, was left wide awake.
Carefully removing Sarah's arms from around her torso (the girl was clingy in her sleep, it seemed), Clementine got to her feet and stretched. She might as well go find the cause of the noise, and maybe take over the watch while she was at it. Not like she was able to sleep again after that had startled her.
Hearing a slightly quieter 'clink!', she reached for her gun and softly padded in the direction it came from - the corner of the fenced-in area with the generator. It was where Kenny had gone to take his first position watch, she remembered - but, as she made her way there, she passed his sleeping form, seated with AJ in his lap.
So who…? Or what?
She had her answer moments later, recognizing the tan pants of Troy spread out lazily against the fence, shoes scraping against the metal. As she got closer to him, she could plainly see Bonnie's bottle of alcohol placed next to him, a gun in his only hand. He had the pistol pointed out towards the fence, on complete edge as though a walker was coming for him.
But after standing there for a few moments, holding her breath and hoping he wouldn't notice her, she realized there was no danger. It seemed to dawn on him, too, for her placed his weapon down ran his hand through his hair. It was then she noted the shards of glass strewn about him, colored the same as the bottles he'd collected for Sarah to shoot earlier.
"Troy?" she whispered, taking some steps closer.
He cocked his head towards her, eyes hazy and glassed over. His lips curled into a sneer and he swiftly shot out his arm to drop the gun and pick up one of the shards, the pointed edges cutting into his skin, and threw it against the fence. It made a quieter clinking sound, but still wasn't pleasant to hear.
Clementine scowled and hissed, "What are you doing?! You're going to wake everyone up! Stop it!" Didn't he realize they all needed as much sleep as they could get?
The one-armed man simply snorted, not sparing any energy to even try to be quiet. His dull eyes once more casted over to her, a frown settling on his lips. "And you're gonna try to stop me?" he slurred, and while she wasn't even that close to him, she could recognize the harsh smell of alcohol on his breath.
"You're drunk?" she asked, incredulously. What did he think he was doing?
"Yup," he replied simply, picking up the bottle next to him. Bringing it to his lips, he shakily took another drink, some of the liquid escaping his mouth and sliding down his chin. After a few gulps, he pulled it back and let out a long sigh. "Damn, that stings goin' down, but… it's nice, y'know? You should'a had a drink. Too late, though - it's all fuckin' mine now."
"Troy, give it to me," she demanded, extending her hand for the bottle. When he didn't move, she stepped forward and reached over for it, resulting in him scooting further away with an offended look on his face.
"The fuck are you doin'?" he snarled, like an irritated animal. "Y'all had your turn at the 'toast'. Now I got mine."
Any patience she had with Troy was rapidly wearing thin. "You didn't want it," she reminded him. "And it's not good to have it right now. Why are you drinking it?" It made no sense to her; Troy had refused a drink before, and had scolded everyone for even partaking in the toast at all. Did he just prefer to be alone when he drank, or was there another reason?
The man chuckled, a smirk crossing his face but his eyes showing no mirth whatsoever. "You ever have to put someone down, Clementine?"
It became so quiet she could've heard a pin drop into the snow; that was the absolute last question she'd expected him to ask, and the timing was completely wrong. Her breath caught in her throat as she shoved the memories of shooting Lee in the jewelry store office from her mind, finding the terror she still felt associated with those thoughts not practical for her survival at all. Maybe it was because of Sarah's activity before, but the feelings associated with Lee, while easier to push back most days, became almost physically painful.
"Well?" he pressed. "Have you? Have y' had to pull the trigger? Seen the look'a death in their eyes 'fore you did?"
"Wh-why would you ask that?" she whispered, crouching down next to him, on her knees. For some reason, her heart was beating wildly and she almost couldn't hear him past the loud pulse in her ears. What was he getting at with this sort of talk? Why was it necessary now - and did it have anything to do with his recent change in behavior? She had chalked it up to Troy just being his usual moody self, but if there was something more…
She didn't have to continue to ask, because he surrendered the answer almost immediately. "Well, I had to. I mean, a lot'a times we did it at Howe's - Bill would ask me t' take 'em into the comic book store and just put 'em down - but I didn't know them; it wasn't personal. But twice… two times, I had t' shoot folks I cared about in the fuckin' head."
Clementine could only blink, completely stunned by the honesty in his words. He didn't give her an opportunity to answer, however, and continued.
"My older brother and niece came with me to Howe's. They were… the only fuckin' family I had, even before things went to shit. My brother - Colton - damn, he was… everythin' I wasn't. And Kylie, she was probably around your age, but much more fuckin' naive." He paused to readjust himself, Shit, why am I even tellin' you all of this?" He flashed his eyes over to her, lips curled in an almost snarl.
She honestly didn't know. He had always been so guarded since he joined the group, not revealing anything about himself personally apart from a few things here and there. Something had triggered this sudden change, and she didn't know what it was - or why he was revealing all of this now.
"I have no idea," she admitted, expression softening. "And you don't have to continue, if you don't want to." In the back of her mind, she hoped he wouldn't; he was making her very uncomfortable all of a sudden.
Humanity and Troy just didn't click with her yet, it seemed.
He waved her off in response, the alcohol sloshing around in the bottle as he did. "Nah, I might as well," he mumbled, "It's not like I'm gonna be spillin' the beans like this again."
"Can I ask one thing, first?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Why are you drinking?"
At that, he gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Kid, folks don't need any fuckin' reason to drink… but yeah, guess I had one tonight. I just couldn't face that shit anymore. With that kid shootin' his sister… with Jane all proud'a the fact that she's a shit older siblin'..."
"Why does that bother you so much?"
"Gettin' to that, shh. Besides all that stupid shit, you and Sarah fuckin' save my life, and that asshole Mike teaches me how to shoot better with my left hand - for free! I don't get it, Clementine. I don't get why y'all are bein' so nice… I ain't shit."
There was such a sour tone to his voice that she wrinkled her nose. Though she once would have agreed with him, she couldn't say that was true - at least, not completely. He wasn't worthless, and did provide some benefits to the group, like teaching Sarah to shoot. That meant something. "People need to be nice now," she explained quietly. "Humanity is all we have left."
Troy scoffed. "Nice hero speech. Practice that shit?" When she narrowed her eyes at him, he rolled his own. "Don't give me that look, you little shit. Y' asked me a question, and I answered. I don't get that sort of 'humanity' thinkin', and - well, it's all remindin' me of them. And that's why I'm drinkin' - because I'd rather poison my blood with booze than face what I fuckin' did."
What he did? Puzzled, Clementine asked, "What do you mean? What did you do, Troy?"
"Jeez, will you - will you fuckin' let me talk without interruptin'?" After she shut her mouth, he straightened himself against the generator and continued, "Me, Colton, and Kylie found Howe's after nearly starvin'. It was a blessin', as you can imagine. Bill was real nice to us, offerin' a kindness I'd never been shown by a stranger… or, hell, almost no one before."
That was a strange thought; she never even considered Carver could be anything but the dictator she'd seen running Howe's. Troy had mentioned that he wasn't always the monster that had made a spectacle out of beating Kenny nearly to death, and by the way he spoke, it seemed that Carver was once a lot kinder.
Troy went on with his story, leaving her no time to ponder. "For a while, things were goin' good. I mean, fuck, me and Colton felt sorta safe there. We thought it would be a good place to stay, settlin' ourselves into Bill's growing 'family'. Kylie even started t' smile again."
The image of a little girl smiling around Troy just wasn't possible for Clementine. She had trouble believing he didn't smack around his niece just like the rest of the children at Howe's, but from the way he spoke, it seemed he did really love her.
"What did Kylie like to do?" she asked, trying to get him to expand on that subject.
He snickered. "Anythin' and everythin'. Like Sarah, she was sorta… spacey, I guess. Had a big imagination. Liked to color. Hyper as fuck most'a the time, too. No matter where you'd be, she'd always be listenin', and felt the need to weigh in her comments. A real fuckin' chatterbox." Despite his annoyed tone, it was hard to miss the slight smile that settled onto his lips.
Clementine found herself smiling, as well. "Sounds like she was nice. Probably someone I would've been friends with at school." She remembered a few of her classmates being particularly energetic, too.
"Yeah, maybe. She was a real good kid - and I don't just say that shit about anyone. I fuckin' hate kids, but Kylie… she was…" he trailed off, his smile fading.
"Your family," she finished for him. "Right? It's different when it's family." Or a found family, as Clementine had found out.
Troy rolled his eyes. "I guess so. It was just nice, for a while. We all did our jobs and kept safe for the most part, until…" His voice cracked as it broke off, and it took a few moments of his mouth hovering open for any words to continue out.
"Until one day, Colton'n me were assigned to work inside while Kylie was outside. We didn't think it was a good idea or nothin', but Bill assured us it was fine - that kids could do outside jobs too, and she wouldn't have to do nothin' too strenuous. That was enough for her daddy, and for me." As he spoke, Troy's expression grew more pained, as though he was bracing himself for the devastating turn this story would surely take.
"Kyles - sorry, Kylie - did everythin' just fine that day. Didn't make a damn mistake. But someone else did." He closed his eyes, taking another swig of the alcohol. "Me and Colton… fact is, we let her out without anyone really watchin' her. And no one noticed the hole in the fence until a lurker's hand had broken through it."
His tone once more grew quiet. "She screamed, and Colton was runnin' like a madman. He got the thing off his daughter, but it ended up bein' too late. She got bit in her side." With a bitter, joyless laugh, he added, "She was askin' for a Band-Aid. Didn't even… realize what had happened."
Clementine's expression fell, her heart practically throbbing in pity. She could picture the scenario all-too-clearly - a little girl, innocent and naive to the way the world ended up, ending up getting captured and bitten by a stray walker. A father and uncle with no one else to turn to left with the decision of her fate.
"You said… you said before that you had to put someone down," she mentioned. "Why didn't Colton do it? That was his daughter, wasn't it?" Then again, Lee had put Duck down… Clementine couldn't even imagine the pain of a parent having to put a child down - or even the opposite. She knew she probably couldn't have put her own parents down, or at least not at the time.
Troy continued, "After the bite happened, he just… went into denial. Told me to let it go, that she'd have to get better. Me'n Bill told him it didn't work like that, but he didn't want to hear any of it. It came to the moment where she got sicker and sicker, and we had to do somethin'. And even then, he wouldn't do shit." An angry look crossed his face for a moment, but a moment later, the drunken haze returned to his eyes.
"So I shot her. Didn't even tell her I was doin' it, I just… did it. And it was over." He took a particularly long drink of the alcohol then, closing his eyes in thought.
Clementine wasn't sure what to say. He didn't continue, so she sat there, dumbstruck, for what felt like hours. He was looking towards her, but not really at her; his gaze seemed distant, as though he was in another time period. Eventually, she mustered up the courage to at least ask a question. "What was Colton like? Um, before Kylie was…" she inquired, not wanting to finish that sentence.
Troy's expression changed quickly again, and his mind really seemed to go off into another world. "Colton… heh, he was the only one that outmatched any'a the kindness y'all have shown me. I swear, the guy put Sarah t' shame with his naivete and optimism. He always thought things would turn out alright, even before Kylie got bit. 'Troy, you'll see, the world's gonna get better,' and 'The three'a us will always stick together.'."
It was clear that promise didn't last, but she didn't dare point that out. Troy's hand had begun to squeeze the neck of the bottle tightly, his grip trembling with emotion.
"Fuck," he muttered to himself, "this is why I never fuckin' drink. It all just comes out all at once - 'specially when I don't want it to. Fuck." Shooting a glare over towards her, he hissed, "Don't think you're gettin' another part'a my sob story after tonight, y'little… It's not everyday I do this sort of thing."
"Obviously," Clementine replied dryly. "But go on. I'm listening."
Troy mumbled something under his breath - most likely curses - before he began speaking again. "Well, anyway… that line'a thinkin' turned out to be the idiot's downfall in the end," he snarled, the shakes spreading to the rest of his body to make it look like he was shivering. With a sharky sigh, Troy forced out the next words, "I had t' shoot him, too. Put a bullet in the head'a the only person I ever looked up to. The only one who ever gave a shit about me!" With a frustrated growl, he threw the bottle towards the fence, watching it split into pieces and splatter the rest of the liquid onto the snow. She jumped at the noise, eyes darting towards Troy in case he wanted to do anything drastic.
His eyes met hers, a burning regret blazing in the brown irises. The look was so raw, so haunted - she honestly didn't know how to respond. Her eyes once more softened, lips drawn into a frown. This sounded like it would be very hard for Troy to admit normally, but the mask of alcohol was letting him say it without remorse. Though she knew it would have repercussions later, she couldn't help her curiosity and asked, "And… how did Colton get bitten?"
With a snort, the man faced the fence, focused on the shards of glass littered onto the ground. His legs curled up to his chest, and suddenly he looked a lot smaller. "I never said he was bitten," he muttered, an empty grin crossing his face.
Startled, she raised her eyebrows and gave him a look of confusion. "What? What do you mean?"
Troy just chuckled, the pain evident in his tone. "Y' sure are stupid, Clementine. You should know that things worked… differently at Howe's. Bill told y', I'm sure - think about Reggie. He was weak of will, of character."
She blinked, recalling the philosophies Carver had recited to her in his office. The older man had been so confident that he was doing something right, something just… But that wasn't the case, given what she'd seen. He was only deluding himself and his underlings.
And Troy kept going. "Colton was… weak. Not like me - Bill even told me that… that I was stronger. That I could see my brother was sufferin' and put him out of his misery. And that was a thing only a strong man could do. So I did." He said it casually, but Clementine could tell just speaking this was hurting him. The alcohol clearly wasn't helping with as much of the pain as he'd intended.
He tore his gaze from her and lowered his head, refusing to meet her eyes. "And… and y'know what the fucked up thing was?" he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I didn't want to. I really, really didn't want to. Guess that makes me weaker'n Bill thought. It sure as hell proved to be that way later on, though. Anyone could see he was gettin' tired of me."
He wasn't wrong - she had overheard Carver say something about Troy being 'a fucking idiot' in his office, and it wasn't hard to see that Troy was getting on his nerves. It made her wonder how long Troy had been there, and if he had been getting close to outliving his usefulness to Carver.
"That doesn't make you weak," she began, trying to do what she could to comfort him.
However, he spoke over her a moment later. "Don't interrupt. And don't give me a lecture like I'm fuckin' Sarah or somethin'. This is somethin' that I don't need a pep talk for, Clementine. I just needed t' let it out before it ate me alive."
"...okay," she muttered. "Okay, I'm sorry. I won't say anything. Keep going."
He didn't hesitate to do so. "Like I said, Colton was like Reggie," Troy explained, his head shaking, "Too pathetic to continue. After Kylie's death, he just… stopped. It was like… he wasn't there anymore. And Bill made it clear that we couldn't have that at Howe's. Not with what we had at stake."
Colton sounded a bit like Sarah after Carlos had died, but she'd gotten a bit better - if Carver had been patient with the man, would he have snapped himself back to reality, as well? Would he have carried on, as well? And if he was alive, would things have changed at Howe's? She didn't think Troy would be the same, surely, but she supposed she'd never know.
Troy's voice fell to a whisper. "He deserved to die. He put us at risk with his incompetence. Killin' one in order to save many is part'a survival. It's one of the tough decisions that a… a weaker person couldn't make."
Clementine recognized that speech; it was the same one Carver gave to her after he'd killed Reggie. Troy was reciting it word for word, like he'd heard it so many times before. Actually, it wasn't hard to believe that he had heard it on repeat, and memorized every last syllable.
Despite his earlier warnings to not interrupt, Clementine wasn't liking where this was going. She didn't want to hear any remnants of that monster's morals, and was about to tell Troy to stop, that what he was saying was just an excuse, but she stopped short once he turned his head towards her and she got a good look at his expression.
Now, she had only seen one man cry in her lifetime, and that was Kenny when he'd lost Katjaa and Duck. She hadn't caught complete sight of it, either, merely seeing him wipe his eyes on his sleeve and hang his head down low. Her own father had never shed tears in front of her, so it was a completely alien experience to her.
Troy was not crying. No tears were falling from his eyes down his cheeks, nor were any unshed ones pooling behind his brown hues. However, his eyelids were narrowed and his lips were drawn in a tight frown, eyebrows scrunched together in an expression of so much agony that it almost was like he was. His jaw tightened, bone clicking as he put so much pressure on it she almost feared it would snap off its hinges.
She'd never seen that sort of look on him, not even when he was on the verge of death. He was so vulnerable, so torn up and... human – and honestly, she didn't like how it made her feel.
"Colton... deserved to die," the man repeated, his voice rendered to a hushed whisper. He may have been justifying his own brother's death through his words, but Clementine could see in his eyes, see by that completely broken gaze, that he didn't believe a word of what he was saying.
Silence fell between them, until Troy eventually collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion, falling asleep almost instantly. He was laying on the glass shards, but if they were cutting into him, he didn't seem to notice and slept on, dead to the world.
Clementine took over the watch, seating herself nearby but not too close to him. As she swept her gaze around the camp, she caught the gaze of one person - one curious soul that was close enough to hear almost everything Troy had just confessed.
"Don't say a word," she mouthed to Jane, who was staring back at her with wide, cat-like eyes. The woman's gaze flicked to the unconscious man, and back at Clementine, before she nodded firmly. It was impossible to tell just how much Jane had heard, but if they both could keep this under wraps, it would be better for everyone.
Hopefully, Troy got what he needed off of his chest… if only for his own mental state. Clementine wasn't so sure why she cared about him feeling better, but she did nonetheless.
It was almost like he was becoming a real part of their makeshift, foster family group.