Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I don't even own Annie, she belongs to Sophie, who you can find on YouTube under xSoppySofax. Read on, darlings, and enjoy!

This chapter takes place partially during 3x03 "Walk With Me" and up through 3x07 "When the Dead Come Knocking"

Chapter 28

"I was so stupid, Claire."

Nearly a week later, Charlie hadn't gotten any better. He was pale and sweaty, definitely running a fever. She'd given him ibuprofen initially, but it hadn't worked very well. Her stitch work was mediocre at best, but it wasn't a jagged mess. But she saw the redness and swelling around it, and the sight of it did nothing to comfort or assure either of them. She's slathered an antibacterial cream on it and wrapped it up, but it didn't seem to improve. As his condition worsened, Charlie wavering in and out of consciousness and hallucinating, Annie moved him to a bedroom upstairs with an adjoining bathroom. It had been her room, but she didn't tell him that. His fever progressed, bringing chills with it. His heart was always pounding and his breath came in short, rapid gasps. He'd grown pale as the days passed, too. He'd pass out on occasion, which prevented Annie from leaving to find more medicine, better medicine. Where, she wasn't sure but she knew she had to find something. But, at the same time, she couldn't leave Charlie alone. What if walkers broke in a found him? Attacked him while he was sick in bed? She'd never forgive herself if that happened. Then there was the fact that, if she did leave to get medicine, what would she get? Annie wasn't a doctor. She had no clue what was wrong with him – an infection, sure, but how bad? – so she wouldn't know what to grab for him. So she stayed, kept a cool cloth on his head and made sure he drank plenty water.

"I was an fucking idiot. I know I was," Charlie panted, reaching out for Annie's hand. He'd been calling her Claire for the past two days in fits of delirium. When he was lucid, he would apologize and she'd ask about Claire. He'd just ignore her and try to sleep instead, which was fair when she really thought about it. After all, its not as if she ever told him about Rick. "I fucked it all up."

"Its okay, Charlie," she soothed.

"No, its not!" he shouted, snatching his hand away from her. Annie stood up and pressed him back onto the bed as he tried to get up. "Its not! I ruined everything!" he cried, a few tears spilling over his cheeks. "And for what? To chase the fucking dragon, that's what!" Annie stared at Charlie, stunned. Chase the dragon, she knew that phrase fairly well. Some of the boys at the autoshop would ask if she wanted to chase the dragon a few times. She'd been a simpleton back then, an innocent little farm girl in the big city for the first time. Joe kept the boys away from her and explained they were asking her to shoot up heroin with them. Apparently, Charlie had done heroin a few times himself. "I didn't give it up and I lost you. I lost you, I lost you…"

Charlie fell asleep not long after that.


"What did I talk about this time?" Laughing under his breath, he joked, "Tell me it wasn't my coin collection again."

"Claire," she answered tonelessly, trying to keep things nonchalant. Charlie tensed as soon as she spoke the name, however, and it didn't escape Annie's attention. "And you said you ruined everything. For heroin."

He scoffed and shook his head, awkwardly scratching his neck. "I never told you I was an addict, did I?" Annie shook her head and he nodded slowly. "Heroin wasn't just my addiction; it was my religion. For years, it was the God I prayed to. "I'll be good, if I just get one more hit. I swear, I'll stop. I'll never do it again, if I just get one more"," he told her, mimicking himself. He chuckled at himself for a moment before it hurt too much. He coughed and grimaced in a pain a moment before he looked at her, smiling a little. "And it ruined my life. I lost Claire. My gorgeous Claire." Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. After a moment of digging around, he pulled out a single picture and passed it to Annie. Claire was petite, almost frail looking, with large blue eyes and a thin mouth. Her blonde hair was blowing in the wind in the picture, which was taken while she'd been laughing. She looked ecstatically happy.

"What happened?"

"What d'you think? She wised up and left me." Annie handed him back the photo and Charlie took it, holding it gingerly and smiling as he stared at it. "I begged and begged her for another chance, but she just told me fuck off. I got clean though. I did!" he stated proudly. "I thought, if I could kick the habit, then she'd take me back. She didn't though." Sighing, he put the picture back in his wallet and leaned back against his pile or pillows. "It was hard to do it, too. Not as hard as all this, I think, but it wasn't easy. I didn't think I'd ever believe in anything again. But I have faith now. I do. You did that." Annie scoffed at that.

"I didn't do anything," she protested and reached for the bandage on his arm. "Now just let me clean this up."

"Won't do any good. Said so yourself." She ignored him, continuing to unwrap the bandage. She winced as she saw his wound. It was still red and puffy, but his veins were far too visible for her liking. It didn't look natural at all. Reaching for her first aid kit, Annie dug around. There had to be something in there that she missed, something besides ibuprofen. "Don't waste anymore supplies on me," he said. She ignored him. "Annie, stop. Stop!" Charlie grabbed her hands and held them tight, forcing her to stop and look at him. "After Claire, my life was completely shit. The walkers make it worse but then I met you, and things weren't so bad." Annie didn't know what to say to that because, honestly, she thought Charlie didn't like her. She'd always thought he'd just put up with her because she was, well, a survivor. But they'd sang together, they'd laughed and that meant something didn't it? It had to. "I think I'm just gonna take a nap now, okay? You should, too. You look exhausted."

"Well, I have been taking care of your sorry ass," she remarked. Charlie laughed, his breath wheezy as he settled down on the bed. Sardonically, he crossed himself. "Just in case, 'ya know?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"Night, Annie."

Annie sat back in the armchair she'd been using as a bed and sighed heavily. Charlie was right: she was exhausted. She'd hardly slept since she'd been taking care of Charlie night and day. Pushing the chair down to the end of the bed, she propped her feet up alongside Charlie's legs. She hadn't been able to stretch out the past couple days. It felt nice. After settling into the chair, arms folded across her stomach and head rolled back, she started to let her mind wander. Charlie kept a photo of a girl who gave up on him and, in all likelihood, was dead. But he still kept it and looked at it like Claire was with him. He spoke about her with such love in his voice. It wasn't all that different from what she did, she realized. Holding onto Rick's badge, clutching it to her chest at night when she was alone. She wasn't fortunate enough to have a photo, just that badge and her memories. Annie couldn't help but wonder, as she did every night, where Rick, Carl and the others were and if they were okay. If they had shelter, food, and supplies. She wished she didn't worry about them so, but she knew she always would. They were branded onto her heart and soul. Maybe Claire was branded onto Charlie's.


She didn't know how long she'd been asleep when she felt something grabbing her feet. She'd been dreaming once again about a normal life where she and Rick and Carl were a happy family. Morgan and Duane were their neighbors, and the two boys were playing football while Annie laughed and cheered from the sidelines. Both boys tackled Rick to the ground and she'd cheered louder, laughing at his misfortune. Rick reached out for her, grabbing at her foot. She'd tried to kick him off but his grip was firm. The grabbing at her foot persisted, causing her dream family to vanish. Charlie was awake and, apparently, talking to get her attention wasn't good enough. He wanted to be childish and grab her shoes. Annie groaned and entertained the thought of kicking him, just a little bit, to get the point across that she wasn't some rag doll for him to mess around with. But then she thought maybe he needed help getting to the bathroom. Maybe he had to vomit again. She had to wake up and help Charlie, otherwise she'd been changing dirty sheets off the bed and they didn't exactly have the luxury of extra linens lying about.

"What you need?" she asked, voice heavy with sleep as she rubbed her eyes. "Charlie?" Annie opened her eyes and gasped, pushing herself away from Charlie and kicking him in the face in the process.

A walker. In an instant, Annie was wide-awake and alert. She rose from the armchair and froze, taking in her partner once again. Charlie was a walker. He was a walker! But…how? How?! That didn't make any sense! It wasn't fucking possible! Charlie finally untangled himself from the sheets and charged at her. Annie screamed and pushed back against him, keeping her hands firmly on his chest. The more out of arms reach he and his teeth were of her, the better. But he was stronger, so much stronger, all of a sudden and she found herself stumbling over her feet. Charlie, or what was left of him, took advantage of her stumble and bore down on her. His sudden move caused Annie to fall back, taking Charlie with her. Had she not already been pushing him as far away from her as possible, his teeth would've dug straight into her throat. Crying out, Annie tried to crawl away from him but he was dead weight. Literal dead weight, flat out atop her and all she could do was keep pushing him away from her.

After days of feeling his heart pounding frantically, Annie couldn't feel it now. This wasn't a dream. It was real. Charlie was a walker and he was going to kill her unless she did something. She quickly moved her hand off his chest and jabbed her forearm against his throat. Annie cringed as he chomped at the air as she pushed him up and away. His fingers dug into her hair and pulled tight; Annie screamed, quickly reached down to her belt loop. Her knife was still sheathed there; she hadn't lost it in the tumble. Before she could lose her resolve, Annie gripped her hunting knife and whipped it out. She propelled herself forward and jammed it straight through Charlie's forehead. Straight into his brain and killed him. He instantly stopped moving and, when she pulled the knife out, his dead body pitched forward. Instead of moving away, Annie held him tight and let herself fall back onto the floor. Burying her face in his shoulder, she sobbed loudly for the first time in seven months, not caring if the noise drew walkers to the house. Charlie was dead. She didn't understand how, but he was dead and she was alone again. It wasn't fair.

After recovering from her burst of emotion, Annie checked Charlie over. He didn't have a bite or scratch anywhere on his body. Maybe some walker blood had gotten into his cut? But no, that didn't make sense either because she'd cleaned his cut herself. There hadn't been anything there. The walker that had fallen on top of Charlie at the store, the one that inadvertently caused his cut, hadn't been near his cut arm either. No bite, no scratch, no nothing. But he'd turned. He died, she could tell that much from the blackened veins at the site of his cut. She knew the cut had made him sick but sick enough to turn? It didn't make any sense and didn't change the fact that Charlie was still dead. After dragging him downstairs in the sheets, Annie went out to the backyard and started digging. Luckily, their house had a big privacy fence surrounding it so no walkers would sneak up on her. It took awhile to dig the whole, a couple hours of daylight lost at least, but it was worth it. She even made sure the picture of Claire was in his hands when she put him to rest.

It would've been quicker to burn him but, as Glenn had said, you didn't burn your own people. It seemed so long ago, those days at the quarry. Annie could barely remember because she'd been so closed off from everyone. Except Rick. Carl as well, he'd been a bright spot. No, she told herself, stop thinking about them; they can't help you now. Instead of thinking on the things she couldn't have, Annie focused all her energy into her lost companion. Charlie may have started off as a stranger and nuisance but he'd ended up a friend, and he deserved more than just being chucked in a ditch. He deserved a proper burial, and that's what she gave him. They'd been together two months and, during that time, he brought her back to reality and kept her sane. Having someone kept her alive, kept her going, kept her from being some wandering ghost. Losing him, it made her question the point of trying but she knew, without a doubt in her mind, that she didn't want to die. So that left continuing to move on and, this time, she was going to stay alone. It didn't matter that having someone made her better if she kept losing them in the end. It hurt too much, caring for people. Being alone was better.

After packing up everything she could fit into hers and Charlie's packs, she strapped them together and headed for the door. Approaching the door, she kept a loose grip of the handle of her knife. It was still sheathed in her belt loop. Looking around the house one last time, she spotted Charlie's bat leaning against the arm of the couch. Striding towards it, she grabbed the bat and went back to the door. She swung it open and brandished the bat, swinging at the first walker she saw. It went down but it wasn't dead, so she hit it until its skull cracked open and it stopped twitching. Incensed, she moved down the porch steps and swung the bat into the face a walker on the lawn. It went down and she kicked its rotted face so hard its jaw broke off. One down swing and it was dead again. Adrenaline surged through her and she looked around, heading up the street towards the few walkers she saw. But there were bound to be plenty more, just hiding away. She just knew it.

"Hey! Hey, assholes!" Annie shouted up the all but abandoned residential street. "Fresh meat!"

Whipping around, she swung the bat and smashed a metal mailbox. She continued to hit the metal bat on the asphalt, letting the sound echo up and down the road. The four walkers ambling about the road turned at the noise and started walking towards her. Thrusting the packs off her, Annie tossed them back onto the lawn and tapped the tip of the bat anxiously on the asphalt. She watched as three more walkers appeared from the backyards of homes and bounced on the balls of her feet. The gargling and moaning got closer and her grip on the bat tightened. She was more than ready.

The first reached out for her and Annie swung the bat, breaking the bones in its arm. She swung again and cracked its skull. It was the same for the second, and the third, and one after another. Annie hit whatever walker came close and she didn't let a single one get close enough to put a decayed hand on her. She yelled and screamed and let blood spatter across her without a care. Because what did she have to care about now? First, the initial outbreak kept her separate from her friends, who were probably dead or walkers in Atlanta. Then, she'd left Morgan and Duane for Rick. Not only because she'd hoped to find her friends in Atlanta, a long shot she'd known, but because of Morgan's unwillingness to do what had to be done. So she'd had Rick for a time, but that herd came through and she'd lost him anyway. It had been her choice, but the walkers had made her see that with the way the world was, familiarity was important. Carl needed the familiarity of his parents, of their happy marriage. What he didn't need was her coming in and ruining things, acting like the other woman or a stepmother. Now, she'd lost Charlie. The walkers had taken everything from her and, with seven more dead, she still felt numb.

Groaning reached her ears and Annie swung the bat and let it rest on the walker's throat, keeping it just out of arms reach of her. She walked forward, slowly forcing the walker back, and put her food on its chest. Once it was down, she raised her foot again and smashed it into its head. The skull crushed and blood oozed out, the brain a stringy mess. The last walker ambled towards her and Annie hit its knees, sending it flying to the ground. Before the walker could get back up, Annie was on it. She slammed the bat down on his skull over and over again, not paying any attention to the blood that spattered her face. Soon enough, it was nothing but a smear on the road. Panting, tears streaming down her face, Annie let the bat fall from her hands, threw her head back and screamed.

Annie remembered telling Charlie she promised he'd be fine, and decided she needed to stop making promises. She never seemed to keep them.


Charlie had been dead and she'd been alone for a month, according to his pocket calendar, when she heard a helicopter. The sound startled her from her numb state and she glanced at it, shaking her head. She couldn't stop the soft laugh that escaped her, just under her breath. The sight and sound made her think of being in Atlanta, with Rick, chasing after that helicopter straight into a cadre of walkers on horseback. That seemed so long ago, a distant memory from a far off place that was long gone. It was like trying to relate to the black and white pictures from her history textbooks back in high school. There was no point in following it. Not only was she in no way equipped to deal with that, not alone, but she was extremely unwilling to deal with however many walkers the noise would attract. Even if Annie hadn't been alone, she wouldn't want to deal with it anyway. Shouldering her packs, she chose to ignore the noise passing overhead and continued on her way, in the opposite direction. Wherever that helicopter was going, she wanted no part of it.

Later that night, Annie made her bed the roof of an abandoned bus on the road. It was a little risky, but she didn't have the time to set up a proper camp. She went to sleep to the sound of walkers groaning and shuffling below her. When she woke up the next day, she moved on autopilot, checking and rechecking her packs. She secured them and her weapons and got back to walking. Half the day had gone by, if the placement of the sun was anything to go by, when she heard voices. Ducking down in the brush of the woods, Annie carefully made her way to the tree line. On the road was a convoy of three vehicles, military if the camo paint job was any indication. Meandering around said vehicles was maybe six men and it looked like they had set up camp. She watched them, suspicious and wary. The thought of approaching an armed convoy didn't sit well with Annie. Just because they were Army didn't necessarily mean they were good or that she could trust them.

The approaching sound of a car drew her attention to the road where a smaller car came into view, the driver had their hand out the window waving a white handkerchief. The soldiers immediately grabbed their guns and cocked them, ready to kill if the stranger turned out to be violent. The driver parked the car and got out, calling for the men not to shoot and they they'd found their guy, Wells. Annie couldn't make out everything he said, but something involving the chopper and someone being badly hurt at his settlement. The soldiers immediately relaxed at the good word of their missing friend. One of the soldiers turned to the others and happily spread the word, that the stranger not only saved their comrade but that he would bring them to him, too.

"We sure did!" the stranger cheered, jubilant. "We found you, too!"

The stranger pulled his gun and shot the leader point blank straight through his chest. Gunfire suddenly rained down the soldiers and Annie watched, frozen in horror as the soldiers were massacred. Horrified, Annie grabbed the rifle she'd picked up some weeks ago and ran out of the tree line. She fired at the five or so men who'd been hiding, same as her, but the soldiers were dead all too quickly. It was a massacre. Realizing she didn't stand a chance against the armed men, Annie shouldered her gun and made run for it. Unfortunately, as she was running away, a gunshot sounded and she felt the bullet hit her back. Annie pitched forward and collapsed into the dirty ground, hitting her head hard. Her vision blurred and she started to see black in the corners of her eyes. She tried to crawl away and, as she did, she heard footsteps approach. Rolling onto her back, she looked up and squinted at the sunlight to try and see but to no avail.

"Holy shit!" the person laughed. Annie's last conscious thought was how in the hell was Merle Dixon alive?


The Governor had asked Merle if he'd known the girl currently imprisoned in the underbelly of Woodbury. He'd asked if she was from the group in Atlanta, same as him and Andrea. Merle told she was because, as far as he knew, she had been. He'd admitted he'd only seen her the one time on that rooftop. Milton had been startled to find out he'd known another woman. Why the hell the nerd was so damn shocked that Merle knew women pissed him off, but whatever. Governor told him to talk to her, see what else he could find out and that was just what good old Merle intended to do. He made his way into the makeshift hospital Annie had been sequestered in, set up in an apartment complex, whistling the whole way. Martinez, who'd been guarding her door, told him she'd been mostly quiet except for some cursing. Probably struggling against her restraints, he guessed. Merle happily relieved him of his duty and told him to get some rest; he could handle the little lady on his own. He sauntered into the room, shut the door, and grabbed a chair, sliding it across the floor before sitting down next to her bed.

"Ain't seen you in, what, eight? Nine months?" Merle inquired but Annie just stared up at the blandly painted ceiling, noting how it was chipped. "Probably more. Hard to believe you lasted so long out there."

"Why?" Annie asked, turning her head to glare at him. "Because I'm a woman?"

From the moment she'd woken up, Annie had been tense and on guard. The first person she'd seen had been a black woman, older than her, said her name was Dr. Stevens. She'd taken the bullet out of her shoulder and patched her up good, even stitched up her head where she'd cracked it. A mild concussion, a little dehydrated, malnourished and sleep deprived but, other than all that, Annie was the picture of health. The stranger, the one she'd seen shoot the first unsuspecting soldier, had come in then. The two had a whispered conversation and she'd ended up with a needle in her arm. Next thing Annie knew, she was waking up in the same room only it was empty. She'd tried wiggling free, but it'd done no good as her wrists and ankles were tied down with the straps of the bed, obviously from an asylum. Her packs were nowhere in sight, neither was Charlie's bat and the knife she kept sheathed on her belt was also gone. But she still felt the switchblade Joe had given her, a gift to commemorate one year at the auto shop with him and the boys, in her boot. It was a glimmer of hope that she wasn't completely defenseless.

Merle chuckled and replied, "Because you're alone."

"Wasn't always that way." That was all she was willing to say on that matter.

"Surviving in the wild ain't easy, sweetcheeks. I should know." He raised his right arm, which had some kind of self-made contraption around it. He'd cut off his own hand, she remembered.

"I managed."

"Well, I'm impressed," he toned, sounding anything but impressed. "Its tough. Waking up everyday wondering if today's the day. If it'll be quick and final, or slow and…well," he chuckled grimly, "endless. If someone has the good sense to put a bullet in your brain." Annie let out a low sigh and looked at the ceiling. To Merle, it looked as though she didn't care what he was talking about. Of course, that didn't stop him from talking. In reality, his words made her think about Charlie and she didn't want to think about Charlie anymore. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you, princess?" She continued to stare aimlessly at the ceiling, intent on ignoring the redneck hick. "Fine. You don't wanna talk to me, that's just fine. Maybe you'll talk to someone else." Merle rose to his feet and strode out of the room, laughing to himself as the door slammed shut behind him. Annie let out a deep breath and closed her eyes.


"Wake up!" It had been the door slamming that had initially woken Annie, but the water being splashed on her face fully woke her up. "You got a nasty concussion. Can't have you drifting off and dying on us," the stranger noted. Shaking her head, trying to clear the water from her eyes, Annie opened squinted at the stranger. It was him. The man who orchestrated the massacre on the highway. He twisted the cap back on the water bottle and set it aside. "I know I'm not the first you've seen, but I dare say I'm a sight better than Merle," he joked with a chuckle, "so allow me: welcome to Woodbury."

"Let me go," she demanded, immediately pulling at the restraints. She needed to get away from him. Fast.

The stranger shook his head and told her, "I can't allow that. You're dangerous."

"That's funny, coming from you," she remarked, glaring at him. The man stared down at her a moment before nodding slowly. There was no point in trying to deny that he'd murdered those soldiers. She'd been there. She saw everything. "I don't know who you are and I don't care, but you can't keep me here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm known as the Governor around these parts. What's your name?" Annie pursed her lips and clenched her teeth. It took everything in her not to spit in his face. "Okay. You don't have to talk. That's just fine," he assured her, pulling up the same chair Merle had and sat down beside her. "Except it doesn't solve the problem we have. You see, you shot at me and my men. You tried to kill us. I can't just let that go."

"Self-defense. Those soldiers welcomed you and you murdered them."

"They were dangerous."

"Like me, right?" she questioned sarcastically, tugging at the restraints once again to prove a point. How exactly was she dangerous if she was bound? "If you think you're going to get away with this, you're wrong."

"Why, you expecting someone? 'Cause we found you alone." Annie closed her eyes, laid her head back, and let out a shaky breath. If he thought she needed someone to rescue her, he was sorely mistaken. But it was to her benefit to let him think that for the moment. "Woodbury is a sanctuary. You would've been welcome to join us, had you not attacked."

"Like I'm gonna believe the man who killed innocent, unsuspecting men with a smile." Annie looked him up and down and she couldn't help but remember someone she hadn't thought about in months. "I know what kind of man you are," she uttered, remembering when she spoke the same words to Shane. The Governor chuckled lowly and she looked away, her gaze going back to the ceiling.

"There are people here. Good people," he told her calmly, as if making a sales pitch. "They've made homes for themselves, kids go to school. We have medical care, gave these people jobs, a sense of purpose. We're doing more than just waiting to be saved." The Governor quickly snatched Annie's jaw and forced her to look him in dead in his eyes. They were dark brown, but they were hollow and lifeless. Annie's heart pounded in fright. "Compromise our safety? Destroy our community? I'll die before I let that happen." She believed him. He stared at her a moment longer, refusing to break their gaze. Annie admitted to herself then and there that there was something seriously off about him. There was just something about him that downright terrified her. "Maybe a night in here, without food or a bathroom will do you good. Have a nice night, stranger."

The moment the door shut, Annie set to work on getting the knife out of her boot. She shimmied and shook until her boot fell off and clattered onto the floor. She glanced at the door to see if anyone had heard her boot clatter to the floor, but no one came to check on her. So either she had an incompetent guard or no guard at all. Quite frankly, both options worked for her; at least the knife hadn't fallen off the table as well. Annie shifted around, using her calf and thigh to shimmy the knife up her body. The moment it reached her butt, she let out a happy sigh of relief; one-step closer to freedom. She tried to move slow, not jerky and frantic, so she'd be able to get the knife into her hand. The moment she felt the cool handle of her switchblade, she let out a quiet cry of triumph. Annie quickly wiggled her wrist around and, with some jerky maneuvering, she got the blade opened and started sawing away at the strap on her wrist. It took a few minutes, but the minute one wrist was free, she quickly undid the belt on the other. Her ankles were free next, her shoe was back on, and then she was at the door.

Annie cracked the door a fraction of an inch to check. At first, she didn't see anyone but approaching footsteps had her quickly shutting the door. She raced for the window and noted that night had fallen but, after trying to pry it open, she realized it had been nailed shut. A nice security measure she would have admired under different circumstances. Moving away from the window, lest someone see her, and backed against a wall. Switchblade in hand, ready to attack, she looked around the room for another exit – any exit! Her eyes finally settled on the grated vent near the ceiling. There wasn't time to consider any other option because there was no other option. Thankfully, it looked more than big enough to allow her room. Annie rushed to the door and pressed an ear against it, listening for any movement. Nothing.

Acting quickly, she grabbed the bed she'd been strapped to and moved it to the wall under the vent. After a bit of work using her blade to unscrew the vent, she was inside and crawling on her belly. She kept crawling and crawling, trying to be quick but quiet. Every vent she passed over, she peered inside to see if she could go in and make an escape. But every vent she passed belonged to someone. Sometimes there were just men, other times a couple, she even saw a kid in one. They were just people, normal people, talking about their day and what they'd do the next. Guard duty, supply run, teaching school, gardening, whatever. It was almost funny. They didn't look like psychopaths but, then again, no one ever did. So Annie kept moving until, at last, she found a vent that had no noise coming from it. She hovered a moment, waiting for some type of movement. When nothing happened, she set to work with her blade and unscrewing the vent.

Annie allowed herself to relax a little as she climbed into the room. It definitely belonged to someone but they weren't around, it seemed. She moved through the room and gaped as she spotted a familiar pack. Her pack. Moving quickly, she grabbed up her pack and did a quick search. Her first aid kit was gone, as was her food, but her some of her clothes were still there, as was her toothbrush. Her gun, rifle, the ammo, her knives, and Charlie's bat were also suspiciously absent. But Rick's badge, that was still there. Annie gripped it a moment, taking comfort in the cold steel. Instead of shoving the badge back into the pack, she put in her pocket; she wanted it close by. Annie looked around the room, trying to spot her weapons but they weren't in sight, which meant they were hidden. Unaware if someone was coming, if she'd have time to go hunting for them, she walked towards the door to check. It was going to be okay. She was going to make it out and be free soon. Soon enough, she'd be safe and sound.

"Hello, stranger."

Annie didn't even have a chance to react because the Governor's hand was instantly clasped around her neck. She tried to stab him but he grabbed her wrist and twisted it. The switchblade fell to the floor and her wrist screamed in agonizing pain. He clamped another hand around her mouth as he dragged her away from the door and kicked the door shut. She tried to kick and bite herself free, but his harsh grip only tightened and she found her vision going hazy. The moment she was able to breathe properly again was when he'd thrown her farther into the room – his room, she realized. She looked up to find him blocking the only exit, and he was on her before she could even form a thought of trying to attack him. She tried to throw a punch, but he grabbed her wrist, the same one he'd grabbed before, and twisted it again. She cried out as he maneuvered it around her back and started pushing her, forcing her to move. The moment he stopped, he slammed her hard down against a table. While she groaned and tried to gain her bearings, head swimming, he undid his belt. She tried to fight him off but he had her wrist wrapped up in the belt soon enough.

"Shhhh, it's all right," he cooed menacingly, smelling her hair. Annie's screams were masked by the hand he squeezed over her mouth. That was the first time he raped her.

A/N: I AM SO NOT EVEN SORRY TO END IT HERE BECAUSE I REFUSE TO WRITE OUT A RAPE! That said, I am sorry to write this bit and what lies ahead. But, not to worry, darlings, it won't last long. Sophie and I wanted to get through it as quickly and painlessly as possible.

And, yes, Charlie was based on the Lost character I loved, Charlie Pace. His last name, Littleton, came from his soul mate, Claire. And, yes, my Charlie and Claire are based on the Charlie and Claire from Lost, with some minor changes. And I am so sorry I killed him off! I really liked Charlie and I know a lot of you guys did, too but I needed a way to show Annie finding out about the "you still turn even if you weren't bit when you die" thing. Remember, Rick tells the others about what Jenner said the night after the farm falls. Annie had already left the group by then. She needed to discover it on her own. Sorry again you guys. But, be happy! We are one step closer to getting Annie back to her people!