I've really enjoyed rewatching FTWD lately, particularly S3 since Troy was such an interesting character that had so many complicated layers and I thought his relationship with Nick could have been explored so much more.

Anyway, this may not go anywhere, but here's a one-shot or chapter one of a short fic for anyone that may be interested. The dark theme of this story will grow if more chapters are added.

THESE ARE THE WARNINGS ON THE AO3 POSTING. READ THEM BECAUSE THE DARK THEMES WILL BEGIN AFTER THIS CHAPTER: DUBIOUS CONSENT, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, EXPLICIT LANGUAGE AND SEXUAL CONTENT, TOUCH-STARVED, NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING, CAPTIVITY, IMPRISONMENT, SUBMISSION, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, NON-CON ELEMENTS, ROUGH KISSING, DUBCON KISSING, DUBCON CUDDLING

I may end up continuing only on the AO3 posting once things become a bit darker. My name on there is also Mikki19 :)

Song inspiration for the story: Plastic Heart by Ciscandra Nostalghia

This wasn't how it was meant to happen.

All of this trouble over some half-rotten fucking apples.

She'd been minding her own business, her hunger leading her to not take full account of her surroundings as she came across the nearly dead fruit tree. Flies buzzed around the apples that had dropped to the floor long ago, but she noticed 3 overly ripened orbs clinging for life on one of the higher branches. Given how she'd been unable to forage much lately, she was willing to try and take whatever bits of the apples were left.

Her nearly empty bag dropped to the ground as she carefully put one foot in a groove of the tree and hoisted herself up. Her vision was blurry and her head ached, but getting the browning fruits above remained her goal. With shaky limbs she scaled the tree until she could stretch up and touch the apples with her fingertips. She let out a groan of pain as she gave one last stretch and grabbed the branch that held her prize; a small shake had the little round globes dropping to the ground with a squelch making her grimace. Beggars can't be choosers, she reminded herself.

She hadn't been expecting to hear the rumble of an engine or the large soldiers that slowly sauntered out of the truck. She'd frozen like a cat being caught climbing something they shouldn't have as one stepped forward. His brown curls and bright eyes gave the impression of innocence, but the shadow of calculation overcoming his face made her realise how fucked she was.

Harper unsteadily slid down the tree and noticed how her bag – that had very little inside it apart from an empty bottle, a Swiss Army knife, a torn and distressed picture of her brother, and the collar of her dog that had defended her until the end – was closer to the man than to her. With a sharklike smile he picked up the bag and threw it behind him for one of his friends to rifle through and cocked his head to the side in wonder as to what her next move would be.

She heard him laugh as she dived behind the tree and ran as fast as she could to the building nearby. A loud scream left her as a corpse immediately launched itself at her as she burst through the door; its teeth were so close to her that she could feel a few strands of hair be ripped from her scalp as it snapped its jaws. She kept an arm pushing across its chest as she frantically ripped her pocketknife from her boot, flipped it open and sent the blade through the walker's skull. The body dropped to the filthy floor, sending a cloud of grey dust into the air that made her choke. Harper turned her head and saw the soldier slowly making his way to the building she'd just entered.

So, here she was. Trapped like a mouse as the cat prowled around looking for its next meal. She slowed her breathing as much as she could and huddled under the abandoned desk; her hand held a strong grip on the knife but she could already feel her body shaking in exhaustion. She hadn't eaten properly or slept more than a few hours for days since her camp got overrun by a hoard of the dead. She wasn't ready for a fight. She knew that this was only going to go one way judging by the firepower that these men had and how clean and well-fed they looked. With any luck she could lose or injure the guy in the building and run out through a back exit.

"You know, I don't want to hurt you. People always look at me like a monster, but I'm not. If you come out, there doesn't have to be a struggle." Harper could hear him in the corridor outside of the abandoned office she'd dived into. The way he sounded so chilled, almost bored or uninterested, made her want to deliver a swift kick to his smug face.

She'd always been a fighter. When the kid in 9th grade pushed her to the floor and laughed, she'd got up just as quick and head-butted him without a thought. When Sophia had looked at her brown curls with a sneer, she'd quickly pulled on the blonde locks until the girl begged for mercy. Of course, her spitfire nature came with consequences. She'd found that out pretty quick when her father started to use a firmer, more brutal hand in order to get her to comply, and her mother had pulled her out of school and begun to slip light sedatives in her food. They were afraid of her, she knew that. They were afraid she'd inherited that rage that had sent her grandmother into a mental hospital at the age of 39 until she died in a medication induced coma at 46. It wasn't until her brother died when she was 18 that things began to change. Her fire had been reduced to nothing and she walked around the house like one of the dead even before they'd started to rise. Malachi had been her rock. He'd been the only one to believe in her and used that anger that burned within her belly to train her how to wrestle. She soon grew hungry for the sport and had aspired to join the independent wrestling scene as soon as she could break away from her parents. Malachi's death had changed all of that though. The once bright-eyed girl had been reduced to a withered husk. The fire within had been extinguished and the thought of fighting made her feel nauseous. Her parents had been quite relieved; they'd have rather have her broken than be the monster they were sure she'd have turned into. From then on she'd been a shadow of her former self; she spent most of her days sleeping or pretending to listen to her mother prattle on about one thing or another whilst her father went to work.

She could feel that familiar ache in her chest. She wanted to get up and fight, but her legs felt like jelly and her head was about ready to explode. So, she waited. Her eyes clenched shut as the door to the office slowly closed. She heard the thud of a gun being put on the table near the door and the heavy footsteps of army boots make their way across the room.

"I know you're under there." A squeak left her mouth as two large hands slammed down on top of the desk. "Won't you come out? You don't even know what I have to offer to you. Those apples you were so desperately reaching for? I can give you a whole basket full… if you just come out." He made it sound so goddamn easy and simple. "I said: come out!" The sudden anger in his voice made her gulp and slowly stand. Her green eyes met his; despite the anger that had been in his voice, his face was blank as he drank the sight of her in.

Her cropped top was torn and covered in blood, her shorts were dirty and her boots were worn. She was clinging to life by a thread and they both knew it. Her 5'7" stature was dwarfed by his large 6'1" body. He could tell she had been quite fit and muscular before all of this, but poor nutrition had left her looking withered and underdeveloped. He could easily see her ribs and hipbones from where she stood. She was completely filthy and he noted bruises and scratches on her legs from where she had been running wild for who knows how long. It was her eyes that got him the most; he'd seen those eyes before, he saw that same determination and anger every time he looked at his own reflection. She didn't want to give up, but she was so tired. Her body wobbled in place and she sucked her chapped bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep the sob that was building at bay.

"Come here." When she made no effort to move Troy quickly reached forwards, grabbed her by the neck and lifted her over the desk so that she was in front of him. He laughed as his free hand quickly caught her wrist as she sluggishly tried to get him with her knife. "Drop it." Troy murmured softly.

"No." Her voice cracked from lack of use. "No." A heavy sigh left his mouth before he tightened his grip until he could feel her ligaments and bones creak under his grasp. "Agh!" Her other hand came to claw at his fingers desperately as she felt like her wrist would break.

"Drop. It." He hissed with no intention of loosening his hold until she complied like a good girl. The knife fell with a clatter as she swallowed down her pride and submitted. Immediately his once vicelike grip turned into a soft hold and he allowed his thumb to carefully rub the already bruising skin. "Do you see what you made me do?" He spoke like he was talking to a child. "I'm not a bad person. You just need to listen to me." Troy watched as her face crumpled and she stared at her feet. He was so used to looking at people like an experiment that he was shocked to find his mind wasn't trying to work out how long it would take this weakened girl to turn. He looked at her in wonder instead. He could tell that she was broken inside. It was easy to see as the swell of defiance was in her gaze but it was overpowered by the lost look. She needed someone to lead her. She needed direction… purpose… He'd give it to her. He could see her at the ranch with him. She'd be in the living area waiting for him to return from a hunt with a smile on her face and no shoes on her feet. She wouldn't need shoes; shoes were only necessary for people going outside. He was all she would need. She would be his.

Harper carefully looked up at the soldier and blinked as she saw the concentration in them. "Who are you?"

"My name is Troy. Yours?"

"H-Harper."

"Where are you from?"

"England… originally. We moved to the States after my brother died… too many memories at home."

"How'd your brother die? Was he sick?" His head snapped to the side as her hand came up and connected with his cheek. Harper was breathless from the exertion but the carelessness in which he talked about her brother made her blood boil. Malachi was a subject not meant to be touched. "Hm… wrong move." Troy's grip tightened once again on her wrist as he spun her around, pushed her front onto the desk and pulled her limb until an aching pain grew in her shoulder from the angle. He used his own body to hover over her so that she couldn't straighten up. "Apologise." He wedged his legs between hers as she started to flail and kick out in order to avoid the low blow that she was aiming to deliver; his hips stayed firm against the back of her thighs despite the movements she was making. A deep groan left his mouth as her actions awakened the primal urge within him that told him to claim her. Harper suddenly stilled as she felt a heavy, hard length begin to grow against her ass. "Apologise." He simply repeated, suddenly breathless as his body buzzed from the stimulation. He wasn't used to this reaction. Sure, he could see pretty girls from those that would probably be a last pick, but he'd never felt this need to claim before. He'd had sex before, meaningless and ultimately disappointing sex with girls that had wanted to get closer to his perfect brother or had wanted a better standing within the ranch and chosen the somewhat vulnerable youngest Otto to try and make that happen, but this felt like more than just an urge to find his way into the warmth between her legs. This felt like something he needed; like the blood in his veins and the air that he breathed. She felt like a piece of the puzzle that would fit perfectly into place and make him feel that little bit more whole.

Harper could feel his hot breath shakily release against the back of her head and shuddered. "I- I am sorry." She whispered gently in an attempt to appease the unpredictable man behind her. She felt him slowly release her wrist but he made no motion to move away from her. Her back tensed as his hands slowly went to her sides and gripped her hips. He stayed still for a moment, almost as though he was using his hold on her body to ground himself, before stepping back with a low chuckle.

"Good girl. You're learning already." Troy leant down and grabbed her knife, a knowing look in his eye as he pocketed it for himself before pulling something else out of his jacket. A thin strip of plastic was in his grasp. "Put your wrists out and together." Harper exhaled as she looked at the cable tie. Exhaustion was defeating her and he'd taken what little energy she had left. Her body was propped up by the table behind her and she knew if she stepped away then her legs were likely to collapse.

"Where are you going to take me?" She asked softly understanding that she had no way out of this in her current state.

"Back to base. It's safe there." Troy stated proudly as though he was saving her and not taking her against her will. "Do you understand? I'm going to keep you safe. I'll feed you and get you clean so I can see exactly what is under all of this filth." Harper's mouth watered at the thought of food and a shower. Her basic human needs screamed at her to obey as she shakily held out her hands to him. He carefully looped the plastic around her wrists and tightened it until she winced; only stopping when her eyes looked into his pleading for some form of mercy. "Are you thankful?" Harper gave a shaky nod under his intense stare that seemed to strip her naked and glare into her soul. "Use your words."

Harper swallowed down her bile as he raised his brow expectantly. "Yes… thank you, Troy." His grin was the last thing she saw before her body finally gave up and she dropped to the cold ground unconscious.

You look for me
Inside the dark
I am the ocean
You are the shark
You hunt me like
Your last goodbye
Oh fallen angel
Of the night