A/N: What's up everyone. I got lost in life and forgot about this fic. Then, I remembered it. Now, I'm gonna continue writing it. XD I have a list of excuses but none of them matter, really. I screwed up, and got lost in life - now I'm back.

4: I Screwed It All Up

I didn't do it. I didn't do it.

Except I did.

I did.

I remember doing it.

Before I passed out - and thank God that Phil and Dana found me when they did (can't believe I just said that) - I remember the feeling.

Him pressing down on me. His nails digging into my forearms. I'm tryna shove him off. Josh just standing there - terrified. I close my eyes.

His teeth was sinking into my neck.

I had to do it.

I had to.

But it didn't make me feel any better.

I hadn't seen Josh since.

I was spending the last few days in Jackon's shitty excuse for a clinic. It was really just a hollowed out underground bunker, with most of the paneling and walls torn down and plastered over with some cheap foil. People took shifts making sure the area was sterile - well, at least as sterile as a post-apocalyptic clinic could be - so I probably wouldn't have to deal with a buncha crazy cannibal dickheads to get some antibiotics.

Lotta good that did.

"Found it."

I turn my head instinctively forward at the familiar voice.

"Took me a coupla days of sifting through your crap," Joel lets out, annoyed as he hands me the comic book. "But I eventually got a hold of it."

"Issue 31!" I emphasize, smiling broadly at the familiar cover. "This is my favorite, yanno?"

Joel just smiles, sitting down on a nearby chair as he tilts his head down, shaking his head.

I feel bad for him. After Phil and Dana found me nearly bleeding to death, they rushed me to Maria - who immediately panicked and sent me to the few people in Jackson who had some medical training. On the makeshift gurney ride into the clinic, I remember some faces - Tommy's, of course, Maria's - but not Josh's.

And of course - Joel.

He looked sunken in. His face was red and he was mumbling something. I didn't hear most of what he said - I mean I was bleeding out goddammnit - but I did catch a few words.

Baby girl.

No.

Not again.

Don't do this to me.

Please.

A bunch more too. What hurt me more was finding out that of the 60ish hours I'd been in bed, recovering from my wounds - Joel had pretty much stepped outside the bunker for just eight hours. Both times were because of patrols - something I could hear him screaming at Tommy about, while I pretended to be asleep. I was pretty sure he didn't even need to go on patrol, but maybe Maria forced him to go to clear his head.

The other 52 hours? Dead silence.

Sometimes I'd pipe up and speak. Then he'd get real close to the gurney and speak real soft and slow, like he was afraid he might say something that might stress me out and I dunno - gimme an aneurysm or something.

I don't like it when people obsess over me. I've had that my whole life.

"Go back home, old man," I wheeze out, itching at my neck plaster.

Joel just stares straight ahead in his green flannel shirt, looking at my white clinic gown.

"Jesus - at least bring a sleeping bag with you if you're gonna sleep here…" I groan, sighing to put a hand over my forehead.

"I've slept on worse," Joel lets out, moving the chair closer to lean an arm over the edge of the gurney. "Back in Boston… me and Tess had uh - "

"Tess and I," I correct snobbishly, turning my nose up.

"Well… her and I had a little cot made outta straw, believe it or not," he finishes.

"No shit?" I note, confused. "Damn - that's about the most Texas thing you've said to me in a while now."

"Heh, I suppose it is," Joel grumbled, looking back at me.

I chuckle, turning back to look up at the cracked, moldly ceiling.

"Deja vu, am I right?" I chuckle out. "This is the second time I'm wearing a clinic gown for no reason."

Shit. Why would I say that?

Joel turns his head down. I can't read his face.

"Yeah."

I stay silent too.

. . .

"Never thought it'd go this way?"

"Nah - always thought about it - just never figured it out, that's all."

Phil - crouched behind a small sofa cushion while his sister sat atop it - snorted. He wished Tommy had rationed them out some more clothes - the pair lived alone, and really split four pairs of clothing between them both. One had the blood from Ellie's "incident" still on it, so that wouldn't be usable anytime soon - especially since they didn't know if the blood was infectious to touch or not. The house they were in felt normal to them, at the very least - it was a cramped one bedroom studio essentially on the far end of Jackson, with rotten floors and cracked ceilings - but they did have their own secret store of water bottles, which the others hadn't caught up to yet.

"How the hell did he get infected?" Dana asked, long dirty blonde hair snapping up in annoyance. "Josh's dad was off patrol for - what must have been months."

"That dirtbag never even saw an Infected, let alone get bit by one," Phil jettisoned, standing up. "You think Josh brought it home to him?"

"How the hell could he have brought anything home?" Dana queried, annoyed. "You talkin' about spores?"

"Hell yes," Phil noted, shaking his head.

"I just told you he was off patrol for months, dumbass," Dana cried out, irritated. "Remember what Josh said? Old man's knee got all crapped out."

"Old bastard couldn't just go out peacefully," Phil growled. "Had to try to take some of us out in the process…"

"I still don't get why you brought up the spores," Dana asked.

"I dunno, maybe they're inside Josh's house," Phil noted. "Maybe Clay breathed some of it in without knowing and… well…"

Dana sighed. "How'd he manage to hide all the symptoms then?"

"We never saw him much, did we?" Phil emphasized. "The way I reckon - only Josh saw in the last few days. Didn't bring his ass to meetings neither."

Dana sighed. "That boy must be goin' thru hell right now."

A pause - not really out of affection for the dead man - Clay - but more grudging respect. Everybody in Jackson knew that Josh's father was a scumbag in every degree - he skipped out on patrols, hoarded foods, didn't play nice with others, and beat Josh damn near black and blue on so many occasions. Some folk thought his wife had left him years ago, but Josh said she actually had left him way before any of the outbreak nonsense even started. Even in a group of Infected… everybody still hated Clay more than any runner or clicker.

Phil snorted. "I shoulda just let the bitch die."

Dana laughed out loud. "And what? Watch Joel's raggedy ass come lookin' for us? No thank you…"

"I ain't scared of that old cat," Phil growled, small frame just wincing a bit as Dana nudged him playfully.

"You should be," Dana emphasized. "I heard that dude did a lot of sick shit back in the day."

"We all have," Phil countered.

"Yeah but he's more raw about it," Dana noted. "Seems like some days - if Ellie ain't safe, he might be willin' to go thru damn near anyone to make sure that bitch stays alive."

"That's weird as hell," Phil coughed, smiling. "I bet he hittin' that ass on the low, though."

Dana made a disgusted face, walking away as her brother relentlessly laughed behind her.

. . .

Bill was surprised at how good he was getting.

It felt natural and normal. Most of the squad were ambitious and driven, and took great pleasure in seeing the old man taken care of. Within just a few moments, they had pilfered all that was needed from his bunker, and taken most of the food and supplies in a second. Most of them seemed young - probably in their twenties, but they were so heavily stacked with armor that Bill wasn't sure how many boys and how many girls.

Not that it mattered right now.

The most mature among them - the lean guy named Owen - walked up to Bill, examining him closely as the men watched Bill's bunker get ransacked for food and supplies.

"We lost a quarter of our crew coming here," Owen snarled, examining Bill for any signs of spreading infection. "You proud of yourself?"

"Hell yes I am," Bill growled. "This city's a dead space. I was hoping the Infected woulda kept everyone out… except the most desperate ones."

"Which we were," Owen replied smoothly. "Some luck we had…"

"You oughta have turned around," Bill asked, gasping as his stump was weakly bandaged from one of Owen's crew. "Thanks for this, by the way."

Bill pointed with his stump at a small, half-eaten plate of French toast. "I didn't even know people made these anymore…"

"Don't flatter yourself," Owen replied. "They're old. And it wouldn't do ya much good… considering where you're headed."

Bill sighed, shaking. "Look, I just wanna know where y'all headed - that's all."

Owen sighed. "West Coast. Thinking we make a break for Cali."

Bill growled. "Cali? That state's crawling with Infected - the hell you'd go there for?"

Owen smiled. "Why don't ya leave that to me, alright?"

Bill crouched up, grasping his stump. "Well, on the way there - you mind dropping me off at Boston?"

Owen laughed heartily, confused. "Check it out everyone, ol' Bill here wants us to drop him off at Boston, on our way to Cali."

Owen's crew laughed amazingly, confused.

"It's on the way!" Bill denoted.

"No it ain't," Owen retaliated. "I think the spores finally getting to your head. Boston's the opposite end of where we're at right now."

"I know a smuggler there," Bill retorted. "Him and a girl he has. Names are Tess and Joel. They can - "

Owen stopped, raising a hand to quiet Bill.

He walked really close, pressing his face within a few inches of Bill's.

"Say those names again," Owen recalled.

Bill examined Owen's features, wary. He wasn't sure which of the names had set Owen off, but the man seemed perplexed, even anxious. His crew stood in place, ceasing the ransack to look at Bill and Owen with complete determination.

"My bad," Bill lied, thinking quickly. "I was thinking of my dad and mom, must be the spores. The smugglers' real names are - AGH!"

Owen savagely stomped on Bill's mangled stump, making the older man squeal in pain. The crew advanced, guns drawn squarely at Bill.

"Don't try and protect 'em," Owen snarled. "I heard what you said - everyone did!"

Owen stomped harder on the stump, forcing Bill to roar even more. He shoved a hand over the man's mouth.

"I knew it wasn't a coincidence we ran into here," Owen noted. "One of you, tell Abby to meet us up at Boston."

A/N

A short-ish chapter, but still quite good. Some notes:

[1] Bill's "mistake"

I'm assuming Bill made no effort to figure out what happened to Joel after he left his city, hence him still thinking Tess is alive and Joel is relatively in Boston. The real question is whether he will turn, and what will mean for the below...

[2] What will Abby and Owen do?

I am not sure where to take Abby and Owen's arc/crew yet. I am positive that they will have some degree of likely antagonism towards Joel and co., but I haven't decided how to explore it yet.

[3] Joel and Ellie

Joel and Ellie have another feel-good moment punctuated by some philosophizing by Ellie. :D

More to come (a new chapter in 2-3 weeks) - and again, greatest apologies for delaying this so long. I'm back and this fic is not dead. :D

~TW