A Yellow Dress Forgotten

by VoltageStone

When Clementine was plunged into the age of walkers, muertos, monsters...she quickly learned what it meant to survive. Fight. Kill. Drink. Forget. Leave the past that haunted her. Leave a yellow dress forgotten. [Violetine/Violentine; Mature Content; Minor Canon Divergence (Seasons 3-4); Alcoholism] !On hiatus. A remastered version in the works!

2. Ep2 - Dragon's Breath

[First Draft] January 8th, 2020
[Second Draft, First Edit] April 4th, 2020
[Final Draft, Second Edit] November 28th, 2020
[Final Edit] January 31st, 2021
[Final Polish] March 21st, 2021

[28,885 words]

Hope you enjoy!

:)

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- A Yellow Dress Forgotten -

. . Episode 2: Dragon's Breath . .

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"Whoever fights monsters
should see to it that in that process
he does not become a monster..."

~Friedrich Nietzsche

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[1 1/2 Years Later]

Stealing the medicine she was promised was the only thing Clementine knew that would save his life. Especially since in that camp, in the middle of the woods, there was nothing else.

It really shouldn't have surprised her that, in a matter of minutes, she'd be surrounded. Her eyes darted across the group of people. Several large men with guns. Ava, who crossed her arms and fiercely watched Clementine, disappointment seared in her eyes. Dr. Lingard, who was still very hungover from his high.

And David. The one who promised that he'd do anything in his power to help her. Now?

She stood in the center, beside the fire of their camp and surrounded by tents and soldiers. David's. Soldiers. All of whom with glares that didn't leave her. She was just a juvenile brat.Didn't know a damn thing. Got in their way. Wielded a sore attitude and sharp tongue. In short, juvenile brat who didn't know a lick about survival.

But Clementine begged to differ. With A.J—her baby—in her arms, she snarled: "You can't be doing this! A.J needed that medicine! He would've died!"

"You just cost us another man!" David snapped back. "Down the road when one of us gets hurt, what's going to help the people who are capable?!"

The doctor stepped in. He held out his hand gently, with the same energy as some fucking martyr. "And in any case, Clementine," he drawled languidly, "that one syringe isn't going to do much. It's just going to buy him some time. That's it."

"It was a waste," David added in an undertone.

"'A was—'" Clementine scowled and shook her head. "No! I would do it again if I had to! You can't sit there and tell me it was a waste because— Hey! Hey! LET GO OF HIM!" The baby was torn from her grasp. "You... You can't fuckin—!"

"You know what we do to those who betray us," David snarled. "You know what must be done. You're not welcome here any longer."

Clementine clenched her fist and hissed, "Fine. Fine. I don't need you anyway. Just give me back—"

David blocked her. "No. You alone."

Clementine stammered, and her boiling blood turned to ice.

She looked to Ava for help. Somewhat guiltily, David's right-hand woman obliged: "Come on, David. Just, just let her say goodbye."

Clementine locked her jaw. The fury, she swallowed it down and sighed. She hesitated for a moment, managing the inferno in her eyes, before she stepped forward. Clementine walked to A.J and cupped his cheek. "A.J..." she whispered, pecking his forehead, "be good while I'm gone, okay?" A.J whined and grasped the air for her.

Clementine turned herself away, guided by David into the woods. She didn't turn back around to look at her little boy. Clementine knew she'd do something out of her desperation if she did. Something that the buzz in her system would enjoy. Something that the weight latched on her hip would fuel.

At a clearing, some distance from the circle of people who gradually disbanded, A.J's cries still pierced through the air. David said, jaw firm as he ignored the baby, "We will make sure he won't suffer, Clementine."

"Fuck you..." she whined.

"Clementine."

Clementine sneered, twisting around. Her tone hardened itself, reinforcing the whine into a snarl: "Fuck. You." She thrusted her hand towards the camp. "He would have made it if you had given him medication sooner! You said I could be your fucking runner for a few nights!"

"We needed that—"

"IT'S BEEN WEEKS!" she bellowed.

"Do not yell at me! I'm the reason why you were welcomed here!"

Clementine shook her head with a livid grin. "No. No, Ava was. Not you." A scowl. "Cuckhold." She turned away, knife in one hand and a maroon, leather-clad flask in the other. Her shoulder began to ache at the thought of—

She held it with a tight grip, suppressing the dreary ache.

But it was no use. Alvin Junior. He— He was dead. There wasn't anything she could do, and now…

Clementine hissed and wiped her eyes, her back to the man—the monster, she decided in that moment—who kept her from A.J's last moments. A malicious pain ached the scar from the bullet shot a lifetime ago, and white noise began to cloud her consciousness. Her grip tightened around the flask as she unscrewed it, eager for the whiskey that would fizzle the pain away and feed the white noise to consume everything.

As she drank, David hissed, "I would've stepped in if it weren't for that devil's drink." Like a cobra, Clementine's head darted towards him, and all he saw was her alcoholic venom striking his eyes. David roared, pressing hard against them. "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" His eyes stung a violent red as he glared at her. "AFTER ALL I DID FOR YOU, YOU'RE JUST ANOTHER BRAT?!"

He swung at her blindly, only to receive a drunken clobber to the center of his face. David grunted, pinching the swelling bridge of his nose. "Fuch... You budch!" he gruffly snarled.

Clementine rubbed the raw knuckles along her right hand, which still held the flask tightly. Lowly, she hissed, "You're going to get what's coming to you." Branches snapped and bushes rustled. Urgently, Clementine snapped her head up. Three shadows were brisk to emerge from the trees, armed and loaded. Scowling, Clementine started backwards before bolting, and she snaked behind the dark cover of brush as Ava and two men rushed to David's side.

Ava's eyes were wide at the sight of David's face. "The fuck she do now?!" she hissed, and she gripped the back of her shaved head with a sharp breath. "CLEMENTINE! CLEMENTINE, YOU HAVE TO ANSWER TO THIS!" she howled into the trees.

But it was no use.

Ava knew that damn girl wouldn't respond. All the same, her chest ached for A.J, and Clementine. Her...friend. Ava's heart plummeted. "God, Clementine... Why can't you ever make things easy...?" Perhaps an ex-friend now. One-sided. Clementine would always be the most stubborn force Ava had ever met—a bull, ox and donkey combined.

As David was supported, flanked by two hefty men who stumbled back towards the camp, Ava was the only one left to linger in the clearing. She watched the trees for a moment, hoping to catch another silhouette. One with a baseball cap.

And of course, there wasn't a chance.

[1/2 Year Later]

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

There was always a constant buzz that ran through her system. Daily. Nightly. Weekly. Monthly.

She might've not been completely sober, but Clementine felt strong with every breath she took.

The contract. It ran strong through her blood, weaving the stiches of her flesh to craft a formidable armor.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Enough to kick down a maple tree by whacking its trunk—after she accidentally broke the fucking axe.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

With every slam of her boot, the rotting tree trembled.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

"Come on," Clementine hissed. She spared a glance towards the incoming semi. Its engine's roar was quite loud by that point, and Clementine swore she could smell the diesel gas from where she was. She had seen the headlights from down the road, around another pass. Which was only a few minutes ago. And she didn't have a few minutes now.

In short, Clementine had to be quick.

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

That last kick had been particularly forceful, enough to send a spike of pain up her boot. But it didn't matter. She had to be quick. Much, much quicker. "Come on!"

THUMP! THUMP! THU—!

The tree gave way, finally having enough with Clementine's unaccommodating kicks. She proved herself to be a force of nature, and a rather destructive one at that. And the semi's scream of breaks sent the crows flying out of the trees behind her, just as Clementine schemed.

Her scheme unfolded itself in a singular, rather cataclysmic, moment.

The truck rammed itself into the fallen tree until it was a wrangled mess. She didn't know if it was ever a beautiful thing, but from the way the shattered glass littered the road with bent metal and splintered pieces, she knew it wasn't a good fit now.

"Good fucking job, Clementine," she grouched. "The hell does it take to get a ride in one piece?!" she added in a low hiss, jerking the shotgun in her arms in frustration. For a split moment, Clementine considered shooting another few rounds into the already-plundered walker beside her. Maybe a clip. She had a considerable amount of those…

However, a rough kick sufficed. She glared at the rotted skull that concaved easily underneath her heel.

Regardless of her irritation's outlet, she was glad she didn't shoot. Clementine ducked down and kept quiet as two men stumbled out of the truck—shaken, but unharmed. She frowned and studied them. One of the men ran up large rocks across the way, and he turned around to the other's shout, hands raised. And the other (he wore a stained baseball jersey by the looks of it) was bound by his hands, a gun within them pointed at the rocks. A few dreadful seconds went by without gunfire.

Clementine smiled.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all…

She crept around her hiding spot and held her shotgun tightly. As the man in the jersey sighed in defeat, having let the other guy go, Clementine held up the barrel to the small of his back. "Fuck..." he muttered. Clementine wondered if he was a wimp. "Yeah, alright," he then added quietly, dropping his weapon.

Well holy shit… I didn't even have to ask.

Clementine decided that this man was a wimp.

"That's good. Now keep your head pointed that way," Clementine snapped. She snatched the free Glock on the ground and pocketed it. "Now don't move, or I will shoot."

"I—"

"Unlike you, I'm not as nice. I wouldn't hesitate. Got it?"

"I— Yes, I surrender, okay?"

Clementine sighed. "I know you have." Wimp. "Couldn't shoot him, could you?" She began to search his small bag.

"He did nothing to me, okay?"

"No, no," she answered lazily, "I get it." Clementine pulled out a protein bar. "You're a good person and all that." Another smile stretched across her lips as she held a fat bar of chocolate for the first time in years. Or months. Weeks? No, no—months. It certainly felt like yea—

"Hey, hey, not that!" Clementine snapped her attention back up to him. The man abruptly pleaded, eyes wide and over his shoulder, "Please, it— It's for my niece. It's all she wants whenever we search for things. She loves chocolate more than anything... It's for her!"

Shit.

Strangers weren't meant to make Clementine feel guilty. They were supposed to be quiet, or dead. Or quiet and dead.

Begrudgingly, she slot it back into his pocket. "You stay there," she ordered. The man frowned, and his head swiveled to finally get a good look at her. And she ignored him, because anything that wasn't quiet and dead was the bane of her existence.

"You're a kid," he breathed. "And…small."

Her pause was slight, and she debated glaring at him. Though, with an eyeroll, she strode away and instead meandered around the truck. Wearing a scowl, she observed the damage she caused. "Shit..." Clementine hissed.

"Wait." The man, who definitely didn't listen to her, stood by the hood of the truck with a meek expression—right beside her. Holy fuck, Clementine had never met a more annoying wimp. "Were you the one behind the tree?!"

Oh…my god.

Moderately indifferent with a hint of step-the-fuck-back, she bluntly answered, "Yeah." Clementine clambered into the truck through the driver's side and found an apple. Immediately, she bit into it as her eyes scanned the rest. Nothing of value. (Though, an apple as fresh as this one was worth the hassle, she concluded.)

Clementine paused in the seat for a moment, eating a few bites. This was a very good apple. If she was alone, Clementine would've allowed herself to drool all over just for the satisfaction. Though because the annoying wimp was still watching her, as she munched, Clementine grumbled, "I was tryin' to stop it."

"Well...you certainly did that."

"Oh, shut up." Clementine stood in front of him and looked straight into his eyes. He grew quiet (finally).

The man blinked, rather perplexed by the hazel in her eyes, and Clementine only scowled and shrugged him off. She didn't care about how the man expected that look—the one of grit and fire—to come from an adult, and not a kid. And even then, not many adults could carry the grit and fire she brandished.

"Anyway," she growled, "looks like we're done here. So go close your eyes and count to a hundred—"

"Wait no! Please, my family's out there. I just need to know where I am," he said, his hands thrusted forward in urgency. "We were driving down the five-twenty-two and went to this junkyard. We were attacked, and they're still there!"

Clementine watched him thoughtfully. "You...drove?"

"Uh, yes, in our van."

This might still work out for her… She ate the last of the apple and threw the core away, then wiped her mouth. "I know where that is. I can help if you hand over that van in return."

"The..." The man fell silent, debating. He pursed his lips, pulling his soft, flaky beard with them. "Okay, fine, just...as long as they're safe. You have a deal."

She jerked her chin. "This way then." Obediently, he walked forward with Clementine right behind him. For a few minutes, she was able to get some rest from the talking. She lazily held the shotgun in one hand as she fished for her side. With her eyes kept on the weird man, she sipped a little whiskey from the flask, refueling her buzz.

The man stumbled to the side as a walker popped out from the bushes. Even his yelp of surprise was wimpy. Casually, Clementine shoved the closed flask into his hands. "Hold that." With a long knife in her tight grasp, she booted the walker in the knee and felt the blade slice into its head. Satisfied, she tucked the knife away and snatched back the flask. He kept walking ahead once she nodded, stashing the drink.

"You're really good at that," he commented, dismissing the flask entirely. Clementine frowned and kept quiet; how was a hostage-turned-bound-wimp-in-need complimenting her anyway? "Fine, you don't want to talk. But can I at least have my gun back?"

"Look. I don't know you. I don't trust you. And I'm not taking any chances."

"What?" The man raised his hands as he shrugged. "Can't I have a little chat...and my gun?"

"No."

"What?!"

Clementine rolled her eyes. "No!"

"What's with you? We can help each other, and I won't shoot. I promise. You don't have to be this lone wolf, you know."

"I've been handling myself pretty well for a while now," she retorted, "so I don't need your help."

The man frowned to himself. "That's not a good life to live. Robbing people? I don't care if there's those things walking around." Clementine worked her jaw. Now she was being chided. Great. "But I got that you don't need help. I'm the one who needs it." She felt another guilty itch nestle deep into her chest. He turned his head, barely looking over his shoulder. Clementine moved away from his searching eyes, the bill of her cap shielding her eyes of hellfire.

"And...I'm Javier, by the way. People call me Javi, though."

Shit. Shit. She wrestled with herself for a long second. "Clementine," she answered quietly, her gaze still lowered.

Javier seemed almost taken aback. "That's, ah, a cool name, Clementine. It...suits you."

Clementine frowned. "No it doesn't. Now quit trying to kiss ass, I'm not getting you out of that yet—" From around the bend, both heard the groans of dozens of walkers. "Shit."

They ducked behind a few bushes by another set of large rocks. She looked over them and groaned. The man, Javier, gave a worried sigh himself. "What? Is that— Oh, no, that's the herd that we ran into earlier."

"Come on." Javier followed Clementine towards the rocks, a temporary safe haven as she scoped out the area. His eyes followed hers, and he found what seemed to be a huge fortress with high walls, and lights—actual, powered, lights—around the edges. To his unasked question, Clementine murmured, "It's Prescott... We're going to have to stay there for a while until it clears out enough."

"I... Dammit." He glared at the gates, clustered with rotting corpses. "The muertos..."

"What?"

"Muertos." Javier looked at Clementine. "What do you call them?"

"Walkers."

"And the ones that run?"

Clementine stared at him, irritated. "They're just fucking walkers, okay?!" He chuckled. "What?!"

"Nothing." She shook her head and released a long breath. "You haven't talked to another person in a while, have you? Like…an actual conversation."

"...what's that got to do with anything?"

"Oh, you know," he muttered, "it's obvious, especially since I still-can't-move-my-fuckin'-hands." Javier stretched them towards her. "Come on, please, Clementine, I know you have a heart in there somewhere!"

"We just met!"

"Get me out!"

Clementine stood up, holding her knife. "I am, okay?! And holy shit, keep your voice down!" With his binds torn away, Javier grinned. Clementine forced his pistol in his hands. "Now come on, we need to move." Javier nodded and followed suit. Their first few strides were careful, yet punctuated. Their eyes followed the horde by the gate, splayed across the stretch of land.

And then, at the foot of the white light, they saw the gate shudder. Clementine lurched forward with springs at her heels. "Get to the it! It's closing, Javi!" she yelled. Javier sprinted after Clementine, blinking in the bright light. She cleared their path with the spray of her shotgun, unfazed by the recoil. As they charged towards the gate, it closed at their feet.

Fucking. Great.

"Come on, open up!" she bellowed, slamming her fists against the monstrous metal doors.

"Yeah, come on! We're stuck out here!" Javier twisted around, gun poised. He never thought he'd be between muertos and the walls of a compound—a rock and a hard place would've been easier, he thought. The muerto he aimed for was shot square in the forehead, and then the one right behind it.

Clementine and Javier looked up briefly once a shadow flickered the white light. "You'll have to clear them off! There's too many, and I can't risk it!" a man shouted down, his shadow surrounded by the blinding haze.

Javier nodded, firing away. Clementine's shotgun howled as she knocked their heads off of their shoulders; Javier was impressed she wasn't flung back by the force of that thing. Meanwhile, Clementine wasn't impressed by its lack of bullets, so she chucked it to the side and pulled out her pistol. She pulled the trigger, and the gun barely spat air at the incoming walker.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?!

"Fuck, these bullets won't fire!" she hissed, more outraged than panicked.

She grunted as the walker closed in on her, holding its head and shoulders far away from her face. Javier was quick to shoot it in the shoulder, enabling Clementine to send it to the ground and stomp its head in. Both were ecstatic when the gate creaked open behind them, the man firing from inside. He shouted for them to move in the midst of all the gunfire and groans of walkers.

Eager, Clementine and Javier both rushed inside (not before the former could snatch back the shotgun), being nearly trampled by what turned out to be a rider on a horse (they had only seen a flash of brown).

"God dammit, Francine!" the man snapped. The woman on the horse (most definitely the flash of brown) slowed to a halt and eyed him with a mischievous glint. "One of these days, the gates are going to close, and you'll be on the other side!"

"And when that happens, you're the first one I'm going to bite," she promised with a wave of her hand.

The man shook his head, folding his arms across his broad shoulders. "Anyway, Clementine right?" he asked, turning around. He was intimidating enough with his strong jaw and intense eyes, which had Javier more nervous of Clementine who stood toe-to-toe to the man—as if she was twice his size and not…small. "You stayin' here for long?"

"No," she answered, jerking her chin towards Javier. "I have to drop him off this junkyard. We're leaving once the walkers clear."

"Yeah," Javier said, worry in his voice, "my family's stuck there with really bad people."

The man looked at him, sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that. The herd came in an hour or two ago out of nowhere. I'm thinkin' they might clear by the time it's morning." He unfolded his arms and set his hands on his hips. "I'm Tripp, by the way, and you're all welcome here as long as the two of you stay out of trouble. We're not too gentle with the ones who do."

Javier raised his hands. "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

Clementine rolled her eyes as Tripp turned his attention to her. "You know the score 'round here, Clementine. Don't make me want to pick you up and throw you the fuck out, or I'll pick you up and throw you the fuck out. My boots weigh more than you."

"I got it," Clementine answered.

"Well then, go and do whatever. I got shit to do," Tripp said, leaving their side.

Clementine sighed and looked to Javier. "Well, welcome to Prescott." As the secondary gates opened, they strolled through. "It's actually a cool place—built on an air strip I think." And indeed it was. Everywhere Javier looked, there were soft lights hung around, metal sheets and wood fashioned into small buildings, and towering structures that he assumed were used before the days of the muertos. "The people though...not so much." Javier's eyes wandered, catching sight of many shrouded figures who lurked in the shadows. He shivered. Though, as Javier heard the gate close, he turned around. Clementine watched him softly. "Um...what's wrong, Javi?"

"Oh...it's just... My family. They're still out there, you know?"

She shifted in place somewhat guiltily; it wasn't like she knew how to approach this. "W-Well, I mean, if they survived for this long, they know how to keep themselves safe, right?"

"Yeah, I hope so."

Clementine stood while Javier slowly turned back around, his eyes kept to the dirt. "How about a drink, then? There's a bar, and I need to see someone in there about some bullets anyway," she offered, the last fraction of her sentence low.

Javier nodded and followed. Like the majority of the other buildings, it was fashioned from an aircraft—this one a carrier, by the size of it. Or one of the ones pilots used for fuel during flight. And, immediately, when he set foot in the bar, Javier felt himself go back in time. "Whoa... I haven't been in a place like this since...before everything."

"Yeah, it's usually quiet whenever I do some business here. I never stay in Prescott for long, though."

Javier and Clementine both rested their arms against the bar, bathed in the multi-colored lights that hung around, releasing a sigh in unison. They grabbed a shot from the small platter between them (marked with a Free! sign posted in the middle by a wooden stick). "For not dying?"

Clementine paused, having almost drained it. She nodded, and their glasses clinked. The pair mirrored one another, wolfing the shot down for all it was worth. Both grimaced—Clementine's expression being far more animated. Javier laughed softly as she set the shot glass down and wheezed, pushing away from the bar and coughing to the floor. "Yeah," he murmured, "that's not water there."

Clementine half-heartedly glared at him, her arms still stretched between her shoulders and the counter. "I know... It was disgusting. That's it."

"Sure," Javier teased.

Heartful chuckles came from the side. Both turned to the bar tender who held a handful of cards over the counter with the woman from before—Francine, Javier believed; instead of the youthful jeer she wore at the gate, Francine was wearing a concentrated furrowed brow as she stared at her hand. "Yeah, there's a reason why they're all grape, Clementine," he said, leaning against his palm casually. "It's supposed to be pest repellant."

Clementine rolled her eyes lazily and sipped on her flask before stashing it away, out of sight. "Yeah, whatever," she mumbled, waving her hand dismissively. Clementine stood upright and said to Javier, "Enjoy making new friends. I have something to do."

As she left his side, the bar tender continued: "Yeah, she actually handles her drink well, I tell you. Hell, Clementine even has an eye for them."

Javier looked over his shoulder towards where he heard clips of her voice with another man. From what he could tell, they didn't sound like friends. "So...the flask?"

The bar tender shrugged. "Oh, it's filled with something. I don't know what it is," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if it gave her the short fuse she has."

Javier grumbled to himself quietly: "'Definitely not water,' huh."

Francine hissed, eyes narrowed at the cards she held. "Yeah," she agreed pointedly, "most of the drinks here are either made—they're...not that great to be honest."

"It's a process," the bar tender said with a shrug.

"You can say that all you want, Conrad, but they ain't ever gonna be good."

"Oh shut your mouth and just play your hand already."

Ignoring him, she continued and said, "Anyway, she sometimes gathers supplies to trade with us here, and I swear, she would be a damn good resource for the booze here if she didn't drink it all."

Javier—who, by this point, very much so understood that Clementine definitely knew what vodka was before drinking it—was surprised. "How? She can't be much older than my nephew! He barely knows anything about the stuff." Then again, Gabe knew far more about weed than any alcohol. Javier didn't mention that. The couple (and Javier assumed so based on the look they shared) shrugged. "How much does she drink, exactly?"

"For all we know," Conrad said, "you talk to her, and she might not be completely sober."

"La hostia..." Javier jumped slightly as the woman elbowed him.

"Hey," Francine whispered, "what do you think?" She showed him the cards. "Think I should raise?"

"Good lord, Francine! First you take ten minutes debating on one move, and now you're asking for help?!" Conrad asked with a gleeful smile. He was going to win, for sure.

Javier shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't gamble anymore..."

Francine hummed as Conrad watched him carefully. "Now, I thought I recognized you. Javier García, am I right? I'm sorry about that lifetime ban. Overkill for having a little fun. Shouldn't have ruined your twenty-year career."

Javier shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah...I mean..." He shrugged. "It's not like that shit matters anymore."

"You got that right."

Francine smiled to herself and giggled. The two men rose a brow each. "Well then, I think you're bullshitting. Put down your cards." Begrudgingly, he did with hers set on the table.

"God dammit," he grumbled as Francine cheered. "I'm gonna run out of business at this rate!"

"Oh like anybody cares about money anymore," she laughed. "And besides, Clementine and I are the most business you got."

In the distance, a voice rose: "Don't turn away from me, I'm talking to you!"

"Speaking of the devil," Francine murmured.

"Ah shit." Javier muttered, "I'll be back."

He found them within a small, cozy room inside what looked like a small plane's shell, coated with more of the multi-colored lights. As he walked over, Javier heard more of the argument: "Look, missy. A deal is a deal, alright? You gave me batteries, and I gave you bullets. Simple as that."

"What's going on here?" Javier asked, looking between Clementine and the balding man in a velvet armchair.

Clementine's glare that pointed at the man was one of ferocity. Her fists clenched. "He ripped me off! I traded him perfectly good batteries for bullets that won't fire! He could have gotten us killed!"

Javier folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. The man continued to lounge. His eyes drawled towards Javier. "What, you her body-guard or some shit?"

As an answer, he shrugged and said, "She doesn't really need one."

"Come on, just give me what I'm owed!"

"Look, I already told you, it's a no."

He went silent once Clementine pulled out her gun. "Whoa, Clem... Take it easy."

"Look at him, he's not even nervous!" Clementine snapped. The man blinked and sighed, leaned against his palm. She pulled the trigger; once again, the gun failed. The man stared at her, now definitely nervous. He swallowed as beads of sweat began to pool across his glossy head. "He knows they don't fire!"

The man huffed, through with her.

He got to his feet. It as immediate as a fast ball. In his hands, a long blade caught the dim light violently. Javier stepped in between the both of them with a surge of motion, arm across Clementine's neck and hand against the man's chest. Once the flash of metal slit his brow, he grunted through the abrupt pain. Javier blinked. His temple stung, and blood dripped down his face. Both of his hands went onto the man. The two battled for the edge. Teeth snapped and lips sneered through the near-silent dispute. Javier, though, ultimately won. The knife was dropped to the floor, and the man kept himself to his chair with a tremor.

Clementine hissed, breaking the forceful silence, "Now give me what I'm owed!"

"I-I'll give you batteries, okay? Just... We were all out of line. Alright?! We—" Clementine stepped forward, her pistol pointed towards his gut. His eyes widened. "Would you take control of her?! You got to put a handle on that, man!" the man pleaded desperately, eyes to Javier.

Javier shook his head and crossed his arms. He definitely felt the sting above his eye, and the blood dripping was now a waterfall. "I'm not her body-guard, I've already told you!"

The man turned back to Clementine. "Please, I'll give you batteries! New—! Real new! Okay?!" he begged again.

"No! I don't need batteries, I need bullets that won't get me kill—!"

The blast that Clementine earlier wished for rang in her ears at that moment. She blinked, stunned, at the man in the chair. His eyes were lolled backwards, and a crater in his forehead erupted blood.

"Oh no... No, no, no..." she whispered. Clementine whipped around as the bar went silent. So much for a quiet dispute. The hellfire in her eyes flickered to Javier, and in that moment, he had an inkling that she was the reincarnate of the devil on his shoulder. "Javi, he attacked us, okay?! He pulled out his knife and—"

"What the hell are you doin'—!" Conrad's eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of the man. He raised his rifle. "Now what the fuck y'all doing?!"

"He attacked us, okay?! It was in self-defense!" Clementine asserted, unbelievably frantic.

Her throat closed as heavy boots stomped through the bar and around the corner. And for the first time that night, she looked radically nervous. "Now what the fuck are you shooting a gun when there's a herd out—!" His eyes followed the small crowd's stare. The ton-heavy boots stomped in place, and Tripp folded his arms with a snarl. "What the fuck happened here?!"

"He attacked us, reached for his gun and—!"

"Enough from you!" Tripp interrupted. His eyes met Javier's. "Is this true?"

Javier, be it his greatest fault, was a man who entertained the devil on his shoulder. So, without missing a beat, he answered, "Yes, do you see my eye man?! He was a fuckin' maniac!"

Clementine looked at him, surprised.

Tripp looked at him, annoyed. He tightened the fold of his arms and stared at the two for a long, livid minute. "Couldn't last an hour, could you?" he stewed. "Well now…we'll see what I'll do."

[. . .]

Tripp walked away, leaving Javier and Clementine jailed within the small cage. On the side of the dirt road that ran through Prescott. Out with the creepy people in the shadows along the way. Where the lights were the best (probably to keep an eye on them). …and it was also the cage that Clementine had slept in once or twice before; it was a miracle, honestly, that she'd been allowed back in after the third time.

With his hands on his hips, Javier looked around. "Hey...it's not that bad. Still got a roof over our heads if it rains."

Clementine, who sat down in the corner, eyed the chicken-wire for walls. "And if it floods?" Javier didn't answer. She held her arms, cross-legged, and thought. Eyes of hellfire flicked to the man—who she decided wasn't so much of a wimp after all—and felt another surge of guilt. "But...thanks for covering for me. That was, uh, really cool of you."

Javier sat on the small bench inside the cage. "No problem. We're a team, right?"

She chuckled quietly. "Yeah...thanks. But I really do hope you know that doesn't make us friends."

Javier drew his eyes to the ground, somewhat disappointed. They were quickly torn towards the door once a woman stepped in. He was momentarily in awe by her beauty, noting her dough eyes and beauty mark on her cheek. And Clementine was left to stare too, just for a moment. Like she'd done the many, many times she saw the woman. Which was stupid.

Eleanor shook her head with a polite smile. "Why is it that the pretty ones are always the ones who get in trouble?" That fucking voice. Clementine scowled, and she turned her gaze to the floor.

Javier smirked and shrugged. "I dunno. Takes one to know one."

The woman smiled, her eyes then sliding towards Clementine. In the corner, she held her flask, unscrewing it. Eyes of hellfire lifted, and Clementine's scowl deepened into a sly, cynical smirk. "What, you gonna tell me I'm pretty too?"

With a straight face, Eleanor answered, "No, Clementine."

"Okay, Eleanor."

As she got out her cleaning supplies, she said, "Well, as you can probably tell, I'm Eleanor. You can call me Elle, though."

"Oh? I'm Javi then," he said with a grin. Javier winced as she cleaned his wound—which was why she was there, no? Instead of just being…pretty? "So you're the doc around here?"

"Of sorts," Eleanor answered. "I'm not an official one, but I'm the closest thing to it around here." She began to patch him up, setting the alcohol down. "What brings you here? Never seen your face around before now."

Javier's grin faltered. "My family. We were attacked, and I got separated. Ran into Clementine over there and, well, the rest is history."

"Oh, God. I know how it's like with family," she murmured solemnly. "I wish I can do more."

"You're already doing all of this for me. It's fine, honest."

She smiled. "For you, maybe."

"Blech."

Eleanor closed her eyes and exhaled, then scowled. Clementine, having sipped on her flask, said with a shit-eating grin, "Oh, I'm sorry. There was something disgusting in my whiskey—"

"Just let the adults talk, sweetie."

"—and it was you."

Eleanor was irked, to say the least. She ignored Clementine who snorted herself into a laugh. "Sometimes I don't understand that girl... You know?" she murmured underneath her breath.

"Well...I only met her today? She's..." Javier's shoulders hugged his neck. "Not bad. I can tell."

Shaking her head, Eleanor murmured, "I don't know. There's something in her eyes that I don't like..." She thought for a moment. "Some say she killed Eli in cold blood. Did she?"

Javier sighed. "No. Things just...got out of hand. She was trying to prove a point and things got messy, I got stabbed. And Eli..."

"Got shot right in the head." Eleanor stood up with a frown. "Right. But...with your family, if there's anything—"

"You're fine, Elle. You don't need to trouble yourself."

She bowed her head once she strode out, side-stepping around the cage as Tripp marched his way over. "Hey, I see you got that checked out."

"Yeah."

Clementine got to her feet and leaned up against the side. He eyed the two of them through the chicken-wire. "Now I've decided that you two shit-bags are going to stay in there until the morning. I have a truck, and we can leave to get your folks." He pointed at Clementine. "And you out."

"Really? Thanks," Javier said graciously.

Tripp nodded. Eleanor piped up: "I'll go."

"No, you're staying right here!" Tripp snapped quickly.

"What?! You can't just let me stay! They might need medical attention, Tripp!"

"And I don't want you hurt again!"

Eleanor crossed her arms. "That's not your call to make!"

Tripp threw his arms up. "You're not coming! End of story!" He swiveled his attention back to the cage. "And you're spending the night here!"

He stormed away, leaving Eleanor to stare at the ground, brows furrowed. "God, he can be an ass. But..." She exhaled softly. "He does care though, you know? About the people here?" Eleanor chewed her lip, and an idea blossomed. "Hey, there might be a way we can get you...two—" her dough eyes narrowed against those of hellfire, which glared back in turn— "…out of here sooner. From the back."

"Right now?" Javier asked eagerly.

"We'd be away from the walkers by the front," she said.

"But...the rest of the herd. The muertos."

Eleanor's lips formed a gentle smile as she backed away. "I have to take care of a few patients, but let me know if you want to soon, okay?"

Both prisoners watched Eleanor as she walked through Prescott to the other side of the road. And, incidentally, both of their gazes dropped lower, lingering underneath Eleanor's belt before she was completely out of sight. "Wow... She's... She's really somethin'," Javier murmured.

"I didn't know she had it in her," Clementine said.

"You sure it's not just because you two have something going on?"

"I don't like her!" Clementine snapped, a bit too forcefully. She felt Javier's amused gaze, and shortly, she turned away from the chicken wire with a scowl, her cheeks dusted with a subtle, warm pink. "We both don't! She's always been a bitch to me since I…got arrested the first time…"

Javier snickered. "Uh huh."

After a moment, with her eyes on Javier, Clementine added, "But listen, Javi. I trust Tripp more than her. I don't think we should take that offer."

Javier nodded slowly. "Yeah. With all those muertos around, it'd be better to have more brawn."

Clementine settled on the bench, stretching across it. "Right. At least you're reasonable."

Javier sat down beside her designated bed, rubbing his temple. He leaned back and yawned, "You know something, Clementine?"

"And what's that?"

"I think you're a...a trustworthy—" he yawned again— "person."

She suddenly felt small and powerless. "Oh..." Clementine swallowed. "Thanks." Javier didn't answer, having sent himself into a doze already. Clementine laid on the bench, eyes down to the ground and hands folded under her head. Her thoughts spun and tangled.

In cold blood... In cold blood...

Clementine may never be caught a minute sober anymore, and her head never as clear as it ought to be, but she knew well enough how uneasy that sat with her. In cold blood… she mouthed.

It's just too easy.

Clementine startled herself, and she rolled to her side. She didn't have to think about it. She didn't have to. She didn't want to. There would be a time to drink it away. Just like any other horrible thing.

[. . .]

"Shhh… Shhh… It's okay, A.J. It's okay…"

In that shed, surrounded by the groans of the risen—clicking and clacking-, Clementine held A.J close. His choked cries quieted, and she smiled. "There we go," she breathed as she sat him down on a fold-out bed. "Now…"

A.J gave a cry out of surprise and slapped his hands over his mouth, his wide eyes to the door, and Clementine turned around to follow them. The walkers were swarming to the other side. She frowned, and her skin prickled. There was someone out—

A silhouette startled the pair as it reached the door. "Son of a bitch!" a woman snapped, jiggling the door handle.

"…dammit," Clementine hissed under her breath, her hand clasped around her Glock's handle. "Stay quiet, A.J," she whispered with a hand held out. A.J only whimpered.

"Hey! I can hear you in there!" Clementine, frazzled, watched A.J as he coughed, hands hovering over his mouth. "C-Can you help me please?! God, there's so many!"

Clementine's attention swiveled back and forth, and her grip tightened around the pistol's handle.

"Please!" The woman grunted as she heaved her weight into the door, which shuddered against the broken boards across its frame and the weak lock. "Don't leave me out here!" Clementine stood erect once the door was slammed open, then shunted closed within a panicked motion.

Immediately, Clementine guarded A.J, her pistol aimed and ready to put a bullet through the woman's shaved head—into the deep scar that ran across her cranium, if she could manage.

The woman's eyes widened, and she hissed, rather tiredly, "Oh, shit…" She swallowed, and said, "Hey there."

Clementine narrowed her eyes and grumbled, from over the pistol, "…hello."

The door shuddered, though the pistol didn't leave the woman's head. "Look, you can keep that thing pointed at me if it makes you feel any better, but if you shoot me, you'll have to deal with all of them!"

Clementine reconsidered. It was a reasonable point.

She growled and shunted the gun back in its holster, and then darted to the woman's side. Together, they threw their weight into the door. As they battled for the edge against the walkers, who continuously rattled the thing off its hinges, the woman quickly twisted around and snatched the side of a bookshelf. "Alright! Get out of the way!" she said, throwing her head from the door.

Clementine backed off, and the bookshelf was turned over with a slam. They watched the door for a moment, then released a sigh of relief in unison. As Clementine strode back to A.J, who was whimpering and reaching for her, the woman collapsed onto the pile of blankets and pillows that was heaped on the other side.

"You and I make a great team," the woman breathed. She lifted her head and noticed A.J. "Well, the three of us, I mean."

Clementine blinked. "Uh, thanks…I guess."

"No problem, kiddo," the woman mused. "If you ever need an over-sized doorstop, you know who to call. Or, well, find." Clementine gave the barest nod. "He's a pretty cute kid… So you two live in here? Seem pretty young to be a mom. What are you, thirteen?"

Why so many damn questions? Clementine sighed as the woman got up and strode over. "I didn't give birth to him, if that's what you mean. And why do you care?"

"Look I—" She exhaled softly and rested on her knee. "I didn't mean to pry…" The woman paused, then explained, "We were out there scouting—nothing out of the ordinary, and then—" She shook her head, and Clementine arched a brow. "O-Out of the ordinary, and then— Chaos and— Shit." She scratched and traced the deep scar along her head. The woman started again, almost flustered by her tic: "Those bastards are slow, but God dammit, when there's enough of them…"

That, Clementine could agree with. Not that she actually said anything.

"I got separated from the others. …God, I hope they all made it. Thought we were ready for anything, but we were surrounded before we saw them."

Clementine, who waved off her emotional curiosity, asked, "What were you searching for anyway?"

"Gas, water… Any supplies we can find, really. We're runners—or, well, I'm a bit higher up, though this was new territory…so…" The woman scowled. "Sure as well wasn't worth it today." She got to her feet and said, "My people are probably at the rendezvous by now—or what's left of them, at least." Clementine mirrored her, with A.J in her arms.

The woman turned around with a gentle grin hitched, and she said, "Oh, and I'm Ava, by the way. And my group, —" she pulled up her sleeve, and on her wrist was a branded, red sigil— "we call ourselves the New Frontier." The amount of pride in her voice almost made Clementine want to puke. Not out of disgust, really, but from a lurch of buried emotion at the pit of her stomach.

Before Clementine could brush her off quietly, A.J sputtered and began to cry. She frowned and turned away. "He's hungry…" Clementine said, brushing this "Ava" off with words.

Ava, however, seemed to brighten. "Hey, why don't you come with me? Meet my people?" Clementine watched her from over her shoulder. "We have food, blankets, bottled water…" Ava assured. Clementine stared, crouched beside the bed with A.J coughing and sniffing. "C'mon," Ava said, her voice (admittedly) a comfort, "dinner's on me. I owe you one."

Clementine grimaced, and she slowly stood up. An old pain struck her then. Along her shoulder and down her back. Every ounce of her chest. She grumbled, albeit apologetic, "Groups…really aren't my thing."

"'No woman's an island,'" Ava said with a light grin.

Oh…my god. Clementine rolled her eyes. How can you make an apocalypse awkward?

Ava laughed, however, and shrugged. "Have it your way… You did me a solid here, and I won't forget it the next time we cross paths."

"There is no 'next time,'" Clementine scowled.

"We'll see," Ava hummed. "The world does work in mysterious ways." She wandered back to the blankets and rested herself against the wall while Clementine to A.J's side. Clementine watched Ava suspiciously, chewing the inside of her cheek.

For her sake, she hoped the world wasn't that mysterious…

And what the hell does woman island none mean anyway?!

[. . .]

"So, in five then?"

Javier watched Tripp as the man stared into the cage, eyes on the bench. Tripp exhaled, arms folded. "Make that ten," he grumbled. "Has she stirred or...anything?"

"No, she's been out," Javier answered.

"Well, you better get her up, or I'm just going to have her lay on the hood until we get there."

As Tripp walked away dutifully, Javier went back to what he had been doing before: punching Clementine's arm. "Come on, dormilona, get up." She didn't move. And now that he thought of it, the only reason why Javier knew she wasn't dead was the fact she hadn't turned. "Come on. Mija, let's go." He slapped her cheek and quickly backed away, grimacing for the impact. He didn't feel anything. Javier opened one eye. He slacked his raised arms.

Nothing.

"Clementine, it's..." Javier paused. She did move. Her eyebrows twitched to a frown, then further deepened with fear and discomfort. Javier couldn't understand the words she slurred, nor why her body trembled the way it did. "...dormilona? Clem?"

The tremors were becoming more exaggerated, and Javier didn't know what do to. "N-No..." she whispered.

"You have to. We're leaving soon, Clementine," he replied, not exactly confident if Clementine was anywhere close to being conscious.

"Christa… Christa, where are you…?!" He froze. Javier saw the beads of cold sweat along the edge of her hairline. "Christa…please, come back…"

Something terrible swam in Javier's gut. He didn't know what he was a witness to, but he sure as hell knew that this wasn't his to see. "Clementine," he murmured softly, "we...have to move." Comfortingly, he put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed.

Her eyes snapped open.

Javier was slammed against the cage without warning, her knife pointed at his Adam's apple. He barely felt the blade tremble against his throat while Clementine did everything in her power to control her breathing. Javier stared into her eyes in shock. What he saw were the cracks of her sobriety within drunken hellfire. Her breath was shaken: "Oh my god." Clementine stumbled backwards, dropping the knife onto the ground, slacked on the bench.

Her hand grasped her hip, and soon the contents of the flask was inhaled. Her sip was triple the amount of the usual; if Clementine had any sleep the night prior, the first hit of whiskey was always the most.

And as he remained frozen against the chicken wire, Javier saw a reflection of his younger self. From the way she sat on the bench, alone, to her hand on her forehead and the drink in the other. Slowly, he asked, "Were you...?"

"I just... When I sleep, I… I remember. I-I mean, I get these dreams. I get these dreams about…dying..."

Javier didn't call her out on her lie. Instead, he sat beside her. The tension in her body uncoiled when he did, allowing Clementine to slip the flask away. "Tripp is going to come get us in a few minutes."

Clementine nodded, breathing in. The youthful fire Javier came to know replaced her broken tone: "He better. I want my shit back."

[. . .]

"For the fifth-fucking-time, I'm not giving you back that shotgun!"

Clementine, who sat in the back of the truck, sputtered an attempt of a retort. She exhaled shortly and folded her arms. Bitingly, she managed, "But that wasn't even the one that—!"

"Yeah! You have that pistol for surviving! You're lucky I even gave you back that murder weapon! Now fucking pipe your ass down so I don't have to hear you talk the rest of the way there!" From the back seat, Clementine grumbled to herself and flipped him off.

Tripp clenched his jaw as Javier laughed. "Well, you did tell her to be quiet."

"Whatever." Tripp kept his eyes to the road, and the lines of his face relaxed. "Now I know that I offered to do this, and all, but you mind explainin' why Eleanor vouched for you two shits? Well…you more than Clementine, anyway—"

"She can suck my ass!"

"I told you to shut the fuck up, shithead!"

Through his amusement, Javier shrugged. "She's a good person. And I'm not complaining either way."

Tripp nodded, steering his eyes from the rearview mirror where—once again—he caught sight of an angry little devil; he swore even with her opinions, Eleanor still cared more about the little shit with her baseball cap than he would ever manage. Which wasn't a whole lot, but still. He thought for a moment, having just reminded himself the reason why Clementine stuck around: "Yeah, she's got a heart of gold. Big reason why she's real good as our nurse." …and keeping little shits around. Speaking of, the back of his truck was a hell of a lot quieter. His blue eyes returned to the rearview mirror. "Clementine, there a problem with your hand?"

She hoisted her gaze up, surprised. "Oh," Clementine muttered, rubbing the end of a nub for a finger. "It's nothing."

Javier turned around and asked, "When did that happen?"

"A while ago." Clementine wiggled it, and she still imagined the finger whole again. "It broke, and I couldn't realign it so...I cut it off."

"Jesus," Tripp breathed. "Who knew you were such a hard-ass?" He turned around the bend. "Now are we there yet?"

"Yeah, are we?"

Clementine nodded. "It's right— Shit."

Tripp eased the truck to a halt and stared at the junkyard with wide eyes. "Where's that smoke coming from?"

"I don't know. It wasn't there yesterday," Javier said, worried pained within each syllable. "Come on!"

They barely felt the ground as they wrenched themselves from the truck, leaving the doors wide open. Clementine could smell the gasoline from the other side of the junkyard's gates.

"Mariana?! Gabriel?! Kate?!" Javier halted at the entrance.

"What the hell...?" Tripp breathed, prodding a dead walker with his boot.

"There's dozens of them," Clementine said, analyzing the scattered bodies of rotting corpses. Some stacked. Some recently dismembered. Others just shot dead.

Javier spotted something in the rubble beside the last muerto still groaning. He picked up a tool from the ground and bashed it against its head. Once satisfied that the thing was dealt with, Javier picked up an MP3 player. "This is Mariana's..." He jogged through the gates, followed by Tripp and Clementine. "Mariana? Are you here?"

"Javi!"

Delight sprang across his face. Javier turned to the left and embraced his niece as she hopped into his arms, seemingly materialized out of thin air. "I hid in the bus like you said! Once the muertos didn't notice me, they just forgot and passed by!"

"I'm so glad you're safe!" he said joyfully. "You did exactly what I told you to do." Mariana grinned, and her eyes switched to Tripp and Clementine. Javier followed her gaze. "They came to help us," he assured with a gesture.

"Thank-you!" Mariana said. Tripp nodded while Clementine murmured quietly.

Javier got to his feet, once again worried. "Where is Kate and Gabe?"

Mariana shook her head, her smile wiped clean. "I don't know. We got separated. I think they might be in the van." Javier briskly walked forward around a corner, and immediately he deflated.

"Oh...no." He turned to Clementine apologetically. At the sight of the van with its smoking engine, she sighed. Beaten. Smoldered. In a similar shape as the semi—though not quite as mangled. At the very least, they knew what was the source of the fire, and what gasoline was burning. "The van..."

"It's fine. It's not like you knew it was going to happen," she muttered with the additional, "but we still have that deal."

"Yeah, right."

Clementine waved her hand. "That's not important right now. You have other people out here, right?" Javier bobbed his head and began his search. The four of them strode behind him, eyes wide and alert.

Mariana walked beside Clementine, sharing a smile. All at once, Clementine felt terrible knowing she was about to steal her chocolate. She was nice to look at, especially with the smile across her face—of a rare sort. A gem. "Hey." Clementine blinked and turned back to her. Mariana's grin was innocent with dimples that creased her cheeks. A very, very rare gem. "You have really pretty eyes."

God dammit. Clementine felt a rush of warmth like she never had before. Embarrassment was one thing, though this...? Was this because she hadn't talked to people in so long? "Oh, um...thank-you." Clementine's blush spread, a fire scorching the middle of her back. "You...um... You're pretty."

"Thanks," Mariana chirped. Clementine glanced at her again, now feeling like shit knowing she was about to steal her chocolate. And giddy. Strangely, Mariana's compliment burrowed itself in her chest, erupting giddy tremors to her stomach. Clementine didn't know if she liked it or not.

A horn interrupted her train of thought. Mariana brightened. "That's them, Uncle Javi!"

"We're just going to have to see," he said. "Come on. And stay behind me."

"Okay."

Mariana didn't disobey. She remained protected behind Javier and Tripp, and her gaze continued to wander towards Clementine (and her gun) as she kept beside her. Once again, they shared a smile, Clementine feeling her cheeks grow warmer. She felt all-powerful. Like she could chuck her flask away. Kill a herd of walkers. Rule the world, even.

Or, well, a settlement.

"Oh great," Clementine sighed. In unison, Tripp, Javier and Clementine handled the small gathering of walkers as they continued to relentlessly attack the doors of a semi. And inside, the source of the honking, were two people. From what Clementine could tell, a woman in plaid, and a boy around her age with a beanie. The walkers were quickly dealt with, and thus the two trapped in the truck were able to scramble out.

Clementine stepped to the side with Tripp as the siblings embraced each other. Meanwhile, the woman—Kate, Clementine assumed-and Javier shared a deep, abrupt kiss. She spared her glance and turned it to the ground.

"Ech," Mariana groaned.

"Oh I think we're entitled to that," Javier murmured as Mariana shook her head softly.

The woman looked at Clementine, curious. "Who's...this girl with the gun? And the knife?"

Javier smiled happily. "Clementine, she's...my friend."

Clementine felt small again. And extremely powerless. "Oh, um...hi."

"Hi." The woman grinned. "I'm Kate, and this is Gabe." The boy smiled bashfully, avoiding Clementine's eyes. "And I see you already met Mari."

For a few minutes, they made their acquaintances before Tripp folded his arms and cleared his throat, without an introduction; "Come on, let's head out of here and get back to Prescott," he said. "So that you'll have some shelter for the time being… And you out."

Clementine scowled. …maybe she could bribe Eleanor a bit. It did, kind of, work that one time—before she robbed those other people. Her chest lurched when Mariana eyed her, rather inquisitive than anything. Clementine tore her gaze away and started to walk.

"I'm definitely not going to say otherwise," Javier replied, very much relieved. Reunited with his family, Javier beamed and strode alongside Tripp.

Meanwhile, Clementine continued down the side, distancing herself. She was glad, however, when Mariana joined her. "So what's your name? Clementine?"

"Yup." Why did she feel so dumb? It was an honest answer!

Mariana grinned. "That's pretty too!"

"Oh, and...so's yours."

Clementine turned away briefly to overhear Javier: "Don't jinx it. Let's just get back to Prescott, and then we'll celebrate."

"Well, there are things to cheer about, you know?"

Clementine slowed to a halt once she saw the entrance of the junkyard.

Something didn't sit well. Her skin prickled, and her eyes searched instinctively. Another feeling—far from giddiness—irked her. She swallowed, and Clementine scanned the trees. Javier joined her just as Mariana gasped happily from behind. She darted past them eagerly.

Javier, who watched Clementine with a shared unease, murmured, "What is it?"

"I...don't know—"

"Cool!" Mariana picked up a pair of headphones and turned around. Javier grinned, and he set aside is momentary anxiety to hand her the MP3 player. Her smile grew. "Thanks!"

A shot fired from the trees.

Clementine felt the sinister realization prickle throughout her skin. Mariana's body hit the ground, her face painted mid-shock. The bullets that stormed the air were barely heard. The shouts from the trees across the road were distant. She threw herself into cover, her heart thumping behind her ears. Her eyes were kept on Mariana for a long moment. Especially the hole that didn't belong in her head. She could almost see through it—to the dirt and rubble underneath the girl.

Then, clarity struck. The white noise scrambled her consciousness.

Eyes of hellfire surged, and Clementine sneered violently, arming her pistol before firing into the trees. One man was forced to the ground by her hand, a bullet through his neck. The family screamed behind her, and she wrenched her attention back. "Fucking hell," she snarled once she saw Kate on the ground, clutching her side. "Javi, no!"

Javier dove forward in unison with Gabe, shoving Kate out of the line of fire. Clementine shook her head and fired three more shots, two hitting their targets. She ducked to the barrels covering the three. "Oh God, K-Kate!" Gabe gasped, eyes wide and tone hysterically panicked. "We have to get out of here!"

Tripp, who planted himself into the abandoned bus' side, agreed: "Yeah, come on! We have to move it before we're all fuckin' killed!"

Anger boiled Clementine. "No!" She got Javier's attention. "We can stay here and fight! If we leave them, they will come after you again!"

"I've already made up my mind," Javier said. "You go ahead! We'll cover you!"

"Javi!" Gabe snapped. "But you'll—!"

"Don't worry about me, just go!" Javier barked. Clementine nodded in appreciation, firing into the trees once again with her new…friend by her side. With Javier, Clementine was left in the midst of chaos as the rest darted to the truck.

Her buzz fueled the beastly fire in her eyes. It made her stronger. It made her harder to hit. With each minute that blitz by, the more likely it was that her bullets made their mark.

Dead center through the monsters' eyes. Slugged through their skulls.

[. . .]

The afternoon sun breathed down her neck as she dug. Her ears still rang from the hour prior, the gunfire a distant hum. Clementine, with a final scoop of dirt, gasped, and she tossed the rusted shovel away. With heavy breaths, she gravely looked at her handiwork. It wasn't six feet deep, though she doubted anything more than four mattered. If Mariana…

She closed her eyes and backed away. If Mariana would be completely covered, that's what mattered. After a few moments, Clementine breathed deeply and analyzed the hole. It should've been long enough too, since she'd measured the best she could—eleven of her steps.

Grim, she looked to the sky and watched the oranges and reds as a flock of birds flew by, disappearing along the horizon. It didn't take long afterwards—when the last of them fluttered away—for her to cross the road and find Javier picking himself up. His hands trembled, and he croaked out a breath. Javier rubbed his forehead, skin paling by the second. "What...happened...?" he asked weakly.

Before she could answer, his eyes travelled to Mariana's body. Clementine felt his heart shatter in his gaze. "Oh, Mari..." Javier crawled towards her, and he brought her into his arms. "Mari...you deserved better than this. You deserved so much better..." Javier turned his head as Clementine stepped behind him.

"I...dug her a grave."

Javier's eyes melted into tears. "You didn't have to... Thank-you, Clem."

Clementine held her arms and nodded. "It's across the street, by the trees."

He didn't speak. Javier followed Clementine with Mariana carefully held in his arms, just like how he'd used to cradle her when she was far, far younger in a world far, far less cruel. At the dug hole, he stepped inside and placed her down. He crossed her arms, tucking her headset and MP3 player in her hands. Javier then took one final look in her empty eyes, shuddered a breath, then closed them with a gentle hand.

He climbed out of Mariana's grave and stood beside Clementine. Her brow tightened as she heard the traces of his shattered grief enveloped within his words: "I'm...so sorry, Mariana. You deserved no right living in a world like this. And, you... You are loved." Javier succumbed to his tears, right into his hand. For several moments, he couldn't wipe them away. They fell as a constant siege.

And Clementine couldn't search within herself to find that pain. She knew it was there, lodged deep inside of her, buried underneath the alcohol and her scaly heart. Clementine, to put short, was simply too drunk to feel any ounce of grief. So, she did the most she could and remained silent.

Clementine handed him the shovel.

With it, and the last of his tears choked away, Javier went right to work, covering his niece with the fresh soil that had been just unearthed from the dying grass. And before he knew it, before he wanted to finish, Javier was. He set the shovel down carefully, his sorrow slowly replaced by his fury once more. "I'm going to find them for you, Mari. And I'm going to make them pay."

Clementine turned her ear to the groans by an abandoned car. She had heard them before, but they were easy to ignore with each heave of the shovel. "Javi..." She walked to the Sudan, and eyes of hellfire glared at the walker that laid against it.

Javier felt his teeth grit, and his hand clasped around his gun. He pointed the pistol at the walker, whose face was far more human than monster. Only the muerto's skin was grey. It hadn't yet rotted away, and the eyes were still a crystal white—no yellows or reds or purples. The dead man reached for Javier and its second chance to kill him.

Javier couldn't do it. His arm faltered. His emotions captured him.

He lowered his gun and looked away. Clementine, however, didn't hesitate. Unphased, she executed the walker, and the head pinged off of the car door, following the bullet's trajectory.

"I'm sorry," Javier breathed. "I couldn't... I couldn't do it. Not with it looking at me like—"

"I know." Clementine kicked the walker out of the way. Body slumped over, it allowed her to open the car door and find the keys still in the ignition. "Hey, they have a car we can take."

"So our deal is up then?"

Clementine scratched the back of her neck, guilt once again itching her. "I..." Clementine watched him, then to the grave. The fractured man, then to the fresh mound of dirt that shifted in the breeze.

Clementine wanted to kick herself—right to the road. Javier was never a wimp, he was just a human. Not a monster. She frowned and folded her arms. But she was.

So, with a careful breath, Clementine murmured, "Look, I can drop you back off to Prescott, and then I'm out of here."

"Oh."

She swayed on the balls of her feet. Maybe— Maybe she could try to be human again. Clementine didn't know why, out of all the people she's come across, that it was Javier to bring it out of her. Yet, she could still try. "I...um..." Clementine cleared her throat. "I mean...I still want a shotgun so, you know, I'll probably, maybe, have some business there still..."

Javier watched her, his eyes kind. And while his smile was barely one, he wore it and said, "I knew you'd want to stick around for a while."

His small grin was a comfort, as it turned out. "Just for a day or two, okay?" Clementine replied softly. "Then... Then I'm gone."

"Alright." His eyes trailed to the muerto, lingering on... What was that? "Oh, Clementine, there's a mark on this guy's neck...? Do you—"

"What?"

Clementine whipped around and walked over. Her eyes landed on the branded sigil. Startled, every fiber in her being urged her to freeze. "Oh fuck."

"What is it?!"

If they knew she was there… Mariana's death. It could've been her fault. That sweet girl. Her smile and words. Clementine sighed deeply, reaching to the depths for that buzz. The emotions she was struggling to find minutes earlier, they were swarming. Now tied with guilt, and anger, and worry.

"These people..." Clementine blinked, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. "I know the group they were a part of." Javier's eyes widened. "The New Frontier. Or, at least, that's what they call themselves. I...got stuck at their camp for a while." She frowned, jaw clenched. "Captured," Clementine lied quickly, "and, supposedly, they...started off good people but now...there's just corruption."

"What...?! Do you know where they are?!"

"Javi!" Her bark spooked them both. Javier backed off, hands raised, defeated. "I know you want to go after them, but here's the thing: why do you think I want out of this place?!"

"You're running from them?"

"More like avoiding," Clementine said. Avoiding everything that chained her here. The paths. The houses. The streets… Even if she rejoiced in stealing from the runners that roamed the paths and houses and streets, Clementine had to get away.

Javier stared at the dead walker as she swallowed. "I know how these people are, and now you know too. They aren't good... Once we get to Prescott and Kate is better, you need to leave. With—" She was going to shoot herself in the foot willingly. Maybe Javier was a bad influence, or he was too good for her. "With or without me. Take the car, so that… So that you can."

He blinked, caught off-guard. But as quick as his surprise came, it left. Javier bobbed his head in gratitude. "I... Right, okay. Okay." He opened the car door. "Then...okay, then let's go. I— I don't want to be away from Kate and Gabe for much longer." Clementine climbed in the passenger seat as he started the engine. Javier gripped the wheel tightly and swallowed. His gaze wandered to his side, and he found Clementine's striking eyes. "So...Prescott?" She nodded. Javier pulled out onto the street.

Together, they watched the road ahead. Together, they silently mourned for Mariana. Together, Clementine and Javier took the spare vehicle and drove to Prescott wordlessly.

[. . .]

Once they barged through both sets of gates, Javier and Clementine immediately rushed to Kate's side from Tripp's directions: a hand thrusted towards the clinic while arguing with another man about the herd. At the small clinic fashioned from a plane's hull, Kate was unconscious, hand clasped over her bandaged wound. Javier immediately went to his knees and folded his hands over Kate's free one. She was wrapped around her torso with a thick bandage, and he eyed the pink spot where blood had leaked through. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I wish I could've done more..." Clementine stood behind him, her hand gentle on his shoulder.

Eleanor came to Javier's side somberly. She didn't even notice that Clementine was back in Prescott. "She's...stable. All there is for her to do is just rest. I was able to take the bullet out, but...she's bleeding in the inside."

"And that means?"

She tightened her jaw for a moment. "Well, I'm sorry, I don't know what I can do to stop it. I'm afraid it's...only a matter of time."

Javier nodded slowly, his throat tight. "Thanks for trying," he whispered. Eleanor bowed her head, then stepped into the hull. Javier glanced over his shoulder. "You don't need to be here, you know. You've barely met her," he said with a hint of a question.

"Why wouldn't I? You said we're a team, right?" He chuckled quietly and murmured in agreement. "But I can leave you with her."

"Okay. Thank-you."

Clementine broke away, the air around Prescott heavy on her shoulders. She took the flask and raised it to her lips to take the edge off. She passed Gabe—if she remembered correctly; all she knew was that he was Mariana's brother.

He lingered by the clinic, eyes kept to his aunt (mom? She only wondered). To distract himself, he watched Clementine. Gabe swayed on the spot before walking towards her nervously. His voice cracked as he attempted to swallow the solemnness away: "Um...that's water in there, right?"

Clementine blinked, and she drained the very alcoholic sort of water down her throat. She looked at the flask, then back to Gabe. "Well, you might not want to drink this then."

She walked away, leaving Gabe to stare after her. "Whoa..." So she liked the cool guys. The same cool guys that he remembered on television with their road leathers, aviators and criminal background. He didn't have any of those three (and Gabe would like to think she'd like him to not be a criminal), but he did have a beanie. An orange beanie. Like… Like a carrot. Or an orange. Or— Gabe scowled and reached for it. Beanies were stupid.

Then, on second thought, he'd been wearing beanies without rest for years now. He couldn't begin to imagine what that had done to his hair. He kept the stupid beanie on.

Gabe puffed his chest and followed after her, swallowing the nervous bubble climbing up his throat. "So, um..." he managed once caught up to her. "Do you...come here often?"

"I'm in and out. The only reason I'm staying is because your uncle owes me a ride," she answered flatly.

He deflated. "Really? You're gonna come with…" Her arched brow killed the last of his question. Gabe frowned. "Oh. Wait, were you going to take our van?!"

Clementine shrugged. "Yeah."

Gabe swiveled his glare towards Javier as he tended to Kate. He scowled, muttering, "Why'd he do that for?"

"We made a deal between us. If you want to ask him, go right on ahead."

Gabe—who remembered that his resentment wasn't something ladies liked—waved his hand. "Oh, I'll ask later. There's more important things to do now."

"And what's that?" Clementine asked, leaned against the building.

"Getting to know you...? So—" he cleared his throat— "do you know how to drive?" Clementine nodded. "...legally?"

She chuckled, something Gabe took as a good thing. A sign of his success. "If you're asking if I read the signs on the road at all, no."

"Oh, so you go over the speed limit. I have a secret," he said, leaning in. "Uncle Javi sometimes does that too."

Clementine breathed a laugh, shaking her head. "Does he sometimes have street races with the walkers too?"

"...walkers?"

"Murtos."

"Oh, you mean muertos?"

Clementine scoffed. "I just said that."

Gabe snickered, his persona slipping. "No you didn't." Clementine rolled her eyes and took another small sip on her flask. "Anyway, what do you call the ones that run?"

"Oh. My. God. Not this again!" Gabe laughed, and Clementine gradually joined him. Prescott didn't seem so bad anymore. Not that Clementine wanted to stay, nor that Gabe didn't want something better, but the air was easier to breathe.

Far, far easier to breathe.

[. . .]

Days like these—especially days like these, rather—were ones that reminded Clementine how wrong her parents were. How there would be a time without a god, and that the world they lived in had somehow plummeted right to the Devil's doorstep.

A few hours of calm. The New Frontier. A couple of bullets. A hostage or two. That was all it took. And, damn it all, when anything detonated at the Devil's doorstep, things went straight to Hell.

That was only a couple of minutes ago. Now, her coughs stung, and her eyes burned. Clementine could barely make out the people running from the dead that stumbled; the only way she knew which heads to aim for were the ones accompanied by that horrid smell.

Carnage was a bitch. It always lurked in the shadows before jumping out at her, forcing Clementine to flee.

She couldn't help but feel that sniping one of the New Frontier wasn't exactly a good move. And that one of those couple of bullets was her fault. Clementine had to have been one of death's angels for how many times the gates of Hell followed her. Those instances were, as always, a monster claiming another monster. That's all it was.

Francine shot dead. A walker herd swarming Prescott. Terrified screams. Lights blinking on and off. Gas that choked every single thing it crossed. All her fault. All of it. She didn't understand why nobody cared that she'd snuck her way back in town; Clementine was supposed to be out in the herd, after all.

Clementine felt a hand tug at the collar of her shirt, dragging her behind. "Let—! Me—! Go!" she snarled, her words broken with coughs.

"Would you— Stop fighting me!" Clementine was immediately pleased to know that it was Javier's hand—even if the air was nearly strangled out of her. Together, with Gabe flanking Javier's side, they ran out of Prescott towards what looked to be headlights. She growled as they skirted away. Just her luck. No fucking rest for the wicked.

As they crossed the road, Clementine asked, voice rough, "Where's...Kate?"

"Eleanor got her with Tripp. They're in the truck, I think."

Speaking of the devil, he waved frantically as Eleanor slipped into a car. "Never mind, I think that was Tripp leaving though!" Eleanor waited for them as their savior—a knight in shining armor (not that Clementine was keen to admit). The lights beamed to life, and the engine roared, guiding the three through the warzone. Clementine took the ounce of luck with gratitude, watching the nurse from the rearview mirror.

Begrudgingly, as her lungs cleared, Clementine decided that perhaps…it was something to admit after all.

[. . .]

Clementine only focused on A.J's light snores, ignoring the walkers and their groaning, as well as the light tune that Ava hummed. It pained Clementine just how much the woman wanted to talk. And she could feel it deep in her bone marrow. And she wanted to hork. And maybe throw something at the woman for good measure. All of it reminded Clementine just how much she hated people. And talking. And humming. And…tunes—the one that Ava was humming, anyway.

She just wanted a drink. That's all Clementine ever wanted while A.J slept. Drink. Pass out. Wake up. Find food. Play with A.J. Wait for him to sleep. Repeat. The last thing she found was during an hour of desperation, and the beer was in a can. And it was vile.

Clementine glowered and shifted her gaze towards Ava. She huffed. Maybe canned beers would've been a better find in this shed than a whole person.

"So…have you been on your own for a while?"

Dammit. It's because she looked, wasn't it? Clementine frowned. "Maybe."

"Well," Ava stretched, getting herself more comfortable along the blankets, "for how long was that 'maybe?'"

"Um…" Clementine's frown deepened, and she held her shoulder; even through the shirt, she could still feel the bullet wound underneath her palm. "A while." She paused and glanced at Ava's stupid, subtle grin. "Like…one or two years."

Ava blinked. "I… Damn. That— That—" She shook her head and rubbed her temple. Ava exhaled, and said, "That is 'a while.'" The woman thought for a moment. "You aren't from around here, then, are you?"

"And how'd you guess that?" Clementine murmured, eyes narrowed.

There was only a shrug. "I know this place? Been here for a while, anyway. Was stationed at Prescott and the base 'round here before those dead-heads started…well, walking." Ava scratched the back of her head. "And I did visit here a couple of times as a kid. You are a kid right?"

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm a little kid. Bite me."

"A kid with a lotta mouth," Ava snickered. Clementine's lack of laughing landed a sigh from Ava. "I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood. Not much we can do with these—" she gestured out the boarded windows— "still around." Clementine relented, though she didn't add to anything. Ava watched her hold A.J as the toddler nestled against the fold-out bed. "Say… I didn't get your name."

Clementine scowled, more guiltily than anything. Anytime anyone anywhere asked for her name, it always stung. Such a simple thing, really, but it always struck one of the only soft parts of her shell. "I'm, um…" She hesitated, her eyes drawn to the floor. "Clementine. And this is A.J."

"A.J?"

"Alvin Junior," she mumbled. Clementine worked her jaw, and she watched A.J for a moment. "Alvin Rebecca Lee Junior."

Ava hummed, somewhat amused. "That's quite a name."

"I guess."

"Well, both of yours are," Ava added.

Clementine tipped the bill of her cap down. "…thanks." Her mouth was dry. Her throat was sore and knotted. She needed that drink. Now. Clementine held herself, and her eyes searched. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and it wasn't a surprise that a shed like this—where many people had probably hidden time and time again—would be that way. No food, or water, or drinks, just blankets and boarded windows with howling walkers outside.

She didn't raise her attention when Ava sat back up from the pile of blankets and pillows. "Hey," she asked once A.J had grumbled vowels in his sleep, "does he need one?"

"Uh…" Clementine replied slowly, and she rubbed his shoulder.

"There's a small one over here. I can take it to you."

Clementine swallowed. "Oh, um, yeah… That would be nice." Ava got to her feet with the small green blanket in her hands, and when she strode to the bed, she draped it over A.J gently. And then…she sat on the other corner of the bed instead of back to the blankets. Clementine watched A.J for a moment, who curled into the blanket soundlessly. "Thank-you," she murmured, quiet.

Ava shrugged. "No problem. He seems like a good kid. And you too."

Clementine, this time around, sounded more tired than irritated: "You don't know anything about me."

"True. But I can tell." Clementine shook her head silently, and she knew Ava saw from behind. "So…then, if you don't mind me asking, why are you alone? You couldn't have been away from a group in the beginning, at least." Clementine turned further away, and Ava hesitated. "Were you…kicked out?"

"No," Clementine answered. She wrestled with her words for a moment. "I got them all killed."

Ava's gaze was solemn. "I'm sure it all wasn't your faul—"

"The last one in the last group, I shot a bullet in his head," Clementine snapped, then forced out, "I got them all killed." She needed that drink. A whole bottle. "I don't want to join your New Frontier or whatever. I don't work with groups, and I hate people."

"Well…I don't know about the groups, but," Ava murmured softly, "I don't believe you really hate people. You would've shot me through the windows instead of protecting A.J if you did—hell, you wouldn't even have A.J to begin with. …unless you don't think of him as a person?"

Clementine worked her jaw as she continued to rub A.J's shoulder. "Of course I do. He's everything to me. I hate the people that were alive before the Outbreak then."

"And that includes me and you?"

Whiskey. Now. A whole jug of it. So long as it didn't poison her and leave A.J to whatever stranger would pass by—dead or alive. "Yes," she growled tightly.

A.J's coughs startled the three of them, and he whimpered himself awake. Clementine shushed him sweetly, more to comfort than silence as she rocked him. His eyes were barely open, and he grasped onto her chest.

"Is the little man sick?" Ava asked, concerned.

"I-I don't know. It started this morning," Clementine answered quietly.

Ava nodded. "We do have a doctor, you know? And medicine. Most of the stuff's heavy for infection and things like that, but I'm sure there'd be something that would help."

"He's—" Clementine frowned; the offer was now as tempting as ever. "H-He's okay, right now. He's had little coughs before…"

The woman behind her breathed quietly, knowing any evasion to join when she heard it. Even so, she pressed: "Look, I know…you don't want to join. I get it. Not everybody is fit for the New Frontier. But, if you need that doctor, you can come and find me." Clementine remained quiet as she listened. "I run supplies with a smaller group—the one with the doctor—along the dirt roads around here. We usually go in a ring so that we avoid the walkers." Ava leaned forward, and she caught the intensity of Clementine's hazel eyes. "Think about it?"

Clementine watched A.J, who looked up at her with his soft, dough eyes. Ones that always reminded her of Lee. She sighed, then slowly nodded.

"Okay, I'll think about it. But for nobody else."

Ava chuckled. "I'm glad."

[. . .]

The two vehicles parked themselves at an intersection, and it jerked Clementine from her light doze. She looked around before clambering out of the car, following Javier. At the center gathered the both of them, Gabe, Tripp, Eleanor and Conrad. Grief and anger consumed them, maintaining a bitter silence in the intersection. Their heads were hung low, eyes to the ground. A mutual lapse of mourning.

Conrad was the first to break it. He scoffed and shook his head. His eyes snapped to Javier. "This is all your fault."

"What?!"

"First, you and Clementine walk right up to my bar—" he stomped forward, fists clenching and livid eyes wild— "Eli winds up shot dead, you're kicked out yet come back again, and with people to shoot up Prescott! Yeah, it's your fucking fault!"

"No, Conrad, calm down!" Javier protested. "You and I both know that those people weren't one of us! They killed Mariana. They killed Francine—"

"Don't you fuckin' speak about my girl in front of me!" he snarled, his gun whipped out.

Tripp stepped in, being the only one other than Clementine not remotely startled by the pistol: "Conrad, please. I know you're not in a good place right now, but we can't be fighting like this out here. We're sitting ducks."

"Listen to him if not me." Javier said, "We've all lost people today. We have to keep a stable group right now. Figure out where we're going."

"I'm not done with this! A whole community's dead, and it isn't any fucking coincidence that it happened the day after you set foot in it!" He slammed his hand into Javier's shoulder, shoving him backwards. "I shouldn't have thought any differently, now should I? You're still that sorry gambler from before aren't you?"

Javier snapped, "Now leave the past where it should be!"

"Even Prescott?! Even Francine?!" Conrad aimed. "You open your mouth again," he hissed, his voice breaking, "and...and I'll shoot."

"Leave him ALONE!"

Everyone jumped, turning towards Gabe. Javier, stricken, shook his head at his nephew who aimed his handgun at Conrad. "Back away from him now!" Gabe snapped. Conrad did so obediently, hands raised.

Javier walked forward. "Gabe...this isn't helping. Just put the gun down, and we'll sort out matters without any shots, okay?" Gabe blinked with a stern brow, jaw clenched. His eyes shifted from Conrad to his uncle.

Slowly, he relaxed and pointed the handgun to the road. "But I swear, if you do it again, I'm not hesitating!" he warned.

"Now Gabe, stop. We don't—!" Gabe sneered and shrugged Javier away. "Gabe."

"I just saved your life, and you're disciplining me?!" Javier couldn't get another word out once Gabe stalked away with folded arms. Allowing some time for him to cool off, Javier strolled back to Clementine's side, who watched Gabe with an arched brow.

Conrad collapsed onto the street, setting his weapon down. He cried out, voice weak and shattered, "Oh...Francine." Conrad's gazed lingered towards Tripp. "W-We have to bury her."

Tripp shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, I really am Conrad. But you know we can't. Prescott is overrun."

"Then where do we go?" Eleanor asked.

"Richmond," Clementine answered. "I heard there's a settlement there. High walls. Food... It sounds secure, more than Prescott was."

"We'll try it. That sounds just what we need," Tripp said.

Leaving the adults to discuss more, Clementine backed away and strode towards Gabe curiously. He turned around once he heard her steps. "Oh... Hey Clementine," he muttered lowly.

"Were you going to actually shoot?"

Gabe huffed. "What do you think? He was going to attack and shoot my uncle!"

Clementine crossed her arms. She should've known. The kid even asked her if she had water in her damn flask. "I already knew the answer before I asked," Clementine murmured. "You weren't going to, were you?"

She left him stunned. Gabe scratched the back of his neck and sighed, dropping his shoulders. "N-No... I wasn't." He tightened his lips. "I don't know what I was going to do..."

"You've never had to shoot anybody, have you? Only walkers?"

"Uh, y-yeah... And you have?" Clementine watched him, her expression remorseful. "Oh," Gabe mumbled, realizing, "yeah, you have. This morning... But I mean…before?"

Clementine shifted, evading the question entirely: "It's not easy, I know. It's good that you stood your ground but...if you're going to make a threat, it can't be an empty one."

Gabe swallowed and nodded dutifully. "Right, right... Okay." He felt more relaxed. "Um, thanks."

She arched a brow. "No...problem...?" Why did talking to her make him feel any better? Clementine only told him, inadvertently, to not be a fucking dumbass. God, she should've just told him that. But oh no, just because Gabe was Javier's nephew made it all different. Clementine wanted to vomit. Why did people have to make her feel guilty and bad and talk stupid shit like this?!

A fair distance away, Javier and Eleanor watched their conversation. And they had an idea of Clementine's confusion of Gabe's apparent relief: "Well," Eleanor murmured, "you think they can hit it off?"

Javier frowned and folded his arms. Javier also had an idea of her irritation from an extended conversation—regardless if she knowingly walked into it: "That's asking for trouble."

"You actually think so?" she asked, oddly impressed. "I thought you liked Clementine. She's your friend or whatever."

"She still is," Javier replied. "But you wouldn't think she's still a kid. She's too old for him, for one." He weighed his answer. "That…and I'm not an idiot. Clementine's not a people person. She had me at gunpoint when we first met."

Eleanor frowned and watched him with great concern. "Uh…" Javier blinked, and Eleanor decided…better not ask. She assumed any answer would confuse her ten-fold. So, instead, Eleanor kept her eyes on Clementine for a moment and studied her. "Yeah, if there's one thing I have to admit, it's that she is intimidating... I'm probably more afraid of her than most adults."

Before he could answer, Javier turned around once the truck's engine hummed to life. He found Tripp, waving them over. Javier called out to Clementine and Gabe, shutting down any socialization (…and probably saving Clementine from the mental gymnastics she was doing to not be a bitch): "Come on! Let's get moving!" Clementine jerked her chin before she left for the truck, and Gabe followed close behind.

And when Clementine passed Javier, he found that he, indeed, saved her from socializing.

[. . .]

It always struck her as uneasy how quickly things changed.

One day, there'd be a walled fortress built on an airfield, and the next day not. One day, she'd be in the midst of her routine, and the next day caught in a group's antics lead by an ex-baseball player.

It made her feel uneasy—and strange, come to think of it. She sipped on her flask in thought, leaned against an abandoned-store's wall in the sunlight.

As she waited for Javier to install the hooked wires in a truck to clear out an exit—underneath a bridge at the foot of the strip-mall—, Clementine shook her flask before taking another sip and studied her surroundings. Another gas station across the way. Crates upon crates. Blocked off road underneath the bridge. Weeds. Burning sun. Nothing good.

She took a third sip. With Gabe walking towards her, his eyes on the flask, Clementine asked, "What, do you want some?"

"Oh, no," Gabe said. "I don't drink beer."

Clementine glanced inside the container before closing it. "It's whiskey, but I get it."

Gabe nodded, his hands in his pockets. "So...um...I was thinking, where are your parents? I-I mean...do you have them?" Clementine felt her heart grow heavy. He panicked and sputtered, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ask that. You don't have to answer..."

"No it's... It's fine." She frowned. "They're dead, and, if I'm honest, I...don't really remember them that well." Clementine avoided his searching gaze. She didn't want his pity.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He gulped and dug his heel in the ground. "I didn't mean—"

He was interrupted by brief cheering and a horrible scream of metal. "He did it!" Clementine breathed, eager to leave the conversation behind. Off to the side, Javier hollered with a pump of his fist; a garage was opened, and the hook of some engineer's truck (or something, Clementine only knew it had the hook) had pulled away the busted lemon blocking the road. Javier gestured for Eleanor to drive off ahead.

Eleanor tore away in the sedan with Kate safely tucked in the backseat, passing—

"Oh God, no," Clementine growled, pulling out her knife and pistol. "I think I know why it was blocked off." Walkers. A herd of them swarmed the bridge, and with the racket of Javier's success, they weren't happy. She searched around as Gabe staggered to the side, wishing that she'd paid more attention to the area before. On the side of the gas station were large crates stacked and a dumpster. An idea blossomed as gunfire filled the air, the men yelling for cover.

"GUYS!" Clementine bellowed urgently. "BESIDE THE STATION, THE CRATES!"

She sprinted forward, popping holes in walker heads as she passed them, Gabe at her heel. The rest followed suit in a blind panic. The herd swarmed them, their roars and grunts filling her ears. Clementine clambered up with Gabe, then she lingered at the edge of the roof to hoist Conrad to safety.

"Javier!" Gabe shouted. His uncle stumbled into the crates with a groan.

Clementine reached as far as she could. "Come on, Javi! Grab my hand!"

Javier took it quickly and pulled himself up, leeching all of Clementine's strength with one tug. "Thanks," he panted. "God, I don't know if there's anybody else that could've gotten us out of there that quick."

Clementine shrugged. "Just add it to the pile."

Javier rolled his eyes. "You are an asshole," he muttered. He was met with a wide grin.

They joined Conrad, Tripp and Gabe by the end of the roof, tucked away behind billboard signs. The swarms of angered groans still blistered the air. But they were safe. For the meantime. "What now?" she asked, her shit-eating grin wiped clean.

Tripp shook his head. "That truck is long gone," he muttered. "And we can't wait here all day for those things to clear out." He turned to Javier. "What do you think, Javi?"

Javier shushed him.

"W-What the fuck, ma—!"

"There's someone up there...! I just saw him." Tripp sprung before he was yanked back down. "No, I'll go. Just... You all stay quiet."

Clementine frowned as Javier crept across a bridge between the building roofs (made of wood planks), gun at the ready. On the gas station, everybody was silent, ears strained. Clementine heard voices, too far to get any clear words. However, she heard the tones. They weren't exactly friendly, though she couldn't decide if they were hostile.

She moved forward, eyeing the sign that blocked her view of Javier. "What is going on up there?!" she hissed, pulling out her pistol.

Conrad furrowed his brows. "What are you going to do?"

The fact that her answer was immediate should've deterred her. Although, then again, Javier was a…friend, right? Friends called each other assholes, right? And saved their lives afterwards? She nodded to herself, dead-set on her intention. Clementine said, confidently, "I'm going up there. You can follow me or not."

"What?!" he whispered sharply. "He said to stay put!"

"And I just said that I'm going up there!" she spat back. Without giving him a chance to argue, Clementine moved forward. As she reached the other roof, from across the creaking planks of wood, she pulled her pistol on a tall man whose handgun was jutted into Javier's cheek. "Drop it!" she snapped.

The man jerked his head around, surprised. "Oh, well look at— Gouff!" Javier had taken his chance to elbow the man in the stomach and step out of his reach. The rest of the group had quickly crossed over and surrounded the tall man. "Ah...right, I see, I see..." His voice was mellow and calming, though Clementine felt the sense that he knew more than he spoke. It was tangled within his tone and words. "We're all defensive, aren't we?" There was also a humble twang to his voice, something that contrasted with his intimidating frame and robust, black leather trench-coat.

"The hell you doin' here?! Where you spying?!" Conrad thrusted the barrel of his shotgun forward. For a brief moment, Clementine scowled; that was her old fucking shotgun, God damn it. Though, she used her scowl to fix the aim at the man's head.

"No, actually, I was taking a nap when you all woke me up by moving that car," the mysterious man answered. "And now, I'm going to be heading off, so why don't you set those down and we'll go off to our own directions?"

Javier, who seemed just as perplexed of this man as Clementine was, asked, "And...where are you going exactly?"

"Richmond. Lost touch with some good people there."

"Oh," Javier said, the tension uncoiling from his shoulders. "So are we. Two others from our group are headed there now."

"Really...?"

Conrad scowled. "What are you doing telling him everything?!"

Javier gestured him to settle down. "Look, we don't want any trouble. We're just looking for a place to stay."

"Stay...at Richmond?" The man almost winced (nobly, mind) and shook his head apologetically. "Unless you're friends with the New Frontier, I'd worry about them."

Clementine felt her gut plummet. Stricken, she felt tension pool in between her shoulders. She was dead. This was it. And all the others by association, butchered.

Everybody was shocked—aside from Gabe, who was left confused—, though none of them were as quick to respond as Clementine: "What do you mean?! The New Frontier's in Richmond?!" Her heart hammered and thoughts whirled.

The man's attention spun around them to catch glimpses of their expressions. "What...you didn't know? They took over months ago."

"Fucking hell," Tripp scowled.

"The...what?"

"You shitting me right now!"

"Guys, who's the—"

Javier tightened his grip around the pistol. "That's... God, Eleanor and Kate are headed right for them!"

"HEY!" Everybody jumped to Gabe's yell. "Finally... Who the hell's the New Frontier? Are they a group?"

"They're the group that attacked us at the junkyard and Prescott," Javier explained quickly. "They're not good." Gabe stared at the end of his firearm, distraught.

Conrad cocked his shotgun. "And who's to say you aren't one of them?"

The man tilted his head and replied, "You've got the wrong idea, there. I'm not. So I'll ask again, you can lower your guns, and I can let you tag along with me for the time being."

"Or maybe we'll just tie you up, and you'll show us the way to get there that way, right?"

"Uh...no, that's not what I said."

"I know that's not what you fucking said. That's what I said!"

Tripp raised his gun as well. "Yeah...how do we know we can trust you? We just met."

Clementine scoffed and immediately lowered her pistol. "We all just met Javi and Gabe."

Javier took the notion and stashed his pistol away. "Come on, I have a feeling we can trust him."

"Thank-you," the man said with a grateful nod.

"Wha—"

"Conrad, please." Conrad grumbled in disapproval but relented nonetheless. Javier turned to the stranger. "So, where to?"

The man pointed above where a raised set of train tracks led, puncturing into the mountain within a tunnel. "I heard those will lead straight to the heart of Richmond, just outside the settlement borders."

"Alright. Come on, everybody." Javier took a few steps forward, then hesitated. "Wait, what's your name again?"

The man stopped and turned around. "Oh, yes, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Paul," he answered—which Clementine didn't expect from a guy wearing a long leather coat and beanie overtop his full beard, long and straight hair, and broad shoulders. Paul… Paul…?

"But people call me Jesus." Now that, that was a name she found very suiting.

They all followed Jesus, either curious, baffled or irritated.

And walkers, apparently, loved tunnels. They littered the place in groups no less than three, especially by the mouth of the entrance.

The group charged through them, evading as many as they could. And fucking Conrad lost her God damn shotgun, God damn it. Clementine wanted to just dive in the water to find it, though the smell begged otherwise. And that, well, she didn't know if there were any walkers still kicking underneath the surface.

Nevertheless, what was left of their gunfire echoed throughout the tunnel in harmony with Jesus' swift and agile attacks; Clementine was impressed. For a man of his stature and build, she didn't expect his grace. She could only imagine what he was like before the Outbreak. Eventually, the concentration of walkers subsided, leaving them with a long stretch of tunnel.

"It should be 'round this bend up here, to the right," Jesus said, pointing forward. The group murmured to themselves.

Clementine watched Jesus, worry and guilt still a heavy weight in her chest. With the excitement gone, she realized just how much time she'd just wasted thinking of everything else but Richmond. She strayed behind Gabe, aligned with Javier's steps. They walked together, side-by-side. He glanced at her as Clementine searched for her words. "Is there...anything wrong?"

She swallowed. God damn this man. Clementine shouldn't have cared as much as she knew she did, and… Fuck. "I...need to tell you something. Which, I should've before."

"And you didn't because...?" Clementine nodded forward, gesturing to the group ahead. "Oh."

She inhaled deeply before letting go of her breath in the same manner. "Um...Javi?" Her breath shook, and Clementine felt her chest lurch. She was wrenched back to the many times in her parent's kitchen, right before her mom with hands on her hips. Hazel eyes piercing the girl, waiting.

Clementine stopped in her tracks.

Javier did as well, keeping his attention on her with earnest. "Yeah?"

"I wasn't completely honest before. About the New Frontier," she whispered. He nodded slowly as she rolled up her sleeve.

His kind eyes widened. Even in the dark, Javier saw it. "Fucking... Y-You are one of them?" he whispered sharply.

Clementine jerked her sleeve down. "Was," she corrected. "And not because I wanted to—they had what I needed. Point is, I know how these people are. It's dangerous."

"But Kate. She needs help. We have to go find her and get her to a doctor."

She waved her hand impatiently, her eyes briefly straying down the tunnel. "I get that, okay? Just— I can't be there. We're not on good terms."

"'Not on good terms?' What do you mean?"

Clementine answered, "I was kicked out, okay? Again, I didn't want to be there, but I needed what they had." She watched him carefully. Javier, with a lingering nod, slowly understood. "I'm not one of them. I… They will recognize me because…"

"…because?"

Clementine winced. This was far from her proudest moment. "Because I…well. They might have some…bounty on me. I-I wouldn't be surprised…" Javier's eyes grew wide. Sheepish, Clementine explained, "Since I was kicked out, I've been…robbing their runners and random people on the streets? Beat some of them to where they weren't recognizable—?"

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Clementine…"

"I-I know!" she gasped. "I know… So, yeah, no, we're not on good terms. And if you're with me…"

Javier gave a lengthy sigh. He should've known. Clementine had too much confidence and prose when they first met—at her gunpoint. …he was going to be another one, wasn't he? If Javier fought, Clementine would have beaten him beyond recognition, right? He watched her, searching her eyes. Yes. He would've. Javier swallowed, then paused in thought. "Wait, did you know that they were in Richmond?"

"No!" she hissed. "No, I was a runner for supplies down southwest. I never came up here before. Not in the city…" Clementine held herself. God, she was a fucking monster wasn't she? And Javi? No, he wasn't. For his sake, she pled, "Please, okay? I can't. If I'm there, I'm dead. And…" Her bullet-torn shoulder itched. "And I don't really care about that, but…you're dead too if they catch you with me. It's how a lot of them work… They'll kill for association. I-I've watch it happen…" She swallowed, and Clementine scratched the back of her neck. "And some… Some of my orders weren't that different…"

Javier frowned, though he didn't move away from her somber gaze. "Please, Javi. You have to believe me."

Javier folded his arms, working his jaw in thought. Before he could say anything though, Gabe called from the end of the tunnel: "Come on, guys! We're not going to sit and wait for you!" Javier looked over and found Conrad behind Gabe, standing silently with his pistol.

He glanced at Clementine, then turned and answered, "Alright, we're coming!" They jogged forward and turned the corner behind Gabe and Conrad. As the four walked towards sunlight, Clementine noticeably paler, Javier asked, "Did they go through that?" He pointed towards a metro-train that was synched in the middle, forcing two cars upwards.

Gabe nodded. "Yeah."

They all clambered inside, careful not to slide on the newspapers that were scattered across the floor; in one of the seats, a newspaper box had wedged itself in place after having fallen through the door. Javier looked forward and found its entry point.

His heart leapt against his sharp ribs as Conrad aimed his gun towards Clementine.

"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing?!"

"Don't play dumb with me! Finish your story!"

Clementine was equally as bewildered, and she looked at Javier for help. "Look, we just need to get moving—"

"No! Not 'til you move up that sleeve of yours!"

"Sleeve?" Gabe asked in confusion. "What—"

Javier stepped forward, only to jerk back. The pistol was searching for a target—anyone that moved. "Put the gun away, Conrad! We don't have time for this!"

"Yes we do." He snatched Clementine's arm. "Your sleeve."

Clementine wormed away. "What is he talking about?" Gabe's eyes darted between all three. "What is he—?!"

She sighed with her own thumping heart, and, hesitantly, she pulled up her sleeve to reveal the New Frontier's brand.

"You're one of them?!" Gabe yelped, wrenching himself away from her.

"Certainly is!"

"No, she's one of us!" Javier snapped. "She was on the other side of the fight when Mariana and Francine died, remember?!"

"So she goes back-and-forth! That makes her even worse!"

Clementine sneered, "I'm just going to leave, alright?! I'm not one of them—!"

"Bullshit!" Conrad forced his glare to Javier. "She can help us get in—!"

"It doesn't work like that! They don't negotiate, okay?!" Clementine urged.

Javier whipped out his own weapon. "Conrad, stop! I don't want anything to do with this!"

Conrad growled, yanking Gabe to his side by the collar of his jacket, and with the gun pointed to his head. "How about we make a deal? Clementine comes with us and we get in, or your nephew gets it!"

"Conrad!" Clementine snarled. Gabe fidgeted, struggling to keep his feet with Conrad's arm around his neck.

"What?! She could be useful! We get in, she's off our backs and we're safe, right?!"

"Conrad...please, let him go," Javier begged. How did this happen?! How the fuck did this bartender get a hold of his nephew, pistol to his neck?! How did Javier manage to land himself on the same side as the bandit who nearly robbed him?!

He shook his head. Javier didn't know. "Please!" he hissed, throat tight.

Conrad's eyes narrowed, and Javier saw his trigger finger itch. Immediately, a bullet fired.

How did it get to this? How— How did Javier do this? He watched Conrad's body slump to the ground. The man's face remained stained with his anger. He didn't see it coming.

Javier stared, horrified with himself; he barely felt the Glock in his hands. He barely noticed how Gabe staggered away through his pants, his eyes wide with shock. "Go ahead..." Javier murmured to his nephew. "I'll...be there in a moment."

"What?"

"Go ahead." Gabe nodded with a hard swallow, then scrambled through the door with his head hammering and ears ringing. Javier's shoulders slacked. "Shit... I-I didn't—" He just killed someone…right there. Point-blank range.

And Clementine eyed Javier, somewhat envious. He was wracked with a grief foreign to her. One that came from the people who never wanted to shoot. One that she desperately wanted to find within herself. One that…separated the people from the monsters. Clementine swallowed, eyes to Javier and not the pooling blood by their feet. "It's not your fault. It just happened so fast." Her own heart was hammering.

"Yeah...right." He gulped the tightness in his throat down. "Go." She stood expectantly. Javier's voice was beaten to a whisper. "Go. Before they see you."

"And what about you? You're going to be alright with that?" He nodded. Clementine stepped backwards. "I'm... Okay." Conrad's blood dripped past them in a narrow line. "Thank-you, really. I know you didn't want to but..."

Javier smiled gently, one that didn't reach his eyes. "We're a team...right?" he said, his words hoarse. Clementine nodded, then turned around. She didn't look back as she disappeared down the tunnel, leaving him alone. Cravings resurfaced. Her guilt—which had been an unceasing emotion for the past few days—irked her. The flask at her hip wasn't enough to drown it all.

No. It wasn't. Definitely not.

Before the corner, she stopped and finally turned around. Javier would've continued forward. Of course she wouldn't have seen him one final time. No. This isn't— Clementine frowned, feeling herself be tugged in two different directions. The train car. Away. The train car. Away. To Javi. To wherever.

She went away. To wherever.

[. . .]

There once was a station wagon. Left open. The lights on. Its ring loud in the night. The group flocked to it—hungry, cold, tired. And after the hell's paradise they just left, it was like a diamond had grown in the place of weeds…

Clementine stalked, weaving in between the pines. Ever since the New Frontier had shunted her away, she roamed her pathways like clockwork. She searched for anything to eat, cook, hunt, or drink. Only a few weeks had passed, and already it was habitual. Clementine was a panther, circulating her territory.

And anybody who'd cross it—anybody at all—she would, well… Like any hunter, she would strike.

They had argued. About the car, with all of its resources served as a wealthy buffet. Clothes. Food. Water. Blankets. Books. Camping gear. Batteries and flashlights. So. Many. Things. And it all goaded the group, whispering in their ears that nobody was around. Nobody was there to have them shy away from their abrupt gift. Nobody at all…

Clementine crouched and rested her shotgun against the trunk of an old tree, scanning through the bushes. She watched the people wander. She heard their anxious curiosity as they stumbled in the clearing.

With the flask in her hand, Clementine inhaled a swig. This was going to be easy. Those girls were perfect. She eyed the pregnant backpack that one of them carried, completely overstuffed by so. Many. Things.

She stashed the flask away, snatched the shotgun, and made her move.

Except, two stood on the outskirts as the rest of the group—giddy and joyous—pawed their new-found prize. Side-by-side, together, they rejected such a gift. Her hand was joined with his, and she watched a snug red hoodie slip out from the trunk to be examined. She turned away from the unsure gaze sent in her direction, second-guessing the girl's adamant decision.

There was no way the little girl would ransack that car. She watched the scene, uncomfortable, with the hazel sun in her eyes. Every fiber in her being willed her against it…

Eyes of hellfire didn't break from the pair as Clementine stepped out into the clearing, gun cocked. Both had their backs turned, oblivious and instead primed with confusion. She didn't give a flying fuck if they were lost; the stupid girls were in her web now.

Clementine raised the barrel and hissed, "Don't. Move."

The girls both froze, unnerved. The rough patches of dirt crunched underneath Clementine's boots as she paced forward, her gaze unmoving. Her voice sliced through the air, and it sent charged shivers down their spines: "Keep your eyes up and out."

The taller one—with raven hair pulled into a tight bun—twisted around. She snarled, "I don't think so, you bitch!"

The girl was fast, though the barrel of Clementine's shotgun was faster; before she could even raise her revolver, Clementine sent her straight to the earth with a clobber to the jaw—the speed of a viper's.

For several days, she was questioned about it. The man who stood beside her didn't, of course, but the rest most certainly did. It wasn't like she could avoid the food they ate, nor the water they drank, but she could pass the blankets and towels and jackets.

The ring of the car doors still looped in her thoughts. She tried to draw, just to keep it at bay. Though, with all of their questions, it was no use. It was a constant thought.

They shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have done it. People would be destroyed—and the man of the station wagon was…

"JANET!" the other girl screamed.

The girl with the bun, Janet or whatever, gasped on the ground, holding her face. The blood from her nose had drenched her cheek on impact, and the curve of her jaw was already darkening into a nasty bruise. Clementine sneered, "You better stay down." She looked to the other girl, who trembled in place. The inferno in her stare switched back and met a terrified sky-blue, who stared at her in horror from the dirt. Clementine added, "Your girlfriend wouldn't want to see what I'd do if you didn't. I'm not nice, you see? And now I'm fucking pissed."

Clementine left Janet to lay in the dirt, the revolver an arm's length from her broken nose and uneven jaw. The other girl quivered as she stalked closer, taking only a step back before Clementine snarled, "And now you…"

It didn't matter if she never took anything from the station wagon. It didn't matter if the man who stood beside her didn't. The station wagon man still stole her away, giving the man who stood beside her a chance to get bit. A chance for her to shoot him. A chance for him to die chained in a jewelry store.

And she was left all alone for a day, wandering wheat fields aimlessly…

"W-What do you want from us?!" the girl wept. "We— We never did anything to you!"

"You walked down my path as I was coming this way," Clementine hissed. "And that was your own mistake. The bag. I want it."

The girl narrowed her eyes through her tears, and she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "N-No…" she whispered. "We can't. You mess with us, and you mess with the N-New Frontier!"

The girl learned something that day, something that she'd continue to fight for years thereafter…

Clementine's expression warped with anger. "Oh. So you're runners." The stupid girls really were lost; the route they were supposed to run was a few blocks down. Her jaw tightened, and she glanced over her shoulder to Janet. She remained on the ground, the revolver still a distance away. "That doesn't mean anything to me," Clementine murmured, further striking fear into those sky-blue eyes. She turned back to the girl with the glasses.

With her sleeve rolled, and the color drained from the girl's face at the sight of the New Frontier's brand. "They already know about me. We aren't friends anymore. Hand. It. Over."

"W-Why…?" the girl whimpered, slowly slipping the backpack off her shoulders.

Civility and good nature didn't matter anymore. Not as you starved. Not as monsters claimed everything…

Clementine grabbed the straps of the bag before swinging it over. "It doesn't matter, does it?" she answered. "You're not my friend either." She readjusted her shotgun. "Now close your eyes, count to thirty—" she glared at Janet, who was as still as ever— "and don't. Fucking. Move."

The girls both closed their eyes and counted. Clementine slipped in between the trees without so much a noise, and by the time thirty was reached, she was gone. They could still feel her gaze within the shadows—where the sun hadn't yet claimed—as Janet was helped to her feet.

Once they left her territory, however, Clementine broke away and began wandering towards a small cottage house. Her eyes swept the landscape for anything moving, though only the tall grass shifted.

"Clem…"

It was only a small whisper from behind, one that was slow to realize. Clementine heard it nonetheless. She twisted around, and immediately everything spiked.

He was still in the shadows, a ghost. The man reached forward, the warmth of the sun hitting his fingertips. "Why…? You never use to steal," he asked quietly, his one kind eye watered.

Clementine's stare was monstrous. She raised the shotgun, the buzz of her whiskey the only thing she could think and feel. "Fuck off," she snarled.

His eye widened, and he swallowed. "Clem— Please, I want t' talk to you. It's been so long—"

Kenny was shot into a cloud of shadows. Clementine hissed, the shotgun's bellow still sharp in her ears. The longer she lingered, the more her shivers enveloped her body. Clementine's breaths were shallow, and a knot grew in between her shoulders.

With a hard swallow, Clementine turned away.

The girl who stood away from the station wagon… Well, she grew to be unrecognizable. A monster that claimed everything.

[. . .]

And down that same path, Clementine wondered about those girls and whether or not they were in Richmond. If the girl she hit, if she ever survived that blow. Or if she was ever the same. She wondered a great many things about those two amongst her scattered thoughts, her body only following the path out of instinct, towards the small cottage. A moth to its light. A salmon up the stream. A habitual panther.

Everything was hazy as she made it out from the trees. Clementine could barely feel the nearly-empty bottle in one hand, a knife in the other. She roamed down the street with a trail of rotting corpses behind her, their eyes drab and punctures in their heads fresh. Clementine staggered to the side after snagging her foot in a pothole, catching herself on a lamppost. "Damn it," she snapped, glaring at the road. Clementine wiped her cheek, clearing her skin of black blood.

For a while, she watched the stars that hung above her, transfixed. As a little girl, she often wondered about the night's sky. Clementine frowned, trying to collect the assumptions she made then, before the world plummeted into the age of death. And she found that...she couldn't remember. Especially with everything else sprinting through her mind.

Removing herself from the lamppost, Clementine found the small cottage ahead. She gave a sort of smile, knowing that it was safe and regularly empty of people—dead or alive. It was a quaint house, alone on its side of the road with a large backyard. She passed a swing-set before reaching the back door. With it closed, Clementine sighed and tossed the bottle in the sink. It fractured on impact, an addition to the small collection she'd begun to build up.

In the living room, Clementine sat in the only comfortable seat in the house: a leather armchair facing the large window and driveway. Beside her was an old, 1970s-style television set, with a gaping mouth where a zombified hand rested. And on the other side, a turned-over couch blocking the basement door (her doing several months prior). Her gaze wandered around the house, resting on the bolted front door, then the floorboards that were worse-for-wear in some places.

With a sigh, Clementine stared out the window, idly watching a walker slug across the road with both legs missing. For a moment, she debated searching it for anything useful, though declined in favor of the comfortable chair. Then she glanced at the sudden figures in the window lazi—

Her heart seized.

Clementine whipped her attention to them in the window, realizing that the man and woman were not outside but a reflection. Pistol at the ready, she slowly got to her feet, eyes kept on the glass. She couldn't speak. Slowly, her head turned to look over her shoulder. They stared at her, holding each other endearingly. Clementine didn't realize she backed away until she felt the chilling window against her shoulder, her bullet scar's shiver, and the windowsill pressed against the small of her back.

The eerie silence deafened the house.

Clementine blinked. Her eyes stung without reason as she stared at them. The first thing she noticed was how clean they were; there were no tears or stains in their clothes, their skin was smooth and washed, and their hair—resembling hers with dark coils—were cleanly kept and trimmed.

The woman spoke: "Clementine, baby, don't you recognize us?"

The grip around her raised weapon began to tremble, her trigger finger itching. Clementine's breath shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. No, it can't be. No… "M-Mom...? D-Dad...?" she asked with a quiet strain in her voice. "No, no," she wept. "You're dead. You're dead."

"We're waiting for you," her father said calmly. He extended his hand. "This world is no place for our daughter. Come home. Sandra's been worried sick about you."

"You're all dead," Clementine snapped. "You're all dead... And I don't have...a...a home."

"Put the gun down, honey," her mother urged. Clementine staggered backwards, sliding against the window. Her parents were far closer than they were before. They were stalking towards her, their movements gradual and slugged. "Be a good girl and put it away. You shouldn't be playing with that."

"Listen to her, Clementine." Her father trudged towards her with his foot dragging against the floor. "I don't know who gave you that or who told to point it at someone. So put it away and come with us."

"I— I'm not leaving!" Her thoughts were hysterical. Clementine shook her head, trembling as she stepped backwards to the couch. Where was her buzz?! Where was the white noise?! Nothing but absolute terror plagued her. Clementine's voice cracked through her whimper. This wasn't happening. This wasn't—

Her mother pleaded, "Please, Clemmie," as she knocked herself into the corner of the television. Her knees buckled, but nevertheless, the woman didn't flinch otherwise. "We don't want to see you like this anymore. Just look at you."

Clementine wormed away from them, her heels scraping the floor as she backed right into the couch. Her father grabbed her wrist for a split second before she wrenched it away, hurling herself towards the stairs. "Don't touch me!" she snarled. The tremors that rushed through her body jerked her grip around the pistol. His touch was a cold knife: sharp and icy. Merciless. Unforgiving.

Clementine's world lurched. Everything sagged and shivered. The skins of her parents rotted away, revealing their bones caked in decomposing blood and eyes a pearly white. Their clothes hung from their bodies, shredded. Their skin grew patchy and blotched, and their hair matted.

"Look what you've become." His words rattled against his ribs, mouth agape and teeth clacking. "We've both seen you do terrible things... We want to take you away from this world."

"Yesss, honey," her mother hissed like a hose, her trachea vibrating from her throat, "there is still a chance for you. A better life. We will forgive you for the blood on your hands."

Clementine shook her head. "No, n-no! You're ly-ing! You're not taking m-me away!" she sobbed. "I-I won't let you!"

Her father swiped at her as she stumbled up the steps, her clutch digging into the railing. "There is no saving our child," he snarled, and his words were barely understandable. "We need you to try again."

"No...no...no...no..." Clementine whimpered, her vision blurred.

"I see the Devil in your eyes."

"No... No please, d-don't say that."

"We're here to drag you straight to Hell, Clementine." Her father roared a walker's call, clambering up the stairs unevenly with her mother toppling over him. "We're here to make you try again. Put that damn thing in your mouth." Their arms snatched the air to reach their daughter.

"No, no," Clementine hissed, her teeth clenched. A warmth bled through the roof of her mouth. A metal tang. "I-I can't do that… I-I—" Everything within her writhed. She shook her head, and snarled, "No, I won't let you! I won't let you!"

Her trigger finger jerked, releasing two bullets to scream in terror and defiance at her wake. Her mother took the first, her eye completely freed from her head before she smacked down the stairs. Her father screeched as his bullet tore through the center of his face; his head fell onto a step, splattering on impact, leaving the rest of his body to slump against the wall.

Clementine choked on her tears as she stared, the walkers gradually losing any resemblance of her parents. They were freshly risen, their identical sandy hair drenched in blood. She dropped the pistol beside her. Both hands planted themselves against her ears as she shook, the rest of her body rooted to the spot. "Fuck... Fuck..." Her chest was shattered; Clementine held it as she coughed through her cries. "G-God help m-me... G-God...I-I can't go to Hell. I-I c-can't be a-alone... Please... Oh please, God..."

And as her breaths heaved themselves past her lips, through her teeth, she felt the warmth of her mouth hiss. The muzzle of a pistol nestled against her tongue. Clementine wiped her mouth and unraveled, her cries pierced and hysterical as any gunfire.

For hours she couldn't move. In that quaint house, Clementine was the slave to her own trauma, another battle lost.

[. . .]

Clementine sat along a log bench, alone, with a fire set at her feet. She ignored the chatter of the other men and women, her hand kept on her arm. With a wince, she rolled up her left sleeve. The brand just above her elbow was still foreign. Just as strange as the deep ravine of skin and scar tissue down same arm was at first. And the bullet wound at her shoulder. And her missing finger…

She frowned. No, it was still strange. Clementine didn't ask for any of the others, but she did allow to be branded like a fucking cow. That was the strange thing, wasn't it? Not the brand, but the fact that she was in a group again.

A group… Other people.

Clementine held the brand for another moment, soothing its burn. At least Ava was the one to do it, even if Clementine had to argue with a tent full of men to make it happen. And then promise to run extra supplies. And then not complain when the blisters on her feet ached after all of it.

The joke was on them: Clementine's aches and pains were the least of her worry, and if they paid any attention to her missing finger, the bullet wound, and the deep scar, they would've realized that she didn't give a damn to what amounted to trivial matters.

But…she was still thirsty.

Her eyes shifted amongst the group around the fire, and whenever anybody sent their gaze her way, Clementine jerked her eyes back to the ground. Clementine's head throbbed, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. Curiously, she turned towards her right where—a couple of tents away—A.J was sound asleep in Ava's arms. The woman gave a small wave, to which Clementine responded in kind, though gentle.

Clementine turned abruptly to the steps behind her. She blinked, and looked up. David, the one who ran this camp. Dog-tags around his neck. Clothes reminiscent of the military. The same type of person who remained to be a soldier. The same type as…Lilly; Clementine didn't exactly know where that came from, her life in a motel long, long ago. Or why she thought of it.

She was nervous, to say the least, as he sat beside her—hands together, leaned forward, with arms at his knees. David gave Clementine what could've been a smile, though she assumed it had been a while; it was the same one she caught herself wearing on occasion.

"You handle yourself well, out there. Kept some of my most trusted on their toes—even left a few behind in your dust, didn't you?" David commented with a few chuckles.

Clementine was slow to reply: "…thanks. It's not that impressive. I just got supplies."

David nodded. "Sure. But you were able to take care of those things quick enough. Barely made any noise."

She shrugged sheepishly. "I don't always have a gun or bullets. It's not reliable that way."

"Exactly," David said. When she didn't give any more to the conversation, he reached for his vest. "Here. Even with everything, I saw that you…uh, seem to need something to pick yourself up."

Clementine took a brief glance before doubling-back. Her eyes widened.

In his hands was a titanium flask, clothed in maroon leather. Clementine heard whatever was in there slosh at the top. The thing was full, and all she remembered was the plain, worn flask from a trunk years ago. "I…" she whispered. "What's in that?"

"Some whiskey," he murmured carefully. "You reminded me of some people who were the same. It's my spare."

Clementine took it. She could only stare at the thing in her hands. "Thank-you," she mumbled before unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. Immediately, the tension and anxiety blinked away as the drink crawled down her throat. Immediately, she couldn't feel the warmth at the roof of her mouth.

"It's no issue, so long as you keep your drive."

"I will," Clementine ruffed from behind the lid.

David nodded, then said, "The world's taken its toll on you, hasn't it? Always in battle with the enemy?"

She breathed and closed the flask. "I guess you can say that. There's no rest."

"None at all…" he murmured absently. They turned towards his name from across the camp. David sighed, then stood up. "I have orders. Keep your spirits, Clementine, for the next assignment."

"Right." Clementine watched him leave before her eyes were inevitably glued to the flask. She ran her thumbs along the seams of the leather, and she read the branded label, half-expecting it to be the New Frontier's sigil.

But no.

Instead, there was a compass on one side, then a globe on the other. She concentrated, brows furrowed, as she tried to name the continents. She could only remember the Americas, Africa and Asia. The rest she couldn't remember, partly due to her only ever getting those handful correct on her quizzes. Wait, no, there was Europe—however you spelt the place. And…Russia? Russia was a continent, right?

She chewed the inside of her cheek. There was an Australia somewhere, and the fat mass of ice on the bottom had a name, right? Clementine scowled. Maps of the whole world were always so confusing.

Back to the compass, she traced the lines of the letters and numbers intimately. If only it was a working one… She unscrewed the lid and sipped on the booze. A thought surfaced, and she came to the conclusion that it was, in fact, working. It pointed her to one direction: drink.

Clementine went back to tracing the designs, cap closed.

After a few minutes, she then got to her feet, flask at hand. She roamed the camp, almost in a daze. The whiskey, it was nice to Clementine. She felt her strength seep back, and her calm. As she watched the trees, at the foot of the fire's warmth and light, Clementine drank more of it. It was like magic, how much it fueled her…

"Hey, uh…Clementine?"

She jolted in place, and eyes of hellfire slipped over her shoulder. "Hi," Clementine grunted once turning away. "Thanks for watching A.J… Who's with him now?"

"Lingard. He's giving A.J some water and warm food," Ava answered. She stood beside Clementine, rather unsure. "What's in that?"

"The brand? I dunno…"

"'Are you drinking?' is what I meant."

Clementine narrowed her eyes and screwed the cap on the flask tightly. "So what?" She held up her hand, scowling, "And don't say I shouldn't 'cause I'm a kid!"

Ava was left puzzled. She watched Clementine sadly; the woman now understood why she looked so drained before. It was because Clementine didn't have any fire left. Not one flame to help fight against the beast in her eyes. Even so, like before, Ava refrained from asking what that beast was, exactly. She assumed it was the same reason why Clementine didn't belong in groups, and why she hated people.

So, words soft, Ava replied, "Okay… Okay, I'm not saying anything."

Clementine tightened her jaw and nodded. "Fine…"

[. . .]

A long, long night since her parents visited her, Clementine sat at the edge of a small cliff, overlooking the mass of walkers heading towards Richmond. She glared onto the sight, arms folded as she stood tall. Clementine sipped on her flask, maintaining the buzz that kept her strong. Behind her were a bundle of RVs, which she assumed were abandoned after the dead rose. Maybe it was supposed to be a nice weekend for whoever left them there, only to have it be taken away…

Regardless, Clementine found that it was completely safe from the walkers down below.

She could practically smell the death and dust the herd picked up, and she—

Something caught the corner of her eye. A glint of metal.

Clementine frowned and squinted. "Is that...?" Her heart jolted. "Javi!" She recognized his baseball jersey from the way it almost glowed in the moonlight—there was also the fact that nobody else wore a white baseball jersey to begin with. Then there was the bat he was swinging, which caught the moonlight through frantic swings.

Clementine raced down the slope as the multitude of walkers swarmed him down below. Her heart was hammering. It seized all of her chest to surge forward.

She heard him drop his metal bat before she saw it. The metal dribbled against the rocks as Clementine careened around a few trees, just in time. He stumbled backwards until landing flat on his side. And while Javier internally prayed for his life—grimacing and hands held out—, Clementine swooped in. After having watched the herd for the better part of an hour, Clementine found it satisfying to hear the bat's metal bash into their heads. Over and over and over again. With each swing, the faces of her dead parents flashed before her eyes, just a second before the impact. Every time, Clementine saw herself destroy their faces. Their memory.

And it felt good, what with her thoughts clouded in white noise, and her body humming a fury like no other.

After the rest were taken care of, leaving Clementine breathless, Javier gasped, "Oh God..."

Clementine handed him the bat, handle first. "You need to be more careful with that."

"You just saved my life," he said, grabbing her hand to get to his feet.

Clementine frowned, working the faces of the dead away with a quiet smile. "Just add it to the pile."

Javier shook his head, and he peered through the dark night wildly. He caught her strained words—the ones that weren't out of momentary exhaustion—and blinked at her in amazement. "Shit, Clem. Where did you come from?"

She pointed upwards. "There's an RV camp there. It's a part of this park, I think. Not a lot of walkers go by." Clementine looked around. "And you're alone because...?"

"Got separated from Tripp and Jesus," Javier answered. "We were up in there—Richmond—before they kicked us out. Kate and Gabe are still there, though. In the city's hospital."

"Figures," Clementine muttered. "I can only imagine with David running most of the place."

Javier chuckled. "Oh, I know that more than you..." Clementine arched a brow. "He's...uh, he's my brother."

"Oh." Clementine's eyes looked him up and down in speculation. That revelation had…thrown her for a loop, to say the least. And yet…there was some resemblance. Not a lot, but some. "I'm guessing you two aren't close?"

He tilted his head side-to-side. "Uh...it's complicated. He's my brother, so...you know..." Javier watched her. She looked confused. "Uh, do you? Did you have siblings? A brother or sister?" Clementine shook her head. "Ah, okay, so you wouldn't. Anyway, it's complicated."

"Yeah, I can tell. Now where are you going?"

"To the warehouse down that way," he said, pointing ahead. "But we need to find Jesus and Tripp."

"Not happening."

"What?!"

Clementine folded her arms. "Look, the number of walkers around here, it's not happening right now, especially at night." And that fact was highlighted by the swarm just down the street, ravaging everything it came across.

Javier worked his jaw and let out a long sigh. "I-I guess. We did have a plan if we got separated. To meet a little ways before the warehouse until morning."

"Then we'll wait for a bit."

"What?"

They began to stroll away from the road, where Clementine silently led the way and Javier numbly followed. Clementine explained, "Look, I know a short-cut. It's the warehouse a few miles past the suburban neighborhood, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I was a runner for the New Frontier, remember? I went by there all the time—a few routes per week. Probably even stocked a few things in there too. I know a short-cut."

"But what about them?"

"Jesus and Tripp can handle themselves, right? Jesus being…Jesus, and Tripp with those boots that 'weigh heavier than me.'"

"Well...yeah."

"Then come on," Clementine said, offering a hand as she began to climb up the incline. "We need to get out of the way of the walkers. You guys walked in on a weaker side. They'll clear relatively quickly."

Javier debated. "How long would that take?"

"I don't know. Four, five hours? Six? It's not like they're running a marathon, Javi." He rolled his eyes and took her hand. "See? It's not that hard."

"Oh, stuff it."

[. . .]

Isolating Javier and Clementine from the walkers were four large RVs, tires slashed, incasing them within a square of temporary peace. He looked around as Clementine sat comfortably in a worn foldable chair, eyes to a newborn fire within a rock-pit. "You sure they don't get in?"

Clementine shrugged. "There's been a couple to get in, but there isn't much room for more than one to squeeze through in each of the corners." Javier crossed his arms, narrowing his shoulders anxiously. As Clementine pulled out her flask and unscrewed the lid, she said, "We're fine, Javi. There's nothing that'll get in."

"No, I believe you. I'm just...cold."

She arched a brow from over her flask. Once Clementine swallowed her sip, she said, "Well then sit over here by the fire."

Javier nodded, and he was quick to find himself settled into the wooden chair beside her. He leaned the bat on the broken arm of the chair and rubbed his temple. His foot tapped and flipped his stomach. Javier lifted his head. "Should we go find them?"

"They would find our bodies first," Clementine replied grimly. "I saw the herd over there a ways. And it's heading straight for Richmond. There's...not a lot we can do right now except wait."

He chewed his lip. "And you think they'll be fine?"

"Yeah." Clementine ducked her head back, and she drank the whisky for a long few seconds. She then leaned forward once done, resting her head in one hand with the other dangling the flask over the ground. "Tripp may be an ass, but he can handle himself. And Jesus is probably good on his own, considering..."

Javier, once again, nodded, tossing a small cut of wood into the fire. Clementine's shadow against the beige RV behind them swarmed to life as she consumed more whisky. She took in a long breath and released it deeply, from the base of her chest. Javier thought for a moment, watching the fire alongside her. In it, he found Mariana, full of life and innocence; for Clementine, she found the silhouette of two people—long dead, unrecognizable other than rotting flesh. Of who…should have claimed her the night in that house.

"I meant to ask," Javier murmured, "you looked a bit frazzled when you saved me—which, thanks…again."

"No problem," Clementine hummed. She sounded distant.

"So… Anything wrong?"

Clementine frowned, her thumb tracing the lines of the compass branded on the flask's leather. "Nothing really. I've just been trying to remember what my parents looked like all day," she answered, quiet.

"Oh." He leaned against his chair. "You…"

"Forgot? Yeah." Clementine groaned as she took another lug of her flask. Once satisfied, she exhaled and watched the fire.

"And they…?" Clementine didn't answer. Javier watched her for a moment, the way the flames met in her eyes. The spark that she had after knocking down that tree, which totaled the semi, was absent. Her usual flare nulled. Her fuse gone. "How much of that do you drink?"

It was as if he roused her from a daze. Clementine's eyes shifted to him, then to the flask. "Lasts me a week usually, if I just take sips." With a sigh, she said, "But, that's not happening this time." The last of it was drunk before she dropped the flask in the dirt, wiping her mouth. She tossed more wood pieces into the fire.

"And what else...?"

"I don't know," she grumbled, "but you'd be surprised by how much there is just laying around."

Javier frowned. "I've rarely come across any."

"Probably because you're looking wrong."

"What?"

Clementine got up and strode towards the beige RV. Along the bottom were small compartments. She opened the furthest one on the left, the closest to the driver's seat. Inside were broken tools and empty bags of food. "You have to keep the important stuff safe, right?"

Javier nodded. "Well, yeah..."

She moved to the next one over. Clementine jiggled on the handle and scowled. "Fuckin'—" She kicked it hard to the point the vehicle swayed. The compartment opened. Clementine grinned, opening it further to present its contents to Javier.

His eyes went wide, and he leaned against the chair. "Holy...fucking...shit." Clementine, proud of her stash, pulled out a large bottle of rum—one that she'd been craving for months, though relented for a special occasion. And what better night than during a swarming herd of walkers down the road? "Francine was right... You could have supplied the bar!" Clementine shrugged, flopping back down in her seat. "How'd... How'd you manage all of that?!"

"Well," she started, tugging on the cap of the bottle, "a quarter of that was already in there. I have spots all along from here to Prescott like this."

"You have this whole system just to save yourself the trouble of carrying all of it?" Clementine nodded as she drank some. "Mierda..." he breathed, almost in awe.

Clementine thrusted her hand towards him, grip tight around the neck of the bottle. "You want some?"

"Sure." Javier took the bottle, then drank. "Damn... That's good."

"I know, right?" Clementine was handed back the bottle. "I can't do that shit in the cans, though." She shivered. "I don't know what it is, but I can taste the metal. Like whenever you find plastic water bottles."

Javier nodded, knowing the feeling too well. "Oh, yeah. There are days when I just want to leave them, especially if the water had some sun." He leaned back as the fire continued to spit and crackle. He watched her gulp more of the rum. Curious (and fearful), he asked, "Do you drink this much...all the time?"

Clementine shrugged and set the rum down. "Yeah. Well...usually it's a little from my flask and a bottle a day. Sometimes. Not as big as this."

"How do you not get sick? You can die from it, you know."

A smile finally creased her lips, though it was solemn. "I know. Alcohol poisoning, right?" Clementine looked at Javier in his eyes. He grew nervous with what she would say next. And he had every right: "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Clementine..."

"I can't though," she hissed, her voice at the brink of trembling. "I can't, knowing I'd be one of them. I can't stop being alive, and- God fucking damn it..." She swallowed and looked at the ground between her boots. She shook her head. The roof of her mouth was warm, and she felt snow haunt her. Clementine looked back to the bottle and drank. To forget. Whatever was in that snow, she wanted to forget. Whatever was beside those bodies—whatever warmed the roof of her mouth—she wanted to leave.

"That's the hardest thing, Javi. I-I can't kill myself, but I don't..." Clementine tightened her lips with a clenched jaw.

Javier didn't know what to do. His mind raced with no right response. He cleared his throat and gave the only answer he could muster, allowing himself to say, "I know how you feel, Clem... I know how shitty the world can be. I gambled to take my mind off of things, you know? And it felt good in the moment, but it doesn't last... And I know you know that better than most people." He swallowed and scratched his hand. "Difference is, I had everything. I had a baseball career. I had...everything. I was just...running from home, mi familia." He laughed sourly. "And, when my papi died, I...told myself, I wasn't going to run anymore. I was going to stay with my family."

He turned to his side, tearing his gaze from the fire-pit. Clementine didn't, her face washed in warm hues. Though, all the same, Javier knew she was listening intently. "Clem, listen, I know...it's not easy for you to be with people. I know it's— I know it's really fuckin' difficult, actually. But...family, it's— By blood or experience, family is what protects you from yourself." He touched his chest. "I'm an example of that." Kate came to mind. Her deep, striking eyes. Her copper skin and cheery smile. "And...if you ever experience being in love with someone, and they love you just as much, don't let go. Family protects you from the outside. They will protect you from the inside."

For a long, long time, Clementine remained silent. The fire before them had died down, and it was nothing short of warm as its orange glow caressed the air.

When she did speak, Javier barely heard her: "I've had many families." Clementine's gaze lacked its usual edge. It was completely devoid of life, only filled to the brim with sorrow. "I almost died last night. I was at this house that's usually...empty. Nobody around, just me and some rabbits or whatever... Two guys though—they might have been brothers, I don't know. But...they had to've died there because they rose and attacked me.

"I didn't see them as walkers first though. They were my parents. But...I didn't recognize them, Javi... It wasn't until my—" Clementine tightened her jaw, forcing down the knot in her throat. "It wasn't until my mom said something to me that I realized..." She grew quiet again, only for a moment. "They're dead, in Savanah. I— I saw them... When it started, they were there for a trip. I thought they would come back and...they didn't. When I did get to Savannah, they had…turned." She rubbed the neck of the bottle absentmindedly, searching for her parents' faces again. But nothing. All was blank. Except… "I thought my dad came back for me, just for a moment."

She smiled warmly, the sparkle in her eyes brief. "But...no. It was Lee. My, my new family. And we had this group. Kenny, Carley, Duck, Katjaa... Fuck, even Lilly before... Before she—" Her throat tightened, something dark within her chest stirring awake. Blossoming. It writhed and itched, its urge for a drink quiet. But she pushed it away, too tired and worn to care. "One-by-one, though...they were picked off. And Lee... Lee got bit, and I— I had to shoot him."

Javier watched his hands, eyes burning and heart aching. He knew it was far from the end. He heard it in her voice, the way it cracked and broke into fragmented tones.

"Christa and Omid...they were his...substitute before they..." Clementine stared deeply into the center of the fire-pit. "I found a new family after that. One of the women, Rebecca... She had a baby. And Kenny, even, managed to live long enough to see me again. But...it was the same thing. In the end, it was just me...him...Jane and— Fuck." She gripped her head with one hand, her baseball cap falling to the ground as fingers laced through her hair. "My... My little goofball," she whined, "my little A.J... We were with...the baby and...and..." Her cries took control, unravelling all the emotions that had been dormant. The ones she put to sleep with her flask. "Her screams... All I heard were her screams... She knew where A.J was and...and Kenny didn't. I-I didn't. They fought, and... And they wouldn't. Fucking. Stop. So when she screamed for me, I c-couldn't. I couldn't and I— Kenny killed her w-while I turned my head...

"But when I looked back, she was covered in blood. It was everywhere. The snow. His hands... I-I didn't think. I... I pulled a gun on him and he looked at me, begging me to do it so...I— I... I wanted to, so much. And I did…" Javier felt tears drop, sinking through the dirt below him. "And I…was…so happy I did for a moment. I-I— Everything was quiet. Everything…" Clementine hissed a sob. Her hand snaked to her shoulder where the bullet's scar remained; she felt it bite and scratch with a ravenous chill. Clementine felt hot metal in her mouth, and she…

"F-F-Fuck!" she whispered. Clementine forced her eyes closed, teeth bared against the phantom of her agony from a lifetime ago. As she hissed rattled breaths, Clementine forced her eyes into the fire, and took a drink. Immediately, the booze washed the warmth of her mouth away, and for another spell of time she'd just granted herself, Clementine could forget the pistol in her mouth.

And she remembered distant wails of a baby, safe in a car. With Javier watching her, still wracked by her own grief, Clementine whispered, "A.J was alive, though, and I t-took care of him. I— He was with me when I joined the N-New Frontier. I only joined for him. He... He needed food and medicine. And..."

Clementine lifted her eyes which spliced through his own, anger and scorn boiling within them. "And your brother refused. He... He took A.J away from me after I...had enough. The medicine I stole for him, it... It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough and I can't..." She sobbed into her hands as Javier choked against his knuckles.

He reached over and rubbed her back, scooting the wooden chair closer. In a soft whisper, he said, "You're not drinking to kill yourself, are you? You're drinking to forget how to live." Clementine choked on her last few wrenching cries. She leaned into him as he rubbed her shoulder. "I can be your new family, you know... And Kate, and Gabe... We're not leaving any time soon. All of us, together."

"Don't say that..." she murmured, voice watery. "Everybody promises that and...it never happens. I promised A.J and..." Clementine went silent.

The two sat still for several minutes. Eventually, as the fire shrank, Javier added another small log to keep it busy. Clementine reached for the rum and brought it to her lips.

Familiarity panged him. "Wait." She paused before any slipped into her mouth.

Addiction was a freight train, rearing its ugly head at every corner before charging down the straightaways. "If you're going to do that..." Nothing small in the middle of its tracks would slow it down. Sometimes it would rest, though that was the nature of all things; when it awoke the next time, it would soar with an unbridled determination. "You're not doing it alone." Only when it was derailed could it be slowed; only when it was knocked off its destructive path could the freight train come to a stop—dangerous and messy, though it was.

In no way—and Javier knew this—would he be able to knock over the bullet train that Clementine had, which struck mercilessly with the hellfire in her eyes, and too the explosive temper she carried.

Clementine blinked in surprise. Her face softened, and she took the first gulp. He took the second, and the fourth, sixth, eight, tenth...

A few hours passed. The fire was gradually building to its maximum. At first, the wood was placed in. Then, it was tossed. And then thrown. Hurled. By the time the wood had run out, they laid on torn, bloodied sleeping bags with the empty bottle of rum on the ground. And a few other bottles, scattered about. They assumed that they drank all of them, though the flavors and brands never came to mind.

Especially with their conversations that swept the night away.

"Yeah, out of the two of us, I'm the uncle."

"Wh... What?"

"I'm the uncle."

"I don't... What do you mean?"

Clementine sat up and stared at him. She jabbed her chest drunkenly, her cheeks flushed and smile tilted. "I'm the uncle, so you're my...my...my nephew."

"But..." he asked, his breathy vowels elongated, "how...?! You're...you're like sixteen and, and I'm like... Oh shit. I think— I think I turned thirty!"

Clementine cackled. "No, no, no, no... I'm not sixteen, I'm...I'm..." She frowned and jerked her gaze back to him. "Well, I do-n't know, but I'm still your uncle."

"Uncle?"

"Ye-eahh." Her head bounced up and down. "Meee... That's, that's me."

Javier dug his palm into his left eye. "Oohhh, I get it now." Together, they giggled at their nonsensical joke, one that sobriety would never comprehend. Javier flopped back down, eagle-spread. Considering she was already tipping over, Clementine slumped beside him.

"I...love women," he breathed. "And when people say that...that their soul and heart is what's important and..." He sniffed, and an abrupt, fat tear dripped down the side of his head. "And they're right, you know? Nothin' can...can ever beat lovin' a woman like that, with their...soul and heart and heart an' shit." Clementine nodded along, too sniffling with a wipe of a lone tear. Javier sighed heavily. "But." He stuck his pointer finger into the air. "But! When they have...that nice ass and—and the lines in their back... Mierda..."

Clementine followed his eyes to the stars, where surely there was the most beautiful woman for her to find. She blinked, scowled, but saw one nonetheless—one that she really had ought to have ignored. (Fucking Eleanor of all people.) Even so, she mumbled, "Yeah... I like... I like it whenever their shirts show their necks and, and the— What's the bone here? The one that is...near the shoulder and neck?"

Javier frowned and pouted his lips. "Breastbone?"

"Breastbone...?" She narrowed her eyes before they abruptly widened. "Oh! Actually, sometimes..." Clementine chortled to herself, her eyes still on the stupid woman (somewhere) in the stars. "Sometimes, whenever I see Eleanor, I wonder what it's like to just...to just touch her boobs and—" She pinched the air delicately with a goofy smile. Javier giggled beside her, into the back of his hand—something reminiscent of a typical schoolgirl.

"Are they...soft, Javi?"

"Wha...?"

"Boobs."

He snorted with a shit-eating grin. "Oh yeah, oooohh yeah. They're, they're soft. Real soft."

"Oh... Are— Are Kate's soft?"

"Um...what?"

"I know you have..." she murmured, punching his shoulder.

Javier snickered. "...yeah." A comfortable silence blanketed them, the symphony of distant walkers with a lead growler lingering just outside. Not that they particularly cared.

Javier shot up once again excitedly. "Hey, Uncle!"

"Eh?"

"Have you...ever played a sport?"

Clementine pondered, one thought slotting into her consciousness at a time. "I dunno," she answered flatly.

"Well today's the day—" he got to his feet, determined— "that we— Ughnnahh." As quickly as Javier hopped up, he came down with a hard thud, one that beckoned Clementine to cringe. She leaned over her feet, squinting to see if he was alright. His grunting as he pushed himself back to his knees confirmed that Javier García was—indeed—alright. She grinned. "Today is the day that we get you started on baseball!" He spun around, slipping over the not-slippery dirt. "Where's my bat…? Where's—? Oh! Right here!" He grabbed it off the ground, and took Clementine's hat for good measure. "Now, come on! I'll teach you!"

Clementine didn't appear amused with the baseball cap resting side-ways on his head. She glanced at his outstretched hand.

"Okay!" she chirped, hoisting herself up. "Where're we gonna do it?"

"Out—" Javier jabbed his arm towards one of the corners of the RVs— "there. We need the space, Clementine."

"O-kay." Her head swiveled around the small camp. "Where's the ball?"

"The ball?"

"Ye-ah."

Javier scratched his head. "We'll...find one." Clementine nodded, assured, and strode confidently towards their designated spot (wherever it was in the night). Instead of walking in a straight line, however, her path took a nose-dive into the beige RV, knocking a few of the alcoholic bottles out of the still-open compartment. She laid on the ground in a heap. Javier barked in laughter, scooping Clementine up by her stomach. "Don't worry, I'll carry you!"

And like a towel, she hung from his arm, eyes following the ground as Javier stumbled a few paces away from the camp. "Alright." He dropped Clementine, prompting a guttural Oof! out of her. "A ball... A ball..."

Clementine peeled herself from the ground and wiped her hands. She turned to the right and smiled. "I got it."

"A ball?"

"A replacement."

She took out her knife and stalked her prey. Javier looked over her head and snickered quietly; that little straggler didn't know what was about to hit them!

The walker turned around right as Clementine pounced, promptly knocking its knee in. Though clumsy, her stab into the side of its head was quick to kill the fucker once and for all. She held the walker up by the tuff of its long, blonde hair. She jiggled it. "Look, no arms!"

The walker wriggled, identical to a fish at the end of a line. And? Javier giggled and snorted, finding it rather humorous. With seven whacks of her knife, the head was severed from the neck. Clementine held it up. "A replacement!"

"Oh!"

And within thirty short minutes, Javier had Clementine situated by the RV, the zombified head gagged with a shirt they had found on the ground. ("We can't let it bite us, you know!" Clementine had said. "I know, I know! Let's just...here!" Javier had replied.) She held Javier's bat in the stance that he'd shown her, which was not too far from what Clementine had seen on baseball cards as a little girl—one of the very few things she thought every now and then.

"Okay, ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Are you ready?!"

"Y-Yeah!"

"READY?!"

"THROW THE FUCKING HEAD, JAVI—!"

SMACK!

Clementine glowered at him before looking at the splattered mess on the RV. As he meandered over, analyzing the teeth embedded into the side of the vehicle, Clementine picked up the remains of the head by the hair. "Javi...!" she gasped. One side of the head was completely flattened by the impact, while the other splintered with its skull. "Look what you did!"

"Wha— That was supposed to be a curveball to the—! Why did it go left like that?!"

"It went right."

"My— My left!"

Clementine shook her head, her hands on her hips; the walker's head was flopped to the ground. "I don't think we'll be able to find an armless walker with a head like that again."

"Yeah..." Javier agreed sadly. He took off the baseball cap. "Let's go back. We can find another ball next time..." With their (brief) fun inexplicably ruined, Clementine and Javier moped back into the square, the fire having already burned itself out almost completely. They slinked to the sleeping bags and dragged them into the beige RV. Now laid down on the floor, the door closed (the smartest thing they had done all day, as Clementine remarked), the two stared at the ceiling.

Giddy drunkenness aside, Javier murmured, "You know, Clementine?"

"Yes, Javi?"

"...your smile reminds me of Mariana's." Javier's eyes grew heavy as the drink began to weigh him down.

A few moments passed before Clementine, softly, asked, "Really?"

"Yeah." Javier sighed. "I know you don't do it often, but it's a nice one. Keep it for the people you care about."

She clung onto her hat. "Okay, Javi." Clementine shifted to her side. The drink was slower to get to her, though she felt the weight of it nonetheless. With Mariana on her mind, she whispered, "Night, Javi."

"Night...Clem..."

[. . .]

The train, as always, charged across the landscape, guided by its rails. Clementine sat in the car, swinging her legs as she fiddled with her dress. She looked around, wincing; her head hurt like hell. And Lee wasn't around. She sighed and kept her eyes to her hands.

In them was a pistol. So cold. So vile. Yet, at the same time, reassuring. In a demented way, it eased her nerves.

And because of that demented way, she knew she was drunk.

Clementine grumbled to herself, aimed for the racing line of trees, then fired. "Why the hell...?" she breathed as her ears rang. It fired its shot, unlike the couple of times before. Cold, vile, yet dementedly reassuring, but quite unreliable. Clementine flexed her hand, eyes on the nub. She frowned, puzzled, then pinched her flannel that was tied around her waist. "The...hell...?" She stretched her legs. They certainly grew within the past minute.

As a response, Clementine asked the only question in mind: "Where the fuck is Lee?"

She got to her feet, which was difficult task on its own. "Oh— Shit!" She caught herself on the rim of the car's doorway, then pushed off into a stumble. As soon as Clementine was sure that her brain was in-sync with the rest of her body, she made her way to the door.

Clementine had the grace of a new deerling with the congruent thoughts of an unsolved puzzle. It took her a moment to turn the handle and push. And once the door opened, she immediately felt a rush of wind against her. Clementine eyed the engine car through the doorway, still uneasy with her lack of balance.

No Lee.

"Dammit," she hissed. In one motion, Clementine shoved herself from the door and staggered across to the engine. It thrummed underneath the soles of her boots, and her gaze swept across the blend of trees. Her eyes narrowed, and Clementine leaned against the railing. There were people. Spread out. Watching her. She couldn't recognize any of their silhouettes—let alone their faces—, but she knew they were familiar. Somehow, someway, they were.

She spat towards the treeline, too detached and numb to care. Clementine was looking for Lee. Anybody else was a waste of time.

Her boots scraped towards the engine room. And…

Clementine paled. She halted at the window, eyes wide. The wasn't Lee. That— That wasn't Lee.

Everything, all at once, slowed. A blizzard began to creep behind her, latching itself onto the train. Enraged screams in the distance swarmed, and her shooting arm spliced with pain as a gunshot barreled through the trees.

And Clementine stared into the engine car, throat knotted tight.

She felt the pounding of her heart deep in her palms, and with every beat, each one of her senses focused. The lull of the train against the tracks blurred. The smudge of landscape grew insignificant. It was only the man driving the train that she saw. The only…stranger—someone other than Lee—who stole her attention.

The longer Clementine stood there, the more she grew weak. The recoil of the pistol vibrated up her arms, deepening the splicing pain, and she trembled at the spot.

"K-Kenny…" was all she whispered.

And the man in the engine room didn't move. She only ever saw the back of his head until absolutely everything blended together.

Then, blindly, Clementine fell to her knees, and she gasped against the wicked fire of metal that burned the roof of her mouth. "K-Kenny… I'm so…so sorry…"

---

I hope you enjoyed!

:)