Disclaimer - I don't own ZOMBIES or any of the characters involved. Copyright to Walt Disney Studios. Names of BG zombies are mine, characters themselves aren't.

And here we are, at the very end of the series that solidified my position as the Angst Masochist of the ZOMBIES Tumblr fandom. I hope you've all enjoyed it, and I hope I caused just a little bit of pain~ ;p

Alonzo deserves a happy ending. I torture him enough

Trigger warning: discussion of trauma

Gonna Be Fine theme songs: I Don't Know How To Love Him from Jesus Christ Superstar, ADDICT by Silva Hound and Human Behaviour by Emma Blackery

I Know That We're Gonna Be Fine

~We're just healing over, we're getting stronger as we get older~

It hurt him, seeing Al like this. Broken and hopeless. Tears in his eyes. Desperate for a way out, for an end. Up until two years ago, Alonzo had been a beacon of positivity and comfort and love in Zephyr's life, but ever since the incident, that Alonzo was gone. It wasn't right. And it wasn't fair.

But they had visits, and the hospitals visits were a vast improvement compared to the prison visits. They knew they were being watched by the patrol officer who always stood guard at the door of Al's room, but they were together, face-to-face, with no glass window separating them. He'd been glad to hear Alonzo could find some joy in riling up the guard, Frances. He picked up a few things about her back when he was first locked up and he loved watching how she seethed with rage whenever he called her by her first name or spoke to her like an old friend. And he'd finally started opening up to his new therapist about his hallucinations. And he was eating relatively normally again without getting quite so sick. He was given small portions of brain food in his meals, and it did stir up something in him, but he managed to keep it under control.

Despite all of that, he didn't feel any better. Not really. And it came spilling out along with those tears...

"I still see him," he said, rubbing at his eye with his sleeve-covered hand, then winced at his own chose of words, "It."

"That's normal," Zephyr told him, keeping his voice level.

"Yeah, but it's not supposed to be normal."

Zephyr laid his hand over Alonzo's. Al instinctively laced their fingers together and squeezed his eyes shut, and leaned his head against the wall beside them. Zephyr had to hope he was listening.

"It's gonna have to be for now, alright? You'll get there."

But Al shook his head. He opened his eyes again, meeting Zephyr's, but he didn't move off the wall, "I don't think the pills are doing anything."

"Come on, it hasn't been that long. You need to wait it out," Zephyr reminded him, patient as ever, but Al just averted his eyes again and Zephyr sighed, "You could get them to change it."

"I dunno, Zeph..." Al shook his head, "I mean, is it even worth it? The zombie's still showing up, I need brain food but it still makes me sick-"

"You said it wasn't so bad now," Zephyr frowned.

"It's not," Al admitted, "But... I-I keep thinking about breaking my band again."

"Thinking about it isn't doing it."

Al stopped. He was right. His therapist had explained this. He slowly nodded, "Yeah... It's just intrusive thoughts."

"Do you want to break your band?" Zephyr gently prompted him.

"No. No, I don't."

"So you won't."

"I won't. I'd..." his eyes were fixed downwards, focused, "I'd only risk it for you."

"And I'm safe."

Al nodded again, "You're safe."

He was getting a hang of the healthier coping mechanisms and the calming techniques he was taught. He remembered the first time Zephyr had visited him in the hospital, when he was still a little sceptical of it all. When he was still completely hopeless. He'd been in an even worse state than this and Zeph suggested he try the breathing exercises he learned in therapy. Alonzo had scoffed and Zephyr rolled his eyes.

"I know, the school counsellor made me do it and I thought it was stupid at first, too," he'd told him, "But it's a start. You need to relax before you try to get everything else under control. Come on."

And now, they sat and breathed. Alonzo closed his eyes and Zephyr watched him. Then-

"Alright, times up. Visiting hours are over," Frances barked from the door and Alonzo's eyes snapped open, briefly flickering to the clock on the wall.

"Seriously? We got two minutes left!"

She didn't even answer. Al flipped her off as soon as her back was turned and Zephyr stifled a laugh. At least there was still a little of his old self left in there.

"Hey," he said, getting Al's attention. When he turned back to Zephyr, he was met with a short but sweet kiss, "I'll see you next week, alright?"

"Hm. Love you."

"I love you, too."

– GONNA BE FINE –

He held himself together throughout the next visit from his mother and sister, but seeing Lindzey made him anxious. She had been hurt by his actions, losing friends, human and zombie alike, and having virtually everyone in her grade turn their backs on her just for being related to Alonzo. Only Zophia, Zuli and her human friend Connor had stood up for her throughout the whole ordeal.

Al was always conflicted on whether or not he wanted to hear about how she was doing. On one hand, he was worried about his little sister and wanted to be able to help if he could, or at least comfort her, but on the other, it could make things worse. He was recovering, but hearing about the impact he had on her life would leave him wracked with guilt and self-loathing. And to be fair, Lindzey didn't seem so sure either. It had been hard for her to admit to being bullied when this whole thing started, it could only get harder from there. She skated around the subject of school and friends where she could. He didn't fight it.

They left it up to their mother to address the serious subjects. Neither of them knew what to say otherwise.

"You look a lot healthier," Hazel commented and he shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess whatever they're giving me here's better than in the prison."

"How are you doing with the brain food? Have you been sick again at all?"

Al shook his head, casting a discreet look over at Lindzey, who was watching him like a hawk. He tried to ignore her, "Not as much now. They're keeping it controlled."

The first week in hospital, half of his meals had been brain food. The zombie craved brains, and if he didn't want it to take him over again, he had to give it a little bit of what it wanted. Alonzo may have been disgusted by brains, but he needed them. At the start, he had been throwing up constantly, but with each day, they decreased the portions just that little bit more, and he managed to eat properly for the first time in months. He was still battling some hellish withdrawal symptoms now that the brain portions were getting much smaller, but they weren't so bad these days. Except for the fact that he was still seeing the zombie.

But Lindzey was here right now, and he couldn't bring himself to talk about it in front of her. She already knew he was a killer; she shouldn't have to know he was a monster.

He was stirred from his thoughts by his mom's voice, "I'm proud of you for coming here, Al," she said and he turned his attention back to her. She certainly looked proud, and hopeful, and it warmed him to see that, "You really needed it. You're doing so much better now."

Al smiled. She was right. Things might not be perfect, but they were better. He wasn't quite at the point where he could feel proud of himself again, but it was enough to know that she did. The pressure to improve was still there, but at least he knew he could.

When Zach came to see him the next day, Al tried to keep his spirits up but he couldn't fool his best friend.

"I know when there's something on your mind. Come on, what's up?"

Al let out a sigh, but Zach just sat, waiting.

"... How's Roz?" he asked. He didn't say it, but Zach heard the deeper question under his words loud and clear.

"Al, she's over it," he said gently. He'd said it before. Roz had even said it herself. But they knew he needed to be reassured, and Zach did have some good news since the last time either of them had seen him, "She's even been talking to other girls lately. She's moving on."

"... That's good..." he mumbled, like he was trying to make himself believe it, "That's good..."

He'd learn to believe it.

– GONNA BE FINE –

"I can't believe you're still falling for it."

"Shut up...!" Al groaned again. He was sick and tired of the zombie showing up, of its voice in his head, fighting against every step he took forward in his recovery. It was always there to push him back whenever he thought he was making progress.

"I'm not going anywhere. This stupid diet isn't gonna stop me! In fact, you cutting back on the brains is only making me want more."

"You're not getting more!" Al hissed under his breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, "I don't control that, anyway! We eat what they give us. Just suck it up and deal with it."

It was too hard to just pretend it wasn't there, but at least he was standing up to it.

Then it showed up during a therapy session. Sprawled on an empty chair opposite to Alonzo. Watching him with cold, hateful, sunken eyes. He tried his best to ignore it, and he got through the hour without giving anything away to his therapist. When he got back to his room, though, and Frances had locked the door from outside, it reappeared.

"You don't really think this is gonna do anything, do you?" the zombie snickered and he rolled over in his bed to face away from it. It growled at his attempt to block it out, only getting louder, "I'm not going anywhere! No matter what any of them say. You know none of it's true. They just want to make you feel comfortable here. So we don't ever go back."

Al didn't answer, but as it spoke, he sat up, his eyes fixed on the double taunting him. He slowly lay down again, without breaking eye contact. He took in a long breath, Zephyr's voice counting the seconds in his head, closed his eyes, and breathed out again. Now when he looked, the zombie hadn't disappeared, but it had shut up. And it stayed quiet until Alonzo fell asleep.

It was there the next day, as well. And this time, it didn't go unnoticed.

"You seem distracted."

"What?"

"Exactly, "she smiled knowingly, "You were a little distracted yesterday, too."

"Was I?" he asked, failing to act innocent, but she caught him glancing away at the same, empty spot again.

"... What do you see over there?"

He gulped, gathered his courage, and took the leap, "... Me."

"The 'inner zombie' you told me about?" she asked and he nodded, "What does it look like? Is it really just you?"

"... Without my Z-band," his voice was soft and slightly scared. He didn't often talk about the zombie to anyone but Zephyr, "It's me when... when I did it. No Z-band, totally feral, the whole full zombie deal."

"Pretty much the worst state you've ever been in, you would say?"

"Yeah. The worst I've ever been."

"And it talks to you, too?"

"Yeah."

"What does it say, exactly?"

"... All the stuff I don't want to say myself. All the stuff about me I hate."

"Is it talking to you now?"

For once, Alonzo let himself focus on the zombie. He looked right at it, trying not to be discouraged by the fact that someone else was present, and watching him so closely. Its dark, sunken eyes locked onto his, and it bared its teeth almost in a snarl and spat, "Drakka!"

"Drakka."

It came out in a weak whisper.

"What was that?" the therapist asked, confused.

Alonzo swallowed his tears, "He- It... It called me 'drakka'..." he took a breath as she waited for him to continue, "'Drak' is Zombie-tongue for a dysfunctional brain. Calling a human 'drakska' is just like saying they're stupid, y'know, it's not such a big deal, but... saying it to a zombie... it means they're so screwed up they might as well not even wear a Z-band 'cause it wouldn't help."

"... And that's what you think of yourself?"

... Yes. Because the zombie was him. When the zombie attacked him, he was attacking himself. He nodded.

"Yeah. I'm unstable," he gestured to the empty space that the zombie occupied, "I'm seeing things and I'm hearing things. That's not normal."

There was a pause, then she leaned forward and held out her hand with the palm facing up.

"Can I see your Z-band, please?"

The question alone made him wince. Anyone touching his band made him anxious. Especially humans. Especially humans who worked in the containment facility. Nevertheless, after some hesitation, he held out his left arm. His eyes flickered briefly to the zombie, who was staring intensely at the band. Blissfully unaware of this, she carefully took hold of his arm and tapped the screen once, swiped and input the passcode that locked Alonzo out of his own Z-band. He was no longer allowed access to a lot of the settings and controls and even his own data files that zombies were normally trusted with. Of course, the other zombies had their bands locked after the incident, but they could still do more with them than he could.

After just a few seconds, the screen glowed green, and Alonzo looked down to see the word 'ONLINE' clear as day right there. Online. Online. He let it echo in his mind. Online.

"See?" she said firmly and he looked back up to meet her eyes, "You are not unstable. Yes, you do have a problem. There is something not quite right in your brain. But that is not the zombie or a problem with your band. And it's not the cause of the incident. It's the result. It's trauma. It's something that many, many humans experience. If anything, it's the human part of you. It's a mental illness that you can learn to cope with and treat and it's certainly not something that would make you a drakka."

The zombie sneered, "What does she know about wearing a Z-band?"

What do you know about brains? Other than how they taste.

He forced himself not to look, but he knew the zombie would be glaring at him for that. He'd learned to ignore it when he could, and if he couldn't, he had to fight back. He had to be able to tell himself that it – that he – was wrong to think those things. He had to take its power away. He refocused on the therapist as she continued.

"Remember, intrusive thoughts are all the things you don't really believe, and the things you don't really want to do. The zombie is a manifestation of that. So, whatever it tells you..." she motioned for him to finish.

"... Isn't true." Alonzo nodded. He knew this. Sometimes he let his fears and doubts get the better of him, but when it came down to it, he knew the truth.

He was learning.

The zombie was learning too, though. It was resisting. It didn't like being ignored or talked down to or dismissed. Part of Al still hated himself. And despite the progress he was making, his addiction to brains wasn't gone. By now, he was hardly given any brain food to eat, but as soon as he caught the scent of it, it wasn't uncommon for him to black out for a second or two while he fought for control. Then when he ate, it was always gone far too quickly, and the taste left in his mouth afterwards lingered for an uncomfortably long time. It made him wretch, but the zombie's hunger always overshadowed his senses. The portions were only getting smaller. Smaller. Smaller...

... The zombie didn't like that. It was getting desperate. It needed brain food, and it wasn't getting anywhere near enough.

– GONNA BE FINE –

"He can't see any visitors right now."

"What? Why not?"

Zephyr had just arrived at the containment facility only to be stopped by the hospital's receptionist. She recognised Zephyr by now and she knew he came to see Alonzo; he'd been coming every week without fail.

"... He's unstable," she said after a few seconds.

Zephyr spluttered, "He's- What? What happened?"

"I can't say."

"You can't tell me anything?"

She shrugged, uncaring, "It isn't really my business to know what's going on there, but I'd assume it's withdrawals again. They've decreased his brain food portions to almost nothing"

He stood there in shock for a short while, then stormed towards the door. He knew how to get to Al's room. It took a moment for the receptionist to register what was happening and she didn't get up to try and stop him until he was already opening the door.

"Hey! You can't go in there!"

He picked up the pace and ran down through the familiar hallways until he spotted Frances outside the door as always. Suffice to say, she was surprised to see him there.

"What's going on with Al?"

"He's unstable. No visitors."

"Why isn't anybody in there with him, though?"

"My orders were to lock him in the medical chamber and leave him to restabilise naturally. We can't interfere with the recovery process in any way."

"Zragh vak. Let me in there...!" Zephyr muttered and grabbed the door handle. Frances, of course, blocked his way but he struggled against her. He wasn't just going to leave Al to suffer through this alone, "If he's locked up, what does it matter if I go in? He can't get out of the chamber!"

They stood staring each other down until Frances straightened up and put her hand on the door handle, "I'm giving you two minutes. That's it."

... Did she actually have a soft spot, or was it just that she didn't care so much about a zombie's safety? Either way, Zephyr had to be grateful for the time.

It was like his flashbacks come to life when he saw Alonzo behind the glass. The eyes, the veins, the slack jaw and bared teeth, now right in front of him. He stopped in his tracks, the memories of the murder, cleaning the blood from Alonzo's face, the arrest just days later... The anger he couldn't let go off, the fights and arguments he got into, the dangerous spiral he lost himself in when he didn't have Alonzo... The relapses and withdrawals, the first emergence of the zombie, when Zephyr had ran to Zach's house in the middle of the night to see him. Everything.

Breath, Zephyr. Just breath.

He always talked about the zombie like it was a separate person, and Zephyr knew he hated the fact that this monster was him, but... it was. This was Alonzo. Wasn't it? His Alonzo? He took the last couple of steps towards the window and looked inside. Al froze in his pacing and his head snapped around to look at him. Zephyr could only stare back at those deep, black-circled eyes and remind himself that he was safe. There was no threat. There was nothing for Alonzo to attack, and therefore no reason for him to be afraid.

He looked around the room and saw a chair against the wall nearby. He pulled it over to the chamber, in between the window and the heavy metal door, and sat down. There was a vent-like line of holes in one corner, both to allow airflow and to let officers and doctors talk to one another from either side.

"Alonzo...?" he tried. Al narrowed his eyes, almost scared, and glanced around, but he held back, "Al, it's just me. You know me... don't you?"

"..."

"Al..." he restarted, gulping down his fear, "Do you love me?"

His only response was a stare. But not a blank stare. An uncertain stare. A confused stare. Alonzo's head tipped to one side and his brow furrowed, but his eyes were locked on Zephyr's, burning with emotion; reaching for the words, trying to grasp their meaning. Zephyr turned to fully face the window and tried again.

"Ru garziga'g, za? Zet?"

Do you still love me?

Zephyr's faith rested in knowing that Alonzo loved him, even in his feral state. This wasn't just a hollow shell, just his body with nothing of him left; it was his raw instinct, with all his feelings in their pure, unfiltered form. It had been Al's desperate need to protect Zephyr, to keep him safe, keep him alive, keep them together, that had driven him to kill in the first place, and that was what Zephyr held onto the entire time he was in containment. As long as Alonzo still felt that, there was still hope, and Zephyr would trust things could get better.

Something in Al's wild eyes softened, and he edged closer to the window to slump against the glass and press one hand against it. His teeth were bared and his nails scraped across the surface, but his eyes were comfort enough.

"... Gar-garziga..." the words tumbled from his mouth and Zephyr smiled. That was his Al. His garzi'ka. The one who saved his life.

"Gar-garziga, zet. Drozgrog." I love you, too. Always.

His tone was firm, determined. He briefly glanced back at Frances, who was still standing guard, as gears turned in his head. Knowing Zephyr was the only one in the room, she would be more focused on keeping anyone else from getting in. If he was quiet, maybe he could...

He moved towards the chamber door, checking that Frances was still looking away, while Alonzo watched him curiously with his face pressed to the glass. He furrowed his brow at the keypad for a few seconds; would he be able to guess the passcode? Alonzo was here for an extended stay, maybe they had reset it specifically for him... If that was the case, the first thing that came to mind was his Z-band code.

The light on the keypad blinked green, the latch on the door clicked and Zephyr heaved it open. A single, long tone rang out as he did, though, and Frances whipped around.

"Hey!"

Zephyr's eyes widened with fear when they locked onto hers and he hurried to slip inside and pull the door closed before she reached him.

When they had been separated by the heavy door and the glass window, the sight of Alonzo's full zombie state filled Zephyr with an indescribable dread. Ever since the incident, he'd been suffering from flashbacks. Any reminder of that night threw him back in time, to an attack on his own life, to his boyfriend being taken away from him, witnessing his deteriorating health... His family and friends, and, once he was back home, Alonzo himself, would have to pull him back out of it, make him open his eyes and see that he was safe, Alonzo was safe, and everything was alright. The thought of Al going feral again terrified him. He had been terrified finding him in the chamber like that.

Not now, though. Now, even when Alonzo was unstable, Zephyr was with him, he could touch him, and he knew that it wouldn't last much longer. It was a relapse, nothing more.

The second the door was closed, Alonzo reached out and grabbed Zephyr's arm. Despite the stiffness of his movements, his bulging veins and his gaping jaw, Zephyr felt no fear when he was pulled towards him. Al's arms tightened around him and he relaxed into him. He didn't get to enjoy it for long because in an instant, Frances had unlocked the door herself and stepped inside. Her foot wedged it open to keep from accidently locking herself in with the two zombies and she leaned forward to try and reach Zephyr. Her fingers barely brushed his sleeve before he was jerked away by Alonzo, who snarled viciously at Frances as he wrapped one arm around Zephyr's back and the other around his head, curling his fingers around him enough to hold him there, but not enough to cause any pain.

"Ag garzi'ka."

Frances stood her ground – she was trained for these situations, after all. She kept her eyes on Alonzo, but addressed Zephyr, her hand hovering over her taser, "Out of here, now, Styx."

Zephyr wasn't listening, though.

Ag garzi'ka.

Alonzo had said those exact words that night, two years ago, right before he killed the human. Zephyr felt himself start to shake and his heart beat, and he pulled away, his hands on Alonzo's arms.

"Zon!" No! he brought one hand up to Al's face to turn him away from Frances and towards him instead, "Ag grodge," I'm alright, the same thing he had told Al after the murder, "Droz grodge." Everything's alright.

Alonzo frowned and cocked his head.

"Styx!" Frances warned behind them, "Now."

Alonzo's head snapped up and he growled, but Frances didn't waver under his stare. He went to take a step towards her but Zephyr stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Zrayn." Wait. Once again, Alonzo frowned, confused, but obeyed. Zephyr turned to Frances, "He won't do anything unless you try to hurt me."

There was a pause.

"You need to get out of the chamber," Frances told him, her gaze hard as ever but her voice seemed to lose just a little of its usual edge, "He needs to restabilise, and that won't happen unless all outside factors are removed. That includes you."

Zephyr looked from her to Alonzo and back again, then dropped his hand. Al immediately surged forward, grabbing at his hand desperately but Zephyr gave him a reassuring look.

"Ag zegra," I'm safe, he said, "Zazig." I promise.

Alonzo stared at him for a moment, then released his hand and watched him go. Before he disappeared through the door, Zephyr smiled at him, "Gar-garziga."

The door closed and Zephyr begrudgingly made his way out of the room with Frances right behind him, "That was a reckless stunt you pulled there, Styx."

"He wasn't gonna hurt me. And he'd only hurt you if you tried to hurt me."

"There was no guarantee of that."

Of course there was. But there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He walked along in silence, thinking about what happened in the chamber. Alonzo proved he had at least some level of control, even when unstable. He just had to hope he remembered that when he stabilised.

By the time Frances returned, he had. She entered the room to see him standing with his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the chamber window, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, and his skin a clear grey. She went straight to key in the code and let him out, then headed back to her post outside the door without a word, leaving Alonzo alone. With himself.

He stood staring at the zombie, exhausted, while it stared back at him, angry. And then, he turned away from it and walked towards his bed.

"We should've killed her."

He said nothing.

"She threatened him. She threatened our Zephka."

He laid down, looking up at the ceiling. He let the zombie speak. He listened. But he didn't say a word.

"She touched him. The last time someone touched our Zephka, we killed them."

Alonzo closed his eyes, took in a long, slow breath, waited, then released it. When he opened his eyes again, the zombie was gone.

He knew it wouldn't be gone for good. But he trusted that he could handle it when it came back.