Amelia wandered off the bridge, only vaguely aware of where she was going and even less aware of what was going on behind her. She listened to overlapping voices –some of them in her thoughts, some of them belonging to real people, though it was getting hard to tell the difference – trying to gauge what they were saying over her shoulder while Clementine pulled her along by the hand.

"Just keep walking," she said, for maybe the fourth time when Amelia stopped and looked back again. She swept her eyes over the group trailing behind her, saw Luke waving his arms and heard something about stay off the tracks while Nick said something about a gun – the dead man's gun or his own, she didn't know – before Clementine gave her arm another tug. "Amelia. Let's just…get off the bridge, okay? Please?"

Still looking back, Amelia nodded, thinking her sister was trying to step up. Imitating Luke, trying to help, to guide, to care for the group or at least for her. But she looked down and saw the sadness in her eyes, felt the way her sister's hands were shaking just a bit as she pulled on her arm again, and realized she wasn't the reason Clementine wanted to get to the solid ground on the other side.

She followed her there, where they stopped and waited for the others. Voices faded in and out, and she wasn't sure if it was because she chose not to pay attention or because she wouldn't have been able to focus if she tried.

Was she trying?

"Who the fuck…was that back there?"

-wait wait wait BANG-

"…looked like he had a gun on you…"

"…drew on me! He was about to shoot…"

Clementine almost died, was almost eaten almost shot-

-wasn't, because someone got in the way-

-and she managed to lose that stupid fucking ice pick, blew it after two years of keeping it safe-

It wasn't stupid.

"…not what it looked like to me…"

She didn't think it was stupid. She was very fond of it. Or had been. Much like the friend it had belonged to. And now it was gone.

Also like the friend it had belonged to.

"What did you see, Clem…?"

Before she could answer, words went flying, strikingly sudden and louder than the rest and demanding Amelia's full attention. "Fuck you, Luke. You've been on my case all week."

Luke didn't seem shocked. He wasn't nearly as surprised as Amelia was to hear it. It wasn't the words that made her blink but the person they were said to.

"And why do you think that is, Nick?"

"It wasn't…" Clementine realized she was about to be drowned out and spoke louder. "It wasn't all..." She trailed off when she realized her raised voice had worked too well, and that everyone, Amelia included, was now staring at her. "…it wasn't all Nick's fault."

Amelia doubted that. Clementine's fibbing face hadn't changed since she was five. She was about to ask her why she would say that if she didn't mean it – in front of everyone, which in hindsight would have been a poor choice – when Luke drew her attention away. Dragged it back into a dark, angry place with a single sentence.

"Either way, you could'a hit one of us!"

Yes. He could have.

"Yeah, but I didn't!"

But he could have. Amelia felt a familiar itch beneath her skin, an unpleasant buzzing in her fingertips, a hot rage kicking around inside her skull. He was careless and impulsive, and apathetic to the pain he could have caused – did cause – and she knew it was over, that she and Clementine and Luke were safe but she had a weakness for getting caught up in things that almost happened. Almost was too close. Almost scared her just as much and she wouldn't be able to breathe again until she blamed the person responsible.

She stormed past Luke, and maybe it was the way she moved or the look on her face, but he stepped out of the way before she had to push past him. She came to an abrupt stop in front of Nick, and wasn't unaware that while the others watched them with caution, Nick's face didn't change. He crossed his arms and stared her down. She was high-tempered and unpredictable enough to make the others nervous, but even when he didn't know what to expect, Nick knew enough not to be afraid.

She knew it was because he'd seen too much of her to be scared. Who she really was; a person who needed her sister so much that she cried like a child when they were separated, a person who liked to break things as much as he did, a person who dealt with her many unaddressed issues with either complete avoidance or a head-on, full frontal collision. No in-between.

He'd seen all of that and more. She knew he was afraid of a lot of things, just like she was. But she herself didn't make the list. So she fell back on the only thing she had to say.

"We're even now." She told him, trying to keep her voice from shaking. I don't owe you anymore because if anyone else had done what you just did they'd have followed that man off the bridge. She felt pushed, urged by the furious, vengeful part of her-

-the version of herself with dark eyes and blood under her nails, the Amelia who wanted to kill the Stranger with her hands, who put a second bullet in a bandit's shoulder for no other reason than to hurt him for coming after her sister-

-who wanted to run at him knives-out, and reeled her in, grabbing her by the hair and restraining her because Nick was neither of those people.

"You saved my life, and now you and me are even."

Nick frowned at her. Blinked. Confused, of all things. When he spoke, the defensiveness had given way to something softer, something she didn't hear from him often, not even when they were alone. He shook his head slightly. Frustrated.

"We always were."

Over Nick's shoulder, she watched Luke's face change, lighten in surprise. More shocked to hear his friend had saved a life than he'd been when he'd cursed him out. He and Clementine talked over each other to ask the same question.

"You…you did that?"

"You did?"

He shook his head, still agitated, still impatient, still well aware he was in the crossfires of a group argument that had started because of him. "Yeah. Kind of. I don't know. Just forget about it."

Luke started, "Nick-"

"I said forget about it."

"Alright, enough," Pete answered Nick's raised voice by raising his own, no doubt trying not to waste any more time than they already had. "Amelia, what did you see?"

What did you see? She saw a bullet fly and lodge itself in a man's neck. She saw his final moments defined by fear and contagious paranoia. She saw Luke knock Clementine to the ground and cover her so that if one of them was going to be shot it wouldn't be her and Amelia still didn't know what to do with that.

"You drew first." She muttered, quiet because she recalled a peaceful understanding that turned violent and fatal because of Nick and only because of Nick.

"What did you say?" Nick spoke in a voice she'd heard, not from him but plenty of times before, one full of shock and warning and how dare you so she snapped back, just as quickly and just as loudly because that voice didn't scare her-

-anymore-

-but it certainly pissed her off.

"I said you drew first."

"How can you say that-?"

"-It's what happened. I don't know what you expect me to-"

"-No, I mean how can you say that?"

Pete cut in again, and this time Amelia was glad he did because she had nothing to say.

"I said, enough. Both of you calm down, now. Before you draw lurkers."

Amelia didn't want that. She didn't want Pete to raise his voice to them again either. But she weighed walkers against the look Nick was giving her and decided which one was worse.

Nick lowered his voice, but his words were no less sharp. "I came over there to save you!"

"You didn't save anyone. You killed someone." She lowered her voice, as aware as everyone around her that she was about to start seething. Quiet anger was something she knew Carlos to be adept at. She suspected Carver was decent at it, and tried not to think about how likely it was that it wasn't the only trait he and Carlos shared.

But she was crap at it. She'd only needed to try it a handful of times to know that. "He wasn't going to hurt us. He…" She paused, worried that she was about to overstep. About to state something she didn't have enough reason to think. Reason or not, it was how she felt. It was a notion that came into her head the moment he made that stupid joke about peanut butter and now it refused to leave.

"He wasn't a bad person."

Nick said what she'd expected from him. What she'd been saying to herself since she put the idea into words. "You spent thirty seconds with him."

She didn't answer. That was true. "You spent a day locked up with me but I still have to convince you I'm a decent guy?" She didn't answer again, and had to ask herself if it was because this was also true.

"I wanted to have your back, Nick, but how can I when you-"

"Because I had yours."

She didn't ask because she and everyone listening knew exactly what he was talking about. It had been at the backs of their minds since the moment Nick pulled the trigger, just like it had been in her own. None of them had brought it up. But not one of them could witness another murder without thinking about the last one they'd seen.

A silent ten-count. Amelia's ear was still ringing.

Then, from Nick: "Fuck this." He turned his back and went toward the trees, putting distance between himself and the others the way Amelia had done many times in her life.

The silence didn't break, and Amelia wondered if she should leave, too.

Carlos spoke before she could answer that for herself. Arms crossed and looking between her and Luke, he said, "Do either of you think he was with Carver?" Amelia looked to Luke for an answer, not sure why Carlos asked her in the first place. She'd met the man once and it was more than enough.

"I don't know." He answered, still staring after Nick, who he knew as well as everyone else wasn't about to come back on his own. He looked back to the group, and reconsidered. "No. I don't think so. But he fell over."

"He fell off the…" Alvin's voice faded in her ears; she looked down and caught sight of blood on her shoes that hadn't been there before. The laces were stained red and for a solid minute all she heard were choking noises and the broken faucet and red mist and the last words Del ever spoke.

She saw movement in the corner of her eye, and looked back to see Luke had already turned and started to walk away. Rebecca and Alvin did the same in another direction, the two of them helping Pete along with them; Sarah followed them closely.

"Where is he going?" Amelia stared after Luke, and muttered just loud enough for Clementine to hear. Only comfortable asking her question to the one person who wouldn't make any judgments or assumptions about her for it.

"To talk to Carlos. Remember?"

"No."

"I'm…going to go check on Rebecca." A short silence. Clem seemed to be waiting for something. "Why don't you come with me?"

She shook her head, looking over her shoulder to the station. He'd said he had food in there.

"Stay out of trouble." She muttered again, over her shoulder as she went for the door.

She found when she was up close that it had been locked. Dead-bolted from the outside with a key she'd never get her hands on if it was where she thought it was. She ran her fingertips over the wooden frame, trailed them onto the glass, leaving pale streaks as they went.

She gave the doorknob the obligatory single try. It didn't budge.

She tugged at one of her sleeves, pulling the cuff down over her hand, trapping it in a closed fist and padding the fabric around her knuckles. Clementine spoke up from behind her, cautious as always. Even more so, today.

"Step back." She said, not surprised she'd been followed.

"Amelia, what are you…?"

"Step back, please."

Clementine listened-

-for once-

-and stepped away from the door. A quick jab of a punch, a light pop and cracked glass was falling down onto Amelia's bloody laces. She pushed her fist through a second time, clearing out the shards that hadn't fallen out of the frame until she had a hole more than large enough to fit her hand through. She carefully, slowly snaked her arm into the opening she'd made, sticking it in up to the elbow and searching for the deadbolt on the other side.

If the sound of a man moving with a limp and a walking stick hadn't been enough, Amelia could've guessed who'd joined them by the choice of his first words alone.

"Well, now you're just bein' stupid."

"Sticks and stones, Pete," Amelia muttered without humor, throwing him a glance over her shoulder before looking back to the door. She inched her fingers closer to the doorknob, keeping a close eye on the shrinking distance between the glass and the skin of her inner arm.

She heard his voice soften – the change was barely there, but he sounded a little lighter, a little more friendly – something she only ever heard him do when talking to Clementine or Sarah. "How're you holdin' up, Clementine?"

"Alright, I think," she phrased it like a question. She seemed hesitant to ask. "…how are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday, that's for damn sure."

"That's…good," Clementine seemed unsure of whether or not to smile. She managed to give Pete a half-grin before Amelia got his attention – unintentionally – with a hard flinch and short gasp. Then a swear, exhaled slowly. Regretting what she'd done and wishing she'd kept quiet.

There was no concern in his voice. Only frustration and exhaustion because it wasn't a question when he already knew the answer. "Did you cut yourself?"

She didn't move. Left her arm elbow-deep on the other side of the door and slid a sideways glance to him over her shoulder. "No."

"Show it to me."

Again More defensive. Not even a little sorry for it. "No."

"Amelia." That got a different tone out of him. The Uncle-Pete tone. The mean-old-bastard tone. Playing a role he already expected her to hate him for because he'd been doing it for years, parenting a kid who was so much like her that she wondered if it had anything to do with why he was now doing the same to her.

She reached an inch further, annoyed with herself even more since she'd been this close to the lock when she screwed up, and found cold metal beneath her fingers. She turned it, throwing the deadbolt out of the doorframe and carefully, slowly, pulling her arm out of the opening she'd made in the glass. The blood was visible once her hand was out, dripping from a short, thin slice in the middle of her forearm.

She watched him prop her arm up with a hand under her elbow, and scrutinize her cut until he came to the same conclusion she did. It was shallow, and wasn't bleeding much.

"Not a stitcher. You're lucky."

She took her arm back and tugged her sleeve down to the wrist. Injected false whimsy into her voice but even she heard her own attempt at sarcasm fall flat. It came out half-assed, which wasn't inconsistent with the effort she put into it.

"Luckiest girl in the whole world."

"If you're still alive at this point you might just be."

Pete wasn't one to make idle conversation. She guessed he hadn't been one to waste words before she'd met him, and knew he certainly wasn't now.

It wasn't hard to guess that he had a reason for coming over here. It was even easier to guess what it was. Amelia crossed her arms, reluctant to bring up the subject. She lowered her voice despite knowing no one other than Clementine could hear them talking. "What are you going to do about Nick?"

"That…I don't know yet. This isn't the first time he's been like this. He gets…into a bad place sometimes."

A quip from somewhere in Amelia's head, quick and bitter and nasty but she couldn't help thinking it all the same. I know all about that.

"Kid does the opposite of everything I say, and he doesn't want to hear any more from Luke. If it comes from you, he might get his shit together. Maybe he'll start actin' like an adult."

Maybe. All that came to mind at the moment was the time she'd indulged him in acting like children. Being obnoxious and destructive to deal with feelings they were too immature to resolve with words, taking advantage of the fact that no one was around to judge them or stop them.

And what had come after was no less irresponsible.

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

"He's mad now. Later he won't be. Are you gonna calm down?"

"I'm fine."

"Yeah. Puttin' your fist through a window 'cause you're 'fine.' Not even careful enough not to slice your arm open."

She agreed. It was careless. Stupid of her to try one thing while distracted by another. She didn't regret breaking into the station. Clementine's growling stomach and the hollowness in Pete's cheeks were more than enough to remind her the entire group was running on fumes. If there was a chance of finding food in the station, she had to see. Wouldn't move on until she did.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"That ain't on you to worry about."

She hadn't expected a straight answer. But she knew why she asked.

She pushed the door open with a loud, slow creak. More broken glass clattered to the floor. Pete seemed to be hesitating, for some reason. Something else she'd never known him to do.

"Are you coming in?"

He shook his head, radiating disappointment and exhaustion as he did. "I'm gonna go talk to him. You gonna stay out of trouble?"

"Sure."

He turned away and left in Nick's direction. Amelia thought she heard the word "smartass" under his breath.

The inside of the station smelled as musty as the outside looked. It was large enough to fit the entire group for the night and small enough that they would probably get aggravated by the lack of personal space and kill each other.

It was an exaggeration, she admitted to herself. But not by much.

Clementine wandered in behind her, treading carefully over the broken glass. It crunched quietly beneath her shoes as she came in; taking in the entirety of the station didn't take long.

A trunk on the floor. A military cot and a sleeping bag. A fold-up table and a radio.

"Hm," Clementine mumbled.

Amelia agreed.

"There's got to be something left," Clem said, walking to the trunk in the corner. She came to a pile of industrial-sized tin cans – all of them empty – and gave the closest one a light kick. It made a hollow sound and rolled into the wall.

Amelia took a seat on the cot. She didn't know why she'd stopped at sitting and laid herself out, feet by the pillow, head at the foot of the bed, and staring up at the cracked, cobwebbed ceiling.

There probably wasn't any food here. She hadn't been expecting much. She fought off the disappointment by reminding herself it never paid to take strangers at their word.

She tried not to go back to counting holes in the ceiling.

Nick drew first. She saw it the first time and she saw it replayed over and over in her head. He didn't have to shoot and he did it anyway. She had to shoot. Something bad would have happened if she hadn't.

What's the real difference between you and Nick? Ominous words from the part of her brain that still acted as a voice of reason. That, or they came from the other Amelia. The one with knives tucked into her boots and cold hands covered in gunshot residue. The two were hard to tell apart some days.

Her body count was higher. Probably. That was about all she could think of.

She'd found someone who – in his own words, not hers – wanted to have her back, someone who argued for her when everyone else argued against her – even Luke – and she'd turned around and slapped him in the face for it. Maybe with good reason, maybe not.

"Amelia…" Clementine said.

She didn't like that. That was her nervous voice. Just a notch quieter than she usually spoke and laced with hesitation.

"Hm?" she answered, one hand behind her head. She didn't sit up or turn around to look. She had a feeling she knew what this was about, and if she was right the conversation wouldn't last long.

"Amelia, look," Suddenly Clementine was standing over her, a large can of peaches in one hand and…a hunting knife in the other that was just as large.

Amelia sat up on her elbows, eyes wide and unsure if it was because of the knife or the food. "Where did that come from?"

Clementine stood there, holding both in her hands like she was comparing their weights because she didn't know which one Amelia meant.

She decided on the knife. "It was on the shelf over there." She set the can on the floor, and when she stood back up, took the knife out of its sheath and looked it over. "I thought you'd…want to keep it?"

Amelia held a hand out, and Clem set the weapon gently in her upturned palm. Amelia knew she was humoring her; hopefully, Clementine didn't. She saw the gesture her sister was making and didn't want to reject it out of hand. But she already knew it was no replacement for the one she lost. There was only one Hilda.

Amelia turned it over in her hand. It was heavy. The sheath was nice. The leather was dark and thick and looked expensive. She couldn't tell if it was real. Someone with more of an interest in weapons and hunting-

-Nick, maybe Pete-

-probably could have told her. It was engraved. WM. Could have been the man's initials. Could've been the initials of whoever he stole it from.

You know he didn't steal it. Thieves don't offer to share and ask for nothing in return.

"It's nice, Clem. But no thanks." Amelia handed it back to her before she realized she didn't even pull the blade out to look at it. She was trying to look like she at least considered it. Then again Clementine was too smart for charades like that anyway. She was getting too old not to see right through them.

"Are you sure?" she asked carefully. "I'm…carrying the gun now, so you should at least have something…" She gripped the hunting knife with both hands, holding it close to her chest. Amelia watched the second thoughts run across her face. "You should take the gun back, then."

Amelia saw the apology hanging in the air, and tried to make it easier.

"I meant what I said, Clem. It was just a thing."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to…help. For once."

Amelia didn't answer. She'd already said everything she had to say back on the bridge. Whether Clem would listen to her next time…that was up to her.

After a beat, Clem looked down at the knife and decided, "I want to keep it."

She gave Amelia a look that said the statement had been more of a question.

"You don't need me to tell you. Are you keeping it or not?"

"…yes." She slipped it back into the sheath and gripped it with two hands, holding it close to her chest. Amelia wasn't about to argue, not even when she saw the second thoughts run across her sister's face. "You don't think it's dangerous?"

"Look at it. Of course it's dangerous."

"…I'm keeping it."

"Alright."

Clementine spun around when the door opened behind them - the telltale broken glass announced that someone was coming into the room.

"Man, and I thought we had it bad. Look at this dump." He spotted the can in Clem's hands as he came in; Amelia saw his eyes widen exactly the way hers had when she saw it. "Guess he did have food. Man, fuck Nick."

Clementine slid a cautious look to Amelia; she wasn't surprised that her sister was able to predict the dirty look Amelia was going to pull before she did it. It didn't stop her from doing it, and glaring at Alvin like she was trying to light him on fire with her thoughts.

"Um," Clementine started cautiously. "I don't think it was really Nick's fault…" There it was again. The fibbing face. Alvin might not have known any better but Amelia did. "He was just trying to help us,"

"Nick's lost a lot of his people, that's for sure. But that doesn't give him any excuse to start shootin' up strangers."

Amelia laid back on her elbows, and considered going back to staring at the ceiling. The alternating sympathy and lack thereof was giving her whiplash.

"Alvin…" Clementine said quietly, dragging out the n in his name and darting her eyes to Amelia in a way she thought her sister couldn't see.

"What?" Alvin threw his hands up in a shrug. "I know he's having a hard time and all. But that was some dangerous shit he pulled back there. I know what he thought he was doing, but someone died. That's just straight up murder in my book."

Clementine didn't bother trying to hide it anymore. She looked back, directly at Amelia, probably because she knew as well as her sister did what was going on.

Alvin was the last to realize it. "Oh…" After a short, awkward pause: "Look, Amelia, I didn't mean to take any shots at you, I just…"

He trailed off and she sat up on the cot, crossing her legs and scratching lightly at the vinyl sleeping bag with her fingernails to keep busy. "It's fine. I'd rather know what you think."

"It's a shame. Nick was a good guy. He's still a good guy. He's just losin' it."

Amelia wondered for a second if Alvin thought she was losing it. Then she remembered he wouldn't know. He'd never seen her with her shit together for comparison.

She was expecting him to leave. He could've ended their chat there and she wouldn't have held anything against him. But to his credit, he spoke up again anyway.

"Look, I don't think either of you are dangerous people. I think you made some decisions some of us think was the wrong call."

That was true enough. One simple truth in a clusterfuck of a situation where no one seemed able to give or get a straight answer. "Don't ask me what I would've done in your shoes because honestly? I got no idea. But if every one of us is safe at the end of the day…it couldn't have been all wrong. I don't think we have it in us to bury another person."

It was a small gesture. One flicker of a silver lining in the middle of a shit storm she was at least half responsible for. But she would take it.

"Hey, girls," he seemed to be hesitating again. Amelia scratched at the vinyl, waited for him to choose his words. Time was one thing she had more than enough of. "There's not a lot of food here, and Rebecca…she's eating for two. You think we can keep this just between us?"

Amelia looked up from the sleeping bag, surprised by what he was asking only until she thought about it for a moment. He was right. There wasn't enough there for everyone. She considered Rebecca's baby more important than the adults in the group, and would have been shocked if anyone in the group disagreed. Splitting their only can of peaches between Rebecca, Clementine, and Sarah was the only logical choice. Hopefully, they would find more once they reached the lodge.

"Yeah. Take it." Amelia answered. Clementine gripped the can and held it back over her shoulder, despite the fact that Alvin hadn't reached for it.

"Amelia." She said.

"Yes?"

"That's not…we can't just do that." She looked between Alvin and her sister. "The whole group should decide."

"Clem, you know how important it is that the baby doesn't starve." Amelia lowered herself back onto the cot, kicking her feet out and folding her arms behind her head. "Just give him the can."

"No."

Amelia sat back up. Quickly. "Clem."

"You can't hide things from people in your group. Remember?"

Amelia chose to believe she was talking about the peaches.

"We're out of food. She needs to eat more than the rest of us do."

"Then we can trust the group to do the right thing." She hesitated for just a second – just briefly enough to make Amelia think she was rethinking whether to bring it up. "I know Luke…doesn't always listen to you. But you should listen to him. You can't just make all the decisions anymore."

When Amelia didn't answer, Alvin scratched the back of his head. Nodded in understanding. "You're right, Clementine. I shouldn't have asked…it's just hard right now." He sighed.

"I know." Clem answered, then carefully suggested, "We should take this out there." The look she gave Alvin meant he should be there when she showed it to the group. He understood, and the way he rubbed the back of his head made Amelia wonder if he was going to come clean about his idea to keep the food for Rebecca. She didn't know, and would've been lying to say she cared. In this group, keeping secrets was common, normal. Not at all like her old group, where dirty laundry and personal grudges were worn openly and argued over regularly. Where a group with one leader too many was caught in the middle of a screaming match every other day until tensions came to a head and-

"-we deal with this now, then-"

This group's approach was quieter. More passive but no less aggressive. Secrets and non-answers and half-truths. It that area, morally grey as it was, she fit right in.

She watched the door close behind Alvin and her sister. She'd expected to be alone and it took her a moment to realize she wasn't. He stepped aside to let Clementine pass, then caught the door just before it closed and let himself in. He lingered by the door.

"I just want to talk. Clem's worried about you."

Amelia nodded toward the window, where she could see Carlos near the tree line. "What did you talk about?" It wasn't exactly the question she meant to ask, and she could tell Luke knew that. Everyone knew who the topic of that conversation had been.

"Carlos is…worried about Nick. So am I. He's been through a lot. Seen some stuff that'd make anyone…lose it a little."

"Are you trying to convince me or you?"

He didn't answer, and for a brief second, she worried she'd hurt him. Bluntness was her language of choice – no need to waste time when the truth was what it was – but it wasn't his. She told herself not to forget that again.

"I don't know."

After a few moments of watching the widow for something he didn't see, he sighed and crossed the room, his slow steps and low shoulders making it look like he was under a weight he couldn't shake. Maybe he was – just not a physical one. He sat down in the open space next to her on the cot; he knew her too well by now to wait for an invitation he was never going to get.

He laced his fingers together and held them in his lap. Stared at the door while he cracked his knuckles, tapped his foot, fidgeted in his spot. Of the two of them, she wasn't the one who couldn't stand silence. She waited and listened but didn't speak.

Which was strange, given that she had something to say to him.

"Look, I'm not used to this. I've never…had a problem talkin' to people, and…"

And then you met me.

"And?"

"And…to be honest, you do a real good job of shuttin' everyone out."

The honesty surprised her. She wasn't used to hearing him say things – even true things – so undisguised by tact and kindness. He wasn't one to get straight to the point. Or, at least he hadn't been before. But people changed.

She didn't understand why, but she answered his honesty with a truth of her own. "It's not on purpose."

"I know it's not. I knew plenty'a people who acted like they wanted to be alone. But I don't think any one of them really wanted that. Nobody does."

If she was on this list of his, then no. He wasn't wrong.

"I don't understand what you're getting at." She said quietly, falling back on the only tactful way to ask for an answer she was failing to find on her own.

"I said somethin' dumb back there on the bridge. What I said about you and makin' friends…" he trailed off, and Amelia wasn't in a hurry for him to pick back up. She was starting to wonder how fast she could get to the door from here, and at the same time, somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that having someone sit next to her was nice. It didn't happen much anymore; sometimes that was by her own doing, sometimes not. Luke seemed to give up on what he'd been about to say. "Look, you're with us now, and… I'm your friend, alright? So's Nick, even if he doesn't act like it."

Amelia nodded. Okay seemed too simplistic and she wasn't sure whether thank you was in order. It probably was, but that didn't make it any easier to say. She felt a sardonic laugh coming up – a quiet one, but bitter and confused and exhausted all the same.

"Does he know that?"

Luke almost laughed. Almost. Before he looked back to the window and seemed to go somewhere else.

"I'm not tryin' to put him through the wringer. He thinks I am, but I just want to help him."

"I can see that. And if I can, so can he. He just doesn't want the help right now."

"He never does."

Seconds ticked by, each one reminding Amelia that she had something to admit-

-two things-

Every second Luke sat there was another chance for her to do it, and she could only waste so many.

She didn't see anything wrong with starting simple. "Just…I did it too."

This got him to look at her. Maybe because, like him, direct, naked honesty wasn't her strong suit and it was strange to hear it from her.

"You don't know what it's like unless it's you, with five seconds to make the decision and other people's lives at stake if you do the wrong thing." She rode the momentum of talking without thinking, sure something was about to go wrong but unsure whether it would be by stopping or by saying too much. "And I hope you never do but…you just don't know how…"

She stopped herself, hearing her words trip over each other and taking a breath so she wouldn't turn into an inarticulate mess. "It's just easy to fuck up, Luke."

Finally, he broke their eye contact and rubbed his palms over his knees. "I know it is." He looked out to the window again. "Maybe you don't believe that, but I do. I know how you feel."

"You don't have to decide he was right. Just…whatever you decide about him, make sure you decide the same about me."

There. Fair was fair. People could say a lot about her, this group included. But no one could say she'd been a hypocrite. Today.

"I'm on your side, Amelia. Just like I'm on his."

She almost smiled. "Thanks." She meant it. She thought back to Clementine's insistence that he's really nice and he's easy to talk to and you can tell him he won't freak out. For a split second she let the bitter, sarcastic part of her mind wander into that conversation-

By the way, look at this scar on my ribcage, you wouldn't believe how I got it-

Nope. Not today. Not tomorrow. Sorry, Clem.

Creaking door, glass scattering across hardwood. Nick stood in the doorway, very clear without saying a word that he wasn't about to come in.

"Lurkers are coming over the bridge. We have to go."

Both were on their feet before he finished.

The lodge was as ominous as it was empty and large. The fact that the group would have plenty of room for the night was dampened by the creeping knowledge that it left plenty of places for the dead to hide inside. It was just quiet enough to make Amelia hesitant to go inside; it was just dark enough outside that she knew she'd be doing it anyway.

The sun had gone down an hour ago. They didn't have any more time to burn. The freezing temperatures were one problem. The walkers were another.

Amelia approached the lodge's front porch just behind Rebecca. Her pace was slow – aggravatingly so – but Amelia lingered behind her, convinced by the way she was dragging her feet and breathing that she was about to need help.

"Well?" Rebecca breathed. "What are we waiting for?"

Carlos waited by the porch that stretched across the front of the building, keeping his voice low on the off chance that someone was inside, and listening. "We need to be careful."

"We've been on the road for five days. My back is done being careful."

Amelia didn't disagree. Being this close to shelter somehow made it harder to stay on her feet. She was sure there was somewhere to lay down inside. A real bed with real blankets. She would kill someone for a pillow and a straight six hours of sleep-

-poor choice of words-

She eyed the lodge's boarded windows, and the path that cut behind the building and around the back. The list of people Carlos could've asked to check the perimeter consisted of three names when she left out Pete, the pregnant couple, and the children present. If he picked one or two people to do it, she was more likely than not to be one of them. She figured she'd start early – the sooner they got inside, the better – so she turned around and almost walked straight into the body standing just behind her.

Nick looked surprised. So did she.

"Hey."

She phrased it like a question without meaning to. "Hey?"

"Why don't, uh," he threw a look over his shoulder, where Carlos was telling Sarah to stay put and not touch anything and Pete had stopped to sit on the porch bench. "Why don't you and me-" he nodded toward the corner of the building, the one they'd need to take to get to the back doors. "-head around back? Make sure it's safe before we start breakin' in."

Amelia crossed her arms, and looked toward the back of the lodge. She looked back to Nick, looked him up and down and tried to figure out what had changed since the last time they spoke.

He smirked at her. He scratched the back of his head like he was already ashamed of the joke he was about to tell – and flashed a grin that said he couldn't resist doing it anyway. "Heard you're the expert on that."

She smiled and shook her head. Actually laughed, quietly. "Fuck off."

"It doesn't need stitches, does it? That's like…what, the seventh time?"

She stuck and arm out and hit him in the shoulder with a lazy push. She didn't know why he was speaking to her again. It certainly wasn't because of any effort on her part. She'd kept a distance from him for the entire hike up the mountain. His sudden change of heart confused her, but she'd take it all the same.

"It doesn't…" He paused. His voice lowered and his smile disappeared. "…actually need stitches, right?"

Amelia's smile fell just like his did. Their joke was over. This was a question that needed an answer. She shook her head, arms crossed. The no was implied.

He nodded. "Good." He waited for a short pause. He seemed to be expecting Amelia to say something but wasn't surprised when she said nothing. "So?"

She was about to nod, to smile, to circle the building with him and maybe even take his hand while they walked to see if he'd object but something caught her attention. She caught a flash of purple in the far corner of her eye and looked over her shoulder to see her sister halfway up a twenty-foot ladder. She didn't know why Clementine was climbing the ski lift, and why she didn't know anything about it until now, but she spotted Luke standing at the base of the ladder and knew who to ask.

"You go ahead." She said to Nick. "There's something I have to do."

"Right now?"

She was already on her way down the hill, calling over her shoulder, "I'll catch up later."

She worried – maybe hoped – for a moment that he'd follow her. He didn't, and she couldn't decide if she was disappointed.

She didn't bother to quiet her footsteps – she wanted to be heard if it would save her from starting the conversation herself – as she came up behind Luke, slowing to a stop as the hill dipped into a sharp incline toward the base of the lift. If she came up any faster she might've slipped and gone tumbling down a – she leaned forward to look – fifty-foot drop, maybe, of steep mountainside they'd just spent the evening climbing on the hiking trail.

"Amelia, hey," Luke caught her attention as she stood peering at the rocks and tree trunks below. She crossed her arms, leaned against the lift tower, and stared at him. No words.

After a beat he cleared his throat. "I thought it'd be a good idea to check out the forest behind us."

Amelia tilted her head. Threw a look up to Clementine, who was almost to the top. Far too late for her sister to stop her. Still no words. She didn't claim to know anyone in this group well but thought Luke at least knew her well enough to guess why she was here.

Luke seemed to get the message. "Alright, I know what you're thinking,"

"Why?" Amelia asked, unconcerned with how unfriendly she sounded.

"She, uh, seemed pretty set on doin' it…said you had a deal?"

"Which she broke." Amelia wasn't sure whether Clem could hear them from where she was. She thought she should repeat herself, louder.

"Figured that's, uh…why she got up there so fast."

It was a joke. Amelia did not laugh.

"I mean, she's doin' great," Luke grinned, reminding Amelia that he didn't know how not to be himself. He didn't know how not to shower optimism on a person like her even when it was like throwing a glass of water on a kitchen fire. Luke realized it wasn't getting him anywhere, too. Probably knew that from the beginning. So he switched to the other quality Amelia had never quite learned how to use, one he had in spades: sincerity.

He sighed. Took on a calm voice she'd heard from him at least a dozen times by now. One she wouldn't admit at gunpoint that she was starting to like.

Luke gestured up toward her sister, and Amelia could see him keeping an eye on her even as they spoke. "I know you worry about her. But come on, I wouldn't let her do anything she could get hurt doin'."

Amelia knew that, even before he said it. She may have needed to be reminded, but she knew.

Clementine's voice chimed away from the top of the lift. "Made it!"

She still wasn't one for optimism, but she knew her situation could always be worse. Always. They were hungry. Out of supplies. On the run from a group that wasn't above murder. The only thing worse than being out here with Luke would have been being out here without him. She tried to imagine some stranger in his place. Someone who might have left Clementine out in the forest. Someone who'd let her get shot without trying to take the bullet for her. Amelia didn't even need one hand to count the number of people she could trust to do that.

There were plenty of people in the world who wouldn't do anything like that for Clementine. Worse than that, there were people who would put themselves first. Throw her to the wolves if it meant they themselves got to live.

Amelia approached Ben, slowly and quietly, when he had his back turned in the backyard of the Savannah house. He had his hands cupped over his eyes, peering into the window while Kenny and the others looked for a way to break in. There wasn't much time left before the neighborhood would become completely overrun and the dead would start pouring in over the picket fence.

Amelia was unconcerned with that threat. She considered the threat posed by her coward of a group member to be much more dangerous.

Her hands were starting to shake.

"Ben."

He glanced over his shoulder but otherwise ignored her. "I'm-I'm…I can't talk right now, Amelia…"

She reached into her own heart, past the boiling rage, and sickening sense of betrayal and overwhelming disgust, through the briar bush rapidly filling space in her ribcage and found the patience to try again. One time. If he wouldn't listen to her then, she would give him everything he had coming.

"Last chance, Ben."

He hesitated. They waited in silence until he said, "I can't-"

Amelia's hand was already on the back of his head, having grabbed a fistful of his hair to launch his forehead forward into the window. The glass cracked, a bright spot of blood staining the dead center of a spider web fracture.

He yelped, a pitiful sound she'd heard from him before. "What are you-?" She cut him off, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to turn around. She backed him against the house with a merciless forearm laid across his throat, leaning into it and trying, trying with every shred of decency she had left not to intentionally crush his windpipe.

"If you ever do that again…" Her voice was low. There was no yelling needed to make her point.

"Amelia!" Christa's voice pulled her back, but not by much. "Calm down. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Amelia didn't answer her. Christa didn't understand. Christa was sharp and capable and right about nearly everything else – but she was wrong about this. She didn't know because she hadn't seen.

Amelia did. Unfortunately for Ben.

Christa didn't stop. She took a step forward and gave Amelia another warning, which she answered by putting a hand out to stop her.

"Amelia," she said again, not asking, but telling. "Put him down, now."

"Not yet."

Kenny hadn't moved from where he stood. Kenny, who was still reeling from the same kind of loss that had almost blindsided her, didn't have anything to say. He seemed to be trusting her judgment – a mistake Ben was about to pay for.

He grabbed at her wrists, gripping them tightly while she had him pinned to the wall. Blood dripped in a crooked line from his forehead down into his eyebrow. Amelia watched him look over her face with fear in his eyes and felt no remorse for what she was doing. None. He was lucky she'd shown this much restraint because she had long run out. She'd used it all, spent it on that time they were run out of their home and the time a dear friend paid for his mistake and the time a mother and her child both-

-it was me I was the one giving the bandits supplies and Amelia was the last fucking person he should have told but no one kept him around for his brain-

"If you ever leave her in danger to save yourself again…" she said slowly, careful to leave no room for misunderstanding because she meant every word. It was important for the both of them Ben understood, very clearly, that she didn't make empty threats. "…I will fucking bury you. You will run into a horde of walkers to get away from me and you'll be lucky if they kill you before I do."

A hand on her shoulder forced her to take three steps back. Christa hit her with a disapproving look and anger in her voice. Amelia didn't like it, not from someone she liked as much as she liked Christa, but wasn't about to take back anything she did. Not a word.

"That's enough. We have bigger things to worry about right now."

"Speak for yourself."

Amelia shot Ben a glare from where she stood. He was swiping away the blood dripping from his forehead, and to his credit, glaring back. He was near tears and shaking but Amelia could see it clear as day. He was furious. Burdened by more rage than he knew what to do with.

Join the club.

He screamed at her back when she turned to walk away from him. He got the words out before Christa made him lower his voice, hurling one last insult that hit her right between the shoulder blades.

"We should have left you with Lilly! You're just like her!"

She would always remember what it felt like to be the only one. One in a group of a dozen who considered Clementine's life more important than her own. A constant reminder that she and Clem were on their own, no matter how high the numbers of their group got. Until now.

"See anything?" Luke called up to Clementine.

"Umm…" Clem paused, staring out at the horizon through her binoculars. "Yeah. I can see the bridge,"

"And?"

"And…" she dragged the word out. If Amelia craned her neck at an uncomfortable angle she could see her sister sweeping her binoculars slowly over the railing. "…and that's it, really."

"Nothin'?"

Clementine turned around, looking down at the two of them and shaking her head. "It's just quiet. And dark."

"Well alright then. Good job, kid." Luke said. "Need help getting down?"

Clementine crossed her arms and huffed. "No,"

"Just tryin' to help."

Clementine stepped down onto the top rung of the ladder – the wrong way at first, facing out instead of in, but a word of warning from Amelia got her to turn around – and made her way down slowly. Amelia saw the way she hesitated at the top and guessed she was shaken by the height. The way up must have been easier than the way down.

Luke watched the whole time, though. Ready to lunge in and catch her should she slip. He didn't let his guard down until she hopped back onto solid ground with both feet.

"Should we…go inside now?" Clementine asked, looking from one to the other.

"Go ahead," Amelia answered first. A short jerk of her head toward the ski loft. "Go wait with Rebecca."

Clementine raised an eyebrow, an expression Amelia felt the girl should have trademarked by now. She looked from her to Luke and back, maybe expecting an explanation Amelia wasn't about to give. She looked to Luke and he didn't give one either. Likely because he didn't have one.

"Go on. We'll catch up." He said.

Amelia watched her sister contemplate their words and silently urged her to leave and please don't make it weird. Not long after she reminded herself that if Clem didn't make it weird, she would certainly do it herself.

"Okay…" Clem said, the last syllable drawn out like she was unsure of what she was doing. Or rather, why she was doing it.

Amelia called after her as she trudged uphill, having been recently reminded that Clem's listening skills were spotty at best. "Wait with Rebecca." She didn't want her sister volunteering to scout the building or climb any more heights. She hoped that between the five adults up there – well, four adults and a Nick – someone would be able to keep her in one place until Amelia joined them.

But first, a word.

She started the conversation with five ticks of silence even she felt was awkward. She knew it was because this time, she was the one with something to say and no idea where to start. Now it was her turn to struggle with words.

Luke let his eyes wander, drummed his fingers against his leg, reached up and scratched the back of his head.

"I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry for?" He shook his head at her because didn't seem to know. That made two of them.

"I'm not good at-" Nope. Try again. "I just wanted to tell you…"

She trailed off, backspacing but feeling that she was closer to what she was getting at. Mentally, she took another step forward and flinched. Retreated back. Nope. Not what she wanted. She tried another. Another way to say it. Another set of first words.

Nope.

She silenced herself again, not about to tell him the truth. Not about to say to his face that she was fond of him, reminding herself that everyone else about whom she'd decided this was dead, that I like you was a lethal phrase coming from her. She tried to write it off as pride, tried to say it was because it sounded too needy and shirt-tugging and personal.

Even if it was what she felt, some days. She'd rather die than act like it.

But she knew that wasn't what was in her head. She may have become adept at lying to others-

– except to Clementine, never to Clementine –

-but no amount of practice could make her good enough to lie to herself. It wasn't because baring her feelings was too hard. It was because attachment from her was a death sentence, if her track record was anything to go on. A kiss from the angel of death. Like being bitten, but with even more blood and a different kind of pain.

"Amelia," he said, prompting her without pushing her. Giving her the kind of open invitation she'd never been one to wait for. Not rushing. But inviting. "What's on your mind?"

Just say something. If it comes out painfully stupid your backup plan is to throw yourself down that hill.

"Thank you."

The words hung in the air. Simple and easy enough, in themselves. But Amelia struggled to say them not because of what they meant but because of all the baggage that lurked behind them, scratching to get out with them now that she'd opened the floodgates. Almost like she couldn't pick and choose which of her feelings – all of which she'd long banished to emotional purgatory – could escape to see the sun again. If you make an exception for gratitude then you have to make one for honesty and one for affection and-

Luke seemed to know what she was talking about. He broke eye contact and blushed. Didn't ask her to elaborate. She did it anyway.

"For what you did on the bridge."

She saw mixed signals. He was flustered. His face told her that her words were unexpected and to an extent, unwanted. But not entirely unwelcome. He didn't seem to mind the thanks – but she realized the discomfort she was seeing came from the fact that he hadn't done it to be thanked.

Still, she had to do it. Didn't regret it. Yet.

"Don't, uh-" He shook his head at himself, subtly but Amelia saw it, barely. He tried again. "Don't worry about it." He gave a vague gesture over his shoulder, toward the ski lodge and the distant figures of the other members of the group. "Really, anyone else would'a done the same thing."

Amelia shook her head slowly. She knew that wasn't true. And she knew, because though Luke was optimistic he certainly wasn't dense, that somewhere in his massive heart he knew it too.

Not everyone would have done the same. Not even in this group.

"It's always been…" Just me. Amelia found herself talking to his shoes. Then his right shoulder. But not to his face. "I've always been the only one who…knows how important she is." Was that what she'd meant to say? "We've never met anyone who…we met one." Don't forget. Don't ever forget him. Amelia realized Luke would know who she was talking about if she shared his name. "His name was Chuck. He saved her life."

At great cost to himself. Traded his life for hers. A debt Amelia would never have been able to repay even if he'd lived.

"I remember hearin' about him." Luke nodded. "Sounds like he was…a good guy."

"I'm…" An idiot. Rambling. Embarrassing you, probably. "I'm not used to people putting her first. I wasn't expecting that from anyone here, and I won't forget it and…" And that's enough, for now. Forever. "…that's what I'm trying to say."

He took a few seconds to consider it – it didn't take long – before he gave her a smile full of what she hoped was understanding, not pity. The two looked alike to her.

"I don't know what kind of people you and Clementine have been runnin' with. If what you're sayin' is true then I think I see why you two ended up alone. You can't stay with people you can't trust."

No, you can't.

You can't stay with people who leave you hanging in the wind. Who would pull you down and hold you under so they themselves don't drown.

You can't stay with people keep things from you, either.

She'd never done the first. Never would, if she could help it. But she was in so deep with the second she wondered if she even had a place to judge others for it.

"So…does this mean the two of you aren't runnin' out on us?"

A laugh slipped out before she could stop it. "She would never speak to me again. I've never seen her like anyone as much as she likes you."

"Well, I'm a big fan of hers, too."

Easy silence. Seconds went by without making either of them try to look somewhere else or do something to keep busy. She didn't know whether it was her getting better at talking or Luke getting better at talking to her, but he had something else to say to her when she'd thought they were done.

"Okay…well-"

"Amelia…I can tell you're carryin' something with you. It's not hard to notice."

Ice in her stomach. Damn it damn it damn it she'd been careful. Not always subtle, but careful.

He paused. "We're all entitled to our…personal stuff. But…if you ever change your mind and need someone to listen...you can tell me, is all I'm trying to say."

"You can tell him. He won't freak out."

Was she willing to bet their future with these people, their safety, on the judgment of an eleven-year-old?

She might have answered these questions for herself, but they were both drawn up the hill by the overlapping sounds of shouted warnings, loaded guns, and the sound of recent history threatening to repeat itself.

AN: Thank you again to BHBrowne for beta reading the early version of this chapter!