SUMMARY: Carol and Ezekiel have to survive, cut off from the Kingdom.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of The Walking Dead

RATING: T+

PAIRING: Carol/Ezekiel

ON THE RUN:

GAVIN'S OUTPOST:

THREE HOURS AGO

Rick and Daryl stood in the aftermath, having finally gotten control of the big guns. Most of the group set to take this outpost were accounted for; all but Carol and Ezekiel. Daryl paced back and forth, checking and re-checking the bodies. Rick knew better. Carol wasn't amongst the dead, and neither was the King. Jerry, the steward, held Shiva's chain, but the tigress was tense. She wanted to go and search for her master. The burly man looked defeated, and guilty for not staying with his King. Rick when to him, mindful of the warning growl Shiva issued, "Hey, I'm sure he's fine, and he's with Carol." It was a lie, and they both knew it.

Daryl looked at Rick, worry settling in the pit of his stomach. "We gotta go after her," he said.

"We can't," Rick replied, hating himself for it. "We have to finish what we started."

"It's Carol!" Daryl shouted.

"I know," Rick nodded, placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "She's smart and determined, and if she has Ezekiel with her, she'll be fine. If she can't get back to the staging area, then she'll head to the Kingdom." Rick knew Carol would survive out there, and she would make sure Ezekiel stayed alive with her.

Daryl growled, low and dangerously. But he knew Rick was right and he hated it.

"What should I do?" Jerry asked. He was at a loss without his King to follow.

"Take Shiva, your men that survived, and return to the Kingdom to prepare your people just in case. We'll take care of the guns, and continue with the next phase of the plan." Rick answered.

PRESENT:

NIGHTFALL

Ezekiel woke, encountering the full darkness of night that had settled around them. In the dark he searched for Carol, and he found her by the large opening, keeping watch. He shifted, the stitches in his chest and back tugged. His light growl of discomfort drew her gaze to him as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Any signs of our would-be killers?" he asked. Though, he figured if the Saviors had found them, she would have woken him up long before now.

"No, just a small group of walkers. I can't see them, but I hear them, and they're close by." Carol answered going over to him. She pulled out a small flashlight she'd found in one of the boxes, and turned it on. "Let me look," she said as she peeled up the taped edge of his bandage. Some of the light caught him in the face, and he angled his head away, his eyes closed tightly. Carol inspected his wound and saw that it didn't appear to be infected.

"How fare's my wound?" Ezekiel asked. If the pain was anything to go by, he was going to go on living for many more days to come.

"There's no infection from what I can see," Carol answered and pressed the tap back down to his skin. "Now that you're awake, you should eat and have some water." Carol twisted off the cap one of the bottles and handed it to him. She sat back on her haunches to watch, and make sure he took small sips at first. While he had been out or the count, she looked over the bottle of pain pills making note of the expiration date. Carol wasn't willing to risk Ezekiel having an adverse reaction, and there would be nothing she could do about it. Instead, she liberated a bottle of aspirin.

Ezekiel took a sip of the water, ever mindful that Carol was watching him. The liquid tasted like a gift from heaven; his mouth had been as dry as the Sahara upon waking. He had another sip, and then set the bottle aside. "You made mention of food?" Ezekiel said, licking his lips.

"I found crackers, peanut butter, and rice cakes," Carol snickered. It was so ridiculous to her. Someone who had gone to all the trouble to lay in supplies like camping gear – medical equipment – had skimped on food. Or, it was possible that the people who stocked up just liked crackers and rice cakes, and peanut butter.

"It's quite a feast, indeed," Ezekiel smiled. At least he could still do that after being shot. As he unscrewed the cap from the jar, he watched Carol go back over to the opening and return to her guard duty. He broke off a piece of rice cake, and used the edge to scoop up a dollop of peanut butter. After a few more bites, he paused to down two aspirin pills. Once they dissolved and his body metabolized them, they would take the edge of pain off.

Carol scanned the wooded darkness, trying to pin point the direction the sound of the moaning and groaning was coming from. So far, it appeared that the walkers were roaming aimlessly about, and she hoped it stayed that way. With any luck they would overlook the scent of Ezekiel's blood trail. "The walkers haven't moved closer…" she muttered, not really knowing what to say. An air of awkwardness had settled around her and she didn't know where it had come from. Was it because Ezekiel was with her? He unsettled her, and that made her wary of him. She was trying not to, but she was putting her heart on the line.

Ezekiel ate in silence, careful not to devour what was before him too fast. Something was bothering Carol, he could see it in the way her back was ramrod straight, and her eyes refused to meet his. He couldn't put his finger on what exactly had happened to make her back away from him. Had it been because he'd been shot? Did she fear he'd die on her, turn, and force her to deal with the rotten remains? Could Carol be afraid of losing him? Mindful that he was still without a shirt, Ezekiel left the pallet, and took a seat next to her. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Carol answered quietly, not daring to look at him. The white bandage was a haunting reminder of just how fragile life was, and how easy it could be to cut short. Once someone died, that wasn't the end. Their bodies would reanimate and seek to sate a ravenous hunger for living flesh. She had become terrified of losing Ezekiel, just as much as she feared losing Daryl, or Rick, Michonne, Carl, Judith, and the others of her family. Perhaps she was more afraid to lose Ezekiel.

Reaching out, Ezekiel took her hand, paused when she flinched, and then when she relaxed, he laced their fingers together. "You can confide in me, should you feel the need," he offered.

Carol could ignore his offer, but she learned long ago that it was never a good idea to leave things unsaid. "You scare me…" she said, silently.

Ezekiel was taken aback by her words. At first, he thought she meant he personally terrified her because he was a man of position and power, but then he sensed a deeper meaning to her confession. "How have I done that?"

"You made me want to care, again…" Carol muttered. Every person she killed, even though she knew she had to do it, chipped away a little more of her soul. It got to a point where she couldn't do it anymore, and that's what drove her to leave Alexandria; to leave them all behind. Then she met Ezekiel, and something inside her started to breathe again. She fought against it, left the Kingdom in the vain hopes of nipping whatever it was in the bud. But then he showed up on her door step with a pomegranate in his hand and smile on his lips, and she was done for.

"Choosing the Kingdom, choosing to defend its people…" Ezekiel started to say but was cut off.

"No," Carol interrupted him, "I chose you, not the Kingdom. You." She knew the moment she had been well enough to travel that she should have gone; left the Kingdom, and left the state. Instead, she snuck around the royal garden and had gotten caught by him. Had she done that on purpose, or had it been bad luck? That night he had showed her who he really was. Ezekiel was a good man, doing what he thought was best for his people. "I could have gone back to Alexandria after Morgan told me what happened to Glenn, to Abraham, but I didn't. Instead, I walked straight through your gates, and found you. I don't know why I did that."

"I'm happy that you did," Ezekiel spoke softly so as not to spook her, or draw the attention of the wasted stumbling through the trees below them. Carol frowned at him, and looked away. That made him smile. Rather than push the conversation, or have her reveal more than she was comfortable, he continued to hold her hand in silence.

Carol tried not count each stroke of Ezekiel's thumb against hers. His touch was gentle and tempting; that was something else she wasn't used to. When she had been with Tobin, he had been merely a way to pass the time. But with Ezekiel, even though she told him she wanted to be alone, she found herself secretly feeling a thrill each time he showed up at the little house. He had this way of getting through all of her defenses without her realizing it. "I wonder if they think we're dead…"

"Why would they?" Ezekiel asked, thrown by the change in topic. "Our bodies are not amongst those at the compound, nor are we roaming about as one of the legion of dead. There is no reason to think they perceive us as having fallen on the field of battle." Finally, she looked at him, and even in the near pitch black of their surroundings he could tell she was frowning at him again. In an attempt to reassure her of his belief, he brought her hand up so that he might kiss her palm. She froze from the press of his lips against her skin.

Carol couldn't help the gut reaction she had to be as still as possible. She thought she'd broken herself of that traitorous habit. It had been instilled in her from her abusive husband, Ed. 'May the bastard be rotting in Hell,' Carol thought. She gripped his bearded chin, letting him know with her touch that he was not the cause.

Ezekiel nodded. Even he could spot the telltale signs of physical abuse. Back before the world fell, and the dead were set upon the living, he had a co-worker at the zoo that had been routinely beaten. It got to a point she flinched whenever a male came near her. Carol had moved in the same manner, and he guessed she had been married to the one who had made her life such a misery. Yet, here she was in this dark new world surviving, fighting to bring about better days. "I can take the watch for a while, if you would like to get some rest."

"No, I'm fine." Carol shook her head, keeping her attention on the ground below them. Though, at the mention of sleep, she started to feel exhausted again. As soon as Ezekiel was deep in sleep, she had gotten up to take stock of everything they had. She needed to keep busy and not think of him lying mere feet from her.

"Carol, there is no shame in getting some sleep. I can watch for the dead, and for the Saviors." Ezekiel touched her knee and was pleased when she didn't flinch. "For the moment, we are safe here."

"We're never safe," Carol automatically responded.

"For the moment, we are," Ezekiel replied. Standing up, he offered his hand to her. There would be nothing for them to do for the rest of the night except to sleep while they could. He could tell she wanted to argue with him, to keep putting distance between them. Ezekiel couldn't let her keep running from him.

Carol gave in, for once. She placed her hand in his, and stood in front of him. Ezekiel was right in that they were relatively well protected at the moment. The walkers couldn't get to them, and if the Saviors had followed them, they would have been found well before now. She went over to stretch out on the left side of the pallet, leaving plenty of room for him. Carol curled on her side, listening to him lie down behind her.

Ezekiel moved to lie on his side, bringing his right arm up to pillow under his head. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion due to his wound. Before he succumbed, he had the pleasure of seeing Carol turn over to face him. He took the sight of her face into sleep with him.

Carol pulled the blanket up to cover her King, and then scooted closer to him. One of the rules of survival was to share body heat at night. She wasn't cold, but Ezekiel would need the warmth. At least that's what she told herself when she snuggled into the pillow, her forehead brushing his elbow. Carol hadn't slipped into a sleep so easy since the early days at the prison.

EARLY MORNING:

Carol couldn't remember ever waking up feeling so warm in her life. She tried once to open her eyes, but her lids were still too heavy with sleep. When she tried again, this time she was greeted by the sight of a man's chest, and a white bandage stained red. His left arm was draped over her, holding her close to him. She liked the way it felt waking up in his embrace. Sitting up, Carol stretched her arms over her head feeling like a shift had taken place inside her during sleep. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she saw he was awake, and lying on his back. "How's your shoulder?" she asked.

Ezekiel smiled, "It hurts, but it's going to heal." He rested his hand against the center of her back, pleased when she leaned into his touch. Then, he heard a small sigh come from her. She was enjoying the feel of his hand on her. Sitting up, Ezekiel rested his forehead to her left shoulder. Seconds later, her hand touched the top of his head.

"Before we do anything, we should change the bandages, and get you something to wear," Carol said, her words colored with the slightest trace of a laugh.

"Tired of seeing me without a shirt?" Ezekiel teased as he sat back, propped up on his hands. She rolled her eyes at him. It was a look he had come to know very well, and it was one he enjoyed.

Carol sat next to him, and peeled the bandage on his chest off. There was a normal amount of drainage, at least she hoped it was normal. That would be for the Kingdom's doctor to determine. She just had to get them back there. By now the assault on all the outposts had been finished; those who weren't dead were penned in by walkers. If everything went according to plan, they had won. She and Ezekiel couldn't go back the way they came, even if they wanted to. Not with the walker herd set to swarm all of the Saviors territory.

When she finished, Ezekiel accepted the garment she offered him. It was a plain white t-shirt, suitable enough for his needs. The moved about in silence for a moment. He began to pick through the supplies, finding a satchel they could use to pack up bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and tape. After that was done, he set the bag over by a pack she'd already filled with other supplies. Carol was over by the catwalk, staring down at the ground below them. Ezekiel went to her, was about to ask what it was that had frozen her in place, but he saw. The wasted blocked their point of egress.

"I count nearly two dozen…" Carol said softly to Ezekiel. She knew she couldn't take on that many herself, and he was injured. So, it would be doubly hard once they made it to the ground.

"A hard fight to be sure," Ezekiel replied quietly.

"We have two options," Carol said. "One: We hook a walker, pull it up, and cover ourselves in its guts so that we smell like them, then take our chances climbing down. Two: We find another way down, take rope with us, catch two walkers, then we can use them as camouflage." She didn't want to risk the first option, not with Ezekiel's gunshot wound.

"Both options carry great risk, and I am more inclined to see what the second will yield us." Ezekiel felt a grimace cross his face. To even contemplate covering himself in the putrid, rotting flesh of the wasted turned his stomach. "You've done both, I assume."

"The first one," Carol replied and half shrugged at him.

"And the second?" Ezekiel inquired.

"Before joining our group, Michonne lived on her own with two walkers that she kept in chains. They hid her from the others, and she used them as un-dead pack mules." Carol answered. Michonne hadn't told her any of this. It had been Carl while they had been out on the road, making the journey to Alexandria. They hadn't used his suggestion, and after the night they survived the twister, there had been any walkers around.

Ezekiel didn't know quite what to say to that. So, simply he muttered, "Ah." If there was a way to survive, humans found the way. He had a moment to weigh the options, which would be easier for them to make their way back to the Kingdom. They looked at each other, and in the same breath, whispered, "Second choice."

"Now that that's settled, we'll have to get things ready," Carol said. She would need rope to make leashes with, and make sure she had enough of the nylon cord left to use as a make shift sling. He needed to not use his left arm as much as possible, or else he'd rip his stitches open and start bleeding again.

"How are we to clear a path, and safely ensnare two of the wasted?" Ezekiel asked, slipping his coat back on. His armor would be abandoned here, as he was sure Carol would leave hers behind.

"Right now, they don't know we're up here. They can smell, but given that we're not in the immediate area; that has them confused. Your blood drew them here, but if you find me a bottle of booze, I can use it and given them a nice bright fire to draw them away. Then, we get two of the stragglers," Carol informed. She tied a noose at the end of the rope, let out enough length, then used her knife to cut it. He stood there looking at her, a question lingering in his eyes.

"And once we have them, then what?" Ezekiel searched through the closest box, and there he found exactly what Carol was looking for. When she offered up no reply, he turned to look at her. "Carol?"

"When we get one, we have to cut its arms off, and make it so it can't bite us…" Carol answered finally, finishing with the rope.

"Is that all?" Ezekiel arched a brow.

"Look," Carol ran her hand through her hair, "I don't know where we are, or even how far away the Kingdom is. All I know is, we have to try to get there, because the longer we stay here, more walkers will show up until we're completely trapped." She stepped in closer to him, her hand resting lightly over his wound. It was better to run while they could and have a small chance of hope of going home.

"Together then…" Ezekiel said, and leaned forward and touched his brow to hers.

Carol wrapped her arms around Ezekiel's waist, exhaling a shuddering breath. She wasn't ready to admit out loud that he had become so important to her. More than anything she needed to make sure they made it home. So, she simply said, "We got to do this now, while we can."

An hour later, they were ready to make their escape. Fortune smiled on them, some sound drew most of the walkers away leaving four below for them to deal with. They each had a machete attached to their belts, and the packs were ready to be dropped to the ground. The four walkers that did remain were over by the tree Ezekiel had leaned again, smearing blood on the bark. It was still fresh enough for them to notice.

Carol pulled open the trap door as carefully as she could, and then she lowered the ladder down. The walkers hadn't noticed anything. To Ezekiel she whispered, "Give me a ten count, then follow me." Then, she put her foot on the first wooden rung, lowering herself down. On the ground, she drew her machete and went to take down the two smaller walkers. A quick blow to the back of the head; the one to her right dropped like a sack of potatoes. The one to her left turned, but wasn't able to so much as growl at her. She shoved the blade into its mouth.

While Ezekiel watched on, he dropped both black rucksacks down to the ground, and then once he hit ten, he was free to follow her. Carol had a noose around each neck of the final two walkers, but she would need his help. He took one of the ropes, so he could secure the walker to the trunk of a strong, slender tree. Ezekiel pulled the machete with his right hand, and with as much force as he could, he severed the arms of the wasted; watching them drop to the dirt. Then, mindful of where the blow would land, he brought the blade across the mouth of the damned. Its severed jaw fell to the ground with nothing more than thud. Almost instantly, the wasted before him stilled, all will to feed taken away.

Carol had just take the jaw of the walker, but it still had its hands, and it was coming for her. She managed to cut its left arm off right before it tripped, taking her to the ground. Carol cried out as the mass of dead weight landed on her chest. She put her hand against its throat, pushing with all she had while with her other hand she gripped the handle of the machete. Under her palm the rope moved, and over the walkers shoulder she saw Ezekiel pulling it back to help get it off her. Quickly she crawled out from under the big body, so that she could finish what she started. "Thanks," she muttered. Carol gripped the walker's wrist, lifting its arm, and then swung the machete down parting the limb from the body.

Silently, Ezekiel looked around the immediate area. None of the other wasted had circled back around. "We seem to be in the clear, for the moment," he whispered to her, as they pulled the second undead pack mule up from the ground. It stood, swaying from side to side, but didn't attempt to attack them.

"Yeah, that never last's long," Carol said through gritted teeth. The walker falling on her had knocked the wind from her lungs. When she took a deep breath, it felt like she was being stabbed in the muscles under her breasts. They didn't have time for her to catch her breath. Rather, she chose to ignore the pain spreading across her chest, and load up the walkers. It was better they carry the bags than her or Ezekiel.

Ezekiel knew better than to argue with Carol when she had her mind set to task. It was best he follow her lead and wait until later before he inquired after her wellbeing. He went back over to the one he had tied up, and took the rope in hand. With very little encouragement, the wasted trailed after him like an obedient animal. It was unsettling to look into the dead eyes of something that had once been alive, that had once had thoughts and actions not driven by base needs.

Carol took the rope from Ezekiel, giving it a sharp yank to signal the walkers they should start moving. The King fell in step beside her as they made their way further away from Savior territory. They moved slowly, while being mindful of every sound they made and every sound they heard. So far, everything was quiet. It didn't keep her from being on high alert.

Ezekiel kept pace with Carol, every once in a while, he would glance back at their wasted companions. It was all too humbling to see these two hulking figures trailing behind them, being guided by black nylon rope. He knew that at any time, anyone could become one of the damned; condemned to roam the earth as a mass of rotting flesh. Automatically, he brought his right hand up, placing it over his wound. A little to the left and down, then Ezekiel would be one of those creatures. That thought forced him to look away, to set his eyes on the path in front of him.

Carol saw out of the corner of her eye the way he gripped his shoulder. She stopped and that had the walkers stopping as well. "Ezekiel?" she asked reaching out to touch his arm. He looked at her with horror in his eyes. "What's the matter?"

"I could've easily been cut down yesterday," Ezekiel said in a harsh breath. It took this long to hit him. He could have died yesterday.

"Hey," Carol cupped his cheek, "you're not dead. You're right here with me." She wasn't going to lose him, not after everything they went through. Carol took his hand in hers, squeezing so that he felt the pressure.

Ezekiel looked at Carol as her words cut through the horrific realizations churning in his mind. "How do you do this? How do you go on knowing that any moment it might be your last?"

"I don't know…" Carol answered truthfully. "No one has all the answers. All we can do is just… go on." Secretly, she admired him for all that he built with his people, and how he was able to inspire them to that there was still goodness in the world. "You are one of the few good things in this world, Ezekiel. Never stop believing that."

Ezekiel clamped down on his fear, on his rising self-doubt. If she believed in him, then he could continue to be who his people thought him to be. "One of these days, I'm going to save you," he promised. Even if she didn't realize it, that's what she was doing. She was saving him.

"You already did," Carol smirked, and then lightly yanked the ropes attached to the walkers. They had a lot of ground to cover and they were wasting daylight.

By late afternoon, Ezekiel and Carol stopped to rest after having spent the last eight hours walking through the woods. She tied the walkers to a nearby tree as he lowered himself to the ground. His shoulder was screaming in pain, and his face felt hot, but he wasn't going to let it stop him. The part of the woods they had entered, some of it was starting to look familiar to him, but they were still a long way off from entering the Kingdom's domain.

Carol pulled out water, a tube of crackers, the bottle of aspirin, the hydrogen peroxide, and fresh bandages. While they were stopped she could take the time she needed to tend to him. She knelt next to him, helping him out of his coat, and helped him to pull his left arm out of the t-shirt he wore. Accidentally, she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek where she felt the heat of his skin. "You have a small fever…"

"It's just exhaustion," Ezekiel replied, arguing slightly. "This is the first break we've taken since setting out this morning."

Carol didn't want to argue. She just shook her head and set to work. The bandage on his chest had minimal drainage. As gently as she could, she probed the wound forcing a little blood to well up. So far, so good. She dropped a little peroxide on the stitches, and instantly it started to bubble at the same time Ezekiel hissed in discomfort. She then patted the area dry, and covered it with a fresh bandage. Carol moved around behind him, the bandage on his back had more blood on it. Taking the bandage off she found three of the eight stitches she had put in the day before were pulled out. With a disgruntled sigh she said, "You ripped three of your stitches. Why didn't you say something?"

"I had no idea," Ezekiel replied. "It must have happened when we were hacking up our companions over there." He could tell she was angry, but not all of it was directed at him. She had done as well as she could in patching him up with the limited medical knowledge she had. He was grateful for all that she had done for him. If he'd been alone, he would be dead.

Carol cleaned his back, and covered it with a fresh bandage. "We can take a little while and rest," she said, sitting on the ground next to him.

Ezekiel picked up the water, and the bottle of aspirin, handing them to her. "You should take some," he said after seeing the way she flinched when she sat down.

"No, I'm fine," Carol waved off the aspirin. In truth though, she wasn't. That walker hadn't been a feather weight when it fell on her.

"Carol," Ezekiel drew out her name, and then offered her both items again. "At least one of us has to be at full strength, and it's not going to be me."

Carol relented, accepting the bottle of aspirin. She put two pills in her palm and handed them to him, "You first."

TBC…