REPERCUSSIONS

She came to slowly the next morning, taking a moment to realize her arms were empty and she could no longer feel the comforting warmth of Rick's body behind her. She panicked, rising quickly to her feet as she began to remember where she was. The dreams had left her with a heavy feeling in her heart, the fogginess of old memories clouding her thoughts.

"Hey," a familiar gruff voice sounded, soothing her almost instantly.

Rick approached with Judith on his hip, alternating scoops of their oatmeal breakfast into the baby's mouth, then his. Judith gazed at Hannah as they got closer and, noticing the little one's infatuation, Rick smiled. Looking at Hannah, he didn't even have to ask how the rest of her sleep had been. He had never seen her look so distant and groggy. She had been alert and ready for action from the day they had stumbled across her those many months ago outside of Atlanta – nothing seemed to affect her back then, and though that had once been a concern, it had proven to be an asset to the group's functionality.

"Morning," she mumbled to him now, holding her arms out for Judith. He passed the smiling infant to her, tapping the contents of the spoon out into the bowl before offering the remainders to her. Watching her carefully as she swayed back and forth with the little one on her hip, he tried to determine what was going on in her head. Though their conversation the night before had given him some insight, he still felt there was more to it, something she wasn't telling him.

Hannah glanced up to meet his gaze as she spooned another scoop into Judith's mouth.

"What's the plan for today?"

"The plan? Well, Daryl scouted up ahead a little this morning. Didn't find anything, but the road looks clear so far."

"Sometimes not finding anything isn't a good thing, huh?"

Rick nodded, no longer feeling the need to mask his disappointment. "Looks like we'll just have to keep hoofing it. Wait and hope that we're fortunate to stumble across something worth considering."

"How are the supplies looking?"

His expression was grim.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, you're awake."

Abraham joined them now, with Rosita and Eugene close behind. Hannah exchanged a sarcastic smile with the ginger-haired ex-soldier and focused her attention on feeding Judith.

"So we was wondering if you'd taken our suggestion into any further consideration," Abraham said to Rick.

Hannah noticed the corner of Rick's mouth twitch, the way it usually did when he was becoming annoyed.

"Like I told you before, the important thing for me right now is finding food and shelter for these people. Not dragging them through another state on a potentially futile mission."

"Futile? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Hannah rolled her eyes as the men began to square off, Abraham taking the offensive position while Rick remained cool.

"He means we've been there, done that," she answered for him. Abraham turned to her, unamused by the interjection.

"I don't think was asking you, missy."

"Hey, watch yourself." Rick's expression had darkened dramatically at the hint of a threat towards her. He had always been protective, but since watching Gareth's interactions with her back at Terminus, something inside him had cracked. Hannah felt the two men were on the verge of something dangerous.

"Not long after I first joined the group, we made it to the CDC, thinking maybe they were working on a cure."

"Listen," Abraham interrupted, holding up a hand to silence her, "I don't need to hear your goddamn life story."

"I suggest you shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say."

Curious to see that sort of courage come from someone usually so reserved, he indulged her with his full attention, waving a hand for her to continue.

"When we arrived at the CDC, we found only one man left. One scientist. He taught us two things. One: there is no cure, nor will there ever be one. And two: somehow that means we should all give up and stop trying to fight it. I never warmed to the idea of the second part, but I do trust that there's no way of curing this."

"I don't believe you're qualified to make that kind of judgement," Eugene began, immediately cut-off by his self-appointed body guard, who held up his hand and threw him a scowl.

"And what happened to this scientist of yours?" Abraham asked, turning back.

"He killed himself. One of ours died with him. Their choice."

"So one scientist decides to top himself, and you decide there's no hope. Now, personally I don't think I'd trust anything that came out of the mouth of a fucking loony."

"He wasn't crazy. I mean, did you not see that place back there? What the world's come to? It's enough to drive any sane man off the edge."

She rocked gently back and forth as Judith began to fuss, cooing softly to the infant as she stared at Abraham and waited for his reply.

"None of that make's a lick of difference to me. All I know is I've got a man right here who says he can cure this thing, so I'm making it my number one priority to get him where he needs to go."

"Let us know how that goes for you."

He scoffed. "You two…I don't know if you're both just thick, or if you genuinely just don't care anymore. I get it. Your old boyfriend turned into a cannibal, humanity's one big stinking pile of horseshit, why bother, right?"

Hannah was glaring at him with a calm hatred. She handed Judith back to Rick, taking out her sidearm. It took Rick a moment to realize what she was doing, turning Judith away and grabbing her wrist before she could raise the weapon.

"What's going on?" Glenn asked, noticing Hannah's drawn weapon as he approached the group with Maggie and Tara, the latter of the three looking worried. Michonne appeared with Carl, taking Judith from Rick as she assessed the situation, meanwhile Daryl and Carol stepped up behind Hannah. Sacha, Bob and Tyrese stood nearby, looking on. Tyrese eyed Hannah's drawn weapon and exchanged a look with Daryl.

"Right now," said Rick, attempting to diffuse the situation as quickly as he could before someone got hurt, "More than anything, what we need is food, water and a safe place to hold up. Until then, I suggest you take a raincheck on your idea."

Looking around, realizing he was fast becoming outnumbered, Abraham scowled, spat on the ground and turned back to Rosita, who rolled her eyes at his juvenile behavior.

Rick watched him walk away and turned back to Hannah.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, voice hushed but with a harsh edge.

She holstered her weapon and ran her hand back through her hair, a move that never failed to remind him of Lori. Without giving him an answer, she pushed passed and moved further into the woods to be alone. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew that her run in with past ghosts had shaken up something dark.

They were backed into a corner.

To their right, the walkers they now knew had been intentionally released from the warehouse moved towards them, blocking their escape; their only remaining exit held at gunpoint by the three men who had set the creatures loose.

Hannah craned her neck passed the aisle to see if she could spot them. Two were standing on the upper level, outside the offices, while the third strode down the stairs, glancing around for them. She tapped her sidearm, constructing a plan to get them out. After a moment, her tapping stopped and she unslung her rifle, moving calmly in the direction of their assailants. Gareth yanked her back, glancing from one threat to the next, sweating and pale.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing her gun.

"We need to leave. Now."

"You're going to kill them?"

"Gareth, they're going to kill us."

"You don't know that. They've only got baseball bats and…and…"

"Knives? If they don't kill us, the biters will."

"You can't kill them. What will that make us?"

"Alive," she said, moving off without further hesitation.

Gareth looked back at the walkers who were getting closer by the second. He heard the first shot and flicked his head in its direction. Gazing down at his own weapon, he realized he held the same power and frowned, feeling the urge to toss the gun away. A second shot sounded from above, followed by a cry of agony and he found the motivation to move, praying that the voice hadn't been Hannah's. He found the first body at the bottom of the stairs, shot clean through the head, blood pooling against the bottom step. Stepping gingerly over it, taking in his ex's grisly handiwork, he proceeded up onto the top level, just in time to witness her kill the second man, who was cowered by the wall, cradling his knee.

"Han!" he began, just as she fired at his head.

Gareth turned away as bone and brain sprayed the wall, the shot echoing through his head as he became disoriented.

"Are you okay?" he heard a distant voice ask.

Before he could answer, Hannah turned to the third man, who had just emerged from a back office, sprinting towards her with a machete. It only took her a second to line up her shot and he was on his back, blood and brain mixing with that of his accomplice.

Gareth was on his knees vomiting, trying hard to regain control of his breathing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, someone pulling him up. His vision refocused and he saw the walkers coming towards them up the staircase. Hannah pulled him behind her and began firing.

"Gareth? Hannah? What's going on? Are we hearing shots in there?"

Hannah jumped as the radio at her hip came to life. Glancing at Gareth, who remained crouched by the wall, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to process what he has just witnessed. His hand stopped midway as he felt something wet, his fingers coming away with chunks of gore. He flicked it off his hands in an instant, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and got to his feet.

"We ran into some trouble, Alex. I'll have to explain later."

"Yeah, well, so did we."

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the bad news.

"We found a truck but it won't start. Turns out someone took the battery. Stripped the whole engine. There's nothing else here that'll suit us. I'm sorry, Han. I think this might be a bust."

She looked to all the walkers spread across the floor, their bodies blocking most of the stairwell.

"We've got our exit. We'll be out shortly," she replied, voice tight as frustration took hold.

Releasing the button on the receiver, she stood still for a moment, expression blank. Then she threw a punch at the wall, following it with a hard kick as her plan fell to pieces around her.

Still in shock, Gareth managed to pull her away.

They walked in silence until they reached Alex and Mary outside. Alex took one look at his brother and realized something was very wrong.

Hannah poured the recovered vegetable seeds out onto the dining table, glancing over at the two brothers who spoke in hushed tones in the kitchen.

Gareth hung his head as he listened to Alex, then nodded before heading over to the table. He stood next to her, watching as she sorted the vegetables into piles of what should be planted next to what.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, without looking up.

He picked up a packet of snow peas, turned it over and scanned the information on the back, not really taking any of it in.

"No. I think I'm just going to go sleep."

He tossed the packet down and walked away, heading up the staircase.

Hannah dropped the packet of carrot seeds she had been considering, and rubbed at the bandage on her hand. Her brief moment of rage had cost her further damage to her already-wounded hand, so she had taped it up as a reminder to take better care. As she flexed it now, she felt a bolt of pain run up the middle tendon, which had narrowly avoided being skewered by the nail the day before. Hearing noises in the living room, she went to investigate.

Alex was fluffing up a pillow, placing it down onto the sofa before unfolding the blanket that she had left out days before.

"Ma asked Gareth to sleep up with her tonight. She was a little rattled. He's always been better at talking her down than I have."

He rubbed the back of his head, surveying the sofa as though making sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Oh. Okay," Hannah replied, trying to ignore the obvious lie. His excuse was made all the more dubious as he ignored the fact Gareth hadn't slept on the couch for the past two nights.

"I'm sorry today didn't work out."

She forced a smile, dozens of thoughts speeding through her mind. "There's always another way, I guess. We'll work it out."

"On the bright side, it'll be easier to get in next time."

"Yeah. I guess it will be."

He stared down at the ground, glancing up as he tried to think of a way to address the elephant in the room.

"Did Gareth tell you what happened?" she asked, sparing him the awkwardness.

He nodded, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Alex, I would never have done that unless we were in danger."

He nodded again, though each nod looked increasingly uncommitted.

"I know, Han. He's just shaken up, I think. We've never had to do any of that on the road. And I honestly hope we never have to. I don't think any of us could…"

The implication stung even more coming from Alex. Even after Gareth had ended things with her, Hannah had always found it easy to relate to his younger brother, who just seemed to understand her better. Part of her did wish she had asked him out, as Gareth had suggested, but she figured it would become awkward very quickly. She could just imagine how Mary would have felt, knowing Hannah had been with both of her sons. It definitely would have made for one uncomfortable family dinner.

"How's your hand?"

She looked down at her bandage again, flexing her fingers with the same result.

"I was frustrated."

"You punch a wall?"

"Yeah, actually."

They both chuckled at the stupidity of the action.

"It's alright. I mean, we can always keep an eye out for a truck on the road, right? This was just…plan A."

Hannah tipped her head forward, dark hair spilling over her face before she ran her hands back through it. She breathed out a sigh that stuck in her throat halfway as it tightened with emotion.

"I know that, Alex. But three men died and I have nothing to show for it. I thought I was killing for survival."

"You said they were going to kill you guys?"

"Gareth was right. We could have backed out through the warehouse and just left. But I wanted to take what I needed to. And they were in my way. I'm so sick of people being selfish. All those guys had to do is ask what I was there for, let me take it, and then we'd each go our separate ways."

Alex's gaze fell as his discomfort lingered. He shoved his hands into his back pockets and looked down over at the couch.

"Look, you should get some sleep," he suggested, "We can discuss it tomorrow. We'll figure out what to, Han."

She managed the thinnest of smiles and nodded, leaving him to his heavy thoughts. Forgetting her rifle on one of the dining chairs, exhausted from the day's events, she headed up the staircase towards her bedroom. At the end of the hall she could see the soft glow of the guest room light. She could just make out the huddled shape of Mary asleep on the bed. Gareth sat beside her, legs drawn up to his chest, deep in thought.

Before he could look up and realize she was watching, Hannah made for her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Despite everything, she slept.

The following morning she woke to the first decent sun in weeks. Standing in front of her bedroom window, she gazed down at the empty street, the walkers they had killed the day of the storm piled on her neighbor's lawn. She added that to her mental list of things to take care of today.

She found the two brothers in the kitchen, chatting over bowls of oatmeal. Gareth had perked up immensely overnight, smiling as he handed her a bowl.

"You guys are up early," she commented, rubbing her eyes. She stifled a yawn as she took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"We thought we'd let you sleep in a little. You looked like you needed it," Gareth replied.

"Gee, thanks."

He smiled one of his usual, easy smiles as he spooned up another mouthful of food and went on, "Plus Ma wanted to get an early start on planting the seeds we found. She said it's best just after heavy rainfall, when the soil is nice and soft."

Hannah's hands stopped midway through smoothing back her hair as she remembered the secret she had buried out back. Feeling her chest tighten with panic, she tried her best to maintain her composure. She was sure she had buried her father deep enough. How deep did you have to dig to plant seeds? As she contemplated all of this, staring listlessly into her bowl of oatmeal, they heard a scream. All three of them looked up, heads turning towards the back door as they recognized it as Mary's. Bowls of food went clattering down to the kitchen counter.

"Ma!" The brothers took off at the same time, but Hannah remained in her seat, sick with nerves. It was probably just a stray walker that had found its way into her yard. It couldn't be him. She thought back to that day, trying to remember where she'd shot him. Surely it had been in the head…no. It came back to her; the thought about him not having a heart. She had shot him in the heart.

Racing to the backyard, she watched as her father's corpse attempted to pull Mary towards his dirt-crusted teeth. Gareth and Alex had taken one each, with Alex trying to release his mother from the steadfast grip of the walker, and Gareth pummeling the dead man with a shovel. Thinking fast, Hannah ran back into the kitchen, eyes searching for her rifle. Failing to find it, she pulled the biggest knife from the wooden block on the counter and rushed back outside. Yelling for Gareth to cease his bludgeoning for a moment, Hannah grabbed her father by the hair and shoved the knife through his temple. He fell back against her and she scrambled away in disgust.

Gareth joined his brother, crouching by his mother's side to make sure that she was okay, but the three of them turned to stare at their host. Hannah could see the questions forming behind their terrified expressions. She knew how it must have looked. Why bother burying one of the biters in her yard? Why hadn't she finished it off properly in the first place? Then Gareth looked back at the dead man and recognition crept onto his face. He glanced over at his ex, then moved to help Mary to her feet. As the two brothers helped their mother inside, Hannah remained in the dirt, contemplating her next move.

The first sign of trouble came when only Alex appeared, silent as he helped her remove the body. They added it to the rotting pile across the street, and still he avoided her gaze. Nothing got done for the rest of the day. The small family made themselves scarce, spending most of the time upstairs in the guest room speaking in hushed tones, voices suddenly ceasing whenever they heard her approaching footsteps. Hannah tried everything to distract herself. She checked and cleaned a few of her hidden weapons, careful to ensure she wasn't seen whilst doing so. She did a sweep of the front yard and double-checked the windows to confirm they were secure. It was growing dark outside as she took stock of their supplies, making a list of what they needed to look out for on their next supply run. She heard a safety click off behind her.

"I'm really sorry about this, Hannah."

She turned slowly to face Gareth as he pointed her rifle at her chest. Her expression of calm focus faded into fury.

"Gareth, what the fuck are you doing? What is this?"

"We had a long talk today. About what you did to those men back in the hardware store…"

"They would have killed us, Gareth! You know that! Are you seriously doing this right now?"

"We could have just left. You murdered them. You went out of your way to do that. And then your dad…What was he doing out there, Hannah? Did you kill him too?"

She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. This was not how this was supposed to go. A man she had once loved had found his way back into her life against all odds. This couldn't be it.

"Gareth, you need to give me a chance to-"

"To explain?"

"Yes."

"I don't think we need an explanation."

Stricken with panic, realizing what they were planning to do with her, she grasped for a way to change his mind.

"You know what he used to do to me, Gareth. He came to the house just before all this started. He was going to kill me, Gareth. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

Her throat tightened as tears of fear and anger filled her eyes.

"We talked about the difference between the good and the bad people in this world now, Hannah. I really thought you'd be one of the good ones. I really wanted you to be part of helping to build a new community." He glanced away, looking almost genuinely disappointed. "No. We can't risk it."

"Risk what?"

"You're obviously unstable. I know what your father put you through, but it's no excuse for murder. We can't trust someone who kills with no remorse."

Her eyebrows shot up as she let all of this sink in. "So what are you saying? You wanna kick me out of my own house? I brought you in off the street! You would have died without my help!"

Alex and Mary appeared from the staircase behind him, Alex carrying the crowbar and Mary the baseball bat. They weren't attempting to look intimidating, instead acting as back-up should she refuse to leave.

There had been times in Hannah's life when she had felt overwhelmed by frustration: the slow and painful loss of her mother, her father's repeated acts of abuse, the continually toxic patterns in her love life, and more recently, the fall of civilization at the hands of undead cannibals. But she had never felt as furious as she did at that moment. She stared at her ex, at her gun in his hands; the same gun she had used to murder her father, the one that had kept her alive this long. Now these people were prepared to take everything she had worked so hard to keep.

"Sorry, Han," Alex said, avoiding her eyes.

Mary stepped up beside Gareth. "You need to leave."

"This is my house!" Hannah took a step forwards and Gareth adjusted his aim. She stared at him, a silent exchange, begging him to rethink this move, to remember the nights they'd spent together. But his expression remained focused and unmoving. He gestured with the gun for her to get moving, forcing her towards the front door. She took a few steps backward, considering her options. "You wanna talk about murder? What you're doing right now, it'll kill me. You expect me to survive out there, no weapons, no supplies, no shelter?"

Gareth turned to nod to his brother, and Alex came forward with a knapsack. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, pulling it open to check the contents. A couple of bottles of water, some granola bars, potato chips, a couple of chocolate bars; items they had scavenged from the convenience store. Just enough to get by until she found more. Maybe.

"As for the shelter and weapons," Gareth went on, "You're resourceful, Han. That much has been pretty clear. I know you'll be able to find somewhere else. You'll be fine."

She wasn't sure who he was trying to convince – her or himself. He couldn't meet her gaze for a moment, gun still aimed at her, then, as his mother and Alex stepped up on either side of him, a stronger resolve seemed to come over him and his gaze hardened, readjusting his grip. He gestured once more for her to move. Her modest collection of supplies clutched in her hand, Hannah turned and did as she was asked, pausing a moment as her hand rested on the door handle. She glanced back at them over her shoulder – Gareth with her gun, Alex with the crowbar, Mary with the baseball bat – then with an almost calm acceptance, she opened the door and stepped out into the night, pulling the door closed behind her.

The stench that hit her the moment she stepped inside her neighbor's house was almost enough to convince her to turn back. Knowing that the boys would likely be watching her movements after her departure, either from her bedroom window or through the small gaps between the boards covering the living room windows, she had made off down the street before doubling back, careful to stick close to the shadows.

The body of the woman she had once considered her friend still lay in the kitchen, propped up against the cupboards, but the shotgun had since fallen from her mouth, coming to rest instead across her lap. Hannah crept hesitantly towards the shriveled corpse, one hand covering her nose as she felt her stomach begin to heave. It wasn't so much the explosion of dried gore, or the rotting, emaciated face that bothered her – it was the putrid stink of decay radiating from it. Pinching her nose, she reached for the weapon and plucked it up, quickly retreating to the adjoining living room to create some distance from the smell. She cracked open the barrel and found one shell still intact, silently glad for her neighbor's oversight. Considering the state of mind she must have been in when loading it, she seemed to have overlooked the fact that she wouldn't be around to use the second round. Locking the barrel once more, Hannah set to work seeking out the box of shells, keeping her ears pricked for the slightest of indications that she was no longer alone in the house.

She discovered the box of shells half-spilled on the bedroom floor, the scene of a hasty exit strategy. Trying to block out the thoughts of her neighbor's final desperate moments, she loaded a second shell into the shotgun's chamber, and then shoved the remaining ammo into her knapsack. Her plan was unfolding as she moved, making it up as she went, using whatever she could scrounge. Gareth was right – she was resourceful – and yet somehow he had failed to realize what that might mean for him and his last remaining family members.

Alex was just stepping out of the bathroom, carefully griping a candlestick – his only means of light – when he felt something hard press into his back. He froze and instinctively raised his free hand in submission, glancing back over his shoulder. In the dim light of his candle he could just make out the vengeful face of the gunman.

"Hannah?" he whispered, but she jammed the gun harder against his back to shut him up. She didn't look to be in much of a listening mood.

"I really wish it hadn't come to this, Alex. I honestly wish it hadn't," she spoke quietly, not quite meeting his gaze, and he could hear the strain of emotion in her voice. She had trusted him the most, he realized. He faced forward, shoulders slumping as guilt took hold. He hadn't wanted this either. He had protested when Gareth first brought it up, surprised by his brother's quick willingness to betray the one person who taken them in; the person he appeared to have patched things up with. But then Gareth had always been a little selfish like that.

"What are you going to do?" Alex asked her now, hoping whatever remained of their old bond would be enough to spare his life. For a brief moment he considered fighting back. Maybe he could catch her off guard, get the weapon from her and convince her to leave before Gareth or his mother could seek more desperate measures to remove her.

"I'm going to take back what's mine," she replied simply, before leaning forward and blowing out his candle.

Gareth had somehow managed to drift off into a troubled doze, when he was drawn back to the land of the living (and the not-so-living) by a noise in the hallway. He had settled into Hannah's guest room with his mother, unable to bring himself to use Hannah's room after what they had done to her. He had sat for a long time afterward, contemplating their actions – how they had basically condemned someone he had once genuinely cared so much for, maybe even still did, to such a lonely, miserable fate. He tried to convince himself that she would be okay; that she was tough, that she could handle surviving on the outside, that what he had done was for his own survival and that of his family. Not once did he think she might come back. She was outnumbered and outgunned, as far as he was concerned, and he knew she was smart enough to know when to give up.

Realizing what had woken him, he glanced at his mother, who lay sleeping beside him, then propped himself up on his elbows, eyes straining against the darkness to make out any suspicious shapes in the hall. Alex had volunteered to take first watch, the decision spurred by his mother's fear of a surprise invasion; though whether this was an invasion by the undead, or the rightful house owner, he wasn't sure. He frowned as he failed to find the source of the noise, and threw his legs over the edge of the mattress, ears pricked for any further sounds. Reaching down for the flashlight his mother kept by the bed, he switched it on just as the door creaked open wide. Turning the beam of light towards the new sound, he watched as Alex stepped in looking anxious. He frowned and opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, when Hannah stepped out from behind him, shotgun still pressed into the younger brother's back. Eyes wide, Gareth reached over and shook his mother awake. Thinking they were in some kind of immediate danger, Mary sprung up, reaching for her weapon, but found it was missing.

"Don't bother," Hannah told her, and Mary whipped around to look at her. "I've already taken them."

Gareth tried to steady his breath, feeling his mouth go dry as he was struck by the true gravity of the situation. What terrified him more was the realization that she had been in the room with them as they slept, silently stealing away their only means of defense. How had she even gotten inside? There had to be another entrance they didn't know about. She knew the house better than anyone; they didn't stand a chance defending it against someone who knew not only every possible point of entry, but also the location of every hidden weapon. He knew the baseball bat and the Bowie knife under the pillow had merely scratched the surface of her concealed armament. And right now, she didn't look like she was willing to go down without a fight.

As she forced Alex to step further into the room, Gareth recalled the way she had so easily mowed down the three men in the hardware store; the emotionless expression behind the spray of blood and brain matter. He thought of her father buried out in her yard and the circumstances surrounding his death. She was comfortable with murder, he realized, even if it was only for survival's sake, and it was then the fear really began to set in. They had gone about this the wrong way. There was no way out of it now. And as he took in her cold, calm manner he did the only thing he could think of; he made one last attempt to appeal to the one side of her that had never failed to get him results – the one thing he could always count on to change her mind: her old self-doubt.

"Han, put the gun down, okay? There's no need for this. I'm sorry we never gave you a chance to explain yourself, to explain what happened with your father. We were scared. We've never been in that position before. We can't even begin to understand what it must be like to –"

She held up a hand, the other balancing the gun against his brother's back. To his surprise, he realized she was smiling, but it wasn't an amused kind of smile, it was pure disbelief. Her forgiving nature had made her an easy target for manipulation in the past, but that self-doubt that had once been such a prominent part of her personality had died with her father.

"Gareth, for once in your life, shut your goddamn mouth."

He paled, any hopes he'd had for gaining the upper hand quickly dashed. This wasn't the timid young woman he had abandoned in high school – the Hannah before him now was a survivor; tough, resilient, no longer willing to be treated as a doormat. The glint in her eyes was resolute. She was not about to back down now.

"You show up at my door, you worm your way back into my head, you make me think that maybe this was a sign. That maybe we were supposed to be together again after all. Maybe this was fate. But you're still just as selfish as you were the day you ended it with me. I don't know why the fuck you made the effort to track me down, but I sure as hell wish you hadn't. And if the three of you don't get out of my house right now, you're gonna start wishing you hadn't too."

He gazed at her for a moment, mind whirring as he considered what he might possibly say to change her mind. Despite her newfound self-assurance, in the glow of the flashlight he could see angry tears threatening in her eyes. She hadn't wanted this. She had genuinely thought they would stick together, that they would see through the apocalypse as a reunited couple. He almost felt bad for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother begin to creep forward, but Hannah swung the gun towards her. Sensing his opportunity, Alex made to try and wrestle the gun from her grasp, but she was much faster, dodging his assault. She pressed the barrel into his chest, then gave him a shove backwards towards his brother, betrayal etched into her features. She hadn't expected him to be the one to turn on her first. Glancing around the room, able to make out their faces even in the low glow of the flashlight, she could see the cogs turning behind each of their eyes as they began trying to formulate their plan of escape. She needed a better hostage. Though Gareth seemed compliant enough with his brother staring down the end of a gun, she knew that Mary's instinct to protect her baby would drive her to desperate measures. With this in mind, she approached the older woman and flipped the situation on its head. There was no way the two boys would risk their mother's life over some brash attempt to overpower her.

"Hannah, we can work this out!" Gareth told her, eyes pleading, sensing the overwhelming futility of the situation as his ex-girlfriend held her gun to his mother's temple. Mary tipped her head to the side, an instinctive motion to put some distance between herself and the weapon, then flicked her gaze over to her two boys, praying that between the two of them they could come up with some sort of plan. Hannah didn't give them the chance.

"Move." She gestured with a nod towards the door and much to Mary's disappointment the two boys were quick to comply, marching out towards the staircase. With an encouraging shove, she got Mary moving after them.

Staring at the three of them as they stood dejectedly on her front porch, eyes pleading for her to reconsider, that they could still make this right, she fought the urge to simply slam the door in their faces. These were desperate times, she reminded herself. People did stupid things in the name of survival. But as she looked towards Gareth, those old, bitter feelings between them resurfaced and she recovered her some of her earlier resolve. He had used her once again, and even worse, she had let him. She picked up the bag of supplies they had so thoughtfully gifted her prior to her own forced departure, and tossed it to Alex, his eyes wide as if only just realizing what this meant for them. Gareth glanced over at the modest collection of supplies and looked back at her.

"It's not enough," he told her, but from the way she narrowed her eyes, he knew it had been a ridiculous comment to make. She had every right to toss them out on their asses without any means of support. This was being generous.

"That's not my problem." There was something different about the way she spoke. Where she had once been warm and, though hesitant, at least somewhat inviting, her words now were delivered without emotion. He was reminded once more of how easily she seemed to have slipped into survival mode; no longer second guessing herself but rather making those tough decisions and sticking to them. Glancing back at the empty, uninviting road behind them, Gareth hung his head, scrambling desperately for anything that might get her to change her mind. He came up empty.

"You'll be fine," she went on, and he looked back at her, eyebrows raised at the unexpected sentiment, finding instead a sort of cold humor in her expression. He suddenly recalled that it was the same thing he'd said to her when he had forced her out. "You've made it this far," she went on, "Now leave before I fire a shot and bring every one of those things in the area down on you."

The small family exchanged looks, then turned to begin their dreaded journey into the unknown. As they made it to the pavement by her front yard, triggering the floodlights she had rigged up, Gareth turned back to meet her gaze one last time, but the front door was already closing, shutting them out for good.

It was the last time she had seen them. Until all those months later she had spotted the first of those fateful signs.

TERMINUS. SANCTUARY FOR ALL. COMMUNITY FOR ALL. THOSE WHO ARRIVE SURVIVE.

A/N: Alright, so that's all I have for now (actually, I had to write an extra 2000 or so words to finish it off), so I may or may not continue on with it, depending on the amount of interest I get. I have many other stories I need to update, so this isn't exactly a priority for me right now, but in saying that rereading what I had has given me quite a few ideas of where I could take it.

Thanks for reading, and I look forward to any feedback.

-J