"Crying does not indicate that you are weak.
Since birth, it has been a sign that you are alive."

- Charlotte Brontë


CHAPTER FOUR – Early Outs

If anyone ever asked me if I had cried the moment that hot water first hit my skin, I would lie and tell them no, but I did. I cried and laughed as the water washed away the grime and dirt, along with the soap and shampoo.

After shaving, toweling off and changing into the clothes I had in the bottom of my backpack, I felt more like me again. I felt like a normal, everyday human being who was strapping her gun holsters back to her legs, and preparing herself to reenter the terrors of the outside world.

Once I was war ready, I left the women's locker room, pulling on my green beanie, and went to go rejoin the guys, managing to catch them as they were heading out the men's locker room. I caught sight of Rick, wearing his spare police uniform, all clean shaven, and I couldn't help but let out a whistle.

"Would you look at that? I think I remember this guy…" I teased him, as I walked up to him. Rick smiled, and ducked his head down as though I was embarrassing him. I placed a clean (I'm probably too excited at how clean I feel) hand against his cheek, grinning at the smoothness there now. "You clean up real nice, Sheriff. It's nice to see you looking like you again."

"I didn't look like me before?" Rick questioned, his blue eyes looking at me intently.

"Not really. This is you. Officer Friendly, protector of the people," I smiled, before realizing that I was still cupping his cheek. I took my hand away, and stepped back awkwardly, clearing my throat. I really had to get my shit together. It was almost like I had reverted back to the love-struck teenager I had been many years ago. "So, what next?"

"Gun closet. We should check and see if it hasn't been cleared out." Rick said, probably choosing to ignore my abrupt subject change.

"We should get moving." Morgan suggested, and I nodded, leading the way to the gun closet.

I remembered where it was from walking past it a couple of times before the outbreak, so it wasn't that difficult to find. Once inside the room, Rick came forward to unlock the cage door, the chain, that had been holding it closed, rattled as it hit the wall.

Rick walked in first, and I knew he was a little disappointed by how little was left. I mean, there was enough for just two people to arm themselves with, and enough ammunition to last a few months if rationed carefully, but I guess, he thought there would be more.

"A lot of its gone missing." Rick said, grabbing a shot gun from the shelf, and checking it for ammo.

"Shane took a few things, I think. Whatever else is missing was probably used when the walkers first hit King County." I replied, as I stepped into the cage.

"Daddy, can I learn how to shoot? T wouldn't teach me."

"No, I said I'd teach you if you asked your daddy. Not my fault if you didn't ask." I stated, grabbing a rifle and looking down the scope to see if it was aligned properly. Seeing that it was, I placed it down on a table, and moved towards the shelf that still had some pistols.

I scanned them, taking each one and placing it into a bag, looking for the lightest one to give to Duane, since he was probably going to be taught now anyway.

"I'm old enough." Duane pressed, acting as though I hadn't even spoken. The punk.

"Hell, yes, you're gonna learn. But we've got to do it carefully, teach you to respect the weapon."

"That's right. It's not a toy. You pull the trigger, you have to mean it. Always remember that, Duane." Rick added, giving the kid a serious look, and a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, sir."

"Come here, kiddo. I'll teach you how to load a pistol." I said, leading him to the other side of the room when I saw Rick take the rifle I had just put down and give it to Morgan.

I knew what it was for. Jenny. Duane didn't need to know that. It was hard enough for him that his mom was dead and a walker, let alone seeing a near stranger hand his daddy the rifle meant to put a final end to her.

I held aloft a Glock 26, otherwise known as the Baby Glock, and showed it to him. The Glock 26 was perfect for Duane. It was mostly used by security guards and unarmed cops as a conceal-carry weapon, but it would work just as well for the kid. Plus it was light and highly accurate, and wouldn't kick back as badly when he fired it.

"Alright, kid, so this button here on the hand grip will eject the magazine," I said, showing him exactly where it was, and how to push it. I took the empty magazine out and put the Glock to one side. I picked up a handful of 9mm rounds, and gave him most of them. "Now, to fill the magazine, all you got to do is insert each bullet in, with the rounded side forward, until it's full. You do the rest. When you're done, just slide the magazine back into the hand grip until you hear a click. Then you'll have loaded your very first gun. I'd give you a certificate, but I'm not licensed to hand those out."

Duane smiled at me, with a hint of pride in his features as he looked at the gun he'd managed to load on his own. I then instructed him to start loading the ammunition into a bag, and watched as he got to work.

I looked back and saw Rick and Morgan exchanging meaningful glances, Morgan clutching that rifle tight in his hand, and felt a little warmth make its way back into my heart. The world needed men like Rick and Morgan.

Good men wanting to protect people, willing to do anything to accomplish that, as long as it was the right thing to do.

A shot of bitterness ripped through me with the thought that this was the type of world that destroyed men like Rick and Morgan, turned and twisted them into something they aren't.

This was the kinda world that bred monsters, not heroes.


"Conserve your ammo," Rick said, as we filed out of a side entrance to the station. We had all the guns and ammo we could carry, so there was no point in staying there any longer. "It goes faster than you think, especially at target practice."

We headed to the cars, my borrowed Explorer and Rick's police cruiser, each of us carrying a couple of heavy bags, filled with weapons and supplies.

"Duane. Take this to the car." Morgan instructed, handing his son one of the duffel bags full of weapons and supplies. Duane hurried over to the Explorer to start packing the bags away, while Rick, Morgan and I came to a stop by the cruiser's trunk, dropping our bags onto the ground.

"Are you sure you won't come along?" Rick questioned, and I was glad he'd asked again, giving Morgan an out of putting down Jenny. A man shouldn't have to put a bullet in his wife's head, like she was a tired old race horse nearing the end of her life. Of course, Jenny was already past the end of her life, but the analogy is still pretty accurate.

"A few more days. By then, Duane will know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty."

Instead of giving a reply, Rick turned and unlocked the cruiser, reached in and pulled out a walkie-talkie, holding it towards Morgan for him to take.

"You've got one battery," Rick informed him, and I smiled at the gesture. If all went okay, we'd be able to communicate when we were all in Atlanta. "I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there, that's how you find us."

"Us?" I questioned, keeping my face neutral as I teased him.

"Uh, yeah? I thought…You're with me, right?" Rick questioned, his blue eyes burning into mine, his gaze nervous and unsure, while he waited for my answer.

"I'm always with you. Always have been, always will be, whatever happens."

Rick smiled and nodded, looking like my words had breathed more determination and hope into his body. He seemed reassured, and I beamed back at him.

"Listen, one thing, they may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group, all riled up and hungry, man, you watch your ass." Morgan warned Rick, knowing that I already knew too well what a group of them could do.

Duane had returned to us, standing by his daddy's side, watching all three of us talk with interest.

"You too." Rick said, as I turned to the kid I had grown to love over the past couple of months. I crouched down so we were on the same level, eye to eye, and I smiled weakly at him, feeling a little choked up. I'd really bonded with Morgan and Duane, they'd become another surrogate family to me, and leaving them behind was hard, even if I did have hope I'd see them again someday.

"You take good care of your daddy, Little D, okay? He's a good man, and he'll keep you safe, but he needs looking after too. Now, when you're in a hot zone, where's your weapon?" I questioned, wanting to know that I was leaving Duane with all the knowledge I could impart to him about how to survive in this new world.

"In my hands." Duane answered, without any hesitation.

"And what do we do with it?"

"Keep it aimed forward at my enemy."

"Good. Keep 'em forward. And when there are too many walkers?" I pressed, needing to hear he remembered everything. I couldn't leave them behind if I didn't. I was the one with the military experience. I was the one who had survived numerous firefights, IED's, suicide bombers and a small herd of walkers.

"I make my bird, and get outta there and find somewhere to hide."

I nodded, and straightened up out of the half-crouch I was standing in.

"Looks like my work's done here. Once your daddy teaches you to shoot, you'll have all the necessary skills to survive. Don't need me anymore." I cracked a smile, which faltered a little when Duane launched himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and hugged me tight.

"Do you have to go? We still need you." Duane's voice mumbled into my shirt, and I chuckled.

"Someone needs to make sure that Officer Friendly over here doesn't get himself put into a coma again," I chuckled, rubbing circles into his back, before I gently pulled him away. "I can't promise you that we'll see each other again, but I hope we do."

"Me too."

I smiled at him before looking at Morgan, and we both shared a look of understanding. I knew Morgan wasn't ready to leave here yet. He wouldn't be able to put her down, not for a while, at least.

"You keep yourself safe. Like my boy says, we still need you, so when we get up to Atlanta…I expect you to still be alive, you understand?" Morgan instructed me, and I laughed at him.

"You got it. I'll scavenge us some beer, and have a warm one waiting on you." I grinned at him.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Morgan smiled, before turning to Rick. "You're good people, Rick Grimes. I hope you both find the people you're looking for."

Just as Morgan picked up his bag, put his baseball cap back on his head, and was about to walk away to the Explorer when he froze and I knew it was not something good. All three of us, Duane, Rick and I, followed Morgan's line of sight, to see a walker in a cop uniform on the other side of the fence.

"Leon Basset?" Rick breathed, and I squinted, and by God, it was him. Leon Basset, who was arguably the worst cop in the world, even including fictional cops like Police Chief Wiggum from the Simpsons. "I didn't think much of him. Careless and dumb, but…I can't leave him like this."

"You know they'll hear the shot." Morgan warned, but we both knew that Rick was too good of a man to leave Leon to suffer like this, like Morgan's own wife was. Morgan had already seen the good in Rick Grimes in just a short day, while I had been seeing it my whole life.

"Let's not be here when they show up." Rick replied, striding towards Leon's walking corpse.

"Let's go, son. Come on." Morgan urged Duane, as we backed up to our respective vehicles.

I grabbed Rick's bags, as well as my own, and placed them all on the backseat of the cruiser, before climbing into the passenger seat, waiting for the gunshot. I counted to three in my head, my eyes staring out the window, watching as Rick pressed the barrel of his signature Colt Python pistol against Leon's forehead.

The shot rang out, and I turned away once I saw Leon's body hit the floor. He wasn't coming back. I didn't relax, however, until Rick was back in the car.

"You ready for this?" I asked him, turning my head to look at him as he fired up the engine. His eyes flickered to me as he turned his head to reverse out, and, while there was a small sign of fear of the unknown here, there was a lot of determination.

"Ready as I'll ever be."


A/N:

Hey guys!

I know this chapter is short, but it's more a filler than anything else. The next one will be longer.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed and favourite. Normally I write all your names down here to let you know that I've seen your reviews, but I am literally so tired right now that even looking at this screen is making my head hurt. I'll do a mass review recognition paragraph next chapter instead.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter will be out on June 27th.

See you then guys,

SophStratt.