DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Robert Kirkman and Co. does. I do not make any type of profit from writing this fan-fiction. This is strictly for my and my readers' pleasure

CLAIMER: I own Arlen and his family.

RATED: R and is subject to change.

WARNING:This is going to be an YAOI/MALE+MALE story.

BETA READER: None; so there will be mistakes that I miss.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The scenarios involved in this fan-fiction are fictional. The main character may also strike readers as a Mary/Gary Sue. If this fact bothers you, turn back now. Construction criticism is welcomed. No flames. This story is also being posted to my Mibba account.

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

"Cell Phone/Radio Speaking"

~CHAPTER TWO~

White hot pain lit up Arlen's left leg as fire licked at the man's face, the distance dangerously close to burning the man. The missile had dropped on the back end of the building and the force of the blast slammed into the team of six. By some miracle, Arlen had been in front of the exit knocking back an infected when he was thrown outside. Harper, another medic, was knocked out of the exit right after Arlen. He had the unlucky experience of his back meeting the doorjamb before he came to a jarring halt against the team's humvee tire.

Blinking back the moisture in his eyes the smoke in the air caused a reaction to, Arlen grunted in pain as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He had lost his grip on his .22 glock, but everything else seemed to be on his person. His backpack had somehow cushioned his landing, keeping him from making full contact with the wall of sandbags that lined the building front. A choked gurgling sound had Arlen glance over at the humvee to see Harper lying limply on the ground, his chest rising in rapid succession as the man struggled to breath.

Arlen went to get up, but the shard of metal piercing his outer left thigh stopped him. Yanking his backpack off, he jerked it around and unzipped it. Pulling a med-kit out, the ravenette grabbed a packet of gauze and a roll of bandages. Gripping the metal with a steady hand, the man carefully removed the shard before pressing the gauze against the wound. He made quick work of wrapping the bandages around his thigh, holding the gauze in place. Pushing the pain to the back of his mind, Arlen grabbed his pack and closed the distance between him and his fallen comrade. Kneeling down beside Harper, Arlen was greeted with the sight of a slightly crooked man. His hands immediately moved underneath the down man, drawling back when he felt the crushed vertebrae. A bloody and shaky hand reached up to grab hold of Arlen's black jacket, pulling the medic closer.

"D—do it—t," Harper gasped, agony painting his face.

Shuffling feet and moans of the infected signaled the approach of more hostiles. The explosion did nothing more than ring a metaphorical dinner bell. Arlen looked back towards the building, barely able to make out the charred remains of the other four members of his team. Frowning, Arlen drew Harper's .22 glock from the man's side. Placing the barrel at the man's temple, Arlen's eyes locked onto Harper's.

"I'm r—rea—dy," Harper told him; voice shaking.

Nodding, Arlen pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the ravenette's face, dotting his protective goggles in the process. Using the humvee to help himself stand, Arlen moved to the driver side door. He tossed his pack through the broken window before opening the door and climbing in. If they were bombing ahead of schedule, then a lot of the evacuation routes were going to be hit before everyone could make it out of the city. The persistent ringing that had been annoying Arlen since he gained consciousness, continued on. Shaking his head seemed to make the ringing worse, so he settled for ignoring the sound as he started the humvee and driving away from the damaged building.

oOo

Static hummed from the radio screwed into the dash of the humvee. Darkness had settled over the city, causing Arlen to slow down his journey as not to wreck into any of the abandoned vehicles and roaming infected. It took him a day and a half to make it back to Atlanta and he would be damned if he was going to ruin the only chance he had at getting through the city unscathed. The day before he left with his team on their urgent mission, he had received a call from his brother, saying that he was taking Cynthia and their parents to a safe zone near D.C. that a friend had told him about. Gauging the distance and the amount of chaos needing to be bypassed, Arlen was positive that they would have reached it within the week. Cell phones lost signals the day after his mission started, the towers being damaged and abandoned. Contact with one another could only be done now with satellite phones and short wave radios. It was only a matter of time before the city went completely dark with the lack of power and Arlen was proven right when he pulled to a stop right outside of the city.

Leaning back against the head rest, Arlen closed his tired eyes for a moment. That moment turned into daylight. Feeling the light breeze flutter a short lock of his hair, Arlen unhooked his folded blade from his belt and flipped it open. Parting his eyelids, Arlen swung the blade around and stabbed the blade through the eye socket of a roamer that decided to greet the ravenette at the broken window. Retrieving his knife, Arlen ignored the thump the infected made hitting the ground and started up the humvee. He was inside Atlanta minutes later with a set destination in mind.

Parking underneath an escape ladder on the side of an apartment building, Arlen strapped on his weapons and grabbed his pack. Climbing on the roof of the humvee, the ravenette used the new height to jump up and grab hold of the bottom step. He pulled himself up and began to ascend to the fifth floor. Arlen peeked through the window of the fifth floor fire escape. Seeing only a few infected, Arlen used his knife to pry open the window enough to where he could slip his fingers under the seal and push upwards. He silently stepped into the hallway and made quick work of the three infected, driving his blade into the base of their skulls. Reaching apartment 512, Arlen gave a second's thought to whether he should knock or break in. Using the blade of his knife to wiggle in between the lock and the doorjamb, Arlen chose to break in. When the medic got the door open, he was greeted with an aluminum bat aimed at his head. He managed to duck at the last second, closing his knife and holding his hands up in peace.

"Ar—Arlen!"

The shout of his name was followed by the sound of the bat dropping to the floor and a body throwing themselves at him, their arms wrapping tightly around his neck as their face buried in the crook of his shoulder. Tightening an arm around the person's waist, Arlen moved the two further inside the room and lightly closed the door with his foot. The person leaned back and Arlen was met with the sight of tear tracks and melted chocolate. His free hand cupped the other's face, their foreheads pressed together.

"Glenn."

A/N: I hope that you all enjoyed reading chapter two of "Shot in the Dark". Please let me know what you think about the story so far.

~Reena