AN: This one will be a little bit shorter, but it's VERY necessary for the overall plot over the past three stories. You'll see in a bit :P

Had you told me a year and a half ago that I'd be bashing in walkers brains with a hook (walkers that at one point I knew), that I'd have one arm and travelled all the way back to a camp to look for a twelve year old girl, I would've told you to go see a psychiatrist. The apocalypse is just a tall tale; superstitious propaganda that the crazy man down the street was preaching about so that passers-by would give him their loose change. Not once would I ever have believed a lick of it – nothing like it has ever happened in recorded history, as far as I'm aware.

Nowadays, I wouldn't be sceptical if someone came up to me and said that magical flying unicorns were farting out shiny rainbows all over the sky.

Our realities have shifted into something out of a horrible nightmare. Killing to survive… I had thought our civilization was beyond all of that. Three years ago (before going to prison) I was sitting hunched over a cup of coffee, arguing with Donna about how expensive our water bill was that month. Trivial things like that have no place in this world anymore – instead of figuring out how to pay for a water bill, now you have to figure out how to find water period. I took shit for granted back then. Electricity is a commodity that should be cherished; water, heat, air conditioning, food, clothes on your back… I never realized how truly important this kind of stuff was until now.

Funny how it takes the end of the world for me to realize that, as I forcibly shove Mike to the ground and plant my hook into his undead skull.

Cringing, I place my foot against his back and tear the weapon out; revealing blood and mangled bits of brain coming out of his head. It's hard to believe that I just saw this guy walking around and talking yesterday… and he's already turned into one of those monsters.

But Mike's not the only one.

Vernon, Jane and Bonnie are all slowly walking around – their eyes glazed over mindlessly and skin as pale as the blizzard that's starting to form around me. A sigh rumbles within my chest, and I shudder sadly as I take Vernon and Jane down, one after the other.

Tavia's already been eaten to bits as I walk by her, but thankfully for her she seemed to have died before any of that happened. As much as I completely despised and loathed the woman, in my heart I know that nobody deserves to go out like that. I can't seem to find Nate anywhere though…

Oh good god…

"Urghh…" Kenny grunts on the ground, clutching the bullet hole painfully but not noticing me approach. Bonnie's clambering up near him as he squirms around, but thankfully Kenny aims his pistol straight at her head and takes her out.

Well, this is going to be fun.

"Heh heh heh…" he chuckles mirthlessly as I tower over him, with me not showing any emotion on my face. I'm not really sure what to think here. "Well… ain't this just fucking ironic? After all of this shit… you're still standing, and I'm gonna die… by you… I had a feeling that Nate was bullshitting about you being dead…"

"Where is she?"

"Is that all you've got to say, Lee? After all we've been through…"

"Is that supposed to be a joke or something?" I ask, shaking my head and huffing out a grunt. "Jesus, Kenny! I didn't want this to happen to you – "

"Bullshit."

"…but do you really fucking blame me for hating your guts? You treated me like shit, and basically tried to kill me in Savannah. Hell, I'd be dead right now if I hadn't managed to get out of their camp after you tossed me out."

Panting heavily, Kenny motions for me to bend down so that he won't have to talk as loudly. It seems that the old fisherman's on his deathbed, and I suppose I should do what he asks of me.

"Is it true… did you tell that fucker about… Carver…"

"I'd never do that, Kenny," I tell him firmly, shaking my head. "You know I would never give Clementine up. She's my family."

"…what makes you say that?" he asks me – no malice or disdain behind his words. Just curiosity. "Tell me honestly: do you really think you've done right by her? Has she… benefited from being around you?"

"I… I don't really know, man," I answer honestly; for the first time thinking that Kenny might be right. "We've both tried to keep her safe, haven't we? Isn't that really all we can do?"

But there's a certain doubt in my words – it's faint, but it's there. Sometimes I wonder if my being here is holding Clem back at all. The more that I think about it, the more I second guess myself – sure, when she was eight years old then yeah I needed to watch over her.

Now though? I've seen her take better care of herself than I do for myself. I'm an emotional wreck half the time, and it seems these days that Clementine gives out the pep talks and not the other way around. She's smart, knows how to shoot a gun, and is very resourceful. Other than that damn foot, she's better suited to live out here than I am.

"Maybe you're right," Kenny breathes out, surprising me as I thought for sure that he'd argue against me. Perhaps death is giving him a different perspective. "Maybe she's outgrown the both of us… We've had our time, Lee… we've both dealt with kids. But… you need to find that Nate fucker… and tear out his throat."

"I'll make sure of it."

"Good… good…" he whispers, laying his head back lazily. "Why did we fight so much, man? What was even the point of it?"

Rolling up the sleeve of my detached limb, the both of us let out a low chuckle at how pointless our arguments really were. Sure, he left me in that alley on my own with the possibility of bleeding out, but if he hadn't cut off my arm at that moment, then I wouldn't even be here right now. Hell, Clementine wouldn't be here right now. As much of a prick the man was, at least he was there for her when she needed it. Sometimes comfort is the most precious thing you can give to someone – especially to a twelve year old who's lost her parents.

"Clementine… Lilly and I told her to take a canoe… and leave it on the shore somewhere…" Kenny explains, spluttering slightly as he coughs up some blood. He doesn't have much longer. "Make sure… you find her, alright?"

"Of course I will," I answer, nodding confidently as blood drips from his mouth and onto the fresh-fallen snow. This blizzard's really picking up.

"Alright… enough of this shit. I'm tired of seeing your little bitchy face all the time. Let's end it," Kenny huffs out, partly joking and partly serious. Taking one last long breath, Kenny looks towards me with a tired eye. "Hey, Lee?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we cool now?"

Slowly holding out my hand, he and I engage in a firm but final handshake – we're cool. That doesn't mean we have to like each other, because we sure as hell don't in any way, shape or form.

But at least we've sort of buried the hatchet.

"Later, old man."

"See you, asshole."

Picking up Kenny's pistol, I aim it slowly at his head; my arm shaking as I squeeze the trigger and snuff out his life forever. That's it – after two and a half years of hating his guts, Kenny is dead.

He's dead, and yet I've never felt worse in my entire life.

I kid you not, I'm shedding a couple of tears over the man whom I was so sure I couldn't despise any more even if I had tried to. It's not as if the other guys here didn't affect me – they did for sure, and I'm very saddened that this whole camp is desecrated. But… I'm grieving more over the moments we'd lost – of what could've been. Kenny and I could have been the best of friends if we wanted to, and all of this could've been much simpler. We wouldn't have been at each other's throats, Kenny wouldn't have taken off in that motherfucking RV, and who knows? Maybe people wouldn't have died so needlessly.

Maybe if I was here, I could've saved Kenny.

One good thing did come out of this, however: now Kenny will be able to see his family again. Duck, Katjaa and maybe even that Sarita girl he talked about… hopefully they'll find each other, wherever they've ended up.

"Rest in peace, old man," I whisper on the wind, scrounging around his pockets for extra bullets. Not a whole lot on him, but still better than nothing. "Find your son… tell him I said hi."

Squinting my eyes, it's very difficult to see anything ahead because of the snow. But up in the distance I see… an ATV? Yeah! It's just sitting there with its tires buried, along with a few dead bodies lying around it.

Moving forward, I rub my arms for warmth as the winter chill takes its toll. Fuck this weather, seriously!

It looks as though Hank as well as a few of his buddies finally got what was coming to them, as they're riddled with bullet holes from their heads to their chests. The bodies seem pretty fresh, too, indicating that they must have died very recently. There also seems to be someone else's blood a little ways away. It could be nothing, of course – just another one of these poor sods who died a needless death. It could've just been another of Nate's goons – but what if it's not? I wonder if it was Kenny or…

Lilly, please be safe… You're a survivor, and I know you can get through this. God damn it… if anyone can get through this shit, then it's you.

As for myself, though, I sit on top of the ATV and end Hank's undead life before it even really begins. As soon as he falls back into the snow, I twist the key around in the ignition and cheer internally as the engine roars to life.

Like always, I've got one goal in mind… one thing that I keep fighting for, and one thing that keeps me alive.

"Just hang on, Clementine," I mutter as I drive off from this wretched place, "I'm coming for ya."

AN: Again, sorry that this was so short, but… it's sort of final for Lee and Kenny, don't you think? I thought that it was a fitting ending for their miserable relationship, and it made me kind of glad that they got to patch things up (sort of).

We're coming to the home stretch here, folks! I'm not ending this quite yet, but I'm thinking of a plausible way to end this series off. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this little snippet here, and I'll be sure to get in the next one ASAP! Until then, keep on being awesome :)