With his mother keeping herself occupied with introducing herself to Christa and Omid, and his father just purposely trying to avoid Lilly at any costs, Duck manages to sneak out to the back where the two little memorials have been set up. The St. John's didn't have much of a problem of having these out for the group's loved ones; saying how it'd be stupid to try and drag two bodies all the way back to the motor-inn on their backs.
As he opens the screen door and carefully shuts it behind him, the boy wanders over in sadness, but also a little bit of curiosity. He'd never been to a funeral before, but that must've counted as one in his mind. The only things missing were an actual tombstone for the both of them as well as the crowd of crying, depressed friends and family to say goodbye to them.
Although he doesn't understand it completely, Duck still feels pretty bad that Ben didn't really have a family to say goodbye to him.
Walking over to the teen's memorial, Duck sighs sadly as he sees the boy's jacket folded up on the dirt mound by his feet; rustling in the wind every now and again. He never mentioned this to Ben before, but Duck actually found his coat to be one of the coolest things he ever saw. It's one of those high school jackets that the students wear – typically if they're trying to make themselves look cool or impress someone.
Picking up the fabric in his hands, Duck rubs the dirt off of the "SM" symbol stitched into the jacket. SM… he's not sure what that stands for, but Duck's positive that it's something incredibly awesome.
"Maybe for just a minute…" he says to himself, remembering how his parents taught him not to take things that don't belong to you.
But what would be the harm in trying the thing on for a little bit, right?
Sliding his arms through the sleeves and wrapping the letterman jacket around him, Duck chuckles a little bit at how big the thing looks on him. It feels like the times where he'd try to put on one of his Dad's old fishing jackets whenever he got bored.
Only this time, Duck cherishes the object like a priceless artifact. He may not have known Ben Paul for very long, but Duck considered him as a friend – to him, this makes him feel as if his friend might not be so far away after all.
"What are you doing?"
Quickly turning around, Duck widens his eyes as Clementine glares at him like a scolding mother. The boy's been caught red-handed and blue-sleeved.
"Oh, umm… hiya, Clem…" Duck remarks in embarrassment, holding up his arms through the sleeves. "I was just… umm…"
"That's not yours!" Clementine exclaims, jogging up to him as she looks sadly down at the memorials. "You have to give it back, Duck! That's Ben's coat!"
Feeling slightly ashamed, Duck lowers his gaze as he tries to come up with a suitable excuse. "Yeah… but it's all we've got left of him! I… I didn't want to forget about him…"
Opening her mouth to say something, Clementine slowly closes it again as she sees how much Duck actually cares. He cares about what happened to Ben, and he cares about the things that he did for the group within the short time they actually got to spend with him.
And with the way that Duck's holding the jacket close to his chest, it's almost like seeing a young child clutching onto their favourite blanket.
She can't take that away from him.
"Okay," she relents, giving him a curt nod. "But don't come crying to me if you get into trouble for taking it!"
"Crying is for babies!" Duck retorts, sticking his chest out to prove his manliness. "I'm not a baby! I can handle myself just fine!"
"Yeah, sure," Clementine rolls her eyes as she playfully sticks her tongue out at her young companion.
As much as Clem might find him annoying at times, she at least recognizes that the kid can be a really good friend. They'd play together all the time back at the motor-inn – whether it was colouring pictures, pulling pranks (typically on Larry), or listening to each other crack the lamest jokes of all time. She even started to read some of Duck's comic books that he kept on babbling about, and even found herself to enjoy some of them.
But don't let Duck know that, okay?
Over the past couple of days, however, their time for playing has been cut very short. Kenny and Katjaa rarely let their son leave their side with the way that things have been going on, and Clementine's usually forced to stay with one of the adults at all times (though she'd honestly prefer staying with Lee over any of them). The sad part is that they haven't really had much time recently to just be kids; instead having to be constantly scared of a walker attack or anything else that might be creeping nearby.
Duck straightens up a little bit and gulps as he sees Lilly slowly approaching the two of them; causing Clementine to shyly do the same thing. Not really paying them any mind, Lilly – with very glossy and red-rimmed eyes – simply walks up to her Dad's burial mound and rests her hand quietly on the memorial; careful not to disturb anything.
Looking over at Duck nervously, Clementine turns back to Lilly meekly and folds her hands in front of her. "Umm… Lilly?" she tries, but getting no response as the woman sits there emotionlessly. "Did… did you wanna be alone?"
"…yeah," she agrees quietly without making eye contact, "I think that'd be for the best…"
"…okay. I get that way too, sometimes…" Clementine remarks sadly, turning around with her friend in tow as they slowly walk back into the house. Duck still has Ben's coat wrapped tightly around his shoulders.
What neither of the kids realize is that Lilly is taking that alone thing a bit too literally.
…
"Need a hand?"
Twitching his moustache around, Kenny has half a mind to tell Omid to mind his own god damned business and scram. Is it really too much to ask for some time alone around here?! Jesus, it's like he can't even take one step without bumping into somebody in this house! All he wants is a bit of space.
But, as much as he'd want to do all of that stuff, Kenny knows that the new guy is only trying to help and make a good first impression, and he should at least give him a chance to prove himself. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of these two at first, but then again – who is he to judge?
Besides, it's not as if he can wheelbarrow all of these corpses out into the woods by himself.
"Yeah, actually," the fisherman admits, motioning to the bodies just as Omid was about to turn away. "Was just about to head out. These dead aren't gonna be able to move themselves."
Snorting with laughter, Kenny turns around with an arched eyebrow to see what's so funny to the Persian man. "Geez, we're like fucking Monty Python out here! Bring out your dead!" he exclaims in some weird attempt at a British accent. When Kenny glances over at him like he's completely lost his mind, Omid scoffs in disbelief. "Seriously? Nothing? Haven't you seen the Holy Grail?"
"Must've missed that episode," Kenny shrugs, picking up the wheelbarrow and struggling to move it forwards.
"Movie," Omid corrects, grabbing the second wheelbarrow as he follows Kenny down the pathway. "It was a movie."
"Are you gonna be like this the entire time?"
….
"Fucking hell…" Lee murmurs, sitting in one of the upstairs rooms as he rubs his eyes with his thumb and index finger. The dark, heavy bags under his eyes are clear indicators of a lack of sleep, but there's no way in hell that he'd be able to get any rest now even if he tried. Not after everything that happened last night.
Aren't people supposed to get nightmares in their sleep? What kind of world does he live in when the monsters from your dreams are actually real?
"Hey," Carley snaps him out of his thoughts; poking her head in through the doorway as Le looks up. "You, uh… busy right now?"
"Nah, I'm fine. Come on in," Lee beckons as he moves over on the edge of the bed to give her some room. Carley sits beside him with her hands in her lap. "Been a bit of a whirlwind around here lately, hasn't it?"
"That's putting it nicely," Carley comments with distaste, folding out the creases in her jeans as Lee deeply sighs. "So… mind telling me what happened last night?"
Chuckling with a shake of his head, Lee runs his hands through his hair. "Where would I even begin?" he asks rhetorically, trying to give out the main points so that he doesn't have to relive it too much. It was pretty painful for the guy. "Walkers surrounded the house – fences turned off, walkers marched in, you get the idea. They burst into the barn we were trying to hold up in, so Larry got the bright idea of driving them out by himself."
"So how did he…?"
Frowning somberly, Lee strains to think of the horrible shit that happened next. "Larry got bit on the leg… so I cut it off to try and save him," he explains, expecting the look of shock that Carley's now giving him. "I know it was risky, Carley – believe me, I do. But he didn't have any time to lose! It was either try something that might save his life, or just do what fucking Kenny did and shoot him right in the fucking head! Because you know, nothing says we're gonna help the guy like FUCKING MURDERING HIM!"
Realizing that he's unintentionally blowing up at someone who's only trying to help, Lee calms himself down before apologizing and lightly slamming a fist into the mattress. He's tried his hardest not to blow up since… well, since the time that the cops showed up to arrest him for the murder. That moment truly ruined his life, and Lee thought for sure that he'd end up spending the rest of his days locked up behind solid, metal bars.
But it seemed that fate had chosen a different path for him, and that path involved looking after a little girl in the middle of a dangerous, walker-filled apocalypse where they've gotten little to no food or supplies, death and destruction at every corner, and the constant need to check over your shoulder for the people surrounding you. Lee's still trying to figure out if prison would be a worse punishment.
Lee knows he has little to no right to berate Kenny about murder when he has done the exact same thing… and really, Lee got pissed for kind of selfish reasons, though he won't openly admit it. Honestly, as much as he'd tried to get along with Larry and try to prove that he wasn't as much of a danger to the group as he thought he was, the big guy was still a bit of a turd. He was a total dickhead, and everyone in the camp knew it.
No, the real reason he got so upset really was… well, because of Lilly, really. She's his friend, no matter how much they may argue and fight at times. And when he saw the look on her face as he saw what went on…
"You really care about her, don't you?" Carley comments, practically reading his mind as he sighs heavily.
"We got her dad killed," he remarks, realizing that he isn't exactly a saint in this regard either, "took him out back and started to bury him without even thinking about it. I can't imagine how she must've felt. What a slap in the face that must've been though – seeing me out in the back with a shovel in my hands. I'm such an idiot…"
Not really being able to come up with a suitable argument for that one, Carley says nothing as she waits for Lee to respond first. There seems to be quite a bit that he needs to get off his chest, and the reporter's willing to lend an open ear. She knows what it feels like to be hurt and distraught, and usually the best thing for her is for someone to just sit back and listen.
"Ben and Kat were trapped by a few walkers near the front of the house," Lee continues; his eyes filled with regret. "It… god, it happened too damn fast! I wasn't quick enough…"
Flashback
"Lee, please!" Ben begs for his life; only one slip-up away from being a midnight snack. Katjaa's getting close to death, too, as she tries to keep the violent eating machine away from her face while looking to Lee for support.
Quickly thinking over the consequences in his head as the repercussions of his choices flash in front of his eyes, Lee makes a split-second decision and heads over to Katjaa. Kicking the beast off of her and slamming its head to the wall, Lee opens the front door before slamming it against the walker's head repeatedly.
Ben, saddened that he was neglected and left for dead, fearfully screams as the first walker takes a bite out of his thigh; ripping it to shreds as the pain becomes too much to bear.
That pain is quadrupled as the second walker bites and rips a huge chunk of Ben's face off and chews on it hungrily. The teen no longer even looks human as Lee finally puts the two walkers down. However, the damage has already been done, and Katjaa guiltily tries not to look at the dying kid as he starts to have a panic attack.
"Oh my god… oh my god…" he breathes out repeatedly, looking up into Lee's eyes questioningly. "W-why?! You… you could've…"
Absorbing all of this guilt into his very soul, Lee shakes as he gazes down at the dying form of Ben. This was on HIM, and it's gonna haunt the man for the rest of his days. He made the call, and it was his responsibility to save them both.
But he was far too slow and far too careless to do so.
Kenny, having just come back inside with the St. John's after hearing the commotion, widens his eyes in disgust before wrapping a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders. "Jesus, Kat… Are you alright?!"
Thanks to Lee, she gets to live on to fight another day, but Katjaa can't find the right words to express her gratitude right now. She's far too traumatized over watching that poor kid's eyes nearly pop out of his head as he started to get chewed upon, and she'll remember that gut-wrenching scream that erupted from the boy's lungs for the rest of her life.
As far as Lee's concerned, this is his responsibility to take care of. There's nothing they can try in order to save Ben this time – you can't replace this.
"Get out…" he whispers lowly, not turning to face anyone else as he picks up his pistol from the floor. In his haste to save the both of them, he had completely neglected the weapon when he booked it towards Katjaa.
That may have been the mistake that's costing Ben his life.
Not saying anything more, Kenny, Katjaa and the brothers all go to the kitchen to leave Lee to what's coming next.
"We didn't make a choice that killed Shawn," he remembers telling those exact words to Kenny back in the pharmacy. How ironic that he's now feeling the exact same way that Ken did. "You think you did when you look back on it, but in a moment, when things are really out of control? You don't have any choice."
"I'm sorry, Ben…" Le apologizes; his gut squeezing tightly when the boy shakes his head.
"No you're not," he disagrees, not believing the man's lies any longer. "Not yet, man."
Wanting this to be over, Lee fires a shot into the poor boy's brain – ending his suffering once and for all.
However, Lee's suffering has only just begun.
"I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't picked Katjaa," Lee admits with a shudder, "then Kenny would've tried to kill me. There's no doubt in my mind about that."
Saying nothing else, Lee sinks into his own little pit of misery and guilt, while Carley just tries to take this all in as best she can.
Yes, somebody to just sit and listen may be a good cure for things like this, but this may be something that even Carley can't fix.
Depression can be one of the biggest holes to fall into, and it's damn hard to climb your way back out to the surface.
…..
"You're sure that you need this, sweetheart?" Brenda asks with concern, looking on as Mark nods with eagerness.
"Yeah… yeah that's good, thanks…" Mark murmurs as he glances over at the fresh morphine pack that's now hooked up to his arm. Wanting to fake the effects as best he can so that she'll leave him alone, Mark pulls off a half-smile and nods again in approval. "It's just, uh… good for the pain, you know? Bullet wounds take a while to heal up."
Frowning in slight concern, Brenda relents as she exits the room and lets Mark rest a bit longer. If the guy says that he's still in pain, then who is she to tell him that he's not? It's not as if anyone else can feel what Mark's going through, and she's learned to trust his word at this point. He's given her no reason to distrust him yet.
Looking over at her son, Andy, she nods as the two of them head down to the kitchen. It's about time that they discuss when it is exactly that they'll be asking this group to leave.
Meanwhile, back in his room, Mark eyes the drug dripping through the IV tube with want and desire. Call it an addiction if you wish, but the ex-pilot wants to absorb every single drop into his blood stream. The morphine helps him cope; helps him relax and become numb to the rest of his troubles. It's a beautiful feeling in his mind – to just sit back and relax as all of his worries just disappear.
Watching as the bubbles start to drip down, Mark longs for the drug too much to just sit and wait for it to take effect for the long term. Seriously, it's like watching the fucking grass grow!
Carefully, he takes his free hand and grabs the tube firmly but delicately; shimmying it back and forth as the drug falls down a little bit faster.
"Come on, come on…" Mark urges, going faster and faster as he licks his lips. That beautiful medication needs to start swirling around and messing with his head faster – he doesn't want to feel pain or loss or sadness anymore!
Knock-knock-knock!
"Mark? Dear, are you alright in there?"
"Jesus Christ…" he mutters angrily, getting pissed that somebody's trying to interrupt his new habit. He won't give it up after getting a taste of the good life, not now when the going is good! "SHUT UP! I'm… I'm fine…"
By the time Katjaa barges in, Mark has stopped squirming the IV around and is now simply relaxing on the bed; already starting to feel much better than he had before. Morphine is his friend… his companion against this cold, miserable existence.
As soon as Katjaa sees that the IV tube has ripped slightly and splashed all over Mark's clothes, she drops the needle she was holding and stares at the man; shocked at how loopy he's become in such a short time, and wondering if he could possibly fall any lower than he already has.
Mark's becoming a junkie.