Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead, just my character, Deena.
Anyone who saw them together would have described them as the perfect match. They always were affectionate with one another, holding hands and sharing inside jokes. It was rare to see one without the other and she liked it that way. They had dated two years before he popped the question. Without hesitation or doubt, she had said yes.
Everything had been going good for Deena James. She had the love of her life, a great job that gave her a lot of free time, and her father was in good health still.
Before meeting her future husband, she had worked at a fast food restaurant, not sure what to do with herself. It wasn't until a tall, dark haired man walked in and ordered a burger with fries. He had written his number in ketchup on a napkin and that day her who life changed.
He said his name was Eric, but everyone called his Chicago since that was where he was from and his accent was weird in Atlanta. When Deena asked why he had moved, he replied that he was trying to become a bounty hunter. He had seen a reality show about it, and decided that was his calling.
What calling? She had no idea, but he was happy which was all that mattered. At some point, he had convinced her to get her gun license and try it.
Her first bounty had her addicted. It was like a drug. She got such a high from the moment she knew she found the fugitive all the way to the ride to the jail house. Never had she felt more adrenaline surge through her veins. She couldn't see herself doing anything else ever again.
Her father on the other hand was not too pleased. She was all he had left in the world since her mother had killed herself when Deena was 13. Her father never told her why her mother had decided to end her life, but Deena had a sneaking suspicion she knew, and it had to do with her.
No matter how much time had passed, Deena was sure she would always remember the day her life changed completely.
She and Chicago had been going after a bounty. He was a criminal that had been dodging court and his lawyer fees for months over a silly convenience store robbery. All he had gotten away with was a Mr. Goodie bar and 30 bucks.
"There he is." Deena whispered as she passed the binoculars to Chicago. He looked through them and smirked.
"Well I'll be damned. You were right; the fool did end up back at his mama's house."
"Told you." She smugly replied. Chicago playfully rolled his eyes, but lovingly smiled at her.
"Whatever, let's just go get him so we can get paid. I'm gonna take you to a nice dinner tomorrow at one of those fancy restaurants. You know, the kind that has a hard name to pronounce."
"Chicago, you know I don't-"
"Hush. Let me do something nice for you. We've been working hard to find this guy, we deserve it."
"Well… Fine, but you gotta let me do something nice for you."
They exited their car as quietly as they could, their guns drawn. The mans mother was not home. Deena had been watching the house for a little over a week and knew she was at her bingo game down at the community center. Reaching the door, Chicago nodded his head at her, letting her know he was ready to knock. He tapped the door. When receiving no reply, he knocked again. They heard shuffling towards the door.
"Who?" a gruff voice asked from the other side of the door.
"Pizza." Chicago lied.
"Pizza? I ain't order no pizza."
"No? Damn, my boss must of given me the wrong number, can I use your phone."
"No." the man answered. Deena rolled her eyes. This was going to take a while.
"Come on man, I need to deliver this."
"Go some where else."
"You're the only house here!" Chicago argued. There was a moment of silence followed by the sound of the door being opened. Chicago smirked, aiming his gun at the man's face. "Special delivery for Spencer Callows."
"Shit." The man muttered before shoving past them. Deena almost fell, but caught herself. She let out a sigh.
"I knew he'd run." She mumbled before running behind the man. She felt her heart begin to race in anticipation. Would she catch him? Would he go down without a fight?
Chicago ran past her, sticking his tongue out teasingly at Deena. She frowned. He was always a faster runner. The criminal, Spencer reached for something in the waistband of his jeans. Deena couldn't tell what it was, but it was probably a knife. She wasn't worried though, because Chicago was good at dodging knife attacks.
Deena watched Chicago tackle the man. She stopped running to catch her breath. He had it handled. The two men wrestled for a moment before she heard the loud pop of a gun going off. All of a sudden, a shiver went through her body. Had Chicago shot the man?
She ran over, her gun aimed at them just in case. What she saw made her heart stop. Chicago laid motionless on top of the fugitive. He shoved Chicago's body off him, but froze when he saw Deena. In his hand was a gun, not a knife like she had originally thought. He aimed his gun at her chest, ready to kill her so he could make his escape.
All she saw was red. Chicago wasn't moving and she honestly had no idea if he was even alive at that point. All she knew was that the man who had shot him was ready to shoot her next and it infuriated her. Not caring for her own safety anymore, Deena lunged at him, knocking his gun from his hand.
She looked him in the eyes and brought her gun to his face. He looked like a scared animal that had been caught off guard. She wanted to shoot him, make him pay for possibly killing Chicago.
"I could blow your fucking brains own right now if I wanted." She threatened. He was shaking; she could feel it as she sat on top of his chest. Chicago would be mad if she shot him though. So she did the next best thing. She swung her gun at his face, knocking it to the side from the force.
He gasped, shocked to have been hit with the gun. She continued to pistol whip him until his face was bloody and he was starting to pass out. She stood up and kicked him in the side, earning a painful grunt from him.
In the distance she saw police lights coming their way. Someone must have heard the gun shot and called the cops. Deena threw her gun down and dropped to her knees next to Chicago. He was barely breathing. There was so much blood; Deena could not be sure where he was shot at.
From the moment he had been wheeled out of the OR, Deena had not left his side. His family was flying in to Atlanta in the morning. The doctor had said that it didn't look good and to say good bye.
It made Deena's heart ache to see him hooked up to so many machines to keep him alive. He was now just a body without a soul according to the doctors. She wanted to believe he would wake up and make some joke about wrestling being more painful than it looked on tv, but she knew he was gone. From what was told to her, Chicago had been shot in the head. There was nothing that could be done to bring him back. His body was just a shell without Chicago's witty personality.
She held his hand, pressing her lips against the smooth skin. The inside of his hand had always been rough. Tears rolled down her cheek, wetting both of their hands. She wanted to talk to him, tell him how much she loved him. Would it have made a difference? From the way his hand limply sat in hers, she doubted it.
"Eric…" his name rolled of her tongue strangely. It was rare for her to call him by his real name. "I wish… Why couldn't it have been me?" she knew he wouldn't have wanted it to have been her in his place. "I love you, you know that? I'll never love anyone like you Eric. I promise."
Two days later, Chicago was taken off his life support machine. Deena stood by his mother, watching him take his last few breaths on his own before stopping completely. She heard his mother sob, shaking uncontrollable. Deena wanted to reach out and hold the woman, but how could she comfort her when she needed someone to make her feel like her world hadn't just ended?
Chicago's father and young sister had also made the trip to Atlanta, but neither could stand to watch him die. His mother sat by his bed and cried. She had lost her only son.
Deena lost the only man she ever loved, and she lost him over a Mr. Goodie bar and 30 bucks.
"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I could get you some soup." Deena offered, sitting by her fathers bed. He gave her a warm smile, but shook his head.
"I'm fine Deena. Don't worry about me."
"I can't help it." She replied. "You've been sick for two days now and only seem to be getting worse."
"It's alright. It's probably just the flu. It's been going around I've heard." She nodded, looking down at his bandaged hand. Some person had scratched him outside his job at the factory. It was deep and didn't seem to be healing, but her father wasn't worried. "You can go home you know."
She smiled at him, something she rarely did any more. "You know I can't leave you while you're sick. Who's gonna watch late night tv with you if I leave?" she joked. He laughed weakly. He didn't want to tell her just how much pain he really was in.
"Deena." His tone was serious. "I know how much you hate staying there by yourself."
"What are you going on about?"
"Your apartment. Deena, it's been two years now, I know it's hard, but you need to move on. Chicago wouldn't want this."
"How do you know what he'd want?!" she snapped.
He sighed. "I know he loved you. He wouldn't want to see you like this. You walk around always wearing black, frowning. The only reason you keep that apartment is because you both shared it, but at the same time there are too many memories there." He weakly spoke.
Vincent James knew his daughter. He knew that Deena was just trying to keep the past alive. But it scared her to know that the past was gone and all she had were the memories. Chicago wasn't coming back and as much as she knew that, a part of her refused to truly believe it.
Every night she lay in their bed, crying herself to sleep and holding his pillow close. It no longer smelled like him, but knowing he used to lay his head on it made her feel a little comfort. She left his side of the room the same as the last day he had been alive. His side was messy from him throwing things around to look for whatever it had been that he needed. He had always been sloppy.
Every morning she woke up, thinking his death was some terrible nightmare and she would get to hold him close as soon as she got out of bed, but as soon as she would leave their room, she'd be reminded that he just wasn't coming home.
As painful as losing him was, her nightmare was just beginning.
A/N: Ah, well it took a while to update this, but I did it. I've been super lazy and working mostly on World Without Words, but since that's almost done, I've had more time to figure this one out.