A/N: I am really grateful to ForeseeObstacles for being a wonderful beta reader for this story, and also for providing me with the cover art. I am thankful beyond words, you have been a continued source of inspiration and help.
I started writing this about six years ago, as a rewrite of my first story. It went through a lot of rewrites, and I ultimately re-wrote the entire plot to explore characters that I've always been fascinated by but did not have the confidence to write, as well as changing the goalpost to something more tangible.
This first chapter is a bit shorter than the future ones, but I very much hope you enjoy - I'm really excited and nervous to share this writing project.
Thank you very much for reading!
Song List:
The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit
Nightingale - Saule Kilaite
Gently Forward - Jules Scott
Memento
Chapter One - Birthday
Time casts away familiarity and replaces it with warm confusion. Seeing how the years have frayed the friends of our youth reminds us that we too have irrevocably changed and can never return to a state of innocence again.
Stewart Stafford
"Tell me about the house, again," Clementine whispered, giving Luke a tiny poke.
She watched as he looked over, hearing his coat rustle. It was late, pitch black outside. But she could still just about make out his silhouette in the gloom as he sat up against the couch she was laying on. She heard him yawn, and laid her head on the armrest he was leaning against. She wrapped up a little tighter in her denim jacket, for now used as a blanket, shivering ever-so-slightly in the cold.
"What about it?"
"What color would my room be?"
"Purple," he answered instantly, and she felt the corner of her lip twitch upward. "We'd see about paintin' some other stuff, too, if you want."
Clementine nodded tiredly, lazily scratching at the blood that had stained her coat, a reminder just as permanent as the scars she and Luke had gathered on their years on the road. She listened as she heard him fidget, his coat rustling and a muted groan the soundtrack to his discomfort. She hesitated, deliberating over voicing her concern. Dismissed it when he kept talking, going over the details of their future home.
She couldn't remember how the ritual started, or when. It'd been his idea, probably, and she'd been aching to hear something that wasn't awful on the back of another heartbreak. Another face she couldn't remember anymore.
Now, it was nearly a nightly thing. And despite how often she asked the same questions, he never seemed to tire of it. Or, at least, he was better at pretending than she would be.
"We'll find it, right?" she asked quietly, shuffling to find a comfy spot. She settled for resting her head on her hands, curling up on the couch. Luke too shuffled, turning to make eye contact as he barely stifled a yawn.
"'Course we will."
"Together?"
"Together," and even in the darkness, she could see the warm smile.
She smiled back, letting her eyes shut as he spoke next about the treehouse. How high up it'd be, how they'd decorate it, how - a more recent addition - it'd be her own little space for alone time. He'd hesitate over that bit, sometimes, chewing over his words. She never held it against him. She'd tried to imagine it herself, describe it in her own words, but …
Well, he just had a knack for that stuff.
"Luke?"
"Yeah, Clem?"
"... how far is Georgia?"
"Uh … pretty far. Why?"
"Just wondering …" she mumbled, curling up a little. She heard him shuffle as she yawned, her words trailing a little and her voice thick with sleep. "I wanna go back to my old house."
"Yeah?"
"Mmhmm …"
"Sounds as good a plan as any," Luke murmured. She could picture perfectly how he looked, eyes shut as he sat, falling asleep upright against the couch. "You really want to do it?"
"Can we?"
"What you say goes," Luke told her gently, and she smiled as she curled up a little tighter.
"... we're going back."
It was morning, and it was snowing.
She squinted out the window, her nose wrinkling. She vaguely remembered that before the dead, snow was a rare treat which demanded snowball fights, and getting her dad to help her make a snowman to guard the treehouse, and -
- and, well, stuff she didn't remember any more. Try though she might.
Now, the magic was lost. It was easy to get lost in the snow, to let the dizzying flurry distract you and end up turned around in the middle of nowhere. Blindsided by its beauty, only to be left cold and numb in its wake. The rivers would freeze over, their bounty of food with it. The only relief, she supposed, was the lurkers being too dumb to know to seek warmth, and so they would freeze over.
At least, for now, she wasn't out in it.
Home once brought memories of her old family house, near Atlanta. The vague flashes she had of it were scattered and nonsensical. No rhyme or reason to what she remembered, anymore. A treehouse, a forest, a TV playing cartoons, her room … sort of. Everything else was a blur.
Now, their home - at least, for now, before they decided it best to start their journey to Georgia - was an old train station. Luke had said they were in Missouri, when he'd last looked at their map. She couldn't tell the difference, truth be told, from one state to another. Just as much nothing here, as there was up north, back west, and across the border into Canada.
It was defensible, and a roof above her head. For now, it was enough. When they wedged the door shut with a wooden board, it was sturdy enough to keep lurkers out. And it looked like a shithole, so it was unlikely to draw prying eyes from bandits. Still, it did little to keep the chill off and it wouldn't hold against a herd.
It wasn't like they were gonna be staying for long, either way, so she decided ultimately it didn't matter either -
"Happy birthday, Clem."
The words jolted her out of her reverie, and her gaze darted across to him in the early morning light, watching Luke carefully as he held out … something. She sat up slowly, letting the incessant thoughts fade back into nothingness as she quietly accepted the box. She couldn't help but smile at the bow wrapped around it, looking up at him.
"Thanks."
They shared a nod and a slightly wider smile, before she looked back down.
It was different than most things she found. Usually, if something was this tightly wrapped, it was getting pried open with her nails or his machete, the promise of meds or food being too good to waste time on care. But effort had been put in, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten a present, and so she carefully pulled the bow loose and opened the box. She let out an excited gasp, and giddily snatched her hat out.
"You fixed it!"
"It's more needle and thread than anything else, but …" he shrugged, carefully retrieving the box that had been balanced on her knees and tucking it someplace. Clementine hummed, turning the cap over in her hands as she appraised the repair job. She didn't dare tell him it was perfect, knowing the words would probably come out wrong.
Judging by his proud smile, though, he already knew what she wanted to say, better than she could put it. She reasoned to herself that, even back outside Savannah when they'd first met, a couple days after her ninth birthday, he'd had a knack for that.
"... Thank you, Luke. Really." She had to try, even if the words wouldn't be as good as they deserved to be. He'd given a warm smile and a little nod as he slightly ducked his gaze.
"'Course. Not everyday you celebrate the big two-three."
"You said twenty-one was the big-"
"Work with me here, alright?"
She'd snorted, shaking her head as she fiddled with the velcro on her cap for a moment longer, before carefully placing it back in its rightful place, giving her braid a slight flick with her hand as she made sure the cap still fit properly - despite the claim of it being 'more needle and thread than anything'.
Her eyes flitted back to Luke, who was looking out the window with a wrinkled nose. He looked back at her, and gave what she guessed was meant to be a smile.
"You want to go on a run?" she asked carefully. Luke hesitated, looking at the snowfall. "What if -"
"Need to get some food in ya, at some point, if we're headin' to Georgia."
"Food in us," she corrected him even as her stomach quietly growled, and he smiled. He slowly stood, groaning quietly, and her heart twitched. She tried not to look too closely at some of the gray hairs she'd started to spot a couple winters ago, instead shifting her posture to be sitting rather than lounging. "We could make some traps?"
"We aren't stickin' around, remember?" He'd offered his hand to her, and she'd accepted it with a small smile, letting him help her to her feet and grabbing her pack off of the floor in a single fluid motion. "I got an idea to keep us busy, and fed."
"Busy works."
Better than thinking, anyway.
Thunk.
The lurker collapsed into the dry earth, an arrow sticking out of the back of its head. Clementine stepped towards the corpse, barely giving it a passing glance as she retrieved the arrow that had ended its second life. She gave a quick whistle, looking over her shoulder, her shoulders relaxing as soon as they tensed at the sound of fresh snow crunching underfoot.
"You see any more?"
She shook her head, twisting the bow in her hand delicately.
"Just him."
"Alright, good. You feel like gettin' a view of where we're headed?"
It wasn't a request, really, as she knew asking if he could do it instead would result in her birthday being spent patching up a broken arm or leg or everything, and so she instead nodded and handed him her bow. She took a second to drop her bag at her feet and rummage around, before withdrawing a tattered pair of binoculars and pulling the strap over her head.
He'd opened his mouth to say something, and she'd ignored him, pausing as she felt for a stable enough branch before beginning her ascent.
As she clambered up the tree with binoculars hanging from her neck, she mused that it wasn't so long ago she'd be sitting on Luke's shoulders for this job. She's not a child anymore, though, and with their backpacks weighed down with both supplies and mementos, the job usually involved her scuttling up somewhere high while Luke pretended to do something of value below. And today that involved ...
"Just … be careful, okay?"
She glanced down and poked her tongue out, and he dropped the arms he'd been holding up as a safety net. Hands on hips. His attempt at being stern, she guessed, even as the corner of his lip twitched. She ascended a little further, finding a comfy - enough - spot atop a branch and perching as carefully as she could without giving Luke the satisfaction that she paid attention to his instruction.
The binocular lenses were scratched and dirty, too far gone to fix but too valuable to leave behind, and she squinted through them even as she felt a headache start to throb behind her eyes. Stress, or too many sleepless nights, or maybe both. Still, even with the dirtied lenses, it's not hard to pick out the shambling herd of the undead lurching through the morning mist.
"I see the herd," she felt her frown deepen, and then a sigh tumbled out. "Crap. They're getting closer."
"Towards us?"
"Home."
"Alright, we'll be snappy then. Come on down."
No, I was just gonna live up here.
She couldn't resist showing off a little, dropping from a little higher than sensible and landing neatly in a crouch. Luke raised an eyebrow as she joined him, and she just smiled innocently as she took her bow back off him and scooped up her knapsack.
"You told me to 'come on down'."
"Yeah, Clem. Carefully."
"Should've specified," she shrugged, earning a snort from him and a muttered 'yeah, yeah'. She led the way into town, and Luke fell into step next to her, the sound of snow crunching underfoot rhythmic in its own way. "So what's this idea?"
"We're gonna ice fish," he'd adjusted his pack as he spoke, grunting slightly. "Just need to stop off and grab somethin' to finish fixin' our spear, first."
She pondered that one, remembering the last time they'd tried their hand at spearfishing and she'd laughed so much she'd almost been sick. It had been at least a year, but she remembered it clearly. Luke had slipped on the ice and nearly face planted, and her frantic 'are you okay' was drowned out as she'd wheezed and laughed at his arms pinwheeling. He'd joined in with her laughter, when he'd caught sight of her, and their spears had been ignored at their feet.
The feeling of the ice on her back as she'd laid next to him, cheeks red, and they'd just stared at the clouds for a while, their potential meal forgotten as they'd really - really - checked in on each other, beyond their usual tired 'you okay?', 'yep' routine.
Even if their fishing wasn't ever massively successful, the idea of Luke having something to smile about made her decide to give it a go.
Their path into town was familiar by now, even with the snow covering their tracks. Quiet, nearly peaceful - at least, if she didn't pay too much attention to the dead bodies, skeletons with tattered clothing, or the occasional lurker that had gotten separated from its herd, like earlier. Deep down, she knew that wasn't a good thing. That familiarity just made it harder to walk away from a place, that getting attached to anywhere was stupid.
It had happened with the motor inn, it had happened with the house in Savannah, it had happened at the first camp Luke had taken her to, it had happened at Howe's and it had happened at Wellin-
-fuck!
They'd come to a halt as they heard snarling and retching around a corner, sharing a look before darting for cover. She felt his hand on her shoulder, pushing her a little further out of sight and she had to bite back the urge to tell him off for not letting her see. He slumped next to her, rubbing at his jaw.
"Pack of 'em."
She carefully poked her head up, doing her best at a headcount but giving up. Instead, her gaze darted about the corpses, trying to pick out if any of them were especially fresh. None of them looked it, though - indeed, if anything they looked ancient, limbs falling off and jaws flapping loosely with the breeze - and so she felt around for something to throw as a distraction.
The loose brick her fingers brushed against was as good a find as any, and the jewelry store across the street from them had a couple of unbroken windows - and it was not a likely place to find what they needed, and so she leaned a bit further out of cover and shifted the weighty brick in her hand.
"Ready?" She'd barely whispered the question, looking at him with a slight grin out the corner of her eye.
"Always."
She threw the brick towards an unbroken window, and they slipped away as the dead staggered towards the sound.
In the back of her mind, she heard a church bell ringing.
"Here, found another one for your collection."
She let out a little 'hmm?' as she glanced in his direction, taking the postcard and giving it a careful look. It definitely wasn't her favorite of the ones she'd stuffed into her pack, the text too brash and the pictures faded beyond much recognition, but she still settled on keeping it.
If nothing else, hopefully it'd be nice to look back on. Unlike some.
"Will you draw on it for me?"
"'Course. Remind me later, okay?"
She mhmm'd in response and stepped away from her pack, looking around the souvenir store warily. It was probably a bust - anything worth taking would've been taken a long, long time ago. A few years back, she'd occasionally strike gold rummaging around in the trash or dumpsters that lined streets. But proud people got hungry, too, and now all that was left in the towns were knick-knacks and things that had probably mattered, long ago, but now existed only as echoes of a world she didn't remember.
Her search continued quietly, save for the occasional creak of a spinner rack or groan of a shelf as she'd take and replace things on it. She'd feel a small smile touch her face when she saw something she recognized from the old world - she'd spent longer than she'd care to admit playing with a snowglobe she'd found at the back of a shelf, and let out a gasp when she saw a fridge magnet from a cartoon she vaguely remembered - but mostly she'd just prowl between the aisles.
"Any luck besides postcards?" Clementine broke the silence, scuffing her boot against a cardboard box filled with toys.
"Not yet. You?"
She'd just shook her head, and he clicked his tongue.
She made to step past the box, but did a double take at the sight of a small teddy bear staring back up at her. She blinked, quietly stooping and retrieving the stuffed bear from its cardboard prison.
She turned the fluffy thing over in her gloved hands, absent-mindedly cleaning it of dust and whatever else was clinging to it. It smelled musty, and it felt damp. She swallowed thickly, bouncing the animal lightly on her knee as she looked for -
- Luke was staring at her, a hand resting on his hip as he peeked over her shoulder to the stuffed toy. She watched his throat bob in his neck.
"Everythin' …" his voice trailed off, and he carefully folded his arms. Both of them stared at the teddy bear for a while, she wasn't quite sure how long. She couldn't - wouldn't - bring herself to look away. "You wanna talk?"
"Mmm-mm," she lightly shook her head, giving the stuffed animal another bounce. She heard Luke hiss in a breath through his teeth.
"You sure - ?"
"... can I have some alone time?" she asked him gently. Found herself waiting for a five-count as Luke hesitated. She didn't have to look at him to know the look she was getting, sad eyes and lips pressed together anxiously. "You didn't … do anything. I just … y'know."
She turned to look at him and watched as his features quickly adjusted to a strained half-smile. He gently touched her arm, rubbing against the denim for a couple of seconds.
"Yeah, yeah, that's … I getcha. Don't wander off too far if you go anywhere," she gave a tired nod, a warm feeling touching her cheeks as he gave her a little squeeze of the arm before letting her go. "Call if you need me."
"You, too."
They both hesitated, and Luke broke first. He stepped back out onto the street, looking over his shoulder. She nodded again, trying to reassure him. She watched his lips press together, before he twisted and disappeared into the street. She waited for a couple of seconds in case he turned back. His footsteps got quieter and she faintly heard the sound of a door opening.
Then, and only then, did she slowly slump against the counter. She let out a shaky breath and reached into her pack, pulling out a small blanket. Her vision wobbled as she ran the soft material between her fingers, thinking about the baby that she had once wrapped up in it.
She didn't realize she was crying until the droplets marked the blanket.
A tiny gray hand clawed into her periphery, and she shuddered. Folded the blanket up and held it to her chest for a long couple of seconds, before tucking it back in her pack.
The ice was too thick, then too thin, then too far from solid land, and so their ice fishing trip had descended into following the train tracks for a while until they hopefully found one that wouldn't make Luke pull that face when she'd propose stepping onto it.
They'd come to a bridge - large enough that they couldn't quite make out the other side from where they were standing - and, after some deliberation, they still weren't any closer to deciding whether or not to cross it. Clementine folded her arms from her perch on top of a rock, watching as Luke squinted across the bridge and paced on the spot.
"Is it going to take us towards Georgia?"
Luke pulled the compass from his pocket and squinted at it, rubbing his beard. His eyes darted back up to the bridge, then to the compass. Clementine had suggested, then, to take the map out and check. Luke had mumbled something about not wanting to risk dropping it in the snow.
She shared the sentiment when she felt her own hands shudder, whether due to cold or hunger she wasn't sure.
"Fuck it," Clementine said after another few minutes, standing up suddenly and fixing him with a grin. Luke blinked. "It's my birthday. I say we cross." If she were in a slightly better mood, she'd try the cowboy voice that - on occasion - would make him snort. Instead, she scooped her pack up and jerked her head. "You coming?"
A tenuous, forced smile. She swallowed.
"Lead the way."
She peered up the bridge one more time, hoping her eyes would magically adjust to the mist that clung to their destination. She took out her knife and banged the hilt against the steel frame of the bridge with an echoing clang, and she and Luke both listened for a long couple of moments.
When no gurgling or retching met her ears, she tentatively stepped back onto the tracks and began her march. Her ears strained every time she heard a creeeak under foot, making her press a hand against the numbing steel for stability.
"Should be an easier way down on this side," Luke muttered, glancing over the edge of the railing. Clementine wrinkled her nose as she mimicked him, shifting her hand to hold her hat in place. She heard him let out a little laugh through his nose and pretended not to care.
The metal creaked with the wind, and both swore under their breath. She found one of her hands on the crook of Luke's elbow, and felt one of his on her back, and she nodded her thanks as she let go. He gently rubbed her back for a second, before following suit. His hands curled around the railing as he leaned over, peering towards the other side.
She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened.
A silhouette was coming out of the gloom, its movement too purposeful to be a lurker. She and Luke shared a brief look before darting away from the edge of the bridge, crouching behind a rusted box-car. She tried not to think of Duck as she pressed against the cold metal, before carefully peeking back out.
If the stranger had seen them, they were doing a great job pretending not to have. They held a lantern, which they stooped to fiddle with as she looked back at Luke.
"We can take them," she whispered.
"We might not have to," he murmured. "I'm not lookin' for a fight."
"Me neither, but that doesn't -"
"You stay down, I'll go -"
"What?" She blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. "No, no no no, you're not going out alone!" She fought to keep her voice at a whisper as she heard him start to detail his plan to get hurt. "That's not fair!"
"Clem, deep breath. I'm just gonna talk to him." She felt her pulse jump erratically in her wrist. "Listen -"
"- just stay down, Luke, please -" she whispered to him frantically, grabbing at his jacket. He looked at her with the big eyes, and she knew immediately that his mind was made up. "Luke -"
"Listen, okay, I know -"
"I'll go, if we're going to talk to him."
"No, absolutely not -" Luke muttered, taking a glance back up the tracks towards the shadowy figure prowling ahead of them. "- they're gonna … listen, it's this way for a reason. You know that."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she whispered. Luke sighed through his nose, looking back at her. "Luke, c'mon, I can talk to him."
"Just stay low and wait for the signal, okay?"
She looked away furiously, her lips tightening, before reluctantly letting go of his jacket and peeking below the train car they were crouched in front of. They shared a look and a nod, and as Luke twisted out and started up the bridge, Clementine let out a grunt and crawled underneath the train car.
Her eyes squinted in the darkness, and she pressed herself forward inch by inch. She bit back a curse under her breath when her pack snagged on the underbelly of the train car, straining her ears to listen for Luke as she quietly wrestled with the handle of her bag.
Luke's footsteps got further away, the sight of his muddied boots become more and more distant with every passing second she wasted, and she let out a muffled swear as she finally un-stuck herself and started crawling after him faster.
She saw Luke stop and paused herself, trying her best to look up at him. She heard him breathe out slowly before calling out.
"No sudden moves!"
Her eyes darted towards the other set of feet, just far enough away that he wouldn't be able to immediately turn and strike Luke, watching carefully as the stranger slowly pivoted on his heel.
"Hey there." The man's voice wasn't unpleasant. He sounded a little older than her, maybe a couple years-or-so. But it was unfamiliar, and that was enough for her to dislike the sound of it. "You local?"
"Passin' through."
"You with a group, mister?"
"... Nah, nah, just me."
"Awful brave of you."
"Would be if it was a choice."
The stranger gave a wry chuckle, and she watched as he shuffled his feet. Her eyes darted back towards Luke, and she inched a little further towards him. She clung to the shadows as she watched the man rest his hands on his hips. The barrel of a gun glinted in the mist, still kept in its poorly maintained holster.
"Well, you look real haggard. If you want, could take you back to our camp."
"Oh - no, that's … no, thank you."
"You sure? We got hot food, beds, walls." She could picture perfectly the look on his face, his head tilting and eyes squinting. Thinking with his heart and not his head. They had a good system, and other people would just fuck it up, like they always did. "When's the last time you've eaten a proper meal?"
"Tch, a while ago."
"I'll bet."
She bit into her lip. To her, it was the same routine she'd heard time-and-time again.
To Luke, it was probably a genuine offer.
"Well … listen, we got food to spare. I'm sure the boys'll understand sharin' with you and any friends you got."
"I told you, I'm alone."
The man Luke was talking to rocked back on his heel, a hand easing its way down towards his waistband. Clementine looked across to where Luke was standing, trying to make out if he'd noticed. His hand was still resting on what she assumed - hoped - was the handle of his knife.
"Say, pal, let me show you somethin' -"
"Woah, no, hands where I can see 'em -" Luke barked, and the man's hands paused where they were. Quietly, she reached for an arrow from her pack and tried to shift the bow in front of her. No matter what, it would be a tricky shot. Her hope was to slice through his leg and give Luke the opportunity to finish it.
But she saw how he rocked uncertainly on his heel, she made out how he held himself, and wondered if he'd follow through if she started things.
She fiddled with the bowstring, trying to get the string taut enough but abandoning the idea with a whispered cuss. She let the string loosen and laid the arrow next to her bow as she left both on the ground, taking slow deep breaths as she watched the two men.
When the man went for his waistband again, with a murmured 'it's alright', her nerve broke.
She lunged out from under the train car as the man's hand reached his waistband, leaving her bow behind her. She barely heard Luke cry out to her before she drove her fist into the stranger's face with a shout, the man cursing as he stumbled backwards. His other hand rose and she saw a flash of silver -
"First, it's just a thing. Take it -"
- and her hand wrapped around the barrel of the pistol. She stamped on the man's knee as hard as she could, her other hand punching and scratching and clawing -
"Let go -!"
She ignored the order, wrestling frantically for the weapon. The man was panting and grunting, his grip like iron even as she used her other hand to scratch wildly at the burns that covered his face. The man swore, trying to bite at her fingers, and she drove her knee between his legs.
The man let the pistol go with one of his hands and struck her across the face and she briefly saw stars as she stumbled, holding onto the weapon for dear life as she found herself on her side. The weapon flew out of both of their grips, clattering as it landed a short distance away down the bridge.
She let out a hoarse grunt as she heard his feet crash towards it, lurching forwards and grabbing one of his ankles. She gave a harsh tug, watching as he fell face forward before hurtling towards the pistol.
"Clem, no no no -"
She ignored him, scooping up the weapon and briefly checking the safety with her thumb, twisting when she heard the man roar and felt him crash into her.
She held onto the weapon tighter, this time, smashing him across the face with the barrel and kicking the back of his knee. He let out a strangled gasp as he crumpled again.
She stood over him, a foot on either side of his chest as she aimed the pistol. Footsteps behind her made her ears prick up as she heard Luke cry out -
"No, don't!"
BANG
The guy went limp as she felt Luke's hand clasp her shoulder. She let out a rugged breath, before looking down at the pistol and twisting it in her hands. She could feel his gaze burning into the back of her head, so pretended to be fascinated with the weapon.
When she felt a squeeze she glanced over, her heart twisting at the look on his face.
"I helped."
"You helped -" he spluttered, looking away. Clementine felt her nose wrinkle as she looked back at the man, quietly tucking the pistol into her pack before reaching down to search him. Her fingers shook slightly as she started rummaging through his pockets, doing her best to not react to what Luke was saying.
"Clem, I - I understand that you were tryin' to … but that doesn't … I mean …"
Empty left pocket -
"- that gun was loaded, okay, if he'd seen you comin' you could've gotten shot! Nothing's worth that, Clem, okay?"
- right pocket had some keys, which she jingled for a second before deciding to hold onto. They looked like car keys, and she couldn't help but look around for the car - a fruitless exercise that she abandoned nearly immediately.
"You should've just stayed down like we agreed."
- his back pockets felt empty, save for a wallet, so she rolled him over and started cutting his pack loose.
"Are you even listenin' to me?"
"No."
He sighed and ran his hands down his face, resting them above his mouth as she succeeded in cutting through the straps. She handed the bag out to him, which he took with tight lips. She looked away, down to her knuckles as she ran a gloved thumb over them. She muttered under her breath, pulling the clasp of the driving gloves with her teeth and peeling them off.
Crap.
She could tell they would bruise, already turning red and swelling slightly. She frowned, muttering a swear and tenderly pulling her gloves back on. She gave her fingers a slight wiggle, before glancing back at Luke as he zipped the pack shut.
"Food."
"Great," she smiled. He did not.
Wordlessly, she put a foot on the man's corpse and gave it a nudge towards the edge of the bridge. Luke looked at her and sighed through his nose, before tersely nodding. Clementine grimaced and shoved the body with her foot, and they both watched as it tumbled silently into the mist below.
She tore into the dry meat with her teeth, chewing loudly and quickly. She could barely hear Luke's appeal for her to eat slowly, her growling stomach urging her on.
"Tha'sh'really'guh," she mumbled through a mouthful, looking up at Luke as he raised an eyebrow. She sighed through her nose and swallowed loudly, looking back at his uneaten portion. "When are you gonna eat?"
"You still hungry?"
"No," she said, a little too quickly, and she self-consciously folded her arms on her stomach. Luke made to under-arm the food to her, and she turned her head away. "It's yours too."
"I know, and I'll eat in a bit," he assured her gently. Her eyes fell first on his jacket, hung up by the small fire they had going, and then to the tattoo on his forearm. A design from the inside of his left wrist to just below the elbow, of a singular bird feather, drawn carefully and with intricate detail.
It was pretty, in Jane's own way.
She'd opened her mouth to ask him to remind her what bird the feather belonged to, because once upon a time he'd smiled when he'd told her stories that reminded him of Jane, but stopped herself when she noticed he was staring at the tattoo too. Not with the same envy that she'd had, though, but something else. Sadder. She licked her lips, hesitating for another moment, before sighing through her nose.
"How much was there?"
"Plenty," she could tell he was lying, so kept her arms folded. Luke broke first, rubbing at his neck and shrugging. "I'm not eatin' while you're still hungry. That's not how this works."
"I've already had some."
"That's not the same thing."
She chose not to reply to that, instead looking around the depot they had found, just across the bridge. It wasn't as nice as the station house they'd been living out of for the last couple weeks, but it was better than sitting out in the snow. Behind the door made out of bars, amidst a pile of boxes that would never get delivered, they had decided to try and settle in for the evening.
She didn't want to look back at him when he was being an idiot, so reached into one of the boxes and pulled out some bubble wrap. She heard him let out a little laugh through his nose as she started crinkling it in her grip, popping at the few bubbles that hadn't already burst over the years.
"You can't keep ignorin' me."
Pop pop pop.
"C'mon."
Pop pop pop.
She heard him sigh and draw closer, hesitantly looking up. She was expecting him to be holding food, but instead he held out a hand for her. She tilted her head, and he nodded at her bruised knuckles. She started to pull a face, but relented and let him take it.
"Lucky you didn't break somethin', how hard you were hittin'."
Yeah, well, you're lucky you didn't get your head blown off.
At least, that's what she wanted to say. Instead, she found herself lightly shrugging as he tenderly brushed a finger across her knuckles. She winced and hissed in a breath inadvertently, and instantly regretted it when she saw his face fall.
"I'm sorry."
Luke looked away, reaching into his pack and pulling out a ruined shirt. She wrinkled her nose as he tore the sleeve off, before motioning for her to hold her hand back out. She did, reluctantly, and let him worry over her.
She didn't need it, but she knew he did.
He was snoring within an hour.
She'd just stepped out to get some alone time, and she'd lost track of time. If she were Jane, she'd probably stink of smoke. Instead, she lightly shivered and peeled her jacket off, wincing as she felt her muscles ache.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw their map and the postcard she'd been given earlier waiting next to her pack, the brash text welcoming her to Missouri staring up at her. Her finger traced the route from the X that Luke had marked towards Atlanta, tilting her head, before smiling and reaching for the postcard with her good hand. She carefully flipped it over, mumbling the words to herself.
Happy birthday Clementine
With all of my love
The drawing next to it was of herself, and she tilted her head as she looked at the portrait. She'd always liked his drawings. He used to do them a lot more, in the earlier days, to 'keep busy', and she'd stared over his shoulder as he scribbled away.
She smiled faintly at the memory, looking towards Luke as he slept a few feet away. She thought about nudging him to thank him, but settled instead for crouching next to him and fixing the coat he had laid across himself, making sure he was properly covered. As he mumbled in his sleep, the corner of her lip twitched up a little, and she quietly whispered to him.
"Thank you, Luke."