A/N: I was doing some free writing over the last couple of weeks and this chapter was kind of birthed from that. Not sure if I'm completely satisfied with how it came out but it'll eventually tie in with how I want this to end
Chapter 13
That was nearly nine months ago when we lost the farm and my only shot at finding Claire. A few days had passed after the horde came through before it was finally safe enough for me to head back to her place, even if she didn't wanna come back with me I needed to make sure she was okay. When I got there though it was empty, a few walkers here and there but no trace of her and that gut feeling I used to get when she was around wasn't there any more either. Everything just went cold, but as I kept walking around there was a small sign that maybe she did get out before it got too bad. The last time I was here there was a car parked on the side of the house that used to belong to her mom, it was gone and there was a small pile of her clothes on the ground.
It was an asshole thing for me to do but since she wasn't there anymore I went and raided what I could from the house. The basement was practically a gold mine filled with mason jars of peaches, jams, beans and different meats, now that the bitch Rick's married to got herself knocked up with Shane's kid this wouldn't last very long but it did mean I wouldn't have to spend every waking minute of every day looking for our next meal for a bit. My luck got even better when I stumbled over some crates that Claire must've been using to look out the basement window while waiting for the horde to pass through. When that was all packed up and sitting on the kitchen table I went upstairs to the bedrooms to see if there was anything else we could use.
The closets were filled with clothes, shoes, and socks that looked way too small to fit anyone except a child. I remember once Claire telling me that her grandparents used to hold on to everything from when she was growing up so maybe these were clothes she wore when she was a kid. They were a bit on the girly side and I highly doubted that Carl would want to wear something frilly but the socks were plain and didn't look like they had holes in 'em. I had better luck rifling through the drawers – each room had a drawer dedicated to just long-johns and with winter not too far off we'd need warm clothes if we were gonna survive. Everything seemed to be going just a little too well until I reached what I assumed was Claire's bedroom.
The bed wasn't made and there was a pile of seven or eight blankets on the bed. She'd always complain about being cold and instead of messing with the thermostat she'd throw more blankets on the bed, just to kick most of 'em off during the night because she got hot. On the floor were scattered pictures, she was smiling in most of the ones that were facing up but as I started flipping some over I found one of us – it was from our wedding, taken on the stairs in this very house. I was sitting between her legs, trying to look happy and she was bent over kissing my cheek, arms wrapped around my neck, and the little silver band on her left hand giving off a little bit of a shine from the camera's flash. Neither of us were dressed up for the occasion deciding that the money for a dress was better spent on paying the bills.
Something else on the floor caught my attention, something that was hidden under the bed. I left the scattered pictures where they were and set my crossbow down across the bed to retrieve whatever it was she had under there. From what I could tell, just by feel, it was definitely some sort of box; I sat down on the bed with the box in my lap and flipped the lid open. I couldn't stop my eyes from going wide at the first thing I saw. Laying on top, in black and white, was a picture with an arrow pointing that said 'boy.' The date on it wasn't too long after the trip we took to my family's cabin. Neither of us wanted kids but we both agreed that if it happened, it happened. We tried not to keep secrets but there were definitely some that I kept from her and this is a big one she kept from me. I started raking my brain wondering how I could've missed the signs or if there was even a single breadcrumb Claire left to clue me in. There were a stack of folded up papers underneath, most of them were from doctors but one was in her handwriting. The blue ink had started to fade but I could still make out every word of what she called her "sloppy chicken scratch."
My Little Bean,
It's not that I didn't want you, it's not that I didn't love you, everyone in this family would've loved you till their dying breath. It was raining, hard, when everything happened and I should've listened to your daddy instead of being the hard-headed, stubborn bitch that I am, maybe you'd still be here if I had. Even with my wipers going as fast as they could and the defroster on it wasn't enough to keep the windows clear enough for me to see the road. I was stopped at a red light when it happened. I was hit from behind by someone who couldn't see my taillights and was hit so hard it sent me into on-coming traffic. My only saving grace was that the semi that hit me, us, did not have a rig hooked up to it but it was still enough to take you from me.
The doctors tried like hell to save us both but in the end they had to take you from me, they had no choice. For two days you fought like hell to hang on, there was no doubt in my mind that you were a Dixon. But in the end your tiny body, your little lungs just gave out. The doctors let me hold you as you took your last breaths, to this day I still cry wondering what kind of little boy you would've turned out to be. Strong like your father? Kind-hearted like me? I still don't know what to name you so until I decide I guess I'll just keep calling you My Little Bean.
Buried at the bottom of the box, under more papers was a smaller box with the word 'Dixon' stamped on a bronze plate across the top. My bottom lip trembled and tears stung my eyes as I fiercely tried to wipe them away, in my hands were the ashes of my kid, my son.
The memories of that day, that phone call came flooding back. I was so pissed at Claire for trying to go into work that morning, practically begging her to just wait until the heaviest stuff passed through and the winds to die down but she just wouldn't listen. I watched her from the living room window run out to her car, looking like a drowned cat as she stared back at me through the windshield. She promised to call me when she got to work but that phone call never came; I gave it an hour since I knew she'd drive slower than usual, being hyper-vigilant so she didn't hydroplane. But after waiting an hour and half, almost two hours I started calling her to find out where she was. Four hours later, the cops showed up at our door saying she was in an accident and that I needed to get to the hospital.
By the time I got there she was awake but was an absolute mess, how she still managed to see anything out of an eye as blacked out as what she had was nothing short of a miracle. Part of me wanted to yell and scream at her about how fucking stupid she was, the other part wanted to hold her and cry that she was still alive. She ended up staying there for several weeks and when she was finally able to come home she needed to use a walker. Merle was an asshole and made fun of her for using it and made even more horrible jokes at her expense when it came time for me to take her to physical therapy appointments. When she finally graduated to using a cane, she got her revenge on Merle by beating him over the head with it until the metal caved in on itself, but she didn't stop until I finally took it from her and said that's enough.
I swallowed thickly and carefully opened the box and inside, sitting on top of the ashes was a picture of her holding this Little Bean. The tears I was trying to hold back fell down the sides of my face and snot dripped from my nose, I used my sleeve to try and catch it before it fell onto the picture fearing that I would ruin it. He was so small and even though I couldn't see her face I knew Claire was an absolute wreck, especially dealing with that all alone. I wish she would've told me, I never would've let her do that by herself and I don't think Merle would've been as hard on her after the accident as he was.
I closed the box and put everything back, a shaky sigh escaping as I tried to process everything I just discovered. There's no way in hell I'm leaving this behind, he's had his momma all these years looking after him, now it's my turn and if I ever find Claire again I think she'd appreciate having Little Bean home where he belongs. But what do I call him? No one in my family is good enough for me to name him after any of them. I spent the rest of the day thinking about it as I packed everything up in the car but nothing came to mind. As I put my backpack on the table to put Little Bean away I made a last minute decision to run back upstairs to Claire's room to grab that picture from our wedding that I found. It fit perfectly inside the box of ashes; there should be at least one happy picture of his parents together.
More tears threatened to fall as I placed the picture of us underneath the other one and I quickly put everything back in the shoebox the way I had found it, and tucked it safely away in my backpack, trying to be careful about jostling it around too much. The sun was just starting to set and I needed to get back to the group before anyone decided to send out the search party, not that they even knew where I was except 'out.' The farm disappeared into the rearview mirror as I headed back to camp, maybe one day if I found Claire we could come back here and make this place a home again, so long as no one else has tried to claim it.
Nine months later we were growing desperate for a place to call home, Lori was very pregnant and we were constantly on the move trying to stay ahead and away from the herds but the problem is that we were running around in circles and the herds were starting to come together. If we weren't careful we'd end up with another horde on our hands about the same size, if not bigger, than the one that took the farm. But by a stroke of sheer dumb luck, out of our desperation stood a prison with razor fencing and more importantly concrete walls. Guard towers flanked the four corners which meant we could see someone or something coming from at least a mile away. The problem that plagued us now was taking it from the dead that roamed the grounds.
We knew we had a helluva fight on our hands come morning but we had a flicker of hope where nothing but survival had existed. That old gut feeling started coming back to life too and I knew then the Claire got away from the horde alive. Maybe I've got another chance to make it right.