Is This Real? (Nick Clark X OC) Fear The Walking Dead

Run Away

        "Sloppy? Damn, never heard that one before. Anyways, I came in here to look for clorox wipes. Someone threw up." He gets on his feet and stands directly in front of her and the tub. She nods and stands up in the shower area, then presses the end of her smoke into the wall to extinguish it, loosely dropping it after it's out. She lifts one of her legs and steps over the bath, trying her best to keep balance.

       She was unsuccessful.

        She falls face first into him, making them both collide backwards onto the floor. Her face hovers over his own. She lingers for a few seconds with a panicked expression on her face. Both of them being high and her climbing over things was a bad idea.

      "Fuck–" She huffs annoyed at her mistep. She starts to push herself off him. Shit, shit, shit. She thinks.

      "I mean we could, we're in the right position." Nick teases her. She throws herself off of him onto the floor to his side. "C'mon, was it that bad of a joke?" She raises an eyebrow.

      "Why do you sound so upset that I got off of you? I'm tall, I weigh a solid amount." She laughs. Something about Nick made her feel at ease. He has a way of lighting up the room with his smile. Shining a light on her. She's been so used to being submerged in her own darkness, drowning in it.

     "I don't mind." He shrugs.

      "Are you hitting on me Nick?" His face gets red. Her grin gets bigger. "It's okay. I like it." He sighs in relief, and adjusts his position to face her more. He takes a strand of her hair and tucks it behind her ear, allowing him to lean into it.

      "Can I kiss you?" He gently whispers into her ear. She doesn't answer with words, but instead connects her lips with his.

—-----------------------------------------------

Frankie's POV

          Frankie sits on the chair next to the cot Nick is resting in. She hasn't slept at all in the past fifteen hours, and practically hasn't moved an inch either. The small tented area that was transformed into a hospital had become her prison for an indefinite amount of time.

        Nick had been coming in and out of consciousness, and when he was awake he didn't make too much sense. He would murmur about the most random things. Like a memory he and Frankie shared years ago, or a past drug dealer's name, or even just apologizing to her repeatedly.

        However, the high that Frankie went on alone in the bathroom last night is beginning to take its toll on her. She's starting to sweat and run a fever, and that's a hard thing to hide in a medical bay. She grabs one of his hands and holds it between both of her own. His wrist, restrained by the handcuff attached to it. He could turn. They think there's a possibility that this could very well be it.

       Troy is outside loading the bodies of the soldiers who didn't make it on truck beads. Alicia and Jake are rushing around the area trying to treat as many as possible. Madison had caught Ofelia last night and got as much of an answer as she could out of her. She informed them all that Ofelia had slipped a powder substance into the coffee, but she didn't even know what it was.

       Otto stumbles his way into the place. He glances around, taking it in. A man turns just as he does so. He reaches his hands up groaning as one of the dead. Frankie turns her gaze away from Nick to the dead man. Jeremiah lifts his gun and shoots the guy in the head. Just like that. Gone.

      Frankie flinches and her eyes snap to the ground instead. That could be Nick. That very well could be him. He could just be gone. Just like that. One moment here, fighting. The next gone with no way to bring him back. She shudders at her own thought, almost bringing her to tears. She squeezes his hand, slightly tighter.