My Brothers And Sisters In Arms - (TWD FanFiction) [ON HOLD]

Primal Little Boy

*unedited

Harper

When I woke up, T-dog was rolled over on his left side, fast asleep. I pulled myself up, suppressing the groans of pain that threatened to wake T-dog up as I snuck out of the tent, still wearing T's hoodie which hung an inch below my hips. The stiffness of my clothes on my skin told me that I needed to go change. My feet carried me to the RV. The early light of dawn shone into camp as I trudged toward the RV, my eyes latching onto the dried splatters of Amy's blood. Tears well, but I force my eyes away, not letting them fall.

I step quietly into the door of the RV slipping into a crouch where my bag lay, underneath the bed that Jim lay on. I rummaged through it, finding new clothes and pulling them out. A camouflage tight-fitting tank top, my military-esc jacket (the picture below just ignore the sequins) and a pair of black denim shorts.

I huffed a wince as I pushed myself back up onto my feet, picking out my knives, handgun and silencer, and holsters for each weapon before kicking the bag back under the bed. I look up to get the shock of my life when Jim's tired eyes lock with mine. He offered me a weak smile when I jolted slightly in suppressed surprise. I nodded my head at him and turned to leave when a hand snaked out and grasped feebly at my wrist. I turned to Jim again and he cleared his throat as quietly as he could.

"Harper, I just wanted to tell you somethin— well, two things actually," I nodded, encouraging him to go on. "...but it might turn into a couple more..." I shot him an encouraging smile.

"Go ahead."

"Well, I've never really shown it, but I admire you. You're strong, driven and not afraid to say what you think, and though—" his own body interrupted him with a fit of coughs, and I snagged the bucket beside him, which already had a little blood in the bottom of it, and held it for him as he spat another small dollop of blood into the bottom. He cleared his throat again, and I put the bucket back in its place beside him. "—and though you're probably the most hardheaded, hot-headed woman I've ever met, you have a warm heart, and that's— what matters. Your problem is, quite simple, you blame yourself too much—sometimes even for things... that aren't your fault. Things—" Jim wheezed a cough, wiping his sweaty brow. "—things that you couldn't have done anything about." His eyes left his own shaky hands that sat on his lap and migrated to capture mine. "I know it hurts, losing people like this, but that doesn't mean to say that because you weren't there to save them. Doesn't mean to say that you're guilty because you're not. It's not your fault, Harper."

I hadn't realised it until now, but when a droplet fell from my cheek and spattered onto the floor, I recognised that I was crying. The worst part, I only became to stand there, head bowed, and cry harder at that fact. A shaky hand cupped my mouth — my own attempt to silence by sobs. "Come here, Harper." Jim called, arms open for a hug.

I gladly embraced him, burying my head into his shoulder. "That brings me to my second point." He continued as his shaky arms held my violently quivering body. "I don't want you to blame yourself for Amy — for what happened to me — for anything that you couldn't have done anything about." He paused, body shaking in a chuckle. "Hey! I'll make that my dying wish if that'll make you listen." His chuckle turned into a wheeze. "I— I want you to understand what guilt is yours to carry, and what is not. I'll ask Dale to talk to you about that later. Talk about my dying wish for you with him. It's not a death sentence or anything, I just think you'll need him backing you. He's a good man, someone who'll listen to you and push you til you talk." He rubbed my back. "Please don't ever push that man away. He only ever wants to help."