HER HEAD THROBBED VIOLENTLY as she held the pack of crushed ice to it harshly. She sat around their circular table, beside Enid and Ellie as all mornings usually start.
"You with Rick today? Both of you?" Enid asks, raising her cup of soothing herbal tea to her mouth and blowing on the hot liquid. Truth was, the girl was meant to be going with them, but she'd unknowingly broken her wrist in the brawl last night and - strangely - was very disappointed that she wouldn't be working in the medical tent today.
"Yup. And the saviours. That never goes well." Jane replies, looking down at her clasped hands.
"Just don't punch one of them again and you're good." Tonya yells from the room beyond.
"Easier said than done." Jane mumbles. Ellie scoffs at the girl, giving her a toothy grin as she gets up to grab her coat and boots.
"I'm just glad we're out of the way, it really sounds like Maggie's gonna go through with this tonight." Ellie states. oh yeah. Gregory's punishment.
"I hate that guy as much as anyone, but he's just a coward. Nothing more." Enid asks.
"Clearly not a harmless one," Jane comments as she also gets up to get her boots on, shoving the ice bag in the sink. She still doesn't quite know where she stands in this situation, but as she isn't going to be around and knows Gregory was never really important to her - it doesn't shake her all too much.
A crackled static sounds from Jane's walkie, and a voice rings through. Rick.
"Jane? You there? It's Rick. Over."
"I hear you."
"Please use the code names I gave you," another person clicks in, "You also have to say 'over' after you're done talking, so we know when you stop." It was definitely Tara.
Jane audibly sighs. "This is Robin Hood to mother goose. What's up? Over."
"Turns out we don't need you two down here until later on. Stuff gone down with Daryl with one of the saviours, and there's a herd comin'. We're working to redirect it, but there's one spot in the route we've supplied with only saviours. We're scared they're not gonna know what to do. D'you think you two could go down there and keep em in line? Over."
"Yeah, how far from the camp are we talking? Over." She looked to Ellie cautiously as she asked, knowing that the two of them would be in for some shit today.
"About an hour and a half past it. You think you can do it? Over."
"I'm sure we'll be fine. I'll radio you when we get there. Over."
"Thank you, girls."
THE GIRLS HAD PARTED with Enid, Tonya and Max early in the morning and had set out on their own path to the coordinates Rick had supplied them with. Ellie drove them down, and deal was that Jane was going to drive them to the camp once they were done. Usually, she tuned Ellie's chat out when she had important things to think about, but today she wanted Ellie to mutter nonsense into her ears. It would certainly distract her from anticipating this secret, and furthermore dwell on the incident last night.
"No way!" Ellie announced as she fiddled with the glovebox's clasp - it flying open after a few turns with it.
"What have you found now?" Jane asks, a slight intrigue evident in her words.
"Sunglasses," Ellie takes them out and throws them to Jane's lap, "paper money.....twenty dollars. A CD."
"What artist?" She quizzes excitedly, suddenly more interested.
"The smiths," Ellie replies, unaware that there was ever a band even called the smiths. Jane makes some kind of 'ew' sound and Ellie shoves the CD back where she had gotten it from. Tossing out something else in its return, it lands again in Jane's lap and she picks it up willingly.
"Mascara," she nears the tube to her eyes as she reads the fine print. "Definitely expired, but I'll give it a go."
Jane flips her mirror screen down from the ceiling of the car and is met with a bruised face. She almost grimaces at first, but then takes a moment to remember that this isn't such an unusual sight, just a distant one. She applies the wand to her lashes carefully, and doesn't notice much difference in volume but tries to 'admire' herself anyways. It doesn't work, and she huffs, turning the screen back up and clearing her throat. She hates how much the world has changed her, yet she would be dead without it. She wondered how Carl could ever like her, looking like this? She almost caught herself feeling sorry for him, and wishing she was someone else instead - Enid, maybe.
"You in on this secret?" Jane blurts, trying to switch her mind to something else.
"What?" Ellie asks, trying to act like she doesn't know about it. She does, and Jane knows it.
"The secret."
Ellie's eyes dart to everywhere but Jane's and she finally caves. "Yeah. Yeah I do, but don't think I'm telling you anything."
"I'm not gonna pry, I just........is it good or bad?"
Ellie hesitates before answering, but cracks a smile when she does. "Yes."
"That's all I needed." Jane admits in relief, pulling out the folded map from her pocket and smoothing out it's creases. Forks and dual roads snaked around patches of green, and she knew without it they might've just gotten lost in the labyrinth that was one of many Virginian forests.
Speaking of Virginian, a few had pointed out the shift in Jane's accent in the last few weeks. Not that it had abruptly changed, but that it had slowly increased to the point where people were actually starting to hear the twinge in her tone more clearly. Growing up in the city, she'd never really placed a specific regional sound to her voice, but being out in the country with country people had obviously had an effect on her mannerisms.
Another hour to their half had gotten them there in good time, and the sight they had approached was interesting to say the least. Three saviours leaned against a tree, shading themselves from the sun's angry heat. Rick hadn't liked the idea of calling them 'saviours' anymore, because they weren't, not really now. Jane couldn't not separate them in her head, and though she tried hard not to say it out loud, they'd always be divided in her world.
As she would learn today, they had that idea too.
"You ready?" Ellie asked, as Jane just continued to stare out at them, laughing and talking in amongst one another. Four others sat on a fallen log beside the tree, and five more just stood around in the middle of the road. They all whipped their heads to the sound of a moving vehicle, and for a second it seemed as if they were all puppets, controlled obscenely by one master. Her blood boiled just thinking about being near any one of them, yet she nodded at her best friend and retreated out of the car.
Getting their guns and bows from the backseat, they face the saviours head on with dangerous looks. They don't even flinch as Jane clicks the chamber open, loading the gun and jutting it closed with her palm before slotting it into the holster that was fastened to her thigh.
"Alright listen. We've got shit to do, so don't dick around, right? We've got guns in our pockets and arrows in our back so if you wanna chat back try it. All you have to do is do what we say and shut up - only then will you be fine. Got it?" Jane called out, over the group of monotone faced people.
Some nodded, although others just smirked in the middle of silence. It seemed that the idea of being bossed around by two girls was hilarious to them.
Ellie sneered at them, tying her hair up with an elastic band, ready to get gritty and harsh if need be - Although it seemed as if Jane was already there.
"Rick wants us to hang around till the signal. Lucky for you all, we got you some chores to do." Ellie adds.
"We get it." One of them yells. Jane's eyes furrow and her hand grips the handle on her hip.
"You better." She replies sternly.
THE CAMP THRIVED UNDER ricks touch, and Carl was amazed to be witnessing the inner workings of the place. After his dad had given him a short-ridden tour, he'd gone off on his own to collect wood for the fire. It was a beautiful day, one filled with the many hums and whistles of the forest around them. It would be a beautiful night too, Carl hoped - according to what he had planned.
"Need some help over here?"
"Uh, sure," he replied, looking up to meet Rosita's wondrous gaze. He eased up when he say it was her, just glad it wasn't a saviour he'd have to deal with.
"You're missing the best spots, y'know. If you want good firewood you've gotta go deeper into the forest." She advised, gathering up the logs sprawled out on the floor in front of him.
"It's fine. We've already got a lot, anyways. I just wanted to make sure we have enough. And get away from the saviours for a bit."
Rosita nods, understanding profusely.
"You nervous?" She asks him. He brushes his hair behind his left ear and blinks up at the sky as they begin to walk back to the camp, side by side.
"Yes and no. Not scared that she will say no, more worried that something might happen before I can even ask the question."
"I'm sure she'll be fine, she's stronger than most of us. All she has to do is follow a signal and she'll be right back here. Then you get to worry whether she'll say yes or not," Rosita jokes, and Carl smiles. It's nice to be surrounded by friends, especially in times like these. Although, whenever he seeks relationship advice, his first thought is to go to Glenn - whom he used to talk to about Jane at the prison. His heart always drops when he remembers that Glenn is gone, and that he's never coming back. Then, he feels guilty for forgetting in the first place.
"Thanks, Ros," he tells her, placing the wood in the centre ring of the camp benches (bigger logs placed in a circle defending the fire) as she does the same.
"Anytime," she smiles, and catches a glimpse of Siddiq - so she gets up to greet him, leaving Carl alone with the firewood.
The next two hours pass by mindlessly, and constantly, Carls head is whizzing with proposals. His thoughts wouldn't usually be so consumed by something like this - yet today he's going over and over how things sound in his head. What he should say, how he should act. He never thought he'd be in this situation before, but here he was. The decision had been so abrupt - he'd decided when they'd stayed at Ellie's for the first time. He'd learnt how peaceful it was, how happy Jane had been. He had been meaning to do it ever since, but they'd never really managed to get away from some sort of pain, or a death-defying situation. Plainly put, trouble followed them anywhere, and word did too - If he'd have done this any other time, talk would have spread (as it did) and she would've known fast. Everyone here already knew, even though he had only told the people closest to him, but it hadn't occurred to him to mind too much about it. As long as she was his wife at the end of he day, he'd be happy.
He thought about his mom a lot, too. He wished so badly she was here to see it, to watch him grow. He missed her more than anything, yet was almost glad she wasn't here to witness some of the things he had done, or go through anything more treacherous than either Jane or him had. Still, he hoped she was somewhere, waiting for him.
Late into the afternoon, he had turned to hermit like habits as he sat in his tent with a notepad in hand, ignoring any knocks and concentrating solely on his words. He wanted to be sure, he wanted to get this right, and though he could probably pour his heart out to Jane endlessly for hours, he wanted this to be as special as he could make it. It wasn't like they were going to get anything close to a real wedding, so this and the ring would be all she would be given (and him forever of course).
Nothing had ever been normal, not for her, anyway. Even before everything, she was still born into a cruel house, and that alone would haunt her for forever. He sat and dwelled for a minute on the fact that most thought she was weak at the prison. But in reality, she'd survived all that - and an apocalypse. Carl had never thought badly of her, not a minute of his life had ever been spent recognising any flaw she might have. That could simply be because he'd never thought her to have any, and he was sure she probably did - but he would never see them, likely distracted by her beauty or her humour or some other breathtaking part of her. In other terms, every part of her.
"Carl?" It was clearly his dad, and when the boy shouted back to Rick with permission to enter, the man unzipped the door and stepped inside with only one fluid motion.
"Hey, dad," he said, putting down his paper and giving Rick his full attention. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to check how you were. Nervous?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"You'll be fine," Rick reassured him, looking down at his son - placing one hand comfortingly on the back of his head. "I mean, if you're anything like me you will be."
"What were you like? When you asked mom?"
Rick chuckled, recalling the memory.
"Well, we were in Paris, and I'd brought her to the Eiffel Tower. I was gonna do it there with the most perfect ring, but, two days before our luggage got lost and so did the ring. She got some cheap thing for the time being and when I finally asked, she said no as a joke before saying yes. Worst ten seconds of my life, that."
Carl started to laugh hysterically at this story, which he'd miraculously never heard before.
"Sounds like something mom would do."
"Speaking of mom, well......I know that you already have a ring. But, I wanted to give you this."
His palm outstretches towards carls line of sight and he gasps, admiring the ring sitting dormant in his dad's hand. It's his moms.
"It's your moms. I wanted to show you it sooner, but, I didn't know if you'd want it."
"Dad, are you crazy? Of course I want it. The other ring is just something I found on a run. This is so thoughtful. Thank you."
"She would be proud of you." Carl smiles at this, and picks up the ring, caressing it with his thumb as he thinks of his mother. It isn't long before the short flashback comes and he has to take a deep breath and wait for it to pass. It does swiftly, and he sighs, trying not to fall back into one again. Rick hardly notices, but it would be something Jane might've picked up on.
"I love you, dad," he says, confidence and truth evident in his voice.
Later on, when Carl had occupied himself with trying to coax Daryl out of punching a saviour, a singular truck pulled up to the campsite. His heart raced vigorously, as he suspected it to be Jane and Ellie, back early from their endeavour - Instead, Enid jumped out along with Siddiq.
Carls face reads confusion, yet he still approaches the girl and hugs her in greeting.
"What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it." He gestures down to her injured, bandaged hand.
"Couldn't miss it for the world." She tells him, smiling.
"I'm glad you're here."
"You heard from Jane at all?" She asks him, fully expecting him to flash him a smile as he nods his head. He did not do either of these things, as his face turned almost blank.
"No, I haven't, I thought you might've?"
"Well, yeah, this morning, before she left. She hasn't been on the radio for all I know. I thought she would have buzzed you?" Enid explains, pushing back hair from her face and looking up into Carl's eye, worry painting itself to her face.
"No, no she hasn't. She spoke to my dad, though - I'm sure everything's okay," he tells her, though it's really just to try to reassure himself.
"Yeah, she'll be fine. She's Jane Peletier, for god sakes." Enid chuckles, going back to take her medical stuff from the truck, stringing her stethoscope round her neck.
"Hey, Carl," Siddiq greets, holding his hand out for the boy to shake it. Carl shrugs his hand away and pulls Siddiq in for a hug, as Enid watches their interaction happen.
After spending a little time with Siddiq, a man who had grown to be one of his closest friends - he had retreated to his fathers tent to find out where he might be - Jane could get to the camp any minute, and well, he just wanted to be prepared.
Although, when he reached for the door, pulling the tarp back to step inside, he found it utterly empty.
Carl Grimes wouldn't of found this so strange, if his walkie wasn't laying untouched on the fold up table, obviously thrown down in a panic or a hurry.
Advancing over to it, he picked it up and clicked the hash button, the microphone crackling under his hesitating mouth.
"Jane? You there?" He asked, almost solemnly. No answer. He tried again three times over, but nothing. Not a single sound from it, which was indefinitely strange.
And when 2 pm had passed, it seemed ten times stranger that he would hear nothing from her still.
SHE STOOD UP AGAINST the truck wall, her arms crossed and her face unapologetic.
12 pm had rolled around, and they had gotten there at 9am - with still no word of a signal from Tara. Meaning, the herd was off schedule, meaning the rest of the day would be unpredictable and possibly dangerous for the campsite. Their idea was to get the herd away from the communities, yet an interference was still entirely and crucially possible. This worried Jane, but there wasn't anything else she and Ellie could do but wait, sharpening their knives and examining their bruises as they did so.
"Do you think Enid likes anyone?" Ellie asks out of the blue - as they situate themselves within good distance of the men.
"I don't know. Guess I've never really thought about it before. I think she liked Carl, before I came along."
"And that doesn't bother you?" Ellie asks, confused at the casual mention of this theory.
"No. Enid's one of my best friends - She helped Carl when I couldn't. Sure, I was a little jealous when I met her but it's not like anything happened. Why do you ask, anyway?"
"I don't know, just curious I guess."
"We never talk about shit like this. I feel like a fake girl." Jane jokes, taking a water bottle from her bag and unscrewing the lid, her lips admittedly dry.
"Yeah cause we always have more interesting stuff to talk about, like, I don't know...murder?"
This would have been something Jane might laugh at, if she had paid any form of attention, that was. Instead, she kept her eyes zoned on the group of saviours that stood around ten metres from them, whom had been ogling at something completely hidden from the girls for the last minute or so. Without warning, Jane unclips the pistol on her thigh and takes many long strides towards them.
She waits until they go quiet to point the gun, and the click of the chamber makes them freeze.
"What have you got there?"
They don't answer.
"I said," she takes a breath. "What is that?"
In one swift motion, the man directly in-front of her swung back and tried to knock her in the knee, trying to send her to the floor but he had been too slow. Instead, she stepped backward to just the right degree, avoiding his hit in time to react in her own way. His face was perfectly turned to her so that she could bring her fist down as fast as it would go into his jaw, sending him knocking into his friend. Going through with the blow, her gun knocked from her hand and skidded onto the road ahead, far away from any of them.
In only these ten seconds, the others had grouped and were simply too much - Jane having only taken down three of them before being manhandled to the ground and groped by the neck, a blade forced to her collarbone. Ellie had rushed up to the scene now, eyes darting angrily, hands searching for the gun on her body ready to shoot.
"Shoot me, shoot anyone, and she gets it."
"Go ahead, kill me. Cause y'know what? There's a whole campsite just an hour away that will come for you. And you guys know you're no match for Rick."
The man holding her squeezes the back of her neck as she talks, forcing her chin up to the sky. She grasps at his fingers, trying to pull them away, or reduce the pain in any way she can.
"What if," he whispers, still loud enough so that everyone can hear - the airiness of his bad breath prominent in the enclosed space between their mouths. "What if I kill you, and leave you in a fucking river. Or better yet, bury you, or maybe chop the both of you into pieces. Would they come looking? I heard they didn't the last time."
"You would deserve it," one of them spits, as she grimaces at them all. Taking one swift glance back to Ellie, she spots only anger on the girl's face. This isn't the worst situation she'd ever survived, so both of them had a righteous confidence that these men wouldn't be alive to insult them much longer.
"You killed half our fucking friends."
Ellie's eyes dart to the woods behind the group, everyone having their backs to it except her. She sees the herd approaching, through the trees just a few steps away. Perfect. She stays calm, just watching the walkers stumble around - nodding at Jane to signal that she had everything under control.
"Oh? That's what this is about?" Jane speaks, loud enough that it might cover slight groaning or the aggressive pushing of leaves behind them.
"I killed your fucking friends because you killed mine. And now you're trying to kill me, because, it's just a cycle. It goes around, and around," she swallows hard, "and who wins? No one."
A swift fist comes down on her nose then, similar to the one she'd given the man who had tried to knock her off her feet. Ellie let's out a gasp as a crack sounds out on impact, a crushing pain injected through Jane's nostrils as she squeezes her eyes shut.
"Bet your wedding party won't be too pleased if you come back looking all bashed up," one man mentioned. "It would be my dream to bring your head right back to your boyfriend, detached from your body."
"He'll kill you." She scoffs, almost laughing at their stupidity. The knife to her neck suddenly turns, jutting deeper into her skin by the second. Wedding party?
"Shut up, bitch." He scolded, piercing the sharp tip into her flesh and breaking the skin completely as she sits still. She doesn't dare flinch, otherwise she might not get away, and just as expected, a wretched scream sounds from the man's mouth as a Walker bites down on his neck - pulling strings of organ from his now paralysed body. Jane slips from his grasp, weaving in and out of the men as they alert themselves towards the walkers. Occupied with killing the monsters, the girls manage to get a head start, running the opposite direction through the forest past the other side of the road.
Branches snipped at their cheeks as they sped through greenery, not daring to look back.
Sprinting as far as they would go, they began to slow once the woods took a surprisingly downward turn, indicating that there might be a drop somewhere ahead.
"Shit, the herd," Ellie said, stopping in her tracks. If they didn't signal the herd towards them, they'd be putting everyone else in danger. If they did, the men left still alive would know where they were.
"We have to go back," Jane says, thinking of her family back home.
"Jane, we can't save them if we're dead."
"I'd rather I was dead than everybody else."
Ellie nodded at this, panting. The girls were completely out of breath, stitches paining their abdomens.
"Alright. But we have to sneak around."
Jane agrees, lifting her hand to her wet, sticky neck. The blood had began to run down her chest, staining her shirt completely crimson. The laceration beneath her chin throbbed with pain, almost on par to her nose which was definitely broken.
"Why is it always me," she huffs, trying to wipe the blood from her hands back to her shorts. Voices spark from beyond the trees and Jane grabs Ellie's arm, also staining it with her blood - and forcing the two of them to crouch to the floor.
Yes, that was all it had been.
a head start. Not an escape.
"Back up," Jane whispers as the voices get louder and louder. The pair slowly rise to their feet and step backwards slowly, cautious of what's in-front of them. If they had had more sense, they might've paid a little attention to whatever was behind them, but alas, they didn't, and a twig snap gave away the stature of the Walker ready to pounce from behind.
It growled and snarled as the men turned their way, and they had no time to do anything but push the Walker to the floor as they ran. By luck of a quick glance, Jane had spotted that there was only four of them left, and that made her regain her confidence a little. However, when the gunshots started, she quickly took this back - ducking for cover and shielding her head with her arms.
The bullets blew holes in trees centimetres from them, and it became apparent that they'd found her gun on the road. She cursed to herself, wishing she'd thought to pick it up.
"We have to make it back to the van," Ellie shouts, knowing the group won't be able to hear over the gunshots. One good thing came from this: atleast some of the herd might be directed back on track by the open fire. It seemed like minutes that they had been running, but really, they'd been hiding and scouring away from the saviours for more than forty five minutes.
The girls make so many twists that it's hard to tell where they had even came from, and when they continued further on (a few metres apart from one another) Ellie runs right into a Walker, tripping over and falling back onto it. Jane goes back to help, but the men are closing in, and so Ellie yells for her to run.
Ducking again as another round fires, she covers her ears, taking a pain-filled look at Ellie as she stabs the Walker to nothingness.
"I'll see you in a minute, I'll get help!" Jane yells out, stumbling uphill because she knows the road is up there somewhere. From what she can tell, they don't get to Ellie, but she goes a different route and is completely gone by the time she looks back at the scene behind her. She thanks god that it went that way instead of eloping to another, turning her head back around to the sunlight and pushing her feet past every tree.
Digging her nails into the lest few, she launches herself forward into the searing heat, her eyes met with copious amounts of glare and what seemed to be a road.
"Oh, fuck," she panted, the gunshots fizzling out now. Stumbling toward the truck, using one hand to guide her and the other to shield her eyes from the sun. Fumbling for the handle, she finally found it, swearing under her breath as the direct sunlight had cooked the metal to a crisp. She swung it open, clambering inside with ease and only wincing in pain once she had gotten inside safely and closed the door. Sweat ran from her forehead to her chin, which just made it more difficult to see with all the blood.
"Fuck," she whispered, looking down at her burned up hand. Frantically, she searched for the keys and luckily found them in the glove box, pulling them from their resting place and connecting them with the car. The van made a horrible struggle as she turned the key over, and after repeating this a few more times, she admitted to herself that it wasn't going to start.
"Shit!" She called out, slamming her less damaged hand on the steering wheel out of pure anger.
"Fucking men," she panted out, before ducking down past the window as more shots rung out. Lowering herself to the floor, she reached out towards the backseat where the guns were.
Her frantic searching came to a halt as she realised they'd taken everything. The guns, the bows - which she was particularly mad about - and absolutely anything she could've used to live. Another rapid fire of bullets sent the windows crashing in on themselves, spraying shards of glass all over her as she ducked behind her own arms.
The tiny crystals had definitely cut her a few times over, reminding her first of when she crashed into a mirror, with carls hands on her throat - the second, their moment from the lake a few days ago. Glass, it always came down to fucking glass.
When she remembered the walkie, it was almost too late, and coming back to sit up in the chair would be dangerous - but again, it was her only shot.
Shooting up, she launched herself toward the dashboard where the walkie had been, and grabbed it swiftly as more shots rang out. Clicking the key on the side of the device, she spoke as clear as she could into the receiving end.
"Rick, anyone, the signal, it's not been sent out. The hoard still needs redirecting, w-we were ambushed." She says, her eyes darting from window to window to beware of any break in.
"Please, the hoard, it's coming," her voice was starting to dry out, "no one is safe."
Sitting in a pool of her own sweat and blood, just soaking in the glass - an idea came to her. An idea so stupidly suicidal that it might actually work. Reaching her arm up towards the wheel, she pressed hard and firm on the horn, which would hopefully send all walkers her way.
The saviours already knew where she was, and surely the sound might draw anything away from Ellie too. And the camp - the communities, her family. The windows, completely smashed to pieces, would be easy for walkers and men alike to penetrate. Yet, the safest place to stay would still remain right here. Pain in her nose had preoccupied itself with annoying her, and now her head felt like it was splitting in half. Enid had told her, from her newfound knowledge in medical urgencies, that nose injuries usually linked to migraines and or bad headaches. Shit.
Within a few minutes, the first batch of walkers had approached the men, and what they thought was a small issue would turn out to be a big one within the next few minutes.
Screams would echo out, just covered by the horn. It seemed another two had been taken out, from what she could see, but that was only an educated guess on her part.
Trying to keep herself from passing out, she took her hands off her ears and inhaled the horn at its fullest capacity. This might not have been the best idea, as her history with ear damage hadn't been so good in the past. She'd found recently that she'd have to really concentrate to hear things clearly, and that was worrying. So, naturally, a ringing noise seemed to chip at her eardrums like a fist to a door: This was when the heat, the noise, overstimulation, and her injuries all came together to screw her over for the millionth time - and so, she slipped abruptly into unconsciousness, with the dead awaiting just outside her door.
JANE PELETIER HAD ONCE thought that the walkers were the ones she should be afraid of.
She had only known she was wrong, when she had watched the governors sword slice right through Hershel's neck.
Then it was that night, when those men had tried to attack Ellie. Then, afterwards, everything reminded her of this fact. People had seemed to tumble further and further into this oblivion because of others: what they would do for them, who they would kill. What they might seek in terms of revenge.
She had not been lying when she had accused this system of being an 'endless cycle'. Because, in coincidence, the cycle was what brought her to the forefront of this mess. She wasn't stupid, she knew damn well she was a part of it, and that what hadn't already caught up with her would. Maggie was. Her mom was. Rick was. Even Carl. They had all killed someone for someone else, and it hadn't ended where they'd wanted it.
Now, she sat with her wrists tied to a pipe above her head, her knees curled to her chest in a place she did not recognise. She held off thinking this was it, because so many times she had, and it hadn't been, and really she didn't feel like saying anymore final goodbyes in her head. She wasn't hopeful either, rather numb, actually (whether from the overwhelming pain or the lack of tears, she did not know). She has so many questions, what happened to the walkers? How the fuck had they managed to get her here? Was everyone else okay?
"Learned your lesson?" A saviour said as she opened her eyes. He had a horridly sweaty beard, and incredibly unstylish side burns. Oh, god. There's no way I can be killed by someone with sideburns.
"What makes you think that?" She asks, even though every word hurts to pronounce.
"Cause if you don't, I'll just have to teach you harder. We'll just have to teach you harder." The way he says these words make her blood run thick and cold, as she contemplates exactly what this means. There is only one other man standing behind him, which makes Jane sign with relief. Ellie was probably safe.
His face is inches away. All Jane can do to protect herself is turn her head away, and squeeze her eyes shut to pretend absolutely none of this is happening.
"I wish we could tell your boyfriend that he can't save you," he exhales, and Jane is forced to smell his horrid breath, "but we can always tell him after you're dead. After you've done what we want."
She starts to breathe heavily, her chest falling up and down extremely quick as the saviours just laugh.
Normally, she could hide how scared she was, because she knew staying calm might just be the difference between life and death. Here, she could do nothing but grimace as he lay his hands on her, and that fact genuinely scared her. She could not remember the last time she was really, truly fearful of someone else. She hadn't even been that terrified to stand up to Negan himself.
"I'm only seventeen," she pleads, something she's never done before. It feels unnatural and sickly in her mouth.
"In what world is that gonna stop me, baby?"
He runs a round finger on her jaw from her ear to her chin, following the line her bone makes.
That's when he leans in to force his lips to hers, and it doesn't feel like Carl's ever did. Thinking of him makes her want to cry, and so she tries to shove him from her mind. She presses her mouth shut as he applies more pressure. It's horrible. The worst feeling in the world plagues her as she sits and trembles beneath him. No. This isn't you, do something. Do something.
The other man backs away now, not wanting to watch any further for some unknown reason, as they seemed so eager a minute ago.
He pulls away, looking into her teary eyes, despite their angry expression. He lifts a finger to her bottom lip, pulling it down to reveal her bottom row of teeth.
"Open up, pretty." She does.
His hands descend lower down her body, finding the buttons on her shirt as he forges their lips back together again.
This time, she lets him in, as her shirt comes undone. It's nothing like Carl's gentle touch.
When the man had built up enough courage to try and stick his tounge down her throat, she instinctively bit down on his tounge, making him scream with Pain. Blood dripped from either one of their mouths as it spread between the two of them.
He clasped a hand to his stunted tounge, not able to speak or breathe correctly.
"Cat got your f-fucking tounge?" She mocked, as he spat blood everywhere. After hearing his exclamations of shock, the other man came bursting through, looking right at the scene before them.
"You're fucking crazy," he stated, in disbelief.
"Maybe." She said, her voice still shaky.
The bearded man's knife has unclipped from his belt and skidded across the floor, and as he rolls around clutching his non existent tongue, the other man just stares at the weapon blindly. Without thinking, Jane's feet go to pull it towards her, getting it as far as her waist before a boot drives right into the side of her rib cage, knocking the knife towards the man who sent the blow.
"What makes you think I shouldn't just cut this right off you?" He gestures to her shirt, leaning down to run the knife along the seams of it. He manages to cut a large slash down the front of it before being kicked harshly in the groin. She puts as much power as she can muster into the hit, and it seems to do wonders on her part. He crumples to the floor, clutching his dick as she catches her breath.
The knife is on the floor again, and this time, she manages to kick it up into her lap. Using brute force, she slowly loosens the restraint on her hands, managing to break through the fabric with enough tries. The man crawls towards her, trying to get the weapon before her hands make it (a stupid decision) but her fingers are quicker, as she brings up the knife and pierces through his skull. His body falls limp onto her, and she shoves him off, just sitting there for a moment. A sick wave of grime washes over her as she suddenly feels so dirty she wants to light a fire and step into it. Bringing a hand to her lips, she wipes them over one hundred times at-least, yet she still tastes him on her like some ungodly curse. blood stains whatever wasn't crimson already, and her hands are now covered. Able to get up now, she pries the knife from his skull and makes her way to the wordless man.
"Go to hell," she tells him, as he cowers below her like she had done a few minutes ago. Driving the knife down, it splits through his face repeatedly over and over until his head resembles nothing but a pool of blood and flesh. She thinks of what she's lost, who she's been. Sophia. Glenn. Hershel. Beth. Sasha. Abraham. If she had had the strength, she might've screamed out, thrashed at him, defied it somehow. Maybe she could've stopped it, if she'd tried hard enough. Stopped everything. Throwing the last swing, she leaves the knife face down in his skin as she shuffles to the side, holding her hair back to throw up. Her whole body shakes as bile comes up through her throat and onto the floor.
She coughs, sitting on her knees for a few moments after the flow stops. She runs a palm over her forehead, wiping sweat, dirt and blood away as much as she could. Looking down at her ripped shirt, she pulls it closer towards her body, wrapping it around her torso to try and cover the bra on show beneath it. It was far from cold, but she felt indecently exposed. She'd never been vulnerable with anyone except Carl, she'd never shown herself to anyone but him.
God, she wished he was here right now.
After a minute of procession, she got up, taking the knife from his broken skull. her legs shook as she went to walk, out the door and into the light of the forest. It was an old cabin, with a sweet porch and a "beware of the dog" sign strung up on the door. Her bloody hands run across everything as she leaves, the doorway, the banisters, the chipped mug that sat on the porch table, filled with moss and rainwater.
She's not sorry, like she might normally be after killing a duo so brutally. No, she would never be sorry for this. She advanced towards the forest path, hearing gutted groans ahead, and sprinkles of running water. The herd. It doesn't help that she doesn't know where she is, otherwise she'd know to redirect them if she could. Heading in the opposite direction, She follows the sound of water and stumbles across rocks, suddenly aware of the pain in her throat, nose and ribs. her feet hurt too, from running so far, and that in itself is something.
As the trees start to clear, she can see it, the river: an orchestra of blues and greens that reflect the sunlight in wavering patterns, beautiful and intricate. It's still and calm, if you ignore the shuffling of bushes and the cries of the undead. A delicate hand is placed kindly to her shoulder, and she jumps back like a wild animal, terrified of what might be behind her. So consumed in her own war, she'd forgotten about the battle behind her, and when she turned to meet Enid's eyes, she saw they were full of worry and relief at the same time.
"Jane, oh my god," Enid said, pulling the girl into a hug. It took Jane a minute to realise that Enid was actually real, not just a hallucination. Leaning into the hug, she cherished her friends presence more than anything in the world.
"Ellie, is she...." Jane asks, a croak evident in her voice.
"She's fine, she got back to camp. She's out looking for you right now, with Carl and michonne."
Jane nods, clearing her throat as they break apart. She wonders if Enid heard the screams of those men.
"Enid, we have to go, the herd, it's gonna get to the camp-"
"Who is that?" Enid asks, looking out onto the bridge further down the river. Squinting her eyes (which very much hurts to do), she can see a figure standing in the middle of it. She wouldn't have recognised him if it weren't for the way he was standing: gun outstretched in-front of him, his head cocked to the side. She gasped as she watched the walkers clamber towards him, something red clinging to his shirt. No matter how far the bridge was from them, Jane still tried to storm off to help him, yet she was held back by Enid, who was taken aback by the girl's fatigue. She had no power to try.
Within seconds, red erupted towards the sky as ash filled the air. The intensity of the blow knocked both girls to their feet, sending the ringing right back to her ears - worse this time. Hot, sticky blood ran down equal sides of her neck as she stared up at the broken sky. Rick Grimes was dead.
He was really, really dead.
MICHONNE GRIMES AND CARL GRIMES clung to one another greatly as they watched the bridge crumble to pieces. Michonne cried out, as Carl just stood, revelling in grief. Silent tears sprung from his eye as he registered the fact that his dad was gone, dead. Pushing past everyone else, he tried to make his way toward the bridge, when he was pulled back by the arm.
"Carl! Carl stop!" Ellie yelled, trying to pull him back but he was surprisingly strong, despite his thin figure. His tears fell rapidly now, and at this point he thought they'd never stop. His dad. His dad was gone. "I'm not letting you die!"
"Let go, Ellie."
"You go up there, it's suicide, I can't let you!"
"You're gonna have to," he states, pulling his arm away from her grasp.
"Carl, look at me." She says, and he obeys.
"What?" he asks with a crack in his voice. It's then that she can see his face, and her lips turn downwards into a frown as she notices the irritation in his eye: the redness, the tears.
"Carl, I'm so sorry."
He nods, looking down at the floor with devastation. He feels like breaking down and sobbing, something he hardly ever does in-front of anyone but Jane. Wiping the tears from his face makes no difference, as they just keep on coming no matter what he does. He wishes that she was here, because really, she was the only one who would've made him feel better. There were absolutely no words to describe exactly how he had felt then. His heart may as well just have been ripped from his chest and torn to shreds, right Infront of him - The warmth of his dad's words, his hugs, his love runs through him. Overwhelmed by the hurt, for a split second, he wished that he had died back when he was supposed to.
He thinks of his mom, her death, how much it destroyed him. He lost them both, and he might as well have just lost Jane, too. He had everyone so worked up about her getting lost, that he'd never stopped to think about where his dad had gone. He assumed he'd just had some mission to go on, something he needed to fix before coming right back to watch his son get married.
God, all that seemed so far now. It felt like weeks had passed since their last conversation, when really, it had only been a few hours. He started to freak out when his need for Jane became urgent, his need to know she was alive. His need for her arms to pull him in and tell him everything was going to be okay.
The group collectively decides to wait it out, make sure it's clear, before retrieving his body. Carl's stomach churns at the idea of seeing his fathers body blown to pieces, or even just seeing the body at all. Seeing the body just made it all real, and maybe, if he was to walk away, it would hurt less. He could pretend his dad was just lost, like Jane had been. Like Jane is.
But again, this is something he can't ignore. And so, when he ventures out into the mess of debris, he repeats their last conversation over and over.
After an hour of looking, he sits himself down on a rock by the river and pulls the loose ring from his pocket, running his thumb over it lightly. It no longer makes him happy, it is no longer a symbol for the future he wanted. It's a memory, a memory of what could've been. A memory of what he almost had. First, it represented his mothers loss. He recalled when she used to wear it on a chain, round her neck when they'd thought he died. Then, it represented his fathers loss of his mother. Now, it was his, and he'd lost the two of them, hadn't he? Maybe even Jane too. That hurt to think about, so he tried to push it away.
"Carl!" Came a voice from far beyond the trees. Enid's voice.
He shot up, ready to spring right into Jane's arms, to feel safe. Yet, when he turned, he thought he should do the opposite. Seeing her standing there, clutching her ears, soaked in blood, hanging onto Enid for dear life - made him want to lash out at anyone that had so much as touched her. He ran up to her as she just looked at him, taking his sadness in and making it her own.
Advancing towards her as fast as he can, he notices her shirt, torn perfectly down the middle despite her efforts to keep it together.
Oh.
He wraps his arms around her as she grabs fistfuls of his shirt, trying to get as close to him as she can. She can't hear anything he's saying, her ears are too damaged, but she just wants to be close. The others move back to give them space, and Carl sobs into her shoulder, burying his nose into her skin. Between what happened to her, and his dad's death, he feels like the world is about to end. He kisses her cheek as she curls into him, rocking her back and forth slowly.
"You're safe now," he whispers, though she can't hear it. He pulls away, taking his hoodie off to place it on her shoulders.
"I'm so sorry," she manages to croak as he falls back into the hug. He's still crying, she knows it from the fear in his face and the pattern of his breathing. She's not aware that her words are even making words, but she still says this, because he needs it.
After staying like so in one another's arms for a minute or two, they break away. Carl presses their foreheads together, again, thinking about what could've happened instead of what did. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, he thinks. It's not exactly the time to get on his knees and pull out a ring. This thought ultimately leads to another spiral of emotion. This was supposed to be the best day of their lives.
The car journey home was silently depressing. Neither of them stopped crying, it was just less obvious as they stared out opposite windows. Michonne drove, which both teens were thankful for, as tired as they were. Carl's face turned sour as they approached Alexandria, and Jane understood it. The next difficult thing would be walking into that house, seeing Judith, seeing all the places where Rick should've been.
Where he wouldn't be.
Carl spins the ring between his fingers, hidden by the pocket that it sat in. He lost a piece of himself that day, and a piece of Jane too.
- help I absolutely hate making them all sad and stuff but I love writing it :3 I'm so sorry for any trauma that I've caused but I have to tell you it might get worse before it can get better
ALSO LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING POOKIES