I felt so embarrassed asking him to stay with me, but I hadn't slept once since I'd woken up last night, I couldn't.
I didn't feel safe.
Staying at the hospital.... It made me afraid to close my eyes in case someone was just waiting to come through the door after me.
I rubbed my face unhappily.
I was so tired, and I ached so awfully.
I felt so much for Kuza, Francesca, she --- she'd deserved so much better then that.
So much better.
And she could have survived the bites...
They could have been together.
I pressed my fingers over my mouth, feeling sick, then remembering the feel of Chris kissing me, careful because he knew I was hurt.
He was so considerate.
It was odd.
I'd never met anyone like him.
And damn could he kiss.
I frowned at myself, then stood, slowly making my way downstairs. I'd given Chris enough time to go and be with Kuza, and I was really thirsty now.
Devin and Ricky sat at the table as I hobbled by, grumbling about how bad the city was getting, how we were going to have to scavenge far and wide for supplies come winter.
"Why don't you just farm?" I sighed, grabbing the cold pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring myself a glass. "Plant some stuff and we can have fresh garden supplies. We can always can or freeze it for later."
"Yeah, we're from the city, you expect us to farm?" Ricky snorted, his eyes on my forehead. "I couldn't keep a plant alive."
"I'm sure we could figure it out," I sighed, sipping my water. "It can't be that hard, can it?"
I glanced out the window, seeing Kuza kneeling by a mound of raised dirt, his shoulders slumped as he leaned forward, and Chris was beside him, wearing a shirt now, talking.
"So, Kels, can I ask you something?" Ricky asked, sounding curious.
"Hmm?" I turned my eyes to him.
"Ryan told us that Kuza told him that he walked in on you and Chris getting busy. That true?"
Sweet god.
My face flushed, and I shook my head quickly, denying it. "It wasnt like that."
"Sooo you weren't getting busy?"
"What does that even mean, Ricky? What were we busy with?"
"Well, fucking, if you want me to be blunt."
"Ricky!"
"Ricky!"
He merely chuckled at me and Devin, both of us mortified.
I glanced at the front door as it opened, Chris stepping inside with a sigh. He glanced forward, and just shook his head.
I sighed.
"Has he eaten anything?"
"No," Devin shook his head. "He hasn't moved from that spot, not since the funeral."
"How can you call that a funeral?" Ricky muttered, all of us looking out the window to stare at Kuza. "We put her in the ground, said a few words. She doesn't even have a marker."
"So make her one. Get some wood, hammer it together and mark her name on it," I said, Chris coming to stand behind us where we all gathered at the sink, gazing. "It wouldn't be hard."
I felt him thread his fingers through mine, and I gave him a comforting squeeze.
"It might help him," Chris spoke after a moment. "He needs... Something."
"She was his other half, there's nothing you can do that will make his loss any better," I said, thinking of Chase. "It's just going to hurt worse and worse, and he'll either get over it or let it consume him so he can join her. There's only two ways it goes."
"Spoken like someone who's gone through it," Devin glanced at me.
"We've all gone through it," I muttered, stepping away from all of them. "We just handled it differently."
Honestly, losing Chase would have consumed me if I had been on my own.
If it wasnt for meeting the guys and them basically taking me in, I would have been like Kuza, wasting away somewhere nearby where I'd left him, unable to go on. I would have let my grief consume me, because I had felt like there hadn't been anything left for me.
All of my family was dead, all of my friends, and then I'd lost the last person that had meant anything to me, and I'd had to kill him...
I had wanted nothing more then to just die and get it over with.
But they had saved me, they'd kept me alive and kept me going and kept me with a task, and that had helped so much more then any of them would ever realize.
Any of them.
I glanced at Chris as he moved toward the fridge, looking weary, and then at the guys where they sat at the table, neither of their faces happy either.
We could get through this again, we could get Kuza through this.
He just needed a little push like I had.
I stepped by Chris, squeezing his arm lightly to let him know I was leaving, and he nodded, his dark eyes watching me as I moved out of the kitchen and toward the front door.
I quickly stepped outside, immediately feeling the heat and humidity.
I stepped off the porch, glad someone had fixed the screen door where I'd broken it when Charlie had bit me.
I walked over to where Kuza sat, and slowly knelt down beside him, not wanting to move too quickly in case I spooked him; he was in a very fragile state right now.
I glanced at his gray face, seeing his eyes bloodshot and skin red from his tears. He didn't say anything to me, he didn't even look at me, he just gazed vacantly forward at the mound of dirt.
He needed to know it wasn't her anymore, that the Francesca he knew wasn't the one buried beneath the ground.
She was still with him.
She would always be with him so long as he let her.
As corny as it sounded, she would always be in his heart, all their happy memories together and her laugh and her smile. She wasnt going to leave him alone, by himself, and none of us would either.
We would help take care of him for her.
But he wasn't ready to hear any that just yet.
So I didn't say anything, just looked over at the dirt.
It was just a mound right now, just upturned earth; there was nothing there to make it comforting, to make it any better for us living.
Was there anything I could do to make it better?
I frowned, then stood after a thoughtful moment, walking off into the field and picking some of the wild flowers. I stooped, making sure I only picked the prettiest ones.
I stepped back to the grave, separating them out slowly.
I dropped half of them in Kuza's lap, and after a moment he looked down at them.
He lifted one in his hand slowly, his eyes roving to me.
I sat mine carefully on top of the dirt, making sure they looked as nice as I could make them.
I was being slow and precise, making sure he knew exactly what I was doing and had time to comprehend; grief-stricken brains never worked on the same level, especially when they were consumed like he was.
Kuza frowned, lifting the mess of flowers into his hands, and for an awful moment I thought he was going to throw them away.
"I know they're not what she deserves," I said softly, my throat tightening, "but it's the best we have to offer. She seemed to like yellow."
Kuza didn't say anything, but did lay the flowers down, bowing his head slightly.
I let my breath go, seeing he let them rest beside mine, at least making it look more like a grave now instead of just disturbed red.
"Red." he said after a moment, hoarse, and I looked over at him quickly. "It's her favorite color."
"Then we should find her some red flowers," I said gently, taking his hand and squeezing. "Roses, maybe? We could plant them here for her."
"She.... Would've liked that."
Past tense.
That was positive.
I just squeezed his hand again, not saying anything.
He didn't need someone smothering him with words they hoped would make it better, because the pain wasn't ever going to go away, and nothing could ever make it better, either. It would stay there, in his chest, a dull ache until eventually it started to fade a little, started to lose its sharpness.
But then it would just rise up with a vengeance, reminding him of all that he had lost and not letting him forget.
And he could either accept it, or let it consume him again.
One of two ways.
I let my eyes trail up and over towards the trees, becoming lost in my thoughts, companionable silence nice for once, even if it was grief-heavy.
We sat there for a while, not speaking, and after a while he turned to look at me.
"She really liked you, you know." he croaked after a moment. "She thought you were strong."
"She was strong. I could never have survived so long wearing heels like she did." I said, trying to keep the mood light. The heavy morose aura over here was almost smothering, and he needed to come out of it.
His lips quirked slightly, just like I'd hoped they would.
"Yeah, she was serious about looking good despite everything else was shit."
"I never once saw her when she didn't, " I said lightly, holding tight to his hand. "She put everyone to shame."
Kuza nodded in agreement, and he glanced over at me, his eyes trailing over the bandages on my face and running into my hair.
"They hurt you too, didn't they?" he whispered, a dark look overcoming his face, his jaw clenching.
I raised a hand to my face self-consciously.
It was always my face.
"I should have let that hospital burn to the fucking ground with everyone in it," Kuza muttered after a moment, reaching over to brush my hair behind my ear in a familiar gesture he and Chris shared. "Saved both of you pain. I could have prevented all of this bullshit, kept the two of you safe. I just... I never expected them too... Fucking Martin," he muttered abruptly, his tone furious. "He deserved worse then what Ryan gave him."
"What did Ryan give him?" I asked, startled.
Kuza frowned, but then blinked, as if realizing something. "You were unconscious, I forgot."
"What did Ryan do?" I pressed, though I wasn't sure if I wanted to know after all.
"He ripped his throat open with his teeth."
"What? Why!?"
"He was hungry, why else?" he snorted. "Dudes gotta eat, right? Even half-zombies."
Ryan... Had ripped his throat open?
But --- why would he?
What had happened?