[DISCONTINUED] FIND YOU ( T...

"Are we under attack?" Haley was quick to question, frantic eyes darting back and forth between The Governor and the supposed "victim." "What should we do?"

"Everyone," The Governor began, spinning on his heel to face the group of onlookers, "please just go home, lock your doors. We need to keep everyone safe, okay? So just get inside, keep your lights off."

Once the crowd began to disperse, muttering concerns under their breath, the Governor turned to face the ones who remained: his own private militia. However, Jack couldn't necessarily say much; she and Elijah were right there with them. "We're under attack," the Governor quietly stated, so as not to draw any more attention. "You fan out and you find these people. Don't take any chances, or try and take prisoners... You shoot to kill."

The small group of pseudo-soldiers split and only Jack and Elijah remained. As the Governor stepped forward with his eyes glued to Jack, mouth hanging open as he began his sentence, Elijah automatically put a hand on Jack's shoulder and led her away from the older man. "You want to go home?" he asked quietly, slowing to a stop in the middle of the street.

"Why would I?" she shrugged.

"Well" he looked around at the smoky, warmly lit warzone, "it's dangerous. This doesn't have to be our fight."

"Elijah," she sighed, rolling her eyes exasperatedly, "you, of all people, cannot say that. Let's just get this over with."

Stopping her from walking away once more, he let out a slow exhale. "Can't you talk to me for a second?" he questioned. "I know we argued, but-"

"I'm not mad," she interrupted. "This just doesn't seem like the time or place to discuss it."

"So let's go home."

Jack took a step toward him, trying to be as calm as possible. Every fiber in her being was screaming with anxiety and worry; the possibility that these "intruders" were more familiar faces was just overwhelming. It would be a logical explanation, considering the prisoners, but at the same time, it made no sense at all. She was back and forth between wanting to be hopeful and just wanting to lock herself in her room, and here Elijah was wanting to discuss their relationship. "I don't know how to say this without sounding dumb, but...," she trailed off, "I'm worried it could be the rest of them. The rest of the group. I know that's not likely and makes no sense at all, but I never thought that I'd see Glenn or Maggie again - and look what happened with that. I'm not saying that I'm about to go get myself caught in the crossfire, but I-I just need to be sure."

"And even if it's not," he breathed, "we can get Glenn and Maggie out."

Exactly. Jack nodded with a brief smile; she knew Elijah could be useful, so long as he wasn't stuck in the tarpit of his own mind. Of course, there were things that they needed to talk through, she just didn't want to do it in the middle of a battlefield. Battlefields, apparently, were for deciding between stupid fucking hope or stupid fucking hopelessness. Not heart-to-hearts.

Jack knew that there was a 99.9999% chance it'd be just some raiders or walkers. And she almost hoped that it would be, so that she could just go home tonight and get a good night's sleep. After everything, from Merle to Glenn to this, she just wanted to rest. Additionally, she just wasn't sure if she was ready to ever meet one of them again. It was hard enough convincing herself to talk to Glenn, to reveal this watered-down and weathered version of her, but if it were Shane or Rick or Lori? How would she ever manage? How could she ever justify hating herself as much as she did?

Elijah pulled her from her thoughts by returning from the small smile. They both took a short breath, heads turning to peer down the street, where smoke suffocated the view. There was a moment of tranquility, of emptiness, where neither said anything but knew exactly what to do.

Jack went first, pulling her pistol out as she began to immerse herself into the smoke. It was different; the smoke seemed so thick from the outside, but Jack noticed that it was more of a mist than anything. Either way, she was standing idle in the middle, Elijah at her side. It wasn't just a war zone anymore, but now a reality; bullets zooming back and forth their heads, panicked people running past them.

Jack watched as the light emitting from guns ablaze began to retreat into one small area: towards the entrance of what used to be an antique store, before the outbreak, but was now just a storage area. What normally would've enticed her into strategizing, made her intrigued little soul drag her body all the way over to the doorway. Though Jack stopped at the corner, waiting a moment before peeking, Elijah trotted past her and swiftly shot back with a pained groan, a single bullet casing dropping to the cement.

Eyes wide, she instinctively yanked him from where he stood to her corner, mumbling something even she couldn't comprehend. Though the smoke clouded her vision, it seemed like his gunshot wound to the upper arm wasn't too serious (it looked like just a graze, but she couldn't be sure) - but he was still shot. And she was still trying not to panic.

Releasing a sharp breath, one arm raised her gun while the other tried staying with Elijah to keep him back. She stepped out into the brick archway, gun immediately focused on the first head in sight. However, it dropped just slightly once she actually gained sight of who exactly she was aiming at: Rick Grimes, her father.

Something about that moment, where their eyes met from above each of their guns, spoke a million words to Jack. The last time she'd seen him was the farm, the living room, near the piano, where they argued about morality and she walked out before he could see her cry - she remembered every detail. It replayed in her head every so often, like a catchy song in a movie she never liked. And here they were, 8 months later, face-to-face in the middle of a battlefield.

She glanced to Daryl, to Maggie, to a bloody Glenn, to some guy that she couldn't recognize - but she looked right back to Rick, gulping nervously. Tears of unknown intent threated to well up in her eyes as she finally spoke, voice breaking, "Y-You can't be here, you know that? You gotta go-"

"Jack-"

"No," she immediately cut her father off, shaking her head. This wasn't the time to talk or to reunite or to do anything. Somewhere between Glenn getting beat and coming face-to-face with her father, she unconsciously decided that maybe Woodbury wasn't the best place to belong. Maybe it had to do with Elijah's outburst, too. He put the seed of the thought in her head, but she was the one who let it grow.

If she didn't want to stay at Woodbury anymore and if she couldn't bear any more time on the road, there was only one other option: home. Home didn't equate to an arbitrary farmhouse anymore, but she didn't really care. She knew that if she went home, she wouldn't have to give herself to men she wasn't fond of, and then maybe she and Elijah could stop arguing. It was like a win-win, and no more thought was given.

Jack stepped to the side. "Elijah," she breathed, placing her hand back onto his shoulder, "you're okay?"

"I'll be fine," he managed, nodding just slightly.

Eyes barely meeting through the grey haze, she nodded. "Okay," she said. "Go with them. You can get them out quick."

"Wait," he leaned off the wall, "what?"

"Get them home. They'll have a fighting chance of making it there if you go with them," she answered quietly. "Just do this for me, please."

"You're gonna come with me, right?"

Jack nodded, not able to form a reply. Elijah was supposed to act as her anchor, the thing that it would give her no choice but to follow them home. She couldn't talk herself out of it now; if Elijah was going, so was she. "Cut through the alleys until you get to the east wall; they should be able to climb over," she told him, a hand on his shoulder. "I'll make a distraction. Just get them home."

Before Elijah could form any type of response, Jack stepped back over to Rick and the others, pulling Elijah with her. "My friend's gonna get you out of here," she said, gesturing to Elijah. "Don't come back."

"You'll catch up to us?" Elijah questioned softly, his voice meek under the glares of everyone huddled in the doorway.

Jack only nodded. Realistically, she had no idea what to do, but she knew sending Elijah out seemed to be most logical. How she'd get herself out was another question; the pseudo-soldiers were beginning to close in as the fog dispersed. All of them running for the same wall at once was a deathwish, so it was her job to divert the attention. It was their job not to die. "Don't wait around for me," was her only response as she began to back away, only giving small glances to the familiar faces huddled in the doorway. Not even giving Elijah a chance to reply or even just to say goodbye, she spun on her heel and began to walk in the direction from whence they came.

Still in the eye of the smoke cloud, she slowed to a stop as she began to realize: what was her story? How could she justify running into raw danger with Elijah at her side, and then strolling out without him? She knew one thing: her priority was making sure they could get home. (They only wanted to rescue their people; that, Jack understood. She almost sympathized. More than anything though, it was just an underlying ounce of love that made her protect them. She'd never admit that, though. If someone were to ask her, as she stood in the haze of smoke, she'd tell them the same thing she told Merle: "I never want to see them again.")

A few moments of inactivity later, she finally sighed. She knew what she had to do. It was stupid - stupid and blind to consequence - but it made so much sense in the moment.

She brought her pistol back out, cocking it hesitantly. Finger on the trigger, she lowered it again - blank eyes staring off into the grey nothingness of the smoke. For a moment, everything faded into tranquility. Fires weren't blazing, commands weren't being shouted, and bullets weren't flying. It was just her, the smoke, and the gun.

She pulled the trigger.

Collapsing to her hands and knees, she let out an involuntary cry. Trying her hardest to breathe through the throbbing pain, she tried pulling herself towards the Woodbury soldiers. But the pain was unbearable and she found herself rolling onto her back, clutching her bloody foot. But her sporadic sobs and heavy, panicked panting must have attracted some attention - for she found herself being pulled away from the remnants of smoke just seconds later.

Of all the people crowding around her with meaningless questions, she identified just one face: The Governor's. In that moment, though, instead of being filled with the usual dose of disgust and contempt - she found herself to be consumed by it. (No doubt: Elijah's fault.) Her sweaty, shaky hand reached out for his so that she could pull him closer to her level, lying right to his face when she murmured, "West wall."

And then it all faded.

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jack:

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