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Clementine was torn from her sleep and woke up startled, panting, and cold sweating. She barely noticed she was sitting up in bed before her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Trembling, she buried her face in her hands, taking deep breaths to calm herself.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
Gradually, she felt her heart rate slow and the trembling subside. The nightmare still lingered, though, and her blanket was damp with cold sweat. Clementine ran her hand over her face and sighed. It was the second or third night in a row she’d had nightmares (she’d already lost count) and it was beginning to take a toll on her. She could barely focus during the day or muster enough energy to hunt or fish, and she was grumpy and snapped at the smallest of things, causing her to unintentionally hurt her friends and, most important of all, AJ.
Clementine turned her head and watched AJ, asleep in the bed opposite hers. His expression was peaceful, now, but she knew he’d had plenty of nightmares of his own. She didn’t have to ask him what they were about anymore, because their dreams were the same. She still did, though, in case talking about it would help him, but she never really got much of an elaboration outside “it was the one with the ranch again” or “it was about Marlon”.
Clementine’s nightmare tonight had been about Marlon, too. But also about the repercussions of what AJ had done, the emotional consequences more so than the physical ones. AJ was only six years old and he had killed someone. A living, breathing human being – one who had already surrendered, too – and not a walker. Most of her waking hours were being spent taking care of and worrying about how best to raise AJ as it was, and now she had to help him deal with… this? With murder?
She was at her wits’ end. With the worry that she’d slip right back into the nightmare if she attempted to fall asleep again, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet. The mattress creaked as her weight was removed from it, but AJ was sleeping soundly and didn’t budge. That was a surprise, since he usually jumped up at the slightest of noises. Clementine assumed he might be too exhausted to be as alert as he normally was. It was a relief, actually – having him in bed at night and not crouching on top of their bedside table with a shard of glass in his hand.
Clementine shuddered at the memory.
Everything was silent in the hall outside their room. It had been so quiet since Marlon, as if a blanket had been lain over everyone. They were more subdued, not as talkative, didn’t laugh as often as they used to. Affected more than others, though, was Louis. Clementine didn’t see him much because he seemed to simply be avoiding her. He could only muster up a few words of conversation with her at their meals, and she could have sworn that mixed with his troubled expressions of grief, she saw the tiniest drop of contempt as he looked at her.
Just the thought of him hating her and the image of his pained face burnt into her mind were excruciating and made the corners of her eyes prickle. She hurried outside into the crisp night air.
The gentle wind rustling the courtyard was cool, but not yet freezing. Still, Clementine pulled the collar of her jacket closer around her neck and stuck her hands in her pockets, trying to block out some of the cold. This kind of cold didn’t seem to be able to be blocked out, though.
She took the few steps leading down from the main entrance and began walking toward the graveyard. From there, she could circle back around the fountain and head back inside. She childishly hoped that she could ditch the remnants of the nightmare by the graves, so she could have a few hours of decent sleep before the sun came up.
Her eyes were fixed to the ground as she walked, watching where she would put her foot down next, taking note of the exact way the gravel crunched underneath her soles. Maybe if she kept focusing on something tangible, the intangible fears would ease off. It wasn’t quite working, but she kept trying; kept trying to divert her mind’s attention from what it wanted so badly to think of and find a solution to.
Her concentration came to an abrupt halt when she suddenly crashed into something, almost stumbling as she did. That something turned out to be someone – and that someone was Louis.
He’d had his back turned and spun around to see who had bumped into him. He looked seeking and confused at first, but when he recognised Clementine, his face changed to that familiar, pained expression with that piercing, heart-wrenching hint of contempt. It almost made Clementine feel nauseated. That sinking feeling in her stomach worsened when she noticed his eyes in the faint light from the lantern he was carrying: bloodshot, baggy, and so, so exhausted.
“Oh. Clem…” he mumbled, his voice raspy and hoarse. He coughed before speaking again. “What… what are you doing out here?”
Clementine tried to talk, she really did, but the uncomfortable lump in her throat only grew bigger with each word she tried to get past it, her eyes stung with pent up tears, and her chest was tight with all the thoughts unsaid. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a pathetic sob. It was loud, backed up by all of her uncertainties and fears and worries, but she couldn’t stop it, and it was quickly follow by another, and another. Then the tears came, hot and unhindered; streaming down her face. Her body convulsed with her cries and she felt like her knees could give out any second. She wrapped her arms around herself.
“I— I—“ she stammered between sobs, “Louis, I’m so—I’m so—so sorry. P—Please—Please don’t hate me.”
Clementine thought she saw Louis’ expression soften slightly through the blurry curtain covering her eyes.
“I— I know—Marlon was your friend, and—and I had no idea he—he—he would—“ She attempted to get her breathing under control, but instead ended up sobbing harder. “I—I—I don’t kn—know what to do, L—Louis… I’m—I’m so scared, f—for AJ, I don’t—I don’t know how to he—help him, and—and… and—I can’t—I can’t take seeing you like this, y—you’re so hurt, and it’s—it’s my fault, I couldn’t—couldn’t control—“
Clementine heard the faint sound of the lantern being placed on the ground, and then soon after felt Louis’ arms wrap around her. She clung to him for dear life, burying her face in his chest, and cried.
“Pl—Please don’t h—ha—hate me…”
“I don’t hate you, Clem,” Louis said softly and put one hand behind Clementine’s head and began gently stroking her back with the other. “I don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”
Relief flooded Clementine’s already overflowing heart. She cried more, even though she thought it would be impossible. Louis stood with her as she wept, resting his chin on top of her head and rocking her tenderly from side to side. Clementine had never seen him like this, so affectionate and compassionate, but she didn’t want him to be any other way.
Eventually the sobs had eased off and the lump blocking her words had disappeared, and she was left with a headache, a sore throat, and tired eyes. But now she could talk.
“This was so pathetic,” she muttered and scoffed into Louis’ shirt, which now had one, tear-soaked spot on it.
“Not as pathetic as my shirt,” Louis replied, not removing his arms from around her or his head from the top of hers. “I think I can wring this thing. We would all have drinking water for a month.”
Clementine chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. I just… I didn’t mean to… unload all that on you. About AJ, I mean. I don’t know what to do with him. I don’t know what’s right to tell him or what’s wrong to tell him. Some of the questions he asks are impossible to answer…” She sighed. “I don’t know how to be a mum, or a sister, or whatever I am to him. Maybe I really shouldn’t be taking care of him.”
“Well, as you know, I’m, like, super smart in a lot of areas,” he started, jokingly, “and as far as I know, raising a kid is hard as hell, and there isn’t a wrong way or a right way to do it. You just do what you can for your tot and… hope they turn out all right, I guess.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about. About what he’s turning out to be.”
Louis shrugged and sighed. “I don’t know. But what I do is that you’re probably the best person to be taking care of him. You’ll make sure nothing can harm him, and that’s what he needs. And since I’m such an educated and generous gentleman, I’ll lend you a helping hand with him now and again.”
Clementine blinked and furrowed her brow, backing her head away from his chest to look at his face, arms still wrapped around him. Not even a shadow of the contempt was left in his eyes; it had been replaced by the familiar glimmer that was always there before – the Louis she knew… although the willingness to take on any sort of responsibility was new. “You’d… help me take care of him?”
Louis smiled, for what Clementine believed to be the first time in days, and it caused her to smile back. “Of course. And I don’t mean just mesmerising him with my incredible piano skills. I also mean, y’know, in general.”
She laid her head against his chest again and squeezed him close. His arms tightened around her as well. “Thank you, Louis.”
“Don’t mention it, Clem.”
They enjoyed a moment of calm silence, simply standing with their arms around each other, but barely half a minute had passed before Clementine had to stifle a yawn, days of continuous exhaustion and the night’s relief finally catching up to her.
“Aww, is Clemmy sleepy? Does she want her Louis to sing her a lullaby?” he said in a mock baby voice.
Clementine felt her cheeks go slightly hot at ‘her Louis’, but she managed to suppress any trace of nervousness in her voice. “Shut up.”
“Are you sure? Louis would love to hum her a little song.”
She finally gave in, because she knew he wouldn’t. “Fine. But only humming.”
“You got it.”
He began humming a slow tune, and Clementine recognised it immediately. “That’s a lullaby!”
“Exactly! You’re going to sleep soon, aren’t you? So it’s perfect. Now stop complaining.”
Clementine chuckled, and he continued humming the tune. It was a classical lullaby that she knew had always been used to put babies to sleep, and she felt silly that it actually made her relax even more.
She could’ve probably fallen asleep standing right there in his arms… if his singing hadn’t brought her out of her reverie. “Go to sleeeeep, go to sleeeeep, go to sleeeeep, dear Clem-my, go to sleep—“
“I thought I said only humming?”
“I just got caught in the moment. It happens when you’re musically inclined like me.”
“If you say so.”