Archive of Our Own ^beta

Outside the window Clementine could see the black canvas of her past in the shape of the sky behind the stars. There was the wash of purple and deep blue and black in a watercolor darkness, the emptiness between the spaces, the forgotten memories. There was the cold, bright light of the stars jumping outward to hang below the background, those that grew brighter every year, the moments she still held.

She did not miss being on the road, traveling, never staying still long enough to make a home. At times, though, she did miss the beauty of the stars.

Christa had snuffed out a campfire and counted the stars with Clementine, on a summer night during those two years where they had protected each other. It was later, when the grief of Omid’s death and the loss of Christa’s child no longer burned quite so bright for either of them. They were spending the night atop a dilapidated parking garage, and for a brief period of time Clem had felt safe, Christa beside her, voice hoarse as she pointed out constellations that Clementine now could not remember. She wondered now if Christa had been holding back tears. She was more familiar now with that particular emotion than she had been once, even after everything had started.

So much of her life had been lived on the road, ever moving, the stars above her head.

She sat on the piano bench, still. She stared at the stars out of a window, and the light from the purple candles danced around her.

She couldn’t remember Lee’s last name.

She had been trying, sounding out words in her mind before dismissing them and throwing them away. She knew that he used to introduce himself by his full name, first and last, a declaration of who he was. She could almost hear the cadence of his voice, low and deep and sounding like safety and understanding and kindness and loss. Yet whenever she got close it eluded her, dancing out of her grasp. Her throat constricted, but her eyes were dry.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I know you care about me. You remember what I taught you, and that I love you, and that’s enough.”

She never knew if she was doing him justice, in her mind. It felt cheap, to presume his words to her, but it helped her keep living, keep moving, keep making the hard choices, and maybe that was enough. “I know Lee,” she thought back, and she sagged, dropping her eyes from the stars.

There was a shuffle out in the hallway, and then Louis was peering through the doorway. When he saw her he smiled, and for a moment it was like a light had turned on where there was previously darkness. “Oh! Vi’s not here yet. I hate being the last one. When I’m late you both look at me with just a little bit of judgment and I’m like, ‘Hey I was watching the kids!’ and then you smile and she laughs and I just feel a little personally victimized you know?”

When Louis rambled, as he often did, his hands moved with his voice, creating patterns in the air. Comforted, Clem watched them move. Her heart softened, but maybe that was a mistake, because suddenly she felt tears in her eyes.

Then Louis’ eyes met hers, and they softened too, and he was kneeling in front of her, and she was holding his hands, grasped between her knees. Her stump leg swung once below the knee, and stilled.

“Hey,” he said, a soft noise of comfort. “Hey, Clementine. You alright?” There was a flash of expression across his face, maybe embarrassment, and then he continued, “No, wait that’s a stupid question. I…uh…what are you thinking about?” Clementine let her hands fall from his hands to his elbows and tugged him upward. Louis transferred the motion to drop onto the bench beside her, eyes open and earnest and the type of flustered love that she never got tired of (or used to) seeing.

There were not many tears, just two, three tracks down her face. She let her eyes flutter closed, trying to think, to stave off the sorrow, to block out the images around her. “I was…” she began, and then hesitated, breathing, breathing. “I was thinking about what it took to get here,” she said, after the pause stretched a little. Her voice was soft, but not shaking. Good. “It’s just, I have all these memories in my head of people that I cared about and some of them are fading. And I don’t have many ways to remember them by.” She opened her eyes and sought his. He was looking at her earnestly, the crinkles that formed around his mouth and eyes when he was being serious. Each time he looked at her seriously her heart ached a little. Louis was a being made for joy, and she felt like she was taking advantage of that, taking advantage of him. He gave her laughter, and she gave him moments like this. 

She loved him though, and so she said, “I told you about what my life was like after it all happened. I just was missing…them…all of them. There’s so many who made it so I could get here.” Breath in. “To you.” Breath out. “And I love this place and I’m so, so glad I found you all but I just wish AJ could have known them. All the other people who made it so he could survive. Survive and then live.” And then her voice did break, and she dragged a hand across her face, wiping away the tear tracks, and she shook, just a little. “I’m sorry.”

“No! No, you don't have to be.” Louise was speaking almost as soon as she had finished saying the words, like he wanted to circumvent any apology as baseless. It was with such fervor that Clem couldn’t help herself. She gave a small laugh, and wiped her eyes again. “Well you don’t,” he said again, and it was so earnest that the laughter died almost as quickly as it began.

“I know,” she murmured, and hugged herself. He hugged her, an arm slung around her shoulder, tucking her into him.

“It’s okay, you know, to feel sad,” Louis said, after a pause, and Clementine squirmed and glanced at him. “I heard you saying it to AJ,” he clarified, “and I heard AJ say it back. He’s a smart kid. He knew you were right too, smartypants.”

Instead of responding Clem leaned further into the hug. The names played in her mind. Lee. And Christa. And Kenny, oh god. Luke. Susan. Gabe. Javi. So many others. For some she couldn’t even remember their names.

Tucked into Louis’ side, she had stopped crying. It was comforting, in its way, that she hadn’t lost herself even in this. One tear, two, three, and then stop, chin up, keep moving. She breathed. “Well,” she said, “my pants are smart.”

“Damn right,” replied Louis. 

“Damn right, what?” Violet said, ducking through the door. “Should I be worried?” She looked at the scene, registered Clem’s red eyes, the way she was curled into Louis, and said, “Shit Clem, are you alright?” Almost before she had finished she was shaking her head, frowning, “Sorry, stupid ques…Louis why are you laughing?”

“Me? Laughing? I wasn’t laughing,” said Louis, laughing, “It’s just that that’s exactly what I said.”

“I’m fine,” Clem said, straightening. “Just thinking too much. We should get started.”

Violet paused, her one eye trained on Clem, considering. Apparently finding what she looked for, she nodded. “Okay,” she accepted, “but take care of yourself alright? We do better with you here.” It wasn’t quite a “We need you,” but the weight still fell onto Clementine’s shoulders. Vi was right. She had people counting on her.

Violet’s recovery had been long, hard, and in many ways ongoing. One of her eyes was totally ruined, though in a late card game she had admitted to the older kids that she could still see light out of it. Her other eye was better—she could actually see out of it—but still was not as good as it used to be. Every once and a while there would be a scare. Vi would wake up with it irritated, or unable to open it, or in more pain than normal. Usually, thanks to Ruby, it turned out all right, but every time Clem felt a fresh surge of guilt.

One day, when Violet was, unprompted, trying to relearn using Marlon’s bow, they had discovered she had difficulty seeing more than a certain distance away. Her depth perception was gone, and according to Louis her hand eye coordination was nothing like it was. It was obviously frustrating her, though she had not spoken to anyone about it. 

Other wounds, however, were not quite so visible.

Clem had noticed Vi’s continuous attempts to try to make up for her short-lived betrayal. Like Louis, she blamed herself for Tenn’s death. She went above and beyond what was expected of her. When her injury got in the way of completing a task she would do her damnedest to finish it anyway, and without help. She worked and worked to make up for what she did, long past what was expected of her, and long past she was forgiven. She did it all with a silent, heartbreaking determination to earn her way back into their trust.

Clem ached for her. She had made many mistakes, seen many decisions that she thought were the best in the circumstances at hand go wildly awry, caused many deaths. She wished she could help, but when she tried, Violet pulled away.

Clem knew, in her heart, that it was not Violet that needed to re-earn trust.

Still, they had reformed their friendship, tentative first steps and olive branches turning into inside jokes and shared looks of exasperation and looking after the others. Every once and a while they would talk into the night about other things, their pasts and their hidden doubts and Louis, but, after Vi’s initial, awkward apology, never the events on the ship or Minnie’s death.

It was hard, but they were moving forward.

“Okay,” Clem started, “The agenda for today is food,” as it always was, “safe zone,” which always came next, “and then caravan. We also need to start talking about winter soon.”

This was a familiar routine. About once a week, by Aasim’s count, Clem, Louis, and Vi would meet to talk about what needed to be done. They would quickly review hunting and lookout schedules, which stayed fairly constant, and then talk about any new problems that would arise.

Clem could hardly believe how easily this came now. It was just under ten months since they had been rescued, and already it felt like these people were her family. If she was honest with herself she had felt that way almost as soon as she had arrived. Something had clicked for her in this little community in a way that had never happened before. Maybe it was because all of them were troubled, in the end. Maybe it was because this was the longest time she’d felt safe staying in one place since, well, Lee. Whatever the case, she was glad she had found them.

They moved through the schedule quickly. There weren’t any new injuries, which meant that the hunting and fishing agendas remained static. Ruby had requested help searching for edible plants in the surrounding area, so she was delegated Willy. It was Louis and AJ’s (and Rosie’s) turn to patrol.

Clem stayed. She always stayed. Even when AJ and Willy had gifted her with her peg leg, she was not comfortable on the move the way she used to be. She was learning medical care from Ruby, she was learning to cook from Omar. She worked in the greenhouse and practiced her shot with the bow. She attempted jogging around the campus with her peg, shoots of pain spiking through her leg, until Ruby told her to take it more slowly. She could do almost two laps now.

Maybe soon she would go out again. If you had asked her before she got to Ericson’s, Clem would have adamantly denied that she would ever miss being on the move, if she found a place where she could stay, but this stillness irked her in a way she couldn’t quite describe.

She trusted AJ with Louis. More than that, she trusted AJ with himself. She had knelt in front of him and told him so. Yet they had been together so long, relying only on each other, that it still did not feel right to watch him go into even relative danger while she was safe.

Never go alone.

“So what are we going to do about the caravan?” It was Violet, and she and Louis were looking to Clem for answers. Clem, who was still just making it up as she went along, felt a dry sort of amusement at this. She tried her best, though. She always did. 

The Caravan, as it was called by the kids, was a group of riders and a covered wagon that passed by their little area once every month. The exact day varied, according to Aasim, but its schedule was fairly constant. It was going and returning from something, presumably two communities, and Clem was increasingly conflicted about contacting it.

Louis and AJ had decided not to, that first day. The riders, according to Louis, were well armored in something that wasn’t just cobbled together, but a uniform. White, and official looking, and faceless. Louis had reported that one of the women had their mask off, and was laughing. AJ reported that they were heavily armed.

“It could be the Delta,” Louis had acceded to Clementine that night, “but I have a feeling they come from closer than that. The Delta had to travel weeks up the river to get to us. They’re just…riding. It might even be the people they’re fighting.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re good people,” Clem had pointed out.

“No,” said Louis, “but it also doesn’t mean they’re bad.” Then he had grinned in that shit-eating way of his, falsely cocky and trying to get her to laugh.

She had obliged him, but then quieted and said, “It’s a moot point though. You said they passed us by.”

“Didn’t even look at the turn off twice,” Louis had replied. That had been that, until they saw them again the next month. And the next. 

“You know the drill,” Clem said. “On your patrol Louis, watch them, don’t let them see you, make sure they pass us by.”

“That’s the thing though,” Violet interjected, in that quiet and determined way of hers. “I love this place, but we’re running out of food. We’ve been finding pockets of supplies in bits and pieces, but we have to go further and further outside the safe zone. Hunting is barely keeping us afloat, and it will just get worse. It's still summer. We’ll need to figure something out.”

“You’ve made it through winters before,” Clem said. “We did alright this last one.”

“Yeah,” Violet acceded, “but you brought with you the first major pocket of food in a while. The one before that was hell. We lost…we lost some kids. Marlon wouldn’t let me leave the safe zone. And when he finally…he took Sophie and Brody…and Minnie. And. It was bad.”

Louis’ eyebrows were drawn together, a line of stress between them. It was the mention of Marlon, Clem thought, that had his shoulders draw together like that. The wound was fading, but it still hurt him, Clem knew, just as Minnie’s name still hurt Violet.

As was Louis’ style, though, he let the grief sit for only a moment, and pushed forward. “So we could contact them,” Louis said. “The caravan. They pass us every month. If they’re trading, we could get in on that action.” Violet shot him an exasperated look.

“Or we could follow them,” she said. “Figure out where they’re going. If it's a good place or not.” 

Clem’s mouth tightened. She knew there were good people in the world. She’d seen it herself. That didn’t change the fact that contacting them was dangerous. She agreed with Violet that it was safer to observe any group before reaching out.

Sending people out though—they would be put in danger twice over. One if the caravan noticed it was being followed or two if they didn’t return from what would be a month long journey outside the safezone.

It didn’t sit well with Clem. And they weren’t quite that desperate yet.

“We’re doing more to prepare for the winter this time though,” Clem pointed out. “Ruby’s begun planting actual edible food in the greenhouse. She salvaged the wild tomatoes, and there were some berry plants. The traps and hunters are doing very well. AJ and I are teaching you how to salt meat and can food so they last longer. Besides, what would we trade?” Her voice drifted, decision made. She looked at Violet, “It might yet come to that Vi, but we have some time. Louis, don’t let them see you, don’t go after them.”

Louis nodded. “Your wish is my yadda yadda,” he said seriously, and Clem’s mouth quirked upward in fond exasperation.

“Alright,” said Violet, “I think that’s everything for this week. No injuries, and the kids have been as good as they ever are. I’ll…I’ll leave you two to it.” She gave a half-smile and moved to stand from where she had plopped on the floor in front of them.

Clem gave her a small wave, and Violet nodded, an acknowledgement, before ducking out the door. 

It was not infrequent that their meetings would end like that, on Violet’s command. For a while, Clem had wondered where she went, why she ended it so abruptly before it could drift into the night, but more recently Violet had, one night, pointed up at the tower of the school and mumbled about checking the defenses and watching the stars.

“I used to go there before everything happened,” she had said, and brushed the piece of her hair that fell into her eyes over her ear. She was not quite meetings Clem’s eyes, but her head was turned so her good eye could see Clem in her peripheral. “It’s…it’s what I was going to show you the night of the attack.”

It was the first time she had brought up the attack on the school, and implied her subsequent capture, for quite a while. Her eye ducked farther down, and then back up to look into Clem’s face. “You’re my friend, Clementine,” she said haltingly. And then, “I wish I could show you.”

Clementine had asked why she couldn’t. Violet had blushed and responded that it was a bit of a climb. That had explained it fairly well, and the conversation had drifted into awkward silence until Louis had popped out of somewhere, plopped down next to Violet, and turned the conversation towards the kids.

Louis always seemed to know what to say, even if it was by accident. Louis was taking more and more responsibility now. Clem was not a prideful person, and so she did not really see what everyone else did—that Louis was doing as best he could to help them all because she had inspired him, and because he wanted to live up to her expectations.

Now they were alone again, and Clem’s hand found his. Moonlight and starlight were pushing in through the window, and the purple candlelight was lighting up his face in a way that accentuated its laughter lines. Clementine looked at him and found herself smiling softly. 

Clem was all too aware of impermanence. She had been on the road so long, almost all of her life. Sometimes there would be a breath, a moment, and brief respite, and then back to reality. This was the longest place she’d ever stayed. These were people that she couldn’t stop caring about.

Home. Home. Home. It chanted like a mantra in her head, while she watched Louis’ brow furrow. His eyes stared at a world that she couldn’t quite see, looking around this room. It chanted like a mantra, and she thought that perhaps it wasn’t the school, perhaps it wasn’t even seeing AJ sleep in a bed.

It was the way AJ laughed without fear. It was Vi and Louis’ snarky rapport and Omer’s cooking and Ruby and Aasim’s quiet attempts to recreate civilization. It was the fact that Willy and AJ had tried their absolute hardest to make the peg leg more comfortable. It was Louis. It was this family she had found.

Louis. She wanted to build a life with him.

She kept thinking of Richmond.

In all of her wandering, Clementine had never seen a community work. Even with Javi, even with Kate, she had been so very sure that Richmond would fall. The belief had sat, ugly and loathsome, at the back of her heart. She didn’t believe it all the time. She didn’t believe it with ill intent. She believed it with the quiet and awful certainty of someone who had seen too much. When she had found AJ, she did not go back.

This place had changed her mind, and she hadn’t even realized it until it was too late.

Here she had stopped. Here she had stood. Here she had fought for a home.

She had never done that before. She had just ran and ran and ran. Always keep moving, Lee’s voice whispered in her ear.

But Clementine had fought for this place and then stayed; and that meant…that meant that Richmond might still be there. That the war she walked through and refused to walk through again could be over. That Javi might have won.

She had never thought about her future before, and she cursed and loved this place for making her think of it now. She thought about growing old here and she wanted more. She wanted a purple house with Louis and AJ, one floor with enough rooms for them and everyone else here, spreading out, claiming land. She wanted the ability to be useful again, one leg or no. She wanted AJ to be able to grow up and be a firefighter, she wanted that so much that it hurt.

It was impossible. Of course it was impossible. And yet. And yet.

She thought about the fact they were running out of food. She thought about the fact that when she was eight before the world had gone to shit she had told her dad she wanted to be a doctor. She thought about firefighters. She thought about Jesus, that man she had met who had told Javi there was more than just them.

She thought about Richmond. 

She thought about hope.

Her grip of Louis’ hand, soft and big and warm in hers, tightened. He looked down at her, pulled back from wherever his thoughts had been drifting, and kissed her on the forehead.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, and it came out a quiet rasp.

Clem did not know how to say it, and so she just spoke. “If,” she said, her soft voice breaking through night silence with tangible force, “If we did contact the caravan. If they were good people and had a community that was safe and established and everything. Would you want to leave Ericson?”

Louis frowned, an immediate negative, but unlike he would have done when Clem first arrived he didn’t speak right away, giving the question serious consideration. His hand didn’t leave hers.

Eventually, he asked, “Why would you want to?” It was honest confusion, simple curiosity, and just a little bit of fear. Louis had not been far from Ericson for almost eight years, Clem remembered. Clem herself had always been on the move, traveling on foot, in a car. She had seen more of the world, broken that it was, than she ever had before the apocalypse. The thought of leaving must, to some extent, be terrifying for Louis, she realized.

She would have to explain. To speak her mind was not a trial for Clementine, but to articulate these thoughts, to say out loud things she barely had thought to completion—that would be harder.

“I told you about Richmond,” she said. Louis nodded, eyes on hers, unless she chose to look away. “I want to know if it’s still safe. I left it behind and I didn’t check and then I thought it wouldn’t be, it couldn’t be, but now.” She breathed in sharply. Breathed out slowly. “I keep wondering if there’s places like the way things were, y’know, before. But I’ve seen so many fail that it seems like the world is just…empty. But then I have AJ and I found you and this place and I’m beginning to wonder whether it is possible again. A life that doesn’t include hunting and constant danger and herds passing through. Where, where we can build a purple house. Where this,” and she kicked her stump, swinging outward, no leg attached. “Where this doesn’t matter to overall survival. Do you remember what it was like not to be afraid?”

Louis’ gaze was soft upon her, her hand clasped in his. His voice was low, and still just a little raspy. “No,” he said. And then, “Too many people have died for me not to be afraid of losing another.” He was staring at her, and Clementine knew that in this moment, he meant her. 

“Louis,” she said, and love was in the word. She stopped then, though, because even through all of that he still had this place, he still had a home, and she couldn’t say that, that would be awful. He wanted her to explain, and she needed to, but not that way. 

She turned her hand over in his. Her non-amputated leg fidgeted up and down. Her gaze turned from his to the sky. “I go back and forth,” she said. “Finding this place made me start to think about feeling safe again, but living here is still so different than the way it was. And it’s so dangerous to go out into the world. To contact people. To look for people. To contact the caravan.” Her leg stilled.

“And then I thought of Richmond. Thought that maybe if it’s still going, if it actually turned into what Javi wanted it to be then…then maybe AJ could be a firefighter. And I wanted that.” She turned look back at Louis, and her face was very close to his. Her voice dropped. “Louis I wanted that a lot.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but then she kept speaking. She was looking at him, looking past him, furiously whispering into the purple candlelight. Now that she had started, it was hard to stop. “And I was thinking about what home means to me, and that it isn’t this place Louis, it’s these people. It’s AJ and you and me. You’re my family. And then I was thinking about life before and trains and crayons and school and everything. And we’re not the last ones left, we can’t be. It can’t just be eight kids, their dog, and people like the Delta. Can it?” Her voice, cracked then, fears and hopes articulated.

She kept going, though, because she had to. She needed to say these words. “And then I was thinking of Richmond, and the fact that I know where it is. I think I could find it. And maybe. Maybe it could answer these questions. Maybe it’s thriving. Maybe it didn’t stop thriving at the first setback it had. But to check it would mean being on the road again, and that is so damn dangerous. And anyway it could all be for nothing. It could be burned to the ground. We could be the last one’s left for I know. It’s not worth it to make that trip unless Richmond is there, but we won’t know if Richmond is there until we make the trip.” Her voice had raised, not into a shout, but into a regularly pitched speaking tone, passionate and clear and quick. “And Louis I’m not going to do anything, or suggest anything; of course I’m not, it’s not safe for the kids, for Willy. But…but learning how to cook better is not all I want for the rest of my life.”

Somehow his hand had come up to touch her face. He was looking at her with wide eyes, a little scared, a little concerned, a little heartbreakingly hopeful. After a moment he opened his mouth again, and paused a little before he spoke, as if giving her the opportunity to interrupt him. Clementine, though, was looking at him, eyes wide, as if she could make him see what she saw. When he did begin to speak, his voice was low, strung. “Do you really think that’s possible?” he said, and it was like the idea had not even occurred him before this moment.

“Yes,” Clem breathed, but then, “no. I don’t know. Louis, in my experience even this place is the exception.”

Louis’ face did something complicated, but there was a light in it there had not been before. He swallowed, searching her eyes. He breathed. Instead of following up this thread, though, he said, “You’re a long way from useless, Clementine. We might not have even survived the past winter if you and AJ hadn’t come.”

He paused. Then his eyes widened in realization. “It’s not just hope, is it? You’re worried about winter. You’re trying to think of options.”

Clem’s throat had gotten hoarse, somehow, so instead of speaking, she nodded. 

“It…” He sounded hesitant even saying it. “It might work.”

“No,” Clem said, then cleared her throat. “Right now we try to make sure it doesn’t come to that. And the caravan option is probably better, if they have a community and isn’t, well, evil.” An analytical look came into her eye. “The fact that they look like they’re trading probably bodes well.”

Louis half-smiled. “Why is contacting people so much of a bloody gamble?” he quoted, and Clem made a small, surprised laugh.

“How do you do that?” she asked. “Remember the things I say?” 

“I like to pay attention to you,” Louis replied, his smile become broader, more genuine, “and anyway you’re pretty wise.” The compliment was so genuine Clementine could not help but touch his face in turn, palm cupped over cheek. Their foreheads, already close, touched.

Then Louis was kissing her, and for a moment everything else fell away. They were together, and whatever happened they would face it side by side.

After a fair number of moments had drifted past, Louis pulled away, though not far. “So you do think Vi’s plan is a good one?” he said, as if continuing the conversation where they left off, though now they were both more cheerful. “Follow the caravan, see where they lead. You shot it down pretty hard. When I tell her she might be annoyed at you.”

Clementine snorted. “When,” she said.

“Hey,” said Louis, smiling, “you two talk about me too.”

“I,” Clem started, and then sighed. “Honestly, I don't know. I keep falling back to ‘not yet.’”

“And if not yet then when?” Louis said, speaking in cadence, finishing her thought rather than challenging her.

“Exactly,” Clem replied. “But really not yet I think. I don't want to gamble when we’re still ahead.”

“Yeah,” said Louis. Their hands were between them, and they were facing each other. For a long moment he stared down at their clasped fingers. Then quietly, like a confession, he said, “I don’t really want to leave Ericson.”

Clem, too, stared at their intertwined hands. “Me too,” she said softly, and sighed. They stayed there, together, for a little while longer, looking at each other, looking at the stars.

AJ was asleep when Louis and Clem got back to their room, curled up over the blankets. He had probably tried to wait for their return, and Clem felt a pang of guilt for keeping him up like that. Pencils were still strewn over the desk, as well a small, mud-something that AJ had sculpted and then let bake in the sun. He had confidently informed Clem that it was a dinosaur, and she had smiled and agreed.

Louis, more assured now after months of being told he was their family, moved towards AJ’s bed almost without hesitation. As he approached Louis called AJ’s name carefully, making sure AJ was aware he was there. Though AJ slept harder now, after months of not being afraid, at Louis’ voice he still woke almost immediately, tension flooding through his body. Clem’s heart panged at this, as it always did. She wondered if they would ever be able to truly sleep without a background worry and fear.

Almost as soon as the tension was there, however, AJ relaxed. “Louis,” he said, and his voice sounded so small.

“Yep,” Louis said, and he knelt by AJ’s bed and smiled. Clem moved to kneel beside him. She watched as AJ blinked sleep out of his eyes, yawned.

“We just were saying goodnight, kiddo,” Clem said, “and making sure you brushed your teeth.”

“I did,” AJ protested, and he might have been indignant if he had not been still tired enough that the protestation was weak. “And I made sure Willy did too, even if he didn’t want to.”

Clem smiled, her eyes soft. “Good job goofball,” she said, and leaned over Louis’ shoulder to kiss him on the forehead. “Let’s get you tucked in.”

“I tried to stay awake for you,” AJ said, as he slipped under the covers, “to make sure you got back safe.”

Clementine’s hand brushed over AJ’s brow. A silent thank you. A gesture that repeated all the conversations they had with each other about the fact that he did not have to always be vigilant anymore. A gesture of love. He had gotten so big, and Clementine remembered smearing him in walker blood and walking through herds to keep the two of them alive. He had fit in her arms then, young as they both were. He fit in her arms now.

“I’m sorry we made you wait for us,” she said instead, and then “I love you AJ. Sleep well.”

He was turning over under the covers, and she could already see how easily he would drop back to sleep. He ended up curled up, facing towards them and their bed. Facing the door. “Louis,” he said, voice small, “will you sing to me?”

As he always did when AJ asked this question, Louis smiled, a small, genuine thing that was just a little bit sad. “Yeah, kiddo,” he said, “But only if you close your eyes.” AJ did, just awake enough to make a little bit of a show of it. Louis huffed a small laugh, and took Clementine’s hand.

There, kneeling by AJ’s bed in the room the three of them shared, he sang.

AJ, Louis, and Rosie were out longer than they should have been. It was frightening, this waiting, though it was not the first time it had happened. Ruby and Willy had gotten back perhaps an hour ago, and Aasim and Vi were gearing up to go after them, their movements a stiff with controlled tension. As Clementine joined them by the gate, Aasim lifted the bow over his shoulder.

“No Clementine,” Violet said, before Clem had even begun to speak, “No way. There’s a procedure for this. You put it into place.” Her voice sounded just a little to loud to the ringing in Clem’s ears. 

“Vi,” said Clem, “I’m ready to go out there. I can move. Run. Slide. And I can still use a gun. It’s time.” Her words were insistent, faced paced, and bellied by the alarm in her eyes. Aasim was studying her face, frowning.

“Clementine,” he said. “You should go back out there on your own terms.” The lines of his mouth hardened. “I’ve never known you to be stupid. Don't start now.” Clem could see where this was going. There would be an argument, that she would either win or lose depending on how dirty the two in front of her fought. Vi would be insistent, appeal to her honor, her leadership responsibilities, their friendship. Aasim would do all this too, but he would also quote her own rules back at her. She would go, in the end, but she didn’t have time to argue it.

Clementine’s heart was beating fast. She had a gun in her jeans and the peg leg was secured. Her hair, longer now than it had been was tied back. The lines of her mouth hardened too, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Clementine!” Louis’ voice rang through the woods, and Clem’s eyes shot wide. “Clementine open the gate! We need medical assistance, fast!”

It was as if time, for a split second, stood still. Then Clementine moved, as fast as she could, as fast as she had been learning how to. She was at the side gate in seconds, catching herself on the bars, searching through the bars, combing the woods for the source of Louis’ voice. For a split second she could not see him, and her heart thumped heavily in her chest.

Then he flew out of the trees.

Louis was sprinting through the woods, as fast as he could, encumbered as he was. There was someone in his arms. For a horrible second, Clem thought it was AJ, and the whole world stopped. Then reality set in. She could see AJ. He was running behind Louis, with Rosie at his heels. The person in Louis’ arms was clad in white, armored. And there were more people behind him, three at least. Soldiers. Clementine’s heart thumped in her chest, high on adrenaline and fear and the razor focus that came to her in situations like this.

Violet appeared beside her, mouth tight, shoulders back. She turned to Aasim, and ordered, “Get Ruby.” Aasim nodded and sprinted off. She looked at Clem and Clem understood, nodded. Clementine found herself reaching for the lock, turning it, stepping out of the way so Violet could pull the door wide open. 

The company ran through, bee-lining for a picnic table where they could lay the mystery person out. As soon as the last figure passed, Clem jogged after them, jogged straight to Louis, who, after hurriedly arranging the person on the table had stepped back, and looked to her. His eyes were wide, adrenaline scattering focus.

As she approached, she saw that it was a woman on the table, brown-haired, slight, and unconscious. AJ had climbed onto the bench and cut the straps of her armor. As he heaved the plate away it became evident that blood was spreading from her hip, seeping through her clothes. One of the strangers, the only one still in full armor, watched over his shoulder. AJ glanced up only once, knife still in hand, and then put it back in his boot, and pressed down on the wound. It hurt to see how calm he was.

“What happened?” she asked Louis, deathly serious, a question demanding an answer.

“Forget that!” one of the other figures snapped, dragging off his white helmet, a frantic look in his eye. “Kid, we need help and we need it now.”

His gaze met hers, furious, and furiously afraid. It was quite abruptly apparent that they weren’t just carrying weapons, but heavy duty ones. Large automatics were slung over the three strangers’ shoulders, though none of them had reached for them yet. Suddenly, Clementine was deathly calm. “Is she bit?” she said, and stared defiantly back.

“No.” It wasn’t the panicked one, who was still staring at her, angry, breathless with fear. It was a softer voice that came from behind him. A tall, slim woman put her hand on the man’s arm and pulled him back, stepping forward toward Clementine in the same, smooth motion. “It was close. A fair number of walkers came out of nowhere and startled the horses. Her’s dislodged her. She got hit when we were clearing them out around her.”

“Gunshot,” Clem said to her, and the woman nodded. “Okay,” she said, “okay.” For a split second she met the woman’s eyes. The woman looked at her without malice. It was a dry sort of request for trust, one that assumed suspicion. Clementine relaxed minutely, and she nodded again, half to herself, decision made.

She began to move towards the table, then, limping on her peg. As she did so, life breathed into the air again, as if everyone had been holding their breath. 

Clem ordered, “Violet, get the supplies. Hurry. Louis find Willy and Omer. Close the gate. Watch the walls.” The two, in sync, nodded, and ran towards the school. Clementine put a hand on AJ’s shoulder. He looked up at her, nodded, and he stepped sideways on the bench, making room for her. Even as he moved his hands away, and she pulled the shirt back. Three separate entry wounds were there. The woman had been hit with the stray splatter of an automatic. Clementine looked at the two helmetless strangers, at the one panicking man. The calm woman now had a hand on his shoulder and was speaking softly in his ear. For a split second, Clementine felt a surge of ill-timed exasperation.

There was not time for that. She had a job to do.

Time moved strangely in the following hours. Ruby arrived, Aasim at her heels. Violet sprinted out of the school, arms full of supplies. Clementine and Ruby removed the bullet fragments, one of which had been placed terrifyingly close to her stomach. Aasim regarded the strangers with doubtful suspicion.

At one point the woman woke up screaming and passed out again as they continued to dig for the fragments. The helmeted figure, hovering over Clem’s shoulder, had removed his helmet at this. Eventually he also removed himself to the other side of the yard, where he sat with his head in his hands, helmet sandwiched between his knees. There had been tear tracks on his face.

Ruby treated and stitched the wounds. Clem kept pressure on. Louis and Willy left the school at a run and climbed the watchtower at the end of the yard. Soon after, Louis called Aasim over, and Aasim shot down off of the wall with his bow several times.

The kids were circling the yard, and Clementine was pleased to see, even as she worked, that they had followed her procedure. Good. Willy was sitting towards the strangers rather than the world outside, gun in hand. Omer was standing behind him, gazing out over the yard. AJ and Violet had also moved to the corner of the yard, opposite the tower. They were sitting on the steps of the school, side by side, and their eyes moved from stranger to stranger. Rosie lay beside them.

The woman, noticing, looked at Clem, eyebrow raised. Clem jerked her head, mouth flattening. It was better to be safe than sorry, and the woman should know that. Trust did not mean stupidity.

The minutes slipped by, breathless, as they fought for this life that they did not know. The courtyard maintained a static tension, stretched taut over all of its inhabitants.

Eventually, after perhaps a little more than an hour had slipped by, Ruby turned her head toward Clem and said, sotto voce, “I’m about done here. Out of curiosity, when am I gonna find out what happened?” There was an amusement in her voice, slightly misplaced in the wrought atmosphere.

Clem gave a small snort, for Ruby’s ears alone. “As soon as I do,” she said.

Ruby looked at her, and her mouth was twisted, some combination of amusement, distraction, and worry. “You should find out,” she said, and then, a harder focus entering her voice, “are we in danger?”

Clem pushed her shoulders back. That was the question, wasn’t it? Were they in danger? Whatever else happened, their entire situation at Ericson had just changed. The reality of that fact was just beginning to catch up to Clem.

They were known. No matter where they went from here, people would know where Ericson was. Her conversation with Louis last night circled in her mind, and she pushed it back out forcefully.

She couldn’t lie to Ruby. “I don't know,” she said, voice low. Ruby pushed her hands from the last entry wound, and began treating it. Her eyes glanced up at Clem, and then back down at her project.

“Clementine,” she said, “find out.”

Clem stared down at the blood on her hands. It was mostly dry now. She placed the blood-stained cloth on the bench below her, and said to Ruby, “You’re almost done?”

“Yes,” Ruby said, and then, “I don’t know when she’ll wake up. At some point we’ll have to move her inside.” Clementine nodded and stepped back. Her gaze turned towards the two strangers, the woman still comforting the other. She glanced, too, at the man propped up against the wall of the courtyard. He was still staring at his helmet, and she could see from where she stood his chest rise and fall in deliberate breaths. 

It was time to figure out what the hell was going on.

She stepped back from the table. “Louis!” she called, “Violet!” She walked towards the steps, and the three converged very near the spot that Marlon had been shot. The co-commanders moved to her side with an immediacy that suggested that they, too, must have been anxious to figure out what was going on.

The newcomers were watching her now, drawn by her voice. Other ambient conversation in the yard had ceased. AJ had followed Violet, and the four of them now stood in a loose circle, a little apart from where Ruby still worked, far enough away from the people in the yard to keep this private. Clementine looked to Louis’ face, and when his eyes met hers, he gave a tight smile. There was blood on his shirt from where he had been carrying the slight soldier.

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

Louis told her. Before the caravan had come they had come they had run across a small group of twenty or so walkers, traveling together.

“We were trying to lure them away one by one,” Louis said, serious, eyes on hers. “Throwing stones, you know. But it was taking longer than expected. We were trying to lead them toward the border, direct them out of our path if any of them got away. But we only had gotten six or so dealt with before the caravan showed. They must have started earlier in the day than they usually do. The walker’s heard them and went after them, and then another smaller group of walkers converged on the other side. They were surrounded, and AJ told me to stay back, but after the injury happened I couldn’t just…I might have…run in.” 

Clementine could picture it, the whole scenario playing out before her eyes. She wished she could be more annoyed than she was, but she had an awful suspicion that she might have done the same thing.

Louis continued, “And when we had dealt with the walkers. Well. I knew we could help.”

 He was looking at her, face concerned, as if worrying that she would judge him. AJ burst in, “They seemed cool. I mean, between panicking they thanked us for helping and then didn’t try to kill us.” Not trying to kill them was a low bar to surpass, Clem thought, with an unexpected burst of amusement, but given AJ’s life it was an unsurprising one.

“No,” she said, “It sounds like you were just trying to do the right thing. I…won’t say whether it was good or bad yet but, well, they have continued not trying to kill us.” Violet, too, gave a small smile. The phrase must have amused her as well.

“I’m going to talk to them,” Clementine continued, “I’d like it if you two came with me, Vi, Louis. AJ, go back to the steps. You were in a good position.”

“I know,” AJ said, smiling, cocky, and ran back to where Rosie still lay.

Clem paused for a moment, taking Louis’ shoulder and shaking her leg with the peg attached. She had been standing for a while now, and the stump was starting to ache. He grasped her elbow, and she gave a small smile in thanks and as she resettled. For a moment the three of them stood there, a loose circle, staring at each other. Clem wondered if they, too, were having trouble grasping the enormity of what was happening. “Okay,” she said after moments and moments had slipped by. She started walking towards the two standing strangers. Violet and Louis stepped in behind her. 

The woman, already observing their small conference, looked critically at them as they approached. The man with her was young, Clem noticed. Not as young as herself, but young enough to have been a young teen at the start of the apocalypse. The woman was slightly older, though not by much. 

“So,” the woman began, and she unexpectedly flashed a small smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. Sorry for my unconscious friend.” Clementine heard a muffled choke from behind her, and she knew Louis had just muffled a startled laugh.

Nevertheless, instead of responding, Clem just asked, “Who are you?”

The woman’s smile tilted. “I’m Johanna. This is Mikey, and the woman on the table is Elaine.” She turned her head toward the man against the wall. He was sitting up now, watching them, but he still had not moved. “That’s Eduardo,” she said, “He and Elaine are close.”

Clem nodded, then paused. Now that she was here, no question seemed quite right. She wanted to know about who they were, if they were trustworthy, where they came from, where they were going. Nothing seemed to take precedence, however, when there was a woman laid out, injured, not far away.

Instead she said, “I’m Clementine. This is Louis and Violet.”

“Nice to meet you Clementine,” Johanna replied, and tilted her head in query. “What are you going to do now?” And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? What Clem was going to do. 

Clem eyebrows drew in, and she looked up at the woman in front of her, considering. “That depends on you, I guess,” she said. “I’m sorely tempted to try to patch up the woman…Elaine…and send you on your way.”

“She’s going to live?” Mikey said, suddenly, a desperate hope in his voice.

“I,” said Clem, and hesitated. “We think so,” she said, after a pause. “Ruby says that it was lucky the splatter just hit her hip. But I can’t make any promises.” There was a rawness to the naked relief that flashed across the man’s face. The more she interacted with these people, the more convinced she was that they were not malicious. She was scared of that instinct, though. It had gotten her hurt before. It had gotten others hurt before. And killed.

The woman was no longer smiling, and her eyes trailed on the unconscious woman. When she looked back at Clem, though, she didn’t continue to pursue Mikey’s question. Instead she said, “Sorely tempted. That doesn’t sound like a promise.”

Clem paused. “I’d like to talk to you first. I want to know where you come from. Where you’re going. I’m…not confident in our ability to disarm you at the moment, and I don’t know how comfortable I feel about that.” It was a gamble. Clem had left open room for a number of reactions here. The woman looked conflicted, but it was telling that Clem did not feel afraid.

She said, “We could disarm. As long as you give us our weapons back when we leave.” Clem felt her heart lift, just a little, in relief. They were safe for now then, though with no promises that they wouldn’t come back in force. It was, at least, one hurdle down. The man with her looked stressed at this proclamation, but did not contradict her.

“Okay,” Clementine said, “that’s a good start.” The woman nodded perfunctorily and lifted her automatic from over her shoulder. The man with her, after a pause, did as well. Carefully they placed them on the ground and stepped back.

“Eduardo,” Johanna called, and the man against the wall braced himself and stood. “Put your weapon over here,” she said as he approached. “We’re building trust.”

Eduardo glanced at Clem, in a look that might have been appraising if he didn’t still look just slightly lost. “Alright,” he said, voice hoarse, and unslung his gun, a rifle, as well. It joined the pile.

“Violet take them,” Clem said, and to the group in front of her, “You’ll get them back when you leave.” Violet nodded, and carefully retrieved the dropped weapons. She slung them over her shoulder and moved towards the school, glancing backwards only once behind her.

The woman nodded, as if to say, ‘now that’s done.’ The two men flanked her, a silent show of support just as Louis was providing Clementine. “We’re from the Commonwealth,” she said, and there was a short pause, as if expecting a reaction. When none was forthcoming she looked slightly surprised, but continued nonetheless, “We’re a collection of communities that trade with each other, and have a standing government…and defense. We run a small trade caravan from the main body of the Commonwealth in Ohio to a couple of the communities in Virginia. You know, Richmond, the Hilltop, Alexandria.”

She was speaking in cadence now, a spiel for a place that was so obviously not practiced as to be vividly true.

But Clementine, at the name of Richmond, had felt her stomach drop from beneath her. If this woman was from a community in contact with Richmond, if there was more than one community in contact, if there was somewhere with a standing government, if there was a standing defense, if, if, if. They were hypotheticals she had played with herself and then been annoyed with herself for playing because the hope they gave her would never come to fruition. What this woman was describing was more than just a standing community—it was a civilization.

It was impossible.

It would change…everything.

“We’re one of the smaller trade groups, but we also travel fairly regularly. We're privately owned; we just rent the armor. But we bring a lot of the specially made handmade weaponry from one community to another. Take orders, that sort of thing. It’s dangerous, yeah, but we’re a small group, and can stay quiet and move fast." 

She was giving more information than she needed to now, watching Clem’s reaction, trying to make sure that Clem would believe. She included the details to make it genuine, and maybe if Clem had more doubts than that would have worked, but the woman had said Richmond. The woman had named what might have been the one community she could have to make Clem trust her.

Louis, from behind her, said, “Holy shit.” The woman dropped off, glancing from Clem to Louis, with confusion, or maybe expectation. 

“Richmond,” Clementine said, and it came out a whisper, so she repeated, “Richmond.” Her mouth worked. There was a moment of absolute silence, and then Clem was talking. It was like a floodgate had opened. “Javi? Is he there? Is he in charge? Is he alive?” The last word squeaked out of her, and maybe it was embarrassing except that if this was true, well, it was more than she could have possibly hoped for.

It would be insane, a crazy coincidence. It would be too good to be true. There was no way. And yet, “Javier Garcia?” the woman said. “You’re asking after the mayor of Richmond?” She laughed. “Yes of course he’s there. Do you know him?"

Louis, behind her, laughed. It was not a laugh of humor, but an expression of pure joy, something almost too graceful to touch. “Oh my god. Clementine,” he said, and he was turning towards her, and she was turning towards him, and they were hugging, grasping each other tight. Louis laughed into her hair.

AJ, from the steps, ran up to her too. He had been in earshot, they all had been, and he was looking up at her with wide eyes, hair wild. “Clem!” he said, “It’s one of your people. That means we’re not alone!” He was smiling too, small, and bright. He was just seven now, so incredibly young, and then it was too much because Clem was crying into Louis shoulder.

The woman looked shocked, then happy, then just a little sad, the kind of sadness that comes with witnessing a joy you know you cannot touch. She didn’t speak, though, when Clementine gathered herself together. Nor when she knelt by AJ and he hugged her around the neck, jumping up and holding tight. Nor when Violet returned, and the kids started converging, and Clementine had to explain it all over again.

Eventually, though, Clem turned to face her once again. Mikey was smiling beside her, the worry softening around his eyes, and Eduardo had drifted to sit next to Ruby on the picnic bench. Johanna then said to Clementine, “So what happens now?”

And that was the question wasn’t it? Because this did not change the fact that Clem could not easily leave Ericson, not without putting her friends into danger. This did not change the fact that there was a woman hurt and in pain in their care. This did not change the fact that they had to hunt and stay vigilant to survive.

All it meant was that Clementine Everett could let herself hope for a wider world, where Louis could be a musician, where she could be a doctor, where AJ could be a firefighter, and where they could live feeling safe, together, at peace.