Chapter Text

Tight robe

Ah, you’re awake. Good... Oh, you’re looking for your headset? - That’s that. You can stop looking. No more Sam, no more Abel - just me. And you, tied up to the back of my Jeep. No Maxine, no Paula.

And the car keeps on driving no matter how much your lungs burn. No matter how much every new breath rattles in your throat and hurt, expanding your chest, aching down and being forced back up.

Your legs feel like cement, at the same time like jelly in your joints, and you fear, every step, that you’ll collapse, that it’ll be the last step you take.

You know, I rather admire the physiques of you runners … – but every cloud, as they say… Look at you - healthy, strong. You could probably run for hours without stopping.

But the car keeps driving and you stumble after it. The chain around your wrists is tight and you stare at it, eyes stinging. You make sure the rope stays loose enough not to accidentally tug you forward, making you stumble, make you fall.

You listen absentminded to the voice of Van Ark taunting you, praising you for your stamina when all you want to do, wished to do is stop, just stop. Your body is crying for help, exhaustion pulling you down, making every step worse - heavier, slower. But still you go on. What else is there to do? Stopping would mean death. You don’t want to die. Not after what you went through. Not like this. Not alone.

He mocks you, drives you through thistle bushes just to see you jump and duck.

Ah, look, a small pack of the shambling undead! Wouldn’t it be fun if we drove through them, just for the sport of it? They might chase you! I know how you enjoy that. Pick up the pace, Five.

You pick up the pace, even though you thought you couldn’t, couldn’t go any faster, any further.

If I have to die, you think, it would be with my other runners, with Sam in my ear, telling me to run – or telling me that I did good. That he is there. That I am not alone and he will be with me. Not like this. Not chained to the back of a car for a mad man’s amusement.

You wish you had your head-set on. Had Sam’s voice in your ears, telling you everything will be okay. That they are already on the move, having a plan to get you back – even if it’s only a lie to make you feel better. You wouldn’t care, as long as Sam keeps speaking to you. Sam would spew insults at Van Ark through the speaker, you believe. Would call him all sorts of names and threaten to kill him himself for what he was doing to you.

The thought almost makes you smile, if you wouldn’t have been so exhausted, wouldn’t have to concentrate so much on not stumbling and falling and dying.

Van Ark’s laughter echoes over to you over the sound of the car engine. You feel the sudden urge to scream at him, but your lungs are too occupied with trying to keep the steady flow of oxygen going. Anything but breathing and taking one more step after the other is too much.

When you get close enough for Abel to open the gates without risking any nearby zombies coming too close, you hear the tell-tale sound of alarm and it’s more than just a sound to you. It is safety, it’s coming home – well, almost. Something is missing. A voice in your ears saying ‘Raise the Gates’, ‘Welcome home, Five’, ‘Run!’ – anything really. 

The gates raise and you stumble through, barely making it ten steps before your legs give out and you would have sunken to your knees if not for Four and Three. They’re there, by your side, holding you up and then Three is hugging you, pressing all the air left in your lungs out of you, cheering you on. You’re too exhausted to listen to him.

“Give Five some room!” you think you hear Maxine, but your ears are ringing, your breath rattling in your head, heart pounding in your throat.

Instead of giving you room, you are more or less handed over from Three to someone else, less big and muscular. You know that voice, the scent and you know the hideous hoodie color. Instantly the last of your tension seems to bleed out and Sam might have collapsed under your weight if not for Three and Four still being close, steading Sam and you.

“You’re home, Five, god you’re back, we got you, we got you, you’re safe-“, Sam babbles into your neck and hair and his arms are holding you up as much as Three and Four.

“Sam, come on, Simon, Jody- I need to take a look at Five”, that’s Maxine. You know she is the voice of reason, but you hang on to Sam and shudder out a breath, shake your head once. Just a moment, just a few more seconds.

“We’ll bring him over in a sec, Maxine,” Three says, voice that cheerful tone that bears no talking back and while Maxine normally isn’t one to back off, she seems to reconsider: “Bring Five to the med tent in five minutes, not a second later.”

You know it’s far later than ‘five minutes’ when Three finally peels you from Sam’s arms with gentle force and stirs you to the med tent.

Sam waits outside for you.

Sam bumps shoulders with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll crumble again, while you two walk back to the runner’s sleeping quarters. It’s already far past dinner time, but Sam tells you that Simon and Jody saved something up for you. You smile, but it’s an effort.

Sam watches you out of the corners of his eyes. He’s worried, but he’s also far quieter than usual over the Comms.

When you two reach your room, you see a tray on your small desk. There are two bread rolls, a big piece of cheese and a jar of peanut butter and some jelly. Two bottles of Gatorade, a banana and three apples. A bag of Fry’s Turkish Delight, lemon flavor sitting next to the apples. There are two Curly Wurly’s to the right of the plate and you look up to Sam, who is dropping his gaze.

“We all pitched in, Janine gave you her peanut butter, the Gatorade is from Simon, the fruits from Maxine, you know her, Jody gave you her last Turkish Delight and well, I’d thought you’d need the sugar more than me, so I threw in my batch of Curlys,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looks up you can see his face is falling, probably because your face crumbles. You swallow and nod a few times, trying to blink away the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Five..” Sam mumbles gently and he comes forward, puts an arm around your shoulders and you take the invitation, turn into him again.

“We all saw- I saw… what Van Arc was doing- letting you run after his car like that,” Sam explains, squeezing his arms a little more around you, “I wanted to- to run out and shoot him myself- I wanted to help, we all did, I promise, we really did, Janine had to physically hold Simon back, we all wanted to help and Paula-… Even Maxine let her go.. I’m sorry, Five. I’m so sorry we didn’t do anything, I didn’t-“

You shake your head, because you’re not crying because they didn’t come. You understand that the risk was too high. You’re crying because they are being so tender now, taking so good care of you, giving you all their little treasures, although they fight so hard for these little pleasures like peanut butter and Curly Wurlys.

“Thank you,” you whisper into Sam’s ear and your voice is hoarse from panting and hours of doing nothing but breathing in and out harshly.

“Oh, Five… thank you for everything you do for us,” Sam replies kindly, squeezing you again and pulling back then to look up to you. “Come on, eat up and then I promised Simon we’d play his stupid card game later,” he grins and you try to smile back. “Don’t worry, I’ll lie and tell him you fell asleep and I had to stay,” Sam adds, seeing you’re too exhausted for any card games tonight.

You nod, grateful and walk over to the desk, taking one of the Curly Wurlys, opening it and pulling it apart, before smiling at Sam and offering him the other half.

Sam’s smile is so radiant it’s addictive as he steps towards you.