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Between Law and Heart

THE 100 FANFICTION

MASTERLIST

Sent to Earth with ninety-nine others, Lily Hale carries more than a criminal record — she carries a secret no one is meant to know. The hidden daughter of Councilor Marcus Kane, she’s spent her life in the shadows of power, unseen and unacknowledged.

Now, on a planet where the rules of the sky mean nothing, Lily must learn how to survive — not just the dangers of Earth, but the weight of everything she left behind. In a camp ruled by chaos and fear, she walks the line between what she was taught… and what she truly believes.

Next 》

Chapter 1

Earth.

It always felt like a distant dream, even though it was right there—just beyond the pressurized window. It seemed painted, peaceful, unreal… so different from the reality they all knew on the Ark.

It had been ninety-seven years since humanity was wiped out in a nuclear war that rendered the planet uninhabitable.

What was left of the human race was now on that spaceship. For three generations they had lived orbiting, following the Earth. Near it, but never touching. It was a saddening thought.

Lily Hale had always watched the place that should have been their home, asking herself if it would have been as hard to survive if they were still there, if radiation had never forced them to flee.

The Ark had been their sanctuary, but it was anything but. It was a hard life, strict and unforgiving. Rules were what kept humanity alive to them, but they were also killing humanity itself.

"Try to be kind, Lily," was one of the last things her mother had told her before dying. Her mother, Mira Hale, was a woman who had always believed in sensibility, as if that alone could save lives. It was a nice thought, but sometimes it felt difficult to follow.

The Ark and its Council and its rules and its guards made sensitivity seem so unimportant, but it wasn't. Lily wanted to believe her mother, the woman who had raised her alone for thirteen years. She was a good woman, and brave. And all her strength was based on that principle.

But Marcus Kane believed in something else entirely. And calling him “father” never felt quite right. Especially now.

In her skybox, the heaviness of their lives on the Ark hit even harder. She could not stop thinking about all the people who had been locked in the same cell for even the most insignificant crimes, waiting to be floated. Now it was her turn, and Lily was not so sure that Councilor Marcus Kane would help the daughter no one knew about after she turned eighteen. She wasn't confident about it at all. People got floated for the smallest infractions, and she had been accused of stealing. That was a severe crime.

"I just wanted to do what was right, Mum," she whispered, from where she was sitting on the ground, her legs to her chest, her face hidden behind her arms. She would cry, and think, and stay silent. Her days were all the same.

But not that one.

The sound of her cell opening made Lily gasp, slowly getting to her feet, her hand pressed against the cold metal wall, frowning as she recognized the figure stepping through the door.

"Marcus?" she asked, confused. He didn’t answer. His posture was rigid, his expression carved in stone. He looked at her the same way he always had—distant, unreadable. She had spent years trying to understand him, but she never managed, no matter how much she tried.

"Prisoner 136, face the wall," he said curtly, just as another guard entered the cell.

"What's happening?" she asked, refusing to turn away from him, her voice thin but defiant. But Marcus didn’t respond. He simply gestured toward the wall again.

Lily let out a frustrated breath, biting down the heat rising in her chest, and turned as instructed. She knew he wouldn’t say anything until she obeyed.

"Now can you tell me what is going on?" she asked again, trying to keep her tone steady, though her hands were trembling. Nothing about this was normal. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Hold out your arm," Marcus said, his steps measured as he approached.

Her heart was pounding violently. She extended her arm with hesitation, fingers twitching as he took hold of her wrist. Then she winced, hissing through her teeth as a sharp sting pierced her skin. She instinctively pulled her arm back and looked down—there was a metal band locked tight around her wrist, still burning slightly where it had clicked into place.

Only then did she lift her gaze to her father.

"What is this?" she asked confused, her voice breaking as her eyes searched his face. "Marcus…"

He was observing her silently, before giving a quick look to the guard in her cell.

"You’ll be sent to the ground. All one hundred of you," he said, the words flat, almost rehearsed, as he looked back at her.

"What?" Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart felt like it might explode. "Why now? We're supposed to wait another hundred years. That’s what the experts said."

"Experts can make mistakes," he said, his stone cold face looking at her directly. That was too dangerous, the radiations could be strong still, they should be strong still for what they knew. And he was willing to use kids as lab rats, he was willing to let her die like that.

"If the radiations are there still we are all going to die," Lily said to him, and for a moment she thought he was going to answer, but instead he turned to the guard and gave a nod.

"No!" she screamed as the man grabbed her by the shoulders and began to drag her out of the cell. "Marcus! Stop them—this is insane! Marcus!" Her voice cracked as she fought, twisting in his grip, desperate to break free. But the moment she crossed the threshold, another guard seized her other arm, and together they forced her through the corridor. She kept shouting his name, looking back over her shoulder until the hallway turned and she lost sight of her cell—and of him.

He hadn’t moved.

Her blue eyes blurred with tears of fear and disbelief as she was pulled past other cells, where more inmates were being rounded up. Some looked dazed. Others terrified. The sounds of confusion and resistance echoed against the steel walls, but it all felt muffled, distant.

Lily couldn’t breathe properly. Her chest was rising too fast, her heart hammering against her ribs, her vision narrowing. She was gasping, struggling to draw air that just wouldn’t come. Her whole body shook as they reached the launch bay. The dropship loomed ahead—dark, massive, the final sentence of their lives on the Ark.

The ship felt like a cage again, but far more scary. The two guards pushed her in abruptly, almost making her lose her balance. Her breath was laboured, knowing that they were all condemned to die from the radiation. Another guard took her by the arm, pushing her to the ladder, forcing her to climb up.

When Lily arrived on the second floor, another guard took her so that he could lead her toward her seat, pushing her down.

"Fasten your belt," he said firmly, before going to another inmate who was climbing the ladder. Lily could not believe what was happening. The Council was really that cruel to send a hundred teenagers to die? For what? Why now?

And she could not stop thinking about Marcus. That had been the last time she would ever see her father, and all she felt was anger and pain. How could he act so cold? How could he not try and calm her, hug her?

He never did. He wouldn’t start now, she thought bitterly.

"Stop pushing me, you asshole!" The voice came sharp, irritated, defiant—cutting through the low hum of fear that filled the dropship. Lily turned her head instinctively toward the sound, just in time to see one of the guards shoving a boy forward onto the upper level.

He had dark hair that fell messily over his forehead and a scowl fixed on his face like it belonged there. He moved with the kind of restlessness that drew attention without trying—like someone who was always either about to punch someone or make a joke at the worst possible moment.

There was a cut on his cheekbone, a purplish bruise near his jaw, and a sarcastic glint in his eyes that didn’t quite hide how tense he was. He didn’t look scared like the others—not exactly. If he was, he masked it with anger, with attitude, with a swagger that almost seemed rehearsed.

The guard shoved him again.

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Murphy," the boy muttered, throwing himself into the seat next to her with a dramatic sigh. He didn’t look at her. Just buckled his belt and leaned back like this was all some twisted field trip.

As they pulled more and more kids inside the dropship, Lily watched, and it felt endless, looking at how they got pushed and pulled and forced into their seats. But when the guards finally left the level she was in, it felt too fast.

This is crazy, she thought, her legs moving restlessly. Her heart thumping in her chest—it felt almost ready to explode when she heard the metal pressurized door close with a loud noise.

Were they all going to die? A hundred years were so many to wait, that didn’t make any sense. And the only question she could endlessly repeat was: Why?

Why would the Council make such a decision? There must have been a reason—them and their precious rules. There must have been a reason, for sure.

The engine started, the roar echoing inside her chest, which trembled almost enough to scare her. And then she felt it—the dropship was separating from the Ark at once.

The ship grew quiet as they went. Lily could feel the movement, but there was no way for them to be able to look outside. That was a different kind of feeling than floating in space inside the Ark. They were traveling, and Lily had never experienced something like that. But then suddenly, she let out a yelp, along with everyone else, when the atmosphere made the dropship shake violently. Lily's hands were quick to clutch at the seatbelt, tight around her chest. Her eyes were closed tight, opening only when she heard a recorded voice.

Thelonious Jaha, the Chancellor of the Ark.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," he was saying calmly. Lily could not understand that behavior at all. "You’ve been given a second chance. And as your Chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but for all of us. Indeed, for mankind itself."

Lily could not understand the rush. That didn’t make any sense at all.

"We have no idea what is waiting for you down there," he kept saying. "If the odds of survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we’re sending you because your crimes have made you expendable."

Lily shook her head, looking down. On the Ark, it didn’t matter why you committed the crime, or even if you really had. Once they thought you’d made a single mistake, you no longer served a purpose in society.

Is this the kind of mankind we decided to be? She asked herself, looking back at Jaha’s video.

"If, however, you do survive—"

"Your dad is a dick, Wells!" someone said, making Lily instantly look around. Why was Wells Jaha in that dropship? What could he have possibly done?

"—then those crimes would be forgiven," the video went on, "Your records wiped clean." Of that, Lily was not so sure. If there was something she had learned from her father, it was that the rules must be followed. And with the number of people who had been floated for whatever reason, she could hardly believe that just surviving would make the Council forgive them. Maybe Wells Jaha was safe, but the other ninety-nine...

"The dropsite has been chosen carefully," he kept saying. "Before the last war, Mount Weather was a military base built within a mountain. It was stocked with enough non-perishables to sustain 300 people for up to two years—"

But shouting caught her attention. People were happily talking about a Spacewalker, and looking in the same direction, she saw a boy who had unbuckled his belt and was now floating in midair—until she couldn’t see him anymore.

"No..." she muttered, before she noticed a guy in front of her moving to unbuckle his own belt.

"Stop!" Lily shouted, but she was not the only one. Another female voice was speaking to someone else.

"Stay put if you wanna live!" she was saying. But they didn’t listen, and as Jaha kept talking, Lily could only follow the frame of the boy floating in front of them. Suddenly, the dropship shook violently again, making her body jerk, almost hurting her.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the cabin—the retrorockets had fired. The descent slowed, but the turbulence remained intense.

Lily’s hands clenched the straps across her chest, knuckles white. Around her, screams and cries filled the air as the dropship continued its rapid descent.

With a final, bone-rattling crash, the dropship slammed into the ground. The impact threw Lily forward, the restraints digging into her shoulders. Then, silence—broken only by the groans and sobs of the other passengers.

They had landed.

There was a moment of silence as they all took deep breaths to calm themselves after the landing. Lily felt her heart thumping in her chest. They were alive. Or at least, they were for now.

"Listen," someone said, "No machine hum."

That was true. It was silent. It was so strange not hearing an engine, a ship alive and working. They were truly on Earth, and that was the first sign of it. So that was the first sound they heard—silence.

Lily could not deny that it was quite relaxing, that foreign feeling. And she closed her eyes to savor it for a moment.

But then, people started to move, eager to go downstairs. And when Lily opened her eyes, she noticed the boy who had unbuckled his belt before, lying on the ground unmoving. The girl moved her hands to unbuckle her belt, making her way toward the guy, kneeling at his side.

"Can you hear me?" she asked, trying to shake his shoulder. But he didn't move. Then she tried to find his pulse, but there was none.

Oh god...

"Is he breathing?" the girl's voice from before said, making Lily turn to notice a blonde-haired girl kneeling beside her. They both looked at each other. Lily knew who she was: Clarke Griffin, the daughter of Abigail Griffin, the doctor of the Ark. They had never properly talked, but they had seen each other before. Lily wondered why she was in the skybox. Both her and Wells.

"No..." Lily answered with a shake of her head. Then Clarke turned to look to her left.

"Finn, is he breathing?" she asked a guy with long dark hair, looking down at another body. And from the sorrowful look he had, he was dead as well.

"The outer doors are on the lower level, let's go!" someone said excited. That made Lily and Clarke share a look.

"They are going to open it," Lily said, but the other girl was quick to get up.

"You cannot open the door!" she yelled, and Lily and the boy named Finn were ready to follow. She was right. They did not know what was going on out there—for all they knew, the radiation was already affecting them.

When she climbed down the iron ladder, Lily noticed an older guy wearing a guard uniform. Did they send a guard with them? But Jaha had said nothing about that. And sending just one for a hundred kids seemed a bit useless.

"If the air is toxic, we're dead anyway," he was saying to Clarke. But there was no reason to rush. They could wait a little longer. If they didn’t start to have any bad symptoms, maybe they could understand if it was safe or not.

"Bellamy?" a girl's voice came from behind them, and the guy seemed rather happy to hear it, as he looked at her making her way toward him.

"That's the girl hidden under the floor," someone shouted, and Lily’s eyes grew larger. Octavia Blake—she had heard the story. She was a second child, and by the rules of the Ark no one could have a second child. From what she knew, they had arrested the girl and floated the mother. So, if that was Octavia Blake, he could just be her brother.

"My God," he said once she was close enough, "Look how big you are." Octavia was quick to envelop him in a tight hug. They seemed to have missed each other very much. Lily could understand what it meant to miss her own family. She missed her mother's hugs.

"What the hell are you wearing? A guard's uniform?" Octavia asked as she pulled back from her brother. That made Lily frown. Was he not a guard?

He looked down at what he was wearing, before answering softly, "I borrowed it to get on the dropship," he said. "Someone's got to keep an eye on you."

As they hugged again, though, Clarke asked a good question, "Where's your wristband?" Lily had not noticed that he wasn’t wearing it like the rest of them.

"Do you mind?" Octavia asked, glaring at Clarke. "I haven't seen my brother in a year." After her statement, someone shouted that it was impossible for her to have a brother, only to have someone else shout who Octavia Blake was and why she was there with them. It must have been a sensitive point because Octavia was ready to lunge toward whoever had spoken, but Bellamy was quick to block her.

"Let's give them something else to remember you by," he spoke softly, making his sister turn.

"Like what?"

"Like being the first person on the ground in one hundred years." And then he just opened the door. Lily gasped, as the strongest light she had ever seen hit her eyes, forcing her to close them. But as darkness surrounded her, she felt something she had never experienced. It was a breeze—different from the oxygen that kept them alive on the Ark. This was lighter, cooler, and far more pleasant. Then she could hear some noises, like something rustling. Were those the trees? Real trees? That thought was enough to give her courage to open her eyes, and what she saw was beautiful.

Tall trees with green leaves above them, the ground—real ground—just a few feet from them. And the sky, that was so beautiful, clear and blue, with the sun glowing and its heat hitting her skin, giving a warm feeling in contrast with the cool breeze that was moving her blonde hair.

That was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. No photo, or painting, or story could match it. For as many times as she had dreamt of Earth, it had never been like the real one.

"We're back, bitches!" Octavia shouted, and for the first time that day, Lily could not help but let out a light, happy laugh, as everyone started to run out of the dropship.

**********

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myocsfanfictions · 2 days ago

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Between Law and Heart

THE 100 FANFICTION MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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myocsfanfictions · 2 days ago

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THE 100 FANFICTIONS

Between Law and Heart

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myocsfanfictions · 22 days ago

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

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Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

They had to leave the farm, and this time, they had to be on the road for seven months. Sarah and Nicki can not help but wonder and pray to find a new place. A place where they and their new family could start a life, maybe in peace, maybe forever. Does a safe heaven really exist in a world like the one they are facing?

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 13

NICOLETTE

Nicki ran behind Lori as they followed Maggie into the cell block. She fired arrows whenever she could, her mind spinning with disbelief—how could walkers be roaming freely inside? They had made sure all the entrances were sealed. But clearly, they hadn't been careful enough.

The yard was full of walkers again. Even their cell block had been breached.

Fleeing the horde, they found themselves back in the dark corridors—the same place where Hershel had been bitten. The air felt dense, oppressive, or maybe it was just her lungs tightening from fear.

Stay focused, she scolded herself, grounding her thoughts. Panic wouldn't help anyone. She kept glancing over her shoulder, making sure no walkers were trailing them, silently praying that her sister had found shelter. Sarah had been the furthest from the entrance... but she was fast. Faster than the walkers, at least.

She's fine, Nicki told herself, gripping her bow tighter in her left hand. She has to be fine.

Suddenly, Lori let out a cry of pain, staggering slightly as she leaned against the wall, her shoulder tense, her head bowed. The sound was raw, pulled straight from her core, and it sent a chill down Nicki's spine.

"Lori?" Nicki asked, taking a quick step toward her. Maggie was already moving in, slipping behind Lori to steady her with both hands.

"Can you keep up?" Maggie asked, her voice tight with urgency. Nicki kept glancing back over her shoulder, bow raised, trying to keep the corridor under control. The echoes of their footsteps, the moans in the distance, the ragged breathing—it was all pressing in.

"Something's not right," Lori grunted, her face twisted in pain. Nicki could see her knuckles white where she pressed against the wall for balance. What was happening all of a sudden?

"Are you bit?" Carl asked, his voice sharp and panicked, eyes scanning the opposite corridor as he kept his weapon ready. But Lori shook her head quickly, gritting her teeth. As she turned, sliding down slightly to brace her back against the wall, her grunts became louder.

"I think the baby is coming," she gasped, her voice breaking between the cries. Nicki's eyes widened, her stomach dropping. Now? Why now?

"Mom?" Carl called out, but there wasn't much he could do—not with walkers pushing in from the rear. Nicki moved forward, drawing another arrow to stand beside him, but Maggie held them both back with a firm gesture, urging them to retreat.

They had to move. They had to find somewhere—anywhere—safe for Lori. But her cries had already drawn too much attention. Even as they turned back, Nicki could hear the walkers closing in. Closer. Closer.

There are too many, Nicki thought, her pulse hammering in her ears as Lori's groans echoed against the walls. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't fix any of it. All she could do was hold the rear, keep the path as clear as possible, and pray they'd find a place to hide before it was too late.

She stayed at the rear while Carl led them through the dark tunnel, her bow clutched tightly in one hand. Nicki kept glancing behind her, each time feeling a chill crawl up her spine. With every turn, every shadow, more walkers seemed to appear, emerging from the gloom like ghosts.

"In here!" Carl shouted as he threw open an iron door. Maggie and Lori rushed in first, followed closely by Nicki, and then Carl slammed the door shut behind them.

"Look out for my mom," Carl said quickly, already moving ahead to check the corners. "I'll see if the place is secure."

Nicolette nodded, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs. The growls from outside mixed with Lori's cries, creating a cacophony of fear and urgency. She didn't know what to do. Outside, the horde was too dense—she couldn't hold them off. Inside, she had no idea how to help Lori.

She watched the woman struggle to stay upright, her hands pressed against the wall, her legs trembling. It was clear she didn't have much strength left.

Then suddenly, a shrill alarm blared through the space, slicing through the noise like a blade. Nicki flinched and looked around, trying to locate the source. It was so loud, but it didn't seem to be coming from the room itself.

"What is that sound?" Lori asked through a groan, her face contorted in pain.

"Don't worry about it," Maggie said quickly, rushing to her side to help her shift position.

Nicki turned back toward the door, silently begging that the walkers would follow the alarm, drawn away from their trail.

"Lori, let's lie down," Maggie said, trying to sound calm, though her voice wavered.

"No," Lori panted, "the baby's coming now."

She was in so much pain—Nicki could see it written all over her. What were they supposed to do? Was Lori really going to do this here, without help? How? There was supposed to be a doctor. There was supposed to be Hershel. Or Carol.

"We have to get back to our cell block and get Hershel," Carl cried, panic rising in his voice. Nicki glanced at him. She couldn't blame him. She was terrified too.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought, her eyes locked on Lori as she writhed in pain and Maggie tried to hold her up. Nicki stood frozen beside Carl, her fingers trembling around her bow.

Lori shook her head. "We can't risk getting caught out there."

"You're gonna have to give birth here," Maggie said, voicing the exact fear Nicki hadn't dared to say aloud. There were so many things she wanted to protest—that this was insane, that Lori couldn't possibly deliver her baby on a cold concrete floor, that there had to be another way. But the lump in her throat tightened until she couldn't breathe. There was no other way out. Even the cell block was overrun with walkers.

What else could they do?

What else can I do?

She hated it. Hated standing there, watching everything spiral out of control. Just like with Sophia. Just like with Hershel. Helplessness wrapped around her like a noose.

"What is it? She can't breathe?" Carl asked, standing beside Nicki, his voice tight with panic as he watched his mother struggle to inhale.

"She's fine," Maggie replied quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Come here, let's get your pants off."

Carl and Nicki exchanged a tense glance. Maggie helped Lori out of her pants and gently guided her down onto the floor. The hard, cold surface offered no comfort.

What can I do? Nicki asked herself again, feeling her body tense and freeze, caught between rage and fear. When Hershel had stopped breathing, Sarah had tried to help. But what would Sarah do now?

Nicki didn't know. Her mind was blank.

"You're gonna need to help deliver your brother or sister," Maggie said, looking up at Carl. "Are you up for it?"

Nicki turned to look at him. His eyes, wide and frightened, met hers. He didn't speak at first, but then, with visible effort, he gave a small nod.

"I'll do an exam," Maggie said, her voice low, focused. "Let me see if you're dilated."

Nicki stood next to Carl, still trying to understand the whirlwind happening around her.

"Do you know how?" Carl asked, his voice trembling. His breathing was shallow, uneven.

Nicki stayed silent. Her mouth was dry. Her thoughts scattered.

What can I do?

"My dad taught me," Maggie answered, "but... trust me—it's my first time."

Nicki ran her fingers through her dark hair, gripping it tightly at the roots, grounding herself in the pain. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she watched Maggie kneel and look between Lori's legs.

"I can't tell," Maggie finally said, her voice trembling with uncertainty. But then Lori moved, sitting up with a sudden jolt of urgency.

"I gotta push. I gotta push."

Nicki felt her blood turn cold, as if her body was shutting down, even while her heart continued to pound furiously in her chest. All she could do was watch as Maggie helped Lori to her feet. The woman's cries grew louder—raw, guttural, and sharp. Carl and Nicki stood shoulder to shoulder, tense and rigid. He held his gun tightly; Nicki kept her fingers clenched around her bow, her knuckles white. But the tension wouldn't ease.

Would that position help? Would it make things go faster? Would Lori be able to give birth now? How was that even possible?

Nicki knew that labor could take hours—sometimes an entire day. Her mother had been in labor for fifteen hours with her, and even longer with Sarah.

Lori clung to a metal pipe, her body trembling violently as she groaned and screamed through each wave of pain. From behind her, Maggie whispered encouragements—"You're doing great," she repeated—but were they even true? Lori's screams kept rising, every one more strained and agonizing than the last.

What can I do?

Nicki and Carl remained side by side, their arms brushing as they stood frozen, trying not to break apart. Lori's cries filled the room—then, suddenly, Maggie moved her hand, and Nicki saw the blood.

"What's that?" Nicki asked before she could stop herself, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Is it supposed to be like that?" Her eyes snapped to Lori. The woman looked ghostly—her skin pale and glistening with sweat, her strength visibly slipping away.

The three of them rushed toward her as Lori's grip on the pipe gave out.

"Mom!" Carl cried out in terror, as Maggie grabbed Lori around the waist and Nicki caught one of her arms to help steady her.

"We need to lay her down!" Maggie ordered, her voice sharp with urgency. "Help me, help me!"

Carl darted around to the other side, and together they gently turned Lori and lowered her to the cold floor. Her legs weren't moving. They had simply given up.

Maggie dropped to her knees on one side of Lori, while Carl and Nicki crouched on the other. The woman looked utterly drained—ashen and trembling.

Was it supposed to look like that?

"Mom!" Carl called again, his voice cracking as he reached for her hand. "Mom, look at me. Look at me. Keep your eyes open."

Lori blinked slowly, forcing herself to meet her son's gaze, but her next words hit Nicki like a punch to the gut.

"I'm not gonna make it," Lori whispered.

Her voice was soft, resigned. Her expression was weary—but also peaceful.

Don't say that, Nicki thought, feeling something in her chest seize.

"Lori..." Maggie's voice was breaking too. "With all this blood... I don't think you're fully dilated yet."

Even Maggie was starting to panic.

Nicki felt her head grow strangely dizzy, her hands beginning to tremble. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"I know what it means," Lori whispered, her voice faint but unwavering. "And I'm not losing the baby." Nicki's hands trembled harder. She didn't fully understand.

"You've got to cut me open," Lori said.

The words dropped like a stone. Heavy. Final. Unthinkable.

They couldn't cut her open. They had no way to stitch her back up. To take the baby out would mean tearing her body apart—and she would die. She would die. But there had to be another way. There had to be...

What can I do?

"No, I can't," Maggie said, shaking her head, her voice tight with dread.

"You don't have a choice," Lori replied, calm and resolved.

"There must be something we can do," Nicki said, but her voice came out rough and strained, as if her throat had forgotten how to speak.

Carl took a step forward, breaking from his frozen stance. "I'll go look for help—"

"No!" Lori's voice cut him off instantly, sharp and commanding.

"Carol's the one who practiced that," Maggie said, trying desperately to reason with her. "My dad only taught me the steps, Lori. If I—"

"Maggie, please," Lori interrupted, her eyes pleading.

Why was she so calm? Why wasn't she fighting harder for another solution? Nicki should have found something—some way to help—but nothing came to mind.

"I have no anesthetic. No equipment," Maggie insisted again, panicking now.

"Carl has a knife," Lori answered.

Nicki slowly turned toward the boy. He hadn't moved since Lori had stopped him. His face was wet with tears, his hands trembling, and he just stood there, eyes locked on his mother.

"You won't survive," Maggie said, her voice cracking.

Nicki had to force herself to breathe. Lori couldn't die. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

What can I do?

"My baby has to survive," Lori said again, her voice shaking now but still firm. "Please. For all of us. Please, Maggie."

Was this really happening?

Nicki looked between Lori and Maggie, searching for something—anything—that might change the course of what was unfolding. But nothing came.

Then she turned to Carl.

He hadn't moved. He was still standing in the same place, frozen in the exact spot where his mother had stopped him. His eyes hadn't left her. He was about to lose his mother.

Carl... she thought, her gaze fixed on him as he finally knelt back down beside Lori and took her hand in his.

"You see my old C-section scar?" Lori said to Maggie, who was trembling, doing everything she could not to cry. She was really going to do it. She was about to go through with it.

"I can't!" Maggie exclaimed, her voice cracking under the weight of fear.

"You can," Lori insisted gently but firmly. "And you have to."

Nicki felt completely lost. She was there—present—but useless. Frozen. There had to be something she could do to save Lori. Something.

But there's nothing I can do...

"Carl..." Lori called softly to her son. "Baby, I don't want you to be scared, okay? This is what I want. This is right." Her voice was so calm, so resolute. She was choosing this. That's why she wasn't panicking.

"Now, you take care of your daddy for me, all right?" Nicki's eyes shifted to Carl. "And your brother or sister—you take care of them, too."

"You don't have to do this," Carl pleaded, his voice tight with grief, trying so hard not to cry.

"You're gonna be fine," Lori said, locking eyes with him. "You're gonna beat this world, I know you will. You are smart and strong, and you are so brave." Her voice trembled now, tears pooling in her eyes. "And I love you."

"I love you too," Carl whispered, tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

"You gotta do what is right," Lori continued, her gaze never leaving his. Her voice had taken on a clarity, a force that struck Nicki deeply—she had never seen such determination in anyone before. "Promise me, you'll always do what's right. It's so easy to do the wrong thing in this world. So don't..."

Nicki's own cheeks were wet with silent tears now. Lori's words sank into her chest like a stone, heavy and sharp.

"If it feels wrong, don't do it. All right? If it feels easy—don't do it. Don't let the world spoil you." Then, with trembling fingers, Lori reached out to dry Carl's tears. "You're so good," she said, her smile bittersweet—full of love and sorrow. "You're my sweet boy. You're the best thing I've ever done. And I love you."

Nicki let out a shaky breath as she watched Lori pull Carl into an embrace—tight, final.

Their last hug.

Nicki heard Maggie sobb watching Carl and Lori cry as they didn't want to let each other go. Those where Lori's last moment. She had decided that.

There's nothing I can do, Nicki thought, allowing herself to cry in silence.

Carl slowly pulled away from his mother's embrace, his hands trembling as he let her go. Lori's eyes lingered on him for one more second—filled with love, peace, and acceptance—before she finally turned her gaze away.

His arms dropped to his sides, limp and hollow. He sat back on his knees, stunned, his face streaked with tears, as if that hug had drained the last of his strength.

Nicki was still kneeling beside him. Her throat burned, her cheeks were wet, and her limbs felt numb. She couldn't speak—didn't even know what she could possibly say. Her eyes clung to Lori's face a moment longer, before slowly shifting toward Carl. His shoulders were shaking silently as he reached for the knife on his belt.

"It's all right," Lori whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze glassy and unfocused. "It's all right."

From the floor, her voice came again—fragile, cracking—but still calm. "Good night, love." And then came the scream.

Lori's cry tore through the room, echoing off the walls as Maggie made the incision. Nicki squeezed her eyes shut at the sound, her hands trembling, while Carl's sobs grew louder.

"What are you doing to her?" Carl cried out, his voice breaking, eyes wide and horrified as he watched Maggie work.

"Carl..." Nicki whispered, trying to reach him with her voice, but he pulled away when he saw his mother lose consciousness. Nicki's heart pounded painfully in her chest as she stared helplessly at Lori, at Maggie's blood-soaked hands working inside the open wound.

It wasn't fair. None of it was. Nicki hated it—hated everything about it. They had talked about this moment, prepared for the delivery, knowing it wouldn't be easy. But dying like this... dying because those monstrous things had taken over... dying because there was no one truly qualified to help her...

This is all wrong, Nicki thought, her eyes fixed on Lori's frame as Maggie asked for help. Nicki obeyed, but she felt frozen—trembling with sorrow, fear, and helpless anger.

"I see it," Maggie exclaimed, her voice tight. "I see the ear. I'm gonna pull it out." The words snapped Nicki back to the moment. She turned to Maggie, then glanced at Carl. But he wasn't looking at them—his eyes were locked on his mother, and the tears streaming down his face didn't stop. Nicki felt utterly useless. Helpless.

Then finally Maggie moved, in her arms she was holding a baby, but Nicki froze when she noticed that the baby was not crying. It should be crying... she remembered from school that new born babies cried due to their first breath. So if it was not crying, it was not breathing...

No... she thought, Her gaze shifted to Carl. Was Lori dying for nothing?

She spun toward Maggie, watching as the woman gently turned the baby on its stomach and began patting its back, again and again.

Then, suddenly, a high-pitched cry pierced the silence.

Nicki exhaled, shaky and heavy, as Carl moved beside her, taking off his jacket and handing it to Maggie to wrap the baby.

"Nicki," Maggie said gently, "Take the baby for a moment—I have to cut the umbilical cord."

Nicki glanced at Lori for a brief second.

My baby has to survive, she had said. She had begged them—begged Maggie—to let her go so the child could live.

There's nothing I can do... but maybe I can do this, Nicki thought as she turned to Carl, reaching for the jacket. Their eyes met. He was losing his mother. Maybe this was all she could give him. And Lori.

Nicki reached out and helped Maggie wrap the newborn in Carl's jacket. Then she felt it—the small, warm weight of a life in her arms.

It's a girl, she thought, as the tiny baby stirred weakly in her arms. She was so small, so fragile. Nicki turned to Carl, but he had already moved back toward his mother. Maggie worked quickly, tightening the umbilical cord to make a clean cut. Then, with a shaky breath, she gently took the baby from Nicki's arms.

"We gotta go," she said, rising to her feet. Nicki hesitated for a moment before pushing herself up to follow. That's when she realized—her bow was on the ground, a few feet away. She didn't even remember when she had dropped it.

"We can't just leave her here!" Carl exclaimed, his voice cracking as a sob rose in his throat. Nicki exchanged a glance with Maggie before taking a cautious step toward him.

"We should look for your father," she tried to say gently, but Carl shook his head.

"She'll turn," he said with a broken firmness. Both Nicki and Maggie lowered their eyes to Lori. They knew he was right. The worst part was not knowing how soon it could happen—minutes or hours—but it would happen.

"Nicki," Maggie called softly, "Give me your knife."

Nicolette knew what she meant to do. She drew in a breath and reached for the blade, but Carl caught her arm.

"No," he said, firm and unyielding. His cheeks were wet with tears, but his gaze had solidified into something steady. And Nicki understood. She knew exactly what he meant to do.

Maggie stepped closer. "Carl—"

"She's my mom," he whispered, pleading but resolute, one hand already moving toward his gun.

Nicki held her breath, eyes locked on him. She didn't know what the right thing was. Maybe there was no right thing. But when she looked at Lori—still, pale —she saw her own mother. And she knew, without a doubt, that if it were Sarah lying there, she wouldn't want anyone else to touch her.

And Maggie must've understood too. With trembling hands and eyes full of grief, she turned and left the room.

Nicki exhaled slowly. Carl looked at her, waiting, but she didn't stop him.

I couldn't.

Without a word, she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Their eyes met for a final, silent exchange—then Nicki turned, picked up her bow and walked away, following Maggie out of the room.

The corridor felt darker than before, narrower, more suffocating. Or maybe it was just her mind, fogged by grief. She didn't know. The only thing she did know was that Lori would never speak again. Never smile at them again. Never offer quiet advice or a gentle word.

Nicki still remembered the first time they'd met—on that highway outside Atlanta. Lori had been sweet. Always sweet.

It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have died.

Then, suddenly, the sharp sound of a single gunshot broke the silence.

It rang different from all the others Nicki had ever heard—clean, final, devastating. She flinched. It echoed through the prison like a bell tolling for the dead.

A few moments passed before a shadow moved past her. Heavy. Steady.

He had done it.

He had killed his mom.

Carl...

*************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

Text

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 12

SARAH

It had been a nice few days, and Sarah had been delighted by that. Hershel seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. He slept less, and though the only steps he managed were from the bed to the bathroom or to grab something to eat, it was progress. He tired quickly, so no one pushed him too hard.

In the meantime, they had focused on making Cell Block C feel more like a home—finally daring to believe they could actually live there for the foreseeable future.

The alley was now completely clean, and so were the cells. Each of them had picked a favorite for the night, and Sarah couldn’t wait to start decorating hers to make it feel a bit more like her own.

I wish I had pictures of Mom and Dad, she had thought sadly one day, while unpacking a few belongings to place on the small table inside her cell. That simple act had felt like a burden lifting off her shoulders, almost making her emotional—finally not having to live as if she might have to run again at any moment. But now that the urgency had faded, the thought of her parents returned with greater weight.

Over the last few days, they’d made several quick trips through the prison’s corridors. Rick had found the breach that had allowed walkers to get inside, and after sealing it, things had seemed secure enough. Still, no one wanted to linger in those dark hallways longer than necessary. Just the day before, during one of those runs, T and Carol had come across a real pair of crutches. Sarah had been glad. The makeshift ones she had built had served their purpose and allowed Hershel a bit of mobility, but now that he was improving, she wasn’t sure her rough design could keep him up for long.

“Morning, Sarah,” Rick greeted her, knocking gently on the bars of her cell.

"Hey," she said with a smile, her fingers fumbling with the needle as she tried to close a hole in her t-shirt. The stitches were uneven, too loose in some places and too tight in others—she still wasn’t any good at it. She paused for a moment, thinking about how fast and effortlessly her granny used to sew,

“I was thinking, this morning we could bring the cars inside the yard, start moving the bodies,” he said, his voice calm again—almost like it used to be when they’d first met. Clearly, even he was starting to feel a bit better. “We could use some help.”

"Sure," she replied with a nod, setting the shirt aside. "Let me grab my shoes and I’ll be there."

Rick offered her a small smile. "See you later," he said, then turned and walked off.

It wasn’t particularly early, so the group was still slowly shaking off sleep and easing into their chores. As Sarah walked past the other cells, she noticed Glenn and Maggie were missing from theirs. T was gone too.

She sat down on the steps of the stairs, pulling on her boots and tugging the laces tight before tying a double knot, just to be safe. The day ahead was going to be long—especially hauling off all those dead walkers. She’d grown used to their appearance and their stench, but touching them still made her skin crawl.

“Look at you,” Sarah said with a grin, spotting Carol stepping out of her cell with her hair wrapped in a colorful scarf. The fabric caught the sunlight, adding a rare burst of color to the otherwise bleak hallway. “You look really pretty.”

“Do I?” Carol asked, tilting her head slightly, giving Sarah a better look. The way she moved, playful for once, made Sarah giggle.

“Yeah. Just wanted to cover my head from the sun,” Carol said with a small smile.

“Fashion doesn’t have to die with the world,” Sarah replied, folding her arms across her chest.

“Sure it doesn’t,” came Lori’s voice from behind, making both women turn. She was already up and about, having spent the morning checking in on Hershel. Her posture was straight, her hands resting behind her back to help stretch out the tension in her shoulders and growing belly.

“Everything alright?” Sarah asked, stepping closer and gently brushing her hand against Lori’s arm.

Lori nodded, giving a glance toward Hershel’s cell. “Beth would like to help him use those crutches,” she explained. “And he actually liked the idea.”

Sarah and Carol both nodded, glancing at each other. Hershel had seemed increasingly eager to move around lately. A man used to tending land and livestock probably didn’t do well with sitting still for too long.

“He’s getting his strength back pretty fast,” Carol said, arms crossed as she watched Lori. “That’s good.”

It had definitely been a close call—far too close—but Hershel’s resilience had been nothing short of inspiring. And his recovery had given them something none of them had dared to hope for: the belief that there might be a way to survive a bite. It was a brutal solution, but it was still a solution.

“Lori,” Beth’s voice called out from the common area. Lori nodded toward her with a quiet smile, then turned and walked away.

Carol stood watching her leave, thoughtful. She’d spent the last several days trying to get used to cutting through skin and uterus, forcing herself to prepare for what might happen when Lori’s time came—but the fear hadn’t left her. Sarah understood that feeling deeply. She had wanted to be more helpful, had offered to assist Carol with anything, but now that Hershel was regaining his strength, she hoped he’d take over as originally planned.

Sarah and Carol exchanged a look—one of silent understanding—and both forced a smile before stepping outside.

The sun was shining brightly and the weather was warm in a lovely way. Sarah tilted her head back for a moment, enjoying the rare stillness, the clear blue sky framed behind the fences and nets. It felt peaceful—almost. But the sight of the bodies still scattered around the field dulled the calm.

“Morning, Daryl,” Carol said, pulling Sarah’s attention to the side. She turned just in time to see him approaching, his familiar silhouette outlined by the sun, crossbow slung over his back like always.

“Hi,” Sarah greeted with a smile, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the light. As he got closer, Carol let out a quiet chuckle and excused herself.

“See you later,” she said, heading off toward where T-Dog was working by the far end of the yard.

Sarah and Daryl exchanged a brief glance, both slightly confused by Carol’s sudden departure. “Where’s she goin’?” he asked, his brow furrowed. Sarah gave a small shrug. She wasn’t sure either.

“You woke up early?” she asked, turning back to him with a curious smile.

“Mmh-mmh,” Daryl nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “Talked to Rick,” he added, tilting his head toward the sheriff near the gate. “Thinkin’ of makin’ some new runs in a few days.”

Sarah nodded, understanding the reasoning behind it. It had been a while since they’d taken the prison, and supplies wouldn’t last forever.

“I’m on board for any shifts,” she offered, and a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“Got’cha.” He gave her a quick nod, and the two of them began walking toward the field together.

They moved slowly, their strides falling into rhythm without effort. The sunlight spilled over their shoulders, casting long shadows behind them, and the silence between them was easy, comfortable.

Sarah glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked at ease—or at least as close to it as Daryl ever got. His eyes were half-squinted against the light, his crossbow resting naturally against his back like a part of him.

“You know what I really miss?” she asked, her tone light, but tinged with quiet nostalgia as she gazed at the sky.

“What?” he replied softly, his head tilting toward her, genuinely curious.

“Peanut butter,” she said, and the corners of his mouth lifted with a knowing smile.

“Yeah… I get it.” He adjusted the strap on his shoulder, then turned slightly to look at her more directly. “Crunchy or creamy?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “Creamy.”

He scoffed, amused, the sound low and familiar. She could feel his eyes on her, and it made her grin widen.

“Figures,” he said with a slight smirk. “Bet ya dip fruit in it, too.”

She laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, turning toward him with a playful expression as she squinted through the sunlight. “What’s wrong with that?” she teased, cocking her head. “How’d you eat it?”

“Spoon,” he replied, flashing a quick, mischievous smile. “Or even better—a finger.”

“Gross!” she exclaimed with a laugh, nudging her shoulder lightly against his. The contact lingered just a moment longer than it needed to, charged with unspoken awareness.

“Ya’re just too fancy,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Fancy, huh?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow as she looked up at him. Her eyes sparkled with challenge, that teasing warmth never leaving her voice. “Find me a jar, and I’ll show you how ‘fancy’ I can be.”

Daryl nodded slowly, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. “Deal.”

They continued walking, their arms brushing now and then as they moved side by side. Sarah looked ahead, her voice casual as she added, “If we manage to grow some fruit, like Hershel says, then you gotta eat it dipped in peanut butter.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “It’s gonna take time.”

Sarah lifted her chin slightly, the sunlight catching in her hair. “I’m patient,” she said. “I can wait.”

Daryl didn’t reply with words. Instead, he nudged her gently with his elbow, a small gesture that sent a flutter through her chest. Neither of them looked at the other, but something in their steps softened, a silent closeness settling between them as they neared the others across the yard.

Sarah closed the door of the SUV with a quiet click, settling into the driver’s seat with practiced familiarity. The vehicle still smelled faintly of gasoline and dust, but the leather was warm from the sun.

She turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life with a low, steady hum, but almost immediately, a warning light blinked on the dashboard.

Frowning, Sarah leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. A small amber battery icon glowed steadily, unblinking. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. The fuel gauge was fine, and the oil light remained dark—but that battery signal refused to go away.

Something to look into later, she thought. For now, she drove the SUV just far enough to get it into the field like Rick had instructed.

“Okay, let’s get the other car in,” Rick was saying just as Sarah stepped out, shutting the door behind her with a firm thud.

“We’ll park them near the west entry,” he added, pointing toward the edge of the yard. “Out of the way, but still close enough for access.”

“Good,” Daryl replied, eyes scanning the area. “Our vehicles sitting out here look like a damn vacancy sign.” Sarah smirked faintly at the dry remark as she moved toward Carol.

“After that, we need to load up the corpses so we can burn them,” Rick continued, his voice steady, calm—focused.

“Gonna be a long day,” Daryl muttered, and Sarah silently agreed. She exhaled and reached up, tying her hair into a low ponytail.

“Where are Glenn and Maggie?” Carol asked, scanning the open space. “We could use some help.” Sarah did the same, with a little frown.

"Don't know," she said, "They weren't in their cell," she had just assumed they were already outside.

“Up in the guard tower,” Daryl said, jerking his chin toward a structure a few feet away.

“The guard tower?” Rick echoed, visibly puzzled. “They were just up there last night.” Without hesitation, Daryl called out for them.

It didn’t take long before they saw movement behind the glass. Shadows shifted, and a moment later, Glenn stepped out—shirtless, fumbling to button up his pants.

Sarah couldn’t help it. A small giggle slipped out, and she quickly covered her mouth with her fingers. She wasn’t alone; soft laughter rippled through the group as they took in the awkward, undeniably amusing scene.

“Hey, what’s up guys?” Glenn called out, trying to sound casual. But it was no use—everyone found the situation far too funny to let it go.

“You coming?” Daryl asked with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement, only making the group laugh harder. Sarah glanced at him, then back at Glenn, struggling to keep her giggles in check.

“What?” Glenn asked, genuinely confused.

That only made things worse. The laughter bubbled again—uncontrollable now.

“You coming?” Daryl repeated, still smirking, before finally letting him off the hook. “C’mon, we could use a hand.”

They were still chuckling as they returned to their tasks, but the moment shattered when T called out Rick’s name. His voice was taut—alert. Sarah froze. Something in the tone made her chest tighten.

She followed T’s line of sight, and the lightness of the moment evaporated.

Rick’s face darkened as soon as he saw them, and he moved forward with heavy, determined steps. Sarah stood close to Carol, the tension thick in the air, but neither of them hung back—they followed.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder when he noticed Sarah a few steps behind him, before turning his gaze back to the two men ahead.

Everyone was on edge now.

Sarah’s fingers curled around the hilt of the knife strapped to her hip, the cool metal grounding her as her muscles tensed in quiet readiness.

"That's close enough," Rick said sharply to the two men, his tone edged with warning. "We had an agreement."

"Please, mister—we know that," the blond inmate with the strange mustache pleaded, his voice strained. "We made a deal, but you gotta understand—"

As he spoke, Maggie and Glenn emerged from the guard tower, their brows furrowed as they took in the scene unfolding below.

"We can't live in that place," the inmate continued, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was holding himself together. "You follow me? All the bodies... people we knew. Blood and brains everywhere. There’s ghosts."

Sarah dropped her gaze and drew in a slow, steadying breath. She remembered that those men had no idea of what exactly had happened to the world before they met them. Her mind flashed to Amy’s lifeless body on the ground, and to all the others they had buried after that haunted night at the quarry. In this world, ghosts didn’t wait for you—they stayed with you. You had to learn to live with them. Sadly…

"Why don't ya move the bodies out?" Daryl asked, his voice blunt but curious. Sarah looked up at him—his hands rested on his hips, his expression serious, eyes squinting slightly under the sun.

"You should burn them," T added from beside Rick, his tone matter-of-fact.

"We tried. We did," the blond man replied, voice trembling with frustration and fear.

"The fence is down on the far side of the prison," the other inmate said. Sarah remembered him too from the first encounter. "Every time we drag a body out, those things line up. We drop the body and just run back."

"Look, we had nothing to do with Tomas and Andrew," the blond man said, stepping forward a little. Rick, Daryl, and T had already told the rest of them what had happened—how Tomas had tried to ambush Rick, how Rick had killed him, how Andrew had run and been left to the walkers. These two had claimed they hadn’t known about the plan... but could that be true? There had only been five of them. Could they really have been that unaware?

"You tryin’ to prove a point? You proved it, bro!" the blond inmate kept pressing. "We'll do whatever it takes to be part of your group. Just please, please don’t make us live in that place."

Sarah exhaled shakily at his words, folding her arms tightly across her chest as if to brace herself against the emotional tug.

"Our deal is non-negotiable," Rick said firmly, his voice like stone. "You either live in your cell block—or you leave."

The two men lowered their eyes, their postures sagging under the weight of that sentence.

"I told you this was a waste of time," the taller one muttered to his companion. "They ain't any different than the pricks who shot up our boys."

He turned his glare back to Rick, and this time, it was sharp and bitter. "You know how many friends' corpses we had to drag out this week? Just threw them out, like garbage," he spat. "Those were good guys. Good guys who had our backs against some really bad dudes in the joint."

The situation had been the same. Randall was part of a group that had done terrible things—tried to kill Rick, Glenn, and Hershel. They’d been scared of what keeping him could lead to. And now, it was no different.

Sorry, Dale, she thought, her fingers instinctively brushing the screwdriver she always carried. She remembered Dale’s face, how hard he had fought for Randall’s life, how his words had eventually convinced them to try. And yet…

Sarah hated herself for thinking it—but she didn’t know these men.

They could be anyone. They could be monsters in disguise. She knew too well what it felt like to bury someone you loved... to face the nightmare head-on. But she couldn’t ignore her instincts now.

We have to protect our own, she told herself, clutching her arms tighter around her. I have to keep Nicki safe. And Daryl. And the others.

They can’t be part of this group, she decided, her stomach twisting.

"I'm not going to pretend to be a saint," the man kept saying, "But believe me, we've paid our due. Enough that we would rather hit the road than to go back in that shithole."

But that didn't convinced any of them, and Daryl closed them in between the last two gates, just one net separed them from the outside.

"I think we should let them in," T-Dog said, making everyone’s eyes widen in disbelief.

"Are you serious?" Rick asked, incredulous. "You want them living in a cell next to you?"

Sarah instinctively shook her head, brushing her fringe back from her face as she followed Rick's words. “They’ll just wait for the right moment to grab our weapons. You wanna go back to sleeping with one eye open?”

"I never stopped," T-Dog replied quietly, his gaze unwavering. "Bring them into the fold. If we send them off packing, we might as well execute them ourselves."

She knew that was the truth, they'd probably would have not survived, or maybe they could... Like they did since all that nightmare begun.

"I don't know," Glenn said, drawing in a slow breath. "Axel seemed a little unstable."

"After all we've been through?" Carol added, eyes on T-Dog. "We fought too hard for all of this. What if they try to take it from us?"

"It's just been us for so long," Maggie said, her voice tinged with unease. "They’re strangers. It feels... wrong all of a sudden, having new people around."

"I don’t like the idea of having strangers in here," Sarah echoed from beside Glenn, her arms crossed. Her tone was soft, but resolute.

"Maggie and her family let us in," T-Dog reminded them, but Maggie shook her head.

"You turned out with a shot boy in your arms. Didn't give us a choice," she explained.

"They can’t even kill walkers," Glenn added.

"They’re convicts," Carol said with finality. "Bottom line."

"Those two might have less blood on their hands than we do," T-Dog said, but Sarah shook her head again.

"You can’t be sure of that."

"I get guys like that," Daryl said, his voice low but steady. "Hell, I grew up with them."

Sarah looked at him in silence. It shouldn’t have surprised her—not after meeting Merle—but it still made her chest tighten. That those kinds of men had been part of Daryl’s world since childhood... it hurt more than she wanted to admit.

"They’re degenerates," Daryl continued, "but they ain’t psychos." He glanced over at the two men behind the net. "I could’ve been in there with them just as easy as I’m out here with you."

Sarah held her breath for a second. Her eyes settled on him, drawn to the raw honesty in his voice. Daryl wasn’t anything like those men, and she hated that he thought he could’ve been.

"So you're with me?" T-Dog asked, hopeful.

But Daryl shook his head. "Hell no," he said plainly. "Let ‘em take their chances out on the road, just like we did."

Rick seemed to agree. He told them about a guy from his rookie days—someone who had seemed harmless until the day he got out and killed a girl. That memory, and the risk it represented, hung heavy in the air. They had too much to lose now. They couldn’t take that chance. They couldn’t let those two in.

We have to put our family first, Sarah thought, turning away as she started walking back toward the SUV. She cast one last glance at the two inmates through the mesh fencing, her chest tight. She just hoped that they could learn how to survive.

“Ya alright?” Daryl asked, following close behind her.

Sarah turned to face him, locking eyes for a moment. “I’m alright,” she said softly, her voice low. “It’s just… all of this brings back memories.”

Daryl gave a small nod, chewing at his lower lip. “We’re gonna look for a place to burn the bodies,” he said after a moment of silence. “Rick wants it far from the water—doesn’t wanna risk poisoning it.”

Sarah’s gaze flicked toward the nearby stream. It wasn’t far—close enough that it had been one of the first things they noticed when they arrived. But the fact that it lay beyond the fence made things complicated. Walkers wandered by regularly, and it wasn’t safe to keep going out just to fetch water. Still, maybe there was a way to divert or access it without leaving the prison perimeter. She could think about that later.

“Ya wanna come?” Daryl asked, his tone quieter now.

“No,” she replied, gesturing toward the SUV. “I spotted a warning light on this one. I wanna check it out.”

He nodded again. “Need a hand?”

She looked up at him and smiled, the corners of her mouth softening. “Sure… if you’ve got time later.”

Daryl had been teaching her about cars for months now. He was good at it—surprisingly patient, even. He always told her she was picking things up fast, and maybe she was, but what she liked most was working on them with him.

"Sure, I got time," he said with a small smile of his own.

Her cheeks warmed again, a familiar flush she couldn’t quite fight off. She slipped into the driver’s seat and settled her hands on the wheel.

“Be safe out there,” she said, letting him close the door for her.

She turned the key and steered the SUV toward the nearest yard, watching through the rearview mirror as Daryl’s figure grew smaller and smaller.

Even with the weight of the inmates’ argument still echoing in her mind, the thought of later—of Daryl, quietly working beside her—gave her something solid to hold on to.

Sarah was the first to return, though it wasn’t long before Maggie, T, and Carol followed. She had gone back inside to retrieve the tools she’d been collecting over the past few months—salvaged wrenches, screwdrivers, and bits of wire she kept tucked away like precious things. Now, she was ready to start working on the SUV.

She popped the hood with a soft metallic creak. The sun had already baked the metal, and a wave of dry heat rolled over her face as she leaned in. Wincing slightly, she grabbed an old rag from the seat to shield her fingers from the hot surface. Her eyes scanned the battery and cables, moving carefully, methodically. The terminals looked intact—not corroded—but one wire was definitely loose, shifting each time it barely touched the edge of its port.

“Maybe it’s just this…” she muttered, tightening it with a pair of worn pliers. She climbed back inside, turned the key, and stared at the dashboard. The same warning light blinked back at her, amber and persistent.

Not an emergency—at least, not yet—but something she couldn’t afford to ignore. With a quiet sigh, she cut the engine again and wiped her brow, the sweat sticking to her skin in the late morning heat. Just as she leaned back in the seat, a faint sound behind her caught her attention.

She turned—and a slow smile curved her lips.

There, outside near the yard, stood Hershel, flanked by Lori, Beth, Carl, and Nicki. He was upright, walking carefully on the crutches, his movements still tentative but steady.

The happiness of seeing him standing fine, healty and safe was really what they all needed to smile and lose the tension of that morning. It had been a similar feeling to when Carl had survived the shot in the stomach. They were all together, and safe, remembering the people they had lost, but at least they were all there.

But it didn't last.

“Walkers!” Carl shouted suddenly, his voice cracking through the air like a gunshot.

Everything snapped.

Sarah’s hand shot to her pistol, adrenaline slamming into her veins as her gaze darted toward Nicolette. Her sister was already moving—grabbing an arrow from her quiver, drawing back, and firing. The thud of arrows and gunfire erupted all around them.

They were coming fast. Too fast.

Dozens of walkers poured through the outer gates, relentless and staggering, drawn by the noise. The group opened fire, but for every one that fell, three more emerged from behind. The field that had felt warm and safe just minutes ago was now a battlefield.

Panic swelled in Sarah’s chest as the walkers began pushing between them, dividing them like water around stones. The group was being pulled apart.

"Nicolette!" Sarah screamed, trying to spot her sister again—but there was only movement, shouting, gunfire. A walker lunged between toward Sarah, and she fired, the bullet hitting it in the head, but more kept coming, cutting her off.

“Get out of there now!” Rick’s voice rang out through the din.

But Sarah couldn’t see Nicolette anymore.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she backed up toward the SUV. A walker stumbled from behind a burned-out pickup, too close—she fired again. Another emerged to her left.

She spun, yanked the SUV door open, and climbed inside, slamming it shut behind her just as a walker threw itself against the window with a thud. The door held, but barely. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she locked the doors and reached for her gun with shaking hands, her eyes wide, scanning for any sign of Nicolette through the windshield. She could just see Hershel and Beth, hiding behind a closed net, but she could not spot all the others.

Where were they? Were they alive? Was Nicolette alive?

Her eyes moved to the four walkers closing in on the SUV, their decaying hands dragging across the hood, leaving smears of blood and dirt on the glass. The vehicle rocked slightly as one of them slammed against the side. Sarah’s grip on the gun tightened; her whole body was tense, frozen between the instinct to fight and the terror of being trapped. Sweat beaded at her temple despite the chill creeping through the car.

Then she heard it—gunshots, closer now.

And when she looked up, one of the walkers collapsed with an arrow lodged in its skull.

Daryl... she thought at the walkers going down one by one.

The moment the last walker dropped, Sarah threw the door open, her breath catching in her throat.

“Sarah!” Daryl’s voice was closer now, rough and breathless.

She barely had time to step out before he was there—crossbow in hand, chest heaving. His eyes locked on hers, wide with fear that hadn’t had time to settle into relief yet. Without a word, he reached out and pulled her into him.

Her hands clutched at the back of his shirt as he held her tight against his chest, his arms firm, protective.

“Ya alright?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye.

“I’m alright,” she nodded, still gripping his shoulders. “I’m alright, but—I don’t know where Nicolette is.”

“Hershel said she’s with Maggie,” he reassured her, meeting her gaze with calm certainty. At his words, Sarah’s lungs finally let her breathe. Nicki wasn’t alone. She was okay. She had to be.

Then—an alarm blared through the prison, loud and shrill, cutting through everything.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” Daryl barked, spinning toward the noise.

Walkers were already emerging from the trees, drawn by the blaring siren. Sarah turned just in time to see Rick firing at one of the loudspeakers fixed to the wall. Glenn quickly followed his lead, just as the two convicts rushed toward them.

Sarah tucked her gun close to her body and followed the others. Rick had his weapon raised, furious and suspicious. “How the hell can this be happening?!” he shouted at the two inmates, who immediately raised their hands.

Was it them? Sarah’s thoughts spun as the taller man began speaking quickly.

“It’s gotta be the backup generator,” he said.

“How do you turn those off?” Rick demanded, tension rising in his voice.

“There’s three of them,” the man explained quickly, “connected to a diesel tank. Each controls a section of the prison. The hacks shut them all down when the place got overrun.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed. He turned to the other inmate, jabbing a finger at him. “Could someone open the main gates electronically with full power?” he asked urgently.

“I only worked here three days,” the taller man replied, voice strained. “I guess it’s possible…”

Before he could finish, Rick grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him forward.

“Come with us!” he snapped, already taking off at a run.

Sarah glanced at Daryl—just a second—and then they both took off behind Rick, sprinting toward the prison.

*******************************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

Text

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 11

SARAH

"What are you doing?" Nicolette's voice made her glance back as she dragged one of the mattresses across the ground.

"Can you help me?" Sarah asked while pulling. She didn’t need to look at her sister to know that Nicolette was frowning, but Nicki didn’t ask any more questions and instead moved to help her, dragging the mattress through the upper row of the cell block. They were trying to reach the iron perch.

"Just a little more," Sarah said, tugging it a few feet farther until they reached the wall, where she gestured for her sister to lay it down.

"Are you leaving it here?" Nicki asked skeptically, watching as Sarah slapped the mattress to make it look a little more plump.

"Daryl doesn't like to sleep in cells," Sarah explained, pushing her fringe back from her forehead. "So, I thought of arranging something like a room for him, until he’s ready."

Nicki frowned, kneeling down opposite from where Sarah was.

"Why doesn’t he like it?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know," Sarah said, shaking her head. "And I'm not gonna ask." She stood up and walked into another cell, grabbing a pillow she had spotted earlier. She gave it a few sharp slaps to knock off the worst of the dust.

"I thought you two talked a lot," Nicki commented, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe with her arms crossed.

Sarah thought about that for a moment. "We spend a lot of time together, yes," she admitted, "but I would never ask about his past."

"Why not?" Nicki frowned again.

"Because he doesn't like to talk about it," Sarah answered, brushing past her sister. Nicki simply nodded, following as Sarah placed the pillow carefully at the end of the mattress.

"Why are you rearranging the whole place?" Nicki asked from behind her.

"Because I can’t stay still," Sarah said, turning briefly to look at her. "You've got your bow that calms your nerves. I've got cleaning."

Nicki scoffed, crossing her arms again. "Mom would have been so proud."

Sarah let out a soft chuckle. "Or maybe not," she said with a smirk. "She'd probably say, 'It took the apocalypse to make you fond of cleaning'."

Nicki chuckled too, nodding. Sarah had always been a pretty messy person — she liked to do a thousand things at once, and there was always some kind of order in her mind. But ever since the world had fallen apart, she needed the outside to be clean to keep her mind clear... or maybe just busy.

"Do you think they're okay?" Nicki asked after a moment, glancing downstairs. "Maybe they found people... maybe they're together like us."

Sarah thought about their parents often, hoping with all her heart that they had made it, that they were still alive and together — and not dead somewhere or, worse, roaming as walkers. But the not knowing was its own kind of agony.

"Maybe I'm just wasting time thinking about how they might be," Nicki continued, her voice low and cutting into Sarah like a blade. "We'll never see them again anyway."

"You don't know that," Sarah said, forcing the tears welling up in her eyes to stay put.

"You think it too," Nicki whispered. Her voice never rose, but the pain was written all over her face. "Thinking about them just makes it worse."

Sarah opened her mouth to respond — but before she could, a scream tore through the air. Beth’s voice, desperate and terrified, echoed through the cell block.

The two sisters exchanged a wide-eyed look before bolting down the stairs.

They reached the cell just as Lori rushed inside.

"What's happening?" Nicki asked, glancing at Carl.

"Hershel's not breathing," he answered, and Sarah gasped, rushing into the cell where Beth and Maggie were clinging to each other against the wall, while Lori had already started performing CPR on the man. Sarah looked around for a moment, panic threatening to freeze her limbs, before remembering that Glenn wasn't there — Carol had asked for his help with something.

Sarah froze for a heartbeat, panic squeezing her chest. Then instinct kicked in. She moved quickly to Hershel's side, kneeling opposite Lori.

"I'll hold his head," she said firmly, reaching out without hesitation.

Lori barely nodded, too focused as she continued the chest compressions and rescue breaths. Sarah slid her hands carefully under Hershel’s head, steadying it so Lori could work more effectively without it lolling sideways.

She could feel how cold his skin was.

"Come on, Hershel," Sarah whispered under her breath, gripping him as steadily as she could.

Her hands trembled slightly, but she locked her elbows, forcing herself to be strong. Hershel needed clean air, steady compressions — nothing else mattered.

Sarah didn’t take her eyes off him as Lori kept pushing against his chest. Her knuckles whitened against his silver hair, but she maintained her hold, keeping his head tilted back to keep the airway open, just like she had seen in first aid videos years ago.

The minutes stretched endlessly — and Sarah kept whispering in her mind: Breathe, Hershel, breathe.

Then suddenly, just as Lori gave him another breath, Hershel moved, reaching out with his free arm to grab Lori. They all gasped in fear, terrified that Hershel had just turned. Sarah tightened her grip on his head, trying to keep him steady, while Maggie and Beth rushed forward to free Lori from his grasp.

But when Sarah finally managed to look properly at Hershel’s face, she saw it — he wasn’t a walker. He was alive. He was breathing. His eyes opened for a fleeting moment before he closed them again, drifting back into unconsciousness.

"Oh my God, Lori, are you alright?" Sarah asked, rushing to her feet to reach Lori, Maggie, and Beth.

"I'm alright," Lori answered, breathing hard, "I'm alright," she repeated, before quickly turning to her son. Carl already had his gun drawn, and Nicki stood beside him with her bow at the ready.

"It's alright," Lori reassured them both, trying to calm everyone down.

That had been a hell of a day.

For a long while, the cell block was filled with nothing but the sound of breathing. No one spoke. No one dared move too fast, as if any sudden gesture might shatter the fragile peace they had fought so hard to cling to.

Sarah leaned back against the nearest wall, rubbing her palms over her jeans, trying to ground herself in the reality that — somehow — Hershel was still alive. Maggie remained by his side, holding his hand tightly. Beth was crying softly into Lori’s shoulder. Nicki crouched down, methodically checking her arrows, while Carl sat silently nearby, his hat shadowing most of his face.

Everything hurt — not physically, but somewhere deeper, like her chest was too small to contain the rush of exhaustion, fear, and raw, stubborn hope boiling just beneath the surface.

Sarah wiped at her eyes quickly, hoping nobody had noticed, and let her gaze drift toward the broken beams of light filtering through the barred windows.

Her fingers brushed absently over the rough iron wall next to her, grounding herself to something solid, something real — when movement at the edge of her vision made her glance up.

She caught sight of a figure approaching through the shadows — Glenn, hurrying back, but without Carol.

Sarah straightened immediately, the heavy knot of worry tightening once more in her chest.

"Hey," she said when she saw Glenn getting closer, her voice slightly rough from all the emotions. There was no sign of Carol. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Glenn said, glancing back before stepping closer to Sarah. "Carol wants to practice a C-section," he whispered.

"Oh, God..." Sarah muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. It made sense. Lori had told them that she had given birth to Carl by C-section; she would most likely have to go through it again. But that kind of practice meant cutting her open — it meant Lori could really die.

"Are we even prepared for a C-section?" Sarah asked in a whisper, making sure Lori wasn't passing by.

"We gotta be," he answered, but Sarah shook her head.

"I mean the whole C-section," she said, "She doesn't just need to be cut through — we'll need to stitch her back up. Uterus and everything."

"I know," Glenn said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But we have to think that it's going to be okay. It’s gotta be."

Sarah nodded, knowing that panicking wouldn't help anyone, but the weight of all they had feared for months was now crashing down. With Hershel in that state and Lori’s pregnancy nearing its end, everything felt heavier.

"Maybe I'll go to Carol later," she said, running her fingers through her hair. "Two are better than one." Glenn nodded, forcing a small smile, then exhaled slowly.

"How's everything?" he asked.

"Under control now," Sarah answered. "Hershel stopped breathing for a moment, but Lori saved him," she said, already seeing the anxious look forming on his face. "He even opened his eyes for a moment, but then he passed out again. She’s with him now," she added, stepping aside. "Go."

Glenn didn’t hesitate a second longer and hurried toward Maggie to hug her tightly.

Sarah took a deep breath, observing them for a moment, before letting her gaze drift toward the gate where Daryl, Rick, and T had disappeared what felt like a lifetime ago. She wondered how they were, where they were, and whether everything had gone as planned.

Nothing she had done so far had helped take her mind off the worry. She had cleaned the alley and several cells, arranged the food supplies, checked if the guns were loaded — but nothing could shake the fear gnawing at her. Hershel could die at any moment. Daryl and the others could be in danger. Lori could face serious complications.

Maybe taking this prison had been a mistake. Maybe there was no safe place anymore.

Stop it, Sarah, she scolded herself. Hershel already opened his eyes. He can do it again. Daryl and the others might be safe and unharmed. And Lori’s pregnancy will be alright.

She needed to keep herself busy a little longer. Noticing an old maintenance closet nearby, she got an idea.

The door creaked loudly when she opened it, revealing piles of broken furniture, abandoned cleaning tools, and a few rusty supplies left to rot with the rest of the world.

Rolling up her sleeves, Sarah dug through the mess, pulling out two old broom handles that still seemed sturdy enough to hold some weight. She propped them against the wall, then used the belt around her hips to secure them temporarily. If that wasn’t enough, she’d ask someone else for a belt.

Sitting cross-legged on the dirty floor, she worked quickly, using a knife to cut the belts into strips. She wrapped them tightly around the tops of the broom handles, stuffing ripped pieces of fabric from an old mattress underneath to create rough padding for Hershel’s underarms. The leather straps squeaked as she pulled them tight, tying thick, ugly knots she hoped would hold.

She needed grips too. After some searching, she found the broken frame of a metal chair and, with a few careful kicks, managed to detach two horizontal bars. She fastened them across the broom handles at mid-height, using the last of the belts and some cord she found tangled around a mop.

By the time she finished, her hands were raw and trembling slightly. But two rough, makeshift crutches now leaned against the wall next to her — uneven, battered, but standing.

Wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, Sarah sat back for a moment, breathing heavily. It wasn’t perfect, but it might help Hershel move when he woke up. It might give him a fighting chance.

Drawing in a determined breath, she grabbed the crutches and started making her way back to the others. Carl and Glenn were standing on either side of Hershel’s cell, while Nicki sat cross-legged next to Carl, her bow resting on her knees.

"What's that?" Glenn asked as she approached.

"Crutches," she said, showing them to him. "Roughly made, but they should hold until we find a real pair."

Beth got up from where she had been kneeling, taking the crutches from Sarah’s hands. "Thank you, Sarah," she said, her eyes full of tears.

Sarah reached out to brush a lock of blonde hair from Beth’s face. "Don't mention it."

Beth had just turned back when they all heard the metal clatter of the gate opening. Sarah instinctively let out a relieved breath when she saw Rick walking toward them, T right behind him — and not far behind, Daryl.

Sarah couldn't stop her lips from turning up in a smile as she made her way toward him. Without thinking — without even giving herself time to second-guess it — she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around Daryl’s shoulders.

For a second, he stiffened under the sudden contact, but then she felt him exhale against her temple, rough and low, and his hand came up to her back.

"You alright?" he muttered, his voice gruff but quieter than usual.

Sarah simply nodded against him, squeezing him for one more heartbeat before letting go. "You? Is everything alright?"

Daryl chewed on his lip before shaking his head. "Two of those assholes wanted to kill us," he said.

Sarah's eyes widened, but Daryl didn’t give her time to speak. "Nothin' happened," he assured her, "One got away, the other is dead."

Sarah let out a shaky breath. "What about the other three?"

"One was bitten," he answered, "The other two, we left them in cell block A."

Sarah wasn’t sure how she felt about letting them stay in cell block A, but she decided not to say anything. Daryl seemed deep in thought, and she didn’t want to argue with his decision. Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, making him look at her.

"I'm glad you're safe," she said, offering him a small smile.

Daryl observed her for a moment in silence, then nodded quietly. Side by side, they joined the others gathered around Hershel.

Nicki was now sitting in the cell next to Lori, while Sarah and Daryl stood outside, behind Carl. The others were all inside — only Carol was still missing. Then suddenly, Hershel stirred, making everyone move closer.

Maggie sat at her father’s side, Rick standing protectively next to her. Again, Hershel groaned softly, and after what felt like an endless few seconds, he finally opened his eyes.

"Oh my God," Sarah muttered, watching as Hershel blinked, trying to clear his vision.

"Daddy?" Maggie called out, her voice full of hope. The man seemed to recognize her, his lips curving into a small, joyful smile.

"Daddy!" Beth cried too, rushing closer to her sister, chuckling through her tears. Rick was quick to pull out his keys and unlock Hershel's wrist from the restraint.

Sarah couldn’t help but let out a relieved giggle when she saw Hershel reaching for Rick’s hand, thanking him in silence. She could feel her own eyes fill with tears, releasing all the tension that had built up inside her throughout the day.

Without even realizing it, as she stood next to Daryl, her fingers brushed lightly against his. It wasn’t something she planned — it just happened, natural as breathing. And instead of pulling away, Daryl’s rough hand caught hers, his grip firm, grounding.

Sarah turned her head slightly, enough to see him watching the scene in front of them, the faintest trace of a smile touching his lips.

Tears stung her eyes again, but this time they weren’t from fear. It was the sheer, overwhelming relief of seeing something good happen.

Around them, Beth was crying openly, Maggie was laughing through her tears as she hugged Hershel, and even Glenn wiped at his eyes when he thought no one was looking. Rick let out a shaky breath, his shoulders finally relaxing after what had felt like a lifetime, before getting up and walking out of the cell.

Sarah tightened her fingers slightly around Daryl’s, feeling the steady thrum of life in his pulse, and closed her eyes for just a heartbeat — letting herself believe, even if just for a little while, that everything was going to be alright.

**********************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

Text

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 10

NICOLETTE

Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog had left again, but Nicolette had no idea how long it had been since they went away. Time was something that drove Nicki crazy sometimes. She had no idea how much time passed. She never knew.

The night before had passed in a blink of an eye, but now it seemed an eternity since they had come back with Hershel. He wasn't waking up, and she did not know if that was normal or if he should have woken up by now.

But the sun was still up in the sky, giving light to a world that was now only ruled by death. She had observed Carol and Lori trying to help Hershel as best as they could, Beth cutting the right leg of her father's pants, and Maggie crying. Sarah and Glenn stayed close to each other, trying to keep it strong, solid. No panic was ever allowed.

You need to stay focused, she repeated to herself, but in moments like those, Nicki had trouble keeping focused. It had happened already when Carl had been shot in the stomach. And now it was happening again with Hershel.

She hated it, those moments of uncertainty, knowing that there was nothing else to do but wait.

I should have done more, she asked herself, feeling her hands shaking from where they were resting on her knees. Nicki was in her new cell, sitting on her bed, replaying Hershel lying on the ground, that walker chewing on his leg.

Nicki had not realized that he had gone back; she had not heard him. She could not see anything in that dark.

I should have done more, she told herself, pushing her hair back.

And in the silence, she heard footsteps coming toward her direction. She did not have to wait long before Carl appeared at her door.

"I need your help," he said, making Nicki frown.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked, knowing too well that Shorty would never ask for her help so openly if he didn't think her help was actually needed.

"Hershel needs medicines," he whispered, eyeing the others downstairs to make sure no one would hear them. "My dad is not here, which means I'm going to take those medicines."

"Just like that?" she asked, lowering her voice. "Without telling anyone?"

"I'm telling you," he said, looking at her with a serious expression, "And you can do whatever you want with it. Cover for me or tell them, but I am going," he said with resolution. "Hershel will die if we do not get him antibiotics."

Nicki hated to admit it, but Carl had a point. That kind of wound could get infected easily, and if it did, Hershel had no chance of surviving.

She felt a shiver down her spine, but she knew what she had to do.

"Alright," she said, jumping down from her bed to grab her bow resting against the wall.

"What are you doing?" he asked, observing her movements.

"I'm coming with you," she answered, tightening the belt of the quiver across her chest.

"I'll go alone," he said, but she tilted her head, her eyes wide.

"I've been out there," she said. "I can help you."

But he stubbornly shook his head. "You can protect the others if something happens," he said. "And I know that you don't want to go out there, not now." Nicki let out a shaky breath. He was right; she did not want to go. She did not want to walk in those dark corridors. She could still hear Hershel's screaming in her head, the blood on the floor, and Rick using the axe on the man.

She hated to feel like that. She could not let her nerves take over in that way. They had been on the road for so long. She had lost many people. She had already seen people dying.

But it does not get easier, Nicki thought in frustration. I wish it would get easier.

"It's alright if you don't want to," Carl said firmly.

Nicki watched him for a moment, weighing the stubborn tilt of his chin, the tight grip he had on his gun. He was not afraid. She had known him for quite a while now, and as they had been on the road, Carl and Nicki had been sent on runs often together. She knew that he was able to defend himself. She knew she could trust him.

"Alright, Shorty," she said quietly, taking the torch from her belt so she could throw it to him. Carl caught it with no trouble.

"Don't do anything stupid," she said. Carl smirked at her; he seemed almost grateful. Nicki crossed her arms and leaned her weight against the wall. "But be quick about it," she added under her breath.

He gave her a quick nod before slipping away.

Nicki observed him walking down the stairs, watching him disappear into the hallway, and opening the door without anyone noticing. Then finally the door closed with a faint click behind him.

For a moment, she stood there, bow in hand, feeling the familiar knot of worry tighten in her chest.

She could have stopped him. She could have yelled, called the others. But she didn't. She wouldn't.

Little shit, she thought, taking a deep breath.

The time passing only got worse after Carl left, and Nicki felt even more nervous, feeling her legs bouncing with anxiety. She could not stay in her cell anymore; she needed to move. Or do something.

With a stressed breath, she took her bow, hanging it across her shoulders, before making her way down the stairs.

The noise made Glenn look up from where he was standing with his shoulder leaned against Hershel's cell. As he saw her, he turned inside the cell, calling for Sarah. Her sister was immediately outside, walking towards her, trying to keep a smile, but Nicki knew that she was worried about her.

Nicki could not blame her. She had almost had a panic attack before. She would have them sometimes when she was a child, but they were usually related to needles. Now it seemed so stupid to be scared of such silly things. But she wished that her main fear would still be needles, and not her friends dying in horrible ways.

"Have you slept a bit?" Sarah asked as Nicki walked closer.

"No," she answered, pushing her hair back. "How's Hershel?"

Sarah looked back for a moment. "He's not waking up," she answered, "And he's got a bit of fever. Lori decided to tie him up, just in case."

Right. Even if Rick had saved Hershel from the bite, it didn't mean he had saved him from becoming a walker. After the farm had fallen, Rick had told them about the truth of that virus. They all had it, and it wasn't necessary to be bitten to become one of those creatures; it only required them to die. Any type of death, but if the brain was undamaged, whoever died came back to life. That's why there were so many walkers out there — they kept coming back to life, over and over, with no stop.

"It's gonna be alright, Nicki," her sister said, touching her arm.

"I guess we sort of have to think it that way," she answered, before making her way to the cell. She peeked inside, her eyes immediately searching for Hershel. He was sleeping; his breath did not seem labored. He almost seemed like he was just taking a nap. But then she looked at what Carol was doing — she was checking the wound. When Nicki saw it, she had to look away; she could see the bone and the flesh, and that sight made her stomach twist. So she turned, taking a deep breath, before looking at Maggie and Beth.

She hadn't had time to speak to them before, but she had to tell them something. "I'm sorry," she said, letting out a shaky breath.

I should have done more, she thought, just before Maggie shook her head, pulling her into a hug. Nicki hugged her back. They were both trying not to cry. But it was difficult, and almost painful. But crying was not useful, to anyone, let alone Hershel.

Just when Nicki and Maggie had let go of each other, they all heard a gate opening. Nicki turned to see both Glenn and Sarah look at the back door of the alley.

Carl…

"Thought you were organizing food," Glenn said with a concerned frown. Nicki made her way toward the door to take a peek. Carl was back and he was holding a big bag in his left hand.

"Even better," he answered with a little smirk.

You did it, little shit, Nicki thought, sharing a knowing look with Carl. She quickly looked him over — he was unharmed, no scratches, no blood. Nicki could not hold back the little smile that formed on her lips.

"Check it out," he said, setting the bag between Carol and Lori.

His mother gasped as she, Carol, Maggie, and Beth went through what Carl had just brought back. "Where did you get these?" the woman asked.

"From the infirmary," he explained simply. "Wasn't much left but I cleared it out."

Nicolette observed Carol as she took a clean gauze and wrapped it around Hershel's stump.

"You went by yourself?" Lori asked, looking at her son.

"Yeah," but his answer only made everyone around them widen their eyes.

"Are you crazy?" Lori asked, almost out of breath.

"No big deal," Carl said, starting to grow agitated by his mother's words. "I killed two walkers."

But this didn't seem to settle Lori. "Alright. Do you see this?" she said, giving a quick look at Hershel before returning all her attention back to her son. "This was with the whole group."

"We needed supplies so I got them," Carl answered.

"I appreciate that, but—"

"Then get off my back!" Carl screamed in his mother's face, only to be quickly scolded by Beth.

"Carl," she said, "She is your mother, you can't talk to her like that."

Nicolette observed him shift his gaze from Beth to his mother, but his shoulders were tense, just like his stare.

"Listen," Lori said, "I think it's great that you wanna help—" but she never finished the sentence because Carl made a dash out of the cell, leaving them all in silence, all of them glancing at Lori.

"I'll go," Nicki said, following Carl, but as she was making her way to his cell, she heard steps coming behind her.

"Did you know about this?" Glenn spoke in a whisper, but it was enough to make her turn. Nicki did not answer; she just looked at him in silence.

"You two cannot do that," Glenn said without raising his voice. "You were out there, you've seen what happened."

"And I also know that nobody else was willing to go," Nicki answered. "I wasn't, you weren't. But he was," she said, glancing at Hershel's cell, "And he might have saved him. I think that's what matters."

Then she turned to walk toward where Carl was. He was in his cell, sitting on the ground, with his back against the bunk bed, his arms around his legs, and his head bowed low. She could not see his face since his hat was covering it from where she was.

He was frustrated — she could see he was. It had happened before, when Rick wasn't willing to bring him on runs. And Nicki shared that sentiment. He had been brave, and he was no fool. They should have known that by now.

Nicki took a breath, stepping quietly inside the cell. She sat down next to Carl, keeping a little distance, their arms almost but not quite brushing. She bent her knees close to her chest, mirroring his posture without thinking. For a moment she just watched him, the rim of his hat hiding his eyes, his breathing deep and angry.

There was nothing to say. So they didn't talk. They just stayed there, sitting together in silence, breathing the same heavy air.

***********************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

Text

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 9

SARAH

"What are you doing?" Carl's voice made her turn from what she was doing. The boy, wearing his sheriff hat a little too big for his head, was watching Sarah from outside the cell. "I am bringing Nicolette's things to her new room," Sarah said, looking around.

She had chosen one of the cells on the upper row, closer to the wall, where the sunlight could filter through the bars. The faint warmth of it made the room feel less like a cage and more like something they could actually call home. Sarah had decided she would clean this one for Nicki first, and then she would clean her own.

"You won't share a cell?" Carl asked curiously.

Sarah took a breath. "Apparently, my sister has reached that age where you just want your own space, I guess." It was saddening, but at the same time, she was relieved that they could still worry about trivial things—things like a teenager wanting her own room instead of worrying about survival.

"How is it?" Carl asked again, "Being an older sister?" Sarah smiled warmly at him.

"Are you worried you won't be a good big brother?" she teased, and when he just looked down shyly, she decided to sit on the lower bunk, patting the space beside her. Carl didn't hesitate much and silently sat down, waiting for her to speak. "You'll never stop worrying about them," she said, voice low, "Even if they're the kindest, most gentle soul you've ever met."

Carl frowned. "You're not talking about Nicki. Do you have another sister?" Sarah chuckled softly. Those two wouldn't stop teasing each other even if they weren't speaking directly.

"I know you might feel scared," she continued gently, "especially in a world like this, but little siblings really only require one thing from their big brothers and sisters."

"What?" he asked, leaning a little closer.

"Love," Sarah said simply. "As cheesy as it sounds, that's all they want. And that's all you'll want to give them." Her voice softened further as memories flooded her mind—she still remembered the first time her parents had brought Nicki home. So tiny in their father's arms, a mop of black hair already covering her head, her little face already wearing that observant, thoughtful pout she still carried around. Their parents had worried that after seven years of being an only child, Sarah would grow distant. But it had never happened. Sarah had adored her sister from the very beginning. Even if they were like day and night, her love for Nicki had always been one of the strongest things in her life.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said, squeezing Carl's shoulder lightly. "I'm sure you're going to be a perfect big brother. And maybe you can help me to be a better sister too." Carl chuckled. "I think you're a good sister," he said with a nod, sincere. Sarah took a breath.

"I just feel like I'm becoming more like a mom," she admitted. Her relationship with Nicki had changed—it had to—after being left on their own. But sometimes, she missed just being a sister.

"I think she still likes you as a sister," Carl said, meeting her eyes, "She's just terrible with words." Sarah tilted her head, smiling tenderly. Those two understood each other better than they realized.

But the moment of calm shattered suddenly when loud screams echoed from downstairs. Sarah and Carl exchanged a look before both bolted toward the noise, the panic rising so quickly it felt like a hand gripping Sarah’s chest. They should have been safe inside the prison. Why were people screaming?

Her heart raced faster when she realized the yelling came from outside the gates. Nicki, she thought, feeling like her lungs had turned to stone. Carl ran ahead, fumbling with the keys, quickly opening the door just as Maggie, Glenn, and Rick rushed inside. They were pulling a table—and on it lay Hershel, bloodied, unconscious, missing his right calf.

"Oh my God," Sarah muttered, frozen in horror. What the hell had happened?

Instinctively, her eyes darted around, searching—until she saw her sister running inside, unharmed. Relief slammed into her so hard her knees almost buckled. She rushed over, grabbing Nicki by the shoulders.

"Are you alright?" she asked urgently. Nicki was pale, trembling slightly, her gaze fixed on Hershel with wide, haunted eyes. "Nicki?" Sarah called again, but her sister looked as though she couldn’t find her voice.

"I... yeah," Nicki muttered finally, voice barely a whisper. "Just... I..." Then, before Sarah could reach for her again, Nicki stepped back, distancing herself from the scene like she needed air to breathe. Sarah was about to follow when Carl gently touched her arm. "I'll go," he said, already moving after Nicki across the alley.

Sarah watched them go, her heart aching. Nicki was tough, but when something happened to the people she loved... she couldn't hide it. None of them could.

Sarah looked around, scanning the others quickly. "Where’s Daryl?" she asked aloud, mostly to herself. He wasn’t there. Everyone else was back—but not him. Fear gnawed at her.

Then she spotted T-Dog moving quickly in the direction they had come from. Without thinking, Sarah followed him. As she passed through the iron-barred gate, it was like the air finally moved through her chest again—there was Daryl, standing near one of the tables, crossbow drawn, pointed at the door.

"Daryl—" she called.

"Stay back!" he barked, his voice sharp, making Sarah immediately tug the knife from her belt. She moved closer to him, tense. She thought it might have been walkers, but the low growl of the dead wasn’t there. Instead—footsteps. Slow, deliberate steps.

Who is it?

She didn’t have to wait long. A man appeared in the doorway, a little shorter than Daryl, with shoulder-length dark hair tied in a messy half-ponytail, sharp dark eyes, and a rough beard around his mouth and chin. He wasn’t alone—four others followed, all in worn, faded inmate uniforms.

Someone had survived.

"It’s far enough," Daryl said, his voice cold as steel, keeping the crossbow trained on the first man. Sarah gripped her knife tighter, her knuckles whitening.

"Cell block C," the man said casually, too casually. "Cell 4. That’s mine, Gringo. Let me in."

"Today’s your lucky day, fellas," Daryl hissed through his teeth. "You’ve been pardoned by the State of Georgia. You’re free to go." God, Sarah hoped that would be enough to make them leave. She had a terrible feeling about them.

"What you got going on in there?" the first man asked, glancing toward the sounds of panic where Carol was still trying to stop Hershel’s bleeding.

"It’s none of your concern," Daryl replied firmly.

But the man frowned and, with a slow, deliberate movement, reached toward his pocket. Sarah’s stomach clenched when she saw the gun.

"Daryl!" she gasped as Daryl immediately shifted, placing himself squarely between her and the threat, crossbow raised even higher.

"Chill, man," said one of the others, the biggest of the group, a towering figure with a round face and dark skin. "Dude’s leg is messed up. Besides—we’re free now. Why are we still here?"

They don't know, Sarah realized, a sharp pang of pity cutting through her fear.

"The man's got a point," Daryl said grimly.

"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," another of them chimed in—a big guy, too, but leaner, meaner. Sarah almost felt sorry for whoever he called 'old lady'. In a world like this, survival was rare for someone without protection.

"A bunch of civilians breaking into a prison they don’t belong in," the first man muttered to his companions. "Got me thinking there’s no place left to go."

"Why don't you go find out?" Daryl growled. Sarah's heart pounded painfully against her ribs. Daryl could shoot, but so could the man. She tightened her grip on the knife, praying not to be the reason something went wrong.

"Maybe we'll just go now," the blond one said, the shortest of them, sporting a ridiculous set of mustaches.

But the first man shook his head stubbornly. "We ain't leaving."

"You ain't coming in either," T-Dog barked, stepping forward, gun raised.

Sarah shifted too, instinctively stepping forward, afraid of what could happen if the situation escalated.

"It’s my house, my rules," the first man snapped. "We go where I damn well please."

"There ain't nothing for you here," Daryl said. "Why don't you go back to your own sandbox?"

Footsteps sounded behind them—and then Rick's voice, calm but firm, "Hey, hey. Everyone relax. There's no need for this."

The first man eyed Rick suspiciously, then glanced at Sarah for a moment, his gaze lingering. "How many of you are in there?"

"Too many for you to handle," Rick answered without missing a beat.

The prisoners looked confused. One of them, the one still clutching his gun, scanned them before speaking again. "You guys rob a bank or something? Why don't you take him to the hospital?"

They really don't know, Sarah thought bitterly.

Rick asked the question on everyone's mind. "How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?"

The man holding the gun tightened his grip. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat, every muscle tense.

"Going on ten months," he said, and the giant beside him added, "A riot broke out. Never seen anything like it."

Sarah imagined it easily—chaos, screams, blood. She still had nightmares about Atlanta.

"Ever heard of people dying, then coming back?" Daryl asked.

The inmates didn’t look convinced. Sarah didn’t blame them. She almost envied them, realizing they hadn’t lived through the nightmare the rest of the world had.

The man with the gun explained a guard had locked them in, left them a weapon, promised he would return but he never did.

"We were thinking the Army or the National Guard would show up," another muttered. Sarah exchanged a long, heavy look with Rick.

"There is no army," Rick said.

"No one's gonna come," Sarah added, her voice heavy.

The inmates stared, disbelieving. She recognized those faces—confusion, terror, denial—the same they had all worn, once.

"What about my mom?" the big one whispered.

"My kids? My old lady?"

Sarah’s heart twisted painfully. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, maybe..." the man stammered, "You got a cell phone or something?"

Hope, desperation. It hurt to hear it.

"Ya just don’t get it, do ya?" Daryl said, voice rough.

"There’s nothing like that anymore," Sarah said softly, stepping up beside Daryl.

"As far as we can tell, at least half the world’s gone," Rick said. Still, disbelief clung stubbornly to the inmates' faces. Rick hesitated for only a moment, then decided — they would show them.

As the group started to move, Daryl caught Sarah’s arm. "Don'," he murmured, his voice low as his eyes locked onto hers. "I told ya to stay back."

"There was no time," she said quickly, almost pleading. "And I didn’t want to leave you."

"Daryl!" Rick called again, urgency pulling at them both. Daryl nodded, gave Sarah one last lingering look. "Stay here," he said, his voice softer this time, almost reluctant.

Then he let her go and followed Rick and T-Dog outside, disappearing through the gates. Sarah just stood there, her heart twisting painfully as she watched him leave. She knew Daryl always tried to protect everyone — it was simply who he was. But even now, even with the fear clawing at her chest, she wasn’t sorry for staying with him.

Turning back toward the others, Sarah felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on her shoulders again. Carol was still trying to stop the bleeding, hands covered in blood, while the others clustered tightly around Hershel.

Sarah crossed the alley in a few quick steps, reaching Glenn. She touched his arm gently, just to let him know she was there. He turned immediately, his face pale, his eyes wide and tired.

"Is everything alright out there?" he whispered. Sarah nodded, casting a glance toward Hershel lying motionless on the table.

"Rick’s got it covered," she answered softly. "How're things here?"

"It won't stop bleeding," Glenn said, voice trembling as he let out a heavy sigh. "Carl and Nicki just got back with fresh towels, but..."

Sarah didn’t know what to say. Every part of her wanted to lie, to promise that everything would turn out fine. But giving each other false hope — they had learned — was even more dangerous than facing the truth.

Hershel’s injury would have been serious even with fully equipped hospitals. Now, without doctors, without even basic supplies... How could she promise anything at all?

She squeezed Glenn’s hand tighter, hoping the gesture would be enough to give him even a sliver of comfort — or strength — when words failed her.

Standing there, Sarah scanned the room until her eyes found Nicki. She seemed calmer now, but she looked pale, drained, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Sarah swallowed hard. She hoped she would never have to see her sister look like that again. But deep down, she knew better. She couldn't shield Nicki from the world's cruelty, no matter how much she wanted to.

"It has to stop eventually, right?" Lori said, passing another bloodied towel to Carol. "It slowed down quite a bit already."

That’s a good thing... isn’t it? Sarah wasn’t sure anymore.

A pang of regret hit her — the kind that felt sharp and sudden. Maybe she should have listened to her father and studied medicine after all. Here, now, she felt powerless — useless — watching helplessly as Hershel clung to life, while Carol and Lori fought desperately with their bare hands.

Carol pressed another white towel firmly over the wound, her hands steady even as blood seeped through the fabric.

"If we can get him through this—" she started.

"When we get him through this," Lori corrected quickly, her voice fierce with determination.

Carol let out a breath, glancing up at her. "We’ll need crutches."

"We’ll make a run for it," Sarah said immediately, looking up at Glenn, already searching for the next move, the next thing she could do to help.

"Right now, we could use some antibiotics, painkillers, sterile gauze..." Lori said, her voice low but steady.

"We didn't even find the infirmary," Nicki muttered, sliding down to sit on the ground, her eyes locked onto Hershel’s still form.

"Well, we’ll find it," Carol said with a small nod, the gesture more for herself than for anyone else. "You gotta be worried sick about delivering the baby."

Sarah bit her lip. It didn’t feel like the right time to talk about that. Not now. Not with Hershel bleeding out just a few feet away.

"Look at me," Lori said, managing a calm, almost reassuring smile. "Do I look worried?"

Carol cracked a small smile in return. "You look disgusting," she said, and for a moment, a quiet chuckle passed between them.

"So do you," Lori replied, her voice light but firm. "But we'll get through this. We will."

Sarah really hoped so. The blood had slowed, but Hershel was still lying there, unconscious, pale, and so terribly fragile. Danger still clung to the air like a thick fog.

Needing something — anything — to do with her hands, Sarah started cleaning the alley. The junk scattered everywhere made it feel even more like they were trapped in yet another shelter, just another temporary, crumbling refuge where hope was in short supply.

As she worked, she heard Carl’s footsteps racing toward the gate. She looked up just in time to see him pulling it open.

Sarah let out a small, relieved giggle when she spotted Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog returning — unarmed, dusty, but alive — and carrying bags of supplies.

"What's all that?" Nicki asked, moving quickly toward T-Dog with a spark of curiosity.

"You're gonna love this, little lady," T-Dog chuckled, holding up one of the bags.

"Where did you find all this?" Sarah asked, walking toward Daryl, her relief only growing as she approached him.

He barely glanced at her before dropping a heavy bag of flour onto the ground.

"The cafeteria," he muttered.

Sarah studied him carefully. Something in the way he moved, the tightness in his shoulders, told her he was still upset.

"I didn’t want to make you worried," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, needing him to look at her. "I just don't like it when you get into dangerous situations alone."

Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek, the silence stretching between them. But after a moment, he nodded — a small, reluctant gesture, but it was enough. Sarah smiled, her chest easing a little. She stole a glance toward Rick and T-Dog unloading more supplies.

"I'm glad you're back safe," she said. "All of you."

But the momentary relief didn’t last.

"We're going back," Daryl said suddenly, making Sarah’s stomach drop.

"What?" she asked, her voice rising with anxiety. "Why?"

"We have to help them clear another block," he said, jerking his head toward Rick, who was deep in conversation with Lori and Glenn.

Sarah's fingers started fidgeting nervously, betraying the tight knot building in her chest. They wanted to go back into those dark, endless corridors — after everything that had just happened to Hershel.

"How many of you are going?" she asked, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Me, Rick, and T," Daryl answered, almost too casually.

Sarah's eyes widened in disbelief. "Only three of you? Daryl!" she burst out, unable to keep the panic from her voice.

They knew nothing about those inmates — nothing. They could be criminals, murderers — and now it would be three of them against five.

"Glenn has ta stay with Maggie," Daryl said, cutting off her next protest. "And you ain't coming either."

Sarah took a sharp breath, frustration bubbling up inside her.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she muttered, folding her arms even tighter.

"Ya think there's somethin' better ta do?" he asked, his tone rough but not unkind.

"Yeah," she said stubbornly, "stay here. With us."

But Daryl shook his head grimly. "They know where we are."

Sarah exhaled shakily, trying — and failing — to find something else, something better, to say that might change his mind.

"Sarah," Daryl said, softer now, almost regretful, making her bite her lip to hold back her protests. "Ya know we have ta do this."

"We don't know who they are," she whispered, the words slipping out more like a plea than an argument.

"Everything’s gonna be fine," he said, his voice steady, the conviction in his eyes almost enough to make her believe it. "We’ll clear another block so they can live there and leave us be. We made a deal."

Sarah knew he was right. But it didn’t make the fear any less real.

"Alright," she whispered, nodding slowly, forcing herself to accept it. "Just... be careful, alright?"

Daryl held her gaze for a long moment — the kind of look that said all the things he didn’t know how to put into words — then he gave a small nod.

"See ya later," he said, his voice gruff.

And then he turned, following Rick and T-Dog through the exit without another word.

Be careful, Sarah thought fiercely, watching him disappear, feeling once again like the world was just a little bit heavier on her shoulders.

*************************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

Text

Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 8

NICOLETTE

The morning came quickly; it almost felt like she had just blinked. Nicolette stirred and turned, liking the way the sunlight hit her skin. It took her back to those Sunday mornings when her mother would let her sleep in. She would sleep with the curtains open, liking to fall asleep looking at the sky and waking up to the rays of the sun. Then she would stir in bed, enjoying the quiet, waiting for her mom to knock at 9:00 a.m., telling her that breakfast was ready.

That had happened more often in the last two years, after Sarah had left for college. Her leaving had been hard on Nicki—Sarah had always been by her side. But when she left for Yale, Nicolette had felt left out. Abandoned.

She was eleven, and she hated school and the people in it. Now Nicki felt alone even at home, where she would come back to find no one. Her mood had changed, and her mother had noticed, so she let her be, trying to help her relax and giving her space.

Nicki wondered if her mother was still alive, and what she would think of her now after everything that had happened.

"You're awake," Sarah’s voice made Nicki turn. Her sister was fixing her shirt, getting ready for the day.

"I was thinking I'd try to clean up around here," she said with a smile. "Keeping it clean makes it feel more like a home."

"Sounds good," Nicki said, sitting up and yawning one more time before jumping down from the bunk bed. "I'll check out the other cells after," she added. "I'll find my room."

Sarah smiled at her, but Nicki could see she looked a bit melancholic. "What is it?" she asked her sister.

Sarah shook her head. "Nothing," she answered, getting closer to brush Nicolette’s hair from her face. "It's just... you've grown so much, and I didn’t even realize."

Nicki let out a little chuckle. "It's just a room."

"Yeah, for you," Sarah said, looking at her fondly. "Go eat something."

"You're so weird," Nicki muttered, exiting their cell. Her sister’s laughter followed her.

When she walked outside, pretty much everyone was awake and already arranging the day. Having a roof over their heads hadn’t changed their habits. It had been like that even when she had first met the group: you wake up and start arranging each other’s chores for the day.

"I slept so comfortably," Beth’s voice made Nicki turn as she was picking up a cereal bar.

"With no roots splitting me in two," Nicolette said with a nod. Beth chuckled.

"And no rain," Beth added. "I could get used to this place." Nicki agreed with her for once. Usually, Beth was much more hopeful than she was, but this time Nicki had a good feeling about the place—or maybe it wasn’t a feeling. Maybe she just liked it there and didn’t want anything to spoil it.

"Hey," Carl said, running toward them. "Glenn found a bunch of cool stuff."

"What did he find?" Beth asked with a smile.

"Police gear. Wanna come and see?" he asked. Beth nodded, making her way toward Glenn. "You don't wanna come?" Carl asked Nicki.

"Nope," she said, chewing on her cereal bar. "It’s breakfast." Then she tilted her head. "Have you eaten, Shorty?"

"Yeah," he answered, walking away. "I'm not lazy like you."

"And proud to be!" she called after him, sitting down on the iron stairs. Only in that moment did she realize she had taken her bow with her. She hadn’t even noticed it was in her hands.

I guess it’s another habit, she thought, observing her friends’ busy morning. Glenn was talking with Sarah and Maggie, while Rick discussed something with Hershel and Daryl. Carl and Beth were going through the police gear, while Carol and Lori stood to the side of the alley, probably figuring out how to arrange the space better.

Rick had told them he wanted to find the cafeteria and the infirmary that morning. Nicolette wondered where they could be. The prison seemed huge, and they had only gotten into one block.

When Rick noticed her on the stairs, he made his way toward Nicki.

"Nicolette," he called as he approached, "Take your arrows. I'll need you out with us today."

The girl nodded, getting up to grab her quiver. She had left it hanging by the bar of the iron bed and quickly slung it across her shoulders. When she walked back out, she didn’t miss the look on Sarah’s face. Her sister was standing at the side of the alley, arms crossed over her chest, biting her lip in agitation.

It was always stressful for Sarah when Rick asked for Nicolette’s help. It had happened already when they were on the road. Nicki’s skill with her bow matched Daryl’s: they could move silently, stealthily. They didn’t need to fire a gun to kill a walker from afar—and now that they had few bullets left, their use of arrows was even more vital. But that didn’t mean Sarah liked it.

Nicki was aware. She just needed to look at her sister to know. But she didn’t agree with her. Being useful, being able to make a difference, was the most important thing to Nicki. After Sophia... and what she hadn’t done to help her, Nicolette struggled with being left out of runs.

Everything we do—or don’t do—affects the group somehow, she deeply believed, and it deeply scared her.

"You’ve got your knife?" Lori asked, giving Nicki a sweet, tired smile. The girl nodded, showing the weapon secured by the belt against her thigh.

"Be careful out there," Lori said, caressing Nicki’s black hair before making her way toward her cell. She was holding her back as she walked—the baby must have been heavy by now.

At least now she won’t have to run anymore, Nicolette thought.

"Hey," Daryl’s voice made her turn. The man was walking toward her with his crossbow in hand.

"Hey?" she said with a little frown.

"Stay by ma side," he said firmly. "We’ll be at the back, so don’t wander around." Nicki nodded silently, not missing the quick look Daryl gave toward Sarah before heading back to Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog.

That happened often: if Nicki was with Daryl, he was the strictest with her regarding what she had to do and how. But sometimes Nicki didn’t think it was because he believed she lacked ability. Maybe it was because she was Sarah’s sister.

"You’re going to be fine, sweetie," Carol said, standing next to her with crossed arms. "You’re a strong girl."

"We made it this far. I think we all are," Nicki answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Thanks anyway." Carol smiled at her just before Lori called for the woman.

"Is everything alright?" Carol asked, rushing to Lori.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I just need Hershel. Can you call him for me?" Carol nodded and left, while Nicki peeked inside Lori’s cell. The woman was sitting down, breathing heavily and shakily. She seemed stressed.

"Is the baby coming?" Nicki asked with a hint of concern. Lori noticed her only then and quickly dried her tears, trying to steady her breathing.

"No, Nicki," Lori answered after taking another deep breath. "I'm alright. Don’t worry about me." Nicki wasn’t quite sure she believed her, but she didn’t feel like pushing. She hated when people did that to her.

Hershel arrived a few moments later, and Nicki stepped back with a last look at Lori. She wondered how it felt to be pregnant. She had never had anyone close to her experience it, so she had never thought much about it. Now, knowing she probably would never experience it herself, she found herself suddenly curious.

That’s so silly, she thought, shaking her head. She wasn’t even sure she would survive the day, let alone think about a future that might never come.

"Nicolette, come here," Sarah called from next to Glenn. She had a riot uniform in her hand. "Try this on."

Nicolette frowned. "Do walkers shoot now?" Sarah glared at her, tilting her head to the side.

"I'm not even answering you," she said, handing her the uniform. Nicki let out a little chuckle. "And tie your hair," Sarah added, "so it won’t get stuck in anything."

She meant "grasped," but Nicki didn’t dare correct her. She quickly slipped on the riot uniform. It was tight and slightly heavy, but it fit, and she had no problem moving around. Nicki tried drawing an arrow and knocking it onto the bow. She felt heavier but still fast enough with her arms.

As she was practicing, she noticed Carl trying on a helmet, but it was too big and fell down over his face. Nicki let out a little chuckle, which made Carl look in her direction. She was surprised that for once he just smiled back, without rolling his eyes or glaring.

"You won’t need that," Rick said to his son, stepping up to take the helmet from him. "I need you to stay put."

"You’re kidding?" Carl protested.

"We don’t know what’s in there," Rick explained. At his words, Nicki glanced toward her sister. Sarah was helping T-Dog with his riot uniform but quickly glared at Rick before focusing back on her task.

"If something goes wrong, you’re going to be the last man standing," Rick continued. "I need you to handle things here."

Those words seemed to settle well with Carl, who nodded, reassuring his father he would do as asked.

"Great. Let’s go," Rick said.

Nicki could feel her heart beating faster as they gathered to follow the sheriff. He had decided that he, Daryl, Nicki, Glenn, and Maggie would accompany Hershel to the infirmary to gather the necessary medicines. There had been scary moments over the winter when some had caught fever. Finding good medicine had been a challenge, and Hershel had been vital. Now, finally, they could stock up.

Nicki couldn’t believe she was getting excited at the thought of painkillers and aspirin.

"Take care of my sister, Shorty," she said, stopping briefly in front of Carl.

He was gripping the keys Rick had just given him, making them jingle lightly. "I will," he said. "But I won’t need to. You’re too stubborn to die."

Nicki chuckled, tightening the belt of her quiver across her shoulder. "Little shit," she muttered. Then, after squeezing her sister’s shoulder in passing, she followed the others into the dark corridors of the prison.

The moment they stepped inside, the air grew colder. The concrete walls seemed to absorb the little light they had, casting long shadows that twisted and stretched with every movement.

The hallways were narrow and claustrophobic, lined with rows of heavy metal doors, some hanging ajar, others sealed shut. Rust stained the hinges, and old, dried blood marked the floor like faded scars. Every step echoed ominously, making the silence even heavier.

The smell was oppressive—a mix of damp concrete, mold, and something older, something rotten, that clung to the walls and the ceiling.

The flickering beams of their flashlights danced across broken benches, scattered debris, and the occasional dark shape that made them tense and raise their weapons, only to find a fallen chair or a shattered crate.

The deeper they went, the more the prison seemed to close in around them, the walls pressing tighter, the darkness growing thicker. Every door they passed was a reminder: anything—or anyone—could be hiding just beyond.

Nicki was holding her bow and an arrow in one hand, not liking that kind of quiet. As Daryl had told her, the two of them were closing the group, following the others and making sure that nothing came from behind.

"It's sweet of you to always want to pair with me in these situations," she whispered, trying to make as little noise as possible, her eyes moving briefly to Daryl.

"It was strange of ya not ta say nonsense," he replied. Nicki would have laughed if she hadn't been standing in a dark corridor, most likely hunted by walkers.

"I guess I say a lot of nonsense," she said, glancing back at where they had just walked. "And I see a lot of things." At her words, he only grunted, frowning.

"I'm sure my sister appreciates that you're so protective," she teased, making him double-look at her. His face was really funny. Nicki wasn’t blind—him and her sister had gotten kind of cozy. Well, not cozy like Maggie and Glenn, but cozy enough.

She could see how Sarah looked at him, and how he always circled around her. They didn’t seem aware that they did it on a daily basis. But Nicki had seen her sister behave like that before—talking constantly about the same person, always wanting to spend time with the same person, smiling like a little girl whenever she came across the same person.

It had happened with Peter. Nicki remembered him: a football player, very charming, always with a joke ready. And now Sarah was acting the same way with Daryl—grumpy and grumpy. And yet, she had never seen her sister smile the way she did when she looked at Daryl.

As they walked deeper into the prison, they were swallowed by the darkness. The light from outside filtered through tiny windows, but it was too weak to light their way, so they all turned on the flashlights Glenn had found.

The beam of the flashlights cut through the blackness, casting trembling circles of pale light along the walls and floor. Every shadow seemed to move just out of sight, and the damp walls reflected the flickering glow in strange, broken patterns.

Now they needed to be extra careful and quiet. Nicolette could hear the loud beat of her heart, and it was so strong that she was sure the others could hear it.

You've done this before, she repeated to herself. She always did that when she was on a run, in bad or dangerous situations. She had done it before, she could do it again. She would make it again.

Nicolette took a deep breath when they pointed at the ground and saw many bodies.

"Keep your bow ready," Daryl said from next to her. Nicki nodded silently, breathing deeply to calm her nerves.

"I'll mark the way," Glenn whispered, taking out the white spray paint he had found to draw arrows, marking where they had come from.

Nicki was observing a rotten body when Maggie shrieked, making her tense and ready her arrow to shoot. But luckily, she had just bumped into Glenn.

I can't see shit, Nicki thought, taking another breath. She did not like how dark it was. It made her feel even more uneasy, and uneasiness made her distracted.

Distracted makes you kill, she told herself, gripping her bow tighter.

They kept pushing deeper into the dark corridors, with more and more bodies scattered across the floor. There was no smell. Rick had once told her that after a while, dead bodies no longer smelled. That must have meant the prison had fallen quickly when everything had collapsed.

"Nicki, with me," Daryl said, motioning for her to move to the lead of the group when they reached a fork. Daryl pointed his crossbow at the left corridor, while Nicki pointed her bow to the right.

"Clear," she whispered, not seeing any movement.

"Clear," Daryl echoed, letting Rick take the lead once again. Nicki stood close to Daryl on the other side of Rick, keeping her bow ready. They followed the left corridor, but suddenly, just a few feet ahead, a group of walkers appeared. Nicki had no time to even count how many there were because Rick immediately ordered them to retreat.

"With me! With me!" Daryl called, making sure she ran ahead of the others to clear the path if needed.

Nicki's heart pounded loudly inside her chest, and she could feel her hands starting to sweat.

Stay focused, stay focused, she repeated to herself as she scanned the corridors in front of her as best she could. They were running back the way they came, following Glenn's marks, but suddenly a bunch of walkers appeared ahead of them. There were so many.

"Here, here!" Rick yelled, leading them into another corridor. The growls grew louder and louder, and Nicki wondered how many walkers were chasing them.

Don't think about it, stay focused, she scolded herself as she stayed close to Daryl, just like he had told her. They ran until they found a cell and quickly shut themselves inside, hoping the walkers would lose their trail.

But it was only then that they realized Glenn and Maggie were missing.

"Where's Glenn and Maggie?" Rick asked, but no one had an answer.

"We have to go back," Hershel said, panicking for his daughter's safety.

"Yeah, but which way?" Daryl asked.

"They'll probably try to find the white marks again," Nicolette whispered, looking up at Rick. The man looked at her for a moment before nodding and standing up. Nicki gripped her bow tighter as she watched him open the iron door. She flinched slightly, scared the noise might attract attention.

Stay focused, she thought. You're too stubborn to die.

Nicolette took another deep breath, following Daryl closely as she was supposed to. They moved fast, with Hershel occasionally calling out for Maggie and Glenn. Nicolette was focused on making sure no walker emerged from any corner when a loud cry pierced the silence.

"Oh my God," T-Dog said just before Rick stepped back.

"Hershel!" he shouted, running toward the sound.

Nicki's heart sank. Turning the corner, she saw a walker feeding on Hershel's leg. Rick reacted first, shooting the walker in the head. The gunshot was nothing compared to the sound of Hershel's screams.

Hershel had been bitten. He was going to die, just like Amy, Jim, and Sophia...

Not again, Nicki thought, struggling to breathe properly.

No, she had to stay focused. Focused.

Maggie and Glenn appeared from another corridor, and Maggie began screaming and crying as soon as she saw her father groaning on the ground.

Rick and Glenn quickly helped Hershel to stand, but their noise attracted more walkers, forcing Nicki and Daryl to dash forward.

Nicolette pulled an arrow back, the familiar feeling of the feathers against her lips instantly calming her, just like on the road.

Stay focused, for Hershel, she thought, releasing the arrow and hitting a walker in the head. She barely paused before nocking another arrow, killing another walker, just like Daryl was doing.

"We are blocked!" T-Dog exclaimed. They decided to fall back. Daryl and Nicki covered the retreat, taking out a few more walkers before following the others.

"They're getting closer!" Nicki exclaimed.

"Go, go!" Daryl shouted, pushing her behind him to keep her close to the group. They noticed an open door and ran inside. Glenn and Rick quickly laid Hershel on the ground.

Meanwhile, Daryl and T-Dog tried to keep the door shut with their bodies, as Nicki stood ready with her bow in case something broke through.

Hershel's cries echoed in her chest and mind, but she needed to stay focused. Stay calm. She needed to be firm, steady enough to shoot.

But it was difficult. The more time passed, the more she could feel her hands sweating. She didn't want Hershel to die. He couldn't die.

Keep focused, Nicki, damn it, she scolded herself. Freaking out wouldn't help anyone. She couldn't afford fear.

T-Dog finally managed to secure the door so they could focus on Hershel. Nicki glanced at the man as Daryl knelt next to him, helping Maggie keep him steady.

"Hold him down," Rick said, fashioning a belt into a tourniquet around Hershel's thigh. Then he reached for his axe, and Nicki didn't need to wait to understand what he intended.

Fuck, she screamed internally as Rick brought the axe down on Hershel's calf, over and over, trying to cut through flesh and bone. Nicki could feel the blood drain from her face, her hands trembling at the sight.

She had thought nothing could surprise or scare her anymore in that world. But she had been wrong. Even four walls weren't enough to keep them safe.

Those moments felt endless. Even after Hershel passed out from the pain and shock, Nicki could still hear the sounds.

She gripped her bow tightly, her eyes fixed on Hershel's leg and Rick's bloody hands. Only then did she realize that tears had fallen down her cheeks.

Focus, Nicolette, she told herself, quickly wiping them away.

Then she noticed Daryl looking sharply behind her. When he told Rick to duck, Nicki immediately pulled her arrow back to cover him.

She pointed where Daryl was aiming and saw five figures behind an iron net. They weren't walkers. They were people. Humans. Alive.

***********************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

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HELLO!

Thank you for the support! I've seen than many people have started to follow my account and my stories and I'm so grateful!

I wanted to know which of the fanfiction that I'm currently writing you're most eager to read!

#thank you #fanfiction #fanfictions #the walking dead fanfiction #shameless fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #vikings fanfiction #asoiaf fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

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Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 7

SARAH

The night before, Rick had told them that they would have to take the building the following day. It wasn’t that his idea wasn’t reasonable, but after all those months running around, Sarah just wished she could rest for a few more days. She just wanted to lie in the grass, doing nothing.

It was unbelievable how she had always tried to fill her days with activities when life was still normal, and now she only wished for a day or two of doing nothing.

They all, more or less, felt the same way as Sarah about Rick’s idea. But he was their leader, and they had decided to follow his lead. That night, however, Sarah had real difficulty falling asleep. Her eyes kept settling on the dark figures just beyond the last gate. They roamed with no purpose — except to eat — growling and wandering.

“Ya should be sleepin',” Daryl’s voice made her turn to him. He was sitting up, his blue eyes on her.

“I’ll fall asleep eventually,” she answered, pulling her legs closer to her chest, speaking in a low voice so as not to wake the others. Then she heard Daryl take a breath and move to sit next to her, facing the prison.

“What are you doing?” she asked, watching him.

“I can’t sleep either,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. Sarah smiled at him, feeling once again the blush on her face. She felt so silly, behaving like a high schooler with a crush — even if there were more important things.

“You think we’ll make it?” she asked, after a moment of silence, watching Rick’s silhouette walking along the fence.

“Why not?” Daryl said. “We’ve made it so far.” Sarah nodded at his words, but something still bothered her.

“Some of us will have to go in there with no guns,” she thought out loud. “And there are a lot of walkers in there.”

“Ya don’t have ta come.” What he said didn’t surprise her — just as it didn’t surprise her that he would surely go.

“That doesn’t make it better,” she said, turning to look at the group sleeping. Her eyes went to Nicki, lying near Glenn, who had his arms around Maggie. Not far from them, Hershel was sleeping, holding Beth’s hand, while Carl had fallen asleep next to Lori.

Even in her sleep, she held her belly, Sarah thought with a sad smile.

Then her eyes found T-Dog and Carol. The woman had fallen asleep not far from where Daryl had been lying before.

“You and Carol have gotten really close,” Sarah said shyly. Again, she felt silly, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d seen a few hours earlier. Daryl had been taking watch at the gate they had entered through, and Carol had brought him food. And Sarah had followed her steps before she could even control herself. She was happy that Daryl had grown close with everyone — he seemed much more relaxed and happy — but seeing Carol and Daryl alone had sparked a flicker of jealousy in her. And now she was cursing herself for bringing it up.

“Yeah,” Daryl said with a small nod.

Sarah’s lips curved into a little smile as she ran a hand through her chestnut hair to push it back. “I just hope everyone will be alright tomorrow,” she said with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“Sarah.” She turned to look at him when he called her. He was already watching her with his deep blue eyes.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he said, making sure their gaze stayed locked. Sarah knew they couldn’t be sure — but, as always, Daryl had a way of calming her nerves.

“It sounds like a promise,” Sarah said, smiling up at him, and her heart swelled with happiness when he cracked a smile of his own.

They stood in silence for a little while before Sarah decided to tell Daryl what she had already decided when Rick had first spoken about the plan for the next day.

“I want to help clean the prison,” Sarah said, and Daryl turned to her, chewing the inside of his cheek before looking down at his hands. “I was talking with Maggie,” Sarah added, her fingers moving to Dale’s screwdriver that she always carried with her. “And she and Glenn are both going. I don’t want to stay back.”

Daryl studied her eyes for a moment. “Why are ya tellin’ me?” he whispered. “Ya’re too stubborn for me to stop ya.”

“I don’t want you to stop me,” she said, shaking her head.

Daryl didn’t reply. He just nodded slowly, his gaze still on her, biting the corner of his bottom lip. They stood in silence a little longer, watching the prison — and then, eventually, they both lay down next to each other. And with patience, Sarah finally fell asleep.

The next day came, and Sarah was getting ready to follow Rick and Daryl into the prison. She knew the feeling of being scared of dying, or someone she loved dying — she had, strangely, gotten used to it. And she hated it. She hated that every step they made could possibly be deadly, but they were so close to finding a safe place where they could all live peacefully, where Nicki could stay without being afraid, or turning cold and hard. She wanted that for Rick, so that he could finally feel like he didn’t have to save all of them, and she wanted it for Lori and her baby. She wanted to witness how Glenn and Maggie kept loving each other, and see Carl and Beth grow. And she wanted to learn as many things as possible from Hershel, and laugh with T and Carol. They needed to finally be happy, and she wanted to help — she wanted to make that a reality.

“Be careful,” Nicolette said to her as they were walking towards the gate.

“Watch my back,” Sarah said, giving her little sister’s shoulder a squeeze.

Nicki nodded. “Rick does not want us to fire with guns,” she said, gripping her bow tighter, “but I can shoot some arrows. I’ll pick them up later.”

Sarah smiled at her sister before moving to the front of the group, with her knife in hand. As she got close, she shared a little encouraging smile with Glenn, and then went to stand near Daryl.

“Alright,” Rick said, “stay together, do not break formation. We have to make it to that gate over there, so we can lock all of those walkers up and have a safe space.” Sarah looked where Rick was pointing. In her mind, she knew that the gate wasn’t so far from where they were, but she was sure that once inside, the space would have felt endless.

“Don’t wander around,” Daryl said from next to her with half a smile, and Sarah nodded her head silently.

Close in formation, they decided that Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Sarah, and T-Dog would enter to clear that sector, while the others would distract the walkers and kill them as they got close to the fence. They didn’t have many bullets, so Rick decided that there would not be any gunfire, but Sarah was sure that her sister would keep a close eye on everybody and use her bow as much as she could. Nicki had become a great shooter; Sarah had noticed how she had grown confident in killing walkers. And she hardly missed. Not even in all those years watching her train had Nicki been that precise.

With a last look at her sister, Sarah gripped the handle of her knife harder at the sound of the gate opening. They had to be quick about it so that the others could close it right behind them. T-Dog was the first to take down a walker, but soon enough all of them followed him. Sarah would grip the walkers that came closer by the shoulder so that she could stab them more firmly in the head. It had been so long since she had been doing this, but she always repeated what she had to do in her mind. It kept her focused, grounded.

With every step that it took her to reach a nearby walker, Sarah made sure to get back to her position next to Daryl.

She could hear Rick and the others killing walkers, and she could hear those outside shouting to get the corpses’ attention. As she took more and more steps that brought her closer to where they had to go, they all watched each other’s backs. She would look at Daryl to make sure he was safe, and then she looked at the other side, where Maggie was standing.

Closer and closer they went, but as they did so, more and more walkers they found. Sarah noticed a walker getting close to where Daryl was, so she charged forward. As she did so, she heard Daryl calling for her — but she must not have been the only one to move out of the ranks, because Sarah heard Rick calling for T, and Glenn calling for Maggie.

As she went back, Sarah noticed Maggie walking back to stand next to Glenn again, and T was now holding a riot shield. He must have taken it from a body on the ground. There were some — not only walkers, though.

Then they pushed a little bit further, before Rick cursed and pushed himself against the wall. All of them followed his lead, while Daryl closed the group with his crossbow in hand. Sarah was breathing heavily, looking down at her bloody hands and arms. She wondered if she’d ever get used to it, dreading the thought. She still remembered how scared she had been in Atlanta, the day of the breakout, and from that day on, the fear had remained — but she felt less powerless. Freaked out maybe, but she was learning how to defend herself in that world.

Then something caught her eye: two figures appeared from the other side of the yard. They were walkers, but they wore helmets and body armor. They must have been people who worked at the prison and had found their death there. But how could they kill them with those helmets on?

Her mouth dried when Daryl shot an arrow, but it didn’t take down the walker. And the worst part was that more and more walkers were coming their way.

One of the walkers reached for Maggie, who stumbled as she tried to switch her grip on the knife. Sarah didn’t think. She charged forward and dropped low, driving her blade just behind the walker’s knee. It buckled with a sickening crunch. Maggie didn’t waste the chance — she brought her blade down right at the walker’s throat, under the helmet.

“Thanks!” Maggie panted.

Sarah gave her a quick nod and turned just in time to see another one coming, heavy and slow, but determined. The helmet caught the light in a strange, surreal glint. It looked almost human — almost alive.

She waited until it was close enough, then dove to the side, stabbing into the back of the knee again. This time, the walker fell forward — and Daryl was already on it. He jammed his knife into the creature’s neck from behind, just under the collar of the body armor.

Then Rick called for Daryl, and Sarah felt him move towards the back, as she got close to Maggie, who was now gripping the armored walker. As Sarah ran to help her, killing another walker that had moved closer, she heard Maggie grunt, and when she turned, the armored walker was on the ground with a hole under its chin.

“See that?” Maggie asked with wide, happy eyes. Sarah was next to Glenn, and after sharing a quick look, they started to kill those walkers exactly how Maggie had done it. Sarah did not focus on how many walkers she was killing, but her chest felt lighter and lighter as she saw no more walkers appear in her eyeshot. She looked around — there were only the six of them standing. They had made it. Sarah let out a little happy giggle, just before someone touched her arm. When she turned, she saw Daryl, giving her a little nod.

“I’m alright,” she assured, reaching out to give his forearm a gentle squeeze, and then she followed him, where the others were gathering up. Only in that moment did she notice Nicki’s arrows in the skulls of some walkers scattered on the floor. Sarah immediately searched for her sister, and when their eyes met, Nicolette gave her a little nod.

But when Glenn was running to the gate to let the others enter, Rick stopped him.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, looking around.

“Well, it looks secure,” Glenn said, but Daryl did not agree.

“Not from the look of that courtyard over there,” he said, pointing a few feet from them, and then he pointed at what once had been a woman, “And that’s a civilian.” She now realized what he was hinting at.

“So the interior could be overrun by walkers, from the outside of the prison,” T-Dog said.

“But I don’t see a way for them to come through,” Sarah said, looking at the fence. It was all in one piece, and so it went for the walls — as far as she could see from there.

“If there’s a wall down, what are we gonna do? We cannot rebuild this whole place,” Glenn said. Sarah felt slightly disappointed — that place could really be safe for them — but it was also huge, and if there was a break, it would have taken time for them to realize where it was and eventually close it. But Glenn was right — they could not rebuild the prison.

It’s not as safe as we had hoped, Sarah thought, looking around.

“We can’t risk a blind spot,” Rick argued, turning towards the entrance of Cellblock C. “We have to push in.”

Sarah took a breath as she looked up to share a glance with Daryl. He was biting his bottom lip, then he nodded to her so she could follow him towards the stairs. She gave a last glance to where her sister was — Nicki was between Carl and Lori, and they were all looking at them with questioning expressions. But they had no time to answer, so Sarah silently followed the others inside.

As Sarah stepped into cell block C, the air grew colder, thick with the scent of rust, mildew, and something more pungent — decay. The dim light filtering through the high, narrow windows cast long shadows, revealing the stark, industrial nature of their new refuge.

The cell block was a two-tiered structure, with rows of barred cells lining both the upper and lower levels. A metal catwalk ran along the upper tier, accessible by a single, narrow staircase. The walls were constructed of unadorned concrete, stained with years of neglect and the recent chaos that had unfolded within.

Each cell contained a simple metal bed frame bolted to the floor, a thin, worn mattress, and a small sink-and-toilet combination. Personal items left behind by former inmates — tattered books, photographs, and makeshift decorations — offered haunting glimpses into lives abruptly abandoned.

The central common area was cluttered with overturned tables and scattered debris. A few metal benches remained upright, their surfaces covered in dust and grime. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered intermittently, casting an eerie glow that did little to dispel the gloom.

Despite the desolation, Sarah felt a cautious sense of relief. The solid walls and secured doors offered a level of protection they hadn’t experienced in months. It wasn’t home, but it was a start — a place where they could rest, regroup, and begin to rebuild some semblance of normalcy.

Rick luckily found the keys so that they could make that place even more secure.

“I really think we’ll be able to stay here,” she said as she and Glenn were going back to gather the others.

“You always see the bright side, don’t you?” Glenn said with a little smile.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “Fences and bars around me, a roof over my head and probably even a bed. I call it a good day.” Her friend chuckled at her words.

“Is everything alright?” Carol called to them as they made their way towards the gate.

“Yeah,” Glenn said, opening the gate. “Cell Block C is secure.” Sarah went to Nicki, sharing a hug with her sister, like they always did when one of them went on runs and came back. Then, all together, they gathered their stuff and led the way into the cell block.

“It feels like a five-star hotel,” Nicki said as she looked around, making Sarah smile, caressing her hair as she passed.

“Is it secure?” Lori asked her husband, who told her they had cleared just the block.

“What about the rest of the prison?” Hershel asked from next to Beth.

“In the morning we’ll find the cafeteria and infirmary,” Rick instructed the others. He had already told them that before Sarah and Glenn went to get Lori’s group. It didn’t seem like a bad plan — they could finally sleep in total peace after so long, and the next day they would figure it out. Sarah could already feel how tired her body really was, and she was sure that even if there was still daylight outside, she would sleep until the next morning.

“We sleep in the cells?” Beth asked.

Nicki was looking inside the cells. “I see mattresses,” she said calmly before taking her backpack from her shoulders and throwing it on the bed. “Just call me inmate.”

“I ain’t sleeping in no cage,” Daryl said from above. “I’ll take the perch.”

Sarah silently observed him walk. Was he feeling uncomfortable? She knew better than to ask him openly — there were things Daryl did not like to talk about: his past, Merle... She had been on many runs with Daryl, and she always tried not to push him too much or make him feel pressured to talk. She wanted to know him better, but maybe there were things better left unspoken.

“You wanna be roommates?” Sarah asked, leaning her shoulders against the entrance of her sister’s cell. She was already lying down on the top of the bunk bed. She had always liked to sleep above in those kinds of beds.

“You wanna be?” Nicki said, making Sarah laugh.

“Harsh much,” she said, crossing her arms. “But you’re growing.”

Nicki looked at her in silence for a moment, resting her head against her hand. “I was thinking of taking one of the upper cells tomorrow,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe we could have a last sleepover before I move on with my life.”

Sarah smiled fondly at her sister’s idea, then she moved towards the bed, putting her bag on the mattress. “I wish I had tissues for tomorrow’s goodbye,” she said, looking at her sister and reaching out to move a piece of Nicki’s black hair from her face. “Sleep tight, alright?”

“No need to tell me twice,” Nicki said, before getting comfortable so she could close her eyes. Sarah smiled at her sister’s frame, giving her a kiss on the forehead. And then, with a last look, she lay down on her own bed, enjoying the feeling of softness under her body. It was peaceful, it was comfortable, and it was safe. And knowing that her sister and her family were now finally safe, Sarah let herself fall into a deep slumber — her mind was too tired for even dreams.

************************

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myocsfanfictions · 1 month ago

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Safe Heaven - TWD Season 3

The Walking Dead Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 6

NICOLETTE

The prison seemed, indeed, everything they had been searching for during the past nine months. It was huge. The first iron fence went all around the yard, the second defended a wide, overgrown garden, and the third enclosed the actual building. There, at last, they could have more than one line of defense.

It stood like a silent fortress against the overgrown wilderness, a monolithic reminder of a world that once believed it could contain chaos within walls and bars. Now, ironically, those same walls were their only hope to keep chaos out.

Encircled by three layers of fencing topped with rusted barbed wire, the structure loomed in the distance like a beast of concrete and steel. The first perimeter was a tall chain-link fence, already buckling under the weight of weeds and vines, but still intact enough to slow the walkers. Beyond that, a wide yard stretched toward the second fence, enclosing a patchy field half-swallowed by wild growth — once a recreational yard, now a graveyard of silence.

The third fence wrapped around the prison itself — a massive, grey hulk with guard towers jutting into the sky like broken teeth. Windows were barred, doors thick with reinforced metal. Its watchtowers still cast long shadows over the land, ghostly sentinels of a time gone.

Inside, darkness and uncertainty waited. But so did shelter. So did walls. So did a chance — however slim — at surviving another day.

It was paradoxical that the only place that could probably keep them safe now was the one place no one had wanted to get even close to before.

But the world was no longer the one Nicolette had been born into. Needs were different now. Survival was different. Even the aspiration for the future had changed. Once, she had only asked herself what kind of job she would want to do once she finished school. Now, she could only aspire to become a better shot with each passing day.

"Alright," Rick said as they looked at the prison. "We have to stay close. Never break formation."

Nicki nodded her head, as they all did, but her eyes never left all those corpses moving around. There were so many walkers — there were always so damn many walkers. She was tired of seeing them roaming around. It could be dangerous to try and take the prison. But there was little choice they had.

I’d much rather have a fence around us than none, she thought, gripping her bow harder.

They had left the cars in the woods, to make their arrival less obvious. They needed to be quiet. And all together, close to each other, they made their way toward the side of the prison. Rick was ahead of the group, shears in his hands, ready to open a gate for them in the fence. Right behind him, they all stood in a circle, looking and protecting each side, all making sure that Lori was in the middle. Nicki was at the back, between Carol and Carl. Sarah was not far from her, keeping position between Hershel and Maggie. They all had their weapons in hand, and as they walked closer to the first fence, they started to get the walkers’ attention — and not only the ones blocked inside the yard, but also the ones roaming just outside.

As Rick knelt down to cut the net, Glenn and Maggie broke from the formation to kill a walker that had come too close to them. Nicki held the arrow against her bow as she observed Glenn and Maggie from the corner of her eye. It was only one, and they had no trouble putting it down.

In the meantime, Rick had stood up, keeping the way open to let all of them inside. Daryl was the first to enter, while Nicki got inside just after Carl. After her came Lori, then T-Dog, and lastly Rick.

Glenn was quick to use the wire in his hands to close the gate they had just opened. And Nicki found herself unable to keep her eyes off the walkers in the yard that were now charging toward them.

Would you ever stop eating? she thought, observing the corpses in disgust and alert, suddenly worrying if that net would hold. Then Sarah touched her arm, getting her attention, to follow the others making their way through the path that led toward the entrance of the prison.

They keep coming, Nicki thought, observing the walkers from the outside getting closer as well. The growlings followed them as they ran, keeping the formation close as Rick had asked, until they arrived at the main gate. It was closed, but not locked, and just outside there was a truck lying on its side. Probably someone had tried to block the entrance. Or maybe the driver of the truck had been attacked, leading to an accident. Either way, there was no one to ask.

"It's perfect," Rick said, getting Nicki's attention. "If we shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off these walkers."

Nicolette followed Rick's gaze, noticing the gate that gave access to the building part of the prison was open. That could actually work, and if she had to be honest, Nicki really wanted to shoot at some walkers.

"We'll take the field tonight," Rick said firmly.

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked, walking closer to the sheriff.

"I'll do it," Glenn said from between Maggie and Sarah. "You guys cover me." But clearly, Maggie did not agree with his idea.

"No," she said. "Suicide run."

"I'm the fastest," he protested.

But Rick came forward with another plan. He told Sarah, Maggie, Beth, and Glenn to run back from where they had come, trying to get the walkers' attention as much as possible, and then kill them as they got closer.

Nicki looked at her sister, opening her bag to take out three plastic bottles filled with Legos, to give them to Maggie and Beth. As they shook them, the noise was already enough to get some walkers' attention.

"Daryl, go back to the other tower," Rick said, pointing to one of the watchtowers. Then he turned to Carol. "You've become a pretty good shot. Take your time. We don't have a lot of ammo to waste." The woman nodded, and then she followed Daryl.

"Hershel, you, Nicolette, and Carl take this tower." Nicki looked up at the tower above them. Then she quickly went to take one of the rifles — she couldn't use all her arrows — and then followed Carl up the stairs.

"My dad is going to make the run," he said as they ran.

"He'll make it," she assured him. Rick was surely going to be the one making the run; he had proven himself to be a great leader since he had arrived at the quarry. Some of them had not been quite sure after they came to know what had happened between Rick and Shane — Carol, for example, had been one of them. Nicki did not agree. She felt sorry for Shane. She had thought about him a lot in those months. She still remembered when he had taught her and Carl how to make a knot and how he had kept them alive at the beginning, but she could not erase what he had become with time. He had become angry, scary, dangerous. It was only a matter of time before he would start to think about all of them as a new enemy, and probably he had become more dangerous than a walker.

Had it been right to kill him? She was not sure which was the right answer, or the one that she would have given.

Nicki, Carl, and Hershel arrived at the top of the tower just as Rick stepped into the yard. Lori was behind him, closing the gate behind her husband.

From the side, she could hear her sister's group, yelling at the walkers and making as much noise as they could. It was working. Many walkers were now close to the net, not realizing that Rick had just stepped inside.

"Daryl and Carol are in position," Hershel's voice made her look toward the other tower, where Daryl and Carol were ready to clear the path for Rick.

Then Nicki took her bow and arrow, nocking the arrow and pulling it to the side of her lips. She took a breath before releasing it to hit a walker at Rick's left side. It was not too far from where Rick had to go, but in her mind, it took him an awfully long time to arrive at the gate.

She kept shooting arrows, exactly like Daryl was doing, while Carl, Hershel, and Carol shot with their weapons. Nicki's heart beat fast in her chest as she observed Rick.

We can really make it, she thought as she shot another arrow. If Rick made it to the gate and closed it, they just needed to kill all of those assholes, with no need to worry about any noise.

And when Rick secured the gate and locked himself in the tower standing a few feet from her, a little laugh escaped from her lips.

"He's inside," Carl exclaimed, looking at her as she put her bow away to take the rifle in her hands.

"Light it up!" Daryl's voice echoed in the yard.

No need to tell me twice, she thought, securing the back of the rifle against her shoulder and starting to shoot.

Nicolette hated the sound of guns and rifles, but now she was more focused on how free and safe she felt in being able to kill every walker that came by, with no fear of attracting more.

They were all shooting, and the walkers were all falling limp on the ground. They had it. They had finally made it into a place that could really protect them for a long time. And it felt so damn good.

It didn’t take them long to clear the yard, and soon Nicki found herself walking into the yard next to Carl, as everyone ran to gather back together.

"Did you have fun, Shorty?" she asked, seeing the huge grin on his face as he looked at her.

"That was fantastic!" he said with a laugh, making her chuckle, just before noticing Daryl and Carol appear from behind them.

"Nice shooting," Daryl said, as Hershel gave him a pat on the back.

"You okay?" Carol asked Lori as they walked closer.

The woman smiled. "Haven't felt this good in years," she answered. Nicki observed her for a moment; Lori's pregnancy was almost ending, and now she got tired with the simplest task. She was indeed trying to mask how tired she was even now, and Nicki was glad that they had found a safe place in this moment, so that Lori could relax as she delivered the baby.

As she passed by, Lori put a hand on her shoulder, and Nicki looked at the woman, giving her a little smile. Then she kept following Carl and Carol into the yard.

"We haven't had this much space since we left the farm!" Carol exclaimed happily.

"And with much higher fences," Sarah's voice made Nicki turn to see her sister and the others getting close. As she walked toward Nicki, she noticed that Daryl was walking toward Sarah as well.

"Good job over there," he said, looking at her sister, and Nicki frowned at Sarah's reaction; she smiled, looking down, doing all she could to hide her face.

"You too," Sarah said before turning to Nicki. "All good?"

Nicki's frown deepened, but she answered all the same, "It was liberating," she said, before following Sarah and Daryl so that they could get close to the others.

They were all so happy, and Nicki could feel her cheeks hurt from how much she was smiling as she looked around. She would have never thought that a prison could be a sight so beautiful.

"Tonight we stay here, get comfortable," Rick said as soon as they all gathered together. Then he turned to Glenn, Daryl, and T-Dog. "We should go take the cars."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I'll get some squirrels so that we can eat somethin' tonight." Rick nodded his head, then he led the four men back to the gate where they came from.

Nicki didn't miss her sister’s gaze as she looked at the group getting farther. "You're acting pretty strange, you know?"

Sarah frowned as she turned toward her sister. "What are you talking about?"

"What are you looking at?" Nicki asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Carl is right," Sarah said. "It's unnerving when you don't answer a question." Nicki let out a little laugh as her sister walked away to help Lori and Carol set things down.

Nicki put the rifle back in the bag where they kept all the guns and started to walk in the yard. It already felt strange, to walk without anyone asking where she was going or telling her to stay where someone could watch her. Nicolette took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of being safe. It had been more than eight months since she had felt safe, and even if she had to sleep on the ground again, nothing would have taken away that light feeling in her chest.

"So you know how to smile," Shorty's voice made her turn to him with a teasing grin.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's your time to make a move with Beth." Carl glared at her, his cheeks tinted with red. He was blushing. The sight made her chuckle.

"You're such a pain," he said, grumpy as always.

"You're so easy to tease," she answered, finding his reaction funny.

"I'm not!" he argued, only making her laugh more. Then he rolled his eyes. "I can't stand you."

"Now you're even more stuck with me," she said, looking happily at the fence. "We'll learn how to share the same spaces."

"I've handled you before," he said, crossing his arms as he looked at her, a little spark of amusement in his eyes.

Rick and the others came back not long after — just in time, before the sun started to set in the sky. Maggie had started the fire, while Sarah helped Daryl skin the squirrels so that Carol and Lori could cook them.

"You alright, Nicki?" Her eyes moved to settle on Glenn, who was sitting next to her.

Nicolette nodded. "You?" she asked, observing her friend's lips curve into a smile.

"Still can't believe it," he said, looking at her, before nudging her with his shoulder, making her chuckle. "You've become good with the rifle."

"I didn't have much choice," she answered, looking up at him.

"Let's hope you'll have to use it less and less, right?" he said, making her nod her head.

She didn't know if that could happen. She had almost forgotten how it felt not to walk around with a gun or spend a day without shooting. Could they really find some sort of normality — like it had been before? Could they really get back to what it was?

But her thoughts were stopped by the growling coming from the walkers outside. And suddenly, that hope felt less strong. Jenner had said there was no cure, and he was probably right. There was no cure to make all those creatures disappear. Probably, she would never know life as it had been before. But maybe they could find some peace. Maybe not like it was, but in some ways.

*************

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myocsfanfictions · 2 months ago

Text

The Vengeful Deceiver - Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Scarlett Black, she has been a vampire for 8 years and now forced to go back to school, forced to control herself in front of so much food. All for a puppy.

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

Chapter 12

They had been driving in silence for half an hour now, round and round they went. Derek was dying on the seat, Stiles was frustrated and grumpy, and Scarlett was in the back of the car trying to keep her racing mind quiet.

That day was getting crazier by the minute. Derek had been shot by her, and Scarlett didn't need the pup to be more specific than that—it was Kate Argent. What the fuck had she been up to now?

Then she observed Derek; if he had been shot, had he met her? But when? Probably he had been following the Alpha for real. And that didn't help with her frustration. She did not want Peter to be right, not after the last conversation they had.

She could feel Derek's eyes on her from the rearview mirror. He was observing her silently, and she didn't like how he was looking at her. It was an inquisitive look, full of questions, and the fact that she didn't know the answer in the first place made her hate that gaze even more. She could turn anything to her advantage if she had answers. But she was getting crazy on her own—she didn't need grumpy Derek Hale up her ass.

"Scarlett," Stiles called her, his tone still frustrated, as he handed her his phone. "Text Scott."

Scarlett frowned at his request. "What should I write?"

"If he found this stupid bullet, for one," he suggested as he drove.

"Wouldn't he have already texted if he did?" At her question, their eyes met through the mirror. Stiles was glaring at her, clearly annoyed by her resistance.

So, Scarlett took a breath, taking the device from his fingers. "Alright."

"Thanks!" Stiles exclaimed.

Scarlett frowned at him—the shy and smart guy was able to give her an attitude. Cute, she thought as she started to type the text to send to the pup.

"'Did you find it yet?' seem reasonable?" she teased his annoyance.

"It is perfect, thank you," he answered in frustration as she handed him his phone back. But it didn't appease Stiles' frustration at all. Scott was not answering, and that only pushed him to try and call him.

I hope he is not shagging with Allison now, Scarlett thought, crossing her arms over her chest as she observed Stiles with his phone against his ear, clearly not getting any answer. She really was starting to believe that Scott and Allison were truly "just studying."

Can a teenager be that idiotic? she asked herself, eyeing Derek. His skin was so pale that she could start to see his veins. The flesh around his eyes was getting dark, and he was starting to sweat. It was pitiful to see him like that. Scarlett was starting to doubt that Derek would ever be able to reach the 48 hours.

When finally Scott answered the text, Stiles had not been happy about it. He closed the phone, throwing it on the ground. "Come on..."

Scarlett eyed him. It was the first time that she was seeing him angry, and it seemed to have some kind of effect on her. Her fangs were begging for her to let them out, and again the same want to bite his neck came back.

She knew that feeling, but she usually had it in other kinds of situations. Shaking her head, Scarlett decided to pick his phone up and read the text.

"'Need more time,'" she read out loud. "You werewolves should have a good intuition in finding things?" Weren't they like dogs or something?

"Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay?" Stiles said in frustration, eyeing Derek. "We're almost there." Scarlett frowned at his words, and she wasn't the only one, because Derek spoke for the first time.

"Almost where?" he asked. He didn't even look up, he seemed too tired to do that.

"Your house," Stiles stated.

This time Derek turned to Stiles. "What? No, you can't take me there."

Stiles let out a frustrated laugh. "I can't take you to your own house?" Scarlett just stood there, listening closely.

"Not when I can't protect myself," Derek explained in between heavy breaths.

"Alright." Stiles had kind of reached his limit because suddenly he pulled his jeep to the side of the road.

"What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet?" Stiles asked, turning his whole body towards Derek. "Are you dying?"

"Yes," Scarlett said with a nod.

"Not yet," Derek said instead. "I have a last resort."

The vampire only frowned, while Stiles only got more frustrated. "What do you mean? What last resort?"

Then Derek moved the sleeve of his shirt to uncover his wound. Scarlett was waiting for the smell of blood to hit her nose, but once again it did not. She could smell it, but Stiles' scent was kind of stronger... and distracting.

This is definitely not normal, she thought, eyeing Stiles as he dramatically tried not to look at the wound. He was a normal human being—how was it possible that just his scent had all that effect on her?

Once again she found herself spiraling in the same, answerless thoughts. It was not the bond, or at least it should not be. Vampire blood drunk by a human should not have that effect. Why was she able to look at that ugly wound on a werewolf's arm and not attack immediately? She was even lucid enough to notice the pungent smell mixed with the blood.

"Oh, my God! What is that? Is it contagious?" Stiles was saying, disgusted, trying not to look at the arm for too long. "You know what, you should probably just get out."

She could not blame a human for acting like that; he surely had not witnessed wounds like that before.

Derek did not acknowledge what he had just said when he spoke again. "Start the car, now." The tone he used rubbed Scarlett in all the wrong ways, as her eyes squinted in a glare.

"I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look," Stiles argued with resolution. "In fact, I think if I wanted, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead!"

Scarlett's eyes remained on Derek, though, observing attentively what he'd do next. "Start the car," he said to Stiles, his voice threatening, "or I'm gonna rip your throat out with my teeth."

Scarlett moved forward so that she could stand between Stiles and Derek.

"Alright, sweetie, I get you're having a shitty day, but your threats won't take you nowhere," she hissed with a glare. "Just try to rip his throat and I'm killing you."

Derek managed to move just enough so that he was able to look at her—between pain, rage, and confusion.

And she was confused too.

Why was she getting so angry all of a sudden? Why had she behaved in that way?

Was it Stiles' anger?

Scarlett knew that she was lying to herself. That rage had been all hers. For the countless time that day, she found herself wondering what the hell was happening to her? Then her eyes met Stiles’ gaze. He was looking at her with wide eyes, and his heartbeat was beating fast. Only in that moment she realized that her fangs had popped out.

"Alright," Stiles said. "I'm going to drive, and no one kills anyone, alright?" He said, turning to Derek. "You don't kill me, and Scarlett," their eyes met again, "you too. You don't kill him."

Scarlett tried her best to hide all the confusion that she was feeling, and she only raised her hands as she leaned back against the seat. "Alright..."

"Alright." Stiles nodded his head one time before he started the car once more.

Stiles drove again, around and around, and Scarlett was getting so messed up by her own thoughts that her frustration grew with every minute that passed. Her legs bounced up and down, and sometimes she could spot Stiles looking at her from the mirror.

"What was that?" he asked at some point. Scarlett didn't even bother to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"What was what?" she asked, her arms crossed over her chest as she tilted her head.

"You kind of attacking Derek?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

Scarlett bit the inside of her cheek, knowing full well that it was strange behavior, but she didn't know. She had no idea why she had acted that way. Scarlett really hoped she had an answer for this.

"I just..." she started to say, but then she stopped to let out a groan of frustration.

"You don't even know," Derek spoke with labored breath. Scarlett widened her eyes, but Stiles was the one who spoke.

"Hey, focus on not dying on my seat," he said to Derek, before he looked back at Scarlett for a moment.

"You don't know?" he asked, and Scarlett tightened her grip on her leather jacket. She had to speak to Peter, she had to know what the hell was going on with her.

"I don't know many things about vampires," she admitted as she looked at the sun starting to set. They had been on the road for hours. "Vampires usually are lonely creatures."

"You've never met another?" Stiles asked.

"No, I did," she answered, but they surely did not talk. "We did not speak of what a vampire can do or cannot do. They were not my makers." Stiles shot glances at her as he drove. She could feel him, and she did not know why he was feeling so concerned. And why did she even bother to notice?

Stiles decided to pull off at the side of the road once again. He was running out of gas. And he was getting tired as well. They stood in silence, as the night took over. Derek seemed to go in and out of consciousness, while Scarlett kept her gaze fixed on the dark woods surrounding them.

"I can help you out," Stiles spoke at some point, making her turn with a frown.

"You want to help me?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I clearly am surrounded by supernatural creatures and I'm already researching things about werewolves. Adding research about vampires won't be a problem." Scarlett observed him in silence. He was looking ahead of him, and his heart was beating fast.

"Why?" Scarlett asked, genuinely confused and surprised. Nobody had ever helped her, only the Hales. People did not do things for nothing. But when Stiles turned, she could see his gaze. It was holding resolution and sweetness.

"I want to help you, if you need it," he said, looking into her eyes.

Why was he so nice to her? They didn't even know each other that well.

Then suddenly Stiles' phone went off, and he was quick to answer. Scarlett didn't pay that much attention to the conversation. She just looked at Stiles as he spoke. She didn't know how to explain to herself why she agreed to his idea. It was true, she knew very little about vampires. She knew enough to survive alone. But she had never thought she would have spent so much time with humans, nor had she intended to—not even when she was still alive—so there were so many things that she had never experienced as a vampire.

You can always ask Peter, she said as her eyes never for once left Stiles' frame. He was dramatically passing the phone to Derek with a heavy sigh.

"You're not going to believe where he's telling me to take you," he said, just before Derek started to speak through the phone.

"Where does he want you to take him?" she asked, leaning over so that she could speak to Stiles.

"The animal clinic," he said, looking at her. Scott wanted Stiles to bring a werewolf into an animal clinic. That was the first funny thing that had happened to her in all that shitty day.

"No, don't even try to smirk," he said, looking at her.

"I didn't even move my face," she answered.

"Yeah, but you wanted to," he said before turning to Derek, who was still talking over the phone with Scott. "Then think about this," he was saying. "The Alpha called you against your will, he's going to do it again. Next time, you either kill with him or get killed."

That's for sure, Scarlett thought. Peter still needed Scott to kill with him to make sure that he became part of his pack. And Peter did not like that he had rebelled that way. Next time, you either kill with him, or you get killed.

"You cannot help with that?" Stiles asked her with curiosity.

"A werewolf business," she said. "Sorry."

That was just half a lie. It was indeed a werewolf business, but she had no idea if there was a way for Scott not to follow Peter's orders. Peter had never explained that to her. Not that she would have told them—they needed Scott to kill the Argents.

"So if you want to stay alive, then you need me. Find that bullet," Derek said before hanging up on Scott.

He's always so lovely, she thought, looking at Derek silently.

Stiles now knew where they had to go, so he drove as fast as he could. He really wanted to get rid of Derek as soon as possible.

"Alright," he said as soon as he parked just outside the animal clinic. "I'm gonna take the key, you help him out." He was ready to get off, but then he spun once again. "Don't kill him."

Scarlett glared, but she had no time to answer, since Stiles was already out of the car. Scarlett took a breath and climbed out, then she quickly walked towards Derek's side and opened the door.

"Alright, big boy," she said, taking his arm so that she could pass it over her shoulders. Derek groaned in pain, but he managed to get up. When she brought him towards the entrance, Stiles was already opening it.

"You have to sit down," she said, leading Derek towards a pile of dog food bags.

"Does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles said. If he had done it just a moment before, Scarlett would have let go of Derek.

This is bad, she thought.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek explained. His breath had gotten even heavier. "He has to bring me the bullet."

Stiles' eyes grew larger. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to die without it." Scarlett and Stiles looked at each other at Derek's words. Derek had not much time—Scott needed to move.

"There must be something else we can do," Scarlett said, looking down at Derek with her hands resting on her hips.

"You've talked of a last resort," Stiles backed her up. Derek nodded his head weakly.

"Bring me inside," Derek said.

"What?" At her question, Derek only glared at her. He was almost dying—maybe it was not the time to argue. So, Scarlett took a breath before sharing a quick glance with Stiles, then she moved to Derek, taking him by his good arm so that she could put him on his feet. In the meantime, Stiles quickly texted Scott, as he led them inside the clinic.

"I need to take off my shirt," Derek said.

"Now?" Scarlett and Stiles asked at the same time.

"Yes, now," he groaned.

I cannot fucking believe it, she thought with a groan, before she started to help him take off his shirt as they kept following Stiles inside the corridor of the clinic. They finally entered the room where Scott's boss visited pets, and Derek went under the light so that he could look at the wound better.

Under the light, it seemed even worse. And now black veins were starting to spread from the bullet wound.

"You know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles said from next to her. He seemed more nervous than usual.

"When the infection reaches my heart, it'll kill me," Derek explained.

"That doesn't leave you much time then," Scarlett said, earning a glare from the werewolf. Then he started to go through the vet stuff.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?" Stiles said with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing now?" Scarlett asked, confused.

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time, last resort..." Derek said, opening all the drawers he could find.

"Which is?" Stiles asked him. And when Derek turned to them, she noticed that he was holding a saw in his hand.

"You're going to cut off my arm," Derek said with resolution. Stiles had been left short of words; he was disgusted and freaked out, and she didn't need to focus on his emotions—disgust was painted all over his face.

"Are you serious right now?" Scarlett asked Derek as he found a tourniquet.

"Have you another plan?" he asked her.

"What about wait?" she answered, but he glared at her.

"It's already halfway up," he protested.

"Which means you've got all the other half," Scarlett said, observing the black veins. But Derek shook his head.

"I won't risk it," he insisted.

Scarlett took a breath as she reached out her hand. "Alright, then give it to me," she said. "It's been years of me wanting to cut your arm." Derek shook his head.

"You can't," he said, and Scarlett frowned.

"Why not?" she asked.

Derek looked up at her, stopping his ministrations to tighten the tourniquet around his arm. "I don't know how you're managing not to bite me to death, like you should," he said, making her body get stiff as she did all her best not to look towards Stiles, next to her. "But my blood is going to flow out, and you need to stay far away while Stiles cuts it off."

"What? Me?" Stiles exclaimed.

"You mean I have to go away?" Scarlett frowned at Derek.

"I'd really appreciate her to stay, actually," Stiles said from next to her. "What if you bleed to death?"

Derek was tightening the string once again. "It'll heal if it works."

Stiles was groaning in disgust. "Look, I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?" Derek asked.

"Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!" Stiles exclaimed, making both Scarlett and Derek turn to him with frowns on their faces.

"You faint at the sight of blood?" Derek asked.

"Is it a phobia or something?" Scarlett said, tilting her head. And Stiles gave both of them an incredulous look.

"No," he said with a shake of his head, "but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!"

"Then I'll do it," Scarlett said, but Derek glared at her.

"I said no," he said before turning to Stiles. "Let's put it this way. Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head." Scarlett glared at him—she really did not like how he was talking. And the same feeling of anger that she had felt inside the car just a few hours ago had come back.

"Okay, you know," Stiles said, "I'm so not buying these threats anymore—" then suddenly Derek reached forward, grabbing Stiles by the shirt to yank him towards him. Anger flared uncontrollably inside of her, and before Scarlett could stop herself, she gripped Derek's arm that was holding Stiles.

"Let him go, or I'll rip off both your arms," she said, with her fangs out. Derek turned to look at Scarlett, his glare observing her with confusion and anger.

"Wait, wait, you both," Stiles said. "All right, bought, sold, totally, I'll do it." Derek and Scarlett kept glaring at each other, but when he finally let Stiles go, she did the same. But then, Derek started to gag before throwing up black blood.

"Holy God, what the hell was that?" Stiles seemed on the verge of tears. And he probably was.

"It's my body," Derek said, taking deep breaths. "It is trying to heal itself."

"Well, it is not doing a very good job at it," Stiles said, disgust painted all over his face.

"You gotta do it now," Derek said. He was bent over the table, his arm spread out.

"Look, I don't think I can—" Stiles was trying to back out again, but Derek yelled at him to do it.

"I'm taking down the asshole," Scarlett said, handing Stiles the saw. "You can do it." Stiles did not seem convinced as he took the object from her hand. Scarlett put her hands and forearms against Derek's back, and Stiles was getting ready to get in position to saw.

Was she going to freak out? Would she attack Derek and maybe Stiles afterwards? She would have already done it by now, but with the arm cut off, maybe Stiles' scent—or whatever it was—wasn't enough to keep her calm.

But just before Stiles could cut through, the puppy's voice made all of them look up. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked with panicked voice.

Stiles let out a relieved breath. "You've just prevented a lifetime of nightmares," he said as Scarlett let Derek go.

"Did you have it?" he asked tiredly, and Scott was quick to put a hand in his pocket to take out the bullet. Then he passed it to Derek. Scarlett observed him as she walked to go next to Stiles.

"What are you going to do with it?" the boy asked.

"I'm gonna..." Scarlett frowned as she looked at Derek, "I'm gonna..." but then suddenly, he let go of the bullet just before his body collapsed on the floor.

"What the fuck?" Scarlett groaned as she followed Stiles and kneeled next to Derek. He was unconscious. That was not really good.

Big boy, now? she thought as Stiles tried to see if Derek was reacting in any way. Scarlett looked around—where was the bullet? And she frowned when she noticed Scott kneeling down just a few feet from them.

"Derek, come on, wake up!" he said as he gave Derek light slaps on his face. "Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?" Scarlett could feel his panic in her chest. It was rising by the minute, and for a moment her own heart seemed to beat again.

"I don't know," Scott said, now lying down on the floor.

"Oh, my God," Stiles was saying when the door opened once again. Scarlett and Stiles turned their heads and their eyes widened to see Evelyn at the door.

"What is going on?" she asked, but before anyone could answer, Scarlett noticed how Evelyn's gaze changed when she noticed the wound on Derek's arm.

Why is she not scared? Scarlett asked herself, when she observed the girl kneeling down on the other side of Stiles, taking Derek's wounded arm in her hands. She was observing the wound closely.

"Wolfsbane," Evelyn said as Scarlett and Stiles looked at each other with wide eyes.

"I can't reach it," she heard Scott saying.

"I think he is dying," Stiles said, looking down at Derek, unresponsive. "I think he's dead."

"Where's the bullet?" Evelyn asked, making Scarlett turn to her.

Who the hell is this girl? she asked herself.

Then suddenly Scott let out a happy sigh, just before coming back to them, only now noticing Evelyn kneeling there.

"Eve?"

"Give me the bullet," she said, reaching out for the little object. Scott was very stunned, and he didn't move, so Evelyn spoke again. "I can help. Give it to me."

Scarlett was too focused on the conversation between the pup and the girl to notice that Stiles moved to give a strong punch right across Derek's face, hurting himself in the process. Scarlett got closer to him, stopping Stiles from shaking his hand, to take a look at it. He didn't hurt himself, but he had managed to get Derek to open his eyes immediately.

"Can you stand up?" Evelyn asked Derek, who looked at her with a confused frown on his face. But she didn’t let him answer as she took him by the arm and turned to Scott. "Help him up." Together, they made him stand against the metallic table. Evelyn took the bullet, opened the top part of the bullet, emptying the bottom part on the table. It was dust of wolfsbane, Scarlett noticed it, from near Stiles, who was still shaking his hand.

"A lighter," Evelyn said, just before Derek took one out for her to take. The girl was quick to take it, before moving the flame close to the wolfsbane, which, with a spark that made Scarlett close her eyes, took fire. Once the sparks were gone, Evelyn took the burnt wolfsbane in her hands, and then she turned to Derek.

"It’s going to burn," she warned, and when Derek nodded his head, she put the burnt wolfsbane on the wound, pushing it especially there. Derek started to scream and stir in pain, just before he collapsed on the floor.

Scarlett observed Derek still on the ground, asking herself how that girl had been able to know what to do. To do so, Evelyn must have known about supernatural creatures, or at least werewolves. That was why she had been so strange with Scarlett? Maybe she thought she was a werewolf, or maybe she suspected her to be a vampire. Whatever the answer, Evelyn could be—or become—a problem in the future.

It didn’t take long before the black lines on Derek's arm completely disappeared. His skin colour came back and so did his strength.

"That was... awesome!" Stiles exclaimed with enthusiasm, making Scarlett look up at him, not able to stop her lips from curling up. He seemed to enjoy it when more supernatural things happened around him. He had a similar reaction when he had found out that Scarlett was a vampire.

"Are you ok?" Scott asked as Derek moved to stand up.

"Except for the agonizing pain?" his sassiness was coming back.

"To use sarcasm is a good sign of health," Stiles said, using sarcasm himself.

"Be careful," Evelyn said, trying to get closer to help, but Derek growled, making her stop in her tracks.

Always charming, big boy, Scarlett thought, even if she could not disagree with Derek this time.

"We saved your life," Scott said, with slight panic in his voice. "Which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got it? Or I'm going to go to Allison's dad and I'm gonna tell him everything."

Scarlett could not hide her glare. "I wouldn't do that," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're gonna trust them?" Derek asked Scott. "You think they can help you?"

"Why not?" Scott answered. "They're a lot freaking nicer than you are!" Scarlett let out a sarcastic chuckle, shaking her head at the pup's words. She wondered how nice they would have treated him if they only suspected that he was a werewolf. She would have loved to see the scene.

"Yeah..." Derek said with an irritated expression. "I can show you exactly how nice they are." Scott frowned at Derek's words. "Come with me to the hospital."

"What?" Scott asked with a frown. "Why?" Derek took a step to take his shirt that had been left on the floor at the side of the room.

"To show you what I mean." Then Derek turned to Evelyn with an inquisitive look. He was probably trying to understand if she was some kind of creature. Scarlett was actually doing the same, but set aside the fact that she knew how to help Derek, there was nothing else strange about her. She was not a vampire, but she was not a werewolf.

"Eve," Stiles spoke, stepping toward the girl, and Scarlett followed his movement. "How... why... what?" The girl looked up at him; she seemed uneasy.

"You know about supernatural creatures?" Scott asked, the surprise clear in his tone.

"It is a bit complicated," Evelyn said. Her blue eyes moved from the pup to Scott. "But yes, I know about them, and I know that you are a werewolf." Then she looked at Derek, who kept glaring at her. "And that the Hales are too."

"But how?" Stiles asked. "Are you one too?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No, I'm not," she answered. "But my family has always known these things."

"And why haven't you told us?" Scott asked curiously.

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders shyly. "I really didn't know how to," she answered. "Luckily, I had left my phone at work," she said, looking at Derek again.

"I would have managed," he growled, as grumpy as usual. Scarlett tilted her head to the side, with a skeptical look and her arms crossed over her chest.

"It didn’t seem like it seeing you passed out on the floor," Evelyn answered him. She didn't seem intimidated at all. But Derek just growled once again, before turning to Scarlett.

"We need to talk," he said, starting to make his way out of the clinic. Scarlett took a breath, observing him.

"You're welcome, by the way," Evelyn said as Derek passed next to her to go towards the door. But he didn't answer. Scarlett shook her head, then she turned to Stiles.

"Is your hand alright?" Stiles looked at his knuckles, shaking his hand once more.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered, eyeing the door. "You're going to talk to him?" Scarlett nodded her head, noticing how he was looking at her.

"Are you worried?" she asked with a little frown.

Stiles' eyes widened, and the blush came back. "Well, when you two talked you only wanted to kill each other." Scarlett let out a little chuckle as she observed him.

"Nobody is going to die," she assured him, before her eyes moved to Evelyn. "Are you going to ask many questions to her?"

"For sure," he answered with a nod.

Scarlett wondered how many things Evelyn knew. She had not mentioned her when she had spoken with Scott, but Scarlett could not rule out that Evelyn knew something about what she was. But it was not possible that she could link Scarlett to the Alpha. So for now, she should be safe.

"Can you take me back to school, later?" Scarlett asked Stiles.

"Yeah, sure," he answered with a nod, and with a last smile, Scarlett followed Derek outside the animal clinic. He was outside, probably enjoying the fact that he was still alive.

"This time that was a close call, big boy," Scarlett said, stopping next to him. "Who shot you?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. Scarlett observed Derek clenching his jaw before answering.

"I was following the Alpha," he said. "He had attacked an Argent, and she shot me." Scarlett frowned, looking at him. He was trying to be cryptic.

"An Argent?" she asked skeptically, but her question made him turn to her.

"Yeah," he answered, "Like the one you are friends with." Scarlett tilted her head as she challenged his stare. He must have seen her and Allison at school one of the times he had stalked Scott.

"Was she the one who shot you?" she asked.

"No," Derek answered, making Scarlett smirk.

"Then she can live another day, it seems," she answered, and Derek frowned.

"Are you planning to kill her?" Scarlett shook her head.

"I do not kill humans," she lied, looking at him. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "There's only one I would kill. And you should know who I'm talking about. And maybe you would kill her too." Derek glared at her.

"I just want to stop the Alpha," he insisted, but Scarlett could not believe him. He was searching for the Alpha because he thought that he had killed Laura. What made Kate different?

"And Scott and your anchor will help me do it," his words made her frown. That seemed to amuse him as he tilted his head. Was he mocking her?

"You think it doesn't happen to your kind?" he asked, making her confused once again.

"There's no anchor to the hunger," she answered defensively.

"No," he said, "But an anchor is enough to not make you kill me when you smelled my blood." That could not be the reason why Stiles' blood calmed her. It could not be. "Anchors make us more human. Feelings make us more human."

"It must be the bond then," Scarlett spoke, feeling her head spinning again as it had happened during all that day. And the chuckle from Derek only made her angrier.

"If it makes you feel better," he said, "But the bond does not make you angry when someone threatens him." Scarlett frowned in confusion. What was he saying? What was he hinting?

"I would have never thought of seeing this," Derek said, looking at her one last time before noticing Scott, Stiles, and Evelyn getting out of the animal clinic.

To see what? she asked herself, lost in confusion. What was he talking about? What was he seeing? What was happening to her? Why was Stiles making her more human? If not the bond, what was it?

"Me and Scott need to go to the hospital," she heard Derek say.

"I can drive you there," Evelyn said, looking up at Scott. The pup seemed not eager to go, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Call me later," Stiles said to his best friend, as he took the keys of his jeep. Then he walked to Scarlett, with a little frown.

"Hey, are you alright?" Scarlett observed him. She was really trying to figure out what the hell this boy was doing to her. He could not be her anchor. She did not have an anchor. What had happened that day must have had another meaning. It didn't make sense otherwise.

What the hell is happening to me?

*****************

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myocsfanfictions · 2 months ago

Text

South Side Story

Shameless Fanfiction Season 1

Desna Hills has come living in the Southside of Chicago four years before. Taken in by Kev and V, Desna is close friends with the Gallaghers. Let's see how this Southside story unfolds.

MASTERLIST

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 23

"It's a buck-fifty upfront," Karen said, her voice light, almost mocking, as she stood close to Lip. Ian and Desna flanked them just outside the school entrance, all gathered to finalize Lip's arrangement with Oompa for the SAT job. "When you get your results back and see how great Lip did, it's another buck-fifty," she added, flashing a too-sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Desna glanced at Oompa. He looked like he had just been hit in the head with a frying pan—totally lost, his brows scrunched in honest confusion.

"And we do this today?" he asked. His voice was unsure, and Desna instinctively exchanged a look with Ian, who mirrored her restrained exasperation.

"No," Lip replied, keeping his tone neutral. He was trying—hard—not to lose his patience. "Today's session is booked."

"Three weeks," Desna added, stepping in. Her voice was calm, steady, but her eyes didn’t leave Oompa’s confused expression. This was like trying to explain a heist to a toddler.

"So, I sit next to you while you take the test?" Oompa asked. Desna bit the inside of her cheek. She liked to think of herself as patient, but this was testing her limits.

"No," Ian clarified, his tone sharp, "He's pretending to be you. You can't be there."

Still, Oompa blinked in confusion. "Why would they think you're me?"

Desna crossed her arms, shifting her weight, holding her breath for a moment before Lip took the lead again.

"I'll have an ID that says I am you."

"But what if they ask for my ID?" Oompa persisted.

Desna took a deep breath. "You won’t be there, remember?" she said slowly, politely. "They can’t ask for your ID if you’re not in the room."

"And then how will they know it's me?"

"I'm going to make a fake ID," Lip explained again, trying not to let frustration show.

"But I'm tall," Oompa pointed out, dead serious.

There was a silence. Desna could see Lip’s jaw twitch as he forced a smile.

"Yeah... that's a chance we're just going to have to take."

Desna nearly chuckled at how ridiculous the whole conversation had become, but she held it back. Lip needed this money. No sense in messing things up now.

Oompa finally seemed convinced and, after shoving some crumpled bills into Lip’s hand, turned to Karen with a lopsided grin.

"Saturday night. What time can I pick you up?"

Desna's eyes shot to the blonde, who giggled with practiced ease.

"Done," Karen said, like it was a joke only she found funny.

Lip’s expression shifted—his jaw clenched. Desna did not miss it, and that sparked a bit of anger in her. She really could not understand why Lip kept searching for Karen even when she kept fucking with every living soul in Chicago.

"You're dating Oompa now?" Lip asked, his voice edged with something between disbelief and irritation.

Karen shrugged with a smirk. "He doesn’t talk. It’s fun."

Desna let out a quiet, bitter laugh. She didn’t even try to hide her glare this time.

Karen turned toward her, all sugary grin. "What is it, D?"

Desna smiled, tightly. "Nothing, Karen."

But Karen wasn’t done. Her smile grew a little more wolfish.

"Come on," she said, her tone teasing, faux-innocent. "Share with all of us. It's not like you to keep things to yourself."

Desna frowned. "We don’t even talk."

Karen giggled again. That sound grated on Desna’s nerves. Too sweet, too rehearsed.

"You’re funny, D," Karen said. "Girls like you always are."

"Girls like me?" Desna repeated, her brows raising. Her arms stayed crossed, body stiff, as she stared the blonde down.

Karen tilted her head like she was speaking to a child. "Yeah. All high and mighty… but they never truly are."

Lip stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "Okay, that’s enough, it’s time for class." His hand squeezed Desna’s arm gently, gesturing for her to step inside the school. Desna obliged, but she gave one last look at Karen and her annoying smirk. She hated how that girl was able to get under her skin. Once, she would have thought it was her jealousy talking. But the truth was, she just found Karen Jackson insufferable.

"Why does she have to be such an asshole?" Desna muttered as she walked with Ian toward math class, one of the few they shared.

"Because she is an asshole," he replied with a shrug and a laugh.

"Maybe I overthink things," Desna continued, "but today she seemed especially eager to piss me off."

Ian chuckled. "You always thought you were jealous of her. Maybe it’s the other way around."

Desna rolled her eyes, but the thought lingered. If Karen was jealous, it meant she had feelings for Lip.

"Do you think she loves him?" she asked, almost without thinking.

Ian turned sharply toward her, his eyes wide. "You love him?"

Desna didn’t answer. Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked away.

She hadn’t meant it like that. At least, she didn’t think she had. But now the question sat in her chest, heavy and real. Did she love Lip?

The thought lingered during classes.

She knew she cared. That she wanted him around. That he made her laugh in a way no one else did. That she remembered every single time he had touched her, even just brushing his hand against hers. That his voice, his eyes, his stupid smirk, stayed in her head even when he wasn’t there.

Maybe she hadn’t noticed how much she liked the way he looked at her. Or how much it hurt when he looked at Karen the same way. Or how her stomach flipped every time he called her “Des.”

Maybe she hadn’t let herself think about it before now because she didn’t want to ruin what they had.

But now that the idea was there—now that Ian had said it—she couldn’t shake it.

Maybe she was in love with him. And the possibility scared her a little.

Desna decided to be by herself for the rest of the school day, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the thought of spending time with Lip. She never had such feelings. It was confusing, exciting, and strange all at the same time.

What should I do now? She asked herself. Nothing, I don't even know what I feel.

Desna felt the need to speak to V. She and Kev loved each other deeply, the only example of healthy love that Desna had ever witnessed. Maybe V could help her understand what she truly felt.

"Hey, Hills," when she turned, Desna noticed Tire Neck walking out of the bathroom. He was a member of the football team. He was huge and intimidating, and he was not the most pleasant of people, but Desna had met him when he had asked Lip to do his SATs for him. He hadn't been very nice to Lip, but to her he had been more tolerant.

"Hi, Tire," she answered with a polite smile as he walked by. It did not take long before she heard Lip's voice.

"Des," she saw him, and she felt so strange feeling her cheeks heat up. He was walking out of the toilet as well, and he was with Ian and Karen.

When he walked closer she could smell the scent of smoke on his clothes. "Hey, where were you?"

"I umm- had to finish reading something for history class," she justified herself, trying not to act strange. She was not sure she was managing, though, since Lip's face showed an amused smirk.

"Are you alright? You seem rather flushed," he asked. "Am I too handsome?"

Desna let out a little chuckle, giving his chest a little shove to try to hide her red cheeks. "Stop that," she said.

He laughed softly. "I saw Tire eyeing you up again," he said, but Desna shook her head.

She answered, tilting her head to the side, admiring for a moment Lip's beautiful features.

"Was he looking for you?" she asked after a moment, and Lip gave a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Probably worried about his results," he explained calmly. "He will calm down eventually." Desna smiled at how sure of himself he was, but she could not argue with him. Lip always got top scores.

"Listen," he said in a lower voice, "I have to take another SAT this afternoon. You have plans?"

Desna smiled at him, feeling a rush of happiness at his question. "Just study," she answered. "I had nothing planned."

Lip nodded his head. "Cool," he said. "Do you want to wait for me at mine? We could study together."

Desna chuckled. "What kind of study?" she asked teasingly, getting closer to him. Lip's blue eyes observed her face before smiling again.

"Stop teasing, there's no time now," he whispered, amused, just before the bell rang. He kept looking at her, though. "I'll see you later."

Desna nodded her head with bliss before smiling one last time at Lip and making her way to her next class.

After school, she walked with Ian for some time, before he went away to go work at Kesh's, while Desna took the bus to go back home. She always enjoyed taking public transportation, especially the train. She enjoyed watching the city change in front of her, and the people that got off or on at every stop. When she was little, she would look at each one of them imagining what kind of life they might have. If they had someone they loved and if there was someone who loved them. If the families she saw were really that happy, when she saw a father hug his daughter, making her laugh, or when a mother would lead her child by the hand.

She had forgotten how sad that could also feel. Desna would always try to find something to take her mind off it when she was a child, but she always went back to what she wanted. A family, love, support.

But did a love like that exist? Kev and V had it, but how many others found such joy in the South Side? Or in their lives...

Thinking that she could possibly love Lip was scaring her, analyzing everything that could go wrong. And believing that at some point, something would have happened. It always did between her and Lip.

But she didn't want to think about that. She had feelings for him, and she didn't want to lose him in any way. Therefore, it was better for her not to share what she was feeling. Lip would have freaked out. And she would have been heartbroken all over again.

Yes, she thought. It is better this way.

Before going home, however, Desna decided to see what was going on at the Alibi. She really wanted to see Kev; he always had that power to make everything seem easy, with no complications. She wouldn’t have talked to him about Lip, but she needed to hear Kev's voice.

"Here is my ladybug!" his happy voice already made her smile, with no tension.

"Hi," she greeted him, walking behind the counter so that she could give him a side hug. "No busy afternoon, I see." She said, giving a smile to Tommy and Kermith, who were already at the counter with their beers in their hands. Then there were five or six other customers, nothing that Kev couldn’t manage alone.

"Why? Did you want to work?" Kev asked as he cleaned the wood of the counter.

"No, I’ve got to study," Desna answered. Kev immediately stopped what he was doing, turning with a frown on his face.

"Are you going to the Gallaghers?" Desna widened her eyes at his question.

"And you're asking me because?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"It’s a bad day for the Gallaghers, bug," he said with a knowing expression. But Desna didn't know, so the frown on her forehead deepened.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Kev took a deep breath. "Two goons are after Frank," that didn’t surprise her at all, "And they threatened Fiona."

Desna gasped, "Oh shit! Is she alright?" she asked with worry.

"Yeah," Kev answered, with a heavy breath, "Just pissed off," she didn't find it difficult to believe. Only that morning Fiona had realized she hadn’t paid the bills, so now they had no electricity. Now even Frank's shit?

"And apparently there are problems with Carl," Kev's words made her look up with agitation.

"Why? What happened to Carl?" she asked, and Kev shrugged his shoulders.

"Behavior problems," he said, "But Frank doesn’t want to show up at school to talk to the teacher." Desna let out an annoyed breath. Not even when he really needed to help his son, Frank Gallagher acted selfishly.

"And that reminds me," Kev said, getting her attention back, "Do I need to show up tonight at school?" Desna's lips turned up into a little smile.

"Only if you can or V," she said, "But there should be no trouble." Kev nodded his head. Desna observed him with a smile. Kev and V did a lot of things for her, but they were still pretty disorganized. It was no problem. They were there where they needed to be, and Desna was grateful for them no matter what.

"I’ll go see if Fiona needs something," she said, adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

"Alright," Kev said, waving his hand just before Desna walked out of the Alibi.

Fiona could need some help, even if only to look after Liam. Or maybe she could speak to Carl, to know what had happened. Desna was on her way to the station when she heard her phone buzz. She reached into her back pocket to check who it was.

It was a message, from an unknown number. She opened it, frowning at the text.

"You were so pretty." Desna frowned at the words. It was the same number that had already texted her those "Hi" messages. But who the hell was it?

"I think you've got the wrong number," she decided to text back.

Desna hadn't thought much about those previous messages, but this one hit differently. She decided not to fixate too much on it. She had never texted back before, and she tried to tell herself the sender had probably just gotten the wrong number. But those kinds of words—from someone she didn’t know—made her feel uneasy. She knew it happened. And ever since what had happened to her as a child, it was easy to get rattled. Probably she was just worrying too much.

So she forced her mind back to Fiona and the Gallaghers. They were facing real problems—not just her paranoid thoughts.

*************

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