Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dew droplets caught the first rays of warm sunlight, glittering like tiny mirrors on every leaf and blade of grass. The merry tune of birds filled the air, growing louder by the minute as dawn settled in. Butterflies drifted lazily through sunbeams while other small creatures emerged, falling easily into their morning routines, oblivious to the tragedy unfolding around them. It was almost infuriating, the way the woods wore their peace like a cruel joke. The irony scraped at Violet’s nerves.

These serene sights and sounds should have soothed her, should have made her feel safe, but instead they only tightened the coil of dread. Every flicker of movement at the edge of her oculars snapped her head around, her breath caught, only to find a squirrel darting up a trunk. The swelling chorus of birds seemed to mock her, each chirp counting off the minutes slipping by too fast. Sunlight glinting off wet leaves stabbed at her eyes each time the lenses swept past them, but she refused to drop the binoculars, refused to stop scanning the trees.

Any moment now, she told herself. Any moment, she’d catch sight of a mop of dark, curly hair and a small afro bobbing through the underbrush toward her. She had to believe it, or the gnawing anxiety would swallow her whole.

Any second now.

“Nothing?” A deep voice beside her reminded her of its owner’s presence. It was uncertain, but clinging to hope. It belonged to Aasim.

“Not yet,” Violet replied, forced through a clenched jaw. She kept the binoculars pressed to her eyes, elbows locked tight against her ribs to steady the weight. Her shoulders hunched forward, muscles straining, but she refused to lower them, tightening her grip as she scanned the tree line again. Not wanting to give her friend the wrong impression, she exhaled a shaky breath and forced her speech softer. “It’s driving me fucking nuts.”

“C’mon, Vi… It’s Clem,” Aasim shifted beside her; she could hear the faint scrape of his boot as he stepped closer. “She’s tougher than all of us put together... Plus, AJ’s with her.”

“Yeah, but she was hurt. Could barely even limp. AJ’s a menace, but still... He’s just a little kid.” Violet dropped one hand to clench it at her side. “Fuck, I was so stupid for leaving them again.”

“You said there wasn’t any choice,” Aasim reminded her gently.

She paused, biting her lip. The bitter taste lingered as she nodded. “I guess...”

Another eternal minute dragged by. Only five minutes had passed since Violet herself had stumbled back through Ericson’s’ gates, but it might as well have been five hours. Her chest felt too tight to breathe right. Despite Clementine’s limp, even at a slower pace, they should have made it back by now.

Everything in Violet screamed that something had gone wrong. Getting away from the swarm had been a piece of cake for her. She could run, she could fight, but Clementine... in her condition...

A flash of Minnie’s fate crashed into her vision, torn apart by the dead. Her fingers faltered, the binoculars finally dropping. She staggered back, pressing her hip against the watchtower rail for support.

“Vi?” Aasim called sharply, worry apparent as he leaned closer and laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. The touch grounded her for a moment, but did little to scatter the fresh horror replaying behind her eyes—not just what she’d seen minutes ago, but what her mind now twisted into something worse. This time, it wasn’t Minnie, it was Clem. Clem, helpless and overrun, just out of reach.

“Screw this.” Her body coiled with restless energy. “I can’t just stand here with my thumb up my ass while they’re out there.” Shoulders squared, she faced Aasim. “I have to make sure.”

“Okay… Want me to come?” Aasim offered as he ran a hand through his slicked hair, stepping back slightly.

Part of her wanted Aasim right beside her—someone to have her back if things went bad. But someone had to stay behind and stand guard. Ruby and Willy were already neck-deep inside, tending to Louis and Omar. Poor Louis who had been left unable to speak or swallow, his eyes wide with a silent panic that clawed at Violet’s heart every time she looked at him. And Omar, who had a days-old untreated bullet wound and was feverish from infection.

“N-no,” she managed, her tongue thick and dry. “Someone needs to keep watch here.”

Her friend nodded grimly, shoulders tensing. It was clear he hated the idea of staying behind, but he seemed to understand. “Take this knife,” he said, taking the binoculars gently from her hands before handing her the sheathed blade from his pocket.

“Thanks,” Violet rasped, fingers closing tight around the hilt.

“Bring ‘em home,” he murmured, low but firm.

The pounding of Violet’s pulse thundered in her ears, threatening to drown out every sound of the forest as she tore through the underbrush. If she’d found them once, she could do it again, she told herself, each frantic step jarring her sore legs. Reach the bridge, then go from there. It was the only plan her scattered, exhausted mind could piece together.

She knew the mile radius around Ericson’s better than anyone, but the panic twisted the familiar woods into a blur of shadows and branches. The strain of the whole night pressed down on her shoulders. Her thighs cramped, threatening to buckle beneath her, but she pushed harder. Rest can wait.

“C’mon, Vi,” she growled through gritted teeth. “Fucking move.”

Then, something made her skid to a halt, boots digging into the soft earth. She nearly pitched forward but caught herself with a few staggering steps. Her sight locked onto a bright red smear on the soil. It was fresh blood, glistening in the slant of dawn light. Clementine’s, most likely.

A fresh spike of dread shot through her, but mingled with it was a flicker of relief: something to go by. She scanned the ground and spotted more droplets dotting the mossy path, leading away from the trail. Her pulse kicked up another notch.

Suddenly a crack split the air, a gunshot. Birds exploded skyward from the canopy in a frantic scatter. Then another. A whole volley tore through the trees, echoing off trunks. They sounded close, dangerously close, coming from the very direction the bloody trail led.

Violet didn’t hesitate for a second. She darted toward the sharp crack of gunfire, ears straining as another, more chilling sound crept into the mix—the familiar, guttural growling of a swarm.

Instead of slowing her down, it made her push harder. Odd as it was, the shots gave her a sliver of hope. They were still fighting. But the swelling snarling of the walkers told a harsher truth: they were fighting far more than just a few. Violet prayed to no god she believed in that she’d reach them before their ammo ran dry.

At last, the trees opened onto a clearing, revealing the source of the chaos. A dilapidated wooden structure, half-swallowed by ivy and rot—the old stables.

Gunfire cracked from inside, each shot sending the herd into a bigger frenzy. The walkers clawed and flailed blindly at the warped walls and splintered doors, desperate to break in.

Shit! They’re trapped.

Whether by luck or damnation, the commotion had drawn every nearby walker like moths to flame. At least thirty snarling, shambling bodies surrounded the barn, their ravenous attention locked inside, leaving none to hunt Violet.

I can’t fight them all.

Violet considered causing a distraction, but she knew better than to wish for anything like a horn, a firecracker, or any steady noise louder than the persistent gunfire. Even yelling would only draw a handful of walkers—hardly enough to turn the tide.

“Dammit, Vi, think!” she muttered under her breath, fingers tangling in a fistful of her blonde hair, her skin prickling with frustration and fear.

I need to get in there. If walkers were trapped with them, that was the greatest danger. Despite its worn and crumbling state, the barn had stood for decades. Its walls would still hold back the swarm—hopefully. 

Steeling herself, Violet kept to the barn’s shadowed surrounding, easing over fallen branches and brittle leaf litter, every step measured to keep from drawing a single groan her way. Most of the walkers had gathered near the stable’s front entrance, which was now clearly barricaded—probably because the pair had been chased through it before the blockade was put in place. Along the sides, the collapsed walls were sealed off by stall doors, keeping the dead penned out.

But at the back, where a toppled power pole leaned precariously against weathered boards, the crowd thinned to a handful of stragglers.

That’s my way in.

She vaulted onto the pole, landing in a low crouch. Both hands gripped rough wood as her boots dug for purchase. She crept upward in a tense, four-limbed crawl. The angle kept her chest hovering just above the wood, her balance constantly adjusting to keep from tipping sideways.

Halfway up, her right boot slid over a slick patch of moss.

“Crap—” Her knee jerked out from under her, and her torso slammed flat against the pole. Splinters grated her cheek as her thighs clamped down, straddling the beam in a desperate grip. Below, the nearest walker’s head snapped upward. Another staggered close, gray, grimy hands reaching for her dangling boot. Nails scraped the sole before she yanked it out of reach.

She lashed out with a kick, heel cracking into the thing’s jaw. It reeled but didn’t fall, and more groans swelled as others pressed in.

Violet scrambled forward, hugging the pole tighter as she climbed. The beam groaned beneath her until her fingers caught the jagged lip of the roof. With a final, desperate push, she rolled onto the rotten boards—just beyond their reach. Her heart sank as she realized the gunfire had fallen silent for some time now. 

Peering down through the giant hole ripped open by the fallen pole, the sight made her blood run cold, every hair on her arms standing on end.

AJ stood frozen, clutching an axe with trembling hands, eyes wide and unblinking. At his feet lay Clementine—her head hung limply, a deep gash carved into her leg that nearly pierced all the way through.

Holy…

He’d been trying to cut through her leg. The thought was instant and terrible, a fact her head seized on before her heart could deny it. From this angle she couldn’t tell if there was a bite. But what else would explain this? What else would make him swing so savagely?

The spreading dark red pool beneath Clementine’s leg spurred her on—uncertainty be damned, she had to act.

Without a word, Violet dropped down from the rafters through the gap in the roof, landing softly on the hay-strewn floor below.

AJ’s wet eyes locked onto hers the moment she hit the ground. He didn’t say a word. His face was twisted in the most horrified expression Violet had ever seen, the axe trembling in his blood-slick hands.

“What the hell happened?!” Violet demanded, sliding down to kneel beside Clementine’s pale, slumped form resting against a hay bale. Vi cupped her face gently and lifted her limp head upright, hoping desperately to catch any sign of consciousness—but found none, only sickly dark circles around closed eyes and streaks of tears and sweat across her ashen cheeks. “No… fuck, no! Clem!?”

“I—I… sh-she…” AJ stammered uselessly.

Violet’s gaze snapped to the gash in Clementine’s leg. Shattered bone jutted past the torrent of, pulsing blood. The metallic stench of iron filled the air, sharp and choking. Stars danced at the edges of her vision, but she forced a deep breath and blinked them away. There was no way she’d let herself pass out.

Then her eyes caught the teeth marks, pressed just beside the ragged incision Minnie had given her. In that moment, her world cracked open—the dreadful certainty she’d carried since arriving at the scene slammed into her chest like a sledgehammer.

“She’s bit... shit.” The words escaped in a breathless whisper. Her wary mind threatened to shut down again, but she pushed through the panic, knowing time was running out.

AJ had only been trying to save her. But goddamn, he was going about it all wrong. If she didn’t stop the bleeding soon, she’d bleed out long before the bite did its damage.

Tourniquet. Now.

Violet ripped the belt from her waist, her hands shaking but determined. She formed a loop with the strap, threading it back down through the buckle just as Ruby had taught her. Slipping it around Clementine’s leg, just below the knee, she sucked in a breath, and yanked the leather tight until the fabric of her jeans bunched beneath it, pressing deep into flesh and muscle. The strain made her arms tremble, but she held it taught until the gush of blood slowed… then dripped… then stopped. The belt stayed firmly secured.

Good.

Now for the unthinkable. Even if she had no idea whether it would work, she had to try. The thought made bile burn at the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow hard. Just one more swing.

“Pass me the axe,” Violet ordered, standing as she spoke, trying to brace herself for what had to come next. “AJ?”

She tore her gaze from Clementine’s mangled leg to look at him. AJ still stood frozen, eyes wide, knuckles white around the handle, the blade trembling inches above the ground.

“No, I got it,” he finally breathed, something cold flashing in his eyes, and raised the axe as if to prove he could. There was no space for argument as he took a step closer.

“Do it then. Now!” Violet barked, sharp and final.

AJ’s jaw tightened. With a ragged shout, he raised the axe overhead, and swung it down with all the strength packed into his small frame. The blade cleaved through what remained of bone and sinew in one brutal, wet stroke.

Violet flinched at the sound, a dizzying rush of heat flooding her face before draining away, leaving her cold and lightheaded. She forced her gaze to Clementine’s face, searching desperately for any sign of pain—a flinch, a gasp, anything. Nothing. Clem lay limp, expressionless. But Violet’s eyes dropped to her thorax, watching. Yes. It still rose and fell, barely.

“Come on, Clem,” Violet whispered, so soft it barely reached her own ears. “Stay with me.”

AJ’s small frame trembled beside her, the axe slipping from his fingers and clattering to the dirt. His eyes were wild and wet, heaving as if he too had forgotten how to breathe.

They had done it. At least… they had done something. And now, all they could do was hope it had been enough.

Mortified, Violet grabbed the severed boot still clinging to the foot and hurled it aside; it landed with a dull, sickening thud against the hay. For a split second, her eyes caught on it lying there—Clem’s leg, just discarded like trash. It felt wrong, monstrous, to leave any part of her behind like something useless.

But she clenched her jaw, swallowing the horror. It’s not hers anymore. Just a piece of flesh now. The rest of her was still here, still breathing, and that was all that mattered.

She tore off her vest, followed by the tattered white T-shirt underneath. Then she knelt once more, pressing the cloth to the mangled stump, wrapping it tight, and knotting it close around torn skin and splintered bone. The blood seeped through almost immediately, turning the fabric dark.

Time’s running out. They had to get Clementine to safety, to Ruby, if she was going to have even the slightest chance of surviving this.

Around them, the walkers hadn’t let up. Their hands punched and clawed through the gaps in the stall bars, filthy nails scraping splinters free. The air vibrated with their ragged groans, so loud it made Violet’s skull throb. Wood creaked and popped under the relentless weight outside. It was a miracle the decrepit ruin had held this long, but it wouldn’t hold much longer.

She glanced up at the power pole that had been her only way in. Getting Clem up there? Impossible. Even if they could somehow lift her onto the roof, how could she fight the walkers while carrying her? Every scenario collapsed the moment she tried to imagine it.

AJ met her gaze, and for a long heartbeat, they shared the unspoken acknowledgment of hopelessness. The dead were coming. They would break in. And there was nothing—nothing they could do to stop it.

Chapter Text

There’s no way out. Shit. They’ll get in. They’ll tear her apart while she’s still breathing.

Even if we get her out… What then? The thought needled at Vi, cruel and cold. Does she even have a chance? Or am I just dragging out her suffering?

Her hand drifted to the knife at her back pocket, fingers brushing the worn grip. Just a quick thrust into Clem’s temple. She wouldn’t feel a thing… wouldn’t turn or die ripped apart.

She would want that, Violet reasoned. She’d want Violet to make sure AJ was safe and to leave her behind.

The idea felt like dying twice.

She saw flashes: Clementine smiling shyly at her, the moonlight bouncing off her soft cheeks; the warmth of her hand under Violet’s; the kiss that had promised something worth surviving for.

I can’t. Dammit, I can’t.

Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t imagine a world where she had to do it, but she couldn’t imagine standing by and letting walkers rip her apart, either.

But still, even if Violet could somehow force herself to do it, AJ never would allow it.

“Here! We can put her in this thing!”

His desperate voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. She turned and saw AJ tipping over a rusty wheelbarrow, dumping its unknown content across the dirt floor. His small arms trembled, but his eyes were wild with determination.

“Yes… bring it over,” Violet said, throwing her vest back on. She slipped her arms under Clem’s shoulders and dragged her limp form away from the hay bale. Between them, straining and breathless, they managed to heave her into the sideways wheelbarrow, then tipped it upright with Clementine crumpled inside. Her body slumped awkwardly in the narrow tray, one arm dangling limply over the side, her remaining leg jutting stiff between the handles while the bandaged stump pressed against the metal. The sight twisted something in Violet’s chest—too much like a body being hauled to a grave. Swallowing hard, she reached in and folded Clem’s arms across her torso, tucking them in close so she wouldn’t jostle around as they moved.

Then Violet’s gaze caught something on the floor before she fully registered it—a gutted walker lying splayed across the dirt, entrails still oozing out. Her stomach twisted, and the pieces fell together with sickening clarity: that was why AJ was smeared in red. Clem, perhaps barely conscious, had made sure AJ could get out alive.

The thought made a plan snap into focus in Violet’s mind. If the kid could move through the hoard without being noticed, it might give them the opening they needed.

“AJ, you’re covered in guts,” she muttered urgently, the idea materializing as she spoke, “Use it—distract them.”

“How?” He asked, his focus darting back and forth between her and the wheelbarrow.

“Go out slow. Make your way through them carefully. Once you’re a few feet away, start yelling—loud as you can. Throw rocks. Do whatever it takes to draw every last one. Then run. Run like hell back to the school. The trail you were on before will take you straight there. They won’t follow for long if they can’t smell you. With luck, they’ll scatter.”

“But what about—?”

“I’ll take a different path. I can’t move as fast with her. You need to get there first and tell Ruby to be ready.”

AJ’s gaze flicked down to Clementine. His lip trembled, but Violet forced her tone firm.

“You got this, AJ. It’s her only chance.”

That did it. He swallowed hard, nodding, then turned toward the barn doors. Carefully, he pulled the pitchfork free from between the handles and inched the doors apart.

Violet stepped into position in front of the wheelbarrow, knife clenched so tightly her knuckles burned. Through the narrow opening, she watched AJ slip out, completely unnoticed. The walkers outside, drawn by what was inside, pressed forward, ignoring the small, gore-smeared boy at their backs.

One by one, they started pouring into the barn. Violet’s chest tightened, but she didn’t hesitate. The first walker that stumbled close took a boot to the knee, sending it crashing down. Before it could rise, she rammed the blade into its skull, jerking it free with a wet snap. Another shuffled in behind it—same Clementine signature move: kick, stab, release.

She kept going, heartbeat thundering in her ears, until at last, AJ’s cries split the air outside:

“Hey, you stupid monsters! Over here, dummies! Come and get me! I bet you can’t catch me! Yeah, that’s it, you shit-fucks!”

His shouting was punctuated by the metallic clang of metal striking metal. Peering through the gaps in the boards, Violet caught sight of him, small but fearless, hammering a sheet of zinc with the axe.

Smart little dude.

It worked. Walkers all around the barn stopped clawing at the walls, heads snapping toward the noise, then began staggering toward him. He kept at it for a solid minute.

“It’s working, Vi! I’m going now!”

Biting back the urge to yell back, she gripped the wheelbarrow’s handles and pushed it slowly toward the exit. Its rusted tire squeaked softly—a knife-edge sound that made her breath catch—but nothing stirred outside.

She ducked through the door gap first, scanning the forest area surrounding the stables. Clear, for now. Then she turned back, hauling Clementine out behind her. She dared another glance down at Clem’s still form in the tray. Her lips were tinged bluish, breath shallow. The shirt tied around her stump was soaked deep red, though at least the bleeding seemed to have slowed.

A memory crossed her mind: the promise Clementine had given her earlier that night, the way she’d whispered, ‘I’m not going anywhere’.

Please, don’t make a damn liar out of yourself now, Violet pleaded silently. Don’t leave me. Not after all this. Not when I just let myself hope.

Guilt twisted deep in her gut, sharp as broken glass. I should’ve stayed with you. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve carried you myself, no matter what. So fucking stupid.

Every step felt like it took a century. She flinched at every sound and movement—every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves—expecting something to lurch from the shadows. Violet’s arms ached, her spent muscles screaming with exhaustion, but she kept going. Don’t stop breathing. We’re almost home.

The first stretch of the trip had almost felt manageable. No dead lingered nearby. AJ’s distraction had worked better than she could’ve hoped. But the tire betrayed her with every turn, each squeak cutting through the silence like a fucking dinner bell. It felt like the sound carried for miles, summoning every hungry corpse straight to them.

And sure enough, as the school’s outline peeked through the thinning woods, they came. First one walker, then another, dragging themselves from between the trees, as if drawn by the noise, the scent of blood, or her own desperation.

“Shit! Shit!” Violet hissed, shoving harder, faster.

But each time they staggered too near, she had to stop, abandon the handles, rush forward, kick, stab—her knife sliding through rot as her arms screamed with strain. With every body that dropped, more shapes stirred in the distance. The closer she inched toward the gates, the more the forest seemed to cough them up, spewing the dead into her path until the air swelled with their guttural moans.

Then, out of nowhere, something jerked her hoodie backward so hard she nearly flew off balance.

No!

Violet spun, weapon already in hand, and found herself staring into the murky-white eyes of a walker—its jaw unhinged, rancid breath hot against her cheek.

It had her hood twisted in its grip, pulling her closer with a strength that didn’t match its rotting frame. Violet clawed at the fabric, her lungs seized with panic. She could hear someone shouting her name somewhere behind her, but all she saw was teeth snapping inches from her face.

“Get the fuck off!” she snarled, slamming her knife upward in a frantic, clumsy arc. The blade punched under its chin, catching against bone. Not deep enough. Her arms quivered, already close to giving out.

This is it. I can’t hold it—

Suddenly, a sickening crunch split the air. The walker’s body went slack, collapsing into the dirt.

“Vi!” The voice was familiar and desperate. “Vi, are you okay?”

She looked up from her doubled over position, gasping for breath. It was Aasim, bloodied chair leg still raised, expression fierce.

“Y-yeah… Fine,” she lied, between wheezes.

“I got this,” he said, moving quickly to take down another walker. “Get her inside!”

Violet didn’t waste another second. She turned back to the wheelbarrow, hands slick with sweat, and pushed forward. Clementine was so still, it made Violet’s heart clench painfully.

Just a little further. Hold on, Clem.

Once inside the school gates, Violet nearly stumbled with relief. Ruby, Willy, and AJ rushed toward her in the courtyard, faces flushed with worry and hope.

“You made it!” AJ cried out before turning his attention to Clementine.

“Told… ya,” Violet rasped, completely out of breath. Her lungs burned, and her knees shook so badly she thought they might buckle under her. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline still pounding through her veins, she would have collapsed on the spot.

“C’mon, Willy. Help me carry ‘er,” Ruby cut in, her thick accent sharp.

Violet shot Ruby a quick glance, trying to read her face. But all she saw was exhaustion etched into her features, dark circles under her eyes. Probably looks just like me, Violet thought dimly. They’d all been waiting, just as she’d told AJ to make sure they would.

By the time Violet turned back, they had the makeshift stretcher ready, the same one they’d used to move Mitch’s body from the courtyard after the last attack. Violet swallowed down the memory and focused on the moment.

Carefully, they lifted Clementine’s limp body from the wheelbarrow and settled her onto the stretcher. Her head lolled to the side, skin white and clammy.

“Got it?” Ruby grunted, adjusting her grip as they hefted the stretcher.

“Yup,” The scrawny kid assured, though his arms shook under the weight.

Violet itched to step in and help, but her legs felt like water. Her muscles burned from the strain of the journey; if she took even part of the load, she knew she’d collapse. Reluctantly, she forced herself to trust Willy, despite the way it twisted her gut.

Together, they hurried across the courtyard and shoved through the battered double doors of the admin building. Inside, the foyer had become a makeshift med bay—though it still bore every scar of long abandonment and years of teenage rebellion.

The early morning sun poured through the cracked panes of the grand stairway window, slicing the air into ragged bars of gold. Dust motes swirled above the hardwood floor littered with scraps of torn paper, broken chairs, and filthy, threadbare rugs.

They set Clementine down on an old couch pushed up against the wall, once draped in a sheet, but now stripped bare. Overhead, the giant portrait of that asshole—Richard. Someone had given the smug bastard cartoon glasses, a crooked graduation cap, and vampire teeth. Violet couldn’t remember if it had been her who’d done it, but it felt like something she might’ve.

Nearby, a battered table stood crowded with whatever supplies they had: rolls of gauze, rusty scissors, vials of all sorts, a cracked first aid kit, and melted candle stubs permanently glued to the table. One of them had been lit, its wavering flame the only warmth in the cold, stale air that smelled of mildew, dust, and old antiseptic.

Violet stepped back, boots crunching on scattered trash, her gaze locked on Clementine’s stiff, unmoving form. A single beam of sunlight struck the couch dead-on. It washed over Clementine’s face, catching on her sweat-damp forehead and tangled hair, turning her pale skin almost golden.

For a second, she saw nothing but her: the perfect curve of her nose, the stubborn line of her jaw, the quiet strength even now etched into her features. Gorgeous… even like this. Violet felt a stab of guilt for noticing, but maybe these were the last moments she’d have to admire her.

She barely noticed Ruby leaning in, face set and grim. Her hand hovered above Clem’s throat, fingers stained with dried blood, before pressing gently against the skin just below her jaw. For a second that felt like forever, everyone stayed quiet. Ruby’s brow furrowed, lips moving silently as if counting. The way her medic friend held her breath made Violet’s own lungs paralyze.

“Well?” Violet croaked, unable to hold back the doubt any longer.

“She’s still with us,” Ruby said at last, though her tone was tight, her attention fixed on the ugly mess where Clem’s leg had been. “Barely.”

AJ hovered by Clem’s side, small fists clenched so tight his knuckles were bone white. Willy hung back, hands fidgeting nervously.

“What do you need me to do?” Violet rasped, forcing herself to take a step closer despite the way her legs quivered.

“Just, uh, gimme some space,” Ruby said, not unkindly, as she pulled on latex gloves. Then with a firmer tone she added, “Vi, you look ‘bout ready to fall over. Sit. If I need another pair of hands, I’ll holler.”

Violet opened her mouth to argue, but the room tilted for a moment. Swallowing hard, she backed up until she felt the wall against her back and slid down onto the cold floorboards.

From where she half-crouched, half-collapsed against the wall, Violet watched Ruby work. Quick, practiced movements: untying the makeshift bandage, pressing her fingers gently to the mangled stump, then cleaning it with trembling but deliberate care.

For a breath, Violet found herself struck by it—how far Ruby had come. From just a handful of afternoons shadowing Miss Martin and a bunch of nights spent hunched over medical books from the library, Ruby had somehow taught herself enough to do this shit.

Then her sight drifted to AJ. The boy’s small frame trembled as he shuffled closer. A flicker of irritation rose unbidden. His rash decision at the bridge had unnerved her, and part of her wanted to blame him, even for what was happening to Clem now. But beneath the resentfulness, a colder, bitter realization settled in: the fault traced back to her own choices. It was me. I’m the one who could’ve prevented this. I’m the one who fucked up and got Clem in this position.

“She’ll make it… right?” His voice cracked, small and hoarse.

Ruby didn’t look up. “I’m gon’ do everythin’ I can, sugar. But she’s lost a lotta blood.”

The redhead’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. The stump looked raw and angry, blood still seeping through despite the tourniquet’s tight hold.

“We’re gon’ have to cauterize,” she muttered, hoarse with fatigue.

Violet swallowed, throat dry as ash. She knew what that meant and what it would smell like.

Ruby grabbed an old hunting knife from the kit, holding it over the flame of the candle, the tip already blackened from past use—perhaps on Louis. Damn.

AJ froze, back rigid as he stared horrified at the lit blade. “C-caw-teh… what’s that?” 

“Cauterize. Means we’re gonna burn the wound, darlin’. Fire’ll seal it up, keep the blood from flowin’… Now, hold ‘er steady. She might come to.”

“I got her,” Violet rasped, dragging herself back up despite every muscle screaming in protest. She dropped to her knees behind Clem, slipping a shaking arm around her shoulders to brace her against the back of the couch.

Ruby nodded once, drew in a breath and pressed the glowing blade to the stump.

The sizzle and pop of burning flesh filled the air, sharp and brutal. The reek of scorched blood and skin hit Violet like a fist, turning her stomach. Clem’s unconscious body jerked, a strangled gasp tearing from her throat before she slumped back, breath ragged. AJ flinched, brow furrowing at the sight.

“Shh… it’s okay, Clem. It’s okay,” Violet whispered, voice breaking as her eyes burned with tears she couldn’t stop.

Willy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, shit, Clem… If this don’t teach ya never to get bitten, I dunno what will,” he muttered, trying—but failing horribly—to lighten the mood.

Immediately, all three shot him glares sharp enough to cut steel. Willy raised his hands, face flushing. “Fuck, my bad. Outta line, I know,” he muttered, stepping back and going quiet.

Ruby pulled the knife away, panting. “That should stop the bleeding. But… she’s already colder’n ice, and her pulse is weak as a kitten.” Her hands trembled, bloodstained fingers curled tight. “She’s lost too damn much.”

“Then take mine,” Violet blurted out desperately, as she stood. “Take my blood. I’m O-positive—it should work.”

Ruby shook her head, sweat dripping down her temple. “Vi, we don’t even know ‘er type. If she’s negative, your blood could kill ‘er. And look at ya! You’re half-dead yourself.”

“I don’t fucking care!” Violet snapped, tears spilling over now. “If we do nothing, she dies for sure. Just do it, Ruby!”

For a long, agonizing second, Ruby searched Violet’s face—perhaps saw the love, the terror, the stubborn, furious hope. Then, with a slow, shaking breath, Ruby finally nodded.

“All right… Willy, pass me the IV kit.”

Violet ripped open her sleeve, barely feeling the fabric tear as she extended her trembling arm.

Please let this help. Please let it be enough.

Ruby’s hands worked quickly, clumsily but with purpose, tying a strip of cloth around Violet’s upper arm to bring the vein up, wiping the skin with shaking fingers, pushing the needle in.

A warmth spread down Violet’s arm, then a wave of dizziness as blood began to fill the tube toward Clementine.

AJ stood nearby, his lips pressed into a hard line, vision locked on Clementine like he could will her to keep breathing.

Violet kept her gaze fixed on Clem’s face too, watching for any shift in her expression, any change in her shallow breathing.

Hang on, Clem. Take what you need. Take everything for all I care.

Suddenly, Violet’s vision narrowed, edges going gray, a distant ringing sound in her ears. Her knees buckled.

“Whoa, Vi!” Willy shouted alarmed. He tightened a hand around Violet’s free arm, but she shrugged him off.

“I’m… I’m okay,” Violet mumbled, though her legs barely held her.

“No you ain’t,” Ruby snapped, her focus never leaving Clem’s pulse point. “Get ‘er a chair, quick!”

Willy scrambled to the corner, dragging over a battered wooden stool. Violet slumped down onto it, breath rasping, the room spinning around her. The relief was instant, but the weakness clawed at her limbs like ice water.

AJ stood rooted to the spot. He reached out, almost afraid to touch her, and whispered, “Come on, Clem… please…”

Ruby’s brow furrowed deeper, pressing two fingers into Clem’s neck. “Her pulse is still real weak… but—”

Then, almost imperceptibly, Clementine’s eyelids twitched. Her chest shuddered with a deeper, rougher breath. They all gasped in unison.

AJ leaned closer, sobbing, “Clem? Clem, it’s me, it’s Alvin Junior! We’re here!”

Violet swallowed hard, the room still tilting slightly as black spots danced in her vision. Her arm felt numb, the needle in her vein a dull sting, but she barely noticed. All she saw was Clementine’s lashes fluttering, her fingers shifting a fraction atop the stained couch.

Ruby squeezed Violet’s forearm, her touch grounding and urgent. “Dont’cha pass out on me yet, Vi. Keep talkin’ to ‘er. She needs to hear ya.”

Violet’s throat tightened. She swallowed the knot down as she leaned in.

“Hey, Clem… it’s Vi,” she slurred, fighting the spinning in her head. “I’m right here, okay? Just keep breathing. Just stay with us.”

Clementine’s brow twitched faintly at the sound, as if fighting through thick darkness to reach them.

Violet barely felt the sweat dripping down her temple or the cold prickle of goosebumps up her arms. All she could see was the small, flickering signs of life on Clem’s face—and the thin, fragile lifeline of red in the tube between them.

Chapter Text

The de facto leader of the school sat at the edge of the picnic table, one leg bouncing with restless energy while the other swung lazily beneath her. Her fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against the weathered wood, and she chewed the inside of her cheek. Around her, friends laughed and talked, their banter blending into the soft hum of the evening, but Violet hardly heard them. Her attention was elsewhere—already half-focused on the dorm building ahead, on the small room she longed to reach, the one that always seemed to call her, not for the space itself but for the special person it held within.

Though she knew no one would judge her for rushing, Violet’s pride pushed her to keep her usual calm, nonchalant air. With a casual nod, she bid goodnight to her friends gathered around a deck of cards, then headed toward the dorm building with unhurried strides.

She slipped inside the dim hallway, the only light a flickering candle she’d lit just before entering. The wavering flame cast long shadows on the cracked walls as she moved carefully, each footfall echoing softly in the stillness.

From the morning they nearly lost her, Clem had slipped into a fevered coma that lasted two long days. During that time, she lay trapped in restless sleep, her body burning with heat and drenched in cold sweat. In the daylight hours, Violet found distraction, tending to the chores that kept them alive, while Louis, Ruby and AJ took turns sitting vigil. But night after night, it was Violet there—refusing to sleep while Clem burned, leaning over her thin form, counting breaths, checking a pulse that never felt steady enough, pressing a damp rag to her forehead again and again.

The doubt gnawed at her. Was the fever the bite taking hold, or just a brutal infection from the wound? No one could say.

At dawn on the second day, there was a tiny glimmer of hope. The shots Ruby had been giving—penicillin—finally seemed to be doing something. The fever started to ease off, and Clem’s color slowly began to return.

That first flutter of her amber eyes opening was etched forever into Violet’s heart, the happiest, most relief-soaked moment she had ever known. Just thinking of it now sent a shaky breath escaping her lips, the memory washing over her with bittersweet warmth.

She had come so damn close to losing her—so close that the new calm still felt fake. No matter how many times Ruby had assured her that Clem was out of the woods, Violet hadn’t stopped holding her breath.

When Clementine finally woke, Vi wanted more than anything to pull her into a fierce, trembling embrace—to kiss her and never let go. But she couldn’t. Ruby and AJ were there, and even if they hadn’t been, she didn’t want to overwhelm Clementine’s first precious moments of consciousness any more than they already were. She needed time, space to reorient herself.

So she held back, telling herself it wouldn’t be long before she could show how much she cared. But she had been wrong. Clem slept most of the time, and whenever she was awake, visitors were in and out—hovering just outside the door or slipping inside for a quick chat. Ruby was there almost nonstop, fussing over her patient—changing bandages, checking her condition, making sure she stayed stable. AJ always stuck close, naturally. After all, they shared the room and a bond that ran deep. Violet kept her distance, respecting that. Some things were theirs alone.

Still, the longing in Clementine’s eyes the last time Vi had popped in hadn’t gone unnoticed. When Clem had reached out for her hand, that quiet, desperate look said everything. It was a wish for a private moment, away from the well-meaning but suffocating crowd—a moment to confide, to share the things they both needed to say but hadn’t yet found the chance to.

That chance finally came when it was AJ’s turn to take the first lookout shift of the night. It was late—too late for visits, which was exactly why no one would dare show up. And if anyone got the bright idea to try? Yeah, Violet was ready to shut that shit down. Maybe, they hadn’t taken the hint before, but now, there was no way she was letting anyone disturb them.

But as her hand fell on the knob, she hesitated.

Shit, why am I so nervous? Her pulse was almost as fast as that night in the bell tower. A drip of wax from the candle she carried fell onto her thumb, the warm sting the final push she needed to cross the threshold from the quiet hallway into the even deeper stillness inside.

She took a few hesitant steps toward the left bunk bed. On the dresser nearby, another candle burned low, its gentle flame painting the room in a muted light. There, curled against the mattress in a half-sitting position, was Clementine. She was propped up by more pillows than seemed necessary. Her eyes were closed, breaths deep and even. The sight was endlessly sweet, but it squeezed Violet’s soul tight with disappointment. So much for alone time. Still, Clem needed her rest more than anything else right now.

Violet lingered a moment longer, drinking in the peacefulness of her lover’s sleep. Then, quietly, she moved to the dresser and blew out the candle, plunging the room into shadows. With a final glance back at Clem, Violet turned and walked back to the door.

“Leaving me so soon?”

The unexpected voice behind her was quiet, but it still made Violet freeze mid-step. She spun around so fast her candle’s flame shivered.

“The fuck!?” she hissed, a hand flying to her chest to keep her heart from jumping straight out. It took her a second to make sense of the scene—Clementine squinting and wearing the faintest, guilty-looking grin. The sound that escaped her was more a strained snort than a laugh, like the joke hurt as much as it entertained.

“Christ, haven’t you given me enough heart attacks already?” Violet muttered, half scolding, half marveling at the absurdity of it. That look wasn’t just from waking up—Clem had been waiting, pretending to be asleep. She knew Violet would come. The realization sparked a thrill deep in Violet, catching her off guard.

“Figured you’d be used to it by now,” Clem said, her smirk curling just enough to make it clear she was pleased with herself.

Violet blinked, almost thrown by how… playful this was. From Clementine of all people. In all the time she’d known her, Clem had been the most serious, grounded person she’d ever met. Maybe this side of her was something she only shared with the people who’d managed to get close enough.

Still, she kept her face neutral, suppressing the smile threatening to creep up. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to sleep,” she said, feigning nonchalance as she turned back for the door.

“Nooo, Vi, c’mon…” Clem drawled petulantly, the kind of whine meant to tug at someone’s patience.

Decidedly, Violet reached for the knob.

“I’m s-sorry.” Clem’s voice broke slightly, strained, as if she’d tried to move and instantly regretted it.

“Yeah, right.” Violet huffed like she wasn’t buying it, but her feet had already turned back. She didn’t take her focus off Clementine as she crossed the room again.

She set her candle gently on the dresser beside the one that was already out. Then she reached for the back of the desk chair and dragged it close. Sloushing into it sideways, she propped one elbow over the armrest. Chin in hand, she let herself sink into the position. If Clem wanted to act like she wasn’t dying for company, fine. Violet could play along, draw it out, make her squirm a little. 

Pretending not to care was easier than admitting how much she wanted to stay. So she held that smirk and let the silence stretch between them—because deep down, she knew neither of them was fooling anyone.

She took the moment to simply take Clem in, up close and unguarded. It was the first time she allowed herself to stare without anyone else around to shatter the quiet focus. The orange light danced in Clementine’s shimmering amber eyes, making them seem almost like tiny flames themselves—alive, burning softly in the dim room. Though she still looked gaunt, her dark circles heavy and cheeks sunken from pain and exhaustion, it did nothing to lessen the fierce beauty that held Violet’s gaze.

“How’re ya holding up?” Violet asked, barely above a whisper after she cleared her throat.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Clementine replied, her gaze dropping for a brief moment to the bandaged stump where her left lower leg once was. The unspoken truth of that pain settled between them, sharp and undeniable, grounding the room in a solemn reality.

“I fucking bet… Ruby says you won’t take the painkillers,” Violet said, her gaze drifting to the small pill bottle left abandoned on the dresser. She picked it up, turning it over in her hand to read the faded label. ‘Oxycodone’… shit, my grandma used to take that. It helped with her pain, sure, but it dragged her under too. Maybe it was better Clem was holding off.

“It’s just… I don’t want to use them up,” Clementine replied with a tired sigh. “I can take the pain.”

Violet noticed the stubborn set of Clem’s jaw and the faint flare of her nostrils. The hurt Clem was talking about wasn’t just physical—the kind pills could dull. Vi wanted to believe Clem was strong enough to handle it, but it didn’t make it easier to watch.

“I can take the pain.” Violet echoed in a lower fake masculine pitch. She smirked, breaking the tension. “Ugh, you sound just like a dude…” Then, gently set the bottle back down. “Fine, I won’t force you.”

“Thanks. One Ruby is enough,” Clem shot back, teasing.

“Damn right,” Violet agreed, shaking her head with mock exasperation. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned in, voice soft but insistent. “Now tell me how you really feel.”

Clementine shrugged dismissively. “Oh, well… you know.” A long, weary sigh slipped from her lips as her head turned aside, her expression distant, unfocused. “It’s weird… I feel like I somehow escaped death when I shouldn’t have. I’ve seen so many people go like this. Why would it be any different for me? It was my turn…”

The raw honesty hung heavy in the quiet room. In the faint glaze clouding her eyes, Violet caught a glimpse of something deeper, something Clem wasn’t ready to put into words.

“Don’t get me wrong,” She continued, barely above a whisper, “I’m glad to be here. But it just feels wrong, like I cheated.”

Violet’s brow furrowed. Her turn? Cheated? Fuck, how can she even think that? After everything she’s done… She doesn’t owe death a damn thing.

“What do you mean by… ‘your turn’?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

Clem’s gaze slipped past her, haunted, as if pulled toward some place Violet couldn’t follow. “You remember me mentioning someone named Lee? The one who took care of me before, taught me how to survive?”

Her memory flashed to that first night playing that dumb card game: War—how stupid Marlon and Louis had pried, trying to poke at Clem’s past she clearly wasn’t ready to share. She’d never known the full story.

She nodded, swallowing the lump rising in her throat.

“Well, Lee got bit when I was about AJ’s age... He sacrificed himself so I could have a chance. And I figured… maybe it was my turn to do the same.”

Violet let out a soft breath, the ache twisting deeper in her gut. Jesus, Clem... how the hell do you carry that? She tried to keep a straight face, to be the calm Clem needed. “Hmm, I think it’s normal… to feel that way, at least at first. Survivor’s guilt, or some shit like that.” Her gaze never left the other’s face, steady and warm, trying to wrap the words in quiet reassurance. “You’re still here for AJ because… he still needs you.”

There was something fragile in Clem’s tired, almost teasing smile. “Just AJ, huh?”

Smartass. Violet rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“Survivor’s guilt?” Clementine echoed, brow furrowing. “Is that what this is? … Yeah, I guess so.”

“Shit. Here I thought I was the guilty one…” The words tumbled out before Violet could choke them back. Fuck me.

Clem tilted her head slightly, squinting. “You? How come?”

Violet’s gut twisted. She could still see it—the chaos on the boat, the snap decision she hadn’t made. Her jaw clenched, but her voice wavered anyway. “Back at the boat…” She swallowed hard, eyes already burning. “I had the chance to, y’know, end it... Minnie.” Her lip trembled, and she blinked fast, but the tears still welled. “That arrow should’ve gone straight through her fucking skull. I knew what she was capable of. Hell, we all did.”

Her breath hitched, shoulders tightening as the first tear slipped down her cheek. She swiped at it roughly, but more followed—stubborn and hot. “I couldn’t make myself do it. But if I had…” Her gaze darted to Clem’s stump, then away like it burned. “This wouldn’t have happened to you. And Tenn—” Her throat clenched around the name, and she shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “Tenn would still be here.”

Clementine’s expression softened. She adjusted her position on the bed, a sharp wince crossing her face as she shifted closer to the wall. Violet’s gaze locked on the movement and she stiffened, sitting straighter in the desk chair.

“You okay?” she murmured, filled with worry.

“Yeah,” Clem whispered back, jaw tight despite the claim. With a gentle pat on the newly cleared spot beside her, she offered an invitation. “Come on over here.”

Hesitantly, Violet pushed herself up and eased out of the chair, moving with deliberate care. She slid onto the edge of the bed beside Clementine, keeping her own feet dangling off the mattress, just enough to avoid accidentally brushing against the stump. Then, without warning, an arm wrapped around Vi’s waist, drawing her closer.

Vi didn’t resist. She leaned back, her head coming to rest softly against Clem’s shoulder, and allowed herself to cry quietly.

“Look, I’ve been there before,” Clem’s speech was taut, like she was digging up something painful but necessary. “I know it’s not that easy—having to end the life of someone you love, even when you know they’re a lost cause. You always hold onto this tiny, stupid hope that maybe there’s a way to save them, to fix them.” She paused, the weight behind her words hanging in the air between them. “But this shit? It’s not on you. It’s on Lilly and the Delta—for twisting her up.”

Violet swallowed hard, a bitter lump forming in her throat. It felt like it was being squeezed by invisible hands. Fuck, why does it still feel like my fault? she thought, rage and guilt clawing at her insides. “Still, if I had the guts…”

“If you’d killed her then… maybe something else would’ve gone wrong. And you’d still be sitting here thinking you could’ve stopped it.”

The knot in Violet’s throat constricted tighter. She knew Clem was right—knew it in every fiber—but that knowledge didn’t quiet the relentless self-blame. “I just— I can’t get fucking over it.”

“With time, maybe we both will,” Clem whispered, her tone both hopeful and uncertain, as if they were facing this long road together, step by painful step.

Violet let out a small, shaky laugh. “Damn… I should be the one comforting you.”

A pause, just long enough to feel like an eternity. Then Clem’s deep hum drifted to her ear. “You are.”

Violet let the words hang there, soft and absurd in the dark. ‘You are’? Clem said it like it was obvious, like a fact. Violet’s mouth went dry.

She wanted to be the rock. That had been the plan—hold it together, be the steady one Clem could lean on. Instead she’d just cracked open in front of her, all the ugly, boiling guilt spilling out. Her cheeks were still wet, her breaths short and ragged. How the hell is that comforting? Did she just say it to make me feel better?

Then Clem shifted, the motion small and careful, and pressed a thumb along Vi’s forearm. It was an almost invisible thing, but it steadied the tremor in Vi’s fingers.

Finally, Clementine broke the quiet. “I never got a chance to thank you…”

Violet blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“AJ told me… how it happened. All of it. How you saved me—gave me your blood even. That was… hardcore.”

Violet waved it off with a tired shrug. “It was nothing. I’d do it all over again.”

There was a certain vulnerability behind Clem’s words as she asked softly, “Am I really that worth it?”

Vi hesitated a beat, then pushed herself upright to face her. Is she fucking serious? The playful sparkle in Clem’s eyes was answer enough. Violet shook her head with a soft laugh, the corners of her mouth lifting despite everything.

Then she caught how Clementine kept glancing downward, betraying a silent want. For a moment, Violet was reminded of the sickening fear she’d carried—that she might never get this again, that she’d come so close to losing her for good.

Yeah. Hell, yeah. She’s worth… everything.

Without thinking, she closed the small gap between them. Their lips met in a soft, familiar peck—the same quiet promise they’d shared before. It was comforting, like coming home after a long, dark night. She silently thanked whatever lucky star had brought her this chance.

When they broke apart, Clem’s hand came up, her thumb brushing away the few stubborn tears still clinging to Violet’s cheeks. The small, tender motion undid her all over again.

Their mouths found each other once more, deepening into something hungrier—new territory. For a fleeting moment, nothing else existed.

Then suddenly, Clem let out a sharp, stifled moan—not pleasure, but pain. Violet pulled back instantly.

“Shit,” Clem hissed, biting her lip and breathing through it, embarrassed.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Violet asked concerned.

“Yeah, just… moved it,” Clem muttered, wincing slightly but trying to play it down.

Vi let out a breath. “Getting a bit carried away, aren’t you?” she joked, trying to break the tension, though her sight stayed locked on Clem, making sure she was really alright.

Clem shot Violet a half-smile. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice low but tinged with a teasing edge. “But hey, if I’m gonna be a pain in your ass, I might as well make it worth your while.”

Violet blinked, that expression catching her off guard. For a split second, a bitter thought swept through her mind—did Clem mean that because of the damn stump? Because she was crippled now, a ‘pain in the ass’ in more ways than one? She shoved the thought down fast, not wanting to give it any power. Her tone didn’t sound like defeat, but Vi couldn’t help wondering if underneath it all, there was some frustration she wasn’t saying out loud.

Still, Vi forced a grin, masking the knot tightening in her chest. “Fuck that—pain in my ass or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Clementine let out a soft snort. “Fine by me.” She slurred, eyelids half-closed, her fingers brushing lightly over Violet’s wrist, then let out a long, contented sigh.

Violet leaned in, pressing a quick peck to her temple before she settled back down against the pillows. Clem melted into her side, her head finding its place against Violet’s shoulder like it had always belonged there. The mattress creaked beneath them, ancient springs groaning under their weight.

The room went quiet, save for the faint creak of the walls in the wind. But Violet’s brain couldn’t let the moment rest. She pressed her cheek into dark, tangled hair. “You’re not a pain,” she murmured, softer than the creaks. After a pause, she added, “You’re mine.”