A/n: I can thank my sissy for this idea! Love you, sis! Gonna drop a warning for a couple of sensitive topics.

⚠️MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE. DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF THESE TOPICS ARE SENSITIVE OR TRIGGERING⚠️

Besides that, I hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!!
~✨Celestial✨~
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***HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD! PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF ANY ERRORS!!!***

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Prompt: Deacon and Boozer come across a massacre of people in the middle of the highway. While searching for who could've committed such an act, they discover you—the lone survivor of the massacre.
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~3rd Person POV~

Deacon and Boozer drove their bikes through the Cascade region, taking in the fresh air that was tainted every now and then with the foul smell of Freaks and rotting corpses. The trees rustled in the breeze, creating a peaceful ambiance until the sound of infected ravaged the tranquil atmosphere.

On the highway near Horse Creek, the drifters braked harshly when a gruesome sight laid before them. Bodies scattered across the road and blood seeping into the cracks of the asphalt created a small blockade. The heavy stench of iron filled the air from the immense amount of blood painting the highway and abandoned cars alongside the shoulder.

"Jesus..." Boozer sighed in disbelief, eyes wide in horror. "Who the hell could've done this?"

Deacon dismounted his bike and slowly approached the bloody massacre. He kneeled beside one of the victims, examining the deep gashes and three letters carved into his forehead. "Fucking Rippers. That's who did this."

"Murdered all these people in cold blood... I've never seen them kill this many people at once, though," Boozer commented as he cautiously stepped over the bodies of the deceased.

"Yeah, well..." Deacon stood up with a scrunched up nose from the smell of blood. "Rippers always know how to hit an all-time low. The bodies are a few hours old."

"Which means they couldn't have gotten far," Boozer adds.

"You up for some Ripper hunting?" Deacon inquired.

"Always am, brother," he responded with a smug grin.

When the drifters turned on their heels to return to their motorcycles, a hand lunged out and gripped onto Deacon's ankle. Frightened by the unexpected touch, he whipped out his handgun and aimed it by his foot with a fierce glare. Seeing who the hand belonged to, his eyes widened and he swiftly withdrew his pistol. "Holy shit..."

"Please..." The woman begged, voice hoarse and weak. "Kill me..."

Deacon was flabbergasted at her request. "What—no. No, no, no, no. We're gonna get you help." He examined her tattered, bloodied body. By the way she was crawling, he knew she couldn't walk. "Boozeman!"

William heard Deacon's shout and ran over. He spotted the woman on the ground, who was struggling to keep her eyes open. "Jesus... She's still alive."

"We need to get her to Cope's. It's the closest encampment with medical supplies," Deacon said as he hoisted the injured woman to her feet. He grabbed one of her arms and tossed it across his shoulders while his other arm went around her waist to keep her from tripping.

"They don't have a proper doctor," Boozer brought to light. "Her best bet of surviving is Lost Lake. Addy's the only person who can help her."

"She can't possibly make the trip in her current state." Deacon slowly helped the woman over to his bike with Boozer a few feet behind in case he needed help. "We'll take her to Cope first and see what someone can do. Once she can handle the ride, we'll take her to Addy. Hopefully it won't be too late."

Deacon and Boozer helped the woman mount the motorcycle, desperately trying not to aggravate the numerous of wounds littered across her body. She was able to maintain a grip on the sides of the bike to steady herself as Deacon swiftly claimed the seat in front of her. With impuissant arms, she wound them around his waist and slumped her body against his back. Her blood smeared on the back of the cut and Deacon could feel the warm, crimson liquid seeping through. He didn't care if the blood would stain his clothes. He was more worried about her bleeding out before they reached Copeland's Camp.

On the drive to the encampment, Deacon kept the woman awake by asking her questions. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," she replied feebly. "Who're you two?"

"Name's Deacon. That's Boozer," the drifter nodded towards his fellow Mongrel. "What happened out there?"

"We are... were just a group looking for a safer place to stay. Rippers attacked us on the highway, and they tortured us for hours. When no one would join them, they went straight to killing us."

"How did you survive?" He inquired curiously with a hint of amazement in his voice.

"Playing dead is easy when you feel like you're dying," she solemnly answered. "The pain... it's unbearable—mentally and physically. All those people... they were my family. And now, they're all dead."

"I'm... I'm sorry you had to go through that," Deacon responded melancholically.

(Y/n) lowered her gaze, (e/c) eyes locking onto the firearm tethered to his thigh. Her fingers twitched as her mind raced to how she would grab it without alarming Deacon. "You've nothing to apologize for. It's not like you're one of the Rippers who killed them." Slowly, she unlatched one of her hands from the front of his cut and slithered it towards the handgun. The metal glinted in the sun, tempting and taunting her further.

By the time she curled her fingers around the grip of the pistol, the bike suddenly came to a halt in front of Copeland's Camp. (Y/n) mentally cursed herself for prolonging the inevitable and moved her hand back to the drifter's cut as the gate slid open. Deep down, she believed she'd either take her own life or bleed out before the day ends.

Even though (Y/n) took her time to dismount the bike, the second her feet touched the ground, her entire world spun and the edges of her vision were splotched with darkness. Her body tilted forward, but Deacon caught her before she could collapse to the ground. "Shit... This is bad," he muttered with a small growl.

"I'll find someone. You just try to keep her awake." Boozer stormed off in search of anyone with medical knowledge.

Deacon watched (Y/n)'s head lull to the side helplessly. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her over to Manny's workshop. "Clear a table!"

Manny was perplexed as to the drifter's demand, but he didn't argue due to his slight fear of the man. "Over here!" He pushes everything off one of the many tables scattered around his work area and helped Deacon rest (Y/n)'s body on the metal surface. "What happened to her?" The mechanic questioned, eyes dancing across the numerous of cuts and large amount of blood covering her body.

"A damn massacre. Rippers took out a group of maybe twenty to twenty-five people. She's the only survivor," Deacon replied, eyes glued to (Y/n). He saw her eyelids drooping and his heart raced with concern at the sight. He smacked the side of her cheek to rouse her from falling victim to the darkness. "Hey, hey, (Y/n). You've gotta stay awake, alright? Boozer'll be back with help any second now."

Two pairs of rushing footsteps splashed through the mud over to the workshop. One man was Boozer while the other was a man who seemed to be in his late forties. In his arms was a cardboard box of medical supplies. He placed it on the table by (Y/n)'s feet and immediately took out what all he needed. He eyed the three other men around him. "I'm going to need all three of you to help. Grab a cloth and wet it with hydrogen peroxide. We need to clean all the wounds to keep them from getting infected, but it's all we'll be able to do for her."

"She's still losing blood. You don't have any stitches?" Deacon questioned.

"I do, but it's not enough to close all her wounds," the man explained.

"Use them. Lost Lake has a real doctor who can help. We just need her to be in a condition where she'll make it there alive," Deacon responded, beginning to clean the shallow cuts along her left arm and neck.

Boozer handled the wounds along her left leg while the man and Manny handled the right side of (Y/n)'s body. As they purged the numerous cuts of germs, the woman's lips twitched as she weakly tried to keep herself from crying out. She bit the inside of her cheek while gripping the side of her shorts to fight against the urge to scream.

"You three are gonna have to hold her down while I stitch up the deeper wounds," the unnamed man said as he threaded the surgical needle. He glanced at (Y/n), who was looking at him with half-lidded eyes. "I'm not gonna lie—this is gonna hurt. We don't have anything to numb the cuts."

"J-Just get it over with," she whimpered.

As the man stitched up her wounds, (Y/n) lost consciousness.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<

A few hours passed before (Y/n) stirred from her unconscious state. She could hear voices and spot a couple of blurry figures as she slowly opened her eyes, her vision beginning to clear up. The only person she recognized was Deacon. He was standing beside a woman, their voices melding together as they argued.

"She needs to go to Lost Lake as soon as possible, Deek," the woman in the green jacket said.

"She can't handle the ride, Rikki," Deacon replies vehemently.

"The longer you keep her here, the less time Addy has to prevent her from kicking the bucket!" The woman, Rikki, retorts.

(Y/n) couldn't stand their arguing and pushed her body up into a sitting position. The tinges of pain from the stitches, cuts, and bruises caused her to wince as she swung her legs over the side of the table. She still was knocking on Death's door and wanted him to answer before she picked the lock and invited herself in. Staggering as she walked away from the argument, (Y/n) searches for a way out of the camp before Deacon notices. In her head, she kept apologizing to the drifter and his friend for help, but she felt her life was over. With the only family she had now dead, she felt nothing but emptiness.

(Y/n) managed to exit the camp with some persuasion and lying. The woman guarding the gate opened it and allowed her to leave. Gradually, she walked down the dirt road and didn't look back. Reaching the highway after what felt like a long walk, her entire body was screaming in pain. Her mind was blank as she pushed through the agony and trudged down the Santiam Highway. She prayed a Freaker would come along and end her suffering, but not even a Newt was in sight.

The sound of a motorcycle speeding down the road grabbed (Y/n)'s attention. The noise crescendoed, signaling the bike was getting closer. She knew exactly who it was, but she ignored the ruckus and pushed forward.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Deacon shouted as he pulled his bike in front of (Y/n), blocking her path. The woman didn't answer and walked around the motorcycle. He briskly dismounted his bike and stalked after her. "You've got a death wish?"

(Y/n) abruptly stopped. She spun around, facing the drifter with a few tears streaming down her cheeks. "As a matter of fact, I do!" Deacon was utterly shocked and froze as he listened to her sudden outburst. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and exhaled shakily. "Those people weren't just another group to me! They were my family! I lost everything when the outbreak happened. My husband, my daughter, my sister... Everything! They were... They were the first thing I had that was actually real in this fucked up world. What's the point in living if the one thing worth living for is dead?"

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), her words struck a chord deep inside Deacon. He knew exactly how she felt, but unlike her, he still had Boozer. All she's ever known since the world crumbled into pieces was gone. Anyone who knew of such pain would be desperate to find a way out of the hellish world they lived in.

"Wandering off in hopes something or someone will kill you is never the answer, (Y/n)," Deacon retaliates.

"It may not be the answer, but it's the only way the suffering will end," she retorts with a bland chuckle. "Why should I give a shit about a world where everyone I've ever loved is dead? By the look on your face, I can tell you've lost someone, too."

"I'm not gonna let you kill yourself and that's final. Get on the damn bike," he commanded. "We're going to Lost Lake. Addy will be able to take a better look at you."

(Y/n) bit her tongue knowing she wouldn't win against the hardheaded drifter. "Fine."

Deacon's body visibly relaxed as he heard her response. He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. He watched closely as the woman passed him and mounted the motorcycle before joining her. He started up the bike, revving the engine. Mentally, he prayed Addy would be able to heal (Y/n) and rid her of these venomous thoughts that plagued her mind.

<———————————<<<<<<<<<<<

It's been almost nine months since then. Addy was able to heal all of (Y/n)'s injuries with the medical supplies she had access to at Lost Lake. Scars were scattered across the (h/c)-haired woman's body from where the Rippers had sliced her flesh during the attack.

Deacon visited (Y/n) every chance he was given to see how she was doing. The two grew closer as she traveled down the long road of healing. On the outside she was happy, sweet, and kind. But underneath, she was still a complete mess. Addy had warned the drifter of (Y/n)'s deepening depression and how she was no longer allowed in the infirmary due to the myriads of sharp objects. The doctor discovered her inside the building trying to stab herself with a knife, resulting in her ban.

One day, Addy has been searching for (Y/n) when Deacon rode into the camp. He saw the frightened and frantic expression on the doctor's face as she rushed around. "What's going on?"

"I can't find (Y/n). She was supposed to see me this morning so I could give her another checkup, but she hasn't shown up."

Rikki wandered over when she heard Addy's flustered voice. "If you're looking for (Y/n), Buzz said he saw her riding out of camp about an hour ago. Is there a problem?"

"(Y/n)'s completely unstable. These past few days, I've had to keep her locked in one of the cabins to keep her away from anything and everything she could possibly use to hurt herself. God only knows what she'll do to herself out there." Addy eyed Deacon with a frown. "Deek, I need you to find her and bring her back safely."

"Already ahead of you, Doc." The drifter returned to his bike with Rikki and Addy close behind.

"Listen to me, Deek," Addy begged. "You're the only one who can snap her out of it."

"I'm not a doctor," he counters.

"I've seen the way you look at her. Tell her before you lose someone else you care about. Be careful when approaching her. Who knows what she'll do."

Deacon fell silent before replying with a small nod. "I'll bring her back."

"Radio us when you find her," Rikki added.

"Will do."

Deacon left Lost Lake Camp and followed (Y/n)'s trail all the way back to the Cascade region. He discovered one of Lost Lake's bike exactly where he and Boozer discovered the massacre. The blood had been washed away from the constant rainfall in the past few months. What baffled him the most was all the bodies were missing. He ignored his curiosity and kept his sights set on (Y/n).

Trekking down the small incline, Deacon searches the woods for the woman. He weaves through the thick foliage, following the boot imprints in the saturated ground. Upon entering a small clearing, the drifter spotted a familiar silhouette looming over fresh piles of dirt. He cautiously approached (Y/n), remembering what Addy told him before he left. When he was only a few feet away, she turned around when she heard him shuffle through a pile of leaves. "Hey, Deek."

The casual greeting caught Deacon off guard. He discarded his caution when he saw the calm expression on her face. He stood beside (Y/n) and peered at the sight before him. "Are these...?"

"Graves—yes. I came out here today to finish the markings."

Deacon stared at the numerous of graves, noting the markers were made from carved stone. He pointed to the dirt piles with slightly widened eyes. "You did all this?"

"It took a few months, but I finally finished a few days ago. I've been sneaking out of the camp at night to come here. Buzz has been covering for me," (Y/n) replied. "And before you ask, I'm fine. Addy's kinda blowing my condition out of the water. Did she tell you about the knife incident?"

"No, she didn't."

"I went into the infirmary one day to find a knife to carve the stones, but she completely misinterpreted it completely. And that's how I was banned from the infirmary." She kneeled down and placed a stone on the grave in front of her. "I... I appreciate all of what you've done for me, Deacon. It took nine months for me to finally say it. Better late than never, I guess."

"Yeah, well, I'm not good at expressing myself, either," he comments.

(Y/n) grinned with a chuckle and nudged her elbow into his side playfully. "Oh, I know. You suck at it. Although, I've gotta admit—you're very blunt and to the point."

Deacon smirked at her response. "Not like you've got room to talk."

The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Too true. Guess we've got something in common."

Their conversation ended, sparking an awkward silence. (Y/n) inhaled deeply before exhaling. She circled around the graves, leaves and branches crunching under her boots. She rearranged a few of the markers before brushing her hands together to rid her hands of dirt. "Guess we better head back to Lost Lake to keep Addy from sending an army after us." She swiveled on her heels and headed towards the highway.

Deacon outstretched his arm and grabbed ahold of her arm before she could walk away. "Before that..."

"Oh, no..." (Y/n) sighed worriedly. "Did Addy say something else?"

"Uh..."

She raised her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth quirking upward. "She did! What was it?"

The drifter glanced down at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. He pondered whether if now was truly the perfect time to tell (Y/n) his feelings for her or if he should wait a little longer.

The woman's eyes narrowed then suddenly shot wide open when she recognized the expression. "Wait, I know that look." She smirked like a child who just was told a little secret. "It's the same look my husband gave me when he was trying to ask me out for the first time. Do you... like me?"

Deacon scoffed, trying to play it off. "Of course not."

"Aw, that's a shame," (Y/n) falsified a pout. It was quickly rewritten with a smug grin. She grasped onto the front of his cut with both hands and yanked him down to her height, pressing her lips against his in a chaste kiss. It was a short kiss, but it was enough to satisfy both individuals.

(Y/n) released her grip on Deacon, the familiar smirk returning to her face as she admired the speechless and petrified drifter in front of her. "Because I like you way more than a friend. It's thanks to you that I've been able to work past the depression. It's still there, but you always know how to make me feel better." She took a few steps past him before turning to glance at him over her shoulder, smiling beautifully. "I've found someone worth living for again."