⊱ 12 ~ ❝ he always looks like that ❞ ⊰
〖season two, episode five〗

Last night Dale offered Clementine a place to sleep in the back of the RV ⎯⎯ she'd never declined something so fast in her entire life. There weren't many other places to sleep. However, when she said she'd rather not, Dale was quick to set up the spare tent and give the girl a place that she was comfortable with.

The night in the tent was a lonely experience . . . sleeping with nobody else in the so-called room wasn't something she'd done since she slept in her own bed.

At one point she woke up in the middle of the night. In the hours between dusk and dawn, the space within the tent was umbral. So dark that she could hardly make out her jacket thrown in the corner and rolled up.

But the shape was faint ⎯⎯ faint enough for her to forget that when she stepped into the tent that was where the jacket got thrown. Without that memory, for the smallest of moments . . . the indistinguishable configuration morphed into someone lying down next to her.

Perhaps if she was back in her bedroom, she would have been scared by that thought. But the first thing to come to mind was that maybe, it was her father. Maybe she was wrong about thinking that she surely would have woken up by now if it all was a dream.

Then, her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and that thought slipped away.

She didn't get much sleep after that point and stopped trying all that hard when the level of brightness in the tent started to rise with the sun.

As the rest of the group had the day prior . . . they woke up and got to work. Clementine was seated at the picnic table, flicking the pocket knife open and shut. The more she repeated the action the faster she got at doing it successfully.

If she thought she heard Rick, Shane, Lori, or Dale ⎯⎯ she quickly folded it shut and placed it on the table beneath her palms . . . she didn't want anyone to take it from her. For the first time, there was something she could use to protect herself, but that was under the assumption she could manage to do so anyway.

Carol approached the picnic table, holding a laundry basket against her hip and dropping it on the tabletop with a thud. She glanced at Clementine who sat on the attached wooden bench, on the opposite side of the table.

She didn't bother as much to hide the knife. Carol had more pressing issues to worry about whether she was focusing on those or not. Laundry was a good enough distraction it seemed . . . but Clem was fairly certain the small pocket knife being in her hands was not something Carol would care much about.

Once again, there wasn't a shred of thought that considered the grieving mother was looking forward to talking to her ⎯⎯ so Clem stayed silent, that was until Carol spoke first.

"How are you?" She asked, gathering clothesline clips in her hand and pinching them onto the string hung between two trees.

"What? I ⎯⎯ what?"

Carol's lips curled up just barely at the awkward reaction. "Will you hand me that shirt on top?" She asked, changing the subject for both their sakes.

Clementine tucked the closed pocket knife back in her jean pocket and stood up, grabbing the damp fabric and holding it out to Carol wordlessly. There was a strange sense of nerves in her stomach thinking about how exactly to speak to the woman ⎯⎯ it became clear long ago that the first things Clem would think of saying never quite matched with what others wanted to hear.

Back by the tents, Clem could see Lori emerge from her own. Dale walked by, giving a quick morning greeting and continuing on. Clem raised her hand waving at Lori happily as she approached ⎯⎯ in this case Lori might as well have been a human-shaped icebreaker for the other two.

"Hi, sweetheart." She smiled and grabbed several pieces of clothing herself and quickly started to do laundry beside Carol. "I can't believe I slept in."

"You must've needed it. Feeling all right?" Carol tried to excuse her friend not being awake to clean the clothes and only then when Carol was already beginning to hang them up.

Lori disregarded the question, throwing someone's pair of pants over her shoulder. "Next time wake me, all right? Especially on laundry day."

"I can manage."

"I was helping." Clementine proudly stated, accomplished with herself for doing something useful for the group. Back in the Atlanta camp nobody ever asked her to do anything but stay still and within Dale's sights at the very least ⎯⎯ it was new to her, but overall, it was a welcomed feeling to be needed ⎯⎯ even though she knew Carol didn't actually need the girl's assistance.

When Lori was present to get through the basket of laundry faster, Clementine hopped up on top of the picnic table and sat down behind the basket with her legs crisscrossed. Whilst Carol didn't actually get much help from the girl before Lori showed up, she smiled anyway and nodded in agreement.

Carol teetered awkwardly for a moment, turning her attention to Lori. "I had an idea I wanted to run by you."

"What's that?"

"Well, that big kitchen of theirs got me thinking . . . I wouldn't mind cookin' in a real kitchen again." She suggested with a shrug of her shoulders, clipping a shirt to the line.

Clem reached into the basket, pulling out someone's shirt and holding it out for whichever woman finished clipping the clothes to the line first. "I wouldn't mind eating from a real kitchen." Suggested Clementine from where she sat behind the basket on the table, looking back and forth between them.

"Exactly, maybe we all pitch in and cook dinner for Hershel and his family tonight."

The quote-unquote, we all pitch in, had Clem raising her eyebrows. "I've never made more than cookies and brownies before." With her face screwed into a worried confusion, Clem wasn't exactly sure how her presence would be helpful at all in a kitchen. All the various things she had cooked were usually just her helping mix for a total of two minutes before leaving it to her mother.

Both women laugh softly at her, knowing themselves they wouldn't have asked the child to do any of the work anyway. But Carol fell quiet when she turned to Lori. "Kind of looking for things to keep my mind occupied."

"Well, Glenn has Dale's book, so I have nothing better to do." She said clearly lacking enthusiasm and the social awareness to notice Carol was referencing her lost child being a heavy weight on her mind.

"After everything they've done for us, seems like the least we could do."

"You mind extending the invitation?" Lori looked at Carol with mild confusion at her wish for Lori to ask the Greene family when it was indeed Carol's idea. "Would just feel more right coming from you."

"How so?"

Carol gently took the shirt from Clementine's remaining outstretched hand but continued to speak to Lori. "You're Rick's wife. Sorta makes you our unofficial first lady."

Under her breath, Clem whispered a confused, "First lady?"

When she heard Rick talking, she whirled her head around to see and squinted hard at him. Tilting her head slightly and stared for awhile ⎯⎯ waiting for his features to somehow resemble that of the current president, Barrack Obama. The longer she stared did not change anything . . . Rick stayed looking like Rick.

Finally, she gave up and shook her head, looking back at Lori and Carol. "I don't see it." She shrugged, mentally comparing Lori as well. "You look nothin' like Michelle ⎯⎯ and he has more hair than Obama."

• ───────────────── •

Patricia agreed it wouldn't be a bad idea for them to work together and make dinner for all those living on the farm at that moment. It was Lori, Carol, Patricia, Maggie and Beth all putting in the time for it ⎯⎯ and then there was Clementine sitting on the only unused counter top randomly putting her two cents into the conversation.

Only a few minutes ago, Maggie left to do something else involving another dining table and Beth wandered off without a word.

"I could eat this exactly how it is." Clementine sighed, holding a potato and gently tossing it between her hands before giving it to Carol who was rinsing them all off.

She smiled softly at her, but even Clem could see the small hint of sadness buried in her eyes. "Oh yeah? I never thought I'd be so happy to see a potato." Carol joked, flicking off the water once she was done.

"I'm just glad we're not roasting squirrels over a fire in the woods," Lori commented, looking through the cupboard.

"Thank you, Patricia, so much for letting us into your house." Carol praised her for possibly the fifth time since they had all gathered in the kitchen together.

Clem tapped the heels of her sneakers together subconsciously. "And mushrooms. God, I hated eating those damn mushrooms." She spoke lowly, shivering at the memory of the mushy food. Patricia's eyebrows raised disapprovingly at the girl's language, giving the girl a stern but calm warning look for her vulgarity.

Ashamed, Clem quickly looked away from her, eyes landing on Beth instead where she was entering the kitchen again ⎯⎯ but with her arms bent behind her back secretively. "I have something I've been wanting to give you." She smiled, stepping in front of Clementine but keeping her hands hidden. "Now, I was . . . I don't know, maybe, eleven when my momma got me this. And, she was made to look like me ⎯⎯ but I think she looks much more like you."

Then, Beth pulled her hands in front of her, revealing she was holding a doll. It was maybe a foot and a half tall and as Clementine took it, setting the doll's shoes on top her knees . . . it was about at the same eye level as her with how she was seated.

A giddy smile took its place, and Clem could see Lori over Beth's shoulder having a similar look ⎯⎯ more so resembling gratitude for the kindness being shown to Clementine. Clearly, Lori felt Clementine of all people was who needed that genuine benignity Beth was offering.

"Thank you." Clementine grinned at her, dragging her fingertips over the doll's dress. It did kind of look like Clem . . . but maybe that was just because Beth wasn't the same little girl she was when the doll was bought for her. Clem still had all the childlike proportions in her face.

The rest of them carried on while she sat there admiring the gift in front of her. Conversation was happening around her but nothing said was valuable enough to pull her attention away. That was until a different kind of interruption hit her ears.

A gunshot rang in the distance ⎯⎯ but it was loud. Loud enough to echo in her ears as she flinched, blinking her eyes quickly and seeing a speeding image of Carl hitting the ground. She hesitated to move and waited until someone else did to make sure it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her.

Just a couple of days ago the door clapping shut made her jolt . . . so it wasn't until Lori bolted for the door a few steps behind Maggie and Hershel that Clem finally allowed herself to believe the sound was real.

"Rick!" Lori shouted, looking for verbal and visual confirmation that whatever had been the victim of the gunshot ⎯⎯ wasn't her husband.

Clem raced after them, the doll tucked under her arm sideways as she ran. Stopping beside Lori and Hershel with a huff.

"What on earth's going on out here?" Hershel shouted, looking at the nearing crowd of people.

Together, Clem, Lori, and Hershel meet the others halfway, continuing to walk with them toward the house. "What happened?" Clem exclaimed, shocked by Daryl's unconscious state.

"It was an accident ⎯⎯" Rick started.

"I didn't mean to. I thought he was a walker." Andrea quickly butt in to explain it herself ⎯⎯ because apparently she was the one to fire the gun. Hershel looked disappointed and shocked at how exactly Daryl had come to being in the state he was in.

Clem couldn't hide the dumbfounded look on her face even if she tried. "Why on earth were you the one with the gun? Shane was just showing you how to clean one . . . not fire one." She grumbled, getting an annoyed look from the woman as they all marched toward the house where Carol, Beth, Maggie, Patricia, and Jimmy were all standing. "Besides, I don't think it's normal for multiple living people to accidentally get shot within a week . . . how do you mistake Daryl for a walker? He always looks like that."

Beside her, Lori placed her hand on her back between her shoulder blades. "Okay, Clementine." She said, trying to stop the girl from going on her tangent.

She shrugged as she looked up at Lori ⎯⎯ standing by what was already said. "Just sayin'."

• ───────────────── •

Dinner went off without a hitch and Hershel spent all the time prior to it, fixing up Daryl's many injuries.

All through the meal, however, Clementine couldn't stop thinking about Fast Food fries while eating the cooked potato slices ⎯⎯ but other than that, everything was fine. Nobody made her eat mushrooms, and she was even given green beans which was one of the only vegetables she could eat without thinking the texture was off somehow. The ham didn't look the most delectable, but the taste was good enough for her.

She easily scarfed it all down and excused herself to sit on the porch with the doll when everyone started cleaning up.

Growing up she never had dolls like the one Beth gave her ⎯⎯ Barbie dolls, she had plenty of them. Her brothers had some small action figures she occasionally snuck off with to play and there was an abundance of stuffed animals owned by all three Holloway children.

The doll Beth gave her was different though. It was one her parents probably couldn't afford to drop many dimes on. Buying the other toys for their children's birthdays and celebrated holidays was already a lot for them.

It was surely an item Clem could find herself becoming attached to and as long as they were safe on the farm there was no reason for her to stop that from happening. She had a doll ⎯⎯ a good distraction from any of her overly paranoid thoughts. But it was also simply fun to have it at all.

When fleeing her home, nobody was given the chance to take anything special with them. It was just the shirt and jacket on her back that she considered special now . . . and the rock tucked under the pillow in her tent.

All she was doing was sitting there on the porch, on the top step in front of the Farm House's side door. The doll had her blonde hair braided neatly into two pig-tail braids, and Clementine was taking the time to undo those braids so she could do the hair herself.

Glenn came meandering out the side door with a fleece blanket folded under his arm. His eyes were firmly planted staring out into the darkness ⎯⎯ he didn't even see Clementine sitting there until she spoke.

"Where you going?"

He jumped slightly, squeezing the blanket in his hold as if it would protect him. Until he saw the culprit was just Clementine. "Uh . . . nothing ⎯⎯ I mean, nowhere." Glenn quickly hopped down the steps, turning to face her as he walked backward. "Cool doll, tiny!"

"Weirdo." She laughed, shaking her head as he walked off and out of her sight.

Only after she carried on with unbraiding the doll's hair and forgetting Glenn's normally awkward behavior did she get interrupted again. Around the front of the house, she could hear the front screen door slam shut.

Not even a second later she saw Maggie sprinting into the darkness where Glenn had retreated much more calmly. "What the . . . do you know what's going on?" Clem's eyebrows furrowed, turning the doll in her lap to face her as she asked the question. "Well, at least we're both lost ⎯⎯ I have no idea what's wrong with those two."

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〈〈 𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 〉〉

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COMMENTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED <3

Another chapter that's mostly made-up scenes but nothing happens for Clem in this episode or the next episode so it's fairly boring.

Also, I enjoyed doing the whole clementine thinking that in the darkness of her tent, it was Jim lying next to her. (I know I'm sick in the head, I'm sorry) Mainly because if there weren't literal dead people walking the earth, and she had already lost so much... if she thought someone was lying next to her in the world prior to the walkers, she would have been so scared. But the world has changed and she is also changing so there you go.

Barrack Obama was the president in 2010. I was a literal child who cared about nothing but puppies and video games, so I honestly don't know much about his presidency, but if I see any comments debating on good or bad presidents (especially current politics) I will delete them.

This is Clementine's world, and I do not need the stress of politics brought into it.

Fanfic Editing Account: thinn.skinned.wp

Editing Account: rheeedit