⊱ 18 ~ ❝ fun-size meals ❞ ⊰
〖season two, episode eleven〗

"So whatcha gonna do? We'd all feel better if we knew the plan." Lori asked Rick, carefully picking a mug of water up and passing it to Carl where he stood behind her.

"Is there a plan?" Andrea muttered, not showing much confidence in Rick's unvocalized plan.

Everyone had been noticeably on edge since Randall was confirmed to be staying on the farm for the time being. Rick and Shane were supposed to leave him somewhere and they would come back and all would be well on the farm. When they returned, Randall was still with them and immediately put back in the shack.

Clem hadn't been able to sleep through the night without waking to the sound of tree branches brushing against each other ⎯⎯ fearing it was the sound of Randall shuffling through the camp of tents and intending to kill them all.

"We gonna keep him here?" Glenn turned, looking up at Rick from where he sat down next to Lori.

"We'll know soon enough," Rick muttered, nodding his head in a gesture toward a nearing figure.

Clem quickly turned, finding Daryl walking up to the camp with his crossbow slung over his shoulder. He held onto his crossbow strap where it rested on his shoulder, putting his hand on full display to the crowd of people. Knuckles bloodied from his thorough interrogation.

"Boy there's got a gang, thirty men." Judging by his heavy exhale, Clementine knew he had put effort and energy into what he was about to tell them ⎯⎯ Clem couldn't quite choose at that moment if she wanted to know. It was too late to leave, she was there and she'd have to hear it. "They have heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna ⎯⎯ they're gonna wish they were."

A breathy gasp left Clem's lips as she quickly shrunk into Dale's side. She immediately wished she had left before Daryl could rehash all the information he'd gathered. Clementine was young ⎯⎯ but she wasn't stupid. What people could do to make others wish they were dead . . . the list was endless. Her mind immediately ran down the options, scooting closer to Dale the more her mind stewed on it.

Carol glanced at Daryl's battered knuckles. "What did you do?"

Nonchalantly, Daryl lowered his hand to his side ⎯⎯ more out of the immediate line of sight and verbally brushed off the question. "Had a little chat."

"No one goes near this guy."

"Rick, what are you gonna do?"

He paused, his eyes lit up with conflicting thoughts. "We have no choice. He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat."

Dale left Clementine's side, stepping up to face Rick. "You're just gonna kill him?" He couldn't believe it ⎯⎯ but who could? Nobody could just wake up with that decision made. It must have been something Rick was stuck on for quite some time.

"It's settled. We'll do it today."

If Daryl was right . . . Clem didn't feel safe having Randall on the farm. She didn't want Lori, Maggie, Carol, or any of them to be in danger just because he was a hostage on the same land they were living on.

But she still couldn't stomach the thought of it. Execution? It sounded wrong. She didn't know what to think. She knew how Dale and Shane thought. They were open books when it came to that decision. Conflicting sides ⎯⎯ yes of course. But their opinions as a whole . . . they simplified it in their heads more than Clementine ever could with anything.

Death ⎯⎯ easy, it ends and they have no Randall to worry about other than maybe the memory of him in their nightmares.

Life ⎯⎯ he's taken to another location to drop him off, much farther than the last time. They might live in fear of Randall and his group showing up on their front doorstep one day to kill them all . . . but they had lived in fear for months at that point. What would truly change?

Both felt like ungodly options within Clementine's mind. Two very different ending points that she felt were entirely intangible.

• ───────────────── •

Clementine was distracting herself . . . and avoiding Dale. He was on a mission to gather people to agree with his personal idea that Randall should be spared. While she knew he or anyone else would not ask for her opinion on the matter, nor would most of them want it ⎯⎯ she still couldn't stomach thinking about it much longer than a brief thought.

If what Daryl said meant what Clem deemed it did, she felt even less safe with Randall's presence on the farm.

Killing a human being though . . . that was crazy. Clem was human. How long until someone thought she had to die? It made her nauseous.

A distraction was exactly what she needed.

Dandelions bloomed all over the farmland as a telltale sign it hadn't been cared for in quite some time. Clementine was using it as a plus side, though, and plucking the yellow weeds into a tiny bouquet to place atop the graves outside the barn.

There was plenty to go around, she just slowly had to walk farther away from the graves to gather the same amount for each one. Nobody deserved less than six of them was what she had settled on. Sophia was already given six, and so was the grave next to hers ⎯⎯ which belonged to a boy named Shaun according to the roughly marked grave.

Someone the Greene family knew was what she assumed, but he deserved the gift all the same.

Plucking the sixth dandelion of the current bouquet she was making, she turned on her heel to walk back to the graves and saw Carl kneeling in front of Sophia and looking down at his hands. She paused, deciding to instead gather a second bouquet and give Carl the moment he probably wanted to sit with his friend by himself.

Six dandelions in one hand and one, two, three ⎯⎯ she stopped. The sound of murmuring behind her took her attention, but by the time she had found the source it was no longer barely audible words. Carl was loud and clear.

"No, she's not. Heaven is just another lie . . . and if you believe it, you're an idiot."

Her eyes bulged in shock ⎯⎯ Clem couldn't say she disagreed, but hearing it from Carl who she'd never seen lash out on anyone let alone an adult, was a strange occurrence. He immediately stormed off, leaving Carol standing there frozen on the spot. It wasn't until Rick and Lori emerged from the barn that Carol wasted no time in turning and rushing up to them, telling them exactly what their son had said and demanding he needed to be taught some manners . . . fair enough.

Like a fly on the wall, she watched it unfold. Rick went up to talk to Carl while Lori stayed by Carol ⎯⎯ until Carol stormed off again, shouting about losing her mind ⎯⎯ Clementine couldn't quite hear the details.

She let Rick give the talk he wanted to give to his son. Carl had raised his voice at an adult ⎯⎯ to Carol, who was a good friend to Lori and Clem could understand that it was unacceptable.

Unable to abandon her mental rule of everyone deserving six dandelions ⎯⎯ she quickly plucked as many as she could and rushed over to the graves, setting down the tiny bouquets before she could make her way toward Rick and Carl. By the time she had finished, Rick had already begun to walk away.

He stopped in front of Clementine, forcing his lips to upturn gently, but Clem glanced past him at Carl. "I'll stay with him, okay?" Clem said, nodding for him when he didn't give an immediate response.

There was far too much on his mind. So many newfound responsibilities battling over the most important, and Clem could see a little relief in his eyes that someone would stick by Carl ⎯⎯ even if it was just another child. They were safer in numbers. He finally nodded, turning his head to look over his shoulder at his son retreating from the area, and walking out into the open field.

Rick placed his hand on the side of her face, tucking a lock of her blonde hair back behind her ear. Not verbally saying anything, but managing to say so much before he walked back to his wife.

She had to jog to catch up to Carl, quickly grabbing him around his elbow when he was within reach to stop him. "Slow down." A huff blew from her lips.

He frowned, pulling his arm away, but relaxing just as quickly when he saw it was just Clementine. "What?"

Being mad proved to be very easy for her ⎯⎯ she wondered how it felt for him. If there was any shred of guilt for the way he spoke to Carol, he had yet to show it to Clem. What he said though . . . it was something Clementine could easily agree with, but she wouldn't. Telling him he was right to shout at someone for having hope heaven existed . . . it wouldn't feel right.

She wanted to talk to him though. To tell him it was okay to be mad because nobody ever told her that. Nobody reassured her that she wasn't crazy for being angry. People usually just tried to quiet her down. Not so subtly tell her to keep her opinions within her mind and to not let them out.

"Nothin'." Clem shrugged, sidestepping awkwardly, trying not to make Carl feel as if he was being babysat by having her stick around him. "Just bored. Watcha doin'?" The overgrown grass dragged across her ankles as she kicked her foot back and forth, focusing on the strange feeling rather than staring at Carl awaiting an answer.

Carl puffed a breath, still clearly a bit annoyed with his father or Carol ⎯⎯ most likely both. "Going to Daryl's camp." He told her, waving in the direction. It was a long walk across the farmland, from that distance, Clementine couldn't even pinpoint which group of trees it was that Daryl had claimed his slice of land. "You don't have to come."

Clem's lips pressed into a thin line, not wanting to leave him to roam alone ⎯⎯ she had told Rick she'd stay with him, and that was what she was planning to do. "Can I, though?" She asked, dropping her hands to her sides and pinching at the fabric of her jeans.

She fisted her hands a little by her thighs, tucking her fingertips into her palms to avoid the chilly air. Clem tilted her head a little at Carl's thoughtful expression. If he wanted her to leave him alone, he didn't show it. There was a moment where she thought the words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say anything.

He gave a curt nod, starting to walk again and looking back to make sure Clementine was in fact coming along.

• ───────────────── •

"You do this a lot?" Clem asked, wandering around Daryl's made-up camp. She had never actually stepped foot into the designated space or seen any of the belongings strewn about. Once, she got close, but Daryl basically told her to get lost. 

There was his tent, his motorcycle, and his clothesline stretched between two trees ⎯⎯ that he was using to hang squirrel carcasses on. "Ew . . ." She muttered.

Carl laughed softly at her disgust, clearly not phased one bit by the sight. "Do what?" He asked, eyeballing Daryl's motorcycle with excited eyes.

"Uh . . . invade on his space?" She asked matter-of-factly, tucking her hands under her armpits for warmth. It wasn't all that cold ⎯⎯ winter was coming, but with her jacket, it was bearable weather. Just her fingers really felt the chill, and she knew by the feeling that the tip of her nose was a little pink from the breeze, but everything else was fine.

Carl didn't respond, fisting his fingers around the handlebars of Daryl's motorcycle, mimicking as if he was riding it. Looking a bit excited about the idea before moving down to the two side pockets on either side of the back end.

Snooping wasn't foreign. She'd scoured through her brother's belongings as well as her mother's and father's a couple dozen times . . . but Daryl's felt different. He was already a persona that secluded himself and tried his best to be as distant in any other way. Emotionally distant. "Would you want Daryl to take your hat when you weren't looking?"

His head popped up, flipping the side pocket of Daryl's bike shut with a frown. "He'd look silly with my hat."

Clementine had to fight not to roll her eyes. That wasn't the point ⎯⎯ and he knew it, but it didn't stop him from opening the other side pocket. She shook her head, turning to glance around. He had his vest draped over a log, but his crossbow was nowhere in sight. Silently hoping he would not return to see the two kids . . . mainly Carl, rifling through his belongings.

"Can we go?" Clem groaned, turning back to Carl. He was frozen, leaning over the other side pocket with his eyes trained on whatever was inside. For a long few seconds, all he did was stare before he actually reached inside. "Carl ⎯⎯" She started. It was one thing to look at, but another thing to actually take. Not at all expecting Carl to pull out what he did.

A gun. Carl was taking a gun . . . again. Did he not learn his lesson? Clementine dropped her hands to her side with an exasperated huff ⎯⎯ her feet instinctively taking a step back.

"Are you serious? Why do you want a fucking gun?" She asked, annoyed, waving her hand dramatically.

Carl tucked it in the back of his waistband, fixing his knife's holster belt on his hips as he did so. "For protection, Clem. I know how to use it. Come on." He defended, waving for her to follow him again.

Straight into the woods.

"Where are we going?" The worry was in her voice, constantly glancing back over her shoulder and through the trees. Last time she was in the woods . . . she couldn't think about. Well, she definitely could, but she didn't want to.

Without stepping on his heels, she walked as close behind Carl as she could. Blindly following him into the woods, and hoping ⎯⎯ even though she hated the weapon ⎯⎯ that if it came down to it he would be able to protect the both of them with the gun.

On the other hand, she did have her knife, but she had yet to use it on anything but cutting peaches ⎯⎯ at least she wasn't defenseless.

The whole way, she periodically made mental notes of distinguishable landmarks. After Sophia, she knew how easy it was to get lost. She made sure she knew which direction was toward the farm ⎯⎯ at the very least she knew which way she had to run if it came down to it.

"Sh." He hushed her quietly, slowing to a stop.

Glaring at the back of his hat, she almost didn't stop as quickly as he did ⎯⎯ too annoyed by him shushing her for asking a question.

"Look."

She observed where he raised his hand to point, her throat going instantaneously dry. "Walker," Clementine uttered so quietly it came out more like a breath of air.

There was a man, a walker ⎯⎯ who was once a man, standing on the other side of the creek. She didn't move closer but Carl did. Almost instantly surging on his feet toward the edge of the creek on his side, standing parallel to the monster. 

"Carl ⎯⎯"

He shushed her again, waving his hand back at her without actually turning to look. The walker heard her and lifted his head, slowly turning to see Carl and Clementine. It let out a growl, snapping its teeth together audibly at the sight of two snacks in front of it. Fun-size meals.

Carl reacted faster than Clementine, she was frozen in place while he scurried back. His gasp in fear was what made Clementine's shoulders flinch subtly in shock. But the walker didn't move. Other than swaying its arms out in a futile attempt to grab one of them where they stood too far away ⎯⎯ it stayed stationary.

"It's stuck." She said, glancing at Carl quickly to see if he heard her ⎯⎯ unsure if the words actually left her brain. "It can't move." Reiterated again, Carl glanced back, realization washing over him.

"Yeah . . . it can't." He agreed, gulping hard as he stood up straight, staring at it curiously.

The feet were sunken in the mud, practically gluing him to that spot for the time being. Clem let out a shakey breath, plopping down on her butt to sit. The thought of being chased through the woods by one of them caused her heart to hammer in her chest, and it was only beginning to try and calm down.

Clem reached in her jacket pockets, her stone in one and her pocket knife in the other. She pulled both out, sitting in silence, hearing Carl toss rocks at the walker's swaying body. Ever since Beth had said what she said, it was becoming hard to look at the rock and see her family ⎯⎯ and not feel like a little baby for it.

She said Clementine was a child, and she wasn't wrong, but Clem had been spending a good portion of her time fighting that mold and being viewed as something more capable. But then she spent her time lugging around a rock and crying while holding onto it like it was something special. Then there was the fact that she couldn't stand being around guns, hearing them, holding them, or the thought of being on the opposite end of one.

It all made her feel childish. There was Carl, taking a gun for protection, walking into the woods, and looking a walker in the eye with more bravery Clementine could not even muster up for the nightmares she faced at night.

"What is that?" Carl called out, suddenly tearing her attention away from the stone in hand but her eyes immediately darted back down to it when she realized it was what he was talking about.

She rubbed her thumb over the lines, pressing her lips hard together. "Got it back at the quarry."

The quarry where everything was fine, and her father was alive. Before walkers came out of nowhere and ruined lives. Before they had to leave. Before Jim was left on the side of the road. Before Jacqui was left inside a detonating building. Before Sophia ran into the woods.

Which was exactly what she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue. She needed to grow up. She had to. "It's . . . uh ⎯⎯ wishing stone. My mom's favorite. My favorite."

A wrinkle shaped itself into the space between her eyebrows. It was so much harder to say it out loud, and every time she did it seemed to get harder. But her own internal voice screamed with ferocity at her. Get over it. Grow up. Look at Carl, he's being brave. Why can't you just do the same?

There wasn't much she could do at that moment to change, but as she looked at the rock she felt like what everyone said or surely thought she was ⎯⎯ a dumb kid. "Just a stupid rock." The correction of her own words came out quietly. Forcing the words out of her lips like it was a physical ball of feelings she had been trying to swallow.

A stupid rock and she was stupid to hold onto it for that long.

Clementine stood up, squeezing the stone in one hand and the folded shut pocket knife in the other. "Here." She held her fist out to him. "Throw it at that thing, in the water, drop it in the dirt ⎯⎯ I don't care."

Carl opened his hand for her and she dropped the stone into his palm, turning and walking up the small incline to the top. She looked back and saw him stare at the stone in thought. Weighing the options she had given him before turning to see where she was going.

"I'm going back. It's this way." She pointed, raising her eyebrows at him until he nodded in understanding. If she was leaving, she had to know he knew the way out, and now he did. Clem dropped her pointed finger, flicked open her pocket knife, and started to walk in the designated direction. Calling back to him without looking, "Don't do anything stupid."

• ───────────────── •

Throughout her lonesome walk, she opened and shut her pocket knife repetitively. She'd gotten good at it. The moment when the forest turned into open farmland was within sight and she tucked her knife back in her pocket. Moments away from breaking through the tree line and getting back to everyone else ⎯⎯ Clementine hears a faint scream somewhere behind her.

Frozen on the spot, she rotated cautiously on her feet staring into the endless expanse of trees for the source. All there was to see within her sights was shades of green and brown. Had she imagined it? Was it from behind her or was it actually somewhere on the farm that the sound had come from? She couldn't tell.

Muttering curses under her breath at herself, she glanced back toward where she was previously heading. Then the same sound echoed through the forest again and she couldn't stop her feet from surging forward and carrying her through the trees at a rapid speed.

"Carl!" She shouted, ducking under a low-hanging branch and grabbing onto the trunk of a tree trying to spin in another direction when she heard another quiet sound.

With her feet hammering into the ground, it was almost impossible to listen closely without having to stop first. She skidded to a halt, forcing deep breaths as she whipped her head side to side trying to find a semblance of anything.

There wasn't anything. All she knew was how to get back to the farm, she didn't take into account that she should know how to get back to where Carl was. Where was he? He was at a creak. That was about all she knew. Her hands shook with nerves against the rough tree bark.

She told Rick she'd stay with him and then she left. How dumb could she be? Dumber than she thought.

Her eyebrows drew together at the sound of a twig snapping. "Carl?" She called out breathlessly, stepping away from the thick tree she had been leaning on ⎯⎯ only to have a force slam into her side knocking her to the ground.

A fearful yelp gasped from her as she fell, wasting no time in scrambling away from what she assumed was a walker actively attacking her. She looked back as briefly as she could to see how close it was, but paused seeing the closest thing was Carl lying flat on his back against the dirt. His hat was a couple of feet away from his head, having most likely flown off at the impact of running straight into Clementine.

As quickly as he physically could, he rolled onto his hands and knees and swiped up his hat. He smashed it on top of his head, making it sit askew as he scrambled onto his feet. "Get up!" Carl shouted, stumbling as he tried to walk in one direction while looking back in the direction he came from.

No immediate movement came from Clementine ⎯⎯ she was still desperately trying to process the fact that Carl had come barrelling into her side at full speed.

She had tried her best to catch herself, but was not prepared to go crashing into the ground and only managed to cushion her fall minorly with the butt of her palms. There was a faint stinging sensation in her right knee. She assumed her jeans had finally ripped through after they had been slowly wearing down on her knees.

When she rolled onto her butt, she bent her legs up to take a look, but Carl was in a hurry and did not allow her that moment to investigate her possible injury. He surged to his feet, pushing off the same tree Clementine had been leaning on.

His hand swung through the air, grabbing for her but only ending up with a fistful of her jacket instead of her actual arm. "Come on! Come on!" He pleaded desperately, tugging so hard on the jacket she could have pulled her arm out of the sleeve ⎯⎯ but she didn't. Clem reached with her free arm, grabbing his other hand and using his help to pull herself up off the ground.

Both of them instantly ran in the direction of the farm the second they were back on their feet. Equally tugging on the other to keep up in case one began to lag behind.

• ───────────────── •

The two children walked up to the farmhouse side by side. Carl had profusely begged Clementine not to tell his parents about him taking the gun, him going into the woods with the gun, or the walker that ⎯⎯ according to him ⎯⎯ would have gotten him if one foot didn't stay sunken in the dirt.

Which she promised she wouldn't. They were returning unscathed . . . at least of any life-ending injuries.

"Come on, Carl. I want you to stay with Jimmy." Lori called out to her son, putting her hand out for him to approach her. "You too, Clementine."

"But ⎯⎯ but I wanna listen." Carl immediately attempted to argue.

Lori hummed disapproving of that option. "Not this time. Come on."

Clem followed close behind Lori and Carl ⎯⎯ pausing beside Carl when he stopped in the room across from where the rest of them were gathered around. Unlike Carl, she wasn't all that inclined to hear about the verdict . . . there wasn't any way to avoid finding out the outcome when at the end of the night it would be clear if they decided to let Randall live or die ⎯⎯ but she didn't carry any desire to be present for the debate of right and wrong.

Heads slowly turned in the realization that there were two people present that weren't supposed to be. Lori's gaze reflected with an austere expression at her son, telling him with the look alone to follow the one rule she had set before walking into the house ⎯⎯ sit with Jimmy.

Clementine stayed put. She wouldn't huddle up in a room with Carl, Jimmy, and Beth. She'd much rather go back to her tent and sleep away the remaining adrenaline forcing her heart to hammer in her chest.

While Carl went further into the building, Clementine went the other way, walking back toward the screen door to leave. "Hey, hold up," Shane called out. "Shouldn't go out there alone . . . when all of us are in here."

An annoyed scoff puffed out her parted lips. "I've been walking around by myself this whole time. Since we got here and far before then, but now you're worried?" Shane didn't come up with an immediate response ⎯⎯ not that he wanted to entertain a full conversation with the girl anyway. "Don't act like you care."

Rick and Lori turned, ready to coax the girl down of her impending rage, but Dale spoke up first. "Clementine, he's right. Go with Carl, where we all know for sure that you're safe."

Her neutral expression turned into a scowl, how dare he agree with him. "No. You don't care either." She grumbled, pulling open the first door, and pushing the screen door. There she was, lashing out again ⎯⎯ and as she walked away she regretted it. Dale didn't deserve it. He did care. She knew that but didn't want to hear it.

Where were they all when Carl and her were wandering off? It wasn't their fault, but had nobody realized they were gone at all? Had nobody noticed the dirt smudges all over Carl's pants or Clem's ripped jeans and scraped-up hands and knees?

It didn't matter. She walked straight to her tent and only looked back once despite the urge to turn around and hug Dale for what she had said. Peaking out the front door, she saw Lori was in fact making sure that was where Clementine was going, and ensuring the girl made it there safely.

She found her glasses next to her pillow and found one of Dale's books in the RV so she could swiftly pass the time as fast as possible.

• ───────────────── •

Outside of her tent, in the surrounding space of their camp set up, she could hear everyone walking around and talking outside. They were going on about their days . . . disregarding what the overall conclusion had come to, and continuing on as if nothing had changed.

Maybe she was a hypocrite for thinking negatively of them for that ⎯⎯ after all, she was kind of doing the same by herself in her tent.

The natural sunlight was dwindling down, and within her tent, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to see the words. Her eyes squinted and widened behind her glasses, blinking hard trying to get rid of the tired blurriness that was also making it nearly impossible to read.

Eventually, she grew annoyed at the task. It became a chore to try and make out the words, and it was no longer passing the time but instead caused her to feel more aware that the day was ending.

Someone lit the campfire. She couldn't physically see the fire, but she heard the crackle, and the sound of them adding more logs led to a warm flicker of light to glow up one side of her tent. It was cold, even with her jacket and scratchy fleece blanket ⎯⎯ and knowing the others were gathered around a small flame for warmth sounded nice.

Rolling away from the warmly lit side of her tent, she faced the doll Beth had given her, childishly wondering if she wished to be out there too. The truth was, she was just reflecting her feelings into the doll. Imagining the inanimate object sharing the same feelings as she felt, managed to release some of the tension of not being understood.

It was all she wanted ⎯⎯ for someone to tell her she was completely justified in her strong opinions. To be fair, she never did give people the chance to tell her such. There she was hiding away in the tent instead of being around the people who were constantly telling her they cared about her.

"Should I go out there?" She whispered to the doll, obviously getting no response in any shape or form. The doll stayed put, lying flat on her back next to Clementine's pillow, eyes pointed straight at the top of the tent. Not even the doll could understand Clementine.

Dale was good at understanding . . . but she didn't want to face him quite yet. Not after accusing him of not caring when even she knew it was far from the truth. Her paranoid thoughts seeped in ⎯⎯ picturing him being upset by her declaration of Dale not caring any more than Shane.

It was a hurtful thing to say, and she regretted it. She'd never regretted expressing her opinion so much . . . she would have to talk to him tomorrow ⎯⎯ if he didn't come and find her first. For the time being, she'd try to go to sleep.

How the night was ending in terms of Randall . . . she could wait to find out tomorrow.

There was no way of knowing just how long it took for her to start drifting off to sleep, but it felt like forever. She kept her eyes shut no matter how much the quiet whispered conversations outside of her tent prevented her from falling asleep.

A louder murmur had her rolling over onto her back, letting out an annoyed huff at whoever it was talking and keeping her from ending her day. She was seconds away from unzipping her tent and shouting at the culprit to be quiet ⎯⎯ until a different noise pierced through the air.

Somewhere off in the distance, a scream pierced through the air making the prior noises Clementine had been unintentionally focused on seem much more tolerable. She threw the fleece blanket off her body, immediately standing in her tent and unzipping the mesh flap, wearing just a pair of shorts and her well-oversized Linkin Park shirt.

There wasn't time to put on shoes or her jacket. She didn't even get to grab her pocket knife ⎯⎯ didn't even think about it.

"T-Dog, get a shotgun now!" Rick bellowed, racing off in a direction.

She desperately looked around at the adults for answers, pleadingly looking at T-Dog as he grabbed a shotgun as instructed. "What's happening?" Clem asked, trying to stick close to him.

"I don't know . . . look, Carl's going up to the house. Why don't you go with him?" T rushed out, not having the time to spare her a glance before taking off after the rest of them.

Goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms and legs that were exposed to the night breeze, stuck on the spot looking back and forth between Carl and T-Dog. One going toward safety, and the other running face-first into the unknown.

Seconds passed before her legs managed to push forward in either direction . . . and then she was just running. As if her feet and legs had a mind of their own, she ran after T-Dog. Her lack of shoes made it harder than it was normally for her to keep up with them. Everyone else only managed to grow more distance away from her.

Another scream sounded across the open farmland ⎯⎯ that time a howl of pain.

She almost stopped. The sound of it made her knees feel weak beneath her, but she carried on to the best of her ability.

"Help! Over here!" Someone shouted, far in the distance, and Clementine could just barely make out the faint movement of their hands waving in the air. "Help! Run!"

They gathered around a spot of land that Clementine still couldn't discern anything from, not until she was running up behind Glenn. It took a good distance to slow down her speed, forced to hammer her bare feet into the dirt to gradually stop till she stood just a step in front of Glenn.

Almost instantly, the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her chest echoed through her ears. She couldn't hear much of anything over it as she took in the sight before her.

Dale.

Dale was lying on the grass in front of all of them ⎯⎯ his abdomen no longer resembling a stomach at all. What took place instead were the organs that were supposed to be safely tucked inside, beneath the layers of skin and muscle . . . but there they were on full display.

A gag forced its way up her throat, contracting the muscles around her esophagus ⎯⎯ fighting not to throw up at the sight of his insides on full display. Shock quickly took place over the nauseating disgust. It was Dale, and he had his stomach ripped open.

She couldn't feel her fingers all of a sudden and her feet were beginning to go numb ⎯⎯ or maybe she was just going numb. If it was the cold or the shock, she didn't know, but the feeling in her limbs was growing distant.

Was she feeling anything? She couldn't hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears anymore. Was that how death happened? Did it just go quiet and then end before she could realize it was happening? Hopefully. Hopefully, she'd just collapse and know nothing else.

"Hershel! We need Hershel!" Rick's shout punched through her silence, making her jolt when sound suddenly pierced her eardrums.

If everything going quiet was how it felt to die . . . it must not have been her time, because she had all of a sudden become uncomfortably aware of the chaos ensuing around her. People were talking to Dale, shouting at each other, or crying.

Reality was beginning to settle into Clementine's bones. She could hear them all, but she couldn't truly hear anything at the same time. Like the words on the page of Dale's book, nothing sunk in as anything coherent to understand. Her mind was flipping through memories too fast to keep track of what was going on around her. The sound of her repeating every single conversation she had ever had with Dale up to that very point muted all the other sounds.

"Dale?" Her voice finally broke through her lips as she fell to her knees beside Andrea ⎯⎯ reaching out her trembling hands to grab onto Dale's unmoving arm. Maybe if she held onto him it would change something. He couldn't go anywhere if she was holding onto him, could he?

It became increasingly more difficult to see Dale clearly with the tears overflowing her eyes and pouring down her cheeks in wet streaks. All of it blurred her vision, but desperate to see his face, she lifted her hands and attempted to smear the liquid out of her eyes. Only for the sight in front of her to force more tears to immediately replace the ones she had rubbed into her fingertips.

"What happened?" Hershel shouted, running up to them, eyes wide when they fell upon Dale and the state he was in.

"What can we do? Can we move him?"

Hershel stared in shock. "He won't make the trip."

"You have to do the operation here. Glenn, get back to the house!"

"Rick." Hershel cut through his shouts, grabbing hold of the man's shoulder and shaking his head defeatedly. There wasn't anything he could do. Operation? What operation without doctors and hospital equipment could fix that?

A sob choked out of Clementine's lips. There it was . . . full realization that Dale's final moments on earth were playing out right in front of her.

How much more time he had was limited to the seconds ⎯⎯ there was no coming back from damage like that. Without a hospital, surgical team, and the ability to move Dale at all . . . there wasn't a damn thing they could do for the man. His insides were visible. They couldn't just tuck it back in, and call it a day.

Rick shouted to no one in particular, "No!" Nobody answered.

"He's suffering," Andrea uttered quietly ⎯⎯ pulling Clementine's attention to dart over to the grown woman. She turned back, looking at Dale. The tears momentarily stopped, sadness being overruled by her sudden curiosity of what Andrea had said.

Dale gasped for air, his face twisted in unbridled agony. The fact his stomach was completely torn open ⎯⎯ and who knew what other insides were shredded in the process ⎯⎯ had him unable to speak actual words. Only pained noises filtered from his lips in gurgles and whimpers from the unbearable ache surging through his body.

Her imagination ran wild, feeling empathetic pin-pricks in her limbs as she pictured just how much pain he was facing at that moment. Grasping his hand and wrist in her much smaller hands.

She could hear a gun cock from somewhere just over her shoulder ⎯⎯ but she didn't look away from Dale. Even if he was not truly himself, even if he couldn't get any words out . . . she needed those last moments to be spent with him and not staring at the gun about to put him out of his misery. No matter how scared she was of the weapon.

There wasn't much strength left in his body ⎯⎯ he couldn't speak. He couldn't convey anything to the sobbing girl in front of him, but she felt his fingers attempt to tighten around her hand. Without a single syllable uttered, he told her all she needed to know.

Another sob racked through her chest in a raw, raspy cry. She hunched over, pressing her forehead into the space between his chest and shoulder ⎯⎯ soaking the fabric of his button-up shirt with her unrelenting tears.

"I love you." She cried inaudible to everyone else. Even Dale, more likely than not, did not hear the words leave her mouth ⎯⎯ but that wasn't the point. It didn't need to be heard, it needed to be said.

So, she said it again and again. At some point during the repeated words . . . a gunshot rang right over her head.

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〈〈 𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 〉〉

﹀

Rip Dale Horvath. A legend of his generation.

(No gif at the beginning rn but I will be adding one later)

A year ago today, 2/21/2025, Clementine was first published onto Wattpad, and I'm kinda sad that this is the chapter I'm publishing on this day. She deserved a little bit more happiness, and I wanted season 2 finished by mid-February, but I'm pretty damn certain it will be finished very soon. I even have most of the next episode written.

Also, this is chapter 18, but overall it's the 20th "chapter" I have of this story, and that is an accomplishment to me! Someone kiss me, I'm amazing.

I know I had Clementine go in the woods with Carl, and everyone probably thought that meant she would be aware of the walker being the one to k-word Dale, but I just felt like that was a storyline for Carl and nobody else.

There was a different purpose to Clementine being in the woods with Carl. You know she gave him her rock, so you won't see her talking about it again unless it's a fleeting thought. BUT Clem also just didn't need the guilt of thinking she brought a walker onto the farm to kill Dale, it would have just been an unnecessary pain to put her through.

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