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Fuck, she knew you were trouble ever since Issac brought you into the base. What the hell was he even thinking, treating a Scar like one of their own— like a Wolf? Even with the saccharine story of you, an "apostate" that oh so kindly helped Issac and Owen when they were in an ambush, she didn't buy that shit.

Issac brought you in there, seeming all wounded and terrified. Your display of weakness had to be a fucking act. You didn't get those scars on your face from being scared, you got them by proving your bravery and worth to the Seraphites. That's why you had them.

Maybe that same bravery brought the two of you like this.

Abigail was the same as you, in one way or another; a stubborn fucker. You didn't like each other, didn't want to like each other, and that caused trouble. Manny had once joked that, maybe if you'd train enough, you'd be on Abby's level. That riled her up, absurdly so.

She hadn't trained for years for someone like you to get compared to her!

Well, all this back and forth of shooting dirty looks across rooms, switching the position of certain training equipment just to give the other trouble finding it and cutting the lunch line, caused you to break. You've had enough.

Sure, you hated Anderson's guts, maybe even more than she hated yours, but this childish behaviour was starting to get on your nervers. You confronted her on a rather uneventful evening, right in the gym where you knew she'd be.

The argument spurred and bubbled to a boil quickly. She called you a disgusting Scar that manipulated her way into the WLF to get information, you called her sick in the head for taking that man's life— you didn't even know his name, just some old guy that you heard one of Abby's friend run their mouth about. That was Abigail's breaking point.

She shoved you. Hard, rough hands straight into your shoulders. Your nails shot out and gripped her braid tight, slightly tilting her head to the side with the pressure of the tug.

"Fuck you!" Abby had grunted.

You huffed in response, dry and humourless. "Yeah? Fuck me? Fuck you, Abby!"

Then... everything became a blur of teeth against teeth, lips overbearing one another. She kissed you first? You kissed her? Who pushed who into the bathroom? It didn't fucking matter. The tension had been suffocating, building over months of silent anger, and it just all poured over the edge. You two took the fucking too seriously.

"Shit!" Abigail moaned, long and deep in the back of her throat. Her fingers were mirroring your earlier pull, nails digging in the top of your scalp to try and keep you there, buried between her legs.

Anyone could walk in, really, but she couldn't bother herself enough to care. Her eyes were focused on your face, on how your eyebrows were stuck in a furrow even now, how the start of your scars, going from your mouth to your cheekbones, were glistening with spit and her arousal.

"You cumming?" You muttered against her clit, each word sending a spark down her legs, making her thighs spasm.

"No–" She panted, all flushed and dazed. She didn't want it to end. Didn't want you to stop being so... annoyed. "Not yet."

She pressed your head deeper into her legs, muffling any further words you might've been wanting to say. Tongue pressed flat against her clit, your fingers found their way towards her entrance, teasing her with just the tip of your index.

"Just fucking put it in already." She whispered, raising the hem of her shirt and watching your eyes trail over her hardened abdomen.

With a grunt, you pulled away to press a kiss to one of her defined abs. "I thought I was a disgusting Scar. Are my hands not disgusting enough for you now?" Your voice was smug as you slapped her thigh, making her open her legs.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Touché. "Please."

With a sigh, half irritated and half amused, you complied. Not a lot of people managed to get Anderson to say 'please'— yet you did it. How could you not fulfil her request now?

Abby's knuckles flew to her mouth, teeth digging into her skin and leaving marks as she tried to keep herself silent. Your fingers were good. Better than her own even, and Abby had to admit that she thought she was pretty good at pleasing herself. "Oh, God,"

"Don't talk about Gods now." You scowled, plunging them deeper inside of her. "Nobody's gonna hear your prayers in this bathroom." Her eyes rolled back, and that scowl of yours turned into a smirk when you went back to suck her clit.

The poor thing was red and swollen, throbbing with Abby's nearing orgasm, and your tongue did little in soothing it. Hell, Abby swore she was lightheaded from... everything she was feeling. The tightness coiled in her stomach, the heat of your mouth on her, the tiles of the bathroom shower pressed against her back.

Fingers curling inside of her, your eyes locked onto Abigail's face in hopes to gauge her reaction. Her mouth fell open in a silent moan, and only then you noticed how her bottom lip was raw; probably from muffling herself. Shit, for how long have you been eating her?

"You taste so fucking good," Your voice was quiet now.

"So I've been told." She panted. "Don't think you're special for this. I've slept with people before, and they made me cum better–"

You bit the inside of her thigh, the tender skin there trembling.

Abigail gasped. "What the fuck was that for?!" Her words were followed by a whimper.

"To shut you up. Either you let me finish this, or you can go and let those people you're talking about make you orgasm."

Her eyes trailed from up the ceiling down to your narrowed eyes, seeing the heat beneath your glare. She could almost laugh; if it weren't for the moan escaping her lips, she would've giggled. "You're jealous."

"I'm not." You hissed, pulling your fingers completely out of her before slamming them back inside. "Can you take a third?"

She nodded. Slowly, you worked up a third finger and used your thumb to rub her, wanting to be able to see her face fully. Anderson was breaking, and fuck, it was the most arousing thing you'd ever witnessed— the most feared Wolf, at the mercy of your thrusts. You licked her slickness off of your own mouth.

Abigail's legs were shaking, barely able to hold herself upright anymore— the burn of your fingers stretching her was even more satisfying than when she'd push herself in the gym, leaving her muscles sore.

"You're fluttering,"

"I'm so close." She let out an airy groan, breaking half-way through and turning into a squeak. Of course her voice had to crack in a moment like this.

Abby's hand clutched your wrist, the one that was slightly cramping with the awkward position it was in to finger her, and began grinding. Gentle, deep moves of her hips.

This time, you couldn't hold back a moan of your own. "Fuck, Anderson..." You watched her puffy pussy glide across your hand, wet squelches obscenely louder than your words. "Move faster."

She obliged. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, eyes fluttering close. "Shit– cumming, I'm cummin',"

The sweetest little noise tore from her, and with that, your hand got drenched. Wetness coated her thighs, dripping down her skin and soaking into her jeans. "God, you're fucking gorgeous." You whispered breathlessly, wrapping your arms around her legs and bringing her to sit down.

"Don't talk about God." She repeated your earlier words, voice barely audible over her panting. With only one glance at her state; Abby saw that she looked like she pissed her pants. Well, thankfully you two were in the bathroom... she could just say that the shower sprayed her.

You gently pulled out of her, licking her off of your fingers before standing up. "You'll be good on your own?"

"Yeah... yeah." She muttered.

"Don't tell anyone about this." You glanced at her over your shoulder before heading for the door.

"Wait–" Abby sighed, patting herself dry with the towel she had brought on the way. "Aren't you gonna... I don't know, stay with me for a little?"

"Sorry, I can't," You answered, a bitter smile on your face. It stretched those ugly scars that Abigail hated. "Wolves don't need Seraphites." That was all you said before leaving.

Abby grit her teeth so hard she felt her jaw tense up, throwing her used towel at the towel. You were such a fucking bitch. She knew she was wrong to have acted on an impulse, that it would only cause her trouble later on, yet she did it anyway; now who was the loser who couldn't even enjoy the post-euphoria of her orgasm? Her. Of course it had to be her.

"So I just, inhale?" Abby asks, eyebrows furrowed as she watches you finish rolling the joint. You lick the edge of the paper, glancing at her with a smile.

"Mhm... you just breathe in normally. You don't want to take too big of a hit since you've never smoked before." You sit on the couch next to her, thigh brushing against hers. Abby leans into you, head nearly on your shoulder as she watches you light the joint. You take the first hit, eyes already half lidded as you pass the joint to her.

The joint looks comically small in Abby's hand as she lifts it to her mouth, lips still curled in a pout as she takes a tentative first hit. She doesn't immediately cough, so she takes an even bigger hit sending herself into a coughing fit.

"Shit- you okay Abs?" You murmur, taking the joint from her. She nods through the coughing, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah... didn't think it would burn like that," she mumbles, frowning as she watches you take another long hit.

"Coughing means you'll actually get high," you joke as you throw your legs over her lap. "Want some more?" Abby nods, clearing her throat as she takes a couple more small hits.

By the time you've both smoked the joint down to a roach, you're pleasantly high and sprawled out on the couch. Abby feels kinda floaty, limbs heavy in a way she isn't used to. She's barely paying attention as you put a movie on.

She makes it about ten minutes before she starts squirming, thighs spreading further in an attempt to relax. You glance up at her, one eyebrow raising at how flushed she is.

"You okay?" you murmur. Abby nods once, her hands squeezing your legs. "The highs hitting, huh?"

"Yeah..." Abby sinks further into the couch, lazily turning her head towards you. "You're real pretty, y'know?" You giggle, a knowing glint in your eyes. Normally it would make Abby nervous, but she's too high to notice.

"C'mere baby," you murmur, giggling as Abby struggles to crawl over you. Her movements are clunky and awkward, her brain working overtime as she leans over you.

She tries not to crush you as she stuffs her face against your neck, but she's too busy thinking about how good you smell.

"Didn't expect you to get horny when you're high." Abby makes a disgruntled noise, sounding almost sad as she mouths at your neck.

"'M not."

"You totally are, Abs. Don't worry, I think it's cute." Abby groans, pulling away to do her best attempt at a glare.

"You're such an ass. You knew this was gonna happen, didn't you?" Her mouth is suddenly dry, her tongue dry and heavy.

"The dispensary said the strain was kinda an aphrodisiac, but I thought it was just a marketing gimmick." Abby makes a disgruntled noise, her lips pulled into a pout.

"You're not serious."

"Cmon... it's a little fun."

"If I wasn't so horny right now I'd be pissed," Abby grumbles, struggling to sit up as she paws at your pajama pants. Her limbs are heavy as she finally grabs the waistband, barely giving you anytime to lift your hips as she yanks them down. She half falls off the couch, clumsy as she refuses to look away from your cunt. "Fuck baby," she groans, yanking your hips towards her face.

"Abby-" You start, Abby cutting you off as she dives into you, tongue already half buried into your hole. Her mouth is so dry you somehow taste better than normally. "Shit, Abby slow down," you whine, hands tangling in her hair.

Abby mumbles something incoherent against your cunt, nose grinding against your clit as she tries to get as much of your slick into her mouth as possible.

"Fuck, taste so good, baby..." Abby's voice is barely audible half smothered against you.

"Abby- Abs... shit- if you don't slow down I'm gonna-" Abby either doesn't hear you or doesn't care as she continues doing exactly what she is. She barely seems to notice you gushing on her face, hips flinching away from her in overstimulation.

"Abby! Fuck- 's too much..." You whine, grasping desperately at her hair. You're second orgasm rips through you, your body going limp as Abby finally pulls away from you.

"Baby-" she groans, already crawling up your body. She forces her pants and underwear off, clearly focused solely on getting relief.

"Wait- Abs, what're you... oh fuck!" Abby slots herself against you, her whole body shuddering at the first grind of her clit against yours. She's always been big, but the weed seems to have made her clit even bigger than normal.

"You feel so good," she whines, head falling back as she desperately ruts against you in pathetic little grinds. There's no rhythm to her rutting, but every time her swollen clit just barely slips into you she stutters and keens.

"Why don't you just fuck me, Abs? I think you're big enough right now." Abby whimpers, a sound you don't think she's ever made.

"Don't- Don't say stuff like that!" She's flushed and panting, chest heaving under her wife beater. You don't think you've ever seen her this fucked out before.

"You gonna come, baby?" You laugh as you finally grind back against her. Abby goes limp, her clit twitching where it's just barely slipped into you. You grin, focusing on clenching as you grind her clit further into you.

"Oh my god- fuck- wait!" Abby goes stock still, all her muscles clenching as she moans. You feel her gush, her clit twitching and going down in size just a little bit. She whimpers you slip off of her, limp against the couch as you crawl up over her.

"Abs? You with me baby?" She nods sleepily, eyes barely open as you curl up on her chest.

"Never smoking weed with you again," Abby mumbles, arms wrapping around you.

"Yeah right," you murmur as you tuck your head against her neck. Abby is quiet for a moment, hands gently rubbing your back.

"Roll another joint?" she mumbles, smiling as you practically jump up from her, grinning ear to ear.

The first time she calls you, she hears your phone vibrating upstairs. 

Double fuck.

An hour later, she’s called all of your friends and family. None of them have seen or heard from you. She wants to give you your space, but it’s getting dark, and she’s terrified. She’d rather keep yelling than sit in this stifling silence, alone and trapped in worst-case imaginings. 

She gives it another half an hour, just to be sure you don’t turn up, and then ends up taking off. She knows you enough to check a couple of local haunts: the dive bar down the road, the pizzeria opposite, even the damn library. Every empty space feels like another tear in her heart, until she’s cold and damp and lost. She wanders then. A lot. Up and down the street you live, around the block, in and out of the same stores she knows you love until they close up for the night. Neon lights reflect in puddles, cars leave splashes on her clothes as they pass by, and she’s replaying the fight over and over. 

"You’re never here. You never treat me like the priority!"

"Because I have more important shit to do!"

She was so, so fucking cold. She doesn’t know why. She gets like that when she’s under attack; can never just sit and listen and say “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll do better.”

She is sorry now. She wants to do better. 

She’s worried it’s a little too late. 

You hate how sensitive you are. How easy it is for Abby to break you. You hate that, when everything crumbles, there’s nowhere you can go to really feel loved. Her arms are the safest place you know, and without them, you roam aimlessly. A ghost passing between streetlights. 

When your feet get too numb to keep walking, you sit on the park bench, pressing your palms into your eyes and letting out the sob you’ve been fighting for hours. You don’t want this to be over, but it feels over. Worse, it feels like she wants it to be. You pushed her too far, asked for too much, and she’s done. If you go home now, you’re certain she’ll confirm it, and you’re just… not ready. You’d rather stay here in purgatory, icy and shuddering, then face the end. 

People pass by you, most of them barely glancing, a few casting you sympathetic looks. The rain gets louder. Wind rustles through the trees surrounding you. The world keeps turning, and you watch and watch and watch. Dog walkers, kids out past their curfew, late commuters. They all have somewhere to be. They probably have somebody waiting for them to get home.

You don’t. 

You pull your knees to your chest, gasping through tears at the thought that she probably doesn’t love you anymore. How could she?

"I can’t keep doing this with you. If you’re so unhappy, why not just end it?"

"Is that what you want?"

She’d paused, so stony, so unreadable, and it had been answer enough. 

"Fine," you’d uttered out. "We’re done, Abby. You’re free. Congratulations."

Footsteps approach. You expect them to belong to a heavy-footed runner until they stop right by your bench, heavy breaths following. A shiver crawls down your spine, because you know. You’d always know. 

You turn, and there she stands, hands on her thighs as she catches her breath. She’s still in her workout clothes, only she at least had the good sense to put on a hoodie and raincoat, unlike you. She looks… relieved. You don’t know why. 

“I fucking…” Her throat bobs, voice cracks, and she glances up at the black sky. When she speaks again, those sharp edges of her voice have been filed down to something softer. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You scared me to death.”

There is nothing you can say, or at least, nothing you want to say. You hate how vulnerable you feel, how broken, and she made it clear that she doesn’t want to pick up the pieces this time. So you fold your arms over your chest in an effort to protect yourself, staring out at the grass. 

Abby sighs, lids fluttering shut. She tugs off her raincoat and drapes it around your shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like her, like the soap you share and the detergent you chose and the dinner you ate: pine, vanilla, sweat, and spice. Home. 

Your head bows, teeth sinking into your quivering lower lip. So fucking weak. 

"Stop fucking crying. I can’t have this conversation with you when you’re crying like that."

“You’re drenched, baby,” she whispers, brushing your hair from your eyes. “Come home. Please. We’ll fix it.”

“Do you want to fix it?”

She blinks as though surprised you’d even have to ask. Like those barbed words earlier changed nothing.

Like she still loves you. 

“Of course I want to fix it.”

“I don’t think you do. I think you want this to be over. And maybe it is.”

A vehement shake of her head. Her eyes are bloodshot, baby hairs pasted to her forehead. “No. No, baby. All I want is for you to come home.” She takes your hand desperately. “We both said shit we didn’t mean. It shouldn’t have gone that far. I shouldn’t have…” Her face contorts with something like regret. “Please. Please, let me take you home.”

There’s nothing you can say, mind tangled and incoherent. So when she coaxes you off the bench, you let her. She wraps her arm around your shoulder, keeping you protected and close like she always has, but it’s tainted now. 

At home, she grabs you a towel. When you’re still unable to move, speak, she sits you on the couch, stripping off the damp clothes and drying you off before wrapping you in a thick blanket. You’re crying. You can’t stop. She probably fucking hates you for it. 

Except she kneels in front of you, rubbing warmth into your arms, eyes stuck on you and filled with concern. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You were right. I’m not making enough time for us. I just… I get so focused on work, I just can’t see past it sometimes.”

You dip your chin to your chest, hiding yourself behind the blanket. She shuffles closer, waiting patiently as you try to fight more tears. “You make me feel like a burden for wanting you around. I don’t think… I don’t think it should be that way. I think maybe I make your life heavier instead of lighter.”

“No.” She searches for your hand beneath the blanket, fingers intertwining. “No, baby. That’s not true. The heaviest I’ve ever felt was sitting on this couch after you left, wondering whether you’d come back. Wondering if I ruined everything. If I broke us. If I’m so fucking incapable of relationships that I don’t get to keep you. It terrified me.”

Again, you’re speechless, trying to comprehend this new reality where she doesn’t hate you, doesn’t want you gone. It’s so much easier to imagine it’s true,  because you’ve always felt, deep down, like maybe you aren’t supposed to be loved — especially not by somebody as strong and capable and beautiful as Abby.

She tucks your hair behind your ears, cupping your jaw. “I love you. I’m gonna do better, yeah? We’re gonna be okay.”

She treats you like you’re something fragile, and you feel it — so you crumple, finally. “I’m sorry,” you say, for the tears and for the fight and for never quite giving her what she needs. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” she promises, tugging you into her chest. “Just please don’t ever leave me like that again. Even if I say something stupid, even if you think it’s what I want.  If you need space, take it, but don’t… Don’t disappear on me.”

“Okay.” You sniffle into her shoulder. She cradles you like you’re something precious, tugging you so you straddle her on the ground, where she can hold you even tighter. 

“Are you warming up? You want me to run you a bath?”

You shake your head. “Just wanna stay like this for a little while.”

“As long as you want,” she promises, pressing a kiss into your damp hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Abby was never late. 

Not to meetings, not to patrols, not even to dinner. Yet now, as you watched the last golden rays of sunlight begin to dip low beyond the stadium walls, she still had yet to return. Your anxious pacing inside the doors hadn't done anything to help the worry that had taken hold of you. Neither had watching every other squad but hers return safely. It wasn’t lost on you the dangers of patrols. Stepping outside of the stadium walls always posed a risk, and right now you were intimately familiar with every single one as they raced through your swirling thoughts. The lower the sun fell, the lower your heart sank. 

Talking to the patrol coordinator hadn’t helped at all either. He radioed as was procedure, but after not hearing anything back, he said there wasn’t anything more he could do. Even if the team was missing, they wouldn’t be able to send out a rescue group until the morning. Navigating the city in the dark was a beyond dangerous task, even for the best of the soldiers. This was what worried you. Abby was among the best of the soldiers, and without a rescue in sight, she was going to have to try and survive the night, if she was even still alive. 

The thought of her being gone, it took hold in your chest, agonizing and all-consuming. You did all you could to push it out of your head. Of course she’s still alive, she has to be. You’d long since said a world without her isn’t a world you’d want to live in. A sunrise without her arms tenderly wrapped around you, holding you firmly to her, trailing delicate kisses along your hair to your cheek and finally your lips as her hand tilts your head up to meet them. A night spent curled into her side, head on her chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of her heart as she read out loud to you, or shared some music, or simply talked until neither of you could stand to keep your eyes open anymore. A patrol without her on your team, her steady voice guiding you along the tough terrain, the overwhelming feeling of safety in the face of danger because you knew she was there and she would never let anything happen to you. The more the ugly reality of her absence forced you to face the possibility of a life without her in it, the more your determination grew to prevent that from happening. 

When the last of the streaks of light finally disappeared below the horizon line, and darkness settled across the base, the patrol coordinator and remaining soldiers left, with a promise to send out a rescue team in the morning as they had reassured. However, you knew that wasn’t good enough, and even more, some part of you knew she couldn’t wait that long. So you forced yourself into action. Stepping away from the circle you’d paced into the grass, you retreated into the base to collect the supplies you needed. Only bothering to make a quick stop to leave a note for Manny before going off to gather your pack and prepare. 

The days were warmer now, but the nights were still cold. You pulled a black sweater out, one Abby had lent to you weeks ago, pulling it on. Your senses were filled with a rush of woodsy cedar, mint, and something distinctly her. A feeling of comfort washed over you, steadying you to your mission. Your handgun holstered to your leg and your rifle slung across your back, you were prepared to leave. 

Sneaking out of the base wasn’t an easy task. Even at night, the area was heavily patrolled and the entrances guarded. However, that wasn’t the only way in or out. You and Abby had developed a penchant for urban exploring, using your seldom time off to slip beyond the boundaries of the stadium and into the outskirts of what remained of Seattle. It wasn’t long before your silent sneaking footsteps led you to a small gap in the fortifications, just enough for you to pull back the fencing and slip out. You knew technically, without authorization, this could be considered desertion, which is part of the reason you had left a note for Manny in the first place, so he could make an excuse. It also made sure someone was going to come looking for you if you didn’t make it back. 

You were familiar with a majority of the patrol routes at this point, including the one Abby and her partner Jules had set out on all those hours ago, and on the other side now you were free to follow it. The city wasn’t lit up outside of the gates, and the darkness that settled around you was eerie. Only silver strips of moonlight lit up the path ahead before you found your flashlight. Beyond its reach, however, was total darkness. You tried to push out of your mind what lurked in that darkness, and how exposed the simple act of lighting your way had made you. The fear for your own well-being had dissolved the moment you realized Abby was in danger, even more so when you decided to go after her. 

The start of the patrol path was well trodden and not out of place, the street broke off at points, forcing you to divert around and closer to the buildings. Out in the open, there was space to run, but you shuddered at the thought of being cornered inside with a Scar, or worse yet, a shambler. You stayed true to your path as best you could, keeping an ear out for any sound, but you were only met with the heavy silence of the night, broken up by the occasional cricket or critter. Each noise that broke through filled you with a new sense of hope, only to tear it away again when you realized it wasn't her. The further you walked, the more discouraged you became, and the more panicked, what if Abby wasn’t here anymore? You couldn’t fathom to think of what might have happened if she’d been taken or forced to hide somewhere unfamiliar. 

The time that passed felt heavy and carried with it more and more uncertainty, until you saw it: blood splattered across the pavement. Something bad had happened here, it was the first thing you were certain of. You braced yourself as you followed the trails. Amongst the run-down cars and overgrown grass lay a myriad of bodies, twisted and contorted, riddled with injuries. Your hands trembled as you looked closer at each, praying to God or whatever may be listening for the first time that night that you wouldn’t find Abby, not here, not like this. Some of the bodies had been taken by the virus, that much was obvious. Another scattered few you recognized immediately as Scars. As you approached the last body, face down and still in the grass, a rush of relief rushed through you as you noted it was far too small to be Abby. Getting closer, however, you realized it was just the right size to be her partner. You hesitate, you hadn’t known Jules well, but god, that didn’t mean you wanted to see her lying dead here amongst the carnage. Leaning down slowly, your hand inches from her, you decide you have to check. Her family deserved to know. You gently brush the blood-soaked hair back to find Jules looking back at you. Eyes vacant and staring, dead. Standing up, you mark on the map your location so her body can be brought back to her loved ones. 

A heavy swirl of emotions surged through you at this: relief and the guilt that comes with it, the grief. You lifted your head, trying to imagine where Abby would’ve gone from here, your heart pounding in your chest so loud it was hard to think. You couldn’t start to panic now, but as your mind raced, you couldn’t stop it. The thudding pounded louder and louder. Digging your nails into your palms and forcing yourself to breathe, the cold night air filling your lungs felt insufficient, but still you repeated. Repeated until you could hear the sound of your own thoughts again, until your motivation came back to you: Abby wasn’t dead. She had gotten out; now she just needed you to find her. 

You focused your gaze on the ground, looking for any sign of a trail, when you noticed the tall grass leading away from Jules' body was trodden. You headed in the same direction, noting splatters of crimson blood coating the blades of grass, a violent contrast that you prayed didn’t come from Abby herself. The trail inevitably led to a small storefront. You pushed the door open quietly, surveying your flashlight around the shop and taking a few cautious steps inside.

The feeling of a broad arm wrapping around you and pulling you hard into their chest was the first thing you felt. The second was the heavy pressure as her bicep snaked its way around your throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. 

“What the fuck were you doing out there looking at the bodies, huh? You’ve come here to finish the job or just to fucking gloat?” Her voice comes out harsh and strained, but you recognize it immediately. 

“Abby, it’s me,” You squeak out, the strain on your airway immense. You’re just barely able to push the words past your lips. 

She loosens her grip on you immediately and rapidly turns you to look at her. Her eyes scan your face in a mix of pain and relief before pulling you back in and holding you tightly. You wrap your arms around her in return, gripping her shirt, the force holding her to you like a refusal to ever again part. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She asks, trying to sound stern, but the relief and affection coming through are undisguisable. 

“You didn’t come back, I had to find you. I wanted to make sure you were okay” “I’ve been better,” She answers, pulling back from the embrace just enough that you can get a look at her. The motion of it causes her to make a small sound of pain. 

Gingerly, you trace your fingers across her face. Around her eye is washed in dark shades of blue and purple. Blood has dried under her nose and lips, intermingled with the crimson splatters across her you’re pretty sure didn’t come from her. She flinches a little away from the touch before settling, allowing your hands to trail down her heaving chest, and you realize she’s clutching her side, the blood below her hand undeniable. 

“What happened?” You ask, fingers tracing over hers as you move to pull her hand away, trying to get a better look. You could see the fabric was torn, reaching to pull the zipper of her sweater down, she doesn’t object. Underneath, the blood had soaked most of her shirt, gently pulling it up to expose the skin, she winced, but you could finally see the jagged wound. 

“The Scars ambushed us, they left spikes on the road and popped the truck tires. They attacked the second we stepped out of the car. Assholes managed to stab me in the side, and the chaos attracted the fucking infected. One of ‘em got Jules. I tried to get to her, but it was too late, she was bit. I put her out of her misery before she could turn. I wanted to go back, but it was getting dark. It’s dangerous out here, and it only gets worse at night, you know. So I holed up.” She answered as you evaluated her injury, her breathing laboured and heavy, a quiet pause filling the room for a moment before she continued, “It wasn’t safe for you to come. You could’ve gotten hurt”. 

You pulled the small first-aid kit from your pack and began disinfecting her wound to the best of your ability. 

“I wasn’t going to leave you out here. I couldn’t live with not knowing. Not even for a minute.” Your answer was firm, fiercely determined.  “Not knowing?” She questioned. “If you were alive.” 

A silence falls between the two of you once more as you focus on stitching her wound. Taking your time in the dim glow of the flashlight, Abby gritted her teeth, inhaling sharply through her nose. You admired her strength, even as you watched her face scrunch up in a mask of pain.  When you’re finally done, and she’s bandaged, you stand, your hand coming to gently cradle Abby’s face. She leans into it, her own coming up to hold yours while your free hand tenderly dabs the blood off of her face. Finishing, you brush her hair back, now letting your other hand hold her face as well. 

“You did the right thing, you know, with Jules.” You peek up at her, her lips are pressed tight, and her eyes linger on the grass through the window. 

“I know,” she murmurs “It doesn’t make it any easier” 

She grimaces, her eyes glassy as she looks back to meet your gaze. The softness in them, the tenderness, is rimmed with something wild and desperate. “I’m glad you came. It was dangerous and stupid, and if anything happened to you I’d kill you myself, but I’m glad you came,” She says. You laugh, a soft sound that feels out of place where you are. 

“I’d follow you to the ends of the earth Anderson, you can’t get rid of me that easily” 

She smiles fondly, the hand holding yours lifts to cup your cheek as she pulls your face down, her lips crashing against your own. The kiss is hard, passionate, and she hopes it conveys the feelings she’s afraid she’ll never have the words for, that fill her so completely it could drive her insane. Pulling back to catch your breath, you rest your forehead against hers, a delicate smile coming across your features. 

“I love you, thank you for coming for me,” She says. Her voice comes out gentle and warm. “I'll always come after you, no matter how far, I love you too,” You promise.