It wasn't supposed to be this way...

Once she’d been informed of the child’s bite she understood why. Compassion was part of Erica’s job description, and she’d felt nothing but that for the father and son. knowing that she could likely be in the same predicament at any moment. There was, however, a seemingly silent consensus from those she had met at the group that perhaps she could do something- perhaps she could help. Hope was something that people grasped onto, Erica understood that. But if they honestly believed that she could heal the child well- they were out of luck. 

“We scavenged a lot of stuff, but like I said… he’s just a boy. Gave him half a vicoden about two hours ago. Helped a little. At least he’s sleeping again.” And that was a small blessing because he’d started skipping into bouts of delirium. The first time he’d asked for his mother, Matt had made the mistake of reminding him that his mother was gone. The heart-wrenching sobs had almost undone him. If Todd had noticed the tears, the younger man had been polite enough not to mention them.

After that Matt had just started telling him that his mother was away. It had been easier than enduring that bitter agony over and over again. He perked up slightly at the mention of her name and title. Of course he wasn’t sure what she’d be able to do that Todd hadn’t already tried, but anything was better than nothing right?

“Matt Lowery, and this is Zach.” He sat forward, brushing the hair back from his flushed face. “He’s been feverish. Tried using Tylenol to bring it down, but I’m not sure its working.”

But she suddenly found herself wanting to spill her guts about her mother and her father- her real father- to this man who she had known for a grand total of six days, just as he was willing to muse about his son who, most likely, had become ground walker fodder. He wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Marshall, though she still shifted uncomfortably when he turned to face her again. Perhaps it was because he was a father; fathers- real fathers who had a real claim to the title were a different breed of human. Men like the one Jo had killed were impostors. 

She wrung her hands as he spoke, picking nervously at her already jagged nails. He was obviously suspicious of her in some capacity; it seemed to have helped a little bit that she had at least made the effort to bring him food- a peace offering. But she was jumpy- for more reasons than one- and it was clear that he had picked up on that. His words were comforting, though, considering she wasn’t planning on doing anything to antagonize anyone in the group. 

“Yeah, I’m trying to outmaneuver you by bringing you a peanut butter sandwich,” she forced a laugh, “Really sinister. But you, uh, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not- I’m fine. We’re square.” She hoped they would remain square for some time yet; ‘square’ probably wouldn’t be an option if he ever found out what she really did to get herself in such a mess. 

But that wasn’t going to happen. Because if it did, she would take the truck and a bag of supplies and be out of Texas before Marshall could even find that ax that he was so fond of. 

He offered her as much of a smile as he could manage and then turned back to the window. “Might even try telling Marshall himself. He’s more understanding than he seems.” He shrugged, not looking back. She’d do what she felt best. He’d offered his unsolicited advice and he was content with that. He could only imagine the things his best friend had said to her. Marshall wasn’t the kind of person that took kindly to lies, and she might have been a good liar for most, but his friend had an uncanny knack for weeding out the lies. He’d often called it his mutant power and he’d only been half joking.

Shit.

He’d been bitten. There could be no other reason for his reluctance. He was going to turn. Fuck. She swore internally. She had no idea how to deal with this. She assumed it was the bite that spread the disease. She knew it made sense. If it was like other diseases, HIV, or something similar, then it would be spread into the blood by a bite. 

She wished they knew more about it. How fast would it affect Zach? Would he die and then wake up? Would he just get sicker? 

“Zach. We need to see what happened to you, okay?” She crouched down, and took hold of his ankle, gently, but firmly, and tugged at the shirt, untying it. “I am not going to hurt you, little one.” Her rational mind knew that she should kill him before he turned. But there was no way she could hurt the terrified boy in front of her. She was reminded of another child, in a different part of the country, equally terrified, and she abruptly shoved it down. “It is going to be okay.” She shifted round in front of him, leaving the bite for a moment, looking him dead in the eyes. “Zach? Nothing is going to happen to you.” She knew it wasn’t a promise she should make. She couldn’t guarantee he would be okay. Hell, she didn’t even know where to start with helping him, but she was going to try. If he died, she’d have to live with the guilt anyway. 

He hissed, whimpering softly when she pulled at his makeshift bandage, nodding jerkily at her soft question. Though sore wasn’t how he’d have described it. It felt like his leg was on fire, and it ached so deep even his bones seemed to hurt. He felt dizzy and his stomach kept flipping until he thought he’d hurl if he wasn’t careful.

Matt hugged him a bit closer and then swung him up gingerly into his arms. “Come on. We need to get you cleaned up so we can get that taken care of.” He said gruffly, glancing at Katya. “Go get the supplies we got from that AMS center. I’ll take him to my bedroom once he’s clean.”

He made tracks into the house, taking the stairs two at a time. He set son down despite Zach’s protest and vanished long enough to grab some clean clothes, grateful that they’d packed some smaller items.

When he returned to the bathroom, Zach was starting to slump over and he cursed softly. “Alright bud, we’re gonna get you out of these clothes and clean you off. Fox can’t really help you if you’re covered in grime.” He glanced up as Fox returned. “Think I’m going to need your help getting him out of—”

“No!”

Kennedy glanced up. They’d only been there for two days. She wondered what it was like in Dallas. There were rumors things had gotten bad in the cities; with bigger populations in closer quarters, it was easier for the sickness to spread like wildfire. It almost pained her to think of people holed up in their apartments, waiting for someone to come and save them. It’d be almost impossible to make it out alive. The thought made her visibly shiver but she said nothing. It wasn’t her place to pry into the horrors they might have stumbled across on their way out of the city. She’d been lucky to make it to her car safely. She’d been lucky that she mapped out some back roads and only had to avoid one herd of Walkers who, fortunately, hadn’t seen her until she was just beyond them.

“I can help make things secure,” Kennedy replied. She didn’t know what that entailed- maybe building a wall or digging pits- but she was willing to put in the labor if directed. 

Matt seemed forlorn. She retreated slightly, scrunching up her nose.

He nodded and said, “Probably best to talk to Fox about that since JD isn’t here.” It was good that she wanted to help. That’s what they needed to do now more than ever. Band together and work to keep the horror out. He wasn’t sure he believed they’d ever be truly safe, but it was worth the effort in his opinion.

He glanced over from where he’d settled on the top step and shook his head. “I won’t be getting any sleep, not until Marshall and JD make it back.” He sighed softly and looked down at the cracks in the wood of the step. “I shouldn’t have let them go anyway. Odds of finding my son were already slim.” He was just so desperate. To know he’d been so close and they’d just left.

It was the first time in their acquaintance that he’d ever hated Marshall’s ability to compartmentalize everything. He’d always been good at that. Matt believed himself to be relatively good, but not like Marshall. His best friend could focus on a task to the exclusion of all other things. It was like he thought in a system of priorities.

As mad as he wanted to be, he didn’t doubt for a second that if it had been his own wife and daughter out there, Marshall would have made the same call. He was good like that. It was what made him a good leader. It was also frightening to know that if push came to shove, Marshall would let him die if it meant saving everyone else. It would be the right call, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. No one liked knowing that their best friend could chose the world over them.

But she had also been the one to turn her own daughter in to the authorities; that was certainly not the Marianne Jo knew. Maybe she had experienced a moment of weakness; maybe she hadn’t realized that everything Jo had done, she’d done for her. She must have been scared, knowing that it was Jo who had killed her husband. But she was so blinded by his cruelty, that of course she would have seen Jo as the enemy. Surely she hadn’t meant it. Surely she would welcome Jo back with loving, open arms if she were to come home. Jo was coming home to care for her, not to antagonize her- surely she would know that. 

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then tentatively moved to perch on the corner of the bed as soon as he had vacated it. “It’s not your fault. Not anyone’s fault, really,” she shrugged, “I could have kept going- deciding to stay was my own choice. I guess I’ll just have to find another way to get to her.” But it hadn’t been that simple, and surely Matt knew that. If Marshall had told him anything of Jo’s circumstances- and surely he had- it was no secret that she certainly could not have made it far in her condition. 

Thankfully, he seemed not to take notice of the hesitance in her answer; as soon as the subject had been turned to his son, it was as if the lights turned on and everything had turned to gold. Jo couldn’t help but allow a slight smile to tug at the corners of her lips as he spoke. She had never been one to enjoy kids in any way, shape, or form, but she couldn’t help but feel for Matt in this. 

“Hey, when I was eight, I was already kickin’ ass and takin’ names,” Jo wrung her hands, trying her best to keep the mood light, “And that’s without your smarts and your wife’s creativity. He’ll be fine- we’ll find him. And then maybe you two can,” she shrugged, realizing that she was rambling without any real purpose, “go fishing, or hunting, or whatever it is dads and sons do.” 

If she’s still alive. He didn’t say it, but the words echoed in his head all the same. This wasn’t the world of the living anymore. It was the land of the dead, and those that still lived had to fight for every breath. His Claire was gone. He didn’t really believe his son was still alive. They’d barely escaped the city alive themselves, and three of them were armed veterans of life and death situations.

Zach didn’t even get into fist fights at school.  

He glanced up at her comment and chuckled softly. “Yes.” He nodded. “That’d be nice. Zach likes camping. I always took him twice a year. His favorite was last year when we went up to Canada.” He smiled faintly, recalling how ecstatic his son had been, not that he’d been surprised. Canada was a very different world from the nature spots in Texas and Oklahoma. He’d gone on about the trees for days after they’d come home and Claire had just ruffled his hair and said she’d have to go next time so he could show her everything. If things had gone accordingly, then they would have made that trip in another month.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair before turning to the woman. “I appreciate the effort Jo.” He knew she was trying to make him feel better about something that couldn’t be eased. His wife was dead, and likely his son. There was no making that better. He also wasn’t an idiot. She was clearly uncomfortable around him, and he had no doubt it was because he had a badge. People were weird about it when they perceived themselves as a criminal in some capacity. Some of the jumpiest were typically only guilty of speeding or something equally unimportant in his eyes.  

“Frankly, you don’t have to worry because to be honest, whatever you did before we got to this point, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I’m not an agent anymore. I think it’s safe to say that my employer was terminated and I’m unemployed which means you’ve got no to reason to worry about me unless you try to hurt me or the others with us.” He glanced at the peanut butter sandwich.  “Which seems highly unlikely since a psychopath would be trying to figure out how to outmaneuver me, not make me feel better.”

She crouched down, so she was level with them. “Hallo, Zach. It is a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled. “Your Papa has been very brave, and I guess you have been ever braver, no?” She hadn’t really interacted with children much, aside from her siblings. She didn’t mind them, though, unlike some of the people she worked with who wanted to play the big gruff man standing in the corner. Children saw more than most, they could get places the younger ones couldn’t, and she knew it was important to take advantage of that. An hours chat with a young child could give her more information than a month of surveillance. Not only that, but it was kind of fascinating to see their world view, the ways they saw the place they lived.

She hadn’t been able to help checking him over, and she gestured down at his injured leg, which he had, at least, managed to tie up. Smart kid. “You are hurt? I can have a look at it. I helped your Papa when he was hurt. I look after people for my job. Like… Ah… The… Spy man, James Bond? But I do not work for the government.” She chuckled. “I work for my Papa. He is home in Russia though.” A slight pang went through her, and she swallowed, though her smile didn’t falter. She hoped he was okay. He had to be okay, they all did, they had all the safety precautions they needed, the company helicopter they’d only got last year that she’d got lessons for for her birthday - she’d only been to two though before she’d come over to Texas - was fully functional, so they would have been able to get Felix.

“I know. Marshall saw her.” Matt hugged his son a bit tighter, then relaxed back when Fox began speaking.

Zach offered a tentative smile, though he was soon frowning as he tried to compare her to James Bond. She didn’t look like a spy. He glanced at his father. “Are you sure she’s not a spy? She’s pretty enough dad.” He eyed his father. “Who’s my favorite turtle?”

Matt chuckled softly, squeezing him again. “Donatello because he had the best toys, but you liked Leo’s color better.”

“Okay…” He looked back at the woman and then followed her gesture to his leg and panic immediately washed through him. He pressed closer to his father, shifting to the opposite side of her. “It’s nothin’ big.” He lied.

Matt could feel the terror in his son’s body and he felt his own heart rate escalate. “Zach…” He drew back to peer at his son. “Fox isn’t a doctor, but she took care of my shoulder. Did a good job too. Until we find a doc, she’s the best we’ve got. Let her have a look.”

Zach shook his head, clinging tighter to his father. When his father repeated his name again with a tone that said louder than words that he wasn’t going to drop the subject he happy that he was safe or not he would be in trouble, he drew back to peer up at his dad. “I don’t want to die. I can get better right? You won’t let her…”

The bottom fell out of the world, and if he hadn’t already been on his knees, he would have been on them in that moment.

And he couldn’t do it now. He’d always been interested in the fungi and parasites that could control the behaviour of their hosts. This might be no different. And he couldn’t hurt a child, as his heart pounded in his chest, making him feel sick. He retreated, as she lunged at him, groaning.

He shouldn’t have offered to help. He should have stayed looking after Zach, that was something he could do.

Please… I don’t… I don’t wanna hurt you.”

The words combined with the way the little figure lurched forward dislodged all thoughts of Zach. His son wasn’t here, and if his son was a walker somewhere, he hoped someone did kill him. He didn’t want his son trapped in this hell. He wanted him in heaven, and at peace. That thought propelled him forward and he grabbed the little girl’s shoulder, grateful she was a small target since his right shoulder and arm had been increasingly stiff and difficult to move.

“No. I doubt if Roamers even fancy honey of all things. Think they prefer something meatier,” she teased, though almost instantly, her own joke made her cringe with all the possibilities of where her family might be, of what might have come of the friends she made over the years. Texas A&M wasn’t exactly overrun, but she’d seen and heard things she would never be able to forget. It pained her entirety to think this might be precisely the same fate her beloved parents and Connor faced back home. 

Pouring all her focus into the task at hand, Kennedy’s eyes trailed back over Matt’s face, down his neck and chest to the gaping wound.

“Fox doesn’t like honey?” Kennedy asked absently as she finished up, standing tall again to rinse off and allow Matt to do the same. 

As Matt left the bathroom, Kennedy followed after him, quiet and polite in their exchange. This was atypical for her demeanor, but she knew she was a newbie and couldn’t exactly be herself unless she was accepted into the group and she felt more comfortable around them.

“I’ll have a look around,” Kennedy said quietly, eager to jump on board with this plan; though she knew this wasn’t necessarily an acceptance into the group. “Brilliant. I can make myself useful. Somehow.”

How? She couldn’t exactly use weapons. Her skills weren’t precisely about surviving, but she did have a lot of useless knowledge (the honey trick being one of them). She was decent at cooking, athletic, smart, and a hard worker. Kennedy knew she could help better their lives and make living easier, but would she be good enough?

He glanced up at the question and managed a faint smile. “I think she’d be more hung up on the mess and the lack of sanitation.” He said. He hadn’t spoken a great deal with the young Russian, but it had been obvious when she’d helped with his bandage that cleanliness was extremely important to her. Honey might be an excellent way to help his wound heal, but it certainly wasn’t clean, and fell well outside the normal healing parameters.

Once he was dressed again he led the way back down into the main area of the house. He knew he needed to get some rest, but he wasn’t sleepy. His thoughts were too consumed with thoughts of his best friend, JD, and his son. After what they’d seen…what they’d lived through so far, it was hard to have hope that his son was alive. It had been foolish to let Marshall and JD go.

He headed out onto the porch, the cool night air welcome after the long hot day. Lowering himself carefully to the steps, he glanced at her and then shook his head. “Haven’t really settled into anything yet. We got here about two days ago. Getting out of Dallas was something of a night mare. I’m sure Marshall could use help taking care of the horses, but he’s always been pretty particular about them. The cattle graze so we don’t really have to do much—protect them I guess.”

Todd was helping. Sort of helping. He hoped. Marshall had given him a hammer and nails and showed him how to reinforce the barricades on the house, and he was doing his best, when he heard it.

Todd stared at the small figure lurching towards him, glancing around for something he could move her away with. She still had braces on her teeth, and her cardigan had her name embroidered into it. Abigail.

He pushed past the screen door and out into the yard, lifting his hands to card his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly. Please God… Don’t take him too. Please. They’d none of them seen what happened from a single bite, but it was clear that it wasn’t good. Zach had grown more lethargic throughout the day and when he was awake he grew increasingly delirious. He was losing him and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it but watch. 

“Help! Walkers!”

The word was like a stigma, poisonous and abrasive in the back of her mind and in the marrow of her bones. She didn’t like to think about her family, or talk about her family, or even consider the fact that she had a family to begin with. It was a messy and entirely unpleasant subject. It was the subject that had gotten her into such trouble to begin with; it was the one subject that she would readily die for. She certainly had the scars to prove it. 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her tone terse, “Just my mom and her parents. Marianne Porter: baker of the best chocolate chip cookie this side of the Mississippi.” Jo let the smallest of smiles cross her lips at the thought of her mother, but it quickly dissipated when the thought of her brought back the horrible memories of the night that she had turned her in. She had called the police before her very eyes, had screamed at her, railed at her to leave and never come back. And she had. She had obeyed, leaving her behind although she was the only person left in the world that she had really loved. 

“I was on my way back to see her when…” she paused, considering her wording, “when I ran into y’all. She’s sick.” Her voice had gone quiet, but she didn’t quite mind, for it allowed her plenty of room to listen to Matt. Jo would much rather listen than talk; it allowed her to stay as anonymous as possible, even in the most trivial of social interactions. And she certainly didn’t want to say too much. Giving herself away was the last thing she wanted to do. 

“She sounds nice.” He said gruffly, wondering about his own mother for the first time. What a terrible son he was. He’d been so caught up in worrying about Claire and Zach that he hadn’t even thought about her. He didn’t kid himself though. The odds of his frail mother surviving whatever was going on were minimal, especially with the power going out. People joked about air conditioners, but in Texas living through July and August without it was hazardous for a young adult. For the elderly it was a death sentence, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration.

“I was on my way back to see her when… when I ran into y’all.”

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, pushing off the bed and moving back to the window. “This appears to have messed up a lot of plans.” He might have noticed the hesitation in her statement, or the way her gaze shifted, he was just as trained as Marshall (if not always as instinctive) but he was too caught up to pay attention. As far as he was concerned, she was just another poor soul caught in what was starting to seem like a living hell.

“What about your kid?”

He smiled, pride obvious in his expression and tone of voice. “Better than I expected or deserved. Claire called him our miracle. Took us a long time to conceive. He’s smart. Smarter than me and he got Claire’s creativity…” He pressed his lips together, closing his eyes as emotion tried to overwhelm him.

“But he’s only eight…”

She looked over, watching it carefully, though she didn’t really think that there would be anything sinister in the truck. If anyone was driving with a Walker in the truck, they were either superhuman, or quickly on their way to becoming one themself. 

She was ready to throw the knife as something ran across the yard, from the truck, perhaps she’d been wrong, but it was too fast, and it was shouting Dad.

She gasped, softly, moving forwards, watching them embrace, Matt on his knees in the dry dirt, and she put her hand to her mouth. “Oh…” She’d known he’d had a son, of course, but after she’d found out about his wife, she’d assumed that he’d died along with her. To find him here…

Everything would be okay now and it was safe to cry with his father. “I tried to stop her dad. I tried.” He pressed closer, remembering again the determined look in his mother’s face. “She wouldn’t listen. Told me to run home…” His own shoulders shook as he gave his confession, one crime after another. He’d broken into a house and he knew that was illegal. “I stole Mr. Stoddard’s car an’ then I wrecked it. Not on purpose, one of those things…” When he finally ran out of sins to confess, he sagged against his father, sure that the worse was yet to come. 

-------

For the first few minutes all Matt could really do was clutch his son to his chest, breathing him in as he let the truth sink in. Zachary was alive. He’d lost Claire, but their son was alive. Her little miracle was proving himself once again.

When he finally tuned into what his son was saying he was actually fairly impressed. After all, Zach was only eight. To be so cool in such a stressful environment—well it was a skill some veteran agents couldn’t master. At the final confession, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it. Shaking his head, he drew back to frame his son’s face. “Zach, you could have set several houses on fire and I wouldn’t be mad. I’m just glad you’re alive.” He said, brushing his thumb along the boy’s wet, freckled cheek.

He could read the protest in his son’s face and he was even more proud of him than he could have said in that moment. “You did what you had to survive son. I know I said there was never an excuse to break the law, but I think the world just proved me wrong. Sometimes it’s the only option left if you don’t want to die.”

     “You just take people in?” she asked quietly, her heart skipping a beat at the idea of being easily accepted into a group of people that might help her survive as long as she needed to before she could figure out how to get back to Ireland. As far as she was aware, all commercial airlines shut down international traffic. She’d have to find a boat or get her own plane and pilot, though that would be no easy feat without much to offer in return. Still, Kennedy was one determined lassie and she wasn’t going to let technicalities hold her back from getting what she wanted. 

    Matt ripped off the bandage and cursed as he revealed a sickening wound. Kennedy pulled a face but stepped forward, taking over. 

    “Learned a few tricks in my travels,” she muttered, grabbing a cloth and dampening it with cold water, gently pressing it to the cut. “Hold on.” Kennedy retreated to the kitchen again, grabbing a small bottle of honey she spotted during her brief raid. She returned, set the honey on the sink, and washed her hands thoroughly before pouring a little onto her fingers and then applying it to his wound. “Honey speeds up the healing process.” 

    Kennedy washed her hands off again and turned to look at him.

“Always been in the business of helping people. It’s not really in me to leave them stranded if I can help.” He explained. For him, it was as simple as that. He’d dedicated his life to chasing bad guys to keep the innocents safe and protected. Just because the government had crumbled didn’t mean his purpose had to change. He needed to believe that all the good karma he put into the universe would help his son. Somewhere out there Zach needed someone to protect him, and Matt had to believe that there were good people out there doing exactly that. How could he expect that from others and not do it himself?

His shoulder was throbbing, and the cold sweat of nausea and dizziness swept down his spine as he dropped the soiled bandage into the small trashcan. Blood welled up, and he blew out a soft breath, struggling to master himself.

He was grateful when she took over, sinking down to the toilet and turning his head faintly so he didn’t have to watch as she re-cleaned the wound. The honey caught him by surprise and he blinked at it and then her. “This wouldn’t be your way of making me more appealing to the walkers would it? Because I’m pretty sure they prefer savory snacks.” He smield faintly at his own terrible joke and looked back down. “Sorry, it’s a habit.” He was quiet as she finished placing a new bandage over the wound and then said, “Thank you. I’m all for anything that helps me heal faster, though I wouldn’t recommend sharing healing tips with Fox.” He doubted the young Russian would be very pleased by the sticky mess.

He moved to wash his own hands, spending a few extra moments before rinsing and trying as well. Grabbing up his bloody shirt, he headed for the stairs when the all clear sounded. “Well, you got step one down—you survived.” He led the way up and nodded along the rooms. “There are a couple of rooms, not sure which have been claimed yet.” He explained as he headed for his room to grab a clean shirt.