She sprints toward them, counting,running over their faces in her head.

“Did you check inside?” Sheasks, out of breath as Mercutio and locks the door and goes to grabsome chairs to secure it

“I did a perimeter check, andRomeo and Juliet are doing the inside of the house now.” Mercutiotries the light switch, and miraculously some of the lights flickerto life.

“Clear!” Romeo yells fromsomewhere inside of the house, and Mercutio jams the chair under thedoor before collapsing into it.

Rosaline relaxes slightly, but herhands are still shaking, and she’s still counting in her head, hereyes flitting around the each person, even more relief settling n herbones once Romeo and Juliet wander back into the living room.

Benvolio still resting most of hisweight on Livia, and she moves them toward the couch, gingerlysitting him down.

“What’s wrong?” Juliet says,spying them. Everyone centers around the couch, their eyes scanningover the two of them.

“I fell on the street. Pretty sureI ran into a branch. Livia was kind enough to save my life.”Benvolio shoots them all one of his signature smiles, and groansslightly in pain when he tries to get more comfortable.

Rosaline finishes her scan of Liviaand moves her eyes to the Montague.

Her eyes travel down his face, overhis chest, each arm -

“Like something you see, Capulet?”he says, eyes full of mischief. He’s insufferable, always jokingwhen they should be serious, picking on her nerves relentlesslybecause they always get stuck together for patrol, making decisionsbased on heroics rather than survival at times.

“No.” Rosaline shoots him aglare but keeps up her scan, making sure that branch he ran intodidn’t do more damage than a bruise. She’s dragging her eyes downhis left arm when he coughs, and then groans, and she suddenly feelslike something might actually be wrong.

He shifts again, and Rosalineglances at his chest when she sees it. The tiniest bit of red peakingthrough the gray of his sweatshirt.

“Oh god,” She says, her handsscrambling to tear his shirt up. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” His eyes brows knottogether in confusion, and then Livia is on the ground next to her,her hands already ripping through her first aide kit. “I’m notbleeding. I would know if I was bleeding.”

Mercutio and Romeo are lifting hisarms and pulling his shirt over his head and Juliet is grabbing hotwater, and Benvolio is still protesting, until Livia’s hands brusharound the area, and he just, sways.

“Get him on the kitchen table.”Livia orders, her two years of training kicking in.

The boys listen, and Juliet comesback in with towels and water, and Rosaline is on wash duty, and themore they move, the less Benvolio Benvolio becomes.

“I think he was shot.” Liviasays. She’s pulling various things out of her bag, and then liftinghim slightly  to see if there’s an exit wound.

“I would know if I was shot.”Benvolio says weakly, trying to sit himself up before Romeo shoveshis shoulder back down on the table.

“Not if the shock kicked infirst.” Livia dunks her hands in the water before turning to him.“You need to stay as still as possible okay.”

Benvolio stares at her a momentlonger than needed before nodding and dropping himself back down tothe table.

Everyone who is not operating onBenvolio is grabbing what they can to secure the doors and windows,making the house as safe as they can.

Livia makes quick work of pullingand sewing and wrapping, and by the time she’s done, Benvolio ispale and too weak to move by himself, but he’s alive. For now.

“I don’t think it’s safe to doa blood transfusion here, and I don’t have the tools I need to doone.” She worries her lip through her teeth and cracks herknuckles. “We need him to make it through the night.  Hopefullythis place is safe enough that he has time to get some strengthback.”

Romeo wraps his arm around hershoulder. “Liv. You did good. You did great. You need to sleep now.We all do.”

Rosaline counts everyone off as theynod, the toll of the last few hours on their faces.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Her eyes fall to the couch whereBenvolio is propped up by pillows, looking to pale and too close todeath for her liking. As if he can tell everyone’s looking at him,he slides his eyes open, and forces a smile onto his face.

Six.

It’s technically Mercutio’s turnto be on watch, but she can’t sleep, and there’s no point to himstaying up as well. Rosaline sneaks her way into what used to be theliving room, Benvolio sprawled out on the largest couch, his headresting in Mercutio’s lap as Mercutio plays on a nitendo Switch.

“I thought the whole zombieapocalypse thing would garner necessities only,” Rosaline says,tucking herself in the smaller single person chair, Mercutio’s eyessliding from his game to Rosaline’s face.

“The switch is a necessity. Youdon’t want to see me when I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Ah.” Rosaline pulls her kneesup to her chin and watches them for a moment, Benvolio breathinglightly, covered in almost all the blankets they could find aroundthe house.

“What are you doing up?”Mercutio asks once he’s finished his game.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I wouldrelieve you of your duty so you could.”

Mercutio watches her closely andusually she would stare right back, angry and defiant, but today tooksomething out of her. This is the first time any of them have gottenseriously hurt. Benvolio could die. Or be too weak to move forward.

Or be even more susceptible to theinfection and she knows they are literally fighting for their livesthrough the armies of the undead, but she hadn’t thought of theprospect of actually loosing someone.

“If you’re sure.” Mercutiofinally says, stretching from his position. Benvolio stirs, and hiseyes snap open.

“Woah.” Mercutio grabs himbefore he sits up, stopping him from jumping. “Hey, we’re okayBen. Ros and I are just switching positions.” Mercutio signals herover and tells her to slip into his vacated seat, gently movingBenvolio’s head onto her lap.

“Ros?” Benvolio’s eyes roll upso he can look at her, and there’s the smallest of smiles on hisface. “She has a nicer lap than you.” He says shooting a looktoward Mercutio.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of my soccerthighs.” Mercutio pats Benvolio’s shoulder and then grabs theswitch and the charger. “Holler if you need anything,” he says toRosaline, and then he’s disappearing out of the living room, andit’s just the two of them.

Benvolio’s already halfway back todreamland, so Rosaline gently takes her hand and cards it through hiscurls, working out the knots and dirt and the clumps of blood.

There’s all messy and dirty andbarely just hanging on, but she can’t lose him. She can’t loseanyone else.

“You’re not allowed to die onme, Montague.” She says, more of a whisper than actual words. Hestirs gently beneath her hands, and she pauses, but that only causeshim to grumble until she starts running her hands through his hairagain.

As much as she originally dislikedthe idea of the  Montague’s joining them at first, she’sbegrudgingly become attached to them. And Benvolio was annoying forsure, but as things worked out, she had spent a lot of time with himin the past few weeks. Enough to know that most of the time thearrogance is a front, and underneath it all, he’s scared, worriedabout his family, worried about everyone’s safety.

And she’s seen him transfer thatprotectiveness to her sister and her cousin, even throwing himself infront of Livia once when her gun ran out of ammo, and the zombieswere closer than any of them had thought.

“I can’t lose you.”

Maybe it’s how quiet the room is,or maybe it’s because she’s never actually told him that she’sstarted to care for him as well, that he’s part of her collectionof people, 5 instead of 2, more people to protect, more people tocount, more people to keep safe.

Out of nowhere she feels the stingof tears prickling behind her eyes, the thought of losing any ofthem, of losing him, causing the emotions she’s beenbottling up for weeks now to start to bubble out of her.

“I can’t be the one to put abullet in your head, okay. And if you turn into a brain eatingcorpse, you know I would have to be the one to do it. And I can’t.I can’t do that.” Her hands are shaking now so she pulls themaway from his hair, and ever so slowly his eyes open.

“No, don’t cry,” he says,reaching backwards so he can catch one of her tears on his thumb. “Ihate it when you cry.”

“You’ve never seen me cry,”she says, instantly defensive. Because they are snark and sarcasm andchildhood rivalries that rolled into adult indifference. Because shedoesn’t cry in front of anyone, not even Livia. Because you can’tshow weakness in the zombie apocalypse, because the monster can smellit.

Benvolio rolls his eyes, and she cantell he is weak because it is nowhere close to it’s typical levelof annoyance.

“When Escalus broke up with you atthe Verona Winter Ball. It might have been dark by the drinks, but Ihave very good eye sight.” He holds up a finger, and she realizeshe’s going to list all the times he’s seen her cry. Which isslightly mortifying, but also in some way endearing. “When Romeoasked you out in front of the entire senior class. You hide them verywell, but that back alley behind the gym was my treasured broodingspot.” He coughs, and she’s instantly tense, ready to call forsomeone but he reaches out and stops her, his hand colliding with herknee.

“I’m fine. Relax.” He shiftsuntil he’s comfortable again, and takes a deep breath. “When wewere five and I pulled on your braids because I was fascinated by thebeads, and being five had no concept of being gentle or knowing thatpulling on someone’s hair hurt.” His eyes finds hers upside down,and he’s covered in dirt and blood, and a few hours ago he wasalmost dead, but Rosaline stupidly finds him beautiful. “So I’veseen you cry. And I hate it. Especially when it’s about me. You’rethe strongest person I know, Rosaline. You’re like the main reasonwe’re still alive right now. So don’t you waste your tears onme.”

Before she even knows what she’sdoing she’s folding herself over and pressing her lips against his.It’s a terrible position to kiss someone in.

It’s an even more terrible time tokiss someone.

The movies and shows and the booksalways make the whole zombie thing look like one great adventure, butit’s just lots of walking and never having enough food, and always,always being afraid.

So maybe that’s why she kisseshim.

Because she’s crying and she’sterrified, and she almost lost him today, and he remembers them fromwhen they were five and in kindergarten together, even though it wasover two decades ago.

“Oh,” he says when she pullsback.

He’s so pale, but she can see theslightest bit of color in his cheeks, which she takes as a good sign.

“Just to clarify, was that becauseyou think I’m going to die? Or because you have a thing for guyswith bullet wounds and amazing memories about the history of youremotions.”

“Not entirely sure,” she says,because she’s not. She’s never thought about kissing a Montaguebefore, especially not this particular one. It took a gunshot woundfor her realize she doesn’t hate his company. And ocne she realizedthat, she realized that she likes him. As a person. As someone shewants to keep around, even if they get out of this mess alive and inone peace.

He starts to push himself to hiselbows, but she shoves him back down before he can get to far.

“What are you doing?”

“Maneuvering myself so I can kissyou properly. If I am going to die, I’d like to die knowing whatproperly kissing you is like.” He glares up at her, the effectmostly lost in the fact that he looks exhausted.

“You’re not going to die.”Rosaline stuffs a pillow where her leg was and slides off the couch.“Promise me.”

His eyes follow her as she settlesinto the carpet, leveling herself close enough to him that he doesn’thave to move much.

“I promise you, Rosaline Capulet,that if you let me kiss you, I will not die, tonight.”

“Good.” She slides her fingersacross his cheeks, and he moans quietly, before her lips even touchhis.

And then, they are kissing properly.

She hasn’t properly brushed herteeth in a gross amount of time, and his lips taste a little likeblood, and she has two guns strapped to her body, and there could bean entire hoard of zombies right outside the door, but for thismoment, she’s just a girl, kissing a boy.

A boy who is slipping his handaround her jaw and tugging her closer and kissing her for real.

Like he’s going to die and this isthe last thing he is ever going to do.

The weight of that makes her pullaway. Because she can’t let him kiss her like that. Because he isnot going to die on her.

Rosaline pulls away, and gentlyuntangles them.

He’s quiet as she moves herselfback onto the couch. Quiet as she runs her hands through his hair andhums the lullaby her mother used to sing to her. Quiet as the sunstarts to peak through the makeshift walls they built in front of thewindows.

So quiet, that for a moment, shestops hearing him breathe.

“Benvolio!” She grabs hisshoulder and he slowly blinks his eyes open, a yawn over taking hisbody.

“I promised you,” he says, morea whisper than anything. “Now you just have to keep kissing me andkeep me to my promise.”

Livia pokes her head into the livingroom before Rosaline can answer, and then before she knows it, thereis six of them again.

Mercutio is fumbling with the radioto see if there’s any news, and Juliet is furiously pounding alaptop, begging it to work, and Romeo peaks through a window.

Livia re-wraps Benvolio’s chest,and for a second there is peace.

Benvolio catches her eye and winks.