Chapter One: The Queen of Gotham City

"Oh, oh, oh. Oh, here we go, walkin', talkin' like you know I want your pretty little psycho." I sang skipping down the middle of the road and twirling my bat in my hand. I kept humming the melody, strutting to the beat I had memorized ages ago. The heels of my boots clicking lightly along the pavement softly echoed into the forest around me, it was odd not hearing screaming, gunfire, or groaning from zombies for the eighth day in a row. I paused, thinking to myself. It had been eight days since I left the ruins of that shipping yard my group had been holed up in. Eight days since I got separated from my friends. Eight days since I had had a decent rest since and a meal that wasn't from a can. "Jesus…" I mutter.

I take a long look down at my worn boots and kick a pebble resting near my right foot, trying to fight off the memories of that day, to no avail. Memories came flooding back to me and with it, the same feeling of dread that nestled itself in my heart. It had been eight days since a herd of zombies tore through the Eastern Bonner Springs Shipping Yard on a warm sunny day, devastating the group of people living there. Most of us didn't make it, a small number of us did. I tried to find my friends Camille and Brittany but a pack of zombies separated us so I had to high tail it the other way. I managed to grab my PSG1, Px4, a backpack full of supplies and spare ammo, and my bat before making my way out of the yard.

I had run for what felt like miles before stopping. I found myself in the middle of the woods near a stream before I took a break from running. Unfortunately, I wasn't alone. I heard hissing and moaning from the other side of the stream, about six zombies were lumbering towards me. I dropped my bag and rifle behind a rock and picked up my bat. "Come on, pudding. Let's have some fun." I grunted as my bat collided with the side of the first zombie's head. A cheesy one liner I know but hey, I was living up to my nick name. After five more swings, the last zombie hit the forest floor. I took a deep breath before letting out a puff of air that lifted up my bangs before going back to where I had dropped my supplies and got moving again.

Since that day, I took refuge up in trees, in closets of houses I came across, any place I could hide out of sight and out of harm's way. I avoided people at all costs. I treaded lightly when I came across groups. I tried to minimized the energy I put into fighting zombies, preferring to use it to scavenge and move around quietly. Now…I was alone…traveling down some street in the middle of fucking Kansas, heading towards California.

I took a breath before continuing my trek. I looked up at the sky as I walked, noticing that it was getting a tad dark and I decided that my best bet was to find a place to sleep for the night. I saw a sign up ahead that read 'Welcome to Waterman Gardens'. Looks like a quaint little neighborhood was up ahead. "Maybe I can scavenge from a few of those houses before calling it a night." That was my new plan, clear a few houses before staying the night.

I hurried off down the street, slowing down when I came to the first house. The neighborhood was small, it looked unfinished. Some houses further down the street had ripped plastic sheets hanging from the sides along with exposed insulation; frames were up but nothing else for a few other houses. Unfinished rooves peppered the left and right sides of the roads as well. Yup, definitely and up and coming neighborhood. The houses that were finished looked as if someone had copied and pasted them from a 1920's real-estate magazine. Aside from a different coat of paint, they all looked the same.

"Fuck...shit…fuck!" The realization that this was a developing neighborhood meant no one had probably moved in yet. Which meant little to no supplies. "Well," I sighed. "can't hurt to look around anyway." I looked around at the upper windows of the houses that I could see, noting that setting up shop up there would be advantageous considering my primary gun with a long distance rifle. "Best get on with it." I walked up the steps to the first house, testing the knob first to see if it'd open. It was unlocked thankfully. I put my bat between my back and back pack at an angle so I could still grab it before drew my sidearm from the holster on my left hip. I knocked on the door a bit loudly before stacking up against the right side of the door, waiting for what felt like an eternity and after hearing no signs of life I slowly proceeded inside. The living room was on my left, the kitchen straight down the hall with the bathroom and closet at the midway point of the hallway. The staircase was to my right and, thankfully, they were carpeted. I learned early on that carpet was a good noise canceler. I slowly swept the lower floors, checking the closets and pantry and any other places with shut doors before moving upstairs.

I slowly crept up the stairs, checking the landing before proceeding. The master bedroom was at the end of the hall, bathroom on the left, and two bedrooms on the right. I cleared the two bedrooms, their closets and the bathroom without incident before slowly creeping up on the master bedroom. I slowly opened the door and noticed a body on the bed. I looked around and noted a sliver revolver stuck in a gun belt beside the bed. There was a knife sheath on it as well but no knife, there was a hastily stashed bag under the bed and a brown sheriff's hat on the lamp on the bedside table. 'Well whoever that is must not be dead…at least I sort of hope they aren't. Actually, I think I'd prefer that they were dead, the undead are a tad easier to deal with.' The person on the bed shifted a bit before settling back to sleep. They were clad in worn hiking boots, dark blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and had shaggy brown hair. I couldn't really see their face because of how they slept but by the hand that I could see, I'd guess they were as white as freshly fallen snow.

If I was a meaner person I would have robbed him blind but he looked harmless enough. Kid couldn't be any older than sixteen, he also looked like he'd been through hell and seemed to be here alone so I'd better just leave him be. I was about to shut the door when the sleeping boy stirred awake. Before I ducked away from the door I saw his hand come from underneath his pillow with a knife clasped in it. 'Well there's the knife.' I thought to myself. I wanted to run for it when I heard his feet hit the wooden floor but opted for not making a lot of noise and instead stayed glued to the wall as best I could. I could hear him slowly lumbering towards the door to the room and as he exited I saw he was putting on the sheriff's hat I saw on the lampshade. That small action saved me from being seen. He meandered down the hall to the bathroom and I heard a zipper then liquid hitting liquid. I cringed a bit but decided this was my chance to get away. 'Shame. He was kinda cute.' I thought to myself.

I shifted my weight ever so slightly and I cursed internally when I heard the floor creak under my weight. 'I manage to creep around this entire house, up the stairs, and down a hallway, and NOW you decide to make noise? Fuck me, Jesus Christ!' I heard the house go quiet before the slow clicking of a gun being cocked. 'Shit, how do I wanna play this? I can probably weasel my way out of this. Turn on the charm a bit…yeah that could work. A lot of talk to distract him and fighting if I have to.' I heard one slow, calculated foot step and decided to put my plan into action.

"Don't shoot please. I don't want any trouble."

Silence. "Who are you? What do you want?"

Yup, just a teenager. That's what I thought. "I came in looking for supplies, I knocked kinda loud. Thought that would have drawn anyone out."

He finally stepped out from the bathroom, aiming his gun at me. "Drop your weapons."

"Yes sir, officer." I said with a bit of a flirtatious tone. He looked a tad rattled but still held his steely eyed gaze and tensed position. I slowly set my Px4 on the ground and put my hands back up. "All of them."

I pouted a bit. "Aww, you can't just let me leave? I mean if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. I mean, ya walked right by me."

"Sh-shut up! Drop your weapons and your bag, then leave."

"Aww, is puddin' mad at me?"

"What?"

"Ya know, you're kinda cute. Especially with that whole angsty teen thing going. Hair still messy from sleep, frosty blue eyes, kinda pale skin…still cute though."

"Quit fucking around! Drop your shit and go. You have til the count of 5 to leave or I'll put one between your eyes."

"Sheesh, alright." I complied with his demands, setting my bat and rifle down first before dropping my bag. "Ahh, that feels better." I smirked while rotating my shoulders. "Been ages since I took that thing off."

"One."

"Alright, alright, I'm going." I slowly made my way towards the stairs, hands still in the air. He kept his gun trained on me the entire time. He looked like he hadn't had a good night's rest in a month, maybe more. His mental state was weakened because instead of backing down the stairs in front of me or something, he stayed fixed in front of the bathroom and when I got close enough, I struck.

I slapped the barrel of the gun away from me with my right hand before grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the gun fell to the floor with my left. I used my right hand to cup the back of his head and spun him until he was on his back. I kicked the gun down the stairs before drawing my knife, straddling his midsection, and pinning his right hand with my left. I aimed my knife directly at his throat before smirking through the hair hanging in my face.

"You lose, kiddo." I licked my lips and chuckled a bit. I looked at his eye that wasn't hidden by his now even messier hair, following his gaze to the knife on the counter of the bathroom sink then back to him. "You honestly think you can make it before I punch a nice little hole in your throat?"

He sighed, defeated, knowing he was as good as dead. "You gonna kill me now?"

I pretended to ponder his question. "Nah, no reason to. You didn't shoot me when you first saw me, meaning one of two things: A. you were out of bullets, or B. you're a decent enough person to not shoot everything that moves. So no, you get to live." I paused looking into his eye again, getting a tad lost in the bright hues that formed his iris. "You're also lucky I'm a sucker for blue eyes."

I dismounted him before sheathing my knife and extending my hand towards him. "Harley Quinn, nice to meetcha."

He looked at my outstretched hand before glaring at me. "Like the comic book villain?"

"Mmhmm."

"But…you're a guy."

"Your point is? Look just let me help you up."

"I can get up myself."

I crossed my arms and looked down at him. "So do it then." My eyes darted down towards his crotch then back up to his eyes. I smirked a tiny bit after seeing why he didn't get up right away.

He blushed and avoided my gaze, instead opting to pick up his hat that fell off while I was man handling him. "Why do they call you Harley? I know that can't be your birth name."

"Well." I drawled out while backpedaling towards my gear. "Because of this little number right here." I happily picked up my bat, resting it on my shoulder. "My little baby here has served me well. Also because before the world went to shit, I was way into her character and acted a tad like her, also I wore red and black 99% of the time so the name stuck. I typically use my trusty bat here to kill zombies and I call people puddin' a lot, so there's that too."

"Did you say zombies?" He asked as he got up.

"Uh-huh. Why, what do you call them?"

"Walkers."

"Eh, not really my thing but it could get used to it."

"How long were you here before I noticed you? Are you alone?"

"Well, I swept the entire house before you got up, I also came across you taking a little cat nap and was about to leave when you woke up. And yes, I am alone. Unless you count my bat. In that case there are two of us."

"You sure talk a lot."

"Well, I've been on my own for over a week so…it's kinda nice to chat with someone."

"Don't get this mixed up with being friends. We are not friends."

"Aww, you don't like me?"

"Not particularly."

"Pff, you're no fun. By the way, when people introduce themselves, it's customary to do so back. What's your name? Or should I just keep calling you puddin'?"

"Usually when someone introduces themselves they use their real name."

"Touché. On to a more serious topic, have you cleared the other houses on this street?"

"No…I was going to after a nap."

"Well…we can take care of that tomorrow. It's getting dark out." I stated simply as I walked towards the stairs.

"We? Tomorrow? No, you're not staying with me."

I sighed before looking over my shoulder at him. "Look, Mr. No Name, you're better off having someone watch your back than just doing shit on your own. I get that you're wary but I had more than enough time to kill you, fuck your corpse, take your shit, and be on my merry way. But I didn't. So, show a little gratitude." I proceeded down the stairs, picking up the stranger's revolver from the bottom step.

"Fucked my corpse…gross."

"I was kidding, doofus."

"Doofus? Jesus, how old are you?"

"Don't ask a woman their age." I called from the hallway.

"YOU'RE NOT A WOMAN!" He shouted from the stairs.

I couldn't help but laugh, he was so easy to rile up. "Make yourself useful, drag that end table in front of the door for me." I grabbed a long board that was on the floor, no doubt from one of the houses under construction, and used it as a jam for the kitchen door. I heard my unnamed companion doing as I asked and turned to look for something breakable. I remembered seeing plates in the cupboards above the stove. I grabbed one before walking back to the front door.

"Why'd you have me put this here? It won't hold back any intruders or walkers."

"Shh, watch the master." I dragged the table back a bit before positioning the plate just on the edge of it. "There, now if anyone or anything tries to come in, it'll knock the plate off the corner of the table and we'll be alerted to their presence."

"That's…actually smart."

"I'm not some ditzy dude who acts like Harley. I actually have a brain between my ears."

"I see that."

We stood silently for a few seconds before I perked up a bit. "Hungry? I'm starving for sure."

"I could eat." The stranger's stomach growled loudly and I had to suppress a laugh that tried to escape my mouth. He looked away, clearly embarrassed but his face never changing from his stoic scowl.

"Sounds like you should eat. Come on, I got some good stuff in my bag." I headed towards the stairs to grab my pack.

"I don't need your charity."

I paused before sighing a bit. "There are still decent people in this world. I can understand why you don't trust me, haven't earned it yet, but I honestly have nothing to gain from a kid who looks like he has nothing to offer. Oh." I took his revolver from my waistband and handed it to him, handle first. "I kinda kicked this down the stairs earlier. Sorry about that." I walked back upstairs to grab my stuff before returning to the entry way. I pause to look at my strange new companion, finally getting a good look at him: he had to be about 5'6, kinda slim build, dirty, roughed up, tired…poor kid.

He was still staring at the revolver, hadn't budged in the time it took me to get my things and I found that a tad strange. I walked by him to get to the couch and once I had sat down he finally spoke. "Bruce."

"Excuse me?"

"You can call me Bruce."

"Well, Bruce, what are you hungry for? Want some peas? Baked beans? I found some Great Value macaroni and beef that should still be good. Got some cupcakes I snagged from this zombie I encountered, they still look good."

"I have my own…" I looked over at him, shooting him a sympathetic smile. "Hey, this one is on the house. I've got a decent supply and one can won't kill me. Like I said, decent people still exist." I held out the can for him to take.

He looked over at me, eyeing the can then me. "Thank you. Would you like anything in return?"

"Nah, I'm okay…well actually…come down here and chat with me? It's been a while since I had a nice talk with someone."

"Doable." I smiled up at him before returning to my bag to look for my can opener and utensils. I heard his footsteps as he ascended the stairs and moments later he was sitting on the loveseat across from me.

"So… by the looks of you, I'd say you haven't had a solid hour or two of sleep in about a month, same goes for a decent meal. Maybe a can of something every 2 or 3 days."

"What makes you say that?" He asks as he opens the can I handed him.

"Well," I start as I open my own can. "You're filthy. Indicative of a LOT of travel. Unkempt hair, shaggy by nature, unkempt by having to keep moving. Your eyes have bags under them, meaning you haven't slept for more than 2 hours in ages. Also, the way you just passed out upstairs in the middle of the bed, without locking any doors or setting any traps, sloppy. Just sloppy. That shit will get you killed."

"You're very observant."

"Gotta be, not being observant can get you killed."

"You were right though. It's been a while since I had a good rest. Or a decent meal, again, thanks for this. Last time I ate was 2 days ago."

"Bruce that shit will sign your death warrant."

"I know…hell I thought it was signed a while ago." He looked down sadly at his hands.

"Bruce? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Just got lost in thought."

"Look, I know a can of food and helping you secure this place hasn't earned me your trust but…on a serious note, get some sleep. I'll keep watch. I'll handle whatever it is that happens. Just get some sleep."

"Why do you care so much?"

"This nurturing nature of mine. Besides, would I kill you after giving you may favorite canned food? No, now eat up, and go get some sleep." I scarf down the remains of my food before heading up to the attic, leaving Bruce alone in the living room.

I was setting up my sniper's nest when I heard the ladder rattling. "Harley? You up there?"

"Yeah, I'm setting up my perch."

"So…you were serious about letting me sleep?"

"Of course, go ahead and lock yourself in your room and catch come z's. I'll be okay up here. Got some linens from the other rooms, pillows so my elbows won't get sore, my other weapons, I'll be okay."

"I'm…still…"

"Look, hon, you can pace a hole in the floor in that room if you want, it's up to you. Just think about it, this could be the last good night's rest you have for a while. If I were you, I'd take it." I loaded my rifle and chambered a round before getting into position.

He peered out of the window from where he stood, trying to see the street below. "How many?"

"I count four."

"You gonna take 'em out?"

"Not unless they pose an immediate threat. Right now, they're just wandering around, bumping into shit. Shoulda seen it earlier, one ate shit after tripping over a beam." I looked up at him, he didn't look convinced. "Look, I've done this before. You leave a few zombies lingering nearby and they're essentially act as guard dogs. Makes the place look abandoned too. I like to leave at most 15 lumbering around, just enough for me to kill with no issue, and enough to deter any would-be threats."

"You've been doing this a while."

"Clearly." I looked through the scope on my rifle, peering into the forest for any movement. Can't see anything right now. Hopefully this night will be a peaceful one."

"Hopefully. Hey, why don't you light a candle or something so you can see better?"

"I'll get spotted. I need the element of surprise in case shit hits the fan."

"Smart." Silence fell upon us and after about five minutes I looked up at him again. He caught me staring and made a weird face at me. "What?"

"Go. To. Sleep. You can't do much here besides peer over my shoulder. Go. I got this."

"I just…"

"Bruce, you're on the verge of collapsing. I can tell. You've been wobbly since I first saw you. You got two options: you can sleep willingly or I can put you to sleep. Your choice."

I stood up just a foot away from him, peering into his eyes, waiting for him to decide what he wants to do. I note that his hand is on his gun and his breathing is a bit uneven. He seems so on edge that I feel like if I move he might shoot me. He stared back at me for a while, trying his best not to back down. I shot him a smirk and that seemed to either piss him off or weaken his resolve because not soon after, he looked at the ladder that led to the second floor.

"Fine. I'll sleep."

"Good boy." I resumed my previous position, watching as a few new zombies lumbered out of the tree line. "We got a few more zombies but nothing to be worried about." I didn't hear Bruce go down the ladder so I assumed he was still there. "Do you want me to tuck you in and sing you to sleep? I have a lovely voice."

"That's it, I'm going to bed."

I chuckled a bit. "See you in the morning."

It had been about 3 hours since Bruce went to bed and so far, other than a few shambling corpses, there was no activity. No people, no animals, just rotting, reanimated corpses. I wanted to go pee in the bathroom but I had to stay up here and make sure nothing happened so I decided to stretch my legs instead. As soon as I got up I heard a sharp thud. I drew my gun and pointed it at the ladder, waiting for more noise. Silence descended on the house once again. I slowly made my way over to the ladder, kneeling so I could slowly open the hatch to the second floor, I stuck my head out enough to look around. Nothing. I didn't hear the plate break or the door being broken down so it had to be Bruce.

I quietly lowered the ladder before climbing down and heading towards the master bedroom. I knocked twice. "Bruce, you okay? Bruce?" I listened closer and heard ragged gasps for air and something in me clicked. My protective instincts kicked in and before I knew what I was doing, I flung open the door, sweeping the room with my gun. I didn't see Bruce right away but as I panned the room I saw him on all fours on the floor by the bed. "Bruce? You okay?" He was gasping for air and didn't seem like he could catch his breath.

"I-I…"

"Shit." He looked like he was having a panic attack or something. I holster my weapon before kneeling next to him. I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to look at me. "Hey, I need you to do as I say, okay? Look at me, I can help, I just need you to look at me." I said in a calm, even tone. He slowly glanced at me, still gasping for air, before he rolled over and sat with his back to the wall. "Good, I need you to focus on me. You are safe now. I'm here to help. I need you to answer some questions for me, can you do that? Nod if you can." He nodded quickly. "Okay, what is your name?"

He swallowed hard, still breathing rapidly. "My-my name…my name is…Carl. I'm-I am Carl."

"Good, Carl. You're doing really good. Can you tell me what I'm wearing?"

"Wh-what?"

"Carl, please. Just do as I ask. What am I wearing? Be as detailed as possible."

Carl swallowed hard again before nodding. "Y-you're wearing…you're wearing a pair of r-red combat boots. They go up to your mid-calf…"

"Good. You're doing great. What else?"

"Black…slim fit jeans and…a Px4 9mm on your left hip…as a-as a cross draw. A red and black baseball shirt, the part that covers your torso is…red and the sleeves and collar are black. Your sleeves are rolled up and you have an ammo sleeve on your left arm. Yo-your shirt has 3 red diamonds on it and I saw that it had "Puddin'" written across the back. You also have a shoulder harness on that carries spare magazines."

"Okay, how do I look, describe my face, hair, eyes."

"You have hair that I think goes down to the nape of your neck, tied up in a ponytail, bangs that frame your face, caramel complexion, pouty lips and…" Our eyes locked, I could feel his light blue hues staring into my eyes in the room illuminated only by the moon. "And…light brown eyes…"

His breathing had calmed down considerably and his body was relaxed. I was relieved that he was doing better…and hadn't tried to shoot me when I burst through the door. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, a lot better. Thank you."

"You were probably having a night terror or something."

"Maybe…I thought I was awake but I couldn't move and I thought that walkers had made it in and were eating me…"

"That…that was a fit of sleep paralysis. I think it was followed by a panic attack."

"How would you know?"

"I've coached people through panic attacks and I've had sleep paralysis before. I recognized the panic attack right away and knew you needed a distraction. Thank you for trusting me."

"Th-thank you for helping me. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." I said simply. "I'm gonna grab some water from my pack but before I do, sleep paralysis is said to be cause by sleep deprivation; it's like your mind waking before your body does. Usually that happens during the REM sleep cycle."

"The what?"

"Rapid eye movement portion of the sleep cycle. It's when your body relaxes and if you're aware that you are entering this state of sleep, you notice you can't move or speak. Some people see demons or something on their chest or people in their room. It varies. Just know that you gotta sleep. It helps. Trust me."

I got up to go back to the attic when he reached out and grabbed my wrist. "Wait…"

I turned to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Stay here…please…"

"I gotta keep watch…Come on. Come the attic with me. I'll help you with your things." He simply nodded, getting up from the floor and grabbing his gun belt. I grabbed his bag from under the bed before leading him to the attic. I pulled up the ladder and made sure the hatch was secure, being sure to set a plate atop it, before making a place for Carl to sleep. "So…Carl. Not Bruce?" I questioned as I handed him a bottle of water.

"Shit…I did say my name, didn't I?"

"Don't sweat it. Heat of the moment and all that, you're okay. Lay down over there and try and get back to sleep, if you can't sleep, just lay still with your eyes shut. Rest your body. It's…it's what my mom had me do when I wasn't tired."

"Did it work?" He asked settling into a comfortable position after removing his hat and placing the bottle aside.

"Honestly…yeah." I chuckled a bit as I resumed my watch. "I would get so bored of lying there with my eyes closed that my mind wandered and I eventually fell asleep. Even if you don't sleep, just being at rest and letting your body do some of its daily maintenance jobs is good for you." I didn't hear him respond but I knew he was still awake. "I'm right here, Carl. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay. Is it alright if I lie facing you?"

"Sure is, but if I catch you staring I'm charging you."

"For what?"

"Ogling the merchandise, sugar." I glanced over at him with a smirk and winked before looking through the scope on my rifle again. "I'm kidding. Also, if you're curious about what's happening outside, there's at most ten…walkers…outside. None near the house. Doesn't look like any were drawn when I kicked in your door, so we should be good." He simply nodded before getting this faraway look in his eyes.

"Hey, Harley?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Go ahead."

"Why do you care so much about if I sleep, if I eat, if I need something to drink or if I'm okay?"

I didn't answer for a while, but when I was ready to, I took my hands off my rifle and sat up to face him. "It's a gift and a curse…something even this shitty world couldn't rid me of." I glanced out the window, seeing my reflection as well as a new walker emerging from the forest. "I always cared before the world ended, always looking out for my friends and checking in on them. I held the door for people, I asked strangers if they were okay when they looked down or in need, I always tried to do good and be a good person…even to people who didn't deserve it…"

"Go on."

"Well, I care because I can't help myself. It's programed into me. I decided to leave you be when I found you sleeping, I decided not to take your stuff. I came to check on you when I heard you fall out of bed. I don't know why, I just did. Maybe because my mom raised me that way, maybe because I saw enough stupid shit going on in the world and thought that if I cared just a little bit, something might change or the person I helped could see that not all people are bad people…So…in short, I care because some of me still wants to show people that not everyone is bad."

We sat silently for a while, I thought he might have fallen asleep and that I had just been talking into the darkness. "That shit can get you killed."

"Yeah…that's why when I'm alone like I was before bumping into you, I care only for myself…but at the same time I care about people in some fucked up way."

"How so?"

"If I encounter a group, I know 90% of the time, I could pick them off slowly but instead I sneak around them and kill only if I need to. I don't seek out people and try to fuck them over. Neither did the group I was with honestly. We sustained ourselves and if trouble came around, we handled it. We never tried to make waves or anything. We kept to ourselves."

"You okay?"

"Yeah…just…it's been a very long time since I talked about this kind of stuff. Normally people only ask the typical questions, how many of you, where are you going, what weapons do you have, what supplies do you have, same old spiel. It's nice to talk about something different…no one likes to remember the good times anymore."

"Maybe…maybe because they trudge up painful memories."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm sorry if I brought anything up."

"Kinda hard to bring up something you're always thinking of."

"I won't pry. Talk if you need to but I won't force you." I looked over at him instead of staring off into space. He looked so beaten down, I felt so bad for him and just wanted to help. I reached out and brushed his hair out of my face before I could stop myself and I quickly withdrew my hand. "S-sorry."

"It's okay. Been a long time since someone did that."

"Would you…like it if I did it again?"

"I…wouldn't mind."

"Would you mind moving so I could still keep watch?" I shifted so my back was against the same wall as the attic window. He walked over to me looking a tad confused. "Here, give me the pillow." He handed me the pillow and I placed it between my legs. "There, lie down." He looked at me quizzically before resting his head on the pillow. I could still see his eyebrows knitted together. He was anxious. I let my left-hand glide through his hair a few times, softly smiling down at him. I could see his face relax after a couple of minutes and that put me at ease.

"Feels nice…"

"Glad I could help."

I stared out the window, watching the walkers move around aimlessly, searching for something to snack on. My hand mindlessly played in Carl's hair, teasing his soft brown locks and massaging his scalp. After another hour or so, I looked down to see him sleeping peacefully. I smiled to myself. To think, not even 24 hours ago, this kid was pointing a gun at me and acting all standoffish. He softened up a lot but I knew there was still a bit of a rift between us. Hopefully tomorrow would clear that up. Once he saw me clearing the street and houses with my trusty bat, he was sure to trust me a bit more. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier, taking one last glance at the ladder, I drew my gun and placed it just out of sight but close enough to aim and fire quickly if needed. With the knowledge that my gun was close by, I began drifting off to sleep.