Warhead

Andrella07

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Reviews: Up to you, but always appreciated.

*Warning: This story deals with a rape, it is explicit and violent. It is not something you should read if that kind of thing gets to you.*

Sometimes I forget that it happened. What does that mean? As the time passes the memory fades. I know it does, I can feel that. It reminds me of ash, the kind that falls in a nuclear winter. At first the thoughts are thick and weighty, they hold to you, reestablish when you shake them off. After a while you begin to touch them, one at a time. They smear between your fingers, and they're slowly rubbed away. Some are gone forever; some remain on the skin you haven't noticed yet. But most are light trails of ash, ash that once settled like a flake, a flake that once existed. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I was raped.

Claire never really thought herself poetic, but there was darkness to the way she felt. Especially when her obligations were complete for the night and her mind was left to wander. She pulled her knees into her chest as she sat by the fire cooking the desert sand below it. It was late, no one else was up, and she really should be sleeping. But the redhead just couldn't bring herself to move.

She never should've scouted that place by herself. Alice had offered to go with her, but Claire was determined to prove that she could handle a tiny raid on her own without the stoic blonde to babysit her.

What a mistake that had turned out to be; a three week old mistake that caused Claire to throw herself into her leadership and almost flat out ignore Alice. The blonde had tried to kiss her numerous times, but Claire avoided the intimacy with excuses of needing to do something or just not saying anything at all. When they went to sleep at night in her yellow Hummer, the redhead placed herself in the driver's seat, not in the back where space could be made so that Alice could curl around her or she could cuddle up to Alice. She knew she was being unfair to the woman.

If the blonde noticed the way she was being treated, she'd yet to voice it. That was perfectly fine with Claire, in fact it was preferred. She was in charge of almost thirty lives. Thirty lives that depended on her to keep them safe. Claire was beginning to truly doubt her ability to keep anyone safe. Yes, she could protect them from the infection by traveling constantly, but if she couldn't keep one man from taking from her, then how could she expect to keep the convoy safe from predators of the worst kind – the still human kind…

They'd run into volatile groups of survivors before, brigands and thieves that only wanted for themselves. Claire had no patience for them, and luckily her group had always been big enough to thwart their attempts. Now, with Alice, it didn't matter what her convoy faced. The blonde dispersed every threat with ease. It spurred Claire to prove herself. She knew Alice would never usurp her role as leader, the blonde was a steady loner, but that didn't stop Claire from feeling useless.

So when the opportunity came to scour a place for supplies the redhead jumped at it, insisting that she could take on one tiny farmhouse and be back within the hour, while the rest of the convoy members stayed in the sandy town. She'd hopped in the Hummer and drove the seven minutes out of town to the building they'd passed on their way in. They hadn't given it the once over before because Claire wanted to check the town first. But they'd found next to nothing, and she decided it would be worth it to travel back to the farmhouse.

Now, she hardly felt safe anymore. It was the stupid little things. Chase fiddling with his knife, Mikey's naive terms of affection, K-mart's easy smile. They all expelled the bullet of the memory into her brain. Sometimes she pulled the trigger herself and brought up sensory details she'd missed the first time through. The white shirt he'd worn, the dust on the floor beneath her, even something so tiny as the splinter that caught beneath her fingernail as she tightened her hands into fists. The splinter was long removed, the experience was not.

When the flashbacks came about, her stomach went sour. If it was anywhere close to mealtime she abandoned her appetite. Claire turned to the problems of others to cope. It was much easier to manage somebody else's life than her own.

She hardly cared who was really at fault. Claire blamed herself. It was the one thing she could control – she could decide exactly how guilty she wanted to be. Had she taken someone with her, had she not been so stubborn, had she not been determined to bring a stranger hope – she wouldn't have lost hers.

-Three Weeks Ago-

Claire stepped down from the Hummer as the sun began to set behind her. Like countless times before, the redhead withdrew her Glock but approached a possibly dangerous situation with more arrogance than normal. It was as if her overconfidence was being put forth to combat the fear. She truly hadn't felt any kind of real terror since Alice had come to them six months ago. But Alice wasn't here.

She swallowed as she chided herself for coming out here alone. Not only was it unsafe, it was irresponsible. She had survivors to take care of, and the redhead should've never risked her life in such a foolish way. Still, she approached the rundown farmhouse because if she was in for a dime, she was in for a dollar. Claire was simply too stubborn to turn away.

She entered the old homestead, semi-automatic in firing position as she searched the house top to bottom. The sweep found the place empty of undead. It seemed she'd been paranoid for nothing, so Claire holstered the gun and did a more thorough hunt for useable items. She headed for the pantry first and made trips out to the Hummer to deposit the nonperishables she gathered.

The sun was still dipping below the horizon when Claire went upstairs to raid the medicine cabinet. She found aspirin and even an unopened tube of toothpaste. Claire went upstairs one more time because earlier she'd seen eye liner and knew that K-mart would be happy to have it. She slipped the small, green-leaded pencil into her pants pocket and then heard an engine.

Claire put a hand on her gun automatically, but her mind was trying to convince herself that it was just one of the convoy members coming to check up on her – probably Alice. The house had grown dark, but Claire's eyes had long ago adjusted to the failing light. So she'd never bothered with a flashlight.

The engine died, and Claire listened to a car door shut; then to steps inside the house. She was tempted to call out but held back. The person was coming up the stairs, and it suddenly clicked. It wasn't Alice; the blonde was never that loud.

Claire immediately un-holstered her gun but kept it at her side as a figure emerged at the top. Even in the dim light, she could see it was a man and not a member of her group. Their eyes met, and Claire gripped her gun tighter as her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. She was being irrational, so she tried to fill her voice with confidence. Meeting strangers was always tense, but it was possible that she was about to have a new person to add to her convoy.

"Hey," she said steadily. Her green eyes traveled around his body to search for any weapons, but she only saw an empty holster. "There's a convoy – in town. It's a pretty big group, and we can keep you safe and fed." Claire swallowed, but the man didn't respond right away.

He took a step to her, and she matched the motion with one step back.

"Sorry," he said, his voice gruff.

Claire tilted her head slightly, curious. The man, imposing in stature and rigid in his movement, spoke again. The redhead was so focused on placing what it was in his voice, that she hardly noticed his slow approach.

"I've been on my own for a while. Almost since everything turned to shit."

"Well, you don't have to be alone anymore," Claire said back with compassion.

He was almost like Alice – lonely, hopeless. Claire had brought hope back to the blonde; she'd brought it to so many.

It wasn't until he was speaking again, only three feet away, that the redhead finally placed his tone.

"No. No, I won't."

It was desire, but not for the hope she offered. In an instant Claire aimed at him, but he knocked her gun hand aside at the same time grabbing her wrist with enough force that she couldn't pull away. She thought to unsheathe her knife, but it was out of the reach of her left hand with the position the man had her in. He yanked the gun away from her but not before her finger squeezed the trigger.

The bullet grazed him, and he grunted in pain. The next thing Claire knew, she was backhanded to the floor. She was finally able to unsheathe her knife as her lower lip throbbed with bruising. Before Claire could right herself to use the blade, the brute was back to attacking her. He reached for the glinting metal as she tried to roll onto her back. It caught him in the hand until he grabbed at her again. Claire could feel his blood smearing into her skin as his hold kept her from using the knife a second time.

He put pressure on her hand, nearly dislocating it until she dropped the steel blade. The brute made a fist around the fabric of her shirt and tugged until Claire was completely turned over onto her back. He released the grip on her clothes after he put a knee onto her thigh, holding her beneath his weight. Claire was about to lash out with her fists, but she suddenly found her own knife put to her throat.

She struggled anyway and pressure found the tip of the blade pushed into her beneath her collarbone. The sharp pain and the man's voice brought Claire back to the reality of her situation.

"You fucking keep still, bitch!"

Claire didn't want to keep still – she wanted to fight, to scream, to cry. Fight the bastard, scream with defiance…cry for Alice to come save her. She couldn't do any of those things, not if she wanted to live.

She felt the man's fingers tear at her belt and when it was undone felt the same fumbled, excited touch at her pants button. The knife pressed a little harder into her throat as the man did the same with his own pants, but without a sideways motion the steel didn't break skin. She stared up at him, in the darkness and in bold anger, but he hardly noticed. He was already stiff at the thought of taking her, and Claire couldn't up the strong façade any longer. Not when he used a free hand to spread her legs and then pushed himself inside her unwilling body.

It wasn't defiance she screamed with – it was pain. Still, as the man thrust into her with increasing fervor and throaty moans, it wasn't for Alice's rescue she cried. The blonde wasn't coming to save her, and when the man finished his assault Claire knew she'd likely be killed. If he didn't slit her throat, she'd be dead anyway.

It wasn't Alice's lithe frame above her, or her fingers lavishing Claire with their attention, or the tender devotion that poured from Alice when she was around the redhead. Claire would have given anything for that to be the case. Her tears fell from closed green eyes in silence at the loss of hope.

Eventually, the pain subsided, the force he was using to grope her breast with the hand that wasn't holding her knife faded, the back and forth motion was lost to the numb state Claire found herself in.

Then it was over. At first the redhead thought he'd finished taking from her what she only wanted to give Alice. But he'd moved away entirely too quickly for that. The brute didn't get off of her voluntarily, and when Claire finally opened her eyes she saw why.

Alice – maddened and monstrous – had thrown the man backwards by his shirt. He hit a wall but managed to keep the knife in his grip. Claire found the strength to crawl backwards as Alice squared off with the standing man, unarmed herself but never defenseless. The blonde let him get to his feet and even let him attack first. He swung out with the steel, but Alice jumped backwards from the reach of the blade.

He came again at her again, this time from above. Claire watched Alice sidestep the move and then strike out faster than she had ever seen. Alice caught his hand and did dislocate it as she twisted the knife out his grip. The man hollered in pain, but he really screamed at Alice's next attack. She kicked him in the kneecap causing a bone to splinter out the backside of his leg. The blonde released her captive, and he fell to the ground whimpering. In another second, the fight ended.

Alice un-holstered a single pistol and shot him straight on in the forehead. Even in the dark, the blonde's accuracy was perfect.

Claire saw Alice turn to face her and didn't realize that she was shaking until the blonde took a step towards her. She immediately reacted, pressing herself tightly to the wall behind her. It caused Alice to hesitate. The blonde brought her hand up, reaching out gently before speaking.

"Claire?"

At the sound of Alice calling her name, Claire found herself settling.

She answered back, her voice raspy and weak. "Alice?"

Before she could shy away further, Claire was lifted in Alice's strong arms. Alice stared down at her with her eyebrows knitted together in absolute worry. Claire was carried in the powerful embrace past the dead man, down the stairs, and outside.

In the night air, Claire finally felt like she could breathe. It was then that she realized Alice was touching her – and she couldn't stand it. She was still trembling, and her voice quivered because of it.

"Put me down. Alice! Put me down!"

The blonde released her immediately, allowing Claire's feet to hit the ground before letting go of her completely. The redhead backed away her legs barely holding her, but she remained upright. She turned her back to Alice and brought her hands up to press them into her face with her head bowed. Her red hair cascaded around her hidden features. She didn't know what Alice was doing, but she didn't care so long as Alice wasn't doing it to her.

She was just certain she'd never want to be touched again.

Claire stood like that for ages it seemed, but at least she was standing and doing it on her own power. Eventually she turned back around and found Alice's blue-eyed gaze upon her. Alice dropped it immediately and then kept perfectly still.

Without a word, Claire passed the ATV Alice must've used to get here and walked to the back of the Hummer where her possessions were kept. She looked up to make sure Alice couldn't see her. The blonde was out of sight, but Claire could still feel her presence nearby. She took the time to get herself cleaned up. She had to. Claire stripped in the darkness. It was painful, her fingers shook the entire time, and at the end she still didn't feel clean. Claire felt like she was covered in ash. She left her clothes in a pile of blood-stained fabric and put on her spare set.

When she was done she went to the passenger side of the Hummer and saw a third vehicle – the one that the man had used to get to her. Alice mirrored the motions with the same silence as she got in the driver's seat.

Claire was worried her injuries would be seen by the convoy, so during the ride she did her best to compose herself. She used the mirror and the small light that emanated from a soft blub next to it to assess the damage as Alice kept her sight trained on the road. The only thing that was actually visible was her busted lip. She probed it with an unsteady finger, and the agitation caused the cut to bleed again. Claire licked the blood away. The taste of copper emanated within and made her insides throb painfully. There was damage no one would see – that was obvious. Her physical injuries would heal, however.

On their return Carlos made a bawdy comment on just what he'd assumed the couple had used the farmhouse for, and Alice broke his nose without a single explanation or apology.

After that Claire was sure Alice kept everyone else away from her. She didn't know how, but it didn't matter. She was just happy to be left alone.

There was no real fear of pregnancy. Her body hardly ever cycled thanks to the constant stress of surviving on very little and constantly fighting for her life. It was that way for a lot of the women in her group.

The rest of the sleepless night found her shutting down. She grew cold in the semi-arid town as the temperature continued to drop around her. Claire knew it would be hot again tomorrow, she knew the convoy would have to get back on the road, and she also knew that being dead on the inside was the only way she'd be able to give the outward appearance of living.

I'm not…good…at talking. Not even in my own head. But she's in pain. I just want to make that go away. I'd do…anything to make it better. I'd die for her…I'd live for her. I'm no good at words, but I'm good at loving her. My touch is good. She avoids it. I just need one chance. One…kiss.

Alice was sure Claire didn't know she was being watched by her seeking eyes, but her gaze was always on the woman. Her sight, her presence was forever drawn to Claire. That night of trauma, Alice was sick to her stomach at Claire's leaving and sicker still when she finally gave in to the impulse to follow the redhead.

The sounds; the sight she emerged on in the darkness – it was instant blind rage. The anger evolved into sorrow and transcended into overwhelming regret, but a piece of the previous states stayed with her. It was like a cycle, and Alice could travel in any direction in an instant. One thing never changed though – her love for Claire fueling her unyielding need to help.

Claire had given her so much when she was certain she had nothing at all but blood on her hands and loneliness in her heart.

She'd tried to kiss Claire on occasion and had gotten close a few times before the redhead turned away. Alice would never force it on her and always stopped herself at the barest hint of Claire's hesitation. She also found herself avoiding the simple touches, her hand pushing a lock of red hair behind Claire's ear, a warm palm on Claire's lower back when she approached the woman from behind, and even the simple brush of fingers as they both reached for the same thing at the same time. She trained herself to always approach Claire from the front, to watch for the subtle signs that Claire wanted to be alone, and to keep her gaze from showing how much she wanted Claire.

The blonde even went so far as to not use her Kukri knives. Alice had been sharpening them one night by a fire as the redhead came upon her. The sturdy back and forth slice of the stone and the glint of steel seemed to reflect in Claire's green and empty eyes. Alice stuck to her guns after that.

She knew no one in the convoy was aware of what had happened to Claire, but they did notice a change in her demeanor. Alice kept hoping the redhead would talk to someone, even if it wasn't her. She'd tried once in the beginning to get Claire to tell Betty about her injuries. Claire refused.

The redhead wasn't always down, however. She could laugh, and it warmed Alice's heart every time she heard it. It was like the suffering was pushed down for a little while or perhaps like she'd forgotten entirely.

Alice knew it wasn't good to forget. Not before healing first. Claire would never truly move past the pain if she just kept it bottled. Other times Claire didn't leave the cork on, she downed the entire thing. The liquid memory haunted the redhead's dreams, and Alice longed to hold her through the nightmares like the redhead had done for her ages ago.

She often wondered who Claire blamed for what happened. She prayed desperately that it wasn't herself the redhead thought was at fault, but Alice knew better. Still, that was an ache she could caress away if only Claire would let her.

Alice decided it was time to try again. She walked into the orange firelight, slow and loud enough not to startle Claire. The redhead picked her chin up off her knees and gave Alice the smallest of smiles. Alice returned it, unguarded. With a lightened heart she sat cross-legged a couple feet away from Claire, far enough for the woman to not feel crowded but close enough to instill the tiniest intimacy they used to share.

The blonde swallowed as she settled a little more comfortably into the desert sand. The movement was a test. Claire didn't react, so Alice knew it was ok to go on with her plan.

Her voice was a steady whisper, barely louder than the flames crackling in front of them.

"I love you, Claire." The redhead still did nothing. "You are always safe with me. The pain…" Alice turned her head to look at the woman before finishing her promise, "I can take it away."

Claire finally returned her stare. The look on the redhead's face was an even mix of confusion, hurt, and – for the first time in three weeks – hope. Claire's mouth opened lightly, and her voice broke on the words.

"Kiss me. Alice. Kiss me."

Alice immediately wanted to follow the direction, but she was tempered against acting on her physical desires. It took her a moment to throw down the mental block; it took looking into Claire's crystal eyes and seeing the redhead's love desperately needing to be returned.

Alice closed the distance without hesitation, one hand in the sand between them to hold herself up, the other placed gently on the side of Claire's face to anchor the woman. She felt Claire begin to tremble as her lips neared, but the redhead's stare was unwavering.

The touch was the softest thing the blonde had ever felt as her eyes slipped shut. It was full of every tenderness Claire deserved and Alice had dreamed of giving. Claire didn't respond at first, but when Alice felt the redhead's lips press back into hers – she proved she could take Claire's pain away if given the chance.