Between the viking style send off for the late Clancy and the appearance of the "restraints" now holding the silent and suffering Sarah Benson, I ended up between two filthy stinking Muppets.

They stank to high heaven.

"As much as I want to yell at you two idiots for letting her come after us, thank you for saving us," I said. Bert made to lean his head on my shoulder. "I swear, if you smear me with zombie guts I will punch you." He straightened with a huff.

I rounded on Ernie. "Couldn't you sling her over your shoulder and haul her ass back to the Fort? You know how dangerous it is out here," I said, jerking my head at the blonde Revived. "And that doesn't even account for crap like her."

Ernie held up her hands in a helpless shrug, a bit of zombie ooze dribbling off her elbows. I turned away before I burst out laughing and ruined my perfectly good scolding. "I wish you two could talk," I said.

"They not ready," said Lannie, falling into my lap. She wrapped her arms around me, giving me one of her rare hugs. As she wasn't swimming in zombie guts, I allowed it, hugging her back.

"You're an idiot," I said to the top of her head. "I don't know if we can keep you safe out here." We hadn't exactly done a bang up job of that before we reached Fort Braydon.

She sighed. "I know. I don't care." She pulled back to look at me. "Fred needs you."

I frowned, scanning the camp through the flames of the pyre. "Where is he?"

Lannie nodded out past the camp. "The woods."

She scooted off my lap, helping me to my feet as she took my place between the Muppets. What the heck was Fred doing in the woods? I wandered passed the solemn circle of soldiers and Revived, watching Clancy's body turn to ash. Petra's eyes reflected the flames like hellfire. I gave her a wide berth. Princess and Ginger were studying the restrained Sarah Benson. I walked by as Princess poked at the still healing hole in the woman's forehead, ignoring the blonde's snarling protests. Kit caught me at the edge of the clearing, his expression sober.

"You okay?" He asked me, though it was clear I should have been asking him. I laid a hand on his shoulder, wishing I knew the right words to say. He didn't seem terribly broken up by the man's death, they were basically strangers, but Kit could see the hurt in his sister. No matter how on the outs the siblings seemed, it was evident he felt her pain with her.

A twinge of regret burst through me, a sense of loss I couldn't place or name, like a phantom limb.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to shake the sensation off. "Just checking on Fred."

Kit glanced over his shoulder into the trees. "He's been back there for a while. Curley's keeping on eye on him," he turned back, his warm brown eyes studying my face. He leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair off my cheek. I went stock still, full blown deer in headlights as Kit gently skimmed his lips along the crest of my cheek. "I'm glad you're okay."

Holy Hells' Bells.

I nodded, waving my hands in an awkward vague gesture as I tripped passed him. I didn't miss the chuckle. Damn him. I didn't have time for this crap. I was gnashing me teeth as I swung between the urge to turn around or scream up at the sky for a while. His timing was spectacular. What was he thinking? Why was this bothering me? It's not like he laid one on my lips. It was a light friendly brush of lips on face. My train wreck of a thought process came to a grinding halt at the sight of Fred.

It wasn't him I noticed at first, but the cluster of dead zombies, those too weak and torn up to properly crawl off when the others fled the good squad. Their skulls were all crushed.

Bits of bone and brain matter were dripping off Fred's fingers, not as gore-tastic as the Muppets, but it was expression he wore that made the difference. He sat on a fallen log, staring blankly at his bloodied hands, his crystalline eyes practically glowing in the low light. He was a ball of tense energy, a hair's breath from snapping, though I wasn't too sure what he would snap into. I said nothing, sitting down next to him, leaning my knee against his, waiting as he slowly came around to the contact.

After he blinked a couple times I nudged his leg. "What happened?"

He closed his eyes, sagging slightly as that unearthly energy seeped out of him. "I had to put them out of their misery."

A thread of unease wound itself around me at his words. I remembered the vague flash of desperation I thought I caught from the zombie that first landed on me before the fighting started. I'd shoved it far back, unwilling to think about what it meant, but seeing Fred surrounded by zombies he 'put down' made me rethink that stance.

"Why?"

Fred opened his eyes to look at me. "What do you remember from before?"

That wasn't the direction I was expecting. "Uh, still not much. Princess keeps insisting it will come back to me but it feels almost like I have block on it."

"Like you don't want to remember?"

I glanced at him sideways. "No, I do. No matter what it is, I want to know what happened." I watched him as I spoke. "Did you remember something?"

"I don't remember my life," said Fred, his gaze drawn back to his hands. He flexed his fingers. "I remember after."

"You remembered your death? Princess says that is the first step--"

"No, not really. Just after."

I stared at him. "You mean being a zombie?"

"I remember all of it." He gave a shaky laugh. " Isn't that a bucket of suck?"

I was silent for a moment. Kit sort of let this nugget of knowledge slip a couple weeks ago, but I hadn't really worried about Fred then. I didn't think it hit him so hard until now. Sometimes I felt like a sucky friend. "Yeah it is."

His chuckle was slightly more genuine as he nudged my knee back. "Most of the time, I don't think about it. But believe me when I say these poor schmucks needed to be put down."

I hesitated, not sure I wanted to breach the subject, but this was Fred. If it was going to be anyone, I hoped he could open up about it with me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Fred swung around, his face scrunched up. I raised an eyebrow. "I'll listen if you don't look at me like that."

"I don't really want to talk about it, no. Every time I think about it, I wonder why I ever stopped screaming and running through that field."

"Well, your trouser snake was an unfortunate weed whacker."

He lost it then, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the log. I steadied him, ripping away the hem of my long shirt so I could wipe the brain matter off his fingers. He fell silent as I tried to clear away the stains.

"What kind of person do you think I was that I remember being a monster over being human?"

I looked up at Fred's worried expression, trying not to make a face as I wrapped my hands in his, gore and all. "I think that is a philosophical pit trap you don't need to stumble in right now," I said, giving his hands a squeeze. "Maybe you spent several years incredibly stoned and this is the result."

Another smile ghosted on his face. "I think I like your theory better than mine."

I leaned forward, gently knocking our foreheads together. "If you think for one second, you're a bad person, I will be forced to remind you of the bullet currently lodged in your ass."

Fred sniffed. "I dug it out already."

"Gross," I said.

The tension left him with another bark of laughter. I admired him, really. I don't think I could bounce back so easily if my mind wandered down the same path. I started to pull away but Fred's grip tightened as he leaned in closer, whispering something meant for my ears only. "Petra knew our mystery blonde."

So he saw it too, the ice queen's slip of recognition. I was confused by our close proximity pow wow until I caught sight of Curley through the trees, hovering at the edge of our conversation so he didn't appear to be eavesdropping. Curley, who was utterly loyal to Kit. Did Fred not trust him?

I decided to answer in the same low tone. "I think she recognized the name, not the face"

Fred looked up over my shoulder. "Those restraints are holding her very well."

And that confirmed what Princess had suggested. Maybe I should take her advice and haul ass back to Fort Braydon. "I think we should have a chat with our exceptionally well restrained friend."