𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑
underestimate me. that'll be fun

RICK held out a hand to grab Beth who began to stumble towards the pile of dead walkers. She shoved his hand away and ran forward, falling to her knees.

Clarke's grip on the rifle tightened as she watched her push a walker body off of another and cradle its head, sobbing.

The sobbing was soon interrupted by groaning and a yelp of surprise. The walker in Beth's arms had come back to life and grabbed her hair, desperately trying to bite into her flesh. Since she was blocking the walkers head, Clarke dropped the rifle and ran forward, dragging her away from it.

When Beth was safely away from the disgusting creature, she slammed her foot into it's head so hard that it went flying off. Satisfied, she nodded as Andrea stabbed it.

Backing away from the body, Clarke panted. The pink blouse she was wearing was loosely clinging to the skin of her chest as she breathed in and out in a rapid motion.

She glanced back at Sophia and Carl who were crying and clinging tightly to their mothers. Her cold heart ached at their petrified faces, but before anyone could notice her slouched posture, she straightened and turned around to watch Shane yell at Hershel.

"Leave us alone," Maggie spat at Shane, trying to calm down her father who was embracing Beth.

Clarke ran up to them, the rifle she had used to shoot the walkers laid on the ground, forgotten.

"You had those killers in that barn and you didn't tell us!?" Shane shouted, shoving Rick away from him and marched up to the Greene family. "Why were they in there, huh!?"

"Shane, shut the hell up!" Clarkr hissed, grasping his sweaty arm, giving him a harsh glare. She pursed her lips. "You leave that family alone. They've just seen people they knew, family members, and even those they don't know, die, again."

"You don't get to tell me what to do, girl!" He shouted, shoving her away from him so hard that she stumbled backwards, landing on her ass. She hissed, her hands being embedded by small rocks.

Herbblood boiled as she glared up at Shane. She stood back up quickly, ignoring the way she pulled her stitches and the small amount of blood that seeped out onto her shirt.

"You want a pie—"

Before the son of a bitch could finish his sentence, Clarke punched him square in the nose, slammed her foot into his crotch and kicked the back of his leg, making him groan and fall to the ground in pain.

As Shane weeped for his manly parts on the ground, the group decided to gather around them, staring at her small frame in shock.

She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and glared down at Shane, placing her foot on his stomach. His eyes widened as she applied pressure. "Now, you listen here you assbutt, you don't get to go around and pick on those around you. Hershel and his family might've kept a group of walkers in their barn, but that's not so bad; it was secured and calm. You, on the other hand, are not. You go on about how walkers are dangerous, but what about you? You're already going out of your mind and losing whatever cool you have left. In my opinion, you're a lot more dangerous than walkers," she hissed at him, her eyes never straying from his dark ones. "If you don't calm the hell down, I will put you down." She removed her foot from his stomach and stormed into the house.

OUT of anger, Clarke punched the wall in the room she had been staying in, leaving behind a small fist shaped hole. Pulling her hand out of the hole angrily, she tugged and pulled at her blonde locks in frustration.

Who does that coward think he is? The leader? I don't think so.

He's not stable enough. He's not even able to handle himself against her, but then again, most people can't. People think that because she's a woman and small, they can push her around. They underestimate her which makes it a fun surprise when they realise she can protect herself.

She don't need no man to save her. All she needs is herself and that's all she will ever really need. She has — had — her brothers until the incident with the Alpha. She was mostly on her own, especially after Sam left for college. Of course, Dean was there for her, but she was scared to be around anyone.

Everytime she get close to people, they ended up dying or getting killed. Either way, she was always the one being ditched. Her own mother, her father — even her own brothers — left her. Dean was there for her, but he had left her many times in the past. Usually because he wanted to go out and have a one night stand, or to have a beer. Most of the time though, he wanted to find dad when he didn't come back after a hunt. She followed, of course, and that only ended in the death of their father, their last living family member.

Clarks sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, resting her hands on her face as she stared at the floor.

"Hey." She looked up from the floor only to come face-to-face with Rick, making her eyebrows furrow. What did he want? Did he want to yell at me for putting Shane back in his place? "Glenn and I are going out to find Hershel. Do you want to tag along?"

"Why?" She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't mean the question in a rude way, she was honestly curious. He didn't completely trust her and he even pointed it out that she could barely walk earlier. So why did Rick want her to go out and risk her life for someone she barely knew?

"Because even though you're injured and obviously tired, you kicked Shane's ass," he chuckled dryly, resting his hands on his hips. "And even though I don't want to risk a kids li-"

"Kid?" She questioned in amusement. "How old do you think I am?"

"Seventeen," he answered after a moment of hesitation.

"Wow, thanks," she breathed out, holding back a chuckle. She smirked as she informed him of her real age, "Rick, I'm actually twenty-four." At his shocked face, she let out the laugh she was holding back.

"I-I'm sorry," Rick stuttered out, his face heating up as he apologized.

"It's fine," she told him simply. She nodded and crossed her arms as she continued to reassure him, "It was a compliment. I mean, at least it was in my ears. And yes."

"Excuse me?" He questioned, utterly confused.

"I'll go with you and Glenn to find old man Hershel."

"HERSHEL?" Clarks called out as they stepped into the bar Hershel was hiding out in, guns pointed at the floor and ready to shoot if needed.

"Who's with you?"

"Rick," she paused, looking back at Glenn. "And Glenn."

"Maggie sent him?" Hershel questioned, throwing back a shot of alcohol.

"He volunteered," Rick spoke up as they approached him. "He's good like that." He glanced over at the bottle of alcohol and then to Hershel who threw back another shot. "How many have you had?"

"Not enough."

"Let's finish this up back at the farm," Clarks stated, sliding the gun into the back of her pants and under her shirt. "Beth collapsed. She is in some sort of state, must be in shock. I think you are too."

"Maggie's with her?"

"Yeah, but Beth needs you."

"What could I do?" Hershel questioned, depression leaking into his voice. "She needs her mother. Or rather to mourn like she should've done weeks ago. I robbed her of that, I see that now."

"You thought there was a cure," Rick defended the old man. "Can't blame yourself for holding out for hope."

"Hope?" Hershel asked, acting like it was his first time hearing the word. "When I first saw you running across my field with your boy in your arms, and you-" he glanced at Clarke. "I had little hope either of you would survive."

"But we did," she told him, taking a seat on the stool beside him as he filled a glass with alcohol.

Hershel nodded. "You did. Even though we lost Otis." He glanced at Rick. "Your man Shane made it back and we saved your boy. And Clarke." He paused, fiddling with the glass full of alcohol in his hand. "That was the miracle that proved to me that miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, a bait and switch. I was a fool, Clarke. You people saw that. My daughters deserve better than that." He threw back the glass of alcohol like it was nothing and filled it up again.

"So what do we do? Just wait for him to pass out?" Glenn asked Rick in a whisper.

"Just go," Hershel slurred out, gesturing to the door. "Just go!"

"I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe," Rick told Hershel, determined to do as he said. It was nice of him to do this, but walkers could show up any moment because of Hershel's ruckus.

"Leave me be," Hershel grumbled angrily, this time taking a swig of alcohol straight from the bottle.

"What's your plan?" Clarks questioned angrily. Déjà vu filled her being as she threw her hands up in frustration. "Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death and leave your girls alone?"

One time she had caught her dad drinking away his problems. Hershel was acting exactly like her dad did. John had given up on finding the demon that killed her mother; all he wanted to do was die, even if it meant leaving behind three children. Three children at the age of fourteen, ten, and six.

Hershel angrily slammed his glass down on the counter, turning a heated glare in her direction. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm. You people are like a plague! I do the Christian thing, give you shelter, and you destroy it all! The world was already in bad shape when we met. And you take no responsibility!" He then angrily pointed at Rick. "And you, you're supposed to be their leader!"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick questioned in anger, staring Hershel down.

"Yes. Yes, you are," Hershel mumbled, sitting back down on the stool.

"Now come on, your girls need you now more than ever," Rick urged the old man who took in a deep and saddened breath.

"I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, not sick. I chose not to believe that. But when Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been, that Annette had died long ago and I was feeding a rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope. And when they came out of the barn, the look on your face... I knew you knew it too. Right? There is no hope. And you know it now, like I do. Don't you?" Rick glanced back at Glenn and Clarks. "There is no hope for any of us."

"Look, I'm done!" Clarks yelled, marching up to Hershel and getting in his face. "I'm not doing this anymore, cleaning up after someone. You know what the truth is? Nothing has changed; death is death. It's always been there, whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker! What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? Now there are people back at the farm trying to hang on. They need us, even if it's just to give them a reason to go on, even if we don't believe it ourselves. You know what? This... this isn't about what we believe anymore, it's about them. It's never about us, it's about the ones we love. We are the ones that have to make everything seem okay for them even if it isn't the truth. If we get hurt, it doesn't matter, all that matters is if they survive, if they live to see another day. Now, get your fat ass off that chair and let's get a move on."

After her speech, Hershel grabbed his drink and chugged it, slamming the glass on the table when he was done and stood up.

As they turned around to leave, two men stood in their way. "Son of a bitch, they're alive!"

"I'm Dave," the guy with brown hair and brown eyes introduced himself. "That scrawny-looking douchebag there is Tony."

"Eat me, Dave."

"Hey, maybe someday I will," Dave mused back. "We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. Damn shit-show that was."

Glenn chuckled breathlessly and introduced himself, "I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people." What an idiot.

"Rick Grimes," Rick spoke gruffly, his body tense.

"How about you, pal?" Dave looked at Hershel in expectance. "Have one?"

"I just quit," Hershel quietly grumbled.

"You've got a unique sense of timing, my friend," Dave mused before his brown eyes soaked up Clarke's frame. His eyes roamed her body like a wolf looking for prey. Her hand behind the counter twitched, a strong rising urge to grab her gun and shoot them. "And what about you, dollface?"

"His name is Hershel and she is Clarke," Rick told him stiffly, sending her a discreet look that she caught onto immediately. Play along. "He lost people today, a lot of them."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that. To better days and new friends. And to our dead... may they be in a better place." His voice was not sympathetic and as he leaned forward and clinked his glass with his friend, Rick and Clarks noticed the gun resting in the waistband of his pants. "Ah, ah. Not bad, huh? I got it off a cop."

"I'm a cop," Rick stated bluntly.

Dave cringed. "This one was already dead." There was a pause.

"You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia," Clarke commented, her voice void of emotion.

"It feels like we're a long way from anywhere."

"Well, what drove you South?"

"Well, I can tell you it wasn't the weather," Dave spoke in amusement, making her cringe. Did he think we were fools? "I must've dropped 30 lbs in sweat alone down here."

"I wish," Tony muttered quietly.

"No, first it was D.C. I heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close."

"There's no refugee camp," Clarke informed him, crossing her arms and leaning on the counter. She was acting as if she was comfortable, but in reality, she was far from it.

"We decided to get off the highways, into the sticks, keep hauling ass," Dave continued, his eyes lingering on Clarke. "Every group we came across had a new rumour about a way out of this thing. One guy told us there was the coast guard sitting in the Gulf, sending ferries to the islands. The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the country... Kansas, Nebraska."

"Nebraska?" Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow, a trick she learned from Dean. "Low population, lots of guns. Kinda makes sense."

"Ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave asked Glenn who shook his head. "It's the reason they call 'em flyover states. How about you guys?" He nodded his head at them.

"Nowhere. Yet," Clarke answered before Rick could say something stupid. "We're just moving around a lot. Hoping to get away from all of this."

"Oddly, the truth is there is no way out of this mess. Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn't grab a hold of you as you sleep."

"If you sleep," Tony commented.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like you guys are hanging your hats here. You holed up somewhere else?"

"Not really," Clarke responded hastily, slight tingling entering her mind. Voices started flittering around in the back of her mind, but they were hushed and she could barely hear them.

"Those your cars out front?"

"Yeah. Why?" Glenn questioned which made Clarks purse her lips.

"We're living in ours. Those look kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear?" Dave questioned, becoming suspicious.

"We're with a larger group out scouting, thought we could use a drink," Hershel spoke up and Clarke mentally thanked him for the save.

"A drink?" Dave chuckled. "Hershel, I thought you quite." He looked down slightly. "Well, we're thinking of setting up around here. Is it safe?"

"It can be." Rick and Clarke both looked back at Glenn with a glare. "Although I have killed a couple of walkers around here."

"Walkers?" Dave rose his eyebrows. "That what you call them?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. I like that. I like that better than lamebrains. More succinct." Dave scratched his eyebrow. "Okay, Tony went to college."

"Two years," Tony added.

"So what... so what, you guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development? Trailer park or something? A farm?" He started singing the Old McDonald farm song and it sent chills running up Clarke's spine. "Is it safe? It's gotta be. You got food, water?"

"You got cooze? Ain't had a piece of ass in weeks," Tony spoke as he finished doing his business and turned around, eyeing Clarke up as he zipped up his pants. She scrunched up her face in disgust. What a pig.

"Pardon my friend. City kids... they got no tact." Dave looked at her with a nasty gleam in his eyes. "No disrespect." He then turned to Glenn. "So listen, Glenn—"

"We've said enough," Rick interrupted Dave, making Clarke smirk. She was proud; he was growing up so fast.

"Well, hang on a second," Dave told Rick. "This farm... it sounds pretty sweet. - Don't it sound sweet, Tony?"

"Yeah, real sweet. How about a little Southern hospitality?"

Clarke glared at Tony, ber hand discreetly sliding behind her back.

"We got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We can pool our resources, our manpower."

"Look, I'm sorry. That's not an option," Clarke told him, her voice rough.

"Doesn't sound like it'd be a problem."

"I'm sorry, we can't. We can't take in any more."

"You guys are something else. I thought... I thought we were friends." Clarke scoffed at that, sending him a heated glare. "We got people we gotta look out for too."

"We don't know anything about you."

"No, that's true." Dave nodded. "You don't know anything about us. You don't know what we've had to go through out there, the things we've had to do. I bet you've had to do some of those same things yourself. Am I right? 'Cause ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same. So come on, let's... let's take a nice friendly hayride to this farm and we'll get to know each other."

"That's not gonna happen," Rick told him hastily, his body noticably tense.

"Rick..." Dave blew out a breath, calming down upon almost screwing the whole thing up.

"This is bullshit!" Tony shouted.

"Calm down," Rick told Tony.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Tony yelled, almost jumping Rick if it wasn't for Dave who intervened. "Don't ever tell me to calm down. I'll shoot you four assholes in the head and take your damn farm!"

Clarke stood straight automatically and situated herself in front of Tony.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Relax. Take it easy. Nobody's killing anybody. Nobody's shooting anybody. Right, Clarke?"

When she didn't back down, Glenn grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back. She yanked her wrist out of Glenn's hand and went to stand where she previously was.

"Look, we're just friends having a drink. That's all. Now where's the good stuff, huh?" Dave jumped over the counter. "Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Let's see. Hey, look at that." He held up a bottol of alcohol. "That'll work. You gotta understand... we can't stay out there. You know what it's like."

"Yeah, I do. But the farm is too crowded as it is. I'm sorry, you'll have to keep looking," Rick informed Dave with a heated glare.

"Keep looking. Where do you suggest we do that?"

"I don't know." Clarke shrugged and continued with a smirk, "I hear Nebraska's nice."

Dave spoke and chuckled, "Nebraska. This girl..."

Clarke glanced back at Rick quickly and they both nodded. Before Dave could continue, Clarke shot him in the forehead as Rick shot Tony.