SHIT GONE WRONG
alive or just breathing

SILENCE echoed until Glenn gasped. "Holy shit." He stared at Tony's body blankly as Clarke walked over to him and Rick, Hershel following her footsteps.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Glenn breathed out and nodded, gaze never straying from the dead body.

"Hershel?" They turned to Hershel who remained quiet as he thought.

Rick looked over at Hershel as he spoke, "Let's head back."

Bending down, Clarke retrieved Tony's shotgun and its shells, handing them to Rick who nodded at her in appreciation. As they turned around and began to walk towards the doors of the bar, the sound of a car approaching made them panic.

"Car! Get down!"

Clarke ducked under a pair of windows with Rick as Glenn and Hershel ducked down behind the counter.

"Dave? Tony?" A man spoke, making alarms blare loudly in Clarke's head. Some shit was about to go down. "They said over here?"

"Yeah," another man answered.

"I'm telling you man, I heard shots," a third man joined the other two.

"I saw roamers - two streets over. Might be more around here," the first man informed the others.

"It's hot, we gotta get out of here."

"Dave! Tony!" The third man yelled, making Clarke sneak a glance at Rick who met her gaze with a worried look. They could go against Dave and Tony because they were stupid, but they don't know how many men were out there right now, and they mentioned walkers in the area.

"Shut up, you idiot! You wanna attract 'em? Just stick close, we're gonna find 'em." Retreating footsteps slightly relaxed Clarke, but her eyes remained wide open in fear.

Seconds later, Rick slowly stood up and glanced out the window before they quickly crawled over to Hershel and Glenn behind the counter.

"Why won't they leave?" Glenn asked in a whisper.

"Would you?" Clarke fired at him, her voice quiet. "We can't sit here any longer. Let's head out the back and make a run to the car."

As they began to move, a gunshot made them pause

"What happened?" A guy questioned. He was close to the building we were hiding in.

"Roamers, I nailed 'em."

"They disappeared, but their cars are still there. I cleared those buildings, you guys get this one?"

"No."

"We're looking for Dave and Tony and no one checks the damn bar?"

Fast footsteps in their direction made Rick and Clarke react quickly. They stood and loaded their guns, pointing them at the door.

Glenn noticed their plan and slid in front of the opening doors, closing them effortlessly.

"Someone pushed it shut. There's someone in there!"

"Yo, is someone in there? Yo, if someone's in there, we don't want no trouble, we're just looking for our friends."

Clarke looked over at Glenn with panicked eyes. Why did he do that? They could have killed them when they walked through the door without a problem.

"What do we do? Bum rush the door?"

"No, we don't know how many are in there. Just relax." The same guy spoke again, "We don't want any trouble. We're just looking for our friends. If something happened, tell us. This place is crawling with corpses. If you can help us not get killed, I'd appreciate it."

"Someone guard the door! If they're in there, they might know where Dave and Tony are." Footsteps were heard walking away from the door.

"They drew on us!" With wild eyes, Clarke gazed over at Rick with a bewildered expression. Was he trying to get us killed like Glenn?

Footsteps sounded again, heading back in their direction, making Clarke groan quietly and throw her head back in exhaustion. Why did she choose to come here? Oh, that's right, she lives by a damn code. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.

"Dave and Tony in there? They alive?"

Clarke looked to Rick, her cold eyes sending a clear message. Shut your mouth. "No." She clenched her jaw and breathed out through her nose in frustration.

"They killed Dave and Tony," one of the men pointed out angrily.

"Come on, man, let's go," another man spoke, seemingly not giving a shit about Dave or Tony.

"No, I'm not leaving, I'm not telling Jane. I'm not gonna go back and tell them that Dave and Tony got shot by some assholes in a bar."

"Your friends drew on us!" Rick shouted to the men, defending his people. "They gave us no choice! I'm sure we've all lost enough people, done things we wish we didn't have to, but it's like that now. You know that!" Clarke rose an angry eyebrow at him. Is he seriously giving strangers - who are about to kill them - a speech? "So let's just chalk this up to what it was... Wrong place, wrong-"

Clarke covered her face as shots were fired and glass shattered. It was useless; she was sliced on the cheek by a lone piece of glass. Ignoring the wound, Rick and her stood up and pointed their guns at the window, beginning to shoot.

"Get outta here! Go!" Clarke shouted at Glenn and Hershel, hoping they got out of the way. She barely knew these people yet she continued to do her job as a Winchester; protect them.

Gunfire from the other team was aimed anonymously, leaving them nowhere to go but down. Rick and Clarke ducked underneath the window while Glenn hid behind the counter and Hershel behind a wall. When the gunfire paused, the four of them looked at each other, breathing heavily.

The adrenaline flooded Clarke's system like it was on an intravenous drip. Her heart was about to explode and her eyes were wide, taking in every ounce of the fading light. Her body wanted to either run for the hills, or work to find weapons. Instead, she stayed right where she was. She wanted her pounding heart to slow down, but there was no way it was happening now. Although she was scared, she didn't regret her decision to come and protect these people. After all, it was her job.

"Hey!" Rick shouted, reloading his gun. "We all know this is not gonna end well! There's nothing in it for any of us! You guys just... Just back off, no one else gets hurt!"

Clarke pursed her lips, tilting her head at Rick. The sound of bottles clinking together in the back room stole their attention.

Clarke nodded to the door and Glenn nodded back, standing up to investigate the back room.

Several moments later, a gun shot sounded, and Clarke stood in panic. "Glenn? Glenn!" She calmed down as he shouted back that he was fine.

"Clarke and I'll hold 'em here, you cover Glenn. See if you can make it to your car. Tell him... tell him to pull up back. We'll run for it, get the hell out of here," Rick ordered Hershel.

"You want me to cover Glenn?" Hershel asked in disbelief.

"You missed all that gun training, it could've come in handy now," Rick informed him which confused Clarke. They had gun training while she was sleeping? Well, damn, okay then.

"Nah, I can shoot," Hershel responded, loading his gun like an expert before walking off to help Glenn. "I just don't like to."

Barely thirty seconds later, another gunshot sounded which worried Clarke. "What happened?" She questioned as Rick and her joined Hershel.

"He fired. He must've hit Glenn. He's behind the dumpster, doesn't look like he's moving."

Clarke turned to gaze at the dumpster, noticing the unmoving legs of Glenn. No, no, no. Not Glenn.

"You hit? Are you hit?"

"No." She breathed out a relieved breath. "No."

"It's alright, the car is right there," she reassured Glenn, sneakily hunching behind the dumpster with him. He didn't look so good. "Okay, we're almost back to the farm. You good?"

"I'm good." Glenn nodded quickly, clutching the shotgun tighter.

"Let's go."

They stood and before they could start to run towards the car, bullets rained down on them. She pushed Glenn back behind the dumpster.

A car came squealing around the corner. "Let's get out of here! Roamers are all over the place!" Snipers hidden on the roof jumped into the car quickly. Another man jumped down, but he tripped and fell, screaming as he landed on something sharp. "Hurry up! - We gotta get out of here!"

"Help me! Help... me!" The car peeled off, leaving the screaming man behind. He screamed out in pain and panic, "No!"

Clarke swallowed thickly and ignored the mans cries for help. After all, he had been shooting at them moments before. Groans and growls announced the arrival of walkers. Quickly grasping Hershel's arm, she dragged him away from the back doorway of the bar and behind the dumpster.

"The gunfire attracted the walkers," she informed Glenn and Hershel, noticing Rick had disappeared. "Where's Rick?"

"He... he ran across."

Clarke cursed and rolled her eyes in irritation. She knew he wouldn't be able to leave the man behind.

"We have to go now!" She yelled at Rick as they quickly approached him.

"No!" The man yelled. Actually, the man was a kid.

"Shh!" Rick quickly shushed the boy.

"I'm sorry, son, we have to go," Hershel told the boy.

Clarke chewed down on her bottom lip. He was a kid, but he had been shooting at them. What to do, what to do? She wracked her brain for a solution, but came up empty.

"No, no, don't leave me please."

"We have to go," Clarke urged Rick as she grabbed his wrist, gazing into his Georgian blue eyes.

"We can't," Rick protested, yanking his wrist out of her hand.

"He was just shooting at us!" Glenn yelled, gesturing to the kid. At least someone has brain cells in this group.

"He's a kid!" Rick retorted.

"Please help me," the boy pleaded as walkers closed in on them from every direction.

"This place is crawling with walkers!" Clarke shouted at Rick before cocking her gun and aiming it at the closest walker, shooting it in the forehead.

"We can't leave him!"

"The fence went clean through. There's no way we can get the leg off in one piece," Hershel informed Rick as he helped shoot down the walkers.

"Shut up or I will shoot you!" Clarke hissed at the screaming kid. His screams and the voice in her head mended together and it was distracting.

"That may be the answer." Hershel told her and she nodded. "We're not gonna get that leg off without tearing the muscle to shreds. He certainly can't run. He may bleed out."

"Shut up!" Rick shouted in protest as Clarke pulled the trigger on her gun, the loud click informing her there was no more bullets to be distributed.

Breathing out an angry breath, Clarke tucked the gun in the back of her pants and looked around the area for another solution. Her eyes landed on a glass bottle and shrugged before picking it up and flung it forward, hearing it shatter on the other side of the bar. A few walkers in the back stopped moving towards the group and went to investigate the noise.

"Maybe we should put him down. I don't wanna see any more killing but this is cruel."

"Can't we just take the leg off?"

The boy stopped crying and began to shakily breathe in and out slowly.

"That hatchet still in the car?"

"No no, don't... don't... Don't cut my leg off, please!"

Before anyone could utter a word, Clarke stomped towards the boy and gripped his leg before pushing it up, making him yell out in pain. She ignored him and grabbed the back of his head, slamming his forehead into the dumpster and knocking him unconscious immediately.

Rick, Glenn and Hershel turned to stare at her in bewilderment. "What? We need to go now."

IGNORING the sting in her cheek, she opened the car door the car and jumped out, letting out a tired breath.

"C!" I looked up with wide eyes. That nickname...

Before she could say a word, she was bombarded by small arms. She smiled lightly and looked down at Sophia.

Clarke lifted her head to glance at Carol as she smiled at their interaction. Upon seeing my face, she frowned. "Oh my god. What happened?"

The question made everyone turn to Clarke. She gazed around at the group before her eyes locked with Rick's. He shook his head, gesturing with his eyes to Sophia and Carl. She nodded back to him in understanding.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." She smiled, grabbing Sophia's hand, grunting in slight pain when Carl rammed into her. With all the moving around as they dodged bullets, it put a huge strain on the healing process.

Chuckling, she wrapped Carl and Sophia in a hug. Why did these kids like me so much?

Suddenly feeling eyes staring into her soul, or whats left of it, Clarke looked up. Her eyes locked with cloudy Georgian blue eyes, making her head tilt to the side. Daryl Dixon was staring at her.

She frowned upon realising she hadn't spoken to him since she joined their group. Her eyes roamed his body, noticing the clothes he was wearing. They were the same clothes from the day she rescued Sophia. Her eyes flickered to his crossbow and a pang of sadness hit her full on; Bobby had once taught her how to use a crossbow. At first, she was so terrible that whenever she fired an arrow, it went straight into the ground. After that, she got better and became a pro. Although, she hasn't used a crossbow in years.

Daryl stared at her, seemingly analysing her with his eyes. His eyes were intense, and unlike the rest of him, they weren't expressive; they were cold like ice.

Clarke met his gaze, refusing to back down. He seemed to get that she wasn't about to back down because he scoffed, shuffling a few feet away from the group. She sighed and pursed her lips, glancing back down at the children.