𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒
don't lose your fire

ON reflex, Clarke quickly whipped out her gun and pointed it to the men as they came out of the room they were previously in.

"Who the hell are you!?"

"He's bleeding out, we gotta go back!"

Clarke glanced down at Hershel as Maggie tried to stop the bleeding. She felt bad. She really did, but it had to happen.

Daryl kept his cold, hard gaze on the prisoners before ordering, "Come on out of here. Slow and steady."

Slowly, the prisoners came out of their hiding place.

One of the prisoners geatured to Hershel. "What happened to him?"

"He got bit," Clarke grunted out, forcing her hands to not shake, blood coating them like a glove.

"Bit?" He asked, confused before whipping out a gun. T jumped up and pointed his gun at him.

"Whoa, easy now," Daryl warned, taking a half of a step in front of Clarke as she went to walk towards the prisoners. "Nobody needs to get hurt."

Glenn suddenly ran past them, going into the room the prisoners were in before. "You got medical supplies?"

"Wow, where do you think you're going?" The big guy went to stop Glenn but the banging on the door, and the growling distracted the prisoners.

"Who the hell are you people anyway?" The one with the gun asked them roughly, trying to seem all tough and shit.

"Don't look like no rescue team!" The one with long blonde hair and an accent, spoke up.

Clarke glanced at Rick who tried to carry Hershel, who's still unconscious. "If a rescue team's what you're waiting for, don't!" At that, Glenn came rolling a table into the room. "Come on, we gotta go! Now! Come on, I need a hand here!"

Clarke kept a firm grip on her gun, glancing over her shoulder to see Glenn help Hershel onto the table.

"Holy Jesus!"

"T, the door!"

One of the prisoners shouted, "Are you crazy? Don't open that!"

"We got this," Clarke spat and just as T opened the door, a walker came stumbling in. T pushed it up against the wall, and stabbed it in the head. Clarke left my position and instead, helped Rick, Glenn, and Maggie push the table.

"Daryl!" Clarke shouted over her shoulder, noticing that Daryl wasn't following. "Daryl!" She sopped pushing the table and waited until Daryl was by her side before thet caught up with the others, watching out for any threats.

"Let's go," T ordered, in the lead.

"This way! Go!"

Clarke came up to a walker that was approaching and yanked it's head back before stabbing it.

Before they began moving again, the group turned to see the prisoners following behind, yelling out profanities.

"Go, go!"

Daryl opened a door for then they were almost at their cell block.

"He's losing too much blood!"

"Open the door!" Clarke ordered as they approached the cell block. "It's Hershel!"

Carl ran towards the door, fumbling with the keys before unlocking the door that allowed them to enter their new home.

Carol gasped as she saw Hershel. "Oh, my god!"

"What happened?!" Jess exclaimed as both her and Mary stood to the side, horrified. They had become pretty close over the time they have survived together.

"Daddy!" Beth shouted, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

"In there!" Rick shouted, pointing to an empty cell. "Get him on the bed!" Rick, Glenn, and Clarke lifted Hershel off the table, and onto the bed. "He got bit."

Beth let out a cry, "Oh, my god, he's gonna turn!"

"Who cut it off?" Lori questioned, confused and fearful.

"I had to," Clarke simply told her, het heart pounding against her rib cage.

Lori put her hand on her shoulder and gave her a look of reassurance. "Maybe you got it in time."

"Oh, I need bandages!" Carol shouted as she looked down at Hershel's leg.

"We used everything we had!"

"Well, get more! Anything!"

Lori turned to Carl who stood outside the cell. "Carl, go get the towels from the back, right next to my bed!"

Beth gripped Clarke's hand. "Is he gonna die?"

"No." Lori shook her head, glancing at Clarke, probably seeing the guilt that was being displayed on face. "No, no, he's gonna be okay." Lori pulled Beth into her arms, comforting the crying girl.

Realizing she wasn't needed, Clarke backed out of the cell and towards Daryl who was pointing his crossbow at the prisoners who were to close to the cell rooms.

"What you got going on in there?" The prisoner with the gun asked Clarke, pointing his gun at her.

Daryl sneered, "Ain't none of your concern." He stepped beside Clarke, his shoulders tense as he continued to raise his crossbow at the prisoners.

"Don't be telling me what's my concern," The guy sneered, now turning to Daryl with the gun.

The big guy tried to calm his friend down, "Chill, man. Dude's leg is messed up. Besides, we're free now! Why are we still in here?"

"Man's got a point," Clarke commented, trying her best to not glance down at her blood soaked hands.

"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," One of the other prisoners spoke up.

"Group of civilians breaking into a prison you've got no business being in, got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go!"

"Why don't you go find out?" Clarke stepped forward, challenging the crazy eyed son of a bitch.

"Maybe we'll just be going now," The blonde one, the one who seemed to actually have a brain, spoke up.

"Hey, we ain't leaving!" The douche shouted.

T then arrived with his gun aimed at Thomas. "You ain't coming here either!"

The douche took a step forward, "Hey, this is my house, my rules, I go where I damn well please!"

Clarke grabbed het gun and pointed it at his dick. "Take one more fucking step and your dick goes bye-bye!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Rick came running in, trying to get them to stop with the yelling, "Everyone relax, there's no need for this."

"How many of you in there?" Captain assbutt asked, now pointing his gun at Rick.

Rick gained a smug look. "Too many for you to handle."

"You guys rob a bank or something? Why don't you take him to a hospital?" He asked like the stupid assbutt he is.

Clarke stepped forward again, looking amused. "How long have you been locked in that cafeteria?"

"Going on like ten months."

"A riot broke out," Big guy informed them. "Never seen anything like it."

"Heard about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life," The smaller black guy commented. "Crazy."

"One guard looked out for us, locked us up in the cafeteria, told us to sit tight, threw me this piece, said he'd be right back."

"And that was 292 days ago."

"We were thinking that the army or the national guard should be showing up any day now," One of them commented which made Clarke smirk.

"There is no army."

"What do you mean?"

Rick decided to make it clear to their pea sized brains, "there's no government, no hospitals, no police. It's all gone."

"For real?"

Clarkennodded. "Serious."

Big guy looked at them with hope. "What about my moms?"

The smaller black guy also looked at them with hope. "My kids, my old lady! Yo, you got a self-phone or something so we can call our families?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Clarke questioned before going into more detail, "No phones, no computers. As far as we can see, at least half the population's been wiped out. Probably more. And counting."

Douche shook his head. "Ain't no way."

"See for yourself."

They took the prisoners outside to show them what it was like now. They could see all the bodies of the walkers that they all killed, littering the ground.

"Good Lord, they're all dead."

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see these fences," One of them moaned, smiling.

"You never said. How the hell did you get in here in the first place?"

Daryl gestured to where the group came in at. "Cut a hole in that fence over there by the guard tower."

"That easy, huh?"

Daryl grumbled, "Where there's a will, there's a way."

The big guy poked one of the bodies with a stick. "So, what is this like a disease?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, but we're all infected."

"What do you mean, infected?" They turned to look at the blonde. "Like AIDS or something?"

Daryl turned to him. "If I was to kill you, shoot an arrow in your chest, you come back as one of these things." He gestured to a walker. "It's gonna happen to all of us."

"Ain't no way this Robin hood cast's responsible for killing all these freaks," Douche commented.

"What?" Clarke crossed her arms. "You doubting our skill set? You think you can do better?" She challenged, her blue eyes staring into his bug like ones.

"Must be fifty bodies out here," One commented before whistling.

"Where do you come from?" Douche ignored Clarke and turned to Rick.

"Atlanta."

"Where you headed?"

Rick shrugged. "For now, nowhere."

"I guess you could take that area down there near the water." Douche gestured to where he was talking about. "Should be comfortable."

"We're using that field for crops, " Clarke informed him.

"We'll help you move your gear ou--"

Rick interrupted him, "That won't be necessary. We took out these walkers, this prison is ours."

"Slow down, cowboy."

The small black boy stepped up to be by the douche's side. "You snatched the locks off our doors."

Clarke rose her eyebrows, honestly amused, and not at all threatened by the looks they were giving her. "We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it."

Douche glared at her. "This is our prison. We were here first."

"Locked in the broom closet?" Rick smirked, also amused. "We took it, set you free, it's ours, we spilled blood."

"We're moving back into our cell block."

Clarkle shook her head. "You'll have to get your own."

"It is mine!" He sneered at her. "I've still got personal artifacts in there, that's about as mine as it gets!" Just as he pulled out his gun, Daryl threatened him with his crossbow.

The blonde one stepped up, trying to calm everyone down, "Whoa, whoa, maybe let's try to make this work out so everybody wins!"

"I don't see that happening." Douche glared at the group.

Rick and Clarke responded in sync, "Neither do I."

"You could leave," Daryl sneered at the prisoners. "Try your luck out on the road."

Thomas nodded, looking smug. "If these three pussies can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cell block."

"With what?"

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons." Douche gestured to Rick. "Won't you boss?"

Clarke pursed her lips, thinking, "How stocked is that cafeteria? Must have plenty of food, five guys lasting almost a year?" She then glanced over their bodies. "And it sure as hell don't look like anybody's been starving."

"There's only a little left."

She looked the asshat in the eyes before turning to Rick. "He's lying." She crossed her arms, turning to the douche who tried to cover up his lie. "I can usually tell when someone is lying, and you, asshole, are a terrible liar."

Rick gave Clarke a thankful look. "We'll take half. In exchange, we'll help clear out a cell block."

Clarke stepped forward, tilting her head up at the prisoners. "You pay, we'll play. We'll clear out a block for you, then you keep to it."

"Alright."

"Well, let's be clear. If we see you out here, anywhere near our people, if I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent, I will kill you," Rick threatened, glaring at them.

"Deal."

THOMAS lead Rick, T, Daryl, and Clarke into the cafeteria to grab the food. "Pantry's back here!" The asshat shouted at them, going through a door.

Clarke smirked at the prisoners before following the asshat, knowing that he was lying when he said there wasn't much food.

"That's what you call a little bit of food?" Daryl questioned as he looked at the food in disbelief.

Clarke hasn't seen this much food since.... since when her brothers and her first arrived at the bunker.

"Goes fast."

"Mm-hmm." Clarke hummed, nodding, raising one singular eyebrow at him.

The douche then started to name off things he was willing to give them "You can have a bag of corn, some tuna fish."

Clarke stopped him before he could continue, "We said half. That's the deal," she spat. If she has to hear Sophia or Carl or Beth say that they're hungry again, she would probably have a break down. They're children, they deserve to eat.

T, Rick, and Clarke walked into their cell block, arms full of food. Daryl had stayed back to make sure the prisoners would stay in line. Clarke had wanted to as well, but he insisted for her to help carry the food so the process could go faster.

T started to name off the canned foods he had in his hands, "Canned beef, canned corn, canned cans!" He exclaimed in happiness. "There's a lot more where this came from!"

Clarkd placed the food where it needed to be before she approached Beth who was sitting on the stairs, crying. "Bethy?"

"Cl--Clarke." She looked up at her with tear stained cheeks and blotched eyes. "I'm scared. I don't want to lose my daddy."

"Hey," Clarke cooed, sitting down beside her. "I was around your age when I lost my father too," she admitted. "He--" She stopped herself before she could give up that he had sold his soul for both her and Dean. "It was in a car wreck. Me and my brothers woke up in the hospital, our father did not."

"I'm sorry." She had the biggest heart Clarke has ever seen. She sympathized even though she was the one possibly losing her father.

"It's fine." Clarke shrugged, trying to not make it look like a big deal before she kissed the top of her head. "This isn't about me, this is about you." She sighed, entwining her right hand with Beth's left. "I know Hershel is a strong independent, stubborn, old man, but he's not gonna live forever. I know you want him to. I want him to, too. But he can't. One of these days, you need to be prepared to see him go. I'm not saying that you should feel nothing about it, because you should feel the pain. Pain is what makes you human." She made Beth look at her. "So, my advice is, is just me strong, be you."

She chuckled lightly, a small chuckle full of sadness left her lips. "You give the best advice, Clarke."

"I know." Clarke smirked.

What they didn't know was that Mary was looking at them with sad eyes.