Clementine shakes her head when he apologizes (no, no, no). Something sharp stumbling around within her rib cage as she tries to find the words through how sick she feels. Because there's no easy answers. Whatever she does, people die because of her. And she doesn't know how to stop it, but she can't lose him again. She can't lose him for real.

The world cannot be empty of his presence again. She doesn't-

"No." The word leaves her abruptly, suddenly. "No, Louis. Why are you sorry? You don't have anything to be sorry about."

Her voice comes out too harsh again, harsher than she means. It's herself that she is angry at. It's the heavy choices that start to feel like boulders after awhile, and there can't be room for any more, but somehow there always is. Her hand finds his own to grab hold of it so he can hopefully understand the harshness isn't for him, and she can see how he is barely hanging on- He doesn't need

"What hurt most wasn't putting down the walker that stole your body. It was you being gone, you being hurt and killed. You weren't anywhere, and I-"

Her throat locks up.