After the White Queen snapped her fingers and made an awful situation a hundred times worse, Louis finally wakes up. He'd been lying where Michonne had placed him, wounds quietly healing. He wakes up with a start, gasping and flailing his arms, heart pounding in his chest. The last thing he remembered was being dove on by an outrider- and his flight or fight is still very much in gear.
He glances around him, finding himself in the ballroom- with a distinct lack of outriders or... a lot of people if he's honest. His brow furrows- concern starting to filter into his consciousness as he steadies his breathing, his eyes finally dropping on Clem. Well. He found her. Or she found him.
Clementine never strayed far from him for the most part (brought water for when he wakes up) until people started acting funny, and then she tried to- to run around, to see who was in trouble, to stop it if she could (she couldn't). She doesn't know what the hell is happening. Can't begin to figure it out. People turn to dust. She doesn't see it all but she finds out (Michonne, Steven, Dipper).
She cannot begin to process it all. So she returns to him, and she waits so he won't have to wake up alone. Her back is pressed up against the wall. Once she almost dozed off, but she was back in McCarroll Ranch. Only it was Louis, she-
When he wakes up, she's there before he can even speak. She reaches out in some attempt to calm him, to reassure him, to- She doesn't fucking know, but relief hits her like a hurricane, abrupt and sudden. To see life in his eyes again, to see him look at her.
To see Louis back, to hear his voice, to-
Something catches in her throat. Her hand is now latching on so hard to his arm that her fingers almost hurt. She's clutching to him with a kind of need that she doesn't really show to anyone else.
It's dangerous to need people, but- but- She breathes in and out again. Her eyes are burning. Her voice is so soft and strained that she almost can't hear it herself, but it's there. "...you died."
His worry only grows, when he sees Clem's expression. He fingers grip his arm and the intensity of it does little to soothe his worries. Something awful had to have happened- for Clem to act like that. He's about to voice those concerns when Clem speaks- when she drops that bomb on him. He remembers the outrider and...oh.
His eyes widen, pushing the sheet Michonne put on him off, to stare at his chest. Wounds healed, but clothes still torn and bloodstained. The horrible reality of it all sinks in- he died. He fucking died. He knew people came back here, and now he has horrible, solid proof of it. Then another terrible realisation strikes home and a hand shoots up to his head, there's no wound there, but he can feel the dried blood in his locs. Fuck.
He turns to look at her again, and he knows- he knows what she had to do and it drives a horrible splinter into his heart. To see her look so goddamn tired and broken... he hates seeing her like that, knowing he caused it. He struggles to find words for her. You can't really say 'sorry you had to put me down when I came back as an undead nightmare'. You really can't say that. He wants to ask if she's okay, but she blatantly is not.
He moves closer, to hug her- he doesn't crowd her though. He doesn't know if she even wants that- if he's so thoroughly fucked it up that she'd want nothing to do with him any more. But the offer is there, some sort of comfort. He wishes he could tell her he's sorry...but that would be a lie. He's sorry she's hurting, but he's not sorry for what he did. He can never be sorry for that.
Her eyes burn more as he moves into hug her. Her expression crumples. Her head bowed low. She wants to scream at him. Not because of the argument, she's forgotten all about that for now. It couldn't possibly be on her mind right now. No, she wants to scream, because he died, and he shouldn't be comforting her. He. is. the. one. who. died. It's not about what she feels (and she's too used to killing people who are walkers because that part isn't hard anymore, that part doesn't hurt her. it was him being dead that did it, it was him being in pain and her not being there, it was her not being there to stop him from turning at all).
But it's about him. It's about the fact he was dead. Hollowed out, gone.
But she can't get the words out.
He moves in close, and she clutches him more tightly, pulling him to her. She presses her face to his chest so she can feel the beating of his heart, and as soon as she does, her eyes flood with the tears she'd kept at bay around everyone else. Always so capable of doing what she has to do, what needs to be done, but she's around him again, and every single wall crumbles. Her fingertips dig in harder to him. She's shaking. She doesn't trust herself to let go long enough to hug him instead of clutching stupidly to his clothing.
The tears slip down her face and wet his shirt, which is still covered in dried blood.
The true horror of what has happened to him is starting to settle on Louis like a lead weight. He can feel pieces of himself starting to splinter. He died. He was dead and he very, very clearly turned. Jesus, did he kill anyone? Did he bite anyone? He doesn't know- there's a big empty void of nothing when he tries to think about it. Seems James was wrong after all.
Those splintered parts threaten to crack, grow bigger- but Clementine starts to cry and he tries to pull them back together. He doesn't quite do it right- the pieces don't settle properly and everything feels jagged and wrong, but he tries to ignore it. He tries to press it all down into as tight a ball as he can, to focus on her. To try to lessen her pain, somehow, even a fraction.
While one arm stays around her back, the other moves to the back of her head, moving in soft, soothing strokes. He wants to reassure her, to tell her that he's okay- but he's not- and he knows he can't slide that lie past her. She'll know. He shifts, resting his chin on top of her head- for once finding it difficult to find words. He just holds her tight, letting her cry.
Clementine swallows thickly through the emotion lodged in her throat, and she manages to pull one of her hands away to wipe at her face. Finally, finally, she's able to convince herself he won't disappear (turn to dust) if she lets go of him for a moment, and so she does. She lets go of his shirt, and she wraps her arms around him instead tightly.
Her face is still pressed against his shoulder, but she just manages to speak.
"You don't have to pretend to be okay around me. You're the one who-"
Her voice cuts off again. Fuck.
She can't say it again, but she has to- "You're the one who... died."
It doesn't make it any easier to hear her say it out loud again. It makes it a hundred times worse. Death is always around every corner for them, back home. It's accepted as an inevitability- that every day you wake up and draw breath is a small miracle in itself. But knowing it- having actually died and lived to tell about it...that's something else. He's not equipped to even start dealing with that.
"I'm absolutely not okay."
He isn't going to lie to her, she'll see right through it and it'll only hurt her worse. He's still fighting to keep it together, but he can feel it all bumbling and thrashing around his head and he doesn't know how to deal with it without fucking imploding in on himself. When he speaks again, it's with a waver- real fear. He has to know.
"Did I hurt anyone?"
He's not going to ask if he turned. He knows he did. His hair has dried blood in it and he's pretty sure the outrider didn't make that precise of a shot on him. But he needs to know. He needs to know if anyone else died because of him.
Clementine meets his gaze as he tells her the truth, and she appreciates he doesn't lie to her. He tells her like it is even though it hurts, but of course, he couldn't be okay. He isn't expected okay. He doesn't have to be okay. He doesn't have to be anything but the broken pieces that he is right now, and she'll hold on tightly to each and every piece that she can.
Refuse to let any of it go.
She swallows at the second question, because the truth is- the truth is she doesn't know.
"It wasn't you. It was your body taken over by something inhuman, but there- there was none of you left," Clementine says with a fierceness even through her eyes burning, even through the strain of her throat. "Kokichi contacted me and told me what happened. I got to you as soon as I could, but I... don't know."
He certainly needs that right now. He can't keep a hold on his own broken pieces just yet. Maybe in a few days- maybe when things start to settle back to routine, when people lost come back to them- he'll be able to start mending himself. But not yet.
"...Was Kokichi okay?"
That was a real worry. Kokichi has been through a lot of shit back home and the absolute last thing he needed was seeing his friend as an undead monster. Louis frowns, curling into her a little- probably an odd sight given his height compared to hers, but he doesn't care.
"Are you okay?"
He knows she's not. He knows she absolute is not even a tiny little bit. But he asks anyway. He was so goddamn worried about her, as awful as everything is- he's glad she's here now. More than glad. She's his goddamn world and the thought of anything happening to her had been all consuming. For that fact, at least, he can rest now.
Clementine is sure Kokichi is worried about Louis. She's sure it was painful, but she means Kokichi wasn't hurt by the walker that stole Louis' body. Wonderland is now in disarray. She hasn't had the chance to tell Louis about that. She doesn't know how to put that to words.
So many people they loved were turned to dust, and others maybe died too. She's not sure. She couldn't keep track.
Her eyes burn at the question, and she hates herself for it a little, almost out of instinct. Vulnerability has always been dangerous, but not with him, and still she has to fight against the natural tendency to be too hard, too sharp, too withdrawn (especially now, especially after all that, especially after seeing him like that). These sharp edges of hers that would only serve to cut regardless of what she wants. But also damn him for asking about her again when he was gone, empty, did-not-exist.
One damn thing he can be glad for. That Kokichi didn't end up bitten or killed or anything just by being in the walker's periphery. He knows he'll have to find his friend later- check on him- hope the experience didn't sour anything between them. He knows, logically, it won't- but Louis always is prone to expecting people to think the worst of him, largely because he thinks the worst of himself.
He nods as her response. He was expecting it, but he had to ask anyway. He feels his heart wrench in his chest again. He caused this. He made her hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a ragged breath. Okay. Just- breathe. He can't afford to shatter right now even if that's all he wants to do.
"I'm sorry," it's quiet, bearly there. "I mean... I'm not sorry about coming to find you. I- I can't be sorry for that. But I'm sorry it ended up hurting you worse. Sorry that you had to-"
Had to put him down. It's a courtesy, in their world. You take care of your own, you make sure they can rest in peace and not roam about, their bodies driven by some awful, dead thing. But it's still not an easy action for anyone to face. He feels the tears prick at his eyes, tries to blink them away.
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-"
He winces at her tone, only seeming to relax even a little as she takes his hand. He squeezes it back- reassurance, maybe? Forgiveness? Apology? He doesn't know any more. He can feel everything crumbling inside him and it's getting harder to hold it all in place.
"...Then yeah, I'm super sorry about that part. Wasn't actually part of the plan."
The plan being running around the mansion like a crazy person until he found her. Not that that worked, either. He falls quiet again, for a short while, gaze dropping to the floor. He'd been so goddamn worried about her, but this was a stark lesson in something neither of them could avoid forever.
"You- you know that it's probably gonna happen back home at some point," he hates to say it, but it's true- an ever-present dark cloud over every damn person in their world. "You can't protect me from it- just like I can't protect you from it."
The day AJ brought her back, clinging onto life was proof enough of that. She could have died. in all fairness, she should have died. It was a miracle she didn't and they don't have a surplus of miracles to keep counting on them to work.
"We can't afford to just... waste everything on that. None of it means jack shit in the long run, none of us can predict the future. Like I told you, what matters is right now. This moment. Life's too short, Clem."
Her expression crumples, and she looks away, breathing in sharp. Something burns at her eyes even as her jaw locks.
"I know," she says, and her voice is quiet, strained but true. It will happen in their own world. The very thought has her heart thundering too loud in her chest like a trapped bird within its cage, roughly crashing into the bony sides. Her eyes close, and she keeps her hand in his own, but she curls in slightly on herself. It's a weaker position than she would ordinarily allow, but it's him. It's him, and it's them.
It's the two of them, and so she doesn't force all those emotions back, but she lets herself feel them-- lets herself be overtaken by them, lets herself be less than.
"You don't know how many people have died because of me. I didn't want you- I didn't want you to be one of them, but you did. And that's because of what I chose. I don't know what the fuck to do, but I know I shouldn't have done... that."
She presses her free hand to her face, breathing in again and out again.
He hates that she's blaming herself for this- he should have known it would come to this. Sometimes, Louis forgets he's not the only one carrying a pretty darn powerful self-loathing card. Clem's been through a lot- more than he would ever understand and truly know. He understands that's left its own scars, made her more cautious.
"It wasn't your fault, Clem. I would have stuck by you regardless, in case you haven't noticed, I can be pretty damn stubborn," it's an attempt to lighten the mood but it falls horribly flat, his shoulders sag. "Look. I get that you want to keep me safe, I appreciate that you do, but you've gotta let me make my own choices on that one."
He moves his own free hand to carefully brush away the one covering her face, sliding it to rest on her cheek. He offers her a tiny, tired smile.
"Please trust me to make my own calls on what's worth risking my life over. Because if anything happened to you because I chose to run... I honestly don't think I could live with that," he already has Marlon and Tenn weighing on him, losing Clementine would break him in a way he's not convinced he could recover from - for all his big talk of inevitability, he knows that only too well. "I love you too much for any of that."
It feels good to say it, despite everything- despite all the awful bullshit going on. He'd wanted to tell her in a far more romantic way- probably something with the piano and candlelight- with a suaveness he doesn't actually possess but likes to pretend he does. Instead, she gets it after he's pulled back from death, both of them gross and bloody from a few days of fighting through sheer hell. But better she know now- if he hadn't of come back, then she'd never know- and that's a thought he doesn't want to entertain.
"So I'm sorry, but you're pretty much stuck with me."
Clementine could argue it, argue him. He would have stuck by her regardless, but she was able to fight off what eventually find its way to her. If he had been with her, he would have been safer. If he had died, she would have been there to take care of it before he turned. There are so many reasons why it is exactly her fault. So many times in her life, she has been left with such choices. They're so fucking heavy.
but he says it wasn't her fault like it's so easy for him to say, like he doesn't blame her at all (when he should).
When she does. When she always will for this and many other choices.
Her eyes close, and she swallows thickly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She only lifts her head again when he says that. Those words that have been rattling around in her since she was certain she would die, since she felt it.
"I love you too."
This is true. It is true. It will always be true.
"I love you so much. I want to be with you as long as we can. The alternative is-" Her eyes close, and she clutches tighter to him, winding her arms around him, pulling him in close. She speaks against his shoulder, pressing a kiss there, burying her face there. "I couldn't live with that. I'm so glad you're back. You mean the world to me."
She says those three little words and he feels his heart to a little flip-flop in his chest. Despite all the horror they've dealt with recently, despite the fact he's so goddamn tired and he feels so fucking broken right now- it gives him a fleeting moment of real happiness. He's been so used to assuming he never deserved that, from anyone. He sure doesn't love himself, so he never really expects anyone else to love him. But here Clem is, telling him that she does- and as it's her, he believes her.
"Well. Glad we got that straightened out."
The jokes really are not working, but if he tries hard enough maybe they'll start to sound natural again. It's an attempt to reboot his protective mask- the humour he clings to like a drowning man clings to driftwood. Something to keep him afloat through the storm. It's not there yet, but he's going to keep trying until he's at least slightly convincing again. He needs to front if he's going to walk out of here without crumbling to pieces the first time anyone asks him if he's okay.
His fingers curl a little at the back of her head, not constrictive- soothing. Trying to lessen the weight on her. If he could pick up even half of the bullshit she carried around with her to carry it for her he'd do it in a goddamn heartbeat.
"I can't promise we won't have to deal with this shit down the road- I mean... our world is really fucking awful," it's the worst. "But I want to keep this up for as long as we possibly can. Because you mean the world to me, too."
For someone who so vehemently denies accepting there can be a future, he sure sounds like he's hoping for one.
Clementine smiles against his shoulder despite the pain in her chest, despite the burning in her eyes. She nods against him, pulling back enough to look at his face. She knows him so well by now. Her hand reaches up, cupping the back of his neck as she shakes her head.
"It's okay."
She doesn't mean any of it is okay.
It's not okay they'll have to face this one day. It's not okay that she got him killed. These are all issues they can't deal with at the moment. But it is okay. It is okay for him to feel the way he feels now without holding any of it back.
She leans into press a kiss to the side of his mouth, tightening her hold on the back of his head.
She whispers against his mouth, quiet but meant only for him. The words are still ringing through her head I love you.Her heart beats wildly with it, strongly with it. It's stronger than all the guilt and grief and pain in her world, in her life. Her thumb slides over his neck.
"It's okay. You don't have to be funny right now, Lou."
Louis resolve was already teetering on the edge of collapse. He'd been bearly holding it together by his fingertips. Then Clementine kisses him and tells him that, and he can feel it just crumple inside him. It's been a god-awful couple of days. He wants desperately to be okay- or at least be 'okay' enough to make sure the people that matter to him are supported first.
But he isn't okay. He's possibly the least okay he's ever been- bar once. Worse than when he tore his family apart, worse than when he watched Marlon get a bullet in the head, or Violet stumble out of the shipwreck half-blind, worse than watching Tenn being torn apart by the walkers. The only time that topped it was when he thought Clem was going to die. He doubts anything will top that one. But this? This is the second. Easy.
He lets out a chocked, gurgly noise- a stifled sob, one last-ditch attempt to hold it together.
Clementine nods with a quiet expression on her face. There's concern deeply rooted in her gaze as she hears his stifled sob. Her hands tighten at his arms, but she doesn't flinch away from this harsh truth-- this sharp reality that they just lived through. Her eyes burn at the sound he makes, but she is grateful he doesn't try to hold it back any longer.
He doesn't have to with her. But she understands the need for walls in general. She understands he has them as well. They're just shaped differently than her own.
"Yeah," she says in a quiet, strained voice, because she watched his body for a long time.
But he wasn't in it. He was gone. Just... gone. If she lets herself think of it for too long, it'll make her feel sick all over again.
He wants to hold it back, he desperately wants to hold it back. He wants to keep his shattered pieces together and power through. He wants to be strong- if for nothing else, for her. He doesn't want her to hurt any more than she already is. He wants to be his usual, upbeat self for her. To make her smile, to take away her troubles for a little while.
But he can't. He tries and he hits a brick wall. The sheer emotion around what happened is overwhelming. He can't pretend any more. Not right now, at least. He curls into her a little, breathing becoming more laboured. He tries to fight it back, but the strength to do so eludes him. He'd fucking died. He'd always had big talk about taking each day as it came, never knowing when his number would be punched. Now it had been, and thanks to Wonderland, he'd come back to tell the tale. How the hell was anyone supposed to process that? How was someone supposed to deal with the fact they died?
Another sob bubbles out of him and he finally just lets it happen. He feels guilty, dropping more bullshit on Clem when she's already hurting plenty. He wishes he could keep it together for her but he needs to let go of something or he's going to break worse than he already is. So this is what he lets go of- his shoulders shake as he sobs against her.
Clementine doesn't want him to hold it back. She wants him to feel safe enough to be exactly who he is with her even if who he is happens to be pieces- shattered pieces. She understands feeling that way, but that is not how she sees him. It never could be. He is Louis, and he matters to her, and he died. And she knows he won't let himself be otherwise. He is always too concerned with taking care of other people. She's taking care of him.
It is not his fault that she hurts. Hurting comes from caring, from loving (There was a time where she worried that made her weak, vulnerable, but she doesn't worry about that anymore). She loves him. It is worth it to hurt with him, to hurt at his loss, to hurt at seeing him hurt. It is so worth it to feel that instead of the emptiness of not caring, the recklessness of having nothing to lose.
She winds one arm around his back, and she holds the back of her head with her other arm, pulling him in close until his face is pressed against her. Her chin rests on top of his head.
And her heart aches at his every sob. The first one has her expression crumpling briefly before she takes in a deep breath and steadies herself. Her fingertips dig into his back as if to say fiercely that she won't let him be taken away like that again. Not ever.
He lets the damn break and sobs against her, letting it out in a way he hasn't done for longer than he can remember. Even when he lost Marlon, he managed to somewhat keep it together- but it has been close then- his grief hampered by betrayal. There are no such setbacks here, his grief is real and solid and coming to the surface like a rising torrent.
He does eventually still, though- his sobs turning to sniffles as he pulls himself back together as best he can. His pieces are still jagged and wrong- he needs to take longer to put himself back properly. For now, he'll just have to settle with almost together. Clementine being here has made all the difference. Without her... well, without her he would have been a lost cause as soon as the Delta came knocking. She makes him better, stronger, just by existing around him. Felling her fingers press against him is all he needs to get as close to 'not completely and irreparably broken' as he can.
He takes a deep, shaky breath in, before pulling back a little, giving her a small, tired smile. There's an instinct to apologise- to try and hide away what he was feeling- remnants of a time when the Ericson staff made broken kids feel worse about themselves while calling it healing. He pushes it down through. He knows Clementine won't accept an apology - and rightfully so.
"Thanks," yeah, that's better. "I guess I needed that. Never really thought I'd have to deal with this kinda fallout."
His own death. You're supposed to have your ticket punched and your part in dealing with that fallout is done. You're not around to deal with the rest of it. But here he is, having died and come back (and turned in-between) and now he needs to try and figure out how a person is supposed to deal with that. And he feels guilty about feeling bad for himself- grieving his own life when his loved one has had to grieve it for real. Grieve him. How is anyone supposed to deal with any of this?
Clementine catches the sad, tired smile that he sends her way when he pulls back, and she lifts her hand carefully, slowly. She frames his face against her palm, tapping the edge of his smile with her thumb before she lets her hand fall down again.
She appreciates he does not apologize. She would not want it. Not for an instant, not for a moment.
And she doesn't even really need a thanks but it is an acknowledgement of what passed between them.
Her voice is soft when she finally speaks.
"No one should have to deal with it- with dying," Clementine says, shaking her head, and she does understand how it feels. She releases a slow and careful breath, eyes closing.
She's tired.
"More shit happened... after. But I can tell you after you get some rest if you want."
Or now. It's up to him. It's okay to choose either way.
Louis exhales softly at the tap of her thumb, the smile fading. He'll need to put his mask on again eventually, go back to being chipper and cheerful- his own coping mechanism against the sadness that might swallow him whole otherwise. But for not his usual chirpiness can be put away. He honestly hasn't got the strength for it and he doesn't need it around her. He's never needed it around her.
He considers her offer. There's a temptation to shut everything out. To ignore it all and pretend it's not real. But that's what old Louis would do- the Louis still believing what Marlon told him, the Louis who stuck his fingers in his ears and sang loudly enough until whatever was bothering him went away. He's not that way... not any more.
"I don't think I could rest even if I wanted to," he feels awful but sleep is far beyond him. "...What happened?"
Clementine nods because she understands it. She understands feeling exhausted but not being able to sleep, feeling terrible and not being able to shut it out. She swallows thickly, looking out at the rest of the room once more.
It is far emptier than it should be. That's how she feels too.
"I'm not sure. There was a video that came over the network with the White Queen. Someone found all the stones, and there was a snap. The Jabberwocky was there all of a sudden, but-"
That hardly seems as important as the fact that: "A lot of people just turned to ash."
That's certainly news. Louis' brow furrows, as he tries to make sense out of that sentence. He'd read Alice in Wonderland when he was a kid- he was vaguely aware of the characters within it. That was one he'd not seen here before- but then he'd never seen the White Rabbit, either or the Mad Hatter or the March Hare or any other number of characters he remembers from the story. He figured some might be dead, or missing by some insane Wonderland scenario.
"The- the big dragon thing? Was that here before? Is it being here a bad thing? It sounds like it's a bad thing."
And can they maybe have less bad things for a change, Wonderland? That'd be nice. Having less horror in their lives. The ash things settle on him quietly, Juliet had said something like that might happen if they lost. He guesses that means they lost.
Clementine nods. The big dragon thing. She never really read the story herself until she came to Wonderland, and she wanted to know all she could about it.
"It's bad. It was here before, infecting people's dreams." She's not an expert on it. The last time she read the story was a long time ago. "It's hungry, hungrier than walkers. A whole helluva lot stronger than them too."
She swallows at the other question, and then shakes her head.
"I don't know. A lot. I saw Steven go-" Her eyes close, and she breathes in and then breathes out. Her eyes open once more, and she finds a steady place to stand on somehow in the midst of all this uncertainty and pain, fear and grief. It's an ugly mix like a boulder within. "I can't get a hold of Michonne. A lot of people are just- They're gone."
"Great. So that's a new awful thing we're gonna have to deal with. Fabulous. Looking forward to all of that."
Just when he thinks Wonderland can't make anything worse for them, it goes ahead and pulls shit like this. He's starting to wonder if home, as shitty and terrible as it is, is actually the better option. At least they know what they're doing back home. They know danger is going to come from walkers or other people. You can plan around that. You can't plan for some magical dragon lizard thing. Jesus.
It settles on him like a weight. Steven's gone. Steven's a good kid, he reminds Louis of Tenn- and that is a wound that's nowhere near even starting to heal. The thought that another sweet, gentle kid has been wiped out of existence makes his stomach churn. Fuck.
"Michonne?" that's the one that hurts the worst though, fear drips into his expression. "Do you- do you think that happened to her? The dust thing?"
Not Michonne. She's been the first adult he's truly trusted for years. The first one he's really let into his life again. She's like a mother to him, and the thought of her being gone... it makes everything else a hundred times worse.
Clementine has no idea how any of them are going to deal with a problem so big- the Jabberwocky isn't something they can defeat like they just barely managed to defeat the Deltas. This thing can infect people's nightmares, and- She breathes out sharp to shelve it away.
They'll have to prepare for what is going to come. They can't just let it happen. But for now, she has to reveal this painful reality to him. She has to tell him that so many people they cared about disappeared in a moment. They turned to ash after she had already died, and-
Clementine would never lie to him even if it means hurting him more, hurting him on top of the rest of the pain and brokenness that he is feeling. Something in her chest tightens.
"Yeah, I do. If she was still alive, she'd be here right now to make sure you were alive again, breathing again," Clementine says, and Michonne is not here so that can only mean one thing: She's gone. She turned to ash or she was killed, but she is not alive right now.
They've got another hell of a fight ahead of them. Wonderland is becoming increasingly good at raising the hostility stakes. It's deeply worrying- what on earth can it do next? How is it planning to top this? It's the stuff of nightmare already.
"Right... yeah."
His heart sinks. This whole thing is utter bullshit. He knows they'll come back- he came back, so it stands to reason they would, too. That's what Wonderland did, right? Brought everyone back. But the fact they return doesn't ease the fact they died any. Instinctively, he reaches out to take one of her hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Comfort, for as much her as him.
Clementine lifts her head as Louis reaches for her hand, and she tightens her hold on his hand as he does. She closes her eyes, breathing out, nodding in agreement, leaning against him.
"Yeah. Shitty fucking week."
The shittiest since they got back, the shittiest day in her Wonderland stay so far, and she's including the day that she died and the time that she got a bit drunk, because she was struggling so much with all of it.
He takes comfort in her being close and hopes he at least does the same for her. So long as they have one another, they'll weather every goddamn storm Wonderland can throw at them. He's sure of that much, even if right now he feels so very tired and broken. He'll figure out a way to pull it back together- because she's here. He lets out a soft sigh, turning their hands, lacing his fingers between hers.
"Winner of the Shittiest Week Ever Award," he agrees. "Still not as shitty as home, but it's making a damn good run for that one right now."
He leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. He's already so very sorry that he left her. That he put her in a position where she had to put him down. But he knows not to voice that- it wouldn't do either of them any good. But this little comfort- he can give her, and hopes it's enough.
Clementine watches their hands as he turns them, and she moves in close to him, tightening her hold on his hand, nodding her agreement. "Let's just stay here for a little bit, okay?" She leans against him, drawing him close to the wall too so he can rest. Not that sleep will be possible, but she doesn't want sleep.
She wants to stay in this moment with him.
She wants to press her ear close to his chest to hear his heartbeat and hear him breathing.
He lets out a long, slow breath. Sleep is so very past him, she's right about that, but resting... resting he can do. He leans, his head resting against the wall with a gentle thunk.
"Yeah. I think that's a good plan."
He doesn't want to face going out there just yet- dealing with just how many people have died. He isn't ready to even start putting on a smile for anyone else, he just needs a little time to regroup. He closes his eyes, not sleeping just- tuning out for a little while. Just having a short span of time where it was just him and her and nothing else mattered just for goddamn once.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Day 3 of the Event- post snap
He glances around him, finding himself in the ballroom- with a distinct lack of outriders or... a lot of people if he's honest. His brow furrows- concern starting to filter into his consciousness as he steadies his breathing, his eyes finally dropping on Clem. Well. He found her. Or she found him.
"W-what in the holy fuck happened?"
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She cannot begin to process it all. So she returns to him, and she waits so he won't have to wake up alone. Her back is pressed up against the wall. Once she almost dozed off, but she was back in McCarroll Ranch. Only it was Louis, she-
When he wakes up, she's there before he can even speak. She reaches out in some attempt to calm him, to reassure him, to- She doesn't fucking know, but relief hits her like a hurricane, abrupt and sudden. To see life in his eyes again, to see him look at her.
To see Louis back, to hear his voice, to-
Something catches in her throat. Her hand is now latching on so hard to his arm that her fingers almost hurt. She's clutching to him with a kind of need that she doesn't really show to anyone else.
It's dangerous to need people, but- but- She breathes in and out again. Her eyes are burning. Her voice is so soft and strained that she almost can't hear it herself, but it's there. "...you died."
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His eyes widen, pushing the sheet Michonne put on him off, to stare at his chest. Wounds healed, but clothes still torn and bloodstained. The horrible reality of it all sinks in- he died. He fucking died. He knew people came back here, and now he has horrible, solid proof of it. Then another terrible realisation strikes home and a hand shoots up to his head, there's no wound there, but he can feel the dried blood in his locs. Fuck.
He turns to look at her again, and he knows- he knows what she had to do and it drives a horrible splinter into his heart. To see her look so goddamn tired and broken... he hates seeing her like that, knowing he caused it. He struggles to find words for her. You can't really say 'sorry you had to put me down when I came back as an undead nightmare'. You really can't say that. He wants to ask if she's okay, but she blatantly is not.
He moves closer, to hug her- he doesn't crowd her though. He doesn't know if she even wants that- if he's so thoroughly fucked it up that she'd want nothing to do with him any more. But the offer is there, some sort of comfort. He wishes he could tell her he's sorry...but that would be a lie. He's sorry she's hurting, but he's not sorry for what he did. He can never be sorry for that.
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But it's about him. It's about the fact he was dead. Hollowed out, gone.
But she can't get the words out.
He moves in close, and she clutches him more tightly, pulling him to her. She presses her face to his chest so she can feel the beating of his heart, and as soon as she does, her eyes flood with the tears she'd kept at bay around everyone else. Always so capable of doing what she has to do, what needs to be done, but she's around him again, and every single wall crumbles. Her fingertips dig in harder to him. She's shaking. She doesn't trust herself to let go long enough to hug him instead of clutching stupidly to his clothing.
The tears slip down her face and wet his shirt, which is still covered in dried blood.
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Those splintered parts threaten to crack, grow bigger- but Clementine starts to cry and he tries to pull them back together. He doesn't quite do it right- the pieces don't settle properly and everything feels jagged and wrong, but he tries to ignore it. He tries to press it all down into as tight a ball as he can, to focus on her. To try to lessen her pain, somehow, even a fraction.
While one arm stays around her back, the other moves to the back of her head, moving in soft, soothing strokes. He wants to reassure her, to tell her that he's okay- but he's not- and he knows he can't slide that lie past her. She'll know. He shifts, resting his chin on top of her head- for once finding it difficult to find words. He just holds her tight, letting her cry.
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Her face is still pressed against his shoulder, but she just manages to speak.
"You don't have to pretend to be okay around me. You're the one who-"
Her voice cuts off again. Fuck.
She can't say it again, but she has to- "You're the one who... died."
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"I'm absolutely not okay."
He isn't going to lie to her, she'll see right through it and it'll only hurt her worse. He's still fighting to keep it together, but he can feel it all bumbling and thrashing around his head and he doesn't know how to deal with it without fucking imploding in on himself. When he speaks again, it's with a waver- real fear. He has to know.
"Did I hurt anyone?"
He's not going to ask if he turned. He knows he did. His hair has dried blood in it and he's pretty sure the outrider didn't make that precise of a shot on him. But he needs to know. He needs to know if anyone else died because of him.
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Refuse to let any of it go.
She swallows at the second question, because the truth is- the truth is she doesn't know.
"It wasn't you. It was your body taken over by something inhuman, but there- there was none of you left," Clementine says with a fierceness even through her eyes burning, even through the strain of her throat. "Kokichi contacted me and told me what happened. I got to you as soon as I could, but I... don't know."
If he ran into anyone else.
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"...Was Kokichi okay?"
That was a real worry. Kokichi has been through a lot of shit back home and the absolute last thing he needed was seeing his friend as an undead monster. Louis frowns, curling into her a little- probably an odd sight given his height compared to hers, but he doesn't care.
"Are you okay?"
He knows she's not. He knows she absolute is not even a tiny little bit. But he asks anyway. He was so goddamn worried about her, as awful as everything is- he's glad she's here now. More than glad. She's his goddamn world and the thought of anything happening to her had been all consuming. For that fact, at least, he can rest now.
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Clementine is sure Kokichi is worried about Louis. She's sure it was painful, but she means Kokichi wasn't hurt by the walker that stole Louis' body. Wonderland is now in disarray. She hasn't had the chance to tell Louis about that. She doesn't know how to put that to words.
So many people they loved were turned to dust, and others maybe died too. She's not sure. She couldn't keep track.
Her eyes burn at the question, and she hates herself for it a little, almost out of instinct. Vulnerability has always been dangerous, but not with him, and still she has to fight against the natural tendency to be too hard, too sharp, too withdrawn (especially now, especially after all that, especially after seeing him like that). These sharp edges of hers that would only serve to cut regardless of what she wants. But also damn him for asking about her again when he was gone, empty, did-not-exist.
She swallows thickly and shakes her head.
"No."
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One damn thing he can be glad for. That Kokichi didn't end up bitten or killed or anything just by being in the walker's periphery. He knows he'll have to find his friend later- check on him- hope the experience didn't sour anything between them. He knows, logically, it won't- but Louis always is prone to expecting people to think the worst of him, largely because he thinks the worst of himself.
He nods as her response. He was expecting it, but he had to ask anyway. He feels his heart wrench in his chest again. He caused this. He made her hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking in a ragged breath. Okay. Just- breathe. He can't afford to shatter right now even if that's all he wants to do.
"I'm sorry," it's quiet, bearly there. "I mean... I'm not sorry about coming to find you. I- I can't be sorry for that. But I'm sorry it ended up hurting you worse. Sorry that you had to-"
Had to put him down. It's a courtesy, in their world. You take care of your own, you make sure they can rest in peace and not roam about, their bodies driven by some awful, dead thing. But it's still not an easy action for anyone to face. He feels the tears prick at his eyes, tries to blink them away.
"Shit."
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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.
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"...Then yeah, I'm super sorry about that part. Wasn't actually part of the plan."
The plan being running around the mansion like a crazy person until he found her. Not that that worked, either. He falls quiet again, for a short while, gaze dropping to the floor. He'd been so goddamn worried about her, but this was a stark lesson in something neither of them could avoid forever.
"You- you know that it's probably gonna happen back home at some point," he hates to say it, but it's true- an ever-present dark cloud over every damn person in their world. "You can't protect me from it- just like I can't protect you from it."
The day AJ brought her back, clinging onto life was proof enough of that. She could have died. in all fairness, she should have died. It was a miracle she didn't and they don't have a surplus of miracles to keep counting on them to work.
"We can't afford to just... waste everything on that. None of it means jack shit in the long run, none of us can predict the future. Like I told you, what matters is right now. This moment. Life's too short, Clem."
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"I know," she says, and her voice is quiet, strained but true. It will happen in their own world. The very thought has her heart thundering too loud in her chest like a trapped bird within its cage, roughly crashing into the bony sides. Her eyes close, and she keeps her hand in his own, but she curls in slightly on herself. It's a weaker position than she would ordinarily allow, but it's him. It's him, and it's them.
It's the two of them, and so she doesn't force all those emotions back, but she lets herself feel them-- lets herself be overtaken by them, lets herself be less than.
"You don't know how many people have died because of me. I didn't want you- I didn't want you to be one of them, but you did. And that's because of what I chose. I don't know what the fuck to do, but I know I shouldn't have done... that."
She presses her free hand to her face, breathing in again and out again.
"I'm sorry."
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"It wasn't your fault, Clem. I would have stuck by you regardless, in case you haven't noticed, I can be pretty damn stubborn," it's an attempt to lighten the mood but it falls horribly flat, his shoulders sag. "Look. I get that you want to keep me safe, I appreciate that you do, but you've gotta let me make my own choices on that one."
He moves his own free hand to carefully brush away the one covering her face, sliding it to rest on her cheek. He offers her a tiny, tired smile.
"Please trust me to make my own calls on what's worth risking my life over. Because if anything happened to you because I chose to run... I honestly don't think I could live with that," he already has Marlon and Tenn weighing on him, losing Clementine would break him in a way he's not convinced he could recover from - for all his big talk of inevitability, he knows that only too well. "I love you too much for any of that."
It feels good to say it, despite everything- despite all the awful bullshit going on. He'd wanted to tell her in a far more romantic way- probably something with the piano and candlelight- with a suaveness he doesn't actually possess but likes to pretend he does. Instead, she gets it after he's pulled back from death, both of them gross and bloody from a few days of fighting through sheer hell. But better she know now- if he hadn't of come back, then she'd never know- and that's a thought he doesn't want to entertain.
"So I'm sorry, but you're pretty much stuck with me."
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but he says it wasn't her fault like it's so easy for him to say, like he doesn't blame her at all (when he should).
When she does. When she always will for this and many other choices.
Her eyes close, and she swallows thickly, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She only lifts her head again when he says that. Those words that have been rattling around in her since she was certain she would die, since she felt it.
"I love you too."
This is true. It is true. It will always be true.
"I love you so much. I want to be with you as long as we can. The alternative is-" Her eyes close, and she clutches tighter to him, winding her arms around him, pulling him in close. She speaks against his shoulder, pressing a kiss there, burying her face there. "I couldn't live with that. I'm so glad you're back. You mean the world to me."
And then some.
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"Well. Glad we got that straightened out."
The jokes really are not working, but if he tries hard enough maybe they'll start to sound natural again. It's an attempt to reboot his protective mask- the humour he clings to like a drowning man clings to driftwood. Something to keep him afloat through the storm. It's not there yet, but he's going to keep trying until he's at least slightly convincing again. He needs to front if he's going to walk out of here without crumbling to pieces the first time anyone asks him if he's okay.
His fingers curl a little at the back of her head, not constrictive- soothing. Trying to lessen the weight on her. If he could pick up even half of the bullshit she carried around with her to carry it for her he'd do it in a goddamn heartbeat.
"I can't promise we won't have to deal with this shit down the road- I mean... our world is really fucking awful," it's the worst. "But I want to keep this up for as long as we possibly can. Because you mean the world to me, too."
For someone who so vehemently denies accepting there can be a future, he sure sounds like he's hoping for one.
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"It's okay."
She doesn't mean any of it is okay.
It's not okay they'll have to face this one day. It's not okay that she got him killed. These are all issues they can't deal with at the moment. But it is okay. It is okay for him to feel the way he feels now without holding any of it back.
She leans into press a kiss to the side of his mouth, tightening her hold on the back of his head.
She whispers against his mouth, quiet but meant only for him. The words are still ringing through her head I love you.Her heart beats wildly with it, strongly with it. It's stronger than all the guilt and grief and pain in her world, in her life. Her thumb slides over his neck.
"It's okay. You don't have to be funny right now, Lou."
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But he isn't okay. He's possibly the least okay he's ever been- bar once. Worse than when he tore his family apart, worse than when he watched Marlon get a bullet in the head, or Violet stumble out of the shipwreck half-blind, worse than watching Tenn being torn apart by the walkers. The only time that topped it was when he thought Clem was going to die. He doubts anything will top that one. But this? This is the second. Easy.
He lets out a chocked, gurgly noise- a stifled sob, one last-ditch attempt to hold it together.
"Holy shit. I really died."
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He doesn't have to with her. But she understands the need for walls in general. She understands he has them as well. They're just shaped differently than her own.
"Yeah," she says in a quiet, strained voice, because she watched his body for a long time.
But he wasn't in it. He was gone. Just... gone. If she lets herself think of it for too long, it'll make her feel sick all over again.
"Yeah, you really did."
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But he can't. He tries and he hits a brick wall. The sheer emotion around what happened is overwhelming. He can't pretend any more. Not right now, at least. He curls into her a little, breathing becoming more laboured. He tries to fight it back, but the strength to do so eludes him. He'd fucking died. He'd always had big talk about taking each day as it came, never knowing when his number would be punched. Now it had been, and thanks to Wonderland, he'd come back to tell the tale. How the hell was anyone supposed to process that? How was someone supposed to deal with the fact they died?
Another sob bubbles out of him and he finally just lets it happen. He feels guilty, dropping more bullshit on Clem when she's already hurting plenty. He wishes he could keep it together for her but he needs to let go of something or he's going to break worse than he already is. So this is what he lets go of- his shoulders shake as he sobs against her.
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It is not his fault that she hurts. Hurting comes from caring, from loving (There was a time where she worried that made her weak, vulnerable, but she doesn't worry about that anymore). She loves him. It is worth it to hurt with him, to hurt at his loss, to hurt at seeing him hurt. It is so worth it to feel that instead of the emptiness of not caring, the recklessness of having nothing to lose.
She winds one arm around his back, and she holds the back of her head with her other arm, pulling him in close until his face is pressed against her. Her chin rests on top of his head.
And her heart aches at his every sob. The first one has her expression crumpling briefly before she takes in a deep breath and steadies herself. Her fingertips dig into his back as if to say fiercely that she won't let him be taken away like that again. Not ever.
(A promise, she knows, she can't keep).
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He does eventually still, though- his sobs turning to sniffles as he pulls himself back together as best he can. His pieces are still jagged and wrong- he needs to take longer to put himself back properly. For now, he'll just have to settle with almost together. Clementine being here has made all the difference. Without her... well, without her he would have been a lost cause as soon as the Delta came knocking. She makes him better, stronger, just by existing around him. Felling her fingers press against him is all he needs to get as close to 'not completely and irreparably broken' as he can.
He takes a deep, shaky breath in, before pulling back a little, giving her a small, tired smile. There's an instinct to apologise- to try and hide away what he was feeling- remnants of a time when the Ericson staff made broken kids feel worse about themselves while calling it healing. He pushes it down through. He knows Clementine won't accept an apology - and rightfully so.
"Thanks," yeah, that's better. "I guess I needed that. Never really thought I'd have to deal with this kinda fallout."
His own death. You're supposed to have your ticket punched and your part in dealing with that fallout is done. You're not around to deal with the rest of it. But here he is, having died and come back (and turned in-between) and now he needs to try and figure out how a person is supposed to deal with that. And he feels guilty about feeling bad for himself- grieving his own life when his loved one has had to grieve it for real. Grieve him. How is anyone supposed to deal with any of this?
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She appreciates he does not apologize. She would not want it. Not for an instant, not for a moment.
And she doesn't even really need a thanks but it is an acknowledgement of what passed between them.
Her voice is soft when she finally speaks.
"No one should have to deal with it- with dying," Clementine says, shaking her head, and she does understand how it feels. She releases a slow and careful breath, eyes closing.
She's tired.
"More shit happened... after. But I can tell you after you get some rest if you want."
Or now. It's up to him. It's okay to choose either way.
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He considers her offer. There's a temptation to shut everything out. To ignore it all and pretend it's not real. But that's what old Louis would do- the Louis still believing what Marlon told him, the Louis who stuck his fingers in his ears and sang loudly enough until whatever was bothering him went away. He's not that way... not any more.
"I don't think I could rest even if I wanted to," he feels awful but sleep is far beyond him. "...What happened?"
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It is far emptier than it should be. That's how she feels too.
"I'm not sure. There was a video that came over the network with the White Queen. Someone found all the stones, and there was a snap. The Jabberwocky was there all of a sudden, but-"
That hardly seems as important as the fact that: "A lot of people just turned to ash."
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"The- the big dragon thing? Was that here before? Is it being here a bad thing? It sounds like it's a bad thing."
And can they maybe have less bad things for a change, Wonderland? That'd be nice. Having less horror in their lives. The ash things settle on him quietly, Juliet had said something like that might happen if they lost. He guesses that means they lost.
"Uh. How- how many? Do you know who?"
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"It's bad. It was here before, infecting people's dreams." She's not an expert on it. The last time she read the story was a long time ago. "It's hungry, hungrier than walkers. A whole helluva lot stronger than them too."
She swallows at the other question, and then shakes her head.
"I don't know. A lot. I saw Steven go-" Her eyes close, and she breathes in and then breathes out. Her eyes open once more, and she finds a steady place to stand on somehow in the midst of all this uncertainty and pain, fear and grief. It's an ugly mix like a boulder within. "I can't get a hold of Michonne. A lot of people are just- They're gone."
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Just when he thinks Wonderland can't make anything worse for them, it goes ahead and pulls shit like this. He's starting to wonder if home, as shitty and terrible as it is, is actually the better option. At least they know what they're doing back home. They know danger is going to come from walkers or other people. You can plan around that. You can't plan for some magical dragon lizard thing. Jesus.
It settles on him like a weight. Steven's gone. Steven's a good kid, he reminds Louis of Tenn- and that is a wound that's nowhere near even starting to heal. The thought that another sweet, gentle kid has been wiped out of existence makes his stomach churn. Fuck.
"Michonne?" that's the one that hurts the worst though, fear drips into his expression. "Do you- do you think that happened to her? The dust thing?"
Not Michonne. She's been the first adult he's truly trusted for years. The first one he's really let into his life again. She's like a mother to him, and the thought of her being gone... it makes everything else a hundred times worse.
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They'll have to prepare for what is going to come. They can't just let it happen. But for now, she has to reveal this painful reality to him. She has to tell him that so many people they cared about disappeared in a moment. They turned to ash after she had already died, and-
Clementine would never lie to him even if it means hurting him more, hurting him on top of the rest of the pain and brokenness that he is feeling. Something in her chest tightens.
"Yeah, I do. If she was still alive, she'd be here right now to make sure you were alive again, breathing again," Clementine says, and Michonne is not here so that can only mean one thing: She's gone. She turned to ash or she was killed, but she is not alive right now.
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"Right... yeah."
His heart sinks. This whole thing is utter bullshit. He knows they'll come back- he came back, so it stands to reason they would, too. That's what Wonderland did, right? Brought everyone back. But the fact they return doesn't ease the fact they died any. Instinctively, he reaches out to take one of her hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Comfort, for as much her as him.
"What a shitty fucking week."
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"Yeah. Shitty fucking week."
The shittiest since they got back, the shittiest day in her Wonderland stay so far, and she's including the day that she died and the time that she got a bit drunk, because she was struggling so much with all of it.
"The shittiest."
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"Winner of the Shittiest Week Ever Award," he agrees. "Still not as shitty as home, but it's making a damn good run for that one right now."
He leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. He's already so very sorry that he left her. That he put her in a position where she had to put him down. But he knows not to voice that- it wouldn't do either of them any good. But this little comfort- he can give her, and hopes it's enough.
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She wants to stay in this moment with him.
She wants to press her ear close to his chest to hear his heartbeat and hear him breathing.
And know that he is alive.
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"Yeah. I think that's a good plan."
He doesn't want to face going out there just yet- dealing with just how many people have died. He isn't ready to even start putting on a smile for anyone else, he just needs a little time to regroup. He closes his eyes, not sleeping just- tuning out for a little while. Just having a short span of time where it was just him and her and nothing else mattered just for goddamn once.