Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

Clementine nursed her sore arm and cursed the dog that bit her half-heartedly. She held her right for arm close to her body and her left hand hovered over it as if that could stop the pain or at least protect it from more damage. She knew it was a bit silly but she didn't really care.

It had been a few days since she ate, two to be exact but at least she hadn't run in to any walkers. Her gun was at her hip but she was pitifully low on ammo. She'd probably do better foraging somewhere else but had to admit to herself that she didn't want to stray too far from the camp in case Christa returned. She was strong and could take care of herself but no one no matter how old and powerful could survive alone for long. Lee had taught her that.

Something had snapped her from her reverie. A dark skinned woman with shoulder length locks and a sword strapped to her back was slowly approaching her, making a lot of noise (for someone whose survived the walkers this long). How had she not noticed her before?

"Who... Who are you?" Clementine asked. She'd learned a long time ago that playing the sheepish little girl made desent people trust her more.

"I'm Michonne," the woman said with a smile. It seemed forced but not unfriendly. The woman, Michonne, noticed Clementine's injured arm and unconsciously reached for her weapon. "Are you bit?"

Clementine's eyes widened as she shook her head. "It was a dog. It's a few days old." Michonne stepped closer to her but Clementine backed away.

"I just want to help you...?"

"Clementine," the little girl offered.

"I want to help you, Clementine. I'm sorry if I frightened you but one can never be too careful these days."

"Just don't try anything," Clem warned, warily but she met Michonne halfway so the woman could inspect her wound.

After a minute of gently holding Clem's wrist and searching with her eyes, she seemed satisfied. "It is a few days old," Michonne conceded. "If it were a walker bite the fever would have set in by now. You'd probably be a walker by now actually." Michonne stopped suddenly, afraid she might be scaring the girl, but Clementine seemed unfazed. "I'm no doctor but my group has one. If you come back with me he coulf get you patched up. If it is infected, we may even be able to spare some antibiotics."

Clementine looked torn. "Actually I've been looking fro someone... Christa. Have you seen a woman around here?"

Michonne shook her head. "No, but if you'd have a better chance of surviving to find her if you come with me, even if your arm wasn't potentially infected."

Clementine knew she was right but leaving the area still felt like she was abandoning Christa. They both had lost so much but she would have no chance of finding her friend if she died out here. "Do... Do you have anything to eat?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Greene?" Suddenly Clementine felt 8 years old again. That last time she'd seen the man, he was kicking her and the others off of his farm for the death of his son. She understood, but the memory of her fear at that moment was enough to still her.

"Clementine?" Herschel smiled. "Clementine, I'm glad you're ok. Let me take a look at that arm." Clementine did not move for a moment before walking sullenly towards him, arm outstretched.

Michonne raised an eyebrow at the somewhat frosty reunion. "I found her wandering a forest on her own. She was seperated from her friend."

"Lee?" Herschel asked and Clementine's breathing hitched. Of course he hadn't seen her since Lee, Duck, Kenny and Katjaa were still alive. "No," she responded emotionlessly. "He's dead. So's Duck, Katjaa and Kenny." She hissed as he cleaned the bite with warm water.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said with a glance up to Michonne as she watched on silently.

"I," Clementine began. "I'm sorry-" Herschel didn't let her finish.

"No sorry is necessary. It wasn't your fault and I've made my peace with it."

If Michonne was curious, she didn't show it. She was only going to stay with the girl until she was settled before returning to her search for supplies. A familiar face was good enough for her.

"I'm going out for more things for Judith."

"Send Carl back here, will you?" Michonne nodded.

"Can I have my gun back?" Clementine asked with an irritated edge to het voice. The woman had taken it without telling her when she could have it back.

Michonne deferred to Herschel before leaving. "You don't need a gun here, Clementine." The look on her face was skeptical as she eyed the pistol on his hip. He sighed. "We don't really arm the children here with more than a knife, if anything. You'll have to prove your aptitude with it first."

"And how am I supposed to do that without wasting bullets and not being allowed a gun?"

"We'll see," Herschel replied in the same voice he used to quiet his rowdy children.

The girl did nothing but fume.

"You needed me Herschel?" Clementine turned to who she presumed to be Carl. She'd seen other kids her age on her way into the jail but he must have been somewhere inside. He couldn't have been much older than her and wasn't much taller but he seemed a lot older than the kids playing in the yard.

"Yes, Son. Almost finished with your stitches, Clementine." He was quietly impressed by how little she reacted as he sewed her up. "We have a new resident. If you want to stay..."

Clem nodded. This was her best option for now. Plus, she doubted whether the adults would let her leave even if she wanted. Despite her wishes, it was all about keeping their conscience clear.

"Good. I'm all finished. Carl, could you show her to a spare cell? And then maybe show her around and introduce her to the others."

Carl nodded. "Okay." He was about to lead her out but seemed to remember something. "Did you ask her the three questions?"

"What three questions?" Clem asked as she looked between the old man and her new guide.

"Carl, there's no need. We're not gonna turn her loose. She's just a kid."

Carl looked like he was going to argue, but thought better of it. All he said was, "In this world, age has nothing to do with." He walked out quickly, letting Clementine play catch up.

"Bye, Mr. Greene." Herschel nodded at her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Katie: they were never going to hate each other, just be wary. Clem and Carl have bothe been scarred and find it hard to trust. At least that's how I play Clem in the game.**

"You can put your stuff here," Carl said.

Clementine started. He'd made no effort to talk to her during the short walk so she zoned out. She'd been thinking about what he'd said to Herschel. "What questions?" She blurted out.

It was Carl's turn to jump. He looked puzzled for a moment before it hit him. "The questions. My dad asks three questions before a new person can join the group. Herschel doesn't want to because most of us wouldn't turn away a kid who's been on her own." Clem nodded. "Me," Carl added. "I think that's the best reason to ask."

He and Clementine had a silent staring match, each one looking for something unknown in the other. The girl blinked first. "Well are you gonna ask me the questions?" She stood with her good arm akimbo.

"No point. Unless I swore you were the devil himself they wouldn't kick you out."

Clementine thought for a moment. "Why do you ask these questions?"

"To see if you're a good person."

"So if you ask me these at least you'd know I'm good."

"Or bad."

"Or bad," Clem, conceded.

Carl thought it over for a moment. He looked at her defiant stance and her eyes. She had a look that he couldn't quite place. "How many walkers have you killed?"

Clem looked genuinely surprised by this. "I... I don't know. It's been a long time... I didn't keep count."

Carl nodded. He hadn't really kept track of his walker kills either. "How many living people have you killed?"

Clem paled but seemed to expect one like this. "T-two." Clementine couldn't tell if Carl was surprised or not.

"Why?" He asked simply.

"This man... He kidnapped me. He was going to hurt Lee. I... I had..." She trailed off. "And then my friend. He was bit. He was going to turn if I didn't. He didn't want that and neither did I."

It was silent between them for a moment as she watched Carl digest her story. She was expecting a verdict but he didn't seem like he was interested in giving one. She finally prompted him. "So can I stay?"

" 's not my decision," he said simply.

"I know. But if it were yours? Would you let me stay?"

"...Yes. Put your stuff down if you want. Then I'll show you around." He turned away and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

She'd seen personal items hanging around the other cells and wondered briefly if should put up Lee's picture. She decided against it for the time being. It still hurt too much. "Carl?" She called after she'd stuffed her back pack under her bunk.

"Yeah?"

"How many people have you killed?"


End file.

Walking Dead, Family, Hurt-Comfort