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Survival Isn't An Option	By : Pilgrim Category: S through Z > The Walking Dead Views: 6774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters from the series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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          They hadn’t spoken since the map, silence weighing heavily between them. Nothing had happened in the hours since, no walkers, no humans and no Daryl. Isabelle couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. In one way she was desperate to see him and in another she never wanted Daryl and Nathaniel to meet. If he got to reset his past, then she wanted the same courtesy. All of her mistakes erased from the annals of times, all memory of her flaws shirked. The only reminder of them was walking alongside her. Isabelle glanced across at him nervously. Was his life, his shattered and broken mental state worth risking her fresh start?
          Instantly she felt sick to her stomach and turned her attention back to the train tracks. The world and all that was in it might have changed since they were last together but she was no cold blooded killer… not yet anyway. Her eyes trailed along the train line and she faltered, not quite believing her eyes. Up ahead was an old train depot, open and sprawling. Warehouses lit up from the inside by candles or electricity she couldn’t discern and she didn’t care. It meant there were people there, possibly the group… more than likely Daryl.
Isabelle smiled with relief as she glanced over at Nathaniel, looking equally relieved and slightly worse for wear after the long hike. The sun had just hit the horizon and they hadn’t seen anywhere to take shelter that would have suited them both. There had been plenty of trees but Nathaniel had been less than keen on the idea of clambering up a trunk and resting on a branch. They had almost come to verbal blows again with his passionate refusal and her fear of being caught on the ground in the dark. Walkers or humans… even dogs were dangerous and the best way to avoid them was to stay out of their way.
They paused to look at it, Isabelle refusing to hurry forwards until they got a lay of the land. Her anxiety to be back safe behind a fence was almost overpowering and she could feel Nathaniel twitching nervously next to her. High chain-link fences with barbed wire encircling their upper levels, an open courtyard with vegetable plots and shelters and further back were the old warehouses and depots. Clearly they had been redesigned to serve the group that now resided there. Her fingers found Nathaniel’s and she squeezed them, he squeezed back with a grin barely visible in the failing light.
“We made it, they’ll be in there. The group, they’ll…. We’re safe…” Isabelle laughed quietly in disbelief. “Come on, before the sun sets completely.”
          At a rapid pace, no longer caring about the amount of noise they made they hurried through the undergrowth in the most direct path and jogged over the open stretch of train track. The promise of safety proving too much for both of them in those last moments. Her fingers locked through the wire fence and for a moment she wondered whether to shout or just try and get through but there was a padlock holding it closed. Nathaniel called out first, his voice cracked and hoarse with desperation and Isabelle joined him. They were so close to safety, even one more second on the wrong side of the fence was too long. A man appeared, looking bleary eyed and hurried towards them, a rifle slung over his shoulder.
“Hold on a second,” He muttered, pulling a key from his pocket. “There we go, in you come.”
          Isabelle smiled widely as she stepped through and peace raced through her veins as the gate rattled closed. “Thank you, is this… is this Terminus?”
“Hey, um yeah… welcome to Terminus!” The man declared jovially. “Er… we’re not used to people arriving so late. Normally they travel during the light hours. Come this way, we’ll get you some bedding and get you settled for the night. Welcomes can be sorted in the morning; you must be exhausted.”
“Are they here?” Isabelle demanded.
“Who?” The man looked at her curiously over his shoulder as they headed further into the building complex.
“The prison group… Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie… um…” Isabelle rattled off names as they walked further through.
“Oh… oh yeah, they arrived a couple days ago. They’re uh…” The man spluttered through the explanation and Isabelle paused. Her hand trailed to her dagger as a sickening chill settled in her stomach as she recognised the uncomfortable sensation of pending danger.
“Where are they?” She demanded, the click of a gun caught her attention and she glanced up at the roof.
          Snipers looked down at them, every barrel focused on them. Isabelle swallowed, her gut sinking further into the cold sensation. She glanced back at Nathaniel, a gun to his head and his hands raised. Slowly she lifted her hands away from the dagger, hoping to not draw attention to it in the half-light but it was too late, she knew they’d already seen. Why else would they have raised their guns? “We don’t want any trouble, you just stay there and we’ll relieve you of your possessions. Safety first, you know. So hold your hands up, where I can see them and no one gets hurt.”
          Isabelle glowered as the shadows revealed more people, each of them with a weapon trained on her and Nathaniel. Two women stepped up and stripped the leather jacket from her as they snapped the rucksacks from Nathaniel. Without warning he launched a terrified punch, sending one of the women to the floor in silence. Isabelle jerked at the sound of several guns going off and waited for the pain to register but nothing did. The heavy thunk of something falling made her turn, Nathaniel sprawled on his hands and knees, hands over his stomach and the slow spread of blood blooming between his fingers. He stared at her in disbelief as he rolled over in agony groaning. Isabelle kept her hands raised, the woman pulled the dagger from her belt and pushed her ahead.
“No, wait… please, what are you going to go with him?” Isabelle shouted desperately.
“He’s coming with you,” The woman nearest snapped, pushing her shoulder roughly.
          Isabelle stumbled onwards hearing the unsteady shuffle of Nathaniel behind her. She rested her hands on her head, wondering what to do, how to overcome this… where was the group? Where was Daryl? Had they been killed or had they known this was a trap and avoided it. She stumbled as she glanced back at Nathaniel again. A man grabbing her arm as they neared a train carriage. It stank of blood and decay and she balked only for him to slam the back of her head with his gun. Her senses reeled and she fell to the floor only to be pulled back upright by the scruff of her shirt. A rattle of metal being rolled aside and she was thrown unceremoniously into the carriage. She rolled into the wall and groaned at the conflicting pain between her head and her waist. The thump of another body echoed with the rattle of the closing door.
“So… not your group?” Nathaniel mumbled weakly.
“What was your first clue?” Isabelle snapped as she scrambled over to him in the dim light.
          She tugged her shirt off and wrapped it about his waist in an attempt to slow the blood flow. Only to hear him chuckle in pained amusement as she pulled it tighter. She sat back on her heels and glared through the darkness.
“No use Isabelle, we both know what this means,” Nathaniel snorted in disgust at his luck.
“You’re not going to die,” Isabelle snapped tearing a section of his shirt and working it into a pad.
“It’s pierced my stomach,” Nathaniel groaned.
“Isabelle?” A familiar voice whispered out from the other end of the train carriage.
          In the darkness Isabelle reached for her dagger before remembering the group had stolen everything. Vainly she raised her fists, curling her blood stained fingers in and dropping the pad onto Nathaniel’s lap. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Maggie…” Maggie’s voice finally registered. “Glenn’s here too and Sasha and Bob. We also gained a few friends.”
“Friends?” Isabelle felt her fingers twitch reflexively into fists again before she consciously forced them to relax.
“Contrary to popular circumstance, we don’t mean you or your friend any harm,” A voice called from the back.
“What’s… who’s that?” Glenn motioned towards Nathaniel who still hadn’t moved or responded.
“Um Nathaniel, he’s… it’s a long story,” Isabelle started. “He’s been shot, do any of you by chance have any medical training?”
“Yeah, I’ll take a look… or as much as I can in this light,” Bob mumbled as he shuffled forwards.
          Isabelle backed away, watching over the exchange cautiously although the pair kept their words low. She glanced across at the small group that now found themselves contained in a train carriage of all things. The new men and woman were watching her curiously. She turned her attention back to Nathaniel, there would be enough time to make friends and enemies later. Right now, she needed her old friend alive and well. After a few more minutes Bob stood up, laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.
“Are you joking?” Isabelle hissed at him.
“The bullet’s in his abdomen Isabelle,” Bob muttered, squeezing gently. “The blood’s not slowing so it’s hit something major. He’ll be lucky to make it to the morning. Best we can do is make him comfortable.”
“He can’t die,” Isabelle snapped, brushing past and kneeling in front of Nathaniel. “You hear me, I need you. You have to be here, remind me of who I was, who I am and where I’m going.”
“It’s no use Isabelle,” Nathaniel’s voice wheezed through the pain. “If I don’t bleed out then the stomach acid will finish the job. I’d rather bleed out than be dissolved from the inside out.”
“You want me to take it off?” Isabelle whispered despairingly.
“Please, remove the bandage and let me pass quietly and peacefully,” Nathaniel rasped.
“You can’t go,” Isabelle struggled to control her fear and anxiety. “I need you, you’re…”
“Part of the past, like you said,” Nathaniel struggled to sit more upright. “You don’t need the past Isabelle. You’re going to survive this and you found your group.”
          Isabelle quirked her lip in amusement. Out of everyone she was the least likely to survive. “I really doubt that Nathaniel,” Isabelle sank against the wall next to him.
“You’ll be one of the last standing from what I’ve seen. Whoever this Daryl is… he’s made you a better person,” Nathaniel sucked in a shaky breath. “You never know maybe this apocalypse will be the making of you too.”
          Isabelle rested her head against his shoulder, felt him lean against her and the strength draining steadily from his body. He was clearly delirious. Tears threatened but she fought them back. This wasn’t about her loss; she wasn’t the one dying. Her fingers threaded into his, she brushed away the beginnings of tears and he squeezed weakly in comfort. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, slick with sweat from the pain.
“I want to see the dawn one last time,” Nathaniel whispered against her cheek.
“No problem, you just keep breathing and I’ll sort out the rest,” Isabelle whispered back, pressing her forehead to his.
          Someone passed her a folded up shirt and she arranged it behind Nathaniel’s head before resting against him and letting his weight sink into her. Her hand still interlocked with his. It didn’t matter what they’d said only hours ago, words driven by anger and passion and stress. He was still the last tattered remnant of her past, the last living person who could share memories of her family, of the happy times in the company. Her eyes glanced at his but he was already asleep, fitfully twitching in pain and his eyes scrunching against whatever he was seeing in his minds eyes. The others had retreated to the other end of the carriage, giving them some privacy. Isabelle looked at their joined hands before letting her own eyes closed.
She dozed fitfully, waking every time he made an irregular movement which got more frequent the closer they got to dawn. Sweat was beading on his forehead and his breathing was laboured and bubbling. Isabelle pushed aside her fear and knelt next to him, letting his hand fall limply away. He was going to drown in his own blood. She glanced across at his slack mouthed expression, he was awake but hardly conscious of the world. Right now she would have given anything for something to put him out of his misery. This was no way to die, drowning in blood. Carefully she pressed a kiss to his lips, fighting down the urge to burst into tears.
“This isn’t the way to go Nathaniel. I’m going to do what I can to help, it’s nearly dawn and it’s beautiful. The sun’s just starting to crest the horizon in reds and golds like Bianca painted on my old pointe shoes. You know the ones hung in your study,” She whispered against his ear. “There’s deer in the forest, peacefully grazing by a stream as the light changes to a deeper crimson.”
          He was barely conscious, struggling for breath. Squeezing her lips together to stop from crying out in horror she pinched his nose closed and pressed the shirt tightly over his mouth. His eyes met hers for a moment, something akin to gratitude in his expression before they rolled backwards as he started to twitch involuntarily. Isabelle pressed herself over his now jerking body, it wasn’t him resisting but his body fighting to stay alive. It felt like an eternity but finally the movements stopped and she cried openly, aching to her core with despair and horror at what she’d just done. Blank eyes met hers, blood stained her skin and bra, her shirt still pressed over his mouth as she stumbled backwards. The back of her arm pressed over her mouth to stop the nausea.
          The silence rang in her ears; louder than any noise she had heard before. She’d not only lost him, she’d killed him. Her hands had stopped his life’s breath, stopped his heart. Stumbling backwards she slid down the opposite wall, staring at the corpse of the last remnant of her old life. Pulling her knees up she pressed her eyes into the bones and bawled. She hadn’t cried like this since she was a kid, pure emotion poured out, all the stress, the anger, the loss, and the despair. Arms wrapped about her, more than one pair and she suspected the small group she’d forgotten about had seen everything as light began to pour more freely into the carriage through poor excuses for gaps.
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Survival Isn't An Option