Chapter 2
Harry's hiss has the little hairs on the back of Zoey's neck standing on end.
It was so quiet in the area that she really didn't expect anything to happen today, either. Harry remained vigilant at all times, to the point of alarming paranoia. He's always expecting something to happen. Somehow, Zoey had fallen into the habit of relying on Harry's instincts to guide her instead of learning how to rely on her own. Harry had been trying but Zoey had been too busy learning everything else to listen.
She resolves to start trying.
"I hear something, sounds weird. I can't make out what it is. Sounds far but getting closer."
She looks at him and nods. He doesn't say anything to her directly, concentrating hard on something too distant for Zoey to pick up. Then-she does hear it, feeling fear creeping into her shoulders. A distant rumbling sound. Whatever it is, it can't be good.
"We need a hiding place, we can't be seen. Where? Where?"
Zoey is also glancing around when Harry goes quiet, an elbow to her side prompting her to look. His eyes are straight up and she follows his gaze, seeing the open window above them. Zoey knows if Harry boosts her up into that window, that she'll be temporarily out of his sphere of influence. She can't rush getting in until she's sure nothing is inside. She nods in understanding to his silent question and he shifts into position. She steps into his hand and lifts her up, causing butterflies to whoosh through her stomach at the swift rise. She ducks her head through, hissing, "It's a kitchen!" and bangs her knife against the frame, counting the seconds in her head.
15… 14… 13… 12… 11… 10…
She starts to relax as no movement occurs but she dutifully counts down further. Harry would be furious if she broke one of their rules on entering unsecured places.
9… 8… 7… 6… 5…
Her heart pounds harder and harder at the growing sounds, getting clearer and clearer with every second she counts down. Harry doesn't waver once, waiting patiently for her to determine the house is safe. Even though they have precious little time, he doesn't rush her.
4… 3… 2… 1… Okay!
Zoey quickly hauls herself in, clearing the window as fast as possible. The rumble of many engines has her terrified it might be the army. Harry grunts and his fingers appear on the sill. If she wasn't so anxious, she would be seriously impressed at his strength as he pulls himself up and into the kitchen. She's quick to catch his head and winces as the rest of his stocky body crashes to the floor.
Just in time, the rumbling of engines peaks… and the resulting silence is almost deafening. Zoey glances at Harry, taking in his wide eyes and knows they are in really bad trouble. Her heart is beating so hard, she's surprised it doesn't hop right out of her chest.
"Spread out! If you find anything good, bring it out!"
Zoey nearly whimpers, just managing to control a flinch.
"Fuck I hope I find a hole to fuck! At this point, I just don't give a fuck what kind!"
"God, me too."
Zoey feels a new kind of terror creep into her chest and stomach. These are not good people.
"Hey, Frank," the voice sounds mocking. "You think we have a chance of finding that magical healer boy Jacob mentioned?"
Oh no. Oh no. Zoey can't help the incredible urge to clutch at Harry's arm. How do they know about Harry? Does she remember this Jacob? She wracks her brain but it keeps shooting complete blanks, too scared to think clearly.
"Wouldn't that be something?"
Harry starts whispering furiously, "If they find us, I'll fight them and you go back-"
“I’m telling you guys, he’s real. Just because I haven’t-”
Zoey's terror is muted by her rising indignation and anger at the order to leave her brother behind. Hell fucking- "No! Not-"
“Stupidly gotten bit yet doesn’t mean I’m not immune!”
"Zoey," Harry cuts her off harshly. "These are men and I'm afraid you are a girl." He says it so matter of factly that Zoey can't even argue. "A young, very pretty girl. Please, please run home, okay?" She immediately catches on, knowing what Harry is hinting at but remains determined to stay with him, though his pleading tone chips away at her resolve.
“Okay, Jacob. Whatever you say, man.”
"I can't fight my hardest if I'm worried about you at the same time,” Harry whispers almost desperately.
“Shut the fuck up already!”
Indignant anger takes over again, "I can fight!"
Harry's eyes flash, piercing right through Zoey as he snaps, "No, you can't!" Zoey rears back, feeling offended. His denial hurts, because she's been trying and now she feels like he isn't taking her seriously! "Not against this kind of opponent. They are all very cruel men and you are a small girl they will have no problem picking up one handed." The slight to her size is like a heavy stone in her stomach but she knows he's right. She barely reaches his collarbone, how the hell is she going to help against however many men are out there? "I promise, one day I'll turn to you for backup but right now, we are outnumbered and outgunned. I bloody need you to run the hell home, understand?"
Zoey feels every word like an impact to her chest. She desperately tries to find an argument but the rattling of the knob makes her blood freeze. Harry's hand grips her leg to still her, the contact like an anchor in her raging fear. She nearly has a heart attack but it's stopped by the, "Fucking bolt."
She releases the breath she was holding in her fear, hearing Harry do the same. Harry pushes her towards the back door and she goes, flinching at the angry kick and hiss of pain. She crawls to her feet and makes a break for the back door as quietly as possible, knowing Harry is right on her tail. The sight of the back door makes her heart leap but the man that walks in makes her stop short, crouching to try to stop faster. A whoosh of air over her head and Harry sails right into the stranger. Zoey can barely believe Harry jumped over her.
"What the-fuck!"
Zoey whimpers when Harry grabs the man's head and viciously shoves it into the doorframe. The man limps instantly and Zoey doesn't even know if the man is even still alive. Oh God.
"Harry…" Zoey says quietly, shocked at her core.
Harry grabs her hand just as she hears, "Did you hear that?"
"Jacob?" Someone else calls out.
"Come on!" Harry hisses at her, yanking her out the back door. He pulls her through the yard and they nearly make it to the really tall fence, how in the hell are they going to get over it, when yelling catches her attention. She looks and sees one pointing at them, the other running to catch up.
Zoey squeaks when she's picked up, how strong is he?! Harry hisses menacingly, "Go straight home!"
She tries to protest, "Har-aah!" But he winds back and then throws her over the fence. She feels the harsh wood swipe under her and then Harry disappears. She lands with a grunt and hiss, taking a quick, hurried glance around for any threats. There are some Biters further down the alley but they haven't noticed her yet.
"Come here, you-"
Zoey whirls back around, pressing her face flush against a crack in the fence, looking into the yard. She startles when a man suddenly appears, being thrown to the ground. She watches in morbid fascination as Harry cruelly wrenches the man's arm out of its socket. Her stomach turns at his blank, expressionless face. Harry isn't particularly expressful at the best of times but she never seen him so…
Cold. Hard.
The man's scream is cut off when Harry winds his foot back and drives it into the man's head. Zoey claps her hand over her mouth to stifle any sounds as she watches her brother sprint at the other man. The shot scares her so badly, missing her head by a foot, that it's only her hand that keeps the Biters down the way from noticing her as they shuffle into an open yard further down. Her heart pounds hard as she watches Harry fight for his life. He gets his hands on the man's head and begins forcefully bashing the head into the ground. Zoey sees the third man sigh and shake his head. A fourth man comes around, falling into step with the third. They approach Harry as he turns his head and bites down on a flailing hand. She can't even call out a warning, her hand pressed tightly to her face to muffle the cries as her brother is pulled off and beaten to the ground.
The third points at the man Harry had been trying to hurt and then stalks over to Harry with a demented grin in place. The fourth checks the downed man as the third, apparently the leader, reaches down and grasps Harry's shirt, brutally kicking him in the stomach. Harry gasps as the man spits out, "Fucking kid! Stupid piece of shit!"
Zoey whimpers into her hand, tears streaming from her eyes as the man kicks Harry onto his back. She can barely mute her sobs, watching the man straddle and then start choking her brother.
"Strong kid, woulda made a great Viper but you just had to fuck with my guys," Zoey can't breathe as the man's face lights up with horrible glee. He croons to Harry, "That's it, you know yer gonna die. Just accept that darkness, go on now."
Harry's struggles weaken, his limbs flopping weakly as the horrible sounds of his choking torment Zoey's ears.
"I caught a peek of that delectable morsel you were trying to hide from us," Zoey goes absolutely still in shock, her eyes wide and unblinking. Harry's arms start to drop. His choking sounds get weaker. "I'm going to go find her and comfort her. She'll be so distraught that her boyfriend is dead and will need a… strong shoulder to cry on, if you know what I mean." The tone is so full of dark promise that Zoey forgets how to breathe.
These are men and I'm afraid you are a girl. A young, very pretty girl.
Zoey has no more time to think. Just as she thinks the man is going to kill her brother, Harry suddenly explodes. Zoey reels back from the fence, covering her face with her arm and ducking down. The fence weather's the outburst. What the fuck was that?!
When Zoey finally looks again, her heart climbs into her throat, seeing the fourth man straddling her brother. Harry isn't moving, except to pant, held down easily in his exhaustion. Zoey nearly whimpers when the man grasps Harry's head in one meaty fist and shoves his face into the ground. Zoey stifles herself again, just barely containing a whimper.
"-do we do with him?"
"Kill him. What the fuck else?"
"I don't know," Zoey sees him shift and pause, his face smoothing into something weird as he groans. "I did want a hole to fuck."
"You said you didn't care what kind."
Harry had been so worried over Zoey, rightfully she shamefully admits, that it never occurred to her to worry about the same thing happening to Harry. Her brother seems to catch on because he starts struggling. It's physically painful to watch Harry try to get away and not succeed.
"Hey wait. I know that kid."
The man that Harry had taken down first comes stumbling out of the house and takes a good look at Harry. Zoey doesn't recognize him but he recognizes Harry, confirming her brother's identity. The good news is that the man stops thrusting his hips into Harry's back. The bad news is that now they know who Harry is and what he looks like.
The man leans down over Harry's back, saying something to Harry that has him paling a few alarming shades. Then, he somehow manages to turn over, his hand connecting with the man's jaw, causing blood to spurt out. The sight of the crimson liquid snaps Zoey out of her numb horror just in time to look away and into the gaping maw of a Biter bearing down on her.
Somehow, somehow, Zoey keeps from screaming as she scrambles out of the way. Instead of fighting, her body tells her to get the fuck out of here now! For once, she listens, adrenalin surging through her limbs. Her feet catch a grip and then, she's gone, racing down the alley like the hounds of hell are on her heels.
Harry had told her many strategies to employ to lose her aggressors. None of them come to mind as she pumps her limbs and flies like the wind. The rumbling gets further away and then closer. She puts as much distance as she can between her and the bikers and nearly panics when she hears them getting closer again.
Zoey makes a hard turn into a yard, seeing the garage door off the ground by half a foot. She jumps and slides, just clearing the large door but catching her hand on the edge. Her hand smarts hard as she lays there, absolutely still and panting. The floor smells strongly of some kind of oil or gas but she cannot see anything within, the thin shaft of light from the bottom of the garage door her only source of light.
The sounds of the bike engines haunt her, one always sounding close by. They circle the area for hours and Zoey can do nothing. She can't do anything but lay on that garage floor and obsessively watch the thin window to the outside. In the ringing silence of the building, one set apart from the rumbling of the outside world, Zoey is haunted by the sounds of her brother being beaten down and choked. She stares out at the street beyond blankly, recalling how Harry's arms slowly lost the will to fight and slump down. Her numb horror as the man nearly murders her brother and she can do nothing at all to help.
She snaps out of her dark memories when the rumble of a bike comes too close. She covers her mouth, stifling the whimper that tried to escape as the black motorbike and rider come into view. Her eyes track him as he slowly drives by and then stops just before he disappears from view. He looks around, nearly right at her. Zoey suddenly places the man as the one that choked Harry and feels a fresh fissure of fear and terror slice right through her. This is the one that wants to…
The man shakes his head and rides on. Zoey's lungs refuse to work until the rumble is far enough away, wherein she finally takes in desperate gasps of air. She's shaking so badly, she idly wonders how her bones haven't turned into powder.
Oh God, she hopes Harry is okay…
Zoey is too terrified to move from the cover of the garage. Quieter than a mouse, no Biter stumbles upon her as the hours slunk by at an excruciating pace. All she can think about is Harry, the sounds coming back to torment her. The rumbling of the bikes keeps her in a perpetual state of terror that saps at her energy. By the time the rumbles fade away and Zoey feels safe enough to leave, it's getting dangerously dark and she's exhausted.
Zoey crawls out from the garage and stands, her arms and legs shaking. She takes a moment to shake them out, feeling them loosen from the stiff terror they had been in. Feeling a bit more calm, she half crouches and runs down the drive, peeking up and down the road. More Biters than she's used to, running it will have to be. Only, she doesn't know where she is.
The corner is two houses to her left, so Zoey takes one last look around and makes a break for it. She takes in the street and avenue and recalls the way home. She turns back around and bolts back up the road, dodging around the Biters now trying to reach for her. Being outside is now infinitely more terrifying now that she doesn't have Harry's steady security at her side. The faces of the Biters get progressively harder to see as the sun goes down and darkness descends.
By her mental map of the area, Zoey is just around the corner from the house. Home. Home is safe. She tucks her head, willing her legs to just hold on as she rounds the corner. She hears a strangled gasp and a yelp, raising her head just in time to crash into someone. A sob, unfamiliar in the familiar, has her sitting up immediately.
"Harry?" Please, let it be Harry. Please let him be okay. Please…
She flinches at the sheer fury in Harry's voice, "Zoey! What the bloody fucking shite are you still doing out here!!"
Zoey is overwhelmed with all of the fucking shit she's been dealing with that is encompassed by blinding relief. Harry is alive. He made it home! She's not alone! She's not hurt. Harry nearly fucking died trying to save her again.
"I'm sorry!!" She blurts out, reaching down blindly and finding his arm. It guides her to his shoulder and chest, where she grabs handfuls of his shirt. Then she hides her face in his chest and lets loose all the fear, terror and horror she was forced to keep bottled up. "I'm sorry!"
Zoey comes back to herself enough to feel his one arm over her back and his other over her head. She snuggles in closer, opening her mouth to spill out, "You were right! I'm sorry I didn't listen! I'm sorry, Harry!"
She feels Harry sigh, his body relaxing against the ground, "It's okay, Zo. You're okay. I'm okay. We're both okay." He pets her head with each okay, calming her nerves as she sobs anew. His other hand massages her back. He repeats the same thing over and over again, the vibrations soothing the building headache. When she feels numb and empty, she pulls back, trying to sniff her nose clear.
"You okay?" Harry asks as she sits up. She wipes her cheeks as he sits up slowly, air huffing out of his mouth entirely soundless.
She shakes her head, "I'm fine. Are you okay?"
It's too dark to see anything. Harry chuckles, a bit of a wheeze to the end of it, "I'm alive. I need you to go get Negan, okay?"
Zoey feels suddenly anxious, now wondering what made Harry yelp before she crashed into him. She tries in vain to look him over, "Why? What's wrong?"
"I can't get up and you are too small to carry my heavy ass, as I believe I heard you describe me," Harry tries to joke but the rasp to his tone made it not funny at all. "Hey, I'll be fine. Go get Negan."
All joking aside, Harry is right. She can't lift him. She nods and stands, murmuring, "Be right back."
Harry's voice is tight and ice cold, "Zoey, if you come back out, I'm going to be very angry with you."
A shiver of pure terror shoot up her spine and knows… knows she pushed Harry far too much today. She ran over the line of his patience and stomped all over it. As much as she wants to argue and come out anyway, she feels too far afloat to be testing the waters any further. She always wondered how far she could push his patience, since he seems to have an infinite amount and feels like it's something that should have stayed a mystery. The sharp sting of his disappointment pokes her in the back as she heads inside.
The door opens before Zoey reaches the bottom of the stairs. Lucille peeks out, her wariness draining into relief. She opens the door wider, the light beyond nearly blinding. Lucille takes in a sharp breath, "Zo! What's the matter?"
"Hon? Is that Harry and Zoey? About fucking time!"
Hearing their voices, Zoey feels the steep, fathomless void of utter relief. She almost crumples, crying moments before Lucille envelopes her in arms and love.
"Zoey? Where's Harry?" Negan asks urgently in a guarded tone. As if waiting to hear some bad news.
Zoey just barely surfaces from Lucille's shoulder to gasp out, "He's outside, he said he can't get up."
"Fuck!" Negan swears, shoving his feet into his shoes and yanking the leather jacket off the rack. He pulls it on as he dodges around them, his shoes thundering up the stairs in threes.
"Oh, honey, you're shaking. Let's get you inside."
Zoey let's Lucille pull her into the house, leaving the door wide open. She can't stop crying, her shaking worsening now that she knows she's safe. Not alone.
—
Zoey sniffs, sitting on the floor next to the couch. She's watching Harry sleep, like if she stares hard enough, he'll wake up. His ankle was set and Negan bound it between the ripped off chair legs from a spare chair, scowling at the horribly swelled flesh.
She told them everything that happened, too numb and despondent to even consider lying. Even Lucille expressed her disappointment in her, leaving Zoey feeling depressed and awkward. Every time they look her way, she drops her eyes to the floor. Even when her Dad was alive, Zoey never felt like this. She feels like she disappointed her parents.
Negan and Lucille talk quietly in the kitchen, the clack and clang of dishes being manipulated. Something hisses on the stove. Negan tends to the food and Lucille is packing up their excess dishes. They both decided that no more runs are to be made and that they will leave once Harry is up and strong enough to go. As a result, the preparations Lucille had planned for the next week or so are being done in a matter of hours. Lucille wants to come back for their stuff at some point down the road, so she's packing everything she wants to save and taking them to the attic.
Lucille had already cleared the walls and mantles of pictures. The movies and DVD machine are packed and set by the door. The place Zoey had come to see as home has become strange and weird. She would be more bothered by it but she's too tired. She can't sleep. The memories of the day refuse to let her close her eyes.
The sounds of Harry's choking.
The men laughing cruelly.
The promise of a strong shoulder to cry on.
The wrenching, tearing sound of the man's arm being dislocated forcefully from its socket and the sharp crack of skull giving way under the force of Harry's shoe.
She's seen and learned a lot today. She can't decide what bothers her more; Harry's cold efficiency in taking out the enemy or narrowly avoiding being… being…
"Zoey, come eat," Negan calls out.
"I'm not hungry."
"Zoey, now," Lucille says, sounding firm and unyielding. Zoey sighs and stands, padding into the kitchen and sitting at the table moodily. A plate of food is set down in front of her and she picks up her fork to pick at the steaming pile unenthusiastically. Negan sets plates down for both him and Lucille, drawing his wife into her chair to eat as well.
Zoey pokes her food, watching the sauce stick to her fork. She glances up at the couple, holding their free hands together on top of the table. If they had been loving before, it was nothing compared to them now. Her eyes trail away to the couch, only able to see the top tuft of hair over the back of it. She feels terrible that Harry didn't have enough energy to heal himself. Negan told her he passed out from the pain. Zoey never suffered from a broken bone before but it looks painful. It's even the same ankle Harry broke in the crash.
"Zo? You alright?"
Zoey returns her attention to her food, poking it again as she peeks up at them and nods. She doesn't try to eat any, though.
"You need your strength, kid," Negan says around a bite of food. "Harry needs you at your best."
"My best isn't good enough," Zoey mumbles, pushing her food around.
"Your best is only defined by you," Negan returns wisely, pointing his fork right at her. "I don't see a quitter in front of me. I see a winner."
"Winners don't freeze in fear when something bad happens," Zoey mutters in self disgust.
"Winners are just as prone to fear as losers are," Negan replies, shrugging. "The star quarterback one year had a phobia for bugs. The things were barely a hundredth of his size yet he screams like a girl when one lands on him. If he wasn't so good at football, the boy would be teased mercilessly for it."
"What Negan is trying to say is that even small things can be scary to someone," Lucille inserts with a smile. "And the fact that you are scared of it doesn't define who you are."
Zoey drops her fork, "Harry keeps getting hurt because of me."
"No, he's getting hurt for you," Negan corrects.
Both Lucille and Zoey look at him in askance. He glances at both and shrugs, "What? If it was her fault, then it's because of her. As far as I'm concerned, they had really shitty luck at the worst time. That's not a crime and it's no one's fault. Ergo, Harry chose to bear the hurt so Zoey doesn't have to."
"He needs to stop," Zoey's voice wavers as she glances back over at the couch.
"If he stops, then you'll be hurt," Negan says, matter of fact.
"Then let me!" Zoey snaps, slamming her hand on the table. It startles Lucille but Negan faces the rising volcano with a sarcastically risen brow.
"Oh, yeah, like that makes it better," Negan snorts.
"What do you know?" Zoey snips with a sneer.
"I know that Harry is the kind of guy to keep protecting you until you can protect yourself," Negan explains patiently, moving his food around and spearing a share. "No matter how many times he's beaten down, he will keep getting up to defend you." Zoey drops her eyes to the table, unable to even refute it. "Over and over and over. Even until he dies because he just isn't the kind of guy to leave his loved ones defenceless. So," Negan says lightly, eating another bite. "Maybe instead of lamenting about his inability to let you get hurt, you can concentrate on learning how to defend yourself so he doesn't have to."
Zoey stands from the table, just barely seeing Negan's hand tighten on Lucille's as she turns and stomps away.
"Negan, that was a little harsh, don't you think?"
"Oh, and say what, Lu? I'm sorry Harry didn't let those men get you, maybe try harder next time?" Negan's tone is heavily laced with sarcasm. "Harry said no coddling. You owe me some sugar if you hear Harry say the same thing."
A sigh, "It's called tact, Mister Obvious."
Their voices disappear behind the bathroom door. Zoey takes out her braids, nearly ripping at the strands, Negan's voice echoing in her head. What the hell does he know?
It's not like Zoey isn't acutely aware of how useless she is. She's trying! She's been trying harder than ever, now that she has a better understanding of what kind of people are out there. But now she realizes she was pretty naive and sheltered for believing she's seen the worst. A strong shoulder to cry on.
Pulling too hard, Zoey rips out a few strands of hair, the pain pulling her out of her thoughts. Her hair is longer than it's ever been, kept tame and out of the way with Harry's braids. She loves her hair. She loves the time she and Harry spend together braiding her hair. The care she feels in his hands as he tucks the curly strands into complacency.
Long hair doesn't belong in the apocalypse. Those men probably connected her gender to her braids, clearly visible beneath the beanie. But she doesn't want to shave it. She wants to keep it long and grow it out and out and out. She wants every braid Harry knows in her hair. She wants to showcase to anybody that will listen that her older brother loves her enough to keep her hair fabulous. Zoey remembers being unhappy every morning because she hated her hair. Her Dad used to braid it for her but after the accident, the curly strands resisted every attempt at taming until Harry came along.
Now she gets to wear pretty braids of all kinds... well, she can. Later on, after they find some place to settle. She eyes the length and decides she has plenty of time to grow it back out, once they find a stable, safe place to live. For now, it would be best if she didn't look like a pretty girl.
Zoey peeks her head out the door, "Lucille?"
Lucille pops her head up, leaning a bit back to see her, "Yes?"
"Can you help me with something?"
Lucille nods, standing and planting a kiss on Negan's head as she does. Then she's hurrying over, "What do you need, Zo?"
For the first time, Zoey realizes that Lucille had been calling her Zo for a while now and doesn't know what to do about it, "Uhm," she lost track of what she was going- "Oh! Yeah. Do you know how to cut hair?"
Lucille tilts her head, "Not really but I'm sure it won't be hard to learn. You sure you want to cut your pretty hair?" Lucille smooths a few curls.
Zoey nods, "Just for now. It will grow back."
Lucille smiles, "Can I ask why?"
"I'm too pretty," Zoey states confidently. Harry wouldn't lie about something like that. If he tells her she's pretty, then she is. "I just need to look more like a boy for a while."
Lucille laughs, grinning widely, "Okay, sounds good to me. Let me go look and see what we have, okay?"
"Okay."
—
Zoey looks at herself in the mirror and definitely doesn't recognize the person staring back at her. Lucille could only find a shaver, so she carefully shaved most of the hair off Zoey's head, leaving a curly mess right on top. The sides and back are shaved right to the skin. She can't see herself as a boy right now but in some dark clothes? A beanie or hat? She doesn't have much happening in the chest area, no one would be able to tell unless her clothes are tight. That should help, right?
Zoey dresses in the clean clothes Lucille dropped off for her, the jeans and T-shirt doing wonders to hide her gender. She put the beanie on and it's like she's looking at a stranger.
She doesn't know how to feel one way or the other but she is satisfied with the result. She slips the beanie off and carelessly throws it onto the bathroom counter.
She leaves the bathroom, feeling weird with how the air moves against her bare skin. She doesn't really like it and misses her hair keenly. Harry looks up from his plate, dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion and they widen, his mouth dropping. That leads her eyes to his neck and the stark, hand shaped bruises there. Bruises he got from- she turns her mind away. Zoey can't ever say she's seen Harry so shocked before.
Then, Harry recovers and says, "Zo, I'm so proud of you."
Zoey can feel the wave of pure glee sweep across her chest and down her back. It washes away the remaining depression and makes her twirl around with a grin, "It's okay?"
Harry waves her closer and Zoey goes, sitting on the edge of the couch, careful not to move Harry's still unhealed ankle. Harry reaches over his plate and runs his fingers through her remaining curls, "I think so, yeah. Going to miss your hair but it will grow back."
Zoey is glad she isn't the only one that mourns her hair. Seems like Harry took as much comfort from their braiding thing as her. She eyes his hair in return, "How about yours?"
Harry pulls back and then yanks lightly on a strand, "What do you think?"
Zoey tilts her head and narrows her eyes, trying to imagine Harry with different hairstyles, "I like the one side long look for you. Why not trim the long stuff and shave off the short?"
Harry feels around his head, face set into a ridiculously serious expression as he tries to imagine her description. Then his face clears and he drops his hands, shrugging, "I trust you."
The words hit her hard and she looks down into her lap, "Even after-?"
Harry sighs, setting the still full plate on the coffee table, "Listen, Zoey, we need to talk."
Zoey tenses like a bowstring, heart suddenly pounding. Harry pauses when he looks at her and then snorts, "Bloody hell, it's like I stepped on your puppy. It's not bad, okay? Please calm down."
She breathes out slowly, her heart returning to a normal pace. For a second, she had thought-
"Zo, I am mad at you for what happened," Harry starts out gently, making the feelings of shame and guilt come back. "But not for what you think. I'm mad because you didn't leave when you were supposed to, after I tossed you over that fence. You should have got up and gone straight home. Had I known you were there, things would have been a lot worse."
"You were in trouble!" Zoey finally blurts out, feeling angry and helpless again. "I couldn't-"
"Zoey, we got extremely lucky," Harry emphasizes harshly. "Had they done anything differently, I'd be dead and you…" Harry pauses and then looks away. "You'd wish you were dead. Next time I tell you to leave, please leave, okay?"
"But why-"
“I’m also upset that you argued about running home,” Harry cuts her off, leaving guilt to curl in her chest. “I’m not saying this to make you feel worse but if you hadn’t argued, if you hadn’t wasted precious time fighting the wrong battle, we both would have had time to get over the fence.”
“I-” Zoey feels indignant again. “Wrong battle-?”
“Yes, Zoey,” Harry replies patiently. “Wrong battle. Every single day, people fight their own battles but when you become an adult, you learn the fine art of picking your battles because you just don’t have the time or energy to fight every single one.”
Zoey can’t think of anything to say. She just stares at Harry, more than a little blankly because what?
“Fighting me on you running home was the wrong battle, Zoey,” Harry says almost gently. “You fought it because you felt I wasn’t taking you seriously. But it was you who wasn’t taking the situation seriously. You showed me today that I can’t rely on you to listen when you are in situations you cannot hope to handle, even with me.”
Zoey looks down at her hands, “I just wanted to protect you.” She remembers pulling him out of the wreck of the helicopter. She remembers before getting on it, at the Vatos . She remembers feeling helpless as Harry is beaten and drugged. Today, she felt that same helplessness but unlike the first time, Zoey had the capacity to help . And she couldn’t.
“Trust me when I say I know how you feel,” Harry says to her with a note of... something, in his tone. She glances up at him. “I wasn’t always strong, you know. I couldn’t always fight. At some point, I was just as small and lost as you.”
Zoey eyes all of Harry’s... thickness, everywhere. His arms bulge. His legs bulge. He’s almost as broad as Negan around the shoulders. She takes this all in and snorts, “Yeah, okay.”
Harry grins crookedly, “Would you believe me if I said I used to be the shortest in my class?”
“No,” Zoey crosses her arms. There is no way Harry used to be as small as her. He’s huge! And heavy.
Harry chuckles, “I ate better at school than I did at home and regained some of my height. The muscles were a work in progress but then again, everything about a person is a work in progress.”
Well, that she could believe. However- “I still think-”
Harry’s smile drops. "I'm not arguing about it anymore,” he interrupts tightly. “You are my little sister, it's my job to protect you. This is not the world we grew up in. This world doesn't forgive mistakes like the old world was prone to, letting rapists loose and simple misunderstandings get life in prison. If someone hurts you, you have the choice to let them or the choice to fight back," Harry's voice is hard and unyielding; commanding and soothing at the same time. "I chose to not let those men hurt you because I cannot heal all wounds. Only the physical ones."
Harry isn't scolding her because he thinks he knows best. Today, Harry had to choose violence because he felt it was his only choice. Zoey refused to give him one.
"Who will protect you?" Zoey asks, feeling small.
Harry shrugs, "I don't know. I've always been the protector. Practically in me blood," he jokes in a Scottish accent.
Zoey smiles but doesn't laugh, "That's not right. I want to protect you, too."
Harry nods, as if he expected that. "So how about we make a deal?"
"A deal?" Zoey clarifies in anticipation.
Harry nods, "You take shite seriously from now on. No more messing around when I tell you to do something and train harder. When you are bigger and stronger, you can be the one to protect me. Sound good?"
Zoey frowns, narrowing her eyes, "Seems a bit one sided."
Harry thinks, the corners of his mouth turning downward, "No? No, I don't think so."
Zoey crosses her arms, unimpressed, "I get to boss you around."
Harry rests his head in his fist and stares at her guilelessly, "Who says I wasn't planning to? Out of the two of us, I'd say you're the bossier one."
Zoey drops her mouth in utter indignation, "That's ridiculous! You can't decide that! You're biased!"
Harry shrugs, uncaring, "Negan and Lucille will agree with me."
"Leave us out of it!" Negan's voice comes from the bedroom.
"Well, if they weren't such cowards, they would," Harry corrects cheerfully. "But seriously, I'm not really the leading type, you know? I prefer to go out and do the stuff I'm ordering other people to do. You know?"
Zoey stares at him like an alien, "No… I like giving orders. It's fun."
"Well then," Harry throws up his arms, revealing extensive bruising over his skin. "Match made in heaven. I protect my future Commander until she can kick her own enemy arse. Yeah?" He offers his fist to her.
Zoey resolves to get strong enough to protect Harry. She doesn't want to see his arms bruised like that ever again. She never wants to see him so helpless ever again.
Zoey reaches out and meets his fist with her own, "Deal."