Chapter 8
Zoey sighs and rests her chin on the handle of the shovel. Her hair falls into her face and she tiredly blows it out of the way, giving up when it just falls back into place. She's tired, her muscles shake from the work of preparing the ground for seeds but she feels accomplished. Tired but accomplished. She decides she needs a break and plops her butt down right where she is.
"Hey, you okay, Zoey?"
Zoey looks up and smiles, "I'm fine. What are you doing here?"
Her newest friend, Emillia, hands her a bottle of water and sits down next to her, "Mom said I couldn't go. Had to come find you for some work."
"Yeah," Zoey laments her own grounding. "I can't really go much either."
"What did you do?"
Zoey shrugs, leaning back, "Snuck out. They were not happy about it."
Emillia rolls her eyes, "I've only known you for a few days and that's all I seem to hear about you. Oh, Zoey snuck out again, hope the boss is lenient. Where's Zoey? Hope she didn't sneak out again. Honestly, why do you keep doing it?"
Zoey sighs, letting the shovel fall to the ground and watching it settle, "I told you already. I'm looking for my Brother." She opens the bottle and takes a swig.
Emillia nods, "Oh yeah. Sorry."
Zoey shakes her head, wiping her face with the back of her arm, her hands still dirty. "You forget a lot. Have memory problems or something?"
"I guess," her newest friend shrugs. "Always seems to make Mom mad, too."
"I ain't mad," Zoey denies. "At least, at you. My parents are just overprotective."
Emillia nods, "At least they love you."
Zoey pauses and smiles, "Yeah, can't deny that." She checks the sun, "I have to get back to work. Grab a shovel or hoe or whatever, help me till the soil."
Emillia nods vigorously and stands, not even dusting herself off as she heads for the tool shed. Zoey stands as well, stretching her back and shaking out her arms. As she waits for her friend to rejoin her, Zoey takes in her home of the past four months.
People mill back and forth, guarding, working, living. The dream Ma had for this place had slowly come to bloom and Zoey thinks it won't be long before its complete fruition. She takes in the representatives from the other communities they found, traded with some of their people, to create stable trust and trades. They have so much fresh food and people are starting to look less gaunt, less haunted. They are smiling more, she hears more laughter each day and she's made friends with all the kids and teenagers.
They had come a long way from just the three of them to this. Ma would know the exact number but Zoey has lost count of how many people have come along to join them. Zoey remembers the brief conversation she had with Harry, in the tank. About finding a place and making it their own and that someone is bound to come along at some point. Zoey feels how prophetic those words are… she just hates that Harry isn't here to see it.
She knows Harry would be so proud of this place.
Zoey is. The winter months were hard. Harder than any Zoey had lived through. The cold was biting and threatened to take more than one of her fingers and toes. Thick, warm clothes were hard to come by and fires were lit in barrels constantly for warmth. It didn't snow all that much but it was cold. Thankfully, with all the survivors drawn to heat and shelter, they had extra people to bring in more food, so they didn't starve. Rationing was hard but at least everyone survived. She worked her fingers practically to the bone to get this far. Her will to find Harry is just as strong as it was the first day he disappeared and she has covered a great deal of the area surrounding Sanctuary in their shared symbols; hoping one day, he'll see them.
Harry's not dead. Zoey refuses to believe it.
Her hair falls into her eyes and she huffs in frustration, reaching up to manipulate it. The sides grew long enough for her to braid back against her head, so she had two small French braids at each temple to hold the rest of her curls up. Looks like even those are getting too long. She'll have to figure it out when she has a mirror.
"Ready!"
Zoey drops her hands and sees Emillia with a hoe in hand, "Okay. You start there," Zoey motions to the area she has yet to get to and then bends to grab her shovel. "At least I have help with my punishment."
Emillia giggles, hefting the hoe into the dirt and struggling to loosen the packed dirt. Zoey shakes her head at how weak the other girl is in comparison. Emillia's parents - though her Dad died shortly before coming to Sanctuary - sheltered her pretty hard throughout most of this. Zoey sees what she could have been like, had Harry not taken her in and made her strong. He didn’t allow her to become someone who is wholly unprepared for the crap the fences keep at bay. Emillia's a nice girl, don't get Zoey wrong at all, she just feels the other girl could try harder.
That's just Zoey, though.
They work for another few hours, taking a couple more breaks to talk and drink water. The ground is nowhere near ready and Zoey laments that, that's precisely why her parents gave her the job in the first place as punishment. Even with Emillia's help, it's going to take days to get this done.
"Come on, I'm done for the day," Zoey says, her arms practically shaking when she tries to pick up the shovel. "My arms feel like noodles."
Emillia groans, "I miss noodles."
"They weren't even good for you," Zoey says, lightly kicking Emillia's thigh.
Her friend sits up and gives her a look, "You don't eat noodles for the nutritional value, Zo."
Zoey sighs, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Honestly, how many times does she have to correct people on her name? It’s not even that hard. It’s two syllables and four letters. She blows out a sigh and corrects for the billionth time, "Zoey."
Emillia looks contrite, "Sorry. Zoey. I loved noodles because they were salty and so good."
"Ew," Zoey announces, perking her nose in the air. "I'd rather eat dog."
She has eaten dog. It was a long hard winter and they didn’t always find enough food for everyone. Emillia's face scrunches up, "Ew."
Zoey nods imperiously, "Mhmm."
"Think we did enough work for food?" Emillia asks as she finally stands.
"You did, for sure. Ma's makin' something at the house, so I'm going to go wash up. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Emillia waves as she leaves, calling a farewell over her shoulder. Zoey shakes her head and puts away both tools, shaking out her arms and rolling her shoulders. She closes the door and turns to go, pausing when the sunset over the dead city caught her eye. The colors were incredible, pinks, oranges and yellows smearing together with white and blue to make a truly breathtaking scene. Zoey actually stops and watches, peace settling into her shoulders and chest. She had seen many sunrises and sunsets, both here and before but she can't say it's something she ever actually stopped to enjoy. The sight fills her with renewed hope; maybe the next time she goes out, she'll find Harry.
It's the only thing keeping her going some days. The last image of Harry in her mind is his terrified face as he shoves her into Negan and runs away from them. She refuses to believe he's dead, as she's heard many people mutter under their breaths. The only time she will accept Harry being dead is if she sees his corpse, walking or not. It's the only way she can bring herself to let go. Negan and Lucille, or Dad and Ma, tried to restrict her from going out at all by herself. Thing is, she doesn't like any of the adults that are assigned to go with her and none of her friends are either capable of making runs or their parents forbid it. Going out by herself is dangerous but she's not going into any buildings or scavenging for supplies. She's just going out to check her symbols. Why can’t they understand that?
She lightly fingers the cross at her throat.
Snapping out of it, Zoey leaves. On the way back, she stops when she hears someone crying. Following the faint sounds, it takes a few moments to find the source. Darren, dark haired and pale skinned and always seeming to wear a hooded sweater sits in the middle of a few children. They are all scared, staring at him like some monster as he teases them with graphic imagery of what awaits them outside the fence.
Anger twisting her gut, Zoey calls out, “Hey! Stop that, you jerk!”
The kids all yelp, breaking down into more tears at the unintended scare. Darren startles badly enough to fall off the square he had been sitting on.
“Aw, I’m sorry you guys,” Zoey croons guiltily, glad they didn’t seem to hold it against her. Rachel and Erin reached for her as she drew near but Ryan got up and ran off.
“H-hey-” Darren says but Zoey turns her most venomous glare on the jerk, cutting him off with a scathing, “Don’t you think these kids have enough to be scared of without you making it worse? What kind of person picks on kids, you fucking bully!”
Darren is rendered mute in shock, staring at her with wide eyes. Zoey gives him a disgusted snort and pulls the children to their feet with a soft, “Come on, guys. Let’s go make sure Ryan is okay and find your parents, alright?”
Zoey doesn’t deign to look back at the other teen.
—
"Ma? Dad? I'm back!" Zoey calls out as she opens the door and tiredly takes off her shoes. They are dirty and caked in mud, worn down from hard, daily use. Thankfully Ryan was okay, having found his Dad almost immediately. After explaining what happened, the man promised to talk to Darren’s father about the issue, very clearly not happy with his how traumatized his son is.
"Zo? Go wash up, Negan's not back yet!"
Zoey moans as the smells from the kitchen waft through her nose and into her brain, "What did you make?"
"Go wash up, young lady, and find out!"
Rolling her eyes, Zoey calls back, "Fine!" and heads down the hall. She grabs a towel, closing the bathroom door behind her.
When she's done, she keeps the towel over her head as she pads, barefoot, into the kitchen. Dad is home, wrapped around Ma like a great big bear. She's giggling like a little girl from the cage of Dad's arms as the food simmers on the stove. He suddenly receives a whack on his arm and he turns with a grin, "You know you like it."
"Ew," Zoey murmurs, crossing her arms.
Dad glances back, "Oh! Didn't see you there!"
Zoey gives him a bland look, "Like I never heard that one before."
Dad laughs, wrapping an arm over Ma's shoulders as he turns around fully, "I meant it this time. You being good today?"
Moodily, Zoey nods, "Yeah. Emillia can vouch for me."
"Oh, Sarah's girl?" Ma inquires as she pulls away from Dad. "And you, sir, stink. Go get cleaned up."
"Yeah," Zoey replies and can't help the smile when Dad takes offense to being called stinky, ambushing Ma against the counter to growl into her neck. Ma giggles some more, pushing Dad away with her normal snort.
"Go, you smelly heathen!" Ma motions, turning back to the food.
Dad turns and winks at Zoey, reaching out to mess with the towel on her head. "See you in a littlebit, shortstuff," Dad teases as he passes.
Zoey ducks, "Hey! No! You jerk!”
Dad laughs again as he disappears down the corner.
"Sarah is a good woman and her daughter seems to be nice. How are you two doing?" Ma draws Zoey’s attention.
Zoey shrugs as she sits down at the table, "I think she's okay." Ma makes that humming sound when she wants Zoey to keep talking. Zoey rests her elbows on the clean surface, "I don't know what you want me to say."
"Well, do you like her?" Ma asks distractedly, stirring the pan and scraping the bottom.
Zoey shrugs again, even though Ma can't see it, "I guess."
"You guess?" Ma repeats in a questioning tone. She glances over her shoulder. "How about you get the table set and tell me how you guess you like Emillia."
Zoey huffs but stands, going to the cupboards for the things she needs, "I just think she needs to grow up a bit more."
"Oh?"
Zoey takes down four plates and sets them on the table, "I don't know. She seems… naive?"
"Well, Sarah did tell me that they didn't really allow Emillia out all that much. They were too scared of her getting hurt," Ma replies smoothly. "She's probably having a tough time of it, you know."
Zoey nods as she takes out four cups, "Yeah…"
Ma continues, "She lost her Dad only a month or so ago. You and her aren't that different, you know."
Zoey returns for utensils, "I know. I just…" She pauses, fiddling with the forks. Ma waits patiently, "She just makes me nervous."
Ma becomes concerned, "Is she-?"
"No, no!" Zoey blurts out, suddenly aware of what she implied. Ma relaxes. "I just-I look at her and I see what I could have been like… if Harry…"
Ma gains understanding, turning off the stove and pulling Zoey into a hug, "But you aren't and we'll find him."
Zoey relaxes into the comfort, feeling so happy that she isn't alone. She could have survived the winter on her own… maybe. Not well and definitely not easily but she felt she could have. Not that Zoey wanted to. She's very happy they are here with her, even if she's continually frustrated with how restricting they are. A small part of Zoey knows that it's a good thing they say no. It's a good thing they restrict her because it means they care. They don't want to lose her like they lost Harry. It's just frustrating.
"Oh, hey, no one told me family hugs were happening," Dad says playfully as he comes back into the kitchen, dressed down from leathers and jeans to soft shirt and sleep pants. He throws up his arms and wags his brows, "Who wants some Negar?"
"What?" Ma and Zoey ask at the same time, sporting the same deadpan tone.
Dad stops, aghast, "Negan exclusive sugar! Negar! Can only get this kinda sweetness from the source, you know?" Unbelievably, he starts doing a stupid little dance. Zoey cracks up and turns away to hide her giggles.
Ma, on the other hand, "Incorrigible. Go sit down you man-child."
"What?" Dad says, voice pitched high in confusion. Then, he shrugs, "Well, fine. More Negar for me!"
Zoey bursts into fresh giggles, sitting at the table and grinning at her ridiculous Dad. Though Negan will never replace her own Dad in her heart, she feels she has enough room for both of them. Lucille, on the other hand, has been more of a Mother to her in the last five months than Zia has been Zoey's entire life. Being on the receiving end of Lucille's maternal love allowed Zoey to see just how little her own Mother even tried. She didn't know what having a Mom was actually like until now.
Zoey often thought about what she would do or say to her Mom if they ever met again. What do you say to the woman who birthed you but abandoned you? Hey Mom, really shitty of you to leave me behind like that but at least I got to have a real family! So, you suck but thanks?
Yeah, she doesn't know either.
Ma serving up dinner pulls Zoey out of her thoughts and into the moment. She sits back down, glancing at the spot next to her where an empty plate and cup sit, unused utensils shining dully under the light. Dad and Ma grasp hands as they eat and they both pull Zoey into conversation, asking her pointed questions. Though they are still disappointed by her sneaking out, they understand why but it doesn't mean she gets to keep doing so.
"Come on, Zo," Dad said, spearing a bite. "I know it's far safer around here because of my patrols but-"
Zoey sighs, "I know, Dad."
"Just-go with the adults, okay? I know they don't listen well but-"
"No, they don't," Zoey snaps, dropping her fork. "They don't listen at all, just because I'm a kid and a girl. I bet I can kick all their asses. Estupidas malditas perdodoras." She's even heard a few racial slurs aimed her way. They don't bother her, not after she remembered what Harry told her in the bathroom so long ago. There will be people who won't like her, for whatever reason and it's not her responsibility to make them. They can go plow Biters.
"Stop interrupting me," Dad says firmly. "Rude."
Chastised, Zoey murmurs, "Sorry."
"You will go with the adults from now on," Dad tells her with a severe look that makes her hunch her shoulders. "No more being stupid."
"I'm not stupid," Zoey mumbles to herself, moving the food around on her plate. Her appetite is suddenly gone and she’s not sure if she can finish it.
"Don't make me tell Harry what happened to you," Dad says, sounding more than a little haunted. "I like my balls where they are, thanks."
"Negan!" Ma scolds, scandalized. Zoey just barely suppresses her giggles, grinning at Dad's quick wink as he soothes his wife.
"Sorry, honey, it slipped out," Dad says, not sounding contrite at all. "I just had many illuminating conversations with Harry about the state he expects to find Zoey in or he'll… well, he's very creative with his threats."
"Mhmm." Ma doesn’t sound convinced, giving Negan a narrow-eyed look that results in Dad’s face morphing into his Stupid Face. Or the face he makes when he’s thinking of something inappropriate.
Zoey finishes her food anyway, no use in wasting it, "I'm heading to bed."
Dad stops her, his Dad face back on, "Hey, you understand?"
Zoey sighs, slumping and staring at the ceiling, "Fine. You'd better talk to those locos, too. I won't put up with their crap anymore."
Dad shakes his head with a chuckle, "How about you choose three adults to go out with from now on?"
"Two!" Zoey negotiates hopefully.
"No, three," Dad puts his foot down. "This isn't a negotiation or some kind of deal, kid. This is: you listen and comply or I put you in the Pit for a week. I'm done with this sneaking out shit you are growing fond of."
"But Dad-!" Zoey tries to plea, feeling even more restricted. This is not at all how she expected this conversation to go. It seems like she's finally found the edge of his patience.
"Uh!" Dad puts his hand up. "I know you are smart, Zoey. Put the pieces together, okay? None of this has anything to do with your gender or who you are or your capabilities. We know you can take care of yourself. This isn't an attack on you. This is us," he motions to himself and Ma. "Doing what's best for you, even if you can't see it. We don't need to remind you of how dangerous it is out there. It makes us feel better to know you have adults you can rely on if things go wrong. Okay?"
Zoey feels the unfairness settle over her shoulders, even as part of her relaxes under the clear care and concern. "I just want to find Harry."
Dad leans back, thinking… and then pats Ma's hand, "Come. I want to show you something."
Ma smiles at them as they put on their dirty shoes and leave. Zoey follows Dad back down the winding halls and stairs to the Council room. Zoey doesn't spend any time in this room at all, preferring to join the training groups in the morning and going on a run, sneaking out if she has to. The middle has a large table and multiple chairs but it's the one wall that has her attention.
A rough sketch of Harry is pinned next to a large map. It's a detailed map of the area, more specifically, the area around Sanctuary. Parts of Washington are marked in a lot of red X's and great sections of the lands outside the city are lined with circles and question marks. Another map next to the first is a larger scale, showing much of Washington and the surrounding areas. There are more dots on this map but she can't make connections between the two. However, it's clear that Dad has put a lot of time and manpower into the search for Harry as well. It makes something in her loosen a tiny bit, realizing that they had always been looking, just in a different way.
Maybe she should stop sneaking out. She only started because she felt she wasn't covering enough ground with the adults she was forced to head out with. By the looks of this map, Dad has covered far more ground than she has this entire time.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Zoey asks incredulously as she intently studies the map.
"Figured you already knew," Dad replies, coming up behind her and sliding his arm over her shoulders. "We haven't given up, you know."
Zoey feels guilt settle in. She thought, on some level, that they rationalized Harry's disappearance like all adults do and stopped looking. She feels guilty but relieved. "I'm sorry."
"I understand wanting to do something," Dad says gently as they both look at the map. "When Lucille was sick, all I could think about was finding ways to help her. Where I could find chemo. How to administer it. I would be gone for days, sometimes… off, risking everything for even one dose. To me, it was worth it. But…"
Zoey looks up at him and he glances down at her, sadness in his eyes, "My point is, is that Harry is counting on you to be smart about things. I understand you want to do something, so I gave you a way to do that safely. Or," Dad amends wryly. "As safe as I can in this lovely apocalypse."
Zoey giggles.
"Sneaking off by yourself isn't being smart," Dad tells her gently but firmly. "Harry would tell you it's being downright stupid. Don't disappoint your Brother right after finding him, Zo."
The comment stings, harsh and unexpected. Zoey remembers the last time she disappointed Harry, how it poked at her for days. At the time, she had never wanted to experience that again. She still feels the same now.
Suitably cowed, Zoey drops her head, "Okay."
"Between you and me, though?"
Zoey looks up, catching Dad's mischievous grin, "Harry would be really proud of how far you've come." A large lump catches in her throat as Dad continues, oblivious. "I mean, I know no system is perfect but one fucking teenage girl is making a fool out of my security!" Startled, Zoey laughs out the lump, covering her mouth at his outraged look, "I guess you earn that laugh, you heathen."
Zoey continues to giggle into her hands, ducking under Dad's arm and leaning into his side. He wraps his arm more firmly over her shoulders and leads her out of the Council room.
"We'll find him," Dad assures her on the way up. Zoey feels her hope shine even brighter. "Can you learn how to count on your old man a bit?"
Zoey nods, "Okay, Dad."
"Oh, lovely," Dad says sarcastically. "Her Highness gives her blessing."
"Dad!" Zoey laughs, feeling far better.
—
Zoey is kinder to Emillia in the following days. The other girl seeks Zoey out on her own accord, more than happy, it seems, to help with tilling the ground. Zoey takes her punishment with far more grace, now knowing that Dad is coordinating a far more effective search for Harry than Zoey can ever manage. It doesn't stop the itch to go out and check her symbols but it does ease the urge to sneak out.
In the meantime, Zoey prepares the ground and ponders her hair. She had grown to like the sides kept braided because it held up the rest of her hair. But now the curls flop everywhere and get in her eyes. There are also smaller curls right at her temples from when Ma helped her cut her hair. Zoey studies her hair and then takes out all the current braids, remembering when she first started trying to do her own hair. The mess on top had gotten too long and she kept it in a short, loose French braid for a time. Then, as it got longer and longer, she experimented from what she remembers Harry doing to the kids at the quarry. It wasn't hard to figure out from there but she developed a healthy respect for Harry's braiding abilities. He knows so many and it's taken her months to learn two!
It is, of course, longer on top but only by a few inches. The winter months allowed her hair to grow nearly to her shoulders when the curls are pulled taut. She ponders again and then leans all the way forward, finger combing her hair over her head. She french braids her hair from the neck down to the crown of her head. Then, she grabs a hair clip and secures it, straightening. She checks in the mirror and nods, splitting the remaining hair at the front and braiding them back on either side. The hair isn't long enough to put together into one big braid but she can elastic it. The end of the braid sticks out and the braids are a bit lopsided but Zoey likes it.
A bit of practice and the crookedness will go away.
Zoey heads out after breakfast and a hug from Ma, Dad already out and about. Zoey wants to finish the field today, or at least, get the entire thing dug up and loosened. On the way down, she decides to check in on the progress being made on the search for Harry. She heads towards the Council room, hearing voices coming from within when someone abruptly exits in a rush.
Zoey crashes into them, not given any time or warning to avoid collision. They both land on the floor, Zoey feeling a sharp pain lance up her wrist on impact. She hisses through the pain, pulling her arm to her chest and cradles the injury.
"Watch it!" A familiar voice, painfully familiar; Zoey feels ice in her veins.
"Mom?"
The other stops short, looking at Zoey with widening eyes, "Zoey?"
Dad comes around the corner, distracting Zoey from her most immediate reaction, "Zo! What's wrong? Did you hurt your arm?"
Zia's face turns terribly confused as the Leader of the Saviors kneels in front of Zoey, completely cutting each other's vision of the other off.
"I-" Zoey can't really think beyond Mom is here-Mom is here-Mom is here-Mom is here-what the fuck. "I-"
Dad's face creases in worry, "Zo? What's wrong?"
"Zo?" Zia sneers, gaining their attention. "Sir, who is she to you?"
Dad double takes and then barks harshly, "What the fuck is it to you?"
Zia cowers back, looking far smaller and helpless than Zoey can ever remember.
"Dad," Zoey catches both of their attentions, getting an almost sick sense of satisfaction at her Mom's wide eyed look of shock. "That's my Mom."
Dad abruptly stands and turns, looming over Zia like a long, menacing demon. Mom cowers; she, like everyone, knows that Dad doesn't take any shit. His sledgehammer - decorated in her doodles because of a prank – is well known to the community. The man that tried to hurt her isn't the first person Dad felt he had to kill. Zoey doesn't know if she wants him to hurt Zia or not. She doesn't know if she can stop him if he does. She doesn't know if she wants to stop him at all.
"Take her to the Pit," Dad orders, ignoring Zia's whimpered pleas.
Somehow, the Pit isn't something that crossed Zoey's mind. She had somehow expected her Dad to whip out his hammer and hurt her, like he has done every other time someone tried to hurt Zoey or Lucille or his people. Then that thought feels incredibly stupid. Dad only kills when necessary. She's heard more than a few conversations between her parents to know that Ma is trying her best to keep Dad on the right path. Dad tries very hard not to.
"Zo."
Zoey snaps out of her thoughts, looking up. The sight of her still angry looking Dad barely fazes her, "Let's get you to the infirmary."
Zoey stops before they can get going, "I can go myself."
Dad stops, deep concern in his eyes, "You sure? Figured you might wanna talk about what just happened."
Zoey looks at the other adults trying to pretend they aren't listening in, "Aren't you busy?"
Dad hollers over his shoulder, "Get the fuck back to work!" They all scatter, quickly and with no small amount of shoving. Dad turns back to her, "My schedule suddenly cleared up. Weird."
Despite everything, Zoey giggles. She feels completely wrecked already and it's barely out of the morning hours but somehow, Dad finds a way to make her laugh. The grey clouds of her mood are blown to further lands, allowing her to relax.
"C'mon, kiddo," Dad gently steers her around. "Let's get you to the infirmary, okay?"
Exhausted, Zoey nods, "Okay."
They walk further into the complex together. Just as Zoey thinks he's not going to, Dad asks, "You okay?"
Zoey shakes her head. No, she's not okay. Seeing her Mom here… being in the same community as… it makes the entire place feel less safe, almost. Her Mom never physically abused Zoey but she wasn't really around in any capacity either. It doesn't take away the raw, visceral hurt over Zia leaving her behind like that. Of being so unwanted.
Alone.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. Had we known-" Dad cuts off, unsure how to continue. He tries again, "We'll get your wrist checked out and after, you can take it easy for a couple of days, okay?"
"What's gonna happen to her?" Zoey has to know.
Dad looks away, "Nothing. For now," Zoey doesn't know how to feel about that, either. "You be good and let your wrist heal. Then, you can decide, okay?"
The thought of being in control of what happens to her Mo- to Zia is suddenly like standing over a steep precipice. She doesn't know where the bottom is, she's too terrified to even try looking. "I don't think-"
"You won't be able to hurt her," Dad accurately guesses her sudden reticence. "But I can give you the key to the Pit."
The key would allow her into the control room. The control room has all kinds of bits and bobs to torment the prisoners. It was put in as a way to punish rule breakers. Ma never liked it but Zoey saw the use of it; she and Harry had many conversations about people learning lessons differently. Harry told her pain is a useful tool for compliance but people build a tolerance for it. They learn how to cope with it and get around it. However, people rarely have ways to fight psychological torture.
Dad had told her the science, as he called it, behind the Pit's system. There are a number of incredibly annoying tunes full of high pitches. A lot of short, loud sounds. A mic and several buttons for different cells. She doesn't like the science behind it because it's plainly torture but she can't think of any other way to punish people without physically maiming them.
It does, however, make that precipice feel less bottomless.
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course," Dad replies, understanding. "I just want you to know something, okay?"
"What?"
Dad stops her, crouching down more to her level, "First of all, Ma would literally eat my… er, heart, if she knew about this, so between you and me. Yeah?"
Zoey giggles, "Okay."
"Second, it's perfectly okay if you don't want to have anything to do with your Mom at all," Dad says, quiet and comforting. "We can ship her to another community and you won't ever have to see her again."
"I'm not scared!" Zoey says vehemently, suddenly thinking he misunderstood.
"I didn't say you were," Dad replies neutrally, tilting his head. "I just mean that you can let me take care of her for you. I won't hurt her but I'm not going to allow her to hurt you again."
Zoey feels her lip tremble. Dad pulls her into a hug, which she returns, hiding her face in his shoulder, "Why did she leave me?"
"I'd sure like to know that too. And you know?" Dad pulls back to look at her. "You finally have the chance to get the answer."
She… does. All she could think about was how Zia got here. She can finally get the answers she’s been asking since that day.
Dad stands and starts the trek down again, arm over her shoulders, "I can even be there, if you want. Up to you, kiddo. Regardless, you won't be seeing her until your wrist is well on the way to healing. I hope you know this means you aren't going out until it's fully healed, either."
Zoey scowls, "Awe man!"
Her day started out so promising, too. At least she doesn't have to finish the field now.
---
Zoey can’t sleep.
She's not in pain; the sprain is mild and already the swelling is going down. She won't be kept from work for much longer. She had been puttering around the house, trying to occupy herself with books and cleaning. However, Ma keeps the place spotless and Zoey has already read all of the books they have. When she doesn't feel like being up and about, she's in her room. She spends a lot of time thinking.
At first, Zoey tries to avoid thinking about Zia. It didn't help, whatsoever. What does she want to do? What can she do to Zia to make up for what happened? Can Zoey even make things right, even? Can you somehow equal out being abandoned? Her mind goes in circles trying to find the answer. She's nearly tormenting herself with all the questions she has, though one burns harder than all else.
Why.
It's one word and so simple to ask. Zoey believes the answer is anything but.
Zoey needs to know why. Even if it hurts. Even if she hates it. She needs to know why. It's a question that has never been far from her mind. Why.
Why did you abandon me.
Harry says it's not her fault. So did Ma and Dad. While her makeshift parents might lie to her, Harry never would. Though, if it's not her fault, why did her Mom leave?
When the doctor in training judges her wrist on the mend, Dad takes her aside and asks, "Have you decided anything?"
Zoey can't bring herself to say anything. She just lifts her hand and drops her eyes.
"I'm trusting you, kid," Dad says kindly, dropping the key into her hand. "Don't do anything Harry wouldn't do."
Then, he's gone. Zoey is grateful for the privacy, for she still doesn't know what she wants to do. It wouldn't hurt to go try, though.
She heads down into the Pit, a look at the guard yielding a nod but nothing else. She goes into the cells proper, quickly finding her Mo-Zia sitting in the third one.
Zia looks up, "Oh, finally Grace your poor Mom with your royal presence?"
Zoey ignores the stab, cutting to the heart of the matter, "Why?"
"Why, what?" Zia asks, lifting her arms sarcastically. "Be more specific, Zory."
"Zoey," she firmly corrects. "I'm your daughter and you can't even remember my name."
Zia sneers, "My bad. What do you want?"
Zoey rallies herself, taking a calming breath, "Why did you leave me there."
Zia pauses and then grins, yellowed teeth against dark gums. She laughs, "You should thank me! You know what I've been through? And look at you! Cozying up to the leader like the little leech you are."
Zoey remembers - being called that, Mom hissing it at her. When she was much smaller. How did she forget that?
"Don't dodge the question. Why did you leave me there?!" Zoey demands.
Zia just laughs some more, "Oh, kid, the amount of fucking shit I've dealt with. Got robbed, held up, nearly shot and eaten more than I can count! Met up with a nasty group that didn't like me saying no. God, only escaped because they were fucking around with the other girl."
Zoey pales and comes to the sickening realization that Zia- her Mom, is messed up. Like, seriously.
"Find a nice place to stay and suddenly, my fucking curse rears her ugly little head and reminds me of all my fucking mistakes."
Hurt, visceral and aching, is washed away by anger.
"I'll show you how much of a curse I can be," Zoey spits, turning on her heel and ignoring Zia's laughs. She stomps into the control room and selects only Zia's cell. Then she clicks on the screechiest, most annoying music and nearly jams all the sound buttons at once. She can faintly hear Zia's tormented moans from the sudden sound assault.
Feeling vindicated, letting the hurt be buried under anger and frustration, Zoey leaves the Pit. She stops and glares at the poor guard as she goes, daring him to say something. Anything. Her heart is pounding and her skin feels far too tight. She wants to hurt someone.
"Get out of my way!" Zoey snaps at the next person, who staggers into the wall in surprise.
She's not allowed out yet. She eyes the fence with a nearly feral edge, calculating if it's worth sneaking out and decides she just doesn't have the patience. She instead heads for the area holding training sessions and throws herself into the physicality of it all. She isn't the best fighter but she is quick. All the hours and hours of practice over the winter did some good.
After throwing some of the other trainees around and getting her own ass kicked in return, Zoey heads back up. She's cradling her injured wrist, pulsing with faint pain but she feels it's worth the lack of negative energy she had been carrying around. She feels… more centered but no less angry and hurt over what Zia said to her.
Zia didn't even answer the question. She just made more questions and a lot of nastiness. All Zoey got out of the exchange is unwanted memories and vitriol. Seriously, how could she forget about being called a leech?
Zoey opens the door, sighing as she kicks off her shoes. Ma and Dad aren't home yet, it seems. Normally, Zoey would start something or try to snack but she just doesn't feel like doing anything other than taking a shower and suffocating herself on her bed. She feels Zia's words with every step she takes into the apartment, leech. She isn't a leech!
Zoey doesn't know why it bothers her so much. She's distracted by her thoughts in the shower and then can't even bring herself to rebraid her hair as she falls onto her sheets. The word resonates in her head and she turns it every which way to determine what it's supposed to mean. She's fairly sure it's a type of bug that sucks blood but why would Zia call her one? She doesn't suck blood!
She hears the front door opening and closing, then, "Zo? You home, honey?"
Hearing Lucille - Ma's - voice just makes a lump appear in Zoey's throat. She suddenly has the incredibly fearful thought that Ma will know she's a leech and will stop loving her. Why wouldn't she? Zoey's biological Mother thinks she is. Why wouldn't anyone else? She rolls over and pulls the sheet up over her, hiding her head just as the door opens.
"Zo?" Ma's voice is quiet and gentle.
Zoey pretends to sleep, unmoving under the sheet. She closes her eyes when she hears Ma's footsteps pad into the room. She feels the edge of the sheet be straightened and smoothed down, tucking the ends in. The portion over Zoey's head is gently pulled back and tucked, a hand sweeping carefully over her hair. Then, a finger traces her cheek before Ma's lips connect with her temple.
"Such a hard worker," Ma croons as she pulls back. Zoey feels a surge of heavy warmth at the thoughtless comment. "Definitely deserve to sleep."
Zoey listens as Ma straightens a few things and then the door closes. That heavy warmth comes with a lump of its own; not painful but firm, telling Zoey that her fears are unfounded. She can't help her biological Mother's hate filled voice from whispering nasty things but at least she knows her Ma loves her. That's all she really needs, really… and she has a Dad that, while also not biologically hers, also loves her. Somehow, she regained a family but lost her Brother. Somehow, she found Zia again, hundreds of miles and what feels like a lifetime from home.
She doesn't know what to do. The vindication she felt when she left the Pit has long since fizzled out. She wonders if she should go back down and turn it off. Then, Zia's hateful words come back to her and Zoey rolls over.
Zia can wait.
—
Fresh eyed and bushy hair tamed into her new preferred hairstyle, Zoey barely stops to munch down on breakfast before she's zooming out the door. Ma and Dad barely have any time to even talk to her, simply receiving quick, monosyllabic answers to their inquiries.
On the way down, Zoey wonders if she should go down to the Pit right away or hold off. She really wants to help seed the field today, as other people have finished and re-plowed it. They will be planting a bunch of seasonings and herbs, as their land isn't really fit for foodstuffs. The placement is important and she wanted to learn for herself.
Deciding she can at least stop in and turn off the music, Zoey runs down and barely glances at the guard as she passes. Using the key, she lets herself into the control room.
Since none of the other cells have anyone in them, it's immediately apparent to her that someone has messed with the controls. The blaring, screeching thing that she had left on was switched to a simple, high pitched tune. The volume had been turned down a little. Turning it off entirely, Zoey thinks: who would have access to this room aside from herself and Dad?
She doesn't know and now it bothers her that someone else is messing with Zia.
Leaving the control room, Zoey jogs to the only occupied cell. Zia is sitting at the back wall, rocking herself minutely with both legs bent and arms supporting both sides of her head. Her lips are moving but no sound comes out; it doesn't even seem like she even noticed the music stopped.
"Mom?" Zoey ventures.
Zia snaps her head up and lunges for the bars, making Zoey flinch back from the hand reaching out for her, "Free Mommy, okay?"
Heart thudding hard and breathing unsteady, Zoey swallows, "What?"
"Free me, darling," Zia's voice sounds… off, on edge. Carefully controlled. Her eyes are wide and dark, urging Zoey to listen.
Zoey shakes her head, "No. Answer my question from yesterday."
Zia slowly retracts her hand and curls the long, thin digits around the bars tightly, "What question… sweetheart?" Zoey can hear how tight Zia's voice got at the end. She was practically choking on the endearments.
"Why did you leave me behind?"
Zia's face blanks out and she drops her hands from the bars. She looks down and then turns around. She shakes her head and murmurs. Zoey approaches the bars against her better judgment and asks, "Mom?"
Zia whips around and crashes into the bars, screaming, "Let me out, you ungrateful bitch!"
Zoey yelps and flinches back so hard, she falls. Thankfully, she didn't land on either of her arms, so her wrist just gave an angry flare at impact. Zia quiets to gulp down some air but gets right back to screaming obscenities, banging her arms and hands bloody. Zoey retreats, heart pounding so hard her ribs were barely keeping it contained. Terror grips her throat as she stumbles into the control room and shakily turns on - anything. Then she's running - out and up and out again.
The exertion settles her enough to gather herself. She straightens her clothes and hair, straightening her shoulders and pushing all of her hurt and misery deep, deep down. She will not cry over Zia. Zoey sniffs and coughs, smacking her cheeks to get her game face on.
Lesson learned: it's best to end her day with nasty things. Now her whole day is ruined.
—
Emillia turns out to be a much better friend than Zoey gave her credit for.
Having noticed Zoey's mood, the other girl produced a chocolate bar her Mom bought for some points. Emillia was going to wait and enjoy it later, in privacy, but felt that sharing it with her newest friend to cheer her up was even better. Unexpectedly touched, Zoey ate her half gratefully, pulling the other girl into a one armed hug after.
Mood restored, Zoey found it much easier to focus on the instructions that were being given about the placement of the herbs and spices. The man wasn't an expert but he did grow his own herb garden, so at least had far more experience than anyone else. He figured the soil might be good enough for potatoes and decides to risk a few.
After all the seeds are planted and watered, the man, Ted, brought a few potatoes over from the kitchens. They had small green nubs all over them. He planted the potatoes funny - cut in quarters and laid cut side down on the soil. He slightly buried each and watered them. They were fairly spaced apart. Zoey didn't know why he planted them that way but made note of it anyway.
Field done and lesson over, Zoey rejoined Emillia and both went to the cafeteria.
"So, wanna talk about it?" Emillia asks as they sit down with their trays.
Not really but Zoey figures she owes the other girl for sharing her chocolate bar. She had almost forgotten what chocolate tastes like. "Just had a really bad start to the day."
"What happened?"
Zoey wonders what she should and shouldn't say and then realizes where they are, "Can we talk about this in a less busy setting?"
Emillia shrugs, "Okay? What should we talk about?"
Zoey relaxes. She regrets all her negative thoughts regarding the other girl. She's not so bad, after all.
—
Later, when walking the fence line and trolling the guards, Zoey tells Emillia what she's only ever told Harry. Ma and Dad know the gist of what happened; Mom packed up and left her behind and how her Dad died but not anything in between. While she didn't go into detail, Zoey gave enough to paint Emillia a telling picture. Now, she runs into her own Mother here, of all places!
"That's crazy," Emillia murmurs, bumping shoulders with Zoey. "I'm guessing she isn't being very nice?"
Zoey shakes her head, sniffing, "Not really, no. I think she's sick or something. She doesn't make much sense and she's… off, weird. She was so nice one second and screaming the next. I…" she hugs herself, shaking her head again. "I don't know."
"So, are you like, torturing her or something?" Emillia asks after a few moments of silence. "Because no offense but she sounds like she kind of deserves it."
Zoey's reaction is to be offended but she pushes it aside because really, her Mom just screamed at her over a question. An easy question. Why doesn't Zia just answer? She apparently had zero problems leaving Zoey behind. Why the sudden reticence on why?
The only thing Zoey can think of is that Zia is broken. How or why, she doesn't know. She does know that her Mom is sick now when she wasn't before. Unless she was? Zoey wouldn't know, she hardly saw Zia before all this happened. Her Mom would leave early and come back late, sometimes with groceries but most times nothing. Zoey realizes she doesn't even know what her Mom did for a living. All she had cared about was doing good in school, like her Dad wanted her to. She didn't think it would turn her around and bite her in the ass later on.
"Yeah, kind of, I guess," Zoey allows, dropping her eyes to the ground. "I have the key to the control room but not her cell. Even if I wanted to let her out, I couldn't. Only Dad can."
"Control room?" Emillia inquires.
"Oh," Zoey replies, taking them out. "Yeah, they rigged the Pits for sound punishment. You know, for the rule breakers."
Emillia looks at the keys but doesn't move to take them, "Cool. Did you do anything?"
"Do anything?"
"Yeah, did you… er, sound punish your bio Mom?"
Zoey pulls into herself, "She said some mean stuff and I was upset."
Emillia nods, "No judgment here. I did say she kinda deserves it."
Zoey relaxes and offers the other girl a smile, "So what do you think I should do?"
Emillia shrugs, turning to look out over the broken city, "I would hurt her back."
Taken off guard a little, Zoey asks, "What? Why?"
Emillia looks at her and Zoey feels unease slither down her back, "When people hurt you, you hurt them back."
Harry didn't quite phrase it like that. He said you have two choices, not one; you can let them or you can fight back. Nowhere in that did Harry ever specify hurting them back. Fighting isn't necessarily the same as hurting. There are many ways to fight something, it isn't always physical.
Zoey feels her mouth downturn but she nods all the same, giving a neutral, "Hm."
Emillia doesn't seem to notice her sudden reticence, "I went to an all girl's school. You would think being surrounded by all girls would make you feel better about yourself but all it did was make me feel worse." Zoey listens as her… friend, shares something with her. Emillia was a good friend for listening to Zoey. The least she can do is listen in return. "Girls are mean, you know?" Zoey kinda knows. Her school wasn’t fun to be at either. "Nothing I did was ever good enough, so one day, I snapped and I got into a fight with this girl. I didn't really win, neither of us did because a teacher broke us up but after that? That bitch didn't even look at me again. I scratched up her pretty face so bad she looked like she lost a fight with a cat. So when someone hurts you, Zoey? Hurt them back. It's the only way to show them you won't be messed with."
Zoey doesn't agree. She and Harry have had many conversations about good and bad but the view of his ripped up back and how he views those scars still affects her today. He told her they should inspire her to fight, not inspire pity. Had Harry expanded, she's sure that would include not inspiring hate and bitterness, too. Remembering Harry right at this moment, when she's seeking some kind of answer to her problem, makes her realize she already knows what to do. She just… wasn't ready to go that way, not yet. Felt too hurt and angry and bitter about someone who… really shouldn't matter to her anymore.
Zia does matter but like Harry's scars, Zoey doesn't have to let it sway her into getting herself hurt. She should be inspired to fight, not pity, or bitterness, or hate. Hurting that other girl may have worked for Emillia but Zoey is sure it won't help her here. Just like how she's sure hurting her own Mother… is only going to end up hurting herself.
"Zo!"
Zoey whips her head around, vaguely noticing Emillia do the same, and spies Dad waving at her from across the way.
"Guess you gotta go," Emillia says, sounding a bit sad. "Wanna hang tomorrow?"
"Maybe," Zoey nods, turning back to her friend. Just because Emillia believes differently, doesn't mean Zoey has to push her away. The other girl probably doesn’t have much friends either. "I'll come find you, okay?"
Brightening, Emillia smiles, "Okay."
"Bye!" Zoey chirps, running off. She still feels apprehensive and confused but getting a hug from her Dad after all the crap she dealt with today makes her feel so much better. "Dad!"
"Oof!" Dad chuckles at impact, winding his long arms around her in turn. "Lulu sent me, on Royal Decree, to bring you to break your afternoon fast, Princess Thumbelina."
Zoey giggles as she pulls away, "Dad!"
"Zo!" Dad mocks fondly, managing to get his fingers into her hair before she can duck away.
"Why does everyone fuck with my hair?" Zoey laments as she covers her head ineffectually with her hands.
"Because it's fun," Dad shrugs as he starts leading her through the factory. "How's it going, kiddo?"
Zoey drops her hands, "Okay, I guess."
Dad lightly shoves her shoulder before sliding his arm over both and pulls her against his side, "Wanna talk about it?"
It's all jumbled in her head but she has the gist of it, "I think I'm okay."
Dad stops both of them, leaning over to look Zoey in the face, "You sure? You don't have to do things by yourself, you know."
"I want to," Zoey blurts out, dropping her eyes. "I-"
"Zo? Everything okay?"
Unable to take the question anymore, Zoey asks, "What's a leech?"
Sideswiped by the change in topic, Dad straightens and frowns, "It swims in water and sucks blood. I think it's used for medicinal purposes, to draw out bad blood."
That doesn't make any sense!
"When thrown at someone, it can also mean they are a parasite or sucker or some shit, I don't know. What's this about, Zo?"
"Nothing," Zoey dismisses dully, feeling fresh hurt sliding into her chest. Her Mom thinks of her as a parasite? Someone that just keeps sucking the life out of others?
Dad makes a disbelieving sound and looks around. There is a convenient door down the ways that he pulls open and peeks into. He nods and pulls Zoey into it. It's a storage room of some kind, small string light barely lighting the interior. He sits down, looking stupid and ridiculous in the tiny space. Zoey feels the corners of her mouth lift despite her misery.
"Sit," Dad says, motioning.
Zoey does, seating herself in front of the door and playing with her hands in her lap.
"Wanna tell me where leech came from and why it looks like I kicked your kitten when I answered?"
Zoey bites her lip and shrugs. Dad sighs, "You know, I've had my fair share of insults slung my way. I think it has something to do with my pretty face but no one ever says it."
Zoey doesn't laugh.
"Zo, I don't know where you heard it but you're not a leech, alright?" Dad says gently but firmly. Zoey bites her lip harder. "A real example of a leech would be a nearly forty year old losing his job and spending all of his wife's hard earned money on crap."
That sounds so specific that Zoey gives him a weird look.
Dad chuckles and fingers his signature leather jacket - the one he started wearing some time after Harry healed Lucille. Zoey never asked where it came from, "Yeah, I was a leech. Lucille and I were on a date and this asshole got fresh. I attacked him but he ended up being the parent of some kid at my school and I got fired. Long story short, I stayed at home and lived off my hardworking wife because I felt too humiliated to go back to school." Dad shakes his head as he smooths down the leather. "This jacket was six hundred dollars, Zo. Not sure if you know how much that is but that money could have gone to bills or food or even our savings but I stupidly spent it on a jacket. No job, no money, I was a leech. You? You're a kid. You're supposed to be making friends and focusing on school and discovering yourself. There is no way in hell a kid can be a leech; how in the hell are you supposed to provide for yourself?"
Zoey never thought of it that way.
"M-Zia," Zoey stutters over it, not sure if she still wants to call Zia Mom. She is Zoey's biological Mother but that's as far as their relationship goes. "Called me leech. I remember-" Dad doesn't interrupt. He patiently waits for Zoey to gather her thoughts. "I forgot she used to say it to me a lot. When I was smaller. It was always when Dad paid attention to me."
Zoey always felt confused at the two sides her own Mom showed back then but dismissed it because it ceased after her Dad died.
"I don't-I'm not a leech," Zoey says, wishing she felt as confident as her words. "I'm not."
"No, you're not," Dad agrees emphatically, reaching out to rest his large hand on her knee. "Listen, there's no easy answer to this, okay? These days, there's no right or wrong answer. All I can say is that you are not a leech - and I should know, ex-leech is my specialty-" Zoey giggles and Dad grins. "-and I am an expert of such things. Do you not agree?"
"I guess so," Zoey allows with a small smile.
"Finally!" Dad throws his hands up. "I win an argument. Is it my birthday?"
"Dad!" Zoey giggles again, reaching out to smack his leg.
"Ow!" Dad whines, pulling his leg back. "Foul! Not cool!"
When she tries to smack his leg again, he grins devilishly and catches her arm, pulling her into his lap. She squeals as he digs his fingers into her ticklish spots, "Dad! No! Stop!"
"Teach you to hit your almighty and handsome leader!"
After calming and a long, much needed hug, Zoey follows her Dad back up to the house. Ma has the table set for four and food waiting, so they quickly wash up and rejoin at the table. Zoey feels much better, being reminded that she is loved. Just because Zia doesn't see it, doesn't mean it's not there.
She glances at the spot next to her, empty plate and cup, utensils shining dully under the light. One day...
—
Thinking about Harry always made Zoey feel many sad feelings but also anticipation and yearning hope. She knows he's alive, somewhere, and she knows he will find a way back. Where this certainty comes from, she doesn't know; it's like stating that the sky is blue or the grass is green. It's an irrefutable fact that Harry, her older, pain in the ass adopted Brother will one day come home. She just has to wait.
Zoey is good at waiting… usually.
Today, Harry doesn't even cross Zoey's mind. From the moment she leaves her bed, she's doing stuff. Dad has a mile long list for her to get done before he allows her back outside the fence, even with the
agreed upon number of adults.
Ma catches her for a quick snack drop off, pressing a chocolate covered granola bar and bottle of water into her hands, “Negan and I will be gone for the day. There’s a community called Shirewilt some ways South and we’re going to see if they are willing to join us or not. We’ll be back by tonight, okay?”
Zoey isn’t especially worried for her parents, they both know how to defend themselves and they’ll be going with several Saviours, so they will be fine. However, over six months since the outbreak began, the Outside is even more dangerous than ever. She’s anxious for their return but not worried.
Dad hefts his hammer over his shoulder with a grin, “Don’t worry, Annie Rection is coming along. No one fucks with her!”
Zoey has to ask. It’s obvious the name means something to him, as Dad always makes his Stupid Face when he says it. “Why did you give it that stupid name?”
Dad lights up and his white teeth shines from his megawatt grin as he replies cheerfully, “It’s because when I look at Lucille, I get Annie Re-”
Ma slaps a hand over his mouth before he can finish and Zoey can’t help her giggles, still not getting it but knowing it must have been massively inappropriate, “I think you need to rename it, honey.”
Dad waggles his eyebrows and licks Ma’s hand, earning a shocked huff and wet smack on the arm. Zoey laughs at them, finding their shenanigans endlessly amusing.
“Be good, okay?” Dad says as he and Ma turn to go.
Zoey rolls her eyes, “Yes, Dad.”
With them gone to make relations happen, Zoey contemplates her list. She’s always willing to dig her fingers into the table gardens or help with the kitchens. She really doesn’t like doing the cleaning parts. Ma is a stickler for having a clean community, so there is a constantly rotating list of things to keep clean on the daily like laundry, garbage pick up, garbage and waste removal and even body removal. Zoey especially hates the waste removal jobs, they smell so bad! Not even pinching her nose helps. She could try head out on a run by lying but she knows Dad told the guards not to let her out and she won’t be able to sneak out properly because Dad made adjustments. At least any enemy survivors will have a time sneaking in. Zoey decides she can demand her thanks when it actually happens.
So she completes a few things on the list – cooking and a bit of cleaning to keep it even - and plays hooky with Emillia and the other teenagers, Darren included. He doesn’t quite meet Zoey’s eyes, preferring to look at the others instead or the ground. They get caught trying to sneak out - Zoey not even trying because she knew it would happen - and then they beg Zoey for rooftop access.
"No," Zoey says, shaking her head.
"Why not?" Jake asks, sounding mildly bored and frustrated.
"Because the access door is beyond our door and the guard won't let any of you through," Zoey states, crossing her arms.
"He will if we're with you!"
Zoey laughs, "Man, the reason you got caught is because Dad beefed up security to keep me in. You think they are going to just turn aside and say, go ahead your majesty when I turn up with you lot?"
Jake gives a disgusted scoff, "What good are you?"
Zoey feels defensive and snaps, "At least I'm not scared to go beyond the fence."
Jake rolls his eyes, "Oh, yeah, that totally makes you bad-ass."
"Maybe not completely," Zoey allows with a flat voice. "But definitely more than you."
Darren snickers, "Dude, she's got you."
"Shut up!"
Darren keeps his chortles, unafraid to look right at Jake as he does. It pisses off the other teen, his pale skin blotting tomato red.
Zoey rolls her own eyes, "Darren, stop being a troll."
He does but reluctantly, "I guess… he just makes it so fun."
Zoey shakes her head, "Go ahead and piss him off then. Don’t come crying to me, at all. Or to Dad because I’ll tell him you deserved it."
Darren visibly swallows, then scoffs and leaves, mumbling under his breath.
The silence thereafter is more than a little awkward, though Jake seems far to pleased with Darren’s absence. Them, Emillia jolts a little, lighting up.
"Remember that day all the adults were going crazy and none of us kids were allowed near?" Emillia ventures excitedly, lowering her voice to a whisper. At Jake's nod and Zoey's confusion, Emillia continues, "He bashed some guy's head in!"
"What? Where did you hear that from?" Jake asks in excitement. His apparent blood-lust disturbs Zoey a little, who likes that kind of thing?
Emillia shrugs, "Around. Apparently the guy deserved it. I'm not sure what would deserve that."
"Rape," Zoey answers blandly, hugging herself. "It's the only punishment with an instant death. Dad…" Zoey remembers, back when Sanctuary was just another factory and they went in, hoping for a home. Hands grabbing her-pinning- "... really doesn't like those kinds of people." Jake and Emillia exchange glances. Zoey snaps out of her darker thoughts, "I'm bored. Are we going to do something?"
—
Zoey ends up leaving her friends to themselves. Emillia really seems to like Jake, even if the regard isn't returned and neither of them were interested in doing anything but stand and talk.
Zoey goes to check on the kids, smiling when they greet her. There are four children in total, ages ranging from five to eleven. Zoey took to watching out for them because she knows Harry would have, if he were here.
To cheer them up, she played tag with them until they all tired out and their parents collected them. After a hug from each, Zoey is left alone. She feels hungry but she knows her adoptive parents aren't back yet. Zia looms like a dark shadow in the back of her thoughts and Zoey finally gives in. She wraps Dad's and Harry's words around herself like a cape and faces her Mother through the bars.
Zia is even more gaunt, cheeks so sharp, Zoey wouldn't be surprised if they cut glass. There are deep, dark bags under her eyes and her hair is a knotted mess. The clothes she wears are small in size but still manage to dwarf her emaciated figure. Zia doesn't realize she's there and Zoey takes her biological Mom in at once. This… this is her Mom? Her memories of nearly seven months ago, back at her childhood home, show a dramatic difference. That woman… looks nothing like this one. Zoey felt all sorts of negative feelings then but feels sorry for this one now.
Zia lifts her head, jolting a little when she sees Zoey, "Oh. What do you want?"
Zoey frowns, gathering her spine and hardening it, "Tell me why."
"This again?" Zia rolls her head back and sighs.
"Just tell me, Mom," Zoey says, keeping her voice steady. "I need to know."
"What the fuck does it matter?" Zia asks, sounding exhausted and in pain.
"It matters to me," Zoey almost snarls, losing control over her temper. "I matter! You abandoned me! Your own daughter! I fucking deserve to know why!"
Zia laughs, taking the wind out of Zoey's sails, "You're not my daughter." Zoey feels a wave of hurt. "You're a leech." Zia lifts her head and stares Zoey right in the eyes. "A parasite. You only exist because he wanted you! I made you to make him happy."
Zoey backs away from the bars, her chest hurting fiercely and her mind whirling.
"You don't deserve shit!" Zia snaps cruelly. "You killed him. He chose you over me. You took him away from me! I didn't abandon you, you stupid kid! I didn't consider you mine to begin with!"
"That's enough."
Zoey jerks at the scare but doesn't get far because Ma is suddenly there, next to her and standing tall. Her face is blank and frankly scary, because Zoey has never seen her like that.
Zia scrabbles to the bars, "Ma'am, I-I can e-explain. Please-"
"So you do have manners," Ma cuts her off flatly. "Hard to see under all that shit you were spewing at my daughter."
Zia's face pales, shade after shade after shade as she realizes just what she stepped into. Through the hurt and anger and nearly overwhelming sadness - Mom never loved me - Zoey also feels some warmth and happiness at the matter of fact claiming. Like she had always been Lucille's daughter. Like there was ever any doubt what Zoey meant to her.
"Ma…"
Ma looks down at Zoey and her face softens into a warm smile, "Negan's outside. Why don't you go see him?"
Zoey glances at Zia, "But…"
Ma tuts, "Negan told me about your conversation. He's worried about you. Let him be a Dad, hm?"
Zoey thins her lips and nods but turns back to the cell - facing her panicked biological Mother. She still feels hurt and sad but now - now her anger is greater, "Fuck you."
Zoey turns on her heel and leaves the Pit, and Zia, behind. Her straight back and lifted chin last only long enough to see Dad, waiting a few feet from the door. She crumbles, reaching out for him as her emotions completely overwhelm her.
"I got you, my girl," Dad croons as rubs her back. "Dad's got you."