Running Out of Time

by JamesFitzjames, queerdundy

Summary:

It never gets any easier, Louis thinks as they head back to the woods; leaving the others, leaving Harry, even for a few hours as he tries to keep them breathing. Every second is precious, yet every second is spent trying to stay alive rather than living. He can't remember the last time he wasn't hungry, or cold, or held Harry for any other reason than to keep him warm.
We're the walking dead, his mind repeats relentlessly. We are...

Notes:

Spoilers for season 5 of The Walking Dead.

Winter comes quickly that year, and even if they're moving further south with every day that passes, it's a slow journey, made even slower as the nights grow colder and the days start bringing layers of wet snow that do nothing to hide their tracks. But not even the walkers are immune to the cold and when the temperature drops, their non beating hearts can't stop their blood from freezing in their veins. Even when they're not frozen solid they're slow and clumsy and not much of a threat compared to winter itself. Louis only wishes they had more than their beating hearts to protect them from the natural forces of the world.

They steer clear of well populated areas, but that means it's harder to find good shelter. At the moment, they seem to be in a part of England that has barely any buildings. Nothing is growing any more, and any food that has is buried under snow.

These days, they can only travel until mid afternoon, when darkness settles in. Dusk is already upon them when Zayn points out a small barn just off the path through the woods that they're taking. It's barely holding itself together, but anything is better than another night without a roof over their heads.

There's a bone deep tiredness affecting everybody's movements, making Louis hyper alert because nobody seems particularly capable of fighting off a surprise attack like this.

"I'll check it out. Liam, with me."

It's always the same protocol. He and Liam make sure their temporary home is safe, while the others scan the surroundings, and then they all try to pretend they're not desperate for some canned food to be stowed away in a dark corner.

There is no food, but luckily there are no walkers either. It's drier than Louis had expected, and there's some hay to sleep on. All in all, it's one of the better places they've found in weeks.

Silence falls as Liam starts up a fire, Louis walking back outside to skin the small rabbit he'd caught earlier, ignoring the way his hands shake as they handle the knife. They'll need better clothes soon, and boots, and maybe a more permanent home in which to ride out the worst weeks of frost before they move on. There's not much point in trying to keep moving when most of their time is occupied by hunting or setting up camp anyway. And if Louis' being entirely honest with himself, he's starting to fear that if they keep going, not all of them will make it till spring.

When he comes back, everyone is huddled around the fire, sharing blankets and waiting hungrily for dinner. Harry's nose is red in the flickering light, his lips blue, and Louis knows all too well how every bone in his body is protruding, leaving nothing at all to hold on to as they fall asleep at night.

Niall quietly mumbles part of a folk song he made up a while ago, but his voice is strained and nobody is smiling. The only thing they have plenty of is water, thanks to all the snow, but that means the water is cold enough to freeze them from the inside. Everyone tries to avoid drinking unless they have to.

Louis shares out the stringy meat, leaving the last scraps for himself because the others need it more. He can see it in how Zayn is always leaning on someone else for balance, how Niall spends any rest time with his arms tight like a vice around his stomach to hold off cramps. Liam's lost his optimistic demeanour and all Harry seems to want to do is sleep, too worn down for even short walks once they stop moving for the day. The morale is low, with Niall's song fading off as he forgets the lines, and Louis distantly wishes they could find another survivor, recently caught by walkers, so they might steal their food.

“Not much difference between them and us anymore, is there?” Niall says around a mouthful of carefully chewed rabbit. “Desperate for meat, stumbling around like drunkards.”

“No, there isn't,” Louis mumbles, staring into the flames unseeingly. “And that's how we survive...” The words come slowly, his lips numb as he tries to shape them into sounds. “We tell ourselves...” he rasps, “that we are the walking dead.”

There's a short silence, nothing but the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls, before Harry struggles to his feet with all the strength of a wizened old man.

“We're not like them,” he mutters, eyes red and glowing, ablaze with something Louis doesn't quite understand. “We're not,” he repeats before walking off, leaving the rest of them to exchange tired looks over the remains of their dinner.

Louis should go and apologise, but they all know that eventually Harry's going to come back to the fire, lured in like a timid wild animal desperate to feel the brief comfort of warm flames heating up the parts of him facing towards it, even if the parts cast in shadow feel colder than ever.

It takes longer than usual, but he does come back, slipping in between Liam and Niall, as far from Louis as he can get without losing heat on both sides.

"We should get some sleep," Zayn announces, sounding like he believes it more than he's going to follow it through. Nobody argues, but at the same time, nobody makes moves to break down the fire.

“I'll take the first watch,” Louis says automatically but Liam shakes his head, getting to his feet with obvious effort.

“I'll take it,” he says roughly. “You keep him warm,” he adds in a mutter, stalking over to the door.

Louis doesn't have enough fight left in him to argue, so he takes his time to put out the fire, leaving only a few glowing embers for warmth, before limping over to where Harry has curled up, slipping under the blanket. Underneath, Harry's wearing nothing but the tattered shirt he'd picked up months ago and the black jeans he'd worn when they met, shivering as Louis presses up against his back.

The position is awkward, with Harry being bigger than he is, even curled in on himself, but Louis manages to fit around him, arm folding over his waist and settling under his rib cage carefully. It feels like any strong pressure would cause his bones to break the skin, but Louis doesn't have enough knowledge to know how badly underfed they all are. His mum would know, but it was never really a topic of conversation before the world ended without so much as a warning.

"I'm still mad at you," Harry whispers, like he can't raise his voice any louder, can't use more energy than he absolutely has to.

"I know, love. Just focus on resting." He isn't going to apologise, not when he had a point and Harry is only being over-sensitive because he's in a bad place. But he doesn't miss the way Harry shifts to get closer to him, leeching any warmth Louis has to give.

He doesn't remember falling asleep but he wakes to loud banging, the wide doors of the barn creaking under the pressure. Liam's on his feet faster than Louis would have thought possible, pushing back, but it isn't enough, the doors are going to give at any moment and all that can be heard over the groaning of the hinges is more groaning from the walkers outside.

Louis staggers upright, lunging himself at the doors, feeling Niall and Zayn joining him on both sides but the wood breaks only seconds later, sending him crashing to the floor.

When he wakes up the second time, it's to the sound of his own screams ringing out across the hollow barn. Harry is leaning over him, blocking him in and frowning, petting at his face and hair gently.

"Hey, hey. It's alright."

Louis' crying. Stopping is more difficult than it should be, because it's like any resolve he had is breaking. Somehow, he does stop, because the others are looking at him weird and he needs to keep it together. His noise isn't helping them.

"Sorry..." he tries to say but his voice is so hoarse it comes out a whisper. "I'm fine."

"Bad dreams?" Harry asks quietly.

"I'm fine," Louis repeats, sitting up with a struggle. Liam is still by the doors.

"It's dawn," he says. "We might as well keep moving."

They gather up the blankets, putting them on top of their bags for more cold nights, and Liam sweeps the area to check they haven't forgotten anything.

"Louis," Harry calls from the door, just when everyone's getting ready. There's no fear in his tone, but something hopeful lingers under the tiredness. Louis makes it to the door just as Harry is crouched down, picking something up from the ground.

It's food. A crate full of it, from tins to fresh vegetables and bottled water. Harry's holding some fruit, ignoring Louis and turning it over in his pale hands.

"Don't," Louis says instinctively, alarms going off loudly in his head at the sight of such a kingly gift.

"There's a card," Harry goes on, dropping the fruit in order to pick up a piece of paper. Louis rips it from his hand.

"Enjoy," it says, signed, "from a friend."

"Is it safe to eat?" Niall asks from behind them just as Louis starts to crumple up the paper.

"We don't have any friends."

"But you can't contaminate a closed can," Niall presses.

"No. Don't touch it, Niall."

There's a beat of silence, where it looks like Niall is going to start arguing, and Harry's hands are twitching towards the food.

It's Liam that makes a move, picking up the box and taking it back into the barn, out of sight.

"Louis' right," he says when he comes back. "Have you already forgotten what Terminus was like?"

"It's a trap," Louis concludes.

Harry's looking at him when he turns and it hurts like a walker bite to have to deny him, his eyes so hollow as they stare back at him, but Louis needs to keep him safe. All of them. They need to be safe. These days, it's really all that keeps him going anymore.

"Okay," Harry nods then, and Louis feels his shoulders sag in relief.

"Alright, people," he says as decisively as he can manage. "Let's keep moving."

It's even tougher to get into a good rhythm of walking this time, with all of them looking behind their backs. Louis can't shake the itchy feeling that someone is watching them, could strike at any second. But they haven't yet, and that's worse.

"We need food," Liam murmurs, catching up to where Louis is inspecting a bush in hopes of finding something edible. "Should split up a bit, cover ground. It's still early, so we won't get caught by the sunset."

"I'm not worried about that," Louis returns, watching how Harry almost trips over a loose rock on the gravel path.

"Guys!" Niall shouts, having walked ahead a little bit. "It's the end of the woods!"

Louis looks up, and true enough, the trees seem to just stop some way along the road, giving way to white fields.

Harry stumbles forward and then they're all staring out across it, at the few trees strewn out, and the farm house sat in the middle like a flickering mirage.

Louis smiles weakly, seeing no walkers on the field. There are even a few footprints of animals across the snow.

Without breathing a word, they all start towards the house with weapons lifted, ready to fight off anything that comes out at them.

It's empty. There are no walkers, but there's also no food, not even in the corners of the pantry.

"They could have at least left something for other people," Niall mutters darkly, slamming the last unchecked cupboard closed while the others collapse onto the sofas in the pristine living room.

"I'll hunt," Louis offers, even if it takes more energy than he feels he has to get to his feet again.

"Not alone," Liam sighs, and together they collect their weapons, leaving the other three to start up a fire and melt some snow for drinking water.

It never gets any easier, Louis thinks as they head back to the woods; leaving the others, leaving Harry, even for a few hours as he tries to keep them breathing. Every second is precious, yet every second is spent trying to stay alive rather than living. He can't remember the last time he wasn't hungry, or cold, or held Harry for any other reason than to keep him warm.

We're the walking dead, his mind repeats relentlessly. We are...

They don't find anything more than tracks, and some frosted over berries. Louis snags some nettles so they can at least boil them in water and have some sort of variety. He imagines that Harry might crack a smile, joke about how he didn't find them food but he still found tea. Chances are it will sound more harsh than warm, because he can't remember when Harry last sounded happy.

They only encounter one walker, and it's not even able to get to its feet when they pass, sat against a tree with its jaw working uselessly, a few guttural sounds escaping. Louis spares it a brief glance and is just about to move on when he catches the chain around its neck, something glimmering in the last rays of sunlight.

"Louis, what are you doing?" Liam hisses as Louis crouches, approaching the walker and putting his crossbow on the ground.

He ignores the question, too tired to waste energy on pointless explanations, and reaches out for the silver ring dangling from the chain. It's a nice ring, simple, and Louis can't help but think Harry would like it, another addition to his collection. Maybe it'll make him forget that Louis couldn't bring him something to eat. Maybe it'll make him smile, just a little.

Prying the chain from the walker's neck is far easier than it should be, or maybe Louis has just lost all respect he had for the living dead. Liam keeps sneaking glances at him as they get back go the house, but Louis ignores him, tucking the ring into the small pocket of his jeans that coins were probably supposed to go in.

Any thoughts about giving Harry his present, however, are pushed aside when they step through the doors and hear a voice that they don't recognise. Freezing in the hallway, Louis catches Liam's eye and raises his bow, trying not to let fear affect the adrenaline powering through him, making him forget how weak he is.

"I have pictures," he hears the voice declare then, and it's all he needs to round the corner with his weapon ready, expecting anything but the scene in front of him.

A man he doesn't recognise, probably no older than Louis himself, is sat on the couch, hands tied behind his back, the boys standing in a semi-circle around him, looking more intrigued than scared. At the sight of Louis, they all take a step back, silence falling heavily as they stare at each other over the man's head.

"You did this?" Louis asks incredulously, waving his crossbow in the man's direction but looking at Harry.

"Not much of a fighter, this one," Harry shrugs.

"Fighting's not my job," the stranger says apologetically.

"Your job?" Louis questions, taking a step closer. "Who are you?"

"My name's Stan Lucas. I'm from a community nearby-"

"They never work out. I don't trust someone who still thinks surnames matter any more," Louis cuts him off, already feeling the unsettled sting of fear. If they're close, then this house isn't safe. None of them are safe.

"He left the food," Niall explains. "Same handwriting and everything. But it's not tampered with."

"Did he tell you that?" Liam asks, taking Louis' side.

“I've got more in my bag,” Stan offers, nodding towards a rucksack on the floor a few feet away. “I know you're all hungry.”

“Because you've been spying on us?” Louis narrows his eyes, gripping his crossbow with a clammy hand. “How long have you been following us?”

“A few days,” Stan admits. Louis doesn't like the look of him. He's too chubby, too healthy looking, and it's getting on his nerves. “I've seen what you can do, Louis, and we need people like you in Alexandria.”

Louis dislikes him even more for knowing his name. “Do you want to know what the last community we set foot in was like?” he says slowly, taking a seat in one of the armchairs opposite and trying not to let it show how weak he is, with the adrenaline fading only to be replaced with an overwhelming exhaustion.

"Not really."

"They were cannibals." Louis has decided that he needs to know. Needs to recognise that they're not messing about, they're aware of the risk. "Cooking flesh on barbecues like a typical summer afternoon. Can you imagine that?" Stan's starting to look a bit pale now, and Louis feels a distant pleasure at making him uncomfortable.

"You don't-"

"They kept all the belongings, Stan. Piles of kids clothes and toys. They didn't care."

"Louis," Harry interrupts, and Louis finally looks away from Stan to see that he's gone too far. Harry isn't looking too well, taking slow breaths like he's nauseous.

"I get that you've been through a lot," Stan says carefully, "and that you don't trust me-"

"That we can agree on," Louis interjects.

"But, I also know that you may not survive this winter without our help."

There's a pregnant pause, Louis feeling like his lungs are slowly collapsing in on themselves as he listens to his worst fears being spoken out loud. He can't look at Harry, or any of them, in case they can see the recognition in his eyes. He can't let them down.

"Bold words," Liam states finally.

"It's true, though, isn't it? There's nothing to eat any more. You've been out for hours and all you got is a plant."

Nobody talks. Louis is waiting for Liam, the diplomat that he is, to say something helpful. The others seem to be waiting for him.

"He has a point," Liam murmurs, looking over to where Zayn is tentatively poking through Stan's bag.

Louis looks up, at each of them in turn, and waits for someone else to speak. His head seems to be spinning, and he's so tired.

"I'll trust you on this," Niall says at last. "Whatever you decide, Lou."

"Yeah," Zayn agrees, shuffling through what looks like a pile of photographs.

"You know where I stand," Harry murmurs, and Louis does.

"Liam," he says. "Come with me."

They walk into the kitchen, and Louis can't stay still.

"We should consider it," Liam starts, giving Louis the space to move around.

"It could still be a trap."

"Maybe. But we don't have much of a choice."

Louis nods, even though he would rather be crying. That's a luxury he can't afford.

"No," he says then, shaking his head as if to get rid of a buzzing insect. "I was gonna keep us here," he mutters, half to himself. "Keep us safe till spring."

"And what if you can't?" Liam questions mercilessly. "What if you get too weak to hunt and we all die?"

"What if I lead them into a trap and we all die?"

Liam sighs, wiping a hand over his face. "What if we just get close enough to have a look?"

"Remember what you heard when you first came to Terminus?" Harry says suddenly, and when Louis turns he's leaning against the door frame, eyes big and shiny under his long fringe.

"Nothing," Louis replies. "Not a damn thing."

"Exactly," Harry nods, and moves closer, stroking a thumb down Louis' neck, making him close his eyes and tip his head back, just a little.

"We'll only eat the food he couldn't have messed with," Louis sighs, accepting the relief when Harry tugs him back to share his weight a bit.

"Good. Niall's already buried in the tinned peaches," Harry murmurs. For the first time in what feels like years, there are smiles.

"He made Stan eat some first, even though he apparently hates them."

"Smart kid," Louis allows, but not smart enough, he thinks heavily, walking back into the living room to give his final verdict. "Alright," he sighs, crouching in front of Stan this time. "Tell me about Alexandria."

Niall makes a decent soup out of their new supplies, and they can barely shovel it into their mouths fast enough. After, with nettle tea wrapped up in his hands, and the fire warming the living room, Louis gets more details about the small town Stan's living in. There are striking similarities to the way he describes it that match with how they'd all thought about Terminus, but the difference is that there's proof. The photos show vegetable patches, people actually smiling and leaning in for photos. The quality is poor, but it's such a novelty to see recent photos that nobody cares.

Alexandria is just over an hour away by car, and by the time everyone's getting sleepy and curling up into soft chairs, there's hope lingering in the air.

"So where exactly is your car?" Louis asks when there's nothing left to keep them waiting.

"It's just down the road," Stan tells him.

"How far?"

"Not even half a mile. And my partner's waiting by some stables further on, in a different car."

"Your partner?" It's the first Louis' heard about it and he's immediately put on edge again, feeling like his control is slipping with every new piece of information he gains.

"We always recruit in pairs," Stan hastens to say, looking around as if he's hoping someone will agree. "In case something happens."

"Well, if that's the case," Louis sighs, "you wouldn't mind if Liam and Zayn went to get him, would you?"

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you won't," Louis says firmly. "You're staying here with me."

Stan looks like he's going to argue, but they only recently untied him, and Louis' hand twitches towards the closest weapon as a warning.

"I'll draw up a map," he allows, and everyone gathers up what little they have.

With everyone having finally eaten something filling, it's easier to split up without Louis worrying that they won't come back.

"We'll bring the car back, then we'll all head off. Shouldn't be long," Liam smiles, patting Louis shoulder and sparing a glance at Stan.

"You better be back before bed time," Louis mutters and watches them go.

Darkness falls quickly and Louis' restless as he sits staring out the front windows. Harry is asking Stan all sorts of ridiculous questions but cleverly not giving anything away. Not that there seems to be much that Stan doesn't know about them, but Louis' grateful all the same.

It's been hours when something finally happens, but it's not what they'd expected. A bright, red light illuminates the sky, unmistakeably from a flare gun, and Louis is on his feet in seconds but not before Stan, who launches himself at the door.

"Hold on!" Louis barks, catching his arm and pulling him back.

"I need to go to him!" Stan yells. "Let me go!"

"What's happening?" Harry asks from behind them.

"It's a warning," Louis supplies.

"It's a cry for help!" Stan corrects. "Something's happened."

Louis still doesn't understand why this is alarming enough to run without thinking, but if there's a chance that Liam and Zayn are in danger, he isn't going to hold back.

They take off at a run to the car, and he can feel the energy draining from him, legs burning under sudden use.

He's uncomfortable letting Stan drive, but he seems too shaky to be left to his own devices, and Louis wants to have his hands free in case they run into trouble.

He takes the front passenger seat, watching the road and keeping an eye on Stan, seeing a desperation there he can relate to far too well; the need to protect his family.

The first walker seems to come out of nowhere, too sudden for Stan to swerve, and they hit it straight on, splashing the wind shield with black blood. After that it's just one after another, going down like pins on a bowling lane, and they can't even see the road anymore yet Stan doesn't slow down until they reach the location of the flare.

First, they get past the empty car. The doors are open, and it's clearly been abandoned in a hurry. Stan's grip on the wheel tightens, and they coast to a stop aided by the unsettling sounds of something soft falling underneath the tyres.

There are more walkers, all around the car but mostly in front, towards the building ahead.
Stan fumbles for the handle to get out of the car, hands tight on a short blade as he takes a steady breath. Harry's the one that grabs his sleeve and pulls him back.

"We need a plan," he explains quietly, glancing at Louis for confirmation. "We're no use to anyone if we get bitten."

"Your friend and our friends are more than likely in those stables," Louis continues, "and they're as safe as they can be as long as the doors stay closed. We need to clear this herd and we've done it before, we can handle it, but can you?"

Stan looks between the three of them, fear shining in his eyes, before he shakes his head. "I've never killed one," he confesses.

"Then you lock yourself in and wait until we're finished."

"Guys," Niall speaks up from the back seat. "They're coming, we need to get out, now."

The stretch of space between the car and the walkers feel like miles, and Louis knows that the first few hits are vital. It's the only chance they get at an attack before they're noticed, and all elements of surprise are lost. Now they've had something to eat and a warm fire to remind them what living could feel like, it's easier to lift their weapons, but a part of Louis is constantly assessing how far away he is from Harry and Niall, and checking the face of each walker in case it's someone he knows. Niall's a decent fighter when he has to be, he can look after himself, but there's something in Louis that has him nervous for Harry. His aim isn't perfect yet, and when they get too close Louis knows he has a tendency to panic. He's not cut out for this life like Louis is, and that worries him more than he could ever let on.

Louis takes down a few walkers at once, hearing thuds as the Niall and Harry chip in, but when they start noticing fresh meat denting the herd, the walkers gain a bit of enthusiasm, turning in an uncoordinated mess towards them.

It's been so long since they faced a challenge this big, and there's no real way of knowing that the cause is a real one. Louis fires arrow after arrow, darting forwards to pick them up when he can but he's losing strength quickly, his focus too divided.

And then Harry reaches the door.

"Get in!" Louis shouts the second he sees Harry's pale hand against the wood. "Liam! Zayn! Let us in!"

It takes a minute, maybe more, but when the doors finally swing open enough to let Harry and Niall slip in, something seems to click into place and finally make sense. Louis pushes the doors shut again, rounding on the remaining walkers with no fear left to hold him back.

That feeling, topped with adrenaline, carries him through until they're all down, silence ringing out and echoing from the stables.

Stan's by his side, knocking on the door to be let in, but Louis takes the time to make a lap, ensuring that all the walkers are down and picking up his arrows.

Then, finally, he lets himself go through the door, where he's immediately got an arm full of Zayn and Liam, feeling warm and alive. Harry's not nearby, but he can hear his voice in another room, low and soothing.

"Stan's friend got hurt," Niall explains quietly, taking Louis' crossbow from him and setting it down carefully.

"Bitten?"

"No," Liam supplies, "but his ankle might be broken. Says they have a surgeon though."

"A surgeon?" Louis laughs quietly, shaking his head. "Of course they do."

"What about the walkers?"

"Dead."

There's respect in Liam's eyes as he reaches out to squeeze Louis' shoulder, and he doesn't know if it's something to be proud of but in this moment it will do. "I say we get some sleep, head off in the morning."

"Alright."

"Harry!" he calls. "Stan, come out here."

They both emerge with blood on them, like they were helping with the injury, and Louis can't tell if he should be proud of Harry for immediately stepping up to lend a hand or frustrated that he keeps trusting so blindly. Stan looks like he's been crying, but he doesn't look sad.

"Is he alright?" Louis asks, mostly because it seems he should.

"Yeah, he'll be okay once we get home."

"Alright. We're staying here tonight, and I want you in my sight at all times."

For the first time since they met, Stan looks confident in his decision, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry Louis. I get that you want to keep an eye on me, but there's nothing in this world that could stop me being with Calvin tonight."

The words take a moment to set in, but then Louis starts to understand how important this person is to Stan. He looks over at Liam for confirmation, and gets a gentle nod. If he were Stan, and Harry had been hurt, he'd do anything to stay with him.

A quiet laugh escapes him. "I'd have to shoot you," he smiles wryly. "Wouldn't I?"

"Yeah," Stan agrees, eyeing Louis apprehensively. At least he has some courage in him, he thinks, letting his shoulders sag, exhaustion washing over him once again.

"Fine," he decides. "Go to him."

"Thank you," Stan breathes, disappearing behind the door, and Louis looks around the hay filled stalls, setting off straight for the most comfortable looking one.

He can hear Liam, Niall and Zayn shuffling over to the one opposite, Harry immediately settling next to Louis with his lanky arms wrapping around him in a way he hasn't had the strength to do in ages. Louis lets himself be held, and closes his tired eyes.

"That was a good thing you did, for them," Harry whispers, pressing his lips to the shell of Louis' ear.

"Well, he had to go and make it personal, didn't he?" Louis mumbles.

"You wouldn't have listened otherwise," Harry allows. "You're stubborn like that."

"You're too happy to give people a chance," Louis counters, no malice in his tone. "It's a wonder you survived until you found us, honestly."

"I was ruthless before I met you. You made me soft." Harry's voice is dry, the humour barely noticeable.

Louis sighs. "I just need to keep you safe, that's all that matters."

"I know," Harry tells him calmly. "I know."

 

 

They wake up at dawn, finding Stan and Calvin exactly where they left them. The others seem relaxed, like all danger has passed, but Louis' tense as they pack themselves into the cars. They seem to have forgotten that even while they're getting to know Stan, and by extension starting to meet Calvin, they're still heading towards a location they don't know, to a community they don't know. Louis allowed Stan and Calvin to take the first car, but only if Liam and Niall went with them. Louis himself is driving the other car, close behind, with Harry at his side.

He's still looking a tad on the pale side, with bits of hay sticking out of his hair. He's smiling sleepily, and if they weren't in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, following strangers potentially into a trap, it would feel like a pleasant road trip. Especially with Zayn sporadically napping as he sprawls over the back seat.

Hazza," Louis mumbles without meaning to, drawing Harry's attention. He's still smiling and Louis is momentarily lost for words.

"What?" Harry replies softly.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Just..." He looks back at the road, licking his lips absently and tucking a stray curl behind his ear. "It would be nice to have a place to call home, you know?"

Louis squints against the pale winter sun, humming quietly. He knows how badly they need this, how badly they want it, but he can't bring himself to be hopeful.

"What do you think?" Harry prompts, and Louis shrugs, keeping his eyes on the road.
"You're my home," he says, and Harry's smile grows, effortless and bright, hitting Louis straight in the chest. It feels a bit like oblivion.

When the car in front draws to a steady halt some hours later, Louis alerts Harry gently by pushing his knee until it hits the other and he slowly opens his eyes. The world seems to have slowed down a little bit, everything moving in half-time. There's a big wall in front of them, constructed out of metal that looks more solid than the simple diamond cross wire work from Terminus. It would work to keep the walkers out pretty well, but it's also stopping them from seeing inside.

Harry throws a water bottle at Zayn, and they all make their way out of the car warily, guns raised.
In front of them, Stan and Niall are laughing. It seems the journey has drawn them closer, and Louis realises absently that Niall could probably find common ground with Darth Vader and they'd become best friends. Liam, however, looks completely drained by their enthusiasm.

"Not a moment of peace," he mutters once he reaches the others and they've established that there is no current ambush. "I hope you all had a miserable time, too."

"They slept," Louis informs him.

"Listen," Harry says, causing them all to fall silent, and when the massive gate slides open Louis catches the sound of children laughing. Absurdly, it reminds him of his sisters.

 

 

They're asked to hand their weapons over first thing, with a promise of getting them back if they head outside the walls. Louis hands over his knife, reluctantly watching the others give up their guns, but when Stan nods towards his crossbow he shakes his head.

"You'll get it back if you head out again," Stan repeats and Louis gives a breathy laugh.

"It's not what's outside that worries me," he mutters.

"He can keep it, for now," a voice speaks up from behind them, and when Louis turns there's a woman watching them, hair grey and eyes sharp.

She leads them through the town in silence, and Harry stays close to Louis, but doesn't reach for his hand as much as his eyes show he wants to. Louis could close the gap and let their fingers tangle, but he doesn't trust their environment to treat Harry well if anyone were to find out. For all he knows, Stan and Calvin take the away missions because it allows them to be intimate without the same kind of fear they would have in this place.

The woman's name is Simone, and she wants to record them all individually, with a proper camera. Something about archiving, legacies and remembering the stories of everyone that comes here.

Louis thinks it's bullshit. No one has time to sit around and watch old videotapes anymore.

He doesn't say that, however, but sits gingerly on a plush armchair in a kind of office space he's only seen in movies. It's posh and clean and untouched by the apocalypse and it sets him on edge. He's never felt so out of place.

"Louis, is it?" Simone asks, crossing her legs and looking at him expectantly.

"Yeah."

"Surname?"

"Doesn't matter."

"We think they're important to maintain a sense of familiarity here in Alexandria," she presses, but Louis can't be bothered to play that game.

"Good for you."

The rest of the talk goes much the same way, with Simone trying to ask about his family, how he met the others, and so on. Louis keeps evading, because he owes these people nothing, and even if nobody watches, he isn't going to immortalise his own tragic past on an outdated piece of technology.

At some point, he can't stand her constant piercing gaze, and stands up with his hand tight on his crossbow to see if the ageing books on the many shelves are actually real, not a prop. They are. He's faintly surprised.

"What you've got to understand," Simone says behind him as he looks through the windows, at the tidy streets below, "is that we need people like you here, but it goes both ways. We're offering you protection, and in return we expect your cooperation and your competence."

"Competence?" Louis questions, turning back to look at her.

"I'll assign you jobs," she replies. "Something that suits you."

Louis laughs faintly. "Now that will be an achievement."

"What sort of position did you hold before the world changed?"

It's a word choice Louis hasn't heard before, and easier to pick apart than answering the question.

"The world hasn't changed. It's ended. We're all just left behind."

He's half expecting Simone to recommend him a psychiatrist, but she just raises her eyebrows.

"Have you seen what it's like out there?" he continues. "How long have you been cooped up in this place?"

"My husband built this wall," she says calmly. "Shortly after it was made clear that we needed protection."

"Ah, so you don't know what it's like," Louis says tightly.

"But you do," she answers curtly. "And that's why we brought you here."

After he's been dismissed, Stan takes them all on a walk around the community. Louis' still disorientated by how clean everything is, and untouched. The houses are all intact, built to last, and it looks so normal – idyllic. They're just typical English houses, with red brick and walled gardens. Cramped, like how England used to be.

"How's Calvin?" Louis asks for lack of something better, falling into step with Stan.

"He'll be alright," he replies with a grin that Louis doesn't know how to return. "Thanks to you. It's a debt I'll never be able to repay but I want you to know that I'll do my very best."

"Don't worry about it," Louis replies absently, coming to a halt as Stan does.

"Your house," he announces.

"What?"

"Well. There aren't enough of you to spread out into two. So this one is assigned to your group," Stan explains carefully. He points to a house two down on the other side. "That's ours, there, should you need anything."

"Do you live with Calvin?" Harry asks, sounding like he wants to ask more questions but knows he's back in a civilised space.

"Sure. We only had to ask to be reassigned." He smiles brightly again. “There's a sort of get-together tonight at Simone's house, as a welcome. Everyone would love to meet you. There are clothes inside, so you're welcome to change into them after you've showered."

"Showered?" Liam and Zayn ask with one voice.

"Yeah," Stan nods patiently. "Got electricity too. You'll get the full run through tonight if you show up" He laughs at the looks on everyone's faces. "See ya."

There's silence while everyone processes the information. Louis watches as the others fall into action at the same time, starting for the door as they try to get through it first to find the bathroom before anyone else. Niall can be heard cackling over shouts of frustration, and Louis holds back a smile.

"Fuck you lot, I'm using the kitchen sink," Liam announces in the next room.

Slowly, Louis walks through the hallway as the sound of clattering feet fades upstairs. The living room is facing the street, big and airy, with a kitchen tucked in at the back, a study, and three bedrooms upstairs along with the bathroom. It's nicer than any house Louis' ever lived in, and probably nicer than any of them deserve, but for once Louis has no desire to look a gift horse in the mouth. He sincerely doubts the house is out to get them.

"Wanna join me in the shower once those tossers have had a go?" Harry mumbles in his ear suddenly, coming up to wrap his arms around Louis from behind, lips ghosting his ear.

The idea of losing all his layers of armour in a new space, washing off the proof of what's happened to him, it isn't an idea he's comfortable with. But Harry's pressing kisses against his neck and pushing fingers into his knotted hair, and there's no way to actually turn down the prospect of seeing what Harry looks like without his own clothes on again, with water making him clean. They haven't seen each other in daylight before, not really. Not clean. It feels new, somehow.

Louis sighs, playing it up like he has better things to do just so he can feel Harry pouting into his skin.

"Alright, fine. But only if you wash my hair."

"I'll do more than wash your hair," Harry mumbles, pressing a smile into Louis' shoulder, and when he turns, Harry's lips immediately find his in the first proper kiss they've had since autumn. Harry tastes like spring.

When Liam finally emerges from the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind him, Louis has searched the whole house and only found exactly what he'd expected; utilities, clothes and food. Normal household items.

"You boys next?" Liam says from under a fluffy towel. "Keep it down, will you?"

"No one said you had to listen," Louis tells him as Harry catches his hand and starts leading him upstairs with a serene smile on his face. Zayn and Niall cackle a bit from the couch, and the world seems to right itself for a moment, almost like before.

The air is already damp from the others running the shower, and Louis notices one of them has drawn a large smiley face in the condensation on the mirror.

Harry locks the door behind them, and the bathroom is white, clean. It's untouched by the world outside the metal walls. Louis barely has time to unbutton his shirt before Harry's lost all his top layers, and is crowding Louis towards the shower with his hands working on Louis' belt.

"Missed you," Harry breaths against his lips, pushing Louis' jeans down and starting on his own.

"I've been right here."

"Not naked, you haven't."

Louis' about to reply but then he catches sight of Harry's shrunken stomach, his wiry legs, how every bone in his body seem to protrude unnaturally from his grimy skin.

"You're starved," he mumbles, reaching for him to make sure life is still pumping slowly through his veins. Harry just hums, helping Louis out of his shirt so they're both naked, staring at each other under the fluorescent lights. "Still beautiful though."

"You're the same," Harry points out, and Louis knows it's true without needing to look down at himself. Why would he look anywhere else, when Harry is right there, smiling like he's the sun.

They step into the shower, and the shriek of delight Harry lets out when the warm water hits his skin is enough to melt any resolve Louis had left in him. He steps closer, trailing kisses along the areas of skin that are showing through the dirt and blood that's accumulated over time.

He uses a flannel to rub it off, taking his time, and when Harry takes it from him he lets his head tip back, allowing him to return the favour.

"Turn around," Harry mumbles, stepping up close and trailing fingers down Louis' spine, pushing at his shoulder until he braces his arms against the wall. He slips a finger inside him without a moment's hesitation.

"Fuck," Louis gasps, arching his back instinctively as Harry bites down gently on his neck.

"Good?"

It's all he can do to not let his legs give out and slip down the shower wall, but Louis manages a weak nod. It's been so long, he almost forgot what it felt like.

Harry keeps going for a while, briefly pausing to reach for the bar of soap as alternative lube.

"We're like some porn cliche," Louis breaths during one such break, earning a quiet laugh from Harry followed by a curious hum.

"If that's the case... Do you trust me?"

Louis nods without thinking, because that's a stupid question, and then Harry's sinking down without giving him time to ask a follow up, kissing across his skin and confidently pressing his tongue flat in a line over his hole. He should have known Harry would be the kind of person who wants to see how Louis tastes at his most vulnerable.

He whines, high pitched and breathy, spreading his legs when Harry continues to lick at him. He could touch himself and it would be over in seconds, but he hasn't felt good like this for so long and he'd rather have Harry take him apart all by himself, like he used to, when they still had enough life in them to try.

Harry seems to be of the same mind, digging his fingers into the only soft skin Louis has left and gently holding him open. He feels sacred, like Harry would rather be here than anywhere else in the world, and there's no rush, just Harry looking after him and dipping into him so carefully that Louis thinks he could cry again. At least, with the water running, nobody would be able to tell. He's already making obscene sounds as it is.

"I'm close," he manages to whisper and Harry pauses, one hand leaving Louis' skin only to move down, his thumb pressing over a spot just below where his mouth is still at work, and Louis comes with a startled shout, slumping against the wall.

When he finally gets back to remembering who he is, Harry is leaning against the wall next to him, looking relaxed and loose-limbed as echoes of his low rendition of Louis' name filters back to him. The running water cleaned everything up for them both, and it feels like yet another blessing.

"Come down here properly so I can wash your hair," Harry murmurs, smiling gently.

Louis obediently lets Harry guide him back under the spray and then sits very still while he puts shampoo in his hair, the smell of flowers wafting around them.

"I didn't get to touch you," he mumbles after a while, eyes stinging as he blinks at Harry's pretty face through the steam.

"Didn't know you wanted it so badly," Harry smiles, finally steering them out of the shower and turning the water off. "But there'll be more chances," he adds, reaching for a clean towel to wrap around them both. Louis can't help but wonder when that chance is going to present itself, if it comes at all.

There are a variety of clothes laying around in the house, from kids clothes to formal dresses, and Harry insists on checking all the options, since they need to look good when they meet the town. In the end, he goes for one of the floral shirts that were near the dresses, unbuttoned to show off his clean skin, the tattoos Louis forgot he had. He barely looks like the mess of a kid Louis met so long ago in the woods.

Briefly, he wonders what his old friends would have had to say about someone like Harry, but it all seems so stupid now. People all look the same covered in layers of dirt and blood, he thinks, equally powerless in the face of death, equally vulnerable in love.

"What is it?" Harry asks with a smile, smoothing his shirt out. Louis can't help but smile back faintly.

"Nothing," he says, looking down at the vest Harry picked out for him along with the rest of his clothes. The jeans are a bit big and the shirt hangs loosely from his shoulders, but the vest looks to be his size, made of black leather with a pair of white wings sewn onto the back.

When he tries it all on, Harry's smiling like he can't help it.

Downstairs, the others have found their own clothes, spread around in the living room. Niall's made a nest by the fireplace, like a house cat with how he's taking up floorspace unapologetically.

"Looking sharp, lads," Louis announces, trying to hold on to the comfortable glow in the room from each of them.

"Zayn's Asian, did you know?" Niall says cheerfully. "I thought it was just dirt."

Louis feels like he hasn't laughed in years and it feels good, the others joining in easily. Zayn laughs loudest.

"We going to this party then?" Liam asks from the couch, sounding hopeful.

"Might be a good idea to gather as much info as we can," Louis nods. "Try to find out who these people are and why they want us here."

"I was mostly thinking about the booze," Liam admits sheepishly.

"Oh Christ, they'll have booze?" Niall asks, sitting up. "We have to go."

"Reckon Stan and Calvin will be there?" Harry asks, sitting on one of the chairs and pulling Louis onto his lap like he weighs nothing. At the moment, it's probably true.

"It doesn't matter. We'll show up, get what we want, and excuse ourselves whenever anyone tries to get personal." Louis knows they're all falling into a sense of false security, even before they've been in a full day, and it worries him.

"You're not taking your crossbow," Harry says firmly, gripping Louis around the waist.

"Fine," Louis agrees. "Just stay in my sight, yeah?"

"Okay, mum," Niall sighs, getting to his feet. "Shall we?"

Everyone fusses around in the house for a while, fixing their hair and moving things around, because they always have things to do before they leave somewhere, and it feels alien not to. Louis finds his way to the kitchen and finds a Stanley blade to slip into his pocket. The weight against his leg immediately settles his nerves, just knowing he can defend himself if he has to.

The house is only a few minutes away, but the light is fading, and everyone stays close as they cast furtive glances at the shadows between the houses on the way. Louis tries not to see walkers in every corner but it's a difficult habit to shake even for just an evening. He keeps reaching out for Harry on his left, looking over his shoulder to make sure the other three are still there, and it's exhausting but it's kept them alive. He's not about to let that change.

"Louis," Simone greets him pleasantly as they finally arrive. The loudness of the place makes him uncomfortable and so does the large crowd of people but he plays along, trying to remember his manners. It's been a long time since he's met civilised people.

"See, it isn't so bad," Simone jokes, laughing a bit when Louis jumps at the sound of a bottle of wine being opened.

"It's, um, a bit loud," he answers truthfully, laughing a bit because otherwise he'll scream.

"We're still getting used to seeing new people," Harry continues, staying close beside him. Niall and Liam have already wandered off to the food and drink area, and Zayn seems to be migrating into a corner on the opposite side of the room the music system.

"Let's take it slow then," she says, taking Harry's arm gently and starting to lead him away. "I'd like you to meet my husband."

Louis stays behind, watching them across the room and trying to make his mind up. He doesn't know what kind of woman Simone is, what kind of leader, and he knows he has to figure it out, sooner rather than later.

It seems like most of the town is in there, and after some gentle questions Louis realises that there's nobody on watch. It has him staying near windows in case something gets past the walls.

The others are much better at blending in, but at least they remember to look over sometimes and share weak smiles with him. Harry has landed himself in the middle of a bunch of housewives, looking like he's been part of their group for years.

The door slams open while Louis is staring in wonder at a clock and trying to decide if they set their own time or if it's been active since time stopped. A man with hair too perfect for this lifestyle and a face Louis instinctively hates starts weaving through the crowd towards Simone, who's in turn listening to Harry talk with the women about something that makes his eyes light up and his dimples shine.

Louis watches them being introduced, watches Harry smile politely and start up a conversation with that guy instead, and he can feel his hackles rise in seconds, urging him to intervene.

"Hey, it's alright," a voice speaks up behind him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Stan's smiling at him as he turns around. "I see you've met Nick. He's our surgeon."

"That guy's a surgeon?" Louis asks in disbelief. "Isn't he a bit young?"

"Older than he looks. He has a kid. Hey." Louis reluctantly drags his gaze away from Harry and Nick to look at Stan. "He might be a bit loud and obnoxious but he's no threat to your boy. Relax."

Louis tenses up, ready to argue and fight his way out of the conversation, but Stan goes on. "You're not exactly subtle, glaring at anyone who's near him. But it's fine. Nobody cares about that stuff, here."

Louis frowns, not completely sure he believes it, but then Calvin comes over, slips an arm around Stan's waist and kisses him chastely.

"Have you asked, yet?" Calvin asks, prompting Louis to step up his anxiety another level. It feels like he can't get more tense, but he always can.

"Asked me what."

"It's... It's stupid," Stan grins, "but we were going to invite you and Harry for dinner. We know how it is, not knowing how public you can be. But you both seem like decent people, and double dates with straight couples turns into a stereotypical nightmare and well meaning but intimate questions that we don't actually want to answer, you know?"

"No, I don't," Louis says flatly, looking back towards Harry. "Excuse me."

He sidles up to him soundlessly, not touching but making his presence known nonetheless.

"Louis," Harry says softly, "having fun?"

"No, we're leaving."

"Oh, come on. It's not even late yet," Nick smiles, barely looking away from Harry, and Louis definitely doesn't like him.

"Nick's got a kid," Harry grins, and of course that's something that would make him want to keep the conversation going. All Louis can think about is his sisters, and he can't do that here.

"Stan told me you're a surgeon," he tries in a desperate bid to move the topic.

"That's right," Nick agrees. "Legendary hands, these."

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, hard. "Let's get the others," he mutters, gripping Harry's elbow.

Harry gets caught in a handshake and a wink from Nick before they get away, and one look at the others has them meeting in the middle of the room.

"We're going back. I don't like this set-up," Louis informs them. There's no arguments, but Harry is squirming a bit.

"We should say goodbye to Simone..."

"She won't care."

"Oh, but she would," Simone says behind them, smiling when Louis spins around. "Louis, a word before you go?"

He has no choice, not really, but he makes sure to keep an eye on the others as he's steered away again, to the other side of the room.

"I'm going to assign you jobs in the morning," she tells him calmly. "I've made my mind up."

"Is anyone watching the wall?" Louis asks as if he didn't hear her. "Anyone in the watchtower?"

"You're safe here," she says firmly.

"We're not safe anywhere," Louis replies. "That watchtower needs to be manned. There's more than walkers out there."

She gives him a long look, appraising. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says. "I hope you get a good night's sleep."

"I'm not going to have a good night until I know this place is on watch," Louis answers truthfully, but she doesn't counter him, and he takes that as a chance to leave.

"Everything okay?" Harry asks quietly once they've all left the house and made it into the cold night.

"Apparently we've all got jobs now," Louis tells them, almost wanting to laugh with how absurd that sentence is in the grand scheme of things.

"Suppose it's only fair that we contribute," Zayn speaks up. The others hum and Louis doesn't disagree but neither does he like being told what to do.

"Let's see what they come up with.," he says non-committally, effectively closing the subject.

They all sleep in the living room that night, collecting mattresses from upstairs and keeping watch in shifts like they always do. No one fights Louis on it, and he's grateful, knowing just how desperate they all are for a good night's sleep.

 

 

Harry wakes him up with a cup of tea, smiling warmly in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows, and for a moment, Louis forgets where they are, and it's just another normal morning in his normal life. Then he tastes the tea, remembers how long it's been, and feels his old life ripped away from him before he can take a breath. There's not even time to stop himself before he's crying under the weight of the expectations he has now, the shaky foundations on which they all live. Some sort of resolve has broken in him, and he hates how weak it feels. This is the closest thing to stability that any of them have had since the outbreak, and he knows even this is barely safe, so there's no point crying over it.

Yet he is, and Harry's right there to see it.

But he doesn't seem surprised. He wipes Louis' cheeks with his thumb and presses kisses there instead, combing through his hair gently without saying a word, keeping it together. Louis feels like he should have known the depth of Harry's strength by now but he's not sure he ever will. He can only hope to be there for as long as it remains.

He opens his mouth to speak but a knock at the door keeps him silent, raising the others from sleep.

Liam gets the door, and Harry untangles himself from Louis, knowing that he needs to look strong to anyone outside of their group.

Simone doesn't comment on how they all shared the living room in a three bedroom house.

"Today, you're starting new jobs," she starts, making herself comfortable at the dining table while everyone struggles to look more awake. "I chose them based upon areas I feel you could be an asset. Unfortunately, it means you'll be in different places, but I can assure you that this is a safe place for you all."

Louis looks around at his group, his family, and accepts then and there that he trusts them, not only with his own life but with theirs. He can see it in their eyes at Simone's words, the weight of all they've been through and what's yet to come. If they can't make it, no one can.

"We're ready," he nods. Simone looks pleased.

"Zayn and Niall," she begins, "we need more people to go on supply runs. Collect food, medicine and anything else we need. Does that sound like something you could do?"

They both nod, sharing smiles and a fist bump. "We've been doing runs for a long time, we can do that," Niall explains, and Louis is so proud of his boys.

"Harry, after talking to you yesterday and getting to know you some more, I think I'd like you to join our team of teachers as an assistant each day. You'll be helping teach basic skills to help around the town, and maths and English. The young are taught in mornings, and the older kids have the afternoon slot. Sound good?"

Harry looks delighted, and like he can't wait to jump in, but he looks to Louis first. Louis gives a weak smile and a nod, hoping Harry knows he's proud.

"Liam, Louis," Simone says at last. "I want you to be our police force."

Louis can't stop the laugh that bubbles up, the disbelief ringing in his ears as he stares at her. "Sorry," he says, ducking his head to hide his smile. "It's just a bit unexpected, is all."

"Is it?" Simone asks without a trace of humour. "You understand people, don't you? You can tell the good ones from the bad ones, make the hard decisions. That's why you've stayed alive for so long, how you kept your friends alive, isn't it?"

Louis' smile drains from his face, and perhaps there is a good reason why this woman is the leader of her people, he thinks, one that doesn't involve repression or fear. Louis can't remember a single person with authority ever giving him credit for trying. It had simply never been good enough, before.

"It doesn't matter what people thought of you before. Here, you're exactly what we need to protect the townspeople."

Louis doesn't dare argue, doesn't voice that he's spent most of his life being told he'd be on the other side of the law. He looks over at Liam, and sees that he looks delighted with his job title.

"We only just got here, how do we convince people to take us seriously?" Louis asks, because if someone he'd never met told him what to do, he couldn't ever do it.

"You have a sort of way of acting, it doesn't leave much room to disagree with you," Simone tells him sincerely. "But more importantly, if I say you're a constable, you are a constable, as far as my people are concerned."

"Yes, ma'am," Louis nods after just a second's pause.

"Good. I brought your uniforms. One of the original house owners was a police officer, so we have several sets. I Think they'll be a good fit."

Zayn and Niall leave with Simone, but Harry waits on the doorstep.

"You look handsome," he smiles as Louis and Liam step out on the porch, wearing the matching black police jackets they'd been given. "See you tonight, yeah?"

Louis' the one closing the distance between them, kissing Harry hard before letting him go and stepping back.

"Yeah," he nods. "See you tonight."

Harry looks a bit stunned, but recovers fast, smiling broadly. "Yeah, tonight."

They part ways, Harry heading to his workplace and Louis making rounds with Liam. They don't have much to do, so Louis insists that they carefully look at the walls, see if there's a way to make it stronger or identify any breaks.

He can't find anything, but it doesn't make him relax the way he thought it would. Nothing is impregnable, Louis thinks as he drags a hand over the cold metal, peering through the cracks at the quiet outside. Nowhere is truly safe.

When the scream rings out, he's running before he plan it, Liam can call for him, pushing several people out of the way and reaching for his crossbow that isn't there. Another yell and he's changing directions, looking around wildly, listening for the familiar growling of walkers and the smell of death in the air. He doesn't think and he doesn't hesitate until a third cry erupts to his right, followed by laughter and four children running across the street, in front of him.

They're playing a game.

Half the kids are chasing, arms outstretched in a typical impression of the old slow zombies from the movies, the ones Louis used to laugh at. The children being chased are screaming when the "walkers" jump on them, and it appears to be some form of tag. He feels sick, like the laughter is choking him. He turns away, because he can't do anything else, and is caught by Liam, pinned down under his understanding gaze.

"They have no idea," he whispers, leaning into Liam's touch. "They think it's a game."

"I know," Liam mutters from somewhere above him, letting Louis hide his face against his shoulder. He smells clean, unfamiliar and out of place, and Louis feels his knees weaken slowly, finally hitting the ground with a dull thud. "Are you okay? Louis?"

"Give me a minute," Louis mumbles, closing his eyes as Liam's arms close around him, holding him up. "Just a minute."

 

 

They return to their house at dusk, finding the other three already making dinner, laying the table with napkins and nice china, as if preparing for another Sunday dinner. Louis hasn't said a word since noon, and finds none now, taking a seat at the table in silence.

Niall and Zayn start talking happily about the maps they've been looking over, and a route they've planned out. It sounds like a casual day trip. Harry's had a fantastic first day teaching kids how to read clock faces and telling funny stories. Liam reports that the walls are pretty safe at the moment, and Louis says nothing, can't stop hearing the children laughing.

"What about you, Louis?" Niall asks around a mouthful of mash. "Good life here, eh?"

He looks up, fork still in one hand even though he's barely touched the food on his plate, and says, "I haven't decided if we're staying yet."

Silence falls, a kind of stillness where even Niall stops chewing, like everyone's biting their tongues so as not to break it. Harry does anyway.

"Lou, can I talk to you?"

They go upstairs, Harry closing the door behind them in one of the empty bedrooms that Louis doesn't want to move into. He looks flushed, like he's deliberately holding back, and Louis doesn't think he's ever seen him angry before.

"You can't make us go out there again," he says, leaning back against the door as if preventing Louis from walking out.

"These people are not like us," Louis sighs, dragging a hand through his hair tiredly.

"We can have a life here."

"And what about London? What about the cure?"

"There is no cure," Harry snaps, pushing away from the door. "And even if there is, what can we do? We're not scientists, or doctors. It was just a dream, Louis, something to keep us going."

"And playing cop?" Louis counters. "Going to fancy dinner parties? That's worth going for?"

"No," Harry growls, clearly trying to keep his voice down. "But we are. Us." He moves closer, close enough that Louis has to tilt his head up to meet his eyes. "The worst part about being out there isn't the cold, or the hunger, or the walkers. It's that I don't know how to love you."

He can't really argue there without sounding like he doesn't give a shit.

So he changes tactics, leaving Harry's statement as it is.

"We're not as safe as they all think we are. It's too normal here."

"Maybe normal is what we need," Harry argues, brows furrowing. "You're looking for reasons to leave, and I'm not letting you fuck this up so easily." Louis opens his mouth to contradict him, but it's barely worth it, because Harry reads him too easily. He can lie to anyone, but he can't lie to Harry. "Let's just give it a chance," he mumbles, reaching up to rest his forearms on Louis' shoulders, carding fingers through his hair gently. "Let me love you."

He's so close, so beautiful, and Louis wishes he could say that he never forgot but he did. He forgot just like Harry did.

So he kisses him, and tries to remember.

Harry tastes like he always has, and it's just about the only familiar thing in this place. Even his hair smells too much like flowers and not enough like his natural smell, and Louis is almost overwhelmingly upset that his favourite spot, the space at his temple where his hair starts, doesn't smell like him any more. But maybe this feeling in his gut, something that is so far from alert fear, maybe this is what a chance feels like.

They stumble over to the bed and Louis falls onto his stomach, sighing in relief under Harry's weight as he follows, and allows himself to be held down, stripped bare of his defences in a matter of seconds. He used to be ashamed, afraid of it even, but Harry never made him feel like he should be. He doesn't have to explain himself, and he sure as hell doesn't need to apologise when Harry bites down on his neck and Louis goes completely slack, moaning into the pillows and arching his back, spreading his legs as Harry pushes closer.

"The lube," Louis mumbles into the sheets. "Get the lube."

"Got it in my pocket," Harry whispers, directly into Louis' ear and muffled as he scrapes his teeth over sensitive skin.

He hears Harry move away to lock the door first, and then the comfortable weight back between his legs once he's thrown all his clothes to the floor. With Louis, he's more gentle, tracing his hands over bare skin from his ankles up rather than just jumping right to prepping him, but if anything, that just sparks his nerves up higher, making his skin even more sensitive.

"If you don't hurry up, I'll pinch you," he forces, because it feels like Harry is content to touch him for hours, and they have plenty of time for that after.

"Pinch me?" Harry laughs breathlessly into his neck, his fingers finally finding the hem of Louis' trousers. "I'm so scared now."

"You should be," Louis mutters, hiding his smile in the pillow as Harry drags his jeans down clumsily, pushing his legs apart even further.

"Gonna keep your shirt on?"

"I don't care, hurry up."

Harry laughs again, the sound sparking all along Louis' spine as he shuffles close, fingers slippery as they slide over Louis' skin.

"You're a menace," he mumbles fondly even as he's pushing one inside. "I missed you."

"I know," Louis breathes.

Once Harry's managed to sink in to the first knuckle, any gentle or slow whims stop mattering as much, and it's almost like it used to be, but they're cleaner, and the sheets below Louis' face smell like fresh linen rather than stale air. It's been too long for them both, and Harry doesn't stop kissing his neck and touching his skin under the tee as he works Louis open confidently. They've come a long way from that uncertain first time in a dark cottage, and while this place doesn't feel necessarily safe, it's given them rest and energy, and they certainly wouldn't be about to fuck if they stayed in that barn.

"I'm ready," he whispers, once Harry's fingers stop being enough and he gets that familiar tug in his gut for more.

Harry keeps his fingers inside for a few seconds, pausing as if to collect himself, and Louis closes his eyes, tuning everything out. Then Harry pushes into him, and the stillness shatters.

"Fuck..." Louis breathes, finding Harry's hand and clamping down on it with sweaty fingers. "Fuck, that's good."

"Yeah?" Harry pants, as if he doesn't know how much Louis likes it when he fucks him. Perhaps he just needs to hear it.

"So good, Haz," his voice is quiet, mostly because he knows it might break if he goes louder, but partly because this is private, something for them. In a world where barely anything is private any more, where they live in homes of people they'll never know the names of, it's somehow important to keep this.

Harry makes a pleased sound, finding a comfortable position above Louis that isn't crushing him too much, and finally starts to move. Louis feels like he can at last breathe properly, his lungs aren't caving in under the pressure of making his family and the town safe. In this moment, he's just here to be looked after by Harry, and it's exactly what he needs.

It's over quickly but Louis didn't expect anything else. Harry comes first, shuddering through it before tipping Louis to the side so he can get him off while still holding him to his chest. Louis' got his neck exposed, one leg hooked behind Harry's knees, and he's probably making a lot of noise but he's not even aware, so caged in by Harry's long limbs, so protected. When his orgasm finally hits it knocks the breath out of him, leaving him weak and trembling like a lone leaf on a twig.

Harry guides him through it, lips pressed against his neck while he murmurs soothing things, and Louis has never felt more looked after.

They stay like that for a while, until Louis gets uncomfortable and they finally pull apart, with Harry looking sleepy and warm enough that Louis can imagine having an evening on the sofa, curled up in Harry's arms and cuddling until they fall asleep.

"Why did you keep it in your pocket?" he asks and sits up, adjusting his t-shirt absently.

"What?"

"The lube. Why was it in your pocket?"

"I always keep it in my pocket," Harry smiles lazily. "Just in case."

Louis tips his head back and laughs, a proper one that crinkles his eyes and makes his cheeks ache.

"Alright," he smiles when he's done. "We'll stay."

"Seriously?" Harry asks, reaching for Louis and pulling him back down. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," Louis nods, brushing his lips against Harry's gently. "But there's a few things we need to discuss first."

 

 

"We're getting our guns back,” Louis says when they get back downstairs, finding the others around the coffee table with a fire going on the open hearth.

"But we're not supposed to have them," Liam argues.

"Since when have we actually lived by laws these days?" Louis reaches for the bowl of fresh fruit on the table, peeling an orange idly and pretending it isn't the first time since It happened that he'd had this kind of fruit.

"But they let us in here, we can't just disobey them."

"It's not like we'd use them on people," Zayn adds, crossing his arms over his chest. "Louis' right, we need them back. It's not right that we're all so vulnerable."

Liam and Harry look uncomfortable, but Louis knows they'll come around.

"Someone has to protect these people, and I'm not letting anyone get hurt."

"It's not your responsibility anymore," Harry tries and Louis glances up briefly.

"You'll always be my responsibility," he says calmly. "And if we're gonna live here, and if I'm gonna be the chief in town, then all those people are my responsibility too."

No one seems to be able to argue with that. Louis pops a piece of orange in his mouth and chews it thoughtfully. "I think we can move upstairs, if you want to. Sleep in real beds tonight."

"Seems you and Harry have already claimed one anyway," Niall comments innocently. Louis scowls, but everyone's laughing, and he doesn't see that enough. It's a pretty good view.

 

 

Not much happens, as they settle into Alexandria. On the first night, Niall takes a bed from a vacant house and makes them carry it to the downstairs study, claiming that he's sick of sharing his beauty sleep time with them and needs his own room. The fact that he needs the one closest to the kitchen obviously has nothing to do with it.

Harry quickly learns to love his job, having always had an affinity for making kids smile. There's one little boy, Sam. He's Nick's kid, and he seems to take a particular shine to Harry. Every day he comes home with new stories to tell, covered in ink stamps between his tattoos because Sam likes giving them out and Harry can never pick one, and it's a side of him Louis didn't know could exist in the world they live in, something he keeps expecting to fade but only grows stronger.

Niall and Zayn aren't as happy with their lot, frustrated with their group and the way they run things outside of the walls. Louis bites his tongue hard every time they complain about it and vows to let it play out without getting involved.

For his own part, Louis hasn't got much to say. He doesn't socialise and he doesn't pick fights, mostly roaming the streets just to reassure himself that the walls haven't been breached. He manages to convince Simone to man the watchtowers and it does helps him sleep better at night, but he starts feeling trapped, skirting the edge of the fences just to peek through the cracks.

Getting their guns back isn't even a challenge, and Louis tries not to feel disappointed.

 

 

"I mean, he has absolutely no respect for what the walkers are capable of," Niall complains around a mouthful of spaghetti at one of their now regular evening meals. "They had one hanging, alive, just for fun."

"What did you do?" Louis asks quietly.

"Killed it," Niall shrugs. "He wasn't happy about that."

"Simone's kid?"

"Yep, Ben." Niall confirms. "Biggest wanker of them all."

Louis sighs, twirling the fork in his hand impatiently. "These people are weak," he states. "Decent, most of them, but stupid."

"Well, we can't do much about that," Liam chimes in, stabbing a potato on his plate with admirable precision. "We can't exactly take them all out there to show them."

"No," Louis agrees. "But worst comes to it we can take this place, when they can't run it."

He looks at them in turn to gauge a reaction, but no one seems surprised. Liam looks weary, Zayn uncomfortable and Niall keeps eating like he doesn't mind one way or the other.

"Sam wants a gun," Harry says.

He looks like it's been bothering him for a while, and Louis realises far too late that his smiles and stories haven't had the same sort of unbridled enthusiasm today.

"Why does he want a gun?" Louis asks slowly, putting down his food while the others look over. Harry shrugs, ducking his head and pushing his food around his plate.

"Maybe he's just clever," Niall comments.

"Maybe," Louis mutters, but he knows there's more to the story than Harry's willing to admit.

Later, when the food has been cleared away and the fire has burnt down to embers on the hearth, Louis closes their bedroom door and helps Harry unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders gently.

"Are you gonna tell me about Sam?" he asks, brushing his thumb over an old scar on Harry's chest, just beneath his collarbone.

Harry leans into his touch, sighing quietly and looking pained, like he had when they found a whole family that had opted out of living before things got bad, the children laying in their beds with comic books and toys cuddled around them in some mockery of sleep. He hadn't cared about the adults, but Louis held him as he cried that night over the kids.

"I think Nick is hurting him," he admits, going pale in the aftermath as if it wasn't real until he said it. Louis' expression hardens, and he tries to remember anything on his rounds that can go towards or against Harry's words.

"Are you sure?" he breaths, pressing in close and placing his hands on Harry's cheeks gently. "Harry, you need to be sure."

"I've seen bruises," Harry mumbles, eyes glassy as he stares into Louis'. "Yesterday he was limping."

"But his dad's a doctor," Louis breathes, unable to fully grasp the irony. "It's absurd."

"It's the truth," Harry says, something cold coming over his features as Louis lowers his hands. "And there's only one thing we can do." Louis remains silent, staring into Harry's eyes and knowing exactly what he's thinking. "You've got to kill Nick."

 

 

Louis takes his gun as he heads out in the morning, hidden under his jacket but fully loaded.

Harry's promised to keep Sam in his sights, and to bring him back to their own house first in case things get messy.

Liam doesn't know, because the less people this weighs on, the better. But that means at some point he needs to slip away.

"I think we need to do another parameter walk," he announces, going with it because they have nothing else to do. His anxiety must be showing, because Liam doesn't even fight him.

"Sure, if that's what you think we need to do."

"Yeah. If you go that way, we'll eventually meet up, right?"

"You sure we should split up?" Liam steps closer, frowning and pressing a hand onto his shoulder, so Louis has to employ every acting skill he ever learned in school to deceive the teachers. He slumps his shoulders, ducking his head and sighing. It's about taking an existing feeling and exaggerating it, channelling. He is so stressed, and it's easier than it could be.

"I just... I need some time to think alone, you know?"

"Of course," Liam agrees, dropping his hand immediately, and it's too easy, Louis thinks. Liam's too good, too loyal and trusting, and Louis never had friends like him before all this. He didn't deserve it then, and he certainly doesn't now.

"I'll catch up with you later," he mumbles, taking off along the wall, and he doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know Liam's walking in the other direction.

He wanders for a while, because he does need to clear his head. He needs to talk to Nick, tidy up what's happened. It's not that he doesn't believe Harry, but he needs a confirmed reason to go killing one of the community members, in case Sam just gets badly bullied, or it's another adult.

The house is empty when he gets to it, so he waits, going through the front door because nobody here bothers to lock anything, and checking the rooms for signs of abuse even though he isn't sure what that means, exactly.

In some ways, he's glad his own father left them when he was just a kid. From what little his mother had admitted, he hadn't been a good man, and had he been around to this day, Louis has no doubts that he would've been the kind of man Louis would've had to kill. The world hasn't got any fairer than it used to be, he thinks as he sits down on the front steps, wrapping his jacket tightly around himself, and the right people don't always get to live. But then, Louis didn't used to have a say in who got to die. He does now.

He's been on the porch for a little while - he refuses to wear the watch he was given with the uniform - when he hears footsteps approaching, coming to a stop nearby.

"Why are you at my house?" Nick starts, levelling him with a smile that doesn't even reach close to his eyes.

"We need to talk," Louis tells him, getting to his feet slowly. The air is cold, biting, but the sun is out and it's a beautiful morning. He never really had time to notice, before.

"To get to know each other?" Nick asks, smile turning lopsided, and Louis really doesn't like him, whether he beats his kid or not.

"Something like that," he replies, feeling the weight of his gun at the small of his back. "We need to talk about Sam."

"I don't see what you've got to do with my son."

"Harry likes him," Louis says pleasantly. Nick scoffs.

"He's your boyfriend, isn't he?" he asks but it isn't a question.

"He's your son's teacher, and I think that's a bit more important right now," he returns, because there's no way this is turning into a conversation about his relationship.

"Did Sam do something in school?"

The worst part is that Nick actually looks concerned, and Louis has to fight to remember the real reason he's talking to him. He straightens his back, feeling the handle of the gun press on his skin and wake him up some more.

"No, he's been great, actually. Like I said, Harry adores him."

"He's a good kid."

"Then why do you beat him?"

"What?"

Louis stares him down, refusing to repeat himself. There's a twitch in Nick's right hand, like he's itching to use it, and Louis knows he's right. Somehow, without more than the deep plummeting in his gut as Nick takes a step closer, he just knows.

"You don't know anything about raising a son," Nick starts, voice low enough that nobody outside the porch can hear it.

"I know you don't hit them, ever," he returns. "And I know that I've met a lot of terrible people since this started, but people like you are some of the worst."

Nick scoffs, looking at Louis the way people like him have been looking at Louis his whole life; like he's no better than the dirt on the soles of their shoes.

"And you're one to talk," he smiles mirthlessly. "They put you in one of those fancy jackets and suddenly you think you're someone special? You think you have any kind of authority here?"

"I don't have to be someone," Louis says quietly, aware that Nick is just seconds away from taking a swing at him. "I've got nothing to prove."

"Well, if that's the case then why don't you get your arse off my porch and stop trying to fool everyone?"

"Why don't you?"

Nick stares at him for a few seconds, and then he's moving, throwing himself at Louis. He's bigger, lucky enough to be more than just bones and thin muscle, so Louis is momentarily overpowered until he gets a hit in. But he's out of practice, not as strong as he used to be. Nick, however, isn't trained or experienced and Louis has his reflexes, able to predict Nick's moves and counter them even if he can't put much strength behind it.

They tumble off the porch and Louis lands heavily on the asphalt, breath knocked out of him for long enough that Nick gets a grip around his neck, but Louis rolls them over, gets a proper punch in before his fingers close around Nick's throat in turn and it's no different than being out there. It's no different at all.

"Stop it!" Someone cries and when Louis looks up people have gathered around them in the street, some drawing closer as if to intervene. Nick is out cold, and Louis has to make himself let go. He draws his gun.

"Don't fucking move," he breathes, blood trickling into his eyes and he can't see but he recognises the next voice that speaks up.

"Put it down," Simone orders.

"Or what?" Louis huffs. "You gonna kick me out?" He wipes his face, looking around at them all, seeing the misplaced fear in their eyes as they stare back at him. "You still don't get it. None of you do." He turns to Simone, and the vague feeling he's been carrying all day suddenly materialises into conviction, the same way it had with Nick. "You knew about this, didn't you?" he spits, anger rising in waves as he looks at her. "You let that kid get hurt, and for what?" He takes a breath, waiting for a confirmation that doesn't come, and he knows it's all down to him, again. It's always down to him.

"People die, now," he hisses. "And you can decide who and when or it can be decided for you. Your way is done. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. I'm not gonna stand by and-"

 

 

He wakes up in a tiny room, completely bare except for the mattress on the floor where he's lying. His head is throbbing, he can still taste blood on his tongue, and Liam is sat on a chair a few feet away, scowling.

"I'm sorry I hit you," he says, "but you needed to shut up."

Louis ignores him for now, sitting up slowly to asses the damage on his body and listening out for clues to where they are.

"It's an empty house on the edge of town," Liam supplies, shifting and looking away. "The others are coming. Harry's a bit too calm considering that you almost killed someone today." There's suspicion in his voice, and Louis doesn't need to look over to see Liam's hurt expression. He does anyway.

"He knows I can handle myself."

“You took your gun on patrol,” Liam sighs. “That was pretty damn stupid.”

“He was hitting the kid and she knew about it,” Louis snaps, not sure if Liam's got the full picture yet, but he doesn't seem confused by the statement.

“I know,” he sighs again. “I was there, I heard you. But Louis, we need this place.”

“Good thing you were the one who knocked me out then,” Louis mutters.

“I already said I'm sorry.”

“Listen,” he interrupts, ignoring Liam's apologies, “these people, they sit around and they plan, and they hesitate, but they're not willing to do what it takes to protect themselves or each other. She would rather let it play out than stop it, and even if she did it would have been to kick him out. But you and I know we can't do that, because what if he comes back? He has more than enough reason to want revenge.”

“Yeah, I'm not saying you're wrong-” Liam tries but Louis isn't finished.

“I went there to warn him,” he says, desperately needing Liam to understand. “And did I expect to have to kill him at some point? Yes, but it wasn't gonna be today. I was gonna give him a chance, but he attacked and I screwed up.”

“You pointed a gun at people.”

“And that's the only thing I regret,” Louis declares. “You're right,” he admits. “We need this place.”

There's commotion outside, and Niall throws the door open, sweaty and dirty and just like they used to look. It's almost comforting in its familiarity. The only thing amiss is that he looks angry.

"Fucker," he announces, falling onto the mattress beside Louis, giving no explanation to who he's talking about. Louis has to look over to Zayn, leaning against the wall beside Liam, to get filled in.

"We were on a run, and Ben didn't make it," Zayn mutters, looking tired and shaken. "He tried to escape, and left us for dead."

"Didn't I tell him the front exit wouldn't work?" Niall vents, and Louis just sits back, because the heat isn't on him any more. The bitter frustration continues, with Niall telling him how Ben never knew how to stay safe beyond the wall, and what a bastard he was for not listening to their plan, nearly killing all of them. Louis listens, of course, but he gets the feeling that Niall just needs to say this in a place where nobody will tell him he's wrong. Towards the end, Harry appears in the doorway, and their eyes meet across the room in an unnoticed moment of serenity. Louis nods in greeting, hoping he doesn't look beaten up enough that Harry might feel guilty, but the secretive smile he gets in return is so worth it.

“I wonder how Simone is going to take it,” Liam comments once Niall has quieted down, still spread dramatically on the sheets.

“It might help our cause,” Louis replies, too tired and beat up for compassion. Ben had had it coming, just like the rest of them.

“She's holding a meeting tomorrow afternoon,” Harry declares. “It was planned for tonight but...” He shrugs, clearly feeling little sympathy for a man who put his family in danger.

“What kind of meeting?” Louis asks.

“About you, and us. She wants to gather everyone and have a talk.”

“Putting the decision on a bunch of scared children,” Louis sighs. “That's not leadership.”

“We'll be there though,” Niall speaks up. “And we'll talk to as many people as we can, make them come around. And you,” he says, pointing a finger at Louis. “Tell them whatever story you can think of to make them want to keep us. Children like stories.”

“I said yesterday that we might have to take this place,” Louis says slowly.

“We need to talk to them,” Liam interrupts.

“And we will,” Louis placates him. “But if they won't listen, we grab them, say we're gonna slit their throats.”

“Like at Terminus?” Zayn challenges.

“We won't do it,” Louis tells him impatiently. “They won't be able to fight back.”

"But this is a tricky road, can't you see?" Liam argues, leaning forward in his chair to stare down at Louis. "If we start threatening innocent lives, we're the same as them."

"We're doing it to help them. And we aren't aiming to make meals out of them," Harry points out, effectively silencing Liam, who sighs and looks at the ceiling for a moment.

"I don't like it."

"None of us do. But if we don't make these people understand what's at stake here, then Alexandria will eventually fall. We're the only ones who really know what it's like out there, and they won't last a day."

The others go quiet, processing Louis' words, and he can see that Liam wants to argue, but he's smart enough to see how there's no way around the plan. Niall seems to not care, throwing a leg over Louis' to take up more space.

"What about Sam?" Louis asks eventually, when the silence stops weighing down so heavy and he can draw in enough air to speak without being drowned in it.

"He's staying with us, right now," Harry assures him, "just while this is all sorted out."

Louis gives quiet laugh. “Of course he is,” he smiles, but he can't help but wonder if Harry knows what he's getting into. Maybe he's silently hoping. Louis wouldn't be surprised.

 

 

The others leave after that, and Louis gets a few hours' sleep in undisturbed, before he makes his way back to the house. It's getting dark but people are still out on their porches, watching Louis with wary eyes as he wanders through the streets alone, and it takes a lot of his willpower not to scream at them to open their eyes and see the real threats. He's not sure though, whether it would make a difference.

He's still bruised from the fight but it doesn't stop him from taking Harry upstairs immediately after they've made sure Sam is tucked in and safe in Niall's room, with Niall relocated to the living room. Harry is pliant and easy when Louis undresses him, able to read him in a way that should put him on edge but doesn't anymore. Not when Harry is so clearly on his side, for better or worse, always right where Louis needs him.

“You can do me, you know,” he murmurs once Louis has him naked on the bed beneath him. “If you need it.”

And Louis wouldn't have thought of it himself but with the way his control has been slipping, and the way he needs his boys' trust now more than ever, this might be the only time he'll say yes, just to right himself a little in a world that's gone lopsided really fast.

“Would you do that for me?” he pants against Harry's lips, already halfway there from the way their bodies are lined up, tight and hot, under the sheets.

“As much for you as for me,” Harry says easily, spreading his legs and smiling faintly in the glow from the bedside lamp.

There's no way to really deny him, when it's put like that, and Louis doesn't care to. He knows for sure that it's what he needs once he's gently opening Harry up, two fingers buried safe and warm inside him and not much space between their faces. He's tighter than Louis imagined he would be, but then it has been so long since he was the one doing this, and it's Harry is relaxing more with every breath.

"I trust you," Harry whispers, like he just knows how much Louis needs to hear it, and it's all the encouragement he needs to get through whatever is going to happen to them all.

“I know,” Louis breathes, twisting his fingers to get to the right spot, watching Harry tremble in response. “You're so good,” he whispers. “Still... Still so good.”

“Yeah...” Harry mumbles, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed. “So good...” he repeats, like it's all he knows.

Louis breaches him a minute later, pushing his knees up as he sinks in, dragging it out. Harry breathes through it but doesn't make a sound, eyes closed as if in concentration, and Louis has to kiss him then, love welling up in a way that needs a distraction.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, but Harry doesn't answer properly, choosing instead to push up against him to get Louis deeper while they both try to adjust. He's perfect, Louis thinks distantly, fingers linking with the hand that seeks him out as they begin to move together, creating a gentle rhythm because there's no need to rush any more, and Louis needs to take it slow, at least to start with.

Harry loops an arm around his back, sharp nails digging in as Louis drives into him, listening for all the right sounds that start spilling from Harry's glistening lips, breathless and raw. He didn't think he'd ever have this, not with anyone, and certainly not after the world ended, but Harry was right when he'd said they needed to stay, if only for this. A reason to keep going, he'd said, and there it is again, Louis thinks right before his mind succumbs to a lust riddled haze of pleasure - the simple pinpoint of his existence. The reason why he's still here.

“'m gonna come,” Harry mumbles, squirming and arching beneath him, punching Louis' orgasm out of him like a blow to the head.

Harry is making the most intense sounds below him, and it's like they're in their own world, each experiencing his own euphoria but sharing it together. They don't let go, because they never could, and Louis understands why Harry sometimes complains about having to separate after, because it feels like they're never closer than this. Even without the charge behind it, the feeling of Harry weakly tensing around him in the aftershocks, probably unaware he's even doing it, it may be one of the hottest things he's ever felt.

"Love you," Harry slurs, arms hooking over Louis' shoulders again to pull him in for a lazy kiss, and Louis feels so lucky. At the end of the day, they're still the lucky ones.

Harry sleeps soundly through the night but Louis lies awake for most of it, listening to the complete silence outside, the faint snores from Liam's room, the soft breathing next to him.

 

 

Morning dawns damp and cloudy, a promise of snow hanging in the air, and while the others head out to help around the town, Louis stays behind with Harry and Sam, sipping tea as Harry coaxes the boy into doing his homework.

“Will you be staying home with him, this afternoon?” Louis asks quietly, stirring more sugar into his cup mercilessly.

“Is that what this is then?” Harry replies. “Home?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods. “No matter what happens.”

Harry goes back to the textbook, reading Sam's scribbles over his shoulder. “You're gonna need me,” he says after a while. “If things go bad.”

“I'm hoping they won't,” Louis confesses.

“I know,” Harry says gently. “But if they do.”

Louis watches Sam for a bit, his face scrunched up in concentration, and he can't be more than ten years old, Louis thinks. Still so dependant on a place to call home.

“He'll be safe here,” Harry continues, drawing Louis' attention back. “As safe as he can be.”

Harry leaves soon after, kissing Sam's hair and keeping his farewell interaction with Louis relatively tame with only a hint of tongue. Louis, however, stays home with Sam, while everyone else talks Louis up as much as they can to the civilians. Harry naturally targets the housewives, and everyone else spreads through the various sectors of work within Alexandria. Any runs outside the walls are put on hold today, since it's a community decision.

Waiting for lunchtime to roll around is torturous, and Louis ends up tidying the house, washing up, and changing his outfit three times before ending up with his first choice, just to kill time. Sam's wary around him, but they seem to have a mutual understanding that Harry loves them both, so they need to work it out.

“I'm sorry,” Louis says as he puts lunch on the table shortly before he needs to leave. “About your dad.”

Sam looks up, seemingly surprised at Louis talking to him at all. Then he shrugs. “It's only fair,” he mumbles, picking up his fork. “You don't have to be sorry.”

Louis studies him for a long moment. “Do you want to go back to him?”

Sam shuffles his food around on his plate for a bit before answering. “I like it here,” he says, looking up timidly, and Louis offers a weak smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair gently. It's the right thing to do, he tells himself. It's got to be.

The streets are empty when he heads out, the whole town gathered at Simone's house. They must have held the funeral last night, Louis thinks, but these days there's no time for mourning. He isn't paying much attention, so caught up in what ifs that he almost fails to notice what's staring him right in the face.

The fact is, the streets are far too empty. There's no guard visible in the tower, and there's nobody at the gate. The gate that is actually open, showing the desolate countryside beyond. It's open, and nobody has noticed.

He's running before it fully processes, getting to the door and expecting to see a hoard of them outside, but there's nothing. Relief replaces the anger, but as he looks down to the rod that slides to lock the metal in place he sees a scrap of decayed skin, caught in the pole. There's blood along the outside of it, and a few spatters of on the floor. One of them got in, and a frantic glance shows no signs of it. It could be anywhere, it could have taken people down already, they could be overrun in minutes.

Louis slides the metal grill closed, pushes the cover into place, and starts trying to track the walker with his heartbeat loud in his ears. If only it had snowed, he thinks desperately, seeing nothing on the wet asphalt, and as he starts to run he reaches for his crossbow, his gun, his knife in turn despite knowing that they're all locked up safe and sound in the house. He whips his head around, straining to listen, but it's all too quiet until a dog suddenly barks at him from a lawn across the street. He comes to a halt, staring at it for a split second before he feels fingers close over his shoulder.

He falls, pushed forward by the force of it but manages to twist and land on his back, the air becoming thick with the smell of rotting flesh and death as the walker lands heavily on top of him. He reaches for its throat, squeezing with all his strength as he looks straight into its lifeless eyes, counting the seconds before its neck breaks and a shower of brownish blood rains down on him.

He spits, careful not to let himself swallow anything that might have got past his lips, and pushes the walker off to the side.

Once he's caught his breath, he climbs to his feet, and picks up the walker, carrying it in a fireman's lift over his shoulder as he continues his way towards Simone's house, eerily calm on the outside despite the anger boiling up inside him.

They're all gathered on the porch, the beautiful porch, and Louis walks straight up to them, tossing the corpse down in their midst, staining the whitewashed planks an unattractive brown.

“There was no one on guard,” he pants, well aware of how he must look, covered in blood and sweat. “It got in.”

He had expected some sort of apology but no one speaks, all staring in terror at the heap of limbs on the floor.

“They will always get in,” he says louder, finding Harry in the crowd, his boys. He knows they're not scared. “Living and dead.” He pauses, flinging his arms out in resignation. “I was wondering how many of you I'd have to kill to keep you safe, but I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change.” He turns to Simone. “We'll teach you, starting right now.”

Simone looks at the walker, watches some of the old blood trickling between the floorboards. Slowly, her gaze comes back up to meet Louis', but before she can open her mouth there's shouting, and Nick comes running out of nowhere. His face is covered in strips of white, holding his skin together from Louis' fists.

"You're not one of us," he shouts, and there's a knife in his hands, a knife aimed towards Louis. “He's not one of us!”

Louis ducks his stab easily, stepping out of reach and once again reaching for his weapons that he still doesn't have. Nick lunges for him again but Simone's husband goes between them, yelling for Nick to stop, and Louis doesn't even remember his name, but when he goes down he hears a loud yell of “no!” from his own mouth, the singeing pain in his knuckles as he punches Nick to the ground.

It's Stan that steps in at that moment. Stan, who's pointing a gun at Nick but looking to Simone who's crumpled on the ground, and Louis feels like he's not even part of the scene anymore as he hears her give the order. A shot rings out, loud and clear in the winter air and Nick lies dead on the porch, next to Richard, Louis remembers his name to be now, and the wood isn't white anymore. As he looks up, he notices that it's started to snow.

 

 

There's a thick layer of it as Louis looks out across the street later, standing immobile on his own patio, smelling the clean air. The door opens and closes quietly behind him but he doesn't turn around. He already knows who it is.

“So what's it gonna be like?” Harry asks gently, resting a hand on Louis' hip.

“I don't know yet,” Louis admits. “But I'll talk to Simone. She's already started to change.”

“Loss does that to a person,” Harry agrees.

They watch the street for a while, Louis leaning back into the comfort of Harry's chest, allowing himself to be petted gently by Harry's huge hands. When he speaks, quiet enough to not disturb the world outside, Louis feels it reverberate through his back.

"If we're staying, we need to become a part of this community. You need to try."

"I'm already a cop, and we've basically adopted Sam. What more do they need?" Louis turns in Harry's arms, looking up at him. "What do you need?"

“I need you to think about yourself,” Harry says calmly, brushing a few strands of hair out of Louis' face. “What do you want for yourself? It's not just about survival anymore.”

Louis moves closer, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder and feeling his arms around him, the steady weight of it, holding him in place. He slips a hand into his pocket, catching his thumb in the small area that must have once been for coins, and gives a quiet laugh, disbelieving, as he touches metal.

“Alright,” he says as he leans back, smiling up at Harry in a way that's so much easier than frowning, and when Harry still looks expectant he takes a quick breath, repeating himself. “Alright, Harry Tomlinson.”

Harry huffs, amused incredulity painted across his face, so lovely, and replies, “That's not my name.”

“No, it's mine,” Louis smiles, and gives Harry the ring.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Walking Dead Fusion