Oh, shit, I fucked up.

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up.

"I-I'm sorry," I quickly start to untangle myself from her, but her hands keep me in place.

"Wha- no," she sputters quickly, "I-I didn't mean..."

I stop, still straddling her as I watch her, wary.

She slowly brings herself to look up at me, forcing her breathing to even out, and her hands slacken, sliding to rest on my thighs. "I... I don't want you to go," she eventually whispers. Confused, I keep quiet as she continues. "I'm... uh, I'm not..." She breaks off, trying to form the words.

I offer her a gentle, though possibly strained, smile, shaking my head. "It's okay, Dani. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I know, but..." she rubs her thumbs along the outside of my thighs and takes a wavering breath. "I want you, Cass," She declares. "I really, really want you."

"Dani..."

"Please, Cass," she begs, "let me... let me explain." She shifts until she's sitting up, not bothered that I'm still practically in her lap, and she takes my hands in hers. "I want you, but... I want it to be perfect. You deserve nothing less, and I'm..." She rests her forehead against my chest, wrapping her arms around my middle. Tentatively, I wrap my own arms around her shoulders, and I feel her shaking, trembling. "I'm a mess," she laughs.

I chuckle with her, resting my head against her own. "We're all a bit of a mess," I assure her.

"Yes, but that's not... quite what I meant," she replies, parting just enough to look me in the eyes. "When I was with..." she sighs, glancing away. "Well, when I was with Jess, it..." a grumble, "sex, was just about... pleasure for her. She never..." she pauses, opens her mouth to continue, but groans with frustration. "Why is this so hard to talk about?" she mutters.

"Take all the time you need," I tell her, giving her shoulders a - hopefully - soothing rub.

She seems to relax, if only by degrees, before continuing. "She was... violent with it. Like she just... wanted to hurt me. There wasn't any emotion to it, just... frantic, harsh. And I'm not saying that you're the same! Please, don't think I'm comparing you two!"

"Dani-"

"I know she's an awful, disturbed, and violent person; I'd never think you would be the same,"

"Dani-"

"And I'm constantly scared that I just won't make you happy-"

"Babe-" I rest my hands on both of her cheeks to stop her rambling, and it works; Dani quickly clams up, stormy eyes clouded and on the verge of frustrated tears. "I understand," I soothe. "You need time, and I am more than happy to give you all the time in the world. I love you, Dani. And let me tell you, I don't need sex to be happy with you. All I want is for you to be happy and comfortable around me, whether or not we decide to do it. We'll move at the pace you're comfortable with. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, okay?"

She stares at me, wide-eyed in awe, her lips parted like she wants to say something as her eyes search mine. Eventually, she smiles, relieved, and leans her head against my touch, kissing the scar on my hand from another horrible memory. "I'm sorry," she sighs.

"Don't apologize for setting boundaries, Dani," I tell her. "I'm glad you told me. I don't ever want to hurt you like that, okay?" I softly kiss her forehead. "I want you to tell me when I'm doing something that makes you feel uncomfortable. You're your own person, with your own feelings and your own voice. You deserve to be respected as such."

Dani nods and envelops me in a hug. "Thank you."

I squeeze her back, hoping that she can feel my affection through the hug. "Of course."

We sit like that for a long while before she speaks up again. "Hey, Cass?"

"Hm?"

"I can't feel my legs."

I laugh into her neck, glad that the tension has dissipated. "Sorry," I eventually say. "I'll get up."

"Well, I didn't say you had to go."

I peel myself back to give her a look, and she just gives me an innocent smile.

"Nap with me?" She asks.

I chuckle, shifting so I'm no longer straddling her, and I lay down next to her. "Well, when you ask so kindly."

She only hums, tucking me against her side where I can lay my head on her chest. I hiss in pain when she tries to rest her arm on my side, and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

"Sorry, gunshot wounds hurt more than I remember," I mutter, shuffling around until I'm comfortable, and she rests her arm on my hip.

Her breathing evens out moments later until I can hear her gently snoring away under me. I'm not sure how long I dozed off, but when I open my eyes again, the room is dark and stars shine in the night sky outside.

Dani's still dead to the world, and my mouth feels like the Sahara Desert.

Ugh, I swear, every time I'm injured, I always wake up thirsty.

I sit up, glancing down at Dani's prone form on the bed, having not moved an inch since we laid down.

Well, more thirsty than usual anyway.

I rub the grogginess from my eyes and peer around the room, trying to find my bag to no avail. Sighing, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and trudge my way to the door, holding my side as it throbs sharply with the pain of moving. Opening the door, I take a step and nearly slip on my ass as my foot slides out from under me, launching a piece of paper into the air where it flits back down to the ground.

Grumbling, I pick it up and read it in the moonlight; 'There's some dry food downstairs John left for us to eat tonight. We set some aside for you and Dani.' Signed by Josh. I chuckle, shaking my head and setting the paper on the dresser by the door before carefully closing it and heading downstairs to the kitchen, where I last saw my bag.

I slump downstairs, yawning, and nearly missing a step in the darkness, but eventually, I find my bag sitting at the kitchen table. I dig out my canteen and down half of its contents in nearly one gulp and let out a satisfied sigh.

I go to set my canteen back in my bag, but movement outside on the front porch catches my attention, snapping the exhaustion out of me and putting me on full alert. Grabbing my knife from my boot, I carefully pick my way to the front of the house, ready to pounce on whoever it is that decided that this was the house to rob, but as I get closer, I recognize the figure pacing on the porch as John.

What's John doing outside this late at night? He looks anxious...

I poke my head out the front door, somehow unnoticed by him. "John?"

The poor old man nearly leaps from his skin at the sound of my voice, and he whirls around to face me, looking a little pale.

"Oh," he sighs. "Cassandra. Can't sleep?"

"That's my line," I reply, slipping out to stand on the porch with him. "You look a little anxious."

He looks down as he wrings his hands and gives a breathy chuckle. "I am, a little bit," he confesses. "I wasn't expecting those Widow's to come here before their usual pick-up day."

I nod, leaning against the porch railing as I watch him, sheathing my knife back in my boot. He watches me, cautious, his eyes exhausted. "I guess they aren't really ones for inspections, huh?"

"Oh, not usually," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "They don't like to trouble themselves any more than they have to."

"That's true," I note, nodding along as I glance down the front yard and into the trees surrounding the property.

We stand in rather uncomfortable silence for a long moment, John shifting from foot to foot almost every other second, before he speaks up once more. "Would you care to take a walk with me? My legs are especially restless tonight."

I take note of the unease in his posture, concerned. He is an old man, probably hasn't been around people who don't want him dead in a long time.

I glance back into the house, concerned, and remembering the Widow that scared Matt earlier today and how she looked right at me. "I don't know, John," I sigh. "Earlier, I think one of the Widow's saw us peeking out into the yard while they were here."

For a brief second, John's eyes widen. Or maybe it's the darkness?

"Huh," he says. "They didn't say anything about it while they were here. They must have thought you were a bird or one of the barn cats."

I hum, not entirely convinced, but I suppose that, at a glance, a face could look like an animal.

"They would have called for a search if they thought other people were with us," John continues.

That's also true. I sigh. "I guess a walk won't hurt anything, then."

John gives me a warm smile before stepping out into the yard with me trailing behind him. He keeps a decent pace, fast enough to get somewhere, but not too quickly that it hurts to keep up with. The cool early summer breeze feels soothing compared to the stuffy house, which looms off in the distance behind us.

He wanders over towards the treeline, by a wire fence that, on occasion, sizzles and pops as we walk by it.

"You have an electric fence around the property?" I ask.

He glances over at me, then to the fence. "Yup. We power it with generators, along with some of the electricity at the house. It keeps us nice and safe at night."

I nod. "The upkeep must be pretty hard sometimes," I note.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Bodies sometimes get all tangled up in the wiring. I usually send the boys out to clear the fences in the mornings, though they complain that the smell ruins their breakfast."

I chuckle. "Yeah, I can see that. I guess you get the gas from the highway, right? Where we found you guys?"

Another nod as we wander down the fenceline. "Yup. We forage it from the broken down cars all lined up on the roads out there. Most of it's for the fence, but we keep some for the car just in case."

I look over at him, my head tilted. "Just in case of what?"

He pauses, and I stop with him as he takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out. "Can I ask you something, Cassandra?"

"Sure."

"What's the most important thing in this world to you?" He asks. "What's the one thing you would always fight for, no matter how the odds looked?"

My answer comes almost instantly, "Family, of course. My friends and family, the people close to me."

"Would there ever be an instance," he continues, "where you would make any sacrifice to keep them safe?"

"I'd do anything to keep them safe," I tell him, more confused than ever. "Why are you asking?"

Leaves crunch in the trees beside us, and I whirl around, my knife at the ready, but my heart sinks when I see who it is that's walking this way.

"He just wants to make sure you're on the same page, love," the she-devil herself purrs. Behind Jess, the same ten Widow's who were at the house earlier seem to melt from the trees and surround us on either side of the fence.

"John," I growl, brandishing my knife at the attackers, "what the fuck did you do?"

John clears his throat, attempting to stand tall while facing down death itself. "I'm protecting my family, Cassandra," he says, his voice wavering. "I hope you'll come to understand that." He looks over at Jess, raising his hands to show her that he's unarmed. "I did what you said, Jess; I brought you Cassandra."

Jess waves her hand, signaling for Steele and four other Widow's to restrain me, easily snatching my knife from me and quickly overpowering me.

"That you did, Johnny boy," Jess says, keeping her cold, heard eyes - or eye I should say - on me as Steele ties my hands behind my back and tosses me aside, planting a boot square in the middle of my back.

"So?" John urges. "Is my family free of our debt?"

Jess's eyes cut to John like a razor slicing through butter, her face as hard as stone as she sizes him up. Steele picks up my discarded knife and wordlessly hands it to Jess as Jess approaches John, a sly grin on her face.

"You and your family have no further use to me, John," Jess says, stepping around him as she talks. "Though there is a bit of a problem."

John freezes as Jess circles him like a starving lion moving in on a piece of meat.

"You see, old man," Jess says, twiddling with my knife as she deliberately steps around him, "while I appreciate the work you put into bringing my dear friend to me, there's one tiny, little thing I forgot to mention."

John dares to chance a glance at Jess, and the knife flashes across his throat before I can choke out a warning to him.

"Traitors aren't tolerated in my book," she hisses in his ear as his dark blood pours from his throat and down the front of his plaid button-up.

His eyes find mine as he collapses to his knees, the only sound able to escape my lips being a broken sob of rage as I watch the last of the light die from his eyes.

"What about the others?" I hear Steele ask Jess.

Jess is quiet for a long, pondering moment before she drops my knife, where it lands next to John's corpse. "Send in the firing squad and burn the place down. I want it a pile of ash by morning."