Is This Real? (Nick Clark X OC) Fear The Walking Dead

Calm Before The Storm

(A few days later) (Frankie's POV)

Frankie strolls down the middle of the neighborhood's street outside looking for Nick. The place seems too quiet to her and she hates having to be alone and sit in it. It feels eerie. And not being distracted by something always gave opportunities for hallucinations to creep in. Chris, Travis's son and Nick's technical step brother walks by her.

"Hey, have you seen Nick around lately?" Frankie says, stopping Chris in his tracks for a moment.

"No, haven't seen him." Chris replies with a shrug then continues walking past her. She looks over to her left to see the new Doctor that came in today, speaking to one of the neighbors about something. Frankie slows her stroll to overhear. She's an expert in eavesdropping. Did it as a hobby back in high school. Reminds me of my time on the bus.

"Just continue to keep him on that morphine so he doesn't start hurting okay?" The doctor gives some medical advice to the concerned older resident.

"Of course, of course, thank you so much for all your help. Let us know how we could repay you." The woman speaks in an accent, similar to the Salazar's.

"Oh well, I could use your help over at the Davis's house. It won't take long." The doctor mentions and the two begin to leave the front yard.

"Of course, of course." The Doctor and the woman disappear down the sidewalk. Frankie puts both of her hands in her jacket pockets and walks into the house. This situation screams like something Nick would be too tempted to stay away from. She knows how he had been trying to take less of the pills Madison is rationing to him. How he wants to get rid of this addiction as fast as possible, but she knows that will just lead him back to using faster.

She shuffles through the kitchen looking about the home. She glances into a room off to the side and hears unsteady breathing coming from it. An old man is lying on a white bed hooked up to machines. Stumbling around the bed to its side, she sees a boy her age laying under the furniture. Of course, it's him.....

"Nick!" She whisper yells to him. "What the hell are you doing?" She knows the answer to that question. The needle for the morphine is stuck in a vein between his toes. His facial expression shows he's in some sort of daze, where he didn't hear Frankie. Frankie starts muttering to herself.

"You know what they never tell you about drug addiction? That it's bad." She says out loud a little more firmly with a sarcastic undertone to her words, knowing that the old man isn't going to wake up anytime soon. She slides the needle out of his foot and puts it back in the old man's arm. Nick starts to stir.

"Woah, hey what's going on?" He asks in a scratchy voice. Then he starts to become panicked at getting caught.

"You're giving into your drug addiction. That's what's happening." Frankie squats beside him, to level her gaze. She gives a glare of disappointment. Nick sighs in response and places a hand over his eyes. She continues to question him like a scolding parent. "What? Is there a context here I'm missing?" Frankie interrogates keeping her crouched position by the bed.

"Frankie, I'm really sorry." Nick apologizes. She stands back up and walks to the doorway of the room. He gets out from under the bed and stands upright, stumbling a little.

"Sorry?" She scoffs. "Nick I've been fighting against my own addiction a lot longer than you. You get pills to ration your way off. I don't. I quit just like that, and you don't see me scavenging for a fix." Frankie yells at him without raising her voice too much. Her point gets across anyways.

"God, I'm an idiot." He closes his eyes and says under his breath, ashamed of himself.

"Yeah, ya are. Stealing from a dying old man like that. Madison was right for saying you need to be watched. Guess I have to babysit you, dumbass." She struts away out to the front door. Nick leans up against the wall groaning. Frankie appears back in the doorway again.

"You coming? Like I said, I have to watch you." She repeats herself. Nick follows behind her out the door. They roam the neighborhood until they stop and settle in their house's backyard. Nick sits on a chair with his face in his hands while Frankie leans up against the fence, reading a magazine she found on a nearby table. They remain there in not uncomfortable silence but also not comfortable silence for a half an hour when two people walk up.

"Nick? Nick." Liza tries to get his attention. He lifts his head to see the local doctor standing above him. He squints trying to keep the sun out of his vision. "This is Dr. Exner." Liza introduces the woman.

"Hi, I understand that you may be in need of methadone." The lady says with a smile and folds her hands in front of her.

"I would if I was trying to kick, which-" Nick starts. Frankie saunters over to the group and interrupts. She puts on a fake grin.

"He's fine. We're fine." She assures.

"When was the last time you used?" Dr. Exner ignores her.

"Uh, I don't know. When did the world end? Couple of days before that." Nick responds. Travis shows up behind the group.

"What's this?" He asks, almost offended. Liza turns around to him.

"Oh, Travis. Can't tell you how happy we are to see you." Liza says, not answering. Exner squats on the ground and pulls out a thermometer to take Nick's temperature. She puts it against Nick's head and Frankie sighs in frustration. She just wanted the Doctor to go because if she found out Nick had just used then he could be taken away as a potential risk for stealing needed drugs.

"Um, is something wrong with Nick?" Travis asks him with concern, hoping he'll at least answer.

"No, I'm fine. But your ex-wife, man, she's a Narc." Nick speaks up and scoffs. He points a little at Exner. "Told this lady I'm the neighborhood dope fiend." The thermometer beeps.

"98.6, I'm gonna check your blood pressure." Exner says aloud and Frankie exhales in relief. She crosses her arms and takes a step back. The doctor takes out another device. "I'm sensing some worry." She tells the group, obviously directing it at the nervous looking Frankie. She doesn't take her eyes off her blood pressure machine however.

"Yeah sorry." Frankie apologizes but keeps it short and vague. "I personally don't exactly have fond memories of doctors." She explains, referencing her time at the mental hospital. A shiver runs down her spine. Exner chuckles, being ignorant of her experience.

"Don't worry your boyfriend is in good hands." She reassures. "Just like Hector Ramirez. Just like Griselda will be." Nick moves uncomfortably at the name 'Hector Ramirez'. Frankie remembers it's because that's the name of the old man he had stolen the morphine from. Part of her feels bad for giving him such a hard time knowing that he probably feels guilty. Was she too hard on him? Was I?

"Is Mr. Ramirez okay?" Nick asks with concern. Frankie feels another pang of guilt. Her gaze softens knowing that Nick is an extremely empathetic person, and he probably regrets his actions now.

"Congestive heart disease is manageable. He'll be okay." Exner says, looking at the machine around Nick's arm some more. "So Frankie, have you ever used? Any other drugs even?" The doctor switches the subject. Nick's eyes go wide.

"No, no she hasn't." Nick quickly says before Frankie could respond. He's looking out for me now....great more reason to feel shitty.

"Any other underlying health conditions I should know about? Asthma? Diabetes? Anxiety—?" Exner is cut off by Nick.

"No, nope she's perfectly healthy." Nick continues to respond quickly to these questions, wanting the lady to leave as soon as possible. Travis looks at Nick suspiciously, knowing very well of her schizophrenia. He doesn't say anything though and leaves the area, not wanting to take potential blame later for not speaking up on it.

Although Frankie had told the soldier that interviewed her about her illnesses, it's much more risky to outright say it to a doctor right in front of them. They don't know Exner, and odds are she'd be written on some list to be transferred somewhere else. They wouldn't even have an idea on where. One thing about growing up on the streets is learning not to trust cops. And the military is practically the same thing with a different color thrown on.

The world has gone to shit and Frankie is really trying to not end up in another psych ward when she could finally be getting a fresh start.