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

Love And Mercy

       Nick and Frankie walk up to their new small house. It's late and dark outside, making the light from inside the adobe their guide. The door is left hanging open, and they can see a figure from their distance stumbling around in the home. From the size and posture they can tell it must be Jeremiah.

     Frankie thinks about the news she had just heard. The Otto brothers had gotten into a small fist fight by the gate. As expected. Troy got upset that one of the families was trying to drive off. Run away and ditch before more people die. Obviously to Troy it felt much more personal, and took it as a betrayal from Mike. He had a freak out.

      Frankie has had those before. When she put her father down, when she killed one of the dead in front of everyone at Celia's place, almost killing Nick, etc. She knew how much it always negatively affected Nick, now she wonders how it's affected Jeremiah. They get closer and step inside through the entrance door, closing it behind them. Otto pushes the big wooden table more in the center.

       "Alright. Okay." He grumbles while pushing it.

       "Jeremiah, what are you doing?" Nick questions him and takes off his jacket. He sets it on the bed and walks to the seat at the end of the table. Otto grabs a bottle of alcohol off the dresser next to him. Frankie awkwardly sits down at the chair on the side of the table.

      "This is where it goes, right here." Otto sits too, and places the half-drank bottle of alcohol on the table. "Where the hell have you two been, huh? I've been drinking here all night, alone." He holds the bottle out to both of them. He waits for one to grab it. Neither do. Nick shakes his head no.

     "No, thanks." He says.

     "Come on. You two?" Otto sighs, disappointed a bit.

    "Especially us. We're high on life." Nick jokes. They all laugh a little. Frankie briefly thinks about how badly she wishes it was more than life she was high on. Then a pang of guilt quickly hits her. Ever since she quit, the only thing she can try to do is block out the intrusive thoughts. Nick glances over at her solemn expression with a worried look. Jeremiah replies, interrupting her thought process.

     "I like that." He says, and lifts the bottle to his mouth. He drinks fast, trying to take in as much liquid as possible.

     "Hey, slow down. Slow down." Nick turns his attention back to Jeremiah. He looks at the hand holding the bottle. It's wrapped in bandages and has a few blood stains in it. "What happened to your hand?" He questions.

     "Oh... you know that song, 'Can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with'? Well, that goes the same... with hitting people." Frankie's eyes widen, and she stops breathing for a moment. Her face goes pale. She stands up and steps closer to where Nick sits, standing next to him. "I don't mind. The hand... distracts from the headaches." Jeremiah explains, completely missing Frankie's terror.

    "Who'd you hit?" She asks in a cold voice.

    "None of your business." He seems offended by her even daring to ask that question.

    "Was it Troy? For him trying to stop that family from leaving?" She puts both her hands on the table and leans forward, accusingly.

    "Nick, you need to get your lady under control. I already told her it's none of her business." Otto brushes her off again. Frankie is about to walk to the other side of the table and do something she'll regret, but is stopped by Nick. He grabs one of her wrists that's on the table and keeps her next to him.

    Nick has learned that in situations like this he had to be the one to keep his temper. If he lets her go then she would attack the leader of the place they're trying to stay in. That wouldn't go well. Of course, he was angry too, but having Otto and him on good terms could be useful in the future.

      In his grip, he can feel the anger practically running through Frankie's veins. He leans forward as well, and sets his other hand directly on hers. Trying to reassure her, he has it under control.

     "Frankie isn't 'mine'. I don't own her, she does what she wants to do." Frankie adjusts her posture more upright, and takes a few steps back away from the table into the corner of the house, satisfied enough with Nick's answer. Nick tries to change the subject. "And hey, listen man, tomorrow's another day, a better day, 'cause you're gonna be too hung over to get in any fights." Nick gets up and goes over to their bed. He begins fixing the messy blankets and pillows. "So why don't you just crash here?"

     "This is a sacred spot, you know." Otto starts going on a rant to himself. Frankie remains glaring at Otto but remains quiet. "Me and Vern and Russell and McCarthy, we sat here one night and... conceived the movement. My life's work. Now two are dead and... one is dead to me." Suddenly Jeremiah bolts up and flips the table forward violently. Frankie freezes up, but it still just misses her luckily. She lets out a high pitched shriek, and then covers her mouth trying to silence herself.

     "God damn it, man!" Nick yells and walks past him to her. "You almost hit her." He scolds Otto. She gives Nick a nod that she's okay. Otto picks up Nick's gun from the bed and clicks it. He holds it at both of them. Frankie screams again.

     "Jeremiah, no, no, no, hey!" Nick says and flinches, instinctively putting his hand in front of Frankie. She starts to heavily cry, sliding her back down against the wall to the floor. In between breaths, Nick can hear her mutter things.

    "I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry. Don't hurt me again. I can, I can fix it." She repeats over and over. Otto aims the gun downward to the floor directly in front of him and shoots three times into the boards. Each time causing Frankie's body to jolt. Jeremiah stares at the floor for a few minutes. Nick slowly walks to him and calmly takes the gun.

    "I'm s... I'm sorry. Your home. Your gun." Otto shuffles over to the bed and falls onto his back. "There's blood in it. It's in the earth. It's in the earth." He says, and then the old man goes silent, most likely from passing out. Frankie continues to cry in the corner of the house. Nick sets the gun down on the dresser and slowly goes up to her. She looks up at him with irritated eyes and hair clinging to her face because of her own tears.

     "Frankie, I'm sorry, I didn't think he would-" He says in a hush voice.

     "Stop." She replies, her voice shaky but commanding. She gets on her feet swiftly, almost falling, but catching herself. "Stop pitying me. I can take care of myself on my own." She straightens out her jacket trying to collect herself.

     "It's okay to ask for help." He grabs her hand and looks her dead in the eye.

     "Not now. Not like this. I have to get over this on my own, because apparently I haven't." She shuffles slowly out the front door, into the darkness. Nick stares at the ground and sighs. He doesn't understand it but everyday she seems to get stronger and weaker at the same time. More sensitive, but more cold? It didn't make sense.

     "What did she mean by that?" A gravelly voice says from the bed. Nick turns back at Otto.

     "You reminded her of her father." There's a pause. "That's not a good thing."