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

On My Way Out

song - on my way out by getter ft. joji

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Nick's POV

             Frankie lays her head against the side railing on Nick's cot. It's been a few hours, and she's fallen asleep due to her lingering fever. Nightfall has surrounded the tent in darkness, other than the lanterns set up, providing enough light to properly see. Nick lays upright, watching her slowly breathe. She seems peaceful in this state. Despite the war of her own aggression being waged inside of her, she was peaceful now. The pit in his stomach lightens at that.

            Although both of his wrists are strapped to the bed, he can move his hand just enough to lightly touch her hair. They haven't even 'separated' yet, considering Frankie still hasn't left the tent area yet since their talk. Even though the separation process hasn't started he can already feel himself missing her.

            "Hey. How you feeling?" Jake asks, walking over to him. He had just been taking care of some other soldier, but decided to check in with others.

            "Better. Fluids really helped, actually." Nick gestures to the IV drip on the other side of Frankie. "I think I'm ready to get out of this bed. Can you uncuff me?" He asks. After that sentence he's suddenly brought back to the hospital. The first day of the end of the world. Frankie beside him, him cuffed to a bed and pleading for an escape. He squints lost in thought at the time gone by. Only a couple months and everything is different. It's all falling apart. Jake's reply interrupts his thoughts.

           "No, can't risk it, Nick." He sharply shuts him down.

           "I'm not gonna turn. I actually think other people might need this bed more, like maybe you." He examines Jake's sweaty face. He's running a fever too.

            "No, no, I'm... I'm fine. It's nothing." Jake once again brushes the sentiment off.

           "Hey, you're sick. Trade places with me." Why does Jake not want to rest? He could use a moment to lay down.

            "No. People can't see me suffering right now. They need me." He explains, quietly. He doesn't want any soldiers to overhear the conversation. Jake's better than most. He thinks. A lot of people at this ranch would never do this kind of stuff. Frankie would have. Not anymore. And Troy no way in hell would.

           "You're a good guy, Jake. Look, I can't be strapped to a cot when we're attacked, alright? Take the bed, don't take the bed. Hell, Frankie should take the bed." He tilts his head down slightly at her. She remains fast asleep, out like a rock. "Can you please just let me outta here?" Jake sighs and walks over to his cuffs. He unlocks both with a small metal key around his neck. Nick immediately bolts to his feet.

           "Hey, don't get up too fast." He steadies himself then turns his attention to Frankie. Despite his weakness from his fever, he slowly picks her up from her chair and gently lowers her onto the bed. She stirs for a moment, then goes back to her death-like sleep. He turns his attention from her back to Jake.

          "Where's your father?" Nick asks.

          "Don't bother with him. He won't help. He's burying the dead." Jake sits in a nearby chair. Nick shakes his head. I know he won't help, I just might need to speak with him. "Nick, he's gonna disappoint you."

         "Guy's got his demons. I'm not his judge." He sighs. He'll be judged when he gets to hell.

          "All this, this hell we're in, it's all because of him." Jake clarifies to him.