The Woman at The End of The World. (Daryl Dixon)

onehundredfive.

I glance around at the ash and the now permanently dead walkers surrounding us, panting, dragging down the bandanna from around the bottom half of my face, granting some moderately fresh air to assault my lungs. I proceed to run a dirty, blood caked hand through my sweat kissed brown hair, taking a moment of peace after the chaos we've all just endured, though, I'm not stupid enough to allow my guard to lower even for a fraction of a second. We trespassed into Alpha's boarders, and spent most of the night and well into the early morning trying to quell and extinguish the fire while simultaneously going toe to toe with the walkers that seemingly crashed our rescue party; we couldn't allow Oceanside to fall just as the Kingdom had.

Speaking of the not long forgotten community, I glance around, searching out the King, remembering the hell and pain that was etched into his face during the turbulent night. It's tine for him to confess his secret, I decide. After a long second of surveying the immediate area, I locate him leaning against a tree, taking a small break while Michonne barks out orders to the others. I tune it out as I approach the man in question. He peers up curiously at the sound of my footfalls.

"You and I are going to finish that conversation we started." I begin, observing as a wince scrunches his handsome features. "What is going on with you, Zeke?"

His dark eyes investigates those around us before dragging his attention back to me as I cross my arms, raising my chin, awaiting his explanation. "Vanessa -"

"No, no more excuses, or secrets. Speak." I ground out, shaking my head. Though, it doesn't escape my notice of the hypocrisy that spewed from between my lips. I know I'm notorious for keeping shit to myself. "C'mon man," I point a finger in his direction, pleading, "you've seen me at my worst, and kept pushing and pushing for this, that, and the other. Even if it was just to talk about the damned weather. You were a thorn in my side, but Jesus Christ, Zeke,  because of you, I'm alive. Because of you, my babies got more years with their mother. I owe you so much more than my loyalty. Now, I'm asking you to be transparent with me. I'm not just anybody, you know that. Because I'll be the same thorn in your ass." I grin as a small smirk appears on his face, knowing damn well I won't let this go.

"You're right, but if I remember correctly, you told me where I could shove my concern on more than one occasion," he sighs. I mean he's not wrong. I wasn't exactly the friendly type during my six year long vacation. I was toeing the line of absolute insanity and bloodthirsty behavior. I just yearned to watch the world the burn because I was in pain and blamed the universe and those of whom shared the air with me. I wait with bated breath as his shoulders raises and falls with each breathe he takes in before reaching for my hand, placing it upon his neck. My eyes widen, blue eyes meeting his brown, as I feel a lump hiding under the fabric covering his flesh. What the hell? As if reading my mind, he whispers, "it's cancer."

I feel my world tip in on itself and head spins with so many dizzying thoughts at those two, simple words. Cancer? That's a fucking certified death sentence in this world. I can't lose this man like I can't suffer the loss of my husband. He filled a void that Rick ripped wide open in his death. I pull my hand back, peering between it and the King, seeing the darker man in a new light. I drink in the sight of him as if this will be the last time I ever get to lay my eyes on him. The dread circling the pit of my stomach grows with the thoughts working overtime in my psyche.

Sure, I've grown used to losing people in fights with other living, breathing sentiment beings and the dead, but this? 'Cancer' isn't exactly a word I thought I'd hear in this day and age. But, here we are. The hair littering my arms stand at attention as the news settles coolly into my bones, goosebumps leaving tiny cold kisses in its wake.