"Guys" sighed Zoey with a twinge of anguish in her voice. Damn, everything hurt. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but…I don't think I'm gonna make it."

Before she could bow her head to catch her breath (and make the swimming images in front of her stop for a second) she heard a frustrated sigh that could only come from Francis.

"C'mon Zoey," said Louis with an unbearably optimistic smile. "We're only another few blocks from the safe house, you'll make it."

'Yeah,' she thought, 'but what's between us and that safe house?'

"Alright, alright fine. Just….give me a second, okay?"

"If we don't move fast another horde will catch up to us."

Zoey grit her teeth. It was bad enough feeling like she was holding everyone back, but to be reminded of it blatantly was too much.

"Ok, you know WHAT Francis? If you want to go on ahead and clear the way, be my guest! But unless you're willing to carry me, you're going to have to wait a minute!"

A grin skirted its way across the biker's lips which only made Zoey angrier.

Her energy was definitely spent, but frustration gave her the extra push she needed to keep going. Cocking the shotgun and checking her ammo supply, she limped forward with a determined glare on her face.

"Let's go."

The others nodded.

"See?" said Francis with another grin. "You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"Shut UP, Francis!"

"Ok lovebirds, lets knock it off before we attract any unwanted attention," yelled Bill from the sidelines.

Louis laughed.

Gritting her teeth tighter, Zoey continued to limp along with the others, only barely aware of the towering hulk that was Francis close enough to double as a second shadow.

She didn't know what it was about this man. A great deal about Francis annoyed her to no end, yet at the same time she couldn't help but feel a strange amount of appreciation toward him. He wasn't the normal type Zoey hung out with, that was for sure, but now here they were, duty bound together in a last struggle for survival. Depending on each other was something that came as naturally and necessarily as protecting each other. It wasn't bad, per say, but it was often strange that whenever she needed help, he'd give her shit about it, and at the same time be the first one there in her defense. She wasn't sure if he just felt obligation to defend her because she was a woman (this upset her) or if maybe, somehow, a man like Francis, with a rugged tough exterior and frown aimed as readily as his shotgun, felt something toward her too?

"Ow, damn it, Francis!"

"Oops. Sorry."

She hadn't realized that it was actually her fault. Lost in her thoughts, she'd slowed down to almost a mosey and had caused Francis to run directly into her. She sighed and brushed it off, then crossed her fingers that he didn't realize this and call her out on it.

"You doing okay?" he asked, again, taking her completely off guard with that moment of sincere concern.

"Yeah. Yeah…I'm fine. Thanks Francis." She stopped a minute to take in her surroundings. The streets were empty, not a sign of the infected to be seen save the puddles of dried blood and smoldering debris that littered the streets and alleyways. This unnerved her slightly. Zoey had learned fast that the absence of zombies only meant that something worse was waiting in the shadows.

"Hurry up!" yelled Bill up ahead. "I can see the safe house entrance!"

"We're coming!" Louis answered.

"Finally!"

Francis smiled. "Hey, if this is too much, I can always carry you sweet cheeks."

Zoey shot him an acidic glare which got nothing out of Francis but a few laughs.

"I'm fine!" she spat. "Thanks."

"Hey just lettin' you know." He winked.

God, that was it. Forget it. She hated him.

"You know, Francis, I really-" but Zoey was cut short. A raspy hiss suddenly exploded out in the direction of the safe house where Louis and Bill had been heading. Immediately the two stragglers made their way toward the alley where they had last heard Bill's shouts to find a Hunter planted atop the old man viciously clawing at his chest.

"Bill!" Zoey cried.

Francis shot forward, shotgun in tow when Louis leapt back out of the safe house and blew it away with an SMG. Zoey caught up in time to watch as the old man was slowly dragged to his feet.

"Did you get it?" she huffed. Damn, she was worse than she first thought.

"No," said Louis sadly "but that should do for now. Hurry up we need to get in."

Another shriek let out just overhead. All heads snapped up to see the familiar green cloud of a Smoker looming just above the party. Francis' and Louis' guns immediately flew forward aiming for the monster, but it was too late. The long ropelike tongue snapped down and had Zoey before she could scream for help. All too swiftly she was whipped out of their sight and onto the roof adjacent the safe house before either of them could utter a curse.

Zoey gasped as the coils wrapped tighter around her, but what was worse than that was the guttural hiss that sounded to her left. There, perched atop a smoke stack was the same hunter that only moments ago had nearly mutilated Bill. It pounced on her almost instantly upon seeing her helpless condition, breaking the smoker's hold. At that point as the first claw ripped into her collar bone she wasn't sure which position had been worse. The pain from bruised ribs and open lacerations caused her to scream and cuss. Fighting back the Hunter was not an easy task, and at this point in the night Zoey had very little strength left. One of her hands wrapped around the moist and pliable flesh of the Hunter's wrist while the other struggled to release one of her pistols. It was to no avail. She sighed internally and waited for the end as the Hunter raised its other hand and steadied it for the death blow. It never came. A shotgun blast ripped through its face faster than Zoey was able to comprehend. The confusion was only surpassed by the urge to vomit as Hunter blood, skull fragments, and grey matter sprinkled her face. She tried not to think of any of it having gotten into her mouth.

"Zoey!" She turned her head in time to see Bill and Louis checking each side of the building. Francis was at her side and inspecting her wounds. "You okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she tried to sound snarky, but at this point was so light headed she didn't care anymore. She was safe, at least for now, and she didn't care to whom she owed her life. Zoey just wanted to sleep.

"Yeah, you look worse than normal," he laughed.

When Zoey failed to make a comeback from that one, Francis' face tightened in concern.

"Can you walk?"

"I…yea…if I have to."

He grinned.

"C'mere doll."

Before Zoey realized what was going on the world suddenly became a lot heavier. She found herself looking down on the ground, one very large arm wrapped across her midsection.

"You're gonna have to get my back, ok doll?"

Zoey grunted. The world was beginning to spin and she didn't want to admit it but she could definitely taste blood in the back of her mouth.

"Yeah…ok. You got it."

The ride down the stairs was very stressful on her midsection. Despite Francis' bulk, his shoulders were not the most comfortable thing to have one's full bodyweight laying on. The constant jolting from the stair ride alone was making her nauseous and increasing the pain in her wounds from the hunter as well as the smoker. Bruised ribs were a definite if not broken ribs, and here she was being jostled around like a goddamn sack of potatoes.

"Are we almost there yet?" she groaned. Blackness was beginning to swim at the edges of her vision.

"Almost Zo. Hang in there kid."

Halfway down the stairwell, they heard it. Massive roars, hisses, spits, gurgles…shit. Their noise had attracted a horde.

"Son of a BITCH!" yelled Louis, readying his SMG. "Are we ever going to get a break?"

"Son, when have we EVER gotten a break?" Bill snapped the butt of his cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it over the edge of the railway. "Francis, you're gonna have to put Zoey down for now."

With Louis and Bill covering both flanks Francis set Zoey down tenderly on one of the steps. He took out his two pistols and looked her in the eye before moving to stand.

"You gonna be ok?"

Again, there it was, the confusing sincerity in his eyes that made Zoey unsure of who he really was and what went on in that brain of his. Maybe he wasn't all he was cracked out to be on the surface. She blinked before realizing she hadn't answered him.

"Yeah, I'm good," she replied while vigorously shaking her head. Blackness was inching into her sight a little bit more and it was starting to get annoying.

Without warning, Francis' palm cradled her chin as he smiled and winked simultaneously. The shock of such an overly intimate gesture temporarily knocked her out of her haze.

"Hold on, Zoey. Just give us a few minutes, ok? We'll take care of ya."

She smiled weakly and nodded. His hand dropped from her face as he turned to form a protective stance over her. Part of her already missed the warmth of him next to her face, but she didn't have enough time to reflect on that as massive numbers of zombies threatened to swarm them from the north and south sides of the stairwell.

"Shit. SHIT!" cursed Louis as he aimed and let out a role of bullets that arched across a good five to seven zombie heads and chests. "We're going to get killed!"

"No," said Bill in a very reassuring tone. "Chances are the fire escape will give out and kill us all before that happens."

Francis laughed while taking out a small herd next to Louis while he reloaded.

"Bring it," barked the biker, cocky as ever. Zoey didn't have to see his face to imagine the wild, crazy grin that was etched across it. Part of that image made her laugh. The other part that made her laugh was the serious blood loss. With one pistol aimed and firing where it could offer the most assistance, she took comfort in her cozy hideaway behind Francis and popped the undead bastards wherever they were unfortunate enough to land, or crawl…or screech.

It didn't take long, however, for her body to exhaust from even this simple task. Her gaze, already fuzzy, was worsening and Zoey feared sooner or later she wouldn't be able to tell friend from foe. Her aim was also leaning too far to one side of the other and her shots were too astray.

"Shit," she hissed at herself, bringing the weapon closer and using her lower rib and elbow as a balance. That didn't work, primarily because that rib was broken, or so it seemed. She cursed silently at herself hoping that in the process she didn't make too much noise so that she did not attract Francis' or anyone else's concerned looks.

The wave eventually thinned out, enough so for them to start moving forward. Francis turned and bent on one knee, his pistols now holstered. He immediately inched forward and tenderly slipped one arm beneath her head and another under both knees.

"Easy does it doll," he whispered. "We're gonna make a break for it, ok?"

Zoey nodded, her aching muscles tensing for the awful jolt this was going to be to her body. She prayed the pain didn't make her throw up all over the both of them on the way down or she'd never live it down. Plus, Francis has a pretty unusual attachment to that vest, he probably wouldn't be too happy with her if she ruined it.

"Ready?" yelled Louis.

"Ready!" replied Francis. Zoey didn't say anything. Already the images in front of her were swimming and going in and out along with the noise. The gun droning was now nothing more than an annoying whisper. Her attention was lost in the sound of Francis' heartbeat as her face pressed into his chest. From that point on she really hadn't been aware of much else. There was a lot of moving around and what sounded like could have been shouting. Then there was a heavy fall, her head hit something hard and that was the end. Everything went black and silent, and Zoey couldn't have been happier to give into it.

---

Shit! Goddamn it! He hadn't seen that last step, and the fact that it had been completely covered in Boomer bile didn't help at all. In the process of his slip he'd lost his hold on Zoey who had now tumbled and taken her final fall on the asphalt. Her head was now busted open and a nice small pool of blood was steadily streaming out just above her eye.

"Shit. SHIT!" he scooped her back up clumsily and barreled into the open safe house door. Bill closed and locked it behind him, then both he and Louis barricaded it with the first movable object they could find.

Francis took it upon himself to haphazardly clear every bit of scrap metal, supply remains and dirt from the first table that was large enough. Gently placing Zoey down on top of it he immediately started a desperate scramble for a health pack. It took him a few seconds to remember that there was one strapped to his back, and after cussing himself out again he ripped it off his shoulders and immediately set to work. Bill hovered over him, pulling out extra supplies where needed.

"That wound on her head is pretty bad," he said forlornly with a cigarette still clenched tightly between his teeth. Francis heard him but didn't respond.

"We don't really have anything to stitch it together with," said Louis with a frown. His eyes hovered on Zoey's face where dried blood was beginning to mat her hair together.

"Super glue," said Bill suddenly and began rustling through the cupboards.

Louis' eyebrow rose. "What?"

"Super glue, its good emergency wound closure. And head wounds bleed a lot."

Louis frowned, looking back from Zoey to Bill before starting to help in the search for super glue. Francis in the mean time was cleaning the gash on her head. For a man that looked so rough and rugged he managed to apply the greatest tenderness and care to Zoey's injury. Like a mother to a child he was intensely focused, watching her face every so often for signs of pain. When the time came he took the glue supplied by Bill and dabbed it slowly onto the wound. Even unconsciously Zoey flinched but otherwise made no sign of discomfort.

The "procedure" resulted in Francis having to use the entire bottle of glue (much to Bill's dismay as it would have come in handy later) and even then Francis had still been unsuccessful in closing the entire wound. The rest of her head was wrapped in gauze with heavy amounts of disinfectant applied to it. When all was said and done Francis continued to inspect her for any further injuries and tended to them as he saw fit. The Hunter had left a good gash in her shoulder which he had wrapped up, as well as some dark bruising along her sides. Unfortunately there wasn't much more he could do about this except take a mental note to make sure she took it easy for the next few days.

"She'll be ok, Francis," said Bill, lighting up another cigarette and tossing the remains of the previous one down on the ground. "Just let her sleep it off. It's been a long night."

Francis said nothing to either of them. He stepped aside from where Zoey lay and allowed himself a moment to slouch down in a corner, his eyes gazing downward, glaring intensely at his bent knees. His hands twisted and fidgeted just above them, and it seemed that that was where and how he was going to stay for quite some time.

Sighing, Louis found a similar corner and curled up next to it. "So who's gonna keep first watch?"

"I can," said Bill with a heavy inhaling of nicotine.

Louis frowned. "No, no…I'll do it. I'm not even tired now that I think about it."

"No." Came Francis' gruff voice. "I'll stay up. I want to keep an eye on her," he nodded towards Zoey, "anyway."

"Francis you've done enough I think, you should get some rest. We can watch over Zoey."

"No," he argued somberly. "It's my fault she's hurt. I want to make sure she's okay."

Bill sighed. "What are you gonna do kid, just stay up all night? You'll have to sleep sometime."

Francis looked up at them both, a heavy glare set in his face that immediately silenced Louis and left Bill frowning back at him for some time. Eventually, even the old man caved in and put his hands in the air.

"Fine. But if I wake up and find you sleeping on the job you can bet my wakeup call is not going to be pleasant." He raised his cigarette and pretended to burn something with the tip, then walked away. Louis sighed and just shook his head, eventually drifting off into fitful dreams of zombie office workers.

Francis, on the other hand, did not drift off into sweet dreams or otherwise. He remained like a rock sitting in his unlit corner, fidgeting and sighing. Every few moments his eyes lifted up to Zoey's still form. Part of him thought he saw her move, but it was most likely just his mind playing tricks on him. He wanted her to hurry and wake the hell up, he didn't like feeling like this.

What was it? Guilt? Sorrow? Concern?

He wasn't used to these kinds of feelings. Back before the world had gone to shit, Francis had only ever had to worry about himself and life had been simple that way. Now here he was with a group of people who could not have been less like him in all aspects of personality and lifestyle and yet he couldn't help but feel a strong sense of closeness to each of them, especially when it came to Zoey.

Here was a young woman that Francis just as easily assumed wouldn't have given him a second glance. Yet, from the very beginning she had spoken to him, joked with him, fearlessly teased him and even returned his dick like attitude and occasional bullshit if he ever got out of line. She didn't think he was anything other than a human being, which was saying something considering how others had viewed him. Just because he had tattoos and hung out in bars had somehow made him less of a person to most of society.

And then, suddenly, the world had gone to hell. Fast.

And then he had found Zoey. A young college student, not even twenty years old yet, melded fully into the image of everyone that hated him and he had come to hate in turn. He had extended a hand in rescue, knowing that it was probably going to be a mistake, only to find that she was not in any way shape or form the kind of girl he had assumed she was. Part of that realization had made Francis feel bad, because he had done to Zoey what the rest of the world had done with him. Now he was trying to make up for that and in the mean time also trying to protect a very dear friend.

And he had failed.

Francis sighed heavily and stood up. His big booted feet echoed in the small confines of the safe house, but Bill and Louis being as exhausted as they were weren't going to be waking up anytime soon.

He stopped just short of where Zoey lay, still motionless and looking paler than Francis would have liked for her to look. Francis took a few steps closer and brushed some of her hair from her face. She was still warm at least, that was reassuring.

Francis' head cocked as he watched her. Goddamn she was young. Too young to be going through something like this. How she hadn't cracked yet under the weight of their new and present harsh reality amazed him. Admittedly he had never given much credit to the strength of women. Every one of them he had never known had proven to be emotionally weak and fragile by nature. Very few had ever turned his head, and less had kept his attention much longer after that. Despite everything, Francis really had wanted a good woman to share his life with. Now, with the world limited to what seemed like a population limited to everyone in this safe room, he wasn't sure if that was a possibility.

His feelings toward Zoey confused him greatly. Not only was he deeply protective of her, but the same held true for Louis and Bill as well. He wasn't sure exactly what Louis saw in her. Maybe it was a brotherly/sisterly type of relationship. He certainly didn't seem to think of it as being anything beyond romantic. Bill was obvious. He looked at them all as children no doubt, but Zoey took the place of favorite daughter amongst a group of ragtag rough housing boys. She was the delicate, beautiful image of sanity that was essential for Bill to hold on to in order to make it through this world.

Where Francis was in concerns with her, he didn't yet know. He liked Zoey that much was for sure. If there was anyone in the room he'd more than happily give his life for, it would be her. Her presence made him feel important. He felt like he had a reason, a purpose, even if it was just to protect her and keep her safe. A part of him that he would never admit to anyone, was scared shitless that she'd get herself killed. Sometimes he wondered if her mind went into those horror movies she always quoted and talked about, and at some points she just wasn't convinced that she was in reality. There had been times when she'd thoughtlessly charged a Hunter or Witch when any of them were down, bowling into them and feeding them more then daily recommended doses of lead as if it were nothing. Countless times Francis had yelled at her for it (especially when it was him she was saving). Zoey had simply taken it as him being sexist and too proud to accept being saved by a woman. Truthfully, he was perfectly fine with her thinking that, but the fact was that if she died saving him…he didn't know if he'd be able to deal with it.

When this bullshit had all started, Francis had taken it as a sort of new calling. The world had finally opened up and was allowing him to take out all of his past aggressions with absolutely no repercussions. Then he had suddenly found himself tied to this ragtag group and he felt a sense of responsibility. This wasn't fun and games anymore. People depended on him to be there. People needed him there, and with Zoey…it felt like someone honestly WANTED him to be there.

That was why Francis cared so much about her. He realized that now, brushing another stray hair out of her face. She had made him feel not just needed, but wanted. That was why he cared about her in return. That was why he had to protect her. You can need anyone when the time calls for it, but it takes something more to want someone there even if the situation doesn't necessarily call for them.

He sighed and leaned against the table, arms folded across his chest. Francis frowned into the floor, his mind lost in racing thoughts and dawning realizations. Perhaps for the first time since he'd left his run down home, he was finally beginning to understand what family felt like. Perhaps he was starting to actually understand what it was like to find people that you liked and cared about, and cared about you in return. And perhaps…perhaps he really did like Zoey in more than just one way. Maybe he was falling in love…but he would never admit it.

Francis sighed one more time and rubbed a gloved hand over his face. It was a long time until dawn, and it was going to be an even longer night being alone with just himself and his thoughts.

"Shit," he hissed.

Something made a noise behind him. Frowning, Francis turned to find Zoey's eyes open. She looked dazed and confused until her eyes finally settled on him, and then a smile that melted his heart stretched across her face and brightened her green eyes.

"Hi," she said weakly.

"Hey Zo," he said gently, wrapping one of his huge hands around hers. He didn't even thing about the gesture at first, but when she didn't pull away he took it as a sign of being okay. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," she laughed. "Where are we?"

"We're in the safe house. Everyone's okay."

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Francis started, but then he realized she was probably just dizzy. When she opened them up again she turned a fully focused set of emerald eyes upon him. Her expression became adorably sheepish as she said: "I'm sorry for being such a pain."

Francis just grinned.

"No, you're fine. That's what we do, Zo. We look out for each other. You'd have done the same for me, right?"

Zoey smiled and nodded, then winced. Her hand shot up to her forehead as she cussed quietly.

"Ow, geez, what happened?"

Now it was Francis' turn to look sheepish.

"That…that was my fault."

"Huh?"

"I was carrying you down the stairs and I tripped and…well, I kind of dropped you. You hit your head on the way down…kinda lost a lot of blood too."

Zoey looked somewhat amazed.

"Francis…you…carried me?"

"Yeah well…I had to. You were unconscious." A smile crossed Zoey's face and added some much needed color. Francis returned the gesture stupidly before reaching to awkwardly scratch the back of his head. Suddenly, he fell back into his old self. "Don't go making anything of it though." He barked. "I don't plan on making any sort of habit out of it or anything."

Zoey rolled her eyes. "No, of course not. Would it be too much to ask you to help me sit up?"

Francis obliged without a second glance. In fact he was resolved to doing most of the work, but Zoey was fully intent on getting herself up and off of the table.

"Woah, woah wait a second," Francis began to argue but it was too late. Zoey dropped down on to her feet and before she could finish half a step toppled over. He was able to catch her, but only before he also tumbled down with her, essentially doing nothing more than cushioning her fall.

"Ow, damn it," he hissed having landed on some rubble and no doubt bruising his tail bone. Zoey was wrapped tightly in his arms, a bit tighter than he'd intended and he really wasn't sure why. "You okay?"

"Yes," came the muffled reply from his chest. He looked down to find her face buried into his vest, her hands gripping tightly onto the sides. "I'm sorry."

Francis sighed. "Yeah well you should be. You don't need to be getting up that fast. You're just going to end up hurting yourself more." He loosened his hold on her and laid her head to rest on his lap. "Now…don't move again, damn it. You need to rest."

Her face became a little red.

"Um…right here?"

"Yeah."

"You…don't mind?"

He sighed. "No, I don't mind. Just stay there, ok?" He leaned forward and slid his vest off of his shoulders. He tossed it on top of Zoey and haphazardly committed to what must have been is version of 'tucking someone in'. "Can't keep you safe if you're constantly wandering all over the place."

Shit, had he just said that out loud? Oh well.

He peered down at Zoey who was looking up at him awkwardly in turn.

"What?" he barked.

She looked away timidly. "Nothing."

Francis sighed. Damn it, he was being an ass again. He couldn't help it, she just did things that pissed him off so much sometimes. Didn't she know how important she was? How much they all cared? She needed to stop being so damned careless. But in his head, he knew that she wasn't going to just pick up on his affection for her, especially if he was always yelling and being a dick.

Looking down at her face which, with eyes closed, looked like an angel's, he smiled and placed a gloved hand gently atop her head and began to play with her chestnut hair. He felt her shoulders relax and eventually she drifted off into sleep.

Francis smiled contentedly at himself. Then frowned.

"….son of a bitch. I can't feel my leg now."