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cryptic-bee · 5 months

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Untitled TCD!Cleo and Scar fic (2/5)

I remembered to post before class smile

this one got a bit personal ngl-

Once again the idea originally came from @/stiffyck and their silly little anons <3

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(CW: Internalized/implied ableism, past abandonment, panic attack)

Scar is afraid Cleo will leave it behind. They promise not to.

•

Scar was sure it was losing its mind.

A subtle thing, gradually growing over the time he'd been alive - however long that's been, Scar had lost track forever ago. So when he woke up the next morning, another nightmare that left him in a cold sweat, and found itself in a real bedroom for once, he wondered if maybe he'd dreamt up the entire apocalypse.

Which could have been believable (would have been preferable), except it couldn't recognize the sheets it was tucked under. And there was, of course, the oh-so lovely symphony of undead groans somewhere beyond the curtained window to its left. So with a grumble he shoved the blanket out of his lap, clenching its teeth when a bolt of pain shot through his legs as he flung them over the edge of the bed, an uncomfortable tingle settling in its lower back.

His entire body ached as it stood, groaning and leaning against the wall for support. When was the last time he took a day to rest? It had done its damage, however long it'd been, as he attempted to stumble forward before falling to the ground with a pained cry. The door to the bedroom was opened within seconds, and he nearly screeched when a zombie entered. Going on auto-pilot he reached for the spare pistol in one of his inventory pockets, falling back and training it on the monster.

"Wh- Hey, watch it trigger fingers. It's alright!" The zombie crouched down to be at its level, keeping their distance as he steadied his breathing, not breaking their line of sight. They held out their wrist, showing the same line of glowing pixel hearts that Scar knew he had on his own. "It's just me, okay? You remember me?"

The day before came back slowly, along with the mortifying reminder of the fact he'd somehow fallen asleep during their trek to his current base. He avoided her eyes as he nodded slowly, putting the weapon away and pushing itself up to a sitting position with only slight struggle. "Sorry for that. And for, uh- falling asleep..on you..." His voice became gradually quieter. God, how had he fallen asleep on a complete stranger?

But they only smiled, pushing themself back up and returning to the door. "No worries, I raided the cupboards while you were out. Found some..edible-ish?- Something that looked like food."

As they returned to wherever they'd previously been in the temporary safe house, panic bubbled in Scar's chest. No, dammit, not now- But of course it had to happen now, every small movement leaving him inhaling to avoid screaming out its pain. The zombie returned after a few moments of his struggling, blinking down at him in concern.

"You alright?"

He nodded. He couldn't get up. Goddammit.

"Well that was obviously a lie, nice try though." She extended a hand, pulling it to its feet and letting him lean against her. As if that wasn't humiliating enough, he nearly tripped over its own feet, grip involuntarily tightening against the zombie- player?- the person's shoulder. "Careful, trigger- Almost there, don't worry."

"'Trigger?'" Scar pouts as he's settled onto the floor, leaning against the kitchen island as it crossed its arms. "That better not stick."

"Stop trying to shoot me and maybe it won't."

"I wasn't- That's not fair!"

"Says the kid that keeps trying to shoot me," Cleo says, smug as ever, as they offer him a bowl of..something. Some kind of soup, maybe? "I couldn't find any chairs that weren't blown to bits, so tonight we eat like peasants!"

"It's morning," Scar laughs, an unfamiliar, genuine sound that temporarily stuns him and- wow- when was the last time it did that? He brushed it off. "I do have a name, you know."

They hummed, pretending to ponder this new possibility he has offered them. "I don't believe I asked, actually."

Laughter came easier with them around, he quickly discovered. She took every chance she could to make him happy, working especially hard on those days where it was hard to get out of bed. Something about it was familiar, from the times when he wasn't alone, when maybe it did have a name and that name wasn't taken from the type of gun it wielded (or the type of gun that the new friend wielded, it supposed, considering she hadn't given it back to him. It wasn't mad about that, not at all). He'd nearly forgotten about then, about how that felt.

But now it didn't matter. Scar wasn't alone anymore.

...

For how long, though?

Because there was a time where Scar wasn't alone, but it ended eventually. So for how long, how long until that happened again? It was a thought that haunted him during the return to its base, with not many resources gathered but a new companion accompanying him, one that kept the zombies at bay. A thought that grew into a looming dread every time she offered to go scavenging for it on those off days, the days it felt useless, dread that inched closer and closer to suffocating till they emerged past the front gate with a pack of new supplies for him to sort through and they hadn't chosen to leave him yet.

Scar wouldn't be useless to her, it decided. Then she wouldn't want to leave. He'd be helpful despite his problem, just like it was taught.

"You sure you're feeling alright?" Cleo asked, catching Scar by its shoulder before it tripped over nothing again.

Okay so maybe he wasn't fully recovered from that last pain episode, BUT-

"I'm fiiine, nothing to worry about!" It blinked a few times, trying to clear the wave of dizziness from his head, before turning to them with a grin. "Y'know, I think I'd be feeling much more fine if you-"

"I'm not giving the gun back."

"Dang it."

They rolled their eyes, amused as they gestured for him to take lead into the abandoned town they'd found. "You know the area better than me. Lead the way to goodies, Trigger."

And- It would have been fun, continuing their silly banter, maybe toss in a few lighthearted insults, a dumb nickname it'd been considering for her perhaps, except-

Except Scar couldn't move.

What do you mean you can't move? No, no, dammit, not now- What's wrong, son? You need to run. Run. Run-

"Kid?"

He jolted into a step it wasn't prepared to take, gasping as it balanced itself last minute to prevent falling over. Scar looked back, and she had that same expression that.. "I-I'm good! I'm all good, I'm, uh- I'm great, actually! Let's- Yeah, l-let's-" It took a few more unstable steps to look around, trying to keep a smile on the entire time, and pointing in a random direction into the village. "Let's go this way! Yeah-"

Scar bolted before she could try to stop him. He wouldn't be useless this time. He wouldn't. He wouldn't.

They ended up in some kind of run-down store, Cleo suggesting maybe it was a grocery store before the apocalypse hit. Scar couldn't be sure, it wasn't exactly old enough to remember what life was like before the apocalypse, and its parents didn't let him go out much after the incident, but she seemed interested in exploring and it refused to be the thing to hold them back. He wouldn't. Not this time.

Cleo took the lead this time, partly because there were a few zombies for them to scare off first, and partly because Scar didn't want them to see the increasingly obvious struggle it was having to get his legs to cooperate. So the zombie-player examined different cans and packaged goods amongst the shelves, whatever wasn't damaged or expired being tossed into the spare bag they'd borrowed from Scar for expeditions. They glanced back at him a few times, making a mental note to look for something when they were done checking the food.

"How, uh- How long is this gonna be?" Scar fidgeted as it asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other with a wince. "Because it's getting to be late-"

"We left at dawn, we have plenty of time before nightfall-"

"Yes- Yeah, but if we take too long, then-"

"We'll be back home before your bedtime, Trig. Don't worry," She grinned, laughing at the not at all menacing glare she received. "Oh don't give me that look. We'll be back by noon."

He nods. "Uh-huh, yep, of course- And, um..and how long will that be?"

She gives it a look, and Scar realizes all too late that it had pushed this too far. "Why, is something wrong?"

And he's about to answer, to lie, until his knees give out as they turn into the next aisle and goddammit- Cleo is able to catch it before it hits the ground completely, their bag falling from their shoulder from the force, a few cans flying out and contents spilling onto the tiled floors. Scar grimaces at the sight of it, static filling its ears, and somewhere distantly he can hear the zombie asking if he was okay and he's not he's not okay please-

Get it together, Scar. You don't want them to leave you too, do you?

It pushed itself out of her grasp and into the shelves for support, inhaling sharply to hold in any noise the pain wanted him to let out. Then it smiled, wide and forced, and stood on its shaking knees. "I'm fine, I don't- I don't need to be babied, alright?" He tried to sound lighthearted, but it came out far more strained than he'd like to admit. "I..I'm fine."

Maybe that would've been more believable if it thought it were true.

There's a solemn look on Cleo's face, somewhere deep in thought, before they speak. "Stay right here, don't make any noise."

Don't make any noise.

But where are you going, mom? Scar could remember- innocent, naive little Scar could remember replying as he's placed down in the closet, a duffel bag of food and bottled waters beside him.

We're going to find safety, love. She hushed, pressing a kiss to his forehead with the last remaining love her heart had to offer in this wasteland. We'll find somewhere safe to stay, and then we're going to come back for you, remember?

But..but why can't I come? He tries to reach out, to catch the edge of her tattered skirt as she stands. His father is somewhere behind her, nursing the infected bite he'd gotten from saving his son- saving him, but he can't see him from the closet floor. Momma, why can't I-

Because you'll only slow us down. She replies, cold and tearful, and waves his hands away from her. It'll only be a few nights, then we'll come right back. Be a brave boy for momma, okay? Brave, quiet boy.

The door shuts behind her, and he can hear the latch being shut, locking him in there, and-

Something touches its arm, and it gasps like it'd been trapped beneath the surface of the ocean all this time.

"Just keep breathing, kid- There you go, keep breathing," It..It was Cleo. She didn't leave. She didn't leave him. "Slowly, Trigger. In, and out. In, and-"

He gasped again, softer this time, and buried its head further into its knees - not entirely sure how he'd gotten into this position, sitting on the floor with Cleo crouched in front of it. "I'm- I'm so-sorry-" He croaked out, only broken up a few times by his struggling to catch his breath. "I'm sorry-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," They whispered, continuing to rub soothing circles into its back. "You hear me? You've done nothing wrong, you're okay."

"But-" Stop stuttering, you sound ridiculous. "But if I don't fix it I'm gonna- going to slow you down, and then you'll want to- to leave, and-"

"Who told you that?"

Silence.

"Who told you I would leave you, Trigger?"

She waited, but even after its breathing steadied into a numbness in its chest and he was no longer shaking she didn't get an answer. Cleo wasn't blind - she knew the answer already, why it was afraid she'd leave him. She was wrong before, he hadn't been alone its whole life. The thought made her sick.

They reached for the object they had left to retrieve out of the pharmacy section, temporarily abandoned beside the bag they'd haphazardly tossed onto the ground when they had returned to the sight of the kid having a panic attack, and placed it between them. Scar peeked past his arms at the sound of metal lightly clanging against the floor, staring down at the thing curiously.

"...what is that?"

"It's a cane," Cleo answered, nudging it toward him. "Might not be the best answer to your situation, but it's better than nothing for now."

"You-" It hesitated, letting his legs drop slightly to get a better look at the cane. "..you found this for me?"

She nodded, a soft smile. "I'm not going anywhere, kid."

It's back to silence as Cleo helps him stand, showing it how to hold onto the cane and shift his weight so it wasn't so straining on its weaker side. She offers her arm when he stumbles a few times, and hesitantly it loops its free arm around hers, finding balance much easier that way.

They explore the store a bit longer, mostly to help Scar get used to walking with its cane, and the return to base is filled with stories of a friend like him back in the place Cleo called home. It laughs along as she describes him and his crazy antics, listens in awe as she tries to bring descriptions of this wonderland of a theme park he'd been creating to life with nothing but words, finds itself wondering what that would be like - not having to worry about death looming every corner, to be able to have fun and..and it's not alone.

He smiles, genuinely. He's not alone.

#beebo's journal #Untitled TCD!Cleo fic #the crafting dead #tcd scar #gtws tcd #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #zombiecleo #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #cw internalized ableism #cw panic attack #cw past abandonment #cw abandonment #funfact I based Scar's pain on mine because I'm projecting 👍#also very heavily based em on me and my dad near the end smile

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