entrancelogs | [ota] It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads

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[ota] It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads

Who: Clementine + you
Where: Mansion
When: April 5 - 12. Plus, all of April and May
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Clementine returns from her canon update. Feel free to reply to the network post here since I won't actually spam the network community too. Action spam or prose is totally cool with me.
The Story: First week and a half

It's warm.

She's felt like she was freezing since she fell into the lake of ice. Was that really just yesterday? It's warm here. Her hands press to grass, and she stares at the ground, shuddering because she thinks the frozen water might have seeped into her blood. She knows it's warm but she still feels cold.

She's back in Wonderland. A rush of memories, of emotion hits her. There are so many people she cares about here, and she hasn't seen them since she left, and it feels like she's been gone for years instead of- days. Weeks? Time is funny.

AJ isn't in her arms anymore. It's just him and her now. Seems right. She can't trust people anymore.

Now that the adrenaline has faded away, the bullet wound in her shoulder hurts like fucking hell. She killed someone else she cared about. Again. Does she even belong in this place with people who are good, who do what's right? If they knew, what the fuck would they think of her. She feels like she might be sick, but there's nothing in her stomach to puke anyway so it's just her insides twisting around like knots.

She pulls her network device out, texting a quick open network post, because she won't remember everyone she'll want to text to let them know:

It's Clementine. I'm back. In my room.

If anyone is up at night, they might run into her, a child with blood on the shoulder of her jacket with a very clear hole through it. No gun for once. She left it with the last dead body she's left behind her.

When she finally makes it into her room. She writes the names of more dead people on the wall (Sarita, Sarah, Luke, Rebecca, Kenny). She pulls out blankets from the closet and piles them on the bed and puts herself underneath them, but it doesn't help with the cold. She tries to get out of the damn jacket, but she hisses out pain and stops midway. She stays there for a week and a half without leaving.

Rest of April/May

Eventually, later in the month, she finally leaves her room again. She's got the small shot gun from Christmas with her, holstered to her back.

She's in the cafeteria in short sleeves, which means she's revealing a certain scar for the first time since she came to Wonderland. Sometimes she's reading books about taking care of babies as if osmosis will happen if when she's sent back. Somewhere in between reading how often they have to feed and sleep, she tosses the book away from her so hard that it almost hits somebody.

Then she picks up baking. She used to with her mother all the time, and if she can kill people and survive walkers and gun shots and ice lakes, she can make some cookies if the recipes right there, right? Maybe.

She ends up making a big mess in the kitchen as she tries to spoon big chunks of cookie dough out on to pans, smirking at her giant mess. It's kind of hilarious she can survive so much and fight so hard and then get defeated by cookie dough.

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[ Michonne doesn't even respond to the text. The only reason she wasn't outside of Clementine's door waiting on her was because Andrea dragged her away, insisting she had to sleep and eat. But all of that goes out the window and Michonne makes her way over as fast as she can. Pausing, she takes a breath before knocking. It's light but urgent, needing to look her over, make sure she's okay, see what the hell of their world did to her.

Because one thing she knows for certain: Clem isn't unscathed. ]

It's Michonne.

[ Just in case she's screening visitors. Hopefully, Michonne's on the list. ]

You know who tends to be in the hallways at night? Vampires who can't be in the sun.

Richard is also very good at smelling blood. Call it an important survival instinct, even if right now it's not being used for its intended purpose.

He sees her down the hall, can smell the blood before he sees it, and it's a damn good thing that he's better fed these days.

"Shit."

His long legs carry him quickly down the hall toward her, brows furrowed. He's had too many bullets go through him, too, and they fucking hurt. He can already tell that, based on the location, it shouldn't be life threatening, but she's a fucking kid.

He crouches down on one knee so he's not looming over her, his face calm as he looks her over. He doesn't ask if she's okay. He knows damn well she isn't.

"What happened?"

Early morning after Clementine's arrival, Iris is mentally kicking herself for going to bed early and missing the network post. It would figure that she's paid such close attention throughout the week and then the one time she dozes off, Clementine returns.

Iris discovered Clementine was gone mid-event, after attempting to contact Clementine via omni-tool to no success; she never stepped foot inside the Citadel. Ever since, she's been sick with worry. There's no way to know what Clementine went back to, but Iris doesn't need the details to understand it wasn't good. The kind of world Clementine is from is brutal and unforgiving, and Iris wants nothing more than to protect her from it, even knowing she does not have that kind of power. It doesn't change that she wants it to be true.

They both live on the same floor, so it doesn't take long for Iris to reach Clementine's room with breakfast for them in tow. The knock on Clementine's door will be soft, but no less determined for it. "Clementine? It's Iris."

[ Clementine has finished with the new names. It can't have been more than a week she got sent back, and she's got a whole handful of names to add to it. She shudders again involuntarily. It's the fucking cold. It got stuck inside her somehow.

She moves to the door when she hears Michonne's voice. Her eyes burn right before she opens it. She's still in the same bloody jacket. ]

Hey.

[ Her voice comes out wrong but she takes a step back so Michonne can come inside. ]

It's not a bite. [ She's still not bitten. ]

"Richie."

She releases a breath of relief because she knows him and he's her friend, and then closes her eyes tightly against well after well of emotion.

What happened? What the hell happened?

Clementine swallows and then shakes. Her hands are red from the cold she'd been in moments before. Snow blew all around. It was hard enough she had to close her eyes to walk through it. She didn't have any gloves. It's the reason she's still wearing this bloody, wet coat because she can't get any other coat in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"The bullet went straight through. It's bandaged," she says and then shakes her head. "I got sent back to where I'm from."

He checks on her. It's something he does each day, since their conversation: a simple scroll through his contacts to assure himself she's still here and breathing. He's not quite sure why he does it, other than the instinct their conversation had stirred in him to do so: to care, to care for. To be a father, in the absence of a daughter. For her, in the absence of a father.

What he wants is Clementine to be all right, and when she disappears from his phone his throat closes with a deluge of smothered emotions; panic, anger, sadness. He searches the mansion high and low but there's nothing else for him to do: so he waits.

He waits until she's in his contacts again. He waits until he wakes one morning to see her message.

Then he paces. He thinks about her, alone. He thinks about the world she must have gone back to, and hopes she wasn't alone, all the while fearing she was. He thinks about what he could possibly say or do, how he could help with a helplessness that could drive him mad. Then he doesn't pace anymore, is out the door and searching the mansion until he finds her.

Holed up in a room. He knocks gently and steps back.

Edited 2017-04-06 03:53 (UTC)

"...Hey."

There are only a couple of people in his memory that have ever said his name with relief like that, so it's a little startling to him at first, but he recovers quickly enough.

"Well, at least we don't have to dig it out, right?" Small favors. Having it go straight through meant getting the bleeding to stop would be harder, but if she'd already managed to bandage it, that was about as good as it could get right now.

She's shivering, that's also fucking obvious, and his fingers immediately go to the buttons of his suit coat. "Take that thing off before you freeze to death. You can have mine." He didn't have gloves or anything, but his jacket would be long enough on her frame and arms to cover everything up anyway. His lips press together as she explains what happened in the vaguest of senses, but he doesn't need details. "And gone long enough to run into trouble, by the looks of it."

Clementine hasn't slept even if she's tired, but she's out of the jacket and into brand new clothes, which don't have blood on them. She's in a tank, because wearing long sleeves feels weird with a bandage on her shoulder already restricting her movement. She'll have to change the bandage soon. Iris' voice means gets something caught in her throat.

It's stupid but she's trembling. She just feels so damn cold still, and Iris is good and warm.

She pulls open the door.

"Hi."

It doesn't matter how dry or thin that layer of blood happens to be, Katherine's nose is as sharp as any shark in a pool of water with a simple drop of it. She doesn't quite track it as that kind of predator would, but she does let it guide her as she navigates her way through the mansion at night. Sometimes sleep evades her, and sometimes she evades it.

Though she'd seen Clementine's message on the network, she hadn't replied. Katherine doesn't quite know how to — people don't often express to her that they're back, preferring to keep that hidden away out of fear of how she'll retaliate against them.

Besides, she's never quite had a friend to wait for the return of.

Turning a corner, Katherine sees the back of Clementine in the hallway. The blood's a lot richer there, and she can easily surmise it has to be coming from her. Strides long and heels purposefully clicking along the ground to announce her arrival, Katherine sidles up to her and reaches out to gently touch her fingers to the good shoulder of her jacket. Her primary concern isn't what she believes she can smell, ripe and possibly new. Katherine knows what it's like to walk around with open wounds.

Gently, she suggests, "Come with me."

Without a guide on how to care for the pyjak that had returned with Newt somehow from the space station, he's still working on finding the proper diet and care for the creature. Which truly has him happier than he's been since he arrived in Wonderland. This is what he does best, what he loves, and he is constantly out and about with the creature, trying to learn the best things for him.

Which was what led him to the kitchen that afternoon. Standing in the doorway with Andy standing at his side, he watches the young girl for a long time, smiling at her activities. At least until the pyjak scurries forward, reaching up to try and snag a spoon, or a cookie, from the counter.

"Andy! No! Manners."

[ In the span of those five words her heart has sunk and risen again dramatically. Stepping inside, she closes the door behind her and instinct takes over completely. ]

Okay. Come on. I'll fix you up. Take care of you.

[ Gently, she leads Clementine to sit. Whatever she needs, Michonne will do, she'll take care of her as much as Clem wants. And her voice only broke a little bit, so that's progress. ]

Clementine had been huddling in blankets. She has about ten of them on her bed, and it helps to fight against the persistent cold seeping through her bloodstream. She's got a bandage and washcloth and ointment out beside her bed, because she's gonna have to change her bandage soon. It's the same arm with the nasty scar. Something about her left arm-

She pulls open the door and then releases a low, shaky breath when she sees him there. Her head ducks. She remembers their talk from before about his daughter, about her- about Lee and her mom and making mistakes that cost (Is it a mistake when she chooses it? When she pulls the trigger knowing the result?). It was a really good talk, and it helped.

"Klaus, hi."

Clementine winces at the thought. Digging a bullet out of there, it might hurt worse than stitching her arm did. She blinks a bit and stares up at him when he offers his own jacket so easily. Her voice is soft, drawn out when she finally finds words. She forgot what it's like to have a real friend, to have someone who'd think to offer and do it.

"Thank you."

Her jaw locks. She grits her teeth through the inevitable pain of moving her arm, shaking and reaching for the coat to pull it off of her shoulders and away from her. A tiny sound is drawn from her, but the coat lands on the floor at her feet. Nothing hurts as much as diving a needle into her skin to sew her arm back together.

"My world's trouble all the time." She shakes, closing her eyes. "Two of our group decided one of our group was too unstable and dangerous so they tried to take our stuff and our... prisoner and leave."

He had smelled the blood, the scent of a girl, young and injured. It's part of what brought him to finding her behind this door. Yet the reality of what was obvious to him still hits him in the chest. She's been hurt, he realizes anew, in a vicious world. That, and how she breathes so heavy and trembling; how she looks down at the sight of him—it chokes him.

He hopes he did the right thing, coming to find her. He hopes it is the ring thing; that she would want it to be, considering how fleeting their interaction was. With a shallow, short breath, Klaus takes a small step forward and squats before her. "Hey," he says, his tone carried with a softness both unintentional and uncharacteristic. His smile is small, warm, tentative. "I came to check up on you.

"I hope that's all right." With a glance at her shoulder, he adds, "I see you're hurt."

And oh, if the sight of Clementine doesn't make her heart hurt a little.

The question are you okay? lodges in her throat, because Iris already knows the answer. Not for the first time, she wishes her reporting could actually get them somewhere; that she could solve Wonderland's mysteries, once and for all, to ensure something like this doesn't happen. She can't help wondering if this is how Joe felt when they were children and he wanted to make things better for Barry.

It's such a powerless feeling. She thinks Joe West would know exactly what to say and do.

And so she smiles, loving if not worried.

"Hi." Already, Iris is considering the bandage on Clementine's arm, wondering if she was patched up properly. She'll need to look into that, but first things first. "Is a hug okay right now?"

Clementine knows her so well that she can tell it's her from the sound of her heels, and she's already turning in her direction. She trembles in the cold and then reaches out to wrap her hand around Katherine's wrist, gripping hold like she might be able to root her into this moment instead of wherever her damn head's trying to take her.

Back into that world. Back where things are different, because she can't afford to not have her shit together back there.

She can't afford to show weakness. She can't.

"Katherine," she says, clearly grateful to see her and to hear her voice. She meets her gaze and then nods distantly. "Okay."

She trusts her. She'll follow her.

Clementine lifts her head up from her very focused work on the cookie dough in front of her, and then she almost laughs in amazement at the- whatever it is. She can't really tell. She hasn't laughed in a really long time it feels like.

It's almost there like a little light in her chest, reminding her she can still feel more than cold.

"Woah!" She hands over a spoon full of dough willingly before she looks over at Newt, and she waves a hand in recognition. "What is Andy?"

[ Clementine swallows through emotions, which feel like a rope wrapped around her neck. She sits at the edge of her bed and presses her hands together as her stomach twists up. She wills her voice to stop shaking.

She wills herself to remember this is not a place where she has to hold back, but it's become instinct to do so. To grip hold of her emotions like they're a fist in her chest. Her hand trembles, and she grips hold of Michonne's hand, trying to get a hold on something.]

It's bandaged. I was just-

Shot. It's hard to get my jacket off. [ Cause it hurts like hell to roll her shoulders back to do it. ]

It's hard to describe.

In her world, she has to be a certain way all the time. Sometimes she could be more open with Luke (he'd ask if she was okay, he'd comment on how she watched Carver's face get beaten in with a crowbar without flinching), but Luke is dead. She has to be useful and survive and push forward. There's no room for her to not have her shit together, because it means dying. It means someone else dying. People aren't kind. They're hard and weathered like she is, and she locks it all down tight to stay alive. Reaching out to someone else means admitting need, which she can't afford.

She forces herself back together uneasily, and she looks up at Klaus again.

"Yeah. It- it is. It's all right." People care. People are kind here. He was kind to her. He understood, and it means something he'd even think to stop by when they only talked the once. "You can come in."

She steps back then, moving back to the bed as her hand fists tightly in some of the mass of blankets. "I was sent home, and I got shot."

The world Clementine comes from is hard and indifferent. She takes care of herself more than anyone's taken care of her in a long time back there, and now she's on her own with an infant, because people can't be trusted. Because people die or people leave or people betray you.

It's nice for awhile, but it always ends up hurting in the end. AJ is all that can matter anymore.

And she can't imagine not ever coming back to this place and not ever seeing Iris again, and the question is such a simple one, but it means so much. And she can't remember the last time she's been asked it or anything like it except by Luke who asked once if she was okay, and then he died, and Luke's warmth always reminded her of Iris'.

Clementine's eyes burn hard enough she can feel the tears gather at the edges of her eyes and slip down her face, but she nods in answer.

Iris finds it indispensable to keep in mind Clementine's comfort levels.

Sometimes people want to be touched and sometimes they don't. When that person is younger, it's even more important to let them set the parameters, however loving Iris' intentions really are. It's why she waits until Clementine gives her the go ahead. She waits for that little nod to lower herself down to Clementine's eye level. Brushes the tears gently away with the swipe of her fingers.

And then wraps her arms around Clementine's tiny frame, being mindful of the bandage on her arm.

"It's okay," she says, her voice quiet and muffled. Maybe that's true and maybe it isn't. Maybe all Iris means is that Clementine is safe now, at least from the world she just left behind. Iris tightens her hold, but never enough to hurt. "You're okay."

She had been so serious the day they met about zombies, and seeing her laugh like that made Newt smile. It was a good look on her. Always good seeing children smile, especially when they were all trapped in this places.

He laughed, waving Andy down from the counter. Given he had his spoon and his long tongue was lapping at it, he didn't mind settling down on the floor.

"Andy is a pyjak. I found him on that space station, and then when I woke up here after we returned, he was there with me. He's a space monkey anteater type creature. I've been researching him since I found him."

[ Michonne slows down in wanting to take care of Clementine and instead she tries to give her what she needs right now: someone to hold onto, someone real and good and who would only ever imagine caring for her in any world. ]

Come here.

[ Her voice is soft, and she sits down, very carefully gathering Clementine close while avoiding her injury. Sometimes, even with all of Carl's bravery, that child in him peeked out, and he needed someone who loved him to hold him after all, rock him and tell him they'd get through this. For as hard and tough as kids have to be now, they're still kids. It's easy to forget in their world. But she has a feeling Clem needs it, needs to be free to feel whatever emotions she needs to feel in the safety of someone who can let her. So, that's what Michonne's going to do. Hold her until she doesn't want to unless she refuses outright. Then she'll move on to making sure the gunshot wound looks good and clean. ]

It would have. He could confirm that.

"Yeah. No problem."

To him, it really is nothing. It's not like he can't immediately replace it, and he's not heartless. What kind of fucking person would see a kid who's been shot and is freezing and not do that. Richie is a lot of things, but that would just be obscene.

"I'm getting that vibe, alright." People who eat other people didn't seem as shitty to him as people shooting at eleven-year-olds. Clem wasn't exactly a kid by normal standards, but that was pretty fucked up. "And then things got ugly, I take it?" Understatement, clearly. His brows furrow slightly as he tries to stand up a little taller.

"You want me to carry you?"

He and the young Clementine have been like two ships passing in the night for a while, and today is no different. While Clementine is dragging herself to their floor, Anders is in the diner, satisfying his belly after a vigorous training session and a shower.

Clementine, back again? These people from zombie-inhabited worlds seem to ping pong across the multiverse faster than Anders can keep track of them.

You missed some kind of event. Space happened.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how terrible was the trip home? 1 being "bearable if grossly unfair" and 10 being "human extinction"?

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[ota] It leaves us with regrets and picks apart the threads

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The kitchen; later in the month

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