Chapter Text
Ray startles awake, back against the rough asphalt as his vision, intruded with flashes of white, starts to clear. He blinks himself into focus, groaning softly as he forces his body to sit up, palms grazing the jagged surface he’s sat upon.
No, this couldn’t be right.
He couldn’t be back at the start again. The auburn blink once, twice, reeling from the startling realisation as to where he is. The drop-off. All the way back to the beginning.
The trees were just as tall as Ray remembers, thick bushes surrounding the area as tapestries of light and dark green sprout out of thickets of branches. Birds somewhere above him sing their morning melody, rustling the leaves as they come to rest in their nests and presume their daily tasks. And the sky is brighter than he remembers, clear of the clusters of clouds that had rolled through the morning of May 1st.
It’s emptier, that’s another noticeable change. No soldiers at the gate, brandishing carbines and using the barrel to sift through belongings, no jeep, waiting parked with a countless supply of rations and canteens, ready for distribution, and no tank- to crush anyone’s legs.
Ray reels from the sudden reminder, pulling his knees to his chest and gasping sharply, head turning wildly as another realisation falls on him. No Walkers. There wasn’t any Hank or Art, Collie or Stebbins, no one. Not even Pete. He was completely alone.
Is this heaven? Or some fucked limbo?
Numerous questions circulate Ray’s mind as he clenches his eyes shut, counting up to five, missing a few milliseconds in his desperation as his hands clench into the fabric of his clothes. Opening them again, he looks down to see what he’s wearing. It’s the same outfit, the same black and white shirt he’d always insisted was the perfect shirt for the reason it went with just about everything.
The same shirt he died in.
But now, gone was the labour of his steps, the dull, dirtied white now flourishing plain. That shirt has seen better days, Ray’s certain of that. A sharp pain explodes in the back of his head, reeling him back from his thoughts as he lets out a pained cry, clutching his hair and pulling as he tries gasping for air, reaching for the air that had suddenly been taken from his lungs.
It didn’t matter if his shirt was all clean, good as knew, or that his eyebags no longer looked terrifyingly heavy. Nor did it matter if his skin had reclaimed its fair complexion, the colour of his lips redder than any rose in Maine or his hair, their striking red, falling over his eyes as he continued to grab at it, trying to decipher if it was real, what he was feeling.
Ray still feels the grime and sweat on him whenever he rubs at his face, staring at his hands as though he couldn’t recognise what they were anymore. He couldn’t feel his fingers move, his palm pressing against his eyelids, just the dirt that had started to build up in the crevices of his skin, behind the beds of his nails.
Trying to slow his breathing, which starts coming through in rapid succession, his heart racing, he looks down again to see what he’s wearing. He’s forgotten again, everything’s so hazy, he couldn’t remember things from seconds ago.
Suddenly, all Ray can see on his shirt is red. Red red red RED RED RED RED RED-
He lets out a terrified cry as he scrambles to his feet, trying to blink away the horrific image. His shirt, pants, shoes, oh God, his HANDS, covered with crimson, the blood dripping against the road in slow drops as he continues screaming, scrubbing at his arms furiously, riding up the sleeves, nails digging into skin as uncontrollable tears flow down his cheeks. Whose blood is this?! Who, is it Pete's blood? Or Hank’s or Art or Collie? Is it Stebbins, maybe Barkovitch who WHO WHO-?!
…
Curley.
Where is Curley?
Ray goes silent. The blood’s still on him, it won’t go away. But he sees past the blood, to the floor just in front of his feet. Curley was there. He was certain of it. Laying down, asleep, baby blues staring up at the sky, the night sky.
But it’s morning now. And he’s back at the drop off. So, where is Curley? He wouldn’t leave Curley’s body, where is he? What day is it, day 1? Or is he too late, how is Ray even here? WHY is no one there, and where is Curley? WHY is he here, where is everyone else, is he alone forever? Curley’s body is still gone, Ray doesn’t comprehend that he’d dropped to the road, hand pressing against the spot he’d been staring at as his pupils dilate, hands smacking against the asphalt as his chest starts to heave violently.
Where is Curley, he was RIGHT THERE! He was just holding Curley, he was singing to him, his mom’s lullaby, that’s the one, so where is he now? He can’t have just gone, why can’t Ray see him, Curley was in his arms, they couldn’t get him. Did they take his body? No, no, NO, THIS IS ALL WRONG, ALL WRONG, ALL WRONG!
“Curley?!” Ray shouts at the ground, clawing at the asphalt like a rabid dog, short breaths of air leaving his throat as ragged cries fall from trembling lips. “CURLS, WHERE ARE YOU?!” His heart twists violently as the skin on the tips of his fingers scrape the ground material. Pain flairs from the abused skin, but Ray doesn’t cry for that, he doesn’t even think about the burning sensation. He keeps hitting the ground, Ray doesn’t know what he’ll achieve, maybe he’s trying to make sure the spot is truly empty. And it is, Curley isn’t in front of him, not distorted in some mad haze, or maybe the cruel trick of the light. No, he’s gone. They’d taken him again.
Ray continues to sob, slamming his fist against the ground as the skin of his knuckles graze, bone connecting with the road as an animal-like scream ripped through his throat, his throat tearing itself apart with each howl, burning the walls with anguish and despair. He leans over the asphalt, body trembling as he lets out another guttural shriek, his mind racing as his grip of the world starts to slip away from him. He can’t reach for it, all Ray can do is cry, hot tears staining his shirt, falling to the ground in thick cascades as his mouth goes dry, tongue heavy as a build up of saliva fills his mouth. His own body jolts in pain, his throat a terrible burn as his heart continues tightening then relieving, tightening then relieving. The auburn doesn’t understand, his body continuing to lurch forward as new waves of tears invade his eyes, his whole face now wet with tremendous grief.
And he continues to scream. To cry, “CURLS, WHERE ARE YOU?! WHERE?!” like a broken record. His mind has shattered, it’s all the words he knows. Curley’s face is the only he could see right now, it anchored him back to whatever sanity he has left. Ray’s whole body burns, he feels like sinking against the floor, curling up and closing his eyes, and letting himself die again. Let hunger and Mother Nature take him.
He’s lost Curley again, oh, God, he’s truly gone now-
“Ray?!” A familiar voice calls from the woods, and Ray finds his sobs coming to a slow halt. He sniffles, wiping the tip of his nose using the back of his palm before using his shirt to clear away his face. Turning his head, he looks towards the thicket of nature. Maybe he heard it, oh, how he hopes he didn’t. But before doubt could settle, the voice calls out again. “RAY, ARE YOU HERE?!” It’s him.
“CURLEY?!” Ray answers back, getting onto his knees and trying to push himself off the ground. His legs tremble, the pain from walking 5 days straight hadn’t followed him to death, but somehow, Ray could still feel the burn though his ankles and feet- Oh, he has his shoes back…
“CURLS!” He limps towards the trees, unsure if he’s following something real. Trying to narrow his eyes, Ray searches through the forest, his chest still stuttering with unbridled sobs.
“RAY!” The sound of rustling sounds closer, more urgent as quick footsteps rush towards Ray’s direction. Ray still can’t see him, the bushes truly were thick with leaves, and so he steps closer, ready to step off the road, without the fear of being shot to ribbons now.
“CURLS, I’M HERE! I’M-” A figure comes barrelling through the leaves, wearing a bright, yellow striped tee, wrists covered in thin cloth that bore two black stripes on each, a small beaded bracelet wrapped snug around their wrist. The auburn blinks once, then twice again. Their face is too blurry. But as the fuzzy haze of his vision seeps away, dark browns meet baby blues. It can't... It can't be. "Curley?"
Curley gasps softly. Oh, God, he's breathing. Ray thinks he's imagining it, because the boy he knows, who he held in his arms as red continued to flow from his wounds, was gone. But living proof stands just a few feet away, chest rising with an unbridled panic Ray can't seem to notice through his own delight. "Ray? What... What are you doing here?" His voice, God, how Ray missed it, calls out cautiously, his bright blues darting around the drop off zone before widening impossibly as he fully takes in Ray's dishevelled state. "Ray? Ray?!"
Ray doesn't answer, he can't seem to hear the younger Walker anymore. All he can see is his face, full of life once more, gone with that sickly complexion. All he can see is his torso, untouched by bullets and blood and his forehead... there's nothing there. The watery laugh that escapes his lips doesn't belong to him, and suddenly, all his strength leaves his legs. The auburn finds himself collapsing against the grass, laughing like a man turned savage. He's here, OH, GOD, HE'S THERE!
"Curl- Curls! Oh, fuck, Curley!" Ray doubles over into a heap of breathless cries, lips spread into a painful grin as tears started to pour down his freckled skin. Each gasp feels like a slash to the throat, he can barely breathe. But he reaches out for Curley, still kneeling on the floor, body convulsing with the force of his crazed sobs. "Curley! I'm here, I'm-" He feels like a child, throwing his arms up, wanting to reach Curley, but he can't force himself to crawl. His own body stops him, Ray can't seem to move. Muscles contract and lock, they tremble and beg for relief, but as his sobs continues their restless assault, he finds himself almost cackling.
"Fuck, Ray!" Curley runs towards him, throwing his arms around the older Walker as Ray returns it with ease. The auburn doesn't realise he's crushing Curley nearly half to death, nor does the younger boy seem to care as he brushes a frantic hand through Pete's hair.
"YOUNGIN! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Another voice calls from the trees. Ray can't hear them though, he's too busy laughing- or is he crying? Oh, he can't tell anymore.
"PETE, I'M HERE! I'M- FUCK, HELP!" Curley answers back before returning his focus on Ray. "Hey, hey? I'm here, I'm here, alright? Ray, please, just breathe!" He tries to speak clearly, but judging by the heavy tremble in his voice, even he can't contain his emotions. Ray shakes his head, grinning madly as tears continue to streak down his face, and before he understands what he's doing, he cups Curley's face.
"Curley, Curls..." Ray dissolves into mad laughter, and through his haze, he can't see how terrified Curley looks, baby blues darting across his arms and face scrunching into something akin to devastation. He can't see the blood on his skin, all his doing, all Ray can see is Curley. How alive he is. How warm his skin is in his palms. "You're here, you're- You're here!" He cries, voice cracking and throat working painfully to gather air.
"I'm here, Ray. I'm here- Fuck, Pete!" Another figure bursts into the clearing, and Ray fails to register who they are before a familiar pair of arms cradle him, pulling the auburn into their chest.
"Ray? Ray, come on, hun, can you hear me?" The voice asks him, and the buzz in Ray's ear seems to lessen as he stares up at the person with teary eyes, blinking rapidly. It's their skin Ray notices first, a rich brown that glistens in the sun, and a scar just on their right cheek. Wearing a grey muscle tee and solid arms that hold Ray impossibly tighter, as if physically trying to stop him from unravelling, they stare back with distraught eyes. Their eyes are the same brown as Ray's, if not deeper. They keep speaking, but Ray can only look at their lips, moving without noise as the buzz worsens before calming.
It's his songwriter.
Pete.
"Pete?" Ray whispers breathlessly. His mind quietens down as he finally brings himself back down to where he is, to who he's with.
"Yeah, baby. It's me," Pete swallows, and Ray can barely hold himself before he throws his arms around Pete's shoulders and the tears come back stronger.
"Oh, God! You're alive, you're here too!" Ray sobs, an immeasurable hope in his voice that would've been a wonderous noise. Instead, it forces Curley to look away, trying to muffle his own tears beneath his hand. But Pete takes notice, pulling Curley into their embrace and holding the two of them close to his chest. The auburn leans against his broad frame, pressing his ear just above where Pete's heart should be. Tha-dum, tha-dum, tha-dum.
Ray can't help the weak giggle that bubbles from his throat, hands curling against Pete's vest as he wraps his arms around Curley, burying his face against those soft curls. He doesn't register Pete's heart racing beyond possible speed, nor the utter devastation on both Pete and Curley's faces. He can't feel Curley's tears against his shirt, or Pete's lips pressing gentle, desperate kisses along Ray's hairline, mumbling soft reassurances even he seems uncertain of. All he can hold onto is the two of his boys and laugh until his lungs were deprived off air, feel the grass against his skin and ignore the sound of boots and footsteps and guns that seemed to taunt him.
He had his brother back. He has the boy he loves back. They're safe in his arms- Or, is it that he's the one safe now?
He doesn't realise he's passed out as the world goes dark once more. Am I dying again? Ray thinks to himself before his eyes close, body giving way to its exhaustion, lips still curled into a grin no sane man would have. Fuck, it doesn't matter now. At least he can die with his arms wrapped around the two boys he loved the most.
They'll never take them away again.