This War's Not Over.

When Kenny slept, he wasn’t used to dreaming, especially not about things he had no control over. However, ever since Evan had come home, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop himself from having the most vivid and horrifying dreams about her. They were worse than when this whole era of the undead began. He would wake up, trying to gasp for air he couldn’t actually breathe with cold prickling his skin and a feeling of terror in the pit of his stomach.

They had stopped two days ago at a hotel near Joplin so that Evan could take care of her ribs as her stitches had popped again and she was in dire need of a shower. They had stayed the extra day so that she could take time to convince Garrett not to show up in New York looking for them. While Kennedy had heard the apology, he wasn’t entirely certain Garrett was being sincere. Garrett had been having strange mood swings lately, and it was startling how quickly he jumped from near violence to meek apologies.

He had woke from another dream, sitting up in the bed he had claimed, feeling his limbs shaking as he tried to calm down. It hadn’t been his fault this time, but he couldn’t save her. He tried, but he was just that fraction too late. Looking over, he found Evan sleeping fitfully, plagued by nightmares of her own. He remembered how she used to wake up screaming sometimes, breathing heavy, skin cold and slick with sweat, shaking like a leaf. He hadn’t seen her wake like that in a while, but the night before, she woke with a stifled moan, gasping. It was rare to see her sleep well anymore.

“Evan?” he murmured, sliding out of his bed to wake her. He wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers and Evan was wearing old shorts with a baggy t-shirt, and the hotel room was freezing. His body temperature was a few degrees lower than hers, so he knew when his touch startled her awake. His fingertips had barely grazed her shoulder, his motions tentative. “Sorry, you were kinda thrashing. I thought your stitches-.”

“I’m not the only one having nightmares,” she replied, seeing right through him. He smiled timidly, an apology on his lips. “You didn’t wake me, Ken, but I know that look.” She yawned, rolling over and curling her knees up and wincing a bit. His hand reached for her shoulder again as he bit his lip anxiously. She sighed, and threw the covers away from her, invitation unspoken. It wasn’t even an invitation. It was more of an allowance.

They had been like this for the last few days, growing closer, and slipping into bed with her felt like a stepping stone. When they used to stay at hotels, the band had no choice but to share beds on tour, and they were all friends and there was nothing awkward. With Evie, it was different. He had wanted permission, allowance. He was careful sliding between the sheets beside her as he didn’t want to jar her, or rip her stitches. Kissing the top of her head, he curled his knees behind hers, placing one arm over her hip before he closed his eyes again.

He wasn’t usually affectionate, not like this. He never placed chaste kisses on the crown of a young woman’s head. He never cuddled. He never comforted. He was a watcher, who hugged when asked or when drunk. He kept a certain distance, especially now, to keep people safe. Evan had taught him so much as just a friend, taught him that life, no matter whose, was sacred. Killing was never acceptable unless it was self-defense or defense of another. She had proven that countless times, putting herself in harms way for him, for all of them. She had tackled him out of the way once, when he had tried to display the same bravado, yelling that at least if she was hit, she wouldn’t die from ‘a tiny wooden splinter’. She had a point there.

He just wanted to be different, to change from who he was. To be a better person.

As he drifted off, he felt slender fingers reach for his.

--
“Oh,” she spoke, eyes wide with shock as one hand reached upward from her side to her belly to cup the blood that spilled from the wound. Falling forward, her body hit the ground with a sudden, eerie thud and he raced forward, denial in his veins.

Just as that dream ended, it segued right into another, this one more terrifying than the last. It was daylight, and he stood there with his hand in hers, standing at the edge of a canyon, a sick feeling in his stomach. “How does sunlight feel?” She asked, her voice hoarse. He smiled gently, pulled her into a hug.

“It feels. . . like I’m free.” He replied, kissing the top of her head. She looked happier than she had been in a long time, radiant and free. Her eyes glistened in the dimming sunlight, her stance strong, proud, fearless.

“I’m glad.” she spoke gently. And then the ground below her opened, and she fell, sending Kenny to his knees. He cried out as his knees slammed into the ground, realizing that he couldn’t hold on long, and he wasn’t strong enough to pull her up. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save her and he was crying. “Just let go.” She murmured, nodding once.

He wasn’t ready to let go of her hand yet. He wasn’t ready to let her go. “Y-you can stand on your own now.” She murmured, her fingers loosening. “You know where to stand.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” He shook his head, his denial consistent with the tightening of his fingers around her small hand. “No, I can’t. I can’t.”

He was crying. He knew he was crying, and he hated himself for it, but he was crying, tears sparking from his eyes. He kissed her palm, begging now. She couldn’t let go. Not yet, not now. Not when he was finally discovering where he stood, how to stand. He knew that he wanted to stand with her. He had hope for the first time in ages and he knew he would lose it otherwise.

“Kenny, you’re strong enough without me.” She responded, and he shook his head.
“Don’t you do this to me. Don’t you do this.”

“I love you, you know?” She murmured, fingers slipping. He had never heard her say those words, not even to Garrett, not even to Rafe, and the revelation startled him. The worst part was, the worst part, was that he knew he felt the same.

“I love you, too.” He responded, fervently.

And then it came. She let go. He watched her fingers slip through his hand, crying out as he watched her fall, endlessly, until he couldn’t see her anymore, down the canyon and into the blackness below.
--

He woke startled by a loud slam and sat up muddled, his eyes searching the dark room for the source. He only saw Evan sagging against the door to the hotel room. “Evan, what’s going on?” She shook her head in response and motioned for him to come to the door. When he reached her, she leaned up and pulled his face down to kiss him. Startled, he nearly protested before he realized she was transferring blood into his mouth. Swallowing a few times, he finally pulled away feeling more than a little stunned. “Okay, aside from being hot as hell, what was that for and where did you get it?”

“The bottle in the van. We need to go and we don’t have time for you to eat first. It was the best I could do on short notice. Everything’s in the van already.” The panic in her voice sent alarm bells through his head. “Military’s coming around to pick off subsiders and bystanders are fair game, so we need to go now.”

“Now?” Bewildered was what he felt, along with a little dizzy.

“Now, Kenny.” She responded, and yanked open the door. It was dark, but he could still see the van, parked down the lot. “Run.” And they were sprinting out the door, across the balcony, and down the stairs, Evan’s footfalls barely inches behind his. Distantly, he heard gunfire drawing closer, and he cursed, pushing himself to move faster. He reached the driver’s side door and yanked it open, hearing Evie’s door seconds later. The keys were already in the ignition and he sighed in relief. Their doors slammed at the same time, and he turned the key, hearing the engine purr to life. He pulled from the parking lot and turned back onto the highway.

“How did you know?” He asked curiously once they were safely on the road.

“I have my sources.” She was still breathless, and he watched as she fumbled for her water bottle. “Rafe’s kind of scary like that.” She added, as she took a long swill. “I could have gotten around it, but I wouldn’t have been able to save you.” Upon his questioning gaze, he watched he rummage through her bag before pulling out something that looked like a wallet. Flipping it open, all he saw was paper. “It’s a document clearing me from any injury from the military. They can’t come after me as my blood is considered a toxic substance and they don’t know how volatile it is.” She explained. “I’ve seen them come through like this before. They send a scout first, usually the commanding officer. He would note my location, and tell his men to go around it. They wouldn’t have done it this time. They would have searched the room.”

He took that in for a moment and then winced. It would have been the end for both of them. Reaching for the wine bottle next to him, he popped the cork and took a drink, letting the blood slide down his throat. He was still hungry, but for the most part the crisis was averted.
“Thanks. Listen, about this morning,” he started, but stopped, seeing Evan’s smile. “What?”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” She responded, grinning. “And don’t worry about it.” He returned the smile and sighed softly. He knew where they were heading next. They were taking a little detour through Ohio, and into Cleveland. That was where his story began.

As they drove, he came to a realization, one that he was vaguely startled by. He realized that he was more than capable of changing, capable of being forgiven, and that mattered more to him than anyone knew. He could be redeemed. More than that, he could do something to ease Evan's pain. That had been all he wanted from the start.