Chapter Text
When the alarm goes off - the only thing the battered cell phone’s good for now, scaring them half to fucking death - Dick sits up blearily. By the dwindling fire, Roy watches him stifle a grimace as he comes back to reality from whatever dream he’s been having. He hopes it was a good one.
“C’mon,” Dick says, rising from the cot. “My turn. It’s only fair.”
His eyes are glazed over. Roy gets woodenly to his feet, just to prove he can. Sitting for too long locks up his back anyway. “Fuck that. Lay back down. I can do another two hours.” Dick blinks at him, obviously ready to protest, but Roy reaches out with a hand and gently pushes him backward. It’s too easy to get him off balance: a sign he’s really out of it. “Go, Dick.”
Reluctantly, Dick sits down. “You sure?”
“Fuckin’ yes,” Roy tells him, exasperation mixing with the bone-deep tired he’s already feeling. They haven’t seen a walker since they passed through San Francisco, but they sleep in shifts because they’ve got a little kid to look after. And because they’re both too stubborn and paranoid not to. It’s given their tenuous grip on existence a tiny bit of routine, some shred of normalcy. “Sleep. I’ll be fine.”
Permission given, Dick’s out within seconds, his head tipped against a large boulder. Next to him, Lian’s still curled around herself atop her blanket, her little brow furrowed as she sleeps. She’s too small for six, and her elbows and knees stick out more than they should. Every day, Roy’s worried about her getting sick. They haven’t got any medicine, not even a bottle of Tylenol.
Roy’s stomach twists with hunger, distracting him. Neither he nor Dick will let Lian go hungry. Sleep helps curb the gnawing feeling, but Roy can’t stand giving into sleep when he sees how exhausted Dick is. For now, he’ll keep it pushing.
He rubs a hand over his eyes and leans down to poke at the fire, gaze roaming over the woods around them. He’s a better shot than Dick, even with his body leaden like this, and they won’t make it through the month if they don’t catch something soon. They’ve already burned through the jerky they dried back when it was hot. In the California winter - what’s left of what they called California, anyway - the animals will disappear whether it snows or not.
Roy’s thought about quietly skipping meals just so the other two can eat more, but he knows Dick would notice in a heartbeat. It’d only lead to another hypocritical lecture about self-sacrifice. As if Dick wouldn’t do the same, if he thought he could get away with it. The two of them have always had a habit of going back and forth in their selflessness, taking bigger risks until they crack, and then starting over at the beginning again. That’s what got them here in the first place: twenty miles from any city, so deep in the redwoods that they can hardly see the stars.
It’s the only thing that’s kept them alive this long. That penchant for selflessness, precariously balanced between the two of them, is pretty much the only thing keeping them going. They take care of each other. Without Dick, Roy wouldn’t be around to feel hungry right now.
Blinking away the mental fog, Roy straightens up. Next to him, the old cell phone silently blinks 03:02 - too brightly. He shuts it off. As his eyes adjust to the treeline, afterimages of the flames dance in his vision, glowing against the black.
That’s not a trick of the light.
Roy grabs for his bow, fingers tightening around it just as the tall woman breaks through the treeline. She’s radiant, almost healthy. Her red hair falls in small braids to her hips, her dark skin unblemished. She's wearing black jeans and a turtleneck, green in a way that brings out her startling eyes. And all of it is untouched by dirt. Roy doesn’t remember the last time he’d seen anyone look clean. She's not a walker, at least. But it doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous. In a practiced movement, he notches an arrow and aims at her chest. “Don’t move,” he warns, quiet enough that he won’t wake Dick. Thank God, Lian can sleep through anything.
Her dark eyes settle on him. There’s no surprise in them, only a knowing concern. That certainly doesn’t soothe his unease. “I mean you no harm,” she says. In the light breeze, her braids sway gently around her waist, mirroring the crackling fire. Her voice lilts so gently that it makes him uncomfortable. No one talks like that in the middle of a war zone.
“Sure,” Roy says lowly. His mind works furiously, thoughts struggling to break through the haze of exhaustion. There shouldn’t be another person here, not alone, not in the maze of woods. Let alone someone who appears completely unarmed. And no one should be able to trace them. Is their fire too bright? Too much smoke? He should’ve put it out. He glances to Lian, wrapped tightly in her blanket against the night’s chill, and grits his teeth. No. Can’t risk it.
She presses her lips together briefly. “You are here alone? The… three of you,” she corrects, glancing over his shoulder. Her expression softens into something like relief.
Roy steps to one side, so he’s blocking her view of Lian and Dick. “Why does that matter?”
The woman raises her hands slowly in a placating gesture. “It was only a question.” Unmoved, Roy lifts his bow. “Please,” she says cautiously, eyebrows raised. “Let me introduce myself.”
Dick stirs, his feet shifting against the pine needles. Roy doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the woman, but he bites back a curse as he hears Dick wake behind him.
Dick stills for a moment, then sits up all at once. “Kory?”
.
Kory, Roy learns, is an old friend of Dick’s.
She’s also a magic user. He’d almost lost hope that they still existed, figured they’d been eradicated by the walkers a long time ago. If any of Roy’s mage friends were still alive, he figures they’d have reached out by now.
But Kory is different. He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed her ability immediately, because she practically leaks magic. Up close, her braids glow gently in the night, eyes softly greener than his own. They flicker like firelight from a close distance. When she stokes the fire to roaring just by twitching her fingers, Roy scoots protectively toward Lian, even as the deep chill in his bones begins to recede.
Dick doesn’t seem to notice Roy’s apprehension. Within the first ten minutes of Kory’s arrival, he’s smiling for the first time in months. “How’d you find us?” he asks softly, cross-legged next to Roy.
Kory glances away, looking almost embarrassed. “I… tracked you. I thought there was a chance you were alive, and I had to know for certain.” She teases shapes from the sparks in the fire pit, fingers working gently, then looks back at Dick with intensity. “I am glad I was right. But how did you get here? You are miles from any civilization. I haven’t seen another person in days.”
“Good,” Roy mutters, eyes fixed on the flames. Dick glances at him, something coloring his expression. Roy doesn’t look up to see what it is.
“We walked,” Dick says finally. “We had a car at first, but it ran out of gas a few weeks back, and there aren't any stations left.”
“It was scaring all the animals away,” Roy says. Not to mention the roads up here are all but impossible to traverse except by foot. “We’re better off without it.” He reaches down to smooth a hand gently over Lian’s hair. She curls sleepily into the touch. Suddenly, Roy thinks he might cry.
Across from him, Kory looks appalled. “You have been out here for weeks?”
Dick shakes his head. “It’s been almost four months.” Roy swallows. He’s been trying not to count. “But we haven’t seen a walker since we went off the grid,” Dick continues. His eyes darken, and Roy knows he’s remembering their last close call, the teeth snapping inches from Roy’s leg. “So it’s worth it.”
Worth it, Roy thinks, studying how Lian’s ribs jut out where her sweatshirt’s ridden up. They haven't been able to scavenge for anything processed in months. He feels sick, for a second. Then he’s just tired again. He reaches over to gently tug the fabric down, covering her bare skin.
Kori is quiet. When Roy looks up, he finds that she’s been looking at the same thing. “Sleep,” she says finally, rising to her feet. The fire crackles warmly. “Both of you. I will watch until morning.”
“That’s okay,” Roy interjects, just as Dick says, “Thanks.” They exchange looks. Dick’s face says don’t you trust me?
It’s a rhetorical question. Roy thinks about all of the times Dick has saved his ass and Lian’s. Then he thinks about how fucking tired he is. “Fine,” he says finally. In the morning, maybe they’ll get some real answers. Right now, he can’t bring himself to care.
Dick goes back to the cot. He knows Roy needs to sleep next to Lian. The two of them are out before the fire is even close to low, Kory’s hands working slowly in the glow of the flames.
.
Roy wakes long past dawn to a sound he’s never heard before.
He’s already got his bow in his hand before he’s really awake, scrambling up onto his knees and notching with bleary eyes. He’d thought it was a scream, but camp is quiet. They aren’t being besieged. He hears the sound again and blinks, turning around to make sure he’s not losing it.
By the riverbank, Lian and Kory are laughing.
“Fuck,” Roy mutters, setting down the weapon and sucking in a breath to calm his racing pulse. He takes a swig from the water bottle he’s purified, then gets cautiously to his feet, wincing at the familiar ache in his back and stomach. Some days, the pain in his spine radiates all the way down to his toes. Others, it sends shockwaves into his torso and shoulders, enough to affect his aim. It’s anybody’s guess whether he’ll have enough energy for the day. Not that it matters.
Down by the river, Dick is seated cross-legged on a flat-topped boulder, positioned halfway between camp and the water. By the sunlight on the shallow waves, Roy can see it’s nearly eight o’clock. Keeping an eye on Dick, he sighs and grabs his bow, slinging his quiver over his shoulders as he pads down to join his daughter.
“Daddy!” Lian calls and waves to him, up to her ankles. Her faded pink cargo pants are rolled up past her shins. Kory smiles encouragingly from next to her, manipulating the waves with a careful rolling of her wrists. On the shore, there’s a small pile of three or four good-sized fish she’s apparently caught with fucking magic.
“What the hell,” Roy breathes, glancing over at Dick, who’s leaning forward on his elbows with that self-satisfied look he gets when things are going right. Roy hasn’t seen that expression in a long time. He musters a smile for Lian, increasing his pace a little, and leaves his bow and quiver by the boulder in a show of trust that he’s still not confident is the right move. “Hey, darlin’,” he says, wading in to scoop her up in his arms. “What’ve you two been up to?”
She giggles again as he spins her around, clinging to his shoulders, and there’s the emotion again in the back of his throat. He’d almost forgotten what her laugh sounded like.
Lian is breathless when he sets her down, kicking her feet in the water. “Kory was showing me how to fish,” she says, pointing to the pile.
“I can see that,” Roy says, glancing at Kory. He knows his expression betrays something like wariness, but she doesn’t seem offended.
“You are doing a wonderful job,” Kory says warmly to Lian.
Lian beams. “And now we don’t have to worry about food, right daddy?”
Roy’s heart breaks just a tiny bit, but he reaches out to ruffle her hair anyway, leading her out of the water. “Right, sweetheart. Why don’t you ask Dick to show you how to clean them?” It’s a thinly veiled way to say he wants to talk to Kory alone, but Lian doesn’t notice. She dashes off.
To Roy’s surprise, Kory speaks first. “She is sweet,” she says, watching Lian pull on Dick’s leg. “You are doing an impressive thing, raising a child through this.”
Roy doesn’t understand how Kory can be so earnest. How anyone could be, after everything. “She’s perfect,” he says, looking down at himself. His jeans are soaked from knee to ankle. Fuck. It’s not going to be warm enough today to dry them in the sun. He should’ve known better. “But she was born before all of this, y’know?” He hears the frustration in his own voice. Frustration’s okay. Better than apathy. “A full two years before everything... went to hell. She’s never had a normal life." He clears his throat. "We would’ve - Would’ve been more careful. If we’d known.” The truth stings as it leaves his mouth, and he presses his lips together hard. He doesn’t want to imagine his life without Lian. But that doesn’t mean she deserves to be put through all of this.
Kory doesn’t look at him with pity, only kindness. It’s more than Roy thinks he deserves. After a moment, she straightens. “There is somewhere you can go,” she says gently.
Roy looks up. “What’re you talking about?”
“A protected place,” Kory says. “Where many families take refuge. It is far from here, but I can take you. All of you would be safe there.”
“Safe,” Roy repeats, trying to wrap his head around the meaning of the word. He can’t remember the last time he felt safe. “Like- protected by magic?”
Kory nods, her long braids shimmering in the sun. “I know it must be difficult for you to trust me. We have only just met. But this... refuge is the reason I tracked Dick in the first place.” She looks down. “I am sorry. If I had known there was a child with you, I would have moved faster.”
She actually looks ashamed. Roy opens his mouth, then closes it again. He can’t figure out what he’s going to say. A piece of him he thought was dead has started to flutter hopefully in his chest.
“I have already spoken to Dick,” Kory says slowly, meeting Roy’s eyes again. “He said you might have... concerns. So he is leaving the decision to you.”
Roy looks over at Dick, who’s starting toward the fish with Lian’s hand in his. He meets Roy’s eyes and raises his eyebrows. You in?
Somewhere safe, Roy thinks. When they’d arrived here, at the clearing in the redwoods, it had seemed like the best possible option: near the river but not too muddy, enough fish and bird life, a clear view across to the other side of the bank. A place they could never be trapped in. But knowing there could be somewhere else... It sets his heart racing in his chest.
He scans the small clearing where they’ve set up camp - the stones they’d assembled around the campfire, the ragged blankets and sleeping bags. The backpacks that hold virtually everything they own. Raising a child through this. He doesn’t have a choice, he realizes. He has to take the risk. For Lian. “Okay,” he says, meeting Kory’s eyes. “Let’s get packed up.”
.
Roy carries Lian in his arms, his quiver and bow slung carefully across his back. Kory insists on carrying his backpack - it’s phenomenally heavy, laden with as much as he can carry, but she swings it over her shoulders like it weighs nothing, using a hand to free her long hair from the straps. Hanging at her waist is her own small leather pack, which looks handmade, embroidered with careful runes. It’s a language Roy’s never seen before.
Dick ties his hair back with a strip of old cloth they use for bandages, which makes Roy realize how long his hair’s gotten. It curls at the nape of his neck, damp with sweat as they hike up the muddy trail to the nearest peak.
It’s been a while since Roy’s had to hike like this, and it makes him realize how bad his back’s gotten. More than once, the shock of pain makes him stifle a gasp as they walk, and he bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste copper. He forces himself to keep going. He’ll rest when Lian is safe, and not a moment before.
“As soon as I have a visual, I can transport us,” Kory says clearly. She’s hardly broken a sweat, despite the exertion. Unlike Roy, she obviously hasn’t had to cut her calories the past few weeks. “Just over this ridge.”
“Transport us,” Roy mutters. More magic. It would’ve been nice to have Kory around the past few months. He tries to feel grateful, instead of bitter, and kisses Lian’s forehead as they round the bend.
At the top of the cliff, the four of them gaze down at the forest below, dotted here and there with rotting cabins and winding, obstructed roads. It would be beautiful, if the thick cover of trees didn’t make Roy so nervous. There’s no way of knowing what’s coming up the mountain now.
As if sensing his nerves, Kory turns to them and holds out her hands. “Here,” she says. After Dick takes one hand in his, Roy reaches out for the other, shifting Lian down to the ground. With all her childish confidence, Lian places her small hand over his.
“This will be less of a shock if you close your eyes,” Kory advises gently. Roy decides on keeping his all the way open, until Lian looks up to give him a stern look. Exhaling softly, he closes them, nudging her to make sure she’s doing the same.
Within moments, his body is engulfed in a wave of warmth, like he’s slipped into a hot bath. It’s such a startling feeling that he almost opens his eyes on instinct before catching himself. The warmth prickles along the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck, radiating down his spine.
For one perfect second, Roy feels absolutely no pain.
There’s a rush of wind around his ears, and the sensation that the ground has disappeared underneath him. Then the sound around them slowly fades back into existence. Like an old foe, so does the ache. Roy opens his eyes, blinking at the grass under his feet, and turns to look around.
They’re in a clearing next to a vast lake, stretching nearly to the horizon. It’s scenery Roy’s never seen before, so it has to be more than five miles from the old camp. The gray shore is all pebbles and water-worn debris, but the size of the trees is familiar. Still California.
Next to him, Dick looks a little pale. Roy figures he’d kept his eyes open. “Open your eyes, pumpkin,” he says to Lian, patting her shoulder.
With a start, she blinks up at him, eyes wide. “Where are we?”
“Not sure yet,” Roy answers, eyeing Kory as she turns toward the treeline. She holds out a hand and curls it in a particular way, each finger performing a different motion. The air in front of them shimmers slightly. Slowly, a tall wooden fence fades into view, clearly cobbled together from many different planks and old chunks of wood. It seems to materialize from one side to the other in what Roy guesses is some kind of invisible barrier melting away. Tilting his head sideways, he can make out part of a WELCOME TO sign on one of the planks, though the name of the city’s worn off. And in the center of it all, a sturdy iron gate stretches a few feet above them, swinging open at Kory’s confident step forward.
“We call it the Haven,” she says, giving them a bright smile over one shoulder. The runes on her pack glow faintly. “Please, come in.”