Lee studied the heavy desk, then glanced down at his bandaged leg. The wound was stable, but one wrong move could reopen it.
"Clem," he called to the girl hovering by the doorway, "think you can give me a hand with this?"
"Yeah, okay." Clementine hurried over, small fingers gripping the other side of the wooden desk.
They strained together, the desk legs scraping against the floorboards in protest. Lee's bad leg throbbed with each tug, but the weight felt lighter with Clem's help.
"Lee?" Clem paused mid-pull, catching her breath. "What was your family like?"
He adjusted his grip, the question catching him off guard. "My dad was cranky most days—me and my brother gave him gray hairs young." A fond smile tugged at his lips. "My brother was all energy, always following me around like I hung the moon. Drove me crazy back then." The desk rotated with a groan. "And my mom... she was the kind of person who'd give you the shirt off her back. Made the best pancakes in Georgia."
"I love pancakes," Clem declared, renewed vigor in her pushing.
"Your mom make them for you?" Lee asked between grunts of effort.
"Sometimes. When she wasn't at work." Clem's voice softened. "What was your job?"
"I was a history professor, mostly taught history and writing - similar to social studies. What about your parents?" Lee asked.
"Mom was a doctor and my dad was an engineer." Clem puffed out her chest slightly.
"Both good jobs..." Lee's throat tightened. The landline message played in his mind—those desperate words Clem hadn't heard yet. Now, with her trusting eyes on him, the second truth he'd been avoiding clawed its way up. "Hey Clem, I need to tell you something"
She froze, sensing the shift. "What's wrong?"
"Remember how told you I was in a car accident, and I told Hershel I found this gun and vest?"
"Yeah, it's how you hurt your leg."
"The truth is it was a police car and i was on my way to prison for committing a crime." Lee said with heavy heart especailly when she didn't respond. "I just wanted you to know before everyone else inevetiably finds out."
The silence between them grew heavy. Lee watched her face carefully—the way her brows knitted, the slight part of her lips.
"What... what did you do?" she whispered.
Lee knelt with a quiet grunt, his wounded leg protesting. The confession burned in his throat as he met Clem's wide eyes. "I hurt someone. Bad." His fingers twitched at his sides, remembering the weight of the bloodied statue. "It's the worst thing I've ever done, and I can't ever fix it." His voice broke like dry kindling. "But those promises I made you? Those are true. Every one."
Clem studied him - really studied him - her small face unreadable. Then, impossibly, her lips curved into that sunshine smile that could melt glaciers.
"Okay, Lee," she whispered, and just like that, the iron band around his chest loosened a fraction.
"So you told her."
Lee whirled. Carley leaned against the doorframe like she'd materialized from the shadows, arms crossed. The reporter's usual sharp gaze had hardened to flint.
"Seems you already knew," Lee said, helping Clem give one final shove to the stubborn desk. It scraped across the floor with a grand shriek.
"Ow!" Clem yelped, sucking on her finger. A bead of blood welled where the wood had bitten her.
"Let me see, sweet pea." Lee lifted her onto the desk, fishing the first aid kit from his pack. As he dabbed antiseptic on the tiny cut, Carley's voice cut through the quiet.
"I was a reporter in Atlanta and was well aware of Lee Everett who was a professor at the university of Georgia, at least until he killed the man that was sleeping with his wife." Carley stated.
He secured the plaster carefully before helping Clem down. "Seems you know your stuff, yet you didn't mention that to the rest of your group out there. Why?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Carley exhaled through her nose, "With everything going on out there, the last thing we need is more drama. Plus, that skill may be more valuable with the world how it is." Her eyes gained an edge."But don't think I'll let it go if this lasts longer than a few days and you become a detriment to the group."
Clem's fingers tightened around Lee's arm. He didn't need to look down to know her eyebrows were doing that worried little pinch they always did when voices got sharp.
Lee nodded seriously, "I don't plan on doing that."
"Alright, then I'll keept it to myself." She turned around and began to walk out of the room.
"Carley." Lee's voice stopped her in the doorway. "Thanks."
She didn't look back, but her shoulders relaxed a hair. "Don't make me regret it."
Lee exhaled sharply through his nose. He already knew Carley was aware of his past—that she knew about the man he'd killed before the world ended. While she'd kept it to herself so far, the knowledge alone could drive a wedge between him and them. In the game, Larry had wielded that information like a blunt weapon. Lee wouldn't let history repeat itself. He'd tell Kenny and the others on his own terms.
His gaze drifted to the unbarricaded back door. The keys from his brother burned in his pocket, but using them now would trigger the alarm—a dinner bell for every walker in Macon. First, he'd need to disable that system.
"Wanna head back inside with me?" Clem nodded, trailing him into the drugstore like a silent shadow.
The group had fractured into isolated clusters. Clem drifted toward Duck, who sat curled in on himself, still shaken from his brush with death. Lee used the moment to scavenge—snagging energy bars and batteries from picked-over shelves.
He found Lily crouched beside her father. "Get the pills?" she asked without looking up.
"Door's still locked."
"Damn it!" Lily's jaw clenched. "I don't think we got your name earlier. I'm Lily. This is my father, Larry."
"Lee." The hairs on his neck prickled as he gestured to the bloodstains. "There were people here when you arrived?"
Lily shook her head. "Just two bodies. An elderly couple. We... moved them outside." Her voice dropped. "Dad wasn't sure if they were really gone before we..."
The confirmation hit like a gut punch, though he'd expected it.
"You knew them?" Lily studied his face, catching the flicker of grief.
Lee's eyes cut to Larry. "I'm sure your father can tell you all about them." He walked away before she could respond, leaving her frowning after him.
Kenny's group had formed a huddle near the pharmacy. "Hey Lee," Kenny called, "you get that bastard his pills yet?"
"Kenny..." Katjaa chided, glancing toward the Lilly and Larry.
"What? I can play nice with the rest of 'em. Just not that walking heart attack." Kenny turned back to Lee. "Listen, Kat and I appreciate you having our backs earlier. You're good people."
Lee waved it off. "What's the plan now?"
"Looks like we're bunkering down," Kenny grumbled. "No way through that herd outside."
Katjaa's eyes lit with sudden recollection. "Didn't you say you had family in Macon?"
Lee glanced at the children. "Clem, why don't you and Duck take these?" He handed her the energy bars. "I need to talk with Kenny and Katjaa for a minute."
As the kids wandered off, Kenny scratched his neck. "Okay, what's with the cloak-and-dagger? You're making me nervous."
Lee pulled the photo from his pocket—his brother's smiling face frozen in time. "This is my family. They owned this place. Lily just told me they dragged their bodies outside."
Katjaa's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Lee..."
Kenny looked like he'd been punched. "Christ, man. I'm—"
"There's more." Lee met their eyes squarely. "Before all this, before I met you or Clem... I was being transported to prison."
The silence stretched taut until Kenny broke it with the question that would haunt Lee forever:
"It wasn't kids, was it?"
"Kenny!" Katjaa's slap echoed through the drugstore.
All eyes snapped toward them, drawn by the sharp crack of Katjaa's slap. Kenny rubbed his reddening cheek, looking more offended than hurt.
"Jesus, Kenny!" Lee groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I had to ask!" Kenny defended, throwing his hands up as Katjaa shot him a withering glare. "Well? What was it for then?"
The words tasted like ash in Lee's mouth. "I killed the man sleeping with my wife." A hot spike of old anger flared in his chest—familiar yet distant, like remembering a fever dream. The regret was there too, a constant undercurrent.
Kenny's expression hardened. "That son of a bitch deserved worse." He locked eyes with Lee. "Long as you're not a danger to Duck or Kat, I don't give a damn what you did before the world ended."
Katjaa sighed, fingers worrying the hem of her sweater. "I can't condone it... but I understand." Her gaze flicked to Clementine. "Does she know?"
"Yeah, told her earlier." Lee watched the girl share her energy bar with Duck, breaking off equal pieces with solemn precision.
Kenny followed his gaze. "Kid took it okay?"
"Better than I deserved." Lee remembered the lack of judgment, just quiet acceptance.
Their conversation halted as a young man in a baseball cap sidled up. "Hey, uh... didn't get to introduce myself earlier." He offered a tentative smile. "Glenn."
"Lee." He shook Glenn's offered hand. "What's up?"
"While you were in the office, we realized we need gas to get out of here," Glenn said, adjusting his baseball cap. "There's a motel just outside the city. I was about to head there alone when Kenny mentioned you had a radio I could borrow."
Lee's gaze instinctively found Clementine before returning to Glenn. "That's a suicide run for one person. I'm coming with you."
"You outta your goddamn mind?" Kenny's voice cracked across the room. Even Katjaa looked uneasy, her fingers tightening.
"I'll be back before sundown," Lee said, locking eyes with Kenny. "Just need you to watch Clem for me. Know I can trust you with that."
Kenny dragged a hand down his face, the frustration melting into reluctant acceptance. "Christ alive... Just don't get your dumb ass eaten."
Lee smirked. "Since when do I do dumb things?" He told Glenn to meet him at the back exit after saying goodbye.
Clementine's head snapped up when he approached. The way her small frame tensed made his chest ache.
Lee knelt down to meet Clementine at eye level, placing both hands gently on her small shoulders. "Listen, sweet pea, I need to go with Glenn for just a little while, okay?"
Clementine's baseball cap tilted back as her head jerked up. The way her brown eyes widened - not just startled, but terrified - made Lee's chest tighten. "You're...leaving me?" Her voice cracked on the last word, tiny fingers clutching at the straps of her backpack like lifelines.
"No. No, never." Lee shook his head urgently, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on her shoulders. "I promise you, I'm coming right back. We just need to get gas for the truck so we can all get somewhere safer."
A long silence stretched between them. When Clementine finally spoke, her whisper was almost lost in the hum of the drugstore: "But...what if you don't come back? Like...like my mom and dad?"
Lee felt the words like a punch to the gut. He carefully lifted her chin with one finger until their eyes locked. "Look at me, Clem. I made you a promise, remember? You're stuck with me." He tapped the walkie-talkie at his belt. "And we've got these. You'll hear me the whole way."
When she finally nodded, he pressed the batteries into her palm. "Give these to Carley for me?"
Standing, Lee did one last check—vest secured, shotgun loaded, backpack half-empty for supplies. The weight of Clementine's stare followed him to the exit.
Glenn waited by the alley door, rolling a crowbar between his hands. "You really didn't have to come."
"If I was going out there I'd want someone to be there to watch my back," Lee said. His eyes found Clem again—small and fierce by the pharmacy counter.
"Don't worry," Glenn said, misreading the moment. "Your daughter's safe with them. They seem like good people."
Lee didn't correct him. Just raised a thumb to Clem—their silent pact—before stepping into the alley. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing away the last safe place in Macon.