The Walking Dead, Rude Awakening

Amy lay in her tent, the chorus of crickets and the distant crackle of campfires doing little to lull her to sleep.

She turned over for the fifth time, pulling the blanket tighter, but her mind wouldn't let her rest.

Images of Joe flashed behind her closed eyelids. His chiseled chest, the water cascading down his torso as he stood there gazing upon her nude form.

The way he gazed with a quiet confidence, he didn't seem remotely bashful, letting her gaze upon his body freely.

She bit her lip, remembering how she'd lingered just a moment too long on his cock.

How, after Joe had started walking away, she had stared in a daze, observing his scarred back, muscles flexing beneath the skin.

It wasn't just lust or admiration, it was something deeper. That kind of body didn't come from vanity. It was earned through pain, hardship, and relentless survival.

And then there was what she did after John left.

Her heart raced at the thought.

She had told herself that the heat in her nether was unrelated to him... but she knew that wasn't the truth.

She had quickly walked out of the water and scrambled behind the boulder. Crouched low behind it, peeking just enough to watch him silently put his clothes on.

Watching the transformation of a man burdened by war into someone who looked almost innocent. It was reckless. Shameful, even. But she couldn't stop herself.

Her hand found its way down the smooth skin of her navel and pressed gently against her pussy. Rubbing over her slick fold, her other hand grasping her breast and kneading it.

She continued to rub for a short while longer, before focusing on her swollen clit. Her breathing quickened as she felt a pressure building. Using her hand to stifle her moans.

Squirt!

Unable to hold back any longer, she squirted all over the boulder in front of her. Moaning just a little loader than before, her body shaking slightly.

As she came down from one of the most intense orgasms in her life, she looked up and saw Joe looking over in her direction.

Her heart stopped, thinking she had been found out, but quickly calmed down when she saw him turn away.

Moving back to the lake she cleaned herself before dressing quickly, afraid that he would come and investigate what was taking so long.

Amy pressed her hands to her face, trying to cool the flush spreading across her cheeks. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she whispered to herself.

The world was falling apart. Walkers were everywhere. People she cared about could die any day… and here she was, peeping on a man she had just met and doing such a shameful deed.

But, then she thought about it, Joe wasn't just some random man. He had saved her without any hesitation.

He was different.

Broken, maybe. But sharp. Dangerous. And somehow still… kind. He still cared about the people around him.

There was something in his eyes when he looked at her earlier, something haunted, something that made her chest tighten.

She couldn't help but to forgive him, she wanted him to heal, not just for himself... but...

For her.

She turned over again and stared at the ceiling of the tent, cursing her racing heart.

Sleep wouldn't come. Not tonight.

...

Slipping quietly from her bedroll, Amy stepped out into the cool night.

The moon hung low above the quarry, bathing the camp in a pale glow. Most tents were dark now, their occupants already deep in slumber.

But she wasn't drawn to the quiet, she was drawn to him.

Her steps were light, hesitant, almost unsure. When she reached his tent, she paused, unsure if this was foolish or brave. She called softly, "Joe?"

No response.

Her breath caught. A flash of worry passed through her. 'Was something wrong?'

With trembling fingers, she lifted the flap and stepped inside. Moonlight slipped in through the thin fabric, illuminating his broad firgure, strong, but still.

He lay on his back, shirtless, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. Scars painted his skin like the map of a war she would never understand.

He looked… peaceful.

Relieved, she took a step back to leave. Wanting to slip out unnoticed, but then his eyes fluttered open. Not startled, not wide, just heavy-lidded and distant.

He looked at her, but through her.

"…Claire?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Amy froze.

Her heart pounded. She opened her mouth to deny, to explain, to apologize.

But the words didn't come. Instead, something else escaped, a whisper that betrayed her longing.

"Yes, honey."

Joe blinked slowly, his brow softening. "Lay with me?"

Amy didn't breathe. For a heartbeat, she stood suspended between guilt and something much deeper... need.

Then, without a word, she knelt and eased beside him.

Joe wrapped an arm around her, pulling her gently against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she'd always been there.

His body was warm, strong, protective. She felt small against him, but not weak... safe.

He sighed, burying his face into her hair, already drifting back to unconsciousness.

Amy's heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she adjusted herself, cheek resting against the bare plane of his chest.

The steady thump of his heart lulled her, anchored her. She wrapped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes.

For the first time in days, maybe longer…

Amy slept without the fear of a walker stumbling upon her sleeping form, knowing Joe was beside her.

...

The early morning sun filtered faintly through the fabric of the tent, casting a warm, golden hue across the sleeping forms within.

Birds chirped distantly, and the quiet rustle of the waking camp had just begun.

Joe stirred first, light shining in his face.

His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the light, and then he froze.

There, curled up against him, was Amy. Her blonde hair splayed across his chest,her head rising and falling with each breath he took.

A slight dampness near his collarbone drew his gaze. A small pool of drool where her mouth had unknowingly rested.

Joe stared, stunned, his mind caught between confusion and something else.

Her body was petite, warm, fragile. So much like Claire's had been. The memory struck like a knife, her soft frame wrapped around him on quiet mornings long past.

But this wasn't Claire. This was Amy.

Still, the way she curled into him so naturally tugged at something deep inside, something he tried to shut out.

He clenched his jaw for a moment, a flicker of sharpness flashing in his eyes.. pain, grief, and guilt.

But then Amy stirred.

A soft murmur escaped her lips, unintelligible and sleepy. Joe's gaze softened almost immediately.

Her eyelids fluttered, brows knitting together slightly before her eyes opened, blinking up at him in bleary confusion.

"What are you doing in my tent?" she asked, voice scratchy and stunned.

Joe couldn't help the amused chuckle that slipped out. "This is my tent."

Amy blinked. Her expression morphed from confusion to horror as color rushed to her cheeks.

"I ugh... oh my God.. I'm sorry. I just came to check on you and... and then..." she fumbled, eyes wide, searching for any thread of dignity to hold onto.

Joe watched her, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. "Don't worry about it." He gently smoothed her hair.

She stared for a second longer, lips parted, then looked away quickly. "Okay," she whispered, eyes still wide.

Only then did she seem to realize she was still pressed against him.

Her eyes darted down to where her hand rested gently on his chest, and she jerked upright in a flurry of nervous movement.

"G-good morning," she muttered quickly, stumbling to her feet.

Joe chuckled again, watching her practically trip over the tent flap on her way out.

When she was gone, he stared at the spot she'd just been, hand brushing lightly over the place where her head had rested.

He exhaled slowly, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips.

For the first time since…

His heart didn't feel so empty.

'Maybe... I've found my purpose.'