Is This Real? (Nick Clark X OC) Fear The Walking Dead

Come, As You Are

song - come as you are by nirvana (slowed)

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(Troy's POV)

              Frankie slowly exits the house out to the lawn again. She seems off, like she's up to something. Troy shakes his head and brushes it off, hoping for the best. She goes up to him, eyes glued to the ground.

              "What if they're out here?" She whispers, caution in her tone. Why is she so jumpy all of a sudden? He tilts his head down at her, trying to get a grip on the situation. And what does she mean by that?

              "Who? Who's out here?" He doesn't understand what she means. Then he realizes, she's probably having an episode. Nicky said that was pretty common. What did he used to do to help? He grabs her hand, holding it in his own. I think I'm supposed to comfort her...

              "Them. The people. The people Nick asked your militia to search for at the ranch." She raises an eyebrow, unsure on why he still seems confused. She can tell he isn't on the same page as her. Then it hits her. "Nick never did that, did he?" She asks in a small voice. Troy's face falls.

               She's hurt. Nick must've lied to her, to try and ward off her paranoia. He was just trying to help, but it's hard to believe that when you believe someone's out to get you all the time. Troy shakes his head 'no', answering her question. He wishes he could answer differently, but lying would be too obvious now from the way he's reacting.

               She softly nods and walks away from him, pulling her hand out of his. She goes over to a nearby hill. The desert is filled with cliffs and valleys, all coated in the same dead dry grass or sand. She hikes up a steeper one. Troy watches her staring off of the cliff at the top.

              Oh shit. Is all Troy can think. He sprints up the hill after her, already having an idea of what she's about to do. She must've found a weapon of some sort in the house. Why didn't I think of that? Troy mentally scolds himself. He reaches the top and finds her gazing down at the bottom of the valley, motionless. A fall from this height wouldn't actually kill someone.

            "What are you doing Frankie?" Troy questions her, both his hands up like he's about to try and tame a wild animal. "Do you have a gun on you?" His voice is shaky. She slowly turns around and puts both of her hands up as well, mirroring him. No gun is in sight, but Troy can't shake the feeling he's being lied to. "Give me the gun." He extends one hand further. Frankie rapidly shakes her head 'no'.

             "I swear Troy...." She has tears running down her face. "....I don't have a gun." A gust of wind blows past them, whipping her hair off her shoulder. The long strands of yellow grass brush against their legs, the sun beating down on them mercilessly. It's so bright out, it's hard to see. Frankie hopes it's enough. "I swear, I don't have a gun. Damn it, Troy." She repeats herself. I know you do.

            "Turn around again. Don't move your hands out of my sight." He orders her. She doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. "Frankie...." He says her name, warning her. In one swift motion she reaches behind herself and pulls out a pistol from her waistband. She aims it at Troy's head. He hunches down, frightened. "Why?" Is all he asks.

            "I'm not even real, Troy." She tells him, like it's something obvious. What?  He thinks. She continues speaking. "None of this is. I probably never left that mental hospital. Hell, I was never even born." She throws her hands up, thoughtlessly moving the gun around. He sighs heavily. I'm not gonna be able to say anything to stop this delusion. With that conclusion, Troy runs at her, tackling her to the ground. They land a couple inches away from the drop off.