“S’pose…” Bette took deep breaths as Helena lay face to face with her. “I hate this room also…” She looked around, soothed by Helena’s hands on her cheeks.

“I know baby.” Helena closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to Bette’s. “this isn’t the best place to actually live…”

“A fucking mall.” Bette said. “That’s how everyone has survived all this time. How ironic is that?”

“Well, the mall and the police station. I suppose they were the smartest options at the time. And look, we can watch old movies, wear hundreds of different varieties of shoes and make ourselves espresso, while we wait…”

“Wait for what?” Bette grimaced. “Wait for the infected to finally rot in the sun? It’s been nearly a fucking year.”

“shhhh, sweetheart…” Helena tried to calm her, reaching around to rub her back and scooting closer.

“But it has.” Bette’s panic was growing. “It’s been over ten months, and the infected aren’t starving to death, they aren’t rotting…We need to get out of this place and get ourselves to Mexico.”

“I know.” Helena sighed. “But we’re safe here and I want to keep it that way while Sarah and the others work on the helicopter. We’ll take a run into town later…”

“No.” Bette said. “I’ll go with the others, you stay here.”

“As usual.” Helena mumbled, trying to pull away. Bette’s arms were not letting her go.

“Helena, you’re too important…” Bette sighed. “And you know, aren’t you still tired, and sore…?”

“No.” Helena grinned. “not sore any longer.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “So you know, if you wanted to…” Her hands wandered around to Bette’s zipper while Bette lowered her pants. Her words were lost in Bette’s lips, which pressed insistently against her own. She moaned quietly as Bette’s hand touched her with a combination of strength and gentleness, caressing the inside of her thighs before moving to press carefully inside of her. They both gasped at the newness and familiarity of the moment—Helena smiled against Bette’s mouth as she felt herself carried to the brink of orgasm, only to be calmed and brought forth again. Helena’s fingers pulled and stroked firmly as Bette struggled to maintain her careful pace, shifting her hips eagerly to their already quickening rhythm. Their mouths pressed open and wet, and they cried out as quietly as they could, before coming to rest.