Lucien's response killed whatever warmth had been building in the room.
Shane's attempted smile froze on his face. He stared at the kid, at those blue eyes that were still too clear, and found himself at a loss for words.
What the hell were you supposed to say to that?
Lucien lowered his head, blonde hair falling forward to hide his expression.
"I just remembered something. My parents died a long time ago. I've been living with my uncle's family since then. When everything started, they said they were heading to a safe zone. Atlanta, I think. But the roads were dangerous, and... They said bringing a kid would slow them down."
Oh, fuck.
"They left me some food and water. Told me to wait. They said they'd come back once they got settled and things were safer." he looked up, forcing what might've been the saddest excuse for a smile Shane had ever seen. "They're probably just trying to find a good spot first. Then they'll send someone."
Shane wanted to punch something.
He was a cop. He'd dealt with shitty people his entire career. Domestic abusers, neglectful parents, bastards who hurt kids and thought they could get away with it... He knew exactly what he was hearing.
This wasn't "scouting ahead." This wasn't "keeping him safe."
It was was abandonment.
The kid's uncle and his family had looked at Lucien and seen dead weight. So they'd ditched him with some supplies and a bullshit story, probably patting themselves on the back for being "merciful" about it. And Lucien knew it. He had to know it. But he was still clinging to the lie because the alternative was too brutal to face.
His mind filled in the gaps automatically. The kid waiting in whatever place they'd left him, rationing his food, watching the door. Days passing. Food running out and water getting low. Then finally, the horrible realization that no one was coming back.
So he'd ventured out on his own. An eleven-year-old kid in a dead city, looking for supplies, trying to survive. No wonder he'd been so calm earlier. And no wonder he'd killed that walker without hesitating.
When you'd already been abandoned by the only family you had left, a few walking corpses probably didn't seem that scary anymore.
"I'm sorry. That's... that's fucked up."
Understatement of the century.
Lucien just nodded.
The silence that followed was painful. Shane desperately wanted to say something comforting, but everything that came to mind sounded hollow.
They're probably fine. I'm sure they were just scared. It'll be okay.
All lies. And he was done lying to kids today.
His gaze drifted to the trunk Lucien had been clutching since they'd met. Through everything, the kid had held onto that case like his life depended on it.
"You've been pretty protective of that," Shane said, nodding toward the trunk. Safer territory than dead parents and asshole relatives. "What's in there that's so important?"
For the first time since they'd sat down, something like genuine emotion flickered across Lucien's face. He looked down at the trunk.
"It's... all I have left of my parents," he said quietly.
Before Shane could respond, Lucien was unlatching the case and opening it.
He leaned forward, expecting photos maybe. Or some small keepsakes. Instead, he found himself staring at a trunk full of books.
Hardcover books with gilt lettering on the spines. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, A History of Magic, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them...
He blinked.
They looked real. Not like the cheap paperbacks you'd find in a bookstore, but like antiques. The covers were embossed with symbols he didn't recognize, and the pages, when Lucien opened one, were thick, yellowed parchment.
"These are..." He didn't know how to finish that sentence.
"Birthday presents," Lucien said softly. "From before they died. They knew I always wanted to go to Hogwarts, but... They said it was too far away. So they hoped I'd start by teaching myself."
He reached into the trunk and pulled out a long velvet box. When he opened it, Shane saw what looked like a wand.
"Today's my eleventh birthday, actually," Lucien added, almost as an afterthought. "The age when you're supposed to get your letter."
Oh.
Oh.
Understanding hit Shane.
This wasn't real. Of course it wasn't real. Magic, wizards, Hogwarts, that was Harry Potter. But Lucien's parents had clearly gone to lengths to make it seem real to their kid. The books weren't cheap knockoffs; they were custom-made, probably cost a fortune. Same with the wand. The trunk itself looked like it belonged in a period drama.
They'd built an entire fantasy for their son.
Maybe they'd meant to tell him the truth eventually. Or maybe they'd just wanted to give him something magical to believe in while he still could.
Either way, they'd never gotten the chance.
And now here was Lucien, eleven years old on the day he was supposed to receive his Hogwarts letter, surrounded by walking corpses instead of heading to a magical castle. His parents were dead, his remaining family had abandoned him, and everything he had ever known was falling apart.
But he still had the books, the wand, and the dream.
Shane opened his mouth to say something, he didn't know what, exactly, and found that no words would come out. How the hell was he supposed to tell this kid that magic wasn't real? That his parents had been lying, even if it was a kind lie? And that he was clinging to a fairy tale in a world that had become a nightmare?
He couldn't. He fucking couldn't.
"Lucien," he started, then stopped. He tried again. "That's... that's really something."
Smooth, Walsh. Real smooth.
But Lucien didn't seem to notice the inadequacy of the response. He was looking down at the wand in his hands, turning it over.
"I know it seems silly. Especially now... With everything that's happening. But my parents always said that magic was real if you believed in it hard enough. And I do believe. I have to."
He looked up.
"I think this is a test. Like in the books. God, fate, or whatever... this is my test. To see if I'm worthy."
He clutched the wand to his chest. "And when I pass it... When I learn all the magic and help save people and fix this world... then I'll see them again. And they'll be proud of me."
Fuck.
Fuck.
Shane didn't think. He just reached out, pulled the kid into his arms, and held him tight.
Lucien went stiff for a second, probably not used to being hugged, especially not by a stranger, but then he relaxed slightly.
"Yeah," Shane said, his voice coming out rough and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah. That's right. They'll be real proud of you."
He didn't know if he believed in God anymore. But if there was anything good left in the universe, then yeah. Lucien's parents were looking down on their kid right now and seeing one brave, stubborn boy who refused to give up even when the world was ending around him.
They stayed like that for a moment. Eventually, Lucien pulled back, wiping at his eyes even though no tears had fallen.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"Don't mention it."
Outside, the sounds of the walkers had finally died down. The constant pounding and moaning had faded to occasional scrapes. Night had fully settled over the dead city, turning everything beyond the windows into shapes and shadows.
Which meant they had another problem.
"We should try to get some sleep," Shane said, forcing himself to shift into practical mode. He moved toward the corner where a relatively clean sofa sat against the wall. "You take that. I'll keep watch."
"No."
Shane turned, surprised by the firmness in Lucien's voice.
The kid was shaking his head.
"You need to rest," Lucien said. "You're the one who knows how to fight."
"Kid—"
"I'll take first watch," Lucien interrupted. "I'm not tired anyway. And if I start getting sleepy, I'll wake you up immediately. I promise."
Shane wanted to argue. Every instinct he had said that letting a kid stand guard while he slept was wrong. But the kid had a point. If he didn't get real sleep soon, he'd be useless.
"I don't know..."
Lucien held up the spellbook with a small smile. "Besides, this is the perfect time to start studying. I've been waiting eleven years for this. I might as well make use of the quiet."
The kid had been through hell. He had killed a walker with his bare hands just hours ago. He had been abandoned, traumatized, and forced to grow up way too fast. But he could still get excited about reading a book. Maybe that was exactly what he needed. A reason to keep going that wasn't just survival.
Who was Shane to take that away?
"Alright," he conceded, moving to the sofa. "If you hear anything, you get me up immediately. Deal?"
"Deal." Lucien gave a playful salute that was so ridiculously earnest it made Shane smile.
"Good man." Shane ruffled the kid's hair, then lowered himself onto the sofa with a groan. Every muscle in his body ached. "And Lucien? Happy birthday."
The smile that lit up Lucien's face was worth every lie Shane had told today.
Within minutes, exhaustion dragged Shane under. His last coherent thought was that he needed to find Lori and Carl tomorrow and make sure they were safe.
Sleep took him.
The moment Shane's breathing evened out into the deep rhythm of sleep, the smile dropped from Lucien's face.
He sat there for a moment, watching the deputy's chest rise and fall, making sure the man was out.
Then, finally, he exhaled.