The Walking Dead: With Agent 47 Body.

Clementine woke up earlier than usual and tore through her morning routine, her feet moving almost as fast as her racing thoughts. One worry kept looping in her head as she combed her hair in front of a cracked mirror:

I hope Max's father and uncle like me.

After putting on the dress she'd washed the night before, she glanced over at Max, who was still washing his face.

"Max, do I look good?"

She turned around, giving him a full view.

"So? How do I look?"

He looked up, momentarily caught off guard, and a smile spread across his face.

"Very beautiful. I have to say... you've changed a lot. Motherhood's treating both of us well."

"Eyes up here."

She pointed at her face.

Realizing he'd been staring at her chest, Max quickly looked back into her eyes.

Clementine folded her arms.

"I was asking about the dress. Not my body."

She looked annoyed. She wasn't.

Every woman wanted the man she loved to find her irresistible, and Clementine was no exception. She loved having his attention, even when she pretended otherwise.

"Oh... right. You look beautiful in that dress."

He gave her a nervous smile before splashing more cold water on his face, apparently as a defense mechanism.

Max had never imagined Clementine could become even more beautiful. Before, he'd assumed pregnancy made women less attractive. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. Her figure had changed in all the right ways, and every day she became harder for him to stop looking at.

"So..."

Clementine's smile turned mischievous as she watched him struggle.

"Do I look fat in this dress?"

She turned slowly, then paused with her back toward him, glancing over her shoulder.

"Well?"

He narrowed his eyes.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"I don't know."

Her innocent expression was far too practiced.

Max opened his mouth to argue, thought better of it, sighed, and looked her over again.

"You don't look fat in that dress at all. Happy?"

Clementine beamed.

Then, quietly, he added:

"I'll pay you back for this."

Her smile disappeared.

"What are you going to do?"

"Not telling you."

He wiped his face with a towel, smiling to himself, and she knew better than to push.

A moment later, her expression turned serious.

"Max... will your father and uncle like me?"

The question had been eating away at her all night.

He looked at her steadily.

"Don't worry. They'll love you. I can't wait to introduce you to them."

His confidence eased her nerves — a little.

She put on her baseball cap and headed outside, running through everything she'd planned to say and do. The closer the moment came, the more nervous she became.

She'd faced walkers.

She'd faced death.

Somehow, meeting Max's family scared her more than either.

Her leg bounced uncontrollably.

"Calm down," Molly said, laughing. "You're just meeting his father. Stop acting like you're about to pee yourself."

"Easy for you to say," Clementine muttered.

Molly leaned against the wall, thoroughly entertained.

"You're not helping," Michonne said as she walked over.

"Oh? Then you give it a try."

Molly gestured toward Clementine.

Michonne stepped in front of her and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"When I met my in-laws, I was nervous too. But don't let it show on your face. Understand? Take a deep breath and relax. You want to make a good impression, right?"

Clementine nodded and breathed in.

"There you go. Keep breathing. You've got this."

Michonne let go, satisfied, then turned toward Molly.

"That's how you help."

"I think you should look at your student again."

Michonne turned around and found Clementine pacing in tight circles, breathing so dramatically she looked one step away from an asthma attack.

The two women exchanged a look.

Then they lost it laughing.

Clementine shot them an offended glare, and they immediately went quiet, looking away and pretending nothing had happened.

Before she could say anything, a wave of nausea hit her.

She turned and threw up on the ground.

"Clementine!"

Michonne rushed over and steadied her.

"Here."

Molly pressed a water bottle into her hands.

Clementine drank a little with shaking hands, then looked up at their worried faces. Despite everything, warmth spread through her chest.

"Don't worry," she said with a weak smile. "This has been happening for weeks. It's normal."

Neither of them looked convinced.

Without giving her a chance to argue, they guided her to a chair.

"Sit," Molly ordered. "Your heart's racing. Take it easy."

She made sure Clementine drank more while Michonne stood behind her, gently working the tension out of her shoulders.

"You don't have to act tough all the time," Michonne said softly. "It's okay to let us take care of you once in a while."

Clementine looked between them, something in her expression softening.

"...Thanks."

Molly crossed her arms with a smirk.

"Good. Because whether you like it or not, we're looking after you until you stop looking like you're about to fall over."

That earned a quiet laugh.

"Guess I don't have much of a choice."

"Nope."

Jane wandered over a moment later, toothbrush still in her mouth. She looked at the scene and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Our little Clem's being treated like a princess."

Then her teasing expression softened.

"You need to take better care of yourself. Morning sickness usually peaks around now, so don't push it, okay?"

The concern beneath her teasing was obvious. Jane had long since started thinking of Clementine as a little sister.

"I know, I know," Clementine said with a smile. "Max drills that into me nonstop. I'll be fine. I'm not exactly the first woman to ever be pregnant."

She stood and handed the bottle back to Molly.

As she did, Jane and Molly's eyes met for half a second.

Then both immediately looked away and drifted to opposite sides of the yard like magnets repelling each other.

"...What's up with those two?" Michonne asked, watching them leave. "They've been weird since yesterday. Normally they can't go five minutes without arguing, and now they won't even look at each other."

Clementine knew exactly why.

She'd stumbled across the two of them kissing while picking berries the day before, nearly dropped her basket in shock, and had been carrying the secret ever since.

It still felt unreal.

But it wasn't hers to tell.

"Don't you think it's better this way?" she said carefully.

Michonne glanced between the two women.

"I suppose. Quieter than all the bickering, at least."

She still looked unconvinced, but let it go.

Clementine kept the truth to herself, smiling.

Rick, Daryl, Carol, and Abraham stepped out of the prison to join everyone waiting outside.

Only one person was missing.

Max.

That was unusual. He was almost always ready before she was.

Clementine let it go and turned her attention toward the woman near the front gate.

Amy.

Sensing the look, Amy glanced over and gave her a warm smile. Clementine returned it awkwardly.

Yesterday, she'd wanted to kill this woman.

Now there was a real chance she'd be calling her mother-in-law.

"What terrible luck," she muttered under her breath.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

She turned toward the entrance.

And froze.

Max stood there in a perfectly fitted black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a neatly tied red tie.

He'd always been handsome.

This was something else entirely.

Her heart skipped.

She wasn't the only one affected. Every woman in the yard — and more than a few of the older woman — had gone silent, their eyes locked on him.

Beth looked like she'd been struck by lightning.

Molly wore the exact same expression.

A sharp spike of jealousy and fear hit Clementine before she even realized it.

She crossed the yard, slipped her hand into his, and held on tightly.

Her eyes swept over everyone watching him.

It was a silent announcement.

He's mine.

"I told you," Carol said proudly, looking him over. "You'd look good in a suit. Look at you — such a handsome young man."

"Thanks for the suit," Max said, smiling, perfectly composed.

Clementine wasn't fooled.

His shoulders were slightly too tense. His posture wasn't as relaxed as usual, and his hand held hers a little tighter than normal.

He was nervous.

Just like her.

She leaned closer to his ear.

"Nervous?"

He didn't answer.

He only gave a small, quiet nod.

She had to bite back a laugh.

This was the same man who ruled over thousands and walked into fights against impossible odds without blinking.

And now he was nervous about meeting his own family.

Before she could enjoy the irony for too long, the sound of engines cut through the yard.

Several vehicles barreled toward them, kicking up clouds of dust.

The closer they got, the harder her heart pounded.

This was it.

She took a breath and steadied herself.

"Make a good impression, Clementine," she whispered.

For once, walkers weren't what scared her.

Meeting the people who mattered most was.,