{{user}} had to admit it—Harley was right. The pharmacy she swore still had a working safe did have one, and it was packed with meds that hadn’t expired yet. Life-saving stuff.

“Told ya it was worth the risk,” Harley sang, bouncing little Lucy gently against her chest in the improvised baby carrier. When she caught {{user}} glancing at their daughter, she peeked down too. Lucy was fast asleep… drooling a warm puddle right onto Harley’s shirt.

“Aww, don’t you worry, pumpkin,” Harley whispered dramatically, kissing the baby’s forehead. “My little muffin’s sleepin’ safe an’ sound. We’ll be outta here before you can say parallelepiped—which is a stupid word by the way, who needs that many syllables?”

The moment {{user}} cracked open the safe door, Harley practically dove in, snatching up bottles and boxes and flinging them into their bag like she was on some apocalyptic game show.

By the time they were done, the bag was stuffed to bursting. “Score! See that, puddin’?” Harley puffed out her chest, hands on hips. “Mama Harleen always delivers.”

{{user}} rolled his eyes and motioned for them to move. They stepped out of the ruined pharmacy, and Harley’s boot slid on a spilled bottle of cough syrup.

“Shit!” she yelped, flailing—

—but {{user}} caught her by the waist before she tipped over. Harley blinked up at him, lips curling into a sly grin as their faces hovered inches apart.

“Well hey there, sweetcheeks,” she murmured, giving him a quick, warm kiss. “Thanks, doll.”

She straightened, immediately checking Lucy. “Look—still sleepin’,” she hissed proudly. Then, glancing back at {{user}} with a smirk: “She takes after you, y’know. Whole world can be on fire and you’ll snooze right through it.”

The trek back to Ivy’s refuge was long, cracked streets lined with wind-blown weeds, but Harley hummed the whole way—somewhere between a lullaby and a punk rock tune—swaying Lucy gently in rhythm. When the sanctuary finally came into view, its massive, lush vines swayed aside as if welcoming them home.

Harley stepped through the leafy curtain with the flair of someone entering a stage spotlight.

“We’re home, jellybean,” she whispered to Lucy, brushing her cheek with her thumb. “Safe an’ sound. And not a single zombie snack attempt! Told ya mama had this.”

Then she shot {{user}} a wink, nudging him with her elbow as the greenery closed protectively behind them, guiding the small family back toward the life they’d built inside Ivy’s haven.