AN: This is a piece I started about three years ago that never got finished. I'm trying to get out of a writing funk so I've been going through old pieces to revise and finish them. Shane-centric introspective piece. Please forgive my bastardization of punctuation.
Warnings: Strong language, because Shane has a filthy mouth.
It had always haunted him afterwards, what he had done to Otis. Every damn day it haunted him; tore and ate away at him, ripped him apart like those walkers had ripped apart Otis – piece by piece, limb by bloody limb. Now when he looked in the mirror he didn't see Shane Walsh – didn't even see a man. He just saw a murderer, a killer, who hadn't even hesitated to put a bullet into a man and leave him as bait while he got away. Now he knew that he was no better than the assholes he had put behind bars – armed robbery gone wrong, murder in the first – he'd even shaved his head. Felt it made him look more the part, like a convict and not a cop.
He was supposed to protect people, wasn't he? It was his job – or, at least it had been before the shit hit the fan and the whole damn world had become overrun with the living fucking dead. But instead of protecting him, he had sacrificed a man and left him there to die, and he had lied straight through his teeth to Otis' grieving wife about it. He had lied to his friends, and worst of all he had lied to Rick, of all people. There had been a time when he never would have been able to bring himself to lie to Rick – but all that seemed very far away now. It was another life time that seemed like it had never existed.
Over and over, he tried to tell himself that it had been to save Carl. He knew that both of them couldn't have possibly escaped from the walkers. There were too many, and they had been too slow. One of them had to be bait so that the other could have a chance, and he had been so fucking ready to let Otis leave him there. Hell, he had begged him to go, but Otis had refused and dragged him right back up to his feet – right there, with hundreds of walkers closing in. And then in a sudden rush of emotion he had thought of Rick, and Carl; he thought of Lori and all the pain she would have to go through if she lost her only child because they had failed. He refused to let those be his last thoughts and the overwhelming drive to survive washed over him. It was clear that both of them weren't going to make it and Otis had already refused to leave him, so Shane had made the decision for him. He had to protect his family – he refused to let their failure here cost Carl his life, so he shot Otis in the leg and ran for it. It was all to protect his family, he tried to convince himself, it was all to protect the people he loved the most in this world. But Otis had had a family too, hadn't he? What made him so special that he got to decide who lived and who died? What kind of godless asshole did he think he was to deserve that right?
And although he had managed to get the supplies, and though Carl had survived because of it, Shane still couldn't face himself in the mirror. Every time he saw that boy, alive and breathing, and laughing, and he saw Lori smiling, all he could think about was Otis and the sin he had committed. In his mind he could still hear the screaming, that terrible dying, phlegm-filled gurgle as rotting teeth tore into his throat; could hear that wet squelching sound as the walkers clawed at him and ripped off pieces of his flesh. He saw the relief and thankfulness in Rick's eyes every time he looked at him, and all he could think about was Otis.
Shane forced himself to look in the mirror now and found himself fingering the jagged line of bald skin that stood out on his scalp against the rest of his dark hair. He thought that it was sort of fitting that the patch of hair that Otis had ripped out during their scuffle had never quite grown back. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but to Shane it stood out like a shining beacon. It marked him, like God had marked Cain after the ruthless slaughter of his own brother. Like Cain, Shane was cursed to carry this mark with him for the rest of his life; but unlike Cain, no one would know what this mark stood for. Cain's shame was written upon his face for the world to bear witness to, but for Shane it would be his own private shame; his own sin and burden to bear. No one else would ever know what he had done, especially not Rick. Rick would only blame himself, and Shane knew that Rick wasn't strong enough to bear that responsibility.
From somewhere close by inside the house, Shane heard Carl say something that he could quite hear followed by Rick's laugh; that happy sound that he hadn't heard in so long. It took him back to a time before all of this, back when things had actually made some fucking sense. He had been happy, Rick had been happy, and everything had been perfect. Now he could see that this world was slowly killing Rick, draining everything that had made him who he once was until nothing remained but a hollowed-out shell. Shane wouldn't let that happen. Rick wasn't strong, so he had to be strong enough for both of them. The world had gone to hell and he would probably go to hell with it, but right now Carl was alive and Rick and Lori were both happy, even if it was only transitory, and all of that had only been possible because he had let Otis die. God had left them, and he had done the only thing that he could have done. These were the people he loved the most; these were the people that he was fighting for. They were his family too, not just Rick's, and he would continue on protecting them the best he could so that Rick wouldn't have to. God may have abandoned this world, but Shane refused to abandon Rick. In this godless world he would continue to endure his sins for Rick's sake. No matter the cost.