Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is meant to fit in some point during the winter. Probably while they were going from house to house after the farm was overrun - so sometime in between the season two finale and the season three premier.
Warnings: Adult language, adult situations, and some very vague season three spoilers.
West of the Horizon
It was one of those quiet nights, the type where the snap and crackle of that half an armful of tinder dry pine Beth had just thrown into the fire seemed all but deafening. Melding together with the low hum of conversation and Hershel's quiet snores until the buzz of noise seemed almost grossly exaggerated amidst the eerie stillness.
It was one of those rare nights where there were no walkers, no screams or sudden surprises. Just the growing fall chill and that absurdly clear night sky. The kind of late, midnight horizon that stretches off as far as the eye can see. Like a moment frozen in time where it seems as though – if only for a moment, that the entire world is caught up in a blanket of silence. Muffled and diamond-still under an endless landscape of empty highways and distant stars.
…Only, you don't even fucking notice.
Because it just so happened that this was also the kind of night that ended up getting to you in the worst possible way. Where instead of just enjoying the silence, instead of just taking the rare reprieve for what it was, a blessing on all counts, you find yourself gnawing on your lower lip. Restless and twitchy, like you were nursing an itch you couldn't seem to scratch, or were caught up in some sort of dilemma that had your nerves coasting through the backwash of something just short of apocalyptic. It was the type of feeling where even your blood feels charged, liable to spark up at any moment and set the very air on fire.
It was the kind of night that had your mind running wild. Free to wander off and work away to its heart content as the silence stretched out, fathomless and dark. …Like you were practically breathing in untaken chances. And where nothing that came to mind made a whole lot of sense, but you couldn't help but get stuck on it anyway.
In a word, the night was surprisingly…boring.
It was a surprise to no one when Glenn broke first. It was all there, there in the way his restless limbs tangled with the blanket edges as he tossed a handful of grass into the fire. Sighing loudly as he leaned into Maggie's shoulder, returning her smile with a playful nudge before looking around at the others - taking in the whole range, from tired, to hungry, contemplative and beyond.
All else considered, he should have been content. The fire was piled high, Daryl had eventually made his way back to camp around dinner time with a tangle of Canadian geese that hadn't been smart enough to head south for the winter. He was almost warm, passably full, and they hadn't seen a single geek since noon. As far as he could tell, for reasons beyond him, he just wasn't. - He was restless, keyed up, exhausted, and far too tired to sleep all at the same time.
His tongue poked out for a long moment. Like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Nose twitching like a disgruntled rabbit as he clearly held himself back. Busying his hands with peeling the bark off one of the pine branches they'd reserved for kindling, only to have the whole thing burst right out into the open a second or two later. Like the entire thing had been some sort of obscene, uncontrollable impulse right from the very start.
"God, I miss central heating," He blurted out suddenly. "…and the internet." He added after a moment, tone pitching in surprise near the end as if even his own brain couldn't quite believe his mouth's boldness.
There was a rustle of movement as everyone seemed to shift in place. Caught off guard by the man's sudden outburst as Carol paused halfway through unscrewing the lid off their last canteen of rose hip tea.
Even Daryl looked up from his lap, looking startled and half distracted as his fingers clenched around the stock of his crossbow. Tensing, then releasing before he returned to his inspection of the trigger mechanism – only halfway through cleaning the damn thing as he unscrewed a tin of polish and smeared a glob of the gel down the underside of one of the tension wires.
And as the others talked, he took in the proceedings with his usual shuttered stare. One well gnawed thighbone hanging from his lips like a make-shift cigarette as he worked his way down through the gristle and solidified fat to get at the rich marrow inside. Eyes tracking from Glenn, then over to Carol, before flicking back down at the mess of wires and oiling cloths that cluttered his lap only a spit second before the short haired woman looked his way.
"What about it Maggie? What do you miss?" Glenn asked, long fingers curling around his knees as he hiked himself a feel inches closer to the fire and arranged his blanket so that it covered him from shoulders to sneakers.
The look Maggie gave him was indulgent, like they'd had this conversation a million times before rather than only once or twice. But even so, she spared a moment to look over at the lump of blankets that marked where her father was sleeping before she tossed back her hair and wrapped her blanket tighter around her before replying.
"Mom's sunshine muffins, fresh from the oven, with a stick of salted butter and a glass of Patricia's pink lemonade." she replied easily, gaze thoughtful as she tossed a handful of pine needles into the fire.
From there it was simply a progression. With Maggie looking to T-dog much like Glenn had looked to her. Eying him down until he broke out in an amused grin and added his two-cents into the discussion - apparently unruffled by the stares as nearly the entire group shifted their attention towards him.
"Tail-gate BBQs with fresh crab and porter-house steak, man. …Hands down. Throw in a six pack of Newcastle Brown and that would be my own personal brand of heaven." T-dog replied. Barely even hesitating as he rattled off his list with the ease of someone who'd clearly entertained this line of thought before. - Much like they all had, in some way, shape, or form. Because all else considered it had been a long time since Patricia and Beth's home cooked fried chicken and baked potato spreads.
They were all running on empty these days, usually in more ways than one.
"Alright, new rule, no more food talk." Lori murmured. Her voice soft and only slightly strained from her position propped up against a fallen log. Looking uncomfortable and cold as she rubbed a hand across her protruding stomach, eyes strayed towards the pile of well cleaned bones the marked their meager supper in a way that could only be categorized as longing.
The exaggerated click of a weapon being drawn drew their eyes over to the tall, wavering shadow that marked where Rick was keeping watch. Scouting along the edge of the perimeter that marked where their secluded little hollow separated from the seedy looking rest stop they'd made camp at. Abandoning the moldy looking picnic tables and overflowing trash bins in favor of the rocky outcropping and neat little clearing that made up the rear end of the property. Far enough away from the road and the main picnic areas that they could neither be seen or heard, but close enough to make a run for the cars if they needed to.
It wasn't until Rick's posture softened and his old colt slid back into its holster that they all relaxed. With eight pairs of hands slowly uncurling from around the hilts of their respective weapons as they too listened closely - keeping a cautious eye on Rick regardless of the all clear. Far too used to when their false alarms turned sour. …After all, it wouldn't be the first time.
A tense silence reined for only a few moments before Maggie looked across the fire and gave her sister a smile.
"…Beth, what about you?" Maggie prompted. Taking Lori's lack of interest as permission to skip her turn as everyone's eyes flickered over to Beth. Waiting patiently as the younger Green took a quick mouthful of the weak, rose hip tea that was being passed around before she replied.
"The mall." Beth replied, tone morose and edging on that of self-pity as she plucked pointedly at her filthy floral blouse. The faded material sweat stained, caked with dirt, and at least two sizes too big on her skinny, lithe-little frame. And it was no wonder; she was all colt legs and slim hips under the cover of her threadbare clothes. Out of all of them she'd had the most trouble finding clothes that fit. It didn't matter if it was a raid on a home or a quick run through a strip mall boutique; everything seemed to be either two sizes too small or five sizes too big.
Daryl's gaze flicked upwards with muted interest when Carol, Beth, and Maggie snorted in laughter. Squinting over the banked fire for a few tenuous moments before he shuttered them again, returning to his inspection of his freshly oiled bow without comment. As if the frivolous day-dreaming of teenage girls was somehow beneath him.
"And you? What do you miss, Carl?" Beth asked a few moments later, still grinning and trading side-long looks with her sister as they made gestures towards the state of both Daryl and Glenn's utterly filthy clothing. Both men thankfully none the wiser that their personal hygiene was being hotly debated right under their very noses, as all attention turned towards Carl.
Carl shifted father's hat up on his head, tipping the brim out of his line of sight as his gaze went thoughtful. Looking off at some point in the distant night sky as the light from the fire danced blood red across the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under on the south side of the clearing – only ten miles from the outskirts of Walden County.
"Probably school." He replied decisively, ducking his head a bit when Beth snorted. Looking half amused and half disgusted as the others grinned, clearly not sharing his sentiments as Carl propped himself up on his sleeping bag.
"School? Seriously dude?" Glenn echoed, barely catching Lori's amused smile, as she looked up from the paperback she was pretending to read and gazed over at her son with muted pride.
"Yeah, we were going to do a unit on the Roman Empire in socials before…before everything. I was really looking forward to that." He replied softly. His sobering explanation quelling any discussion on the matter as Glenn and Beth went quiet. Unwilling to stir up anymore ghosts then they had too, especially considering the events of the past few months.
"Lazy Sundays," Carol offered after a moment, piping up without having to be prompted as a log split in the fire. Sending a shower of sparks dancing through the air. Spitting ash and pine smoke across the circle of rocks that ringed the perimeter of their makeshift hearth. Nudging Lori with her elbow as the two of them shared a significant look over the others heads.
"…You all know the kind, those warm summer Sundays that are all solid heat and blacktop haze?" She continued, looking suspiciously as though she'd just picked a topic at random and ended up being surprised at how true it'd come out sounding.
The conversation went silent for a beat. Leading a few of them to shift awkwardly as Carol and Glenn looked expectantly over at Daryl. Clearly waiting for the hunter to chime in with his own wish list as everyone save for Rick, who was on watch and Hershel, who was long asleep had already had their turn. In fact, for a long time it looked as though he wasn't going to say anything at all.
"…My fucking truck." He finally replied. One brow quirking upwards in unfettered derision as both Maggie and Glenn simultaneously choked on their mouthfuls of tea.
And while no one was sure exactly why, laughter rose up around the fire for the first time in days. Echoing through the clearing until even Rick cracked a smile, grinning into the darkness as he ducked his head underneath an overhanging branch and watched the plume of his breath billow upwards. Melding together with the dust motes as the moonlight pooled around him like a spotlight. Highlighting the moment in a halo of muted grey as the laughter from the fire coasted through the frigid fall air like the final strains of some long forgotten song.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. This was just a quick little one shot that came to me at random. I apparently, really have thing for 'group-feels' fics lately. - Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! This story is now complete.
"When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family." ― Jim Butcher