Mirror Image
A Walking Dead Fanfiction by Sassy Lil Scorpio
Summary: Rick Grimes is captured and taken prisoner by the Saviors. During his incarceration in one of their outposts, he comes face to face with someone he knows from his past. Someone who has done extreme things to survive just like him. The encounter forces Rick to reflect on the man he has become. {Challenge Fic} {Canon Divergence} {Alternate Universe}
Rating: T
Dedication: For Tanisha, my best friend who got me hooked on The Walking Dead. She challenged me to write a fanfic where my favorite TWD character is still alive—present an alternate story where he survives. "You adore this character and I'm surprised you haven't written a fic where he's still alive."
This fanfiction is also for TheOnlyKing.
Author's Notes: This fanfiction was inspired by Morales' surprise return on Season 8 during the "All Out War" storyline and a conversation Tanisha and I had regarding the significance of his encounter with Rick. She suggested that Morales, who was now a Savior, was there to show Rick what he had become and how much he had changed since the zombie apocalypse. This story poses the question: what if it hadn't been Morales, but someone else who was very close to Rick?
oOo
If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us." –Herman Hesse
oOo
Rick didn't know how long he had been knocked out. He woke up and his body felt heavy. He could barely lift his head. Steel gnawed into his left wrist and both ankles. He yanked and realized he was handcuffed to a wall and his ankles were shackled. His right arm was free which was strange. His eyes widened as he got a better sense of his surroundings. He was in a dark tiny space—akin to a storage closet. It hit him that he was being held prisoner in one of the Saviors' outposts. But how did he get here?
The last thing Rick remembered was that he and Daryl had been surprise attacked after Daryl had killed the younger Savior at the last outpost they had cleared. Or so they thought. Out of nowhere, a grenade was thrown and Rick and Daryl lost each other in the thick smoke. Someone had slammed his head and he had blacked out. Rick rubbed his head with his free hand; it felt like an anvil had hit it.
Rick sighed as he again sized up the prison he was in. He wondered if it was the same outpost they had cleared or somewhere else. It was impossible to know. Every time he and Daryl cleared a territory ran by the Saviors, there was always someone left behind that they didn't kill. They had to act fast and kill the lone Savior—or be killed themselves. This time, it seemed there were other Saviors lurking around after Daryl shot the younger one. There were dozens—hundreds of Saviors. Where Negan got the numbers, Rick didn't know, although he had tried to even it out by teaming up with the Kingdom and Hilltop communities. Jadis' group turned out to be traitors so they didn't count.
Rick yanked at the wall again, trying to free himself. The cuff was locked tightly on his wrist and the only chance of getting it off was if he found something to pick the lock. It was that or risk a degloving injury, which would be extremely painful and grotesque. Rick winced just thinking about it. Escape was futile and now he wondered if Daryl was okay—was he alive or dead? Fear and sadness washed over Rick. He needed to believe that the best outcome had occurred—that Daryl had escaped and he was still alive out there.
Staring at the cuff chain, he was reminded of Merle and how he had left him handcuffed on the roof when they first met. Merle. That's a funny thought, Rick smiled grimly. Maybe Merle popped into his mind since he was thinking about Daryl and hoping for his safety. Or because Merle didn't deglove himself—he had cut off his hand to escape walkers on the roof. Rick twisted around in the claustrophobic prison. There was nothing there that he could use to cut the chain or chop off his hand. No weapons. It was just him, this random Savior outpost he was incarcerated in, his immense headache, the cuff and shackles, and his thoughts about the Dixon brothers.
Thoughts of Merle led to Rick reflecting on how Daryl dealt with the death of his older brother. Daryl never spoke of his brother although he missed him. Rick fully understood what it was to miss someone, but not speak about them. He knew that sometimes when he least expected it, thoughts about those long gone would enter his mind and he would wonder how things would be if they were still alive. Lori. Shane. Andrea. Hershel. T-Dog. Merle. Tyreese. Dale. There were more names that floated through his mind. Many people had come and gone from his life since the time he had woken up from his coma in the hospital.
Heavy footsteps from outside interrupted his thoughts. A faint clicking noise echoed in the cell as a key turned in the lock.
The shackles biting his ankles clinked loudly when Rick backed up against the wall. He ignored it—he had to focus on who was coming in. Probably Negan himself. Rick glanced at the door and that's when he saw it: someone had placed a ham and cheese sandwich and a can of Coke in the cell. Rick kicked away the food and soda can. It was probably poisoned. Who put it in there? Eugene?
Rick didn't have much time to think on it. The door opened and Rick covered his eyes as the light was blinding. Just as quickly, the door slammed closed and he heard the same footsteps approach him and stop short. The blinding light was gone and it was dark again. Then he heard whistling—that same damn whistling he and the group had heard the night the Saviors trapped them. Rick uncovered his eyes and stared at the floor, refusing to acknowledge his captor. A pair of combat boots entered his vision.
"You're not gonna eat the food I gave you? If you wanna starve to death, that's your choice, Rick. Just know that it's not gonna help you 'cause Negan wants you alive—whether you're a fat cow or skin an' bones."
He knew that voice! He instantly recognized it as a voice he had known for years. Whenever he heard it though, it was from past memories, dreams he couldn't remember, and nightmares that haunted him. He never told Michonne about it—he didn't tell anyone. Rick had heard that voice in his mind more often in the recent weeks. Especially when it became clear that he had to go to war against Negan and the Saviors. Slowly, Rick looked up to see who was in the cell with him.
His hair had grown back since the last time Rick saw him and now he sported a goatee. And of course, he carried his favored weapon of choice: a Mossberg 590 shotgun.
"Shane…what the hell…how did…" Rick couldn't formulate his words.
"What a warm welcome! Or would you rather see Negan and Lucille up close an' personal?"
"How…" He didn't hear Shane's mention of Negan. He couldn't believe whom he was seeing. "How did you end up here? I haven't seen you since the farm when you an' Andrea—"
"We left Rick." Shane's voice was wooden. "We were both outsiders, no one wanted us aroun'."
"That's not true." Rick saw the scornful expression on Shane's face. "We looked everywhere for both of you."
"Yeah? An' then ya'll thanked your lucky stars that hot-headed Shane an' mouthy Andrea were out of your hair."
"That's not true," Rick repeated. "I never forgot 'bout either of you. How did you get here?"
"A lot happened between then an' now, but none of that matters."
It seemed like ages ago when Shane and Andrea went missing from the Greene farm. Rick remembered that Andrea had offered to do a supply run and Shane planned to accompany her as back-up. They had left the farm and never returned. Rick always assumed that walkers had killed them. He even asked Hershel to put up memorials for both Shane and Andrea. Dale had feared the worst: that Shane had talked Andrea into leaving or forced her to go with him. He was the only one who thought this, everyone else in the group thought the same as Rick: that both Andrea and Shane were dead, or that they had turned. Dale had went to his grave never knowing what had become of Andrea, while the rest of the group, especially Rick, had moved on and accepted the many losses they had already experienced.
Now Rick glared at the man he had once known as his best friend and brother. His shock dissipated and was quickly replaced by anger. "Are you Negan, too?" He remembered how Eugene referred to himself as Negan. "Just like all the rest of them?"
"When it suits me. When we captured you—I was Negan. Right now though…" he placed his shotgun against the wall and sat down across from Rick, "right now, I'm Shane Walsh."
Rick stared at him, completely astounded. His speech temporarily left him. A full minute passed before the words came to him.
"Shane Walsh…a vicious Savior blindly followin' a killer psychopath who enjoys bashin' in people's skulls with a barbed wire baseball bat named Lucille."
"Rick Grimes…a self-righteous murderer who kills people in their sleep—an' even gets others to join in on the slaughter. When did you finally grow a set of balls? Must've happened after I left the farm."
"I protect those I love by any means necessary."
"Including murder?"
"I've killed people, but I haven't murdered anyone."
Shane scoffed. "Is there a difference? The end result is always the same. Someone ends up dead."
Rick started to respond and stopped himself. He had owned it many times before: he had killed many people as he had once told Deanna Munroe. Still, he made a distinction. He viewed "murder" as a deliberate and premediated action to cruelly rob another person of their life with no justification, whereas "killing" was for valid reasons: survival, protecting those you love. In Rick's view, he didn't "murder" Joe, by biting out a chunk of his throat—he had "killed" him—because the Claimers were threatening his life as well as the lives of Carl, Michonne, and Daryl.
These days, survival at any cost was primary. At worst, you killed to live. The end result was always the same as Shane said. Someone ended up dead—and Rick did his damned best to ensure it wasn't him or anyone he loved. He accepted that killing another person would make a difference of whether he survived to see another day. He wasn't always like that, especially not when the outbreak first started. After so many experiences though…the Governor, Terminus, the Wolves—and now the Saviors—he had killed more people than he could count on his two hands.
Shane read his mind. "Own it, Rick. Own it like how I owned what I did to Otis—although it was for Carl," Shane's voice had morphed into a feral growl, and then he softened much to Rick's surprise. "Carl…how's he doin' these days?"
Rick wasn't going to answer at first and before he could stop himself, he responded. "He's grown a lot, holds his own…you would be proud of him."
Shane's smile was sincere. "I'm glad to hear it…he was always a good kid. An' Lori?"
Rick hesitated. He saw Shane staring at him, waiting expectantly for an answer. After all this time, the mention of Lori's name still conjured up messy emotions and painful memories for both men. Rick shook his head.
"She's gone…" It still hurt his heart to admit that his wife was no longer alive. "She's dead, Shane." He was unsure if he should tell his former best friend the truth and pushed himself to do so. "She died givin' birth to your little girl." Rick looked up at Shane, curious as to how he would respond.
Shane was obviously affected by this news because now he had found a spot on the wall to focus on. Rick knew when Shane avoided looking at him, it meant thoughts were swarming through his mind. He was trying to grasp the news he had just learned.
"She's dead…?"
"Yes."
"An' she had my daughter…?
Rick nodded. "She's yours…I always knew she was. Even when Lori said it was mine…the timin' didn't match up."
"You've taken care of her all this time?"
Rick heard the bend in Shane's voice. Without Shane stating it, Rick knew he was grateful. After all this time, he still knew Shane's mannerisms.
"What's her name?"
"Judith."
Rick reached for the plate. He had shoved it away and now he was hungry. If Shane had placed the food in the cell, then he had to trust that there was no poison in it—Negan wouldn't want Rick captured only to be killed by his former best friend. He doubted Negan knew their connection and he wondered if Shane had revealed that information. Shane picked up the paper plate and gave it to Rick. Without a word, he opened the can of soda and set it down next to Rick where he could reach it.
"Thank you."
Shane didn't acknowledge Rick's grateful expression—he was focused on his daughter's name. "'Judith'? Why 'Judith'? I woulda named her 'Victoria' or somethin' like that."
"It was Carl's idea."
"If Carl named my baby girl, then I approve. I'm not gonna even ask who she looks like…probably Lori. I'm sure she's beautiful."
"She is."
Rick chewed his sandwich in silence. Where would they go from here? This was just pleasant conversation with Shane. Innocent chatter to avoid what needed to be addressed. It wouldn't stay like that forever. Eventually the inevitable came up—because Shane brought it up.
"Negan's wanted you under his thumb for some time now. Gave us strict orders not to kill you."
"I wasn't under his thumb—I was under his boot for a while. We all were."
"Who's 'we'?"
Rick looked at Shane, noting how perplexed he looked. He realized that since Shane had left the group, he didn't know about the deaths of T-Dog, Merle, Hershel, Beth, Dale… Shane also didn't know the group had to leave Hershel's farm after it was overrun. A herd of walkers had migrated to Hershel's farm shortly after he had executed Randall. Walkers were drawn to loud noises, so they must've been within the vicinity, now that he thought about it…He didn't want to dwell on it, as it was in the past. Along with those whom Shane knew, there were many people that Rick had met along the way who were dead now that Shane had never known: Tyreese, Bob, Abraham, Noah…but with those he knew…was he even concerned about them?
One name hit Rick full force: Glenn.
Shane had to know that Negan had brutally murdered Glenn. He executed him, Rick thought, as tears stung his eyes. That horrible night flashed through his mind—Glenn trying to speak to Maggie after having his head bashed in, Negan taunting him, Maggie sobbing as her husband and the father of her unborn baby was cruelly robbed of his life, the way Negan kept hitting him long after he had died…
Rick swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to confront Shane.
"You know what he did to Glenn."
"I do 'cause I was there that night when he had you all lined up."
Rick's eyes widened in disbelief—Shane was there?!
"You sound perfectly fine with it," Rick snapped. "As if he only killed a walker an' not a livin' human being."
Shane glared at him. "I wasn't okay with it. I jus' know once Negan sets his mind to kill someone..." He shrugged now.
"You couldn't come out of the ranks to STOP him?! Dozens of Saviors had trapped my group that night—which one were you?"
"That doesn't matter—Negan had your full attention that night." Shane's facial expression matched his flat tone. "What if I told you I'm his second lieutenant, Rick? My ranking is jus' below Simon's—you know Simon is his right-hand man, so I'm pretty high up there."
Rick's breath caught in his throat. "No…no, Shane, that can't be."
"Yes…yes, Rick, it's so."
Rick stared at the floor now not wanting to face Shane. He felt infuriated by Shane's off-handed humor and nonchalant tone. It wasn't the first time he had mocked Rick. Back when they went to free Randall and Shane tried shooting him, Rick had told him "not now, Shane, just not now!"—Shane's response was "well when, Rick, when?" Not wanting to remember that moment when their friendship was unraveling, Rick focused on who was more important to him now: Glenn and Abraham. He didn't want Shane to see the tears forming in his eyes from remembering Glenn's brutal murder—and Abraham's too, but Shane knew Glenn from their Atlanta days!
"No," Rick repeated.
"You can be in denial 'bout it all you like. That's jus' like you, Rick. Still livin' in Fantasy Land. Let me refresh your memory, Officer Friendly. Your lil 'family' killed a lot of Negan's men at the outpost that I was in charge of. Luck or fate—whatever the hell you wanna call it—had it that I wasn't there that night you all came in an' slaughtered my men in their sleep."
Rick's complexion paled and his skin felt cold and clammy. When he looked up, he saw Shane's eyes glittering with rage.
"There was a time when you couldn't even lift a finger against a kid who was an obvious threat. Remember that Randall crap at Hershel's farm? That's why Andrea an' me left you guys. We weren't gonna stay aroun' an' wait to get killed. None of you listened to us, so we left. We made our decision the same day Hershel told me to keep my mouth shut in front of the group."
"I remember that day," Rick said quietly. He remembered all too well how outspoken Shane was to the extent that he rubbed people the wrong way. And that was putting it mildly. Shane's demeanor was aggressive and in-your-face and he only succeeded in pushing everyone away, rather than swaying them to his side. Andrea was the only one who shared the same views as Shane.
"I told her I shoulda left with her when I had the chance, an' she said 'what's stoppin' you from leaving?' Best decision I ever made, Rick." Shane chuckled as he remembered it. "It felt great to be free from all your naïve bullshit. That an' Dale's preachiness 'bout 'keepin' our humanity', Hershel's delusions 'bout his family of walkers in the barn—"
"—that you slaughtered," Rick cut in. He didn't bother to tell Shane that he had eventually executed Randall—after Randall tried to trick Carl into freeing him. There was no reason to explain himself. He needed to focus on the man in front of him who had stood by and watched as Negan joyfully killed Glenn and Abraham.
The man who was once his best friend was now his worst enemy.
"Those were walkers! They were dead an' needed to be put down! My men were sleepin'—they were mindin' their damned business gettin' some shut eye when you an' your calvary broke into the unit an' killed them."
"Some shot at us. They weren't all sle—"
Shane punched him across the face, interrupting him. Rick's face swung spewing out blood.
"Hush up an' accept the damn fact that you're a murderer, Rick. Talkin' 'bout how some of them fought back doesn't take away that you shot an' stabbed several in their sleep."
Rick wiped the blood from his lips. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard Shane warn him.
"Don't make me do that again or it'll be worse next time."
Despite the throbbing pain in his jaw, Rick found his nerve. "Does sayin' that you shot Otis to get the supplies to Carl make you any better, Shane?"
"I never said it did—" He suddenly pushed Rick hard, slamming his back against the wall. "For the record, I told Otis to go ahead of me an' he didn't. I gave him an out an' he didn't take it. You didn't give my men a chance when you stabbed them in their dreams."
"Someone still ended up dead," Rick said, ignoring the sharp aching in his back and sitting up again. "What's the difference?"
"I had my reasons for doin' what I did, Rick. I wanted to survive an' ensure Carl did, too."
"An' I had my reasons for goin' in there and killin' your Savior friends."
Shane remained impassive. "You have your reasons? Spill it."
Rick glanced at Shane who stared him down completely emotionless. It was hard to believe he had went to high school with this man, joined the police force with him…
"We met this guy, Jesus, he's part of a group—The Hilltop, their leader Gre—"
"I know who they are—get to the point."
Rick's eyebrows rose; he was surprised. "How do you know them? That's impossible."
"Do you want to see out of both eyes, Rick—or one for the rest of the time you're here?"
Rick started to inch away to a corner in the cell and then stopped himself. What am I doing?! He realized Shane wanted to savor his fear. Now he stopped himself and watched Shane carefully, uncertain if he would attack him again. If he wasn't chained up, he knew he would've had a fair chance at defending himself. Shane knew it, too. Gathering his strength, Rick pushed forward and when he spoke again, he made sure his voice was steel. There was no reason to allow Shane to intimidate him.
"My group at Alexandria needed food, medicine an' supplies. They offered to give us half of all those things if we killed the Saviors. Maggie negotiated the trade deal. I made the decision to strike them first before they got to us." Rick thought for a moment and decided to risk it. "It was a pre-emptive strike, Shane, jus' like the time you wanted to kill Randall before his gang came back to find him…or have you forgotten that time when you wanted to kill potential threats?"
Rick locked eyes with Shane, daring him to respond.
Shane was silent as he held Rick's stare. Then, as though fighting against his will to agree, he nodded slowly.
"Touché, Rick."
Having exhausted that subject, Rick abruptly changed the topic. "What happened to Andrea?"
"Saviors are usin' her for the sharpshootin' skills that I taught her. It beats the alternative." Shane's quick response indicated he agreed with Rick switching gears.
"What's the alternative?"
"Negan's into polygamy—he's got several wives. I don't know how many…I think one for every day of the week." Shane sounded amused and disgusted at the same time.
"Sounds like someone I used to know."
"My wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am days? Nah, I was a 'ladies man'. I didn't lie to or threaten the women who shared my bed. I love women, Rick, what's the sin in that? I love what I get from them an' what I give them. They love it too—Lori sure did."
A rage that had lay dormant inside him for a long time finally exploded outward. Rick strained against the handcuff that chained him to the wall and tried to swing at Shane with his free hand. Shane caught his clenched fist and punched Rick in the nose. Blood spurted out from Rick's face and he held his nose and was horrified at the blood gushing out. Shane reached into his pocket and threw a blue bandana at him.
"Clean up your mess, Rick."
Rick said nothing as he snatched the bandana and pressed it against his nose.
"Now where was I? Lori…" Shane licked his lips as he recalled a lustful moment with her. "I tasted your wife…she was so good."
Rick refused to look in Shane's direction. Shane sounded triumphant when he revealed intimate details of his wife's infidelity. Details that Rick instinctively knew about, but didn't want confirmation about. He knew Shane was trying to antagonize him.
"I pissed you off enough, got you all riled up..." He was laughing at first, and then he became serious. "I want you to know I'm sorry she's gone…I'm sorry 'bout Glenn too."
Rick pinched the soft part of his nose and leaned forward. Or was he supposed to lean back? He didn't know which one it was as he couldn't think straight—he just knew he didn't want the blood going down his throat. He couldn't discern if Shane's apology was genuine or a mockery. After several minutes of silence between him and Shane, he finally spoke and made an extra effort to control his emotions.
"So Andrea's a sharpshooter?"
"Hell yeah she is!" Rick thought he sounded proud. "Just like I taught Carl back in the day—I see he put it to good use. Negan was shocked too, but he's like me—he has a spot in his heart for Carl."
Rick's head pounded with confusion as he put down the blood soaked bandana. He looked down at the sandwich Shane had made for him. There was one half left and he wanted to eat, so that he wouldn't be in immense pain and hungry at the same time. He decided to switch his focus. That would take his mind off the pain and hunger. His mind wandered to Andrea as he remembered her when they first met after Glenn rescued him from the tank. Back then, Andrea had a feisty independent personality. Now...Andrea was a female Savior? Rick remembered Arat, the female Savior who had shot and killed Olivia at Negan's command. Then he thought of his son. Carl—Shane had asked about him before, but then in a roundabout way admitted that he knew he came to the Sanctuary and gunned down several of Negan's men.
"You knew he was there. You knew Negan showed him aroun'…"
Rick couldn't finish his thoughts as he felt his anger rising again. Then he wondered if Shane was telling the truth about everything regarding Carl, and even Glenn's and Abraham's deaths. After all, he used to be extremely protective of Carl when he was still with the group. And yet, Shane said nothing about Negan forcing Rick to cut off Carl's arm with his own axe. It was that or the entire group would be killed in front of Rick. Negan stopped him just as he had the axe raised. It was a mind game designed to break Rick...and it had worked. He was going to ask Shane about that and then decided not to. He didn't want to know the answer.
"Why does it matter, Rick? If I knew he was there, or didn't know, who gives a damn. Carl's out there an' you're in here an' you're not goin' anywhere anytime soon. Back to Andrea…" Shane shook his head. "She got on real well with Molly, Paula, an' Michelle, was teachin' them to get better with firearms, have accurate aim—but then your group struck again an' killed them."
Remembering that it was Maggie and Carol who had been taken captive by the female Saviors, Rick finally found the strength he needed to confront Shane about the night Negan murdered Glenn.
"Yeah, my group struck again—Maggie an' Carol…Maggie's pregnant with Glenn's baby—did you know that, Shane—Negan—whatever the hell you're callin' yourself these days."
At the mention of Maggie's pregnancy and her status as a widow, Shane rubbed his head as though feeling anxious about Glenn's life being cut short—before he could enjoy fatherhood.
"You wanna go back to that night…I was there an' I saw what happened to Glenn…it was fucked up," Shane admitted, "same for that red-headed guy with his famous last words 'bout 'suck my nuts'…not a good way to leave this world…but that's what happens when you cross Negan's path."
"'That's what happens when you cross Negan's path'," Rick repeated. "Is that your explanation?"
"You're beggin' for a premature violent death if you cross Negan. That's the truth, but you were never good with acceptin' the truth about anythin'."
"Is that so?"
"No doubt 'bout it…you still lie to yourself, Rick. Look at me, an' look at you. You tryin' to act like there's this world of difference between us."
"I'm not you, Shane."
"You sure 'bout that? Remember I told you that you can't be the good guy an' expect to live? Remember how you an' everyone gave me hell for whatever I did back then to keep Lori an' Carl alive—an' even myself alive. Killin' Otis never left me. Self-righteous pricks like Dale assumed I killed him in cold blood." Shane paused as he remembered everything. "I couldn't forget it, but I learned I had to get over it quickly if I was gonna survive in this world. Turn off the guilt an' fear. Accept that I killed to live. It wasn't easy at first, but now it's like breathing air."
"Like a sociopath," Rick said dryly.
"No, like a survivor who adapts to their surroundings. If I was a sociopath, I wouldn't give a shit 'bout what I did to Otis. What I did was wrong, Rick—killin' an innocent man—but it was for the right reason—to get the hell out of there an' ensure Carl lived. Lemme ask you somethin', brother," Shane spat out the word, "what have you done lately to ensure you live to see another day?"
Rick couldn't answer, although he now wondered if he truly had turned into Shane. Did he carry his mindset? He didn't want to deal with the questions, although he knew the answers. A loud resounding YES echoed in his mind.
Shane didn't wait for Rick to respond. "When I wanted to take care of Randall before he could start trouble, you an' Hershel wanted to give him a care package. I did what I needed to do to survive—I left with Andrea. If I had stayed with the group, one of us would be dead now. Maybe me, maybe you."
"It would be you," Rick said, not hiding his confidence in this fact. "Even if it had to be me that killed you…you wouldn't have lasted with us if you had stayed."
Shane grinned. "So then it's good that I got the hell out of there before you could stab me or shoot me in the head. But that was then an' this is now. You're not better than me, you're not worse…you're the same. I jus' got there faster an' I accepted it. You kill to survive now—jus' as I did back then. Where's Dale when you need him to be Mr. Moral Authority?"
"Dale's dead." Rick's voice was barely audible.
"It is what it is. He knew he couldn't survive in this world—he said so himself."
Rick sent daggers Shane's way. He hated the callous way Shane spoke about Dale.
Shane continued on, ignoring Rick's hateful stare. "Isn't it nice that everyone in the group supports your every move—an' doesn't vilify you for it? I wish I had gotten the same spectacular treatment at Hershel's farm."
"Not everyone supports my decisions, Shane. Morgan…" Rick looked away, not wanting to continue. Morgan's peaceful stance and Rick's cutthroat actions against the Saviors had clashed in the past, but now they were on the same page. They were at war against the Saviors and war meant people getting killed—on both sides.
Shane abruptly stood up. "I'll be right back…gonna get somethin' for you."
Before Rick could respond, he left the cell and locked the door behind him. Rick sighed heavily; he was unsure of what to make of this encounter with Shane. His mind was spinning from their conversation. Shane was a Savior—he followed Negan who killed anyone he wanted to with no remorse. But Rick had killed people too—the sleeping Saviors in the outpost—the one where Shane was in charge. He was still processing everything, when he heard the key click in the lock. Shane returned carrying a large rectangular mirror. He left the door open slightly ajar for light to peak in and then placed the mirror in front of Rick. Shane sat next to him so that both men could see their reflections.
"You an' me, Rick, we're the same: killers tryin' to survive in this crazy world."
Rick blinked, shocked at the man he saw in the mirror. Despite his watery blue eyes, he also looked like a wild man,who had been living on the streets. A man who had seen the worst that mankind has to offer. A man who wouldn't think twice before robbing someone of their most prized possession: life. This wasn't him—was he really a murderer? Who had he become after all this time? He didn't want to answer those questions and decided to deflect for the time being.
"Why did you start followin' Negan?"
Rick watched Shane's expression in the mirror. For the first time since entering the cell, Shane appeared genuinely sad as he averted his eyes from his own reflection.
"Me an' Andrea had bounced aroun' for some time before we finally found a home with this group. It was fortified an' safe; we thought that's where we'd end up stayin'. One day, Negan an' his Saviors came…lined us all up—I know the kneelin' thing very well. Back then, they forced me to kneel, two Saviors on each side of me, while Andrea's cryin' up a storm beggin' me to stop bein' a hothead 'cause I'll get myself killed. Negan picked a random victim an' started swingin' Lucille on the guy's head like he was playin' for the World Series. After that, they took half our supplies an' there wasn't enough for everyone to survive for a week, much less a month."
Shane stopped as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Running a hand through his dark curly hair, his expression was pensive. Rick didn't know it, but Shane was remembering when he had shaved off his hair after returning from the school without Otis.
"Is there more?" Rick asked.
"We made a decision to join them. Well...I did. Andrea wasn't feelin' it at first after what we had just seen. But you know the saying: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So when they came back again to take more supplies, Andrea an' I left that camp behind an' followed them back to the Sanctuary—we snuck in one of their trucks an' got caught. They put us through the ringer to ensure our loyalty to Negan."
Rick listened in shocked silence. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was more as Shane continued explaining what had happened.
"They had me run a gauntlet with five Saviors on each side, ten men altogether—I fought back. Figured he was testin' me to see if I'd sit back an' let myself get beat up or stand on my two feet. Negan was on the other end waitin' an' coddlin' Lucille. All this had started with the whole name thing."
"He wanted to hear you say 'I'm Negan'," Rick said, picturing everything Shane was telling him.
"Yep, an' he said by the end of all this, I'd be sayin' exactly that… 'I'm Negan'. I got through the gauntlet, but since it had been too easy—an' I kept answerin' 'Shane' to his 'who are you' question, that's when he gave the order for a group of Saviors to beat the livin' shit out of me. I couldn't move, walk, talk, or even fuck for an entire week." He smirked. "That last one was the worst part." Before Rick could ask, Shane confirmed what he was already thinking: "Me an' Andrea been together for some time now—I thought it was obvious. She was real good to me durin' that time, nursin' me back to health."
Rick nodded, remembering when he and Shane had busted gangs as sheriff deputies. Sometimes the jump-ins were so severe that the new member got seriously injured or even killed. Then he remembered how gangs initiated female members and he felt very afraid for Andrea.
"Andrea—she wasn't—?"
"No, Rick. None of that sexed-in garbage," Shane said, reassuring him that Andrea wasn't forced to have sex with several Saviors as part of her initiation process. "Negan has strict rules against rape, an' he won't stand for several Saviors havin' sex with one woman for her to prove her worth. We wouldn't have stayed if that's what she needed to do to get in."
"So what happened with her?" Rick was relieved that Andrea wasn't subjected to that situation.
"Andrea had two choices: become Negan's wife or join his army. The wives, maybe it's easier for them to stay cooped up in that harem. The other women though…the female Saviors in his army? Those women are ballsy as hell, tough chicks. They ain't frilly girly girls 'fraid of breakin' a nail. You know what Andrea chose. I don't even need to tell you."
"She joined his army."
Shane nodded. "Since she's good with firearms, can hit a target better than most of the men there—she grew popular quickly. Her aim with a sniper rifle is perfect. So that's what she does an' you already know what I do. We've been here ever since."
Rick was quiet as he took in what Shane had told him. Joining a gang of killers to avoid being killed. He supposed it was one way to preserve one's life in this new world. Then he replied, "You're either the butcher or the cattle." What Shane didn't know was that Rick remembered Terminus and the fight to survive the cannibalistic cult after thinking he had found a safe haven for the group.
"Kill or be killed…that's what it's come down to." Shane grinned at his reflection in the mirror and then it quickly faded. "Sometimes I don't like the man that I see in the mirror, but it's who I have to be. An' it's who you are, Rick."
Both men were silent as they stared at their reflections in the mirror.
"What happened to us, Rick? One minute, you're askin' me 'bout the difference between men an' women."
Rick heard the bend in Shane's voice. The sadness and regret was unmistakable and he knew when he responded, he would sound the same.
"An' Reverend Shane's givin' me a sermon."
"Next moment, I'm shootin' an innocent man to save myself from a hoard of dead people that won't stay dead. All to get supplies back for my best friend's son."
"Or I'm killin' men in their sleep jus' so my family has food for another day."
Neither man spoke. Rick wondered how long the awkward silence would last when Shane rammed a clenched fist through the mirror. Cracks instantly appeared resembling a spider-web and when both men looked at their reflections, it appeared fragmented.
"That's more like it," Shane said, wiping the blood off his knuckles on his jeans. "That's who we really are."
"We're broken," Rick whispered.
"You can choose to stay that way or try an' put the pieces back together—even it's messy."
"Even if you put the pieces back together, it won't be the same."
"You're right," Shane agreed, "it won't be the same, but we can try." He sighed and rubbed his head, his anxiety and inner turmoil surfacing again. "Every day I try to recognize the man in the mirror. I look for Shane Walsh—the real Shane Walsh—an' I wonder where he is 'cause the reflection starin' back at me ain't him. I hate who I've become, so I try not to look anymore."
Rick looked at him now, wondering if it was ever possible to undo everything he had experienced since that moment he awoke from his coma in the hospital. Shane stared back at him, wondering if he had fallen to the lowest level, now that he was following a cruel psychopath who had incarcerated his best friend. Rick turned back and gazed at his distorted reflection not saying anything. As he did so, Shane backed off so that it was only Rick seeing himself now. Brown hair that had grayed prematurely in various spots due to the constant stress of having one's life in danger, blue eyes that reflected an exhausted soul, and lips that had forgotten how to form a real smile.
"I'll let Negan know you're ready for a heart-to-heart chat with him. In the meantime, you can look at your reflection all day, Rick. Ask yourself if you recognize the man across from you."
Without another word, Shane left the room and locked the door behind him, leaving Rick to ponder the man he used to be and the man he had become in order to survive the new world.
-The End-