Chapter 2 - Prison Cleanup Day

Holy Cow: You guys are all so wonderful. I couldn't believe all the quick reviews and favs. I like to respond to each review, but really wanted to get this up before next Sunday. I will try and revise this to include all of you. I saw them all and it made me even more excited. I still didn't hear what you all thought of the sexy talk between Daryl and Carol. I may have changed my mind after watching Talking Talking Dead (the extra 15 minutes on the net). Glen Mazzera made it seem more like Carol's come into her own. I'm not sure how I feel. I still see her as longing from afar. Long, hopeful glances. I never pictured her as the 'aggressor'. Grrrr, I'm too obsessed. I need a support group. Anyhoo, hope you like. This is mostly filler, to finish the episode, but some new stuff about Lane.


Lane opened her eyes at the soft shake and clang of her aunt unlocking the door to the RV letting the pale dawn light stream in. She jerked up but Ethel gave her feet a gentle squeeze and told her to lay back down... She'd needed to rest after yesterday.

She dozed fitfully while her aunt quietly puttered, making breakfast, opening and closing cabinets. Her nose twitched at the coffee brewing and bacon frying, but when she lifted her head her aunt was exiting the RV, juggling containers and plates, obviously taking breakfast back to the others in the prison. But it left a wonderful aroma in the RV, reminding her of a better time. A safer time.

She would just close her eyes for a little longer, or so she told herself, not even rousing when the RV door opened more than a half hour later.

"Wake up!" Daryl ordered her, standing at the end of the bed looking mean and annoyed to be given wake up duty for the claustrophobic princess.

Daryl had actually agreed to do this, but only after noticing T-Dog eagerly jockeying to take his place. For some reason he was irritated as hell at thought of T-Dog in here alone with her...leering at her...laughing and flirtin' with her, but he refused to ask himself why.

Lane opened one eye at the menacing figure in front of and figured this was just another nightmare. With a groan, she grabbed her pillow and covered her face. In seconds she was back asleep and snoring softly.

Daryl stood over her, frustrated she was taking up his time with her prissy bullshit. This time he used both hands to shake the bed, grabbing her foot by mistake. She'd hiked up the blankets around her waist, making visible her bare legs and fuzzy little pink socks but when he 'accidently' touched her bare leg he couldn't get over how smooth it was. It wasn't fair, but he'd known the other women stopped shaving years ago.

"You're really here!" she threw the pillow off and propped herself up on her elbows, staring back at him. He couldn't tell if she was angry or confused.

"Fuck! Course I'm really here!" he didn't understand what the hell was wrong with her. Stating the damn obvious. "Ya got eyes don't ya?"

"Sorry, thought you were a dream," she mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious because she now remembered he had in fact been in her dreams. But remembering her dream wasn't scary at all. In fact, it made her feel warm and tingly and nice. The details had long evaporated the way dreams often do, but she did remember it had been ...nice.

Daryl kept staring at her, making her feel funny. She ran her fingers through her hair, wondering what to do next. Then she mentally gave herself a kick. Lane? You don't know how to get of the damn bed? He's not gonna bite, she scolded her self.

"Here!" Daryl handed her an insulated mug full of coffee and a napkin with a coupla strips of bacon nestled in it. Lane looked up at the craggy face in surprise.

"Thanks!" she grabbed for the coffee with both hands forcing him to leave the napkin on the blanket. She sucked half the brew down before looking up at him.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' us today?" Daryl asked, but worried if she did she might hamstring them. He didn't know what her problem was, but that prison freaked her out.

"Depends on what the plan is. Apparently, your group's idea of a fun day is a bit different than mine," she swung her legs out and padded into the kitchen/living area. She had to press her back up against the wall to squeeze past him. Daryl hadn't been expecting it or he'd have moved. Instead her breasts pressed into his chests when she slid past. The fact she didn't have a bra on made him all the more aware.

"We gonna clear more of the prison," Daryl replied. She sat there deep in thought, handing him a piece of her bacon. He hesitated but she forced him to take it. For some reason, she liked how much pleasure he showed enjoying good food.

"Inside? Or more of the yards?" she felt her heartbeat pickup and begin to race, instinctively knowing the answer.

"Inside." He watched her seagreen eyes turn stormy. "We need to get to them weapons... Find more food and medicine." Daryl reiterated Rick's words, but he knew they were gonna have to secure the interior if they were gonna build a life here.

"This somethin' ya gonna be able to do?" for some reason those dark halls terrified her and it wasn't because of the walkers.

She took a deep breath, wondering herself if she would be able to do this. She was ashamed at her weakness and she hated it. But she knew she needed to face this thing head on. No, she had to or be plagued forever. This 'condition' had held her back and now actually endangered them.

She took a deep breath and decided. She reached up to open the upper kitchen cabinet, feeling around for for her pills but unable to quite reach them.

"Whatcha need?" he pushed her out of the way and took over the task.

"There's some pills up there," she sounded embarrassed at the admission. He pulled down a half-dozen amber prescription bottles. All full.

He watched her read the labels before selecting the ones she was looking for and taking out a couple, reluctantly setting them on the counter. Daryl frowned at the pills. Granted, Merle always popped handfuls, never carefully counting out 2. But whenever Merle took pills he did stupid shit, shit that got him chained to a roof and without a hand.

"What's them?" she heard the judgment in his voice. She also caught the concern matched by his eyes.

"Alprazolam and Propanolol," she didn't really want to get in to all the ins and outs of why she needed them. Instead she turned and started picking out clothes for a day of prison clearing. What was the appropriate attire, Anna Wintour? When she spun around she could still see worry on his face.

"I won't flip out on you, I promise. I'll hold my own!" she steadied her voice and promised him. He stood there staring at her, and she began to think he didn't believe her. That he might tell Rick...maybe tell Rick she was unstable. Instead, he gave her a nod and opened the RV.

"Hurry up then...we leavin' soon!" he warned before he shut the door behind him.

She felt her legs give way and she slid slowly to the floor, leaning her cheek against the cool sofa cushion. She'd been trying to work through this debilitating phobia for years with little success.

"Well, I guess it's time for some aversion therapy." she mumbled to herself and zipped her boots up. "Suppose it could be worse! Rick mighta found a submarine!" she forced herself to laugh at her own joke.


"Not bad, We got flash bangs, CS triple chasers. I'm not sure how they'll do on walkers but we'll take 'em," Rick was pleased by the find. Rick, Daryl, Hershel and T-Dog were busy evaluating the weapons they'd gathered. It wasn't from the arsenal they still needed to find, but this new cache would help replenish some of the ammo they'd used to clear the yard.

Lane joined them and nodded greetings to all the men surrounding the table, picking through everything that they'd spread out. She picked up one of those riot helmets, turning it over in her hands, wondering if she should bother.

"Hey," she yelled in protest when Daryl snatched the helmet from her hands.

"I aint wearing this shit," his look was full of derision. "We done alright without shit like this," Daryl tossed it back at her and cockily grabbed a baton, swinging it at an imaginary walker head. The men all nodded in agreement and pride. They HAD done fuckin' all right hadn't they!

"Yeah, this isn't much help against walkers. But what about when we have to fight the living at some point? To keep this place?" she'd seen armed marauders all around and they terrified her more than any walkers. Walkers were predictable, the living weren't. They were smart, and crafty...and capable of much more cruelty.

Rick turned to her in surprise. His group worried only about walkers. But his girl this girl was thinking steps ahead. She was already thinking what would happen if a stronger group realized what they had. She was terrified of the living. Rick continued to stare but she just shrugged and threw the helmet back against the table.

"Hershel?" Carol came in, a strange look on her face. "A minute?"

"Anything wrong?" Rick asked, his voice tight. Carol skewered him with her eyes.

"Nothing for you to worry about," she stepped forward to escort Hershel back to Lori's cell. The others were silent and Lane noticed Rick's jaw tighten and the veins at his temple pulse.

'What a Dick?' Lane thought about Rick yet again and her disdain was easy to see, but she felt Daryl's scowl and she could tell he knew what she was thinking. She gave him a quick scowl back but he just shook his head. Lane couldn't sort out how Daryl held such respect for this man. What was she missing?

Lane began to feel the medication take effect and the looseness kick in. Had she taken too much? The beta-blocker should minimize her physical reaction to her terror, but the Alpralozam was bringing a warmth and relaxation she now worried would dull her reactions. She took the meds a few minutes ago. Hopefully she'd judged it right and taken only just enough to quell the panic but not too much to get her killed. Or anyone else.


"Lanie, you don't have to go," Miriam sat down beside her in the cell they'd selected. "You can take watch again. You've got nothing to prove!"

"No, I do. We've all known this was bound to happen sooner or later. I have to get past this, or I could fall apart when there's no one around to pick me up. It's amazing I've made it this long and you know it." Miriam realized just how much Lane had committed to doing this. Miriam pulled Lane to her, pressing her head to her rest on her shoulder and stroked her hair. 'Oh Lanie...my sweet stubborn girl."

Ethel watched over Lane in the cell with Miriam. Lane was so determined to do this, but she'd been determined before and Ethel remembered how devastating that failure had been. Not to anyone's safety or anything, but mainly to Lane's self-confidence.

She looked up to see that young man, Daryl, watching her niece. Ethel liked how he looked at her Lanie. It reminded her of those first glances she caught Miriam sending her way. Hmmm? Maybe now wasn't the time exactly, but she could tell he was doing more than waiting for Lane to join them.

"Young man, can I talk to you?" Ethel whispered to him. Not waiting for a response, she pulled him along with her.

Young man? Christ, he was just over 40. And his aches and pains reminded him daily just how not-young he was. But he let this old lady drag him into the farthest cell and pull him aside.

"I need you to take this," she pressed a small folded up paper towel in his palm. Seeing his perplexed look, she explained.

"If Lanie gets ... sick... please, put this under her tongue. There's two lozenges in there. If one doesn't cut it after 5 minutes, give her the other," she patted his hand closed which tightened around the package, certain she could trust him. She trusted him to keep this discreet and to take care of her girl.

"Lady? Why me? Why not Hershel? Or Rick?" he whispered.

"Call me Ethel," she admonished. "I've got by my entire life knowing who I could trust...and who I couldn't. My gut tells me I can trust you with my girl."

Lane exited with Miriam, doing one last weapons check. Daryl nodded to Ethel who patted his stubbly cheek in thanks and joined Lane and the others at the gate to Cell Block C. Beth brought them some more supplies and Lane stuffed them in her back pack.

With a kiss to each aunt, she left the cell block, trying not to scream when the gate slammed shut behind her with a loud clang.


She tried to take position at the rear, helping Glenn spray paint arrows and making sure they had an exit, but Daryl pulled her directly behind him. He put the flashlight in her left hand, making sure her knife was in her right. Rick and Daryl and T-Dogg led, Maggie and Lane had the middle, largely responsible for lighting the way, and Hershel and Glenn covered the rear.

Daryl hoped giving Lane control of the light would help her with whatever her deal was. His focus was straight ahead and at Rick, but when he could, he'd glance back and check on her. He didn't like it when he couldn't feel her behind him, so whenever she fell a step away he'd yank her tight to him.

Lane struggled to not focus on the darkness and the confined deathtrap she was now trapped in, but it wasn't easy. She felt the familiar panic welling up in her chest but she managed to change her focus on lighting the way for Daryl and Rick. "I'm ok. It's not the same, no water," she whispered over and over. Just breathe!

The halls were clear for quite a while...the occasional corpse but that was it. They'd cleared at least three halls, but it had started to became a maze even with Glenn painting directional arrows on the walls.

"Walkers," Rick suddenly screamed and Lane instinctively moved closer to Daryl, flashlight steady, and weapons raised.

"'s'ok. They're dead," Daryl whispered in her ear after they took them down. He also used the time to see if she was freaking out on him. If he couldn't depend on her, he needed to know now. It certainly wasn't for the tingle he got at the feel of her breath in his ear.

They stomped over the dead walkers, kicking their legs out of the way. Maybe, this would be ok, she thought in a moment of confidence.

They got to the next bend, but when Lane shined the flashlight down the hall, a entire wall of walkers came at them, at least 4-5 wide, no idea how deep. At the sight of fresh food, the moans escalated into a frenzied pitch.

"Get back NOW," Rick and Daryl pushed them all backwards. She felt Daryl flush at her back and she pushed Glenn to go faster. But Glenn moved to cover Maggie instead. Before Lane knew what happened, Glenn was gone and she was leading the retreat.

Daryl's back was shoving her along, but it was hard to see and fight simultaneously. She stabbed and hit and fought until they were finally able to retreat to a gate they could close. Finally, she heard Rick slam the metal gate shut, providing a barrier between them and the walkers.

She looked around wildly, her breaths coming in frantic pants...struggling for control. She knew it was going to take hold of her, until she felt Daryl take her arm and twist her around to face him, his eyes probing. He was checking to see if she was losing it, she realized.

"You're ok," it was an order, not a question. He wouldn't accept less. Her eyes darted around, taking stock. She allowed herself stare back at him, to get lost in his eyes for just a moment, trying to believe what his eyes were telling her. And her breathing slowed, little by little.

"Maggie?" Hershel yelled. They all shined the lights around the little cubby they were hiding in, desperate to find her.

"Glenn?" they were all soon frantic to find them both. Rick absolutely refused to lose one more person in the group.

"They aren't here," Lane screamed, as realization hit and panic threatened again.

"We've got to back," Hershel insisted and moved forward to open the gate again, ignoring the moaning walkers right outside.

"She's with Glenn. Nobody panic," Rick ordered.

Lane snorted. If Rick only knew this was her not-panicking.

"OK, now before we open this door we need to have a plan. Who saw them last?" Rick looked to them all for suggestions.

"Down that hall about 30 feet I saw another hall. I think there was a door, like a closet door or something. Maybe they're hiding in there. It's the only way we could have gotten separated," Lane offered, her brain syncing back into logic and patterns. And it calmed her even more, she realized. She completely missed the look Daryl gave her. Dang, she's doin' better than I thought, he admitted.

"We stay together, I mean it this time," Rick was pissed they'd lost Maggie and Glenn.


Rick made sure they were all ready and then flung open the doors. Daryl yanked Lane to his side and they all jumped forward, ready to attack. They easily took out the walkers still lingering by the door, this time Lane getting in more than her fair share of the action. They crept down the hallway looking for that offshoot Lane spoke of.

Lane smiled when they reached the closet door, praying she was right. Rick moved ahead and waited for Daryl to give him the all clear. Rick slammed open the door and Maggie and Glenn jumped out, grateful they hadn't been left behind. Lane smiled and turned to tell Hershel the good news.

"Hershel, we found them," the old man's weary eyes came back to life at the news and he hurried to see his daughter with his own eyes.

"Hershel look out," Lane raised her axe and screamed at him to move. But he wasn't quick enough. The walker that was slumped against the wall animated at the flesh in front if him. His jaw opened and he took a big bite out of Hershel's calf, pulling at the bloody exposed tendons with his dead jaw.

Lane put the axe right through it's brain but Hershel was already down and Lane knew she would never forget those screams.

"Help. We need help," Lane cried out while desperately trying to pull Hershel away and defend from the walkers that were descending on them after smelling spilled blood.

"Daddy," Maggie screamed and went to her father . T-Dog and Rick carried Hershel while Daryl lead the way to find somewhere safe where they could lay Hershel down. They ran up to a bolt-locked set of double doors at the end of the hall.

"Lane, gimme your axe," Daryl yelled at her. Lane tossed it to him, immediately resuming her position covering the rear, stabbing an approaching walker with her tire iron.

With one swing of the axe the chains broke and they entered a large room with round tables and chairs strewn around. The dining hall maybe?

Hershel was bleeding out and she didn't know what to do...no one did. Even if they got the bleeding under control, they'd lose him to the virus. They set him on the floor with his head in Maggie's lap. Maggie kept running her hands over her father's hair, but it did little to soothe him. T-Dog secured the door with her tire iron but the walkers sensed food and were pressing hard to get to it.

"Oh God," Lane was now starting to panic as she looked for something to help Hershel. She never even noticed Rick taking off his belt.

"Daryl, gimme Lane's axe," Rick ordered, starting to tie his belt around Hershel's leg.

"No!" Lane suddenly screamed in protest when she understood Rick's intention, trying to take the axe back from Daryl.

"Lane, we have to do this or we'll lose him." Rick yelled.

"I know!" Lane yelled back louder. "But you can't do it with an axe filthy and covered with walker guts or there's no chance. Or were you gonna give it a quick spit shine first, Rick?" Lane's emotions were running too high to censor herself. She didn't even like Rick.

"Ya got a plan Lane?" T-Dog was the only person not yelling.

"I think so," she grabbed again for the axe, but Daryl only carried it over to one of the tables for her...not releasing it.

"Hurry," Maggie's plea was an agonizing scream. Lane had tears in her eyes and nodded. She pulled out the flask of vodka she'd tossed in her bag at the last minute...What was it her aunt always said? For medicinal purposes only? If this didn't qualify she didn't know what did? She felt Daryl lean over her from behind.

"Your aunt gave me somma that medicine you take. Ya think it might help Hershel too?" Daryl asked quietly. Lane seemed to be doing ok...better than Hershel anyway, but it was Lane's choice, Daryl thought.

She looked up into his thoughtful eyes, aware he was trying to help Hershel get through what Rick was about to do. She nodded yes.

"Take them and put them under his tongue. Don't let him swallow them, they'll work faster. " she advised while swabbing the axe with vodka. She looked over as Daryl quickly administered the meds. Maggie didn't even ask what it was.

"Matches? A lighter?" Lane yelled. She'd done her best but this would be better. Daryl brought her a lighter and the axe was soon in engulfed in a flash of flames.

She gave the sterilized axe to Rick and fell to the floor immediately, still holding the flask of remaining vodka. She passed the flask to Maggie who poured the vodka down Hershel's mouth and he swallowed as best he could. In spite of everything, Hershel managed to get their intent. To give his as much relief as they could with what they had. But they were dangerously close to biting on a stick and a whack to the head as a form of medical anesthesia.

Daryl knelt right behind her and they all watched in horror as Rick chopped off Hershel's leg just above the knee. Lane would have done anything to drown at the screams. She knew they'd haunt her forever.

Lane heaved and struggled to keep from vomiting after looking at the bloody stump on the floor and blood still coursing out of Hershel's thigh. When she looked up at Rick, he too was visibly shaken by what he'd just done. As if he didn't believe what he'd just done.

"Oh God," Rick's hands shook and he dropped the axe to the floor. Tears were streaming down Lane's face and Maggie was hysterical.

Daryl knelt down behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. But then, abruptly his hand tensed and he squeezed her shoulder, making her gasp out loud, pulling her back to reality.

"Get down," Daryl ordered Rick, his voice terrifyingly low and guttural. Lane watched Rick never even question Daryl's judgment, instead immediately lowering himself.

Lane also never questioned Daryl's judgment and she reached around to pull her handgun from her waistband.

Daryl suddenly pounced up, aiming his crossbow at the four live, breathing men standing behind the fenced cafeteria counter.

"Holy Shit," one of the men exclaimed.

'Holy Shit', is right Lane thought as she too aimed her gun at the four of them.