A/N: tonight's episode made me cry, but i won't spoil it for those who haven't seen the episode yet. there are no references to the ending. no spoilers. rest easy :)
I stared emotionlessly at the gun, turning it over in my hands. Shane was pissed I'd stolen it from them, but so far no one had asked for it back. Good thing too. I was disconnected enough to shoot them at this point. I was back. Back at the farmhouse, back with Rick's group, back where I didn't want to be, back with my father.
They'd brought him with us. Hershel was probably treating his gunshot wound, the gunshot wound I gave him, the wound that was only a small fraction of what that hideous man deserved.
Especially since the bastard had just admitted to me that he'd killed—
"Hey, girly," came a quiet Southern voice.
"Go away, Daryl." I tried to make my tone harsh, tried to snap at him, but I was just so tired of everything. Plus, he had a way of wearing me down even with only a few words.
"Can't get rid of me that easy."
He sat down next to me with a wince, and a wave of guilt washed over me. He was shirtless, fresh gauze on his side with blood dotting it. He had stressed his own wound when he restrained me in the woods.
That was another thing.
To my extreme embarrassment, I had apparently been going in some kind of loop. Daryl, after realizing I was gone, had immediately set out with Rick to find me. Daryl tracked me in no time flat, a pitifully easy trail to follow.
Plus, we had shared a moment in the woods. I was emotional, hysterical, and for him to see me in that state was unacceptable. My conviction was even stronger. I needed to leave. This time, I would just have to plan it more, plan it better.
"What happened to 'don't go out there alone'?" Daryl asked with a snicker. "Sounds mighty hypocritical to me."
"Please go away?" I tried instead.
"Nope."
My gaze narrowed, and he chuckled.
"Didn't I tell you? You got a lot to learn if you do somethin' just 'cuz someone says please." He gave me a serious look. "Who's that guy ya shot?"
"My father."
Daryl blinked a few times. "Why'd ya shoot 'im?"
"Payback. He shot me."
"He…" Daryl, I could tell, was fighting to keep his jaw from dropping. "Shit."
"Yeah." I rubbed my temple with a sigh. He looked me up at down, and then put his hand on my thigh. At first I thought he was propositioning me again, but then I realized it was right over my gunshot wound. "Daryl…"
"It's okay." He smoothed back my hair again, and I felt myself leaning into his calloused hand.
"It's not okay." I stood abruptly. "I can't do this, Daryl. I can't."
"Don't have to be a bitch about it," he grumbled.
"I think I do."
I walked. Just walked. When I saw someone coming, I turned around and walked faster in the other direction. I couldn't deal with any of it. Not Andrea and Shane wanting me gone, not Hershel's sudden cold attitude, not Carol's crying, not the separation between the two groups of survivors. Definitely not my father.
When Lori, however, approached me at a jog, I hadn't the energy to outrun her. "What is it?"
"Um." Her eyes were red, like she'd recently been crying, and her hand was shaking as she raised it to swipe her hair behind her ear. "I-I know that we don't know each other that well."
At all, actually. You hardly bother to talk to me. Any of you.
"But…the baby." She cleared her throat. "Would you…if you hadn't had a miscarriage, would you have wanted it?"
"Wanted the baby?"
Lori nodded. "In this kind of world, would you have wanted it?"
I thought about that for a good long while as she waited for my answer. What kind of question was that? On one hand, it had been the only part of Nolan I had left in the world. On the other, it would mean caring for another, helpless human being when I could barely take care of myself. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, Why is she asking me this?
"You're pregnant, aren't you?"
Another tremor went through her hand. "Please, you have to keep this between us. I just wanted to know, I thought you'd understand since—"
"Amazing," I grumbled. "A miscarriage can define me, even in a world like this. Even in hell, all you people know me as is 'that girl who had a miscarriage'."
"That's not what I…"
"I know that's not what you meant. But it's true, isn't it? That's how you all see me. I'm just that weak, stupid little girl who had a miscarriage and now your group can't seem to get me out of your hair." I stepped closer to her, making sure she got what I was saying. "If you wanted me gone, you should've just left me out there. I was doing fine."
"Wait—" Lori reached out for me as I walked past, and for a second I felt bad.
"You don't even know my name, do you?" I asked quietly. Her hand dropped, and I kept on walking past her, the disgust evident on my face.
I was outside the horse stables, sitting on the ground behind a hay bale. Daryl was trying to saddle a horse, go off on his own again looking for Sophia, and I nearly laughed. It was a cycle. He'd come back injured again, having found nothing of that poor lost probably-dead little girl. Carol would cry, Rick would come up with a new plan, and Daryl would go out again the next day. The monotony was enough to remind me of daily life before the shit hit the fan.
I heard his whole exchange with Carol, heard him call her a bitch, and thought to myself, Why're you so confusing, Daryl?
Then I heard Glenn talking about the barn. A barn full of walkers. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the convenience of it all.
I had been right. Hershel had patched up my father. Now, that smug bastard was sitting on a godforsaken rocking chair with a fucking smile on his ugly fucking face—
"Can't sleep, sunshine?"
It was night. I'd been able to avoid everyone. Now, I was oddly…calm as I contemplated the idea of killing my father. "Angry at me for shooting you?"
"Very. Stupid question, Jane."
"I have an idea then." I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times before adding, "We can't do it here, too close to the house. Come with me to the barn."
He followed behind me, and for the first time in my life I knew I had the upper hand. Soon he wouldn't be able to hurt me at all. Ever.
"How is this going to work, sunshine?"
My hand twitched. "I figure right now we're on even footing. You shot me, I shot you. Once we get to the barn, I'll give you a gun." I held it up to show him. "We both have one bullet. Fair fight. We stand at either end and fire at the same time."
He laughed. "That's hardly fair," he said. "Unless your aim has drastically improved in the last twelve hours."
I clenched my jaw against the stream of hateful words I wanted to shout at him. All in time. I just needed to keep my cool for a few more minutes.
Once I led him through the small opening of the hay loft, I knew he would notice the walkers. I heard them, the hissing, the snarling, and for a second fear paralyzed me. What if this didn't go as planned? What if—
"What the hell is that?"
I pushed the gun into his hands. "One bullet. Don't waste it." Then, before I could think any more about it, I pushed him. Though he fumbled with the gun, he had managed to grasp onto the ledge with one hand.
"Bitch! Let me up!" I knew he had seen the walkers, could hear the walkers, because the panic was seeping into his voice.
"How's it feel?" I asked, my voice quiet and…oddly calm. "Feel familiar?"
"What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy—"
"Seems familiar to me. Gun with one bullet in it. Group of walkers. The only difference is, I haven't shot you in the fucking thigh. Feel familiar yet, Daddy?"
"Let me up!" The walkers were gathering around his dangling feet now, pawing at him. "For God's sake, Jane, let me up!"
I was starting to scare myself. Could I do this? Could I go through with this? Of course I could. But could I live with myself afterwards?
"Jane!"
My eyes stung as I dropped onto my stomach and grabbed his wrist. I wasn't a killer. I wasn't him. I couldn't…
"That's a good girl," he said as I began to haul him up. "Always did listen to your daddy, always believed I had your best interest at heart. Even when I shot you." He suddenly laughed. "You're so stupid, Jane."
Something in me snapped, disengaged, and it was as if I was watching someone else. I was watching, standing by, as a girl who looked exactly like me stopped lifting my father to safety. I watched as the girl let go.
Suddenly I snapped back to myself, and my father was landing hard on his feet in a barn full of hungry walkers.
"Jane! Jane, help me!" He looked up at me with panic in his eyes.
Should've thought about that before you hurt me, Owen.
"Can't help you anymore. You're on your own."
"Jane!"
My voice felt like it didn't even belong to me as I whispered, "This is for Nolan."
I couldn't watch as the walkers devoured him. I left, making it halfway back to camp before I vomited—for what was it, the millionth time?—into the bushes.
The next morning, when they started asking where Owen had gone, Daryl inexplicably looked to me.
"You know anything about it?" he asked.
I shrugged. "Why would I know anything?"
"He seemed to know you pretty well." Shane's gaze was narrowed in my direction, his tone accusatory. "And one of our guns is missing. Besides the one you took."
I shrugged again, looking Shane straight in the eye. "Dunno. He probably just took off."
"Why didn't he take back his guns?"
"Maybe he couldn't find them."
Shane was most certainly glaring at me now. "Whole think stinks to me."
"Don't know what to tell you."
But Daryl was looking at me like he knew. Like he knew what I'd done to my father. So what if he did? Did it matter? What would they do, throw me out of the group? His eyes met mine. He knew exactly what I'd done. He'd realized from the moment that Owen had gone missing. Did I? Did I realize that I'd killed—
It was just survival, I thought. Kill or be killed.
Right. Kill or be killed.
A/N: a bit of character development here. hope you all enjoyed. review please! :)
