Season 3:
Stars
"He ain't a Judas," Daryl argued, looking down at his younger sister as they stood by the door that led to the roof. It was the place they went when they wanted to talk without anyone else listening.
"You don't know that, Daryl," Clary snapped back in reply. "You can't."
"I know what I said, Clary, and I'll stand behind it."
"Even if it costs you your life, Daryl? Will you stand behind him then? Will you stand behind him when I'm fightin' for my life 'cause he led the Governor and their buddies here?"
"Clary, how many times do I have to tell you? Merle's on our side!"
Clary paused, sighing softly before asking, "'Et tu, Brute?'"
"What?"
"It means 'And you, Brutus?' It's what Julius Caesar said before Brutus stabbed him in the back. Both literally and figuratively."
"Merle is not a Judas. He's not a Brutus. He's on our side. So let it fucking go."
With that, Daryl turned and walked away, leaving his sister alone. She scoffed and shook her head at his receding form, stepping out the door onto the roof. As always, Clary was amazed by the beauty of the night sky. She stood in the middle of the roof, staring up at the stars that filled the darkness. She hadn't been planning on staying up there, so she hadn't grabbed her jacket, and she was starting to regret it. It was getting chilly again, so she slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans to retain some warmth. The same pocket that Merle slipped his switchblade into a few nights prior.
Clary hated it. She hated everything about what happened that night and the days since. It wasn't all bad, of course. They were back home with their family. Clary was back with Carl. The two had been able to sneak off a couple of times together, just the two of them. It was never for more than ten minutes, though, as Rick started to freak out if he hadn't seen Carl in more than ten minutes ever since Lori died. Except when he was on watch. When Rick was on watch, nothing else mattered. It was as if he completely forgot he wasn't alone, that his children were still alive, even if his wife was gone. That was when Clary would look out for them, something she promised Lori she'd do in the days on the farm. She swore to Lori that she'd look out for Carl and the baby, because they both knew that Lori had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the birth at best. And then Lori was dead, leaving Carl half-orphaned. If Judith really was Shane's daughter, like a few of them thought, then it left the newborn an orphan. "In Zombieland, we're all orphans," Clary muttered to herself as she climbed up onto the edge of the roof, looking out at the forest in the distance. "I never thought I'd be living that damn movie."
She hated that, too. Living in this world, doing things that no one should have to do. The fact that people like the Governor could be in charge of groups, doing the things he did. The fact that she trained herself to kill with her bare hands. Actually, it was to kill with anything she could find because anything can be a weapon if you try hard enough. Clary pulled her hands out of her pockets, rubbing them together, before putting them back in. She almost wished that Merle hadn't taken the switchblade back, because she wasn't armed at all at the moment. She needed something on her—a knife, a gun, whatever—because she felt naked and unprotected without one. She felt like she didn't have a fighting chance, even though she knew it wasn't true.
Merle gave you a fighting chance, and you know it.
"That doesn't mean I want to admit it," she muttered in reply to her thought. Merle did too much to her for him to be forgiven just because he gave her a weapon. But he did, and he might've saved her life by doing so. Clary owed him, and she hated owing people. Especially the people she was already on bad terms with. She turned away from the door as she paced the rooftop, singing what she remembered from a musical.
"And my thoughts fly apart
Can this man be believed?
Shall his sins be forgiven?
Shall his crimes be reprieved?
And must I now begin to doubt,
Who never doubted all these years?
My heart is stone and still it trembles
The world I have known is lost in shadow.
Is he from heaven or from hell?
And does he know
That granting me my life today
This man has killed me even so?"
Unbeknownst to Clary, she had an audience. Carl stood in the doorway, having gone looking for her and then heard her voice. He had been standing there for a few lines, watching. Then, he suddenly realized what song she was singing, having recognized it from the production his high school did of Les Misérables. He made his way forward, hoping to reach her before the final line.
"I am reaching, but I fall
And the stars are black and cold
As I stare into the void
Of a world that cannot hold
I'll escape now from this world
From the world—"
Clary wouldn't lie. When Carl grabbed her arm, pulling her down, it scared the shit out of her. As Carl pulled her away from the edge, he cried, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Carl?" Clary questioned. "The hell are you doing up here?"
"I was looking for you! What were you thinking?!"
"What do you mean?"
"You were on the edge of the roof and singing 'Javert's Suicide!'" he cried. "You scared the hell out of me!"
"I wasn't going to jump, Carl. A fall from this height wouldn't kill you. And if I was going to kill myself, I wouldn't jump. But I'm not."
"Either way, get down," Carl said, pulling her down with him into a crouching position. "The Governor could have snipers out there."
"You worry too much," Clary said, getting to her feet. "I was just looking." She climbed back up. "It's nice up here. You can see the stars."
"Please, Clary, get down," Carl begged.
She turned around, looking down at him, saying, "Relax, Carl. Every—"
Carl's heart skipped a beat as a gun suddenly fired, and the next thing he knew, Clary was falling. He rushed towards her, but luckily, she was falling onto the roof and not off of it. He didn't reach her before she hit, landing on her side. He knelt next to her, turning her onto her side. Carl's blue eyes widened as he saw the gash and blood on her cheek, crying, "Clary!"
She didn't respond, out cold. Clary didn't even stir when Carl lifted her, running back inside as quickly as he could so the sniper didn't shoot him, too. "Help!" Carl yelled. "Someone get help!"
The entire group was alert at Carl's cry, and Daryl took charge. He barked to Beth, "Get Hershel!"
She took off, searching for her father. The rest of the group either rushed to meet Carl or followed Beth. Daryl, who had passed Carl on his way back to the common room, started towards him, worried over the two teenagers. It didn't help when he saw Clary, limp, in Carl's arms, her face bloodied. "Clary!" Daryl cried, rushing to her. To Carl, he barked, "What the fuck happened?"
"Sniper," Carl said as Daryl took the girl from him. "I tried to get her down, tried to warn her. She wouldn't listen to me."
Maggie arrived before her father, instructing Daryl to lie Clary on one of the tables. Glenn lingered behind his girlfriend, eyes shining with tears as he saw Clary. Hershel arrived then, inquiring, "What happened?"
"She was shot," Maggie said. "Sniper. I don't think it's serious, but she's unconscious."
Hershel hobbled over to Clary, shooing the hovering Daryl away. Glenn took off to get Rick, who was, as usual, on watch. Hershel gently wiped the blood away from her cheek, studying the graze. "Did she hit her head when she fell?" Hershel inquired.
"Uh, I think so," Carl answered. "I tried to catch her, but I couldn't move fast enough."
"That'd be why she's unconscious," Hershel said. "She just hit her head. And it's nothing more than a graze. As long as it's kept clean, she'll be okay." Hershel looked up at the middle Dixon. "Your sister's perfectly fine."
Daryl sighed, sharing a look of relief with the young Grimes boy. Glenn and Rick ran in, skidding to a halt in the common room. "Is she okay?" Rick demanded.
"I just got done telling Daryl," Hershel said, "she's perfectly fine. Just has to heal."
"It's too dangerous to go outside anymore," Rick decided. "We all have to stay in here, keep our heads down. We'll get an opportunity. We just have to wait. It'll come to us."
