Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Macbeth Act 5, scene 5
"Ssh, ssh, ssssh," Shane whispered, fingers in light auburn hair. Sarah stifled another quiet sob and sniffled.
"I feel like such a pussy. I can't even handle anything anymore. I never used to cry like this. It must be all this fucking progesterone in Mirena. I refuse to believe I'm this much of a baby."
"Now, yer a nice lady. It's all right for ya to cry sometimes, especially when stuff like this happens. You done lost a baby, yer man ran off on ya, yer fuckin' psycho brother-in-law talked to ya like a dog. . ." Shane was still figuring out what to do about that. He had more important people to deal with at the moment.
"Daryl was right," Sarah mumbled mournfully. "He was right this whole time. Merle doesn't even give a shit about me. I'm just fun. I loved that man the first time I laid eyes on him. I never believed in love at first sight until I understood it had nothing to do with romantic love. And he just fed off it and never even really cared. Daryl was right."
"Man, that is one fucked up family," Shane opined. Sarah shifted against him.
"You don't know the half of it. They're all messed up and I never should've gotten myself involved," she said bitterly.
"Well. . .maybe not."
"What if he doesn't want me anymore?" Sarah cried anew. "I never meant to fuck it up so bad. I wanted him to know, I knew I should've told him, but. . .how could I?"
Shane shook his head. "I understand how he feels, to be honest with ya, but I also know yer a good girl and ya didn't mean any harm. You been through a lot. He knows you more than me, he oughtta be a man and tend to you 'stead of leavin' you here with no one to protect you."
"I'm sure he thought Merle would see to it I was okay. And there're all of you other men. And Sadie, here." Sarah held up her gun.
"He should be here."
Sarah sighed and leaned away now, crossing her arms over herself in the way she'd picked up from her husband. "I want him to be."
"Well, I'm sure he'll come struttin' back soon, and you can give 'im the what-for when he does," Shane winked, rubbing her shoulder.
"I'm gonna fuckin' blow him and beg forgiveness. And then I'm gonna make him fuck me because this is unbearable. I haven't had sex since. . .God, this morning." Sarah groaned in misery.
Shane blinked in the darkness, glad she wasn't so close anymore. "Goddamn."
"Listen, don't judge me, okay? It's not like I can keep it a secret that I fucking have nervous breakdowns if I don't have regular access to Daryl's dick. This is the goddamn apocalypse, I'm allowed to be stressed out."
The sheriff cleared his throat. "N-nothin' wrong with wantin' to spend time with your husband."
"I just want him back," Sarah lamented, hands rubbing her eyes. "Holy shit, it's so fucking late. I feel so bad for Glenn up there, knowing he's gotta go to the city tomorrow."
"He won't be alone this time," Shane promised. "And he'll have the chance to rest before and after.
"I better get back to my tent," Sarah muttered, pulling Daryl's vest tighter around herself. Shane held her arm.
"Just wait now, I don't think you outta go back to your camp tonight. Little too dangerous, 'til you and yer brother make up. Just stay here, I'll take out my extra sleepin' bag and stay outside. One night won't hurt."
"Oh no, Shane, I could never—"
"I insist, now. I'd go crash in the Winnebago, but I wanna make sure he don't try nothin' foolish. Ya came over here 'cause ya felt scared and if ya go back thattaway, yer just gonna be scared again. Everyone's gonna see me sleepin' outside, don't you worry. If Daryl comes back, I'll explain what happened with Merle. You rest now, y'hear?" Shane reached for a blue roll closeby, tapped her on the shoulder, and left, still smiling.
Sarah took a minute to sip from her canteen and let herself calm down. No more crying from here on out, she silently promised. What would Daryl think of her weeping all over the place and telling Shane all of those things? But who else was she supposed to confide in? She was tired of keeping her whole life a secret. Lori just plain didn't seem to like her, in spite of her (admittedly few) efforts, Andrea seemed to look down at her sometimes because of her husband (which really pissed Sarah off to no end), Amy was a twenty year old girl with absolutely no notion of what an adult relationship was supposed to be, Carol had far too much on her plate already, and Jacqui. . .well, Jacqui would probably never be able to look past her relationship with Merle enough to befriend her, and Sarah couldn't blame Jacqui for that.
Shane was there to keep peace and order in the camp. Shane was the first person she'd really thought of when she felt like Merle was going to come after her, which is why she'd run to his tent. He'd always made it perfectly clear that he was available if she ever needed anything at all.
"Shit," she whispered to herself, rubbing her tired eyes again. "Fuck it all, it's time for bed."
Thinking it a little (or a lot) too weird to sleep actually in Shane's sleeping bag, Sarah spread a folded sheet on top of it and laid down with Daryl's vest on top of herself. It wasn't quite the same, but for years she'd snuck his vest out of his truck before he left for the deer camp and this had always done her fine to sleep with until he'd come home.
God, she could only hope he was coming home.
Sarah woke up groaning with discomfort. Her back and neck hurt like a bitch. Again she was immensely grateful that Daryl had thought to bring their extensive catalog of camping equipment, because poor Shane had to sleep like this every night – oh shit, she was in Shane's tent. Sarah sat up quickly, Daryl's vest falling in her lap.
Was that daylight out? The woman struggled to stand and pulled the vest back onto her shoulders. How does one exit the tent of the camp leader without seeming like one slept with said camp leader? Ah fuck it, she was wearing her husband's shirt and vest, she reasoned. Shane's spare sleeping bag was rolled up neatly beside the tent flap and holy shit it was bright outside. Lori was definitely not giving her a very nice look, but Sarah grumbled and stretched.
"Where'd he go?" she asked.
"You tell me, Mrs. Devereux," Lori said, wiping down a clean plate. Sarah sighed impatiently.
"Lori, you got something to say to me, why don't you just come right on and say it?"
Dark eyes widened. "What?"
"The name is Dixon, not Devereux, and you ain't the only woman here that's ever seen the Golden Girls," Sarah stepped closer to Lori and the fire. "I been hearin' your snide little remarks for weeks now and I'm just dyin' for you to get the guts to say whatever it is you got on your mind. Promise it won't hurt my feelings any."
"Sarah, it's not like you've exactly garnered any sort of good will your way," Lori rolled her eyes.
"What the fuck do you mean?" Sarah insisted, taking every step the smaller woman took. "I don't overstep my husband's boundaries, but I help! I take care of the sick and injured, I educate the kids, I help prepare the food, I do laundry right beside the rest of you. I love your son. I goof around with everyone and I fuckin' smiled at Ed yesterday before I could stop myself! What the hell more do you want from me?"
"How about you stop shoving your sexuality down everybody's throats?" Lori hissed, holding Sarah's glare with her own. "Everybody in camp is sick of hearing you and Daryl irresponsibly goin' at it five times a day. Everybody in camp is sick of the way you eye every available man like they're some kind of tasty treat—"
"I do not do that!" Sarah shouted, her own eyes widening almost to capacity.
"Says the woman who just came out of Shane's tent," Lori whispered close to the other woman's face. "He doesn't need some New Orleans-grade whore shaking her ass in his face and keeping his attention away from what's important: Keeping this camp safe, seeing to all of our needs. Your pathetic need for male attention is obvious and, yeah, pathetic."
Enraged, Sarah raised a fist to swing, but a strong hand stopped it just before Lori's face. Merle laughed deep from his belly, pulling Sarah away from her would-be victim.
"Girl, what'd I always tell ya?" the man asked, easily holding onto his struggling sister, who swung and lunged desperately at Lori. "Ya gotta pick on someone yer own size. Right wind would blow that one over."
"She done it the last time, Merle!" Sarah growled, pulling against his arms and strength. "I'm so fuckin' sicka yer stupid fuckin' comments and shitty attitude! You musta never worked an honest day's labor in your life, lady, 'cause all you seem to know how to do is sit around judgin' people and situations ya ain't know shit about!"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" came Shane's booming voice. Sarah's head snapped in his direction. "Th' hell is goin' on here?"
"Yer little girlfriend pickin' fights with my baby sister," Merle chuckled, dragging Sarah away from them now. "She be fine in a bit. See ya."
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Sarah seethed by the fire, digging her heels in the dirt. "I don't ever want to see your stupid fucking face again in my life. Let me go."
"Ah, calm your lily ass down. Ya woulda regretted it if ya'd beat up the skinny bitch, even if myself and a few others would pay good money to see it happen. I got something fer ya."
"I'll kill you, Merle."
"Here," the man said, releasing her next to his motorcycle. He reached into the saddlebag, producing an eyeglass case. "Sorry, I fergot all 'bout yer birthday until I's diggin' around fer some eyedrops in here."
Sarah opened up the case and gasped. Pink-framed Jackie Ohh Raybans.
"Ya know, replace the ones I smushed," Merle shrugged. "Bought 'em a while ago."
Sarah shook her head. "First of all, my birthday is in May. Second of all, you're thinking of Daryl's birthday, which isn't for another week. Third, only you would make a gift something you were supposed to replace in the first place. That's not what a gift is, asshole. Fourth. . .thanks."
Merle slung his rifle over his shoulder and kissed her cheek briefly. "I gotta go, now."
"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, blinking at him through gradient lenses.
"Goin' to Atlanta."
"What?"
"Y' heard me, woman, ya ain't deaf."
"What on earth are you going there for?" Sarah asked, holding his arm when he turned to leave.
"Fer you," Merle countered plaintively.
"The fuck?"
Merle smirked. "That cop 'a yers was goin' on this mornin', 'Sarah'll go with Glenn, she'll go to the hospital for medicine and supplies', and I was like, 'the hell she ain't, I'm goin'."
Sarah's brow creased. "He didn't even ask me."
Merle nodded once. "You was sleepin'. Shoulda seen how darlin' he was about everybody keepin' quiet and lettin' Little Miss Sarah Claire get some rest."
"No," Sarah's head shook hurriedly, "nothing happened, Merle. Nothing happened. Nothing at all like that happened. We just—"
"I know what happened, girl."
The siblings-in-law looked at one another for a long time, each one thinking about it, but neither addressing what had happened between them the night before. It'd always been this way, Sarah guessed, with gifts the next day. Merle knew when her birthday was. He liked to roll Cinco de Mayo and her annual bash into a long bender. Merle more than likely bought the sunglasses to replace the pair he sat on one night a few weeks before the walker apocalypse and forgotten about it until he needed some form of gift to apologize.
"Do you think Daryl is okay?" she asked sheepishly. If he wasn't going to say anything, neither would she. It was one of the unspoken rules of being a Dixon. Apologies were never verbal.
"Only a Dixon can kill a Dixon, girl."
Rule three.
Sarah couldn't help but smile. "Will you help me find him if he doesn't come back by the time you get home?"
"He ain't gonna be found if'n he don't wanna be." Merle rolled his shoulders. "But yeah, I reckon we can try. Time to go, now. Baby sis gonna see her big bro off?"
Sarah hooked her arm around his extended one and accompanied him back to the RV where Glenn sat with Shane, going over the list of supplies they needed. Shane looked up at her deliberately, but said nothing beyond the bare bones of the business at hand.
"I don't know if we should hit this many places in one day with so many people," Glenn fretted, lip between his teeth.
"That's why so many people are goin'," Shane contended authoritatively, pointing again at the map of Atlanta taken from someone's glovebox. "More protection. Carry more things. It's pretty clear now that the government ain't gonna just sweep in and save all our asses, so we gotta scavenge before the next man does. We need food, we need water, we need clothes, we need weapons, we need medicines, man."
"Ain't nothin' to fear, ol' Chinky boy," Merle said, checking the hammer of his gun. "We make it in and out jus' fine. I been at that hospital so many fuckin' times, I know where all the shit is. Sarah tol' me where the pharmacies were an' how t' bypass them doors. We goin' to the one I got her from. Drove my sled right up in the fuckin' lobby that day, I did. Check 'is fer me, baby sister. Make sure I ain' losin' my touch."
Sarah did a quick check on the gun, but it was perfect. Merle always credited his time in the Corps for how well he handled a gun, and she could only guess that was why he'd implemented such intense and strenuous training during the past few weeks. Some cadences she even knew by heart. At least her ass was like granite now, after all those runs.
"Ship shape," she said, handing it back to him. Merle grinned and winked.
"Bes' be on our way 'en, Chinky. S'go."
Andrea and Jacqui stood close by with bags strapped to their backs and T-Dog strode up carrying his Louisville Slugger and an empty duffel bag.
"Which vehicle are they taking?" Sarah asked Shane, squinting in the noon sunlight.
"Glenn's car'll still do 'em," the sheriff stated, refusing to look her way. "Better load up now, Glenn. Dale says it's lookin' more and more like rain. Y'all keep the CB tuned, now. T-Dog, you gonna man it? Arright. Be back before the sun starts settin'."
When Shane walked off, Sarah leaned in close to Glenn and winked.
"You worried?" she asked. He tried to smile, and she laughed. "I know you're comin' back, don't worry. You and me got unfinished business with that rash on your knee."
"Yeah. . ." Glenn did smile now. "I gotta be there the next time you go running around camp at night, too."
Sarah winked again and slugged him on the arm. "You keep my brother safe now, y'hear?"
Glenn scoffed, facial expression completely shifting. "Keep us safe from him, more like."
"Oh, what the hell ever. Y'all had better go, I just wanted to say bye for now. Good luck smooch?" Glenn leaned his cheekbone her way and she briefly pressed her lips to it. "All right then, bye! Remember, Marlboro Light Special Blend 100s!"
"See ya tonight, Sarah," Glenn said, baseball cap coming down over his eyes. Merle might actually kill him for that, with as protective and terribly racist as he was. This was going to be sooooome outing.
Sarah waited for Merle to turn around so she could wave goodbye, but he never did. Her smile slowly faded as she watched the vehicle descend the dirt path, and a horrible sense of sadness pierced her right through the bone when she saw it no longer. Her husband was gone. Her brother was gone. There was no guarantee either one was coming back, and she stood now amongst total strangers in a world where they were forced to scavenge dwindling goods in places populated by flesh-craving ghouls to survive. Taking a deep breath, she turned to look for Shane again. She needed to find a purpose for today.
"Wanna go frog gigging?" she asked when she found him on the far side of camp, cleaning his rifle. He didn't look at her. "Wanna fuck?"
His eyes snapped to hers.
"Just seein' if you were ignorin' me or if you'd suddenly gone deaf."
Shane looked back at his task. "Never figured it'd be you causin' problems at camp."
"What, with Lori? What makes you think it wasn't her?" Sarah asked defensively, the toe of her boots not a half-foot from his. "That woman is really rude to me. She apparently wanted a fucking fight and she was gonna get it. I ain't a punk, I'll fucking stick up for myself when people like her run their mouths."
"Dixon through and through, ain't ya?"
"I'm proud of my name."
"Apparently, especially with the way ya run right back t' that shithead of a brother-in-law ya have. I didn't stay up all night givin' you comfort over what he done just to have you be all buddy-buddy next morning."
Sarah gasped a few times incredulously. "That's my family."
"Family don't call ya a whore."
"Lori did."
Shane's attitude changed immediately. "Oh she did, did she?"
"Yeah," Sarah nodded, hand in Daryl's vest pocket. "Acted like I've been trying to get you up my snatch since I got here."
"Good God, woman, the way you say things," Shane couldn't help but laugh.
"It's true!" Sarah's eyes widened. "She always says things like that to me! I just couldn't take it anymore, Shane, not after everything I've put up with lately. I know I brought all that on myself, but still. I can only take so much before I push back."
"I'll talk with her. Lori. . .she's been through a lot too, now. You still got a husband."
"She still has a son."
Shane bowed out of that one. "All I'm sayin' is tensions are high all 'round."
Sarah nodded. "For what it's worth, I'd say I was sorry."
"That's real big of you," Shane said, allowing a smile to touch his lips. "Now what about them frogs?"
"Actually, we should really check the snares first," Sarah said, rocking back on her heels. "I doubt Merle did or he'd be all bloody when I saw him."
"I 'spect you need me to come with?" Shane asked, standing slowly.
"I ain't goin' out in those woods alone. No way," Sarah said. She watched Shane walk around her.
"Comin'?" he asked.
Lori watched the pair from where she sat preparing lunch for the rest of the group. She wished she could have expressed herself a little differently to Sarah, but it never seemed to go that way when push came to shove. She wished she could say something useful and profound like Dale or even Shane himself sometimes, just to warn the girl. She was young. Lori didn't know how young, but Sarah didn't seem nearly old enough to be married to a man probably in his late thirties. She didn't even seem to be old enough to fool around with someone Shane's age. Sarah was naïve. Sarah was going to ruin an already shaky marriage if she wasn't careful, and all Lori wished for was the ability to caution the woman from making her same mistakes.
Shane was. . .persuasive. He was a good man, Lori knew, and he worked so hard to keep everyone safe and provide for the camp, but he was just a man, and Sarah was just a woman, and apparently a very vulnerable one, at that. Lori had been vulnerable, too, and now she could barely stand to look at her husband's wedding band around her neck. What did it mean anymore, after what she'd done? Could Sarah not see the danger in the water she was treading? Lori wished for the ability to give Sarah the chance to save herself, even the strength to throw a rope and tug her to safety herself, but all that ever seemed to come out was the bitterness and damnable temper that always left her screaming in Rick's face or slapping Carl's hand.
"I'm only tryin' to help her, Lori, it ain't like that."
The look in Shane's eyes when he'd said that to her after Merle had beaten Sarah up in the woods (Lori still didn't quite understand what happened) was still clear in her mind's eye, and she'd known right then what would end up occurring later. He didn't want to. Sarah probably didn't want to, either. Neither of them would intend for it to go down, like people would say on the Maury show or True Confessions, it just would one day, at a time when neither one of them would expect it, at a time when Sarah loved Daryl more than ever (God bless her capacity and/or gluttony for punishment) and Shane truly believed he saw her as nothing more than a friend.
And then Sarah would end up just like herself, Lori conjectured, stirring the beans. Alone and hating herself.