Dexter and Rick remain stationed in the doorway to watch as the group makes its way into the prison with Andrea leading the way; Ladysmith at the ready to fire and an icy gleam in her eye to tell the inmate that she will not hesitate if he does anything to threaten the others. Michonne and Glenn flank her; the former with katana drawn and the latter with a shotgun held loosely in his hands, barrel aimed safely at the ground so as not to show an over abundance of force as they enter, but clearly prepared to take action if necessary.
Carl and Lori are next followed by Carol and Beth. T-Dog is visibly armed with his glock and Hershel bears a rifle with Maggie toting a shotgun at her father's side. Daryl brings up the rear of the procession and makes no effort whatsoever to disguise the fact that he's prepared to take Dexter out as he keeps his newly recovered crossbow braced against his shoulder with his steely eye locked on the inmate through the weapon's sight.
"Seriously?" Dexter turns to ask Rick after taking in the man eyeing him down. "A bow and arrow? That's some real Robin Hood white shit right there."
The inmate moves back out of the doorway, shaking his head and laughing.
"What's up, kung fu sister?" he asks Michonne, still chortling as he turns back to the other prisoners. "Wait till you get a load of these guys!"
Rick's teeth grind at the man's derision. His eyes flick first to Andrea who doesn't take her focus from the back of the inmate's shaven head then move to the back of the line to meet Daryl's gaze as the hunter twitches his focus long enough to convey a simple message to Rick. Just give me the signal, Daryl says with the pointed movements of his gaze and Rick gives a quick nod to acknowledge the support then subtly shakes his head to indicate now is not the time.
Daryl nods back and slowly lowers the weapon, turning to do a quick visual sweep of the prison cell beside him to insure there's no threat to them from the undead.
"We clear?" the hunter asks, eyes watchful and body tense as he looks towards the upper levels of the cellblock.
"If they're running loose, they're down here and dead," Rick answers, casting his own worried glance upward as a rattle is suddenly heard from above.
"Lot of those things got locked in their cells when the rioting started," Axel says as he moves forward to stare curiously at the group as they stand huddled outside the cafeteria making no move yet to enter without Rick's okay to do so. "They still like to rattle their cage when they can."
The man casts a quick glance at the upper decks then turns a friendly smile towards the group. Rick senses a welcome or friendly overture of some sort to be forthcoming from the biker, but whatever words Axel may have said die on his tongue as the smile dies on his lips. His gaze moves beyond the living to the dead littering the floor outside the mess hall.
"Dear God," the man whispers as he pushes through the entrance and past the group to survey the damage that he'd been sheltered from locked inside the cafeteria.
"Sorry, man," Daryl sees the stranger's distress and claps him consolingly on the back, "God caught the first ride out of this shit."
"Come on, everyone," Rick says to break the sudden tension and growing somberness of the moment. He straightens away from the doorjamb and moves aside to indicate they're all to enter. "They've got food. We all need to eat."
One by one they move past him into the dining area; each member of the group looking to him for confirmation that this is somehow safe and he assures them as best he can by meeting each gaze without flinching. His teeth grit at the worry and questions in Lori's gaze, but he strives for a reassuring smile and moves to give her arm or shoulder a gentle squeeze only to have her flinch away from his fingertips while she clings to Carl until their son squirms away from her to move to the front of the line for food.
The movement doesn't go unnoticed by anyone watching and as everyone is watching; Rick feels a tic in his cheek before he bites down on the muscle to keep from showing any sign of weakness to the inmates.
"That's your lady?" Dexter sidles up to him to ask after Daryl passes into the room leaving Axel standing alone in the ruins of the cell block.
"My wife," Rick bites out, his rejected fingers itching to wrap around the grip of his pistol and take this man out as the threat that he already perceives him to be.
The inmate gives a distracted hum before moving to join Axel in the passageway outside the cafeteria.
"We're all that's left," Rick overheard Axel say as the man took in the carnage. "All this time, I expected he'd come back to let us out and it'd all go back to the way it was, but there's nothing left."
With a show of compassion that gives Rick pause, Dexter puts a heavy hand on the biker's shoulder and squeezes as both their heads drop forward in a prayerful pose.
"What the hell happened?" the Dexter asks Rick as he turns to usher Axel back into the dining hall.
"Not happened," Rick says; "happening. Whatever it is, it's far from over," he casts a glance back toward Andrew; "and I believe you said it all started because of him."
The group, most of whom had discarded their weapons in favor of plates of food, freezes as Rick's words seem to echo through the cafeteria.
Daryl stuffs a chunk of meatloaf in his mouth with one dirty hand while going for his bow with the other. He has the weapon braced to fire, finger on the trigger and an icy blue eye narrowed down the site to lock aim on Andrew's forehead before his jaw makes a single move to chew the food.
"Ease up there," Dexter growls while straightening to his full height and flexing muscle as he moves to place himself between Andrew and Daryl. "You can't have taken that seriously. Ain't no way Andrew's responsible for that shit out there."
"But I am, Dex, I've told you - "
"And I've told you," Dexter interrupts whatever Andrew may have been on the verge of saying. "Everyone's tried to make the same deal at some point in their lives, just because the world went to hell after you said your prayers does not make it your fault."
"Could one of you just tell us what the hell you're talking about before our fingers start getting twitchy?"
Rick joins the inmates in turning to look at Andrea and he bites back an amused snort at seeing her having set aside her tray to aim her Ladysmith at Andrew. Theodore isn't far from her with his own gun cocked and ready to fire at Andrew and/or Dexter should the prisoners prove a threat. Axel, Eugene and Thomas all try to melt into the floor to remove themselves from anything approaching a connection to the couple in the crosshairs.
Dexter looks at the defectors with disgust as he moves to stand behind Andrew and places his hands on the younger man's shoulders.
Protective, Rick files the information away and flags the young man as a potential weakness in Dexter's defenses.
"Tell 'em, Andrew," Dexter encourages, "this lot looks like they could use a good laugh."
"It isn't funny," Andrew shrugs away from the man's touch and folds his thin body in on itself. "You see, it's like this," his eyes dart around the room before he gulps and directs his attention away from his captive audience. "Ok," he exhales a breath and stares at his foot as it begins a jittery dance on the floor. "You see. I was a junkie. Like a hardcore user. Hard core. Drugs were just…everything. I was a repeat offender, you see? This is my second time in here. My grannie died first time I was in here. She'd always tried to keep me straight with God, you see, and it just killed her to see what addiction had gotten me in to."
Daryl shifts with a huff of impatience that he makes no attempt to mask as he locks gazes with Rick over the inmate's head then gives an eyeroll that warns the deputy that arrows will soon be flying if this story doesn't have a point soon.
"My life was a wreck, y'know?" Andrew continues, blissfully unaware of any danger as he gets caught up in telling his life's story. "All because of the addiction. Pot, meth, coke; I did it all, but heroin? That was the stuff. But it was destroying everything and when my mama died 'cause I'd gotten myself locked up again and then they put me in a cell with …," a shudder goes through his scrawny frame while Dexter's body goes deadly still. "I just…you see, I just couldn't do it anymore, so I turned to God like Gramma always wanted me to. I got down on my knees and I prayed, if you can believe it. I just couldn't function anymore and I couldn't see a way out and so I just begged him to help me. I asked him to please help me get off that smack because I wanted to get clean once and for all, but I knew I couldn't do it without him. Gramma always said the only way to conquer true demons is through Christ, so I prayed for him to help me. I begged him to do something, anything, to get me off the drugs and the very next day we started seeing the reports on the news. And look at me now," Andrew looks up with a shaky smile as his fingers pick absently at a scab on his forearm; "I'm completely clean. I haven't had drugs since this began. I haven't even really wanted any, either, not that I could even get my hands on anything if I tried."
"Hell, kid," Daryl snorts as he eases his defensive stances and slings the crossbow back behind him. "You wanna get your hands on drugs, I've got-"
Carol stops that trainwreck with a quick, sharp elbow to Daryl's side. Rick's eyes narrow at the realization that the other man might still have Merle's stash on hand and he makes a mental note to have a talk about that later.
"They say God works in mysterious ways, son, but I sincerely doubt that he'd have taken tough love this far just to answer your prayer," Hershel accompanies the words with a paternal grin that softens the sarcastic comment. "I find myself in agreement with your friend, this isn't your fault."
The elder moves to claim a table to finally sit down and eat the plate of food long gone cold during Andrew's story. Beth, Glenn and Maggie are quick to follow suit and fill up the table without further concern for the inmates.
Carol and T-Dog move a little more cautiously to claim another table and begin eating themselves.
Lori and Carl take a third table; Lori trying to place herself as far from the prisoners as she could while still staying near the others.
Andrea looks to Rick as she tucks her gun back into the waistband of her pants before turning to collect her discarded plate then moving to nudge Michonne toward the table with Carol and Theodore. The newcomer to the group gives Andrea a speaking glance before she grabs a plate of food and moves to sit on a table away from everyone with her back pressed securely to the wall. Andrea scoffs at that as she turns to silently urge Daryl to join her with the others, but he follows Michonne's example and perches alone on a table near the entrance with a keen eye trained on the open doorway for any signs of danger. Andrea sighs at that and finally seats herself with Carol and T-Dog to begin eating.
Rick looks toward the food and feels his gut gurgling with hunger then he looks toward his family and feels his jaw lock as he finds Lori looking at him with one of her many "do something" expressions. He scrubs a tired hand over his jaw and moves to seat himself at the table across from Andrew. Dexter follows suit and settles his bulk down beside the young man while the other inmates relocate to a different table nearby.
"So how is it that you guys got stuck in here?"
"Honest Abe," Axel answers Rick's question. "Only truly decent guard I've ever known," he reflects with a smile that quickly came and went.
"The shit was getting bad," Dexter picks up the topic in more detail. "We were seeing it on the news and the inmates and guards were all on edge. Then it got in. Somehow that shit got in to a maximum security prison and it spread like wildfire. Guards, inmates; it got any and everybody. The last of the surviving staff tried to lock everyone in their cells before they fled, but I guess Abraham knew that we'd starve to death like that, so he locked us in here."
"Probably the last thing he ever did was save our miserable hides," Axel's tone in somber as all the inmates drop their heads in obvious memory of this unknown guard. "Damn fool."
"We kept the news on in here till the power went," Dexter continued after their moment of silence. "Eugene eventually got this," the man wave vaguely toward the dim lights and back toward the kitchen that had prepared the food, "set up, but by the time the lights came back there was nothing to see on the tv. We never heard what started it, what it is or what they're doing to stop it."
"I don't think anyone knows what started it. I was in a coma at the time, so damned if I can help you with that mystery," Rick sighs heavily and drops his head forward to rub at the back of his neck. "We were at the CDC in Atlanta. There was only one doctor left, Jenner, and he had nothing to offer. No idea what it was or how to cure it; all he could tell me is that we've all got it and then he invited us to all 'opt-out' with him when the building self-destructed to vaporize the diseases that had been in the facility to prevent them from getting out when the power failed."
Rick's words cause the inmates to curse with varying degrees of shock and dismay, but the clatter of silverware from a nearby table is all that concerns him as Rick suddenly remembers that not every member of the group had been present for that particular revelation the first time that he had made it. His gaze is apologetic as it locks with Andrea's but her gaze cuts right through the bullshit and freezes the heart of him.
He doesn't see anger or blame or fear or disbelief in her gaze.
He sees nothing; a deep, blue well of it that threatens to drown him.
Carol and Daryl see it at the same time, rising to their feet along with Rick as they remember the brink that Dale had somehow pulled Andrea back from at the CDC. Dale wasn't there to help this time and Rick has no fucking clue what to do if she goes back to that place because there truly is no hope that he can offer her now that she knows that there's no end to look forward to in all of this.
"Andrea," his voice is hoarse, urgent and low; revealing things he didn't give a damn to think about in that moment.
She blinks, a slow sweep of lush eyelashes to briefly conceal the wasteland of her soul.
Then she bolts.
Rick and Daryl both try to block her escape, but she's gone before they can do more than grab for her as she races past.
"I got this," Rick barks to Daryl by way of ordering the other man to stay put as he breaks into a run to give chase to the blonde.
He races through the cellblock without thought or care for the darkness until he breaks out into the momentarily blinding brightness of the world outside the prison. He blinks and squints against the glare of the setting sun and resists the urge to shout for her as he waits for his eyes to focus in search for her in the yard. He finds her doubled over and clinging to the chain-link fencing of the gate. He says nothing as he approaches slowly; cautiously, taking care not to step in or overtly acknowledge the undigested food that she'd vomited up on the pavement.
Her head lifts at his approach, but she doesn't look at him. Her gaze locks on something beyond the fence and he follows her eyes to see a trio of zombies straggling out of the woods and making their way to the perimeter fence. Just three to join the few strays that had been out in the field when they drove in, but they both knew that the number would grow. The damned things seem to have a sense for such things; they just knew where livings things were and they flocked there in hope of feeding.
"You've known all this time," she whispers; voice a broken rasp from her emotions and having been physically ill.
"Jenner told me before we left Atlanta, but I didn't know until Shane," he confesses honestly, raising a hand to thread his fingers through the chain links a little higher than hers. "Jenner was bent by the time we got to him, I couldn't trust what he said in that state of mind. I thought…I wanted to believe that he was just shoveling shit to try and convince me to stay so we'd all die with him."
He drops his head forward to press against the fence, feeling the tickle of her hair blowing against his skin and wishing that he had the right to pull her closer to afford them both some comfort.
"I stabbed Shane and then he came back and Carl shot him and then I knew that Jenner hadn't been mindfucking me; he'd been trying to make me see why his mind had gotten so fucked." He allows his fingers to release the fence and slip downward until he feels the warmth of her skin under his then he curls his hand around hers and holds tightly. "Even knowing, I still would have left there."
He steps closer when she doesn't tense or pull herself away from his hand and he curls his other arm around her waist to pull her back against him. He presses his face into her loosening ponytail and concedes that they both really need to bathe even as he relishes the silky feel of those blonde strands against his skin.
"It just isn't in me to accept that there is no hope as long as I have and see life. That's something to fight for. It might not be enough, but-"
She turns in his arms and cuts him off with the softness of her expression as she looks at him.
"It'll have to do," her lip quirks wryly as she adds her own twist to his sentiment. "I'm just processing. It's a lot to take in."
She makes to pull away and his every instinct is to prevent it; to hold her tight and close to make sure she doesn't slip from his grasp and sight once more. He stifles that, though, and forces his hands to release so the she can pace away. He watches her hug herself as she quietly walks around the fence of the inner courtyard. After what feels like an eternity despite it having only been minutes, she returns to his side and draws to a stop with a heavy sigh. Her eyes go back to the fields outside the fencing and she stares at the Walkers snapping and snarling back at her as they flail against the chain-link that keeps them out.
"So we fight."
"With this prison, we've got a chance now," he nods, ignoring the meager threat and focusing on retaining her support. "The fence and these walls will keep them out and we've food to last the winter, we just need to hold this ground."
"Promise me something," she turns her gaze up to his. "Promise me that if that field fills with zombies and these fences fail; promise me you'll save at least one bullet for my brain and use it before I have a chance to die any other way."
"I never would have pegged you as a 'suicide by cop' type."
"Before all this, I never knew me as a suicide type period. I'll fight, Rick. I'll fight beside you and for you and die doing it if that's as it should be, but if the fight is lost, I need to know that it will be truly over for me in the end. I've got my own gun, I can do it myself, but I'm not trusting my own judgment here. I'm not asking you to kill me when I've given up; I'm begging you to end it for me when you give up."
"I won't ever do that."
"Then we don't have anything to worry about," she grips his face between her palms and refuses to let him look away from her eyes. "Promise me."
He drops his forehead against hers and slowly wraps his arms around her.
"I promise that if the day comes that there's no other way, I'll kill us all."
A/N: While that has a ring of finality to it and Gods know I'd love to mark this complete and have one less TWD WIP glaring at me, I'm not ending this on that note. I make no promises when more will come, but I've not abandoned this fic, I'll just be drawing almost entirely from the comics from here on out. There are at least two vital scenes that I've always planned for this series and I will not give up until I've gotten those done. Thank you all for staying with me & liking what I've put out there with this.