MORAL DEVELOPMENT

Tony dabbed at his stinging fist. His knuckles were swollen and cracked—blood leaking out of the irritated flesh. He had hit Randall too hard. Repeatedly. But the kid had refused to talk and Rick needed answers. That, and the fact that Tony thought the kid was a piece of shit.

Randall knew Maggie. He knew where the farm was. He was a danger to all of them—and from what he had just heard the kid say… Well, Tony figured they should just put Randall to sleep—he was too big of risk. He didn't like the idea of killing a kid, but he didn't see any other choice. It was for the best of the group. He just had to justify that to Liv. Hopefully she wouldn't notice.

Liv had been oddly… reserved this week. So much so that Tony was worried. At first he had thought she was just recovering from her traumatic night. But she had kept it up all week. She hardly smiled, she had a new no-nonsense attitude, and—most of all—she was avoiding the others. She would talk to them but no more than she had to. Liv was even avoiding Dixon—something Tony found shocking. She had just admitted to liking the guy and he knew she took great pleasure in annoying him.

Tony was worried. He was guessing that the events of last week and gotten to her and she was turning away from everyone—protecting herself from being hurt again. He had urged her not to close herself off, but that's exactly what she went and did. He was going to have to snap her out of it. She needed to be open to others or she would ruin herself. She would be a ticking time bomb of self-destruction.

He sighed, shaking his fist in an attempt to diffuse the stinging as he walked up to his tent. He quickly stopped waving his hand around and subtlety moved it behind him when he saw Liv camped outside of their tent. Fuck, speak of the devil.

"Hey, Liv." He greeted, approaching. She turned to look at him and he saw the storm raging in her eyes. Tony sighed. "You talk to Andrea again?" Olivia had made it clear this past week that she hated Andrea. Absolutely loathed her. Frankly he didn't mind though. It was only through her frustration with Andrea that she seemed herself again.

Liv glared up at him—seemingly shaking with anger. Oh boy, here it comes. "Ever since her sister died she has turned into a reckless, impulsive, idiot thinkin' she's the shit!" Tony thought that was ironic of her to say. "First she almost killed Daryl, and now Beth could have died! All because of fucking Andrea! You don't give a suicidal person an opportunity to kill themselves! What the fuck's wrong with her? Dale should have left her at the CDC. We'd be better off without her."

Tony winced at her harsh words. She didn't mean them—she was just angry… at least that was what Tony was hoping. "Gee, Liv. Is something bothering you?" He sat down next to her on the gravel.

Liv sent him a withering look. "I keep forgetting. You're team Andrea."

Tony groaned, sick of having this conversation. He flopped down next to her, trying to keep his hand out of her sight. "I'm not taking her side!" He protested and continued when he saw Liv open her mouth to argue. "I'm not! What she did was wrong. You're right. Beth could have died. But she didn't. Beth's actually snapped out of her funk thanks to blondie. She's not mad at Andrea."

Liv's glare continued to seer into the side of his head as he stretched out his stinging hand. "You're saying the means justify the ends?" She questioned angrily.

He shrugged. "Let it go, Liv."

He could tell she wanted to say more but she suddenly snapped into herself—as if she just remembered she was being indifferent this week. She suddenly withdrew and the change was visible in her posture. Tony sighed. He almost liked it better when she was angry.

"What have you been up to? Where were you?" Liv said after a while.

"Oh, just helping Rick and Shane out."

"With what? Is it something to do with Randall?" Tony inwardly groaned—he needed a better excuse. This past week Shane and Rick had been focused on Randall. Of course Liv would connect the dots.

"Nah, just did a couple of laps of the perimeters. See if the fence is holding up."

He could feel Liv's stare on him but he wasn't worried. He was a pretty good liar and Liv wasn't usually that good at reading him.

She nodded. "Everything holding up?"

Tony shrugged. "Everything looked to be ship-shape. Carried around a hammer and nails for nothing."

"Really?" Liv asked with suspicion. Tony turned to her and caught her scrutiny. Fuck. "Because Glenn said he had had to fix quite a bit of fence boards today when he went around. Didn't mention seeing you, though."

Tony closed his eyes, cursing the delivery boy. "Guess we went at different times then." Liv rolled her eyes and he scratched his cheek nervously.

"What the hell happened to your hand?" Liv screeched suddenly, grabbing his wrist and jerking his hand away from his face. Tony gaped. How the hell could he be so stupid?

"Umm." He stammered—at a loss—trying to come up with a good excuse. "Got in a little tuffle with Shh-shit that hurts! Don't poke at it!"

Liv scowled at him, going into her tent and grabbing their first aid bag. He smiled innocently at her as she angrily ripped out bandages and antiseptics. She grabbed his hand again and began roughly dabbing at the cuts with saline solution. He winced each time.

"You're trying to tell me you got in a fight with Shane?" She hissed, rubbing at a particularly tender cut in his knuckles.

"Yeah. He's been a real dick lately." He wasn't lying. Ever since his and Tony's conversation, Shane's behaviour seemed to be getting progressively erratic. "Ouch! Easy, Liv!"

"You're telling me you fought with a another member of the group because he's being a dick?" Tony grinned sheepishly. "Bullshit. I'm the one to get into fights. You're the one to try and keep the peace."

"Shit happens, Liv."

Her blue eyes met his with a startling icy chill. She was making him feel like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. She pressed down on one of his cuts harshly and he yelped out in pain, cursing at her. "Want to tell me what really happened?" She snarled icily.

Tony tripped wrenching his hand out of hers but she held on with a furious grip. "I think—ouch! Shit, Liv!—you already know." She let go and looked at him. He clutched his hand to his chest, trying to shake out the pain. "Bitch."

"You beat up Randall." It wasn't a question. Tony nodded, avoiding her gaze. She may be pretending to have no emotions this week but she was always a sucker for kids. "What the hell is wrong with you? He's just a kid! And injured! You guys have him locked up pretty good—it's not like he's going anywhere!"

"He knew Maggie!" Tony protested, avoiding her swatting hands. "And he watched his group rape people and didn't do anything! Probably enjoyed it."

"He tell you that before or after you hit him?" Liv snarled, raising an eyebrow.

"Rick needed answers Liv!"

Liv stood up, glaring down at him. "So you beat them out of him?"

Tony through out his hands in exasperation. "How would you suggest doing that, then?"

"I don't know—being kind to him?" She said sarcastically. "We did save his life. You could have treated him nicely—he might have offered information up freely."

"He wasn't talking, Liv. Didn't see any other way." Tony grumbled, feeling like he was in the principal's office. He hated Liv's disapproval—it was almost worse than Dad's.

"Randall is just a kid—no shut up, I'm talking" Liv began. "He's a fucking kid. His group was full of crummy people and Randall may have done terrible things—but what else could he do? Try and stop them? They'd kill him. He didn't really have any other choice."

Tony glared at her. "So you're saying this Randall kid is a good person? I don't think so, I mean—"

"I never said he's a good person." Liv cut him off, snarling. "I just expected you to be." She threw down a tensor bandage and walked away from him.

Tony felt like she hit him in the gut. Her disappointment in him felt awful. He was supposed to be the big brother. He was supposed to be the role model. This world was messed up—he was switching back to army mode. Black and white thinking.

But what did Liv expect from him? Rick needed answers! He found it hard to be guilty over what he had done to Randall. And he thought it was rather hypocritical for her to defend him. Liv could justify Randall's actions but not Rick's? But he did feel guilty about disappointing Liv.

He had no other choice. Liv was just beginning to learn—but this world was a dog-eat-dog world now. They didn't have the luxury of sitting around trying to gently gain Randall's trust and wean the answers out. They didn't have time to pleasantries. The way things were now—they had to do things quickly to survive. Tony had no other choice. They would have to do things they didn't want to—become the person they feared most. That's just how the world was now. Liv would have to understand.

He shook his head and began treating his own hand—finishing where Liv had left off. He'd make it up to her—she'd understand.

Liv was furious—which she found to the theme of the week for her. Every little thing seemed to set her off. But she hadn't expected this from Tony. Or maybe she had but had just hoped he wouldn't do something like that. She knew he sided more with Shane on the Randall topic. But she never thought he would go as far as beating the kid for an interrogation. But—she supposed—there was a lot she didn't know about her big brother.

He had only finally started discussing what happened to him overseas. Maybe this was soldier-Tony coming out. Is that what was happening to the group? Did the end of days bring out the worst in people? Stupid question—of course it did.

Liv snorted and kicked stones in her path. She had promised herself she would toughen up. No more crying. No more caring. Her first and foremost instinct should be survival. She couldn't dwell on the morals of it—not anymore. But still—Randall was just a kid. Surely there were better methods of getting him to talk? Especially since he was in the process of healing. It was just cruel to kick a man when he's down.

Liv sighed, making her way away from the camp—heading in no particular direction. She had done that a lot this past week—wandering alone. She was trying to keep herself impartial to the group—not get attached. They would all die someday after all and she couldn't let that fact affect her. Not if she wanted to survive. But every single thing was pissing her off. Andrea. Tony. Shane. Rick. Rotters.

She stared hard at the ground—watching rocks go skipping across the grass under her angry stomping. She just kept walking—not caring about where she was going. If the world was normal she'd be off on a bender. She'd gotten into these moods before and the only cure she found was at the bottom of a bottle. Liv called them the mean reds—taking a page out of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Except she didn't have a place like Tiffany's to make her feel better—she only had liquor.

But she couldn't do that now. Taking a lesson from last week—getting drunk seemed to be a bad idea. But Lord how she missed it. Drinking until she couldn't feel anymore. Drinking until the pain went away. But, drinking to dull the pain was a bad idea. It was catastrophic—self-destructive. Blah, blah blah. Some counselor she was.

"If I found a real-life thing that made me feel the way liquor does—why then I'd buy some furniture and name the cat." She muttered to herself, lost in her thoughts. Walking and daydreaming was the closest thing she could get now to being drunk. Calming herself down—getting lost in her thoughts.

"Didja say somethin', Oakley?" A voice called, jolting her out of her thoughts. She snapped her head up—she had walked into Daryl's lonely camp unknowingly. Liv glared down at her feet—cursing them for brining her here. She was trying to get rid of her feelings for Dixon, but that was hard if she kept running into him.

"Liv?" He called again, shooting her an amused smirk.

"Oh. Uh. No." She stuttered, squinting at him through the darkness. He was sitting on a log, poking at his fire. "Sorry. I was just walking around. Didn't mean to… uh, bother you." Or come here at all.

She made a move to turn and scuttle away but stopped when Daryl continued. "Right, I forgot. Yer avoidin' me."

"No! I'm not avoid—" She immediately protested but stopped at the look Daryl shot her. "Yeah. Maybe a little." She finally admitted, walking over, defeated, at Daryl's beckoning. Might as well face the music. She sat next to him and stared at the fire—ignoring the half-skinned squirrel he was working on.

"Somethin' I did?" Liv could feel his gaze on the side of her head. "Yer the one that kissed me."

Liv had to smile at that and she looked down to hide her grin. Fuck. This was the reason she was avoiding him. "I'm avoiding everyone." She tried after a moment, stone faced.

"But 'specially me." She didn't say anything. Since when was Daryl able to read her like a book? "Why's that?"

Liv stayed silent for a moment, debating whether to talk to him. It did have its benefits. Although she had promised herself to toughen up, she wasn't one to internalize her feelings—they always came out like an explosion. Talking to Dixon may help sort out her spiraling emotions—and Tony was not an option at the moment. Plus, Daryl wasn't one to go around gossiping to the others. Whatever she told him he would keep. And he wouldn't try to fix her. He wouldn't pity her.

But every second longer she spent here the more attached she would get to him. Liv already liked him way more than she should—she couldn't deal with that now. But she found it harder and harder to will herself to walk away. It was nice sitting here next to him. Nothing was expected of her.

"Liv?" And there he went calling her by her nickname. It sent shivers up her spine.

"It's nothing." She said after a moment.

"It's nothin'?" He said, a tone of disbelief, letting out a harsh breath of air. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're avoidin' everyone cuz you're 'fraid you're gonna lose us."

Liv looked at him blankly. "Yeah. I thought that was rather obvious."

He just smirked, finishing up skinning his squirrel and moving onto a second. "I also think you've been avoidin' me cuz you like me maybe just a lil' bit too much."

Olivia felt her cheeks heat up and she suddenly forgot everything but the man sitting in front of her, teasing her. "Oh? That's what you think?"

"Well, you did kiss me."

Liv rolled her eyes. "I didn't hear you complaining." To that, Daryl raised a suggestive eyebrow and Liv slapped him on the arm as he chuckled. "Shut up. I told you, if you expect another kiss outta me it's all up to you."

Daryl didn't say anything, just shook his head, smirking—although Liv could see the slight blush colouring his cheeks—to her amusement. She watched in silence as he stuck the squirrel carcasses into the fire. It was then that she noticed her anger was gone—that "The Mean Reds" weren't as intense. Daryl had distracted her, the bastard.

"Want a squirrel?" He said after a bit, gesturing to the meat simmering in the fire.

Liv made a face. "Nah. I'm okay."

"C'mon. You haven' ate much this past week. I'll share some o' my Southern Comfort with ya if ya get this down."

Liv blinked. He had been watching her? Did this mean he actually cared about her? Fuck. She was in way over her head. She wasn't used to others looking out for her. She wanted to decline, she didn't have much of an appetite anyway. Especially not for squirrel.

But the temptation of liquor.

"Alright." She hesitantly agreed, watching as he rotated the meat in the fire. "Tony's not going to be to happy with you. He'd skin me for even thinking about drinking."

"I don' really give a shit what Tony thinks." He grunted back. "No offence."

Liv remembered her previous anger and let out a grunt of agreement. "Yeah, fuck Tony."

Daryl rotated his stick and glanced at her through the corner of his eye. "That what got yer panties in a bunch?"

Liv scowled. "Yeah. Tony's an asshole." Daryl didn't say anything. He felt like he was becoming a therapist or something. Maybe he should start charging… "You know, he interrogated Randall today? And by interrogate I mean beat up? For fuck's sake, Randall's just a kid."

"The kid wasn't talkin'." Daryl said after a bit. He should have known that's what got her all riled up. She was strangely protective of the kid.

"You knew?" Olivia accused, glaring at him.

Daryl grunted. "Calm down. Yer brother did what he had to."

"How can you defend him?" Liv started. "Randall's just—"

"A kid. Yeah. You've been singing the same song all week, Oakley." Daryl interrupted. "You seem to be forgettin' it's the end of the world. We're livin' day-to-day. Marshall Law and all that bullshit."

Liv didn't say anything, glowering at him through the smoke. He just glared back. After a moment, she shook her head, standing up again and making to storm off. How could he agree with Tony?

"Sit yer ass back down, Oakley." She spun around to snap at him; to scream bloody murder at him. "Shut yer trap for one minute. Christ, I though you were supposed to be the therapist."

Liv ground her teeth angrily. "I'm a counselor not a therapist."

Daryl glared at her. "You're struggling with the morals of it all. Fuckin' grow up, would ya? This Randall guys not as young as you think he is and not nearly as innocent. He knows about us. He's a piece of shit. If things were normal you could get pissy. But it's us or them now."

He had a point, Olivia conceded, and hated him for it. She still didn't like it. Was this another one of the things she was going to have to tolerate? She didn't want to. She had worked to hard to save Randall—she had thought he was going to join their group.

"'Sides, you didn't here him go on about that other group of his." Daryl shook his head and spat—disgusted. "Violent raids, gang rapes. Sadistic fuckers."

"Well, what was he supposed to do?" She snapped viciously. Daryl let out a breath of frustration. "Don't get me wrong, I hate a bystander. But you said it your fucking self. It's the end of the world. He did what he had to do to survive!"

"Yeah, but that's not who we are. We're made of better stuff."

Liv clenched her fists and let out a disbelieving laugh. "We're made of better stuff?" She hissed dangerously, glaring. "We're made of better stuff? So that's why Tony beat him?"

Daryl's mouth gaped for a moment before frowning angrily. "Grow up. Fuck, so much fucking drama with you. Can you ever have a conversation without yelling?"

"Oh, you're one to talk! You're the one who threw a tantrum and moved your camp away from everyone else to avoid getting attached." Liv let out a sarcastic laugh, mocking. "Big, tough, Daryl; scared of a little feelings."

Daryl stood up menacingly, pointing a finger menacingly in Liv's face. "You don't know nothin'! 'Sides, you're the one going out and getting drunk without tellin' anyone, then throwing some kind of fit and actin' like you're tough shit. You're just a scared little girl."

Olivia didn't back down. "Yeah, well you're just a mouth breathing redneck who won't admit that he actually cares about others."

"Bitch." Daryl snarled and then paused with a strange look on his face.

"Asshole."

Olivia continued to glare at Daryl, who was no longer looking angry, but amused. "…Mouth breathing redneck?"

Olivia blinked, confused for a second before her angry words caught up with her and she scowled. "Oh, shut up."

"Of all the things people have called me," Daryl started chuckling and despite Liv's anger she had to marvel at the sound. She didn't think he knew how to laugh. "Mouth breathing redneck has gotta be a first."

"No. Stop laughing." Olivia snapped, following him as he walked over to his tent and began shuffling through his bags. "Stop it, I'm mad at you!"

"Yeah, what's new?" He grunted, crouching next to his bag. "You're always mad at somethin'."

"Yeah, well can you blame—" Daryl interrupted her by shoving a bottle of Southern Comfort in her arms. She looked down at it blankly.

"Peace offerin'." He muttered before stalking back to sit by the fire, again.

Liv's gaze flickered between the bottle and Daryl—utterly confused. Weren't they just fighting? She was used to Daryl not stepping down… and now he was laughing?

"You just gonna stand there?" He asked, peering at her. Olivia gripped the bottle in her hands, staring unsurely at him before walking hesitantly and sitting at the fire across from him. She stared at him hesitantly. "What?"

"Weren't we just fighting?" Liv muttered, turning her gaze to the bottle and picking at the label.

Daryl snorted, tossing a cooked squirrel over at her, making her jump. "I'm being the bigger man. Y'see, I'm getting to learn that you fight with people to avoid feelin' vulnerable."

Liv felt anger well up in her chest but she bit her lip to stop herself from doing anything. From proving Dixon right. Instead, she picked up the cooked squirrel and began picking at it. "I'm just mad you had to go and ruin a perfectly good argument… " She muttered.

"I shut you up by giving you alcohol. You call that ruining an argument?"

"I call that one heck of an apology." She stopped and tried to swallow her anger for him. Distance yourself, Liv. She was tired, emotionally. She didn't want to be angry all of the time. But she just couldn't cope with all that was happening. And she didn't understand how everyone else seemed to be.

And try as she might, it was hard to stay angry with Daryl. With Tony it was easy! Liv was pretty sure her brother's main purpose in life was making her angry. But Daryl… Daryl and her were quite similar, and he had a way of putting things into perspective for her—even though he didn't say much. Maybe he was right about Randall. Maybe he was right about her.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Olivia looked up and met Daryl's gaze. She bit her lip, debating. Talking did help—that's what she told her clients, anyway. It would help her get out her anger in a more positive way. And Daryl wouldn't judge her. He would just listen. She returned her gaze to her squirrel.

"I'm… just so… angry." She mumbled eventually. "Angry at Tony… Rick… Sophia… Carol… you… me… This whole fucked up world and what it's doing to people…"

"You're still stuck on Rick killin' those men? Cuz the way I—"

"Tony and Dave? No, I don't care about them. They're dead, and I understand now there wasn't much choice in that decision. Us or them." Liv sighed. "I'm having a hard time coping. It… scares me how easy Rick was able to… do that."

Daryl didn't say anything for a couple of minutes. "Guess that's what makes him a good leader."

Liv nodded, she had been thinking that too. Rick had been able to make a quick decision where she was not. He made a decision on what was the best for the group—and did it. They'd all be dead if Liv was running the show.

"It's just… I thought the Walkers were the monsters. Like a horror story come to life. I never expected for us to become…. We're the monsters."

"We're survivors." Daryl said eventually and Liv looked up to find him gazing mournfully into the fire. "We got to do what it takes to survive—morals are out the door. And there's no way in hell I'm gonna let one of those fuckin' geeks take me out."

Liv let out a chuckle. She grabbed the Southern Comfort and opened it, taking a heavy swig from it. "Guess I should think of Jared and Tony. I mean, what I would do for them. To make sure they're ok."

Daryl shrugged, eyeing the liquor and Liv tossed it over to him. He took a swig and wiped his mouth off. "Whatever gets you through the night."

Liv nodded—losing herself to her thoughts once again as they shared the liquor. Whatever gets her through the night.

So... my bad on it taking so long... had a bad case of the mean reds myself...

But here it is... I'm satisfied with bits and pieces of it... probs ended abruptly, but oh well...

I'd appreciate some feed back! When I'm completely unmotivated, I look at that wonderful feedback and it turns on a switch in my heart...

Thanks for reading!

-Delaney :)