New Meanings To Old Words: Love

Well I got a good bit of response from you lovely readers about wanting to hear the convo that took place between Callie, Rick, Hershel and Jimmy…. But honestly I had no intention of ever writing it out for you. CAUSE I'M EVIL. Instead, y'all get snippets and moments mixed into the next couple chapters… 'cause that's just the way I roll.

I'd had this as part of the actual chapter, but then I realized that chapter would be WAY TOO FUCKIN LONG even by my standards. So, I reworked a bit and made this lovely little bit for you. No actual forward motion of the plot… just a bit of insider info here so…Vignette.

As always, read, review and most of all enjoy!

~michelle

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).

Vignette - The Red

They say freak,

When you're singled out,

The red, well it filters through.

Miles was angry.

He was livid. Enraged. Infuriated. Incensed. Rabid.

Fuck he was every damn synonymous word he could recall, but none of those fuckin' words really and truly captured the exact boil of his blood. Save one.

Wrathful.

As he made his way into the Greene home, the fingers of his broken left hand wiggling and sending dull aches and pains through his entire arm, wrathful was the only word that seemed to make his head nod. His body was coiled tight, but he was working to control it. He was working to keep in under wraps. Because last night, when he'd stumbled upon Rick and Callie both so exhausted and drained that they'd fallen asleep sitting up beside each other on the small couch in living room he got it. Understood, and was working to accept it. Callie was right.

His steps slowed a bit as he passed by the living room, ducking his head in the doorway a bit. He wasn't surprised to find it empty. The blankets that had been tossed on the two by someone at some point were folded neatly at one end. His mind went back to last evening and he felt that strange sense of shame start to ebb into his still lingering anger, dulling it a bit more.

Miles had been so confused, as had pretty much everyone at the sight of the muddy, gore-covered trio. When his eyes had caught that fuck Jimmy's, his brain had stopped working. His eyes no longer registered the sight of Callie dead on her feet and staggering under Daryl's iron grip on her arms. Or the pain etched onto her face as she settled in beside the equally bedraggled looking Rick. He didn't pay any mind to Dale and Danny both trying to hold him back, their words were lost in the fog of his heated blood as it rushed between his ears.

The only thing he'd been able to recognize in the fog was Rick's steely glare; the clear and evident anger riding the man's usually calm features as he stared at Doc Greene. He saw Rick's mouth move, the tightness of his jaw as his words filtered past his clenched teeth.

"We need to talk," Rick had said. And Miles felt his head nodding, acknowledging the anger riding on Rick's words. Miles moved quickly, sighting a kindred spirit and advancing, his shoulder roughly shrugging off Danny's hand where it had settled at his arm.

"Where the fuck did you take them?" Miles remembered seething out as he stepped towards Jimmy, who was held in the harsh grip of Doc Greene. The wide-eyed disheveled, fuckin' mud-covered kid shifted his gaze, and if Miles had been in his right mind he probably would have noticed the way the kid's gaze looked right through him. Shock had taken over the Jimmy's entire body, but angry-livid Miles hadn't paid it any mind. He advanced past Rick, feeling the man's hand tighten on his arm and stopping him. "What the fuck did you do? What the fuck did you do to her?"

At that point, Miles had snapped, his arm had swung out to try and grab for the other boy. Doc Greene had pulled Jimmy back out of Miles' frothing wild grabbing arm, and to Miles' utter shock Callie stepped between them as Rick pulled him back.

"Miles, not now," Callie said, her voice harsh. And again if Miles had been in his right mind he would have heard the pain, the exhaustion, the -he still wasn't sure what the other part had been, but it had been there on the edge of her words. As it was he didn't even register her falling forward, her hand reaching out blindly for Rick's shoulder and holding tight as she worked to keep her feet under her. No, he hadn't remembered that part until this morning, and it made him sick.

"We should go inside," Doc Greene said, nodding at Patricia and Maggie who looked at him wide eyed and then escorted Jimmy inside. Miles' anger boiled a new at that point, the source of his rage being taken away, and he lunged. Rick was busy holding up Callie, so that left Daryl to pull him back. And Daryl was anything but gentle when he did it. One large arm snaking under one arm and around his neck choking him a bit, while his other hand had grabbed painfully onto Miles' broken wrist. No doubt hoping the shock of pain would wake him the fuck up.

But it didn't. Nothing did. Not until later.

"Fuck you," Miles seethed at Callie, his body bucking against Daryl, his snarling words echoing out after Jimmy as he disappeared inside. Callie was shaking her head, Rick still holding her up even though he was having trouble standing himself, her injured left hand soaked through with blood again and being inspected by a stony faced Doc Greene. She kept saying his name, trying to reach through the haze, but her exhausted voice barely got past Rick's ears and nowhere near to Miles'. "I want to know," Miles shouted at Callie as she lifted her eyes to him. If he would have been in his right mind he would have registered her unshed tears, but- He advanced on her, dragging a surprised Daryl a few steps. "I deserve to know. We all fuckin' do."

Miles was frothing at the mouth, but he recognized the anger as it rode onto Callie's face. His mind was too heavy to realize that her anger was directed at him, and he nodded his head at her. Shock washed away everything but her voice as her good hand shot out and grabbed roughly on to his shirt. She dragged him forward, Daryl's grip loosening just a bit as he moved with him. Callie's teary eyes narrowed to slits, and she pulled his face close to hers as she searched his eyes and snarled.

"She's dead," Callie seethed, her voice louder and clearer than before as she raised it so that everyone around them could hear. Miles felt the impact of those words like a punch to the gut and he felt himself go slack in Daryl's grip, which at that point loosened so that the man was merely holding him up. "She's dead." Callie said again, her voice lower and now just for him. "Cool off," she pushed him away and stumbled back into Rick's waiting hold, both of them nearly going down but resolutely holding their ground. She stared harshly at Miles and he just stared back, the sounds around him finally crashing back into reality as the blood pounding through his ears slowly subsided. "You find me when you can act like the fuckin' adult I know you are. Then we'll talk about what you fuckin' deserve to know."

With that Callie and Rick were helped inside by Lori and Doc Greene. Miles had slumped in Daryl's hold for a moment, his eyes sliding from where Callie had just stood up to the group around him. Danny's tired eyes met his instantly, his expression showing a bit of shame that pierced through Miles like a knife. His eyes roved over everyone at that point, until they came to rest on Shane's dark eyes. The blank expression on that man's face, the utter lack of caring that showed in his eyes had startled Miles back a few steps. Daryl had moved with him, his arms still settled around his body. Miles thrashed in Daryl's hold, needing to get away from those cold expressionless eyes, and it was at that point that he actually registered that Daryl was speaking in low tones to him.

"Calm the fuck down," Daryl was saying, those harsh heavily accented words drilling into his head. "Just calm the fuck down and breathe." Miles stopped fighting against Daryl as he pulled him backwards away from the crowd. Daryl didn't let go until they were a good distance away, shoving him hard down onto a felled log. Daryl stalked around in front of Miles for a few minutes before taking in a deep breath and crouching down in front of him. Miles lifted his eyes from the ground and stared at Daryl for a few seconds, both of their eyes searching the others for something. Daryl's jaw clenched and he nodded his head a few times before speaking. "Time to grow the fuck up, boy." The words were low but not angry, just hard and true. "You get me?"

Miles spent the rest of the night at that log, his mind settled on nothing and everything. Daryl had stayed nearby, settled against a tree for a while smoking a cigarette and shifting his eyes between the house and Miles. Danny had relieved Daryl after a while, whispering words down to him and sending Daryl off towards the house. Danny hadn't said a word as he slid painfully down to the spot that Daryl had occupied, his own cigarette bouncing on his lips as he stared off into the distance.

Miles had come to one very startling conclusion as he sat there all night. This place was fucked up. Not just this world. No this place, this farm with its oddly serene detachment from the world around them. That weird untouched feel this place had was what made all of the shit that had happened thus far seem so much worse.

Shane killing Otis. Jimmy killing Jenna.

This place.

This place was going to take them all out. One by fuckin' one.

It had taken a long time, but Miles had finally got Daryl. He finally understood the man's words. And finally came to that point where he knew Callie was right. His anger was still there, bubbling and spitting at the edges of his mind. And honestly it had probably been a bad idea to venture into the house to look for Callie, but he needed to see her. Needed to apologize. So he worked hard to push that wrathful feeling to the back of his mind.

His eyes slipped over the living room again, and the sound of humming filtered into his ears. A sweet melodic sound that seemed so out of place in his hazy hardened mind that his brow narrowed instantly upon hearing it. His eyes skimmed around the house and he found himself following the sound to an open doorway.

Beth stood before a mirror in her room, her blonde hair pulled back from her face in a lazy disheveled ponytail. There was a sweet little smile on her face as she stared at her reflection in the mirror over her chest of drawers. A small photo just barely visible on the nightstand near the door caught his attention and had him shiftin' a bit to see. Her and Jimmy, dressed to the nines at some fuckin' school dance.

Miles saw red, his anger heating his blood again and he snarled a bit as he lifted his gaze to the oblivious girl powdering her fuckin' nose.

"You puttin' on fuckin' make-up?" Miles seethed through his clenched teeth. Beth started, her hands dropping the little compact to the dresser as she spun to look wide-eyed at him. He watched her eyes slide over his back and forth, shock and a bit of fear in her blue eyes.

"What are you doin' here?" Beth said back, her eyes sliding behind him. No doubt looking for some help. "You shouldn't be here. Get out." She said it calmly enough but he could hear the slight hitch in her words and saw the flash in her eyes as her fear ebbed to the surface.

"Fuckin' waste of time," Miles blurted out ignoring her completely. "No matter how much y'all try and ignore it, the world ain't the way it was before, sweetheart. Sittin' in here makin' yourself up for your boy after what he just fuckin' did. It's sick."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about," Beth said, but her words sounded confused and unsure. She didn't know anymore than he did about what happened at that church, and it showed on her face as she stared back at him.

"No, you don't know." Miles shot back causing her to back up a step. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard some version of himself whispering words. 'You're scaring her'. But he shook it off and ran with the heat sliding through his veins and the red hazing his vision as that heated blood pounded through his head. All that made it through was the repeated angry words 'Ignorant fools'. "Ya ain't long for this world," Miles lifted a finger and shook it at her. "Not the way y'all are actin'."

"You know what I think?" Beth's hitched voice rose, anger riding her broken voice as she hooked onto the emotion for strength. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes as she stared at him and he snarled a smirk at her.

"That the world's full of fuckin' rainbows and butterflies?" Miles snapped at her, his snarling smile eliciting a shake of her pretty little blonde head.

"I think you're just," she shook her head, blinking the tears away and obviously trying to ignore the feel of them flying down her cheeks. She snapped her eyes up to his and he stared at her, watching as her thoughts clicked into place and she raised a shaking finger at him accusingly. "I think you're just a mean boy."

And just like that, the words shot through him, like needles of ice instantly cooling the heated boil of his blood. That red haze of his vision lifted, and the lingering memory of a face flooded his mind. A sweet sweat-slicked pale face, a smile lingering on dry cracking lips, red hair fanned out around her. Echoing words, so different from what had just been said to him, causing his breath to hitch deep down in his chest.

"You're too sweet."

The image of Beth before him blurred as his eyes filled with unshed tears. He felt his jaw clench as he stared at her, the sunlight filtering in from the window behind her blonde head blurring the flyaway strands of her hair around her head in a halo. He firmed his lips against the image and stared. Beth took a breath and shook her head, disgust marring her pretty face.

"You're mean. Nasty and callous, just like your friend, Shane." She seethed at him, her chin jutting forward with the force of her words.

He stumbled back a few steps at the impact of those words. His hand actually lifted towards his chest, where he could feel the pain of the wound that they had made. Before his shaking hand could lift all the way, his back hit the wall opposite her door.

"Miles?" Maggie's voice startled him from his staring at the blonde girl and had his wide eyes shifting. The brunette was staring at him, her mouth slack as if she wanted to say more but didn't know what to say. Miles pushed off of the wall, and in the next instant he was shoving past Maggie as she advanced. "What are you- Miles," she continued in a calm and worried tone, but he just kept moving. Ignoring her.

He slammed out of the house, his head shaking wildly as he worked to clear his vision and his head. Beth's words echoing in his ears, painfully piercing his already broken heart over and over. He practically threw himself down the porch stairs, head down unshed tears straining his eyes and making his head pound.

"Just like your friend, Shane."

A rough hand shot out, and pulled Miles violently from his escape. He flew back a few steps; that hand tightening to a painful level around his upper arm and tugging him towards a hard body. Daryl's piercing blue eyes stared down at him, sliding back and forth over his wet blurry eyes, working to piece together what had happened. Miles took in a few deep steadying breaths, while Daryl's hand remained painfully tight around his arm.

Just as Miles was about to open his mouth, Daryl's gaze shot away from his and over towards their camp and the RV. Daryl stared hard at something in the distance, a snarl twitching the edge of his mouth. His eyes crashed back into Miles' and then he was shoving Miles in front of him.

"Move it," Daryl said pushing at Miles' shoulder, all the while shooting a glance over his shoulder towards the RV. Daryl shook his head and pushed Miles again, sending him stumbling forward. Daryl righted him and placed his large hand on to Miles' shoulder guiding him towards the stables. "Gonna get me a horse ready," Daryl said off-handedly as he pushed at Miles. "You're gonna help." Miles shot a glance over his shoulder at Daryl, a raised brow of confusion at the man slowly shifting his eyes down to him.

Miles didn't know how to do anything with horses, and Daryl well knew that. Daryl stared hard at Miles and then shifted his eyes back to the stable, giving Miles' shoulder one long hard squeeze before speaking again.

"You and me gonna have a little chat."


Shane ran the back of his hand over his healing split lip, snarling a bit as he watched Daryl push at Miles. The fuckin' redneck's gaze shot over his shoulder one last time, settling right on Shane's yet again. Shane couldn't help but shake his head a bit and glare at the man.

This whole damn situation was getting fuckin' old quick.

He was tired of all those damn looks he was getting. Pitying looks from Patricia and Carol. Distrusting looks from Danny and Dale. Looks from Andrea he couldn't read, and didn't care to figure out. Long lingering looks from Rick and Callie, looks that he couldn't bear to be around for long.

Glares from Daryl as he stalked about, like he was the fuckin' cock of the walk. Shit, if he'd a known all he had to do to get back on Rick's good side was fuck Callie he woulda done it a long time ago. Shane shook his head at himself and snarled.

What the fuck was he talkin' about? Shane's hands lifted to his head and he pressed hard at his temples as he stared off at the farm house. He wasn't that man. Fuck.

And he didn't need to get on Rick's good side. He was his brother. He saved his family. He saved his son. He did that shit. Not fuckin' Daryl. Not fuckin' Callie. Him. And yet, those looks he got…

Even Lori stared after him in a strange haunting sort of fashion now. She'd told him she wanted him to stay. Flat out said the words 'I want you to stay' right to his face in that little room that Carl was laid up in. They'd argued then, Shane tryin' desperately to understand how Lori could be so blind to what was going on with Rick and Callie. How could she not see it? But she'd ignored him, stating that it wasn't like that. And that he knew it wasn't. That he was being ridiculous.

"There's nothing between them," Lori said, but the way she was wrapping her arms around her said she didn't really believe it. "There isn't, Shane. He's just being there for a friend."

"Damn it, Lori," Shane had said running his hand over his shaved head. "Don't you ever wonder when the fuck is he gonna be here for you? For Carl?"

That had stung her; he saw her flinch back from it. And he was advancing, gonna apologize, gonna hold her. But then that fuckin' redneck had come in and Lori had shot away from him like he was fire and gonna burn her. Her hands fell from around her body and she stared at Daryl like he'd caught them doing something bad. Like being alone with him was wrong somehow. Her wide eyes, had followed Daryl's gaze as it slipped from the sleeping form of Carl in the bed and then to her.

"Everything a'right?" Daryl had asked, and Shane had seen fuckin' red, moving without thinkin'. Ready to smash his fist into that bastard's face. He owed him one anyway. But then Lori had settled her arm on his and Shane settled a bit, watching her step forward with a nod. Daryl returned the nod and ignored Shane completely. "Lookin' for Rick and Callie," he'd said.

Then of course everything Shane had worked to get through Lori's thick unbelievably hard head fell away. Worry overshadowing truth, as she realized that they hadn't returned yet.

"There's nothing between them."

Lori's words had beat around in his head all evening as they sat vigil for the missing pair. Rick and Callie. Always off together on some hair-brained fuck-up of a mission. Both of those idiots putting themselves on the line with no regard to how it affected the ones left behind. The people who loved them unconditionally. The people waiting for them; worrying for them.

Neither of them seemed to care one lick about the good of the fuckin' group. Only about what they thought was 'right'.

Nothing between them.

How fuckin' stupid was Lori? Daryl he expected to be oblivious to the way Callie played him. He was a fuckin' meth-head redneck with little to no sense about people. So yeah, he expected that boy to be taken for a ride. But Lori. Fuck.

Shane had watched Lori hug Rick, hold him and rub her hands on his shoulders as he settled down at Carl's bedside not long after his and Callie's secretive little chat with Hershel. He'd stood just out of their line of sight, in the shadows of that doorway, watching her lips move along Rick's cheek. Shane had moved off when Rick turned and kissed her, shoving his way out of the house past the table where Callie's hand was yet again being stitched by Patricia.

His eyes had slid over Callie's as he walked, watching her watch him with those all-seeing eyes of hers. A long lingering look as she tried to read him. He'd thought about stopping, saying something to her, 'cause he wasn't blind. He could read shit just as well as she could when he wanted to.

He could see she was hurtin', and despite everything goin' through his mind, a part of him wanted to see if she was okay. Wanted to check on her and let her know he was sorry for everything.

Because Callie was just as much a part of this group as he was. She was an anchor for a lot of them. She was important. She was good for the group.

But he didn't, instead he sneered and wiped his hand across his dry mouth. The words he wanted to say to her getting lost on the way out. He nodded his head to her, and she returned it with a tight smile. Then he left.

There's nothing between them.

He'd almost started to believe the words himself by the time he worked his way back into the house later that night. He hadn't been able to sleep. Too many thoughts going through his head, pounding around and makin' it damn near impossible. He'd figured on checkin' on Carl, finding the kid's bedside the only real place he was able to clear his head and think anymore.

But he'd been stopped short at the sight in the living room. His steps had faltered and he'd walked in fully letting his eyes slide over the two of 'em. Rick and Callie. Her head was settled on his shoulder, their hands clasped and settled onto Rick's thigh. He felt the blood pounding through his veins, rushing through his ears and drowning out the sounds around him.

Nothing between them.

"Are they still out?" Patricia's timid voice sounded from the doorway and he'd flashed a look up at her. His eyes must have given some of his thoughts away because she blinked a few times at him before working her way around the couch to his side.

"Yeah," Shane said finally, his hand scratching at his head. He watched Patricia sigh and settle two blankets on the small coffee table in front of the couch. Licking his dry lips he held out a hand to stop her from covering them. "I got it," Shane said waving her off. "Y'all have taken care of us enough. Thank you."

Patricia looked at him for a while, that same pitying look that she always gave him. Mixed now with something else, a questioning of sorts. But she didn't say anything. Didn't ask anything. Instead, she nodded and placed a cool hand to his forearm.

"Ya come get us if they need somethin'," Patricia said shifting her eyes over to the slumbering pair on the couch. "They've been through quite a bit."

Shane had smiled, or tried to, watching calmly as she walked away. After she left he'd settled his eyes back on Rick and Callie, his legs buckling with the weight of his heavy mind. He settled hard on the little coffee table, one of the blankets wringing in his hands.

He really didn't know how long he'd sat there staring at them. Watching their slumped shoulders rise and fall with each breath. They'd showered, and put on clean clothes. Rick sitting there in a borrowed blue flannel, looking every bit the man he used to know. Just a man, no longer wearing the uniform that he hid behind. Callie was shifting and shivering a bit in the oversized t-shirt she wore, the worn out insignia of some construction company raising and lifting with each breath she took. Shane shifted then, letting the blanket fall open as he stretched it wide and lifted it to cover the woman.

His palms were sweating for some reason as he stood and gathered the second blanket. His eyes boring holes into the two people he was covering up. The second blanket opened, and he felt a bead of sweat slide down the side of his face. It tickled its way down, rolling down his neck and picking a chilling path down his spine. It was odd. Sweating like that in the nice cool evening that had surrounded them.

But thinking too hard about things could heat you up. Boil your blood.

And he had been thinking hard. Thinking so hard that it caused his head to pound, and his arms to feel heavy as he shook out that second blanket and lifted it slowly towards Rick.

His brain settled on those thoughts as he worked that blanket onto his friend. His hands staying curled tight in the soft fabric as he placed the blanket close under Rick's chin. He stared at Rick's face for a long time. And in his mind's eye he saw himself lift that blanket up to cover his face.

Like he would have covered a corpse.

He didn't do it, of course. Just had that sickening sort of feeling that the motion he was making now was so similar to that. So very similar. His eyes had shifted over to Callie, his fingers disentangling from the blanket he'd placed on Rick and sliding over to adjust the one he'd put on Callie. Settling it up over her shoulders close to her neck.

Nothing between them.

Lori was right. He knew that. He really did. There wasn't anything between Rick and Callie but a deep seeded affection. Friendship. Support. Trust.

As he'd walked back into the sunlight early this morning he finally really understood what had been unsettling him so much about those words Lori had spoken. There wasn't a damn thing between Rick and Callie. But, Rick and Callie…Rick and Callie were between him and what he wanted. They were between this group and safety. They were between everything.

Shane let his head lift from his hands, and settled his back against the RV. His eyes picked up the smaller shapes of Miles and Daryl disappearing into the stable. His lip snarled again, as he thought about all those damn looks he was getting. Rick and Callie trying to figure him out with those long assessing looks of theirs.

Hershel eyeing him like he was a fuckin' plague set upon his family.

And Miles.

He was getting fuckin' sick and tired of the looks that boy was shooting him. Sick and tired of that boy's judgment of him. He was gonna have to have himself a talk with that boy, before he went spoutin' off about things. Saying things that would change those long lingering looks that Callie and Rick shot him into those damnable stares that Danny, Dale and Daryl shot him.

Because while those two may not have had the best interest of the group in mind. While they may not have known how to lead these people and keep them safe. Shane knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that without them, the group would break apart at the seams.

And so, for the good of the group, he needed to keep them around.

And on his side.

This change, he won't contain,

Slip away, to clear your mind.

When asked, who made it show,

The truth, he gives in to most.

So lay down, the threat is real,

When his sight goes red again.

~The Red / Chevelle

AN: I'm not sayin' nothing 'bout this chapter other than…wooo that felt really good to write. Not sure why, just did. I hope you enjoy it.

If you hadn't noticed Daryl's getting his horse all saddled up…but of course, he's gonna be having a bit of a chat with Miles first. Hmmm, wonder what it's about.