You know, for a kid, Randall sure as hell knew how to fuck me off.
"Wait, wait, stop, wait. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Wait. Wait. Wait." His voice repeats the same words over and over again, driving me slowly insane. I swear if this kid doesn't shut up, I'll shoot him, right here, right now.
Rick stops in the centre of the barn. I'd been recruited to assist in the execution of Randall, mainly due to the fact that I had no qualms with killing him. The team was made up of me, Shane, Rick and Daryl. Me and Daryl still hadn't spoken, though his eyes were constantly on me. "Put him there," he orders. Shane and Daryl push the kid onto his knees, and step away, each of them guarding him.
Randall begins whimpering loudly, each breath coming out in a sob. "Please, what's happening?" he begs, and I can see the tears beginning to form in his eyes. Despite my eagerness to get this over with, I find myself wanting to reach out and comfort him, a strange feeling of protectiveness overwhelming me.
"It'll all be over soon." Shane's poor attempt at comfort increases my need to protect the child. I reach forward, placing my hand on his shoulder.
"Close your eyes," I whisper. "I swear it won't hurt." I pray for this ordeal to end, feeling sick to my stomach. Glancing to my left, I see Rick wearing a similar expression of doubt. Randall complies with my orders, however the sounds escaping him refuse to cease.
His sobs stop long enough for him to utter more questions. "What'll be over?" He questions fearfully. "What won't hurt?"
I make to step forward again, wanting to comfort him, but Shane sends me a look, before growling a response to his questions. "Just relax, kid."
Randall shakes his head, but makes no move to open his eyes, nor stand. "No, please no. You don't have to do this! I'll do whatever it takes!" His pleas are ignored, and Rick raises his pistol, pointing it directly at the boy's sweaty forehead. I scrunch my eyes up as well, suddenly regretting my decision to help the boys. My breath hitches in my throat, causing a stabbing feeling to radiate through my chest. I try to breathe, desperately fighting off the looming panic attack, but find myself choking on the air, the pain in my chest preventing me from expanding my lungs. My eyes fly open, and I see everyone looking at me worriedly. I hold my hand up, and turn on my heel, deciding to leave the situation causing the anxiety.
Rick clears his throat loudly from behind me, before asking Randall a simple question. "Do you have any last words?"
Randall's sobs continue, each one ripping through me as I try to make it out of the building. I'm not sure why I reacted this way, surprised at myself. I could tell Rick was feeling the same, though I doubt neither Daryl nor Shane gave a shit about watching a kid die in front of them. I found myself growing angry, angry at myself and angry at the men behind me. I was debating going back when a small voice echoes across the room.
"Do it, Dad," it chants. "Do it." My eyes widen as they fall on the small figure of Carl Grimes, his soft face partially hidden by his father's hat. He had his hands clenched into tiny fists, and he only had eyes for the prisoner still kneeling in the centre of the room.
Rick's eyes soon find Carl's and his hand drops in shock. Rick sighs in defeat, before ordering Shane and Daryl to take Randall away.
Daryl glares at Rick before hauling him up, dragging him from the barn. I stare at Rick, my eyes searching. Rick looks up after a while, meeting mine, his blue orbs gazing into mine.
"I couldn't-" he whispers. I nod in acknowledgement, sharing the same struggle. "I thought I could, but I just-and Carl," he gasps, tears clouding his eyes. I walk to his side, throwing my arms around his middle, and squeezing him tightly.
"I couldn't do it either," I admit. "It's not us, Rick, but that's okay." He returns the hug, wrapping both of his arms steadily around my shoulders.
"I killed those two guys in the bar-"
I interrupt him quickly. "Because you had to. It was a split second decision, and if you hadn't done it, all of us would be dead."
He presses a quick kiss to the top of my head, before pulling away. "We better go tell Dale," he mutters. I nod again.
"Yeah, we should," I smile.
And then the screaming begins.
A sick feeling settles in my stomach, and my eyes widen in fear. Rick and I barely spare eachother a glance before both of us are flying from the barn, each of us calling different names. Andrea's voice rings high and clear through the cool air, sending bolts of dread through me.
"Dale!" she screams, and I see a small flash of light in the field, a flashlight waving dramatically in the dark. Me and Rick rush towards it, Rick ahead of me due to his longer legs. Before I can comprehend what's happening, Rick has skidded to a stop, and I can spy Andrea knelt on the floor behind him. I step around his body, and my eyes fall on the mangled mess that is Dale.
A small sob escapes my lips, and I crash to the ground, my knees bouncing off the ground. Crawling on all fours. I reach Dale's side, positioning myself next to Andrea, and purposefully turning my head away from his torn stomach. Daryl was opposite us, and he held a bloody knife, one I assumed he'd used to kill the walker laying a few feet from us. Looking at Dale, I can see the pain in his eyes, and despite being unable to speak, I could tell exactly what he was telling us.
Stop the pain.
I interrupt Andrea's words of amenity, screaming for help. Rick joins in my cries for a saviour, yelling for Hershel. "Get Hershel! Oh God. He needs blood. We've got to operate now!" He roars. I begin to block out all other noise, focusing completely on my own ragged breathing, and Dale. I place a hand on his face, stroking away a tear. I prayed desperately that Hershel could save this man, terrified that his last moments will be filled with pain, suffering and shouting.
The rest of our group begins to arrive, all of them shocked by the view in front of them. Herschel soon stumbles into the clearing, staring at Dale and his insides. "What happened?" he asks Rick seriously.
Rick ignores the question, instead storming over to Hershel to question him further. "What can we do?" he questions desperately. "Can we move him?"
Hershel shakes his head gravely. "He won't make the trip," he tells the man quietly. My heart sinks lower and lower each moment we spend just looking at Dale. Glenn walks into view, settling himself opposite me and next to Daryl. He looks at me, touching the hand resting on Dale's chest lightly, before muttering words of comfort to the man.
Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, before walking back over to us. "We have to do it here, then. Glenn, go get Hershel's kit-"
Hershel interjects, shaking his head sadly. "Rick-"
I hear myself sob in protest, and can do nothing to comfort myself. "No. Hershel, please." Hershel merely looks away. Tears stream down my face, and my nose runs. I feel myself reach breaking point when Rick kneels down in between Daryl and Glenn, pointing his gun at Dale. A screech erupts from my throat, and I push myself to my feet, desperate to escape the place.
Tearing my eyes from the scene in front of me, I turn and run. I run as fast and far as my legs will carry, and then some. I run away and I refuse to look back. I run from the fear in Dale's eyes, the feeling of his face, wet with tears, the sound of his agonising cries. A loud gunshot sounds out, reaching my ears finally.
Dale was dead.
Slowing my pace, I glance around but am only met with darkness and fear. I continue my sprint as the tears threaten to break the walls holding me up. I push forward, and nearly crash to the ground as my legs cease to run and my heart finally explodes. I crumple to the floor, as sobs wrack my body, wringing my eyes of all moisture, leaving me struggling for breath. My arms claw frantically at my sides trying to hold my breaking body together, eventually resting criss-cross on my chest, forming a shield, protecting me from things that could have been, should have been but weren't. The tears fall violently as I scream into the nook of my elbow, the pain reaching its peak. He was too pure, and we broke him with our harsh words and an even harsher world. I gasp for breath as my hands snake up and into my hair, tugging at the long locks, as the sadness overwhelms me and spills into the cool air. I'm not sure how long I lie there, gasping, but my energy slowly dissipates and the sobs ebb.
I lay on the moist ground, curled in on myself, breathing in, out, in, out. The sound of pounding footsteps reach my ears, but I make no move to get up. It's not a roamer; they can't run anymore. A loud thump echoes through the trees as something falls behind me, and I feel strong hands lifting me into a sitting position.
I look up and meet the icy eyes of Rick, but just as quickly lower my gaze when I can see the pain reflecting in them. His hands run down my arms as he scans my body, checking for bites and scratches. My eyes begin to well up again as I remember the tortuous look on his face as he rested the barrel of his gun against Dale's head. My eyes wander over my hands folded in my lap and fixate on the ground in front of me, as I try painfully to swallow the lump rising in my throat.
"Lily?" Rick's grating voice pulls me from the losing battle with my emotions, the sorrow of our loss lowering his voice. My eyes lift and I hesitantly hold his probing gaze. I can feel myself succumbing to my grief again, and my defences fall. Rick pulls me closer as the tears resume their trek down my already wet face. I can feel him shaking as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands pulling at his shirt, my knuckles white. The sobs hand over control of my body, and Rick pulls me away from him, slowly lifting me up. He places me gently on my feet after a plea from, and we begin our journey through the forest.
"Lily, do you blame yourself?" I hear Rick question. Glancing his direction I see him nervously spinning his ring around his finger.
I sigh deeply, and answer truthfully, "I'm always going to feel guilty, for everyone we lose, 'cause there's always somethin' we can do. We can run faster, prepare better, be nicer. We lost Sophia because we weren't prepared. We lost Dale because we were too harsh. I know losin' people is inevitable, be it in this world or the last, it's just sometimes it's too soon," my voice sounds surprisingly even and I'm glad I was honest. Rick clears his throat, and stares up at the sky.
"I-I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him. The look on his face I-I couldn't," Rick finally chokes out, his voice thick with tears. His face reflects my emotions almost exactly, the fear and pain evident in his eyes.
"Rick...you don't always have to do the dirty work. You've kept the group alive since I joined you, and I'm sure you did it before. All that matters now is that we did it, now he doesn't have to suffer. Whether it was you, me, Daryl or Andrea who did it, he's gone." What I said was true. Dale's death was heartbreaking, but we don't have the time or the energy to deal with death properly. We buried our people and moved on. Lingering on who we lost only brought pain and more suffering onto the people we loved.
"I just did what anyone one would do. Had I not survived, I know you would have stepped up, or-or Daryl or Shane," Rick argues, refusing to meet my gaze, "I'm not the hero everyone thinks I am, Lily! I left Merle on a roof to die. I nearly left our own brother out there to get torn up by the walkers! I couldn't save Sophia," he finishes his speech, his eyes widened in anger.
My mouth hangs slightly open at Rick's confession, shocked that he would tell me about Shane, but even more shocked that I didn't blame him. Shane was changing. He wasn't carefree but it was like he didn't give a shit either. He was continually putting our lives on the line to prove his twisted points and he was never sorrowful about it. He is not the Shane I knew.
"Rick, Shane is fucked up. I don't blame you for what you did because whatever happened out there, he probably deserved it. You've been more of a brother to me these past few weeks than he's been the past ten years. So please, don't beat yourself up over him, he's not worth it." I tell him seriously. I can see the farmhouse from where we are stood, and find myself almost smiling, feeling safe in the presence of the farm and it's people.
"No, you don't understand. I left him for dead back at the station. I was willing to let my best friend die. What kind of man does that?" he asks me tiredly, avoiding eye contact. I feel bad for him, understanding the urge to leave my brother behind.
I sigh. "Rick, when we had that fight, before you went out with Randall, I saw somethin' in his eyes. The type of look that people who aren't afraid have. He would have killed me. So I'm askin' you: If he tries anythin', if he tries to kill you, or someone in the group, pull the trigger. Please just, do it. 'Cause I may not get the chance, and I might not be able to. I can't watch anyone else die, so if he has to go, so be it." I take a deep breath before continuing. "I'm done waitin' around for someone else to die. We've lost so much in such a short period of time, we can't lose anyone else. I've said this before and I'll say it again: I may not be much, I may not amount to much, but if there's one thing I can do it's fight, and keep fightin'. I would die for you, and anyone else in the group, and I plan to protect every single one of you until my last breath."
Rick nods silently, taking in my words. "I promise you, I'll kill him if it comes down to it, but only if it does," he warns.
I smile slightly at him, before we quicken our pace to reach the farmhouse. I crawl into my tent quietly, needing rest. The dark waters of sleep call me, but I refuse to listen, instead deciding to keep watch, knowing Dale used to. I climb onto the RV slowly and silently, finally sitting in Dale's chair. I feel weirdly sentimental, despite never being up here, and stare out at the fields surrounding our home. It feels weird calling it our home, despite it being exactly that. In that moment I knew that if a herd of walkers came stumbling into the camp right now, I wouldn't hesitate to kill them all by myself, even if that meant going down.
If only I'd known.
A/N Okay so Daryl and Lily are basically ignoring each other, and Rick and Lily did some more bonding. I can't post for the next week, so I did this chapter because I think it's one of my better written chapters, not to blow my own trumpet. Anyway please leave me a bunch of comments for when i get back. Love y'all :)