Going through the motions of the morning was easy. Victoria avoided Shane - who was avoiding her too - and said good morning to Hershel before ducking into the guest room to check on Carl. Once Victoria was satisfied with his shallow breathing, she left the farmhouse to watch the Greene daughters go along awith their morning chores until Glenn, T-dog and Shane joined the young women collecting stones.

By the time the rest of the cavalry arrived, the sun was high in the sky and Victoria hadn't moved from the porch steps.

Similar to the night before, everybody gathered on the lawn as the survivors pulled up and burst from their vehicles - except Daryl, leading the charge on his motorcycle. They marveled at the scenic farmhouse, lingering behind as Dale and Carol rushed toward the exhausted parents.

"How is he?"

With a relieved smile, Lori said, "He'll pull through." She glanced over her shoulder, nodding to Hershel and his family, "Thanks to- to Hershel and his people."

"And Shane and Victoria." Rick added, looking behind his shoulder at the officers. "We'd have lost Carl if not for them."

"How'd it happen?" Dale wondered out loud.

"Hunting accident." Rick explained with an incredulous chuckle. "That's all, just a stupid accident."

Victoria rolled her eyes - a stupid accident that nearly killed his son and best friend.

The Sheriff and his wife were embraced and offered sympathy, once again returning the split group.

However, the reunion was short-lived. Hershel invited the survivors to join them in Otis' grim celebration. Without much of a choice, Victoria dragged herself over to the stone grave marker and ignored Dr. Greene's preaching about God, Christ and how wonderful Otis was in life.

"He died as he lived, in grace."

"You evil bitch! I'll kill you, you fucking bitch!"

"Shane, Victoria, will you speak for Otis?"

Beside her, Shane shuffled back and forth, radiating nervous energy. "I'm not good at it." He murmured, "I'm sorry."

"You were with him last, you shared his final moments." Patricia croaked, pleading with tear-stained cheeks, "Please, I need to hear, I need to know his death had meaning."

Victoria raised her head. Shane looked like a deer in headlights and the rest of the survivors were watching on with morbid curiosity.

"Okay." She cleared her throat, startling Shane. "We were almost at the truck, Shane was limping, my arm was like, fucked and we didn't have enough ammo to fight. We were surrounded." Victoria stopped short, the lie stuck in the back of her throat. She needed to do this right, it was her only chance to make it believable. Victoria licked her lips, "Otis, he gave me the bag and shoved me ahead of him."

"Just give us the goddamn bag! Don't make this any harder than it needs to be!"

"Go, he said, save the boy. I didn't think about it. I just ran, and when I looked back..." Victoria paused, daring herself to glance at the widow.

Patricia, surrounded by devastated farmers, nodded at Victoria to continue with a pained grimace.

The Detective approached the large wheelbarrow of stones before continuing, "I won't say he went quickly or quietly but if not for him, Shane and I would've died. Carl too." She lifted a stone from the barrow and turned to Patricia with a hard stare. "Otis' sacrifice saved us and I will never forget that."

And with that, Victoria dropped the stone at the top of the pile.

"One, two-"

"Argh! Sonuvabitch, goddamn! You said, on three!"

"I did."

Victoria rolled her injured shoulder with a sigh of relief. It hurt like absolute hell but at least she could move it again.

"Keep pushing your luck and it will dislocate again." Hershel warned, holding her arm still with a stern glare.

"Man, no more jumping from windows?" Her sarcastic retort was cut short as Hershel maneuvered her arm against her chest, holding it firmly against her. Victoria felt the tears burn her eyes once more and whined, "Christ, that hurts."

"Consider yourself lucky you didn't break it." He told her, wrapping the cloth around her shoulder. "Keep the sling on and resist from doing anything strenuous - like jumping from anymore windows - for the next few days, you should be as right as rain."

Victoria didn't linger once Hershel was finished. It seemed like he had something more he wanted to say but she didn't stick around to hear it. Instead, she made a beeline to the empty RV.

Victoria lifted her bag from under the kitchen table and sifted through it, she already ruined two shirts and anything salvageable needed a thorough washing first. All she had left was slacks and button ups, a set of Military fatigues and her patrolmans' jacket.

She brought the jacket to her face and stared at her reflection in the shiny badge pinned to the breast pocket. What was she supposed to do with it now? Arrest walkers? Intimate survivors with the law? Use it to get away with murder?

With a heavy sigh, Victoria tossed the jacket on the bench and ducked into the bathroom with her bag, closing the slide behind her.

Taking off the sling was a hassle, Hershel tied a superior knot but it was more than worth it to change into her own clothes. The fatigues fit like a glove and once she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, she felt a little more like herself - whatever that meant nowadays.

Once she was satisfied, Victoria opened the side and nearly collided with Shane on the other side. To her surprise, he had changed out of the ill-fitting overalls and into his own cargo pants and shirt, he was even wearing a POLICE baseball cap that matched the deep blue of his button up.

"Hey." He greeted. "I was lookin' for ya." He eyed her over, his brows coming together as he took in the unfamiliar uniform. "You were in the army?"

"Briefly." Victoria alluded. "What can I do for you, Deputy?"

"Just wanted to talk to ya." Shane adjusted the brim of his cap, awkwardly shuffling before her. "'Bout what you said to Hershel and his people."

Immediately, Victoria felt the confidence leave her like a deflated balloon. Fear seized her chest, had somebody said something to Shane? "Christ." She whined, "Why didn't you say something else? I told them it was a sacrifice. I made him the fuckin' hero!"

"You told them what they wanted to hear."

"I made it so obvious that-"

"Listen to me." Shane clasped his heavy hand on her shoulder. "You didn't give them any reason to not believe you, okay? Otis died for Carl, it was a sacrifice - that's the truth."

That was the long and short of it, Victoria supposed. Otis died for Carl, they didn't need to know the hows and whys. She gave them a much better story anyways, a legacy that didn't include his involvement into shooting the boy in the first place.

Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn't believe she was allowing this train of thought but there wasn't another way she could spin it without letting the guilt take over. As long as his family thought he died a hero, they couldn't ask anymore questions - hopefully.

She slipped around his muscular frame, dropping his hand off her shoulder as she stepped into the kitchen.

"And uh, I need your gun."

Victoria groaned, shoving her bag under the table with more force than necessary. "Shane, fuck, man, c'mon-"

"Hershel ain't allowin' us to walk around his farm with our guns." Shane interrupted, leaning against the kitchen counter behind Victoria. "Him and his folk don't carry either, laid down the law with Rick earlier."

Victoria scoffed, "Man, did we find the only anti-gun farmers in Georgia or what?" She turned around, lifting her gun from the holster with a frown, "I'm like, too tired to argue with you but dude, I'd feel a helluva lot more comfortable if someone was carrying."

Shane shrugged, offering her a gruff, "Ain't nothin' I can do about it as long as Rick's playin' Sheriff." With that, he left the trailer with her only form of safety.

The Detective started to follow him out but once she noticed the survivors setting up camp by the trees, she lingered in the doorway. She didn't have anything to set up, maybe she slept in one of the cars instead.

"Ya'll do anything special to your guns down in Hollywood?"

Victoria turned to Shane, watching him carefully lay out their guns on the picnic table under the RV awning. "I'm not..." She shook her head, it didn't matter where she was from anymore. "No, just don't like, scratch the plating."

He chuckled, spinning her pistol around his finger like some sort of cocky cowboy. "Man, then why don't you come and do it yourself then, Hollywood?"

Victoria took the invitation and sat across from him as he played with her gun. She examined the table, scanning over the shotguns placed before her - mostly pump action, which were standard for police

"You are a very well-armed group.".

"We are." Shane stressed, pressing his lips into a firm line before adding, "You're one of us." He set down her gun gently, visibly struggling for the right words.

"Look at that, I'm part of the royal we - must mean that you're not planning to dramatically flee in the middle of the night anymore."

He shook his head. "Listen-"

"Nah, dude, you don't have to explain yourself." Victoria interrupted. "Rick is your best friend, you love his boy, I get it. I wouldn't want to leave either if I was you." She rested her elbows on the table before leaning closer to the Deputy. "But if you expect me to be on your side, I've gotta know what I'm up against."

"Feels like an interrogation."

"Nice cop was never my style."

Shane chuckled, regarding her with an amused grin that didn't annoy her as much as it should've - it wasn't nearly as condescending as it could've been. "Nah, I didn't think so." He turned his attention to her gun, beginning the painstaking process of removing the little screws holding it together.

He worked with his jaw clenched, sharpening his already handsome profile. Victoria was so distracted by him, she didn't hear the phantom scream that haunted her all night.

The silence was nice for once, it was as if the apocalypse wasn't threatening them at every corner - it was no wonder why Hershel and his people were so disconnected from what was really happening, their farm was almost unreal.

"You'll have to pull your weight."

Victoria blinked, trying to comprehend if she heard him right. "Oh, I'm sorry, dude, is my dislocated shoulder an inconvenience for you?"

The Deputy had the gall to roll his eyes at her. "You can't hide in Dale's RV forever." Over her spluttering, he continued, "Listen, I ain't expectin' you to sit around cookin' and cleanin'-"

"Oh, that's very progressive of you."

"- but the women around here, they ain't gonna see it like that."

He wasn't wrong, Victoria begrudgingly admitted. In the short few days she spent with the survivors, she noticed the women took on outdated roles - cooking, cleaning, gossiping while the men walked around with their chests puffed out as if Victoria hadn't clawed her way through the ranks of a male dominated career.

Victoria chewed on her bottom lip, that conversation notoriously never went down well - especially with men like Deputy Walsh. Luckily, she noticed Andrea storming out of the farmhouse from the corner of her eye, the blonde's heated glare easily spotted from a mile away. "Trouble incoming."

Shane raised his head, frowning when he saw trouble. "Think she'll make this easy?"

Victoria laughed, Andrea didn't seem like the type either.

The blonde approached the table with determined strides, standing in front of the officers with her arms crossed over her chest. "Give up our guns?"

"You heard Rick. We're guests here."

"And you're okay with it?"

"I don't recall being asked." Shane grunted. "Now lay down your weapon."

"You may like rolling over, I don't!"

Victoria whistled, that was a low blow. "Your way of approaching this could use some work."

Andrea turned her stormy glare at the Detective instead. "Don't tell me you're okay with this."

She wasn't but Shane didn't deserve the wrath of two women at once. "Dude, I'm too tired to be mad right now. I just want to sit here and not think about anything for a few hours."

Andrea pulled out the pistol from her shoulder bag and dropped it on the bench with her lips pressed.

"Awesome." Victoria slid down the bench, nodding to the empty space beside her. "Sit down, I'll show you how to like, take apart your gun and put it back together without like, jamming the wrong pieces together." Andrea stood with a stoic glare until the Detective released an exasperated groan that sounded more like a childish whine. "Andrea, dude. C'mon, man."

Her frown deepening, Andrea sat down with her arms still crossed.

It was a small win, but a win nonetheless judging by the subtle look of relief on Shane's face.

Victoria lifted Andrea's pistol, the sleek Smith and Wesson wasn't nearly as heavy as her own Beretta because it was signed for smaller hands - called a Ladysmith for just that reason. It was a perfectly dependable and easy to shoot gun, Andrea's dad must've knew what he was doing.

"Here." She handed it back to Andrea. "Unload it."

Andrea did what she was told with a scathing eyebrow arched, simply unamused.

"Awesome, now pull back the slide and check the chamber." Victoria watched as the blonde followed her instructions carefully before adding, "Now pull that lever and the slide should come off."

Andrea stared at the separate pieces with wide eyes, then looked up at Victoria like she couldn't believe it.

"It's that easy." Victoria agreed, gently knocking into Andrea with her shoulder.

Shane shook his head, still unscrewing the endless little bolts of Victoria's gun. "Maybe y'all just do this for me."

"Consider it pulling my weight." Victoria teased, flashing him a toothy grin before turning back to Andrea. "Anyways, you're halfway done already. Lift that spring and remove the barrel from the slide."

Quiet just wasn't a luxury Victoria could afford anymore. There was a walker in the drinking well - of course there was a walker in the well, why wouldn't there be?"

"Ah." Dale grumbled, pointing his flashlight down the well and illuminating the poor bastard. "Looks like we've got ourselves a swimmer."

The big, ugly sonuvabitch was splashing around without a care in the world. Victoria couldn't liken it to anything but a drowning victim - bloated and discolored, skin wrinkled and leathery - except this victim was very much still alive.

"How long do you think its been down there?" Glenn wondered, peering over Victoria's shoulder for a better look.

Andrea snorted. "Long enough to grow gills."

"We can't leave it down there." Lori pointed out, sighing, "God knows what it's doing to the water."

Shane nodded. "We got to get it out."

"Easy." T-dog shrugged. "We put a bullet in its head, I'll get a rope."

"Whoa, whoa, guys." Maggie interrupted, glaring at them from under her straw hat. "No."

"Why not?" Glenn frowned at her. "It's a good plan."

"It's a stupid plan." Andrea answered instead. "If this thing hasn't contaminated the water yet, blowing its brains out will finish the job."

Victoria looked back down the well, he was basically marinating the water. Even if they got him out, she wasn't interested in testing her luck with walker soup.

T-dog glanced at everybody hovering above the well. "So, it has to come out alive" He questioned with a dubious frown.

"So to speak." The Deputy smirked.

Victoria stood to the side while the survivors came up with the hair brained scheme of lowering a canned ham down the well with some rope and fishing wire. Maggie stood with the Detective, her bewildered expression confirming just how stupid the plan was.

"He's not going for it." Dale murmured.

"Maybe cause a canned ham don't kick and scream when you try to eat it." T-dog grumbled

"He's right." Lori hesitantly agreed. "There's a reason the dead didn't come back to life and start raiding our cupboards."

"We need live bait." Andrea said.

Victoria wasn't totally sure how they all came up with lowering Glenn down into the well but that's what they were doing.

Shane looped a thick, heavy rope around the water pump and the bar above the well before tying Glenn to the other side, basically creating a water pulley with the boy as the bucket.

She sat across from Glenn, dangling her legs over the well as she watched Shane knot the rope around the younger man's waist.

"Have I mentioned I really like your new clothes?" Glenn wondered, flashing her a nervous smile. "Camo is, uh, very trendy?"

"Thanks, it's all the rage in the army." She smirked at him. "I'm going to be right here, okay? If you feel like you're freaking out, calmly try talking me through it. As soon as you want out, I'll have them pull you up."

Glenn nodded, some of the apprehension leaving his shoulders. "Ten-four."

"Don't worry about it, bud." Shane clapped him on the back. "We're gonna get you out of there in one piece."

"Living piece. That living part is important."

While Maggie paced alongside the well, the survivors gathered, each taking a section of the rope with their backs turned to the well. Victoria didn't blame the farm girl for not wanting to be a part of this.

"Nice and slow, please?" Glenn called out as he began lowering himself down.

Closest to the well, Andrea called over her shoulder, "We got you."

"Oh," Maggie groaned, shaking her head furiously. "You people are crazy!"

"You want to get it out of your well or not?" Shane shot back.

Victoria ignored them, keeping her eye on the young man as he rappelled down the stone tall. "Talk to me, Glenn."

"I'm doing great." He glanced up with a toothy, too wide smile. "Living the dream." He muttered to himself as he continued down.

Maggie knelt down to Victoria, murmuring, "This is stupid."

Victoria wanted to agree but she doubted Glenn would've appreciated it.

Below them, the ugly bastard finally took notice of the living bait. With a loud growl, he tried reaching for the boy with his stubby arms.

Glenn hung safely above the walker but didn't throw the other rope around him. "Hey, Victoria?"

"Yes, Glenn?"

"I think I'm-"

Victoria didn't hear him finish. The water pump behind her creaked, uprooting from the ground completely and launching toward the well. The rope slackened enough to suddenly drop Glenn closer to the walker.

"Get it, get it!"

"Grab it!"

"I'm freaking out! Victoria, I'm freaking out!"

Shane dropped the rope and tried to grab the pump but it just slipped through his fingers. T-dog quickly took a dive for it too, catching it inches before it hit the edge of the well. Maggie and the group scrambled to T-dog, desperately trying to help pull it back before it unraveled the pulley.

"Get me out of here!" Glenn screamed, wildly kicking at the slippery hands trying to grab his ankles. "Get off me! Get off me! Victoria! Get me out of here!"

Victoria quickly climbed out of the well and dropped to her stomach, she leaned down the well and lowered her arm as far as she possibly could. "Climb up the rope and grab my hand!" She shouted at Glenn.

Glenn grabbed the rope with both hands but between his squirming and the survivors trying to pull him up, the young man froze. "Get me out of here! Oh my god, oh my god, get me out of here!"

Across from Victoria, the group struggled to pull the pump further away from the well. Slowly, they lifted Glenn inch by inch away from the walker hungrily grabbing at him.

"Pull! Pull!"

"Hurry!"

"Oh my god. Get me out! Get me out!"

"Glenn! Stop tugging the rope and climb!"

Shane abandoned the pump and snatched the forgotten rope. With a loud, almost pained grunt, Shane began pulling up Glenn by himself.

"Glenn!"

"Pull him up!"

"Get me out of here!"

As soon as Shane lifted him close enough, Victoria grabbed Glenn by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him up as hard as she could muster. He tumbled out of the well, sending the Detective reeling back with him.

With Glenn safely on the ground, the survivors abandoned the pump, kicking up dirt as they crowded around the boy.

Lori dropped to her knees, checking the boy for any immediate injuries like a mother would. "Are you okay?"

Glenn lifted his head from the dirt and panted, slowly lifting himself to his knees with Lori's help.

"Shit." Victoria sat up with a groan, her formerly dislocated shoulder throbbing uncomfortably. "We're not doing that again, my dude."

With a shaky chuckle, the young man handed the rope to Dale. "We don't have to." He said, before standing up.

The Detective crawled back to the edge of the well and, surely enough, the noose was around the walkers round body. "Holy shit." She laughed, a short, manic noise, "What the fuck."

The rest of the plan was simple enough - pull the walker out and kill him. This time, however, Maggie brought out a horse to help lift the bastard out. Victoria stood to the side, clutching an iron pipe as the group did all the heavy lifting.

"C'mon y'all, together!" Shane urged, leading the movement.

The waterlogged walker snarled helplessly as it was dragged up the stone. The repulsing scent of rotting, wet flesh almost knocked Victoria backwards but she held firm, glaring at the foul bastard as he peeked over the edge of the well.

"It's stuck." Shane grunted.

The walker writhed against the rope, gurgling nonsense as he reached for the Detective.

"He's almost out." Victoria readied the pipe. "Just like, one more tug."

The walker shrieked as the rope dug into his softened flesh, his body tearing from the waist down. All the blood, guts and gore fell into the well with a loud splash, settling at the bottom of the drinking water - it was certainly fucked now.

The top-half of the sonuvabitch was nothing more than hanging intestines and exposed bone. He continued to snarl, desperately trying to wiggle closer to Victoria with grasping hands. It was a sad, disgusting sight that made Victoria gag and look away.

Dale took off his bucket hat. "We should seal off this well." The disappointment was clear in his grumble.

"Yeah." Shane sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "That might be a good idea."

"So, what do we do about-"

Andrea was interrupted by Victoria, who swung the pipe with a shout, causing a grotesque explosion of skull and brain matter. She hit him again and again, until his face was completely caved in. She tossed the pipe aside and addressed her audience with a sideway smirk.

"So, we shoot the next walker in the well?"