...He killed his best friend...
"You saw what he was like. How he pushed me." I watched Rick moving around, still looking at & facing everyone but he can't seem to keep his feet still. "How he compromised us. How he threatened us."
Someone he's known since he was a kid, and he — he had to kill him. Because of me and the kid.
God, Rick… what is that gonna do to him?
My eyes moved over to Randall and he looks as shell shocked as the rest of us.
Carl burst into tears and I looked over just as his cries were lost in the muffling of his dad's jacket and Lori's chest as his mother wrapped her arms around him.
Call me crazy, but this doesn't look like news to Lori. Did she know? Since when?
"He staged the whole Randall thing." Rick looked at Lori and I can't help but notice how she isn't looking at him. "Lead me out to put a bullet in my back." It's almost like he's saying it for the second time. "He gave me no choice!"
"He was my friend, but he came after me."
"My hands are clean." As a whistle, I'm sure.
Lori shushed Carl, who's full on sobbing into her neck now.
The rest of the group is silent. Everyone looking at Rick but not like he's a monster.
It seems I'm not the only one who isn't gonna shed tears over Shane's grave.
We all knew he was dangerous and explosive. It wasn't exactly a secret.
All of us had our problems with Shane, to different extremes.
I watched Rick carefully as he paced back and forth.
"Maybe you people are better off without me."
What?
"Go ahead" Rick motioned at the entrance way behind him. "I say there's a place for us but maybe — maybe that's just another pipe dream."
"Maybe — maybe I'm foolin' myself again." he spit. "Why — why don't — why don't you go and find out yourself." he all but bared his teeth at us in a snarl.
"Send me a postcard." Sure. Is by carrier pigeon ok?
"Go on, there's the door." he prompted like some asshole gettin' in your face saying, 'hit me'.
"You can do better? Let's see how far you get." he motioned again with his python.
'Why do I feel like I'm in some old western showdown?'
He knows no one's going anywhere. They're too scared. And everyone not too scared, is too smart, too tired, or too noble to go a'wol. Even though I'm positive Daryl & I aren't the only ones who've considered taking off in recent weeks.
What exactly are you trying to accomplish here, Grimes?
"No takers? Fine. But get one thing straight," his voice turned serious, face relaxing down into the set of his jaw, staring the group down like someone he's about to take a swing at them.
"You're stayin', this isn't a democracy anymore." Rick shook his head.
No one said a word.
And Rick walked away, out into the dark. Where to? Who knows.
I don't like the idea of someone else dictating what I do but I'm too exhausted to argue right now.
That's a later me's problem. Or maybe it isn't a problem at all.
You know… I've been thinking it for awhile — in not so few words as Rick put it, but maybe this is exactly what we need.
Some clear cut lines about who's calling the shots. No more arguing for days on end about the simplest little things.
Maybe It would be a good idea to just wait and see. Especially since tension is at an all time high right this moment.
If another argument started I think… I have a bad feeling someone would wind up with a gunshot, or a knife to a very painful but non-vital (and more importantly healable) part of their body.
I'm so tired of the headless chicken thing.
Rick's losing his mind, Hershel's reasoning is failing, Hell even Daryl & Glenn look at their wits end with all this bullshit. I certainly am.
And I'm about two sentences from telling everyone to either lay down and go to sleep, or I'll do it for them.
Normally I wouldn't be thrilled by an approach like this, but right now, I am in-love with the idea of something more militant-unit.
There's a reason units operate — operated, the way they did. There's a reason there was a chain of command that was largely respected; aside from the odd stray soldier here and there or a few moments where things are seen differently, etc.
I don't know how it'll hold up in the long run or how everyone will adjust to it, but we can't afford all this 'I think this, I think that' anymore.
We need a solid structure and one voice to listen to for awhile.
Daryl's POV
Well that was dramatic.
I glanced at Eve, not expectin' a happy look — I'm surprised she hasn't gone after 'im already — but as I looked, I stopped.
She ain't even lookin'.
Her face is blank. Half-lidded eyes almost glowing starin' at the fire. Pale; dark circles around her eyes that are so deep I can almost see 'er eye socket.
God she looks tired.
A couple hours sleep was not enough for 'er. She needs to rest.
She's got a bad habit of pushin' 'erself too far.
She ain't even breathing ok. It's shallow. Barely moving. Her hands resting on her lap but it's curled and facing upwards like she wants to put it around her stomach.
Her shoulders are slumped like she could just sag forward any minute.
I sat next to her without even thinking, nudging her shoulder with mine. She didn't look, just leaned against me.
I watched her for a second, the light shifting over her cheeks. Dirt and sweat clinging around the edges. Still, I've seen 'er look worse.
My stomach tightened thinking back to the moment it fell outta my ass when she dropped outta that tree like a damn cannonball. When I pulled her outta that hole. The countless close calls she's had with walkers.
Jesus, only reason she's still alive is thanks to those reflexes. And she's fast.
But right now. I wish she'd just slow up and lay down. Go to sleep, stop thinkin'.
Let someone else take care a things for awhile.
That blank look reminds me of how she used to be. When we first met.
The way she looked at things was so emotionless. Not concerned, not angry, not determined, not… optimistic.
It was nothing like the way she looks now.
I'm not used to it anymore. Makes me feel weird. It looks outta place. Wrong.
That's not how she's supposed to look.
She's supposed to have that — that chill subtle curiosity. Not this blank, tired, just goin' on cause she's gotta thing.
I looked down at the possum in front a me, and shifted a little to get my knife, so I can start skinnin' it.
If she ain't goin' to sleep already, I'm at least gon' make 'er eat somethin'.
I looked up, feeling eyes on me and caught Glenn's gaze for a moment. He looked at Eve then back at me and raised his eyebrows a little.
I glanced at Eve before barely shaking my head, no. She ain't ok.
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