I think this is my quickest update yet! Me and Rasha007 worked together on this first scene and it turned out fantastic thanks to her.

Sorry it's a short chapter, but I think it's a good one.

I heard the footsteps, at first I thought it was from inside the barn, but then I noticed how even they sounded. Daryl came around the side of the barn, glancing my way. I looked him up and down, he was an absolute mess, not that that was anything new for him. But he was a literal bloody mess, there was dried blood up his forearms and plenty on his shirt, the stickiness of the thick liquid made it stick and flatten against his stomach. He had some smears on his face. He'd been working on the deer he hunted down.

"Been lookin' for you. The hell you doin' over here?" he asked, coming toward me.

"Don't you gotta take care of your buck?" I asked him, not understanding why he'd look for me when he's busy. The barn hadn't been my first choice to hide out, but I figured there was a bigger chance of being left alone if I was somewhere no one wanted to be. It'd worked so far, the sun was setting, I'd been gone for hours.

He shook his head, "did just 'bout all of it already. T-Dog and some others gonna take care of butcherin' the meat. I did most of that too, shouldn't be long before they start cookin'."

I looked up at him curiously, "you're not gonna do it?" It was odd to me, him not taking care of his own game. That was one of Daddy's rules; your kill, your responsibility.

He shook his head, "Maggie talked to me."

I didn't understand what that had to do with my question, but I swallowed thickly. "What did she say?"

"I think you know."

I narrowed my eyes a little, "I don't . . . The tick?"

"Yeah, cause that's why you're hidin' out here next to the Walker infested barn," he scoffed loudly. "You had a tick."

I looked away, pulling myself off the ground, I turned to walk away. Why is he even talking to me? He definitely doesn't sound like he wants to.

I only got a couple steps before Daryl stepped in front of me. I was looking at my feet, not paying attention so I walked into him. I lifted my head to him, his expression was blank so I fought to keep mine the same.

"You know," he said after several long moments, "my pop and yours coulda' been drinkin' buddies, assholes seem to have the same hobby."

"Huh?" The questionable sound escaped my lips, I wasn't able to form a question since I didn't understand what he even said.

Daryl was silent again, his eyes left mine to look down. I followed his eyes to see him grasping the hem of his shirt. Then he turned slightly, lifting his shirt a few inches to show me the start or possibly end of a thick white scar that must've travelled to his back. I didn't see much more of it because he quickly pulled his shirt down.

Turning my head back up to him, I was no longer able to keep my expression blank, and neither could he apparently. He was looking down at me with a soft expression, frowning, something in his bright blue eyes seemed oddly dark.

"You were bad too?" I croaked out after some time.

"Used to think so. Turns out I wasn't the bad one. And neither are you."

Once again, his words took me by surprise and I didn't understand them. I opened my mouth, trying to form a question but failed. Once again, the need to get away from situation was overwhelming. I tried to go around him but he stepped in my way again.

"We need to talk about this."

"Since when do you like talkin'?" I blurted. He said before I could stick around him if I was quiet, so why would he want to talk so badly?

"This ain't what I want to talk 'bout either. Really don't. But someone has too. Christ," he sighed, running a hand over his head in a way that reminded me of Shane.

He thought for a moment, before blurting, "you ever see Rick and Lori beatin' on Carl every time he does somethin' stupid?"

Not understanding why he would ask that, I just shrugged.

"It's a yes or no question," he said, sounding slightly annoyed.

I thought about it, "no."

He nodded his head, lifting his hand to point at me briefly. As if giving me some sort of praise, "exactly, cause it ain't what parents do."

"It ain't my business to see," I said sharply, feeling a little aggravated for some reason, "ain't no ones but there's."

"Okay," his expression was wiped clean. His features tensed slightly, "ya ain't wrong. But that don't mean they've pulled the belt on him."

"So?"

"So? It's just not what's done. Not the way it works. Why you think no one's beatin' you now? After some of the shit you've pulled."

"Because I'm not their business?" I said automatically.

"No, because adults aren't suppose to beat kids bloody!" He retorted, obviously becoming frustrated.

What is happening right now? Are we seriously fighting? Is he stupid? "No, it's 'cause I'm not their kid. They don't give a shit. I don't get why we're talkin' 'bout this. Why's it matter?"

"Fuck if I know," he grumbled out.

"Is Maggie mad at me?" I had to ask, I'd been wondering it ever since I ran away from her.

"Enough. I'm sick of this bullshit, no one's mad at you," he said angrily, leaning toward me and jabbing a finger in my direction. "Every single time somethin' happens, you think you're in trouble. You're not. That shit on your back, it ain't normal." He moved his finger to point at one of my arms, "same as that. It ain't normal and it sure as hell ain't okay."

"You're mad at me now," I pointed out.

"I'm not mad at you!" He yelled. And just as he did, the Walkers inside the barn started banging and snarling. He muttered something under his breath I didn't catch and walked further away from the barn. I followed him until we were about ten feet away.

He turned back to me, his expression stern, "You don't see Carl gettin' beat 'cause it straight up doesn't happen. Not 'cause it ain't your business. It didn't fuckin' happen. That isn't how a father is supposed to treat their kid. You should be head over heels he didn't come back for you."

His words felt like a punch to the gut. At first I was thinking hard on his words before, trying to figure out what he meant by all of it. But once he mentioned Daddy that was all I could focus on. He didn't come back for you.

No, that's not what happened. He got stuck somewhere, or he's lost. Daddy doesn't get lost. But things are different now, nothing is as easy as before, dead people are trying to eat us. He's probably already been at the quarry but now we're gone.

"Yeah, I'm head over heels that the only person who cares about me couldn't get back to me." I grumbled, because that's what it was. It wasn't that he didn't get back to me, it was that he couldn't.

"He didn't come back 'cause he didn't give a shit. Same reason why you were gettin' beat on. Don't matter how bad you think you were, you don't deserve that shit." His eyes never left mine as he continued in a quiet voice, "Neither of us do."

I turned away from Daryl, but didn't leave. I couldn't look at him anymore. I'd never been so mad at Daryl, or wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He's stupid, he doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just pissed because he was bad and had to pay the consequences, he just didn't know his place.

Yeah, that was it. Had to be.

I tried thinking over what he was telling me, but I didn't understand, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

"You hearin' me?" He interrupted my thoughts.

After a moment, I gave a nod, concluding that if I agreed, the conversation would be over.

"I hear you . . ." I hear you. Don't understand you but I hear you, along with everyone else on this farm.

He sighed, sounding relieved, "good."

Apparently he wanted this conversation to end too.

Once again we're both quiet for a long time. He was looking around after a little bit before asking, "why the hell is no one on watch out here? Ain't that the deal? Rick or Shane's s'posed to be out here, they got the guns."

I shrugged, "they had target practice with everyone earlier."

"Don't explain why neither of 'em are out here now. Whatever, c'mon let's go, it's gettin' dark and I need to get the tent up. Otherwise we're sleepin' in the dirt."
I nodded and followed him back to camp. He already had his things where he wanted them, I noticed it was oddly a lot closer to camp then before, more specifically closer to Lori and Rick's tent. I helped him set up the tent, though he didn't need it, I think he just let me so I wasn't just standing there waiting.

When the tent was up I went to go get my backpack from the RV, when Daryl left he'd given Dale my bag. It was at the back of the RV by the bed, Guillermo was sitting at the table inside. On the way out, I stopped beside Guillermo. He looked up at me, I opened my mouth to say something, but ended up leaving. I went to put my bag in the tent but stopped abruptly, a question popping into my head.

I looked over at Daryl, who was going through his bag.

"Am . . . am I stayin' with you?"

He looked over at me, confused, as if not understanding my question. He looked back into his bag, "go unroll the sleepin' bags."

That's a yes then? I went into the tent with my bag, doing as he said. By that time, they'd already begun cooking the meat.

Carl had been walking to his tent when he saw me and came over.

"You ever gonna give your dad his hat back?" Daryl asked as he walked by him, Daryl was going to clean up and then help the others with the meat.

"No, it's mine now." He smiled, adjusting his hat.

I smiled a little, forgetting how difficult things were for a few moments. "You look like a cowboy."

"It's a sheriff hat."

"You can be both."

Carl had one of his comics in hand and asked if I wanted him to read it. I nodded and we sat outside of Daryl's tent as he read out loud. He'd already read that one to me before, but it was one of his favourites and we didn't have many in the first place, so I didn't complain.

It didn't take long for it to get dark, and when it got so dark Carl was squinting to read the words I told him to stop. Luckily dinner was ready then, I was really hungry.

Me and Carl both stood, we both started toward where the food was but I stopped when Carl kept going. I watched, as all of the group gathered around the fire. Hershel had brought out paper plates, everyone was together, talking as they got their own share.

I knew Daryl had been over there, but it was strange to see the others interacting with him. Some were thanking him, acting impressed.

This was unappealing to me, I didn't want to go there when everyone else was. It made me nervous for some reason, and suddenly, I didn't feel so hungry. So I just sat back down.

A few minutes later, Daryl walked over, at first I only saw his shoes because I wasn't looking up. He sat next to me crossed-legged, placing a paper plate in front of me. I looked up at him, he was already chewing his food, he was eating before he sat down. Daryl was clean then, well, cleaner then before, the blood from his face and hands were gone.

Daryl didn't bring any utensils, not that I cared. I just ate with my hands like him.

"That buck took five bolts 'fore goin' down." Daryl told me. I was a little put off, surprised he was still talking. He didn't usually talk too much. He went on to explain how long it took to find it, and how long it took to take it down. Then he had to fight a couple Walkers for it. He didn't think he'd make the walk back to the farm with it while fighting the Walkers, so he found a nearby car.

"What were you doin' with Shane earlier?" He said thickly, his mouth was full.

I thought about his question, remembering how he'd seen Shane and I get out of the car.

"Target practise. He's teachin' me to shoot. Convinced Rick to let me and Carl go with them now."

"Why'd you get back later than the rest?" he asked before taking another bite.

"Cause I suck, he wanted me to keep tryin'."

"It ain't goin too good then? With the gun?"

"It's goin'. I'm better, but not good."

We ate a little more before he broke the silence.

"Did you stay with him?" He wasn't looking at me, he was staring down at his plate as he took another bite.

"Huh?"

"Shane," he said, still not looking at me. "While I was gone. You stay with him?"

"No, Dale let me have the bed in the RV."

He nodded, finishing his food he stood up to get more.

He didn't say anything else as he finished his second plate. When I finished, I went to put my plate where everyone else was putting theirs when they finished. Daryl was still eating so I just went inside the tent, I felt exhausted.

Daryl came in a while later, settling down into his sleeping bag. It was silent between us, I didn't want to talk any more. I felt conflicted, I was angry at him from what he was saying from before, but I was also happy he'd let me stay with him again, and that he'd brought dinner. Not to mention how much he talked to me, I didn't think he liked me. When I first started to talk to Merle, I was sure Daryl hated me. So that day was an odd development for me.

He asked me if I wanted the flashlight and I shook my head no, before turning my back to him. I thought about bringing up what I saw with Glenn and Maggie, but I wasn't sure how to say it, and I'd probably just get in trouble if he knew I saw. Maggie looked fine when I went to see her, though she wasn't so fine after seeing my back. I thought about just asking her about it.

I replayed the talk, well fight, between me and Daryl earlier in my head over and over. Trying to make sense of it, but it all just seemed odd and irritated me, like I was missing something. Soon enough, I fell asleep.

I slept in pretty late the next day, or so it seemed like. I was only awake for an hour or so before the group got ready to leave for target practice. Daryl, Guillermo, and Lori stayed behind. Rick and Lori had another spat before we left, which was nothing new.

"Damn it, Lori, will you stop? He's safer this way."

"Is he? How can you be so sure? He's twelve years old for Christ's sake! This is not a good idea, but I guess the end of the world means I've no longer got a say in parenting my own son."

I was glad she was staying so we didn't have to hear any more. I was also glad I was riding with Shane and not the rest of them. I didn't understand why they were even still fighting about it, Carl could already handle a gun and hit targets, so isn't it a moot point?

I was once again given the small pistol for training, Shane gave me the bullets to load it myself.

"I'm sure you know and understand that gun work is serious business," Shane looked over to see if I was listening and I nodded. "Even if you do everything right; accidents still happen. You always think before you pull the trigger, you think fast but you think. Know the consequences. Never fire a weapon unless you have a very good reason."

Training with Shane was a lot different than training with Daddy, he wasn't constantly correcting me. But if he had to he gave me another option, things that could work better for me specifically. He showed me a few ways to hold the gun until I felt more comfortable. But I still hadn't hit the target or even the fence post.

Shane didn't stay with me the entire time of course, he was alternating between me and the others. After a while passed I had the rising suspicion it was almost time to pack up, it felt like a long time had passed.

Shane was beside me, straightening my elbows slightly when we were both distracted. On the other end of the line of shooters, was that boy; Jimmy. Some had stopped shooting to congratulate him.

He'd hit his first target apparently.

From what I'd overheard about him, and what Shane told me, the boy had never held a gun before he started training. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or angry. I couldn't remember how old I was when Daddy first started teaching me how to load a gun, but for this guy, who'd never held one before to get the target before I did? How did that even happen?

I lowered my arms. Then looked at Shane who was crouched beside me. We stared into each other's eyes, I could tell he was thinking.

"Is it time to leave soon?" I asked. I just wanted to leave.

He pressed his lips together and rubbed his head before answering, "no, not for you."

Before I could stay anything he stood up and took his Glock out of his holster, I watched as he flicked the safety off and then took the gun from my hands before replacing it with the Glock.

"You got this." He said, "shoot."

I took a deep breath, once again taking my time to aim with his heavy gun before pulling the hammer back and squeezing the trigger. Nothing. Once again, I took a deep breath, making sure both my eyes were open as I looked through the sight. I breathed out just as I squeezed the trigger.

At first, I heard the bottle shatter, but I thought it was someones else's target, but then I saw mine was gone from the post.

Some of the others stopped shooting to glance over, a little surprised. Carl praised me and looked like he was excited for me. Rick praised me as well, but stared at the gun in my hands with confusion.

I heard him call Shane over after he gave me a new target. I didn't pay attention to what Rick wanted him for and I continued shooting. I didn't hit the target every time, but most of the time it was either the target or the post.

When everyone packed up to leave, Shane decided that we'd stay. Even though I could finally hit the target, he wanted me to keep at it. Which I didn't mind. After I emptied the gun three more times, Shane decided we should go too.

"Think we're gonna have to get you one of these," he chuckled, motioning to his gun in my hand. "You're doing so great, once you get a little better, we'll work on moving targets."

"Movin'?" I glanced up as he took the gun from me, he was reloading it before we left.

He nodded, "bottles and tin cans are one thing, easy to hit what isn't moving. But taking down an assailant, one that's trying to kill you. It's different."

I watched his concentrated expression as he spoke, his eyes on his hands as he loading the bullets.

"They say in that kind of situation things slow down that's crap, they speed up, adrenalin," he laughed a little, shaking his head. "It'll cripple you if you let it. You need to use your instinct. You got to rule it out. Because somebody is going to die, and you better hope you're the one who's making that decision."

My forehead creased, "decision? Deciding who dies?"

"Not always. But it could happen, and if you have to choose . . ." His eyes met mine, and he suddenly became hesitant.

"How do you choose?" Why choose? Was what I wanted to ask, but then I thought about it. I thought about Andrea, Jacqui, and that Doctor. They chose to die themselves when they could've escaped with us, but they didn't. Why did they choose that? How did they choose that?

Shane's eyes became glossy, "Turn off a switch. The switch."

When Shane was done reloading he clicked the safety on before putting it into his holster as he began to walk. I followed him, speeding my steps so I walked along side him I stared at his face, still trying to read his expression. He seemed very concentrated, but sad.

"The one that makes you scared or angry, sympathetic, whatever. You don't think, you just-you act. Because odds are somebody else is counting on you, that's your partner, that's your friend. There ain't nothing easy about taking a man's life, no matter how little value it may have. But when you get it done, you have to forget it . . . I guess I haven't quite got that last part down yet."

He stopped at the driver's side of the car, putting his hand against it instead of opening the door. He wasn't looking at me.

"You killed someone?"

He glanced at me, his eyes were more shiny than glossy at that point. I knew the answer.

"It was a bad guy, right?"

He stood up straight, turning fully to me, "no, I didn't kill because I was doing my job. He wasn't a bad guy. It was . . . I'm not a cop anymore."

"Oh," was all I said. I wondered about who he killed, why he did it. I wanted to ask but I knew better, he'd tell me if he wanted to.

"One day, you might find yourself in a situation where . . . you have to be ready for what needs to be done." He continued, "Walkers, or even people may want to hurt you, or someone else. That's why I wanted to teach you how to shoot. You can protect yourself and others with this skill. And having this skill can give you some power, the power to choose. Yourself, or them."

"Them?" I repeated, attempting to process his words.

"This them may be someone dangerous, someone who wants to hurt you. Tell me this, you got a Walker cornering you, you gonna kill it, or let it kill you?"

I didn't hesitate, "kill it."

"See? Just like that, now think of that Walker as someone alive, someone dangerous. You understand? It's not that different, I'm not saying it's easy, and it will affect you in a much different way. Killing those things, almost nothing to us now, we know they're already dead, they're nothing. But a person, a breathing person . . ."

"A bad guy. Like the people that Guillermo was scared of? Where we found him." I tried to confirm, remembering the nursing home and how we found it.

Shane nodded. "People came and killed the ones living there, took everything they had. That's why I wanted you to learn, even if the others don't like it."

Shane motioned his head to the other side of the car, signaling me to get in. I walked around the car and once I was in Shane started to car.

"Toby."

Sitting in the passenger seat, I looked at him.

"If something ever happens . . ." he was talking slowly, as if making sure I absorbed every word. And with the way he was looking at me, I did exactly that. "If you have to make a choice, I want you to remember that the right choice . . . Is the one that keeps you alive."

I turned away, looking out the window as he started to drive. Most of the drive I thought all his words over, trying to piece it together, he didn't say a word to me the whole ride. Once Hershel's house came into view, I started to feel excited, I couldn't wait to tell Daryl I could finally shoot. He probably wouldn't care that much, but I still wanted to tell him. I kind of wished he'd gone to target practise too, so he would've seen.

As we turned up the driveway Shane finally spoke, "what're they doing?"

I saw Daryl and T-Dog, both of them had a shovel and were digging a few feet away from the pile of rocks that was Otis' grave. Shane pulled up the car and stopped it, usually he parked the car closer to the back of the house. We both opened our doors to get out.

"T!" Shane called, "what's the shovel for man?"

T-Dog looked at Shane with a gloomy expression before looking down at the shovel, "Sophia."

Let me know what you guys thought of this one! Sorry it was so short.

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