These Things: The world's gone to hell – there's just no other way to put it. A sickness spread across the US, infecting the young and the old alike. I'm a long way from home and I may never see my hometown again, but I have to keep fighting. It's them or us; the dead versus the living. Apocalypse: 1, Iva: 0. (OC/Shane)

Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters from the famous comic book (turned television adaptation) The Walking Dead, but sometimes I wish I was a writer on the show's staff! I will be the first to admit that the characters are a mish mash of their comic book and television personalities. Some might even be horribly butchered, but I've done my best. Iva, Libby, and a few others are my creations, so please give them a bit of respect.

Rating: This story is rating M+ for Mature Audiences. Gore, violence, language, intense situations, sexual innuendo, and sexual scenes occur throughout the course of the story. Chapters containing sexually explicit materials will be properly labeled, but it is advised that children do not read this story.


"I'm not a bad man, I'm just overwhelmed. It's cause of these things, it's cause of these things." – She Wants Revenge, These Things

These Things

~Chapter Eleven~

I leaned against the counter in the kitchen and watched Carol, Lori, Patricia, Maggie, and Beth work together to prepare dinner. Two chickens had been slaughtered and plucked and roasted outside on the fire pit in honor of the large dinner, and the women worked fluidly to prepare creative sides. I'd helped gather greens and dandelions, all edible, for a salad. But, that had been the extent of my assistance.

Sipping my glass of wine, I folded one arm over my chest and looked towards the formal dining room where the others were gathered, chatting quietly with one another. Then I saw Andrea standing just outside the back door on the back porch, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. I pushed the screen door open and stood beside her, a few feet between us.

"Not enough room in the kitchen for all of us," I offered conversationally. "First big meal I've had in weeks."

"Same here. Though we used to sit around the campfire at the quarry together. Sometimes we'd have a good meal – depending on if Daryl or his brother got lucky hunting or if Amy and I…" she trailed off quietly and I saw her facial features morph into grief. "Sometimes we had fish."

When she offered me a drag off of her cigarette, I shook my head and declined. "I don't think I've met a single person since this all happened that hasn't lost someone. I'm sorry."

"Baby sister," she offered quietly. "Last night at the quarry, our camp got taken by surprise. Amy was walking out of the RV when a walker – it happened quickly. I stayed with her until she changed. I shot my baby sister."

I didn't know Andrea well enough to be able to speculate whether or not a hug would be appropriate, so I didn't offer her any physical comfort. I listened and I offered consolation with my presence. "I am sorry that you were forced to do that. Were you the protective big sister?"

She laughed dully. "Ironically, we weren't even all that close until this happened. I miss her though. She was the one person I could always count on to watch my back, and now I don't have that."

"You and Dale seem close," I suggested. She explained how circumstances had brought her, Amy, and Dale together. "I guess not everybody has the cookie cutter family like the Grimes, huh?"

Andrea laughed again and took a drag off of her cigarette. "We found Rick in Atlanta – a couple of us were in the city on a supply run. He was holed up in a tank like an idiot and Glenn took it upon himself to help him. I guess not long before the world went to hell, he was shot in the line of duty. Was in a coma. Shane went to the hospital to check on him, there were walkers everywhere. Until Rick showed up, Lori and Carl thought he was dead."

"That couldn't have been easy."

"Especially not since Shane and Lori were fooling around and-"

"Andrea," a voice interrupted quietly. I looked back and spied Carol at the door, her eyes hooded and her smile thin. "We are putting dinner on the table. Why don't you two come on in here?"

As Andrea put out her cigarette, I mentally reviewed what she'd just shared. All I could think was that it certainly explained the tension between Shane and Rick; it also explained why Shane continued to send probing glances in Lori's direction. Was Rick even informed about what had occurred, or was he blind to the transgression? I followed Andrea into the kitchen and discreetly examined the people gathered around the large dining table.

Rick appeared warm and loving towards Lori, who sat next to him. But when she glanced down the table to where Shane sat, something accepting crossed Rick's face that left me doubting that he was ignorant of the brief affair. No, he knew. He knew and he'd accepted it and was ready to move on. Maybe the end of the world made divorce more difficult?

Hershel sat at the head of the table and Maggie sat at his right. Otis and Patricia reined at the opposite end of the table, and I hesitated for a split second before I pulled up a chair between Glenn and Andrea. Silverware clinked and Rick tapped his ring finger against his wine glass, causing the noise level in the room to drop to nearly nothing. Once everyone had settled, he rose to his feet.

"I guess I just want to thank you, Hershel Greene. You saved my boy's life, but more than that you opened your home to us. The world out there… I think you're real lucky that you haven't been subjected to the horrors of the world." Lori tugged on his hand and Rick immediately smiled yet again and forged ahead. "We are eternally grateful for what you did for our son. I know that the supplies that were gathered today aren't enough to show that gratitude, but we want to help around here in any way that we can. That being said, thanks Hershel."

Everyone toasted and just before we were about to sip our drinks, Rick cleared his throat again. This time I was the subject of his intense scrutiny. "And I can't leave Iva and Patricia out. Shane and Otis, too. You all played an integral part in making sure that my son would be here today. He woke up today and smiled at his mother. That right there… No words can ever thank you enough."

We toasted one another again and sipped our drinks quietly, the tension in the room building until Hershel carved the chicken with precision. Platters and bowls of food were passed around the table; conversation picking up again once people had food to occupy their thoughts. I studied the tuna casserole curiously before I ladled a good helping onto my plate, along with fire roasted peppers and tomatoes and squash, as well as a small serving of chicken and corn. They'd even managed to prepare cornbread, and I popped a piece into my mouth and savored the buttery flavor.

Glenn shifted in his seat in a nervous manner and gulped down a great deal of white wine, his face flushing from the effects of the alcohol. When he tried to pour more wine into his glass, he nearly overfilled it.

"Hey, go easy there," I urged, sliding the bottle out of his reach. I refilled my own glass and saluted him cheerfully. "Hey, what's got you down?"

He glanced down the length of the table and gulped before downing the rest of his wine. In turn, Maggie shifted in her seat, her own cheeks slightly flushed, and spoke quietly to her father. Interesting, I thought to myself as I sipped my wine.

"So, you made your own run today, right? I never did get a list of the supplies you were able to recover from the pharmacy."

"Uh."

"Keep drinking, Chinaman. I wanna see just how red your face gets," Daryl teased.

Glenn lifted his chin in challenge and slurped down some more wine before he focused on the piece of chicken on his plate. "Shut up, you redneck," he threw back playfully. The group dynamics were somewhat interesting but it was hard to get a good reading on some of the interrelationships. "I'm Korean."

When Sophia nearly knocked her glass of water over, Beth reached over and stroked her fingers over the small girl's hair. "You're a little bit smaller than my brother was before he got sick. The world is a scary place. Sometimes I think it would be better to go to sleep and never wake up."

"Mama…" Sophia whispered quietly as she flinched away from Beth, towards Carol, a frightened look on her face.

"Beth," Hershel admonished. "You're frightening the young girl. If you cannot act appropriately at the dinner table, with our guests, I think that it would be best if you went upstairs to your room."

"Daddy-"

"Come on, Beth. I wanted to show you something," Maggie interrupted as she pushed her chair back. I watched Beth slowly rise to her feet and shuffle towards the stairs, Maggie close behind her. And though they were discreet, I noticed the small piece of paper that Glenn pressed into Maggie's hand when she passed by him. "I'll be back down in a few minutes, Daddy."

Once the sisters were upstairs, the noise level at the table increased yet again. I studied a piece of chicken and speared it with my fork before I popped it into my mouth. It was succulent, probably the best piece of chicken I'd ever had. No. I poked at the tuna fish casserole and decided that it was my stomach that insisted it was the best piece of chicken ever. Nobody could ever top Granny's fried chicken – no doubt about it.

Libs, if only I'd been faster. If I'd followed directly behind her, instead of staring after her in confusion for a few seconds, I would have had her back. I would have killed the stiff that had eventually taken her life. Sophia would have been safe and maybe Rick and his group would have still been so grateful that we would have stayed the night and chased Carl through the woods and eventually ended up at Hershel's farm. I miss you, I thought to myself, grieved afresh by the loss. She would have liked Rick's group, had she had a chance to get to know them.

T-Dog shifted his arm tenderly and sipped on his wine, but didn't touch his food. "I didn't get a list of the supplies that were found at the pharmacy," I announced again, drawing his attention. "Were you guys able to find any antibiotics, Glenn?"

"I am sorry that I did not remember the wound on your arm," Hershel murmured as he sat his fork down next to his plate. "I can see that you're uncomfortable."

Glenn quickly pulled a folded up sheet of paper out of his pocket and placed it on the table beside us. I scooted it closer to me and scanned the scribbled list of supplies quickly. "Good. Assuming you don't have any allergies, there's more than enough for a round of Cephalexin. Where are the supplies?" I inquired, looking around the dining room speculatively.

"Patricia and I stored most in the small room off of Carl's. The rest are in Dale's possession, I believe."

"That's right," Dale agreed with a nod of his head. "I stored them in the RV. The cabinet over the fridge. Thought it would be safe there. We'll get you what you need after dinner, T-Dog."

I slid the list back to Glenn. "Based on the dosage, give him thirty of the pills, Dale. Take one pill three times daily, T-Dog. Keep it clean and let it breathe as much as you can."

"And give you a call if it doesn't clear up?" Glenn teased. When he nudged me with his elbow, I rolled my eyes. "I'm glad we've got a nurse around. No offense, Mr. Greene. I'm sure you would've, uh, said the same thing and all."

Something told me that Hershel hadn't missed the note that Glenn had passed to Maggie when she'd hurried past, if the stern look he offered the man sitting next to me was any sort of an indication. His lips twitched. "Yes, Glenn. I believe in this case that Iva is correct. Hopefully a round of the antibiotics will be strong enough; otherwise I'm afraid we may find ourselves facing a difficult situation. We don't have the supplies on hand for the antibiotic drip that you'll need otherwise."

"I'm sure the antibiotics will do the job. Be sure to remind me and I'll help you clean the site as needed."

T-Dog nodded, an obvious look of relief curling his lips. "Thanks."

"Any cornbread left?" Daryl inquired, breaking the tense silence that followed T-Dog's words of gratitude. "Ain't had cornbread in ages."