New Meanings To Old Words: LOVE

We left off with Rick and Shane having a throw down in the parking lot, and Randall getting his binds free and headin' for the relative safety of the opened door of the nearby county building. I'm willin' to bet that poor Randall is going to be wishing he knew/followed Glenn's rule for survival: Never go in an open door (or a door that's opened for you, and especially not a door with fuckin' chains on it) Sorry been re-reading SAFE & LOVE to help get my flow back…. But I digress

As always, read, review and most of all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Callie and the rest of the misfits (Danny, Miles, Ben and Gracie…as well as those we've lost along the way: Jenna, Mike and Nina) and the ones you have yet to meet…but may be meeting sooner than you think.

What Makes A Good Man Pt. 2

Rick's breathing was harsh and labored as it worked its way out of his dry throat and he was trying hard to steady it. To steady his shakin' hand so that he could position his gun. He snarled at the horrible stench above him, his gun yet again slipping to the side as he worked to control his nerves.

It wasn't the Walkers piled up on his chest that was causing his panic; though the close proximity of their faces to his was jarring in its own right. No, it wasn't the pile of three on his chest, and the feel of his ribs slowly cracking below them. No it wasn't them that were making his hand shake so bad.

It was the one still alive on top. The one snapping its teeth at him and digging its undead fingers through the bodies piled up on him. The one whose breath he could feel slapping him on the face with each snap. The one whose hand had just brushed the side of his bruised and battered face.

"Damn it," Rick seethed through his tightly clenched teeth as he again worked to position his gun properly, not wanting to draw the attention of the other Walkers still flowing out of that broken window. He needed one clear shot, but the weight of those bodies piled up on him, bending and cracking his ribs with each tiny movement he made had pain lacing up his side at an alarming rate. He pushed slightly up, his stomach muscles constricting and let his gaze slip to the face of the first Walker settled upon him. He shoved his gun barrel into the undead bastard's mouth using the weight of its head to help steady his nerves. He pushed against that weight and groaned as he shifted his gun to point at the snarling Walker on top of him.

Fingers tangled into his hair, pulling his head up slightly as it lunged towards him again. He took in one deep breath, feeling one of his ribs finally pop as the pile atop him moved down just enough for him to get the angle he needed. He fired, and closed his eyes as the pain of that Walker added more dead weight to the already unbearable pile.

"Shit," Rick growled as he worked his gun free of the Walker's mouth and let his head fall back down to the ground. His breath was coming in shallow gasps of pain now, and he knew no matter how safe he was below the pile of dead that he couldn't stay there much longer.

Three deep breaths and he was shifting to his side, grunting and groaning as he worked to use his own body weight to slip move the bodies on top of him. His sore, probably broken ribs were protesting each move he made as he rocked back and forth to gain the necessary momentum. By his final press through he at last felt relief in his chest and lungs as the bodies began to tumble to the ground beside him. Rick pushed his way to his feet, grimacing as his fingers dug deep into the decaying body that had been first to fall on him, and shifted to a crouching position behind one of the cars he was sandwiched between.

Catching his breath, Rick shifted out the cylinder of his gun and reloaded. He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times trying still to steady his shaking fingers. The fight with Shane, the entire god damned situation and then the Walkers, it was all just a bit too much. Putting thumb and fingers to the bridge of his nose Rick took a minute to try and push away all the pain in his body and the pounding in his head.

Three more deep breaths later he shifted his eyes up and around the parking lot. There were Walkers everywhere, at least twenty maybe thirty. Rick shifted on his knees, wincing at the slight tugging pain in his ribs and readied himself. In his periphery he picked up Shane's distinct form as it weaved through a few of the parked cars nearby, a mess of Walkers slathering and stumbling about behind him. Rick firmed his lips, his tongue darting out just a bit to taste the blood on his split lip. A split lip that Shane had caused only moments ago.

Rick's mind began to race as he watched Shane round that final car and towards that bus full of supplies. It raced around a great many things as he moved his eyes along that parking lot, taking note of the clear path he now had to the car parked near the entry gate. Clear and free because all of those Walkers Shane had released with the throwing of that wrench were slapping at the door of that bus. Rick's chin fell to his chest, his eyes hitting off of his boots and lingering as he tried to settle the roar of his stomach as it protested what his brain was thinking.

A sound nearby caught Rick's attention at that point. Not the sound of Walkers, but a different sound. The creak of a door and the sound of harsh panicked breathing. Rick's eyes snapped up from his boots and he shifted around the back of the car, his gaze catching on Randall as he entered into the shadowy confines of the building behind him.

Rick's body stiffened and his hand-sore from the fight with Shane-tightened upon the grip of his gun. That kid. That kid knew Maggie. Rick's eyes shifted back over to where the Walkers had gathered to paw at the bus; where Shane was currently hiding away, hoping for some kind of miracle.

"I don't think you can keep them safe. I know you can't keep them safe."

Shane's words echoed in Rick's ears and his gaze shifted again to that door as it swung back and forth lightly in the distance. The darkness just beyond causing a shiver to slip up his sweat slicked spine.

"It's all about that forced moment now."

Rick's eyes shifted down to his boots again as he realized that Shane had been absolutely right. It was about that forced moment now; that point where you had to decide and had to live with your decision. Rick knew he had two choices. Save Shane and risk losing Randall, risk that son of a bitch making it back to his people and then to the farm; or leave Shane to the death he dealt himself when he chose to throw that wrench and go after Randall.

Rick's legs felt like lead as he shifted to stand, his shoulders hunched with the odd realization that he'd been right at that crossroads. That eventually it would come down to one of them makin' it out over the other. He just didn't realize that he'd be the one to have to make the call.

Rick spared one last look over his shoulder to the bus in the distance, his eyes working around the glare of the sun on that windshield. He didn't know why, but for some reason he wanted to know that Shane saw him walking away. Wanted to know that Shane would realize he could make those hard decisions when he had to.

He kept his eyes on the bus for only a moment longer, until that strange tickle in the back of his throat forced him to look away. Shifting his eyes to the open door a few car lengths away, Rick wiped away the bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face and started walking towards that darkness.

Shane's breath caught in this throat, his heart pounding erratically against his chest like a fuckin' drum beat just eggin' the Walkers along as they pawed at the sliding doors of that bus. The sliding doors that he couldn't get shut because of their fuckin' hands and the hard press of their undead bodies against it.

Shane growled as a particularly gnarled looking bitch tried shoving herself through the open crack of the door. He pressed back against her and her gnashing teeth, the feel of her breath-if it could be called that- hitting off his arm and causin' the small hairs there to stand on end. He glared at that she-beast as she continued to claw, her fingers just touching his arm barely in a feather-light touch as the press of bodies pushed her closer to her goal.

Shane's breath hitched, fear takin' hold like it hadn't done to him in a very long time. He pushed it down hard, and as his gaze slipped to his hand flattened to the threshold of that door barring it as best he could he was struck with inspiration. Dumb fuckin' inspiration the likes of which he usually shunned and ridiculed. His mind slipped back to when they'd first arrived, when Rick had been goin' on and on about bein' smarter with their decisions. Harpin' about how Daryl had the right idea with his quieter weapon and reusable ammo. Issuin' down from fuckin' on-high that they should be usin' their knives more.

His mind slipped back there and he watched the replay of Rick slicing his hand open and sliding it over that fence; lurin' that shambling fuck on the other side over with the smell and taste of fresh spilled blood. Just as Callie had done in the forest when Sophia and Jenna first fled from the highway. Shane licked his lips and slipped his knife out of its sheath, his body slipping into position to brace against the door more fully as he lifted his hand away from its resting place.

He took one deep breath in through his nose and then put the tip of the knife to his palm. He sliced slow, workin' to feel that cut for everything it was fuckin' worth. Using that strong flash of pain to help dull his senses a bit, to get his head back away from that fear that was threatening to take hold of him. He watched the red line on his hand grow thicker and thicker, marveling at the sounds of increasing frenzy outside of the doors. The pawing of hungry hands made even more excited as the tangy smell of his freshly drawn blood slipped out that small crack in the open door.

A second later he slammed his hand at the door, spreading his blood along the edge and watching in a strange sort of awe as the gnarled bitch shoved her teeth and tongue to it. He used the opportunity he'd created and shifted his knife in his hand and rammed it into the top of her now otherwise engaged head. Her dead weight slipped down slightly, held to the door still by the other Walkers outside, but it was enough of a reprieve. With her out of the way Shane was able to close the door fully, his back pressing against it as he worked to finally catch his breath.

His eyes shifted slightly to the side and then widened, his body lunging lightning quick as he made a grab for the large piece of wood tossed over top of the seats nearest him. He shifted quick, putting that wood in place of him and jamming it snug. It must have been what the people who had lived on this bus had fashioned to hold off any unwanted visitors because it fit so damned perfectly in place. The split down the center bowing slightly and giving him a clue as to what may have happened before. Broken or not the plank helped and Shane let out a long sigh of relief. His eyes settled to the ground for an instant as he caught his breath, his head resting on that plank of wood as he stared at his shoes. Breathing deep he worked to steady his heart a bit, worked to clear his mind of the incessant sounds of the Walkers just beyond that piece of wood. His eyes closed for a heartbeat and when they reopened his gaze followed the path of the small trickle of blood working down that plank of wood.

He stared at it for a moment, watching its chaotic run down the slight imperfections in the surface it travelled on. Watched until it slowed its pace, the flow of blood not strong enough to force it all the way down the wood and to the ground. His eyes slipped up then, following back to the source where his palm lay flat on the plank. And as his eyes reached their destination they widened just a bit.

Written in hasty black lettering across the broken plane of wood were a few words that had his blood running cold.

Don't forget the cords.

Shane's eyes snapped to the left just as the pressure of the bodies on the other side of the hinged doors caused that split piece of wood to bow right down its busted center. Hanging there right beside the door were two black cords with hooks on the end. Shane snarled as another push against the door damn near knocked him on his ass. A fleeting vision floated into his mind's eye, a vision of what may have befallen the people who had once taken up residence on the bus. A horrid vision of why someone would feel the need to scrawl that along that broken piece of pine.

Another hard push against the door and he was scrambling for the cords, hands shaking as he worked to hook one and then the other to the metal pole on the other side. Three tries for the first hook and then one for the second and Shane stepped back. Stepped back and watched that fuckin' broken plank bend and bow and those cords work to keep it from splitting completely in two.

His breath was a harsh burn as it worked its way out of his throat, his chest tight and constricted as he worked to steady his heart and that burning breath. He listened to the sound of the Walkers pounding on the door of that fuckin' bus, and took another step back away as it again bowed inward.

Lifting his bleeding hand he wiped it across his ridiculously dry mouth, and fisted it over his lips as he continued to steady his breathing. A moment later, his eyes shifted, a feeling on the side of his face-that familiar feel of a stare he'd know anywhere- causing him to look out that dirt smeared front windshield.

Rick stood by a car not far off, his hand gripping his gun and eyes right on the bus. Right on him, at least that's what it felt like. The distance between them, and the harsh glare of sun on the smeared dirt of the windshield made it damn near impossible to be sure. But Shane felt that stare and he held it, his lips parting on a sigh of relief as he watched Rick take a step.

A sigh of relief that stuttered to a stop and held in the back of his throat as he watched Rick turn his back, and use that step to move away. Shane's heart thudded to a stop for a second, the world around him, all the sounds of the dead pawing at that bus, fading into the distance as Rick's figure moved further away.

"No, wait," Shane's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes widening more as Rick took another step away. Shane's hand lifted and he pressed it to the windshield, the wet feel of his blood suctioning his palm to that dirty glass before him. "No," Shane said again, his voice echoing strangely in his ears as Rick's figure moved further away.

"You don't think I could have done it?"

The words echoed strangely in the confines of his mind, and Shane shook his head against them. Rick could have been going for the car. Could have been working on some plan to come back and save him. Could have been. But he wasn't. Shane wasn't a fool.

"I'm not the good guy anymore."

Shane's hand slipped off of the windshield, the bloody imprint of his palm left there to glisten in the light that filtered through it. He let his hand fall to his side and found his body suddenly too heavy to keep up on his feet. His feet slipped back two shaking steps, and his backside fell to the large driver's seat. His eyes remained locked on the figure of Rick as he now ran towards the swinging door of the building not far off. His eyes stayed on him until his vision blurred a bit with the effort not to blink. Stayed until the mass of undead creatures pawing around the bus became too many, and filled what was left of his blurring vision.

Until all that was left for him to look at was his own bloody handprint on that windshield, and the monsters on the other side clawing to get in.

Rick's eyes shifted around the darkened corridor, the only light available coming from the space between closed doors and the floor and the slits between the jambs of the ones that were cracked open. The odd sort of array of sunlight crisscrossing the hallway as he worked his way slowly, and as quietly as he could, down was disconcerting. His eyes shifted down the dim corridor and he snarled, the knowledge that it was daytime and the dark wasn't as all encompassing as it seemed to be where he was didn't help to cease the chill running up his spine. Didn't stop him from feeling as though he were walking into a trap.

He shook his head as his mind ventured back to those dark corridors at the CDC, first with Callie at his back and then with Daryl. Wishing the redneck were there with him now seemed just ridiculous, especially considering it had been an option he'd been given…an option he'd turned down.

Rick's jaw clenched and he slipped his shoulder along the wall, sucking in a low breath through his nose as he came to yet another cracked open door. This was the fourth one he'd hit since he'd entered. None of them had been empty, but thankfully none of them had more than the barest hint of moving remains inside.

Bloody remains and decaying body parts in two.

A torso and head with arms clawing out and dragging slowly towards him, legs left on the other side of the room, in one.

A man missing his entire stomach, which made it impossible for it to even work to its feet to go after him, in another.

He hadn't had to use his weapon in either instance. He swept the room for signs of Randall and then closed the doors. Locked that horror away for the rest of time and moved on down the dark hallway.

Rick shook his head and used the back of his hand to wipe away the bead of sweat rolling down along the bridge of his nose. Twitching his nose he stepped closer to the door, palm sweating on the knife in one hand as he put his other hand flat to the door. Suddenly, his gun felt heavy in his holster, and he spared it a look as a strange feeling of awareness tickled its way up the back of his neck. His hand paused on the door, and he stared at it, giving the anxiety running rampant through his body a chance to dissipate.

His mind was working in the haze of an adrenaline rush, and Rick knew all too well that moments such as this could lead to poor choices. Could lead to mistake. Big mistakes. He also knew that he shouldn't just toss away his innate sense of apprehension; not anymore. That apprehension is what got him through those first few moments of horror when he'd awoke in that hospital all those months ago.

The fingers on both of Rick's hands twitched just slightly. The one sweating around the hilt of his knife working to maintain a grip as he readied himself, and the one at the door, barely hovering on that surface. His palm itched slightly and his brow furrowed as he tried to work through just what was causing his hackles to rise. There wasn't anything different about this door than the last four he'd just passed.

Rick's eyes slipped behind him and he glared at the now closed doors. His gaze shifted down to the ground, and then back around to the hallway before him. He snarled at himself and tried to lower the sound of his own breathing, tried to listen past the thrum of his own blood as it rushed around between his ears.

Rick's gaze shifted over the door, his fingers twitching towards something that he hadn't seen when he'd first worked up to the door. The red stain settled on the jamb, glistening just a bit in the light filtering through that cracked open door. Red blood. Still wet, and still fresh. Not the brownish black gore that he'd been traipsin' through since he'd entered -

The door moved, just slightly, causing Rick's eyes to snap back to it. His body shifted away from the small opening and his breathing stopped completely. The hand that he'd had hovering at the door clenched into a fist and he firmed his lips against the need to exhale. Staring hard at the crack of the door he listened, waited to hear the telltale rasping of the undead on the other side. But it wasn't there. Nothing was there but an eerie sort of silence that had him tightening his grip on his knife and letting out a slow shuddering exhale.

Rick shifted forward just a bit, pivoting on his toe and trying to keep his body as flat to the wall as he could as he got as closer to that opening. His fingers spread out as he prepared to push it open, the tips barely resting on the cool surface.

A shadow shifted between that crack, the sudden movement causing Rick's breath to stop cold and his heart to thump wildly. The shadow shifted again, and an eye- wide and alert-shifted right then left, catching on him.

"Shit!" Randall's muffled voice on the other side of the door had Rick's body springing quickly from the wall. He moved to push the door open just as Randall slammed it shut.

"Damnit," Rick seethed, as he rammed his shoulder into the door hard. His aching body protested the action and he sucked in a pained breath as he finally came crashing through and stumbled into the now empty room. A dead Walker lay on the ground near the doorway and Rick's foot caught on it as he frantically moved to follow after Randall's figure as it moved towards a door to an adjoining room.

"Fuck, man," Randall said; he spun around mid-step as Rick rocketed after him, the kid's eyes still wide with terror. "C'mon, man, just let me go." Rick stumbled over the dead body in his way and continued on, using his anger to push down that horrid taste rising at the back of his throat. Randall was facing forward now, his hands reaching out and grabbing hold of the door connecting the two rooms. Just as the boy tried to again slam the door shut Rick's right shoulder barreled into it, sending the boy flying back a few steps.

Rick stumbled again, his breath coming in rapid, painful gasps as he turned his attention to Randall. He should have seen it coming, should have realized that the kid had got himself a weapon. Randall's hand shot out and Rick moved back to avoid the knife as it sliced, but he moved to slow. He heard the fabric of his shirt tear before he actually felt the skin of his right forearm open up. The pain of the laceration hit him hard and he tucked his right arm into his side in reaction as his body coiled in on itself to avoid the second slice.

Stumbling backwards another step, Rick growled through the pain and hurled himself forward as Randall readied another stab towards him. His shoulders tackled into Randall's smaller frame and both of them fell in a heap in the conference table, scattering the chairs every which way. Rick dropped his knife from his left hand and smashed it into the face of the kid under him, only to be rewarded with a knee to his abdomen that left him rolling and gasping for air. His already broken and bruised ribs protested more as Randall scrambled to his feet and then landed another kick. Rick groaned and pushed upwards, his injured and bleeding right arm on fire as he steadied himself. His eyes caught sight of Randall, who had apparently lost his own knife in their fall to the ground, ready another kick.

Rick's hand shot out and grabbed the kid's ankle as it careened towards him, his fingers digging deep into the injured portion of the boy's lower calf. Randall yelled out, and with one swift pull from Rick he was on the ground again. Rick used the boy's momentary disorientation to stagger to his feet. Randall shifted around faster than Rick would have given him credit to do with the newly opened and now furiously bleeding injury to his leg. Randall moved barely an inch forward before Rick's Python was drawn and aimed.

Randall froze, his hands reaching for the sky and his eyes wide as his chest rose and fell with his labored breaths. Rick clenched his hand tight along the grip of his gun, the blood that had run down from the wound in his arm causing it to slip slightly. He worked slowly to his feet, his vision pinprick precise as he lined up his shot right between Randall's wide terrified eyes. Slowly working his way to his feet, Rick watched as Randall slipped his gaze to the door on the other side of the table, then to the window, and finally back to Rick.

Options exhausted Randall's eyes held Rick's gaze, his body sagging as he sighed and shook his head.

"C'mon, man," Randall said between breaths.

Rick's mouth twitched into a snarl as he advanced one single foot and then bounced back on the other. His blood was rushing hot through his veins as he watched Randall's head shake and his shoulders shrug. It was running hot and fast and chanting a strange chorus of Callie's name.

"I should shoot you were you stand," Rick said in a growling tone that he barely recognized as his own. He lifted his gun a bit higher, holding his target as Randall made to back up a step, but then thought better of it. Randall's eyes went wide as Rick's spine stiffened and his head worked up higher as he looked down upon the boy before him. Randall's head began to shake and before he could open his mouth to try and work some kind of magic Rick stepped forward. "I know who you are. I know what you've done."

"Who am I?" Randall shot back, the look of confusion shooting across his face causing Rick's resolve to lose a bit of steam, his gun lowering just a bit. "I don't know what you're talking about, man. I told you I wasn't with them-"

Anger boiled in Rick again, his mind holding onto that boy's lies for all that they were worth. He raised his gun again and shook his head as Randall lowered his hands a fraction of an inch.

"Don't," Rick ground out between his clenched teeth. "Don't."

"A'right, man," Randall lifted his hands back up and again let his eyes shift around the room. No longer searching for a physical way out, but the words that he needed to lie his way free. Rick's lip twitched and his head shook , his gaze shifted to the floor where his blood had smeared along the dingy carpet and trash that littered the ground at their feet. "A'right, just calm down, man. I don't know you, and you don't know me."

"I know," Rick said, his eyes snapping back up to Randall's startled face. "I know what you did," Rick seethed out as he pushed forward slightly then rocked back again, his mind reeling with indecision. Rocking back and forth on a precipice, a cliff to somewhere he couldn't come back from. He should shoot the kid. Take care of it now and forever. For Callie and the horror she went through. For Danny and his guilt. For Lori and Carl. For everyone. He should just pull the trigger and be done. But as he rocked forward again he felt something pulling him back. Something he couldn't really explain. Something that made him see the face of that man at the bar, Dave; his brains exploding onto the mirror behind him and smattering over Rick's own reflection. Something that wouldn't let him look away from his own face in that mirror in his mind; even though he hadn't stared at himself at all during the actual event.

Rick's left hand ran along his upper lip, wiping the sweat that had settled there away. He kept his wrist over his mouth as he let his gaze shift to the nearby window. His gaze locked on to the bus in the lot. The bus that Shane was still trapped on. The one surrounded by Walkers working to claw their way inside and tear the man limb from limb. Rick stood there, his gaze on that bus for what felt like hours, his wrist working back and forth over the stubble that had grown along his upper lip. He stared until he heard Randall shuffle a bit, then his eyes slid back towards the boy watching as his gaze slipped away from the window and back on to Rick.

"I wouldn't," Randall said quietly, his head shaking as moved his arms further out away from his body. That pose of complete and utter comfort, complete and utter openness had Rick's eyes narrowing. "He ain't worth your life, man. He tried to kill you. You don't gotta go back for him. Take me back with you, I'll tell 'em whatever you want man. It'll just be between you and me."

Rick's hand lifted his gun up a bit again, his steps finally a bit more precise as he worked his way forward.

"You wouldn't, huh?" Rick said advancing on the boy who was now working his way backwards. Rick's head shook a bit as he glared at the boy before him, wondering how Callie could have ever thought this kid had any good in him. "You wouldn't," Rick repeated, his gaze shifting slightly out the window and then back as Randall's back finally slammed into the far wall. "That's just it isn't it. That's just -" Rick's mouth contorted into a snarling grimace and he closed the distance between them in three angry strides. "We're gonna go get him. You and me. We're gonna get him, and get back to the farm. And then I'm gonna decide what needs to happen. We're gonna go get him, and you're not gonna try and pull a damn thing, because if you do—" Rick pushed the barrel of his gun into the middle of Randall's forehead and shifted closer so that his face was only an inch from the frightened boy's.

"Okay, hey. Okay," Randall's arms were wide and high, his eyes staring into Rick's as he worked to control his uneven breathing. Rick stepped back and lowered his weapon, wincing slightly at his torn and bleeding right forearm. Randall's hands lowered and Rick watched him out of the corner of his eye as he wiped his palms down the front of his tattered shirt. Randall's eyes lifted and met Rick's and his head started shaking. "How the hell have you survived this, man? Seriously," Randall scoffed out a laugh and let his hand lift to indicate the window and then fall hard back down to his side. "That son of bitch tried to kill you, and you wanna go get him. Wanna save him. I don't get it."

"I'm sure you don't," Rick ground out as he ran his hand through his hair and worked towards the two fallen knives on the ground. He heard Randall shifting around behind him and spared a look over his shoulder that had the boy freezing in his tracks and again raising his arms in surrender. Rick stood back up and slipped his knife back at his belt. "That's not what that was." Rick said as he dipped to scoop up Randall's knife. He stared at the knife for a moment and then glanced at the kid who again looked utterly confused as he stared back at Rick. "If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead. So would you."

"So what the fuck was it?" Randall asked as Rick slid the second knife into the empty holster at his hip. Rick shifted his eyes out the window and stared at the bus in the distance.

"He was proving a point," Rick said quietly and he sniffed against the feel of the sweat rolling a path down the bridge of his nose. He shifted his eyes as Randall who was chuckling and shaking his head. The boy's muttered 'Some fuckin' point', had Rick's eyes again shifting out the window as his head nodded in silent agreement.

Some points, though, needed to be made the hard way.

Shane's shifted idly against the cushioned backing of the seat near the middle of the bus. The seat he'd moved himself to after the door and that broke ass piece of ply wood began to buckle more and more. The seat that they'd plucked the fuckin' car seat out of earlier, before they went to get Randall. The seat that had all the little rattles hanging over it like it had been some baby's fuckin' bassinet.

Shane snarled and again his eyes slipped up, his hand propped up on his raised knee flicked at the small zebra striped thing closest to him. The little jingling of whatever the fuck was inside of it echoed around inside of his head, and for that fleeting moment it drowned out all the sounds of the undead bastards on the outside of the bus. He felt that sick sort of tightness welling in his chest again as the jingling died off and the scrabbling of hands and faces against the glass came back full force.

His eyes shifted around the seat towards the front of the bus at the sound of the wood splintering. He stared for a few seconds, not able to really see the wood, but knowing by the sound of it that pretty soon it'd break. Pretty soon it would just be that door and those fuckin' cords across it that would be barring him from being torn apart. His eyes shifted behind him then, to the emergency exit.

He could have gone out there, made a run for it. Taken his chances at outrunning the horde of fuckin' geeks that had congregated around that bus. But what was the point? How far would he really get, only to suffer the same fuckin' fate that he'd been dealt here?

Shane's hand lifted and smacked hard into the little zebra rattle over his head; smacked it so hard that it flew off of the piece of twine it'd been attached to. It flew off and over the seats back towards the front of the bus where that door was cracking open more and more.

"Damnit!" Shane yelled, his hand flying out and smacking into the seat in front of him. The stinging pain of his lacerated palm reopening had him wincing and cradling that hand back to his chest. His eyes rocketed around back and forth in front of him, as his composure began to fail. The sounds of the dead right outside seemed to be getting louder, or he was just losing the ability to drown them out. Either way, he couldn't concentrate anymore. Couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

His mind just kept circling around Lori and Carl. Around Rick on the road back to the fuckin' farm. That fucker Randall sittin' shotgun. Kept floating back to that car seat that he and Rick had stared at each other over for minutes that felt like hours, before Rick finally blinked and grabbed it, takin' it back to the car with the rest of the salvageable shit they'd found on this bus.

Unbidden images of Lori holding that little baby that wasn't more than a twinkle in her eye right now. Images of her smiling. Holding it out for Carl to see. Holding it out to Rick.

Shane's hands slammed into his head and he rubbed furiously at the scrape of hair left on his scalp. Rubbed until he was sure his hands would go clear through the skin and skull and he'd finally be able to settle all those thoughts runnin' around in his brain; all those damn images that distorted his thinkin' to the point that he couldn't even fuckin' see straight anymore.

His hands stilled after a moment, his eyes opening and catching on that fuckin' rattle where it sat in the middle of the walkway. He shifted and let his knees fall from where they'd rested along the back of the seat in front of him and sat up straight. His hands settled on his thighs and he wiped his blood along his pants, his eyes still stuck to that rattle.

The wood cracked and the door groaned right along with the geeks pushin' and pawin' at it. Shane sniffed back the feel of the wetness crawling down his face and snarled at the interior of that bus. The remnants of the people that had been forced to leave so quickly. His feet began to lift and fall in an agitated rhythm with the pounding behind his eyes. Until finally the force of his own fuckin' agitation pushed him back up onto his feet.

He glared at that door, watching it bend in and out with the pressure of the crowd outside. Glared at it and then snarled at himself for being such a chicken shit. What the fuck was he doin' here? Sittin' around waitin' for death to come for him. What the fuck was he doin'? That wasn't the man he was.

He'd never played nice with people who had meant him harm before. Not ever. And he'd be damned if his life would end with him hidin' in a fuckin' seat waitin' for a horde of fuckin' geeks to break in and come for him. He'd be damned if he died hidin'.

Shane continued to glare at the door as he took a few forceful steps towards it. His mind was intent on one thing and one thing alone as he pulled out the only fuckin' thing he had on him to defend himself with-a fuckin' pocket knife, and that one thing was that these fuckers were gonna work for their damn meal. He clenched his hand around that small knife and stalked forward another step, only to stop cold at the sound of that jingling rattle.

His eyes lowered and he watched the fuckin' thing roll just a bit away from the toe of his boot. Watched it and let that jingling sound drown out the fuckers on the other side of that door that was just seconds from failing.

It drowned out the sound of those geeks better than anything he'd tried using before, and he kicked it again just to see if the trend continued. He closed his eyes as he focused on the sound of the rattle, and then snapped them open when something new entered into the equation.

A sound he hadn't been expecting to hear, a sound he was shocked to the core at hearing. Rick's voice. Rick's voice, loud and hoarse, calling his name.

"SHANE!" Rick's voice echoed and Shane's eyes shifted to the front windshield, his dried bloody handprint marring the image of Rick hanging his body out of the back passenger window, gun raised and ready. "Go out the back!"

Shane's eyes narrowed, as he spotted Randall in the driver's seat. His mind stilled in that moment, confusion blaring in so loud a rhythm in his blood that nothing seemed to be real, or make sense anymore. The car barreled through the fence and he heard Randall whooping and hollering, the sound of it reminding him so much of Miles that he had to blink twice and shake his head to clear the image. He stared at Rick as he rounded the side of the bus, his gun lifted and taking a few shots at the accumulated Walkers at the door to the bus. Stared dumbfounded as Rick caught his eye and repeated himself.

"Go out the back!" Rick called again. He took aim and fired twice, cleanly taking out two of the Walkers that had turned at their arrival. "Shane! Go! I got you. Go!"

It should have been odd, that in that moment after everything that had gone down between the two of them here and before at that crossroads, Shane didn't hesitate a moment longer. He didn't doubt Rick. Didn't hesitate to trust Rick. Instead, Shane felt his feet move faster than his brain really had time to register. Felt the balls of his feet push and his body propel forward as that wood splintered more and more and those groans and growls got more intense. Didn't hesitate at all.

Until his upraised foot kicked that rattle again. Until that jingling sound echoed around in his head and had his feet freezing and his body turning back towards the source of it. He watched that zebra striped thing roll again and felt something just click in the back of his head.

In an instant he was pivoting around, his feet workin' faster and slipping slightly on the debris scattered below him. He rushed back those few steps and scooped up that fuckin' rattle just as the board along the door finally crashed in, and the twang of the cords he'd placed there upon the insistence of some fucker's black marker handwriting fell immediately under the pressure of the bodies on the other side. Shane's eyes slipped up just in time to watch the Walkers begin to press into the bus. The entire horde crushing the few that had been closest to the door underneath their weight as they scrabbled along with him stairn' like a fuckin' deer in the headlights into their undead eyes.

"SHANE!" Rick's voice again calling out and breaking through the cacophony of sounds had him shifting up and around again. He clutched tight to that rattle and shoved it deep into his pocket as he rocketed towards that back emergency door. Walkers hot on his heels, and Rick right outside waiting for him, clearing the way.

That fucker Randall was back in the trunk.

Bound and gagged, Maggie's headphones blaring away in his ears.

And Shane and Rick were back right where they fuckin' started. Sitting in a stifling sort of silence driving back towards the farm. Supplies they'd raided from the bus were strewn about in the back seat, and as Shane shifted his eyes just a bit away from the passenger side window his gaze caught on the one he figured to be the most important.

The car seat was half tipped on its side settled right behind Rick in the driver's seat. Where Rick put it. Where it was gonna stay.

Shane felt the moment Rick's gaze shifted away from the road before them, felt it skim over his face and then land just slightly on what he could probably make out of that car seat. Shane let his eyes move, and watched Rick's jaw move; that muscle there barely hidden by the beginnings of a beard the man was growing, tickin' away as he clenched his teeth tight against whatever the fuck he wanted to say.

They'd left it on the road.

Everything.

Shane watched Rick's eyes slip away from the car seat. They slipped away and briefly met and held Shane's stare. Shane was the one to look away first, and it caused his lips to pull up in the brief flicker of a snarl as he set his eyes to the rolling landscape of overgrown yellow grass. His mind pulled him back to moments ago, when they'd gotten far enough away from that town and those fuckin' Walkers. That fuckin' bus. When they stopped and Rick had pulled the laughing, still fucin' whooping and hollerin' Randall from the driver's seat. Shane had stood back and watched as Rick dragged that fucker around, his right arm bleeding through the makeshift bandage he'd put around his sliced up skin. He'd watched as Rick handled that boy the way he always shoulda handled perps back when they were on patrol.

The way Shane had always had to.

He'd watched and only moved in to help when it was obvious that Rick's wounded right arm was giving out on him. And after all was said and done he'd sat there on the hood of that fuckin' car with Rick in the heavy silence that was just too much to be contained in the confines of the car anymore. Fuckin' too heavy to breathe even in the open air.

"You wanna kill me," Rick had started, his voice barely a rasp of a whisper but the words cut deeper than anything anyone could have shouted at him. "I walked through Hell on my own to find my family; to find Lori and Carl. I survived Hell. You think I can't survive you? Trust me," Rick said lowering his face into Shane's line of vision and causing him to look up from his staring match with the ground. "You want to kill me, it's gonna take more than a fucking wrench. You get me?"

Shane had held Rick's gaze then, taking it in. Taking it all in. Letting it settle over him. He'd known for a long time that Rick had changed; known the moment he laid eyes on him, the second their gazes had met as he hugged Lori and Carl at the Quarry. This wasn't the same Rick he'd known for all those years. He understood that. He got that.

That silence lingered between them for a few seconds more, Shane's mouth twitched down in a frown and he'd let his eyes shift back to his boots and felt his head drop in a single nod almost as an afterthought.

"Probably gonna have to kill that boy," Rick had continued, his voice tired now. Shane had peered over and watched as Rick worked a hand over his torn up right arm, his eyes angled behind them toward the trunk. "But I'm gonna take the night; gonna talk to Callie," Rick said and Shane picked up instantly on the way his friend's voice changed as he said the woman's name. Shane sighed, unable to contain it and Rick's eyes snapped back to him fast his head again angling down to try and catch Shane's line of sight. "It can't be that easy killing someone. It can't. You know that."

Their eyes met again and Shane felt his jaw clench tight as Rick stood. He remained on the hood and watched Rick put his hands to his hips and step right into his line of sight.

"This is it. This is where it stays. That is my wife, my son, my unborn child," Rick's voice was whisper soft and had a force behind it that Shane made it impossible for Shane to look up and face him. But as always, Rick wasn't having that and he pushed his face into Shane's. "If you're gonna be with us then you have to follow my lead. You have to trust me." Shane's eyes locked on Rick and finally Rick took a step back, his hand reaching out and holding his lost sidearm back out to him. "It's time for you to come back."

That was the end.

They left the rest of it on the road.

Shane's gaze slipped along the blowing overgrow grass of the landscape now, one hand poised at his mouth, teeth nibbling at his nails, while his other sweating palm slipped over his thigh. Back and forth, fingers twitching just slightly at the feel of that fuckin' zebra striped rattle shoved down deep in his pocket. He snarled as he fought again against the urge to look back at that car seat again.

His eyes skipped down to his hand as it worked along the dirty fabric of his pants and then snapped back up as the edge of something caught his eye. He sat up just a bit, his teeth stilling on his thumb nail and brow furrowing as his gaze locked onto the lone shambling Walker out there in that overgrown grass.

Shane's eyes shifted behind a bit, lookin' for the rest of them. The group. The horde. That's the way these things seemed to thrive, to 'live'. But there weren't any there, and his eyes slowly moved back to that dead man walking along; all alone. Shane sat back, settled himself into the seat and moved his thumb a bit along his teeth, his eyes just watching that lone geek move along.

In that moment he felt connected to that shambling fuck, out there all alone. Wandering the world just worryin' about what he needed to survive. What he needed. Not worryin' about gettin' the scraps when he could have the whole damn meal to himself. Yeah, he felt connected to that wandering undead son of a bitch.

There was something in them now. Something in all of them. Changing them all like it changed Rick. Changed him. There wasn't anyone in the world who could boast being the same person they were when this all began. Too many things had happened; and too many things had to happen in order to survive. The same force that had changed the dead into monsters had changed them all.

Shane felt himself scoff just a bit, the sound muffled well by his hand over his mouth. He let his thumb fall away and clenched his fist loosely over his mouth.

Come back.

It was time for him to come back.

Shane's head began to shake slightly as he continued to watch that Walker trudge along.

There wasn't any coming back. Not for any of them. There was just the road ahead and figurin' out if you wanted the fuckin' scraps or the whole damn meal. No, there wasn't any coming back for Shane. The only option he had was the one he'd decided on before.

Leaving. And as soon as he made sure Rick had this shit with Randall handled. Made sure that Lori and Carl were safe…..he was gone.

Now I entitle swim for blood and birth

I entitle swim for what it's worth

Cause lines get drawn 'n lines get kicked 'n blurred

Indelible is what I need to spread the word

'n' tell me now (tell me now)
'n' show me how (show me how)
To understand (understand)
What makes a good man?
To tell me now (tell me now)
Hey walk the line (walk the line)
Hey understand (understand)
What makes a good man
From me?

~What Makes A Good Man/ The Heavy

AN: WOOOOOOO. I got through it. I got through it. Y'all have no idea how happy I am about this.

I spent a good deal of time trying to figure out exactly what was going through Shane's mind as he watched that lone Walker in the field, and well…this idea just hit me like that dumb fuckin' hard sort of realization. And I really think that's maybe what was going through his mind at the time…and you'll see how that all fits in later on.

I've got the next chapter outlined and started and boy-howdy I think we're actually gonna finish this fuckin' story…. Soon-ish. I want to send a shout out to each and every one of you and thank you all for keeping up with the story. I know I've been LONG between updates, but I'm hoping I'll be able to get back into the swing of things now.

I love each and every one of you. Please hit me up on the Tumblr if you ever wanna talk about the show, the story, or life in general. I'm happy to discuss all of your questions.

Much love everyone!