New Meanings To Old Words: LOVE
Another long-ass wait…another chapter. I gotta say I'm so happy that you guys are sticking this out. We're on vacation now, so I haven't really had much time to do much of anything. Bless you.
This chap, we're moving slowly ever forward, and I would say that this MAY be the last low-level chap so yeah. There's that.
As always, read, review and most of all ENJOY
Disclaimer: (same as always) I own nothing but Callie and her crew of misfits, as well as all characters we've lost along the way, and the ones we've yet to meet in the flesh.
Beat The Devil's Tattoo
"Where the fuck are they goin' now," Miles muttered from his spot on the ground near the front bumper of the Hummer. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Shane, T-Dog, Jimmy, Daryl and Andrea loading up into what had been Otis' fuckin' truck.
Shaking his head lightly he shifted his attention to where Glenn and Danny stood behind him, both men watching the group slowly heading out away from the farm. Glenn's eyes shifted down to him and he shrugged his shoulders before hefting the large duffle he'd been loading up and slipping to the back of the Hummer.
Miles shoved aside the mess of cans and string he'd been workin' to push back into their sacks and dusted his hands along his jeans as he moved over to where Danny was still staring at the truck as it moved further and further out.
"They're takin' care of the Walkers," Danny said in a low monotone as Miles came to a stop at his side. Miles regarded the side of the older man's face, and couldn't help but think he'd aged a fuckin' decade in a single night. The small patch of gray Miles had never noticed before settled into the hair at Danny's temple, the way the skin around his eyes crinkled now, the dark growth of a beard once again darkening his cheeks. Miles sniffed and looked away in embarrassment when Danny's gaze shifted to him. He looked back only to see Danny grinnin' like an idiot. "Or they're goin' for that pizza I ordered." Miles rolled his eyes while Danny smiled wider and shifted his eyes to back to where Glenn was loading up some supplies into the Hummer. "You think pizza?"
"I think you're an idiot," Glenn murmured back to which Danny settled his finger to the side of his nose tapping twice as he let out a small chuckle. Glenn's eyes rolled even as a small smile curved his lips and then his gaze shifted to where the truck had now disappeared into the fields beyond. Glenn squinted hard at the horizon where the newly risen sun seemed to shine too bright for the solemn day they were having, and then looked at Miles and shrugged. "Danny's right, they're taking care of the Walkers."
"Around the immediate perimeter," Miles said in a forceful tone. "That's what Rick said to Shane before they left today. That's what he wanted. He didn't want them headin' off too far. And yet…" Miles waved a hand out before them and shook his head. "The fuck are they doin'?"
"Workin' out their grief," Danny said back as he shifted his body back so that the Hummer was holdin' his ass up from the ground. Miles knew Danny was in a shit ton of pain from those wounds in his leg, the muscles there not yet fully healed and probably never gonna get there with the way that Danny liked to push his own limits.
"Workin' out their grief," Miles scoffed back before nudging Danny on the arm. "Have you looked around, man? Think the emotionally stunted redneck worked enough of his fuckin' grief out at our campsite last night. Shit, son of bitch should be here helpin' to pick it up."
"Okay, Captain-Sass-Pants, let's just cool the fuck down, hmmm?" Danny said raising both hands in a gesture of mock-soothing. He raised a single brow and spared a look back at Glenn who was rounding back around to where they stood. "I get that you and Daryl are kinda havin' a tiff right now…"
"Fuck you," Miles spat back and shoved himself back to sit on the bumper so that he could pout -yeah, he was fuckin' pouting as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his boots, but he was fuckin' tired and really couldn't seem to get past it at the moment.
"Miles," Glenn said shifting forward and settling himself beside Danny. "We're all upset." Miles opened his mouth to spit out another scathing remark, but Danny lifted a firm hand to his face.
"Shut it," Danny said simply before slipping in closer. "Look, we all work out our grief in different ways. Some of us beat the living shit out of whoever or whatever we can find. Some of us fuck whoever crosses their path," Danny shifted his eyes as he heard Glenn shift beside him. "Not her, G-man. She's got 'beat shit into the ground' written all over her." Danny said with a crisp smack to his friend's stiff shoulder before turning back to Miles. "Some of us throw ourselves into work and don't come up for air until we've almost forgot what pushed us to that point to begin with." Danny's head shifted back towards the house where he could just make out the figures of Rick, Callie and Hershel speaking on the porch, and then over to Glenn who rolled his eyes in response and shifted his eyes back towards the horizon the truck had disappeared into. "And some of us get snippy and bite off our friend's heads at every fuckin' turn," Danny raised a brow when Miles shifted his gaze up to him waited for the kid to say something back. "Whatever works, man. Whatever the fuck works."
"Yeah? What works for you?"
"Me," Danny said with a smile that could have fooled anyone-at least anyone who didn't know him as well as the two men standing with him- into thinking he was shittin' rainbows. "I've got ill-timed bad jokes and a shit-eatin' grin, Miles my boy. "
"Oh yeah," Miles said rolling his eyes to Glenn. The two shared a shake of their heads before shifting their attention back to Danny.
Miles couldn't help but marvel at the man really. Danny could turn that hundred watt smile on and off in a second, could cool a frenzied group down in a moment and still manage to keep his head in the game of whatever else was going on. It hadn't always been that way. No, Miles noticed the change happen over time. More and more Danny was becoming the man he figured Danny had always tried not to be. The man in charge. The man to be reckoned with. A man who would survive this shit. And as Miles stood staring at the side of Danny's face now, watching the lines etch deeper into the skin around his eyes he wondered just what had brought that stern almost authoritative look back into his friend's eyes. Following his line of sight to that small shed in the distance, he figured it out pretty fuckin' quickly.
"We should get this stuff stowed and get moving," Glenn said, his eyes shifting over to Miles briefly and then back to Danny. Obviously, Glenn had picked up on Danny's pensive stare as well. "Come on, Danny. Let's go-"
"What about the RV?" Miles asked quietly as he picked up the few bags he'd repacked and hauled them towards Glenn.
"Andrea and I were having some trouble with her this morning," Glenn said quietly as they all shifted to stare at the large white vehicle. Miles watched Danny's shoulders lift and fall in a hard breath and he ducked his head slightly before shifting around to toss the bags into the back of the Hummer. "I think we may have to consider leaving her here. Get all the supplies out that we can, take it to the house. Maybe roll her out and block off an entrance or something, but I don't think she's gonna be much use on the road anymore."
"I'll take a look," Miles said in a low tone as he made his way back to where Danny was eyein' him with that fatherly sort of look that he only reserved for certain times. "I told Dale I'd keep her runnin'. Told him she'd never break down on us again after what happened on the highway."
"Yeah," Danny said idly and Miles raised a brow. "You get her up and runnin' Miles. We may need her. Glenn and I can finish here."
Miles shifted on his feet a bit and then ducked his head before starting towards the RV. Danny watched as Miles hesitated at the door, the kid's shoulders lifting and falling three times before his hand shot out and he practically threw himself into the glimmering dirt-covered white beast.
"I shoulda said 'no'," Danny said quietly, more to himself than to Glenn really. The words traveled though, and had Glenn shifting towards him with confusion marring his brow. Danny sighed and ran his hand over his mouth, scratching his fingertips into the stubble that had grown over his cheeks and chin again. "Last time I talked with Dale," Danny started as he shifted his eyes over to his friend. "Really talked to him. I told him," Danny paused and stared into Glenn's eyes for a moment before continuing. "I told him I was gonna be headin' out to look for Jake. Told him I couldn't stay here anymore."
"Danny-"
"No, Glenn, it's the truth. We're headin' out after winter."
"We?" Glenn asked, his eyes shifting over to the RV and then towards the porch of the house. "Really?"
"I haven't been able to talk her out of it yet, so yeah, 'we'," Danny said rolling his head along his shoulders before givin' it a good fuckin' shake. "But really I shoulda left yesterday. Dale said he'd come along as long as we waited until after the vote-after all this shit with Randall was finished. I shoulda said 'no', Glenn. This place, man," Danny gave his friend a look. "You got a reason to stay. You do and that's fuckin' great," Danny said raising a hand as Glenn opened his mouth to negate what Danny was sayin'. "But me. Dale. Man, I should have made him just leave with me yesterday. Taken that beat up fuckin' RV of his and -" Danny stopped, a sudden memory of Dale shrugging off the always well-timed break down of his monstrosity of a vehicle. The image of the man stationed atop that RV in the growing dark before going in for the vote. "Son of a bitch," Danny muttered, chuckling as he started towards the RV.
"What's up?"
"That crafty ol' coot," Danny mumbled before turning and smiling widely at Glenn. "Always one fuckin' step ahead."
"Huh?" Glenn returned, as he slowly began to follow Danny as he now limped backwards to his destination.
"I'll tell ya later, G-man," Danny said letting his arms fall back to his sides as he came to a stop. He looked back at Glenn and watched the younger man survey the area around them, one hand rising and rubbing at his forehead and into his hair. Danny couldn't help but notice the difference in his friend, the weight that had settled upon his shoulders since they'd come to this farm.
"You okay?" Glenn's voice rang out and Danny blinked back into awareness, his head shakin' slightly as he raised a brow to Glenn.
"Fuck no," Danny said quietly a small smile slipping onto his lips. Glenn gave a half-hearted smile back and Danny settled his hands at his hips shifting his weight off of his bum leg with a small wince. "You?"
"No," Glenn answered shaking his head and squinting his eyes in the sun as he turned back towards the house.
"You want a smoke?"
"No," Glenn answered, a small smile tilting his lips for just a moment at the memory of the first-and honestly his last-smoke. One he'd shared with Danny at one of his lowest moments. Danny nodded idly and raked a hand through his overgrown hair as Glenn again glared off into the distance. Glenn sucked in a long breath and shifted his eyes back towards the RV and the house and then let out that breath in a low sigh of such defeat that it physically hurt Danny to watch his friend deflate. "I don't know what we're doing anymore, Danny. I really don't. I mean- how is this supposed to work? How are we supposed to keep going- how-" Glenn cut himself off and shook his head again and Danny gave him a bit of a shake.
"I dunno, G-man. One of these days I'm gonna have to ask Callie her secret," Danny said shifting his eyes back to where he could see Callie's figure shifting back into the house with Hershel ushering her along, leaving Rick to watch her back as she entered the house. "Only thing I do know …. it's gonna be a long ass winter here at the farm, John-boy."
Callie was in a state of flux.
Or as her momma would have called it, she was pullin' the patented 'Marcus Zone Out'. It was a family trait, a way that all of the men and women of her family liked to handle hard, unfathomable experiences. The zone-out allowed her to sit in a state of seeming complete ignorance to the world around her, when in reality she was anything but. She could still hear Hershel shifting around near Ben's bedside, checking on the IV-one of the last they had- that he'd just put in not too long ago. Still hear the sound of Gracie settled on the floor near the chair Callie was sitting in fiddling with her shoe laces, untying and tying them dozens of times now. She could hear the sound of Ben's breathing and see him settled on the bed before her as she sat with her fingers together at her lips. But her mind was working in a thousand different directions, processing, creating plans, managing the pain and the turmoil and working through to find the right way out. The way that didn't include falling into that pit that as of late had been working to suck her down to those low depths where only ghosts were left to wander.
It wasn't really a bad state to be in. It allowed her to process, compartmentalize, evaluate and move the fuck on.
And that's what needed to be done if they were gonna survive this fuckin' winter.
The small hushed conversation between herself, Hershel and Rick only moments ago on the porch was the current loop her mind had hitched itself on to. The image of Daryl hefting his ass into that truck to go along on Shane's great Walker killing spree a strong lingering second.
"It's gonna be close quarters," Rick's voice had droned, his own exhaustion peeking through as he rubbed harshly at first his mouth and then the bridge of his nose.
"Better than having you all camped out in the middle of the lawn," Hershel had countered, his eyes shifting from Rick over to Callie as she rolled her shoulders in an effort to stave the pressure and pain from her uncomfortable choice of resting place on the floorboards earlier. "Callie said it before," Hershel had said, his eyes locking with hers for a moment before sliding back to Rick. "I had asked you all to trust me in providing a safe place. I took your guns and expected you to all just abide my say. Well, my say isn't worth a damn thing these days when it comes to all this." Hershel shifted on his feet and looked out at his farm then, a heavy sigh leaving his body before he looked back to them. "I should have let you all in earlier. Should have opened my doors. It's gonna be close quarters, but it's also the safest choice we have."
"There are still those other farms," Callie had muttered then, her head falling back to rest upon the house where she'd leaned her back as they talked. "If it's too close for some," Callie had said as Rick's gaze caught hers. He'd stared at her for a long moment and she'd felt that stare from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a shivering moment of 'something' in the air.
"No," Rick had responded, his head shaking then in a dismissive manner as his gaze finally slipped from her and out towards the area they'd set up as a camp ground so many weeks ago. "No it's safer for us to stay together. We need each other. Safety in numbers right," Rick had said with a small smile as he looked back to Callie.
"That's what Miles always says," Callie had returned with a smile and then they slipped back into their hard-fought comfortable silence. "We're gonna need supplies. Plans. Watch rotations-"
"Yeah," Rick had said nodding his head and settling his hands at his hips. He stared out at the camp a bit longer then and looked back at her. "We'll get through the funeral today. Start packin' up and getting people settled inside later. I'm sure everyone will appreciate a night in doors tonight, after that we can set up a meeting. Work out who's gonna sleep where, and get the gear stowed inside."
"Tomorrow…?" Callie had asked, her head lifting away from the wall so she could catch Rick's gaze. Her mind slipped back to those hushed conversations they'd had, the small bits of information her exhausted brain could pick out about his plans for Randall. His plans with Daryl.
"Early tomorrow," Rick had said in return, his jaw clenching tightly as he nodded at her. "Before we head out."
That'd been the end of the conversation, save for Hershel ushering her inside for a nap, stating in his loud authoritative manner that he would not stand for her passing out on him again. They'd left Rick to stare off at the world at large; Callie's eyes catching his only once more as she opened the creaking screen door and ventured inside.
"You should lie down," Hershel's voice rang out and Callie's chin lifted, her eyes popping up from where they'd settled on her scarred left palm. She ran her thumb over that slice twice and gave her head a little shake before blinking and lifting her gaze to the now slightly annoyed elder man.
"I'm fine," Callie said putting both hands to her knees and once again rolling her shoulders to loosen her muscles.
"You're not," Hershel stated in a matter-of-fact tone as he slipped his stethoscope around his neck. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Pretty sure I passed out on Rick's shoulder for a bit, he won't say how long exactly. And then there was that spell after I gave blood," Callie said with a bit of a smirk at Hershel's harsh sigh. He rolled his eyes at her and wiped his hands with a small towel as he worked his way around the bed so that he could sit before her. He spared a small glance to Gracie at her side and gave her a wan smile.
"I'm not a man to allow those I care for to fall into a pit," Hershel said plainly, his brows lifting as she smiled widely at him. "Don't-"
"Hershel, you care? I'm flattered," Callie said chuckling slightly as he wagged an admonishing finger at her.
"I swear, you and Danny….," he began before shaking his head and letting his hand fall down to his knees. "I'm formidable, Callie."
"I am aware," Callie said still chuckling. "I'll be fine. I'm not in the pit," Callie said reaching out a hand and patting his knee as she shifted forward on the seat to get a better look at the now stirring Ben. "I'm at the edge of it, staring down."
"Maybe you ought to look up," Hershel responded and she lifted a single finger at him, wagging it in a mocking motion.
"I swear, you and Danny," Callie said in a mocking tone, earning a bit of a chuckle from the man. "I'm warning you now, if you pull out a Bible I'm gonna hit you with it."
Hershel laughed and Callie smiled before shifting up out of her seat. Hershel's body turned in his spot as she walked her way around the foot of the bed and over to where he'd been standing earlier, her eyes intent upon the boy slowly shifting his head along the pillow.
"He's got quite the cocktail of pain meds in him right now," Hershel said quietly. "Nothing quite strong enough to really dull the pain enough to let him sleep soundly, but enough to not have him writhing every moment."
"He usually sleeps like a rock," Callie said quietly, her hand falling onto Ben's brow before her fingers trailed wisps of hair away. She, with the help of Lori, had washed him off and changed him into fresh clothes a few hours ago, and still she felt the sticky sensation of his blood coating her fingertips.
"He's going to be fine," Hershel said in a kind yet forceful tone. "He's lucky."
"Yeah," Callie said as she trailed her fingers down his body, letting them hover over the spot where the rest of his arm should have been. "Lucky."
There was a long moment of silence in the room as Callie backed up and let her head and body once again rest along the wall. Hershel shifted himself off of the bed and into the chair, a smile slipping onto his lips as Gracie reached her boot up to him, the knots she'd created apparently getting the best of her for the moment. Callie closed her eyes for a moment and took in a few deep breaths.
"I've been tryin' to work things in my head; spoken with Rick a bit but, I figure this room will be yours," Hershel said quietly. Callie's eyes snapped open and she stared dumbly at the man as he handed Gracie's boot back down to her. "If that's alright," Hershel continued, his brow furrowing slightly as he worked to no doubt read her reaction before continuing. Coming up empty he ventured forth with his palms lifted in offering. "Ben and Gracie are pretty much set already, you and-"
"Danny and Miles," Callie finished tiredly, her eyes closing and head nodding slightly before she rested it back against the wall again.
"And Daryl," Hershel supplied and her eyes slipped open. She met Hershel's hard-pressing, yet genuinely concerned, and interested gaze head on.
Her mouth opened to reply and then shut again as her mind slipping back to only hours before when Daryl had left to go off on his Walker-hunt with Shane and the rest. The two of them hadn't slept at all, exhaustion had marched an ugly path all over their bodies and into their minds as well as they struggled to soothe one another. Daryl had mentioned heading out with Rick to deal with Randall, and checking on what Rick believed was a solid lead on Merle and something had just snapped in Callie's mind.
"You could wait," Callie had said to him as he rolled his shoulders in a futile effort to alleviate some of the soreness no doubt riding them. His head snapped around and he pierced her with that intense stare, the one where she knew he could and would read every fucking thought in her head if she let her guard down just an inch.
"Ain't no waitin' around anymore," Daryl had supplied after a moment of staring at her, gauging her words against her demeanor. He shook his head and looked out the window and then shook it again. "Just ain't."
"Right, so when I have a lead on my brother I wait for you, because….," she'd trailed off her hand flailing about in the air as she worked to find the words. She knew why she waited-knew why she hesitated and kept allowing the trip to be postponed-and it wasn't because of him. Yet her mind was stuck on this, stuck on the fact that he was heading out again and she was too much of an idiot to just tell him flat out to stay. "But when you have a lead you can just go off no waiting for me, or taking me. Hell, no input needed on my end," Callie had snapped, and she would have said she'd regretted it if she wasn't well past the point of regrets in this life.
"Ain't like that," Daryl had returned, his brow furrowing and body tensing in anticipation of a fight that neither of them wanted to have. "Ain't like that, Callie. Shit Rick found at that county building was fresh, a fuckin' viable lead. All Miles found was-"
"His tags and a fuckin' hand," Callie had muttered back as she lifted a hand and began to rub at the bridge of her nose and shake her head. Her hand had lifted then and she waved him off as he began to approach her. "So, you plan on following that lead wherever she may go tomorrow or coming back here, Dixon?"
The silence that had followed her question had pretty much answered it, and they both knew it, but to her surprise he decided to actually voice part of it for her. He'd taken a step back and then forward again, dancing along the balls of his feet for a moment before schooling himself and stiffening his back and shoulders.
"It's Merle," Daryl had said, his brows scrunching together slightly, his face taking on the appearance of a confused child as he tried to work through whatever the fuck was going on between them. His eyes skipped over hers, back and forth as if he were trying to read what she was thinking. But her wall was up now, and her head was bobbing as she smiled tightly at him.
"I know, Daryl. I get it," she'd stepped forward then and let her head fall so that her forehead rested on his tense shoulder. "I get it, I do. It's Merle. I know that."
"Callie," Hershel's deep rumbling voice had Callie shaking her head slightly of the memory she'd fallen into and she blinked a few times over at him before sighing.
"We'll see," Callie replied quietly to Hershel's original questioning over Daryl. Her head tipped to the side to watch Ben's head shift listlessly in his not so pain-free sleep and she worked to ignore the stare of the other man.
"I'll let that slide," Hershel mumbled as he got to his feet and began making his way over towards her as she slipped closer to Ben's bedside.
"Smart man," Callie returned, sharing a smirk with the man before settling herself on the edge of the bed and putting a hand to Ben's shoulder. "Ben? Buddy…."
"Mom," Ben's little voice croaked out. Instantly the scuffle of Gracie's tiny feet could be heard and then the springs of the bed creaking as she crawled her way on top. Ben's eyes began to flutter more and Callie settled Gracie down at Ben's side while Hershel came around and kneeled near Ben's wounded arm.
"Keep still, son," Hershel said calmly as he put his hands in place to make sure Ben didn't cause further damage or dislodge the sutures keeping him from bleeding out. Ben's head slipped from side to side and the fingers of his right hand began to flex oddly before clenching into a tight fist in the sheets beside him. Callie's hands tightened on his shoulders in an effort to comfort as well as stop him from moving his left arm too much, while her eyes slipped to Hershel. "Calm him down."
"Ben," Callie's voice was firm, her hands both tightening just a fraction on his shoulders as her head snapped back to the boy on the bed. She bent her body closer as Hershel worked to keep the stump end of Ben's arm elevated in the makeshift sling they'd rigged to the IV stand. "Ben. Stop." Ben's eyes opened and the small bloodshot orbs hit hers with the force of a ten ton truck. She stared back, her lips firming and eyes hardening slightly to force her meaning into his head more than her words could. "Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Do it." Ben sucked in a slow rattling breath and then let it out. "Good. Again. C'mon now, do it."
Ben repeated it, his small chest lifting and falling two more times and fuck if Callie didn't do it with him just to settle her own damn nerves. She spared a quick look to Hershel who fell to one knee and let his hands settle upon the bed before giving her a small nod. The room was in a strange sort of hush again, but it was different than before. Ben was lucid, awake, and staring at his arm and Callie, Gracie and Hershel were left in limbo as to what he'd say.
Seconds felt like minutes, which in turn felt like hours, and Callie shook her head at the strange movement that time seemed to have these days. She shifted slightly on the bed, her hand sliding off of Ben briefly to stop Gracie from jostling Ben, while Hershel continued to check Ben over. Callie smiled tightly at the elder man, knowing that while they all kept saying Ben was going to be fine, that the infection hadn't taken hold they weren't fool enough to really believe that. Not yet. Not anymore. Callie blinked a few times as Hershel settled his forearm to his upraised knee. She blinked and realized that Ben hadn't moved a muscle yet, and he hadn't stopped staring at what remained of his left arm.
"Ben," Callie said in a quiet voice, slightly startling Hershel who'd dipped his chin to his chest momentarily and now sat staring at her. Callie slipped closer to Ben on the bed and put her hand back to his shoulder.
"I still feel it," Ben said quietly, his little voice hoarse from the screams that had rattled out of his throat not so long ago. He blinked twice and then shifted his eyes tiredly to Callie briefly before once again staring at his arm. "The bite, I feel it. I feel my fingers…my wrist..." Ben trailed off and Callie shifted her eyes to Hershel. "It hurts. It burns."
Ben's face contorted into a grimace that had Callie's heart tightening in her chest. She reached over to help Hershel again try to still Ben before he could succeed in lifting his left arm out of the sling it was in, and shushed him as Hershel leaned in close.
"That's perfectly normal," Hershel said in a calm tone that Callie really fucking envied the man for. She watched the elder man firm his lips as he put a large hand to Ben's chest and pressed just a bit to help steady and calm him before continuing. "Ben, you're going to be in pain for a long time. We're gonna try and manage it, but it's gonna hurt for a long time. But, son," Hershel said lowering his head just a bit closer to Ben. "You're gonna be fine. You're gonna survive this."
Ben's lips firmed and his eyes welled up a bit but he shook it off. He shook it off and Callie was once again left to marvel at the amazing resilience of the boy. She slid back a little and raked a hand through her hair while Hershel patted Ben's chest twice.
"I lost it," Ben murmured, and Callie was sure he was falling back into that restless sleep again, but instead his eyes locked onto where his arm rested in the sling beside the bed. "I lost it. Dale's gonna be so mad," he continued, his eyes swiveling over to Callie and locking in this wide-eyed sort of stare. "I lost his watch."
"Buddy," Callie said closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath. She felt a weight upon her knee and opened her eyes to find Hershel staring hard at her, his hand pressing on her leg in comfort. He squeezed and she nodded to him, knowing he was right. It wouldn't help anything to wait to tell him. "Ben, buddy," she looked at Ben and considered her words. Considered how she should tell him. Wondered what would be the best way. Finally, after a few moments of staring into the eyes of the boy she knew had been through enough to not need added layers of bullshit she took a deep breath and spoke. "Ben, Dale's dead."
A long beat of silence followed that very straight-forward remark, and Callie stared hard into Ben's eyes as he digested it. Beside her Gracie burrowed in a bit closer to her side, her head settling on Callie's arm. Hershel's hand clamped down hard on Callie's knee briefly, before he again gave a small two-tap pat to it and pushed himself up.
"Was it a Walker?" Ben asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly as his eyes slowly welled up with unshed tears. Callie nodded and Ben sniffed in a hard breath, pain obviously wracking his small frame but he shook it off. "Was it the one that got me?" Callie shook her head, her fingers lifting to rub at her firmed lips, trying to will the words to fly from her mouth even as her brain protested, knowing that if she would open her lips the sobs would be hard to control. "Was he tryin' to save me? Was it my fault?"
"No, buddy," Callie said finally, her back stiffening and shoulders rising as she stared at him. "It wasn't your fault."
"It wasn't anyone's fault," Hershel supplied a moment later, and Callie snapped her eyes to him. "It was what happened; a tragedy. It was god's plan."
"God's got stupid plans," Ben mumbled before wincing and rolling his head along the pillow.
"Yes, he does," Hershel responded, his head dipping again as he caught Ben's gaze. "At times."
"They buryin' him?" Ben asked a few moments later, his head lolling this way and that as he worked to push past whatever pain he was feeling. Eight years old and pushing past pain to get answers to questions he shouldn't have to ever ask. Callie's head swam and shook.
"Right now, I think," Callie said eyeing the window outside, and trying to figure out what fucking time it was. She rubbed her brow and the bridge of her nose and gave him a wan smile. "We can visit later-"
"I wanna go out," Ben said firmly, pushing up with his right hand and causing both Callie and Hershel to reach out towards him to stop him. "I wanna go out." Callie exchanged a glance with Hershel and the elder man sighed and shook his head, a low mumble about 'some people's children' echoing as he scanned the room.
"I'll carry you to the porch. That's as far as you go. And when I say we come back, we come back. No back talk," Hershel said as he looked down upon Ben with a stern fatherly glare. Ben nodded his head and Callie shifted to her feet as Hershel moved in.
"I can carry him," she said quietly as she placed a hand to his shoulder.
"You don't have to," Hershel said back as he reached down and worked Ben's arm from the sling and checked his bandages. "It's a hard lesson to learn, Callie. And I feel you'll take longer than most for it to really sink in, but...You don't have to carry this all on your own. Not anymore."
Daryl had been to more fuckin' funerals at this farm now than he had in his whole fuckin' life before this shit-storm happened.
That had to be some kinda new level of fucked up.
He found himself growlin' as he thought about it as he trudged up through the muddy grass and over towards where Rick and the rest had gathered for Dale's burial. His eyes slipped over Jenna's grave and Sophia's, and he felt his stomach turn and his feet detour around the back of the markers instead of treadin' over top of where they were buried.
Shifting his eyes around the group he caught onto Danny and Miles settled up near Glenn and Maggie, the two of 'em lookin' like hell yet standing tall. Danny leaning hard on to Hershel's old cane, proppin' his body up as his bum leg no doubt threatened to give out. Meanwhile, Miles was starin' hard at the ground where Dale's body had been buried, his hands clenched tight at his sides lookin' like he was ready to start punching the fuckin' Earth raw.
Not far off Lori was clutching a pale as shit Carl to her side, one hand restlessly workin' along his shoulders and pickin' idly at his clothing. The other hand was settled against her stomach, its usual place of residence these days as her mind seemed to linger upon the small little speck of life growin' in there. Daryl's eyes lingered on that hand, those spindly fingers of hers clenching tight and then going flat over her belly a few times.
Daryl spared a glance to Rick, head down hands folded before him as he stared down at the grave they'd all gathered 'round this time. The space between the man and his wife was jarrin'. Hell, the space between everyone was fuckin' shockin' in contrast to the way they'd all stood together at Jenna's burial, and then Sophia's only weeks ago.
'You were right. This group's broken.'
Dale's last lingering words to him echoed in the back of Daryl's head as he walked. Those horrid words that he didn't really wanna believe were true, but somehow knew they were. Knew that nothing was gonna be the same again. Knew that whatever fantasy they'd built for themselves at the Quarry and then here was gone for good, and all that was left for them was whatever the ruin of this world chose to dish out.
And fuck if he hadn't known it was comin' for a long ass time.
Hitching his mouth to the side he gave a final sweep of the group, his eyes searching for who his mind was lingering on now.
She wasn't there though.
His eyes skipped back towards the house, wishin' he could fuckin' see through walls to see what it was she was doin' in that room now. He shoulda been in there with her, maybe. Fuck, he didn't know. He wanted to be in there with Ben. With her. But… he couldn't bring himself to just stay there and linger when there was shit he could be doin'.
His thoughts went back to earlier, his last conversation with Callie in that room after they'd peeled themselves off the floor was echoing in his mind. Again that feelin' of brokenness seemed to weigh him down. They'd broken whatever it was they had, broken it somethin' fuckin' good with their inability to actually talk to one another, with their inability to trust each other as much as their hearts may have wanted. They'd broken it down and hard and left it scattered in pieces along this farm and Daryl wasn't sure they'd ever really be able to gather it up again. And he was damn sure if they did, it wouldn't be the same.
Daryl snarled at the ground and kicked his foot at the dirt.
He shoulda told her he was comin' back. Shoulda just fuckin' told her he would come back after goin' out with Rick. Shoulda lied and told her what she needed to hear. But he hadn't. Couldn't. Because she deserved better than a fuckin' lie. Because she knew him, sometimes better than he fuckin' knew himself.
And truth of it was, while he'd always planned on comin' back after they took care of Randall, he couldn't really say for sure he planned on stickin' around. Especially if he had a solid lead on Merle. Especially if this group was broken.
Shit, he'd been in the fuckin' broken home to end all broken homes. He knew it was better to get out when you could, before the thing had a chance to fall down around you.
Daryl's eyes slipped up and he caught on Carol's figure settled near Andrea. He locked onto her and sidled up as close as he could, the buffer of space between everyone pressing him back a step even as he tried to press in closer. He couldn't help it.
The woman was a fuckin' enigma to him. Here she was, settled so firm and resolute against the world at the side of Dale's grave when only days ago she'd broken down and flat out fuckin' refused to give her own daughter the same respect.
What the fuck was that?
She'd said she understood him. Said she did and damn if Daryl didn't finally come to terms with the fact that she did. She really fuckin' did. She'd called him on his bullshit, and didn't treat him like a wounded animal that needed a wide berth even though she probably should have. She didn't pull back like Callie did, letting him cycle back into his own ways. She pushed and Daryl was grateful for it. She'd called the thing between them 'friendship' before—after she'd browbeaten him for the beat down he and Danny put and Randall. But Daryl wasn't sure that's what it was. Not yet. They hadn't gotten there yet. But the way she'd sat with him last night. As if the rain hadn't even hit her, as if she were better than it; stronger than it. She'd said sat with him because he'd sat with her, because she understood him. Because they were almost friends.
His head tipped to the side slightly so that he could better see Carol's face. Better see that firm set to her jaw. Better see the gentleness in her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the ground as Rick's low gravely voice began to echo around them. Better see her reactions to the brokenness of the group, and how she was plannin' on dealin' with it.
Daryl didn't hear a damn thing of what Rick said really, just bits and pieces. Strong words. Words meant to unite them. Words meant to push them all to want to pull together even as the world itself seemed to be working to spread them apart. He spared a glance towards Rick again, and saw the determination settled in the man's jaw, in his hardened eyes as he glanced not at the ground but at everyone gathered around.
Daryl held Rick's gaze when it landed on him. Held it and recognized that set of his jaw, the gleam in his exhausted eyes. It was the same at the CDC when he crouched down and seethed at Garrison.
'I'm a fuckin' fool who's gonna survive this, and keep on walking. A fool who's gonna keep on believing that there's hope for us.'
Rick's words from that day lingered, and Daryl wondered just how long Rick could keep on believing. Surviving. Walking. Knowing he was a fool for doin' it.
After another moment Daryl lowered his eyes knowin' his own thoughts of late were so vastly different than what the other man was talking about, that he felt almost shameful about lookin' at him.
Rick's voice echoed on, his powerful eulogy hitting a chord in all of them as they bowed their heads to the ground below. The distinct sound of the screen door to the porch squeaking open had everyone's eyes shifting slightly towards the house. Rick's voice came to an almost painfully abrupt halt and Daryl spared him a glance before looking back to the porch. Slowly Hershel's figure came into view, his arms laden with the very pale lookin' yet very awake form of Ben. Callie was right behind Hershel, one hand holdin' little Gracie's tight while her other was at Hershel's back. They came to a stop near the railing, way out of hearin' distance yet close enough to see things, and Callie's eyes snapped away from Ben towards them. Towards him.
Daryl froze, his head lifting slightly and hand tightening along the strap to his crossbow. He held her gaze for a long moment before lookin' away, slippin' his eyes back down to the dirt at his feet. It was then that he realized just how fuckin' close he was to the grave. He was almost fuckin' on top of it; that disturbed dirt barely two inches away from the toe of his boot.
Instantly Daryl took a step back, his hand fallin' away from his crossbow and brushing along Carol's hand. She didn't move a muscle, but for her chin dipping just a bit further to her chest, and her eyes slipping to him for a single second.
He caught her gaze and he let her anchor him back down to the world. Used that strength in her shoulders to keep him from turning away from this torture. Away from the grave of the man he'd shot pointblank.
Daryl's eyes slipped back to the grave, his mind thinkin' back to that last lingering look of desperation and sorrow in Dale's eyes as he placed that gun to his head. He could feel Callie's eyes on him as he stood there. Feel her presence as strong as if she were standing beside him instead of on that porch. He felt it and he clung to it, knowing that even if they didn't put things back the way they had been only days ago she'd still be there, watching his back giving him strength and love he never thought he'd deserved.
He didn't realize that the burial had ended until he felt the smallest pressure of fingers upon his shoulder. Carol's gaze met his, a silent moment of 'something' passing between them before her hand fell and she walked off. His eyes shifted around then watching as the rest of the group scattered like leaves in the fuckin' wind. Only Rick was left by the side of Dale's grave now, and Daryl felt his mouth twitching and his feet shuffling beneath him as the man's gaze drifted back over his shoulder towards the house.
Daryl's gaze followed and he watched Callie lift little Gracie over the railing and down into the waiting arms of Danny, while Miles climbed up and over to settle himself on the porch next to Hershel who still held Ben in his arms. Daryl watched them for a while, Callie leaning over and speaking to Danny her body hunching as exhaustion no doubt took root in her spine while Danny struggled to adjust both Gracie on his hip and the cane holding his ass up. She ran a hand over her face and then up through her tangled lookin' mass of honey colored waves and something clenched in Daryl's chest. He watched her eyes slip to Hershel as the elder man worked his way past her, a brief exchange of nods and soft smiles between the two. Watched her hand reach out to push back the grown-out hair settled along Ben's forehead with.
His stomach lurched, uncomfortable and downright un-fuckin-wanted feelings came over him and he slipped his gaze down to his shoes. He kept his gaze there until he felt that icy cold sensation run along the back of his neck, the one that told him without really lookin' that she'd left the area.
He waited, his eyes skipping idly to Rick still standing with his head bowed over Dale's grave, a single hand lifted so that he could press deep into the bridge of his nose, the other set hard at his hip over the Colt in sittin' pretty in his holster.
He waited, and then finally he let his feet follow whatever fuckin' path they wanted. A wanderin' lost sort of motion back over towards his camp grounds. Leaves in the fuckin' wind.
It was time to break down the fantasy land and reenter the fuckin' real world.
Callie's hands slipped into the muck near the break between the forest and the clearing and she grimaced as her fingers squished and slid through the loose soil and grass. She tried hard to keep her eyes from drifting over, worked her damndest to keep her mind clear and her senses firing on all cylinders, but she kept fucking failing.
Again her eyes landed on the blood-soaked grass. She had been positive that the rain from last night would have worn it all away, but the abundant foliage above must have shielded it. The body of the Walker that had bitten Ben had been dragged off by Shane and his crew earlier that morning but the remnants of its head-the one she'd beaten to a pulp-remained.
As did the spray of blood from the wound on Ben's arm.
She sat back on her heels, and let her fingers slip again out of the muck she'd been searching for what felt like hours now even though she knew she'd only been there for a few minutes. Exhaustion had a way of extending time, slowing it down so that quick horrifying moments lived on in a sort of slow-motion loop in your mind. Callie dragged in a deep breath through her nose and immediately lifted the back of the hand to stifle the yawn that stretched across her lips.
"Son of a bitch," Callie muttered to herself as she gave her head another quick shake. Her eyes shifted over the area, squinting along the sunlight breaking through the leaves above her, and then blinking rapidly as she stared back down at the shaded mass of blood, gore and mud she had settled herself in. "Fucking thing has to be here somewhere."
With one last shake of her head she drove her hands back into the soil and grass, swiping this way and that as she muttered 'Come on. Come on.' Her eyes again bounced back towards that swatch of blood stained ground and she again sat back on her heels. Her muddy hands landed on her knees and she spared a single roll of her eyes to her own fucking inability to keep a clean pair of jeans for even a day before returning her gaze to the ground. Hitching her mouth to the side she let out a long suffering sigh and took two kneeling steps towards it. A brief moment of hesitation, a moment that she scoffed and berated herself for inwardly, and she again drove her hands into the grass.
The blood was still slick or maybe it was just the grass. Either way it clung onto her fingers and the grass left reddish-brown marks all along her skin. She resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her clothes, fucking anything, to get it off and instead kept her focus on the task at hand.
'Dale's gonna be mad'.
Ben's innocent words of worry at losing what he figured was the elder man's most prized possession droned on in the back of Callie's mind. His little voice so sad, and raw and pained from everything he'd been through. The look in his eyes as he stared up at her.
She needed to find that fucking watch.
She knew it wasn't going to do anything. Not really. It wasn't gonna bring Dale back, or give Ben back his arm. But she needed to. She just fucking did.
Callie's hands moved more fervently over the grass and she found herself practically on all fours, her body slowly working its way further and further into the darkened woods. She shifted a bit more, her hand slipping forward at the same time her knee did in the mud and just as she was about to fall flat on her fucking face into the blood-stained grass she saw it. Gleaming there in a shaft of light filtering down between the branches.
She grabbed for it and let out a chuckle as she wiped away some of the mud.
Callie stared as she wiped her thumb across the glass at the face of Dale's watch. There was a crack running along the bottom of it now, obscuring the numbers eight, seven and six. Idly she twisted the dial and wound it up, chuckling again as the slow and steady tick started up again almost immediately. She sat and listened for a few seconds allowing her mind to get lost in better times for almost a full twenty seconds before shaking her head at herself. She wiped again and froze, her eyes instantly snapping up as another sound caught her ear. It could have been the wind whistling through the branches of the trees of the forest beyond, or simply rustling across the high-grown grass behind her. Hell, it could have just been her frazzled fuckin' nerves playing tricks on her mind. But when she felt that overwhelming sensation of someone staring at her hit the back of her head she knew better than to ignore it.
Callie turned with a swift swing, her knee pivoting in the mud below her as one leg rose so that her foot was positioned to propel her up and forward if needed. The hunting knife now settled in a sheath at her boot was pulled and ready, swinging in a long arc along with her body as she moved.
She stared down the length of her blade, her other hand still gripping Dale's watch tightly, and she stared directly into the raised barrel of Shane's Glock. His eyes were dark on the other side of the sight, his nostrils flaring with each breath he dragged in and his chest rising and falling rapidly almost in time with the rapid beat of her heart.
Somehow through all the tumultuous haze and intensity of the moment Danny's chuckling voice rang in her ears, mocking her with an off-hand statement about brining a knife to a gunfight. The voice, not even a memory so much as a testament to how much the man was a part of her, had Callie letting out a long breath and dropping her knife hand to the ground. Her head began to shake and she found herself practically laughing as she moved to place the knife back into its sheath.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Shane," Callie mumbled as she looked back up to him. She stopped cold, her hand halting with the knife only halfway slid back into its sheath. Shane's hardened stare was still settled on her behind the raised Glock, as if he still considered her to be some kind of threat. After another second Shane shook his head, his eyes averting from her gaze and off towards the trees and the field as he quickly lowered his gun back into the holster clipped to his waistband. Callie finished sliding the knife into place and watched as he shuffled on his feet a few seconds before turning back towards her.
"Now I know you, of all people, know that being out alone just ain't a good idea right now," Shane said with that same air of all-knowing asshole he'd always been so good at projecting. Shane shook his head at her again as if in wonder at her stupidity and shifted his eyes down to the watch still held tightly in her hand. His head shook and she ignored the sigh that escaped his lips before he slammed a hand to top of his head and rubbed an aggravated path down to the back of his neck. "I was wondering what the fuck you were up to when I saw you head away from the house. Figured maybe someone ought to keep an eye on what you were up to. Now that I see it maybe I'm givin' that brain of yours too much credit…"
"Don't need you keepin' an eye on me," Callie muttered as she got to her feet.
"The hell you don't," Shane muttered right back. Callie rolled her eyes up at him and he raised a quick brow at her before they both let out aggravated sighs.
Callie felt Shane's eyes on her as she settled her gaze back down on the watch, her thumb moving over the face as she worked to ignore his presence completely. She wiped three times over that crack on the bottom, realizing that it was permanently stained. Ben's blood and the mud that it had been stuck in had settled deep into that crack. A now permanent reminder of everything that had transpired down here. She grimaced at it and again worked her thumb over it as she listened to Shane's heavy footfalls as he took a few steps towards her.
"Look, I know you pretty well," Shane said in a low tone that had her eyes lifting to him. "Least I like to think I do. Months of fightin' with you about this and that at the Quarry; months of sittin' with you at night while you pretended to be readin' one of them trashy romance novels by the campfire instead of up keepin' watch on the whole lot of us," he gave a quick smile and she couldn't really help but return it. "And I know you're takin' what happened with Dale all on you. But-" Shane lifted a hand staving off any remark she may have been thinking about saying with a shake of his head. "I'm not sayin' this to start nothing, Callie. I'm not. But Dale was a big-boy, knew what he was riskin' goin' out there like that. He was a big-boy, and he woulda been out there whether you were with him or not."
"And Ben…" Callie said back to him, her eyes back on the watch and then the bloody grass at her feet.
"You saved his life," Shane said in a firm tone that had her eyes sliding back up to him. "Ain't a damn thing that matters more than that."
For a moment, Callie caught a glimpse of the Shane Walsh she'd first met at the Quarry all those months ago. The man that Rick had always claimed to know. The good man with a good head on his shoulders and a strong heart. A man she wished he could still be. Memories of times so long ago they felt more like dreams filtered into her mind, and then slid out again as his eyes shifted away from the man she'd known then and back into the one he was now. She watched his eyes squint as he furrowed his brow, watched the agitation rolling along his shoulders in such a volatile way that his body was sent into a spasmodic sort of restlessness as he began to slowly shift from one foot to the other. Finally Shane let out another scoffing sort of laugh at her and shook his head before glaring at the watch in her hands.
"Shit, Callie. C'mon," Shane spat at her as he lifted a hand palms up towards her as his face contorted in annoyance. "You're smarter than this. Exhausted and runnin' on nothin' and out here fuckin' risking your life over what…a fuckin' watch. You're gonna get your ass killed…"
"I'm gonna get them all killed," Callie countered quickly her voice barely above a whisper. There wasn't even a beat between his utterance and her response, and it settled strangely in the air around them. Her eyes snapped down to the watch, and her brows furrowed. She wasn't even sure why the words came out. Those words that had been echoing in her mind for weeks causing a dizzying sensation of such horrible self-doubt. Words that pained her so much that she hadn't been able to discuss her feelings on them with anyone really. Not Danny. Not Rick. Not Daryl.
Words so personal and painful, said to this man who had shown her an attitude barely above contempt as of late, with such ease and not a moment of hesitation.
She spared a glance up at him and caught Shane's hardened stare head on. She caught it and held on to it and let her eyes dance with his as they moved left to right in an effort to read her thoughts.
"The fuck you talkin' about?" Shane asked gruffly, and Callie let out a small chuckle before shaking Dale's watch at him.
"First Miles on the highway with Whitmore. Then Jenna and Sophia, now Ben's arm and …" she shook the watch again and closed her eyes briefly. "Dale." She let out a slow breath and looked back up at him. "You're right. I'm smarter than this. It's my fault. All of it. And I'm gonna get them all killed. C'mon Shane, if anyone's gonna agree it's you."
"You want me to," Shane muttered under his breath, a harsh glare following her movements as she put the watch into her back pocket and shrugged a shoulder at him.
Their eyes had locked again and for a moment Callie watched that spark of anger flicker in his eyes. He was a volatile man, probably had been all of his life. Short fuse, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. He wore his anger and outrage on his sleeve, easily pricked. And if she was totally honest she had to respect the leash he put on it. But it seemed that leash was slipping from his grasp more and more these days. She watched that anger in his eyes and for a moment recalled a point not so long ago when he'd skimmed his hand over her gun and threatened her. Her hand instinctively settled upon the gun now settled in Rick's old holster-a gift bestowed on her because the man who was supposed to be Shane's best friend and know him best of all had second thoughts about his ability to control that rage that bubbled under his surface. A moment later Shane's head began to shake and a frown overtook the anger and Callie stilled her feet from taking another step back.
"Shit…you want me to," Shane said again shakin' his head and raking a single hand over his shaved head. His eyes lifted from his shoes to her, and she felt the tension in her body release. There was a clarity in his eyes, one she hadn't seen in a long time really. Not since they'd first arrived at the Quarry. Not since that night she'd told her story and he'd settled her nerves with a simple affirmation of her innocence. A clarity and a shocking look of remorse. "Look. I know you. You know me. I ain't gonna sit here and tell you that you done everything right or that you did things right out here last night. I ain't gonna hold your hand through this and soothe your delicate fuckin' frazzled nerves. You need that shit you got a whole damn camp of people up there that'll do that just fuckin' fine." Shane swung a large arm back behind him and Callie stared hard as he advanced on her. "But I ain't gonna spit venom in your face like that either, Callie. That really the type of man you think I am? Kinda man that's gonna kick a man when he's down?"
Callie's jaw clenched at his words and she felt her fingers twitch just slightly where they lay over the butt of her gun. He advanced a few more steps and stared hard at her. It was test now. Both of them working to read one another and neither willing to budge. Her mind swung in an almost dizzying fashion back to late night conversations with Rick about Shane's state of mind. Conversations with Miles after what happened at the FEMA station, what happened with Otis. The roadside idiot show that had taken place between Rick and Shane days ago. It was all one big jumbled mess of different sides of the same man. Different sides that seemed to be conflicting with everything and twisting this way and that to try and appease the ever changing danger of the world that they lived in now. Shane was a strong man, but Callie wasn't quite sure he was strong enough to contend with the kaleidoscopic whirl of his own mind.
"I don't know what type of man you are these days, Shane," Callie finally said her arms going wide and then falling limp to her sides. "I don't. Do you?" Shane's only response was to throw his arms at her and let out a low growl. "Honestly Shane, what do you see when you look in the mirror these days? That reflection of yours is scattered with bruises from the man you say you love, the man you say is your best friend. A man who used to trust you implicitly-"
"Shit," Shane ground out before whipping a hand up, an accusing finger pointed right at her. "Is this about what happened with Rick? 'Cause honey, I already got an earful from his wife, I don't need one from…." he waved his hand around at her and scoffed slightly. "Whatever the fuck you two are playin' at bein'?"
"Friends," Callie said back and she watched Shane's lip curl into a smirk as he lifted a single brow at her. She shrugged a shoulder and glared back at him.
"Whatever you say, Callie," Shane chuckled a bit and turned his head a bit to the side. "You like living on that river, you go ahead and stay there. The fuck do I care?"
"I'm not gonna go down this road with you again. It's not worth my time, or yours. It's a bullshit diversionary tactic, Shane. You keep pullin' it out when shit gets too 'on the mark' for you, and I'm tired of it. Let it go, buddy-boy. No one's fuckin' bitin'."
"Diversionary tactic? That what that is?" Shane laughed again and Callie took a step towards him.
"Yeah," Callie halted as Shane began glaring daggers at her. "You like to bring attention to Rick's shortcomings, real or imagined whenever someone points a fuckin' finger elsewhere. You like to nag on him, put shit on him. You like to see him fail. You want to see him fail. In fact, I'm willing to bet you'd like to see him do more than fail."
"Watch it," Shane growled at her, his face inches from hers now. They glared into one another's eyes for a moment and again Callie watched that warring swirl of emotions in his gaze. His shoulders moved slightly as he breathed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between hers until finally something worked its way through. Something had his eyes shifting behind her to the field where Dale died, to the blood spattered grass not far off. When his eyes hit hers again she felt the tension that had built in her subside, that look of remorse and confusion filtering on to his face as his shoulders slumped. One hand slapped hard into his head and rubbed furiously while the other shot out slightly towards her in almost an imploring motion. "Dale thought that shit. Thought I was the type of man to hurt…kill my best friend. Thought I belonged here in a fuckin' world full of undead monsters. What'd I do to make you think that? Huh? I love that man. He is my brother. I went back for him…" Shane's head shook as his hand settled hard at the back of his skull. "What did that ol' man see-what do you see that makes you think that 'bout me?"
"I see a man at war," Callie said quietly, her eyes holding his as he stared at her. "I see a man on the edge. It's the same edge that we're all on. We're all ready to fall into that pit that's just getting bigger and bigger beneath us, Shane. I'm there," Callie put her hand to her chest and felt her lower lip begin to quiver. "Jenna, Sophia, Dale, Ben….each time it's another shove towards that abyss. And each time it takes more and more to step back. Rick's there too, you're just so stuck in your own head that you're not seeing it." Shane scoffed and shook his head. "You're on the edge, Shane."
"No. No. I'm not at war, I'm not strugglin' with anything," Shane said as a sneer slipped onto his lips. "That's Rick. That's not me. He's the one struggling to get past his self-righteous ass and do the hard things. Make the fuckin' hard decisions. He's the one lost here."
"Can't you hear yourself," Callie almost shouted raising her hands and furrowing her brow at the man shaking his head at her.
Shane's mouth opened to respond but the sound of shuffling in the grass behind him caught both of their ears. In a moment both Shane and Callie had guns raised and pointed at the figure slowly moving towards them.
Carl's eyes were wide as saucers, his father's campaign hat nearly falling off as he jerked back a step and raised both of his arms halfway.
"Jesus," Callie muttered as she slammed her free hand to the bridge of her nose and began to rub furiously.
"Son of a bitch, Carl. What the hell, man?" Shane practically yelled his arms going wide as he watched the boy take two tentative steps towards them.
"I was," Carl's eyes skipped back towards Callie and then to Shane. "I followed you. I needed to get away and I wanted to talk to you. I -" his eyes skipped back towards the house. "I'm didn't think-"
"Yeah you been doin' a lot of that 'not thinkin' shit lately," Shane seethed as he shook his head at the now frowning Carl. Shane mumbled another 'son of a bitch' as he turned and began to pace, and Callie watched him for a few moments while Carl finished his trek towards them.
"Everything okay?" Callie asked as the boy stepped up beside her. Carl's eyes were downcast, avoiding her gaze with each slight turn of his head. She let out a breath knowing in that moment that their last conversation atop the RV was still a raw nerve in the boy's mind. She put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed once before she turned to watch the still pacing Shane.
"I don't deserve this," Carl's voice was quiet and his eyes still downcast when Callie turned back to him. But his gaze wasn't avoiding hers this time, instead it was riveted to the small object he was holding out towards her. She blinked at the sight of Rick's badge held in Carl's fingers, watched his thumb move over the numbers a few times before shifting her gaze back to his face. Shane was watching them now, his eyes narrowed as he took a single step closer to them.
"Carl….?" Callie began but the boy shook his head and shoved the badge closer to her.
"I don't," Carl said again. "I don't deserve it. Take it."
Callie's hand reached out tentatively, her fingers barely brushing Carl's as she took the badge from him. Carl's hand moved back away from her fast, as if he'd been burned by the contact with her and again his averted. This time it landed on the patch of bloody grass not far off and Callie watched his face contort in what she felt to be anger, but couldn't be sure.
Shane was closer now, his eyes settled firmly on Carl as if Callie wasn't even there anymore. She watched Shane move towards the boy, watched something filter into the man's gaze before he shook it off and again speared her with a glare that was only really half of what it had been before. She stepped towards him, her thumb brushing over the numbers on the badge before she held it out to him.
Shane stared at her, dumbstruck. His gaze bounced between her face and the badge she held out in a mirror to her own reaction only moments ago.
"Here," Callie said quietly, bouncing the badge a few times to prompt the man to take it. His fingers brushed hers as they settled firmly on the badge, a frown furrowing his brow as he lifted his eyes to her. "Prove me wrong."
With that Callie let go of the badge and began to walk away. Her eyes skipped over her shoulder only once catching Shane now staring at the badge instead of her back with Carl right there beside him staring at her. A part of her wanted to tell them to head back to the house, and the fucking relative safety it provided but another stopped her. That other part, the one that knew—without a shadow of a doubt-that there was one thing that would never change. Shane would never hurt, or allow hurt to come to Carl Grimes.
Shane watched Callie go for a brief moment, his mind flooded with thoughts of their conversation. His eyes slipped down as the weight of the badge settled oddly in his hands. He flipped the thing over twice, his mind twisting around memories of days gone by and holding tight as the world flipped. He stared down at that badge and those familiar numbers, his thumb sliding over it again and again as he half-listened to Carl shuffling next to him.
"It's my fault," Carl's voice rang out, an odd echoing of what Callie had been speakin' to him moments before they once again found themselves goin' round and round on other things. Shane's eyes skipped up from the badge and landed on the pale-lookin' kid, meeting those bright blue eyes head on. "Dale. It's my fault. That walker," Carl's head dipped down and his eyes roved the area around them before landing back on Shane. Shane's hand shifted slightly to the small of his back where he'd tucked the gun he found in the woods yesterday. The one he'd thought had been dropped by Ben. The one he'd planned on shoving back into Callie's hands with a few choice words before he saw just how distraught she was. His mind clicked on it just as Carl's mouth began to say the words. "I was out there. In the woods. I had it in my sights."
There is no peace here,
War is never cheap dear,
Love will never meet here,
It just gets sold for parts
You cannot fight it,
All the world denies it,
Open up your eyelids,
Let your demons run
~Beat The Devil's Tattoo/ BRMC (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)
AN: I did it. I got it done. I'm not gonna linger here. But I'm just gonna say a quick thank you to all of you for sticking with me as I drag this fuckin' thing out. I swear to god I'm gonna try and get better at getting these things posted. I am still trying to figure out how to work ME time into my life. It's a hard road I'm on right now.
But there is an end in sight.
and then maybe another beginning because hell…I've got a few seasons to get through now don't I. Never endin' supply of shit! And another season starting soon!
So excited. Also, I had a reviewer comment that took out the tumblr title for my fic tumblr. If you've got one, search it out as NewMeaningsSaga, that should pop me up.
Much love and happy reading!