Note: Hello guys! Phew, let me just say that I am SO sorry that I've been away for a while, I hope you guys haven't given up on me! But I'm back, and this chapter's a long one to make up for time lost. The song that this chapter is inspired by is "Breezeblocks" by alt-J, and I'm sure a lot of you have heard it but if not give a listen, it's a good'n. Anyway, I will try to write more consistently so long as "real life" cooperates haha. Let me know what you think!
7. Breezeblocks
The woman came to as Mason and Rick carried her into C block.
"Carl, get a blanket," Rick said. "Beth, water and towels."
The two rushed off immediately. Mason and Rick lowered the woman onto the floor of the commons area. Her eyes reeled, struggling to focus.
Beth was the first one back. She handed Rick a bottle of water, then knelt to press a towel to the gunshot wound in the woman's leg.
The woman's eyelids fluttered as Rick poured the water on her chest. Mason held her down when she began to struggle.
"It's alright," Rick said. "We're not going to hurt you."
But the woman continued to struggle. She ripped her arm away from Mason and reached for the samurai sword they'd found her with.
Rick kicked the sword away. Mason reaffirmed her grip.
"We're not going to hurt you," Rick repeated, "unless you try something stupid first. Alright?"
"Rick."
Everyone turned to see Daryl standing in the doorway, peering curiously at the new arrival.
"Who the hell's this?"
Rick looked back at the woman. "You wanna tell us your name?"
The woman stared at him with an unnerving, unblinking gaze. Now that her panic had died off, the hint of a smile was playing at the corners of her mouth. It wasn't friendly.
His eyes narrowed. "You wanna tell us your name?" he repeated.
When the woman remained silent, Daryl said, "Ya'll come on in here."
"Everything alright?" Rick asked.
"You're gonna wanna see this."
Daryl's eyes met Mason's from across the room. She couldn't quite tell what she saw in them but it lightened the weight on her chest a little.
The others headed for the cell block, but Rick and Mason lingered. He handed her the sword.
"We're gonna hold onto this," he said to the woman. "These doors are locked, you'll be safe here. And we can treat that." He pointed to her leg.
The woman's lips pressed into a hard line. "I didn't ask for your help," she said.
"Doesn't matter. We can't let you leave."
Without another word, Rick and Mason followed the others into the cell block and locked the door behind them, leaving the woman alone.
Everyone was gathered around Carol's old cell. They all looked up as the two of them approached, their eyes wide with excitement. Mason glanced at Daryl. His lips pulled into that subtle smile of his and her heart skipped.
Something good had happened.
She was right behind Rick when he reached the cell, so she couldn't see his expression, but when she peered around him she saw Carol's.
Carol's.
Carol was alive.
The breath rushed out of her lungs. The sword tumbled from her hands. Carol smiled at them from the bottom bunk. Though her face was grimy and drawn from exhaustion, her eyes shone with joy.
She stood and met Rick in the doorway. He hugged her fiercely, murmuring words that Mason couldn't quite catch. Then she turned to hug Mason, although she more or less just sagged wearily while Mason supported her weight.
"How…" Mason breathed.
"She fought her way into a cell," Daryl said. "When I found her she was passed out, dehydrated."
She stared at him in amazement until Carol broke away, eyes fixed on something past Mason's shoulder. Everyone turned, and there was Beth with the kid in her arms.
Mason's smile faded.
As Carol made her acquaintance with Little Asskicker, Mason edged away. She could feel her excitement waning, the numbing shadows moving in again, eager to gain the slightest foothold. Even Carol's miraculous return was not enough to keep them at bay. She longed for the sanctuary of her music, but as she turned to head back to her cell she caught sight of the woman leaning against the cell block door, watching them with that feral cat stare.
Mason's eyes narrowed. Her hand drifted unconsciously to her fire iron but she didn't draw it.
"So what's with the samurai?"
Daryl had appeared at her side.
"Dunno. We found her out at the fence with a hole in her leg and a basket full of formula. The walkers didn't…didn't seem to notice she wasn't one of them until one of them came close enough to smell the blood."
"Brave or stupid, you think?"
"Maybe neither."
Daryl looked at her. She ducked her head so he wouldn't see the ruin in her eyes. After a moment she cleared her throat.
"We need to find out why's she here," she said. "And how she just happens to have exactly the supplies we've been looking for."
Daryl nodded. Mason continued to look at the floor, but she knew he was seeing on her face exactly what she wished he wouldn't.
"Alright," he finally said. "C'mon."
They went back for Rick, who stood a few feet away while Carol and Beth exclaimed over the kid. His eyes were suspiciously red but Mason saw no tears. He smiled at her but she found she couldn't return one. Apparently she'd used up all her smiles for the day.
"We need to know why that woman came here," she said.
He nodded. "Yes, we do. I'll get Hershel."
Once the four of them had gathered, they headed back to the commons room where the woman waited. She backed off, looking at them liked a cornered animal preparing its last stand. When her eyes passed over her, Mason narrowed hers.
Rick approached her slowly but firmly. "We'll tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water and then send you on your way," he said. "But first you have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying formula."
The woman appraised him for a long time before she finally spoke. "Supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy," she said, "and a pretty girl."
Mason tensed. She exchanged a glance with Daryl, and then eyed Hershel. His face had gone pale.
"Were they attacked?" he asked.
"They were taken," said the woman.
"Taken? By who?" Rick said. His voice was urgent now, and the threat in it was very real.
The woman's lip curled. "By the same son of a bitch who shot me."
Rick tilted his head in that predator way he had. "Hey, these are our people," he said. "You tell us what happened now."
His hand flashed out and grabbed the woman on her wounded leg. She sucked in a breath and jerked to her feet.
"Don't you ever touch me again," she hissed.
Daryl raised his crossbow, ready in case she decided to fight, but Mason stayed still. She was staring at Rick, not quite sure how to react.
"You better start talkin'," Daryl said. "Or you'll have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound."
The woman's eyes flicked back and forth between Rick and Daryl, wide with pain and fury. "Find him yourself," she said.
Rick watched her for a long moment, and Mason watched Rick. She wasn't sure she liked this woman, but she didn't think she had anything up her sleeve, either.
Finally, Rick pressed a hand to Daryl's crossbow and Daryl lowered it. Rick's eyes never left the woman's and she never flinched.
"You came here for a reason," he said.
The woman scowled, clearly reluctant, but after a moment she spoke.
"There's a town. Woodbury. Bout seventy-five survivors, I think they were taken there."
Mason blinked in shock. Rick drew back like this news was too much to believe.
"A whole town?" he said.
"Run by a guy who calls himself the Governor," the woman said. Her voice burned with hatred. "Pretty boy. Charming. Jim Jones type."
"He got muscle?" Daryl asked.
"Military wannabes. They have armed sentries on every wall."
"You know a way in?" Rick said.
"Place is secure from walkers but we could slip our way through," the woman said.
Mason swayed a little, the shock and emotion of the day catching up to her. It hadn't quite hit her yet that Maggie and Glenn had been captured and she thought maybe it was because if it did now, unstable as she felt, she would not handle it well.
Rick looked back at his little group, and his eyes narrowed slightly when they rested on her. She tried to straighten up, wondering what he saw on her face.
He turned back to the woman. "How'd you know how to get here?"
"They mentioned a prison," the woman said. "Said which direction it was in, said it was a straight shot."
Rick nodded, apparently coming to a decision. "This is Hershel," he said, pointing. "Father of the girl that was taken. He'll take care of your leg."
Then he glanced meaningfully at Daryl and Mason and headed back to the cell block.
Mason's stomach dropped about a mile when they returned and she got a clear look at Beth's face. It was happy, lit up by the company of Carol and Little Asskicker, and they might've had a windfall from all the bad shit but Glenn and Maggie were taken and now they had to tell Beth and ruin that perfect smile and fuck fuck fuck.
Beth looked for Mason immediately, and when she saw the expression on her face her smile died, just like Mason knew it would. Oscar and Axel gathered around as Rick bent and whispered something in Carl's ear. Carl nodded and took off for the commons room.
When he was gone, Rick said, "We got the woman to talk. She said Glenn and Maggie were taken."
Beth gasped. "Taken?"
Rick nodded. "She said there's a town not far from here. She thinks they were taken there."
"Thinks?" Carol said. She was sitting on the steps to the upper level, rocking Asskicker to sleep like she'd never been gone. "What if she's wrong?"
"We don't have anything else to go on," Mason said.
"How do you know we can trust her?" Oscar said.
Beth glared at him. "This is Maggie and Glenn. Why are we even debatin'?"
"We ain't," Daryl said. "I'll go after 'em."
"Well this place sounds pretty secure," Rick said. "You can't go alone."
Beth's face hardened, her eyes like flint. "I'll go."
"No," Mason growled and found herself on the receiving end of Beth's glare. Before either of them could say anything else, Axel stepped forward.
"I'll go, too," he said.
Oscar glanced from Axel to Rick. "I'm in," he said.
Rick nodded and looked from one person to the next, sizing them up. "Oscar and Daryl, you come with me," he finally said. "We need to see if Hershel's finished up with our new friend's leg, because she's coming with us."
Beth stepped forward. "What about me?" she demanded.
Rick laid a hand on her shoulder. "I can't take everyone. There needs to be a group back here to defend this place," he said. "But thank you."
She didn't try to argue, but Mason could feel her burning holes into the back of her skull as she followed Rick, Daryl and Oscar to the commons room.
When they got to the door, Rick turned to her. "I didn't say your name either, Mason."
Mason gaped at him. "What…are you saying I'm not going?"
"Not this time."
"Why?"
"Because I can't take everyone," Rick repeated. "And you look like you're a thread away from unraveling."
Mason bristled. "I could say the same about you."
Regret clamped her mouth shut instantly. The pain that flickered across his expression echoed in her own chest, and she fully expected him to throw her across the room, but in the end he just nodded.
"Stay here," he said.
So she did.
~m~
Mason stood in the prison yard long after the car had disappeared up the road. Rick and his little group were gone. The others had come out to see him off but had gone back inside. She thought maybe Beth would have stayed to talk with her, or more likely yell at her, but she hadn't. Mason was alone.
She stared out into the woods for a long time, debating. She had her fire iron, and one of the communal hand guns. She'd grabbed her iPod while Rick's group was gathering supplies for the rescue mission. She wasn't entirely alone.
She knew she shouldn't go. She should stay, like Rick asked her to. But she just didn't think she could take another minute in that prison, with those people, sitting around wondering whether Rick's group would return with Glenn and Maggie, or whether they return at all.
It was the supplies that convinced her. The basket was full of formula and not much else. There were other things they needed.
She slipped on her headphones and started off, casting frequent glances behind her just in case. But no one looked for her, and she snuck out of the hole in the fence without incident.
The woods were serene in the afternoon glow. Mason played music loud enough to hurt her ears but it only made the woods more peaceful. She felt the weight of the day melting off, sure that it would return but only when she was ready.
She didn't go in the same direction as Glenn and Maggie. She followed the trail she and Daryl had taken when they found the candy bars, and soon came across the same gas station. She didn't stop. They'd already taken everything useful. She carried on up the road until she came to a tiny strip mall.
There was a convenience store that looked bare as a desert skeleton, and next to it a liquor store that had clearly been looted but not emptied.
Mason stopped when she saw it. The dark, broken glass called to her like a siren, and eventually her feet took her right past the store she actually needed in favor of the warm wine-and-cardboard smell of the other.
She made a quick sweep of the little building but found no surprises, and when she was fairly certain she was alone she let herself become distracted by the gleam of the bottles. A lot of the shelves were sparse, and a lot of the glass was broken, but she gathered what she could find and arranged it in the middle of the floor near the cash register.
She counted it all out- gin, rum, brandy- and with each bottle she felt the last of her stress dwindle. She was surprised to find fewer bottles of vodka than of whiskey. She wished she could include a few bottles of beer, but even if those remaining had not gone bad she was not crazy about the taste of warm beer.
Finally, at the back of the store, she found what she hadn't dared let herself hope she would find. One single bottle of Grey Goose, and not one of the small ones, either. It was shoved back behind several bottles of cheap tequila, like someone was trying to hide it.
Mason grinned and grabbed the bottle. "Tough shit."
She popped the cap off and took a long pull, wincing a little at the undiluted taste of it but smiling when it went right to her head. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast that morning, and there was nothing to cut the effects.
Good, she thought and drank another mouthful.
She leaned against the checkout counter, surrounded by a standing army of booze, and grinned at the ceiling. It had been a while since she'd had a drink, and she was a little out of practice if the fuzziness in her mind was anything to go by.
You shouldn't be doing this, a part of her thought. You're out here for supplies.
But another part of her thought, Why shouldn't vodka be part of those supplies?
She sat for a long time, nursing her bottle, letting images wash over her mind. Beth's anger when Mason told her no, Daryl's smile, Rick holding Little Asskicker for the first time…
Maggie with a bloody bundle in her arms.
Hershel with his eyes closed, not knowing if they would open again.
T-Dog ruffling her hair, telling her good morning.
Mason closed her eyes. Her hand gripped the bottle so tightly she thought it might break, but it didn't. She was the only thing breaking here.
She bent double as the sobs overcame her, so much all at once that it felt like her head would explode. Her mouth opened wide as if to scream, but all that came out was a wounded, shuddering breath. It felt like a knife being driven into her gut over and over again.
She was trapped. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't escape because she wasn't strong enough to leave and she wasn't strong enough to stay and-
"FUCK!" she screamed, till she thought her vocal cords would snap.
A moment later, a shadow shambled toward her, ragged from climbing in through the broken window. There was no time to grab her fire poker. As the walker fell on her, she smashed one of the nearby bottles and drove the broken end through its temple.
Blood trickled through the stem of the bottle like wine, splattering her chest. She kicked the walker away with a snarl of disgust and scrambled to her feet.
The room swayed. She had to steady herself against the cash register before she could even think about moving. She stared at the unbroken bottle in her other hand while she recovered her balance, or at least as much balance as she was going to recover. For a moment she thought about tossing it across the room, but at the last moment, right as she was lifting it above her head, she stopped herself. She just couldn't.
"You can't do shit, can you?" she slurred to herself and stumbled over the body of the walker. She was about to leave with her one, lonely bottle, but at the last second she turned around and grabbed two more at random.
The convenience store was as bare as she was expecting, but she did manage to find a few rolls of gauze and a couple diapers scattered across the tile floor. She stuffed everything into a paper bag and set off for the prison.
The sun was going down by the time she returned, reminding her of just how goddamn long this day has been. Her muscles ached and her head swam. She could feel the hangover settling in behind her temples, spurred on by her earlier adrenaline and the lack of food in her belly. A good, fatty piece of venison would take the edge off.
She crept silently into the cell block, hoping she could make it to her bunk without anyone questioning where she'd been. But luck was with her. As far as she could tell, no one was there. Her heart stuttered a little at the emptiness of the place, but then she heard familiar voices nearby and she relaxed.
When she'd dropped off her finds, hiding the booze under her mattress, she followed the voices to the commons area. Everyone was there, plus four.
Mason hesitated with her foot in the door, appraising these newcomers. The most formidable of the group was a broad-shouldered black man. He was sitting at one of the tables next to a petite young woman who looked so much like him she could only be his sister. Further away, two other men huddled close together. One of them was older, but they both shared the same brown hair and blue eyes. They were staring at something on the floor.
Mason sucked in a breath when she saw the body, its face covered up so she couldn't tell who it was. But everyone looked up at the sound of her gasp, and when she counted she realized it wasn't one of her own.
She let out her breath and resisted the urge to massage her aching temples.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I didn't realize we'd be having company."
"Mason," Hershel greeted her. "This is Tyreese's group." He nodded to the hulking man, who stood up as she approached.
"Are you the leader of this group?" Tyreese asked.
She almost laughed, but it most certainly would have hurt. "No," she said, touching her fire iron. "But I'm kind of like the bouncer."
Despite the fact that he easily dwarfed her, he held his hands up in surrender. "We come in peace," he said. Mason bit back another giggle, picturing the man as a Martian.
So she was still a little drunk. She needed that venison even more. Or maybe just another nip from the bottle…
"I brought them in," Carl said suddenly. "They came in where the walls are down. I found them in the tombs and brought them here."
Mason had trouble looking into Carl's eyes. It was like they were new eyes. They didn't belong to the little boy she'd sorted food with.
"Okay," she said. "But…"
She didn't finish. She knew everyone else had already thought of it. Rick was going to come back at some point, and when he did…
Mason shook her head, which was painful. "Okay," she repeated. "So who is Tyreese's group?"
Tyreese pointed to the woman beside him. "This is my sister, Sasha," he said. The woman nodded wordlessly. She looked tough. "That's Ben and his dad, Allen." He pointed to the young man and the older man in turn.
Mason frowned as she looked at them. Their eyes were bright with grief, but there was something behind them that set off alarm bells in her head.
"Charmed," she said. "Who was that?" She pointed to the veiled body.
"My wife," Allen spat.
Tyreese gave him a warning glance and said, "Donna."
Mason nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. She could see Beth from the corner of her eye, feeding the kid. She didn't look at her.
"Sorry for your loss," she said and left the room.
~m~
After tossing and turning for several hours, Mason sat up in her bunk. The cell block was dark, quiet except for someone's gentle snores. Her skull throbbed. The silence was a cruel roar in her ears. She grabbed her iPod and snuck out of the cell.
The moon was close to full, and so bright it was almost daylight. The yard and the trees beyond shone silver. Mason breathed in and out, letting the clear, pure scent of the night flood her muddled senses.
She probably shouldn't have indulged so late in the day. It was always harder for her to sleep after drinking, and after a day like today she ached for sleep. Even just one short hour of nothingness would have been nice but apparently her douchebag brain was not going to let that happen.
She sighed and skipped over the current song for an angrier one…
Someone touched her shoulder. She jumped and swung around, fumbling for her fire poker, but when she caught sight of who it was she stilled.
"Jesus Christ, Beth, watch who you fucking sneak up on!"
"Sorry," Beth muttered.
Mason waited in silence for Beth to explain why she was there, but when she didn't speak Mason said, "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not really."
"I'm sorry."
Beth shook her head. "I just can't stop thinkin' about Maggie, and Glenn. I should be out there, makin' sure they come back."
"They'll come back," Mason said. "Rick will make sure of it."
"Maybe," Beth said. "But that's my sister out there. I shouldn't be stuck here doin' nothin'!"
"But Rick was right. We can't just leave this place unguarded."
"That's not why he wouldn't let me go."
Mason didn't know what to say, because it was exactly the reason she hadn't wanted Beth to go, either. Beth was strong, but she was not a fighter the same way that she and Rick and Daryl were fighters. She couldn't imagine leading Beth into danger.
Beth gazed off into the woods, lips pressed into a thin line. Mason recognized the same expression from the day before, when they'd taken their walk together.
"They don't want me out here," Beth said.
"What?"
"I mean, they don't want me out there."
"Well…of course not. They want you safe. They care about you."
"They care about you, too."
Mason flinched. "Beth-"
"They do!" Beth insisted. "I know you don't wanna see it, but they do! But they still let you go out."
"They let you out, too."
"Only because I was with you. Didn't you hear Daryl? He said you can take care of yourself, but he didn't say anythin' about me." She glared at her feet. "They think I'm weak. I guess I am."
"You're not," Mason growled. "Fuck what anyone thinks."
"Then what about what you think?" Beth demanded. "You didn't want me to go, either. I'm not stupid. I see how you look at me."
Mason drew back a step. How did she look at Beth? What did Beth see when Mason looked at her? Her stomach tied itself into knots, but then Beth went on.
"Like I need protectin'. Like I'm fragile."
"That's not…" But Mason trailed off. She couldn't lie to her.
Beth nodded. "So that is what you think of me."
"Beth, no, you're not fragile. If you were, you would have given up a long time ago."
In her mind she was seeing herself, surrounded by a circle of walkers, listening to what she then believed would be the last song she would ever hear. She almost missed it when Beth winced.
"You're not," Mason said.
"Please don't lie to me," Beth said, rubbing absently at her wrist.
"I'm not lying. I didn't want you to go with Rick because…I…care about you."
It was even harder to admit than she thought it would be. The words came out stilted and awkward, and she could tell Beth didn't believe them.
"Mason, it isn't good enough that I didn't…that I made it this far," she said. "I need to be able to contribute more to this group than just babysitting."
"Beth-"
"I need you to teach me to fight."
Mason swallowed, but it caught halfway down her throat. She couldn't speak, and in any case she couldn't think of anything to say. Beth watched her with an expression that was strangely reminiscent of the mysterious samurai's.
Eventually, Mason cleared her throat. "C'mon," she rasped. "It's been the longest day in the history of shit days, and we should really try to sleep."
"Mason. I really need your help-"
"Alright!" Mason snapped. "I'll think about it. Now let's get back inside."
Beth grimaced but did not argue, and Mason wished the last few minutes had never happened.
~m~
She avoided Beth all the next morning, even going as far as to skip breakfast even though she desperately needed it. Instead she took her iPod and escaped outside.
It was a beautiful morning, hot but not unbearable, without a single cloud in the sky. She smiled a clear, bright, genuine smile. Despite her bad knee, despite her hangover, despite everything or maybe because of it, she wanted to run. She hadn't run for leisure in years. She probably shouldn't now. But it wasn't an urge, it was a need.
"Fuck it," she whispered and put on her headphones.
She started running when she was outside the fence, keeping it to a steady jog until her knee got used to the rhythm. It didn't hurt yet. Her muscles felt better as they loosened and stretched, moving in time with the music. Her whole body did.
She pushed herself faster, the music urging her on. Sweat gathered on her forehead. It felt like it was purging all the bad shit right out of her skin. She never wanted to stop.
She didn't know how long she spent out there, but the sun had risen above the treetops by the time she'd made a whole circuit around the prison. She came to a reluctant stop when she reached the hole in the fence. Everyone was probably awake by now. Maybe Rick had returned with Glenn and Maggie. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she made her way back inside the grounds. She felt worlds lighter than she had yesterday. Her knee ached a little, but it was worth the exchange.
Tyreese and his group were outside, just inside the inner gate. She couldn't tell from so far away, but it looked like they were arguing. Mason narrowed her eyes and hurried up the path, but before she reached them Axel and Beth appeared, carrying a shovel and a pick axe. Tyreese and Sasha rushed to grab the tools before Allen and Ben could. Axel and Beth exchanged a glance and then they headed back inside.
Suspicion pricked her stomach. She didn't think Sasha or Tyreese had anything to hide, but she didn't trust Allen. His pain she could understand, but there was always something just beneath the surface with him…
Tyreese and Sasha made their way into the yard, toward the place where T-Dog and Lori were buried. Allen and Ben turned back to head into the prison. Mason followed them. Suddenly she didn't want them around the rest of the group without her there to keep an eye on things.
They nearly ran into her as she was walking through the door, Donna's body hoisted between the two of them.
"Jesus!" Allen exclaimed. "Watch where you're going!"
Mason stepped aside without a word and watched them go. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten yet, and her knee twinged- she was probably going to regret that run tomorrow. But she didn't want to let those two out of her sight, and besides it was easier to evade Beth out here.
She lurked near the fence while Tyreese's group dug the grave- or rather, Tyreese and Sasha dug the grave. It didn't escape her notice that they never let Allen or Ben have either of the tools.
"Where've you been hidin' all morning?"
Mason didn't know whether to laugh or scream. How was it this damn girl always found her when she didn't want to be found?
"I went for a run," Mason answered.
"Okay. So when do we start trainin'?"
Fuck me sideways…
"We don't," Mason said through clenched teeth.
Beth blinked, apparently torn between shock and outrage. "Are you…are you kiddin' me? Last night you said-"
"I said I'd think about it."
"And you've thought about it."
"Yes."
"Mason, I need to know how to fight. I don't wanna be dead weight anymore."
Mason pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're not dead weight, but I won't teach you to fight. There's no reason. Besides, it's not like I'm a professional or anything."
"Bet you know more than I do."
"It doesn't matter either way."
Beth glared at her, chin trembling, but not like she was about to cry. More like she was resisting the urge to eviscerate her. After a moment, she turned without another word and stormed off.
Mason leaned against the fence with a heavy sigh and thought longingly of the bottle beneath her mattress.
~m~
Rick drove up to the prison not long after Tyreese's group had finished with the grave and gone inside.
Just as well, she thought as her heart leapt and she jogged down to the gate where Carl and Carol already were. Better to warn Rick beforehand that there was company.
Rick was embracing Carl at the inner gate when she reached them. He didn't seem to bear any wounds, but over his shoulder she saw Carol looking urgently into the car, which put a knot in her stomach.
She stepped out of the way as Glenn drove through the gate. She caught a glimpse of the feral woman staring pensively out the window and nothing more as the car passed by.
Rick caught her eye. The pain and anxiety in his expression made her throat tighten.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Carol beat her to it.
"Daryl?"
Mason froze.
No. Not Daryl.
Rick shook his head and quickly laid a hand on Carol's shoulder, who looked as though she was about to have a panic attack.
"He's alright," Rick said. "He's alive."
Mason felt only the briefest relief, because Rick had more to say.
"We ran into his brother."
From the look on Carol's face she was quick to comprehend, but Mason was a little slower. His brother, the asshole? His brother who was supposed to be dead? Did Rick mean they ran into him in walker form?
But then Rick said, "They went off." And suddenly it was painfully clear.
His brother the asshole was alive, somehow, and Daryl had chosen him over the group.
Daryl was gone. Daryl had left.
Mason stood very still while her mind raced. Half of her was conscious of the pain on Carol's face, the tears gathering in her eyes.
"He left?" she murmured.
Rick nodded.
"Daryl left?" Carol said. "He's just gone? Is he coming back?"
Rick didn't say anything, but the look he gave her must have been answer enough because the tears spilled over. Rick put his arm around her shoulder and started guiding her up the path. Mason followed mechanically, shutting the gate behind her. There was something in her brain, something aside from the grief that she would never see Daryl again. It burgeoned as she listened to the gravel crunch beneath her feet.
Daryl had left the group. He'd had the balls to do it.
Even though he'd been with them longer. Even though they were his family.
He left.
Mason breathed in and straightened her spine.
It would take a will of steel. It would take nuts the size of Oklahoma. But if Daryl could do it, so could she.
Tonight, she thought. While the others are asleep.
An image of Beth, asleep with her arms around her, popped into Mason's head but she quickly stamped it out. She couldn't stay here any longer and she'd known it for a while now. Daryl had known it, too, and now he was gone.
Her eyes flickered up to Rick.
She would go tonight. But there were some things to take care of first. She hurried to catch up.
Carl glanced up at her, clearly apprehensive and she grimaced in agreement, but before either of them could think of a way to broach the subject they were in the prison yard, and everyone else was there, too.
She watched from afar as Maggie hugged Hershel and then Beth. Glenn was leaning against the car. His face was a mess, covered in bruises and cuts and a black eye the size of a billiards ball.
Mason's heart beat quicker in her chest, until she reminded herself that soon none of this would matter.
Beth caught her attention as she flitted down toward them. But she didn't spare a glance for Mason. She wrapped her arms briefly around Rick and gave him a peck on the cheek before heading back to her sister.
Mason swallowed around the lump in her throat as Beth took Maggie's hand and led her inside.
Tonight she would be gone. Nothing mattered.
Rick turned to Carl. "Go on inside," he said. But he didn't dismiss Mason and she felt strangely privileged. She looked around for Glenn but he was nowhere to be seen. It was just her and Rick and Hershel.
She glanced at Hershel, wondering if he would mention the newcomers or if she would have to do it.
"Well, looks like we have a new problem on our hands," Hershel said. "Did you get a good look at him?"
For a second, Mason thought he was talking about Merle. But then Rick shook his head and said, "He had Daryl and Merle pitted against each other. A crowd cheering for them to fight to the death. What kind of a sick mind does that?"
Oh. Not Merle. The Jim Jones pretty boy Governor that the woman mentioned. Mason stared down at her shoes, pretending that she didn't care, but a pit was starting to grow in her stomach.
"The kind this world creates," Hershel said. Then he grew silent, and that's when he looked back at Mason. For a moment, they shared the same tension.
Rick didn't miss the exchange. He glanced back and forth between them and said, "What's wrong? The baby?"
Hershel shook his head. "The baby's healthy. Eats like a horse, sleeps like a rock."
Rick breathed out and smiled, but only briefly. Mason fidgeted, realizing that she really had no idea how to broach this subject and hoping to the heavens that Hershel was wiser.
"So what is it?" Rick asked.
Hershel sighed. "We have…company," he said.
Rick didn't say anything and his expression didn't change, but Mason didn't fail to notice that he reached automatically for his gun.
"Not bad company," she said quickly. "Just…unexpected."
"Who?" he growled.
"A man named Tyreese, and his sister Sasha, and their friends, Allen and Ben," Hershel answered.
"Why are they here?"
"They found a way in through the broken part of the prison," Mason said, "and Carl led them in through the tombs. He saved their lives."
Rick paused and his eyes seared hers. She could see the ghost of the man from the boiler room in them. She shivered.
"What do you think of them?" he asked. "What kind of people are they?"
With a jolt she realized that he was specifically asking her. Suddenly she felt a little queasy.
"Tyreese and Sasha are good people. I like them," she said, realizing as she said it that this was the truth.
"And the other two?"
Mason hesitated. How could she saw for sure what she felt in her gut? How could she say anything if there was the possibility that she could influence his decision?
You'll be gone tomorrow…
"Allen just lost his wife," Mason hedged. "He and Ben- er, his son- are grieving."
A little too late, she realized that this maybe wasn't the best thing to say to Rick so soon after Lori. His blazing eyes took her in for a long moment and she couldn't read them. Her palms began to sweat. Hershel held his breath at her side.
Finally, Rick blinked and a little bit of the frenzy in his eyes died down. "C'mon," he said and stalked off without waiting to see if either of them followed.
Mason and Hershel exchanged an apprehensive glance and trailed after him.
The others looked up as they entered the common room. Tyreese and Sasha scrambled to their feet, half-afraid and half-hopeful, but Rick didn't stop. He cast them an unfriendly glance and strode silently into C block.
Mason gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile but what was more probably an awkward grimace. Tyreese and Sasha looked back at her uneasily. She wished she could tell them everything would be fine but she didn't want to lie.
Carl locked the door behind her and Hershel. Rick was standing by the stairs with Beth, staring down at the creature in his arms as it began to cry. Beth's eyes glowed, like the wailing didn't bother her. Mason stifled a sigh.
Rick handed the baby back to Beth, quickly, like it was a bomb about to explode. His eyes darted around the room, seeing things that weren't there.
Mason's pulse quickened. He was starting to unravel.
She wasn't the only one to see it. Hershel laid a hand on Rick's shoulder and guided him a few feet away, murmuring words too low for her to hear.
"You are good with her."
Mason turned to see Axel leaning against the stairs next to Beth. Beth smiled, the Little Asskicker in her arms quieting as she was rocked back to sleep.
"Thanks."
"You got little sisters?" Axel asked.
"No," Beth said.
"How old are you anyway?"
Mason stiffened.
"Seventeen. Well, eighteen in a few weeks," Beth answered. She answered this more shyly than before, and her eyes flickered up briefly to touch on Mason's face before looking away.
"Huh," Axel said. "That is interesting."
Mason's fists clenched tight enough that her nails bit into her palms. Before she could move- to intervene or take a more violent route, she hadn't decided- Carol, who had been watching the whole exchange, stepped in front of her with a quelling expression. Mason hesitated, and then forced herself to relax.
Get a grip, she thought. You'll be gone tomorrow and Beth can go off and be with whoever she likes and it won't matter to you and you won't matter to her so don't be a fucking psycho!
Carol took Axel aside, presumably to tell him to fuck off. Mason didn't try to listen in. She trusted Carol, and besides, it didn't matter. She was still trying to come to grips with that. Despite having only known these people for a short time, it was hard to imagine not being with them.
Grow a pair and stop whining, she chided herself. Daryl did it. So can you.
It was the only thought that kept her from turning back as she headed to her cell to pack her things.
~m~
It was only later that the group gathered again. Rick and Hershel had just been to check on the woman, who was sleeping so heavily she did not wake as Rick slammed her cell door shut and locked it. Beth came down from the perch with Little Asskicker. Glenn and Maggie leaned out into the hall- from different cells, Mason noticed with concern.
"So what now?" Beth asked. "Do you think the Governor will retaliate?"
Mason frowned but said nothing.
"Yes," Maggie said. There was no uncertainty in her voice.
"Let him try," Glenn muttered. He wouldn't look at Maggie.
"Sounds like he's got a whole town. We're outnumbered and outgunned," Carol said.
"We could use some reinforcements," Hershel said- a gentle reminder.
Rick stared at the floor. Everyone waited in silence for him to speak but he didn't. Instead he glanced from person to person, and then to the cell block door. He nodded once to himself and headed for the commons area. The others flooded after him, sticking close.
Tyreese and his group stood up as soon as they saw them. Tyreese held his hand out to Rick.
"I'm Tyreese."
Rick stared at him until he lowered it.
"How'd you get in?" he demanded.
Mason stiffened. She couldn't decide if it was because he didn't trust them, or if he didn't trust what she had told him.
What does it matter? she reminded herself.
"There was fire damage to the administrative part of the prison," Tyreese answered. "Walls are down."
"Well that sides completely overrun with walkers, how'd you get this far?"
"We didn't. We lost our friend, Donna."
"I'm sorry about your friend. We know what that's like."
Tyreese nodded and glanced at his sister. "Hershel said you could use some extra hands," he said. "We're no stranger to hard work. We'll go out, get our own food. Stay out of your hair. You got a problem with another group, we'll help with that, too. Anything to contribute."
As he spoke, Mason felt herself relaxing. Here was someone else to help her group after she was gone. She trusted him. This was a good man.
"No."
Mason blinked. No? Fucking no?
"Please," Sasha said, and though she was begging it didn't sound like it. Her voice was sharp, full of fire. She was a fighter. Rick was blind if he couldn't see what she could bring to the group.
"No," Rick repeated.
"Let's talk about this," Hershel said. "We can't just-"
"We've been through this," Rick said. "Tomas, Andrew… Look what happened."
"Axel and Oscar weren't like that," Carol said.
Rick whipped around. "And where's Oscar now?"
Everyone looked at each other, shifting uneasily. It was clear that whatever steadiness Rick had been holding onto for a few precious hours was turning to quicksand.
When no one else spoke, Rick turned back to Tyreese. "I can't be responsible," he said.
"If you turn us out, you are responsible."
Rick was silent for a long time. Tyreese held his stare until Rick's gaze flitted to his group, from one face to the next. He lingered on Hershel, and Carl.
Then he looked up.
His eyes widened with disbelief and panic. He looked down quickly, but the fear remained. She could see it in his trembling fingers as he lifted them to his face and then lowered them again, like he didn't know what to do with them anymore.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no… Why are you here? What do you want from me?"
"Dad?" Carl said.
But Rick ignored him, pacing back and forth and casting glances up at the perch. Mason followed his gaze but saw nothing.
"Why are you…no…I can't help you, get out!"
"Whoa, whoa," Tyreese said, holding up his hands like he had with Mason, except this time she didn't think it was remotely funny.
"Get out!"
"Rick," she said. "Easy-
"You don't belong here! Get out!"
Abruptly he snatched the gun from his holster and everyone ducked away.
"Whoa! Okay, okay, relax," Tyreese said. "We're going. Nobody needs to get shot here. We're going."
But Rick kept screaming, no longer seeing him, no longer coherent. Glenn ushered Tyreese's group out of the commons room and then they were gone.
"Rick! Rick, calm down!"
Mason leapt forward suddenly and grabbed Rick's arm, lowering the gun. She only realized after the fact what a potentially stupid idea it was. But the gun didn't go off, and Rick didn't push her away like she thought he would. His eyes reeled wildly but his body stilled.
"Rick," Mason said. "Stay with me."
"Why…why are you here?" he whispered.
She blinked and stepped back. Was he talking to her now?
She didn't have the strength to ask him what he meant and then Hershel was there, guiding him gently back into the cell block. Everyone else hovered uncertainly, watching Rick disappear, watching Mason stand still.
Why are you here?
Mason shut her eyes.
~m~
When she was sure everyone else was asleep, Mason rolled out of bed. She winced as the mattress creaked, but Beth didn't stir on the top bunk. She eased her backpack onto her shoulders; she was tempted to run before anyone discovered her, but she didn't want the bottles to clink together in her haste. Thankfully no one seemed the wiser as she snuck out of her cell.
The night air greeted her like an old friend. She drank it in greedily, pretending that it gave her courage. She wished she could've picked a better night; the moon outlined everything in stark whites and navy blues, a spotlight to her treachery.
It's not treachery, she thought. It's necessary.
She didn't think about Rick. She didn't think about Hershel. She didn't think about Carol or Glenn or Maggie. She certainly didn't think about Beth.
She wouldn't be coming back. Best not to dwell.
~m~
In the morning, she sang a different tune loud enough to drown out the birds singing in their trees.
She was dwelling, of course. Dwelling, apparently, was the only thing she knew how to do with real vigor. She had already dug out her trusty bottle of vodka and was contemplating a sip, although that in itself was fraught with peril.
If I do, I could get drunk and thus eaten and/or maimed by walkers, she thought. If I don't, I'll keep thinking about the group.
It not a decision made easily, so she wandered the woods while the pros and cons were weighed. By the position of the sun, she knew that most of the them were awake by now, had probably been up for hours. Had they noticed her absence? Were they too concerned with Rick and this "Governor"? She hoped it was the latter, and yet she didn't.
Stop thinking about them! They're not your concern anymore.
What about Rick?
He'll make it. He's stronger than you are and you made it.
What about Beth?
She's strong, too. She doesn't know it, but she is.
But no matter how many circles she went in she couldn't find the right thoughts to come to a decision, and so the circles continued.
She did notice, as she debated back and forth, that she had not traveled far from the prison. She told herself it was better to reacclimatize slowly to a life on the road, but it was a flimsy excuse.
Which supported the "drink"side.
She was just about to say fuck it and drink anyway, but then she heard the gunshot.
She stopped, heart pounding, every nerve tingling with fear. She held absolutely still, listening, hoping there wasn't another and also not hoping for it. More gunshots meant that the other party was holding its own. None meant that the bullet had hit its mark, whoever it was.
A few moments later, a flurry of shots cut through the silence. Mason flinched and took off running without thinking about it. All she knew was that Rick had only the flimsiest hold on himself and that Beth didn't know how to fight and Daryl was gone and she had left them, too…
And the gunshots were coming from the prison.
She ran faster than her knee wanted to allow, but not for long. It throbbed, jarred by each step, until eventually Mason was forced into a fast limp.
Fuckfuckfuck.
A figure came into view.
She skidded to a halt and ducked behind a tree, expecting a barrage of bullets. They never came, at least not at her. Whoever it was must not have seen her. Holding her breath, she leaned around her hiding place.
The figure was crouched in the treeline just yards away from the prison. In his hands there was a machine gun.
Mason clenched her jaw. She hadn't taken any of the guns, only her fire poker. If she was going to do this, it would have to be at close range.
Do what? she thought. You don't belong here anymore. You can't let yourself care.
But she did care. More than she thought she'd care for anyone else after Gina. How the fuck had that happened? Hadn't she sworn to herself that she'd never let it come to this again? Could she just not fucking follow through on anything?
More gunshots sounded, volleys of them tossed back and forth between her group and the unlucky whoevers that had decided to fuck with them. Mason shut her eyes tight and pretended it wasn't real.
Don't get involved…
The man in front of her took aim and pulled the trigger.
She was moving in nearly the same second, sprinting despite the agony shooting down her leg. She pulled the fire poker from its sling and raised it to swing, just as the man paused in his shooting.
The sound of her footsteps alerted him. He whipped around, gun aimed, so the swing she'd meant for his head whacked the gun instead, and the bullets intended for hers scattered harmlessly into the trees.
He jerked the gun back. She ducked, avoiding a strike to the head and another few bullets, and smacked the poker against his knees.
He collapsed immediately but continued firing the gun. She ducked behind another tree, this one thinner than the last. Wood chips exploded around her. She crouched as low as she could, hoping the trunk was thick enough at the bottom to catch most of the bullets.
Fuck, she thought. She should have just taken a goddamn gun. But how the fuck was she to know about this shit? FUCK.
You knew about the Governor and you still left.
Because who else could it be? Who else had a bone to pick with her group?
Her group. Hers.
She closed her eyes and accepted what her heart already had.
She couldn't leave. She had to go back. But how the fuck was she going to make it through this warzone without a gun?
Suddenly her eyes flew open.
She didn't have a gun.
But she did have her bow and arrow. At the time she justified packing it for nostalgia's sack but maybe fate had a bigger role to play than she suspected.
Her fingers were clumsy with haste and they shook as they dug into her pack, but then the bow was in her hand and she was knocking an arrow and there really was no more time to think. She waited for a break in the gunfire and then she whipped around the tree and loosed the arrow.
It flew truer than she ever dreamed it would. The man screeched and stumbled back with an arrow jutting from his shoulder. The gun drooped in his hand, the muzzle smacking against the ground. She saw her opportunity and leapt from her hiding place.
Before the man could recover, she kicked him in the face, wishing briefly that she had some rad dubstep to accent the sound of his nose breaking. She ripped the gun from his hand and turned it on him, but he was out cold.
After a moment she yanked the arrow from his skin, splattering her face with blood, and shoved both it and the bow into the iron sling.
That was when the absence of sound caught her attention. Or…not the absence of sound, but the absence of gunfire, which chilled her to the bone.
The new sound was a roaring off in the distance, steadily growing as it came closer. She couldn't see the road from where she stood, but the sound was so loud she could track it as it approached. She started running as it flew toward the prison, and broke from the treeline just in time to see a white-and-orange truck ram through the gates into the yard.
She held her breath as the truck came to an abrupt halt, and raised her eye to the gun scope so she could see clearly across the distance.
She checked her surroundings briefly, and found her attention drawn to a white truck parked on the side of the road. A tall, imposing figure stood near the hood, gun in hand, a square of white over one eye.
Is that him? she wondered, but there was no time to ponder because shrieking groan came from the prison yard, followed by a loud crash.
She turned just in time to see the back of the truck burst open and release a whole flood of walkers.
"Shit!" she hissed and scrambled back into a run, although at this point she could barely manage a lopsided jog.
The white truck roared to life as she was running and peeled out, back to wherever it had come from. She paid it no mind. She was hyper-focused on the prison. She had to make it back, she-
"Mason!"
She skidded to a stop and there was Rick, fighting off a herd of walkers outside the fence. She barely had time to wonder why he was out there, to wonder guiltily if he'd been looking for her, before she rushed to his side and took aim.
Her gun took down six walkers before she was met with a hollow clicking noise.
"Fuck me in the ass," she muttered and switched back to the fire iron. But there were more walkers than she had seen around the prison since they'd cleared it, and they pushed her and Rick back against the fence.
She glanced at him. "No bullets?" she said.
"No."
She swung the poker and beheaded a walker, but two more took its place. Goddamn hydra, she thought. A second later, one of them grabbed her arm. She stepped back, trying to shake it off, but her spine met with chain link. They were trapped.
In a last ditch effort, she tried kicking the walker away, but her foot sank deep into its abdomen and she lost her balance. She slid to the ground and the walker collapsed on top of her, and walkers were all she could see and this was how she was going to die…
Something yellow flashed in the corner of her eye. A second later, the walker on top of her slumped as a blade cleaved through its skull. She rolled it off and looked up.
A man looked back with the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever seen, and a right arm that was not an arm at all but a home for a very large knife.
"Well hello, sunshine."