Shane pulls at Rick's arms, desperation lending him the strength needed to finally wrestle his best friend away from the closed shutters. He pushes his anger down, focused on pulling Rick towards the cars and the scattered members of their group whose faces shine pale with fear.
"You're killing us!" Rick howls, tears bright in his eyes. Shane only just stops himself from snarling what everyone is thinking. Some fucking imaginary man isn't killing them, Rick is.
The light hits his back before the screeching of metal doors being lifted does. His shadow stretches in front of him, and he comes to a halt at the same moment as his best friend. The others gape at something past them, disbelief bright in their starved faces. Shane whips around, hefting his shotgun and staring at the now opened shutters, revealing glass doors and a brilliantly lit entryway that looks completely untouched by the end of the world.
Shane's the first to recover. "Alright everybody, let's move! Come on!"
Daryl's quick to catch on, calling out that he'll cover the back. T-Dog lingers beside him while Dale ushers Lori, Carl, Carol and Sophia to the middle. Andrea and Jacqui follow with Glenn at their side.
Rick rushes for the opened shutters, barely giving Shane time to cover him as they make their way inside. The smell of death they've been struggling to ignore is less pronounced in here, and he can breathe without feeling as though he's going to throw up. They keep their guns at the ready, slowly moving into the wide open room. Bright lights on the high ceiling illuminate their immediate surroundings: marbled floors, a clean visitors desk. There are no scattered papers, only a fine layer of dust with the occasional scuff mark. Someone has been up here recently.
"Hello?" Rick calls out, and Shane grinds his teeth. They have no idea who is in here, how many, or what their motives are. They could have only opened the fucking doors to shoot them and take their stuff. Rick never thinks this shit through-
"Anybody infected?"
Shane whips his gun up, twisting to face a man with a thin white lab coat around his broad shoulders. He looks to be in his mid-to-late forties and is taller than anyone in their group. He scrutinizes them warily with shadowed eyes, an assault rifle held steady in his hands.
Rick steps forward at once, lowering his shotgun so it's pointed away from the stranger. Shane keeps his firmly on the man's chest, eyes narrowed and his finger hovering near the trigger.
"One of our group was. He didn't make it."
"Why are you here? What do you want?" The stranger demands flatly, his words stumbling over one another.
"A chance." Rick takes another step forward, his expression desperate.
"That's asking an awful lot these days." The man's expression is empty of pity, fear, or any semblance of emotion. Shane's grip on his gun tightens. It's just the one man. If Shane shoots first— No, the rest of them must be hiding somewhere. No doubt if Shane kills this man, they'll be stuck up here with nothing to show for their efforts.
Before Rick can reply, something in the stranger's expression shifts. He lowers his assault rifle, and Rick lowers his weapon as well. "You all submit to a blood test, that's the price of admission. You got stuff to bring in, do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."
While Rick thanks the man, Shane turns around gesturing for Daryl, T-Dog, and Glenn to follow him. "Alright, y'all with me. Dale, cover the door!"
It doesn't take the four of them long to retrieve their bags. They don't have much. Daryl is the last one in before Dale pulls the doors shut, and they all step back and watch the stranger type on a keypad to shut the metal doors for good.
"Vi," he says. "Seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."
The lights shut off at once. Sophia squeaks, but the darkness doesn't last. A small light flickers on, illuminating the floor close to the stranger's feet. He has a flashlight, and he gestures for them to follow him.
They're led to a large elevator, but they still have to crowd to fit inside. As the doors slide shut, Rick offers the man his hand and introduces himself.
"Doctor Edwin Jenner," the stranger responds, his eyes shifting everywhere but Rick's face.
A round of nervous introductions ensues, followed up with awkward silence. Shane reluctantly slides his shotgun back into its strap, but the tension between his shoulders hasn't eased one bit. If he's being honest with himself, he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can't even believe they're inside, that anyone was here to begin with.
"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?" Daryl asks as he leans against the wall of the elevator.
"There were plenty left lying around," Jenner snaps. He hesitates, then coldly continues. "I familiarized myself."
They emerge into a brightly lit hallway that leads straight forward, with a single door beside the elevator.
"Where does that lead?" Shane asks, adjusting the strap of his bag as they head along.
"To the stairs," Jenner says. "But it's a pretty long climb. The elevator's faster. They're only for an emergency."
"We're underground?" Carol's voice is tight with tension.
"Are you claustrophobic?" Jenner glances over his shoulder.
"A little," Carol admits.
Jenner swiftly faces back to the front and responds, "Try not to think about it." As they approach the ramp at the end of the hall, he turns away and says,"Vi, bring up the lights in the big room."
There is a flash of movement at the edge of Shane's vision. He flinches, reaching for his gun before he registers what he's looking at. He freezes in place as a tiny figure ducks through the metal railing and throws their arms around the doctor's chest.
Jenner stops short, crouching to hug the child back just as tightly. She looks nothing like him; her skin is a reddish brown, speckled with freckles all over her face and arms. She huddles against the scientist, her breath coming in choked whimpers.
"There are other people here?" Dale asks, the old man's voice tinged with hope.
"Uh…" Jenner shoots them a glance over his shoulder. "No… no, there aren't." He turns away and continues toward the rows of computers set up at the fancy and modern-looking desks. The girl stays pressed tight to his side, only giving him space when he hoists her up so she can sit on the desk itself, allowing him to fiddle with the computer in front of him.
"So," Jacqui says, her voice thick with sarcasm. "You're telling me that child beside you is a figment of my imagination?"
Jenner pauses, his gaze dropping to the girl. "Oh," He brings up his hand to grip the child's shoulder reassuringly. "No, this is— this is Mouse. Uh…" He rubs a hand over his face. "Or, that's what I've been calling her. She doesn't speak."
Mouse hides her face in Jenner's arm. He shifts at once, pulling her into his chest and rubbing her back. Silence falls, the squeak of shoes on the floor and the rustle of their clothes the only sounds. The doctor grimaces and shuffles in place. "Welcome to Zone 5."
"What do you mean?" Rick steps forward, his expression one of disbelief. "Where are the other doctors, the other staff?"
Shane wants to roll his eyes. He looks away, breathing out hard to keep himself from speaking up. He already knows what Jenner is going to say; it's written all over his face. He loved Rick, he really did, but he was being willfully naive, and it was going to get someone killed. He'd never had cause to doubt Rick's judgement before, but the man had only woken up from a coma a few days before. He shouldn't be the one leading their group.
"It's just me. Just… us. We're it."
"But what about that person you were speaking to? Vi?" Lori speaks up, and Shane can't help looking at her. Every time he does, it feels like his fucking chest is being ripped open, no morphine, no anesthesia, just hands digging into his ribs and pulling out his heart.
Edwin's lips twitch into a faint smile. "Vi, say hello to our guests. Tell them, welcome."
"Hello, Guests. Welcome."
A feminine but unmistakably robotic voice rings out. They stand there in silence, no one knowing what to say. Eventually Jenner turns, helping Mouse off the desk as he says, "This way."
Jenner begins drawing their blood, although testing is delayed when Andrea nearly faints. They're led to a kitchen next, cupboards bursting with every sort of non-perishable food imaginable. Carl and Sophia are set up with a jar of peanut butter and crackers while the women start cooking, laughter and alcohol flowing freely. Shane grabs himself a glass, but his eyes wander to the doctor, and he finds himself slipping out of the kitchen to follow when he and Mouse vanish.
He's no detective, but he's done his fair share of tails before, if he needs to he can be quiet. Jenner heads back to the room where he drew their blood, and Shane hovers outside the door, listening closely as the man babbles to the silent girl.
"Sorry," Jenner says, his voice echoing out into the hall. "Got lost in my thoughts. Yeah, gonna test everybody's blood. It— It doesn't really matter. I don't know. Just felt like I had to."
Shane scowls, irritation flaring in his chest. If it didn't matter why the hell had he put them through that crap? No one likes getting blood drawn. Asshole.
It's quiet for a bit, save for Jenner's footsteps and the occasional clink of tubes or something being moved around.
"Oh." Jenner finally says, probably to some gesture the girl made. "Uh, that isn't necessary."
Shane wishes he could afford to look into the room. As it is he's only privy to one half of the conversation, and with a fucking mute girl no less.
"Wait..." Jenner sounds surprised. "Do you want me to test your blood?" Shane guesses from the silence that Mouse is responding. When Jenner speaks again, his tone is fond. "You really are a little Lab Mouse, aren't you? Come on, let's get this done."
It's silent for so long that Shane nearly leaves. He's just about to when the doctor's voice rings out.
"Vi, play some music. Something modern."
There is a beat of silence, then Vi chimes on over the speakers, "Playing: Broken Radio by Jesse Malin."
"Don't laugh," Jenner says, his voice tender. "I'm pretty rusty."
The song that plays over the speakers is one Shane's heard once or twice. Not really to his taste, not country enough and too slow. He hesitates, then gives in to curiosity.
Jenner stands in the middle of the room, walking Mouse through an unsteady spin. Her face is alight with joy, her lower lip bit hard between her teeth as she struggles to muffle delighted giggles. Even as she steps on his toes, all Jenner does is grin down at her, the look in his eyes simultaneously soft, joyous, and unendingly sad.
"Okay," The doctor concedes, sending her through another little twirl. "Maybe a little laughter is justifiable."
Mouse squeaks, dropping a hand down to her middle and nearly doubling over as she struggles to contain herself. Jenner's eyes shine with unshed tears, but the smile that splits his face is filled with the same joy that permeates the girl.
Guilt twists in Shane's chest and he silently draws back. He rubs a hand over his face, gritting his teeth. He slaps himself lightly, wishing he could hit harder, but he can't make a sound. I shouldn't have intruded. I'm such a fucking dick.
On his way back he encounters Glenn, who Rick apparently sent to find Jenner. "Sorry, was just looking for the bathroom," Shane lies. He hurries along, desperate to see Lori, Carl… Rick. But only Carl seems to have any time for him anymore, and Lori looks ready to kill him any time he so much as smiles in the boy's direction. The same kid he loves like his own, cared for like his own.
He sinks down at the dining table, nursing a glass of wine and staring at the far wall. The rest of the crew trickle in, and the smell of food makes Shane's head spin—potatoes and butter, corn and meatloaf. He wants to scream, or cry, something, anything. Don't fall apart. Not here.
The last to arrive is Glenn, trailed by Jenner and his tiny shadow. Glenn heads straight for the bar after he fills a plate up, hopping up to sit on the counter rather than at the table. Lori already settled herself down with Carl, and Shane hadn't missed the fact that she deliberately chose to have her son sit as far from him as possible. The rejection stings, as fresh as it was the first day.
Jenner is slow to join them, hovering in the doorway. Mouse keeps her face hidden against his side, and when they eventually join, Shane notes that Jenner keeps to the opposite side of the table from the other children. It's a bit strange, though he sees that it's the more crowded side. They settle down between Shane and Daryl, with Jacqui and Carol across from them.
He's well into his cups already, but even if he can't muster much of an appetite, Shane isn't stupid enough to starve himself. They've all been losing weight; Rick's fingers practically look skeletal. He wanted to throw the man down and wrestle him to the ground when he said he was going back into Atlanta for Merle-fucking-Dixon. Couldn't Rick see himself? He looked half dead, rather than back from it, shadows dark beneath his eyes, limbs stick-thin with little more than flesh stretched tight over what muscle remained. He watched Rick leave, and was certain he'd never see his brother again. Then he came back in the middle of a massacre, which could have been stopped if only he hadn't insisted on going after that drugged-up racist son of a bitch.
So yeah, he forces himself to eat, even if his family is treating him like a stranger, like he didn't save their lives, like he didn't do everything he goddamn could. He forces himself to eat and eat until he knows he's going to be sick if he takes one more bite.
Everyone is laughing and smiling, overjoyed and celebrating their relief at being alive, well fed, and more than a little drunk. The only ones that aren't are himself, Andrea whose grief is fresh and harsh, Jenner, and Mouse. She doesn't look up at them, doesn't look at anyone. Jenner spends the dinner alternating between slowly chewing a bite of his meal, then coaxing the shivering girl beside him to take one of her own.
They're well into the feast when Rick stands up, tapping his wine glass to call their attention. Shane's gaze drifts to him. His head swims, and his cheeks are burning. His mouth tastes like ash.
"It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly." Rick states, holding out his glass and smiling brilliantly.
"He is more than just our host!" T-Dog declares, the wavering tone of his voice revealing just how far into the drinks he's gotten.
Dale calls 'Hear, hear!' and the sentiment is echoed around the table. "Boo yah!" Daryl shouts, and the redneck isn't the only one to take up the cry. To Shane's disbelief Glenn and even T-Dog join in, grinning and laughing. Just a day ago they were worried Daryl would kill T-Dog, and now they're all friends? Shane glares at the table, refusing to meet any of their gazes.
"Thank you," Rick says, lifting his glass to Jenner. The doctor doesn't look at any of them, his hand is resting on Mouse's back, and his gaze is fixed down onto his plate.
"So," Shane snaps, sitting up and glancing over to the man of the hour. "When are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc? All the— the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"
Silence falls. Most look some variant of surprised or confused, although Andrea's head lifts at last to reveal her puffy reddened eyes.. Rick and Lori glare at him, and it's Rick who speaks up.
"We're celebrating, Shane." Rick puts his glass down as he sits. "Don't do this now."
"Whoa, wait a second." Shane shakes his hand at Rick, a sarcastic smile spreading on his lips. "This is why we're here, right? This was your move— supposed to find all the answers. Instead we— we found him. Found one man and a little girl. He doesn't even know her name. Why?"
No one moves or speaks. Shane turns to look at the doctor, waiting for the man to finally speak up. Enough fucking bullshit, what the hell is going on here? They have a right to know.
When Jenner finally speaks, his voice comes out quiet, emotionless. He doesn't look at any of them. He just stares at Mouse. "When things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."
"Every last one?" Shane demands.
"No." At last, Jenner looks at him. His face is blank, but there's something in his eyes, and it isn't friendly. "Many couldn't face walking out the door. They… opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."
He says it casually. The girl hiding her face against his side whimpers, and Jenner's indifferent facade begins to crack. His gaze drops back down to her, and he strokes a hand lightly down her back.
"Fine." Shane snaps. "You still ain't explained her. Where the hell'd she come from? Was it 'bring your daughter to work day' when the world decided to end?"
Jenner's head snaps up, and for a moment, Shane finds himself wanting his gun. The man stares at him, his teeth gritted in anger. His arm wraps tight around Mouse, who has thrown her own arms around the doctor's chest.
"No." Jenner snaps. "Her mother got her here, like you people. I managed to get Mouse inside in time. I wasn't fast enough to save her mother from the infected that were following them."
The silence stretches out. It's broken by a hitched sob from Mouse. Jenner stands up, pulling Mouse up beside him and hoisting her up so she can wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"We had to shut down the apartments to save power, but there are couches in the rec areas. You can go dig some cots out of storage if you want. If you use the hot water in the showers, make sure to make them quick. Don't use anything that requires power unless you need to."
The man leaves, cradling Mouse in his arms who is still muffling sobs into his neck.
"Dude, you're such a buzzkill, man." Glenn mutters, reaching for a bottle and taking another long swig.
Most of the others won't look at him, and those that do are scowling. The only one who doesn't is Andrea. Her gaze is fixed on the doorway that Jenner left through.
"Wait," T-Dog says, his expression thoughtful. "Did he say 'hot water'?"
Edwin makes it back to the lab in record time. Mouse is still shaking, and his neck is wet with her tears and snot. He sets her down in a chair and has to untangle himself from her limbs so he can fetch some tissues and hand sanitizer. She hunches in on herself when he moves away, sobbing into her knees until he makes it back.
"I'm here," he says, helping her sit back up and gently washing her face.
By the time he finishes, her crying has ceased. The green of her eyes stands out against the bloodshot background. She doesn't look at him, but she almost never does. He gives her a tentative smile, tight with his own grief and regrets, and while she doesn't smile in return, she does lean forward, pressing her face into his chest and giving him a loose hug.
He stays there until his knees ache, crouched before her and resting his cheek on the top of her head. He scrapes his fingers over her scalp, noting the ways she twitches and shivers. Eventually, even the sharp hitches leave her breath, and they're just sitting there holding one another, two lost souls with nothing left but each other.
"Do you want to help me examine the blood?" He asks, pulling back and catching her chin so he can see her face. She takes a moment to think before nodding. He smiles, straightening up and offering her his hand.
He makes her put on a facemask and protective eyewear, and insists on directly handling the blood samples himself. There is almost certainly nothing to worry about, but he isn't going to take any risks. He checks if the samples are done processing, and seeing that they are, he withdraws them from the centrifuge.
"Let's do yours first," Edwin offers, selecting the tube he labeled 'L. Mouse'. She bounces up from the chair she was sitting in, darting over to his side eagerly. "Don't run," He warns. "It's okay," he quickly reassures her when she freezes, guilt in her eyes. "We just need to be careful. That's a good life rule, always do things carefully."
Mouse nods, walking the rest of the way to his side. Edwin turns his gaze back to the sample, blinking away the tears that start blurring his vision. Maybe if he'd been around more to make sure Charlotte understood that rule…
Edwin shakes the thoughts away, carefully smearing a few droplets of Mouse's blood onto a glass slide. He sets another slide on top of it, then places them beneath a microscope.
He examines her blood under one-thousand times magnification. Mostly there are red-blood cells, little clear circles that clump together. He sees a few other cell types, but what he's really looking for isn't too difficult to locate. The virus infecting them all is smaller than a red blood cell, a round blob with hundreds of thin spikes protruding from each side. It's in the inactive phase, drifting aimlessly. Once the brain and heart stop, the decomposition process triggers them to activate, invading the brain and taking control of basic operation. Technically, virus probably isn't an appropriate term. There had been some argument between Edwin's colleagues before the full magnitude of what they were facing became clear. People stopped debating classification then, and instead prioritized finding a way to stop it.
"No surprises," Edwin shares as he pulls back from the microscope. "Here, let's move a chair closer. You can sit up on your knees, yeah, like that. Let me lower the microscope a little. Okay, put your eye up against that part. Exactly. I'm going to move the slide around, I'll do it slowly."
Edwin does exactly as he says, shifting the slides so Mouse can get a look at all the different bits. It's highly unlikely that she is well versed in the finer understandings of blood and what it should look like to be alarmed by the presence of the virus. Besides, since no cure is coming this will be the new normal. From here until the last human falls dead, be that tomorrow or in a few years, they will all carry this inactive monstrosity inside them.
He lets her look as long as she wants to, given that they're in no rush. When she pulls back at last, her eyes are wide, her gaze unfocused and thoughtful. He wishes she could talk to him, that she could ask the questions he sees swimming behind her eyes. As it is, all he can do is offer her a smile.
"Interesting, right?" He helps her down off the chair as she nods. "Okay, I've gotta look at everyone else's blood just to be safe. Do you—"
He'd been about to ask if she'd like him to put music on, or even ask VI to play an audio book. He'd been having VI play the Hobbit for them whenever the quiet became too much. He used to read it to Charlotte, and the Lord of the Rings of course, before she went to bed. He'd tried reading her the Silmarillion but she'd complained it was 'boring'. After pretending offence, he'd admitted with a wink that even he found it a little bit dull.
But they aren't alone anymore. The newcomers have children, and while he didn't ask for specifics, by appearance he'd say the three are close in age. He should be asking if she wants to go and say hello properly, maybe play a game with them in the rec room. The rec room he should have showed them as a good host, but he was so angry…
"Would you like to go find the others?" He finally makes himself ask with a smile.
Her expression shifts at once to horror. She freezes in place, watching him with the look he's come to recognize as meaning she's afraid to make 'the wrong choice.' Sometimes he solves these moments by making the choice for her. Why force her to do something stressful when all of this will be over soon, anyway? She has no time left to 'improve' or 'learn to make her own decisions'. They have now, tonight, and a little of the morning. That's it. The final hours of their lives.
The thought makes cold sweat break out across his skin, his stomach twisting into a knot. He shudders, dropping his gaze and taking a moment to breathe.
"You don't have to go," Edwin adds, smiling at her sadly. "I just— I wanted you to know you can. There are kids you can play with. You don't have to keep a boring old guy like me company."
Her shoulders unwind at once. She shakes her head, then darts forward to hug him. He laughs, rubbing her back in reassurance, before asking if she'd prefer music, or the book.
She picks the book, much to his pleasure. The gravelly voice of Rob Inglis fills the room as he returns to work, but to him it's merely background noise. She settles down in a chair nearby, her gaze unfocused as she falls into a world of little people on big adventures, overcoming impossible odds.
He finishes checking over the blood from Rick's group fairly quickly, but decides to run a range of tests for lack of anything else to do and unwilling to disturb the tranquil state Mouse has fallen into. He notes down blood types with idle curiosity; unsurprisingly it's mostly O and A positive, those being the two most common, at least in the United States.
Once he runs out of tests, he stores what is left of the samples, out of habit more than anything. It's not like it will matter after tomorrow, but he may as well be thorough. He washes all the slides and leaves them in their rack to dry before finally telling VI to pause the audiobook.
Mouse lifts her cheek off her knee from where she's sitting. She shoots him a tired smile which he returns. "You must be exhausted, want to get some sleep?"
She shrugs, then yawns. Her head tilts, and she makes an odd gesture, pointing first to him, then herself, then tilting her head and laying it on her hands like they're a pillow.
He takes a moment to decipher that, before hesitantly asking, "You're asking if I'm coming to bed as well?"
She nods, and he's about to say yes, until he remembers that everyone is there out in the hall. All those people, people he's killed. They're dead, they just don't know it yet. Mouse is— He shakes his head.
"No I— I have a few things to take care of." He forces himself to smile, but she doesn't return it. "Don't worry, you need to get your rest. I'll come join you when I'm done."
He won't, can't. He knows he won't be able to sleep tonight. He's going to be up doing anything he can come up with . He can't think, can't breathe. His head aches, and he feels like he's going to throw up.
He starts when small fingers brush his hand, and looks down into her worried expression. He chuckles nervously, running a hand over his thinning hair. "I'm fine Mouse, don't worry about me."
She frowns, then shakes her head firmly. Her grip on his hand tightens, and she gives him what is possibly the most teenage expression she's managed since he met her. It's a look that says; try and make me go to bed, just try it.
He hesitates, then gives a genuine smile. "I can't deny you anything," he tells her, squeezing her fingers back. "Okay, come on. Let's grab you a pillow; you can at least put your head down while you tag along."
They make their way back to their bedroom without encountering any of the newcomers. The scent of water and shampoo is in the air, telling him that their guests did make use of the showers. He's glad; they deserve comforts like that. He might feel more alone than ever with them here, but he brought them down here, he killed them. The least he can do is make them comfortable.
They grab Mouse's pillow and head for the big room next. Edwin sets Mouse up in a chair beside him, encouraging her to lay her head down. He swears he won't go anywhere without her, then turns on the computer to see if there are any extraneous systems he can shut down to save them some small measure of time.
It doesn't take long for Mouse to drift off. He considers putting the novel on, but she really does need her rest. She isn't weighed down by the guilt and hopelessness of his failures. There have been a few nights where she didn't wake up screaming, and if they're lucky, tonight will be one of them.
"How's the blood?"
Edwin twitches, sitting up and twisting to face Rick. The man is unsteady on his feet, a goofy smile on his face and a bottle loosely gripped in his hand. Edwin glances at Mouse to make sure she's still asleep, then raises a finger to his lips while nodding towards her to let Rick know.
"Oh, sh— Ah, I'll be quiet." To his credit, Rick does lower his voice. He makes his way over and slides down to the ground nearby. He nearly slips, catching himself at the last second and managing to sit rather than collapse.
"There weren't any surprises," Edwin shares. He tries to smile but can't bring himself to manage it.
"That's good… good…" Rick's eyes focus on the sleeping Mouse, his expression tender. "How's she holdin' up?"
"It… varies." Edwin looks at Mouse, tempted to reach over and stroke her cheek but he resists the urge. "Some days are worse."
"She hasn't said anything at all? What about writing?" When Edwin shakes his head Rick straightens up, looking a hair sobered. "Do you think it's physical?"
"No," Edwin shakes his head. "It's almost certainly trauma based. She can make sounds, laugh—" He'd been about to say 'scream', but stops himself, just barely. "It's probably Selective Mutism. She—" He swallows and looks away, tears burning in the back of his eyes.
"I… actually came to thank you," Rick murmurs, his gaze still focused on the girl beside Edwin.
"You already did."
"No but—" Rick shudders, taking a quick drink from the bottle, looking at the ground. "You said you— you weren't fast enough, right?"
Edwin grits his teeth, staring down at his lap. He forces himself to nod.
"She saw, didn't she?"
Edwin does not, cannot, respond to what Rick says. His chest is tight, his face is hot, and his hands are clammy. He wants to curl up and scream, he wishes he would stop seeing that woman in his dreams. She's joined Candace and his Charlotte. Unlike Charlotte who laughs, and Candace who rages, the nameless woman just smiles at him sadly.
"So… you know what it's like out there." Rick nods to himself, horror glinting in his eyes. "A day ago we— we got hit by— by a whole bunch of them. They came rushing out of the woods just, no warning. It was night. We lost— lost a lot of people. Good people. Almost half our group. Just, dead. Not clean either, just…"
"I know." Edwin tells himself he's stopping Rick for Mouse's sake, but he can feel the lie even in his own head. He can't stand to hear the man say another word.
"Right, sorry…" Rick shakes himself, swallowing hard and slumping against the counter behind him. "I, my family, we'd have died out there. It was only a matter of time. There's too many of those things. My— my boy… my— my wife, I never— I never told 'em what I really thought. I never even hinted, just— just kept it in. Kept it in and kept us moving, you know. Just kept it in. Kept us—"
"It'll all be okay." Edwin cuts him off, his heart pounding in his ears.
Rick looks like a drowning man who has just been thrown a life-jacket. He wants to shake the man and scream for him to run, that this is all a lie, an illusion. But what would be the point? Rick said it himself. Going back out there would mean death. A long, drawn out painful one. Here, at least it will be quick.
So, he takes a steadying breath, looks Rick Grimes in the eye, and lies once again.
"It'll be okay."
END NOTE: As always any comments and/or thoughts are appreciated, including politely worded critique! If you're not sure what to say, here are some questions to inspire you!
Questions with Shy; Round 2
Do you think Shane's suspicion is warranted? Are Rick and the others being naive?
Who do you think will be the most understanding of Jenner going forward out of the current group?