Glenn P.O.V
The past week had gone by with nothing but talks of Randall's fate, arguments between Rick and I everytime I had left the farm. They just had to understand my refusal to sit around and be okay with the tedious things that were happening on the farm with no real effect on my actual wants and needs. Though, I hadn't found much in my time in the town that was a pinpoint of my girlfriend especially, there were a hundred percent signs that there was someone around here, surviving, barely. The dead walkers, the leftover scraps- someone was there. I would die finding out whom. I knew that much.
Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as we all gathered around a crackling fire, the Greene family included. The air was thick with tension, mirroring the heavy grey clouds overhead. Daryl had just returned from his interrogation session with Randall, his knuckles bruised and bloodied—a clear testament to the harshness of his methods. We all sat in uneasy silence, the mood as charged as the stormy sky, waiting for him to report back on what he'd learned.
Daryl's words settled over the group like a heavy shroud, his tone casual but the content of his message anything but. He laid out a grim picture: a gang of 30, heavily armed and dangerous, not the kind to seek peace. "They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna wish they were," he stated bluntly. The fear was palpable, etching itself visibly on everyone's faces. The idea of being overrun by such a ruthless group—the same men from the bar, now vastly numbered—sent a ripple of terror through me too.
Carol eyed Daryl with a mix of concern and apprehension. "What did you do?" she queried, her voice carrying a weight of unease. Daryl, with his usual nonchalance that belied the severity of their situation, responded dismissively, "Had a little chat," as he shifted away from her scrutinizing gaze.
At that moment, Rick asserted control over the gathering, his voice heavy with authority. "No one goes near this guy," he declared firmly, drawing a line in the sand. The gravity of his words resonated through the group.
Lori approached Rick, her expression mirroring the seriousness of his. "Rick, what are you going to do?" she pressed, seeking clarity in the chaos. The rest of us watched Rick intently, our eyes reflecting the same mixture of fear and anticipation that flickered across his face. He sighed deeply, the burden of leadership settling on his wear expression as he contemplated the weighty decision before him.
"We have no choice. He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat," Rick stated firmly, addressing all of us gathered around. His decision didn't sit well with everyone, particularly Dale, who was appalled by the straightforwardness of the plan. "You're just gonna kill him?" Dale challenged, disbelief etching his features.
"It's settled. I'll do it today," Rick replied with finality, his tone brooking no argument as he turned away, signaling the end of the discussion. Dale, however, wasn't ready to let it go and stormed off after Rick to continue their argument.
I stood there, mixed emotions churning within me. The presence of Randall's dangerous group, possibly roaming nearby, made the stakes all too real. It wasn't just about our safety anymore; it was about Majesty too. Could she be out there, potentially crossing paths with such threats? The thought rattled me. Amidst Rick and Dale's heated debate, part of me wondered if we were too distracted by our internal conflicts to see the bigger picture.
Maybe stepping back was wise, yet another part of me was desperate for action, to do something proactive. I briefly considered talking to Randall myself. Had he seen her? Was there any chance he could lead me to her? The notion was a stretch, but in times like these, even the slimmest hope was tempting.
As I wrestled with my thoughts, I realized I needed to clear my head. I walked away from the group, seeking a moment of solitude to sort through the whirlwind of fears and uncertainties that haunted me.
I retreated to my tent, craving a brief escape from the group's restless energy. Inside the small fabric walls, the world felt slightly quieter, slightly more contained. Kicking off my shoes, I stretched out on the thin cot, my body aching for rest. However, as soon as I closed my eyes, the day's events replayed in my mind like a relentless loop, making sleep an impossible wish.
Sitting up, I reached for the map I'd kept by my side these past few days. It was crinkled and marked with numerous lines and notes, a visual representation of our frantic searches and dead ends. Staring at it now, each route felt overwhelming, as if each line on the map was another weight on my shoulders. My frustration peaked, and in a moment of helplessness, I flung the map aside. It fluttered to the tent floor, a silent testament to my current state of defeat.
Feeling lost and aimless, I exited the tent, unsure of what to do with myself. The idea of joining the others didn't appeal to me; everyone seemed embroiled in their own issues, and the air was thick with tension and unresolved conflicts. Amy had been unusually distant, her interactions with Andrea straining her usual warmth. And T-Dog, though usually a source of levity, wouldn't provide the distraction I needed today. I wasn't in the mood for laughter or trivial conversation.
As I wandered aimlessly around the camp, the boredom was palpable, yet it was the company of my own thoughts I dreaded the most. The silence was too loud, filled with the echoes of what had been said about Randall, about threats and security, about life and death decisions that seemed to grow heavier by the day. I missed feeling purposeful, missed the days when actions had direct and visible consequences. Now, everything felt muddled, complex, and exhausting.
If it felt safe to go off the farm today, I would've. But with everything going on, it's like I'm anchored here, and it's seriously annoying. I could use anything to beat this stress, and the constant thunder sure isn't helping. These moments make me glad Majesty got me into smoking. It fits the stereotype of a loser gamer with a dead-end job, but then it became a fun pastime that led us on adventures. I guess that's what I long for—adventure, good action that doesn't involve walkers, gangs, or death. Just... love. I want love.
"Hey, you okay?" Carol's sheepish voice snapped me out of my trance. I hadn't noticed I'd stopped and just started staring off into the distance. Carol hadn't been much involved recently, what with everything about Sophia. Nobody blamed her, of course, but she did seem lonelier than ever, except maybe when she was with Daryl.
I managed a half-smile, feeling the weight of her gaze. "I'm fine. Just... bored, I guess," I replied, though the word didn't quite capture the restlessness eating at me.
Carol teased me, trying to distract me from my thoughts with talk of farm chores. "Maybe you can start shepherding next, really get into the farm life, you know?"
I laughed, appreciating her effort but my mind was elsewhere. "Yeah, maybe after we sort out this Randall mess, I'll consider it. But right now, there's something else I need to focus on." My voice was steady, hinting at my unresolved mission.
Her expression softened, concern etching her features. "You're still out there looking for Majesty?" she asked gently, themoving cloud above casting shadows that seemed to accentuate the worry in her eyes.
"If the barn incident hadn't happened, wouldn't you still want to be out there looking for Sophia?" I countered, trying to draw a parallel that might help her understand my persistence.
Carol sighed deeply, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of her grief. "I... I think I knew, deep down, she was gone long before we found her. But yes, I'd probably still be out there." Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the raw edges of her pain.
"That's why I can't stop, Carol. If Majesty was with Sophia, she wouldn't have left her. They must have gotten separated early on." I spoke with conviction but also with the care to not her the woman's feelings.
She nodded slowly, acceptance and understanding passing between us. We shared a moment of silence, each lost in our thoughts about the ones we missed.
"I owe it to her to keep looking. She would never give up on me," I said firmly, my resolve hardening as I met Carol's gaze again.
Carol looked at me with a sorrowful understanding in her eyes. "I feel for you, Glenn. I really do." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper against the crackling of the fire.
"What do you mean?" I asked, a flicker of concern passing through me.
"I just hope you don't end up like me... more lost than before, chasing ghosts," she finished softly, her eyes holding mine for a moment longer before she walked away, leaving me to ponder the weight of her words as thunder bellowed in the sky, almost like an omen.
I too retreated, seeking shelter inside of the house hoping to avoid the impending heavy rain. As I approached the farmhouse, I noticed Maggie and Amy on the porch, deeply engrossed in what seemed to be a heated conversation. I guess their recent camaraderie had hit a rough patch.
I walked up just in time to catch Amy's exasperated words, "She's my sister." Maggie, arms crossed, retorted sharply, "And Beth is my sister."
Their focus was still locked as I came closer. "I'm not saying she was right, but Andrea helped Beth in the end. She is alive because of Andrea," Amy argued, trying to make her point.
Trying to break the tension, I asked, "What's going on?" Amy turned towards me, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. "Maggie still hasn't let Andrea back in the house after Beth tried to kill herself."
Maggie's response was quick and resolute, her voice laced with finality. "And I ain't going to," she declared, shrugging dismissively at Amy.
Standing there, caught in the middle of Maggie and Amy's argument, I felt torn. The farm was Maggie's territory, and Andrea had definitely crossed a line by leaving Beth alone—everyone knew the state she was in. But then, Amy had a point too; she was standing up for her sister, who, despite the controversy, had acted with good intentions. Being barred from the house meant Andrea was missing out on everyday comforts and important conversations—no small thing these days. Plus, Andrea's recent friction with Lori only added another layer of tension to the whole mess.
I stepped closer, feeling the weight of their words, and suggested, "Maybe you all need to sit down together—talk this out. Maybe Carol could mediate?"
Amy shook her head, dismissive of the idea, "I'm not dragging Carol into this while she's still grieving. It's unnecessary—Beth is fine now."
This comment seemed to stoke Maggie's anger further. Her voice grew louder, "Fine? My dad had to stitch Beth's wrists! You don't understand what it's like, Amy. She's just a teenager."
Maggie's response was curt, and I could see it visibly affect Amy. "I don't know, and I don't care?" Maggie retorted, her arms crossed tightly across her chest as she shrugged dismissively.
"Maggie, stop," I interjected, feeling a bit protective of Amy. The tension between them had escalated too quickly, and it felt necessary to cool things down. Amy looked at me briefly, her eyes pleading for some support or perhaps an escape from the hostility. With a mix of hurt and frustration, she turned sharply and left us standing there.
Maggie sighed, a hint of regret seeping through her initially stern facade. "I don't want Andrea around me or Beth. It's not that hard," she explained, her voice softening as she addressed me. I could tell she was torn, trying to maintain her stance while dealing with the complicated dynamics of our group.
Maggie's abrupt change of subject caught me off guard, clearly aiming to steer the conversation away from the tension between her and Amy. She noticed my hesitance and probed further, her voice softening. "Glenn, have you gotten any closer to finding Majesty? I've seen you've been out a lot these past few days."
Her question hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the mission that had consumed so much of my focus and energy. Instead of delving into that heavy topic, I redirected the conversation back to her family concerns, which I felt might be a safer ground for now. "How's Beth doing?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
Maggie paused, her gaze drifting off for a moment as if collecting her thoughts, then returned her attention to me. "She's doing better," she responded slowly, "still doesn't want to come out much. I think she's a bit embarrassed...and scared."
"Understandable," I said, trying to offer some comfort. "But she really doesn't have to feel embarrassed about anything. None of us are judging her. We've all had our moments here."
Maggie gave a small chuckle, a flicker of gratitude passing over her features. "You know, for an idiot, you sometimes say the smartest things," she teased, sinking down onto the porch step and burying her face in her hands for a moment.
"Rough week?" I ventured, settling beside her.
She scoffed, releasing a heavy sigh. "I've never been more scared. Not even of the walkers. It's different when it's your little sister, you know? I felt so helpless."
"Everything isn't on your shoulders, Maggie."
She turned to me, her expression weary. "But isn't it, though? Dad was gone, and I felt so lost without him. Like everything was up to me."
Maggie sighed, exhaustion evident in her voice. "I just want one moment of peace, you know? Ever since y'all came here, it's been one thing after another. Otis. Rick showing up with his shot little boy. The barn. It never ends."
I nodded, feeling the raw truth in her words. "The world just isn't like that anymore. You guys are lucky to have been out here so long living like this. In the city? It was chaos from the start. We barely had time to think, let alone act, it felt like everything was already gone the minute we started hearing about the stories. No time for anything. I couldn't get to my family, even Majesty couldn't get to hers and they were actually in the same city."
Maggie asked about my family, something I hadn't been questioned about in a long time. "Where was your family?"
"My family is in Detroit, Michigan. I moved to Atlanta for college, ended up dropping out, and was living in my college apartment, trying to hide the fact that I wasn't a student anymore," I shared, a bit more than I intended, but once I started, the words just flowed. There was a mix of amusement and nostalgia as I relived the better parts of those memories before the world fell apart.
"I didn't really take you for the college type," Maggie remarked, clearly surprised.
I snorted, feeling a smirk form. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She stifled a laugh, "Nothing... I just didn't."
"Wow!" I exclaimed, feigning offense but actually amused by her honesty.
"I was going to graduate this year, if I hadn't stopped going," I explained, feeling a bit exposed sharing something so personal. Maggie looked surprised but sympathetic. "Me too. I was home on break when everything happened. Thank God. I don't think they would've made it without me or Otis. Maybe even without y'all showing up here."
I nodded, understanding the mixed feelings. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess."
Maggie shook her head, looking off into the distance. "You can't possibly believe that, with everything you've got going on."
Her skepticism made me think for a moment. Her disbelief in finding any reason in our suffering echoed a doubt I often wrestled with myself. Staring at the lowering sun, I considered all that had happened—how each random, chaotic event had led us here. Could there really be a purpose? Or was it just us, trying to make sense of a senseless world? Majesty's absence gnawed at me constantly; was there a reason for that too?
"If you feel that way, what about this thing with Randall? Why did that happen? Even him letting it slip he knew where we were. Why? I just don't see the point in this constant everyday drama. And now no one knows what to do with him."
"Rick wants to kill him, tonight," I added, feeling the weight of those words hang between us.
Maggie absorbed this, her face unreadable as she stared into the distance, lost in thought. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice low and resigned. "I guess that's what has to happen."
I shifted uncomfortably, my own thoughts in turmoil. "Dale is trying to convince everyone to spare his life. He had a fit earlier. I feel bad for not backing him up, you know? But, I just don't know what's the right thing to do."
She looked at me, her eyes serious. "The right things to do might be the hardest things to do, I guess."
Our conversation dwindled into silence, a comfortable lull that didn't demand words. This simple and easy exchange was a brief respite from the usual tensions. It was these moments that I appreciated, talking to someone without the heavy burden of decisions and leadership clouding the air. Maggie had become much easier to talk to now that there was a clear line between us—just friends, no complications. It reminded me a little of how my relationship with Amy had evolved; she was no longer eyeing me with suspicion or accusations, just acceptance.
I glanced up as Dale crossed the farm with a determined stride, probably on a mission to sway another person to his cause. Maggie caught my eye, watching Dale's retreating figure. We shared a moment of silent understanding before the comfort dissolved into a charged atmosphere, urging me to fill the quiet. "I think after Randall, we might have some moments of peace here. We can get back to building, making this a safe place for us all to live."
"I hope so," Maggie responded with a trace of solemnity. She averted her gaze, perhaps contemplating the gravity of our decisions. "Like you said, everything happens for a reason. I just pray it all works out. I really do."
As she stood up, her hand rested briefly on my shoulder—a small gesture of camaraderie or maybe reassurance. Then, she retreated into the house, leaving me to ponder the weight of our conversation and the uncertainty of the days ahead. Alone on the porch, I was left to consider just how much our choices would shape the safety and harmony of our makeshift sanctuary.
~*~
A/N: sorry this chapter took so long. I really debated writing out the entire ep from Glenns POV. But like we all know what happens. I dont want to keep repeating. I think so s2 doesn't drag on forever and ever I will stop including sm scenes from the show. They end up being 11k word chapters and it takes me forever to read through so I can only imagine. In return I will say sorry for how short the chapter IS. Anyways. Almost done here XDDDDD