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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 months ago

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D-O-N-E

feliz spring forward y'all!

What -- The day won't end and you're so done. D-o-n-e.

Who -- The series is slow-burning, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader with a focus on the found-family theme in the show. In this chapter, you're joined by all the Grimes, your big brother Shane, Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, and Carol. Dale doesn't get a chance to speak with you.

When -- Following earlier events of the day in Trust Nelly's Instincts. It is now the late afternoon and evening of S02 episode "Secrets," after the pharmacy run. The chapter picks up in the aftermath of Lori taking and then vomiting certain pills...

Perspective -- 2nd person

Pronouns - none

TWs - mild language at the end, bad screenshots.

Masterlist to the rest of the Slowpoke Series :D

D-O-N-E

-----------------

With Lori

-----------------

You hadn’t understood why Maggie was so furious by the time the three of you returned from the pharmacy trip, other than to conclude it was a sort of trauma response.

And you’d been so grateful to Nelly the horse for possibly saving both Maggie’s life and your own, which is why you offered to take care of the horses when you three returned. The saddles you’d only be carrying for a limited time and your shoulder was doing great, so carrying them wasn’t a concern. Alone time was welcome, you could pray, cry, whatever, in solitude.

So, you missed when Maggie apparently yelled at Lori and threw some of the stuff from the pharmacy on the ground at her feet. Including the pills.

Right now, you’re with Lori next to the long, worn path that leads to and from all the different pastures and fields. It’s golden hour.

Thank God today is almost over.

“I don’t want to lose it.”

“That’s why you threw the pills up,” you soothe, rubbing your hand back and forth across her shoulders. “And you knew full well the ones you took weren’t the right ones. They don’t cause the lining to break down or cause contractions.”

At least, you think they don't? You need to read more, but you know this much: the ones Maggie brought were not the right type of pill for a pregnancy at this stage. Another saving grace today.

“When you’re as far along as you are, it shouldn’t hurt them or you. They've been implanted for weeks.”

Lori knows a lot about this stuff, far more than you to the extent that you're out of your depth. But right now she needs reminding that what she took shouldn’t effect anything this late — and obviously wouldn’t do anything when vomited out.

But because she’s no stranger to miscarriage, there’s far more baggage here.

“Honey. I took five times the dose of a pill that stops the brain from signalling ovulation. Did they even know what that might do?” she spits, angry at herself and scared. “Studies show high or repeat doses affect the strength of the uterine li…”

You shut your eyes, her words fading as you recall the shock of Maggie telling you what she and Glenn secretly brought back for Lori. Then, the relief of seeing all the empty boxes in her tent knowing that those were different.

What Lori just mentioned is something new to you, but still, the fact remains: “Pills don’t do much when you throw ’em up.”

She sits with her eyes closed, unmoving. Then, she curls in on herself and buries her face in her hands. “What if some of them still absorbed?”

“Lore, I found two things there, you say, not entertaining her question. “It’s, um, well, the first is the rhogam stuff. The other one, remember the stuff your new doc had prescribed for the losses?” You did a college paper on it, in fact.

Repeated miscarriages over the years. In two of her previous doctors’ own dismissive words, “At least we know you can get pregnant!”

The new doc she’d started seeing finally prescribed her a relatively uncommon treatment to help stop it from happening again, if she ever got pregnant again. It only happened once, and as expected for the first trial, she had another loss. Then, her and Rick's marital problems arose worse and openness to new members seemed to have been taken off the table.

“You found them?” Lori perks up and learning what you brought back. She thinks for a moment, then lets out a heavy sob. Her childhood accent slips out when she whimpers, “But it didn’t work. It didn’t work at all. Nothin' ever worked.”

“Which was expected for the first trial. Maybe this time…”

“I should be used to it, I should be. I-I am. But if it happens again, this time, it will be entirely my fault. And if anything,” Lori is shaking her head rapidly from side to side. “If anything happened to either of you on that trip, it would’ve been entirely my fault. And it almost did! You and Mag—”

“—We needed to go back anyway. They didn’t get the full list last time,” you interrupt. If you hadn’t, she’d have kept spinning down.

There’s movement in the pasture across the path.

Softly, you tell her, “Ricky's on his way.”

She groans as if in pain.

“Lore?”

“I was so afraid of hurting him. Now I’ve gone and done this.” Her face is accepting, solemn. Drained. You get the feeling that she’s readying herself for the worst.

“But he don’t know ab—”

“—You knew from the empty boxes I left torn when I ran to throw the pills up,” she hushes. “You think he missed them? Unless you meant that he doesn’t know about Shane.”

You don’t know what to say, and so go mute.

“And do you think this would be something to keep a secret from him?”

“…No,” you whisper back with shame at having implied it. “A-Are you gonna tell him about both?”

“I must. He deserves to know all of it, no lies, no secrets.”

Rick is almost at the dirt path.

“Honey,” Lori asks, touching your arm. “Please burn the boxes before Carl sees them?”

“Oh my gosh,” you blurt out. “I’ll go right quick! And d-do you want me to come back, for support, or?”

She shakes her head no but nearly begins to cry again.

Then, she switches to nodding her head for you to yes, please come back.

“I will.”

You stand. Walk toward Rick.

He’s had better days, too, by the look of him. “Y/N, is she…?”

“She loves you more than words and needs you right now.” You note the blue boxes in his hand. “She did ask me to burn those. May I?”

He gives them to you and quietly, quietly confirms to himself, “You knew.”

“Yes. I've known she's pregnant.” You won’t say any more and don't want to, because 'congratulations!' is not the thing to say at the moment. That'll be for another time.

This day won’t end. It really needs to end.

D-o-n-e.

As you take the longer route down the dirt path instead of cutting across the overgrown pastures, you stew over every bad detail of today and none of the good ones.

You really should start focusing on the good details but it’s so much easier to not. Why can it be so much easier to see the bad?

Carl thinking he had to steal and carry a gun.

Mr. Greene confronting you about the barn.

Learning that Glenn blabbed to Mr. Horvath about the walkers.

The hostility between Glenn, Maggie and yourself during the pharmacy run.

A dead man nearly ending Maggie and you.

The furious disappointment at witnessing your brother and Andrea interact after getting out of the car, observing in their behavior that they’d done something sexual.

The flush of horror at Maggie confessing to you about how the prescription she and Glenn were keeping secret was ‘abortion pills.’

How Shane is going to know soon, about the baby. Getting it into his head that they are Rick’s and not his will, um, well it shouldn’t be a problem given your raising, but…

In an act of surrender, you stare up at the sky, breathe out loudly, and mime dusting your hands off. You're done, you can't handle all this, and you shouldn't have to. D-o-n-e.

You feel you eyes moisten, your muscles tense, then get that post-cry rush of relaxation in your limbs.

Better things pop into your mind, like how Maggie understands about walkers now. And how you’re really, really glad Maggie got the wrong stuff at the drug store today. Lori is, too.

The sky is orange-gold by the time you reach the campsite. The fire is crackling, and Carol is away from the cookware, so there’s some privacy. Enough for you to discard the small boxes, at least.

“What did you just throw in the fire, Y/N?”

Scratch that, you didn’t notice Carl was here.

-----------------

With Carl

-----------------

Of everyone in camp, it was the one you were supposed to hide the stupid boxes from, shit.

“Secrets,” you sing-song.

“What kind of secrets?”

“The secret kind.” Which is unsatisfactory for him and you intoned it a bit rudely, so, you explain. “Pill boxes take up space. The blister packs were removed.” Which is not untruthful.

“I didn’t know they made pills for blisters.”

The innocence of the statement softens your hard lines. “The plastic thingies pills come in that you pop 'em out of are called blister packs.”

He peers at you. “Y/N, was someone mean to you? You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m not, little man,” you exhale. “A lot of unexpected things went wrong today.”

“Was that what Maggie was upset about? I heard her yelling.”

You had intended to go back to Lori straightaway, but the idea of sitting down wins. T-Dog’s camp chair feels so welcoming as you sink into it. “Yeah, we had a close call. Her especially.”

His response is to hug you. No better response, really.

“I, um,” you try to word it. “Uncle Shane doesn’t know yet. Let me be the one to tell him, okay?”

“Okay,” he promises. He hasn’t let go of the hug yet. You won’t be the one to do so.

A good few minutes pass before he relaxes his hold and sits next to you. You’d be of mind to stay here all night, but, the day’s not over yet and you’ve got jobs to do.

Maggie asked to speak later, she wants to talk things over. And you’ve always debriefed with Glenn after a run. It won’t be fun, because you’re fixing to drive home how the pill he’d intended to find leads to over 1/3 of the women who report taking it to require emergent medical treatment. He’d have needed to be responsible and have prepared for that possibility.

Oh, and Shane. The stupid, stupid boy. It was clear he’d wanted to say something to you after seeing your face when he and Andy got back, but that’s when you peaced-out, ran into Maggie, then ended up seeing the empty boxes in Lori’s tent.

“Your ma wasn’t feeling too well. I know your dad went and checked on her, but I promised I’d go back,” you explain to Carl, standing from the chair.

“Did she feel like she was gonna throw up again?”

“She did throw up again.”

“Aw, man. Should I bring her something to drink?”

“Have a drink ready for her when she comes back. A nice fluffy pillow, too, maybe switch out her pillowcase for a clean one?”

He nods and makes as if to go, but stops. Turns. “Y/N, I just wanted Mom to feel safe.”

“What do you mean?”

“This morning. Mom’s been so tired and feeling sick a lot because I know she’s super worried about something bad happening to me again. I took the gun thinking it would help." Carl looks at the dirt and toes at a very small pebble. "Like I could defend her, so she wouldn’t have to look after me all the time. And I figured I needed to take it first and prove…” he trails off and stares into space. “I didn’t mean to worry her worse and I didn’t realize what I did was stealing! And I know I upset her enough this morning when I figured the chicks’ mother had been eaten. Mom looked so worried—”

—While he goes on, you’ve already wrapped your arms around him again and smooched one too many kisses to his head.

How are you going to tell him that both you and Shane are leaving? You’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass than have to leave this kid.

After answering Carl that yes, herbal tea is a great idea for his mom, you make yourself get back to work despite how done you are with today.

When you start the trek back to where Lori and Rick were, the shadows have already grown taller. The sky begins its change from golden to pale as the sun lowers.

It stuns you when you’ve all the sudden arrived back to where Lori and Rick are, because you have no recollection of the walk there. That means you weren’t paying attention at all during the walk, which was risky. Well, what you mean is: it’s been so long since that has been a possibility, to ignore your surroundings, so it feels wrong.

They’re standing close together and saying nothing, but her hand is in his. You draw the conclusion that you aren’t needed anymore. It’s a good thing.

You wave once so she sees you, and turn around to go back to the house.

Time to see Maggie.

One step closer to being done.

-----------------

With Maggie

-----------------

“So. Pregnant.”

“Yup.”

“Is she still?” she snides.

“Yes. She retched up the pills almost immediately.” Your particular shade of nagginess has you consider bringing up how accounting for a 1 in 3 chance emergency would have been necessary if the pills were the real ones. Surely, she knows!

You’re so done. D-o-n-e. Simplicity will do just fine. “Wrong type of pill anyway, pregnancy shouldn’t be affected this far along.”

D-o-n-e.

“All those doses would do something. I hear taking too many can do it.” She is sitting uncharacteristically hunched over. And behaving differently, too. This brand of nastiness isn’t normal for the Maggie you’ve come to know.

Biting your tongue, you cannot neglect the fact that today was Maggie's first close call. She’s reeling from it and processing stuff.

Her call was so close that you’re still in disbelief as to how she kept that guy from biting her. As unpleasant as you may find her current mood, you have a sense of solidarity with her far greater than before.

In the end, all you do is shrug in response. “Pills don’t usually work when you vomit 'em.”

“I’m glad she had a change of heart and we went through all that for nothin’.”

Yup, still processing stuff.

You wouldn’t describe the way you respond as gentle, although it is. It’s more tired than anything. “We still needed to go on another pharmacy run.”

It’s odd: you aren’t seeing red, you aren’t licking your teeth, you aren’t even huffing.

If you had to describe it, you’d say that’s it’s as if your emotions have gone on power-saver, similar in that aspect to how a depressive episode can be. It crosses your mind that it’s likely a trauma thing due to this afternoon’s events. Maggie is presenting in one way, you another.

Eh, isn't everyone in some sort of permanent trauma cycle these days? Either way, somebody stick a fork in you; you’re done.

“Am I being a bitch, Y/N?”

You shrug again. “A little bit.”

“A lot bit,” she mutters. “I’m just so — it’s like I don’t know how I feel right now.”

“That can happen after a close call like we had. Was this your first one?”

“I don’t like the sound of ‘first one.’ It implies there’ll be more.”

“There likely will be.” Aren’t you a joy to be around. In your defense, you said it kindly.

There’s a knot in the wood on the porch floor that Maggie keeps running her thumb over. Softly, she shares, “Y/N? I told Glenn I loved him.”

????

That wasn’t on your bingo sheet.

If only the emotional thing was working normally — this is exciting news! Granted, it's also weird news given how pissed she’s been today and at Glenn specifically, but exciting nonetheless. Civilization ending has made everything a little weird, right?

“And I kissed him again.”

“Naturally.”

“How was it that you first described him?” Maggie next asks, still tracing her thumb along the knot in the wooden plank. “Something about a snowstorm?”

The corners of your mouth tug up in recollection. “‘A ray of sunshine in a snowstorm.’”

Maggie nods, her gaze serious but fixed on nothing. “He’s smart, and good, and strong. He’s a leader, but he’s humble.”

“Writing them vows already, Margaret?” you quietly tease.

Wait, is she crying?

“Y/N, I feel like I’ve been so blind, so clueless!” It’s good she’s crying it out. She’ll sleep better. “About the dead, about you all. Today, you and me nearly got bitten or killed! Bein’ that close to one, seeing how it wasn’t — oh, Y/N, they aren’t just sick.”

No resentment, no condemnation, just calm agreement. “They aren’t.”

“How could your people have sent him down the well, if they all know what they are, what they can do?”

The vivid memory kick-starts your emotions only enough that your nose twitches in anger, but the moment passes before you feel much. “I was spitting mad at them, too.”

“The thought of what could’ve happened, then or today…” Margaret trails off, so you look to see her shaking her head. “I don’t want my dad to kick your group out.”

Thank you, God. “Me, neither.”

She turns her body toward you and reaches for your hand. “Y/N, will you be there, when I try to talk to him?”

“I can.”

“Daddy likes you. I think you remind him of Beth and me.”

…Say what? “I wouldn’t go quite as far as that,” you tactfully counter with a polite smile.

“Trust me, he does. He’s talked about you to Patricia. Now, I know I asked for your trust about the barn, but—” Her breath hitches. “You kept that trust, I just realized. It was Glenn who told the older man in your group.”

“As Dale would say, ‘the boy has no guile.’” You mimic his accent and manner of speech fairly well! “That’s the highest praise comin’ from him.”

She breathes out heavily and leans back on her hands. You mirror it.

It was a solid debrief. You’d been worried, but you can rest easy on this aspect of today, at least.

Onto the next, you reckon.

Who will it be, Glenn or Shane? Or Dale. Or Rick, you can’t imagine him not wanting to ask you a question or two following this afternoon’s revelation.

The real question is where you’re gonna dig up the energy. You’re d-o-n-e.

Maybe now is when you decide to run away and hide in the Greene’s attic. Ha, or the barn loft, right? Ain’t nobody will look for you there.

-----------------

With Shane

-----------------

In the final minutes of the day's sunshine, your brother appears to have been waiting for you with your hoodie and the wrap for your arm. “Hey. You doing good?”

“Yeah. Tired, real tired.” You accept the hoodie and pull it on, leaving it unzipped.

“Can we talk about earlier right quick?”

The man is gonna have to specify. “When do you mean?” you check, shoving your hands into the pockets and making your way to a spot that looks private and comfortable enough.

“When Andrea and me got back.”

Ah. Right.

Under your breath, you mindlessly correct it to “Andrea and I,” for some reason.

Shane either finds it amusing or is being nice. “You know I love it when you’re a pain the ass, weirdo?”

“I am quite skilled at it.”

He’s smiling but it’s clear he wants to be serious for a minute.

“Alrighty, loser,” you tell him, feeling…nothing. Zen as a statue. “I’m sufficiently buttered up. What about when you and she got back?” The spot you two have chosen is acceptably private. The tree roots aren’t very comfortable, but you manage to find a position that cradles your legs.

Without words, Shane gestures with the wrap to signify he’s going to tie it back on.

“I know that you saw how we, that the way we were actin’, uh,” he struggles with what to say. He pulls the fabric around once, twice. “Dale ain’t talked to you today, right?” He finishes tying the ends of the support wrap. “That too tight?”

“It feels okay. And no, he ain’t talked to me. Why?” You already have an idea of what happened, so it’s silly to beat around the bush. “Did something happen between Andy and you?” you simplify for him.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”

Hearing it confirmed doesn’t stop the intense disappointment. Even if Lori is pregnant from Rick, which of course she may be, there's still the question. And here Shane is, doing who-knows...

Your inner kettle heats up, but that’s as far as it gets. The stove is broken.

The thing that is sticking out to you, however, was the hesitation in his answer. There’s something he’s holding back. Another secret.

Not that you can judge, not with the two massive secrets you’re withholding from him.

“Dale was pissed about us making googly eyes,” your brother brushes off.

It’s fascinating to feel so passive. You have the oddest sensation as if you’re much, much older, while Shane is much, much younger. Even your tone is oddly mature and reflective. “Dale wouldn’t get mad at y’all making googly eyes, he’d be mad at y’all making babies.”

Shane just throws his hand up and looks away. A smug yet angry smile with a hint of shame. His hand rubs against his buzzcut several times. “It was a heat of the moment decision between two adults.”

Slight nausea comes upon you. 'Heat of the moment' decisions can have lifetime consequences even when there's no new life involved.

You put to him a question that’s been on your mind. “I want to check about them things you said to Lori in the hallway that night.” The night when he flirted with a married, horrified woman. The words, the intonations, every detail is seared into your memory. ‘The only thing I care about now in this world is Y/N, you and Carl. So I, apologize if I appear to be insensitive to the needs of others, but see, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the three of you safe.’

He becomes more defensive. “Of course the prude would bring that up. Y/N, you know I’m tryin’. What Andrea and I did today might should be a relief.”

A strange sense of foreboding curves around your throat. A slight twinge of fear.

Then, a stronger, stranger notion of pity. You really do feel so old right now, and that he is so, so young. You smile sadly, hoarse when you murmur, “Y-you can be a real stupid boy sometimes, Shaney.”

Curiously, you seeing him lick his teeth in anger just makes you swell with nostalgia. It’s a family trait.

“I’ve made far stupider decisions,” he states.

You lean against him, your brother’s arm tensing initially, but letting go somewhat as you settle. “Did you hear about the pharmacy run today?”

He must be confused at your unusual reactions and responses. After fully relaxing his body, he lightly musses your hair. “Tell me all about it, weirdo. Anythin’ fun?”

“There was a close call,” you begin. "Glenn saved the day."

-----------------

With Glenn

-----------------

Talking it out with Glenn is easy. Usually is; Glenn and you are pretty willing to admit wrongs and learn. And beginning by talking about the happy development with Maggie lead to good feelings all around. Even the part about the pills went smoothly.

“No more secrets between us, okay? I hate that I kept it from you.”

“But I get why you did.” You look at the stars and pull the hood strings tighter. It’s getting nippy. “As for your inability to handle a secret —”

“—Dude.”

You stick out your tongue to drive home that you were only joking. He seemed like he needed to laugh at himself. “For real, though, Shane asked me what the heck you sayin’ Mr. H was teaching you ‘to clean the spark plugs,’ meant. I had no idea what to say except I didn’t know nothing about mechanics.” You do wonder, “Do spark plugs get cleaned?”

“No, but I could literally feel the secret trying to jump out of my throat. ‘Cleaning spark plugs’ was the best I could make up on the spot.”

“No more secrets between us, within reason. I’ll go first.” You close your eyes. “I’m planning to leave with Shane in a week or two.”

There. It’s out.

Glenn was chewing a pretzel stick, but appears to have stopped mid-motion. “Dude — what?”

“We’ll scope out Fort Benning while, while y’all stay safe here.”

“Alone? When in the heck was this decided?”

“Only since we saw the barn, not long.”

He takes a moment. “But you’re coming back?”

Despite feeling at ease, you stutter, “I-I certainly intend to.”

“But what if you die?” he is blunt enough to put to you. “Y/N, after today, I mean — the worst almost happened here, of all places. No where else we’ve found is like this place and still one almost bit you and Maggie!”

“That’s most like why we were so unprepared. Glenn, I genuinely smelled the dead guy and wrote it off as rot in the walls. If Nelly weren’t going berserk…”

The two of you exhale in sync, loudly.

You lay down against the rock you're sitting on, staring at the stars, and remembering how you sat here with Daryl about a week and a half ago and attempted your first (and last) cigarette.

“Well, other than the barn, we barely see walkers anymore.” Glenn probably regrets just having tossed his pretzel stick onto the grass below.

“It’s wonderful here, ain’t it? Feels so like things used to be.”

“It is.”

“And things are fixing to improve when it comes to the barn, so that’s good,” you hope.

He sighs heavily again. “Yeah.”

The Milky Way is starting to become visible. “Do you regret tossin’ your pretzel just now?” you check.

“Yeah. I was mad and — yeah.”

“Do you have another in your pocket?”

“Why would I put pretzels in my pocket?”

“I got more pretzels in my pocket.”

“You what?”

For show, you take one out and pop it into your mouth like it’s a cigar. “I’ll offer you one, unless pocket pretzels are beneath you.”

“So beneath me that I threw mine literally on the grass down there,” he mutters, half-serious, half-joking.

You hand him one. He thanks you and promptly munches down.

“I don’t feel good about you going.”

“Me neither,” you speak plainly. Everything feels simple and inconsequential right now. “But it’s gotta be done.”

“Why?”

“Things will go better if Shane ain’t here while things are uncertain. And Fort Benning was the destination we had in mind anyway,” you quip as if this were a simple matter. You sort of sound like a therapist or a caseworker. “Best see if it’s an option or not.”

“Would it really be that bad if he found out about the barn?”

“I would not risk that. If it comes down to what he sees as protectin’ me or Carl, he will do what it takes even if it shreds his soul. You saw him at the CDC, man.”

His strong huff signals his frustration. “Daryl went crazy down there, too. Who’s gonna be here to stop him from taking matters into his own hands if you go?”

Hm, you hadn’t considered what Daryl’s reaction to the barn might entail. Perhaps because he’s not actually threatening to anyone here.

“You’d be the one who could tone him down,” Glenn goes on.

“Oh, yes?” you fill in with mild amusement.

“Oh yes.”

“I must remind you that Daryl can’t put up much of a fight right now.”

Done and zen as you may be, Glenn keeps pushing about you leaving. “Dale will be so upset. Even though I’m obviously his favorite,” he adds, probably to make things feel lighter.

“And we both know Andrea is his tip top favorite. So, his third favorite leaves awhile, no biggie. I’ll be back.” That’s when you remember. “Oh my. I forgot how Andy might come, I’m sorry.”

Glenn turns so upset that he begins to shout.

“What the hell, dude? This is —” He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands other than manhandle the pretzel stick. “What else have you been keeping secret like this, Y/N?”

He’s had a long day, too. This whole middle-school sharing circle you’ve got going may have been better left to another time when you both aren’t so thoroughly done that you’re overcooked. “Perhaps that’s enough for now?” you suggest.

“Oh my gosh, that means there is more!” He flops himself backward and lays the way you are, throwing his arms above his head.

How else would you respond than by chuckling like a wizened old hillbilly? You have to say, this is a sweet deal, having emotional reactions on standby instead of feeling them at full power.

It’s nice to find humor in stressful things, as if you’d lived through 2 wars and now sell wildflowers and shine on the roadside. “Not every secret is bad, sometimes just ain’t our business. I keep secrets because I’d want mine kept. I want to be trustworthy,” you point out with a small grin. “If you feel the urge to tell anyone about us leaving, Lori already knows. She’s safe to go to.”

“Thank you,” he groans. He’s quiet a few moments. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

The stars are coming out. More and more they’re able to be seen as the final hues of purple on the horizon deepen to black.

“Even though I suck at secrets?” Glenn checks.

“Yes. I trust you with my life just like you trust me with yours,” you remind him. The position you’re in is uncomfortable, so you adjust. “Besides, it seems you only got issues with secrets that have weight to ’em. Bad secrets. You’re an honest soul, where’s the fault there?”

“The fault is in not keeping my freaking mouth shut when things aren’t my business.”

“As if you ain’t talking to a hothead who can’t keep it shut, neither?” you lilt, still smiling to yourself, carefree and d-o-n-e. Ooh, that last part rhymes!

“That’s different.”

You nudge him. “Let’s trade, then. You can be the firebrand, I’ll be the lovable one.”

“So, I get that you’re, like, self conscious about everything you do,” he mumbles. “But really, you aren’t that big a hothead. And I think that you leaving will make things worse.”

It takes you moment. “Glenn.” You flip onto your side. It makes your shoulder pinch a little and the bruise on your sternum complain, but not too much. “Way to smack me upside the head with the kindest possible words you could.”

“Dude, I’m not okay with this,” he groans into his hands. “I don’t want you to leave, you’re literally my best friend. Like, even if you weren’t, you’re cool to have around. Even Maggie’s dad seems to like you.”

You have to giggle at that part. “You have Maggie’s declaration of love, I have her daddy’s begrudged acceptance as a new farmyard nuisance.” Mm, it feels good to laugh. “Glenn, are you by any chance tryin’ to butter me up, too?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not making this up. But, like, if guilting you into staying works, it works. Wait, who else was buttering you up?”

“Shane.”

Did he just tut? “What’d he do, now?” Glenn probably didn’t mean to sound so disgusted, either.

“He didn’t do nothing.”

“Except a few days ago when he did.”

If your emotional range were at a normal level, you’d have gotten huffy. But, seeing as you don’t have that, you don’t react at all.

Now, the incident with Shane about which Glenn is referring was very out of place. True, you’d been seeing someone you didn’t recognize in your brother more and more in his actions for months at that point. What he did almost felt like a long time coming, if you’re being perfectly frank. Yet, it was still not him. It was still very out of place. And since then, for the past couple days, Shane has been fully back.

“What you saw was not like him,” you emphasize. Doubts ripple your thoughts but you merely view them with consideration, not dread. Everything is as chill as can be right now to you.

“To be honest, I don’t care.” Glenn is somewhat less chill. “He blew up like that, end of story.”

“It was a lapse. Small, too.” How nice it is to remain tranquil like this. If the walkers busted down the barn doors, you’d merely sigh and calmly find a weapon.

“I’m gonna say it again. Things like that start small.”

You understand and appreciate his warning, truly. You’d be cautious of the same if you were in Glenn’s place. “Will you allow for mistakes and change in others?”

“Y/N, I’m just so — I don’t know what I’m even feeling about this right now, okay? But it’s bad, it’s not good, and I hate that you’re gonna go and this day has been insane!”

“Then let’s take a breather.” So zen, so immovable, so d-o-n-e… “Picture you got a teakettle what’s starting to whistle. What do you do?”

“Um, uh — turn off the heat and pour the water, I guess — why are you asking this?” he wonders, audibly confused and irritated.

“It’s a helpful image to cool your thoughts.”

“Yeah, so, the way you’ve been talking this whole conversation is like you’re Mr. Miyagi or like, Galadriel. Why do you sound like that?”

You crack up. “I dunno. I started to feel like this after what went on with Lori earlier. It’s like hearing underwater, but instead of sound, it’s emotions.”

“So…you mean your emotions aren’t working right? That seems…” He decides on a word. “Bad. Like, trauma stuff.”

“Whatever it is, it’s a break. I’ll take it. Today, I’m done.”

“It does sound kinda nice,” he admits. “Dude, I’m so done, too.”

“D-o-n-e.”

If you aren’t mistaken, there’s an owl hooting nearby.

“You went through the wringer today, too, Glenn.” He may not have had the close call this time, but he saved you and Maggie from yours. Glenn gets it, he’s no stranger to being almost bitten. “Did it happen to you when they lowered you down that well? I think I remember you seemin’ off.”

“I remember having nightmares the whole night. And th—actually, yeah,” Glenn recalls. “I sort of felt super, like, light? Just, like, out-of-it.”

“And after the CDC,” you muse. “It was as if we was all diluted a bit.”

“Ugh.” Glenn runs his hands through his hair. “It took days until things felt okay again after that. Though, like,” he adjusts his position and rests his hands on his stomach. “The pop from the explosion messed up my balance a little, so that played a part. And the ringing in the ears wasn’t fun.”

“Mm.” What a hell of a day that had been. Dale still doesn’t have full hearing in one of his ears yet.

As you look at the stars beginning to come out, you think to yourself how, after that hell of a day, you distinctly remember having been filled with a deep, strong sense of clarity. Of purpose. It really helped temper the heartbreak.

“It makes sense to me that, after things like close calls,” you slowly describe, “things might can get put into perspective. Like a needed grace for gettin’ through times like that.”

“Yes, sensei.”

Tranquil as can be, you press thumbs to pointer fingers in a meditation pose and try to make your voice sound huskier and wiser. “You’re a buttface, young nutcracker.”

Glenn snorts so hard he basically does a sit-up.

That’s interesting, why is he laughing so hard? Is he that overtired?

Eventually, you hear him wheeze, “Grasshopper! It’s ‘young grasshopper!’”

Ah, that would do it. ‘Nutcracker’ did seem a mite irregular. Oops.

Well, it’s good that he’s entertained, he needed a good laugh.

“So the student becomes the master, my young padawan,” you might as well add.

“Padawan is Star Wars.”

“I know.” Smiling, you suggest, “Let’s call it a night?”

“Heck yeah, sensei, let’s call it a night.”

-----------------

With the Grimes

-----------------

As Glenn and you are walk back from the big rocks, Teddy and Carol appear to be making their way to them. You have an inkling it’s for a smoke break.

T-Dog doesn’t smoke much, but you’ve seen him doing so on occasion (and all but twice it’s been with Daryl). Carol you caught smoking just once. You hope Daryl didn’t get T-Dog back into it, but the fact that those two have become friends is a huge development which no one saw coming. If cigarettes played a part in him unlearning his racism, so be it, it’s a win.

Teddy, Carol, Rick, and Jimmy did their extended search today. You can only imagine how much Carol must need to debrief. Her grieving is being stretched and dangled before her. Hell, if she wants a cigarette, give the woman a cigarette.

“What are you spacing out about?”

Blinking out of your thoughts, you answer Carl. “Mrs. Peletier and Sophia.”

You’re at the campfire with all the Grimes. As tempting as sneaking off to some unfindable place like the barn loft is, you’d never get the smell of walkers out of your nose if you did, among other awful possibilities.

“If you start to have nightmares, you can wake me up, okay? I’ll keep my walkie on.” Carl taps a pocket on his cargoes which is housing the pink walkie-talkie that Sophia had used. “Want me to check whatever part it almost bit?”

You lean over to touch your forehead to his, then unzip your hoodie, tug your sleeve up, and show him your perfectly unscathed forearm. He does a thoughtful exam in the firelight, even scooting off to get his flashlight to aid in the inspection. You know there’s nothing there, but it’s also about his peace of mind.

Lori and Carl soon head to bed, leaving you and Rick.

"Glenn told me about the pharmacy, the walker."

"He probably minimized the part where he full-stop saved us both, Maggie and I. If someone find canned bacon again, he's earned at least half the can."

His eyes glisten. With the arm closest to you, he reaches to cup the back of your neck and tells you how relieved he is that nothing worse happened and that you're okay.

Then, he inclines his head and begins to say, “I wan—” but Shane comes and sits beside you, two spoons and the rest of the jar of peanut butter in hand. One spoon is for you, and he and Rick pick up the conversation.

You can’t help but think this is the calm before the storm.

But, perhaps things will go smoothly when Lori’s news becomes public knowledge. Perhaps it’ll make going away easier — going to scope out a new place as permanent and safe, like Shane hopes Fort Benning will be. After all, the Shane you know would want to do what’s in his power to help his best friend keep Lori safe.

“Shane, is that the salt shaker?” Carol asks. She’s back from wherever she and T-Dog went. Her eyes look wet and red.

T-Dog doesn’t look too cheerful himself, but cracks up nonetheless. “The pepper shaker. Y’all ain’t seen how those two do that?” That man’s grin could melt ice, you swear. “Y/N once had the audacity to claim it ‘elevates pb&j.’”

“Hell yeah it do.” Shane tips the shaker downward to sprinkle it into the remnants of the peanut butter jar.

With zero embarrassment, you agree, “It real yummy. Wanna try some before it’s gone?”

This snack is not that unusual, right?

…Right?

“Don’t risk it Carol. I once heard them two Walshes mention craving they mother’s pineapple casserole.That tells you a lot.”

Rick leaps in to defend it, albeit with humor. “Don’t go knocking ’til you’ve tried it.”

“Pineapple casserole wasn’t even at one church potluck, Teddy? Are you even from the south?” you tease, still zen as can be. ~Om~

Carol’s smile is small but not forced. “Did she make it with a Ritz crust?” she asks you kindly.

“Mama liked to use corn flakes.” You begin to twiddle with the wrap around your arm. “She'd do it up with seasonings.”

“And Dog, you would not believe how good it goes with ham and bacon,” Shane insists, scraping the sides of the jar to get as many dregs onto his spoon as he can.

T-Dog has only one thing to say: “At times like this, I find the blessing in the collapse of civilization.”

This presents to you as the perfect spot to call it a night for yourself. Seems like someone is D-O-N-E!

Beaming at the prospect of kicking this day goodbye (no, not ‘kissing.’ Kicking.), you bid those still around the fire goodnight, throw a peace sign to Andrea where she’s coming back from a walk, and then fully intend to go to your tent.

From your left, you hear someone step out of the RV.

“Kiddo, are you heading to bed?

You turn to answer Dale. “Yeah…”

…It seems you’re not d-o-n-e, judging by how Dale is looking at you. Is it serious what he wants to talk about? His expression indicates that he’s clearly concerned about something. Probably to do with the barn. Damn that barn.

-----------------

With Dale

-----------------

“Y/N, before you call it a night, can we talk a minute?” Shane calls before Dale says anything.

-----------------

With Shane again

-----------------

“Shane, I’m so done with today that I’m overcooked,” you grumble once you’re far enough away to feel comfortable doing so. “What’s up? I think Mr. H was about to ask me something before you whisked me off, now I feel impolite.”

“When Dale and I spoke, I said some things he might take the wrong way.”

So it was intentional, whisking you away before Dale had the chance. Oh, Shaney, what did you say?

“You know I love Rick.”

Curious thing to bring up. “He’s our brother.”

“I’d never hurt him.”

“And when you said what you said to Lori, it was a lapse. I know you.”

“Y/N, I love that man. He is my brother. Dale is under the impression that I — Y/N, I’m askin’ you to trust me on this.”

Everyone wants that today, it seems.

“Dale is under the impression that he saw me aim my gun at Rick.”

Through your absence of emotion shoots a cold chill up your spine. You walk a few paces without responding. “When does he think he saw that happen?”

“Must’ve been, uh,” he fumbles, agitated. “I’d say sometime when we was lookin’ for Sophia, I guess.”

He’s lying again.

You know him when he’s lying. This is one of those times. Like when he lied about Otis during the funeral. Why he lied was clear, he wanted to put the family at ease and give them peace. This time, he must be trying to do the same for you?

As if you were merely an observer with no stakes or heart in the game, you remain placid. “When was Dale with y’all? He was never with the two of you for a search.”

“Listen, I don’t know, maybe it was back at the quarry before any of that,” he cuts in. “All I know is he’s gonna try and use that.”

Shane talking too fast and bringing up that the incident may have been as as far back as the quarry means that it was indeed as far back as the quarry. Rick would have recently returned, he’d only been there two or three days before it was overrun…and Shane would still have been in love with Lori.

You think back and conclude it would have been the very small window of time when the Rick and Shane would have been scouting in the woods, after that solitary walker had wandered into the camp bounds. The kids came across it when it was eating the deer Daryl had hunted.

For clarification, you quote, “‘Use’ it?”

“He doesn’t trust me or like me, never really has. Wants me gone. Hell, he told me to go. You, on the other hand, he acts like you’re the apple of his eye.”

In another circumstance that didn’t involve your brother being disliked, it would warm you to hear that a man like Dale thinks of you paternally. Not this circumstance. “Even Mr. Horvath can be a downright idiot if he don’t see you how I do,” you say in earnest.

“Y/N, I —” In his way, Shane rubs his hand on his head back and forth against the peach fuzz he has left after buzzing his hair off. And he looks all around without picking a spot, both sure signs he’s riled in some way, grasping for an answer.

If you could feel much of anything, you’d be feeling…you aren’t sure. But something in you knows what’s coming. You know what he’s about to tell you and you wish it weren’t so.

He confesses it: “Y/N, I did aim at him. I held him there.”

The nausea sweeps back in. It’s not too strong, kudos to your current mental state for keeping things on power-saver. Another grace to get through this day that won’t end.

“He also thinks that when Otis and—”

“—Did you fire?” You want to nip in the bud whatever his survivor’s guilt is gonna claim about what happened that night with Otis. You’re done. So done. “At Ricky, did you fire?” you repeat.

Not expecting a follow-up question with such an obvious answer, he flounders. His eyes shine in what little moonlight there is. He won’t look at you directly.

“Well then,” you continue. “Seems you had a bad thought, fought it, and dismissed it. Basic Morality 101, you overcame the bad thought. And let me guess; he brought it up, you got defensive and said some stuff what sounded tough and scary.” Seriously, you’re fucking done. “We’re both leavin’ in a week or so, anyway, so after you apologize, Mr. H will have ample time to wise up and think better on you before we come back.”

Are you feeling anger again? Is this your emotions kicking back on?

And why ain’t your brother saying nothing?

“I’m tired, Shane. I-I'm done.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if this whole revelation were some big tragedy.

Yes, you are starting to get angry again. Lord above, you’re done!

“For what? Doin’ the right thing?” D-O-N-E. “No harm, no foul, Shane. Screw Mr. H if he’s too stupid to understand that the struggle ain’t sinful, the consent is.”

You watch as he squeezes the bridge of his nose at the spot between his eyes.

No, you do not have the patience to wait for him to say anything in return.

“Walk back with me, please, unless you’re fixing to stay out here and get ticks all over.”

And, no, you do not wait for him to join, either. You take off and don’t care overmuch if he’s following. You need to have a little chat with Dale, so whatever remaining time is left until your feelings jump-start fully again, you’ll need.

-----------------

With Dale Still with Shane

-----------------

“—Y/N, don’t talk to him tonight. Wait on things.”

Oh, your brother has finally decided to use his words? “Can it.”

D. O. N. E.

“Come on now, kettle off the burner, kid,” he calls.

“I said can it!”

"I don't know why you're so upset, Y/N, but I d—"

"—It's been a long day." You have not broken pace in your storm toward the RV. "Almost fucking died, for one." And you can't tell Shane any more of it, minus the part he knows about the walker.

There are too many secrets and you don't know what to do other than demand to know why Dale hates Shane so much. Shane is your family, your heart!

“Y/N,” Shane next warns. “As much as I’d love to see you chew the old man out, you won’t like yourself if you do. You know that, you ain’t stupid.”

Those words break your pace. You slow. Turn.

Your throat tightens and you swallow.

Before, you’d felt as if you were the older one, much more older. Now, you’ve swapped. You feel helpless and small and stupid. The lack of strong emotions is somehow making it worse. “H-how am I gonna sleep if I don’t? Shane, I-I need to sleep, I need this day to be done. I'm done.”

“But you won’t sleep a wink if you go to him now, upset and angry. Wait 'til the morning.”

He’s right.

The thoughts race, race, race. Too many hidden things.

The baby. The barn. Shane giving you a bruise because he blew up. This new secret that he held a gun at his best friend, his brother.

What can you do with all this? You’re so fucking done!

God. Fucking take all this! I can't!, you inwardly shout, frustrated, angry, scared yet not able to feel much more than exhausted. Until you can't quite seem to breathe enough.

"Y/N, hey, shh. Whoa there, it's all good. Don't panic," you hear him saying.

His arms fold around you in an embrace that you don't resist one bit. You want him to be the one to somehow fix it all. He has been such a cause of fear and stress, so all you want is for him to fix it all and prove your fears false.

The way he releases the hug so he can apply firm pressure to your torso is something your mother used to do. A sensory calming trick.

It does the job. Soon, you've eased. Your breathing gets back to normal. The exhaustion returns as the panic fades. A feeling of wanting to hide your face. "I'm so tired, Shane. I want to be done."

You look at his creased brow, his set jaw. The hardness melting when he sees that you've calmed. It's Shane, not the stranger you'd been seeing in him.

How is it possible to love someone so completely despite them being the cornerstone of all your fears? Or, is that normal? Are you an idiot? Or are you just overtired...

“Let’s get those earbuds in, play you some music, alright?” Your big brother curls his arm around your shoulders and gently guides you back to the tents. "The day's done, so you're done," he soothes. “D-o-n-e.”

------------------------------------------

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 months ago

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Could might I be added to the taglist for the slowpoke series, darlin?

I might could make that happen, slowpoke ;)

#asks #taglist #the slowpoke series #thank you for the ask!#God bless!

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