HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER TWO !

[ season one, episode five ]

Marley's hunt for Sage paused momentarily.

They gathered around Jim with weapons drawn as he backed away, shaking his head incredulously. On his shirt, there was a small patch of fresh blood. Marley's lips parted in shock, and she realised saving him from the sickness was out of the picture. The fever had evidently already struck him. Sweat dribbled from Jim's forehead, and a small smile of denial was pressed to his chapped lips.

"I'm okay," he whispered, paling considerably. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

He wasn't okay.

"Show it to us." Daryl demanded furiously, circling Jim like a vulture. "Show it to us!"

Jim reached for a shovel and raised it, apparently willing enough to swing if anyone came close enough. The group bristled, clamouring for him to put it down before anyone got hurt. In their minds, however, they knew Jim would never deliberately cause harm to any member of the group. But T-Dog rounded on the sick man nevertheless, grabbing his arms and pulling them behind his back. The shovel clattered to the ground.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

Daryl lifted Jim's shirt to reveal a crimson ring of teeth puncturing his abdomen.

"I'm okay! I'm okay . . . I'm okay," he repeated over and over and over again.

Marley's hand flew to her mouth and unshed tears sprung to her cerulean eyes. She just stared at the swaying man. They all stared. There was nothing they could say to Jim to make him feel better . . . they was nothing they could say to a man whose life was slowly fading right before their very eyes. They all knew he was a dead man.

And he was not okay.

They gathered around the RV to discuss the situation. Marley, on the other hand, led Jim to a more desolate and quiet section of camp. He shouldn't have to hear the discussion — she knew Daryl would ponder the possibility of putting a bullet through Jim's head, and he didn't need to hear that.

Not right now.

"Here we go," Marley said, helping Jim sit down beneath a cluster of trees. Their bodies were draped in dark shadows that took the overwhelming heat off of their backs.

Jim glanced up at Marley, squinting. "Thank you."

She smiled at him. It was a sympathetic upturn of her lips, which somehow made Jim feel slighter better about his death sentence. It was a kind smile. Warm. So similar to what his son's had been — making him feel better on bad days when work had been tougher than usual, or when his truck had broken down for the fifth time that month.

On this occasion, it made him feel better about dying.

"You should drink this." she said softly. She handed him a water bottle, the liquid scintillating majestically in the light.

Although he wasn't thirsty, Jim took it from her hand graciously and unscrewed the cap.

She crouched down beside him and smiled that same sympathetic smile again. "Jim . . . I'm — I'm really sorry about what you're going through." Marley stuttered, placing a soothing hand on his bony shoulder. "And I would stay here with you, but . . . I gotta find my sister. For once, I wasn't watching her and now I can't find her. It's my fault . . . I'm really sorry, sir."

The tears that welled in her eyes were a product of the past twenty-four hours. It had been a horrifying turn of events from a peaceful campfire, listening to Dale's intriguing story about his watch as they nibbled at the fish Amy and Andrea skilfully gathered, savouring the taste of good food. Then, the walkers came . . . Amy screamed, and it was all downhill from there.

Now, Sage was missing and Jim was bit.

Nothing could be worse than this.

In his fever-induced stupor, it took Jim longer than usual to think of something to say, and even longer to say it aloud. Marley didn't mind, though. She merely adjusted the cap on his head with a tearful smile and pushed herself up from the ground.

However, when she turned to walk away, Jim caught her wrist with weak fingers.

"It's not your fault," he assured, pressing his lips together and shaking his head. "It's not your fault that you needed time to grieve. Sage is a smart girl . . . she won't be far. Trust me, kid."

So she did. Marley trusted him.

Sage won't be far. She's a smart girl.

"You can't blame yourself when somethin' goes wrong."

She nodded.

"Thanks, Jim."

Adjusting his cap one last time, Marley left him to bathe in the cool shade of the trees as she took off to scour the remnants of camp. The group was still talking by the RV. Arguing. Agreeing and disagreeing. Crying. Frowning. All of the above. Daryl was having his say. Rick and Shane were shutting his idiotic ideas down. Andrea was still crouched over Amy's body.

Marley moved past them all and headed down to the quarry.

The lake was glistening beneath the sun.

Sage liked the lake. She liked the water. She liked to watch it, to feel the tiny waves crashing beneath her calloused fingertips, to stare at the aquamarine surface as it engulfed her toes. She liked to watch it, to let the feel of it fill her with glee, because she couldn't hear it.

Marley immediately cursed herself for panicking before thinking logically. Why hadn't she thought to look here? Why hadn't she used her initiative? Perhaps that was her downfall — throwing herself into a fit of panic before actually using her brain.

Sage would have scolded her for it if she knew.

The stones beneath Marley's boots wobbled precariously. She didn't care too much. She was more focused on finding Sage to give a damn about potentially falling over and scraping her knees. Sage was her priority.

"Sage?" she hollered into a seemingly empty quarry. Her voice echoed from every crevice, every cobbled wall, of the deep pit. Her own words rung in her ears. Marley stopped dead in her tracks when she realised Sage wouldn't be able to hear her calls.

Why was she being so effortlessly stupid?

Suddenly, a pair of hands clamped down on her shoulders.

Marley whirled around, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched with trepidation. Reality dawned on her for the second time that day. Nobody would be able to hear her screams if it happened to be a walker. Nobody would be able to save her as it viciously tore into her throat. She had put herself into a very dangerous situation.

But her knees involuntarily buckled when she looked into the emerald eyes of Sage Whitman.

Marley threw her arms around Sage and tugged the girl into her chest. She cried. She gasped for breath. She cradled Sage as if she was a small child once again, and Mom had been so distracted by gossip that she hadn't noticed her little girl wasn't walking alongside her in the store anymore.

When they pulled away, Sage looked utterly perplexed.

"Don't you ever run off again!" Marley signed furiously, slamming her hand into the other with every gesture.

"I didn't try to." Sage remarked.

Marley didn't understand. She shoved Sage's shoulder in a half-playful-half-angry manner, narrowing her eyes into slits. "Yes, you did. I couldn't find you anywhere."

There was a lasting pause in their exchange.

Sage's brows knitted together dolefully. "I needed to get away." she admitted, looking at the ground shamefully. "I couldn't stand the smell . . . I couldn't look at all of the blood or Amy's body for another second."

Marley's anger dissipated instantaneously. Her slackened features melted into an expression of guilt and sympathy and sorrow.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." Sage added sheepishly.

But Marley did not accept her sister's apology. Not because Sage was wrong for what she did — but rather due to the fact Marley knew there was absolutely nothing Sage had to be sorry for.

She placed her hands on the blonde's shoulders, smiling. "It's okay. You don't need to apologise."

And for a second time, she wrapped her arms around Sage's weak frame and pulled her impossibly close. The younger girl's shoulders soon shook with heaving, gut-wrenching, guttural sobs that ripped through her throat like millions of tiny razor blades.

Marley's glass heart cracked.

They both cried for Amy that day.

✧.｡. *.

When Amy reanimated later that day, Andrea reluctantly fired a bullet through her skull, and buried her body alongside the others. Marley was glad Sage hadn't been there to witness it. The sisters had spent almost the entire afternoon down at the quarry, skimming stones to pass the time and take their minds off the lingering images of devastation.

The camp — apart from Dale — hadn't even noticed Sage had been missing. Marley couldn't exactly blame them. They were far more distracted by the events of the previous night.

Fortunately, in the time the Whitman sisters had been absent, the group settled on a plan.

They were to go to the CDC to find a cure for Jim.

Although, at first, Shane had strongly disagreed with Rick. He was determined to head to Fort Benning — to locate some military personnel that may help with their survival, or find highly advanced equipment that would come in extremely useful when fending off the undead. But Fort Benning was too far and they didn't have enough fuel, food, water or stamina to get there. So, an agitated Shane eventually agreed with Rick's ideas.

The CDC was their next stop.

When morning broke, the fatigued group came together. The tents were packed up, shoved into the back of cars, and their most precious belongings sat in the bottom of their backpacks. A family photo of Marley, Sage and their parents was currently tucked into the side of Marley's heavy pack. She kept it to remember their faces — although, she doubted she would ever forget.

"All right, everyone listen up!"

Shane Walsh's stern voice cut through the feeble chatter of the gathered group. They all looked at him, purple marks that resembled dark bruises splashed across the swollen skin beneath their drooping eyes.

Sage's gaze unwillingly drifted to the substantial blood stain defacing the ground of where the RV had been parked. Amy . . . her body was sprawled there only hours ago. Drenched in blood. Paler than a ghost. Now, she was buried beneath the earth and left to rot alongside maggots and worms and—

Her body jerked forward when Marley slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Hey, don't look at that, okay?" the older girl signed.

Sage gulped, nodded and focused on Shane. Everything was deathly silent, even as the ex-officer's throat rattled with the informative words spewing out of his moving lips. Marley would inform her of anything important when they moved out later. That was how it worked now.

"Any questions?"

It was silent for a moment.

"We're, uh . . ." Morales said, clearing his throat as he mustered up the courage to speak the truth. "We're not going."

Sage immediately frowned. Over a short period of time, she had grown particularly fond of Morales' children. They were kind, non-judgemental, and did everything they could to converse with Sage despite her deafness — using a notebook and pen to write their thoughts because she didn't have enough time to teach them the ins and outs of sign language. To see them go, to watch them leave knowing they may never return or the worst of the worst may occur, was borderline heartbreaking.

Morales' wife pulled her whimpering daughter close, "We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people."

"You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back." Shane warned.

"We'll take the chance," Morales assured with a sad smile. "I got to do what's best for my family."

Rick sighed heavily, reluctant to see the path Morales was prepared to head down. "You sure?"

"We talked about it. We're sure."

Marley tightened her grip around Sage's shoulders reassuringly.

"All right." Rick said, sharing a wary look with Shane.

He handed Morales the only weapon they could spare and gave him a good-luck handshake. It was a bundle of heartfelt goodbyes after that. Sage hugged a weeping Eliza and assured her with flourishing hand movements that everything was going to be okay, this was for the best — perhaps they would see one another again. Three years down the line, by some crazy instance, they could stumble upon each other. Deep down, Sage knew it was unlikely, but it wasn't a crime to have hope.

By luck, she held in her tears as the family of four drove off into the sunset.

And then, it was their turn to move on.

The Whitman sisters joined Dale, Glenn, Jacqui and Jim in the RV. They drove out of the quarry first, taking the lead on the terrifying journey to Atlanta city. Although it had been succumbed to the worst form of bloodshed, Marley was going to miss the place. It had become something of a home over the past few months, and it was certainly a better alternative to the overrun streets of Atlanta city.

But it was inhospitable now. They couldn't risk spending another moment there, and Jim needed all the help he could get. They all did . . . they needed hope.

Perhaps the CDC would provide that.

If not . . . well, they would work it out from there. They kept driving regardless — hours and hours spent on the endless road into the city. Jacqui stayed with Jim, Glenn traced patterns on the grimy windows, and Sage sat up front with Dale. He was slowly but surely learning the basics of sign language ( thanks to both Marley and Sage's lessons ) and he understood many of things Sage tried to communicate his way. It was heartwarming to see him trying so hard.

After all, Dale just wanted to talk to his favourite person without struggle, and he was willing to try anything that would help the case.

Marley smiled.

Nobody had ever done that for Sage before. Nobody had ever cared enough to make the effort.

Nobody but Dale.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

y'all i love dale and sage's friendship
so much help. she's literally his
granddaughter at this point.