HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN !

[ season two, episode eight ]

The aftermath of Sophia's death was ── in one word that held the power to sum up a quite lot of thoughts and feelings and emotions depending on consideration ── quiet. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared breathe too close to Carol in fear she may shatter into a million pieces. Nobody made too much noise. Even during the short service held for their lost loved ones, it was quiet.

And as the day slowly progressed, things got worse. Much worse.

Marley was sitting at the dining table in the Greene's farmhouse. Much to her surprise, Maggie had asked Marley if she could braid her hair. She wasn't sure why, so the Whitman made an assumption that Maggie was doing it to pass time . . . give herself a moment to recollect her emotions and take a deep, steady breath of air to relieve the growing knot in her chest. Compose herself.

Either way, Marley didn't mind.

"You have beautiful hair." Maggie hummed.

A small smile grew over Marley's lips. Her scalp tingled when the woman raked a finger through her ash-blonde roots. "Thank you."

"No, seriously," Maggie added pointedly, arching an eyebrow. "How do you keep it so nice? Mine's like a bird nest."

Amusement twinkled in the Greene's caramel-tinged eyes. It was a relief. Her limbs had finally settled ── bones no longer rattling with fear and grief and horror all muddled into one. The events from earlier were not as prominent in her mind as they had been ten minutes ago. Braiding hair or knitting or crocheting ( doing something tedious with her hands ) always drew her attention away from the bad things and helped her focus on something else.

Marley huffed a short laugh, "Well, the weather make me sweat a lot, so . . . could be that. Might be, like, a new kind of weird conditioner."

"Gross!" Maggie snorted, a light chuckle rumbling in her chest. She quickly lowered her voice as if it was against the law to murmur the words, "Might try it. See if it works."

"You definitely should." Marley said sincerely.

There was a small clatter from the kitchen. Mistakenly, Beth had dropped a fork on the floor. However, she felt too weak and shaky to bend down and pick it up ── with the events of that afternoon weighing upon her body like a crushing weight; it was dizzying.

So Beth left it and continued washing up.

Maggie continued braiding Marley's hair, but she was notably more distracted by her sister's uncharacteristically odd behaviour. She wasn't acting like herself.

"I'm sorry," Marley blurted out of the blue. She shifted on the dining chair awkwardly.

"What for?" Maggie implored.

"Shane," Marley admitted solemnly, taking a sharp intake of breath. "For what he did. What he said . . . He didn't have the right to do any of that. It was wrong."

There was truth in the girl's words, but Maggie shook her head softly, "Hey, it's over now. You don't have to apologise."

"But I do." Marley replied in a stern tone that spoke volumes for the guilt she felt festering within. Shane had pushed a burden upon the rest of them ── they felt bad about what happened to the Greene's and blamed themselves for causing the family an unnecessary amount of grief. Even though he started it. "Truly, I'm sorry."

She turned on the chair so she could look Maggie in the eye. Wisps of hair fell from her half-complete braid.

"It was a really crap thing for Shane to do. There was absolutely no consideration for your family on his part." She cleared her throat and continued, despite the sensitivity the topic may carry. "I want to apologise on his behalf because I know he doesn't have the guts to come in here and do it himself."

That was true. She had seen Shane skirting around the farm all day, obviously avoiding the house and the grieving folk residing within it by leading the mission to collect and burn the mangled bodies of the barn-walkers. Anything to steer clear of Maggie and Hershel. Anything to stop them from glaring at him for what he he done. And he didn't feel any guilt ── well, about the loss of Sophia he might've, but nothing beyond that. He was pleased with himself, if anything.

The Greene's had every right to want the man off of their land.

There was a firm nod from Maggie. She smiled. "Well, I'm sure Shane'd appreciate that if he wasn't such an ass."

Marley opened her mouth to respond, slightly bemused by Maggie's statement, but she was interjected by a booming clatter ── much louder than the one they heard before ── that resonated from the kitchen. It wasn't a dropped piece of cutlery this time around. Maggie gasped in shock.

Beth had collapsed.

✧.｡. *.

By late afternoon, Beth still hadn't recovered. They hoped she would, but the girl seemed to have been plunged into a bone-numbing shock. She was staring up at the ceiling, cerulean eyes glinting like two planes of glass, completely void of any emotion. Maggie was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her sister's hair back with words of comfort ── but everyone else . . . they had no idea what to do.

And it didn't help that Hershel was missing.

"I think we should search the farm again," Marley offered with a small shrug, knitting her shivering fingers together. She and Glenn had decided to stand outside of Beth's bedroom out of respect for her privacy. "We might've missed a spot."

Glenn shook his head. He looped an arm around her shoulders and said, "I doubt it, Marley."

She dropped her head. She wanted to believe Hershel was still close, maybe milling around the stables or tending to the crops, but she knew it was a long shot ── if it were her in his boots, she'd want to escape for a while. Away from everyone. Somewhere quiet. A concerned sigh slipped over her tongue, shoulders drooping in defeat.

The indistinct sound of creaking floorboards caused her eyes to flicker down the narrow hallway. Rick, Shane and Lori were approaching.

"Anything?" Lori asked.

Glenn pressed his lips together and shook his head sorrowfully.

"Where's he gone off to?" Lori pondered, concern evident in her hushed tone. "He can't have gone far."

"We'll find him." Rick added confidently.

Marley gnawed on her lower lip, fingers tracing raised lumps protruding from the wallpaper behind her. She looked to Glenn, then Rick and Lori, but avoided Shane's gaze completely; she still hadn't forgiven him ── mostly for the barn situation but partly for painting her a weak and fragile bird in the presence of half their group. Nevertheless, the travellers seemed to come to an unanimous agreement.

They needed to find clues to Hershel's whereabouts.

With Maggie's compliance, they were led to the main bedroom in search of something that may point them in the right direction concerning Mr Greene. His bed was covered in cardboard boxes stuffed to the brim with clothes, some still closed and some flung open, thick lids strewn across the floor. A white dress was draped delicately over the pillows, the material laced and ruffled ── resemblant to something an angel would wear.

Marley shared a brief glance with Glenn who seemed to understand the situation just as well as she did.

"These your stepmother's things?" Rick asked politely.

"He was so sure she'd recover," Maggie said, leaning against the dark-wooden drawers with her hands tucked into her pockets. "They'd just pick up where they left off."

Shane picked up a small flask off another drawer ── this one covered in photos of Beth's mother and her half-brother, Shawn. In all honesty, Marley wasn't quite sure how Shane had the audacity to enter the Greene's home, considering the very big thing he just did that afternoon. It was bold of him.

Funny thing was, Shane truly acted like he cared about Hershel's absence. Marley knew it was all a show. Reality was, he couldn't give two shits.

"Looks like he found an old friend." the Walsh stated. He tossed the empty flask to Rick.

"That belonged to my grandfather," Maggie said, examining the metallic object. "Gave it to Dad when he died."

Rick tilted his head in wonder, "I didn't take Hershel for a drinker."

"No . . ." Maggie wandered toward the double drawers again. She was confused. Concerned. Clearly, this wasn't something her father tended to do. "He gave it up on the day I was born. He didn't even allow liquor in the house."

Marley gnawed on her thumb-nail. Her eyes flickered between Glenn, Rick and Shane. She had no idea how this conversation was going to pan out. If it were up to her ── if controlling the situation was solely in her hands ── she'd suggest scoping out the farm again. Look for tracks. Stupid.

Luckily, they were in the presence of two ex-cops. She was more than sure they knew how to solve a missing persons case.

"What's the bar in town?" Rick asked.

"Hatlin's. He practically lived there in his drinking days."

A firm nod. Rick was convinced by his own ideas, whirling around his mind like a hurricane swimming with answers. "Betting that's where I'll find him."

"Yeah, I've seen the place," Glenn piped up. "I'll take you."

Marley's hand shot up into the air. It was like a reflex. And she wasn't exactly sure why she was volunteering to join the men on their expedition ── it just felt right. "I'm coming, too."

There was a long beat of silence. Maggie shifted on her feet.

"Marley ── I don't think thats a good idea." Rick said uncertainly. His eyes jumped to Glenn, who looked just as dubious and hesitant about her uncharacteristic volunteerism as the Grimes man did.

But Marley was determined. "I want to come."

"No. It's not safe." Glenn added.

He didn't mean for it to come off as such, but the way Glenn said those words were incredibly patronising. Like he was talking to a child. She was not a child. She did not want to be treated like one, someone too young to understand the concept of the world's end. And this was her one chance to prove herself. To show them that Shane was wrong; she wasn't weak and fragile. She wasn't a flightless bird. She was a survivor, not an incapable child being strung along behind those who were skilled in fighting.

She wanted to do this.

But they were adamant to not granting her with that chance.

"Glenn's right," Rick shook his head, patting Marley's shoulder as he began to advance toward the door. He wanted to end the conversation. "Sorry. I can't let you come."

She stood in his way, "But —"

"Rick, just let her go, man," Shane spoke up suddenly. They all looked at him. He crossed his burly arms over his chest and dipped his head toward Marley. "Kid knows how to handle herself. Ain't no harm done lettin' her tag along."

Marley was stunned. Her mouth fell agape as she whirled around to stare at Shane standing over by the window. However, the man didn't even meet her gaze.

So much for 'little bird.'

"All right," Rick concluded, although he didn't sound completely assured. He scrutinised Marley carefully before padding out of the door. "I'll get the truck."

Marley stuck her thumbs up enthusiastically. "Cool."

✧.｡. *.

When Marley came downstairs, she saw Sage in the dining room with Andrea. It was unusual to see her sister with something other than he colouring book ── this time opting to play Scrabble with Andrea to pass time. She was chewing the inside of her cheek, face screwed up on the left side.

Marley turned to Glenn passing her on the stairs. "Tell Rick to wait. I'll be two minutes."

He nodded in confirmation.

Wringing her hands together, Marley approached the dining table. Andrea looked up and smiled kindly. Sage noticed the interaction, but she didn't think anything of it. Her hands continued to scoop around in a bag of Scrabble tiles.

"Everything okay?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah," Marley nodded quickly. "Can I talk to Sage for a minute? Sorry to ruin your game. I need to tell her something important."

A flash of confusion crossed Andrea's face like a crack of vivid lighting. Her expression crumbled from a smile to a frown. However, the woman did not want to cause any disruption to a potential family affair ── nor did she want inquire about something that didn't involve her ── so she pushed her curiosity down deep and nodded.

"Sure. I'll . . . go check up on Beth."

Andrea walked out into the hallway without looking back.

Sighing, Marley took up the seat opposite Sage. The girl looked up instantaneously, brows pinching together ── a mix of concern and fear misting over her emerald eyes like a hazy rain-cloud brewing up a the storm.

The lack of conversation between them stretched long enough to become uncomfortable.

So Marley ripped off the band aid and quickly moved her hands to sign the words, "I'm going into town with Rick and Glenn to try and find Hershel."

Sage immediately froze. Her bones shrivelled up into solid chunks of ice, immobilising her from doing anything other than stare directly into Marley's eyes. Through the numbness seeping into her skin, Sage managed to shake her head. No.

Marley reached for Sage's arm, but the girl jumped back.

"It's safe."

Sage moved her head from side-to-side. She pulled her hand out from beneath the table, pointer-finger, middle-finger and thumb slamming together in a rather aggressive manner ── her expression twisted into an angry, irritated scowl.

She was not happy with Marley's decision.

"You'll be fine with Lori." the eldest Whitman signed in return, the sound of her dry hands rubbing together like sandpaper. "And Dale."

Sage shook her head again. She made the same movement with her hands ── fingertips thumping together vigorously.

No. No. No.

"I'm not discussing it," Marley snapped, arms and hands moving so quickly that she almost knocked the centrepiece ornament ( a glass sculpture of a lion ) onto the floor. Sage's furious expression faded slightly, appearing more concerned than anything else. "I'm going."

And that was that.

Sage refused to look at her sister. She swivelled around on the dining chair, knees pointing toward the kitchen, arms folded over her chest. Marley knew she was absolutely furious ── the indication leading her to that conclusion being the very prominent pout to Sage's lips. That was her mean-face.

With a quiet mumble of dissatisfaction, Marley padded out of the room. As she did, she grazed a hand over Sage's shoulder.

It wasn't at all appreciated.

✧.｡. *.

A car rumbled over the rubbish-strewn asphalt of a rundown street located around two miles away from the Greene's farm. Shops lined either side of the narrow road, shards of glass splattered along every crevice of the darkened gravel in the wake of destruction and total chaos. There was a pharmacy, a florist shop with a missing front window, an opticians and Hatlin's ── the bar in which they hoped to find Hershel in.

Rick pushed open the door. It creaked loud enough to draw the attention of a white-haired man sitting at the counter.

But he didn't turn.

"Hershel?" Rick inquired ── which was more rhetorical than anything else because they already knew the man was their culprit.

Marley shuffled inside, standing behind Glenn with her machete propped in one hand and the other hanging limply by her hip.

"Who's with you?" the grieving man countered lowly. The man's voice was rough, resulting from the gallons of booze infiltrating his system.

Rick took a step closer. "Glenn and Marley."

"Did Maggie send the boy?"

Cautiously, Marley leaned against the dusty countertop and watched Rick hesitantly take another step toward the intoxicated elder. He held his hand out, silver Colt Python wedged between his fingers.

"He volunteered. They both did ── they're good like that."

The room fizzed with tension, but it wasn't the bad type. If just felt . . . slightly awkward, mostly because Hershel didn't hold back when it came to portraying how much he disliked the travellers taking 'temporary' board on his land . . . and their presence in general. And here they were ── disrupting the brief moment of tranquility he had garnered in an attempt to grieve. Alone.

Hershel tipped his head to the side when Rick approached.

"How many have you had?"

Hershel threw back the rest of the honey-coloured liquid. His face remained impassive, despite the persistent tang of alcohol burning in his throat. "Not enough."

Marley was quickly overcome with the temptation to roll her eyes. Her father always said patience was a virtue, a good trait to have, and she tried to stick by it ── albeit, not by much. So she refrained from being rude.

"Let's finish this up back at home," Rick said, voice dropped to a whisper. "Beth collapsed, is in some sort of state. Must be in shock. I think you are too."

Hershel's brows perked up, "Maggie's with her?"

"Yeah. But Beth needs you."

"What good could I do?"

Hershel's words became an indistinct buzz in Marley's ears as she stepped away from Glenn and found a newfound interest in searching the bar.

She ran her fingers over the top of the nearest counter. Thick globs of dust peeled away from the scratched surface and clung to her dainty fingertips ── which she wiped away on the thighs of her jeans with a low grumble of disgust. With the knowledge dust was a combination of both floating dead-skin cells and bits of deceased bugs, Marley brought her hand away from the countertop sharply.

Moving on.

Curious, she bent down in-line with the door-free cupboards. Pushing aside the stacks of grimy glasses, Marley narrowed her eyes and scanned the back of the unit. Nothing. Only serrated fragments of a shattered glass.

Obviously the previous inhabitants of this bar had not been smart enough to hide their necessities ( the ones they were sure to leave behind ) somewhere other people wouldn't think to look.

That's what she was looking for. Supplies. The inhabitants may have found a better place to conceal their belongings, something they'd retrieve again if they happened to make their way back to Hatlin's.

Of all places.

Marley sighed and pushed herself up from the floor, brushing her dirty hands on the surface of her jeans. Glenn watched her intently ─ cautious about where she was stepping.

"What?" the girl questioned sharply.

A nervous Glenn nodded toward the shadowed depths of the bar ── a corner Marley was steadily approaching. "Be careful."

She raised her hands in mock-surrender, the temptation to roll her eyes or scoff sarcastically hanging over her head like a thick cloud. Patience. It's a virtue.

"I will."

But Glenn was still wary.

The minutes continued to tick by. Hershel yelled. Rick argued. Marley swept more dust from shelves, slightly uninterested by the conversation; she just wanted Hershel to follow them back to the farm. Glenn hovered by the door with a shotgun gripped firmly in his hands.

They were not at all prepared for what was to come next.

For who was looming just outside the door. Two who's.

Rick leaned closer toward Hershel, finally concluding his speech of the New World Order. Hershel looked swayed by his persuasive words.

"This isn't about what we believe anymore," Rick assured firmly, pressing a hand to his chest. "It's about them."

And he pointed to the double doors, gesticulating toward the people that laid beyond their current vision ── the ones holed up at the farm. Their family.

But not to the men.

The door squeaked open. Marley whirled around, instinctively placing her hand over the elongated blade dangling from her belt in the face of danger. A blanket of fear was swift to wrap itself around her stiff body, twisting over her limbs like long strings of ivy ── pulling impossibly tight until it was a real struggle to regain her breath.

People.

"Son of a bitch," the slimmer man faltered. "They're alive."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

i saw spoilers for season 11 x 09
don't talk to me im sad