HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER TWENTY !

[ season two, episode nine ]

The drive back to the Greene's farm was silent. Too quiet. Marley was stuffed in the back of the car, sitting between Glenn and . . . Randall. He was the boy from the roof — the one who landed horribly wrong and wound up impaling his leg on the sharpened tip of the fence. Rick came to the conclusion that leaving him was going against everything they stood for. It didn't matter where Randall came from — or who he was — but it was morally wrong to leave him. They had felt obligated to yank him free from the fence, bring him back to the farm, and help him any way they could.

But nothing beyond that.

As soon as Randall was fit enough to walk again, they were going to send him on his merry way.

The car screeched to a stop on the farm's front yard, and immediately everyone began to pour out of the door. Marley carefully ( and with a small grimace ) pushed herself over a sweating Randall, casting her eyes over the dirty blindfold made from a piece of his torn shirt. He was mumbling to himself, sobbing and sniffling incoherently. Tears carved through the thick grime slathered across his face, and Marley couldn't help but sympathise with him — if only a little.

Soon enough he would be gone. And then, they would be free from the restraints of what happened back at the bar.

From her position beside the car, Marley could see Sage shuffling out onto the porch, wearing an expression that was a mixture of both ferocity and relief. Smiling, Marley raised her hand and gave a small wave as she began to approach the busy porch-way — but her sister had other ideas. Whilst glaring, Sage crossed her arms, expelled a sharp exhale, and trudged back into the farmhouse without so much as greeting the long-awaited arrivals or enunciating how relieved she was that they had made it back in one piece . . . and with one extra set of hands.

"She's mad at you," Andrea said, having noticed the silent interaction and took it upon herself to admit the truth. "Didn't want you to leave, but you went ahead and did it anyway."

As she spoke, Marley noticed Andrea was smiling softly, as if reminiscing, not completely present in that current moment. If anyone could understand typical sibling squabbling, it was Andrea — especially between two sisters rather close in age.

Marley shrugged, "When isn't she mad at me?"

"Well . . . don't take offence to this, but your sister just likes to hold grudges. Almost like someone else I know." Andrea admitted jocosely, raising her brows in a teasing manner. She turned her head toward Marley and wrapped an arm around the young girl's shoulders, using one hand to rub her upper-arm in a maternalistic manner.

From the other end of the small clearing between the house and the car, everyone watched as Maggie rushed toward Glenn. Her father expected the affections and unadulterated relief she displayed ever so strongly to be a result of his return, and prepared himself to embrace his daughter, but was proven wrong when she completely ignored his presence and threw herself at Glenn.

Regardless, Hershel brushed the cold shoulder off and marched toward the house, looking serious and stern.

"Patricia."

The woman stepped forward instantly, concern evident by her parted lips and scrunched brows.

"Prepare the shed for surgery." Hershel demanded. He rubbed his bloody palms together and walked past the confused gathering situated on his porch without giving any form of explanation.

At the odd request, Andrea frowned, "Surgery? Who's hurt?"

Marley sighed heavily. She raised her hand, hesitant to point out the injured prisoner, yet did so regardless. Andrea's gaze drifted over to the stationary car, and she found the bloody guest rather quickly, slumped over the backseats. With an expression of complete and utter dismay, the woman let out a low scoff.

"Who's that?" she implored.

Scratching her brow nervously, Marley grimaced.

"Our new friend, Randall."

✧.｡. *.

They gathered around the dining table at noon to discuss Randall's fate.

"We couldn't just leave him behind," Rick explained, leaning against the dining chair at the top of the table. "He would've bled out, if he lived that long."

Marley was sitting beside Glenn, wringing her fingers together like an intricate weaving design. She exchanged a look with Glenn as he informed the group in an ominous tone, "Its gotten bad in town."

Although she had never been into town until last night, Marley had heard stories from Glenn detailing his endeavours into the abandoned strip of tarmac and stores, and she knew it was worse than it ever had been. She had been a witness to it.

Walkers, dangerous men . . . only a few miles from the farm.

Everything was starting to come back to her now; her waterlogged mind had shaken itself free from the initial shock of the bar encounter, the bone-numbing shootout. She worried that Randall's comrades were going show up at any given moment — that they had tracked them back to the farm land. What then? Rick and Shane weren't strong enough to protect the entire group from a dozen armed men. Not even with Dale or T-Dog's assistance.

And Marley certainly couldn't protect herself and Sage alone.

"What do we do with him?" Andrea voiced her most vivid concern.

However, before they were given a chance to reply ( or Rick, even, who opened his mouth to speak ) Hershel re-entered the dining room, rubbing a clean rag between his hands.

"I repaired his calf muscle as best I can," the veterinarian informed severely. "but he'll probably have nerve damage. Won't be on his feet for at least a week."

"When he is, we give him a canteen," Rick added with a stern nod. "take him out to the main road, send him on his way."

Andrea tipped her head to the side, impartial by Rick's plan, "Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?"

Apprehensive, Marley tapped her fingers against the table, sweeping her eyes across the sea of concerned faces surrounding her. With a small shrug, she said, "It's better than nothing."

"He'll have a fighting chance." Rick agreed.

In their moment of debate, Daryl entered. He pushed aside the squeaky screen door with the tips of his fingers, and quietly stepped into the spacious dining room, inclining his head toward Carol in greeting. He noticed the young girl, Sage Whitman, staring up at him from the table, and he extended the greeting to her, too. She smiled.

By the window, Shane extended his hands in frustration, "We're just gonna let him go? He knows where we are."

"He was blindfolded the whole way here." Rick retorted hotly, twisting his features into a vexing scowl. "He's not a threat."

"Not a threat," Shane repeated incredulously. "How many of them were there? You killed three of their men, you took one of 'em hostage, but they just ain't gonna come looking?"

Growing irritated by Shane's typical behaviour already, Marley pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply. After the events of last night, she was seriously not in the mood — nor the right frame of mind — to deal with his debates.

"They left him for dead." Rick defended angrily. "No one is looking."

"We should still post a guard." T-Dog suggested.

Hershel stepped forward, "He's out cold right now, will be for hours."

"You know what?" Shane fixed his stature, standing up tall. His fury had mounted beyond fixable. "I'm gonna go get him some flowers and candy. Look at this, folks — We back in fantasyland!"

As he began to storm out of the room to leave, Marley exploded. She slammed her shaking hands against the surface of the table, jaw clenched. The cutlery and ceramic decor rattled loudly, the noise clamouring from the walls and teeming in the silence — enough to stop Shane in his tracks immediately. He glanced over his shoulder and, although stunned, arched a brow as if to challenge the girl.

Although this time, the Little Bird was not going to back down.

"Give it a rest!" she yelled furiously. Glenn bristled beside her, completely bewildered by her sudden outburst. Marley continued regardless of how people may perceive her, spitting her words out indignantly, "For the sake of my sanity, and everybody else's, please just stop talking. We don't have the time or the patience to listen to your bullshit."

The silence that followed her onslaught of words was almost painful. Eyes avoided her — but it still somehow felt like every single gaze in the world was burning into her flesh. Judging her silently. Perhaps it was a terrible mistake. She shouldn't have done that — she knew that now — but it was unfortunately too late.

She felt embarrassed. Overwhelmed. Ashamed. Stupid. Angry.

Fortunately, Hershel saved her — because he too was unable to keep his anger at bay. He too felt the need to scold Shane Walsh's unforgivable antics. The attention shifted from her to Hershel, and back to Shane.

"We still haven't dealt with what you did at my barn," the elder said, pointing accusingly. "Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all. This is my farm. Now I wanted you gone; Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Shane nodded darkly, hanging his head low.

"So do me, Marley — all of us all a favour. Keep your mouth shut."

When Shane angrily stormed out of the house, Marley released the breath she had been very unaware of holding.

And, although embarrassed, she was proud of herself. It took a lot of courage to stand up against an asshole like Shane Walsh, but she did it, with only a little hesitance. She grew a pair of wings and taught herself to fly, despite the doubt from everyone else that she would ever find the confidence to do so. The Little Bird without wings — flightless and weak.

That wasn't her. Not anymore.

So . . . yeah, Marley was proud of herself.

And so were the majority of the group.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

very short chapter but i didn't
want to add anything else!

i wasn't sure if i wanted to have
her pop off at shane, but i decided
to do it against my own judgment.
marley has a mouth and she isn't
afraid to use it, and you'll see that
further into this series!