HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO !

[ season two, episode eleven ]

The group were reconvening at sunset to discuss Randall's fate.

A plan to put an end to his life had been sealed, unsealed, and then put on temporary hold. Dale was reluctant to allow the idea of murdering their prisoner in cold blood just because of his affiliation with a group of bad men to pass them by all so easily. He wanted to find another way. A more morally inclined approach ── where he wouldn't lose touch with his humanity. And Dale wanted the same to be said for the rest of the group.

Marley was already set on the idea of letting Rick kill Randall. It wasn't a hard decision to make, and it became especially easy when Daryl briefly told them all what Randall had confessed in the barn. About the women they found out in the wilderness during their raids, about what they did to these aforementioned women.

Worse than murder.

It was nothing he could come back from. Randall was ruled guilty by association.

The sooner he was gone, the better.

Marley scuffed her shoes against the grass, wandering around beneath an empty tree grove. She was getting some space away from the chaos at the farm, a moment to herself. Sage still refused to talk to her, Shane was being his typical self, a guilty-looking Andrea was always within her peripheral vision, and Lori was constantly checking up on her ── which in all honesty, was starting to get a little suffocating.

She just wanted five minutes to breathe.

And so she did.

In. Out. In. Out. In. O ─

"Are you okay?"

A small voice. Concerned.

Marley whirled around, pressing a hand to her chest out of fright. Carl Grimes was approaching, a foreign handgun tucked between his small fingers. He shouldn't have that, right?

"Carl," Marley said sharply. "What are you doing up here?"

Her eyes flickered past the young boy, scanning their perimeter warily. The farmhouse was a mere speck in the yonder ── acres of fields and land separating them from the immediate safety of their group. He was too far out, and she already knew Lori wouldn't be pleased about his endeavours.

Carl was rebelling, it seemed.

"You need to go back." Marley ordered, gesturing to the big house shrouded by spindly trees and a wispy, barely decipherable layer of fog.

Carl looked over his shoulder, annoyed. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

"I was rude to Carol."

Marley sighed.

Her patience was yet to wear thin, so she sunk to the ground and tapped the spot of overgrown grass beside her ── knowing that all he wanted, likely, was to talk to someone who could understand. Unsurprisingly, Carl took the seat, all while trying to hide the gun from Marley by pressing his back to the thick oak-tree behind them. Although, it didn't matter. She already saw.

Her brow arched in amusement, "Wanna tell me where you got that?"

Carl's cheeks paled.

"I won't snitch."

Hesitantly, he reached behind and yanked the gun out from his waistband, turning the sleek weapon over in his hands. "I . . . took it. From Daryl."

"Really?" Marley implored in an incredulous manner. When Carl nodded, she blew a prolonged breath out from between her pouted lips. "You're Mom isn't gonna be pleased with you, is she?"

Carl lowered his head. He appeared to be ashamed, if you looked close enough.

"And Daryl," she added, pointing at the gun. "He's intimidating when he wants to be. Scary. Maybe you should return it."

"But ─"

"No buts. I won't tell your parents if you give it back, okay?"

Scowling, Carl begrudgingly shoved the gun back into his jeans, "Fine."

She smiled faintly, wrapping her arms around her tucked-up legs. Carl subconsciously mimicked her position, and didn't seem to be inclined to move, or liable to leave her alone. But she didn't mind. Carl was nice company to have. He was quiet, only speaking his mind when it was necessary, and had a sense of humour she could understand.

That made her wonder. He said he was rude to Carol ── why?

Marley titled her head to the side, gazing at his expression. He looked like he was trying to work something out. Eyebrows scrunched, eyes narrowed. Barely present in that current moment.

She sniffed. "What did you say to Carol?"

That took him off guard. His expression crumpled into a mixture of embarrassment and internalised frustration. He shrugged, "She said Sophia would be in Heaven. I told her it was stupid to believe in that kind of thing."

Ah. Perhaps not the best thing to say to a grieving mother.

"Was she mad?"

Carl nodded unsurely, "I think so."

"I bet you were told off, huh."

A second nod.

Then, Marley frowned, deep in thought. Carl called Carol stupid for believing in something half the population did. The prospect of Heaven had always been a somewhat real thing in Marley's mind. And she wasn't so sure about God. It was simply . . . better to think loved ones were not just rotting beneath the dirt, but thriving elsewhere. An alternate life.

If Carol wanted to think that, who was Carl to stop her?

Wanting to steer away from his unprovoked behaviour, Marley poked the little Grimes' arm, "You don't believe in Heaven?"

"I don't know." he confessed with another small shrug. His gaze flickered up to her face, squinting through the dull rays of sunlight, "You don't believe in wishes."

An amused scoff of disbelief fell from her lips, "You remember that conversation?"

Carl nodded.

She was impressed, to say the least. Her memory was terrible, and she would have completely forgotten about their encounter back at the church ── before Carl was shot ── if she had not been reminded of it.

"I don't believe in wishes, that's right. It's bad luck."

There was a moment of silence.

When Marley looked down at Carl, she saw he looked very emotionally conflicted. There was sadness pooling in his eyes, yet his countenance was completely stoic, as if structured from bricks. Like he was trying so hard not to be sad. Trying not to let it show.

"I don't believe in wishes anymore, either." he admitted sorrowfully.

Marley's frown deepened. Back at the church, he called her beliefs silly. He blew out the dandelion seeds with a wish carefully assembled in his mind, nonchalant, unaware of the repercussions that would occur as a result of his doings. What made him change his opinion?

"Why not?" she asked.

Carl sniffed, but no tears followed. He remained strong, even as he said, "I wished that we would find Sophia alive. I wanted her to be okay."

Oh, God.

"We did find her." Carl reminded, shaking his head as he recalled the terrible day. "But she wasn't alive. That was the bad luck. I wished Sophia would come back, but when she did, she was already dead."

"Carl ─"

"Sometimes I feel like it was my fault."

Marley shook her head immediately, turning to face him fully. His eyes were welling up with tears that he refused to let fall, cheeks pink as he confessed his supposed sins. It was Marley's fault for telling him something so stupid, back when they thought Sophia would be found alive and well. She induced his mind to thinking these thoughts.

He could barely look her in the eye.

"It's not your fault." Marley assured sternly. "Not remotely. This world . . . that's to fault. Sophia was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It had nothing to do with you, or what you wished."

"Then why did it happen?"

Good question. Nobody knew. Not even Marley ── who people liked to call smart and wise, especially in situations like these. So she shrugged, "Fate, I guess. There was nothing we could do to stop that."

"Fate." Carl reiterated, spitting out the word like it was a bad taste in his mouth.

Marley could only nod.

Fate was a curse. It took and it took and it took, until there was nothing left but a gaping, dark void that swallowed up everything good left in the world. And it was out of their control ── outcomes were already predetermined. The victims already ripped from time.

It all began with Amy. When would it end?

✧.｡. *.

Marley had been avoiding Dale for the entire day. He was going around, asking people to join his side, to value his opinion. He was curious to know what the others' outlooks were of Randall's 'unjustified' death sentence; to go through with it or not. Marley knew Dale would be mad with her choice ── and that's why she bolted the moment she saw him approaching.

Thankfully, her method of running had worked. It was sunset, and the group had gathered in the Greene's sitting room.

No time for an opinion. This was the end.

"So how do we do this?" Glenn spoke up, voice wavering slightly, "Just take a vote?"

The group were in complete silence up until then. It was a tense setting ── which only intensified the longer they sat quietly, unable to speak a word. And with Dale in the room, clearly vexed by the group's antics, things just got worse.

Andrea sighed, "Does it have to be unanimous?"

"How about majority rules?" Lori asked softly.

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, waving his hand around slightly, "Let's just see where everybody stands. Then we can talk through the options."

"Well, where I sit," said Shane, who was leaning against the mantelpiece at the front of the room. "there's only one way to move forward."

"Killing him." Dale snapped angrily. Behind him stood Sage, who was staring at the floor, tracing indents in the floorboards with the tip of her shoe. "Right? I mean, why even bother to take a vote. It's clear which way the wind's blowing."

"Well, if people believe we should spare him, I wanna know." Rick retorted impatiently, gazing around the group.

Dale lifted his arms into a shrug, "I can tell you, it's a small group . . . maybe just me, Sage, and Glenn."

Nobody was surprised with Sage's connection to Dale's pleas for Randall's life to be spared. She would always agree with Dale ── he was a prominent figure in her life. She looked up to him like a father. A grandfather. Someone to confide in. If this was where Dale stood with the fate of their prisoner, then so would Sage, right beside him.

But Glenn. A majority of the group had not been expecting that.

He gazed up at Dale with guilt-ridden eyes. "Look, I ─ I think you're pretty much right about everything, all the time, but this ─ "

"They've got you scared!" Dale insisted heatedly.

"He's not one of us." Glenn pressed, waving his hand around at the rest of the group. "And we've lost too many people already."

Dale swivelled around. He locked eyes with the first person to meet his gaze, which unfortunately happened to be Marley, who was quite content with being silent. He pointed at her desperately, "How about you? Do you agree with this?"

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish, a weak breath falling from her chapped lips. Everyone on the sidelines watched her expectantly, already determined with the assumption that she would agree with Dale, even though she was there the night they brought Randall back to the farm.

But they were wrong.

"He's not a good person. He shot at me, Glenn, Rick, Hershel back in the town," as Marley spoke, her finger jutted between herself and the others previously mentioned. "He wanted us dead. So why should we be so reluctant?"

Dale pressed his lips together, dropping his head in disappointment. Her words took the group by surprise, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Shane and Andrea exchange an incredulous look.

Regardless of that, Marley continued, "We can't keep him prisoner forever. It'll never work."

"Just another mouth to feed." Daryl grumbled in agreement.

"It may be a lean winter." Hershel added, giving Marley a feeble and encouraging nod that made her feel a little better about speaking against Dale's beliefs.

Lori shrugged from the opposite side of the room, suggesting, "We could ration better."

"Well, he could be an asset." Dale continued irritably. "Give him a chance to prove himself."

"Put him to work?" Glenn propounded.

Instantly, Rick shook his head, "We're not letting him walk around."

Maggie walked toward the centre of the room, voicing her thoughts on the chance Randall may live, "We could put an escort on him."

"Who wants to volunteer for that duty?" Shane scoffed.

"I will." Dale remarked.

Rick raised his hand, his patience beginning to wear incredibly thin, "I don't think any of us should be walking around with this guy."

"He's right," Lori said from the doorway. Her nervous gaze met Rick's when he turned to look at her. "I wouldn't feel safe unless he was tied up."

Andrea crossed her arms. Her words were dripping with sarcasm, "We can't exactly put chains around his ankles, sentence him to hard labour."

Beside the fireplace, Shane sighed, "Say we let him join us, right? Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. We let our guard down and maybe he runs off, brings back his thirty men."

For the first time in days, Marley didn't feel the need to smash her head into the wall just because Shane decided to speak. In fact, she agreed with him. The fact Randall had an entire group of dangerous men lurking somewhere in Georgia ── it was frightening. They couldn't trust him enough to let him walk around freely.

"So the answer is to kill him?" Dale asked sceptically. "to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt?" The more he spoke, the more his voice trembled with rage. "If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead. There is no civilisation."

Marley rubbed her forehead. The room went silent, so she decided to speak up with the simple phrase, "I'm pretty sure civilisation was destroyed the moment the dead started walking."

A few murmurs of agreement echoed around the room.

"Could you drive him further out?" Hershel suggested hopefully. "Leave him like you planned?"

Marley, again, had something to say about that. She wasn't sure if people were listening to her, or even considering her opinions at all, but it didn't matter. It felt good to speak up. "I don't think we should continue putting our own people at risk."

Lori quickly nodded her agreement at that. Last time ── only the day previous ── Rick barely made it back. And when he did, he was sporting huge welts and dark bruises. The circumstances of the injuries had been mysterious, because Shane, too, was bruised and bloody.

"If you go through with it," Patricia wondered aloud. "how would you do it? Would he suffer?"

Rick hesitated. The question drew in everyone's attention. They wanted to know, mostly because they still had morals and didn't want Randall's death to be unnecessarily painful ── especially if that pain was purposely inflicting upon the prisoner in his last moments.

Shane shrugged. It was too nonchalant, in Marley's opinion.

"We could hang him, right?" he said. "Just snap his neck."

"I thought about that." Rick replied, somewhat hesitantly. "Shooting may be more humane."

T-Dog raised his hand to his chin, submerging himself in thought. He made eye contact with Shane, "What do we do with the body? Do we bury him?"

"Hold on, hold on!" Dale interjected, shock rendering his features slack. He sliced his hands through the air to put a halt to their suggestive murmurings. "You're talking about this like it's already decided."

"You've been talking all day," Daryl quipped. "going around in circles. You just wanna go around in circles again?"

Dale was absolutely astounded. He looked disgusted ── by the group, by their protests, by their complete inability to see wisely. "This is a young man's life!" he yelled desperately. "It is worth more than a five-minute conversation!"

Guilt. It ebbed and flowed through the group like an enormous surge of water.

"Is this what it's come to?" Dale continued. "We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him?" His flared eyes landed on Rick. "You saved him and now look at us. He's been tortured, he's gonna be executed. How are we any better than those people that we're so afraid of?"

The only person who didn't seem to be stirred by Dale's speech was Shane. Always Shane. He could never see past his own credence ── what he said, what he thought, that was set in stone. Unchangeable. It had been that way ever since they set up camp at the quarry, when Amy was desperate to go into the city to find Andrea, and he told her no. Nothing could change Shane's mind. Not even an emotional speech.

"We all know what needs to be done." he said quietly.

"No. Dale is right." Rick barked back. "We can't leave any stone unturned here. We have a responsibility ──"

"So what's the other solution?" Andrea interrupted. "We haven't come up with a single viable option yet. I wish we could, but ─"

"So let's work on it!" Dale shouted, gripping his bucket hat tight.

"We are." Rick griped.

Carol had been quiet the whole time. The constant bickering was finally getting to to her, so she stepped forward, arms folded together. "Stop it. Just stop it! Im sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please decide ── either of you, both of you ── but leave me out."

Marley would have said the same thing if it hadn't been for her involvement in actually bringing Randall back to the farm.

"Not speaking out or killing him yourself," Dale said, a definite rage simmering beneath the surface of his supposedly calm exterior. "there's no difference."

"All right, that's enough." Rick interjected. He used a swift sweep of his hand to silence Dale. "Anybody that wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance."

Slowly but surely, Maggie and Patricia lowered themselves into seats. T-Dog and Marley shared a similar look ── unsure in their choice. Meanwhile, everyone else stayed quiet.

In all honesty, Marley felt sympathy for Dale. She looked at him, and saw he was gazing around at the group in a hopeful state. Nobody did anything. They didn't even meet his eyes, too guilty. Too ashamed.

Finally, he pointed at Rick. This was his last chance to prove a point.

"You once said that we don't kill the living."

"Well, that was before the living tried to kill us." Rick bounced back.

"But don't you see?" Dale tried to reason breathlessly. "If we does this, the people that we were, the world that we knew is dead. And this new world is ugly. It's . . . harsh. It's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't wanna live in. I don't believe that any of you do. I can't."

There were tears in Dale's eyes now.

"Please," he begged. "Let's just do what's right."

His words were followed up with a long, long silence. It was painful ── rendering the group still as statues. Brimming with smothered words, buried anger.

For a moment, Marley thought Dale was going to walk away. And of course, Sage would trot along in his wake.

They probably would've if Andrea never spoke.

"He's right." she said, nodding. "We should try to find another way."

Shane shook his head. He twisted his face into a look of sheer betrayal, but nobody payed him any mind. Not even Andrea ── which was surprising enough to Marley that she couldn't tear her gaze away from the two for a while.

"Anybody else?" Rick asked.

A small turn around the room.

Nobody.

It was too late to speak up now.

"Are y'all gonna watch too?" Dale questioned mockingly. A tear fell from his eye, and he swallowed thickly. "No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it."

As Dale began to walk out of the room, Sage stayed behind and stood her ground.

She shook her head. Narrowed her eyes. Glared. Mostly at Marley, but also the rest of the group.

Then, Sage brushed past everyone ── hell, even Dale who was standing in the doorway with his hand on Daryl's shoulder ── and stormed away, her emerald eyes blazing with fury.

Dale watched her leave. He looked back to Daryl and squeezed his shoulder tight.

"This group is broken."

✧.｡. *.

The night was dark and cold ── gloomy, which perfectly matched the somber moods of each and every one of the members of the group gathered around the spitting campfire.

Randall's execution was occurring in the barn only a few metres away from their camp. A death sentence.

But this was exactly what they wanted. And now that it was actually happening, very few of them wished they had agreed with Dale in the first place. That way, the guilt wouldn't be so strong.

Whatever.

Randall deserved to die for what he did. What he stood for. The new world order demanded it.

By the campfire, Marley was using T-Dog's knife to sharpen a round piece of wood; an old chunk of fencing she found discarded nearby. The tip was deadly ── sleek and pointed ── and maintaining a stern grip on the hilt was fairly easy, meaning jabbing it into a walker's eye would come with ease.

Not as good as her machete, but definitely good enough for a second weapon.

She lifted her head at the sound of footsteps padding across the grass. Two silhouettes breezed through the darkness encasing them, and it became apparent rather quickly who these people were.

Rick and Carl.

Everybody stood up. Watched him expectantly. Waited to hear the ugly truth . . . if it ever came.

"We're keeping him in custody for now," Rick informed solemnly, bowing his head low.

Apparently no ugly truth for today.

Andrea immediately leapt to her feet, smiling despite the gruelling nature of their complicated situation. "I'm gonna go find Dale."

From the corner of her eye, Marley watched Andrea pad quickly through the overgrown fields. They still hadn't apologised to each other for their argument ── the one involving Beth's suicidal state of mind and her reasoning to live. Opinions, that was what caused it. And God . . . Marley was so tired of having to protest against other people. The past few days had been full of it.

She sunk into a deckchair by the fire, lifting her hands to the crackling flames. Warmth tickled her splayed palms, but inside she felt unreasonably cold.

A heavy burden was resting upon her shoulders. Carl's guilt, Sage's anger, Randall's soon-to-be death sentence. It was all getting too much.

All she wanted to do was scream. So loud that her lungs burst.

And then someone actually did.

Marley snapped her head to the side. Sage was crawling out from the tent, looking dazed and confused at the sudden chaos occurring outside. She saw the shadows moving swiftly past the nylon of the tent, the consistent thumping of feet slamming against the ground. She didn't need to hear to know something was wrong.

Marley gestured for her to go back inside. But Sage scowled and grabbed the nearest weapon she could find ── which happened to be a rusty fire-poker ── and hastily ran after Rick and Glenn.

"Wait!"

Grumbling, Marley snatched the wooden stick she had been sharpening only moments prior from the ground, and followed after her sister and the other panicked residents of camp.

As she thrashed through the fields, the screaming warped into agonised yelps of pain.

Marley reached the crest of the hilltop. She was a fast runner ── she did track at school for years ── and rushed past Andrea and Hershel. Daryl was a metre or so ahead of her, crossbow dangling from his side.

And on the ground was . . . was Dale.

A walker was hovering over him, claws ripping into his stomach, tearing layers of skin apart, teeth gnashing toward his face. Blood poured. Oh God, it poured.

Marley's heart leapt wildly. Her throat felt like it was ever so slowly closing up as she tried to keep the tears at bay; it felt like she was choking, gagging on thin air.

Maybe they could save him, you know? There was always a chance.

She continued running toward Dale ── insistent in her efforts to reach him.

Daryl got there first. He grabbed the blood-covered walker off of Dale and threw it to the ground viciously. There, he plunged a dagger into the base of its skull where it flopped to the ground. Forgotten. An entity lost to time long ago.

Now, Dale.

Marley sunk to the ground beside him.

Already, her jeans were soaked in his blood, but she didn't care. He was writhing in pain and he needed someone by his side to assure him everything was going to be fine.

Because it was. Right?

"Hey," she soothed shakily. Her eyes flickered down to the gaping wound in his stomach, and she faltered momentarily. Blood drained from her face. "Just ── just listen to my voice. We're gonna get you help."

Dale could only groan in agony. His eyes were wide, gazing around the darkened abyss fearfully. He couldn't even speak.

Rick dropped down beside Marley. This was the first time something had been so impossibly out of his control ── so unavoidable. A man's life was on the edge. Perhaps already slipping.

"He needs blood!" the Grimes man demanded. "Get Hershel!"

Everyone was there now.

Sage.

Once she saw the young girl skid to a stop, Marley looked up at her sister through bleary eyes.

Oh, how she wished she hadn't.

The look on Sage's face as she stared down at Dale's fading soul would never leave her mind, ever.

It was horror-filled. Pale. Her eyes were wide, her body drawn up stiffer than a wooden board, mouth gaping cavernously out of shock. The world was suffocating her right before Marley's eyes and there was nothing she could to stop it. She couldn't save Dale. She couldn't . . . she couldn't save him.

The one person keeping Sage sane in a broken world was dying right beneath her fingertips.

She couldn't save him.

Rick's pleading voice perforated her thoughts, "Can we move him?"

"He won't make the trip." Hershel confessed sadly.

"Then we do the operation here. Glenn, go back to the house ──"

"Rick!" Hershel interrupted.

He placed a steady hand on Rick's shoulder. Shook his head. That was all it took ── just one simple gesture of confirmation that Dale was a lost cause.

The whole group shattered.

Andrea sobbed. She was the loudest.

Marley pressed a hand to her mouth, shoulders trembling as the tears began to fall. And they fell hard. A river gushed from her eyes ceaselessly, and she tried to wipe them away with her hands ── sticky with Dale's blood ── but it was no use. Grief had her in a chokehold now. An unrelenting one she was unable to escape.

Sage, on the other hand, was frozen. She was as pale as the moon ── as still as the icicles that dripped during the Winter season, destined to fall and shatter at any moment. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Her body . . . it was trying too hard to deal with the emotion and shock of the situation that she just froze.

The watch around her wrist felt much heavier.

"He's suffering." Andrea said through choked sobs. "Do something!"

Marley scrambled up from the ground. Her limbs trembled, freckled cheeks swollen from the onslaught of tears. She found Glenn quickly, and she mindlessly ran into his arms, desperate to seek comfort in her moment of despair. He wrapped his arms around her without a second of doubt and pulled her into his chest ── because when he saw the gun, he knew this wasn't something she needed to see.

Lori had already tugged Sage into an embrace.

Soon enough, Daryl pointed the gun at Dale's skull. The elder man accepted his fate, pushing his forehead into the muzzle of the Python. A slow nod was decipherable.

Executioner.

A single gunshot rang through the night sky.

It marked the end of Dale Horvath's life. And the beginning of Sage Whitman's downward spiral.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

i am in pain.

this was the one chapter i was
not looking forward to writing.
poor dale deserved better <3