HEART OF GLASS
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN !

[ season three, episode six ]

Theo was unsure about this. Very unsure.

Almost as soon as they had left Woodbury, a pack of wolves ─ which is what Theo liked to call the Governor's pride-ravenous men ─ had been tracking them down. Hunting them. And Michonne's absolutely marvellous, brilliant, super-sane idea in retaliation? Don't become the prey; hunt them back. Become the predator.

She was either losing her mind, or feeling extremely vengeful.

As the morning dawned bright and early, both Theo and Michonne crouched in the foliage of a patch of overgrown shrubbery, which was strategically shadowed by the looming trees above. The blade of Michonne's katana twinkled in the sun's gleam, still caked in the crimson blood of the walkers they killed last night. Theo had his bow locked and loaded, propped against his armpit.

Merle and his men were coming ─ it really wasn't difficult to miss their arrival.

Four of them barrelled into the clearing ahead, loud and overbearing, arguing amongst one another. Words mingled together, but their agitation was crystal clear: Michonne had slipped from their grasp once again, and Theo was nowhere to be seen. As a result, the soldiers were forced to continue searching the woods ─ swimming through the humid mugginess beaming down from the early morning sun ─ simply because they couldn't return to Woodbury empty-handed. Couldn't disappoint their Governor. And they looked angry. They looked tired. They looked miserable.

Good.

That made winning a whole lot easier.

Theo shifted his weight onto his left foot, readjusting his grip around his bow. A twig snapped in half beneath his shoe. He winced. The crack the broken stick emitted was loud enough to draw the wolves' attention, and they whirled around in unison, pointing their weapons at the foliage. Theo pressed his back to the closest tree, and Michonne followed suit. They were disguised, for now.

"What's the deal, y'all?" Merle taunted. There was a slight waver of fear in his voice, but he disguised it well. Very well. "Hmm? You gonna leap out the woods, two against four, all of us armed to the teeth against Michonne with a little pig-sticker and a kid? Nah."

Theo turned to Michonne, frowning ─ Merle was seriously underestimating him, and they knew it. Just because he was a kid didn't mean he was incapable of defending himself. He would prove if it he had to. When he had to. Michonne, however, pressed a finger to her lips, urging her accomplice to remain silent.

"No, no, no." Merle continued, in that agitating, grating voice. "Not today. No more hiding ─"

It happened instantly.

Theo hadn't even seen her move. Reduced to a blur amongst nature, Michonne raced through the foliage.

Her first victim was the guy in the white t-shirt, wearing a bandana that wrapped around his forehead. Michonne sliced her katana through the air, and suddenly this guy's head was rolling across the forest floor, completely severed from his body. The blue bandana warped into a sickly shade of crimson.

He was dead before he hit the floor . . . both parts of him.

You know, Theo would have been more than happy to remain hidden amongst the bushes and brambles while Merle and his goons wandered aimlessly through the forest, but Michonne had other ideas.

As usual.

He couldn't leave her hanging. Theo peered around the tree, nocking an arrow into his bow. An Asian man amongst Merle's search-party was aiming his gun at Michonne's head, lip drawn between his teeth in concentration as he attempted to get the best possible angle, finger itching closer to the trigger. Without hesitation, Theo drew back the bow-string and released. He watched with satisfaction as his arrow soared through the air and pierced the man's thigh. He stumbled to the ground, roaring in agony. Michonne silenced him.

Then, she ran into the wood ─ unpredictable as always. Theo was swift to follow.

Still trying to succeed in his mission, Merle's last-resort bullets ricocheted into the dawn. Every shot missed, and the trees became victims to the man's anger instead, bark splintering and bursting into the air, warping into deadly plumes of sharpened timber. Theo attempted to shield his face as a bullet ploughed into the tree on his left, but to no avail. A small splinter of wood managed to nick the skin on his cheek. He hissed between his teeth and pressed his hand against the small, stinging wound. He brought his fingertips away speckled with his blood. Nothing substantial. At least it wasn't his eye.

However, he wasn't the only one injured.

Theo glanced at Michonne as they simultaneously dodged Merle's bullets, only to see she hadn't been as successful as he had. She was limping, hand pressed against the top of her thigh.

The crater of frayed denim in her jeans became apparent. Then, Theo saw the line of blood trickling from it, sticking to her fingers.

Michonne had been shot.

✧.｡. *.

Marley was folding clothes in her and Sage's shared cell when Glenn came to see her.

He drew back the curtain, a smile pressed to his lips ─ more forced than natural ─ as he shuffled inside. Marley mirrored the gesture ─ more forced than natural, too. She placed the newly-folded shirt on top of the pile of organised clothes and began folding the next one: a pair of jeans Sage had owned since the very beginning. Since the day of the Outbreak. Every inch of the denim was covered in splatters of dried blood and speckles of dirt that Carol hadn't been able to remove, no matter how hard she scrubbed, but Sage refused to part with them. Their mother bought Sage the jeans on her eleventh birthday, as a gift ─ that had to have had something to do with it. And Marley understood.

Glenn began helping Marley to fold the clothes. She had volunteered to fold everybody else's, too. It was a distraction method, so she wouldn't have to continue pacing that goddamned cell-block, rolling in the memories of a place without T-Dog, Carol and Lori. She couldn't do it. She couldn't sit on those steps all day, looking around the barren interior, knowing she would never see their faces again.

In her cell, Marley was shut away from it all. She had discovered that was as much a problem as it was a relief ─ people were worrying about her.

Glenn was.

"How are you holding up?" he asked at last, shattering the silence.

Marley shrugged, "Fine."

He eyed her carefully, seemingly unconvinced by that answer. Disappointed. Maybe he thought she'd open up to him. Maybe he hoped she would confide in him. But Marley pretended she couldn't see Glenn's eyes trained on her at all and continued folding the clothes. She felt a little bad, but she really didn't feel like talking about it. She didn't have the energy to get into a long-winded conversation.

"You know. . ." Glenn hesitated, trailing off. He absentmindedly smoothed a crease in one of Maggie's shirts. "you know that you can talk to me about anything. Right?"

"Mhm. I know." Marley said, nodding again. She still didn't look at him, afraid her eyes would be the window to her soul and betray her nonchalant façade. "I'd come to you before anyone else."

Glenn raised a brow, "You would?"

"Yeah. Always."

She thought that would diffuse his concerns. But it didn't. If anything, Glenn looked more confused, and he tediously picked his way through the pile of unfolded laundry, deep in thought. The silence stretched between them like a rubber band, and Marley flinched to avoid the inevitable drawback.

Eventually, Glenn sighed, "I feel like you've been quiet lately. And, I mean, I can totally understand why. I'm just . . . worried. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Glenn. With all this stressing, I'm afraid you're gonna go grey before you hit thirty."

"I'm serious, Marley."

She pressed her lips together and looked at his face ─ it was drawn tight with worry. Every faint wrinkled etched against his complexion was prominent. Not only that, but his cheeks were a little hollower than usual, and his skin was pale. He looked frail. Tired. That wasn't like Glenn; he was like a ball of light keeping the group together, a warmth they felt drawn to. Maybe he had been worrying a lot about everyone. Maybe the grief had hit him harder than Marley thought.

She shook her head, gaze pinned to the wall. Her throat tightened, "I just miss them."

A shockwave rippled through Glenn's body. He hadn't foreseen that, a fundamental steppingstone in her prolonged recovery from grief ─ opening up about it. He managed to nod. "Yeah. Me too."

"They didn't deserve to die."

Another nod, "I know."

Unable to hold back, Marley dropped the shirt she was midway through folding and wrapped her arms around Glenn's stomach, falling into a long-awaited embrace. He held her close, like he was afraid she would slip away if he didn't.

She wouldn't. He was her anchor.

Emotional touch was like sticking a bandaid over a fresh wound, Marley had come to realise. Stifling the pain. Stopping the bleeding. Acting as a barrier between infection and cleanliness. Without that bandaid, her wound would continue to fester. It would never heal. It would get worse. So, she needed that affection from other people. No matter how childish it made her feel sometimes, she truly needed some semblance of support from another person, whether that be a hug or a shoulder-pat. . . it didn't matter.

Her fractured heart would never begin to mend unless she received the necessary treatment first.

She pulled away from Glenn's embrace and wiped her tearful eyes. His face looked blurry, but she could see he was smiling in that mellow, tender way he always did, and her heart didn't feel quite as heavy anymore.

If she had ever been blessed with a brother, Marley imagined he would have been something like Glenn.

"I'm going on a run with Maggie today," he said. He understood the importance of moving on from something so profound ─ it was to be taken in small doses. "Do you want me to bring you anything back?"

Marley shook her head, mind already made up. "I want to come."

"Marley─"

"It's just to town," she defended quickly, shrugging. "I want to get some fresh air. I've been cooped up in this prison for days."

He still looked unsure.

"Please."

"I'll have to talk to Rick," Glenn said, but the grim expression he tried to mask with a placid smile told Marley he didn't want to do that at all. And she couldn't blame him ─ Rick had been unpredictable lately. Rash.

He was down in the tombs a few days ago, in a state of disarray following his wife's death, and had scarcely recognised Glenn through the cloud of darkness permeating his vision. He was slipping in and out of insanity, and had been very close to slicing an axe across Glenn's neck in his brief moment of utmost confusion. That was too narrow a call. That was unlike Rick. Unlike anybody, really.

He wasn't in a fit state to be making any decisions.

Marley grimaced, slightly agitated by Glenn's unwillingness for her to be independent, "I don't need permission from Rick to do everything. He's not my Dad."

"He makes the decisions. He has to, to keep this group together."

"Well, at the minute he isn't. He's endangering us more than helping."

"Marley," Glenn warned, arching a brow. "He just lost . . ." Abruptly, he paused, rolling his lips together. He seemed to realise that saying Lori's name aloud might provoke Marley's traumatic memory reel. So, Glenn reshuffled his words into something more appropriate, "He's having a hard time adjusting. He just needs some time. I'll talk to Maggie about it instead. I'm sure you'll be able to come."

She gave him a tight lipped smile in return. "Okay. Thanks."

"Alright."

Glenn turned to leave, but hesitated beside the hanging blanket covering the cell-door. His fingers itched toward the moth-eaten fabric, but he didn't draw it back. Marley frowned. Was he going to say something? Possibly reprimand her for being so unsympathetic about Rick's current situation?

She probably shouldn't have been. Rick was going through a lot; his mind was in a dark place. He couldn't tell right from wrong. The line between insanity and sanity was thin, and he was crossing it every single day. But that didn't make him a bad person, because Rick Grimes was the complete opposite ─ he was the kind of person who'd take a bullet for you. During the winter, he kept the entire group afloat, even when they were well and truly struggling to stay on their feet. He kept them alive. Marley couldn't repay him with disrespect and insensitive remarks made behind his back. Maybe Glenn was thinking that, too. Maybe he was going to ask if she knew her faults.

But Glenn didn't stay to say anything else. He pulled the curtain back and disappeared into the cell block, his steps echoing through the cold, barren hall.

Marley wasn't a bad person. She wasn't.

Sometimes, she just said bad things. Illogical things. Words that slipped from her tongue before they had the chance to work through the YES or NO segment in her brain. This was one of those instances.

She made a mental promise to be more sympathetic with people in the future. Especially Rick.

That is what Glenn would do. She wanted to be like Glenn.

She hoped he didn't hate her.

✧.｡. *.

An abandoned outlet mall on the side of the road was Theo and Michonne's primal destination.

They were halfway through the wood, fast approaching the treeline. The trees had long since fleshed out, dotted around more sporadically so close to the edge, and it made seeing their surroundings a much easier feat. Theo was constantly throwing looks over his shoulder for Merle. Or walkers. Or something else that wanted to kill them.

They would have made it to the outlet by now if it weren't for Michonne's injury ─ which could have been entirely avoidable, had they been more smart in their approach to Merle.

She pressed the heel of hand against the bullet wound embedded into her thigh, stifling the flow of blood that was constantly pumping from it, pulsing in accordance with her heartbeat. Theo had his arm tucked beneath Michonne's elbow, keeping her steady ─ trying to help in any way he could. But he knew she was in pain.

In their hour hike, the duo had taken at least twenty breaks, and the day was finally catching up to them. Afternoon was well underway, meaning it wouldn't be long before the darkness of night swallowed the world whole. The sky was still entirely blue, but the stifling heat had been leeched from the air, and there was a darker hue to the surrounding area, like the calm before the storm. And in this case, the storm was the encroaching night; a dangerous time for prey.

Theo only prayed Merle didn't find them. Not until morning, at least.

"Give me a second," Michonne mumbled, wincing. She came to another stop, half-bent at the knees, clutching her bloodied thigh with both hands. "I need to catch my breath."

Theo rolled his eyes, "We're literally two seconds away. Come on."

"I need to catch my breath," Michonne repeated, her voice stern and bordering agitation. Again, she winced as another thrum of pain pounded in her bullet-wound.

"You need to stop being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

He tipped his head to the side, "You heard me. Stop being a wuss ─ it's barely another thirty steps."

Michonne narrowed her eyes at him.

"Come on."

With a displeased sigh, Michonne stepped forward. Theo slung his arm around her shoulders once more, and with a proud smirk, he helped her limp on. There was an air of tension between them that diminished the moment they stepped foot over the treeline.

A red truck was approaching.

Immediately, the pair ran ─ not very fast, obviously down to Michonne's injury ─ to the farthest building amongst the line of stores. They pressed their backs to the brick wall and peered simultaneously around the edge, scrutinising the new arrival. Was it Merle? Was it more Woodbury soldiers coming for them?

Just to be sure, Theo nocked an arrow into his compound bow, allowing it to sit in the rest until there was a real purpose to draw it back. Beside him, Michonne unsheathed her katana. Great minds think alike.

The truck rolled to a stop.

There was a fleeting moment of forebodness. The rusty breaks screeched, the rumbling engine faded into nothing, and the doors cracked open ─ three in total.

Anticipating the worst, Theo held his breath as he watched the passengers hop out onto the asphalt, murmuring incoherently between themselves. Theo had half expected to see the Governor himself materialise, flanked by his men as they scoured the charred remains of earth for the duo who abandoned their precious, cult-y town. But there was no sign of the Governor.

These people were strangers.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

shorter chapter because the
last few have been quite long!