CHAPTER FIVE, 005
❝ PANCAKES ! ❞

HERSHEL was a stickler for the good ol' times. A home cooked meal over fast food, even when there was little to no time to make one. A farm with enough animals that he and his family would always be busy. And some good old fashioned pancakes with his families special honey syrup recipe drizzled on top.

"Beth, sweetheart?" Hershel spoke as he stepped into the kitchen, apron swung over his arm that swished with each step. "Could you make the children some pancakes?"

Hershel would never — for as long as he could provide — let a child go hungry when there was food that could be given to them. Despite the rationing he was doing, and making sure that he had enough food to last them the upcoming cold months, he would always choose to feed the children.

Beth nodded, a large smile on her lips. "Of course, daddy."

Beth got to gathering what she needed, focusing on the task that she had been given. Stepping away from the pantry cupboard after she had pilled ingredients into her arms, her back was met with a small force and she almost dropped everything.

"I'm so sorry." Luke spoke quickly, making sure that Beth was steady on her own two feet before he stepped away. He was just curios, looking over her shoulder to see what she had been doing. "Are you okay, Beth?"

Beth blushed, crimson creeping down her neck and covering her cheeks. "Yeah, of course, Luke."

Luke smiled and stepped away, allowing for Beth to dump the contents in her arms onto the counter. He stayed in the kitchen, despite feeling like a weirdo for following the girl he had a tiny crush on.

"Do you need help?" Luke questioned as he moved the door so he could see behind it, grabbing an extra apron and tying it around his waist after slipping it over his head. "I'm a great cook."

"I think pancakes could consist of a more baking stereotype as they are similar — " Beth stopped, closing her eyes and calming her heartbeat that thumped in her chest. "Please, Lu, that would be great."

Luke's face lit up with a wide grin as he moved closer, eager to assist. Together, they worked in a small harmony, mixing the batter and sharing occasional glances and laughs. The kitchen was filled with the comforting smell of pancakes cooking on the griddle and the warm sound of their friendly banter.

As the first batch of pancakes sizzled, Hershel watched from the doorway, a proud and amused smile playing on his lips. He appreciated Luke's efforts to help and his gentle manner with Beth. It reminded Hershel of his own younger days, when he was just a boy helping on the farm and visiting the neighbours daughter when they needed help with the horses.

Beth handed Luke a spoon, their fingers brushing briefly, causing her to blush again. "Here, you can stir the batter," she said softly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Thanks," Luke replied, taking the spoon. "You know, you're really good at this."

Beth giggled, "Well, I've had a lot of practice. Daddy's pretty particular about how his pancakes are made."

Luke nodded, "I can see why. They smell amazing."

As they continued cooking, the children, Malie, Tilly and Carl, began to trickle into the kitchen, their eyes wide with anticipation. Beth and Luke served up the pancakes, drizzling the special honey syrup over each plate. The children dug in eagerly, their faces lighting up with joy.

Hershel joined them at the table, his heart full as he watched his daughter and Luke bond over the simple pleasure of a shared meal they created. He smiled even brighter when the children dug into their meals, no care for the outside world where the dead roamed.

Silas and Maggie came wondering in, sharing a smile as the two talked about the sunrise they had both watched in the early morning. Today, just like most of the other days, Maggie and Silas were up before everyone else, tending to the farm and making sure the fences were secured.

They'd walk the perimeter, and before everyone was awake, they'd make sure that the dead they found were moved into the barn. Silas, who didn't necessarily love the idea of putting the dead in the barn, he knew it was for everyone's protection and because Hershel believed in a future cure.

He wouldn't take that away from the old man, knowing that he wouldn't want anyone to take away his own beliefs. Silas knew that as long as his children and the visitors on the farm were being safe and not poking around where they weren't supposed too, then there wouldn't be a problem.

"Silas ..." Glenn whispered as he stepped towards the man, tugging on his sleeve to move him out of the kitchen. Glenn, not missing the way that Maggie was glaring daggers at him and clutching her fists so tight, tried to move the man out of the kitchen quickly. "Can we talk, man?"

Silas stepped out of the kitchen and moved through the house, Glenn right behind him, until they reached the room where Carl had been recovering in. "What's wrong, Glenn?"

"I think Shane killed Otis." The Korean young man blurted, eyes going wide and his hand going over his mouth as if he could take everything he had said back.

Silas, blinking slowly, nodded and shut the door behind him. "Glenn, you have to be a hundred precent certain of what you think, okay?" 

Glenn rushed out a nod and started to force out the evidence that he knew. Which was mostly just theory but some of it was adding up with what Silas knew and had an idea of. "Man, I know you two are related but something is wrong. He's distant, it looks like there's a spot of hair that had been pulled out and he covered it up by shaving his head. He - he wont even look at his refection anymore, he avoids himself -- and you!"

Silas, who was starting to piece things together, turned on his heals and left Glenn all alone, on a mission to find his brother. 

SILAS stood in the field, away from the farm house. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his chest that something was off about his brothers story. Otis's death had been a blow to them all, but there was something about the way Shane had talked about it that didn't sit right with him. And with Glenn's concerns, something was wrong. 

"Shane," Silas called out, his voice steady but laced with a hidden suspicion that Shane didn't pick up. "What exactly happened to Otis?"

Shane looked up from where he was checking his gear, his expression controlled. "I told you, Silas. Otis got overwhelmed by walkers. There was nothing I could do."

Silas narrowed his eyes, the doubt gnawing at him, but something clicking in his head. "That's not what you said before. You told me he got separated from you while you were making a run for it."

Shane's face tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his eyes. "I was in shock, Silas. It all happened so fast. Maybe I misspoke, I'm sorry."

But Silas knew his brother too well. He had seen the same look in Shane's eyes when he lied about sneaking out at night when they were kids. A spark of anger ignited in Silas's chest as he moved closer to him. "You're lying, brother."

Shane's jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don't know what you're talking about."

A warning, maybe a threat. 

Silas's hands curled into fists at his sides. "I know enough. You're hiding something, and you made a bed you can't sleep in anymore."

Shane's eyes flashed with anger, and before Silas could react, he was shoved back against a nearby tree. "You think you can judge me? You have no idea what it takes to survive out there."

Silas shoved Shane away, his own fury boiling over. "Survive? Or justify your actions? Otis was a good man, and you took that away from us, from his family!"

"You did it, didn't you? You left him to die." They squared off, the tension between them palpable. Silas could see the conflict in Shane's eyes, a battle between regret and justification. But Silas realized something in his brothers facial expression. "You didn't leave him to die, you killed him."

Shane's face hardened, and for a moment, Silas thought he might deny it again. But then, Shane's shoulders slumped, and he looked away. "He was slowing us down. We wouldn't have made it out if I hadn't ... made a choice."

The admission hung heavy in the air, and Silas's heart sank. "A choice? You mean you decided his life wasn't worth saving, even if you had to get everything back to Carl."

Shane met his gaze, his eyes haunted. "I did what I thought was right. In this world, there are no good guys, Silas. We do what we have to do."

Silas's anger was still there, and now he knew who his brother really was. "Maybe so. But that doesn't mean we have to lose our humanity."

And as he shoved his brother away from him, all he could really think about was when he was younger and hit Shane in the face with a pancake because he lied to him.