⊱ 14 ~ ❝ people talk too much ❞ ⊰
〖season two, episode seven〗

Heat radiated off the small fire in front of Clementine. The warmth of it on her face caused goosebumps to rise on the back of her arms at the contrasting morning chill that breezed behind her. She wished she had put on her jacket that morning but when she heard people walking around and talking she immediately exited to find out what she was missing out on.

Crouched down in front of the fire on either side of her were T-Dog and Carol ⎯⎯ Carol scrambling eggs on the makeshift stovetop, and T, contentedly sipping from a dark blue mug with his eyes shut.

T let out a calm sigh as he lowered the cup, and stared at the pan of scrambled eggs for a few seconds. Clementine couldn't stop her curiosity as he held the cup low enough for her to see into it, and she sat up straight. What on earth was this magical drink in his mug that was making him look so peaceful?

He hadn't noticed her leaning closer to get a look until he saw her cringe away out of the corner of his eyes. "Ew . . . what is that?" She frowned at the caliginous liquid inside.

"Coffee." He grinned slightly, holding it lower so she could see. "Don't like coffee?"

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully . . . her parents drank coffee all the time, but for whatever reason, what was in the mug looked much more unsettling. "It looks like the alien glob in Spider-Man."

T leaned his head back as he chuckled at her, still holding it low where she could see it ⎯⎯ she had yet to pull her eyes away from the mug despite declaring it was an alien, and looking at it as though it could kill her.

"I've never had it. Is it good?" He shrugged, a part of him knowing she wouldn't like it, but not wanting to say it was good or bad. If he claimed it to be good and she detested it, he would definitely get a lecture about lying to her. But if he said it was bad, then she may not have bothered to try at all. He lifted it to his lips to take a sip instead of giving a verbal response. No sight of disgust overtook his face like she was fully prepared to see. He looked fine. If he could drink it and be fine, surely she would enjoy it. "Can I try it?"

"Sure, be careful, though. It's still hot."

Her eyebrows scrunched tightly together and the tip of her tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated on grabbing the mug from him without spilling it. If it was as hot as she imagined it to be, she did not want it pouring all over her ⎯⎯ but she was also fairly certain T-Dog would not give her a piping hot drink.

Compared to the concerningly dark liquid, the smell surprisingly wasn't all that bad in her opinion. Much more preferred over the smell of rotting corpses . . . which she thankfully hadn't been subject to experiencing again since the tent in the forest.

Clementine moved with the utmost precautious pace as she lifted it to her lips and she slowly tilted it back, taking the smallest sip possible. The exact moment it hit her tongue she shrunk away from the rim. The heat of it wasn't unbearable, but as T had said, it was hot, and it did tinge the tip of her tongue immediately. "Oh, hot ⎯⎯" She exclaimed quietly, her eyes immediately widening when the flavor settled over her tastebuds. "Ew! Tastes worse than an alien."

T-Dog gently took the mug from her hands, laughing through his pressed-shut lips. "Sorry, froggy." He apologized but a smile stayed in place, giving away that he wasn't all that apologetic for offering the drink to her when he expected the reaction from the jump. "You don't need the caffeine anyway."

She snatched a washcloth sitting on top of an overturned bucket beside Carol. With her tongue out she aggressively wiped the washcloth on her tongue over and over ⎯⎯ trying desperately to get the bitter taste off as fast as possible.

A hand grabbed hold of her wrist, stopping her movements. "Calm down," T-Dog smiled, gently taking the washcloth from her. "Once you eat some eggs the taste will go away." T insisted, bunching the washcloth up in a ball, and setting it on the ground next to him.

"That was not good." She grumbled, looking upset by the experience.

On the other side of her, Carol had witnessed the whole thing ⎯⎯ smiling silently at the girl's quite dramatic reaction. She had already started scooping up scrambled eggs with the spatula, dumping them onto everyone's offered plates.

Clementine quickly noticed she had forgotten to grab a plate from the table where Lori set out all the clean dishes for people to use. "Oh!" She gasped quietly with realization, scrambling up onto her feet.

"Woah, be careful, kid." T rushed out, throwing his arm out in front of her when she stumbled, seconds away from falling forward onto the metal rack being used as a stovetop. Even when he had made it clear he was talking to her when he grabbed her arm to stabilize her ⎯⎯ it flew right over her head and she immediately took off toward the table to get her plate.

She rushed up behind Daryl where he stood in front of the table. Impatiently, she waited for him to move, rocking forward and backward on her tiptoes and heels ⎯⎯ unbeknownst to him.

He was completely oblivious to her being there, taking his time in grabbing a plate and fork knowing others were definitely surrounding the fire pit and he could wait till they were done.

Clementine glanced back over her shoulder at Carol, making sure there were still some scrambled eggs left for her when Daryl took a step back. Unaware of her standing less than a foot behind him, let alone behind him at all ⎯⎯ the heel of one of his old boots landed right on the toe of her sneaker.

"Ouch!" She squealed loudly, yanking her leg away hard to get her foot out from beneath his weight before he could lean back any further.

Looking more shocked than her, Daryl spun around with his arms partially raised. A fork in one hand and a plate in the other. "What the ⎯⎯" His eyes fell upon her and his gaze hardened immediately. "Hell you doin' standing' so close to me, girl?"

"I wasn't . . ." She stuttered through her words, glancing down at her shoe that now had a muddy footprint all across the top. "I was just waiting in line." She quietly said, nudging her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose.

The crossbowman furrowed his brows at her, shaking his head lightly. "It ain't lunchtime at school." He tsked annoyedly, waving his hand in emphasis as he spoke. "There's no lines, you just grab a damn plate." Daryl turned on his heels and set off to get some eggs, leaving the girl where she was.

That had to have been the first semi-normal conversation she ever had with Daryl ⎯⎯ or heard come from Daryl in general. If she hadn't been so put off by how quickly he spun around to see the cause of the yelp . . . she would've had more to say. She couldn't stop herself from squinting in a flinch at how fast he turned on her, looking ready to attack her before he processed who exactly he would be attacking ⎯⎯ an unarmed girl that was half his size.

A hand reached out over the top of her head and swiped up the last plate on the table, diverting her attention away from what had just happened and back to why she was over there in the first place. "Hey ⎯⎯" She quickly said, about to scold whoever for taking it right before she could grab it.

Her neck craned backward as she looked straight up. Rick's face quickly came into focus ⎯⎯ upside down from how she was looking at him.

"Oh, hi." She pressed her lips together embarrassed that she was just moments away from yelling at him.

With a smile, Rick stepped around her to stand face to face instead, handing her the plate and then a fork off the table. "You okay?" He asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

She nodded, the corners of her lips turning up happily that he cared to ask. Daryl hadn't actually put all of his weight on her foot before she had the chance to pull it back and nothing he said was all that wrong, so she really was fine. Besides the fact he had yet to refer to her by name or anything else but, girl.

"Good, don't mind him. He's just a little cranky, isn't he?" He asked, lowering his voice as quietly as he could with her still able to hear ⎯⎯ avoiding Daryl overhearing the hushed suggestion concerning the man's attitude.

Clem's bottom lip curled in as she bit down on it, trying to contain her giggles from being any louder than they were. It was top secret, and Rick saying it to her was enough to fill her with bliss.

Just as quietly as before, he laughed with her setting his hand on her shoulder. "Go on . . . get some breakfast."

She obliged without a second thought, ready to eat five minutes ago and feeling more eager than ever to get some food. A huff blew from her lips as she plopped back down on the grass with her legs crisscrossed and the plate sat in her lap.

Carl was in the middle of having scrambled eggs dished onto his plate when she sat down, so she stayed quiet, waiting her turn again ⎯⎯ impatiently swaying side to side until Carol finally turned to her.

"Come on, stay still Clementine," Carol told the girl when she didn't stop teetering back and forth.

"Sorry, sorry." She rushed out, tensing up as she forced herself to remain completely still. How hungry she felt just made her want to jump around with joy knowing she would get something to eat that she knew for a fact she liked.

Scrambled eggs were served to her and everyone else. T-Dog, Andrea and Carol were the only ones not eating with Carol cooking some more, Andrea was preoccupied sharpening a knife and T-Dog was happy with just his coffee. A fact Clementine still could not understand but was far too happy with her food to care anymore.

"Um, guys," Glenn called out ⎯⎯ apparently he wasn't eating either, and as Clementine looked around, she realized Dale also wasn't. For some reason, he was only looking at Glenn.

She shoveled the scrambled eggs into her mouth, too hungry to care about anything all that much, but couldn't stop staring at Glenn. He looked like he was moments away from upchucking any and all remnants of last night's small campfire dinner . . . all over the grass.

"So . . . the barn is full of walkers."

Clem stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop when what he had to say did nothing to concern her. At least not until she glanced around to see all the shocked looks on everyone else's faces. The information clearly was news to all of them ⎯⎯ meanwhile she couldn't have been more calm about the declaration.

A flush heated up her face. "You guys didn't know that?" She asked, quickly finding out the news being broken to the rest of that was in fact, news. But, she had known for multiple days at that point . . . not saying a word about it to a single soul.

Everyone's head swiveled to look at her then, a mixture of shock and confusion cast across all of their faces. She slouched, uncomfortable when not a single soul in her radius wasn't looking at her with thunderstruck expressions.

Averting her stare down, pretending she didn't know they were all questioning her sanity for not telling them sooner ⎯⎯ she stabbed her fork into some more scrambled eggs, grumbling to herself. "Oh."

• ───────────────── •

The same familiar gurgled growls emitted from the boarded-shut barn doors as Shane leaned in close to look inside. If Clementine hadn't already taken a peak days ago, she would have been lining up behind him to get a good look at exactly what was in there.

Obviously, the difference was the time of day. Whatever Shane was gazing into had more natural light to see, but Clem hadn't seen much more than shadows.

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this." Shane hissed angrily, spinning around and marching away from the door to face Rick with his harsh glare and then completely walking past him ⎯⎯ his feet stomping as he paced.

"No I'm not, but we're guests here. This isn't our land." Rick spoke back to him with the same anger, shaking his head at Shane lightly.

Smashing his hat back on top of his head he turned back to face Rick ⎯⎯ despite Rick not having moved his gaze from the barn door. "This is our lives!"

"Lower your voice." Lori scolded them, her arm outstretched in front of Carl as she stared at the door wearily.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug."

T-Dog shook his head, looking between Rick and Shane for the answers. "It ain't right. Not remotely."

Clementine whirled around at T-Dog's agreement with Shane. "What harm is it doing?" Walkers being in the barn was a fact she had known for multiple days ⎯⎯ and it had yet to cause anything negative . . . until that moment.

"Okay, we've either got to go in there, or we've just got to go. Now we have been talkin' about Fort Benning for a long time ⎯⎯" Shane paced side to side, stopping a few feet to Rick's right ⎯⎯ taking his hat off again and putting it back on.

"We can't go."

"Why, Rick? Why?"

Carol stepped forward, taking a stand for the sake of her cause and announcing it to both of them. "'Cause my daughter is still out there."

"Okay." An exasperated laugh bubbled out of Shane's lips . . . he was laughing. Palms pressed together covering his mouth and nose ⎯⎯ earning several distasteful expressions. Clementine never quite liked the man in front of her ⎯⎯ at least not since he suggested eating frogs ⎯⎯ but him finding humor in the missing Sophia being a priority was another level for her. He attempted to take a calming breath in. "Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility . . ."

Many people just stared, unable to fathom the words that left his mouth. "Shane, we're not leaving Sophia behind." Rick urged, trying to shut down that before he could continue on.

"I'm close to finding this girl. I just found her damn doll a few days ago."

Clem's neck started to hurt. She was like a bobble-head swinging her head left to right to see each person as they spoke ⎯⎯ but stopping short on Daryl when he managed to surprise her again. Every day it seemed he pulled a new shockingly kind thing to say out of his ass.

"You found her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll."

Anger flooded her ⎯⎯ not particularly for Daryl, but because he had shown he cared. Daryl put out plain as day that he was in fact putting in the time and effort for Sophia Peletier's wellbeing, but only got met with resistance. She could only imagine how enraged she would be if she was the one busting her ass for the girl only to be told by Shane that all the work put in was for nothing substantial. "Who the hell do you think was holding the doll, dipsh⎯⎯

"You, pipe down." Shane pointed at her from where she stood between Rick and Glenn, cutting off her insult before it could come out fully.

"Excuse me?" She puffed a laugh, moving to step forward.

Rick stuck his arm out, halting her in her tracks. "Clem ⎯⎯"

"You don't know what the hell you're talkin' about!" Daryl exclaimed, moving past Clementine and quickly getting the same treatment Rick gave her ⎯⎯ outstretching his arm between Daryl and Shane for a subtle barrier.

Shane swayed on his feet, stepping to the side, and glancing around. "I'm just saying what needs to be said . . . you get a good lead, it's in the first forty-eight hours."

"Shane, stop."

"Let me tell you somethin' else, man." He declared, rotating back to face the raging Dixon. "If she was alive out there ⎯⎯ saw you comin' ⎯⎯ all methed out with your buck knife . . . and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction, man!"

Shouting erupted all around Clementine ⎯⎯ everyone who stood in front of the barn was yelling something at that point, but Clem could no longer make out a single word of it. Daryl was lunging, Shane was pointing his finger, and pretty much everyone else was throwing their bodies between the two trying to stop the fight from becoming physical.

It was on the verge. A look was on Daryl's face, making it plain as day he was more than happy to send a punch into the former cop's face. But with the many people in between, it wasn't all that possible for him to carry out.

The screaming started to sound like high-pitched ringing. Clementine had to clamp her hands over her ears to make it quiet down. Which did hardly anything at all to help the overwhelmed feeling from filling up her chest.

As the days went on, it was getting more and more frustrating that she couldn't simply calm herself down. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking steps back away from the crowd. "Shut up, shut up, shut up." She begged, so quiet nobody could hear her over the yelling ⎯⎯ not even loud enough to hear herself with hands over her ears.

It was hard to gather anything of substance in the mixture of words being yelled from all directions. Even harder when she shut her eyes, but sometimes she had to block out all of the sensories just to feel better.

• ───────────────── •

People talk too much. That was the conclusion she came to and it was hypocritical ⎯⎯ but she believed it to be true, and that was why she spent her entire day sitting out of sight from everyone else. Even the doll was left in her tent. It didn't have a voice box, but even the things Clementine thought the doll might have been thinking were too much to hear as well.

Sometimes, her mind felt like it was on this endless loop of impossible possibilities. Just how bad could things get? And all the talking was really starting to get to her . . . stirring up her thoughts into a storm of paranoia.

The more she had to listen to in one sitting, the more overwhelmed she got and the more overwhelmed she was just forced into a panicky, the world is ending, feeling in her gut and it wasn't something she knew how to get rid of.

She'd isolate herself to the best of her abilities just to try and relieve that bone-crushing weight on top of her. In a part of their makeshift camp, they had collected piles of sticks and chopped logs around a tree ⎯⎯ that was where she settled on sitting.

There were no immediate lines of sight for anyone to spot her, which was what she wanted. She knew for sure that if Dale caught her tucked away in a corner hiding all alone, he would quickly join her and find out what exactly was troubling her young mind. Only Dale could see through her so easily.

Most of her emotions were written on her face as clear as day, but Dale was the one who always knew what to say about it. At least with Clementine, he said all the right things. He could bring her out of her mind and get her to look back in on the thoughts and emotions that she rarely managed to shake on her own. Dale pointed her in the right direction, but in that moment she just wanted to be still.

If she convinced herself into a relaxed state for long enough, maybe it would actually work. Maybe she wouldn't need to embarrass herself and get someone to console her through a pointless breakdown.

Clementine sat up against the tree stump, grabbing littered twigs and snapping them in half ⎯⎯ ditching them into another pile of broken sticks. It wasn't all that hard to pretend she was just sitting there to sit there . . . no ulterior motive to distract herself or try and distance herself from others.

"What are you doing?" Carl announced his presence, standing in front of her as though he had been for awhile ⎯⎯ waiting for her to acknowledge his presence, but she was so far into her mind that the world in front of her had blurred until he spoke.

A book was hooked under his arm, and the hat on top of his head made him look smaller than usual. Clem shrugged her shoulders, snapping another stick across her knee. She didn't want to talk ⎯⎯ last time she did she was pretty much told to shut up.

Perhaps that was the real reason she was all by herself.

Alone, nobody but yourself had the ability to yell at you, but she wasn't one to talk to herself out loud intentionally. Even her mutters pleading with everyone to shut up were not meant only for her ears.

"You think Sophia's dead, too?" He asked abruptly, shocking the girl out of her silence immediately.

"What?" Clem stared at him ⎯⎯ her eyes harsh at the insinuation and another twig half-broken in her hands. "No . . . why would you say that? What do you mean, too?"

Whether Sophia was alive or dead wasn't something Clementine really allowed herself to stew over ⎯⎯ there were too many variables to take into account, and Clem didn't even know all of them. But, if Clementine could survive for this long, it wouldn't have been that hard for her to believe Sophia could too . . . even though their circumstances were drastically different.

Carl shook his head as he sat down on the dirt, leaning back on a sideways log and flipping his book open. He bent the pages back, making only the page he was in the process of reading visible. "I think, Shane thinks, Sophia is dead."

"Well, that's some bullshit." She said casually, shaking her head at the mention of her current least favorite person on the farm. "It's always a possibility ⎯⎯ but we have no proof, and he's really just ruining it for everyone by shoving it in their faces saying she is gone."

Lack of a filter usually only resulted in people staring at her as if she'd grown three extra heads, but Carl fell silent. He was pondering over what she had to say about Shane . . . deciding for himself if he chose to agree, disagree, or something more complicated. Carl was in deep thought, staring at the page in front of him, but not quite looking like he was really reading any of the words in front of him.

Meanwhile, Clementine was growing frustrated. What was the point in getting away from everyone else? Why did she bother attempting to avoid Shane if even when he wasn't around, he got brought up? She could understand Carl not seeing him in the light she did ⎯⎯ Carl knew the man much longer than her. But every encounter she had with him, or witnessed him have with another was only ever hostile. He managed to find the most negative way to go about something at all times.

As though mentioning him out loud brought his existence upon them, he appeared. Speak of the devil and there he was storming past Carl where he sat up against the log ⎯⎯ he must have not seen either child, and Clem was more than content on letting him continue on and leave her the hell alone, but Carl didn't want the same.

What Clementine had to say about Shane managed to stir even more questions and he could not resist taking the chance to get some answers. "Hey, Shane," Carl called out, making Shane turn around and look between the two kids. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"You okay?" He asked, directing the question at Carl only.

Clementine rolled her eyes as she stood up off the tree behind her and crossed her arms across her chest. Too much talking. She wanted to rip her ears off ⎯⎯ would that work?

"Yeah." Carl nodded his hands hanging loosely at his sides taking less than two seconds to decide on what exactly he wanted to say to the man in front of him. "I know you think Sophia's dead and that we should stop looking for her." He paused, as though he was building up the courage, sparing a quick glance to Clementine. "But that's ⎯⎯ that's bullshit."

"Hey, man, watch your mouth."

"No, he's right. It is bullshit." Clem defended Carl quickly, tilting her head up at Shane and pursing her lips. She didn't want to talk to him. Nor did she find it enjoyable at all to be in his presence in the first place, but if he was going to try and tell Carl he was in the wrong she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

Carl nodded, having to tilt his head back a little extra to see past the brim of his hat. "We're gonna stay here until we find her."

"You think that's what we should do?"

"It's what I know we should do," Carl confirmed, standing his ground with little to no hesitation.

Nothing else could have made her more proud. She felt like a big sister ⎯⎯ despite Carl being older than her by two years. But there he was, finally speaking his mind to the big bad wolf, and she wanted to applaud him. Even if it was just him using her words . . . it was absolutely what he was thinking anyway.

It was right. Shane needed the wake-up call, but Carl's words didn't seem to have the weight Clementine had hoped for. His facial expression started to change. Thoughtful gaze was overtaken by a cloudy-looking determination, and she suddenly had this sinking feeling that his plans did not align perfectly with what Carl was dreaming of.

"Then we stay."

• ───────────────── •

She left the discussion, looking for Dale. He would understand if she told him that something was wrong. If she explained that Shane was definitely up to something ⎯⎯ Dale would be the one to believe her without question.

But where he normally was, on top of the RV was Glenn. "Hey, Glenn?" He turned to look down at her. The prior question of where exactly Dale was slipped away as she squinted, shielding the sun from her eyes. "What are you wearing?" A laugh escaped her nose in a snort.

"T-Shirt, and jeans." He answered monotonely, looking confused by her skepticism when she laughed even harder at his response.

"On your head, you doofus!" Clem exclaimed, smiling hard at Glenn's obliviousness. "Is that Dale's hat?" She laughed, smiling up at him as he messed with the hat atop his head and looked embarrassed for wearing it.

Clem shook her head, still laughing at him as she stepped into the RV. It was empty as well ⎯⎯ no Dale Horvath in sight. She couldn't hear him in the back either but made her way into that section just to see. Begrudgingly, her feet landed past the hallway's last doorframe into the bedroom of the RV.

A shakey sigh came from her and she gulped hard at being back there again. Last time she came this close to the bed was after T-Dog got hurt ⎯⎯ but even then she couldn't pass the threshold like she had right then.

Many people slept in that bed ⎯⎯ Carol, Dale, T-Dog including others she probably just didn't know about ⎯⎯ but her dad was in that bed, in excruciating pain, and that was what she couldn't unsee. Her throat felt as if it was closing up, but instead of running for the hills she stepped further inside and sat down on the bench across from the bed.

Dale would come back soon . . . at least that's what she told herself, but when the whole RV rocked and the sound of someone stomping up the steps was heard, she knew it wasn't Dale. She glanced around the corner, seeing Shane bent over and looking underneath the table.

"What are you ⎯⎯" He swung open the broom closet door with so much effort that it hit the wall next to it with a bang. Clem's eyes widened fearfully, her shoulders raising up to her ears in shock.

The question she had failed to come out fully, and she lost any desire to speak again. Maybe if she didn't speak he wouldn't know she was there. She'd once heard that if you see a bear . . .  if you don't move, it won't attack. She wondered if Shane's determination to find ⎯⎯ whatever it was he was in search of ⎯⎯ could be treated the same way.

Don't move, don't speak, and it will eventually decide on another target.

Objects tumbled out of the closet as he smacked them out of his way, flinging across the floor every which way. Shane wasn't satisfied with anything he found in there and slammed the door shut, moving back into the bedroom where she was.

Clem scooted away, up against the RV wall and tucked her legs to her chest. Don't move, don't speak.

He grabbed the mattress, flipping it up and out of his way. Suddenly he turned to face her, not quite looking at her but more so around the surrounding area ⎯⎯ nonetheless she let out a small scream, flinching back further into herself when he grabbed a pillow next to her and threw it out of his way.

"Where is it?" He asked, the volume of his words at a calm level, but his tone exhibiting none of the same properties.

She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes. Turning her head away and putting her forearms in front of her defensively. She didn't have her knife ⎯⎯ her stupid self left it in her tent with the stupid doll, and she couldn't have regretted anything more at that moment.

"Where is Dale?!" His words came out amplified that time as he stepped closer to the corner she was cowered in. Shane grabbed her wrist trying to coax the girl out of her shell and meet his gaze. Eye contact. That's how you could tell someone was lying ⎯⎯ if they darted their eyes away mid-sentence, or stuttered over their words . . . but none of that would work for Clementine. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in preparation for whatever hell Shane was ready to descend upon her.

He had seen her, it might have been too late but just in case, she kept as still as she could. Hoping he would disappear. Which, surprisingly worked pretty well that time around. Before she knew it, he gave up with his interrogation and pivoted on the spot ⎯⎯ shaking his head in an annoyed condemnation at her lack of responses and exiting the RV.

Outside she could hear him turning the questions to Glenn, but frozen where she sat, couldn't bring herself to go out there and hear everything said.

Throughout her silent panic over the encounter with Shane ⎯⎯ Dale kept popping into her mind. Why did he want to see Dale? See, she was obviously right. He was up to something, and she knew it. But, if he was looking for Dale, how on earth would she find him first? She wouldn't. She didn't know the first thing about tracking.

"Clementine?" She heard Glenn call out from the roof of the RV . . . he must have heard some of what went down inside, but she didn't feel all that inclined to respond to him. "You alright in there?"

She rubbed her fists into her eyes ⎯⎯ without realizing tears had formed on her eyelashes, and now that she was aware of them it was harder to keep herself from continuing to cry. What she could keep from happening, was anyone else seeing her cry, and quickly croaked out a response, to avoid that. "Yeah."

• ───────────────── •

The point on the blade of her pocket knife made a thunk every time she stabbed it into the wooden surface of the picnic table. She rested her head on her arm sideways, staring at the knife as she repeatedly forced it down into the wood ⎯⎯ but her strength and the angle didn't puncture the knife any deeper than an inch into it.

Glenn had left awhile ago . . . before she had ever dared step out of the RV again, but when she did nobody else was in sight. She wasted no time in getting her pocket knife where it was by her pillow ⎯⎯ trading places with her glasses.

She sat down at the picnic table waiting for anyone to show up. Well, not anyone. Who she was really waiting for, was Dale, but he never arrived. It was Andrea and T-Dog that found her first, walking through the camp and talking about where Rick was until T saw Clem sitting there alone.

"Froggy?" He called out, walking up behind her as she struggled to get the knife back out of the tabletop where she hammered it down into.

Clem let go of the pocket knife's handle, defeated when she couldn't free it. "Where's Dale?" She asked, her eyes still glossed over. "Shane is up to something ⎯⎯ and he was looking for him, and yelling and ⎯⎯"

"Slow down, what are you on about?" Andrea questioned, her eyebrows screwed together in confusion.

Annoyed, Clem grabbed hold of the handle again and tugged hard, finally getting it out only to slam it back into the table with much more anger as she got up on her knees on the bench. "I said, Shane is up to something and I don't care if you don't believe me!" She shouted at the woman ⎯⎯ stuttering and failing to breathe through her words.

Calm didn't exist in her body, and T could tell. He reached out, pulling her hand away from the pocket knife and pulling it out of the table before flipping it shut. "All right, Froggy. Take a deep breath, why don't we go up to the farmhouse and find out where they all are, okay?"

She puffed, her nostrils flaring as she desperately tried to contain her emotions ⎯⎯ heaving in oxygen as he had made her aware she wasn't actually breathing. Anxiety-ridden to the core, she took the folded shut pocket knife back and tucked it in her pocket as she stood up.

"Okay . . . okay." Clem exhaled loudly grabbing T's offered hand and walking up to the farmhouse all together.

"Do you know what's going on?" T asked Glenn, seeing him stand up from where he sat on the front porch steps.

"Where is everyone?"

Clem frowned as she looked around, seeing no faces that could give her the answer she was looking for. If it wasn't Glenn ⎯⎯ who she already knew had no information on Dale ⎯⎯ she would have immediately asked where Dale was. Where was he, and why wasn't he back?

Only the worst possibilities came to mind and all of them contained Dale's gruesome death in many different forms.

"You haven't seen Rick?" Glenn asked, confused by them asking him.

"He went off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago."

Daryl stepped up with Carol right behind him, overhearing Andrea. "Yeah, you were. What the hell?"

"Rick told us he was going out."

Releasing her hold on T-Dog's hand, she stepped away from him and turned to face Daryl and Carol ⎯⎯ two faces she hadn't seen all day. Not since the barn at least, and had a sliver of hope that they may be able to help soothe her anxiety revolving around Dale's whereabouts. "Do you guys know where Dale is?"

Daryl shook his head lightly at the girl, eyebrows furrowed tightly together. "Nah . . . damn it. Isn't anybody taking this seriously?" He groans, annoyed at the fact he seems to be the only person concerned about continuing the search for Sophia. "We got us a damn trail ⎯⎯ oh, here we go."

At the sound of his hopeful words, Clem stepped out further trying to look past Daryl ⎯⎯ hoping to see none other than the man she was desperate to speak to, but only finding the last person she wanted to be around.

Even worse, he had a duffle bag. Not just any duffle bag either . . . it was the very bag Dale kept in the RV, filled with guns. On top of that, he had one big gun already in his hand.

"What's all this?" Daryl asked, looking over everything Shane had in his possession.

"You with me, man? Yeah . . . time to grow up!" Shane nodded, passing the big gun to Daryl.

Instinctively, she took a step back at the sight. Keep them away. Her internal voice screamed. Get away from him. Came from that tiny voice directly after ⎯⎯ pleading with her legs to take her far, far away from the man approaching. It was beginning to look like he had multiple stunt doubles just to go wherever she was and cause havoc.

"You already got yours?"

Andrea nodded but quickly followed up with her own question . . . more concerned with other things. "Yeah. Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way."

Clem frowned, her heart hammering in her chest. "From where? What did you do?" She stuttered taking another step back.

With no hesitation, Shane ignored her questions and pulled out a pistol ⎯⎯ holding it out to T who grabbed it slowly, cautiously aware of the rules that had been put in place many days ago. "Thought we couldn't carry."

Shane swiveled around to face Maggie and Glenn. "Yeah, well, we can and we have to."

"No, we don't." Clem said hushedly, directing it up to T who looked at the pistol with a level of confusion. "T." She frowned, disappointed that he had failed to understand her point yet again . . . if it were Dale, he would have listened to her. He wouldn't have taken a damn gun from Shane. But she didn't know where he was. He was, on his way ⎯⎯ but why on earth would she choose to believe Shane of all people?

He tucked it in his waistband, setting his other hand on her shoulder comfortingly ⎯⎯ trying to show he didn't intend on actually using it right then. "It's okay."

"Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't. How about you, man? You gonna protect yours?" Shane asked, holding out a long gun and subtly glancing sideways at Maggie ⎯⎯ apparently she was the, yours, in question.

Glenn took the gun, worriedly looking at Maggie for a reaction, but her eyes were trained on Shane as he reached his hand back into the duffle bag. "That's it. Can you shoot?"

"Can you stop?" Maggie snapped at him, not answering his question. This was her father's land and to disobey his rules was a one-way ticket to have their stuff thrown onto the street and sent off to try and survive elsewhere. "You do this . . . you hand out these guns. My dad will make you leave tonight."

"We have to stay, Shane," Carl exclaimed, hearing Maggie's declaration of losing their safe harbor due to Shane's impending actions and immediately trying to halt his plans.

Lori stormed around the porch, she must have heard the commotion from inside. "What is this?"

"We ain't going anywhere, okay? Now look, Hershel, he's just gonna understand. Okay? He ⎯⎯ well, he's gonna have to." Shane insisted, setting down the duffle bag and pulling out more guns to pass out.

"Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy." Clem shouted, her voice carrying a braveness her body didn't show ⎯⎯ she still couldn't bring herself to step any closer to him. In fact, every step he took toward Carl, she quickly took a step of her own away.

"Now is not the time for your tantrums, lil' lady." He glared hard, holding a pistol as he crouched down in front of Carl. "Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right? Huh? Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it."

Lori rushed in front of her child, placing her hand against Carl's chest and ushering him behind her ⎯⎯ shielding him from Shane physically. "Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not your decision to make."

"Oh shit."

Just when Clementine thought the situation would finally get defused by Lori. Getting through to Shane was a difficult task, but she had hoped Lori would be able to shut down whatever his plans were involving every single able-bodied person to be armed with a destructive weapon ⎯⎯ including her twelve-year-old son who only just learned how to properly shoot.

Clem heard T-Dog's worried voice, turning quickly to find out what he was seeing when everyone broke into a sprint toward the barn . . . toward where Rick, Hershel, Jimmy, and two unwelcome guests were emerging from the trees.

Clementine didn't have the same speed as the rest of them, but she was much faster than Lori and Carl who had to take their time with Carl's bandaged torso being at risk if he over-exerted himself.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Shane, just back off.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel shouted confused, wrangling the walker on his leash.

Clem's heart hammered at a speed that only fueled her fear. The location of Dale Horvath was still strong on her mind ⎯⎯ why was he the only one not present in this seemingly life-changing moment? And, why was Shane the only one that sounded sure of him being on his way?

So many questions but over the screaming she knew nobody would hear her pleas to find out where exactly Dale was. Nor would they care much when what was in front of them was so much more groundbreaking.

Hershel and Rick had a snare pole each, with the snare hooked around the necks of two walkers ⎯⎯ the unwanted guests. Through it all, Shane shouted about the woman and man . . . walking in circles around the walkers and the two keeping them contained.

It was a rampage that had been building since he found out the Greene family was keeping walkers in their barn the whole time . . . right under their noses. More importantly ⎯⎯ under his nose, and he was far too enraged by that to let it slide for even a second.

He couldn't handle the thought of being blindsided by this information. That was why he stormed into the RV and shouted at Clementine for answers on Dale. He only ever wanted the guns, and now that he had them. Now that the proof he needed to believe he was the one in the right stood right in front of him . . . there was no going back.

Not even with Rick begging for his friend to stop, wait, hold on, give him a second, and calm down. His plans were in full swing, and just like Clementine thought, it was not going to be good.

"They're the things that killed Amy ⎯⎯ Jim! They killed Otis!" He bellowed, continuing to ignore Rick through his ceaseless argument for him to stop.

Clem's heart sunk in her chest and a breathy gasp slipped from her lips at her father's name. Jim. How dare he speak about her father. But what hurt the most, Shane wasn't wrong at all this time.

Puddles filled her eyes as they glossed over with tears . . . the worst had yet to happen. Even so, she couldn't stop herself from crying. Her lip quivered and the harder she tried to take deep breaths the more her lungs ached at the lack of oxygen. There Shane was, using their losses to get his point across.

"Hey, Hershel man, let me ask you something . . . could a living breathing person ⎯⎯" He unholstered his gun from behind his back and pointed it directly at the woman ensnared by Hershel. "Could they walk away from this?"

Three shots went off. Each ear-piercing ring made Clementine's entire body jolt with fear. She wasn't in the immediate line of fire, but somehow her mind concocted an illusion of how exactly a bullet could deflect off of something and fly right into her.

The palms of her hands pressed flat against her stomach ⎯⎯ in the same spot where the three bullet holes embedded themselves into the female walker's body.

The answer was no. No, a living breathing person could not simply walk away from the bullets Shane was releasing into her torso, but Hershel never verbally responded to him. "That's three rounds in the chest. Could someone who's alive, could they just take that? Why is it still coming?"

Two more bangs from his gun. Clementine covered her ears desperate for some peace as the familiar sight of Carl being the victim came to mind. She couldn't take it. She wanted Dale. Dale, where was Dale.

That talk Dale would have given her if he found her all alone was something she suddenly wished she had allowed to happen.

Shane wasn't done. Nowhere near done. He shot three more times before marching up to the woman and sending a final ninth shot right into her forehead. Clem tried to take a step back but ended up falling back on her butt ⎯⎯ having to uncup her hands over her ears to catch herself.

Everyone froze in shock to stare at Shane and the now collapsed walker on the dirt. Hershel, the most shocked of all, seemed to have sunk back into his mind by how he looked around. The older man was no longer present as he fell to his knees along with the walker.

Shane spun around walking toward the barn, stopping to speak to the rest of them. "Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's GONE!" A gasp came from somewhere to Clementine's left, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from Shane as he descended upon the boarded-up doors. "Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough. Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now, if y'all want to live. If you want to survive, then you've got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting. Right here, right now."

Clementine couldn't feel the tears flowing down her face anymore ⎯⎯ she wasn't sad, she was terrified. Fear took over her body as she scrambled up onto her feet, debating running and never looking back. Carl stood a couple of feet over beside his mother, and she couldn't bring herself to bolt. If he could take it. If he could stand there watching someone he had grown up knowing completely unravel as a person, Clem would stay.

Besides, the strength it took to run for the hills was not at all present in her limbs when all she could feel was the crippling dread. Moving wasn't a real option.

Everyone screamed for someone to do something. Nobody seemed to have the self-confidence to get up and take on Shane's force themselves ⎯⎯ only Rick was brave enough to do that, but he was stuck holding onto the second snare pole with the second caught walker still in his possession. If he let go, he no longer had the control to keep the monster at bay, so he was just as stuck as the rest of them. Unable to stop Shane.

Shane threw the two-by-fours keeping the unknown amount of flesh-eating dead at bay and took multiple steps back pulling his gun out again.

A stream of hungry walkers started to pour out. They stumbled on their decaying legs ⎯⎯ fueled by unrelenting starvation. What stood in front of them may as well have been a delectable buffet in the shape of screaming, crying human beings. If they had a gun, it took them only a few seconds to raise them and stand beside Shane while they put down each and every one.

All around Clementine, she could hear the Greene family wailing in horror. Who could blame them? This was a massacre. Fingers pulled back on triggers over and over. The images of Carl being shot stopped coming. The traumatizing Polaroid pictures in her mind couldn't pop up with every bang when the bangs never stopped.

Body after body fell to the ground, but their weight hitting the dirt below was silent buried beneath all the other noises. It had to of been over a dozen walkers collapsed onto the ground in a spread-out radius of decomposing flesh.

The noise finally stopped and all that could be heard was the whimpering all around her. Pain. So much pain for so many people, and Clem didn't know any of the bodies on the ground, but she knew the pain well enough.

Where her heart sat, still sunken deep in her stomach . . . she couldn't breathe. On the way down to her stomach her heart must have smashed her lungs. They were pierced on the points of her ribcage. Or, maybe, one of the bullets really had bounced off something and instead flew right through her lung.

The air she inhaled felt like it was seeping out slowly. No matter how hard she breathed in, her lungs felt empty and desperate for oxygen. What was happening? Why did this always happen?

Just when she thought it couldn't have gotten any worse . . . a shuffling sound came from the cracked open barn doors. Someone else was coming out ⎯⎯ another walker. It was late to the massacre, but Clem knew it wouldn't keep Shane from putting an end to the being immediately.

That was until the walker that emerged was, the Sophia Peletier. "Sophia!" Her mother unleashed a woeful cry at the sight of her daughter. Carol ran forward, but Daryl quickly dropped his gun, grabbing onto the woman and stopping her from getting any closer to the deadly version of her innocent child.

Nobody dared move. Of the four people that stood at the head of the crowd, in front of the scattered bodies ⎯⎯ Andrea, Glenn, T-Dog, and of course, Shane ⎯⎯ none of them lifted their guns.

Shane forced the situation on them all and even when Sophia's slow progression, stepping over random limbs . . . still, nobody moved to take care of the little girl the way they had with everyone else.

A nauseating feeling stirred in Clementine's stomach. He did this. Was this his grand plan? The reason he had torn apart the RV, was this. To get rid of the apparent danger, but instead . . . he had only caused more harm. There was a right and wrong way of doing things, but it seemed Shane always leaned toward the latter.

How could one man bring the look of pure distraught on so many's faces ⎯⎯ and still not follow through with what he had started? How could he not raise his gun and finish the job? Shane stood there, after passing out the guns, lighting the fire of Hershel's pain, and unleashing all the walkers upon them. All he did was stare.

Rick stepped forward. Through the chaos, at some point, the walker he had was put out of its misery, so he made his way to the front, pulling out his colt python and pointing it directly at Sophia's nearing form. Shane got the ball rolling and spilled the mess everywhere, but Rick would be left to clean it up.

The last, final shot echoed, and Sophia's frail body crumbled beneath her with a quiet ⎯⎯ almost completely unheard ⎯⎯ landing against the dirt.

︿

〈〈 𝐀 𝐔 𝐓 𝐇 𝐎 𝐑 𝐒 𝐍 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 〉〉

﹀

The title is something I live by.

I know I'm the one writing it but I can't get over Clementine's comparisons to things.

Also, Shane doesn't canonically mention Jim at the barn, but I think the reasoning is mostly because there wasn't anyone there in the show to specifically remember Jim, but with Clementine, obviously there is and he's an a-hole so he would bring up Jim.

I'm kind of proud of how I went about writing the final scene of this episode, so do me a favor and spare me the criticism if you think it was shit.

Last but not least, Clementine's journey through having panic attacks is a rocky road for her, mainly because she doesn't even know that is what's happening when it's happening.

If you're reading this, hey, I love seeing comments on my chapters, so don't be shy!

I published another chapter along with this one!

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