...𝓰𝓮𝓶

Hershel wasn’t exactly opposed; he and Shane were like fire and water, constantly arguing about how to run things. Given what kinds of stories Shane had been sharing with you by the fire just about every evening, you couldn’t help but side with him. Hershel had been keeping you safe so far, this much was true, but he had no idea what was really lurking out there.

Rick and Shane were constantly butting heads too, but you didn’t try to make peace between them. It was no use. In your experience, forcing them to make up only made these two fight even more.

But one day you noticed something nobody else could. Sometimes, Shane and Rick would work together. Just like that. There was no clear pattern to it, no indication of any particular cause, just… Once in a while, one would approach the other, one of them would grunt questioningly, the other would grunt affirmatively and they wouldn’t try to kill each other anymore. All of a sudden, they would be best friends again, perfectly capable of amicable cooperation (for an hour or two). Just as they were working together right now, fixing the southern part of the fence.

You took your morning coffee with you to the porch and watched them from a distance like they were morning news. Truthfully, you really did miss your Netflix subscription, maybe it was just about boredom. Certainly not because Shane would be out there shirtless in the field basically every damn day.

You noticed how animated Shane was while talking to Rick and you tried not to giggle about it. It wasn’t hostility, not in the slightest. He was telling him something, maybe even reminiscing—judging by how hard Rick laughed at the end of that story, it must have been the latter. And then you spotted somebody else watching them closely. Lori. It soured your mood in an instant.

Rick was oblivious, but Shane wasn’t. He still kept talking, grinning at Rick’s laugh, but you noticed how his gaze kept flicking towards the porch now, towards Lori. She was standing there, in the shadow of the porch with her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold in eighty-degree weather. You wanted nothing to do with her huffing and puffing so you inched closer to Shane and Rick now, trying to overhear what they were talking about.

“You even listenin’?” Rick asked, nudging Shane’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Yeah,” Shane lied. “I’m sayin’ I dunno why that dumbass thought climbin’ a dumpster would help him get away. We still cuffed ‘im and everythin’.”

“I know what you’re sayin’. I asked if we got enough wire to finish this section.”

Shane looked down, puzzled, at the spool of fencing wire between his boots.

“Uh. Maybe. Gotta check the truck.”

Rick followed his gaze towards the house and you saw the exact moment your brother noticed Lori too. Rick’s smile dimmed, just a fraction. It made you unreasonably angry.

“Yeah, alright.” Shane set down the pliers and wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m gonna grab some water. You good?”

“I’m good.”

Shane drank straight from the water jug, like the manners his old man never managed to beat into him were still worth ignoring. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and only now caught you watching him.

“What?” he called out, already defensive. 

You just laughed at his irritated expression and walked faster towards them.

“Nothin’,” you said, too innocent. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shane and Rick said in unison and then looked at each other, confused. You laughed louder.

“You were tellin’ that story wrong, by the way,” you said.

Shane frowned even more. “The hell I was. That’s exactly how it happened.”

“No, you left out the part where you also nearly fell into the dumpster tryin’ to grab that perp.”

“I did not fall, I entered the dumpster in pursuit of a suspect and then—”

“Fell.”

“Entered.”

“Fell.”

Rick laughed then and you realized he was watching you two like one might watch a soap opera—one that was probably bad, but entertaining just because it was so bad. You supposed this was Rick’s candlelight pantomime.

“Remember when she used to do this?” Rick asked Shane, leaning against the freshly fixed part of the fence. “Follow us around, correct every damn word outta our mouths?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, not looking up. “Used to drive me insane.”

“Used to?” Rick asked.

“Damn, I must be off my game!” You feigned shock and Rick laughed again. 

Seeing him like this felt triumphant. But the laugh was short-lived. You watched as Rick’s eyes drifted back towards the house, the now-empty porch. You knew that look. You had seen it on Rick a hundred times before the world ended, back when Lori would go quiet for a day or two and Rick would spend the whole time trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. 

“Fence’ll hold for now,” Shane said then, louder than necessary. “Gotta check the north side. Dale said he heard somethin’ last night, but if you ask me that’s just early onset amnesia.”

“Jesus, what’s your issue with the man? He’s nice!”

“Nice?! Lemme tell you sumtin’ man, okay, Dale’s obsessed with everybody’s business!”

“Yeah, okay, alright,” Rick raised both hands, careful not to have that discussion again. “You want company?”

“Nah. You finish here. I’ll take the kid.”

He jerked his head toward Carl, who was sitting in the grass beside the hay shed, looking bored out of his mind.

“Okay,” Rick said and that was that.

Shane started walking, but he only made it a few yards when you fell into step beside him, light and quick and still impossible to shake. 

“You’re limpin’ worse,” you said.

“I’m not limpin’ worse.”

“You are. You ever heard of restin’? You don’t gotta do everything ‘round here, you know. Hershel will never thank you for it.”

Shane exhaled sharply through his nose. “You ever consider becomin’ a cop? ‘Cause you got the observation skills for it.”

“Nah. Too much paperwork. And I’d have to arrest you for public indecency eventually.”

Shane stopped in his tracks. “What the hell’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“You drink straight from the jug, Shane. It’s gross.”

“Ain’t nobody else drinkin’ it!”

You laughed then and the look of utter indignation was gone from his face. You were just about the only person who could yank his chain like that and get away with it; hell, make him like it even. He picked up the pace and you followed.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, trying his best to sound angry. 

You knew him too well to buy it.

“Cute?” you repeated.

“I said you’re goddamn annoyin’, you must’ve heard wrong.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you said ‘cute’, which I am, by the way.”

“You’re pretty sure a lotta things. Most of ‘em wrong.”

He stopped and so did you, watching his nostrils flare. You knew that back and forth made him want to shake you and kiss you at the same time. You were counting on it, in fact.

Shane opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t. He could read you just as well as you could read him. He knew exactly what you were doing. He was quiet for a long moment, but at the same time that constant look of urgency in his eyes, the reflex to grab his gun, it all somehow… Eased up.

“Too many eyes,” he muttered.

“Christ, but those people have got you on a leash. You scared of a little gossip again?”

“I’m scared of your brother puttin’ a bullet in me before sundown.”

You snorted. “Rick’s not gonna shoot you, you two are all brotherly again and it’s gross.”

“Yeah? You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you insisted. “I’m sure.”

You still looked at him like he hung the moon and Shane could feel a stupid grin trying to form on his face. He fought it, lost a little. 

“Not here,” he said finally.

“Then where?”

He jerked his head toward the back pasture, where an old hay shed sat and where Carl played with two sticks. Poor kid.

“There. After dark. I’ll volunteer for patrol.” 

So you came to the spot he had indicated when all the lights were out; the camp and the house settled into watchful silence, with T-Dog and Daryl checking the perimeter by the southern fence. Shane was already waiting by that shed with his arms crossed, trying to look like he wasn’t waiting.

“Didn't think you’d show,” he lied.

“Then you don't know me at all,” you replied.

“What? Nah.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Reckon I know you better’n most.” 

He moved aside so you could enter the shed, then followed you in. The shed was an intimate space, perhaps would have felt even nicer if it wasn’t smelling of mildew so much, but you kept reminding yourself this was the apocalypse. Nevertheless, Shane reached fr you the second you were near. You let him put his arm around you and he kissed the top of your head like he was trying to remind you both he thought of you as something precious. Something he had to protect. 

“So,” you muttered, looking down, but not moving away, not even a little. You could tell Shane wouldn’t make a move any further. He was there with you but… Not with you. 

“Somethin’ botherin’ you still, isn’t it?” You sighed. “I can tell.” 

Shane didn’t answer right away. His arm stayed around your shoulders for a moment longer, but in the end he stepped back first.

“It’s ‘cause I left Rick at that hospital,” he said finally. “We haven’t… Really had a conversation ‘bout it and every time I’m about to tell him, it’s, uh, it’s Lori. It’s like she don’t want us alone together or sumtin’.”

You tensed, because in your general experience that woman’s name was never followed by anything good. 

“Why would she do that?” you asked. “I mean, aside from the fact she’s the fuckin’ devil an’ all.”

“Christ.” Shane shook his head and looked at you in exasperation. “What’s your problem with her?”

“How much time d’you have?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“No, why do you hate her so much?” he asked. “Really.”

He could see you debating whether to answer.

“Come on,” he pressed, softer now. “It’s just us in here. You can say it.” 

Shane didn’t really have to press you all that hard, though. You have told him bits and pieces along the years. You’d visit King County for Christmas, Thanksgiving, family events, sometimes even birthdays. But over the years your visits became less and less frequent.

You were never allowed to take Carl anywhere, not unless Rick or Lori were present. During Thanksgiving, you usually just watched Rick and her having whisper-shouted arguments in the kitchen. 

To you, the woman was ruining any real chances for what you knew Rick wanted deep down inside—true love, one that would accept his softer side and maybe, if he was lucky, would finally get him to grow a stronger backbone. If you were being really honest, Rick was your older brother, but sometimes he made you want to fight his battles for him.

Shane watched your internal debate with a fond expression. You had always been on the smaller side, but you carried yourself like someone twice your size when you were angry enough. 

“She never trusted me with Carl,” you said finally. “Not for a minute. I’d come to visit for Christmas before, remember? I’d ask to take him to the park, just down the damn street, and she’d make some excuse. ‘He’s tired.’ ‘We got plans.’ ‘Rick’s not home yet.’ Always somethin’. She made me feel awful about it, like I was some unstable crazy person she couldn’t leave that kid alone with for five minutes.” 

“And Rick,” you sighed deeply, “he’d just let her do anything she wanted. Just let her decide on everythin’ all the time. Let her push him around, push me around, and then when they thought nobody was listenin’, they’d be in the kitchen screamin’ at each other in whispers. Every holiday. Every birthday. Sometimes it made me glad our Ma wasn’t there to see Rick so brokenhearted.”

You looked up at Shane again, but he was avoiding your eyes now. Something you said must have rang true, that was the only reason he’d go as quiet as this.

“And she, she was always so fuckin’ miserable,” you continued, rolling your eyes. “No matter what Rick did. That woman’s got a gift, I’m tellin’ you. Even now. I’ve been watchin’ your group, tell me somethin’, have you ever seen Lori do one damn chore? All she does is strut around with a sour look and ask everyone to watch Carl all the time. Includin’ that guy with the crossbow, who I’m pretty sure makes more conversation with the boy in grunts than she ever does.”

Shane listened without interrupting. Mostly because there was nothing to interrupt that with. You had no way of knowing this and he’d never tell, but Shane still remembered that talk he and Rick had in the patrol car, on the day Rick got shot. 

Over the years, Shane had seen Lori’s tight smiles and, if he was being honest, what he hated to see most was the way she would correct Rick in front of people. He’d never let it stand if it were him. But he wouldn’t tell you that either.

Except, if he was honest, he tried not to laugh at you mentioning Daryl, because he knew how much Dixon would hate that read.

“Yeah,” he said finally, when you were all done. “I saw some of that.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I bet you did.”

He frowned. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?”

“It means,” you took a deep breath, knowing this was getting into a dangerous territory of personal, “the only person I never seen her do that shit to was you. It’s like she wouldn’t dare or somethin’. Like she knew you wouldn’t just take it like Rick does.”

Shane went very still. “You’re readin’ too much into shit.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

“So you were friends?”

Shane shot you a look. “Not really, no. I took care of her an’ Carl ‘cause that’s what Rick would’ve wanted.”

You didn’t say anything to that and even in the pale moonlight Shane could see the color rise in your cheeks.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “You worried about Rick? Or you worried ‘bout somethin’ else?” 

“Don’t do that,” you said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Turn it around. Make it about me.”

He laughed. “Darlin’, everything’s about you with me lately. Ain’t exactly a secret.”

He was close now. Close enough to reach out and touch you, and he did. Your hand found his in the dark and you laced your fingers together.

After another tense moment, Shane said your name, but you wouldn’t speak, you were all talked-out. 

“C’mon, babygirl, say somethin’. Anythin’.”

So, finally, you put your arms around his neck and—

“What in God’s name is goin’ on here?!” 

It was Rick, using his best Deputy tone.

Shane went still against you so fast it was like somebody flipped a switch. He stepped back, but it was too late. The door to that shed was half-opened anyway and you’ve been caught. 

“Look man…” he said, and his tone was already guilty as hell.

Rick stood about ten feet away, just at the edge of the porch. He looked… Not angry. Not yet. Confused, maybe. 

“I asked you a question,” Rick insisted. 

Shane finally turned to face him. “Wasn’t what it—” He stopped himself. “Yeah, okay. It was what it looked like.” 

Rick didn’t move. Just looked from Shane to you and back again.

“My sister,” Rick said, his expression shifting into something darker, “and you. What the hell, Shane?!”  

“I know,” Shane said and stepped outside. 

“Oh, so you know?” Rick’s voice was slowly rising. “Good, just as long as we all fuckin’ know then! You, get in the house.”

That last part was for you. You could tell now the camp wasn’t even pretending not to listen. Everybody was. Including Lori, standing by the front door, with her arms crossed over her chest again. If you were a mentalist, perhaps you’d connect the gesture to some hidden meaning.

But, as things stood, you were busted. You had bigger things to worry about. Like Shane and Rick arranging a pistol duel on top of the hill at midnight or something equally stupid. You wouldn’t put it past them.

“Inside,” Rick said again, like he was giving you an order.

You didn’t move at first and so Shane nudged your shoulder.

“Go,” he murmured. “Ain’t gonna help nobody standin’ here givin’ ‘em a show.” 

So you walked towards the house, past the tents and whoever had crawled out of them for the evening program. You didn’t look at Lori when you entered the house, even though you could already tell she wanted to say something to you. The screen door slapped shut behind you. 

“Alright,” Shane said. “You wanna do this? Let’s do it. But not here. Not with every asshole in camp listenin’ in.” 

Rick scoffed. “You don’t get to decide where we do this, Shane. Not after I just found you like that.”

A few people in the camp looked embarrassed, but nobody moved. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, louder. “You caught us holdin’ hands. Congratulations. Now unless you want me to stand here and draw you a picture—”

Rick walked up to him and for a second Shane thought he was going to hit him, too. Which he probably would have let happen anyway. 

“Barn,” Rick said finally. “Now.” 

He started walking. Shane hesitated, glancing once towards the house, then he limped after Rick. 

“What’s going on?” Maggie asked you as soon as you were inside. 

You groaned and shook your head. “My brother and his best friend are gonna kill each other in the barn for my honor or somethin’.”

As soon as you said it, Maggie paled. 

“NO!” she shouted and ran out that door, leaving you stunned. 

Shane had just caught up to Rick when Maggie burst out the front door shrieking like she was burning alive.

“No! Stop!” She flew past the few people by the porch, waving her arms urgently. 

As soon as he saw her, barefoot, in her pajamas, Shane’s hand went to his Glock before his brain caught up.

Maggie didn’t stop. She ran past them for the barn. 

“What the hell?” Rick asked. “Maggie?”

Shane was already moving. He broke into a limping stride after her, fast as he could make himself go. Rick was right beside him now. Whatever was about to happen between them in that barn, it sure as shit was going to have to wait.

“Maggie!” Shane shouted. “Stop!”

She didn’t. She reached the barn doors and threw herself against the heavy wooden bar. But she was just one woman and the door… 

The door was rattling. 

Something inside was thrashing, hammering against the wood. 

And groaning.

“Maggie, get away from there!” Shane shouted.

He pulled his Glock and racked the slide.

“No, you don’t understand!” She shouted, absolutely terrified. “You can’t open it, you can’t see…!”

The door split in between from the rattling motion and then grey, dead fingers punched through the gap, grasping at nothing. Maggie screamed and finally stepped away from the door. 

Rick had his gun out too now, looking pale. “How many?” he demanded.

“Please,” Maggie sobbed. “Please, just… Dad said we could fix them, he said they’re sick, he said—”

“HOW MANY?!” Shane roared and Maggie looked at him with absolute hatred.

The question was redundant by now. The whole barn was moving, two dozen bodies or more throwing themselves against the walls with wet, raspy snarling. 

Shane moved then. He grabbed Maggie by the arm and yanked her back further from the door. She fought him, but Shane pushed her backwards behind Rick.

“Rick, get her outta here!” Shane ordered. “Now!” 

“Hey!” Maggie protested. “You don’t give me orders!”

“Shane, wait a damn minute, you don’t tell me—”

“RICK!” Shane shoved Maggie at him, hard enough that Rick had to catch her. “Get her back to the house and wake EVERYBODY up! We got a herd in a box ten feet from where your son sleeps!” 

Rick’s mouth snapped shut. Just for that moment, the fight between them was done and buried.

“Okay,” Rick decided, stepping back into his Deputy role. “But we’re gonna need every gun and every knife this farm’s got.”

That last one was directed at Maggie, who was still conflicted. 

“Don’t just stand there, Rick, go!” Shane shouted.

Rick finally ran back to the house, hauling Maggie with him. As soon as they were gone, Shane’s eyes were back on the trembling barn door, Glock up and ready. He tried to remember how many rounds the mag still held, but on second thought decided to leave that be.

The wooden door still held, barely, the bar groaning against the iron brackets. Dead fingers clawed out and Shane counted at least four hands before he stopped himself from thinking about that, too.

“Goddamn it,” Shane hissed through his teeth. “God fuckin’ damn it!”

Then, he heard people running behind him and he exhaled. He saw Daryl, half-dressed, holding his crossbow up. Rick and T-Dog were right behind him, guns in hand. Dale was limping after them with a rifle and for some reason Andrea was with him as well. Shane groaned.

“What the hell is in there?!” Andrea shouted. 

“What the fuck d’ you think?!” Shane roared, pointing with his Glock to the trembling barn door. “Hershel’s been keepin’ pets!”

T-Dog’s eyes went wide. “You serious?”

“Do I look like Louis fuckin’ C.K. to you?!”

Rick wasn’t speaking, which in Shane’s experience meant he was thinking of a plan. Sure enough, his former partner looked around the area and finally focused on something. Shane glanced that way. There was a wooden wagon maybe fifteen feet away, one wheel missing, but he supposed it was heavy enough. 

“What’re you thinkin’ man?” Shane asked, voice a bit steadier.

“We don’t have enough ammo for all of them.” Rick held his hand up. “Everyone, help me get that wagon over here, now! And fetch every piece of wood, every rope, every fuckin’ thing you can find!” 

They moved. It made something ugly in Shane’s gut twist when he watched them listen to Rick so unquestioningly. But then the barn rattled again and so he ignored it, for now.

T-Dog grabbed one side of the wagon, Andrea the other, and together with Rick they dragged it across the dirt towards the doors. 

“Shane!” Dale called, still clutching that rifle. “How many?” 

Shane didn’t speak for a while. “Twenty, maybe more,” he said finally. “An’ I still say we oughta shoot ‘em before they eat us.”

“Nah, look at what happened at the quarry.” T-Dog shook his head. “We start shootin’, every goddamn walker from the area’ll come runnin’. Then what?”

Shane felt his sanity slipping. “So what, we just have a fuckin’ sleepover?!” 

“He didn’t say that,” Rick cut in, his hand raised towards Shane like he was pacifying a horse. “T-Dog, help me push that thing closer.”

The wagon thumped against the doors.

“This better work, ‘s all I’m sayin’,” Shane muttered, shaking his head.

“That’s not gonna hold,” Andrea said.

“You got a suggestion, I’m all ears!” T-Dog straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Shane, we can’t just—” Andrea started.

“Can’t what?”

“I don’t know, shouldn’t we talk before we storm the fuckin’ gates?!”

“Jesus Christ, did we ask for a committee?!” Shane shouted. “You got an idea or you don’t, otherwise don’t piss me off!” 

“I got somethin’ that might help,” Dale said then and trotted towards the tents. Shane didn’t bother with whatever the hell this even was.

“Alright,” Rick said, his voice cutting through the argument. “Alright, we can’t have a shootout, T-Dog’s right. We chain it. Anything iron in this damn farm, we wrap around these handles and the wagon frame. Dale, check the stables for rope or chain. Andrea, you go with him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Daryl,” Shane called.

“Yeah?”

“You got bolts enough for twenty?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance,” Daryl said, squinting at the barn. “But I got a hatchet an’ a knife. That’s two, maybe three ‘fore the rest come down on me.”

“Yeah, you’re a real comfort, d’you know that?”

Daryl shot Shane a look. “Just bein’ honest.”

In the meantime, T-Dog came back, hauling a rusted chain with Rick. “Found this in the tractor shed. Ain’t much, but it’s somethin’.”

“Toss it here.”

They worked together. Shane looped the chain through the door handles and around the wagon axle, yanking it tight. In the meantime, Dale came back from the camp, carrying the rope Shane had seen him fidget with some days earlier. 

“Got it!” Dale exclaimed, then together with Andrea they doubled it around the frame, knotting it with sailor knots.

“Good work,” Rick said, taking a step back to watch the door again.

“Where the hell’s Hershel?” Shane cut in.

Nobody answered. 

Shane scrubbed a hand across his face. “Then I’ll ask again. Where the hell is Hershel?” 

“Don’t look at me,” Daryl muttered, crossbow steady. “Ain’t his keeper.”

“Old man’s probably inside,” Andrea said, glancing toward the farmhouse.

“Somebody get him,” Shane ordered. “Now.”

Dale stepped forward. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“No,” Rick said. “I’ll go. You stay here, help them hold that door. Shane—”

“Yeah, I’m stayin’ right here,” Shane said.

Rick hesitated, just for a moment, and Shane took it like a slap to the face. He was competent enough to hold this door, damn it.

“Just go,” Shane urged him. “We got unfinished business, it ain’t gonna be finished now, not with that hangin’ over our heads.”

“Yeah, alright,” Rick said, giving Shane one last look that Shane really couldn’t decipher. And he used to know Rick better than anyone…

“Go find Hershel,” he urged him. “We’ll deal with the rest after.” 

Rick nodded, turned and jogged toward the house. 

The door rattled again and half a walker’s head forced through the gap, grey face split open. Andrea made a choking sound and nearly fell backwards when retreating.

Shane didn’t think. He stepped in, pressed the Glock to the thing’s temple and pulled the trigger.

The crack of the gunshot resonated everywhere. Everything went still, but then the barn erupted. The walkers inside threw themselves at the doors with fresh frenzy. 

“Goddamn it, Shane!” T-Dog shouted.

“It was comin’ through!” Shane roared back.

“They’re all comin’ now! Every walker for a mile’s fuckin’ comin’!”

Shane knew it. He knew it the second his finger pulled the trigger. But there was no unringing this bell now.

“Then we hold ‘em!” he shouted. “And we clear this barn at first light!”

“You step aside right now! That is my family in there!”

Shane spun around and saw Hershel running towards them in a nightshirt and trousers, shotgun desperately clutched to his side. 

Rick was beside him, hand on the old man’s arm, trying to hold him back. To his dismay, Maggie followed with you in tow. Your hair was messy and you looked shocked beyond belief. 

That shock made Shane a little less angry. At least you weren’t stupid enough to have known about the barn and keep it from him. 

“What’s in there is a goddamn time bomb,” T-Dog said, pointing to the barn. 

Hershel’s face twisted with grief. “You don’t understand. They’re sick. They can be healed, there’s research being done, the CDC—”

“The CDC is ashes!” Shane shouted. “We were there! There ain’t no cure, old man, and every second you keep these things here, you’re puttin’ every last one of us in danger!”

“You shot one of them!”

“It was comin’ through the door!”

“You put that gun down,” Hershel said, his voice shaking. “Or so help me God, I will remove you from my land.”

Shane didn’t move, but the sneer he made ugly. He could feel everyone’s eye fixed on him and it only pissed him off more.

He took another step toward Hershel. “You asked me to ride out with you tomorrow,” Shane said. “Check on neighbors. Supplies. Livestock. I was startin’ to trust you. Started thinkin’ maybe this place could work. And the whole time you had Aunt Edna and Cousin Jimmy chained up in the attic like a family secret. Puttin’ all of us at risk! All of us!” 

Hershel’s face went red from anger. Shane saw Rick step beside him, ready to intervene. 

“They are not monsters,” Hershel said. “They are sick people. My family. My neighbors! Men and women I knew. I owe them more than a bullet in the head from some lawman who lost his soul!” 

Shane let out a humorless laugh. 

“Lost my soul?” he repeated. “You wanna talk about souls now? Fine.”

“Shane, that’s enough.” Rick moved between them, one hand up towards Hershel, the other pressing against Shane’s chest. “Back down. Now.”

Shane’s eyes snapped to Rick, full of that familiar anger that fueled him when he had no will to even keep on going. 

“You backin’ him? After what we just saw?” 

Rick looked at him sternly. “I’m backin’ not gettin’ anybody shot tonight.” 

For a long moment, nobody moved. But the barn door shook and the dead, they never tired. 

Then—

“Move!” Your voice cut through and Shane turned to see you and Maggie running together, each holding a chicken. He didn’t even notice you were gone.

For a moment, Shane thought he was hallucinating, but no. There you were, determined and quick, your years of running track allowing you to sprint towards that barn within seconds. 

“Jesus Christ, get away from there!” Shane’s attention was now entirely on you and he approached in long strides, as fast as his injured leg allowed. 

But you didn’t listen. You climbed the ladder by the side of the barn, then dropped the chicken through the skylight. You reached for Maggie and she handed you another. The poor thing also landed inside. 

For a moment, nothing happened. You stood on top of that ladder and made Shane almost lose his mind. 

“God fuckin’ damn it, get down from here right now!” Rick shouted then, worried beyond belief. 

Then, the door stopped shaking. The walkers got busy, the screams of the chickens quickly cut short. 

You looked down at Rick, then at Shane, still panting slightly. Very slowly, you got down.

“Maggie told me everything while you three were screamin’ at each other,” you said. “They’ve been feedin’ them so they stayed quiet. And they will stay quiet if we get away from here and stop yellin’.”

While Rick still looked at you in utter disbelief, Shane wasn’t backing down. 

“Put the damn gun down,” you said to Shane, quieter, using your gentlest tone.

You moved closer to him and he lowered his head to you on instinct. Like he was trying to shrink himself down. Then, you did something Shane never expected—you placed your hand on his cheek and you said something only he could hear now. 

No surrender, baby. 

You knew Rick would kill you for this. That was the thing Shane said to you before your last high school track meet. You were stressed out of your mind and too embarrassed to ask Rick to comfort you, but Shane somehow saw it in your face. He found you before the event and put you back together.

You knew that right now everyone from Shane’s group was looking at you like you were crazy, but you didn’t care. They didn’t have to get Shane. They didn’t have to get how you felt.

Shane turned his face and leaned into your palm. He stood frozen for half a second, the last wet sounds of the walker feast still audible in the quiet of the night. 

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!” he hissed, and you could hear the panic in his voice. “You can’t—” he started, then couldn’t even say it. “You can’t do shit like that. Not in front of me. I can’t, you… You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered. “You know that?” 

It was the most tenderness he would allow himself, what with every pair of eyes in the camp still on you both. 

Andrea made an odd sound then and Shane pulled back, quick as lightning. He turned to face the rest of them—Rick with the look of utter hurt and disbelief about him, Hershel still gripping that shotgun, Maggie looking at you with a smirk, Daryl standing off to the side looking the most uncomfortable Shane had ever seen him.

“Alright,” Shane said. “They’re fed. They’re quiet. That buys us time. But this ain’t over.”

He looked at Hershel, then at Rick.

“Sunrise,” Shane said. “We deal with this at sunrise. We open those doors, we clear ‘em out, and we burn what’s left. Every last one.”

Hershel shook his head. “You’ll do it over my dead body.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Shane. Just stop. Think.” Rick stepped closer, his tone sharp. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” you sighed and cut in. “We can’t have a shootout. Get it into that thick skull of yours.” 

That whole tenderness from before was gone. You moved closer to Shane and took his hand in yours to redirect him. “Shootin’ them is a dumb fuckin’ idea. It’s too much noise. Us talkin’ out here right now is way too much noise.”

“She’s got a point there,” Dale muttered, still looking at Shane like he was a rabid dog. 

“You got somethin’ else to say, Dale?” Shane snarled. “Or you just gonna stand there lookin’ at me like I’m about to bite somebody?” 

Dale raised both hands. “Just agreeing with the lady. Noise brings ‘em in. We all know it.” 

Shane’s grip on your hand tightened. He still wouldn’t let go.

“You fire that Mossberg,” you said quietly, “every walker in a five-mile radius comes to dinner. You really want that?” 

Shane’s tongue ran over his teeth. He glanced at the barn, at the wagon still wedged against the door. The walkers were calm… For now.  

“No,” Shane grunted finally. “I don’t want that.” 

The others around you seemed to have calmed down as well, even if that whole situation was starting to be awkward. Andrea still looked at you in slight awe and you knew why.

“It’s like she’s a Shane whisperer or somethin’,” she said to Dale, not even bothering to be quiet.

“Fine,” Shane said, raising his voice so the others could hear. “No shootin’. Not tonight. But that barn gets dealt with. First light, we figure out how to clear it. Knives, hatchets, arrows, whatever don’t make a racket. Daryl, can you make more bolts?”

“Didn’t volunteer m’self,” Daryl muttered.

Hershel made a strangled sound. “You cannot do this!”

“Shane,” Rick raised his hand, trying to pacify his former partner. “I’ll hgandle this. C’mon,” he said to Hershel. “We can talk ‘bout this calmly in the mornin’.”

Shane’s mouth flattened into a hard line. You knew why. He didn’t like backing off. Seems like if it was up to him, he wouldn’t let Rick step in and handle anything. You were beginning to get sick of their rivalry.

“Fine,” Shane said finally and you all collectively exhaled. “But I’m tellin’ you right now, sun comes up, that barn gets cleared. I don’t care if I gotta do it alone.”

“Alright, show’s over!” Rick said quickly, using the momentum of Shane backing down. “Doubt any of us’ll get any sleep tonight so I say we set up watch. Shane an’ I’ll take the first rotation. Andrea, you and Dale after.”

You were expecting an argument, but there was none from Shane. His spine was rigid and his jaw clenched hard. You knew he wanted to punch something, but for some reason he kept quiet. Pacified. The rest of the group dispersed, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices.

Finally, he turned to you.

“Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that on me again. You hear me?”

Your eyes widened. He squeezed your shoulder hard. 

“Yeah,” you muttered. “You said.”

“But I fuckin’ mean it. You get killed, this whole thing was for nothin’.”

“Shane,” Rick said quietly. You realized he was, of course, still standing there. 

“You wanna do this right now?” Shane asked.

“I think now.”

Shane finally turned away from you. Rick glanced towards the house, then back at Shane and you. At your apparent proximity. You saw only then how tired your brother was, how tightly his brow was furrowed.