[DISCONTINUED] FIND YOU ( T. WALKING DEAD )

- VI.

"Exactly. You know Dale, though; he's the all-knowing voice of reason," Jack mocked, lowering her voice just slightly as every sarcastic syllable spewed from her mouth. With her voice lowered even more, she faked a solemn expression and began to quote Dale, "I don't think you did anything wrong that night. I just want you to tell me what Shane did." A sharp scoff shot from his mouth as he rolled his eyes, a slightly amused smile breaking out onto his face. However, her expression contrasted. She was neither surprised nor entertained nor angry. Just a little scared of the fact that the circumstances of Otis' death were still in question. "I tried telling him that story you came up with at the funeral, but he swears that something else happened."

Shane's expression faltered. She could tell he was still plagued by fragments of that night; a war brewing behind closed doors and closed eyes. Hell, she'd already become a casualty in that war between inner self and outer obstacles. Just like him.

"You did a bad thing," she told him softly, speaking hesitantly like she expected him to explode any moment, "but you did it for a good reason... You did what no one else would have. Because of you, Carl is alive. That's all that matters now. So, even if we have Dale up our asses, I'm thankful for what happened that night. I don't regret it anymore, and neither should you."

"You're over it?" he asked quietly, half-incredulous and half-relieved.

"I'm getting there, I think," she nodded. "I think the barn and Sophia took my mind off it. At least until Dale brought it back up, but... It doesn't bother me as much now, you know?"

As they both lingered in silence, she tried her best to analyze every feature creating his enigmatic expression, just to have some idea of what was going on inside his head. Did he agree with her, or was he still anchored to rock bottom? She wished she knew, just so she could support him, no matter what his endeavors may be.

"Come on," he said quietly, nodding his head towards the tent exit. "We gotta eat." Then, without even waiting for her, he turned and exited the tent with no warning.

As she stood to follow suit, a heavy sigh rattled her chest. She had just finished a conversation with Shane, the man who rescued her family following the outbreak, discussing the fact that they both played a role in a man's death; and how murder was justified; and how she had already acquainted herself with the idea of taking someone's life.

She stood idly.

At what point did the golden times forsake her, and how did their disappearance manage to unnoticed until now?

"Baby, the more you fidget, the longer it takes, so don't, okay?"

Carl shifted his weight, settling further onto the milk crate he was seated on. "I'm trying," he groaned as Lori forcefully set his head straight, scissors hovering over the nape of his neck.

"Well, try harder," Lori calmly responded, combing through the hair on the back of his head.

"If you think this is bad, wait till you start shaving. That stings," Shane contributed, pushing a cleaning rod down the barrel of his shotgun. "That day comes, you'll be wishing for one of your mama's haircuts."

Carl scoffed. "I'll believe that when I see it."

A light chuckle left Shane's mouth. "Tell you what– you just get through this with some manly dignity, and tomorrow I'll teach you something special," he replied. Following a pause for dramatic effect, he continued with a confident, "I will teach you to catch frogs."