❝last man standing doesn't matter when it's a pile of bodies you're standing on. so you fight but you be good.❞
[twd seasons 1-?]
Ⓒ 2019║asgxrdians i own nothing except lindsey and her plot
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
chapter eighteen: executioner 4022 words
He'd pushed her away, told her to go back with the others. Lin didn't want to; the only reason she'd even left the house was to be with Dale when he needed someone. But he kept telling her that he didn't, that he was fine. He wasn't and anybody that was in the house when he'd begun to cry had to know that he wasn't okay.
Lin knew she was stubborn, so set in her ways that no one could convince her otherwise when she set her mind to something. She knew that about herself. But she also knew that when Dale set a hand on either of her shoulders, begging her to just go back to the group, telling her that he just wanted to be left alone for a little bit to calm down, that she was going to listen to him, do what she could to just let Dale be at least a little bit better. She'd do anything for her family and she tried to reassure herself that this was the right choice, that she'd done right by Dale by just letting him be.
It didn't help that Daryl had gone with Rick and Shane to the barn to kill Randall. He was Rick's right-hand man no matter what Shane said. Rick needed Daryl with him, to be the muscle, the backbone of the execution. Lin didn't like it, not one bit. But no one could afford to be weak right now.
Lin sat by Daryl's tent, just waiting for the gunshot to ring out, to alert everyone that Randall was dead. She shivered against the night chill, bringing her hands up to rub at her arms. It was a futile effort, doing nothing to quell the goosebumps that blanketed her skin. She kept waiting for the gunshot. But it hadn't come. They'd taken Randall into the barn a while ago, so why haven't they just done it already?
Rick had been ready to, asking the kid if he had any final words to say before he pulled the trigger. Amidst the pleas and the crying, another voice rose up. Carl told his father to just do it, to pull the trigger, to end it all. Rick, unable to kill Randall after his son told him to do something like that. Carl had been taking to the changes of the world too easily. It was making him aggressive, rash. Shane yanked Carl's arm, pulling him out of the empty barn.
"Take him away," Rick said before he could change his mind. Daryl jerked his head and hoisted the kid up, not liking the action but not fighting it. He pushed the blindfolded kid to where they'd been keeping him, the other barn across the farm. Rick went to talk to the group, to tell them that they were keeping Randall in custody.
Lin didn't know they didn't shoot Randall. She sat away from everyone, her hands over her ears waiting for it. She didn't know that anything happened until the screaming started. She thought it was Randall at first but when she realized that Rick couldn't possibly miss a point blank shot to the head, she yanked her hands away, eyes searching the visible farm in search of who was screaming. Her mind jumped to the worst, Daryl, Carl, Rick. Dale. Oh my god, Dale. He'd been alone. He'd sent her away and she'd actually fucking listened.
Lin jumped up to her feet, tearing away from the tent into the field, her hand on her hip. She yanked her knife from the holster, just running as fast as she could. "Daryl!" She yelled, not really giving a shit about the consequences, the noise or just how loud she was being. The hunter, a lamp and his blade in his hands appeared in the distance. At hearing her yell, Daryl stopped on a dime, his feet slipping on the grass. He thought it was her screaming, calling his name for help. It made his stomach drop until he saw that she was fine, running toward him and toward the screaming.
