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FIND YOU
CHAPTER SEVEN;
( discriminate. )
❛ jack finds herself
in uncharted territory. ❜
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SHE STATIONED HERSELF outside the shed. Really, it was Shane's idea; he wanted to stand guard himself, but they both knew that wasn't advisable. He could have the purest intentions in the world, but still be viewed as conniving and suspicious. When she offered, he didn't say no, but a look of confusion washed over him- she couldn't even protect herself.
But they both knew that the chances of her needing to protect herself were slim. Both prisoners were handcuffed, both prisoners were injured, and both were locked in the shed.
She felt safe. For the most part.
"Excuse me," a raspy, weak voice croaked. In spite of how quiet the voice was, it managed to startle Jack, pulling her from her thoughts. Instantly, her head snapped to the left to glare over her shoulder at the pair of dark eyes peering through the cracks between the wooden boards. "Could I have some water, please? If it's not too much trouble?"
Her eyelids narrowed as her shoulders raised with a slight inhale. Thoughts racing, she glanced back and forth between each sea-colored eye. "Which one are you?" she quietly asked after a prolonged pause. It didn't truly matter which one was begging her for water- she just knew not to talk to the one named Randall. It was certain that he was part of the group who attempted to kill her father, Hershel, and Glenn.
The other prisoner - Shane still told her not to speak to him. However, Jack didn't see much reasoning behind that. Of course, he could be dangerous and plotting to kill her- but what if he wasn't? They seemed hesitant to believe him when he said that he had nothing to do with the attack, and for good reason, but...
Jack just needed to know if the one talking to her was definitely dangerous or just slightly dangerous. It made a difference.
"I'm Elijah." The slightly dangerous one. She took note. "I just want some water, please."
She turned to face the faint pair of eyes, arms crossed over her chest. Half of her wanted to use his desperation as leverage; she could see it now. "Tell me where your group is, or no water." But that just seemed so inhumane. The other half just wanted to oblige, just give whatever he needed so he wouldn't die of dehydration.
Would she really care if he died? No.
But you can't get information out of a dead man.
"How bad do you need it?" she asked, almost too casual for his liking. "Like, are your internal organs shutting down or do you just have a dry mouth?"
For a moment, it was quiet. "I guess I don't need it right now," he mumbled. "I would like some, though. If that's possible."
He was rather polite for someone who could possibly be a murderer. Formality aside, however, she was still cautious. So long as he wasn't on the verge of withering away, then he was fine. His growing desperation would just prove more beneficial to them, she thought.
She thanked God for the sound of impending footsteps behind her, for they gave her some reason to turn away from the pleading prisoner. "What are you doing out here?" Rick asked, slowing to a stop in front of her.
She shrugged. "Keeping watch."
"Well, usually people sit on the RV and take watch, like Dale is right now," he retorted, gesturing over his shoulder to the old man atop the RV.
"I meant keeping watch on the shed," she clarified, a slight smile on her lips. "Personally, I think there's a bigger threat in here than out in those fields."
"You know they're not going anywhere, right?" he lightly questioned, only partly attempting to lighten the mood. He was gravely serious, just as he expected her to be. However, he didn't want to burst her bubble just yet- seeing her at least somewhat content made him happy beyond words.
"Hey," she started, pointing an accusing finger as a hint of a smile found its way to her lips, "that's what they want us to think."
He tried to smile, but his attempt only turned into a heavy, burdened sigh. "Jokes aside, you know how dangerous it is to be out here."
"Of course," she nodded, speaking matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I'm pretty sure it's just Shane and I that know. Everyone else seems really hesitant to recognize them for what they are: threats. Or maybe they just don't want to voice otherwise." Whatever amusement once existed in their encounter, had vanished. He clenched his jaw. Of course, she would side with Shane. "I just want to make sure they stay. I'd rather they be right here than out there, leading an entire group to us."
"I can never do right by you, can I?"
His vehemence caught her off guard. She didn't think that their conversation was even that tense- and then he just bursts out with that? (She noted that just a mention of Shane's name seemed to tick him off.) It seemed that even he didn't realize what he said until it had already faded into the air. Nevertheless, he continued.
"I can't be everywhere at once, Jack. I've been trying, you know, I..."
"It's fine," she mumbled faintly, shaking her head. She always hated hearing him angry, not that it occurred very often. Did she prefer this, or did she prefer how he used to shut down and hold back? She couldn't decide. "I'm not sensitive when it comes to that stuff, y'know. You should probably just focus on Carl and all. He's younger."
"Your mother says he's getting cold," he sighed, letting his head fall and his shoulders slump. "She says the same about you." He couldn't even look her in the eyes saying it.
She brushed it off. "We can say that about everyone in the group," she haltingly replied. "The world is getting colder. We have to adjust to that."
"You don't think we should try to hold on to who we were?" he questioned as he raised his head back up to helplessly gaze at her through squinted eyelids. Did it really matter that much to him?
Of course, she reminded herself. That's her father, after all.
(Sometimes, it felt like he was still dead. Coping with that loss was difficult, but coping with his return proved even more taxing. In spite of their reunion hug and those golden moments, maybe she had just never wrapped her mind around the fact that he was alive. Her steadfast attachment to Shane probably played a part in that, she assumed.)
Jack was at a loss for words. "I think that..." For a moment, she almost thought she actually knew what to say. But that single thought was ambushed by the panic of a million others. "We... We spend so much time focused on the past and then neglect our future. I'd rather live to see tomorrow than spend too much time thinking about yesterday, you know?"
He shook his head lightly. "I don't believe that."
Really? That was all he had to say? Jack sighed, shrugging. "You don't have to," she told him quietly. "Just... Just don't even waste your time worrying about me or anything. I know what I'm doing."
"That's what worries me," he sighed. "Your mom, y'know, she's worried to death about you and she's too afraid to even say anything." Jack's expression faltered with a slight sigh. She really didn't want to hear about it, in all honesty. Like she wasn't already aware of how much her own mother avoided her. Witnessing such doubt and disappointment with her own two eyes was enough; a third party explaining it to her was too much to handle. Jack tried walking away, only to halt as he continued, "You know, she heard your conversation with Shane the other day... She's terrified of who you're becoming."
Jack swore she could feel her heart drop down to her knees, both of which felt unusually unsteady. With a deep inhale, she spared Rick a glance as he stood behind her, nervous and expectant. "Okay," she breathed shakily. Of all things, surprisingly, no tears dared to make their appearance. Considering, she generally felt okay; just a bit overwhelmed and maybe, perhaps, an ounce of sadness.
(The saddest thing was just that she didn't feel so sad. This feeling became routine; the new act of inhaling and exhaling.)
Refusing to look back any longer, she let her body drag her heart away from the shed and back towards camp, where she was immediately intercepted by Glenn as soon as she was visible. "Hi," he started quickly. "We never, um... We were supposed to talk."
As soon as the sentence left his mouth, her face contorted with a sigh. "Shit," she breathed. Somehow, in the sway of all these malignant things, she'd completely forgotten about Glenn. His expectant gaze only made her feel worse than she already did. "I'm sorry, I-I just... A lot's been going on."
His gaze shifted from anticipation to concern as he just slightly inched towards her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she was quick to nod, her exhausted expression adorned by an obligated smile, "always."
A sad smile graced his lips as he nodded. Of course, she wasn't okay - she hadn't been okay since Atlanta -, but he didn't want to prod. She would talk to him whenever she felt ready, or so he hoped. It was a newfound habit of hers to ignore his presence at her side. (He couldn't be too upset, however. It couldn't have been intentional.)
"I'm here now, though," she spoke up. "But if you're busy, we can-"
"I'm free," he assured with just a slight nod. He could've told her that he'd been waiting for her to make an appearance, that he'd been waiting almost all morning- but instead he just smiled.
"Lead the way," she encouraged, stepping to the side to allow him entry into the camp. He took a deep breath, glimpsing through the camp, trying to decide where to even lead the way to. Would a tent seem too personal? It was obviously a private conversation, but would she worry about his intentions? He really just needed to vent to her, but only to her. He didn't want someone to overhear and it blow up in his face.
After an idle moment, he hesitantly turned towards her tent. She followed suit.
Once inside, she plopped down in front of him as he zipped the door closed. "What's up?" she inquired, watching him.
For a moment, he ignored her question, examining his surroundings. For her tent being the place she spent the most of her time in, it seemed rather unhomely. Everything was still in bags, boxes, still collecting dust in the unused corner. She had her necessities within reach, but nothing else.
And then their eyes met, and he realized that she was patiently waiting for him to respond. "Um..." he gulped. He couldn't wait to talk to her again, but, in his enamor, forgot to script what he wanted to say. "When you were out there with Shane and Otis," he began slowly, every word hesitant and gentle, "did you freeze up?"
Of course. "Kind of," she shrugged. "Like... Right after Otis died, Shane had to basically drag me to the car. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. I guess." Here he was, the first person to genuinely seem intent on listening to her and understanding - and she shrugged off what absolutely eroded her morale just weeks before. However, she reminded herself, this pseudo-therapy session was for him, not her. "Why do you ask?"
"That's what it was," he softly replied, "the other day, when I was so upset. We were out there - your dad, Hershel, and me - and I froze up... You know, we were all supposed to be looking out for each other, but I just hid behind some dumpster." He brought his gaze up from the ground and glanced at her expression, to gauge her opinion without having to actually ask. It was futile, however; she knew how to pull a poker face better than anyone. "I just feel like... you get it more than anyone, you know? Hopefully, that doesn't sound mean or anything; I just know that you've been through it. I saw what the entire Otis thing did to you, and I..."
With a triumphant smile on her face, Jack slammed the last card from her deck onto their shared space. "I win," she shortly stated, leaning back onto her palms.
Glenn, silent, did nothing but blink. Red-faced and dazed, all he did was mumble a slight, "Wait, what?"
A laugh threatened to escape through her smile, but she interrupted herself with a cocky, "You just got your ass kicked in Uno, that's what."
"You never said Uno," he reminded her. Immediately, the arrogance vanished from her expression as she blankly stared at the deck of cards between them. "So...," a grin grew on his face, "I win."
"No, that's not the rules," she desperately refused. "You said the same thing with Yahtzee. You're making it up." Her half-drunken rebuttal only enticed a laugh from him, as she sadly asked, "Do you not want me to win?"
"It's not that, Jack," he jokingly assured. "You just don't know how to win."
"You still have cards and I don't!"
"But you never said Uno..."
Her lips straightened to a thin line and she sighed heavily. Drunk and defeated, she picked up the wine bottle from the floor (executing a perfectly non-graceful reach to even grab it) and brought it to her lips, only to be met with a sad emptiness. She held the bottle out in front of her and then dismally looked to Glenn, murmuring a quiet, "It's all gone..."
His smile fell and he mumbled softly, "No..."
It was quiet for a moment, as both drunk, young adults tried their hardest to coherently think of what they could do. "We're going to have to steal some," Jack finally spoke up, already getting off the bed and slipping on her shoes.
"From who?" he questioned.
"Uh...," she thought aloud, looking to him for approval as she finally suggested, "Dale? He doesn't need it, right? It's bad for his liver?"
"Sure?" he shrugged, replicating her unsure tone.
"Good," she nodded and then immediately rushed out of the room and into the narrow, underground hallway.
Making sure to be as stealthy as possible (like James Bond, she told herself), she just slightly cracked open the door to Dale's room, peeking her head through once the gap was wide enough. A quick double-take was all she needed to conclude that it was safe, and start dramatically tiptoeing into the recreational room.
Two wine bottles once sat atop the desk were immediately swept into her reach, as was a nearby board game that she just couldn't resist. Uno clearly wasn't fond of her. Her movements were as calculated as her staggering body could manage; really, she was stumbling all over the place, but she thought she looked cool "sneaking" around his room like James Bond.
As soon as she left the room, leaving the door wide open, she began rushing back down the hallway, almost spilling everything from her hold. Tapping the door lightly with her foot, she struggled to keep everything up-
Until Glenn opened the door and almost immediately snatched the board game from under her arm. "You got Battleship?!" he excitedly asked, expressing himself even louder than when she brought out the Uno deck.
Jack beamed a drunken grin as she pressed a finger to her own lips, managing a subtle, "Shh, shh."
Eyes widened like a child's, he tried his hardest to contain himself as he loudly whispered, "You got Battleship?"
"Y'know?"
In a state of serenity from recalling memories of their night at the CDC, but shellshocked from abruptly tuning back into his speech, she instinctively nodded, replying with a halted, "Yeah."
His eyebrows furrowed just barely as a small sigh left his mouth. "Is now a bad time?" he hesitantly asked. "You weren't listening."
"I'm sorry," she sighed. She almost wanted to tell him that she didn't zone out because she was uninterested, only because being with him again reminded her of happier days- wasn't that a good thing? Or would he still consider it rude? "My mind's just all over the place."
The expression painted over his face dropped as he glanced between her eyes, as if trying to figure out the information she decided to withhold. He looked so sad, she thought. It made her feel terrible. What kind of friend was she?
In an attempt to lighten the mood, purely for his sake only, she found the strength to smile and scoot towards him, both of them sitting cross-legged. She gave a slight tap to his leg, playful in her manner, and beamed a, "But I'm good. I'm here. What'd you want to say?"
For once, it seemed, he was the one to deflect all her attempts at positivity. (He never thought he would see the day.) "It's fine," he assured, trying not to seem too upset or angered.
"Glenn-"
"We can just do this another time," he continued, pushing himself away from her. "It's not that important, really." Of course, it was important, but the look in her eyes forced him to tell her that it wasn't. He didn't mean to send her on a guilt-trip; his leaving was only for her sake. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel burdened.
Her disappointed gaze fell as he exited.
It felt strangely quiet after. It was always quiet in her tent, but this was a different type of silence. It made her uncomfortable, mostly, but also weighed her down. Something she used to relish in, now causing her to fall back onto her makeshift bed with a huff.
Things used to be easier. The world, in all its ugliness, used to not weigh so heavy on her shoulders. Hearing Glenn talk about hiding during a shootout, how he should've done more- she would never get used to it. She preferred their Uno games and how she always let him believe that he won, and all those midday talks about the world before. He was a pizza delivery driver; she was a student, half-ass studying Business Administration for the pure sake of making money. He loved his family; she was always the one to stay with a friend for the holidays. He loved his comic books, while she was more of a soap opera person.
And yet, she cared so much about what he thought of her.
The "old" Jack didn't, not much anyway, but she couldn't help herself nowadays. He was her only friend, the only person who would never criticize her or pick an argument with her.
However, she used to be so confident. So calculated in her movements and the things she would say. These days, with her confidence faltering and insecurities shining through, she was an absolute mess and so desperate for someone to just tell her that she was okay and that she was a good person - that she's suffered enough and that it's safe enough to be okay again.
Who would tell her that, Rick? When all he could think of was his eldest child's obvious favour of Shane?
Or Lori? They hadn't spoken in days, not even eye-contact in passing.
And Carl just didn't understand. She didn't want him to. She prayed to God that he would never, ever understand what it was like to suffer or to witness something that would keep him up at night. She prayed that he would be stagnant, never become an adult, never have to deal with the weight of this new world. She wanted to do that for him, so he (or the new baby) wouldn't have to.
Maybe that made her a good person. She entertained the idea, but then shook it off to mere dutiful obligation.
Was there anything to salvage within the Grimes family? Maybe it was time to start disappearing during the holidays again. She could just fade from the group, stay in her tent, go off the bare necessities. When she was needed, she'd be there. Any other time, she could be a ghost. An apparition of a person.
It sounded nice, almost. Just awful lonely. Perhaps it was time to make new friends, she thought. The old ones were giving up on her and she had no choice but to just let them. More than saddening, but she believed it to be the hard truth.
Swiftly, she sat upright, arms limp in her lap and a look of utter defeat washing over her. Only after staring at the blank wall for God knows how long, did she finally glimpse to the half-empty water bottle sitting atop her stack of books.
There wasn't much thought when she automatically reached for the bottle and exited her tent, pacing towards the shed once again. It wasn't an instinct, but something else. She couldn't decipher it. Maybe it was a need to do right by the "old" her. The old Jack wouldn't discriminate between evil and good, criminals and saints, right or wrong. Did she have any reason to?
A million reasons.
None of which crossed her mind as she climbed to the upper level of the shed, the floorboards creaking beneath her weight. As soon as she stepped to the edge, looking down on the two miserable prisoners, they both looked right back up at her - presumably alerted by all the noise she made.
She hesitated for a moment, her chapped lips idle as she wondered what to even say first. Her civil war of hope vs. doubt made a simple confrontation so much more difficult.
For the first time, they were seeing each other; not through cracks between boards, but genuinely seeing each other. She placed a face to the voice, and all of a sudden, Elijah's kindness meant so much more. She could see it in his eyes, how desperate he was, how miserable he was from receiving a punishment underserved. She pitied him beyond measure.
"You're a good person?" she awkwardly asked, tightening her grip on the plastic bottle.
Mouth slightly open, he peered up at her, silent for a moment. He examined her, analyzed her like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved, an equation with an infinite amount of solutions. (What weaknesses was she accidentally exposing? Could they be of use? Her being here already proved that she was susceptible to his haphazard manipulation.)
"Please don't bullshit me, either," she added on, nervous and almost shaking. "I mean it."
"Yes," he shortly answered after a moment, voice so soft she could barely hear it. But his next words were intent, louder, bolder - and completely wiped the nervousness from her face: "So are you."
No more words spoken, the bottle landed on the ground with a faint thud.
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this was very angsty yikes
but it was straying from canon show shit so thank God
excuse any typos
i switched to Android because the battery in my iPhone gave up, and for some reason this trash won't let me know when i fucked up a word so that's cool; in addition, I've lost all my gif recs and other things so if anything looks different, please excuse
very angsty very foreshadow very Elijah wow look at him hes so aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
word count: 3995