Like it Was Before

The sun's up, barely by the time I emerge with bed head, wearing yesterday's dirty clothes.
Shane winks and hands me a bottle of freshly boiled water which tastes as good as it sounds, but still it's the thought that counts. I accept this gratefully and Shane follows me to the RV steps where I plop down on the very top, half inside. I'm mostly still asleep and I flush with pleasure when Shane sits down on the stair in front of me, leaning against my bare legs and squeezing my calf affectionately before going back to his business of sharpening his knife. One of his knives, anyway.
I touch the back of his neck, careful not to make any sudden moves that might startle him, lest he accidentally lop a digit off. "You called me your wife."
This is said so quietly, and so long after the fact that I wonder if I should repeat myself.
"At the quarry, I mean," I elaborate instead, waiting. And waiting.
I can't see Shane's face from my seat behind him, but I hope he's smiling. "Yeah, I know."
It strikes me all at once how odd this is, sitting here with Shane Walsh, knowing his faults and head over heels anyway. If Rick hadn't been shot, if the geeks hadn't begun walking around we'd live in the same world as before, sure, but Shane and I wouldn't have stayed together, of this I was sure; we would have dissolved without the glue of trauma bonding us together.
Shane, God love him, would have moved right onto the next girl because that's just who he was then, and I'd still be in King County, single and flinching whenever I saw a cop car, hoping it wasn't him.
In a way, I supposed we were lucky-at least we were together.
"Did it on purpose." Shane confirms, bringing me out of my deep thinking.
"You want a ring? 'Cause I can ask Glenn-"
"I love you, a lot." I tell him lamely, my voice thick, not letting him finish his sentence.
I didn't need a ring. I needed him.
"Let me tell you," Shane says and then our conversation is broken up by applause. For a moment, I'm so absorbed in what we had been saying that I think it's for us, sarcastic. Someone overhearing our conversation and razzing us a bit for our lovey-dovey ways. But then I come out of myself to see Amy and Andrea, the returning heroes (whom I hadn't even realized were missing) carrying our dinner and I join the cheering, nudging Shane playfully with my knee.
"You should teach me how to fish." I see and feel his shoulders shaking.
"Rather teach you how to gig frogs."
I scoff openly at this, wise to his tricks. "Whatever-you just want to see me in a wet t-shirt."
More shoulder shaking from him that I realize now is laughter.
"Yep. Although, I'd like to see you in a lot less, especially after last night. You were on fire, girl,"
"I don't want to alarm anyone," Dale announces, coming down from the top of the RV, worrying me for a second about how much of our exchange he had overheard.
Dale's a sweet old man-I'd hate to traumatize him.
"But we appear to have a problem with Jim."
Jim, who had laid down the night before to catch some sleep roughly the same time as I had. I'd assumed he was still tucked away in his tent, snoozing, just as I hadn't realized the sisters were missing. Shows what I know. "He's digging, has been for hours and it's getting hot already.
Unresponsive, won't talk...it's eerie."
Shane stands, just like I knew he was going to, and I miss his proximity immediately.
"See, if Rick were here, he could help handle this."
He points out to the group at large, catching Lori's attention.
Lori who takes a hard look at Shane for the first time all morning before changing the subject entirely.
"Where'd you get those scratches from, Shane?"
I feel heat rush to my face but I'm unsure if I'm more angry or humiliated by this, being called out.
The scratches on his neck, the backs of his hands were all from our foray into the woods, not that he would admit such a thing.
"Lori." Shane warns, rubbing the back of his head while I sit there dumbly, watching this unfold.
"Just a question." She presses. "They aren't from the walker yesterday morning, are they?"
Shane looks disgusted. "Now, you know they aren't."
"Then where?"
I stand-I've had quite enough of this. "Me." I declare, loudly.
"They came from me, not that it's any of your damn business.
We have a real problem here, in case you all didn't hear Dale.
Now, you can stand there gapin' at me all you want, Lori, but me, I'm going to check on Jim."
As far as getting the last word is concerned, I think this one's pretty impressive.