Like it Was Before

"The dead girl's a time bomb!"
Daryl is arguing, the three of us having migrated away from the dead-again walkers to check on Rick.
"She has a name," I snap, and Daryl looks almost amused.
"HAD a name, maybe." Glenn takes me by the upper arm, leading me away back to our dubious work before my anger can boil over and cause a scene.
Even the dead are preferable to that redneck at this point in time, I reflect while he swaggers back over, acting as dumb as ever, dragging a breather with him. Ed. One of our own.
"We don't burn the living," Glenn sputters out, clearly scandalized. "We bury them."
"Don't look livin' to me." This is Glenn's snapping point.
Glenn who, has remained stoic throughout the hellish past twelve hours begins to yell.
"We bury them!"
Even Daryl flinches at this, and moves to remedy his gaffe without further comment, Morales coming to help, doing his own yelling at Dixon as soon as they were out of ear shot.
Glenn had saved my bacon once today already, and I find myself quick to hurry in and return the favor, soothe his frustration some. Keep him from going after the man with a weapons arsenal, in other words.
"You ever get free pizzas?"
"What?" Glenn whirls, looking at me like he thinks I've finally lost it.
"When you were a delivery guy." I clarify, as if we're having a normal conversation in a strip mall or somewhere innocuous like that.
"I had a boyfriend, before Shane? Who delivered pizza, and he got free food all the time.
Of course, he got robbed a lot too, delivering to the wrong side of town, but..."
Clearly, I'm rambling so it's okay that Glenn ignores me. "Daryl's such an asshole, man,"
"Yeah...he is." I agree. Glenn may be insulting the other man, but at least he sounds more calm now.
"You know he made me carry a severed hand in my bag?!"
I'll admit, this elicit a double-take from me, something I thought didn't exist outside of slapstick comedies. "What, like a real one?" Glenn nods, morose. "Merle's."
I actually shudder at this, the mental picture not at all helped by the chopped body parts surrounding us. What did Daryl think he was going to do, put the hand on ice and take Merle to the nearest ER?
Jacqui begins yelling as our conversation tapers out (which is good, because I honestly can't come up with anything else to say to pizza boy) and the only word I can make out in her hysteric state is "bit".
I stop, freezing reflexively in terror-I think everyone does.
There's a long moment of confusion, everyone looking to the person nearest them, checking, asking.
Jim. Jim's been bit. Idiotically, my first instinct is to go to him, stripping off my gloves and shoving them at Glenn and even as I'm panicking for my friend a large part of me is relieved (and almost ashamed at this relief) that it was anyone other than Shane.
Jim leaves the group clustered in a loose circle just as Glenn and I approach, the argument clearly being what should we do with him. As if he were a danger to us, as if he wasn't still living.
I clutch at this, taking a step away from the people gathered.
"Savannah-" Rick begins, and I shake my head emphatically; this does not feel right to me.
"I don't want any part of this, deciding a man's fate for him. It's wrong."
Having said my piece, I walk away, Rick calling after me and Shane telling him in an utterly contemptuous voice to 'just let me go'. I make a point out of pretending not to have heard this, seeking Jim out.
He's behind the RV, crouched down, looking miserable, like an animal caught in a trap.
I crouch myself right in front of him and reach for his hand, flashing back to that day in the hospital with Lori. It feels like a lifetime ago-it might as well be.
"We're gonna fix this, okay? We're gonna try and-"
I actually have no idea what it is we're going to try, so I stop here. I'm thankful that this moment is soon interrupted, even if it is by Daryl, who is coming at us with a pickax.
I shoot to my feet, stuck between fight-or-flight and then Shane's there, rushing to stand in front of me, placing himself bodily between Daryl's weapon and I. Between Shane and Rick, Daryl is flanked, and Rick has his gun out, clearly no match for a pickax. Daryl acquiesces, dropping the thing without a word, and Shane moves quickly, scooping the ax up with a grunt.
We have not exchanged a single word since the night before and I can feel a wedge forming between us, rapidly becoming a chasm. I'm desperate to keep us from falling into that gulf.
"I can't believe you just jumped in front of me like that..are you nuts?"
Jim sits, watching us, completely uninterested. Already his fever is soaring. "He had an ax, Shane!" Abruptly, Shane crosses our wedge, our chasm, our gulf in a few long strides, getting right in my face. "You listen to me, Savannah Jane-there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Nothing."
I'm dumbfounded, dragging him away from prying eyes as Carol comes to crouch with Jim, taking up my vigil. "But last night!" I protest hotly, as if there aren't more pressing matters unfolding around us.
"I said that the woods saved us, and-"
"It didn't." Shane insists, making my heart sink. "It didn't, though, Van. We didn't need saving. Still don't.
As long as we have each other, everything's going to be just-fucking-fine, you got me?"
This is said with so much ferocity that I can't help but nod, can't help but believe it, believe him.

xx

Seeing Amy turn that afternoon is surreal, the worst thing to ever happen in Andrea's life, playing out in real time for the group to see. Something she has to share with us on top of everything. I'm surprised to not find myself frozen, calling for Shane breathlessly as I approach. the sisters. I haven't heard my voice take on such a tone since the news first broke in KC. Shane and Rick are standing propped against Glenn's shell of a car and even though it's Shane I call for, the both of them snap to attention, the entire camp flinching when Andrea's gun goes off before any of us can reach her.
Even when the dead began to walk I didn't know, never could have dreamed it would be this bad. Maybe I didn't know anything yet.

Hours later, we make our way up the familiar trail, exhausted, taking pains to stay behind and yet not look at the truck carrying the bodies. The men are stoic once we've reached the graves Jim has dug, lying there waiting to be filled, but the women-myself included-are crying their eyes out.
To some extent, even though we don't know it at the time, we're all following the same train of thought; wondering how many more burials we'd have to endure, wondering who might be next.
The atmosphere and worry and weariness are almost to much to bear and remain standing and I find myself clutching at the people on either side of me. Glenn's holding his baseball cap respectfully in one hand but allows me to hang on to his empty one, squeezing comfortingly.
Shane doesn't move at all as I grip his bicep and it feels like a very long time before we all turn and head back to camp.

xx

"Savannah, hold up."
Shane calls as we reach the outskirts of camp and I slow, letting him catch up to me.
The rigidness that had prevailed at the graves melts away once everyone surrounding us has gone, his body relaxing as he draws me into his arms. At the familiarity of Shane, his touch, his smell same as ever I break completely, sobbing. God, but I was sick of crying.
"I'm sorry," I choke out. "It's just, Amy, you know? It's Amy."
"I know." he adjusts his grip, holding me tighter, putting his hands in my hair. "Baby, I know it."
After what feels like a long time but can't be more than twenty minutes, (the body can't withstand that kind of grief for extended periods of time, logically, I know this) the crying peters out and I keep still, my face pressed to his collarbone, catching my breath. I'd be lost without Shane.
"Damn, girl," he teases lightly once I find myself steady. "You were on the verge of a real cryin' jag."
Was that a Gone With The Wind reference? He would.
It's watery, but he makes me laugh. No more tears, I vow, not if I can help it.
I have to keep it together, do my part.
"You're a jag," I fire back softly as I pull away to swipe hastily at my eyes, wondering if I've ever looked worse than in these last few months, wondering if Shane misses seeing me in makeup, all put together.
Personally, I think Shane looks great roughing it, but men can get away with things like that a lot easier than women can. "I love you, girl," My smile is more genuine now, even if it does remain small and precarious. "I love you. It's my turn to check on Jim, so I'd better..."
Shane sighs, removes his cap to rub his head and looks at me sideways all in one movement.
Clearly, he doesn't want me anywhere near Jim but doesn't say this, willing to let me make my own decisions instead of going Cro-Magnon, which would be so easy.
"Be careful, okay? Take him some water."
I nod, thankful that he isn't giving me a hard time, thankful that the both of us are even still standing here. "Will do."