Chapter Text
"Lori and Officer Shane are fuckin'."
"Watch yer damn mouth." A flick of charred squirrel hide hits Priscilla. She scrunches her nose and wipes it from her cheek, lips quirking.
"Sorry. 'S true, though."
"Yeah, how d'ya know?"
"I saw 'em," Priscilla says, nodding. "Right before we left. Went into the woods for some berries, and Lori was, ya know…" She flushes a little, embarrassed. "Undressin', and Shane was helpin' her. So I ran back and then we left."
Daryl huffs and shakes his head.
"Hell's it matter? Both 'em grown."
"Yeah, but didn't ya know? Lori's husband died when this all started, and Officer Shane was his best friend!"
"Who told ya all that?"
Priscilla's a little sheepish when she mumbles, "Amy."
She could hardly be blamed for the tittle-tattle, however. Daryl and Merle were always up to their own devices while hunting and telling her to scram while they were at camp, so she had no other choice but to socialize with the people of the camp. If talking let her hear a little gossip from Amy and her older sister Andrea now and then, something that brought memories of doing the same during gym class while Coach Smith barked at her and the other girls to keep running laps, then what was the harm?
"What the hell's she know, huh?"
"A lot," Priscilla says hotly, suddenly defensive of the older girl. "She helps me with my Calculus homework and she explains it good." Priscilla doesn't mention that she, too, already knows how to do the equations, just didn't want to do them fast. She liked hearing the blonde girl explain everything to her and blushed at the praise she received when she gave the right answer.
This, a shy moment that morphed into ugliness when she thought of others finding out about it, was something she could never confess to anyone. Much less her brothers.
Daryl snorts. "Don't know why yer still doin' those damn sheets. Ya ain't goin' back to school, Cilla."
" 'S not like you and Merle let me do much else 'round here," she sulks.
"Yeah, well, quit yer whinin'. We'll be leavin' soon 'nuff."
That made her look up from the last bits of her dinner. "So you and Merle are really doin' it? Robbin' the camp?"
" 'S been our plan this entire time, ain't it?" Just his and Merle's, actually, but it'd make sense her brothers would only begin to include Priscilla into their business once it turned criminal. She almost scoffed, but instead, she picks at the yellow gingham bandana holding her dinner and frowns.
"I still don't think it's a good idea. There's a cop at our camp. And he's got a shotgun with 'im all the time."
Truthfully, the idea hadn't seemed half bad when Merle brought it up not long after they'd settled at the quarry. If they could leave Atlanta for good with another vehicle apart from Merle's stupid motorcycle, there was a chance she could convince them to make the journey to Virginia. Back to the old trailer park she used to live in with their Daddy. There's a small pang in her chest at the thought of her father before she moves on to more important things. Things she actually missed.
Her colored pencils and rainbow sherbet ice cream.
For a moment, Priscilla's mind briefly wanders to Coach Smith. She wonders if he and his wife are still alive before shaking her head.
He don't give a shit about you, Priscilla, she tells herself firmly. He let you know that last time you talked. Just you, Daryl, and Merle now. Ain't room for nobody else.
"Ain't nothin' gonna happen," Daryl says. Despite Priscilla's attempts at not thinking of her teacher, she finds herself thinking about him more the harder she tries not to. So, she doesn't say anything to Daryl, mind still occupied, and they continue eating in silence before the dying bonfire.
They turn in for the night once the last glowing embers die down and the woods are cloaked in darkness.
Some miles away, back at the quarry on the outskirts of Atlanta, a man named Rick Grimes is reunited with his family, and sits with them at a bonfire with a group of survivors.
Dale speaks up, “Have you given any thought to the Dixons? They won't be happy to hear their brother was left behind. Especially Daryl Dixon.”
“I'll tell them,” T-Dog says. “I dropped the key. It's on me.”
Rick shakes his head. “I cuffed him. That makes it mine.”
“Guys, it's not a competition,” Glenn pipes up. “I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy.”
T-Dog shakes his head, too. “I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from ‘em.”
“We could lie,” Amy suggests. Andrea also shakes her head.
“Or tell the truth,” she offers. “Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed.” Andrea looks at Lori. “Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's.”
"And that's what we tell Daryl and Priscilla?" Dale says, eyebrows raised incredulously. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? At least, not with Daryl. Word to the wise… We're gonna have our hands full when they get back from their hunt.”
The group is silent for a moment before T-Dog speaks again. “I was scared and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it.”
“We were all scared,” Andrea replies. “We all ran. What's your point?"
“I stopped long enough to chain that door,” he continues. “Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that… Not that chain, not that padlock. My point… Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us.”
Whatever came after would be, too.