Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀᴛʏ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

"Everybody alright?"

Lucas's fingers flinch, his spoon making a clang against the side of his bowl. All heads swivel towards the door to find Rick's face peeking through the bars. He's clean - wearing new clothes. He must've snuck in sometime last night.

He's speaking. And that's better than yesterday.

When Rick's eyes slide to his, Lucas looks away and digs into his measly meal as a distraction. He says measly, but he'd choose unsalted spaghetti over dog food, any day.

The gate creaks open and footsteps move into the room. "Yeah, we are." Maggie answers, slumped over at the other table. 

Hershel asks the important question, "What about you?"

"I cleared out the boiler block," Rick answers, croakily, kneading his fingers together beside his thigh. He glances down at Carl, checking on him. 

"How many were there?"

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen. I have to get back. Just wanted to check on Carl." Rick pats said boy gently on the back, and turns around.

Glenn jumps from his seat, "Rick, we can handle taking out the bodies. You don't have to."

"No, I do." Rick cocks his head, eyes never finding a stable place to land. He moves away towards Daryl, "Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

"Yeah. We're running low on ammo, though."

"Me, Maggie, and Lucas were planning on making a run this afternoon. Found a phone book with some places we can hit, look for bullets and formula." Glenn says, still standing.

It had been a bit of a struggle for them to convince Lucas to get out of bed, but the baby crying downstairs had done it.

I know you never expected siblings, Lucas, but promise me-

Lucas scratches at his forearm until white lines turn red.

Daryl nods, and adds, "We cleared out the generator room. Axel's there trying to fix it in case of an emergency. We're gonna sweep the lower levels as well."

"Good," Rick starts walking, "Good." And is gone as quick as he came.

There was a sneaking suspicion that Lucas would feel like a third wheel the whole drive out with the lovebirds, but it was actually. . . nice. They'd gotten used to each other during the seven months he could call hell, but that was survival. Watching each other's backs, sharing food and whispered warnings. Nothing like the ease they talked at the farm - something they've been trying to reach within the prison.

Lucas and Glenn got along like peas in a pod the minute they went on that run in Atlanta. To realize he and Maggie also had a few things in common, was incredibly reassuring. One of those being the people that cut Lori's stomach open -

They weren't far off in age, either, and he thinks maybe that's why it works so well.

The more pressing question was if he was even seventeen anymore. Months and days blur together in one big fuckery of a year, and he'd have to check on the progress Beth made with that Callender.

The red Ute swings around the car park until it's aligned with the grocery store. Maggie puts it in park and slides out of her seat, Glenn mere seconds behind her.

Lucas presses some sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and rejoices in not having to squint the second he makes it into the sun.

Glenn snorts when he looks at him, "I think those were Shane's." He is, in fact, squinting.