Changing To Adapt ➵ TWD

➵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪꜰᴛʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

"Who's on watch?" Glenn does a prompt headcount and frowns when realizes they're all there. No one is, in fact, on watch.

His eyes land on Lucas, slightly narrowed, "It was your turn."

Lucas gives him a blank stare, "Thanks for the help, Lucas. Can you go on watch now that you're done? Yeah, sure, Glenn. I'll do that for you." He feels like he's going back to his old ways, when snark was his automatic response to people.

There was a false idea that the victims of Woodbury would stay attached at the hip because of their similar experiences. But it wasn't very similar, in the end, each a separate idea of torture.

They'd have to accept what happened to themselves, first.

"Lucas," Glenn warns, glowering up at him.

Lucas cocks his head, arms crossed, "You need more hands, here I am. What's your problem?"

"My problem, is that you've been keeping things from us for months. What the hell was Daryl talking about?"

The floor drops out from underneath Lucas. He didn't expect any different, but did they really have to talk about this right now?

Lucas glances around the room, "Something not worth mentioning here and now." He says between gritted teeth, hand tightening around the strap of the rifle.

Glenn jolts a step forward, jabbing a finger at his chest, "How is you killing a kid not important? We're supposed to be able to trust you."

Eyes are on him. Staring. Judging. Accusing. Lucas feels them on his back like a hot laser. In his peripheral, all he sees is their cautious gazes.

Lucas steps close enough to leave barely a foot between them. Control is slipping through his fingers and he needs some of it back.

"We could be under attack any fuckin' minute now, and this is what you're worried about?" Diversion is his best tactic. "I found the breach for you. Isn't that trust enough?"

For a moment, the two watch each other, chins up and their eyes narrowed. 

"Boys," Hershel says, a grumble in his tone.

Lucas clenches his jaw. "I'm going on watch." He forces his eyes ahead so he doesn't see the looks that follow him out.

With his hat pulled down to thwart the glaring sun, he oversees Glenn's argument from the bridge, the boy not staying long enough to heed Hershel's wise words. He tears out of the courtyard in the car and heads around back to gouge the severity of the downed gate.

Lucas finds himself not being able to stay still either. His skin feels too tight, stretched over his bones, and worn out to the max. He's irritated, he's tired, and he wants some goddamn privacy.

Hershel's been looking up at him for god knows how long.

"Sorry," Lucas calls out, trying to meet his eyes from this distance. Hershel doesn't say anything, not really, but he does stare out across the field.

Using the scope, he hopes to find what it is that's caught his attention.

Movement shifts in the grass just outside the gates, and Lucas's hand snaps down to reach for the walkie-talkie.

Until he realizes it's Rick.

Lucas looks back down at Hershel and fully understands what he's asking without words. But at the same time, "Last time I tried to talk him down it didn't go so well."

Hershel sighs, a deep huff from the nose. "I'll accompany you."

He can do nothing to persuade the man that it would be a bad idea. He does force him to remain inside the fences, where it's safe from the dead.

Or, was, anyway.

"Rick." He calls out, softly at first. When it doesn't pull the man's eyes from the forest, he raises his voice and circles around into his vision.

Lucas also tosses his hands into the air when Rick jolts and reaches for his rifle. It takes a second for recognition to come through, and until then, he remains still.

"What're - uh, what're you doin' out 'ere?" Rick quietly asks, rubbing at the space between his brows.

Cocking his head towards the fence on their right gives him his answer. Rick moves around Lucas to see Hershel leaning his clutches against the wire, and comes a bit closer in order to hear him.

"You know I wouldn't have hobbled all the way down here if it wasn't important." Hershel starts, adjusting himself to stand better, "Are you coming back soon? Glenn's on the warpath."

Lucas sniffs, and averts his eyes to the ground, pulling the dead grass through his fingers.

"Smart as he is, he can't fill your boots. I'm afraid he's reckless. We need you now more than ever."

Rick shakes his head, "Well, if you're so worried about him," he shrugs his arm Hershel's way, "you lead."

"What are you doing out 'ere, Rick?" Lucas sighs, removing his hat to wipe away the sweat.

"I've-" Rick stares out at nothing and points towards the forest with no direction in mind, "I've been. . . I've got. . . stuff out here. Things."

He's not making any sense. The creek, backed up by oak trees, is the only thing in Rick's line of sight, to them anyway. Who knows what he's really seeing.

Lucas looks at Hershel for help.

"How much longer do you need?" Hershel comes to the rescue.

Blowing out a raged breath, Rick glances between them. "I don't know." He shrugs at Lucas, then shakes his head at the ground. "I don't. . ."

"Is there anything we can help you with?"

Rick lifts his head, and endeavors to meet Hershel's eyes with his own, wet and bloodshot. Lucas swallows, hard, and holds his breath as they wait for an answer.

When Hershel starts to walk away, Rick caves. "I saw somethin'." He steps closer, "Lori. I saw- I'm seeing Lori." He looks at Lucas this time, whose face smoothes out. "Um. Look, I know it's not really her. But there's got to be a reason. It's got to mean something, you know?"

Lucas nods. Because he doesn't know how else to respond.

"Was it her on the phone?" Hershel asks.

"Yeah. Shane, too. And the town."

Lucas has no idea what they're talking about, never realised it was this bad. He moves closer, bit by bit like he's trying to cut Rick off from going further into the woods.

"Do you see them now?" 

Rick shakes his head.

Hershel understands, "You're looking for them."

"I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"I don't know. Somethin'." Rick ducks his head, "There's an answer. I know," He swipes his thumb over his eyelid, a habit, and stutters the rest of his words out, "It doesn't make sense. Well, it does. It- It can make sense. I mean, I think in time it will make sense."

"Rick. . ?" Hershel grabs his clutches, and tilts his head toward the prison, "Come on in. You need rest. It's not safe out here."

Lucas is within arms reach. He notices Rick peaking in his peripheral to see him like he's a danger to be so close.

Anybody that tries to stop him from accomplishing this confusing mission he's got going on, is a threat. Finding the ghost of Lori, of Shane, and hoping it'll give him answers.

Rick presses his head to the cool metal of the fence, and for a moment, he looks like he's contemplating Hershel's suggestion. But then he glances behind him at the forest, "I can't." And turns around to walk past Lucas, "I can't."

Not having Rick take lead. . . is scary.

Hooking his fingers through the gaps, Lucas nods at Hershel. "I got 'im." The wire clangs when he pulls away from it.

Hershel's shoulders sag, relieved, and he presses his lips firmly together, "Watch yourself too, Lucas." He says, hobbling back through the dead grass.

The crack of a rifle stills the air.