Scraping By, Chapter 17: Boiling Over
Title: Scraping By
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 17: Boiling Over
Dale Horvath had years of practice in gathering information. In his time with the group of survivors, he managed to use his skills on purpose and (quite often) by accident. The previous discovery of Shane's slipping sanity in the woods was an accident.
Casually walking outside to find a cane or crutch in the RV for Whitney to use and getting within hearing distance of Rick and Shane's discussion was entirely on purpose.
"What is your problem?" Rick whispered.
Dale heard Shane let out an annoyed huff just before his fingers closed on the metal crutch that Irma used back when they made regular trips to the hospital for her chemotherapy.
"Well, take a good long look around, Rick! Everything's the problem. Every single thing about where we are, what we're doing, and who we're with. The world is in the shitter and you're actin' like we can still be civil 'bout things. We can't."
"Shane-"
"No, Rick, we do not have the luxury a' treatin' this like things are still functionin'. 'Cause they ain't."
Dale pulled the crutch free from the back of the closet as silently as possible and he leaned closer to the partially open window to see the two men.
"So, what're you sayin'?"
Shane started pacing. "I'm sayin' we shouldn't be sittin' on our hands and talkin' about 'why' this shit happened. We need to stop thinkin' like everybody's a friend. We need to stop pickin' up strays. We do not know these people, Rick. One'a these times we find out they know somethin', it's gonna turn out ugly."
Rick, content to stand in one place, crossed his arms and sighed. "Brother, the minute we question the trust we have in each other, we're sunk. You may not think it, but we depend on them. Hell, Daryl's been our only source of fresh meat for a while now. Without him, we'd starve."
"Oh, like it's that hard to hunt-"
Rick cut him off. "If that's how you feel, then you try doin' it."
Dale held his breath as he looked at Shane's reaction. There was a shadow there of the look he'd seen on the deputy's face when he sighted his rifle on Rick's back in the woods. The muscles in his forearms tensed dramatically and his knuckles turned pale.
"I protect the camp. I am the last line 'a defense. And while we're discussin' people's usefulness," he reached out and poked Rick's shoulder, "what in the hell are we doin' with a crippled bitch that just popped up outta the blue?"
"Whitney's a nurse, Shane. We don't know anythin' beyond basic first aid and this ain't the type of place to be without that kind 'a knowledge."
Shane shook his head. "She's walker bait an' you know it. We leave 'er here and keep movin' toward Fort Benning."
Rick ground his teeth and started walking closer to the RV beneath the window Dale was spying through. "You keep tellin' me 'we can't act the way we used to.' That we gotta be hard. How 'bout you think on what you're sayin' for a second. She's got a skill set we lack and just 'cause she needs to recover for a little while, you wanna leave 'er."
Dale frowned as Shane nodded emphatically.
"The problem with that-beyond leaving someone behind-is that more than just one 'a us needs the recovery time. The kids are underfed, I'm still tryin' to get back up to a hundred percent after lyin' in a coma, an' I'm pretty sure Whitney's the only one here who knows how ta properly treat a wound. So we ain't leavin' her behind."
Seeing the wind going out of Shane's sails, Dale beat a hasty retreat from the RV and snuck back into the house with the crutch sliding against his sweating palms.
Inside, Daryl was back in the kitchen talking quietly with Sophia about ingredients and how he remembered recipes without measurements. Dale swiftly walked past the pair into the living room and plopped next to Whitney and Zeke on the sofa. Andrea, in the middle of reading aloud from her book, paused to give him a questioning look.
Dale shrugged and handed Whitney the crutch. "I remembered I had this tucked somewhere in the RV. Figured you'd get some better use out of it."
She checked the adjustable height settings at the base and ratcheted it up for someone as short as herself. "Much obliged, Dale," she said.
He nodded and Andrea started reading aloud again-much to Carl's relief as the main character had just decided to lie down in front of a bulldozer to save his house.
Lori stared at Dale significantly as the other woman read, but he shook his head. No, Shane hadn't calmed down in the slightest. In fact, he may have gotten worse since stepping outside.
Still ill at ease, Dale leaned back against the sofa cushions and tried to relax to the sound of Andrea's voice. He smiled when he caught sight of Carl staring wide-eyed at the blonde when she started using her changing her tone for different characters. They listened together until Andrea finished the chapter on a tonally light comment about the end of the Earth being twelve minutes away. This was Lori's cue to drag Carl off for his math lessons and give Andrea a disapproving look in passing.
"Honestly. Just wrap him in cotton wool already and be done with it," Andrea mumbled. Whitney snorted at this and glanced at the older man seated beside her. He was still absorbed in whatever he had on his mind-looking blankly into the middle distance and pursing his lips.
Dale jumped a little when Whitney prodded his shoulder with her index finger. "Y'okay there, Dale?" she asked quietly.
The old man smiled at her warmly and slung his arm around her shoulders. "Sure," he said. "You?"
"I'm filthy, but I'm hurtin' less."
"You do know about the shower in this place, don't you?" Dale asked.
Whitney gave him a blank look. "I'd need help getting in and out of it, Dale. Though it might go easier if I have less hair to wash," Whitney flicked the end of her braid. "I found a pair of scissors in my room to take care of it."
"I could help you with that," said Andrea.
"You don't mind?" Whitney asked.
The blonde shrugged and set aside her book. "It's no big deal."
Together, the two women made their way down the hall and into the small bedroom Whitney claimed. The former nurse moved more easily with the crutch. In the room, Andrea helped her grab a change of clothes and Whitney found the scissors she'd mentioned. Zeke met them in the bathroom, curious about what Whitney was up to.
As Andrea helped her sit on the closed toilet lid and meticulously snipped Whitney's hair into a short bob, she explained Dale's ulterior motives for going outside. Apparently, the camaraderie between the former sheriff's deputies was straining ever since Rick returned from his coma. Which explained a lot of the physical symptoms Whitney had observed in him, but the breaking friendship…
"Well, I think he knows something that he doesn't want to admit," said Andrea as she trimmed an uneven length of hair. "Back before Rick joined us, Shane and Lori were… Well, let's just say I thought they were married before Lori mentioned otherwise."
Whitney met her eyes. "So they were fooling around before Rick made it back."
"I only overheard them once."
"Does Rick know?"
Andrea's shrug was weighted. "I think he might."
Seeing that a change of subject was in order, Whitney cleared her throat. "Thanks for the haircut, Andrea," she said.
The blonde smiled. "No problem. I think it suits you."
She helped Whitney stand and directed her to the mirror above the sink. Whitney smiled, impressed with the effect.
"There's shampoo and soap already in the shower. I'll help you in and you can toss out your dirty clothes from behind the curtain. Holler when you need to come out," said Andrea. She squeezed the smaller woman in a half-armed hug and helped Whitney lift herself over the lip of the tub. Just in case, Andrea propped the crutch and a clean towel near the edge of the shower curtain and ordered Zeke to stay put before she shut the door.
Under the cool spray of water, Whitney leaned against the tiled wall and let her mind drift.
Chapter 16: Revelation | Chapter 18: Sick
Fandom: The Walking Dead
Rating: M
Disclaimer: All rights for The Walking Dead go to Robert Kirkman and AMC. This story takes place strictly in the TV show 'verse.
Chapter 17: Boiling Over
Dale Horvath had years of practice in gathering information. In his time with the group of survivors, he managed to use his skills on purpose and (quite often) by accident. The previous discovery of Shane's slipping sanity in the woods was an accident.
Casually walking outside to find a cane or crutch in the RV for Whitney to use and getting within hearing distance of Rick and Shane's discussion was entirely on purpose.
"What is your problem?" Rick whispered.
Dale heard Shane let out an annoyed huff just before his fingers closed on the metal crutch that Irma used back when they made regular trips to the hospital for her chemotherapy.
"Well, take a good long look around, Rick! Everything's the problem. Every single thing about where we are, what we're doing, and who we're with. The world is in the shitter and you're actin' like we can still be civil 'bout things. We can't."
"Shane-"
"No, Rick, we do not have the luxury a' treatin' this like things are still functionin'. 'Cause they ain't."
Dale pulled the crutch free from the back of the closet as silently as possible and he leaned closer to the partially open window to see the two men.
"So, what're you sayin'?"
Shane started pacing. "I'm sayin' we shouldn't be sittin' on our hands and talkin' about 'why' this shit happened. We need to stop thinkin' like everybody's a friend. We need to stop pickin' up strays. We do not know these people, Rick. One'a these times we find out they know somethin', it's gonna turn out ugly."
Rick, content to stand in one place, crossed his arms and sighed. "Brother, the minute we question the trust we have in each other, we're sunk. You may not think it, but we depend on them. Hell, Daryl's been our only source of fresh meat for a while now. Without him, we'd starve."
"Oh, like it's that hard to hunt-"
Rick cut him off. "If that's how you feel, then you try doin' it."
Dale held his breath as he looked at Shane's reaction. There was a shadow there of the look he'd seen on the deputy's face when he sighted his rifle on Rick's back in the woods. The muscles in his forearms tensed dramatically and his knuckles turned pale.
"I protect the camp. I am the last line 'a defense. And while we're discussin' people's usefulness," he reached out and poked Rick's shoulder, "what in the hell are we doin' with a crippled bitch that just popped up outta the blue?"
"Whitney's a nurse, Shane. We don't know anythin' beyond basic first aid and this ain't the type of place to be without that kind 'a knowledge."
Shane shook his head. "She's walker bait an' you know it. We leave 'er here and keep movin' toward Fort Benning."
Rick ground his teeth and started walking closer to the RV beneath the window Dale was spying through. "You keep tellin' me 'we can't act the way we used to.' That we gotta be hard. How 'bout you think on what you're sayin' for a second. She's got a skill set we lack and just 'cause she needs to recover for a little while, you wanna leave 'er."
Dale frowned as Shane nodded emphatically.
"The problem with that-beyond leaving someone behind-is that more than just one 'a us needs the recovery time. The kids are underfed, I'm still tryin' to get back up to a hundred percent after lyin' in a coma, an' I'm pretty sure Whitney's the only one here who knows how ta properly treat a wound. So we ain't leavin' her behind."
Seeing the wind going out of Shane's sails, Dale beat a hasty retreat from the RV and snuck back into the house with the crutch sliding against his sweating palms.
Inside, Daryl was back in the kitchen talking quietly with Sophia about ingredients and how he remembered recipes without measurements. Dale swiftly walked past the pair into the living room and plopped next to Whitney and Zeke on the sofa. Andrea, in the middle of reading aloud from her book, paused to give him a questioning look.
Dale shrugged and handed Whitney the crutch. "I remembered I had this tucked somewhere in the RV. Figured you'd get some better use out of it."
She checked the adjustable height settings at the base and ratcheted it up for someone as short as herself. "Much obliged, Dale," she said.
He nodded and Andrea started reading aloud again-much to Carl's relief as the main character had just decided to lie down in front of a bulldozer to save his house.
Lori stared at Dale significantly as the other woman read, but he shook his head. No, Shane hadn't calmed down in the slightest. In fact, he may have gotten worse since stepping outside.
Still ill at ease, Dale leaned back against the sofa cushions and tried to relax to the sound of Andrea's voice. He smiled when he caught sight of Carl staring wide-eyed at the blonde when she started using her changing her tone for different characters. They listened together until Andrea finished the chapter on a tonally light comment about the end of the Earth being twelve minutes away. This was Lori's cue to drag Carl off for his math lessons and give Andrea a disapproving look in passing.
"Honestly. Just wrap him in cotton wool already and be done with it," Andrea mumbled. Whitney snorted at this and glanced at the older man seated beside her. He was still absorbed in whatever he had on his mind-looking blankly into the middle distance and pursing his lips.
Dale jumped a little when Whitney prodded his shoulder with her index finger. "Y'okay there, Dale?" she asked quietly.
The old man smiled at her warmly and slung his arm around her shoulders. "Sure," he said. "You?"
"I'm filthy, but I'm hurtin' less."
"You do know about the shower in this place, don't you?" Dale asked.
Whitney gave him a blank look. "I'd need help getting in and out of it, Dale. Though it might go easier if I have less hair to wash," Whitney flicked the end of her braid. "I found a pair of scissors in my room to take care of it."
"I could help you with that," said Andrea.
"You don't mind?" Whitney asked.
The blonde shrugged and set aside her book. "It's no big deal."
Together, the two women made their way down the hall and into the small bedroom Whitney claimed. The former nurse moved more easily with the crutch. In the room, Andrea helped her grab a change of clothes and Whitney found the scissors she'd mentioned. Zeke met them in the bathroom, curious about what Whitney was up to.
As Andrea helped her sit on the closed toilet lid and meticulously snipped Whitney's hair into a short bob, she explained Dale's ulterior motives for going outside. Apparently, the camaraderie between the former sheriff's deputies was straining ever since Rick returned from his coma. Which explained a lot of the physical symptoms Whitney had observed in him, but the breaking friendship…
"Well, I think he knows something that he doesn't want to admit," said Andrea as she trimmed an uneven length of hair. "Back before Rick joined us, Shane and Lori were… Well, let's just say I thought they were married before Lori mentioned otherwise."
Whitney met her eyes. "So they were fooling around before Rick made it back."
"I only overheard them once."
"Does Rick know?"
Andrea's shrug was weighted. "I think he might."
Seeing that a change of subject was in order, Whitney cleared her throat. "Thanks for the haircut, Andrea," she said.
The blonde smiled. "No problem. I think it suits you."
She helped Whitney stand and directed her to the mirror above the sink. Whitney smiled, impressed with the effect.
"There's shampoo and soap already in the shower. I'll help you in and you can toss out your dirty clothes from behind the curtain. Holler when you need to come out," said Andrea. She squeezed the smaller woman in a half-armed hug and helped Whitney lift herself over the lip of the tub. Just in case, Andrea propped the crutch and a clean towel near the edge of the shower curtain and ordered Zeke to stay put before she shut the door.
Under the cool spray of water, Whitney leaned against the tiled wall and let her mind drift.
Chapter 16: Revelation | Chapter 18: Sick