Shane Walsh had been with Rick’s group before it was Rick’s group. He had kept everyone safe. He had saved Lori and Carl, Carol and Sophia, and the rest. Even Dale and Andrea and her sister, Amy. The others. Daryl and his worthless hide of a brother, Merle. All of them owed their relative safety at the time to Shane and his quick thinking to get them out of the major cities and into the woods. The quarry. Only when Rick found them, did things start going to shit.
So, it came as no surprise when Rick and Shane were finally at each other’s throats. No one could deny the two leaders having a fundamental disagreement about how to lead, not anymore. Shane was surprised to learn, however, that everyone had been shocked and appalled that Rick had ‘killed’ him that night in the field. Killed was a loose terminology of course. He had tried, that was for damn sure! And if Shane were being honest, he couldn’t really blame Rick for it; his own erratic behavior had been calling for a dramatic and rash action like that since they’d found the farm, since he’d killed Otis to get away safe. To save Carl…
Then bleeding out in that field, choking on his own life source, feeling every second as it filled his lungs; he heard the sound of the moans and then the vehicles. Most of it was muffled by the fire and the falling timber of the barn…but he could hear the hollering before his vision faded to black. When he woke he felt his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his lips crusted with blood. It had been days since, in and out for weeks more, until he realized who to thank for giving him his life: the Saviors. Negan. They’d been tracking Randall, waiting to pick him up alive. Shane would never admit to having killed him. His secret. Only he and one other knew, and Rick…thought he was dead, too, so… If he had known, though… Abraham was one thing. He hadn’t known the ginger haired man personally. But Glenn. Glenn Rhee. He had been innocent, a kid in essence; a way of looking at the work in all its gory truth and still seeing something else, something after. And if Shane had known Negan would take Glenn’s life one day, he’d have slit the filthy motherfucker’s throat long ago.
And it had come full circle, back to Rick. Of course, it had been Bobby who’d convinced Rick to hear him out – and that had been once she’d gotten past the shock of learning Shane was still alive. Bobby had always been the group’s moral compass; the moral compass who may have gotten her hands dirty but always led them back home, to center, to their true north. Rick would never accept Shane home to Alexandria, and so he fell in with the Hilltop people. Tara and Jesus, and the rest seemed to accept him. Maggie was at least tolerant. He’d apologized to her, first chance he’d gotten, for not ending Negan before he took Glenn. She was bitter, but she never turned him away or fought him on a call after that.
And after Rick… Tara. Enid. Henry. Shane hadn’t cried like that in a long time, if ever. And that’s when he knew. Step up and do the right thing, asshole. Do it for the others. Do it selfless. Do it right. Be the leader Tara knew you could be. Be the leader you were always afraid to be because you were too afraid of the losing.
His dark brown eyes slid over to one of the deaf sisters as she made her approach. The water that ran over his head cooled him under the glare of the sun, thinning the sweat and washing it away from stinging his eyes. “Yeah?” He angles his head, taking a hand to stabilize the little pad of paper. His expression was quizzical. He points at her, then his head, annunciating so she could read his lips. “You know where t’go?” He didn’t even ask her to underline it, didn’t even ask her to write it. Hell, he didn’t care who stole what. He’d done worse things in his time away. Pulling a map from his back pocket and folding it open, he handed it over, emphasizing again. “Show me where. Get a couple more an’ we go out there. Yer comin’ with me.” He pats his chest when he says ‘coming with me.’ “You good with that?”
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