Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
[ season three, episode nine ]
He was in uncharted territory. He was unwanted, out of place, and very uncomfortable.
Everyone was staring, although they pretended not to be. The prison-dwellers were somewhat welcoming at first, but then Rick Grimes returned with the missing counterparts of the large, tight-knit group and the mood soured — the outcasts loitered uncomfortably. He and Michonne quickly acknowledged how out of place they truly were despite their best efforts to help Rick & Co back in Woodbury, and it only made the others notice them.
First of all, Daryl's absence was noted. Some turned to Michonne and Theo as if it were their faults, pushing Daryl away in retaliation and forcing him to join his asshole of a brother, Merle. Surprisingly, though, it was Glenn and Marley who swiftly swatted those accusing hands away; they blamed Merle instead.
Without him, none of this would have happened.
Michonne wouldn't have been shot. Her and Theo wouldn't have been chased through the woods by Merle and his accomplices, and then Marley, Glenn and Maggie would not have had their unfortunate reunion with the one person they were happy to lose in the city. Of course, without that lineup, the fight in Woodbury would never have happened, Oscar would be alive, and Daryl wouldn't have walked into the woods with his asshole of a brother, probably never to be seen again.
Domino effect. Or was it the butterfly effect?
Whatever the effect was called, it sucked. A substantial amount of chaos had unfolded in the last twenty-four hours, and the effects were beginning to take hold.
Theo, for one, was exhausted. He could barely keep his eyes open. People were talking all around him, but their voices sounded muffled, as if he were submerged in a bath of water. He wasn't even focused on anything in particular, eyesight hazy as he daydreamed about something much less mundane than this murky prison and it's strange inhabitants that so obviously didn't want him there. He thought about ice cream instead . . . pistachio and mint-chocolate and Neapolitan, with crushed peanuts sprinkled on the top. God, his mouth watered at the mere thought. There was nothing he loved in the world more than ice-cream — well, apart from his skateboard.
He almost lurched out of his skin when someone nudged his arm.
"What's bothering you?" Michonne demanded, practically piercing Theo's soul with her eyes.
He cleared his throat, leaning casually against the cold, iron bars of an old cell behind them, and shrugged, "Nothing. I was just . . . thinking."
