A/N: Hi guys. I don't know when I'm going to be able to update this fic again, or any of my others. I'm caring for my father. He had a stroke and when I get time to myself I just don't have the energy to write. I'm going to update asap. I'm sorry to leave you hanging but real life trumps fandom.
...
“She escaped from a group of about thirty people,” Maggie explained.
“They’re mostly men. Cutthroats. She says they’re close and if they find this
place her people will attack. She’s trying to get herself and her niece and nephew
away from them.”
Rick
nodded his understanding. “Okay. Get the kids cleaned up put them in some fresh
clothes. They’ve got bunk beds in their room so they’ll be able to stay
together. She’s too weak to come down to dinner so we’ll make them trays. Tara,
you mind bringing them up?”
“Not
at all.”
“What
are you gonna do?” Michonne asked. She could tell Rick was ready to take some
kind of action. She was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be good for the man they
were holding in the den.
He
looked somber when he looked into her eyes. “I’m gonna do what needs to be
done. Daryl, you’re with me. The rest of you finish getting dinner ready.”
“Should
we post lookouts on the guard towers?” asked Glenn.
“Yeah.
One man on Tower 1.”
“I
volunteer,” said Maggie.
“You’re
pregnant,” Glenn said, looking worried.
“Pregnant
doesn’t mean useless.”
“I
just don’t want you out in that cold. It’s windy and snowy. I’ll go. You stay
warm.”
“You’re
not gonna start treating me like I’m made of glass are you?” she asked in
annoyance.
“Yes,”
he said honestly, drawing chuckles from the others.
“Dad!”
Carl’s voice was distant but urgent.
“Shit!”
Rick cursed, and started for the stairs. “Maggie, stay with the guests.”
Daryl
and the others rushed after Rick. They hurried downstairs and hear what had
Carl alarmed. There was a slamming sound coming from the den. Carl handed his
father the gun and Rick went to the door, shoving it open to see Joe was
slamming the couch against the wall in an effort to break free from his cuffs.
He stopped upon seeing Rick.
“Daryl,”
Rick said. He turned to the others. “I’ve got this.”
He
shut the door and they looked worried as he did. Once the door was closed, Michonne
motioned to the kitchen. “Let’s keep on. Rick will handle this.”
She
followed close behind, casting one last glance at the door to the den before
she left, her hand on Carl’s shoulder.
…
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” Joe said, once Daryl and Rick were in
the room with him.
“I
have a few questions.”
“Such
as?”
“How
many people in your group?”
Joe
shrugged. “Ten.”
“Liar,”
Daryl said, and Rick felt a shiver, remembering the Governor speak those same words
just before he took Hershel’s head off.
“We
hear it’s more like thirty,” said Rick, standing over him. “I hear you’ve got
thirty aggressive men who’ll want to try to take what we have here.”
“Look,
man, whatever that bitch told you is a lie, okay? We’re not aggressive, bad
people. All I want to do is take my family and go home. That’s not too much to
ask for.”
“I
think you know I can’t allow that. Not only do they not want to go with
you, I can’t have you walking out of here to lead an army back to my door,”
Rick told him.
He
took a breath and pulled a knife.
“I
saw the tree. I smelled the dinner. I saw the presents and the stockings in the
living room. It’s Christmas day,” Joe said, a pleading tone in his voice. “You
wouldn’t kill a man on Christmas day, would you?”
“It’s
just another day,” Daryl said in a cold voice.
Rick
tilted his head and shrugged. “This is Jesus’ birthday, not yours.”
Before
he could make another plea for his life rick drove his knife down into the top
of Joe’s skull, ending him as four inches of cold, hard steel pierced his
brain. Rick pulled the knife and wiped the blade on Joe’s pant leg.
Daryl
was watching him. Thankfully there was no condemnation in his eyes.
“What?”
“This
just made me wonder what would have happened had we killed Randall.”
“Shane
and Lori would still be alive. So would all our people. Those shots wouldn’t
have been fired. That herd wouldn’t have been drawn down on us,” said Rick.
“Life would be very different right now.”
“You
don’t know that,” Daryl countered. “Shane would have tried to kill you another
day. Maybe even succeeded. I have a feeling that herd would have eventually
found the farm and maybe we’d have all died there and we wouldn’t be here now.”
“You
think maybe this was a bad call?”
Daryl
immediately shook his head. “No. He absolutely had to die. I woulda done it
myself if you hadn’t. I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to Sasha. I won’t go
through that again.”
Rick
nodded his understanding. “You’re with me, then.”
“All
the way, brother,” he said, shaking Rick’s hand in a sign of solidarity and
trust. “Now let’s go eat. I’ll help you get rid of him later tonight after
everybody else goes to sleep.”
…
The
kids were curious about the
house and the dinner that was being served so, with Tara and Maggie’s help,
Kyla was able to walk downstairs to the dining room. The kids had been dressed
in the same kind of ugly Christmas sweaters that Tara had browbeat everyone but
Daryl into wearing. The poor things were so skinny the sweaters looked ten
sizes too big. They eyed the food with wide eyes that belied the fact that they
couldn’t believe it was all real.
“Hard
to believe it’s real, huh?” Daryl said to Jack, who was sitting next to him.
The boy nodded but looked too afraid to speak.
Even
time in the wild hadn’t robbed the kids of table manners. Jack was practically
salivating as food was loaded onto his plate by Daryl of all people. He was
eyeballing the drumstick.
“Normally
I eat that,” Daryl said. “How about you take it this time?”
“You
sure, Mister?”
“Daryl,”
he said, giving the boy his name.
“You
sure, Mr. Daryl?”
“Yeah,
I’m sure. Just Daryl, not Mr. Daryl.”
He
cut the drumstick and put it on the boy’s plate. As soon as they were allowed
to dig in he picked up the leg and began chewing into it with relish. Rick
watched Daryl eye the boy with a kind of tenderness he’d never imagined Daryl
would be comfortable displaying. Something about the kid obviously drew Daryl.
“Ow!”
Jack suddenly said, and rubbed at his back with a pained expression.
“What’s
wrong?” asked his sister, Li. Carl had his eyes glued to the pretty girl, his
fork missing his plate most of the time.
“My
back.”
“What’s
wrong with your back?”
“It’s
pretty bad,” Maggie caged. “I don’t know if it needs…stitches…”
Daryl
was the first to move. He gingerly lifted Jack’s shirt and his eyes went hard,
looking like cold shards of ice as he gazed at the many scars there. There were
three fresh wounds that Maggie had bandaged but one had started bleeding.
“Yeah,
this one needs stitched up. It’s bleedin’.”
“I
don’t want no stitches.”
“We
got pain killers,” Daryl said. “You won’t feel a thing. We gotta take care of
it now. Don’t want infection settin’ in,” he said to Kyla, who nodded. She
looked ashamed but everyone knew if she could have prevented it she would have.
Jack
rubbed at his eyes, trying to hold back tears, and he was successful. None fell
but he looked at his plate with longing.
“You
finish eating first, if you want,” Daryl relented.
“Thanks
Mr…I mean, Daryl.”
He
dug in, eating as quickly as he could until Daryl told him to slow down. They’d
worry about stitches later.
“How
about you?” Sasha asked Li.
“Mine
are all healed,” she said quietly. “Aunt Kyla’s, too.”
Even
as hungry as they were their stomachs had shrank so that they couldn’t eat as
much as they’d probably have liked. Their eyes still lit up when Abraham
brought out pumpkin and sweet potato pies, as well as an assortment of festive
cookies. They ate what they could and then Daryl said he’d be up with a kit
later to work on Jack’s back. He was, he said, good with stitches.
Kyla
asked to speak with Rick in the hall as the kids were led up to bed with
Maggie.
“Would
you be willing to part with some supplies when Joe takes us back?” she asked.
“Do
you want to go back?”
She
bit her lip and shook her head. “I don’t know you. Seems like you’re good
people but then again, Tom seemed like such too, at first.”
“Tom
your husband, boyfriend?”
“Keeper,”
she said. She visibly trembled at the man’s name. “I belong to him. He’s not
just going to let me leave. He’ll come straight here as soon as Joe tells him
about this place.”
“That
won’t happen,” he said. “Joe was a threat. He’s not now.”
She
understood immediately and she paled. “Are the kids and I a threat too?”
“Are
you?”
“I’d
rather run in the snow and die of cold than go back to Tom.”
“You
don’t have to run. You and the children are welcome to stay. All you have to do
is pull you weight.”
Kyla
hugged her arms and stared at him. “Look, I can pull my weight. You can use me
and pass me around and I’ll pull Li and Jack’s weight too. Just don’t hurt them.”
Rick
realized what she was saying and he felt disgust in his belly that someone had
done that to her and the children. “We don’t use people like that. You don’t
trust easily and I don’t blame you. I don’t either. You choose to stay you’ll
come to see we’re honorable people. We’ll kill to protect our own but we don’t
rape and we don’t murder. We don’t abuse. You, Li, and Jack won’t be used that
way. All we ask is that you earn your keep by helping out.”
He
could see she wanted to believe him but she had lingering doubts. He could also
sense she wasn’t going to leave because she feared he’d execute her.
“My
gut tells me you wouldn’t tell your people about us. If you want to leave I’ll
give you supplies, weapons, but you’re better off making a home here with us.
Think about it tonight.”
She
nodded.
“I’ll
have to confine you to your room at night. You’ll have an escort in the day
until we get to know you, should you decide to stay. One thing I can promise
you, Kyla. You’re safe here.”
“Thanks
for all you’ve done. I’m grateful.”
“You’re
welcome.”
…
The disposal of a body was never an easy job. Rick decided to
leave it wrapped near the shed. When the threat of passersby from Joe’s group
lessened he’d burn the body and hope that they didn’t see the smoke, or smell
the burning flesh.
“How
is Jack?”
“I
got him stitched up. He took it like a man. He’s big for his age. He’s only
ten. I thought he was twelve,” Daryl looked at his feet. “I showed him my scars
before I stitched him up. He seemed okay with me doing it once he saw how much
alike we are.”
“You
ain’t careful you’re gonna get attached to that kid. No guarantee his aunt will
want to stay,” Rick warned. “And he could wind up attached to you, too.”
Daryl
shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think she’ll stay. As far as attachments...”
he shrugged again. Rick understood. Daryl wasn’t put off at the idea of the boy
being attached. In fact, Rick suspected that Daryl was drawn to the boy who
reminded him so strongly of himself.
He
and Daryl were heading inside when their radios crackled. “There’s flashlights
near the road,” Glenn reported.
Daryl
and Rick shared a glance.
“They
following our tracks in the snow?”
“I
don’t think they see them. I hear them calling for Joe and Kyla. They’re moving
on.”
“We’ll
need to man the other two towers,” Daryl said. “I’ll take tower two.”
“I’ll
take tower three.”
“You
should take the gate,” Daryl said. “Tower three is way off, probably away from
the threat. Put someone else there. If the shit hits the fan you’ll be needed
on the first line of defense.”
Rick
nodded. He was going to call out Abraham and then work up a rotating shift on
the towers. Four hour watches each person. Carl insisted on being to man tower
three at least, so Rick let him take that tower while he took watch on the
gate. He didn’t want to be inside, in bed asleep with his son out on a tower.
He wasn’t that
grown yet.
He
was surprised to see Michonne approaching with a thermos full of coffee. He
kissed her forehead, nearly knocking off her hood.
“Baby,
you should be in bed.”
“It’s
colder in bed without you than it is out here.”
That
warmed his heart and he moved to kiss her lips. They sat on a bench he’d swept
snow off of. They shared a few moments of companionable silence before Rick
broke it.
“I
really didn’t want this to start up again. I wanted us to be able to hide away
here, safe and happy, for the rest of our lives.”
“Me
too,” she said, her mittened hand rubbing his back. “We’ll still be happy.
We’ll just have three more people to share it with.”
“Thirty
men. They’ll add to their numbers as time goes by,” Rick worried. “I killed
Joe.”
“I
figured.”
“We
once took shelter on a farm. We had a prisoner named Randall.”
“I
know. Andrea told me all about that,” Michonne said. “You did tonight what you
think you should have done then.”
Rick
nodded. “Yeah. I’m just afraid it won’t be enough this time.”
Michonne
urged Rick to look at her. “Whatever happens we’ll face it together. We’re
strong, Rick. We’ll get through this. We’ll persevere.”
With
Michonne by his side Rick sat there in the cold, feeling oddly warm, feeling a
sense of calm overtake him. She was right. No matter what happened they’d face
it, together. They’d persevere.
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