The Good Life - Chapter Ten

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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