Full Summary: Kathleen is living with the Greenes when the Grimes Group shows up. She does her part, helps Hershel with his "medical practice" - but she can't quite make friends with the new guys. She'll be the first to admit that she doesn't like strangers and can barely even talk to them, let alone confide in them. But maybe they're not all strangers... Maybe she knows that rough-looking, hot-as-hell redneck from days long before all this apocalypse nonsense. But does he know her? If Kathleen can talk to him, can get him to remember the past... she thinks they just might have a future.
Friendship first, slow-build romance Daryl/OC with a strong dash of humor and lots of love for Maggie, Hershel, and Carl.
A/N: Okay soooooooooooo. I'm a littler nervous about this, but I've had an idea for an OC for awhile now. And this is the result of that. The plan is to have it be a very eventual Daryl/OC? But through the second season (aka, this story), it's gonna be a lot of friendship and build up. Then third season (potential sequel to this story), the romance is gonna be more... well, there. I figured Daryl wouldn't really jump into anything, ya know? Apocalypse or no. But don't give up on this yet! There's gonna be a lot of romantic tension, which I know we all love. So for now, just stay tuned, and tell me what you think.
The farm was a quiet place, in general. It had been before, whenever I had visited Maggie back in our school days. And after everything with my accident, and the apocalypse, or whatever we were calling it, when I had officially moved in, it hadn't changed. Still so... quiet.
Well. Until today.
I had been out on the porch all morning, with Maggie, reading. There were birds and crickets out, chirping in their own ways. The sun was shining. A light breeze occasionally hit my face. I was considering taking a nap... Or maybe putting on a swimsuit to tan... Did I even have one of those anymore? Does one tan, casually, during an apocalypse? It was a good day for it, regardless... But then something changed. There was something else: there was a man in the field, running and carrying something in his arms, clutched to his chest.
Maggie saw him through her binoculars and yelled for her father, going inside to get him. But I stayed where I was, watching, waiting for him to get closer and closer, seeing the little boy he carried in his arms... how red the stain on his clothes was...
Suddenly, almost the entire Greene family was present, Hershel, of course, at the front while the rest looked on.
"Was he bit?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.
"Shot. By your man. He said find Hershel," the man gasped out, readjusting his hold on the boy. "That you?"
Oh no. Otis. I felt the frown mar my features as everyone started to move.
Patricia was asking about Otis, which the stranger ignored, and Hershel was starting to list off medical necessities as they made their way inside. Hershel motioned for me to follow as we moved, and I dutifully obeyed, keeping my eye on the new man. He was in shock. At least, I think he was, based on the wide eyes and shallow breathing. The boy was his son, based on his rambling exclamations. He didn't even know if he was alive... My heart went out to him as I followed Hershel's instructions.
What had happened out in those woods? I didn't really know what to think- who the man was, why they were in the woods, who had shot the boy... But the look on his face... it was heartbreaking. I knew Hershel felt the same way. He was all about tough love when it came to his family, loyal to them before all others, even unto death- well, in a manner of speaking. Death seemed a little ambiguous these days... But, really, Hershel was a bleeding heart and couldn't resist helping others when given the opportunity.
Everyone was crowded in that little back room, trying to see what was happening; but Hershel made sure that Patricia and I, especially, were close so we could help him operate. The two of us together didn't have nearly as much experience as he did, even if he was only a vet. But we certainly knew our way around medicine better than the rest of the family. So we went to work, while Maggie tried to keep the others at bay. Hershel found a cloth, asked the father to keep pressure on the wound. The man kept asking if his son was alive, and I think we were all holding out breath a little as Hershel pulled out his stethoscope to listen at the boy's chest.
A pause. Another.
And there was a pulse.
Suddenly our actions became more purposeful, more driven. We needed room, more gauze, antiseptic, and we definitely needed to thank Maggie later for making the room a little less crowded. Only Hershel, Patricia and I were still back there, working, all silently thankful that the injury wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. We were keeping pressure, monitoring as best as we could, planning our next move. But then Rick came back in, with Otis and another man. He still looked horrible, the blood stain on his shirt almost as large as the one on the boy's had been. That much blood lost... It would need to be replenished. Hershel asked Rick about the boy's blood type, confirmed that they matched. I could almost see the relief on Hershel's face. I knew he was nervous, practicing medicine on a human; but transfusions he could handle.
Then they began to talk about what happened. It was horrible. Six fragments? And all so the kid could appreciate the beauty of nature? The world really had turned upside down. Beyond that, it was a wonder the boy wasn't bleeding even more. Rick seemed to remember something then. He began to look even more upset, mentioning his wife. His friend tried to comfort him, and behind them, I saw Patricia comforting Otis.
Poor Otis. That man was a giant teddy bear. He was probably feeling almost as bad as Rick was...
After that it was more waiting. I stayed with the boy, who I now knew to be Carl, while Patricia and Maggie went to the other room to gather more supplies. He was so... small. So pale. His hair, dark like his fathers, was straight and plastered around his forehead, stuck to the cold sweat on his skin. I brushed some of it back. I really couldn't get over how small he was... When was the last time we'd seen a child? Beth was the youngest around here and she was, what, sixteen? Seventeen? I wasn't even sure. The boy was just so young.
Using a cloth, I wiped at his forehead. His features would twitch occasionally. He was definitely in pain. Patricia and Maggie returned with the extra supplies, and we immediately set about trying to remove some of the fragments. After agonizing moments of just watching Hershel operate, and a good amount of pain on Carl's part, we finally had one of the pieces almost out. But he was losing blood too fast. We needed a donation from Rick.
Maggie got him from the other room. Carl was crying, screaming for his father, who, of course, panicked. His friend held Carl down, telling Rick to hurry. I kept trying to grab Rick's arm to get the needle in, but he wouldn't stay still. When his friend started yelling at him, though, he seemed to focus. It didn't take long after to start siphoning the red fluids, prepping a bottle to transfer it to Carl... who had suddenly stopped screaming...
Hershel reassured the men that he had just passed out; but the looks on their faces... they were definitely more aware than ever of the danger of the situation. Hershel took the opportunity to continue the operation, finally pulling the bullet fragment out. With Carl still unconscious and the promise of fresh blood nearby, he kept trying, seeing if he could reach any more of the metal pieces. After a moment, though, he gave up. The rest were too deep.
Hershel went to clean himself up, and I applied a fresh bandage to the wound, noticing how shallow Carl's breathing had become. Rick was still letting blood flow into the bottle, looking paler by the minute, talking about his wife.
He wanted to go find her. But he needed to stay, for the blood, for Carl. We all knew it. But we all also could see how the boy's mother would want to know about her son getting shot. After listening to him keep talking for a few more moments, I turned back to Rick. He'd given enough for the time being. He almost fell when he stood, but his friend was there to catch him. The two left the room. I could hear them talking on the other side of the door, and I looked to Hershel.
He must have been able to see the fear on my face. I wasn't about to deny that I was feeling it. I mean, hello? This boy could die. And he was just a boy. It wasn't even from infection- from a bullet. Accidentally. These people didn't deserve this. Nobody did. But then, of course, I was thinking about Rick and his friend and Carl, and how they were strangers, which was a whole different matter entirely... I didn't exactly like strangers, to be honest... I felt a little bit better, though, when Hershel suddenly he reached across and held my shoulder.
"It'll be okay, Kathleen. It'll all be fine," he said in his comforting, wise old man voice.
"You don't know that" I whispered back, gazing down at Carl's face.
"I don't. But I didn't say it'd be easy, either. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've still got some bad news for the boy's father... It's going to be a struggle for them both, I think."
"You couldn't reach the other pieces?"
"No... No, they're too deep. And he has some internal bleeding. But he might still make it." A sigh was my only response. "You stay in here with the boy. I'm going to go talk to Rick."
"Okay."
He patted my shoulder again and opened the door. I could hear the whole conversation from where I was, the weight of the bad news. I heard Rick's hopeful responses. And I also heard Otis's idea of the high school.
Rick's friend- had he called him Shane?- volunteered to go. So did Otis.
I didn't like that. That place had to be full of Walkers... Who would want to put their family in danger? Especially when family was so hard to come by these days? But then I looked at Carl again, at the faint red circle showing through the bandage on his chest... He was family too, for them. And I knew Otis wouldn't back down. He was stubborn. And, based on how he had reacted earlier, holding Carl down and yelling at Rick, I guess Shane wouldn't either. They were going to go to the shelter, and we wouldn't be able to stop them. Otis was determined to use his guilt and his experience to bring him there and back. And Shane... well, he wanted to help Rick. Or something. I wasn't sure yet.
They were already getting ready to leave, wanting to get back as soon as they could, when I heard Maggie form her own plan to bring Carl's mom back. I didn't like that, either, but she was more stubborn than Otis. And hopefully, on horseback, she could avoid any walkers.
Hershel came back into the room with Rick to check on Carl. I didn't go say goodbye to Otis or Maggie, not thinking anything of their leaving. They'd be back soon enough.
Instead, I stayed by Carl's side. And as I waited, I said a silent prayer that he would be okay. That they all would be okay.
With everyone gone, the farm became almost as quiet as it had been before all the excitement. With the addition of the dying boy and dutiful father, of course. We hadn't left the room, all just silent, staring, waiting.
I took the opportunity to examine Rick. He was a sheriff, or a deputy, or some kind of policeman, according to the badge on his chest. His uniform was ruined now, though. That stain would never some out. It was one of those stains that would always be there, even if you couldn't see it anymore. I noticed he kept touching his head. Whether he was rubbing at the dark hair on his scalp or letting his fingers ghost across his jaw... the man kept moving. Since he was staring at the floor, lost in thought, I felt comfortable enough to look at his face. It definitely looked kind enough, I guess. Long, a little drawn, looking more tired than I'm sure it normally would have, given the circumstances. Brows, dark like his hair, hovered over wide blue eyes. His nose was strong and led down to chapped lips. Overall, he looked like a good man. Trustworthy. Fathering.
I figured now would be a safe time to judge a book by its cover, since nobody was around to judge me for doing so. Plus: apocalypse. You gotta kinda make decisions fast. And right then, I decided that I liked Rick. I mean, I wasn't about to spill all my secrets to him... We hadn't even said anything to each other. But if he treated his friends anything like his family, then I wouldn't mind having him be a friend. Or at least a friend to my family.
After almost another fifteen minutes, Rick was the first to move, standing up and walking out. My eyes followed him out of the room. I heard the screech of the front screen opening and closing. Hershel looked at me. "You'll stay?"
"Yes."
He nodded and followed Rick to the porch. I imagined he was passing some kind of wisdom along to the younger man. He'd done it to me more times than I could count. Hershel had this... way about him. He was so gentle, so sincere. I always listened to everything he said, even if I didn't always believe it. Hell, he'd even turned out to be wrong sometimes... but I couldn't never turn down his advice. Could never question his intentions. He was just that way, ya know?
I wondered if Rick would realize that. If he would listen.
But then Maggie was back, with another woman, and it wasn't quiet anymore. I heard them in the front room. She was crying. Rick was crying. And then they came to Carl, to me. I'd never seen someone be in so much pain without their own injury. She laid down next to her son, whispering, holding. Rick followed, and suddenly, they were there. The family. Together. Broken, but... together.
I slowly made my way out of the room.
Almost an hour had passed before Hershel took me away from my book, calling me back into Carl's room.
He needed more blood. The faint red circle on his bandage was darker now, the skin around the gauze paler. I went to where Rick was already sitting in the chair and prepped his arm.
After probably too much blood, considering how close the two transfusions were to each other, I pulled the needle out and his wife, Lori, led him away. I continued to clean up as Hershel talked to them in the kitchen.
The fresh blood improved the pallor of Carl's skin, and his temperature felt close to normal. Making sure everything was put away properly- and glancing once more at the resting boy- I followed Hershel. Rick was at the table, Lori behind him. Rick was definitely looking worse for wear. I noticed the empty glass in front of him, the blank stare. Guess he really had given too much blood...
And it wasn't long before we needed more. Otis and Shane were late. It was dark already. They should have been back by now. I tried to ignore my own worry, my mind conjuring up dozens of ways Otis could have died... I tried to focus on Carl. But without Otis returning with the supplies, Carl would be lost, too.
I wasn't the only one worried, though. Lori and Rick were arguing, the stress of the day taking its toll on them. Hershel was insisting that we needed to operate soon. It was overwhelming, to say the least.
For my part, I agreed with Lori. And not just because Rick was clearly weaker than a toothpick at the moment. She was right. Their son was injured. They needed to be there, just in case...
Well. Just in case.
Thankfully, she managed to convince Rick of the same thing. And then... we continued to wait.
A/N So I know it's slow. And Daryl wasn't even there. But I needed an introduction, and to kinda get into writing multi-chapter again. It's definitely been awhile. Being rusty and without a beta has its drawbacks. BUT IT WILL BE WORTH THE WAIT BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS THAT I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE.
Anyways. Yeah. I'll update again soon. Get this ball rollin', as it were. Feedback would be welcome, but I know there isn't really much to respond to... yet... but still...
Oh, also. I'm probably gonna keep writing one-shots. Because I can't resist those arms. Unf. So you'll also have that to look forward to. ;)