Foreword:

Thank you very much for all the kind reviews and emails regarding the Dixon's Archer series (There are three: Dixon's Archer, Archer's Errand and now Dixon's Dilemma). Reader feedback is greatly appreciated and very encouraging. I hope this tides you over until Feb 8th when TWD returns with new episodes.

Remember: Dixon dies & we RIOT!

Dixon's Dilemma

CH 1: Breakfast Revisited

Emma stopped in the stairwell on her way up to her watch. She leaned her face against the cold stone wall and gripped the iron railing tightly.

The world was spinning again.

It had been happening for a few weeks now. Emma tired easily and was often light headed. She debated begging off watch and going to bed, but felt the need to pull her weight. Everyone at Fort Charles had a job to do and Emma wasn't about to shirk her responsibilities.

Taking a few deep breaths, she continued up the stairs at a slower pace. Emma reached the top a little more out of breath than usual, but otherwise the dizziness had faded.

Tyreese spotted her from his post and waved. "All's clear. You on 'til dusk?"

She nodded. "Traded off with Maggie." Emma had walked into the kitchen, smelled dinner and fled.

A bout of food poisoning had gone through the fort in the past month. Half the fortresses' inhabitants had been ill. Costas had ordered a halt to any activity beyond the walls and assigned all able bodied persons to work on preserving the last of the fall harvest.

The less sick were assigned to tending to the very ill... The very ill, well...Emma had found herself in that category.

Daryl, of course, was unaffected. Thank God, she thought, at least one of us was functioning.

Although she had mostly recovered, Emma still didn't have the stomach for food.

It was too bad too, Glenn had been doing the lion's share of the cooking lately as their regular chef, Sheila, was suffering from a sprained ankle. He was a good cook and brought an Asian flare to the food.

It was a nice change from the everyday.

Tyreese handed her the binoculars he'd been using. "Looks like a storm might be brewing." He pointed to dark clouds in the distance.

Emma nodded. "Snow's coming." Her mouth set in a grim line.

"Don't worry about Daryl and Michonne." His voice was reassuring. "They'll be back in time."

Daryl, fully recovered from his own run-in with the living in early fall, had gone out with Michonne earlier that week to do one last search for survivors. When the pair returned, the fort's inhabitants would be pulling back inside their walls and settling in for the winter.

Also known as the quiet season. Emma thought, dreaming of shorter days and evenings spent chatting by the fire. She could relax when Daryl returned. Until then she'd be on edge. It was late in the season to be doing the last big circuit. The weather had been unusually mild, but she was worried. It was a bad idea to be far from the fortress when the snow rolled in.

"I'm sure they're fine." Emma gave Tyreese a brave smile. "You'd better hurry, dinner's already on the table."

Tyreese nodded and disappeared down the stairwell, leaving Emma on the wall to her watch. She hugged her arms around her chest and pulled out the thermos of hot broth that she'd nabbed from the kitchen. It was pretty much all her stomach could handle.

As she sipped, the wind picked up. Archer tucked her scarf into her coat and zipped it up a bit higher. The air held the smell of winter and the promise of colder days ahead.

Her eyes looked out over the clouds in the north, they were heavy and grey. It didn't seem like snow, but there was definitely some weather to the North.

She shivered, hoping for Daryl's swift and safe return.

-{O}-

The next morning, Emma found herself retching in Dolly's stall.

Again.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she leaned against the back of the stall.

I should not have eaten the porridge before heading out to the stables. As soon as she finished, it tried to escape the confines of her stomach.

When the nausea passed, Emma took a swig from her water bottle to rinse out her mouth. She spat it back out into the stall and shoveled the mess into the wheelbarrow. It would be carted away to the skep pile with the rest of the muck.

With the last stall completed, she sat down on the floor of the barn and tried to gather up the strength to sweep the aisle.

Every morning was the same routine. Wake up famished, eat breakfast, vomit. It was getting harder and harder to attribute it to food poisoning.

With the stables' inhabitants out in their paddocks, the winter cold seeped in. The floor was leaching the warmth she'd built up away from her body. Sighing, she stood up slowly.

With a grim face she began the task of sweeping the aisle.

Although it chafed her, she had to agree with Rick's decision to send Michonne in her place on the last circuit of the season. It was unlikely she would have been much help to Daryl if they ran into trouble.

Daryl hadn't wanted to leave her since he'd been her primary nursemaid. He'd only agreed to leave when Emma had appeared to have recovered. In fact, she'd felt fine for the two days after Daryl had left.

Then she missed her period and started vomiting up her breakfast every morning.

At least, I think I missed it, she thought as she swept the last little bit of mess into the back stall. She couldn't be sure when she'd had it last. Emma had never bothered keeping track. If I get passed this, I'm getting a calendar.

-{O}-