Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, though I probably could if I figured out how to fake the right documentation.
Lia sat at one of the low coffee tables that dotted the lobby. It was low enough that she found it easier to sit on a cushion on the floor rather than hunching over in a chair. She was scribbling on a legal pad, making lists of the things they were running out of, figuring out which could be replaced, which required alternatives, and which they could do without completely. Sally, the two or three year old (they were never sure of her exact age) foundling who Lia had pretty much adopted as her own, was "helping" at the opposite side of the table by scrawling on sheets of paper with fat crayons that fit easily into her little fist. As usual, the tot's hair was styled in what Lia referred to as the Pebbles look, tied up in a topknot so the plume of wispy black hair looked like a feather duster on top of her head.
For so long the traumatized child never uttered a sound. Then a few months ago she finally began to speak. She was still a quiet little girl for the most part, but at least now if someone asked her a question, they could be sure to get an answer from her.
Sally set aside the green crayon she was using and held up the sheet of paper. "Mommy."
The piping voice dragged Lia's attention away from her jotting. She raised her head to admire the girl's latest masterwork. "That's really nice, sweetie," she said, trying not to seem distracted, "Sort of a Technicolor Rorschach test."
Sally beamed proudly and added the sheet to the messy pile of finished artwork, then picked up the blue crayon and started on a fresh page.
Satisfied that her job as art critic was done for the time being, Lia returned to her work. There were times when she wished the room she shared with Daryl was big enough to squeeze in even a flimsy end table, but they just didn't have the space. At least most of the kids were outside either playing or taking care of their chores. Their absence made for fewer distractions.
Pretty much all the adults, and even some of the kids, told her she needed to relax more. It wasn't like Lia disagreed with them, it was just that her mind couldn't let go of all the problems that sooner or later would need fixing. She fretted about everything from getting enough toothpaste for everyone to making sure they stocked up on whatever medical supplies they might need. But the thing which haunted her the most often was the water. The city's water supply still functioned just fine, turn on a faucet or flush a toilet and it all worked the same as before the walking dead arose. But it wouldn't always work. Someday the whole system would break down and it drove Lia nuts that there was no way to predict when. She had yet to figure out a worthwhile solution to this eventuality. Not only did they need water for drinking, cooking, and bathing, but their roof garden needed plenty of it as well. So far, the crops being carefully raised in massive tubs on top of the building were doing fine, even thriving. But if the water ran out...there went a valuable source of food.
A crackling sound at her hip jolted her from her brooding thoughts. Lia put down her pen and unclipped one of the precious walkies from her belt. The lookouts on the roof always kept one with them with the strict understanding that they would use it only if they spotted something, be it an approaching vehicle or one or more persons on foot, living or dead.
Lia depressed the talk button. "I'm here. Over."
Nine year old Rahim's staticky voice emerged from the tiny speaker, "Jessie's just come running out of the woods. There's a man chasing her! Over."
Lia's skin went cold. "Where are they? Over."
The boy described the two runners' position in relation to the building. Lia barked at some nearby kids to spread the word, then ran upstairs to get her bow. Moments later she was outside with Rick, Shane, Andrea, T-Dog, and Glenn. Everyone else herded the little ones indoors and made sure both the front and back entrances were locked, the heavy curtains drawn over the ground floor windows, and archers posted at the windows on the upper two floors. The stillness of the place, coupled with the lack of any sound from inside, created the illusion that it was just another empty building among thousands in the dead city.
Rick was armed with a rifle and his trusty Colt Python at his hip. Shane toted his usual shotgun. Everyone else was armed with bows and arrows. The guns would only be used as a last resort, partly because they needed to conserve ammo, but mainly because sound attracted walkers.
"Some of us should stay here," Shane cautioned, "Help protect the place."
"You volunteerin'?" Rick asked. His friend nodded, right now his priority was to his growing family. Everyone understood that.
"I'll stay, too," T-Dog said.
"Alright," Rick headed out, "Everyone else with me."
Nobody questioned his right to give orders. When it came to situations like this, he and Shane had the most experience. The rest of the group followed as he hurried to intercept Jessie and her pursuer, each of them grim-faced with worry for the girl's and everyone else's safety.
Lia tried hard not to dwell on the fact that Daryl hadn't come home yet. Had she believed in God, she might have prayed at that moment. As it was, all she could do was hope that he was alright and hadn't encountered any other trespassers in the woods.
Jessie was scared, but she didn't panic. She could hear the heavy footfalls of the stranger chasing after her, but didn't look back and risk losing her footing. That was the kind of stupid mistake girls always made in those horror movies. They screamed when they should have saved their air for running, twisted their heads too look back at the killer getting closer and closer, only to trip on a tree root or something and wind up sprawled in the dirt. The smart thing to do was focus on what was ahead and keep on running. Jessie deliberately chose a difficult path through the woods, ducking through narrow gaps and and under low hanging branches, leaping over ditches and logs. More than once she heard the man behind her curse when an obstacle held him up and gave her a chance to put some more distance between them. And Jessie would need all the distance she could get. She was fast, but she knew once they got to open ground the fully grown man with his longer legs and probably greater stamina would have the edge.
Deep down the girl berated herself for not taking the shot when she had the chance. Daryl would have in her place without a second's hesitation. In Jessie's eyes he was the strongest person alive, and until she could match him in every skill, she would always see herself as weak, a victim. Jessie had been victimized before. Months ago she was attacked, beaten and almost raped, until Lia arrived and saved her. Jessie swore to herself she would never be that helpless again. She would be strong. But when the moment came when she could've saved Daryl, she just froze. Jessie would wallow in self-recrimination later. For now, though, she would concentrate on obeying Daryl's last - but hopefully not final - order.
The edge of the woods came in sight. Jessie put on a burst of speed and dashed out into the grassy area that separated the woods from the old road that passed by the abandoned industrial area where her home was located. Behind her the sound of the man's running footsteps changed and she knew he'd left the trees behind as well. She put everything she had into keeping ahead of him, ignoring the burn in her lungs and the dull throb in her side that threatened to become a stitch. Far ahead she saw a cluster of people coming towards her. Help was coming! But she didn't let this distract her. One moment's carelessness was all it took.
Hess didn't notice the approaching rescue party. He was tunnel-visioned on the young girl in front of him. Damn, she was fast! Hess was no slouch, but he knew he was just seconds away from wheezing from all this exertion. He was so focused on the chase he didn't see the other people until they were almost upon him.
"Oh, shit!" He skidded, almost fell on his ass, then twisted around and started back for the relative safety of the woods. Too late.
A man's voice rang out, "Freeze! You stop right now or we will take you down!"
The sheer authority in his tone, coupled with his use of the word freeze, told Hess this guy was probably a cop in his past life. For a second Hess considered ignoring him, but then a young woman darted into his path. Like the girl, she was armed with a bow and arrow, but Hess knew from looking at her that she wasn't so squeamish about the idea of shooting him. Hess decided now might be a good time to give up. He staggered to a halt, both arms raised. "Take it easy," he huffed, "I'm not armed." This was not entirely true, since he carried a stiletto in his pocket. But why bring attention to that?
There were three other adults surrounding him, two with bows of their own, the third - likely the former cop - pointing a rifle at him.
Jessie spoke up, panting heavily, "There's another, back there," she pointed towards the trees, "With a gun. He's got Daryl."
The tension rose palpably, especially from the woman whose hair was styled in numerous braids. The muscles in her jaw clenched and she glared at Hess as if daring him to give her an excuse to end him.
"Didya see any others?" Rick asked. Jessie shook her head. "Okay. Glenn, Andrea, you two keep watch over this guy. Jessie, tell us where Daryl and the other man are, then head back for home."
"It's faster if I show you," the girl insisted. She could tell the adults wanted to argue, but every second they wasted only put Daryl at greater risk. Reluctantly, Rick agreed, with the understanding that Jessie would lay low once they confronted the stranger holding Daryl hostage.
Following the young girl through the confusion of trees, Lia fought down the urge to run ahead screaming Daryl's name. All kinds of horrible images came to her of Daryl sprawled in the dirt and fallen leaves, bleeding or dead. Lia was ferociously protective of those she loved, and of all of them she loved Daryl most. If that intruder did anything to harm her boyfriend she would kill him. She wouldn't even blink.
Jessie signaled for them to be quiet and they slowed to a wary creep. It wasn't long before they saw two figures through the gaps in the thick foliage. Lia didn't bother to wait for Rick's go ahead, she stepped out into the open and aimed her bow at the black man's head. "Put the gun down or I swear I'll kill you."
Only the man's eyes moved, swiveling in their sockets to look at her sidelong. "You shoot me with that, my finger just might squeeze the trigger on reflex."
Rage and fear roiled in her. "Five..." she snarled between clenched teeth, "Four...Three..." she pulled the bowstring even tauter, "Two..."
Rick touched her arm, the move so sudden and unexpected Lia almost lost control of the arrow, but somehow it remained nocked. She risked a glance at the former sheriff's deputy, wondering what the hell he was up to. What she saw on his face was shock...and recognition.
"Morgan!"
The stranger's eyes widened. His arm seemed to relax of its own accord and the revolver was lowered. "Rick?"
"Y' know this asshole?" Daryl exclaimed, letting his arms drop to his sides.
Rick nodded. "He saved my life once."
"Saved your life, threatened Daryl's," Lia growled. Nevertheless, she lowered her bow and let the string go slack. She still kept the arrow nocked, however. It would take a lot more than Rick's word to make her trust this man.
Daryl bent down and picked up his crossbow, scowling the whole time. His expression relaxed a little when Lia came over, the concern in her eyes obvious. A silent exchange went between them: Are you okay? Yes.
Rick approached Morgan with his hand outstretched. "It's good to see you made it," he said with a smile.
Morgan hesitated for just a second, then shook the proffered hand. "Almost didn't, a few times."
"Yeah, same here," Rick glanced around, "Where's Duane?"
Morgan turned and called out, "Duane. It's alright, son, you can come on out."
There was a rustle in the undergrowth, then a spindly boy emerged. He was noticeably taller than the last time Rick saw him, the look in his eyes less innocent. But when he saw the former deputy that familiar brilliant smile spread across his face.
Lia's anger cooled somewhat at the boy's arrival. It made Morgan's actions a little more understandable. Like Lia, he was only doing what he felt had to be done to protect his family. And the sad truth was, these days protecting meant taking no chances on others' intentions.
Jessie also came out of hiding, having guessed that the immediate danger was past. She even offered Duane a faint smile and a wave. The boy waved back, more out of reflexive politeness than anything.
"So, these people are with you," Morgan clarified.
Rick nodded, "Yeah. They're good people, and there's more of 'em not too far from here. What about the guy who was chasin' Jessie?"
Morgan threw the girl an apologetic look before answering, "His name's Hess. We met up with him 'bout a week ago. Helped us out of a bind with some walkers. He wouldn't have hurt the girl."
Apparently, his word was good enough for Rick. "You're welcome to come back with us, or you can go on your way."
Lia spoke up, "Rick, no offense, but it's been months since you saw this guy last. A lot can change in that time."
"You think we should turn him and his son away?" his tone was mild, not a trace of anger. He understood that her argument was valid. A lot did change since the world ended, and desperation drove even good men to terrible acts. But his instincts told him Morgan still held on to his integrity, and he trusted him enough to accept his word that the other man, Hess, also meant no harm.
Lia worried her lower lip between her teeth, glanced at the boy, at Daryl. Finally, she sighed in resignation. "We'll see what everyone else has to say about it, but they can come back with us."
Daryl's scowl deepened. Without a word, he pushed past everyone and stomped off through the woods. The fact that they could hear his passage told them all how angry he was. A few uneasy looks were exchanged, then they all followed. A few minutes later they reunited with Glenn and Andrea, who were still standing guard over Hess. Once the situation was explained, the weapons were put away and everyone headed for home - though Morgan noticed how the others were still cautious enough to keep him, Duane, and Hess surrounded.
Daryl walked ahead for a while, but then he slowed until he was beside Rick. "We just gonna take in every stray we meet?" he asked in a low voice.
Rick pursed his lips. "Morgan's a friend. I wouldn't be alive today if he hadn't helped me."
"For all you know, he could be scoutin' for some gang o' bandits," Daryl muttered, "'N' yer leadin' him straight to where we all live."
"He has his son with him."
Daryl snorted. "Bein' a daddy don't make a man a saint. He'll be lookin' out for his own first, which is what we should be doin'."
Rick sighed, shook his head. "I'm just not made that way."
"Then maybe you shouldn't be givin' out orders," Daryl retorted, "'Less your willin' t' do what's gotta be done, even if it means spillin' someone else's blood."
Lia heard enough of their argument for the anxiety to rise in her. The worst part was, neither one of them was completely wrong or right. She hoped she wouldn't have to choose a side, because right now she wasn't sure which she would pick. And if she ended up siding with Rick over Daryl...
No, she told herself. For better or worse, she would always side with Daryl. Just as she knew he would always side with her. She just hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.