CH 3: Boyfriend's back
Daryl wrapped his arms 'round his girl and tugged her close. He body wasn't as soft as it used to be. She was smaller. Daryl frowned, somethin' wasn't right. She'd been getting over being sick when he'd set out. He had expected her to be back to her fightin' weight when he returned. If anythin' she seemed smaller, and her color was still off. Too creamy, not 'nough peach.
"You look like shit, Em." Daryl whispered in her ear as he burrowed his cheek into her hair. She still smelled the same at least.
He felt her stiffen I his arms. "Gee, thanks."
"Don't be like that." He sighed, hugging her closer. "I'm worried is all."
"How was it out there?" She was changin' the subject on him. Damn, he thought, something really is up.
He pulled back and held her at arms length. Daryl looked her over from boots to head. She didn't look him in the eye. Something bad. "Same as always. Walkers. Bush. Empty places."
She nodded, finally meeting his eye. "Sounds like it was okay then? No trouble?"
Daryl's mouth set in a grim line. "Yeah."
"Hunting good?"
"What's eatin' you?" He blurted it out. Probably not the best idea.
"Sorry?" She blinked.
"Y' know what I mean, Em." He felt eyes on him, glancing up he saw Rick and Cap watching him. A few others too.
Grabbing his pack and shifting it onto his shoulder next to the crossbow, he reached for Emma's hand and tugged her along. "Come on."
I ain't havin' this shit. He thought. This wasn't the homecoming he'd had in mind and he didn't want to be gawked at right now. Somethin' wasn't right with Emma and he was going to find out what it was.
"Where are we going?" She asked, trailing along behind him.
"Our place." He scowled at Tyreese as they passed him. The big man's welcoming expression vanished and he cast Emma a questioning look.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the second story Em dug her feet in and pulled away. "What the hell Daryl?"
He spun on her with narrowed eyes. "You been eatin'? 'Cause you sure as hell don't look like it."
Emma's mouth opened and closed. She shifted her eyes away and back again. It was her goddamn tell. Whatever she was gonna say wouldn't be the truth. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Fuck it. Ya wanna talk 'bout this here or upstairs? 'Cause I'm gettin' tha truth outta you, either way." He reached for her again but his hand closed on air as she dodged him. He scowled at her. "Emma." He growled.
Emma shook her head. "You just got back, Daryl. Can't we just be happy that we're together?"
He crossed his arms. "What's goin' on, Em."
"Nothing really. I'm just..." She shook her head like she was trying to shake loose a fly.
"Don't lie ta me, Em." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes.
"Don't start this... Whatever. I'm ok. I'm just tired and... " she sighed. "... I ..." Her eyes closed, her hand went back up to her head, it looked shaky.
He reached out and snatched her trembling hand in his own. It was cold. "Fuck." He spat. "Ya ain't right."
"I'm..." Her breath was shaky. "I just need to rest."
Shit. Stop bein' a dick. She really did look awful. He reached over and cupped her face in his hands, tilting her hear up. "Ok." His voice was soft. "Come on then."
She relaxed, a look of relief appeared on her face. Emma let him lead her up to their room.
-{O}-
"Hey." Daryl nuzzled her neck, she felt his breath on her ear. "Wake up sleepyhead."
Emma sighed happily, wiggling her back into the warmth of his body. She'd spent too many sleepless nights alone in their bed. It was so nice to have him back.
"Serious." His hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Gotta get up."
"Mmph." Emma was feeling very non-verbal. This was the first good rest she'd had since Daryl had set out.
"C'mon." Daryl peeled the blankets off her body.
She squeaked. "It's cold!" her eyes flew open. "Why are you torturing me?" Her bleary eyes cleared and she saw that Daryl was fully dressed. She frowned. "What time is it?"
"'bout an hour after you usually wake up." Daryl said casually as he got up and headed to the door.
"The horses!" Emma jumped out of bed a little too fast. She swayed on her feet, stumbling forwards to steady herself on the back of a chair. Sal's going to be pissed if he gets to the barn before me and the horses are still in.
"You're usually up 'fore me." Daryl looked back over his shoulder at her as he tugged on a boot. "Everything okay?"
Churchill must be tearing the goddamn barn down by now. Emma nodded. "Yeah, I guess…" She blushed. "I just sleep better with you around." She'd never been this late before. Emma was always up at the crack of dawn.
Daryl chuckled slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "Missed you too."
"Hunting this morning?" Emma dragged on the first pair of breeches she could find, aware that Daryl was watching her with a wicked grin. She rolled her eyes at him.
"Mmhm. See what I can bring in before the snow hits." He headed towards the door, stopping to give her an appreciative look as she removed the tank top she slept in. "Be back by noon. You gonna be here?"
She dragged a clean sweater over her head. "I'm checking the traps around Cherry House. I should be back by early afternoon…"
"Goin' alone?"
"Michael's coming too."
Daryl nodded. "Tell him to bring his rifle. They're slow but they're not frozen." He headed out the door, pausing to give her one last warning. "Be careful."
"Yessir." She snarked as he closed the door.
"I mean it." She heard him call as he walked away.
-{O}-
"That's just plain gross, horse." Michael surveyed the severed arm Churchill was carrying in his mouth as they rode back from Cherry House. The gelding had taken it off a walker that he had discovered rotting behind a fallen log. "It's just wrong."
Emma shrugged. "Just be glad it's not your arm." She'd dispatched the legless corpse with the staff she carried, crushing its skull. "Where do you think it came from anyway?" She turned in the saddle to look at Michael who rode directly behind her. "I haven't seen him around here before and it's not like he could travel fast."
"It's not new." Michael checked the sights on one of the hand guns he carried as Tank trundled along behind Churchill. "Too rotted. My guess is it had been crawling through those brambly bushes for a while. Probably too low to the ground for anyone to notice."
Emma cringed, wiggling the toes on her left foot. She'd once walked into some tall grass and stumbled on a crawler. It had tried to take a chunk out of her heel. Luckily her boot had protected her. No amount of polishing could remove the scuff mark from its bite. "Still… He must have survived the initial onslaught…"
"I guess.." Micheal set the gun back into its holster. "He couldn't have been killed by more than two of them. One wouldn't have eaten off both his legs, two maybe three… four or more and there wouldn't have been any part of him left."
"The highway's not too far from here." She nodded her head towards the west. "He could have died in a car crash, that could have explained the loss."
"Maybe" He shrugged "We don't really know much about how they decompose."
She turned back in the saddle, returning her attention to the trail. Churchill, reaching for a leafy fern, finally discarded the arm. Archer heard a crunch as the limb was trampled by Tank.
"It's a lot quieter than it was this time last year." Emma remarked. Maybe things are getting better, she thought. If I am… pregnant. It might be okay…
"Last winter was bad. We froze good and solid for four months."
"Is it possible.." Emma wondered aloud as she mentally calculated the numbers of walkers taken out in the past year.
"What?" Michael pulled Tank's head back as the mare grabbed at a fern. "It's not a buffet." He chastised his mount under his breath.
"Are we seeing the end of this thing?"
"No." Michael's answer was swift and certain. "Nowhere near it."
"What makes you think that?"
"We took out more this year than we did last year." Michael trotted Tank up beside Churchill.
"Yeah, but there are more of us."
"No, I mean, per person. We took out more per person this year than last year."
It sounded like a good thing to her, but she got the sense that Michael didn't share her enthusiasm. "So?"
"So, that means that we're getting better at taking them out, but there's more of them coming."
Sometimes she hated Michael and his damn logic. "So.. Not good?"
"I'm not sure exactly…" Michael hedged. "..but I don't think so. I mean, based on the infection rate and the number of kills we've had… I don't think we have made much of a dent."
"Oh." Emma frowned. "It just seemed like things were better."
Michael sidled Tank closer, reaching out he took Archer's hand in his own. "Hey." She looked up into his grey eyes. "Things are better. We're together. We've each found good men that love us. We have food, shelter, friends… We're doing well, Emma."
She looked down at Churchill's neck and experienced a brief moment of vertigo. "I know."
Michael frowned. "What's eating you these days?"
Emma shook her head. "I dunno."
Michael nodded. "Well, I'm here when you figure it out."
They rode the rest of the way back to the fort in silence as Emma contemplated the challenges of keeping a small, defenseless child safe in this world.
-{O}-
