A.N.: This chapter's a nice long one for you, and there's even a bit of original story line thrown into all the paraphrasing! (Yay, creativity!) As some of you may have already figured out, there will be a bit of a romance blossoming between our lovely Mr. Dixon and the Sheriff's daughter, but based on some interviews and discussions I've watched where Norman Reedus talks about his famous on-screen persona, I will be adding in a whole lotta fluff with just a little dab of smexiness.
Don't like, too bad.
I really loved the imagery that Norman puts in your head when it comes to Daryl's notions regarding intimacy, so I'm striving to hold true to those ideals as much as possible while also keeping as close as I can to the character himself. Which basically boils down to more paraphrasing, lots of platonic bonding in the beginning, and a dab of nerve-inducing, citrus-y goodness. I'm hoping I will be able to make it worth your wait.
And so, without any further ado, I give you the fourth installment of 'His Cherokee Rose'.
~Annie
{{P.S. - This story has taken such a hold on me that I literally haven't slept in like, sixteen hours. So please forgive any spelling or grammatical mishaps. Thanks!}}
When they arrive back at camp, Kylee sends Carl off to play with the other kids before assisting Miranda with the last of the laundry. While they sit in the shade of a nearby tree folding shirts and towels, Kylee studies the others as they go about their business. Dale stands with Jacqui, Morales, and a few others by the campfire pit, while Daryl continues to lurk around the edge of the clearing with a foul expression. Her parents finally come walking up the road and enter the Winnebago for a moment before Lori exits with Carol following closely behind. While the older woman moves towards their collection of boiled drinking water, Kylee's mother sits on the bottom step of the camper.
Shane moves out from one of the tents nearby and kneels down in front of his partner's wife, and Kylee watches distrustfully while they speak in hushed tones. From her spot across the clearing she has no hope of hearing their words, but she can see the agitation on her mom's face as she gets to her feet. Shortly after she notices her dad exit the Winnebago, and as Dale approaches the trio from behind the two men move off in tandem towards the trees, pausing to grab shotguns and ammo before slipping into the surrounding forest.
With her curiosity getting the better of her, Ky decides to go searching for answers. She leaves Miranda after helping her sort out the last of the folded clothes into personal piles, and strikes up a conversation with Glenn. The Asian boy is sweet and openly friendly towards the Sheriff's older child, but it quickly becomes obvious that he knows nothing about the kind of relationship going on between her mother and Shane during her absence. After failing to glean any information from T-Dog as well, she decides to try her tenuous luck with Daryl.
"Hey."
The hunter looks up from skinning a squirrel as Kylee approaches.
"What do you want?" he mutters.
"To be a pest, mostly," she teases him.
"Well you sure got that down pat. Now go away."
"Well wait, I wanted to ask you something. Please?"
He sighs heavily and spears his knife through the small rodent's skull. "Fine. What is it?"
"I just wanted to know if anything's been going on between my mom and Shane while I wasn't around. And before Dad showed up."
"You mean before or after they screwed each other's brains out?" he replies.
"Are you serious?" Kylee is aghast. "Shane's been messing around with my mom?!"
"Hey, you asked. It's not like she knew your pop was still kicking, anyways. Shane told everyone that he died back at the hospital."
The younger girl makes a face that seems to amuse Daryl.
"Other than that, I'd guess they've just been having a lover's quarrel. What with the Sheriff back in town, and all. Now you got your answer, so leave me alone."
Kylee huffs under her breath and leaves him to his small mammal mutilation with a roll of her eyes. Useful as he's proven himself to be, that doesn't make him any less of a dickhead.
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As the evening grows closer the group gathers around the campfire, and it isn't long before Dale, Shane, and Rick emerge from the trees to join them. Kylee sits between Carol and her mother on a seat scavenged from the back of an old car, and she looks over as Daryl comes to a stop slightly in the background behind Glenn. The hunter keeps his eyes turned mostly towards the ground, but glances up a few times to look around. Each time he catches Kylee's eye his frown deepens, and she turns her head with a snort.
Shane breaks the silence first. "I've been, uh- I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now look, there are no guarantees either way. I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time." He meets Rick's gaze across the fire. "I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?"
There are a few murmured affirmatives and some folks nod. They share a quiet dinner together, but it isn't long before most of the group have wandered back to their tents. No one is in the mood for revelry so soon after the deaths of their friends.
The next morning everyone is moving around early, preparing to depart for the C.D.C.. Tents are packed away, everyone gathers their personal belongings along with those left behind by the departed, and the vehicles are given a final once-over.
"All right, everybody listen up," Shane announces to the people spaced in a loose semicircle around the clearing. Kylee leans against Carol's Cherokee next to her brother, who sits perched on the hood with their mom. "Those of you with C.B.s, we're gonna be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now you got a problem, don't have a C.B., can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"
Morales is the first to speak. "We're uh… We're not going."
"We have family in Birmingham," Miranda continues as everyone stares at them in surprise. "We want to be with our people."
"You go on your own, you won't have anyone to watch your back," Shane tells them.
"We'll take the chance," Morales replies. "I gotta do what's best for my family."
"You sure?" Rick questions.
"We talked about it," the Hispanic man answers, gesturing to his wife. "We're sure."
"Alright," Rick concedes before turning to his partner. "Shane?"
They converse among themselves to hammer out the final details, and Kylee watches Daryl chew on his thumbnail while the group bids a tearful farewell to Morales and his family. The older Grimes child - though she hasn't known them for long - swaps a rather sincere goodbye with Miranda and her children in turn.
When Rick and Shane hand the older man a revolver and a box half-filled with ammo, wishing him luck, the hunter scoffs in disdain.
"What makes you think our odds are any better?" Shane asks Rick as the family loads up into their Jeep. Without waiting for an answer, he bids Kylee's father to follow.
"Let's move out!" the deputy calls to the group.
"Hey mom," Kylee pulls her mother to the side as engines begin to turn over around them. "There's honestly no room for me in the Cherokee with you and the kids, and the van is packed full of our gear. Where am I supposed to ride?"
"The RV has plenty of room," Lori responds, but grimaces as she remembers the cargo it will be carrying. The thought of her own daughter riding for hours with an infected person just doesn't sit well with her. "On second thought, maybe that isn't the best idea."
"Let me ride with Daryl then. It's not fair that he gets that whole truck to himself."
"Oh baby, I don't know if you wanna do that."
"C'mon, mom. He may be an ass sometimes, but I promise I'll be okay. Plus, aside from Dad and Shane, he's the toughest guy in our group. Wouldn't I be safer riding with him?"
The older woman studies her daughter for a moment - her fingertips pressed against her lips - and finally sighs defeat.
"Okay, but just please try not to get him agitated. I still don't trust him a hundred percent."
"Don't worry," Kylee promises as she pecks her mother's cheek. "I'm a big girl. I think I can handle one grouchy redneck."
It doesn't take long for everyone to load up into their respective vehicles, and unsurprisingly Daryl throws another fit when he finds Kylee buckled in and ready to go in his passenger seat.
"Why the fuck do you insist on pesterin' me?"
"There's nowhere else for me to ride. The Cherokee's full, the van is packed with all the gear, Mom doesn't want me in the RV with Jim, and there's no way I'm riding with Shane all by myself. That just leaves you."
"So I'm the one who has to suffer, then?" he quips as he cranks the Ford.
"Don't be a baby. I promise I'll be good." She smiles coyly at him, batting her eyelashes, and he groans.
"I swear you're gonna be the death of me."
As the sun continues to rise above the quarry, Morales' Jeep turns off, heading north towards the Carolinas, while the group's caravan heads back towards Atlanta and the C.D.C..
It's nearing midday when the RV finally breaks down.
The vehicles roll to a stop, and slowly everyone files out to see what's going on.
"I told you we'd never get far on that hose," Dale is telling Rick as Kylee walks up. "I said I needed one from the cube van."
"Can you jury-rig it?" her dad asks.
"That's all it's been so far," the older man responds. "It's more duct tape than hose. And I'm out of duct tape."
"I see something up ahead," Shane says as he lowers his binoculars. "A gas station if we're lucky."
Before anyone else can speak Jacqui comes rushing out of the Winnebago, explaining that she doesn't think Jim can take anymore of the trip.
Shane asks Rick if he'll hold down the fort while he scouts ahead for supplies, and the Sheriff agrees. T-Dog offers to tag along for backup, and they prepare to leave while Rick enters the camper.
Kylee can hear their muffled conversation from inside, but can't make out the words, so she strolls over to stand by Daryl as he wipes the dust from the bike lashed in the bed of his pickup.
"You've been awful quiet," the hunter points out. "Didn't take you for the type who could keep her mouth shut for more than an hour."
"I'm just full of surprises," Kylee responds with a roll of her eyes. But her curiosity gets the better of her, so she changes the subject. "Where'd you get the bike from? It looks really cool."
"Belongs to my brother. And don't even think about touchin' it. This is off-limits to you, missy."
"Jeeze, fine - Whatever you say, big guy." She turns to leave, but Daryl pipes up before she can get far.
"What about that little book you've been doodling in this whole trip? You some kind of artist or somethin'?"
"I guess that's for me to know, and you to find out."
She winks at him and strolls away with a smirk, leaving him scowling at her swinging ponytail.
Unfortunately their brief moment of playfulness is dampened by her father, who gathers everyone around to tell them of Jim's request to be left behind.
"It's what he says he wants," Rick explains.
"And he's lucid?" Carol questions.
"He seems to be," the deputy replies. "I would say yes."
Dale speaks out next. "Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right and you shut me down, you misunderstood. I would never go along with callously killing a man. But I was just gonna suggest that we ask Jim what he wants. And I think we have an answer."
"We just leave him here?" Shane demands, having arrived back with T-Dog a few minutes before. "We take off? Man, I'm not sure I could live with that."
"It's not your call," Lori tells him. "Either one of you."
Kylee throws in her agreement with her mother, and upon receiving no further objections from the rest of their group, Shane and Rick prepare to move Jim out of the Winnebago.
They settle him as gently as possible against the trunk of a tree on the roadside, where he makes a quip about some inside joke that Kylee doesn't understand. Something about another damn tree. Everyone gathers to say their goodbyes, and one after another they cycle through for a final word. A few can't bring themselves to speak with him, and turn away silently. Jacqui, Shane, Rick, and Dale each take a moment with him, and eventually they all gather back at the caravan.
Kylee is somber as she clambers slowly back into Daryl's truck, and neither of them speak as the vehicles move out once again onto the highway.
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By the time they reach Atlanta, the sun is well on its way towards the horizon, and clouds are starting to gather. After pulling up to the military barricades, the group trickles out onto the deserted street to see the carnage laid out before them. Flies buzz around the rotting corpses of military personnel and civilian alike - some who had obviously become a walker's meal, and others who had died and rose again only to be felled by a blow to the head.
The smell is overwhelming as they make their way towards the C.D.C. building, silent except for the occasional wretch or bout of coughing. Anyone with a weapon loads a round into the chamber as Shane whispers for them to keep moving and stay quiet, but the closer they get to the potential safe haven, the more the chatter grows. Rick hushes them as they reach the metal shutters protecting the front doors, but no matter how much they push or tug, the grates refuse to budge.
"Walkers," Shane warns as a few stragglers round the building nearby, and Kylee hears Sophia whimpering as her mother attempts to console her. Daryl quickly dispatches the nearest threat with a crossbow bolt, and the others begin to take aim.
"You led us into a graveyard!" the hunter accuses angrily. Shane tries to defend his friend's choice, but Daryl argues that it was the wrong call.
The group devolves into arguments and pleas for answers, and the cacophony of voices draws more walkers to their position. Shane tells Rick that Fort Benning is still an option, but with no food or fuel the hundred mile trip would be impossible.
"Forget Fort Benning!" Lori snaps. "We need answers tonight; now."
"We'll think of something," her husband assures her as most of the group begins to head back towards the relative safety of the caravan, but Rick suddenly announces that the security camera positioned above the shutter has moved, and he begins frantically pounding on the metal barrier.
"Please, we're desperate!" he pleads to the camera. Everyone tries to drag him away from the doors as the herd continues to grow, but he shakes him off. "Please, we have women and children! No food, hardly any gas left. We have nowhere else to go!"
"Daddy, come on!" Kylee calls to her father, edging closer towards the vehicles as she dispatches a small collection of walkers nearby. "There's no one there, we have to go now!"
"If you don't let us in, you're killing us!"
Shane finally wraps his arm around Rick's torso, hauling him bodily away from the doors, but with each step he continues to scream and plead at the stationary barriers.
Just as they all turn to make a run for safety, the shutters jerk up with an ear-piercing shriek. Light spills out onto the concrete, and as one the group turns to stare in shock at the doorway.
It takes a moment for them to process what's happened, but they gather themselves quickly and rush into the building away from the walkers roaming outside. Rick calls out for anyone already inside, and his voice echoes off the high ceilings as Shane instructs Kylee to close the doors behind Daryl while the group progresses cautiously through the spacious foyer.
"Hello?" a stranger calls from the shadows. In an instant half a dozen guns are trained on the new face, who sports his own high-caliber rifle. "Anybody infected?"
"One of our group was," Rick explains. "He didn't make it."
"Why are you here?" the man asks them. "What do you want?"
"A chance," Kylee's father begs.
"That's asking an awful lot these days."
"I know," the Sheriff concedes.
"You all submit to a blood test," he tells the group. "That's the price of admission."
"We can do that."
He lowers his gun, telling them to bring in their stuff before the shutters close, as they won't reopen after they've lowered. Daryl, Glenn, Rick, and Shane make the runs back to the caravan for their packs, and once T-Dog and Dale pull the glass doors shut behind them the man swipes a key card on a panel before asking some unseen person to bring the metal barricades back down into place and kill the lobby's power.
"Rick Grimes," Kylee's father introduces himself to the stranger, extending his hand. He doesn't accept the handshake, but tells them his name is Doctor Edwin Jenner. Then he leads them to the only operational elevator where they all pile in like sardines in a can. Kylee finds herself pressed into the corner behind Sophia and her mother, with her back to Daryl and Glenn to her right. As the metal box jerks into motion, the young twenty-something stumbles and falls backwards against the hunter's chest. He places a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and she feels his breath spilling hot against her neck. With a shiver, she quickly rights herself.
"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?" Daryl asks after clearing his throat, and avoids eye contact while Jenner explains how he found the weapon left lying around.
"I familiarized myself. But you look harmless enough," he tells them before glancing down at Carl. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."
Kylee watches her brother try and fail to suppress a smile, and thankfully it doesn't take long before the elevator deposits them into a sterile white hallway. Kylee stumbles out quickly with her head down and her eyes trained on her feet.
"Are we underground?" Carol inquires as they delve further into the depths of the building.
"Are you claustrophobic?" he replies.
"A little."
"Try not to think about it," is the best answer he can offer.
At the end of the hall they're met with darkness, but Jenner instructs someone named Vi to bring up the lights in the big room. Electricity hums as a ring of florescent bulbs pop to life, and banks of computers begin to beep. "Welcome to Zone 5," he tells them.
"Where is everybody?" Rick asks as they file into the main work bay. "The other doctors, the staff?"
"I'm it," Jenner responds. "It's just me here."
"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori speaks up from the back where she stands with her children. "Vi?"
"Vi, say hello to our guests," the doctor announces to the room. "Tell them… Welcome."
A computerized voice answers him. "Hello, guests. Welcome."
"I'm all that's left," he reiterates. "I'm sorry."
After that he leads them to another room where he takes his blood samples one by one.
"What's the point?" Andrea questions as he presses a gauze pad over the small puncture in the crook of her elbow. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."
"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here. Let me just at least be thorough."
He tapes her up and tells her she's all done, but when she stands her legs wobble dangerously. Jacqui steadies her as Jenner asks if she's okay.
"She hasn't eaten in days," the older woman explains. "None of us have."
The doctor looks around at their rag-tag little group, and invites them into his makeshift home.
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Not much later they're all seated around a dining room table, laughing and drinking wine and filling their bellies with the first full meal they've had in ages.
"You know, in Italy," Dale is saying as he fills another glass, "Children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!"
"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then," Lori quips back playfully.
"What's it gonna hurt?" her husbands asks. "Come on."
She tries to glare at him, but with the liquor already buzzing in her system and the others celebrating around her, it doesn't take long for her to give in with a giggle. Kylee watches on with anticipation as her little brother has his first taste of alcohol, but when he turns up his nose with a sour expression she breaks into peals of laughter right along with everyone else.
"That's my boy," Lori praises him as she pours his wine into her own glass. "If only your sister had the same reaction to it."
"Aw, come on now, Kylee's a big girl," Daryl pipes up from his perch on a nearby dresser. The two share a lingering look that causes a few of the others to catcall or whistle loudly, and she hopes that the flush on her cheeks is just from the alcohol.
They all continue to share in the joy while Shane tells Carl to stick to Soda Pop, and Daryl turns his attention to their Asian companion.
"Not you, Glenn," he instructs to the boy's confusion. "Keep drinking, little man. I want to see how red your face can get."
They all chuckle as the wine continues to flow, but soon their voices die down when Rick taps his fork against the side of his glass.
"It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly," he tells them as he rises to his feet.
"He is more than just a host," T-Dog adds while he raises his own drink.
"Hear, hear!" they all call out.
"Here's to you, Doc." Daryl crows above the noise. "Boo-yah!"
Kylee is nearly in tears from giggling, but the merriment is suddenly dampened when Shane finally speaks up.
"So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?"
Everyone falls silent - the joyful mood ruined - as Shane cocks a single brow and waits for his answer. "All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened, where are they?"
"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick interjects. "We don't need to do this now.
"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move - Supposed to find all the answers. Instead we, uh-" Shane chuckles humorlessly and thumbs at the doctor. "We found him. Found one man. Why?"
Jenner explains what happened during the initial outbreak: how most of the others up and left in search of their families, and how some of them just bolted as things got worse.
"Every last one?" Shane inquires.
"No," the doctor answers somberly. "Many couldn't face walking out the door. They… Opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."
Most of the group sips their drinks in silence now, frowning as Jenner speaks.
"You didn't leave," Andrea finally points out. "Why?"
"I just kept working, hoping to do some good."
Glenn returns to his seat, accusing Shane of being a buzzkill. Kylee can't help but to agree.
After their meal the doctor leads them into a hallway interspersed with offices where they'll be staying, explaining that most of the facility, including the living quarters, has been powered down.
"The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy," he continues with a glance down at Carl and Sophia who trail at his heels, "Just don't plug in the video games, okay? Or anything that draws power. The same applies if you shower; go easy on the hot water."
Glenn's expression is ecstatic as he turns to T-Dog. "Hot water?" he breathes in bliss.
"That's what the man said," he responds with a laugh.
They scatter at that point, picking rooms or making a beeline for the locker area. Kylee decides to wait out the shower scramble and instead moves back towards the front of the hall, snagging a room all to herself away from the rec room where the kids will probably spend most of their time. She can't remember the last time she's truly had a space all of her own since Carl came along, and as much as she loves her little brother, she's going to take every advantage of the situation.
Dropping her bag onto the nearest couch, the older Grimes child listens to the sounds of chatter and laughter from her friends in the hallway. Her veins are buzzing pleasantly with the alcohol in her system, and she hums low in her throat as she lets her body melt into the comfort of the plush cushions.
"Don't go getting sleepy on me now," Daryl's voice comes from the doorway. "We still got a full bottle to polish off."
Kylee chuckles softly as she cracks one eye open to see the hunter leaning heavily against the door frame. "Who's pestering who now, Dixon?" she quips.
With a roll of his eyes Daryl saunters into the room - smug as a cat with a saucer of milk - and flops down onto the floor before leaning back against the edge of the couch. He rests his forearms on his knees and lets out a sigh that seems to come all the way from his toes.
"Long day," the younger girl remarks, watching him nod slowly in agreement. He takes a swig from the bottle and passes it over to her.
"So tell me: how did you get separated from your Ma in the first place?" he asks her as she takes a sip of the wine. "When she and your little bro joined up with our group I thought she'd never quit crying."
Kylee chews at her fingernail for a moment before sighing and handing the bottle back over. "What, are we playing twenty questions?"
"Sure are. And you gotta answer."
She tells him about her fight through the crowds outside Atlanta searching for her mom and Shane after the explosions began, and then her tumble down the ravine. "Pretty stupid mistake, now that I think about," she muses as an afterthought. "Do I get to ask you something now?"
He nods, and she inquires about his favorite color.
"Man, that's the dumbest question ever," he chastises, frowning when she giggles at his consternation.
"Well I like to get to know a fella before I go jumping into all the personal questions," she tells him. "You know, like favorite foods or sports teams. Now that's pretty damn intimate."
Daryl scoffs and hands back the bottle.
"Favorite color's green, I'll eat anything I can put in my belly, and I don't care for sports." After a pause he asks her, "What did you do before the world went to shit?"
"Jeeze, you go right for the throat, don't ya?" she teases.
"Seems like you're pretty damn determined to keep hangin' around me, so I might as well get to know you a little bit better."
"Why? What's so special about me?"
"Pretty sure it's my turn for askin' questions."
Kylee rolls her eyes and takes another drink before replying. "I was an art major in college. Came back home when I heard Dad took a bullet on the job and was at the hospital in a coma." She rolls her head to watch Daryl pick at a stray thread on his jeans. "Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden? You don't seem the type of guy who wants to get to know a girl."
"And just what type of guy do you think I am?" the hunter demands.
"Nu-uh, you have to answer my question now."
He glares at her, unhappy with being bested at his own game, and then stretches his long legs out against the carpet. She hears his knees popping while he considers his answer.
"I dunno… You just seem different than the other chicks," he finally tells her, shrugging his shoulders as if he can't come up with a better response. "But you're right, I ain't the kind of guy who normally gets all cozy with the gals."
"You aren't gay, are you?" The question slips out before she even thinks about it, and she immediately claps her hand over her mouth. Alcohol always had a bad habit of loosening her tongue.
"Man, fuck no!" he snaps, snatching the bottle out of her grasp before knocking back a healthy swallow.
She expects him to storm off at this point, but he's either too drunk to stand up properly without risking an embarrassing spill, or he's too drunk to really care about Kylee's accidental accusations. So he remains seated and just gives her a withering glance when she apologizes, but his agitation dissipates quickly as he jumps right back into their game.
"Exactly how many rings do you have in your damn head?" He gestures at the collection of silver hoops in her ears, and she chortles at his befuddled expression.
"Just five," she tells him. "I used to have my bellybutton pierced, but the barbell came out one day at the beach and I never went back to have it re-done. So I just have the two sets in my earlobes and a Daith* ring to help with migraines."
"And that juju bullshit actually works?"
"For starters, you just asked a second question and that is clearly not allowed; and secondly: that 'juju bullshit' does in fact work. I am happy to report three years and counting without a single migraine."
"I bet you had a lot of fun going through metal detectors," he teases.
"Nah, but I never could have a CAT scan or MRI done," she rolls up the cuff of her jeans as she speaks to reveal two scars stretching along each side of her right ankle. "Fell off a skateboard when I was seventeen. Broke my leg in three different places and the doctors had to load me up with plates and screws."
Daryl whistles in admiration. "Wild child, weren't you?"
"Again with the questions!" she scolds him playfully. "You shouldn't play a game where you can't even obey the rules."
He levels the younger girl with a glare that doesn't really hold any true heat, and they spend a couple minutes just drinking quietly as the bottle continues to make it's way around.
After a few more sips she asks him about his own life before 'everything went to shit', so he tells her a little about his brother's frequent stints in J.D.** and some of the better scraps he got into during his school years.
He doesn't pose a question once they lapse back into silence, so as she hands him the alcohol once again she speaks up.
"Tell me a secret you've never told anyone else."
"I thought it was my turn again?" he counters.
"You didn't ask me anything, so I assumed you took a pass."
"Look who's breaking the rules this time, hotshot. I never said nothin' about having the option to pass."
"Well it's an option now," she smirks.
Their eyes meet - a clash of blue like a storm rolling across the ocean - and she waits patiently for his answer.
"Maybe another time."
He moves to get to his feet and she instantly reaches out to grab his forearm, pleading for him to stay. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, okay? But please don't run off yet."
He's halfway up, his hand braced on his knee and his torso curled, when he turns to look at her. He seems to consider for a moment, but finally falls back against the couch with a heavy sigh.
"That means you have to help me finish off this bottle," he tells her, swirling the remaining wine around within its glass container. She agrees, and together they spend the next hour companionably, sharing the alcohol until Kylee's starting to see double.
"I think I'm officially drunk," she announces to no one in particular while her drinking partner tips back the final drop of wine. She's still sprawled out across the cushions, with one leg stretched out onto the armrest and the other bent up at an angle. Daryl leans his head back, resting it against the side of her knee, and teases her about being a lightweight despite his own drowsy state of inebriation.
They share a chuckle before Kylee gently presses his head forward, cupping the back of his skull in the palm of her hand so she can clamber to her feet without accidentally kicking him.
"I dunno about you," she slurs as she moves to dig around in her pack, "But I think it's time for PJ's and bed."
"You want me to leave now?"
She pulls out a pair of loose cotton sweatpants and a faded tank top, glancing at him over her shoulder as she uses her free hand to keep her balance against a bookshelf on the wall.
"As long as you promise to be a gentleman and close your eyes while I change, there's a bunch of blankets in the closet over there. You could make a pallet and sleep here so you don't have to go breaking your neck trying to get back to your room."
"You should know by now I ain't no gentleman," Daryl counters.
"I trust you," is her simple reply, and when she shoos at him playfully he rolls his eyes before hauling his bulk onto the couch, collapsing face-down while she shucks her jeans and t-shirt.
It takes her a few minutes, but finally she places her dusty clothing next to her bag to be washed later and strolls back to the couch, tapping Daryl's shoulder gently to let him know it's okay to move. He props his chin up on his forearm as she rifles through the closet, and while she piles blankets into her arms, he speaks.
"Your folks know about that piece of ink you got there?"
He gestures to the bare expanse of skin revealed by the scooping back of her tank top, and she gives him a conspiratorial wink. "Promise not to tell my dad? I got it when I went away to college."
Below the base of her neck, between her shoulder blades, a cluster of Cherokee Roses intersects a set of crossed arrows. It's a simple piece with a washed-out coloring meant to resemble a vintage portrait, but the artwork is flawless.
Daryl has finally managed to roll back to his feet, and he helps Kylee spread out the blankets on the floor. "Do you know the legend?" he asks her.
"My roommate was Native American," she replies with a nod. "Mila. She told me the story once, and it just sort of stuck with me. We got a little drunk one night, out on the town with the other girls in our dorm, and ended up at this tiny parlor near Columbus. It was pretty run-down, but the guy who did this for me was an amazing artist. One of the best drunk-decisions I ever made."
She smiles fondly at the memory, smoothing the corners of a beige duvet, and then takes the final blanket for herself while they settle into their beds for the night.
"Goodnight, Daryl," she murmurs from the couch as she listens to him shift into a more comfortable position.
"G'night," comes his mumbled response a moment later.
Around them the building is quiet, with only the faint buzz of electricity coursing through the walls and the occasional muffled cough or sneeze from someone in another room. For just a few hours, they feel safe. It's the best night of sleep they've had since the end of the world.
.
..
…
..
.
When Kylee finally groans and pulls herself away from the blessed comfort of the couch the next morning, all she can think about is that even her tumble down the ravine wasn't as bad as her current hangover. She sits up slowly, waiting for her stomach to stop churning, and the first thing she notices is that Daryl's gone. He's left his blankets folded neatly off to the side, and if anyone were to walk in right this moment they'd never be able to tell that he'd spent the night in her room.
She gathers a fresh set of clothes and slips into the showers, scrubbing away at the dirt and oil on her skin. The warm water helps immensely to massage her aching muscles and clear out a fraction of her headache, and after washing her hair she spends a minute just enjoying the steaming spray of water.
Too soon for her liking she twists the knob and towels herself off, and her stomach begins grumbling loudly for food while she tugs on a fresh pair of faded jeans. As she makes her way towards the dining room she winds her damp hair into a loose braid, and when the rest of the group comes into view they greet her with a chorus of hello's.
Most of them - including herself - are very obviously suffering, and while Kylee pours herself a glass of orange juice someone hands her a couple of Aspirin.
"Are you guys hungover?" Carl asks with a childish grin, looking between his sister and their father. "Mom said you'd be."
"Mom is right," Rick responds as he takes his own seat, sharing a knowing smile with his older child. Kylee raises her glass of OJ in agreement while Lori explains how moms tend to have that annoying habit.
T-Dog interrupts them all as he comes breezing in from the kitchen area, holding a steaming pan in one hand. "Eggs. Powdered, but I do 'em good."
Glenn moans from across the table and Kylee feels for him as Jacqui rubs his shoulders comfortingly. T-Dog tells him that protein helps the hangover as he doles out portions, and Dale can't suppress his laughter.
"Where'd all this come from?" Rick asks as someone passes the Aspirin bottle around to him. He asks his wife for her assistance and she tells that Jenner provided everything.
"He thought we could use it," she says while he thanks her. "Some of us, at least."
Glenn is still groaning. "Don't ever, ever, ever, let me drink again," he whines to Jacqui.
Shane enters with a passing greeting to his partner - heading straight for the coffeepot - and when the Sheriff asks him if he feels just as bad as they do, he tells them that he feels worse.
"What the hell happened to you?" T-Dog questions when Shane steps past him to take a seat at the table. "Your neck?"
"I must have done it in my sleep," Shane replies, settling into his chair next to Kylee.
"Never seen you do that before," Rick points out.
"Me neither. Not like me at all."
Even in her compromised state Kylee doesn't miss the weighted look that Shane gives her mother, who refuses to meet his gaze. She thinks about confronting him and demanding answers - knowing that something must have happened recently between them - but she's interrupted by Jenner's appearance.
"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing-" Dale begins without preamble.
"But you will anyway."
"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea adds.
He turns to the room, studying the group silently as he holds his cooling coffee cup, and then tells them that he has something to show them once they've finished eating.
At the prospect of answers everyone digs into their meal, and soon enough they're all following Jenner back into the spacious room filled with computers.
The doctor sets his coffee down on the desk before jogging the computer from sleep. "Give me playback of TS-19."
"Playback of TS-19," Vi parrots as the main projector screen flickers to life.
"Few people ever got a chance to see this," he explains as the files load. "Very few."
Kylee watches the last stragglers stroll in from where she stands off to the side. Daryl follows in after Shane, and comes to a stop next to her shoulder. He's close enough to touch, but he keeps an inch of space between them. Neither of them speak.
"Is that a brain?" Carl inquires as several blue-tinted scans fill the screen.
"An extraordinary one," Jenner tells him. But his expression seems to darken a bit as he continues, "Not that it matters in the end."
"Take us in for E.I.V.," he instructs Vi.
"Enhanced Internal View," the mechanized voice announces as the screen shifts to show a modified 'live play' of the subject's brain activity. They all watch on in silence at the pulsating display of neurons sparking across the screen, flashing like little lightning bolts throughout the bright blue brain matter.
"What are those lights?" Shane asks from a chair nearby. Daryl has taken a seat as well, and Kylee moves across the platform to join her mother as the doctor explains.
"It's a person's life - Experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you." He turns to point at Rick as an example. "The thing that makes you unique; and human."
"You don't make sense, ever?" Daryl isn't one to mince his words.
"Those are synapses," Kylee pipes up. Right now she's glad that she spent so much time helping Mila study for her classes in Cognitive Science. "Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages."
Everyone is looking to her now which makes her a little nervous, but Jenner gives her an encouraging smile so she continues. "They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks from the moment of birth to the moment of death."
"Death?" her father interrupts to speak to the scientist. "That's what this is? A vigil?"
"Yes. Or rather, the playback of the vigil."
"This person died?" Andrea questions. "Who?"
"Test subject 19," the doctor replies. "Someone who was bitten and infected… And volunteered to have us record the process." He speaks to his computer system now. "Vi, scan forward to the first event."
"Scanning to first event."
The monitor beeps, and they all watch as the glowing blue synapses slowly blink out beneath a crawling spider-web of black that creeps up from the brain stem.
"What is that?" Glenn speaks up from the back of the room.
"It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs..."
The see-through silhouette on the screen writhes, as if gasping for air, and squirms while the infection rages through each brain cell. Eventually the entire brain goes dark, and the struggling ceases.
"Then death," Jenner whispers. "Everything you ever were, or ever will be… Gone."
"Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asks her mother. Carol answers affirmatively before pulling her daughter a little closer. Kylee glances up at her own mom and then drapes her arm around the older woman's torso. The pair had always kept that close relationship, even on into Kylee's teen years.
The quiet sounds of Andrea sniffling draws Lori's attention, and she tells Jenner that she lost her sister two days ago.
"I lost somebody too," he says to the blond woman. "I know how devastating it is."
After a somber pause, Jenner asks Vi to scan to the second event.
"Scanning to second event."
"The resurrection times vary wildly," the doctor explains as they watch the MRI feed fast-forward. "We have reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute… Seven seconds."
When the feed slows to real-time, Kylee squints as something flickers near the base of the darkened skull. A flash of burgundy that progresses out through the synapses with pulsating red fingers.
"It restarts the brain?" she guesses.
"No, just the brain stem," Jenner corrects her. "Basically it gets them up and moving."
"But they're not alive?" Rick presses.
The older man gestures to the screen. "You tell me."
"It's nothing like before," the Sheriff muses aloud. "Most of that brain is dark."
"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part - that doesn't come back. The you part. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct."
As the scientist speaks, Kylee watches transfixed. The progression of the virus is almost captivating in a macabre sort of way, but she jumps in surprise when a blinding flash of light slices through the test subject's skull, leaving nothing but ragged edges in its wake.
"God, what was that?" Carol gasps.
Andrea is the first to put the pieces together, and she looks to Jenner. "He shot his patient in the head. Didn't you?"
"Vi, power down the main screen and the workstations," he instructs, avoiding the question.
"Powering down main screen and workstations."
Daryl rises from his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his expression guarded, and Kylee glances across the platform at him. They share a brief look before the hunter lowers his head and turns his back on her.
"You have no idea what it is, do you?" Andrea challenges, her ire rising.
"It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal…"
"Or the wrath of God?" Jacqui adds.
"There is that," Jenner concedes.
"Somebody must know something," Andrea insists. "Somebody, somewhere."
"There are others, right?" Carol asks him. "Other facilities?"
The doctor's response isn't promising. "There may be some. People like me."
"But you don't know?" Kylee's father snaps. "How can you not know?"
"Everything went down. Communications, directives - All of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month."
"So it's not just here," Andrea concludes. "There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying, right?"
Jenner's lack of response is all the answer they need, and the blond woman scoffs as Rick shakes his head in defeat. Jacqui takes the Lord's name in vain from somewhere in the back of the room, and Daryl scrubs the palms of his hands roughly against his eyes.
"Man, I'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again," he announces. Kylee watches him sympathetically as he leans his elbows down on the top of a nearby computer, covering his face with a barely-audible groan.
Dale, always observant, is the next to speak. "Doctor Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but…" he takes a breath and motions toward the far wall. "That clock - It's counting down."
Kylee and the rest of the group look towards the timer just as it passes under the one-hour mark.
"What happens at zero?"
"The uh, basement generators - They run out of fuel."
Jenner begins shuffling towards the exit as he speaks, his brow dotted with sweat.
"And then?" Rick pushes. But the doctor leaves without answering, so Kylee's father turns to the computer system. "Vi, what happens when the power runs out?"
"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."
* - A Daith piercing is a newer trend that utilizes a specific pressure point in the ear to relieve chronic migraines and headaches. I recently did have my Daith pierced, and so far it's been working beautifully. For those of you who suffer from constant headaches and dig awesome-looking jewelry, its definitely worth checking out.
** - This acronym stands for Juvenile Detention, if you didn't know that already.
