That night, Daryl managed to find a small doe that was half dead to take down and cook for dinner. Even the little cat managed to find us, despite having walked god only knows how many miles before it was too dark to go any longer. Sure enough, as soon as she nudged her way into the tent, she was curled up, her scruffy fur warming Judy's cheek.
Rick wasn't happy about it. He said that Judy would just get attached to the damn thing, then it'd end up dying or something. I couldn't help but wonder how long it was going to be before Daryl cooked it up for dinner, but I knew he wouldn't. Regardless, Rick wasn't too pleased to have yet another body in the already too small tent.
"I can take a shift tonight," I said as I was trying to peel a piece of meat off the bone. Daryl looked at me, a piece of deer sticking out of his mouth.
"No," he said, trying to keep from spitting the food out. I wrinkled my nose, before shaking my head.
"I'd be fine, I'd stay right by the fire," I said slowly, struggling to get the damn piece of meat loose.
"No," he said again, his tone was stern, harsher than I was used to.
"I'm not a child," I grumbled.
"You're just that. A child," he said angrily. "No, end of story."
I blinked. Daryl never spoke to me like that. Not even when I was little and always making mistakes. I sat my food down, stood up, and walked away, my hands shaking with rage.
"Brooke," Daryl called, his voice softening.
"Leave me alone," I shouted as I walked into the woods, kicking the roots out of my way as I walked. I stopped next to the stream, memories of the before fresh in my mind. I sank to my knees, tears running down my face, as I dipped my hands into the bitter cold water.
The cold water made my heart stop racing, cooled the anger that built in my chest, and eased the pain in my aching shoulder. After I washed the dirt and grime from my skin, I decided to go back to the camp, at the very least, there was a warm sleeping bag with my name on it.
A twig snapped, which caused me to crouch down, my hands already locked on my knife. My eyes swept the woods, my short stance giving me an edge.
She didn't get mad often, that one. She was normally level headed, mature, easy to keep under control. Even after her mama died. She never really got mad enough to storm off. The fact that his answer caused her so much outrage, so much pain, bothered him.
Ever since her mama died, Daryl had promised himself that he'd do all he could for the little girl. Rather, since they thought she died. He had done the best he could too. Gave her a shoulder to cry on, a stern hand every time she started to get out of hand, a gentle guide through the years.
He wouldn't lie to himself or no one else. He wasn't the best person to raise a kid. Shit, he wasn't the best person to raise himself. He was doing his best, and Brooke never showed any sign that it wasn't good enough. Until that day.
Maybe she was old enough to keep watch. Maybe. He couldn't hide the fact that Carl had been keeping watch since he was younger than she was, but he was a boy. She was just a little girl.
I watched as the pair of Walkers stumbled along, their bodies seeming to sway more than most. They were rotten, sticking corpses, and I hated them. I hated every single thing about them. They were dangerous, slow, and stupid. Easy to kill if you had the knowledge we had.
And they're the reason my mama's dead.
I waited until they were turned in the direction of camp, before I stood up and ran silently through the bushes, pushed off a nicely angled rock, and stabbed the first one in the head, landing nearly silently on it's back as it fell. The second one spun around, it's disgusting moan sent chills up my spine.
I could feel the Walker's blood dripping off my face as I quickly tore my knife from it's head, rolled away, and crouched, low to the ground, in a tight, hard to grab ball. I took a moment to catch my breath, before standing, waiting as the Walker stumbled towards me. I gauged my time just right, before leaping, my knife digging deeply into his head. It collapsed, bringing me down with me. I took a moment to be certain that he was dead, before I dug my knife out of it's head, before standing, wiping the bloodied blade on the grass. As I was standing, a sharp whistle caught my attention. My head snapped up, and suddenly, I realized how much I'd grown in the last four years.
He had underestimated her. He had assumed, that since she was only eleven, only a little girl, that she couldn't handle herself. The incident with the Walkers proved that. But now, now he wasn't so sure.
She took a bad situation, and turned it into a real workout. She knew exactly how to position herself, exactly when to strike. All skills he had spent the last four years teaching her. She looked over at him when he whistled, her eyes twinkling with a new-found love for killing. It was terrifying and beautiful all at the same time.
She knew he was there, but she didn't make any move to step towards him. Instead, she grabbed one of the two bodies and dragged it over to the edge of the opening, laid it on it's stomach, face down in the dirt, before doing the same with the second body, before stepping into the cold water, washing the blood from her arms, face and chest. From where he watched, he could see the young girl shiver against the crisp breeze that had settled in. The sun was almost completely hidden, but she showed no fear as she washed her knife, getting every last bit of blood off it before sliding it back into her waistband. She let her dark locks fall across her shoulders, her thin body, so feather light and fragile. It was in moments like this, that Daryl was surprised she survived. She'd gotten sick so many times over the last four and a half years, lost so much weight, but never stopped pushing forward. She'd sit up with Judy, no matter how tired she was. She'd help hunt whenever she could. Would boil water, wash clothes, anything they'd asked, she'd done.
Maybe she is old enough to keep watch, he thought as he watched her start towards him. But then again...
"You don't always have to have an eye on me," I grunted as I walked past him. He sighed and followed after, like an overly obedient puppy. "Really, I'm fine." I rubbed my arms, trying to work the chill out of them. I walked over to the fire, which Carl was tending to. He looked up when he saw me and offered me a piece of meat.
"Not hungry," I muttered as I sat down, letting the heat of the fire dry the cold water off my skin. "We're gonna have to be careful. Caught a few stragglers by the stream," I added glancing at Daryl, who was shaking the dirt off the sleeping bags, one eye still watching.
"How many?" Carl asked, looking up.
"Two," I shrugged.
"Did you kill 'em?" he asked, eyes widening.
"Yeah. Daryl's technique worked," I smiled. "I guess being small does come in handy."
"How's your shoulder?" he asked, nodding at the bandana.
"It aches, but nothing too bad," I said. It was almost the truth. It ached something fierce, but I'd dealt with far worse pains in my life. I carefully peeled the bandana away from the bandage of cursed.
"Daryl, come'ere," I called, wincing.
"What's wrong?" his raspy voice asked. He knelt down next to me and looked at the bandage.
"Please don't just tear it off like last time," I begged. Daryl had one of those 'just get it over with' attitudes, and tended to be rough when changing bandages.
"How bad does it hurt?" he asked, gently peeling the bandage off. I bit back a cry of pain when the scabbed blood ripped free along with the bandage.
"Not too bad," I said in a weak voice. He gave me The look and knew right off that I was lying. "About as bad as when I fell out of the tree two years go," I admitted, referring to when I dislocated my shoulder after slipping out of a tree during one of our rougher weeks. We were running from Walkers, and Carl had Judy, so Daryl told me to get as high off the ground as I could. I did so, and wound up getting pretty banged up on the way back down.
"It looks infected," a new voice chimed in. I looked up to see Rick standing behind Daryl, a strange look on his face. "Do we have any rubbing alcohol left?"
"There's some in the bottom of my bag," I offered. We had a very little bit left, that we were trying to save in case of emergency.
"It doesn't look too bad, but I'm gonna have to cut away the bad flesh," Daryl said softly.
I felt my eyes widen at his statement. I hated the thought of getting my skin hacked off, even by the man who was the closest thing to a father I had. I felt tears well in my eyes, both from fear and pain.
I hadn't even noticed Rick left until he came back holding the bottle of alcohol. I felt my insides tighten at the thought of it being poured on my shoulder. I thought about it for a moment, then grabbed the dirty bandana and tossed it at Carl, who was setting aside the water to cool.
"Wash that off for me, would ya?" I asked through clenched teeth. "If I scream, it's gonna bring all the Walkers right on us. And I sure ain't stickin' that thing in my mouth until it's been cleaned."
"I'll get another bucket of water," Rick said after he nodded at Carl. "Use that to wash the rag."
A few minutes later, I was biting down as hard as I possibly could on the tattered old piece of cloth. Tears ran down my face, my short, sharp nails digging deeply into the ground under me, as Daryl carefully sliced away at the rotten flesh, while Rick held a damp cloth to my forehead, Judy rattling on about something beside me, trying to distract me.
Halfway through, I yanked the rag from my mouth and swatted Daryl's hand away.
"Stop," I begged, breathless and dizzy. "Stop."
Seeing the young girl in so much pain bothered every member of the small motley crew. Even the ever hard-hearted Merle was troubled by the pain Brooke was going through. Despite that, she was being braver than any average eleven year old. Even as Daryl sliced away at the infected flesh, she held strong.
Upon her request for him to stop, it was apparent to everyone that she was close to reaching her breaking point. Though the wound did not bleed as badly as they first expected, the pain was written all over her face. Daryl knew that if he let the infection set in, it'd kill her. He also knew that if she went into shock from the pain, it'd kill her. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he didn't like the odds.
Finally, Brooke blinked back the tears, took a deep breath, and shoved the old bandana back into her mouth, before nodding once, signaling that she was ready for the next blow.
It felt like he was cutting my arm off. Every tiny slice burned and ached, and after what felt like a lifetime, my head finally grew heavy, my vision blurred, and my muffled screams ceased. I felt a strange, numb feeling seep through my body, and for a moment, I thought I was about to die.
Then I realized that my body was just coping. Just like my mind had when my mama died, both times. Just like my body did all those years ago, when me and my mama were running all the time, barely stopping to sleep, barely eating or drinking.
My body was doing what it did best. Slowing down, numbing me to everything. Maybe the cold air was helping too. Or the damp cloth, or the soft chatter Judy provided. Or maybe, it was just my will to deal. Either way, I welcomed it. Even as my eyes fluttered shut and all of my senses dimmed, I welcomed it.
He knew it couldn't be a good sign. He knew she was probably going into shock and might end up dead anyway, but he didn't stop cutting away at the dead flesh until every piece was gone. Then he stitched the cut as best he could with the roll of fishing line Brooke kept tucked in her bag, in a double ziplock bag. He had to hand it to her, she was a smart kid. She knew what it took to survive in this hell of a world.
Once the cut was stitched and dressed, he carried her into the tent and laid her down on her sleeping bag, silently begging her not to die. Begging her to be strong enough to get through yet another obstacle.
He sat with her late into the night, after convincing Merle to take his shift. His brother wasn't happy about it, but somehow, Merle seemed to sense how much Daryl cared about Brooke. He was getting a glimpse of a side of his baby brother that he'd never seen before. A side that was almost so un-Daryl-like it scared him.
I groaned as my senses returned. First the overwhelming sense of smell. I was overly aware that our tent smelled like rotten clothes, our sleeping bags stunk like god only knows what, and ourselves, well none of us saw a hot shower in years, so we all were pretty ripe.
After that came the overly apparent sound of the fire crackling, Judy's shallow breathing, and Daryl's ever raspy breath. I forced my eyes open and waited, as my sense of sight returned slowly, as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. I smiled as I pressed a kiss into Judy's messy hair, before carefully rolling over, willing my shoulder not to bump the ground. I saw Daryl's eyes half closed. The poor man must have stayed awake all night. I gently touched his arm before carefully stepping over him as the sense of touch came back to me, bringing with it, pain.
As I slowly unzipped the tent, I heard Daryl's raspy voice ask me where I was going.
"To sit by the fire for a little while," I whispered back. "I won't go too far," I promised.
"Take my jacket with you," he muttered before dropping off. I smiled and grabbed his jacket from on top of his bag and slipped outside.
The air was crisp and cold, but the warmth of Daryl's worn out jacket provided me with a comforting, safe feeling. I wandered over to the fire and stirred the embers until the fire came back to life. I carefully added a few small logs, the crackle and warmth all too welcoming. I smiled and inhaled deeply as the smell of burning wood hit my nose.
I sat on the overturned log nearest the fire and leaned towards the fire, letting my bad arm rest on my lap, taking the ache out of my shoulder.
"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" a voice came out of nowhere, scaring me half to death. I bit back a yelp and spun around, before realization dawned on me. It was only Merle.
"I couldn't sleep," I admitted. I pulled Daryl's jacket tighter around me, loving the fact that it worked like an over sized blanket.
"Daryl know you're out here?" he asked, coming into view.
"Mhm. Well, kinda, he was half to the wind when I woke up," I laughed softly.
"I doubt that," Merle muttered. I didn't know what he meant, but I didn't stop to think about it either. Half the time I didn't know what Merle meant.
"Did you take the whole night?" I asked, nodding at the rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Rick took the first handful of hours. I took mine and Daryl's, why?" he said, his tone bothering me. I realized when I got older, that that was just how Merle was.
"Because you look exhausted. Come sit by the fire, the sun'll be up soon. Odds are, no Walker will show up before then, if they haven't already," I offered.
"I should still keep watch," Merle muttered. He tried to hide a yawn, but I was too quick.
"C'mon," I said patting the space beside me. "Anyways, it's cold, and you can't possibly be warm in that," I said, nodding at his sleeveless shirt that was covered in dried blood, dirt, and holes.
"Why are you so nice?" Merle asked with sincere disgust.
"Because, we're at the end of the world, it doesn't pay to be cruel or heartless or nasty. Daryl told me it was better to be nice to people, than hate them for something that isn't their fault," I shrugged. In all actuality, Daryl taught me to be cold and emotionless, but I never lost my heart. He always said that was why I was still alive. Because I cared way too damn much.
"I guess I could sit for a few minutes..." Merle scowled. "Anyway, isn't someone supposed to watch you at all times?"
"Stop trying to treat me like a baby," I grunted. "I'm as capable as anyone to survive," I said with honesty. "Besides, you never told me how you saved my mama," I added. I wanted...needed really, to know how he ended up with her.
"That's a story for another time," Merle growled.
"No. Daryl won't let you tell it to me without making it sound too nice. I want to know the truth, what really happened that night? Why didn't she come to the high way like she said she would? Why wasn't she with Rick?" I asked bitterly. "I need to know, Merle, please."
"Okay," he growled, tired of my begging. He sat down next to me and looked into the fire, a look of pure disgust crossing his face. "Your ma...she was a real stubborn old sow," he said softly. "Never gave up that one..."
a/n - So I am in love with this story so far. What about you guys? Love it? Hate it? Want me to change/add anything? Let me know. :) Keep in mind, I'm making Merle a tiny bit softer than he really is, because we're four years in the future, and he was stuck with Kay for four whole years. She had that effect on people. As you'll see in the chapters to come. Also, I know, slower than normal chapters, that's because I'm really trying to get this one to be exactly what I want it to be. :)
As always, any and all feedback is welcomed, no matter how harsh.
