Chapter 4: Nightmares

Daryl drained his beer and sat it down on the table with a thunk. "So what 're ya' saying, Dale?" his blue eyes hard. "I should just drop it? She's scaring tha' hell outta' me. She won't talk ta' me. She doesn't sleep a' t'all. She barely eats. She looks awful, she's exhausted. I can't just sit back n' watch her do this ta' herself. I can't stand this."

"Daryl, have you heard of PTSD?"

Daryl shook his head. "Shell shock." he said, reaching for another beer from the cooler between them on the table.

"Right. Same thing, just a more politically correct label. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something bad happens to someone and if they don't deal with, it after a while it comes out later. In different ways. Sometimes it's nightmares, mood swings, depression. Sometimes, it's alcoholism, drug abuse, violence, a pattern of bad choices or inappropriate behavior. Kids who are abused show signs of this, even years later as adults. It happens to people who've suffered all kinds of horrible trauma, or people who work with trauma victims, like health care workers and law enforcement." Dale explained.

"Merle had this. From bein' in the' army. Kicked his drinkin' into high gear when he got back an' then the drugs started. Was suppos'd ta' see a shrink but he refused ta' go. He just got worse and worse."

"Right. Psychotherapy probably would have helped."

"So are ya' saying Hal needs a shrink? Where tha' fuck'r we gonna' get one?"

"We can't. I'm sure not one, but she's gotta start talking. She's holding a lot back and that's what's hurting her. "

"She won't talk to me." Daryl took a long swig of beer, draining half the bottle. "She acts like she doesn't even want ta' be with me nowadays."

"What I'm asking, Daryl, is will you let me try to help her?"

"She won't tell me stuff- me. My own fuckin' wife an' she can't talk to me about shit. What makes ya' think she'll tell you?" Daryl was getting angry now. The fourth beer he had just sucked down probably wasn't helping. "Not entirely sure I'm comfortable with that, Dale. Some of it's personal. Bad."

"I don't know if Hallie will with me, but I'd be willing to try if you're ok with it. Daryl, I promise, I won't pressure her for anything inappropriate. I'm not in this for all the gory details. You know that. I just see you both in pain and I want to help if I can."

"Do ya' think ya' really can?" Daryl asked, his head down, looking up from under his eyebrows. "Can ya' help her?"

"I don't know." Dale said, screwing the top off of one of the beers. "But we gotta try."

XXXXX

Verna ate dinner slowly, pacing herself. She kept watching Daryl. He was by himself. She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. Damn, he was hot. She looked at his arms, his muscular biceps, his shoulders. His hands were not large, but his fingers were long and nimble. She looked up to his face, the strong, angular jaw, scraggly goatee. The mole over the corner of his lip on the left side made her lick her lips unconsciously. She looked at his eyes. They were deep blue, piercing. Their eyes met and Verna lowered her head, turning it sideways, looking back at him seductively. He looked a bit surprised and quickly looked away. He finished his stew and rose, taking his plate into the kitchen.

"Great dinner." he told Andrea, walking out quickly.

"Thanks. Wanna take a plate to Hallie?" she called after him.

"No." he said without breaking stride.

Verna looked back at her plate and wiped her mouth with a paper towel to hide her smile.

XXXXXX

Hallie looked at Dale. He was holding her hand, their faces about a foot apart. "I'm afraid, Dale." she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I feel like I'm losing him and...and it's all my fault."

"Why would you think that?"

"The way he looks at me now. Things aren't the same. We don't talk. We barely..." her voice trailed off. Hallie wiped a tear with her free hand.

"What does he say when you do talk?"

"Nothing. He yells at me because he says I'm pulling away, he says I'm shutting him out. " she tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat was too big. "I don't know what he wants me to do."

"Hallie," Dale said. "He wants you to be ok. You have to talk to him."

"I can't. He won't love me anymore."

"Honey, why would you ever think that? He found you in that jail. He saw how bad they hurt you. He knows, Hallie. He's not going to stop loving you that, for what was done to you. But you have to be able to talk about it with him."

"Dale, what if he blames me?" she said.

"He would never. There's no reason for him to. Nobody on earth would blame you."

"Lloyd did." she whispered. "He said I..." she shook her head and closed her eyes. "...I wanted it. I liked it." she put her head down, the tears streaming down her cheeks. "He said I let myself get caught because I knew what they'd do and I wanted it."

Dale put his arms around her. "Oh, Sweetheart..." he said, stroking her hair, "...you know that's not true. He was just trying to hurt you more. You know it's not true." he said gently.

"What if he was right?" she sobbed. "What if I did? What if that's the reason I didn't fight back harder?"

"I'm sure you fought back as best as you could under the circumstances. They had all the advantages."

"But what if there was something more I could have done? What if Lloyd was right?"

"You were injured. There were two of them. How could you have fought them more than you did?" Dale said softly.

"I don't know. I don't know. I should have been smarter. I should have been stronger." Hallie said, her voice cracking.

XXXXX

Hallie turned the page of the picture book with Monica and the ever-present teddy bear in the big chair next to the fire. "...and the baby bear said somebody's been sitting in MY chair." Her voice was high and light when she was Baby bear, soft and warm as Mama bear, deep and gruff as the Papa bear. Daryl watched them from the end of the hallway, out of sight. Monica had one arm around the bear, clutching it tightly and her head on Hallie's chest, fingers twisting around a lock of Hallie's hair. Hallie seemed totally at ease, relaxed, like she used to be, before the nightmares. He stood quietly, smiling to himself, as they finished the book and Hallie wrapped her arms around the child, kissing her on the top of the head. Monica closed her eyes and snuggled in to Hallie, still clutching the dark curl in her hand. Hallie closed her eyes and rocked softly.

Daryl tiptoed in. Hallie opening her eyes when he was about three feet from the chair. She smiled a sleepy smile and mouthed the word "Hey."

"You got a lap full." he whispered as he sat down opposite them on the couch. "Want me to take her back to bed?"

"No. I stay here." Monica said, not opening her eyes.

Hallie giggled. "You big faker." she said softly, "You're not asleep at all."

"Another story." the little girl said, opening her eyes and sitting up. "Curious George."

"Oh, no, that monkey gives you all kinds of bad ideas. He's too silly for bedtime. Tomorrow, I promise. But right now, young lady, you're going to go to your own bed and you're going to go to sleep and have wonderful dreams of fairy princesses and castles and princes on white horses and everything will be happy." Hallie looked at Daryl and raised her eyebrows. "And Prince Daryl and I are going to take you to your room right now." she said.

Daryl picked up Monica gently and carried her to the door of the girls' room, handing her off to Hallie to put into bed. She tucked Monica in bed, kissed her goodnight and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her. Hallie turned around and leaned on the wall opposite Daryl.

"Yer' really good with her." he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

"It's easy. She's a good kid. I just feel so sorry for her. Breaks my heart she had to see what she saw."

"She talks with ya' around." he said, hooking one finger in her belt loop and pulling her towards him. "She don't do that with just anybody."

"I guess. Maybe." Hallie shrugged.

Daryl wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Bed?" he asked.

"Sure. I'd like that, your Highness." she said, her arms around his waist.

XXXXX

Hallie pulled the sweater tighter around her shoulders and ran for the Mess Hall. It was early. She was still tired, but slept without a nightmare, wrapped in Daryl's arms all night. She leaned against the sink, eyes closed, waiting for the pot of coffee to brew. She didn't hear the door open or Verna slink in until she was standing in the kitchen doorway, red-tipped hand on her hip.

"Well, look who's awake." Verna said. "If I were you, I'd still be in bed with that man of yours. Maybe I'll just crawl in there with him, I'm sure he won't mind. What's the matter? He get tired of you already? Decide he didn't want you no more? Tired of you playing the victim? Did he finally realize you were there with those two because you liked it?" Verna's face was hard, her mouth drawn into an ugly sneer.

"You fucking bitch!" Hallie screamed. "I warned you to stay away from him!" "Shut your mouth, you bitch, or I'm going to shut it for you. Don't you ever look at him again. Don't you ever talk to me again." Hallie took a step closer to Verna.

Verna walked to the drawer and pulled out a butcher knife, dropped it on the floor and started screaming at the top of her lungs, while smiling at Hallie.

"Help me! Help me! She's crazy. She's got a knife." Verna ran out of the kitchen and straight into Daryl and Rick, who had come in for their morning coffee.

Hallie froze. She looked down at the floor at the same time Daryl and Rick hit the kitchen door. The butcher knife lay on the floor at her feet.