"Daryl's been shot!" Emory heard the screams and commotion right after she heard the crack of a shotgun firing from somewhere within the camp.
"Mom?" Grace pulled on her hand, her face full of terror. "Is Mister Daryl ok?"
"Come with me," Emory threw the wet clothes back in the basket and ran towards the Greene house where Rick and Shane were carrying Daryl inside. Emory and Grace ran hand in hand towards the house, joining the others who had gathered around to find out what happened.
"Oh my God!" Emory bit her fist as the idea of a world without Daryl Dixon hit her in the gut like a sucker punch. "What happened to Daryl?"
"I shot him. It was an accident. I thought he was a walker," Andrea couldn't look at anyone as she fessed up. She felt like shit and prayed Daryl would be ok. It was the look of pain and loss not only in Emory's eyes but also Grace's that cut her to the core. Andrea choked back a sob, thankful for Dale who pulled her into his arms.
"Mommy?" Grace's eyes were frantic at the news. Emory looked down at her baby and realized just how important Daryl had become to her daughter. And if she was honest, he had become just as important to her.
"Stay here! I'll see if I can
go find out how he is," Emory had Grace stay put on the porch then raced up the stairwell.
"Is he ok?" she begged Patricia for information as the woman left the room with a tray full of bloody medical equipment.
"The bullet just grazed him thankfully, but he does have a nasty wound where his arrow went through his side. That crazy man managed to pull it out himself and then used it to kill a walker," Patricia said with a mixture of admiration and concern. Patricia also had a good idea that something was going on between Emory Phillips and Daryl Dixon.
"And? Will he be ok?" Emory begged Patricia to tell her what she needed to hear.
"Yes. He'll need a few days rest but he'll likely put up a fuss. That man is stubborn..." she let her voice trail off as she watched Emory sigh in relief.
"He is, isn't he!" Emory sighed in relief once Patricia left. Her knees suddenly weakened beneath her and she felt herself sliding down against the wall, unable to support herself.
"Whoa there!" Emory felt herself being lifted up by a pair of impossibly strong arms.
"Shane!" she exclaimed as she looked into his handsome face. It was the deadness and cruelty in his eyes that chilled her to the bone.
"Ya ok?" his voice held concern, but his eyes were busy taking in every inch of her. He held her just a little too tight, his touch a little too sensual. And after what happened at the CDC she didn't trust him any further than she could throw him.
"I'm fine! I just was wondering how Daryl was doing!" she pushed his hands off and walked away, eager to find Grace and tell her the good news.
Shane stared at her ass as she walked away. He wanted her. Ever since Rick returned, Shane had set his sights on Emory. But every time she looked at him he felt her loathing and it ate away at him.
He had always been the object of a woman's lust and attraction. But not her. Never her. it was as if she could somehow see into all the dark parts of his soul. He normally would have just told himself she was a lezzie or something. But to then find her sniffing around that meth'ed out piece of trash up there. Let her daughter hang around with Daryl but not him? He needed to teach her a lesson. But not now. No! He'd watch and wait for the right time.
-/::::-
"Hey you! How are ya feelin'?" Emory tried to maintain her smile and casual tone, in spite of what it did to her seeing how bruised and beat up he was.
"Like I told Carol. 'Bout as good as I look," He sighed and pulled the sheet up higher so she couldn't see the scars on his chest.
Emory sat down on the chair beside the bed, looking over at the untouched plate.
"Not hungry?" her face was suddenly tight and drawn with worry as she took in how pale he was.
"Tired is all," he struggled to sit up so he could see her better. She was wearing an off-white linen dress that was fitted tightly on top then flared at the tight waist. It probably had been white at one time but after years of wear, it had obviously faded. But on Emory, it looked perfect. It looked soft and he felt like he needed to touch it. Her long legs were bare underneath and even her feet were bare since she flipped off her flats which sat over beside the chair. She must have even painted her toenails at some point judging by the dark pink tips.
"Here," she pulled the tray over to help him eat. Finally satisfied he was eating, she spoke.
"Are you up for another visitor? There's someone else that has been dying to see you," Emory asked, yet cautious so as to not overwhelm him.
"Sure. Ain't no big deal," he answered nonchalantly, feeling better with a few bites of food in him. He watched as Emory smiled then threw open the bedroom door. Before he knew it, her daughter Grace was bounding in carrying a bowl of warm peach cobbler.
"Hi Mister Daryl. Look what I brought you!" she proudly held up the bowl of peachy deliciousness and offered it to him.
"Dang gerl! Ya better be plannin' on sharin' dat with me," Daryl had a unique ability to connect with Grace. He never treated her like a kid and Grace blossomed under his attention, never having experienced it from anyone other than her grandpa.
"No silly. It's all for you!" she climbed onto the bed and sat beside him, lifting the spoon to feed him, an instinctive caregiver.
"Careful Gracie! Mister Daryl is hurt," Emory kept a watchful eye on both of them.
"She's alright," Daryl grunted then winked at Grace as she kept feeding him the cobbler.
"You know you're setting a bad precedent. Eating dessert before you finished your dinner," Emory pretended to scold Daryl, while her heart soared at the endearing sight in front of her. Grace's father never would have done this. Of course the image if her ex with an arrow and gunshot wound was not unappealing.
"Yeah! That's cause I ain't dumb. Ya always eat dessert first if you can get away with it. That way you don't get too full first and not have enough room later." Daryl explained in complete seriousness which only made Grace devolve into another fit of giggles.
"Grace? Would you take this back out to Miss Carol?" she passed her daughter the now empty tray of food.
"Yes Mommy. Goodbye Mister Daryl! Hope ya feel better," Grace hesitated for a second. Then she leaned over to kiss Daryl's shoulder and quickly turned to leave.
"Thank you for finding Sophia's doll. I know you're going to find her soon!" And with that the little girl was gone.
"Grace thinks the world of you. Thank you for being so nice to her. I know kids can be annoying," Emory looked away, not wanting Daryl to pick up on her embarrassment.
"Daryl? What you're doing for Sophia? For Carol? Carol is over the moon tonight! You've given us all hope! Grace misses Sophia so much." Emory stood up, preparing to leave him alone.
Daryl watched her as she prepared to leave, somewhere in his psyche wondering if she would stay. If he asked her. But he dismissed it as side effects from the pain killers Hershel gave him. And then she was gone.