A/N: Alright peeps... So. I was very appreciative of the reviews; definitely encouraged me to get this chapter out when I did. Now, that being said... I'm not going to hold chapters for ransom, tell you that I want 'X' amount of reviews per chapter, or anything like that. But I will say this: even short reviews are highlights to my day. I put a lot of time and effort into my stories, and nothing makes me happier than knowing people like it. And it's very disappointing to see that this story has the same amount of reviews over ten chapters, as it does alerts. Fifty people have this story set to get an alert when I post a new chapter. And it has fifty-one reviews. Most of those are from the same four or five people. Again, no ransoming, no demands... I just would like it if y'all considered my point of view. And remember that the more reviews I get, the quicker I get chapters up.
"Daryl? I brought you some soup," Carol said as she entered the room. She heard a weak grunt as she sat down, setting the bowl on the night stand. "You hungry?"
"Depends… whether… you gonna… feed me 'gain," He grumbled.
Carol frowned. His breathing sounded less labored than it had, but his left eye was fluttering open and closed, and the right seemed to be having problems focusing. She set the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling a small bit of relief at the relative coolness she felt. It wasn't nearly as hot as it had been.
"How's your head feel?"
"Like… Andrea shot… me 'gain… an' didn't miss."
Carol smiled at his comparison. "Alright, I'll have Hershel come up after you're done eating. Now c'mon. I want you to eat at least half of this. You don't eat, and you're gonna end up skinnier than Lori."
Thankfully, he didn't put up much of a fuss this time. The last time, he'd insisted on feeding himself; it'd nearly broken her heart as he'd struggled for almost five minutes. Watching him fumble to hold the spoon, his face spasming in pain as his broken fingers refused to grasp the thin metal utensil, spilling bits of food all over the sheets. Finally, he'd shoved the dish off the bed, angrily telling her he wasn't hungry.
But this time, he settled for glaring with one eye, as she carefully spooned the broth into his mouth.
"Shit!" He cussed, coughing as a small amount of the cough dripped down his chin. "The hell… is that?"
"Chicken broth. Lori made it," Carol said apologetically. "I was tired… took a few minute nap, so she made dinner tonight."
"Guess I… know why Rick's… a damn rail tie. Shit tastes like… ass an' chili powder," He said with a grimace.
Carol chuckled as she gave him another spoonful. "Well, this is all you're gonna be able to get down until…" She paused, before forcing a smile to her face. "The spiciness could help with the infection, I suppose."
She went to give him another mouthful, but stopped at the look in his eye.
"I ain't a damn cripple, lady," He said angrily.
"Daryl… Rick… He told me… Shane found your teeth… I just… Why did they…" she paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "Why didn't you just lie? Tell them we were somewhere else? Tell them you weren't part of our group?
" 'Cause… Screw 'em. That's why," He muttered. " 'Sides… a couple a 'em… looked almost as… bad as me."
"Before, or after the Walkers went through?" She asked, forcing a cheeky tone to her voice, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. "C'mon. You have to eat."
"Like… your food… better."
Carol started. "You… you like my food?"
She almost laughed as he shrugged uncomfortably. "S'not bad," He said awkwardly. "Really like it… when you… cook the… the squirrel an' shrooms… with the rice… Pretty good… Squirrel is… hard to cook…"
She could see his eyes start to droop, as she hastily tried shoving a few more sips of the broth into him.
"Daryl? Just a few more bites, okay? A few more bites, and you can go back to sleep."
But it was already too late. His head rolled to the side, as his eyes slipped shut. She sighed, setting the spoon back in the bowl, laying her head down next to his hand.
"Did he eat anything?"
Carol sighed as Hershel came into her sight, stopping next to the bed as he gently checked Daryl's temperature and pulse, before moving on to check the numerous cuts on his chest.
"Yeah, um… probably half a cup or so before he drifted off. But his eyes were… The left was… twitching, I guess, and the right never focused on anything."
"Well… having difficulty focusing is probably from the concussion. As far as the left… It sustained serious, and repeated trauma. There could be damage to the socket, or even the eye itself. But there's not much I can do either way."
"How's he doin'?"
Carol glanced up from her book, smiling weakly at Rick. "What are you still doing up? It has to be close to midnight."
Rick sighed. "Yeah. Jus' got off patrol duty. Figured I'd come up here… See how he was doin' before I hit the sack."
"Well, his fever's down, although it spikes every couple of hours. Hershel says it's probably from the infection from his teeth. The broken bones seem to be healing fine, but it's still early. His fingers…" She paused for a moment. "Hershel says… It looks like they… like they were crushed with something. Maybe a rock, or a brick or something."
Rick pursed his lips for a moment, before crossing his arms across his chest. "Shane found where a hammer… same spot where he found his teeth."
"Oh God. Why… Why didn't he tell lead them somewhere else, or tell him he wasn't part of our group?"
Rick shrugged as he sat down. "Probably wouldn't a believed him. As far as lyin'… Hell, can you see Daryl tellin' 'em anything other than where to shove it?" He asked with a chuckle.
Carol glanced at the bed sadly. "No… I can't say that I can. I just… They… tortured… him, Rick. I don't understand how people can do that to other people."
"The world's an ugly place, Carol. Hell, it has been. Even before… all of this," He said, waving his hands around the room, "it was ugly. It jus' made it all worse. Used to see some pretty nasty stuff. Even in the small suburb I worked in. Rapes, murders, assaults… Step-fathers molesting their children, parents jus'… torturing their children… Hell, I don't have to tell you what families can be like," He said, giving her a sad, pointed look.
Carol shook her head. "You know… I thought… I used to think that… That my husband 'abused' me. But… looking at Daryl, and… his back, and his feet… His family… tortured… him. They… they cut him, and beat him, and… they probably starved him… And God only knows what else. Ed just… smacked me around every once in a while. I can't even begin to imagine what he went through. The… the pain, the humiliation, the… the loneliness. Do you know what started all this? He can't read.
"He never went to school. Can you imagine how alone he felt? Never going to school… Said they had no neighbors, so… It was just him, Merle, and his father. A scared little boy. All alone… except for the people who hurt him. Never having anyone to turn to, never having anyone to talk to, to tell him that he didn't deserve what his brother and father did to him, that he was a good boy…"
She shook her head again, smiling through the tears now streaming down her face. "No, Rick. What… What I went through with Ed was just…" She chuckled as she swiped the tears from her cheeks. "Mildly inconvenient. Daryl went through hell. Survived it… Grew up, only to be thrown into this hell we all live in… And then this happens."
Rick sighed, as he stood, and walked over to Carol. "Carol… Whatever Daryl went through –as a kid, and now –doesn't make what your husband did any less horrible. Doesn't change what happened to any of us. A buddy of mine on the squad… My mentor, you could say… He always used to tell me 'jus' because your friend's up to his neck in horse shit, doesn't mean the stuff around yours is chocolate puddin'," He said with a chuckle. "Don't put yourself, or what you've gone through under the rug."
