29. Prelude of the Potentials
"Sit, Bethie."
"Daddy..."
"Please?" Hershel asked, his voice steady and calm, nothing like she'd expected when she'd broken the news that she had volunteered to go on the rescue mission to save Carol. She sat in the chair he'd pulled up next to him.
"I was always so proud of the way you learned your Sunday school lessons—you have an excellent memory—helps with all of those song lyrics you have in your head." he said, smiling slightly.
Beth looked at him quizzically.
"Do you recall the story of David and Goliath?" he asked.
"Of course." Beth said, smiling tentatively. Hershel opened the Bible sitting on the table in front of them.
"1st Samuel 17:41, 'And when the Philistine looked about and saw David, he disdained him: for he was but a youth, and ruddy, and of fair countenance." He read. Beth's lower lip trembled and he took her hand. "I'm proud of you now too—you can do anything you set your mind to, just like that shepherd boy." Hershel said, raising her hand to his lips for a hard kiss and squeeze. "You take my heart with you, you know." he added in a husky voice.
"I know daddy." Beth said, and pulled him into a fierce hug.
"I knew I saved that mountain climbing equipment for a reason." Glenn said from his infirmary bed as he looked at Rick helping Daryl into the harness. They wanted to have the kinks worked out before they left and since Beth was breaking the news to Hershel while Michonne, Carl and Sasha were gathering supplies, the men were figuring out the best way to rig up Tyreese to carry Daryl. Fortunately his leg had been broken low, close to his ankle, just above the top of his boot, so Felipe had been able to allow the cast to stop before the knee. Being able to bend at that point meant that Daryl could ride with his leg draped fairly naturally, his toes and heel protected by the end of a canvas sling reinforced with duct tape.
"The carabineers have come in handy too." Rick agreed, remembering how they'd used the mountaineering clips to secure the fences when they'd been at the mountain camp and when they'd first arrived at the prison. He looked appraisingly at the fit of the seat harness, the straps that circled Daryl's upper thighs connected to the thick belt at his waist by two narrower ones that rose on either side of his groin looped through a third strap that hung down in the center right below his belly button. The shoulder harness crossed his back in an 'X' and hooked on to the belt through adjustable straps in the front and back.
"Don't pull those front straps too tight or he won't be any good to Carol when he gets her back." Glenn warned, noting the close fit of the straps bracketing his groin, making Rick and Tyreese chuckle and Maggie blush.
"Fuck you." Daryl muttered, flashing Glenn a one finger salute.
"I suppose all men who climb mountains just have to deal with the prospect of a gelding." Rick said, tongue in cheek. Daryl reiterated the gesture in his direction with two hands.
"I guess that makes me the mountain." rumbled Tyreese. "Come on then." He was also rigged with climbing gear including a shoulder harness to which they had added extra padding because he'd be supporting Daryl's entire weight there.
Miguel and Davy came back into the room then with Gus at their heels and the puppy came over and sat in front of Daryl, cocking his head as he looked up at him.
"You gonna be able to fire your bow wearin' all that shit, ese?" Miguel asked curiously, earning him a frown from Maggie for swearing in front of the child.
"That's what we're fixin' to see." Daryl told him. It wasn't just the harness that was worrying him though. His shoulder still ached like hell from the bite trauma and his back hurt like it hadn't since the last time his father had used the narrow leather belt with the inlaid silver studs to whip him for some infraction of the rules, stripping the skin off of his back in stripes that formed an angry red 'X' on his left shoulder when they'd healed. The doc had given him his antibiotic shot, (in his left arm, thank you very much), but was reluctant to dole out more pain killers until she saw how well he tolerated the dosage he was already on.
Miguel and Rick helped Daryl sit on the higher table used for surgeries and Tyreese crouched in front of him so they could help him climb on to the big man's back and then hook the two men's gear together. The quick release straps would allow either man to break the connection if the situation warranted it. Daryl didn't want Ty to go down as well if something happened to him.
"Comfy?" Rick asked them, and both grunted. "Move then." he ordered, and Tyreese started to walk the circuit of the room, adjusting his stride as he moved to accommodate the weight of the man on his back. A former line backer, Ty was built like a brick house and just as strong, able to bench press more than Daryl weighed. This rig relied on the strength of the muscles on his back and shoulders, not just his arms and legs. He knew he'd be as sore as hell once this was over.
Miguel started to giggle and everyone looked at him curiously.
"Ever see that old sci fi crap fest pelicula called The Thing with Two Heads?" the kid said. Only fellow late night film geek Glenn laughed along, noting the resemblance to the monster in the film, played by burly African American Rosie Greer with a very fake looking Ralph Bellamy's head grafted onto his shoulder.
"Take it outside—see how we do on stairs." Daryl said, rolling his eyes at the nerd boys. "Need to try weapons." Stevens had been adamant that no crossbow bolts be fired in her infirmary.
"I think this might just work." Rick said as he watched the men maneuver out the double doors, but wincing as Daryl's head caught a glancing blow when Tyreese didn't duck low enough, then chuckling as Daryl snatched off Tyreese's ever present stocking cap and swatted him with it repeatedly, impugning his intelligence in scatological terms while Tyreese threatened to dump him on his ass.
"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." Glenn said sagely.
"I don't want you to go." Carl said, pushing aside the curtain, holding his hat in his hand, standing outside the door of Beth and Carol's cell. Beth paused in her packing and looked up at the boy...the young man...who was looking at her so seriously. He had grown at least eight inches in the last two years and was as tall as she now, his childish round freckled face now long, tanned, and very worried. At age 14, Carl had been through more than most adults before the Turn ever were. He knew that life was short and brutal and that you had to grab onto anything good and hold on tight before someone or something ripped it away from you.
"I know, but I have to Carl. I can help save her. You understand that, don't you?" Beth said gently. Carl moved into the room to stand within a foot of her. She turned to face him and he reached out his hand to take hers.
"I need to tell you..." he began, and she saw a flush of color stain his cheeks and he looked at their hands instead of at her face, his too long shaggy bangs covering his eyes. "...you're a good fighter. It's not that I don't think you can take care of yourself..." he said, his voice trailing off. His chin fell down against his throat and he sighed.
"Carl?" Beth asked, "You know I'll be care-"
"I love you is all." He said quickly; blurting it over what she'd been trying to say to reassure him; quickly because he had to get the words out now or his courage would fail him. He'd seen the people around him waste time; lose their last chances to tell others how they felt. His parents' example was burned into his soul.
Beth felt the tears burn behind her eyes as she looked at him. She slowly reached out and took his chin in her hand and raised it so she could look into the eyes of one the bravest people she'd ever met; saw the fear, the expectation of hurt and rejection. She leaned in and put her lips on his in a chaste kiss and then hugged him close.
As the group assembled in front of the car to depart, Daryl took Carl and Davy aside.
"You think you could help Carl watch Gus for me?" Daryl asked Davy, very seriously, making it clear to the boy that this was an important request. He'd knew that he couldn't take the young pup along into danger and also knew the boys would be thrilled to watch him, making all of the other children jealous as hell in the bargain. Davy's eyes got big and he nodded solemnly, looking down at the puppy who sat at Daryl's side.
"Gotta make sure he has food and water, gets exercise and work with him so he doesn't go after walkers." They'd discovered that the little dog was death on walkers, charging them at the fence ferociously, his high pitched hysterical sounding barks drawing more geeks to the site. He knew they were wrong, dead things moving, smelling wrong and it drove him into a frenzy if he got too close. This would make him a liability if he lived long enough to grow into adulthood so it was vital that he be taught to remain calm, to hunt and stalk silently. His own parents would've taught him this if they'd lived and it was a lesson he would have learned well or died from.
"Yes sir." Davy said and Carl nodded his assent as well.
"Aw right then." Daryl said, shaking both of their hands formally, but in a rush of emotion both boys embraced him at once, Carl hugging him and Davy latching onto his good leg, almost knocking him off balance as they bumped against his crutches.
"I'll watch out for Beth." Daryl said, knowing how the boy felt about Hershel's younger daughter.
"I know." Carl said quietly, and then added. "Get Carol and kill that son of a bitch."
"Be careful, Mr. Daryl." Davy said in his high little boy treble.
Daryl briefly patted each of them on the back and they released him. Daryl nodded at them and turned to go, Gus following after him. Carl called the pup and Daryl looked down at the dog.
"Go on now—git." he ordered, and Gus looked confused. Sighing, Daryl carefully balanced himself so he could reach down and pick up the puppy with one hand.
"You be good and mind Carl," he told the puppy as he held Gus up close and looked him in the eye. Gus licked his nose. First it was a little spitfire of a woman and now a damn dog had wormed its way onto his heart. Merle must be laughin' his ass off.
They' decided to take Hershel's red and white Chevy Suburban, Rick driving, Tyreese at shot gun, Beth, Miguel and Michonne in the back seat and Daryl and the gear in the back compartment. Stevens had echoed Felipe's concern about keeping the leg up and it really was the only way they could all fit into one vehicle. Additional gear had been stored on the roof rack, but the weapons and other vitals were inside. With Beth going, Sasha was staying at the prison, and she ran the gates along with Carl as Hershel stood beside Davy holding Gus.
Right before he got in the vehicle, Tyreese looked back towards the prison and blew a kiss toward a window high above the ground. He stared for a few more seconds and then slid into his seat and shut the door.
"They're through the outer gate.' Karen said. She was standing at the narrow window of the infirmary that looked out over the main courtyard watching the group leaving for Senoia. She'd been more than a little conflicted about their leaving and had decided to come check on Maggie and Glenn rather than see them off.
Sending so many of their strongest fighters off on one mission didn't seem like the best plan, but she'd understood that in addition to Daryl's determination to rescue Carol, Rick had thought that the opportunity to take out Blake was too good to pass up. As the sole survivor of the massacre of the Woodbury fighters, a slaughter in which her own son had died, she understood the madness of the former Governor better than anyone. There would be no bargaining, no reasoning with him when they found him. He would kill them all without hesitation unless they killed him first.
When she had first arrived at the prison she'd been shocked at how primitive the living conditions were there. She had gotten used to the luxuries of the little false world Blake had created for them all in Woodbury and the thought of sleeping in a cold damp prison cell that smelled of mold and the urine, shit and blood of the men who had died in the cells horrified her. She'd protested the living conditions that first night so vehemently that she had been assigned to the cleaning detail the next morning at breakfast by the officious older woman with the short grey hair, Carol, who had been tasked with organizing the new residents.
Her initially uptight attitude had earned Karen the nickname 'Princess' from Daryl Dixon, and at first she'd thought it was the handsome tracker's way of flirting with her, so she flirted right back for about the first week. She made sure she was around when she knew he'd be on watch or at meals she maneuvered herself into line near him or sat at his table, peppering him with questions. He was polite, but not encouraging, almost shy, which she found intriguing.
She'd decided to push him and had followed when he'd gotten back from a hunt, covered in sweat, blood and dirt and headed to the outdoor showers, a curtained off space that Glenn had rigged up against the brick back wall near the cistern. Concealing herself around the corner she watched as he stripped down, admiring the sleek lines of his muscular arms and broad shoulders, but then was shocked when she saw the scars on his torso, making her hesitate in her plan to boldly step out and find out if he was interested in getting to know her with fewer clothes on.
She knew from experience that the water in the showers was cold and didn't have to wait long to watch him emerge, but instead of dressing and returning to one of the common areas or his cell, he pulled on the clean sleeveless t and faded jeans he'd brought with him, looked over his shoulder and then headed for the doorway to the Tombs. Did he know she was watching him? Was this a silent invitation?
Karen waited a minute or two and then followed; the sounds of his footfalls ahead unmistakable even in the half light. She heard one of the doors to solitary creak open- she'd been here before on work detail carrying potatoes down into the cool storage. Curious, she moved closer and then she heard the unmistakable rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh and blushed at what she realized he was doing. She listened, her heart speeding up as she heard his whimpering breaths and gasps and moved closer, toying with the idea of pulling open the door and offering him some help when he muttered a name and then groaned in completion.
It hadn't been her name.
She'd fled quickly, embarrassed, and had ended up in the outdoor dining area and kitchen. She put her hands to her cheeks to try to cool them as she sank down onto one of the picnic table benches. She heard humming then and saw that Carol was chatting with a couple of the older women as they worked on preparing the rabbits that Daryl had brought back, skinning, quartering and seasoning them in preparation for roasting over the already hot coals under the spit.
Carol? Dixon had a thing for Carol? Karen shook her head. That was the name he'd cried out as he pleasured himself... Trying to understand, she made herself study the busy little woman more closely. She looked beyond the grey hair which gave the impression of greater age than did her body, which was trim and firm. Karen grudgingly admitted to herself that Carol had as good an ass as she, and though her breasts were smaller, they still seemed damned perky for her age. She studied next the woman's face, fairly free of wrinkles except for light laugh lines around what was probably her best feature, her very large blue eyes. Ok, so she was pretty in an understated sort of way, but why was Daryl pining over her? She'd seen no sign of any sort of romantic attachment between her and him—none with anyone else for that matter. What was their deal anyway?
At dinner that night she sat with Maggie and Beth and found out that was the same question the original prison inhabitants had been asking themselves for months. Keeping their voices down, they talked and surreptitiously watched as Carol stood at the big stew pot dishing out servings of the rich thick brothed soup she had made from the herb roasted rabbits, potatoes and carrots, laughing and talking with Tyreese, who worked alongside her handing out fresh baked. Daryl looked on, frowning, from the table where he sat with Carl, Hershel and Rick, who was holding Judith on his lap. There was an empty seat beside Daryl and clearly he was saving it for someone, because he turned several people away when they attempted to sit there.
When the line for food tapered off, Daryl had finally had enough and had strided up to the serving area, said something to Tyreese, taken the ladle away from Carol and filled a bowl and handed it to her and pointed her towards his table. She'd raised an eye brow at the bowman and held out a hand to Tyreese, making Daryl scowl, but then Tyreese merely placed a piece of bread across her palm and then she'd smiled and headed for the seat Daryl had saved her. Daryl stood there for a few seconds as he watched her go, clearly fascinated by the soft sway of her behind, before he blinked, looked around to see if anyone had noticed and then followed her to the table.
"It's like a little play." Maggie mused thoughtfully, taking a bite of her bread. Watching Carol and Daryl was one of her favorite hobbies.
"You can tell he adores her, but is too shy to make a move." Beth said sweetly, sighing.
"And she likes him?" Karen said, looking at Tyreese, who was also watching Carol's departure with interest.
"No." Beth said, meeting her eyes then. Karen frowned. "She loves him," the girl said very seriously, and then her tone got downright menacing, "And we love her—so don't even think you can come between them."
Karen sputtered—the little blonde kewpie doll had just verbally bitch slapped her! She looked over at Maggie who merely raised an eyebrow, nonverbally reinforcing her sister's advice.
"Hey women, any news on the longest foreplay in history?" Glenn said jovially as he sat down beside his fiancé, pecking her on the cheek. "I saw the little claiming match there as I was waiting in line." He ripped his bread in half and dunked it in the stew. "Tyreese better cool it or Daryl's gonna blow a gasket one a these days." He stuffed the soaked bread in his mouth and chewed, making a delighted face as he swallowed. "I'd go after her myself just for her cooking if I didn't think Daryl would turn me into a walking pin cushion." Maggie playfully swatted his shoulder and they all smiled. Karen looked over at Tyreese who was serving soup to the stragglers and wondered what it was about Carol that had these two fine men so interested in her when there were so many other options.
After that Karen made it her business to get to know Carol and in the process began to realize just how much work it took to keep this place running. They spent time working in the gardens, cooking, doing laundry, working their shifts at the fence taking out walkers and in the process they talked. Each of them had lost a child, and that proved to be a bonding place for them. After a few weeks Karen was surprised to find that she counted Carol as a good friend, and finally understood why the people around her cared for her so deeply. She was their center, their constant.
One topic they never discussed was any hint of a romantic interest in Daryl. His name came up of course, he was an integral part of her past since Atlanta, but Karen realized that Carol couldn't admit her true feelings for him because to do so would be to give in to the pain that unrequited love usually brought with it. Karen marveled that Carol didn't seem to realize that Daryl felt exactly the same way.
A few weeks later Daryl had gone off on Tyreese, beating him bloody, necessitating a cooling off period between the men. Rick had sent Tyreese on the mission originally scheduled to be Michonne, Karen, Sasha and her boyfriend. Karen had ended up taking care of Tyreese's injuries after Sasha had laid into him for being stupid. Karen and Tyreese had found themselves growing closer, until the night before they returned, last night, while on watch they'd finally kissed. As a relationship, it was in its infancy, but that didn't mean she wasn't worried as hell about him going off on this crazy ass mission. She was glad that Carol and Daryl seemed to have finally figured out the truth that everyone else had known all along, but hoped that didn't mean she'd lose the person who might be the one she was meant to be with.
Karen looked back over at Glenn and Maggie. The young woman had snuck onto Glenn's bunk and lay curled against him, careful of his incision and IV. They both clearly needed the comfort of each other's arms. Losing a child was something she understood, even though for them it was more the potential that the baby had represented...a new life that now just wouldn't be. She quietly left the room, hoping that she'd have the chance to see where her new life could go with Tyreese.
I wanted to explore that calm before the storm mood a bit more and also show that Carol and Daryl's relationship rippled out and affected other people in interesting ways. I'm really interested to see what they do on TWD with the character of Karen since what we saw of her in Woodbury showed that until they wanted to turn her poor son into a child soldier she seemed to have drunk the Governor's Kool-Aid (or should I say Milton's tea?). Having her survive the massacre must mean they have big plans for her in S4...and I know many fear her potential for being a Caryl spoiler, so I tweaked that a little in this chapter by having her go after Daryl but then putting her with the other rumored "spoiler" Tyreese : )
The Thing with Two Heads is a real (and really bad) film. Google image search and giggle.
"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." is of course the final line of Casablanca.
And yes, the title of this chapter is a BTVS reference—Beth sort of reminded me of a potential Slayer here.
