How the Man Designed Me

Chapter 29

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As always a special shout out to my reviewers. FanFicGirl10; GemmaTellerSoa; FrankiKaos; fanreader01 and Guest. I appreciate that you let me know what you're thinking. I wanted everyone to have a little fun and bond a little in the last one. The next chapter is syncing with the show again with some exploration of internal subtext.

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Midnight Oil - Common Ground

watch?v=MS-13bp0xYI

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Less than an hour after Rick's party returned to the prison and finding Andrea waiting for them with news of a meeting, Daryl found himself leading the way on the empty country roads on his '76 Triumph Bonneville, the roar of the engine breaking the silence that cloaked the world they now lived in. It felt good to call the motorcycle his now that Merle had made it official, after all it needed two hands to operate. Especially with the hardtail frame conversion that made it more of a lowrider with the high handlebars. All the same he could tell his brother was glad he'd held onto it, he didn't need to say it was because he hadn't given up on him.

There was a chill in the air with fall approaching, reminding him of his promise to get Janessa some peaches and deciding he'd have a look on the way back. He was getting used to sleeves again, with the colder weather coming Carol had taken his jean jacket vest and sewn on leather sleeves, and he had to admit it fit like a glove. He could almost enjoy the ride if it wasn't for the reason he was makin' it, Hershel and Rick following closely behind in the Hyundai Tucson, as they pulled up to the old feed store.

He didn't like the feel of things and wanted to do more reconnaissance before having Hershel get out of the car. Rick nodded understanding what Daryl was feelin' and put his hand out to gesture for Hershel to sit tight.

While waiting, Hershel double checked the pistols he had taped to his stump as Daryl and Rick did a sweep of the exterior of the building they had agreed to meet the Governor at. Seeing that they were well secured he wound the strap of his assault rifle around his wrist and looked nervously out the window.

Coming around the corner of the main building Daryl spotted a walker that had been taken out with a headshot and bending down he saw that the wound was still weeping fluid sluggishly. This is fresh he thought, someone's arrived early to the party.

Rick nodded and cautiously approached the entrance to the building, with a last look at Daryl he proceed inside. Seeing an empty table in an otherwise empty room he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. From the edge of darkness the Governor stepped forward into the light with his arms raised in a non threatening gesture giving him his signature smile. Rick didn't need Milton to tell him he was in the presence of a coiled serpent. The malice cloaked in false courtesy oozed from him like a physical thing. When there was no response from Rick he dropped the facade like a wet towel.

"We have a lot to talk about." He said coldly.

"You attacked us." Rick said in a soft husky voice. "Makes things pretty clear."

"I was trying to make things clear. I could have killed you all, I didn't." The Governor replied with cold menace.

"Here we are." Rick replied tersely.

The Governor made a forward gesture prompting Rick to raise his revolver to the man's head in response.

"I'm goin' to remove my weapon to show you that I negotiate in good faith an' I'd like you to do the same." He drawled with a politician's false sincerity with his hands raised dramatically.

Daryl's head peered through a window behind the Governor as he got into position making sure Rick was all right.

"May I?" He asked Rick gesturing with one hand to his belt while the other was still raised.

Rick gestured with his gun in return without lowering it. The Governor unbuckled his gun belt showed it to him and then slowly turned to the post behind him hanging it on a nail.

"See, no trouble" He replied with a smile putting his hands back up. "Now you."

After a moment Rick holstered his gun and stepped back but didn't disarm.

"Well suit yourself." He replied walking to the end of the table, sat down and gestured that Rick do the same. Placing his hand on his thigh, only inches from the gun that was taped to his side of the table.

Seeing that they had sat down to talk and that Rick had kept his weapon, Daryl quickly walked to the front of the building to meet up with Hershel who had driven up to meet him.

"He's already in there, sat down with Rick." He said to Hershel brusquely.

"I didn't see any cars." Hershel replied in surprised concern.

"It don't feel right." Daryl agreed, giving voice to his feelings. "Keep it running." He instructed, wanting to be able to leave quickly if they needed to.

In fact none of this has felt right since Andrea arrived with the message to come to this meeting. There was barely enough time to discuss it and then on top of that, hearing Blake's plan to send Janessa in with Bob to Woodbury. It was enough to have him see red. Frankly, he was still furious and he found himself pacing as he looked around.

"Heads up!" He said tapping the car twice, having heard a car engine approaching in the distance. Hershel hopped out of the car as a tan Ford Excursion pulled up with Martinez, Milton and Andrea on board.

"What the Hell! Why's your boy already in there?" Daryl yelled accusingly as he looked down the sightline of his crossbow.

"He's here?" Andrea asked in surprise.

"Yup" Daryl replied.

Martinez looked over cautiously at the exchange between Daryl and Andrea knowingly. Watching her reactions to see if she was with "them" or her old group as she strode purposely inside.

"What's going on?" She asked indignantly as she entered.

"Nothin'." The Governor said. "Your friend isn't much for small talk."

"You wanna talk? Talk." Rick replied.

"I wanted you to talk." She announced. "Too many people have died for no reason. Let's end this. Save the bullets for the real threat. We can solve this. That's why I asked you to come here."

Ignoring her Rick spoke to the Governor directly.

"I know what you've done. I heard about the raids. The heads. Maggie."

"Merle did that." The Governor replied defensively.

"No. You know what I'm talking about." He replied.

Andrea looked to her lover, the Governor in concern.

"You know what I'm talking about. I know all about you." Rick replied coldly.

"I don't care about any of that. We're here to move forward." The Governor said and then gave him his upper lip curl, toothy smile that anyone who knew him, knew it was his tell that he was lying.

Outside Daryl continued to pace as Martinez leaned back against the bumper of his truck, arms crossed and staring intently at him. Milton oblivious to the tension scribbled notes in his journal while Hershel stood watch with his weapon ready.

"Maybe I should go inside." Hershel said with a shrug.

Milton looked up and stopped him. "The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately."

"Who the Hell are you?" Daryl asked with heat.

"Milton Marmot." He replied with a tone that he should already know.

"Great! He brought his butler." Daryl retorted and Martinez genuinely smiled at that.

"I'm his advisor." Milton replied distractedly, returning to his writing.

"What kind of advice?" Daryl pursued challengingly.

"Planning. Biters, uh you know I'm sorry, I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen." He snapped.

"You better watch your mouth, sunshine." Daryl replied menacingly, not liking the tone the piss ant was takin' with him.

"Look, if you and I are going to be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favour. Shut your mouth." Martinez postured seeing that Milton had kicked a wasp's nest with Daryl and taking the attention off him.

Daryl calmly closed the distance between them so that they were chest to chest.

"We don't need this. If this goes south in there then we'll be at each others throats soon enough." Hershel called out as the voice of reason.

Daryl waited a moment before stepping back, making it clear he wasn't anyone's bitch.

~o0O0o~

Back at the prison Maggie, Glenn and Michonne were loading weapons, Beth and Carl assisted, while Merle watched.

"Carl, come here." Glenn called out. "You stash these by the loading dock alright? Beth, put these up on the catwalk." Handing them each boxes of shells. "If anyone gets pinned down we need to make sure there's plenty of ammo. I'll go work on the cage outside." He advised purposefully.

"What we should be doin' is loadin' some of this fire power in a truck and payin' a visit to the Governor. We know where he is right now." Merle advised commandingly but he was really asking for help.

"Are you suggesting that we just go in and kill him?" Glenn asked with disdain.

"Yes, I am." Merle replied calmly.

"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put." Michonne interjected curtly.

"I've changed my mind sweetheart. Ain't on the sideline with my brother out there. Ain't sittin' right with me." Merle drawled with his scratchy voice that couldn't mask the anguish he was feeling.

"Three of them are right in the middle of it. No idea we're comin'. They could be taken hostage or killed, a thousand things could go wrong." Glenn snapped and then walked away.

"And they will." Merle called him back in irritation.

"My dad can take care of himself." Carl retorted and then strode off in a huff.

"I'm sorry son, your dad's head could be on a pike real soon." Merle replied softly, not one to sugar coat things.

"Don't say that to him." Maggie said as she loaded another weapon. Merle lifted his hand in a gesture that communicated, I'm sorry, but it is what it is.

Glenn paused for a moment in thought and then in a very Rick like manner made an announcement to the group.

"It's not the right move. Not now. Can't take the risk of putting them in the crossfire. That's my decision. That's final."

Merle wished Blake and Bob were here, they we're grown men they'd understand. Glenn may be a badass one on one but he was still naive when it came to getting the dirty jobs done.

~o0O0o~

"I've known you both at different times, but only after the world went to shit and you both stepped up for the good of others at great personal risk, there's no reason…" Andrea began in a tone like the lawyer she used to be.

"Get to it." The governor said to Rick cutting her off.

Rick took a map out of his pocket and tossed it on the table.

"Woodbury takes west of the river and the prison takes east." He stated matter of factly.

The Governor picked up the map with bemused disdain as Rick continued, "No one trades."

"He's right." Andrea agreed, "We should hammer out boundaries and leave each other the hell alone..."

"I'm sorry, what's this?" He asked Rick, again cutting her off like she wasn't there.

"It's a solution." She replied.

The Governor placed the map back on the table laughing.

"Absolutely not!" He snorted.

"What the hell am I doing here?" Rick asked Andrea in anger. "You told me..." He yelled at her.

"Told you what?" the Governor asked coldly.

"You told me he was willing to talk." Rick snapped at Andrea in irritation.

"I am. The truth is Rick, she's in no position to make such an offer anyway. I'm here for one thing only. Your surrender." The Governor replied with a sinister smile.

"Oh you want our surrender, come and get it. You think we hit Woodbury heavy last time?" Rick snapped.

"Take it easy alright? Andrea interjected. "We're here to settle this."

"You're right." The Governor purred. "Would you step outside?"

"What?" She asked in shock.

"Rick and I, we got a lot to talk about." He replied dismissively.

"Uh, I'm not leaving..." She stammered, hurt at how cold he was behaving.

"I came to talk to him." Rick replied to Andrea giving her a long flat stare.

Looking to each of them searchingly she realized that she wasn't welcome, and turned in defeat, left the building feeling like she was doing the walk of shame. Sitting down heavily on one of the benches out front she hunched over, hung her head between her knees and rubbed the back of her necks she blinked back tears. Martinez stepped forward and pulled the sliding door closed behind her.

The Governor gestured to Rick to have a seat at the table who'd remained standing so far. The only sound breaking the silence as he took a seat was the creaking of leather on his gun belt, the scuff on the floor of the chair leg moving and the creak of wood as he sat.

"So you're the Governor." Rick stated rather than asked.

"That's their term, not mine." He replied with false modesty.

"But still, you're beholden to your people." Rick again stated.

"Of course." He replied blithely.

"You have responsibilities to them." Rick continued.

"Uh huh." The Governor agreed, playing along with his line of questioning.

"Wasn't Merle your lieutenant?" Rick asked.

"He was helpful then." He replied.

"But you knew he was erratic." Rick continued to question like he was interrogating a prisoner.

The Governor nodded noncommittally.

"You blame him for scooping up Maggie and Glenn in the first place?" Rick asked.

"Exactly. I was trying to sort it all out when you attacked." He replied with more absurd lies, as if Rick hadn't been there to see it for himself.

"So it was his fault?" Rick asked, not rising for the bait.

"He's a wild card but he's effective." He said with his signature smile. "He get's the dirty jobs done."

"I thought you take responsibility." Rick countered.

"I thought you were a cop not a lawyer." He patronized raising his pointer finger and the eyebrow over his remaining good eye. The gestured intended to chastise a subordinate.

"Either way I don't pretend to be a Governor." Rick replied with disdain.

"I told you I'm their leader." The Governor snapped in irritation.

"You're the town drunk, who knocked over my fence and ripped up my yard." Rick summed up coldly.

"Didn't you ever misjudge someone?" His words a contradiction to his gestures, licking his lips and smirking as he leaned in.

"Andrea told me about your baby. That it might be your partner's, but you're caring for her and I admire that." He said in a patronizing manner. "Restitution for your own lack of insight for failing to see the devil beside you."

"Oh I see him all right." Rick replied tersely not breaking eye contact. If a natural skill of his to stare down anyone he'd ever met, it was a rare gift and the Governor was no exception. Unnerved he laughed and tapped the table with a flourish in an attempt to break Rick's concentration. Changing tactics he flung both hands in the air and exclaimed loudly.

"I brought whiskey!" With that he got up abruptly, walked away from the table and into the shadows.

~o0O0o~

Outside Daryl was still pacing, just as his brother was back at the prison. Dixon's were men of action and they didn't hurry up and wait as well as other's did. Daryl was torn between knowing this meeting was bullshit and what could be happening back at the prison with them gone. Worse still what would be happening tomorrow when Janessa and Bob left for Woodbury. Deep in his gut he knew Blake was wrong. The man might be a trained warrior, but Daryl had been livin' on pure instinct his whole life, he was more wolf than man and this plan of Blake's was raising the hackles at the back of his neck. He'd learned to trust that feelin'. He exhaled heavily, thinking he needed to concentrate on the here and an' now, knowing they ain't outta this fire yet.

Milton approached with his journal and pen in hand. Oblivious to the mounting tension around them.

"There's no reason not to use this time we have together to explore the issues ourselves." He announced to Hershel and Daryl.

"Boss said to sit tight and shut up." Martinez barked from his stoop on the truck bumper.

"Don't you mean the Governor?" Daryl snapped back.

Martinez just looked back at him coldly.

"It's a good thing." Milton continued. "That they're sitting down, especially after what happened. They're going to work it out. No one wants another battle."

"Is that what they call it? A battle?" Daryl asked confrontationally. Something about the man's manner was getting under his skin.

"I would call it a battle and I did. I recorded it." He said holding up his pocket journal.

"For what?" Daryl asked again, this time with disdain.

"Somebody's got to keep a record of what we've gone through. It'll be a part of our history." He replied.

"That makes sense." Hershel commented.

"I've got dozens of interviews..." Milton replied in eagerness as he approached Hershel.

Rasping, gaging snarls were suddenly heard close by, only ever meaning one thing - walkers! Andrea snapped from her daze and pulled her knife out of her pocket and strode purposely towards the approaching sound. Finally, something she could do!

Martinez reached for his baseball bat from the front seat of his truck and followed her, but Daryl was already well in the lead as two walkers shambled towards them, drawn by the scent of their gathering. Daryl found them between the side of the feed store that the meeting was being held in and the storage silos that flanked it. Daryl lowered his crossbow seeing the numbers were low.

"After you." He said to Martinez as he gestured with a flourish, not liking the idea of having his back turned to him.

"S'alright, you first" Martinez replied thinking the same thing.

Andrea huffed and stalked angrily past both of the posturing men with her little 3 inch blade poised. More than long enough for an eye socket as she well knew. With a small scream she plunged it in and twisted, dropping the walker instantly.

"Pussy." Martinez sneered to Daryl, baiting him as he strode forward, rotating the bat fluidly in his hand like an artist and swung elegantly, crushing the skull of the second walker into a wet, red pulp. Looking back, he gave Daryl a taunting grin.

Challenge accepted, Daryl proceeded past him stepping lightly and lined the sight of his crossbow for the third walker, taking it out easily with a bolt to the centre of his skull.

Not to be outdone, Martinez rotated the bat between both of his hands like a samurai sword and with an easy backhand crushed the skull of his second walker, allowing the bat to fully extend behind him with a flurish. Andrea huffed again and walked off, the machismo being too much to stand. As Martinez approached his third kill Daryl dropped the walker he was winding up for with a bolt to her skull that passed through and into the neck of the one right behind her.

They were both tied at two kills each and as Martinez braced to finish off the one Daryl had grazed, Daryl took out his Garmin blade and in the slow motion of that moment, when he hefted the weight to find the balance before throwing the blade he thought of that time in the store when Janessa had asked to see his knife that she was the one for him.

He smiled on the inside at the memory and threw the blade, lodging it in the walker's skull before Martinez could even swing. Locking eyes with Martinez he could see that they'd found some common ground as warriors, that their skills were evenly matched, ok maybe he came up ahead he smirked to himself, but there was room for respect even if they were on opposite sides.

Bending down to retrieve his knife from the mangled skull he noticed a pack of smokes in the walkers shirt pocket and fished them out, along with a brass lighter.

"Look at that!" Daryl said turning to Martinez and offering him a smoke.

"Nah, I prefer menthols." He replied.

"Douchebag." Daryl replied wryly, lighting the cigarette. "You army or somethin'?" He asked conversationally as he exhaled, giving him props for his skills in the question.

"Nah, I just hate these things. After what they did. Wife. Kids." Martinez said softly.

"Sucks." Daryl replied sincerely, nodding respectfully.

"Thanks." He accepted with a retuning nod. "This is a joke right? Ain't gonna work anythin' out. Sure they'll do their little dance and tomorrow or the next day, they'll give the word."

"I know." Daryl replied softly.

"Hey." Martinez gestured to the smokes and Daryl reached into his pocket to give him one.

~o0O0o~

"May I ask how you lost it? Your leg." Milton asked Hershel.

"I was bit." Hershel replied.

They were sitting on another bench in front of the building but still away from where Andrea had returned to, while Hershel read over Milton's journal.

"You cut off your leg to keep the infection from spreading? Interesting." Milton said excitedly, putting his glasses back on. "How long after the initial bite?"

"Immediately." Hershel replied as he flipped another page and continued to read as quickly as he could.

"You didn't bleed out?" Milton asked the obvious as he was still so stunned with the results.

"We have good people. They took care of me." He replied softly.

"Doctors?" Milton asked.

"No, we learned by trial and error." Hershel replied looking up from the journal.

"Me too." Milton said with a sad voice.

Hershel nodded in understanding of the common ground they shared. The burden of that type of learning process is heavy.

"May I see it?" Milton asked changing the subject.

Hershel looked at him pointedly at the impertinence of the question.

"Your stump, I'd like to um..." He cleared his throat nervously realizing how personal his request was. "...See where the amputation was, how high above the bite."

"I'm not showing you my leg." Hershel replied wondering if Milton might have Aspergers syndrome, a sort of high functioning form of autism, as that would certainly explain his social skills.

"It's important data." Milton replied softly.

"I just met you. At least buy me a drink first." Hershel replied with a straight face and then he laughed, breaking the tension and in moments Milton was laughing as well.

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Special thanks to FrankiKaos for her consistent feedback. For getting me to keep writing when I'm stuck and encouragement to explore options with walking the line between cannon and my oc's.

Give her How To Survive The End Of The World a read and enjoy some season two. Don't let her end it there. And pretty please keep the reviews coming! It makes all the difference to a writer's soul.