Kids, there was so many kind reviews after that last chapter that to save writing a book at the beginning of this chapter, I feel the need to skip out personal replies this go around.
You know I love you all, anyways.
Hopefully personalized replies will be back...I think this chapter may get less reviews because of lack of Caryl...that seems to kill off a few of the reviews.
Special shout outs to my peeps: skittletitz, MollyMayhem84, AFishNamedSushi, Axelrocks and Surplus Imagination! You kids review nearly all the chapters and I don't think I haven't noticed! 3
Special shout outs to the rest of you peeps who have reviewed! Because all reviews are love, babies!
Also, I'm so damned pleased that Merle on the show is a voracious reader...this is somehow beautiful to me. That last episode certainly inspired me wonderfully! *feels rejuvenated*
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revenant
**Daryl**
Climbing up beside the Cajun on the wall, Daryl handed him off a box of .22 rounds.
"Here, Rick said to give you this from our stash until we can get yours built up again," he greeted.
Taking one last look down his scope to survey the area outside the wall, the Lieutenant dropped his aim and opened the box to reload his weapon with a soft 'thanks'.
With the back gate tentatively upright, they didn't want to risk letting a single walker creep up on them, so the wall was filled with four other bodies, all patrolling quietly, hoping the night passed quietly before they could get into town for supplies to repair the hole in the wall.
Daryl had been walking the grounds, keeping an eye on the shadows and alcoves of the convent lawns, when Rick approached him with the ammo.
Ammo was in such short supply that when Rick offered it to him for the Cajun, Daryl knew that their leader had finally accepted the fact that the Lieutenant had their best interests at heart. Which was a big step for Rick as of late.
Tucking the rest of the rounds into one of the many pockets on his uniform jacket, the Cajun nodded. "Good to be replenished," he admitted. "I'm afraid my hand-to-hand combat skills aren't so good."
Eyeing the patch on the man's arm, Daryl nodded. "That soldier today, the walker by the peach tree…?"
"I didn't know him well, Petersen I think he was, from Plumtree, Tennessee, just like Sam McGee. That's how I remembered."
"Who?"
"There are strange things done in the midnight sun, by the men who moil for gold," the Lieutenant clarified. "You know? Sam McGee? Robert Service?"
Daryl shook his head.
"Anyways, one day, after most of them had parted ways with our unit, I get up and Petersen's tent's gone, he's AWOL and we move on. That was just something we were dealing with daily, no real thought given to what became of the men who left, just make a note and head out. I suppose I was living under the delusion that most of the men who left made it home okay." He raised his rifle and looked down the scope, eyeing the area. "It didn't occur to me that they could be out there, walking around, doing more damage than good. What'd you do with him?"
"We burned his body."
The Lieutenant scoffed. "And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky."
"What?"
"Never mind, Texian. You on—"
A piercing scream coming from the dorms caught their attention, breaking all conversation and the Cajun's head snapped in the direction. He reached out to stop Daryl from racing off, laying a hand on his arm.
"It's nothing, tell the others, take my watch!" The Lieutenant said, handing off his rifle and hopping off the wall.
"What?"
"Just tell them it's nothing to panic about!" He called back, running in the direction of the dorms.
Without giving the continuous stream of screaming much thought, Daryl moved about the wall, giving a head's up to everyone who emerged from buildings and shadows. Sister Joan didn't seemed concerned about the threat of death, but she did look drawn when he moved past her at the ruined back gate.
"It's probably that poor girl," she said.
Daryl glanced over at Glenn who was manning the gate with the nun.
"For months after she came to us, she would wake from these night terrors screaming her head off, seems the night terrors have come back, probably because of last night's attack."
"Does she stop?" Glenn asked as the screams still rang out in the night air. "Because walkers—"
"It'll be okay," Rick assured him, moving from the darkness where he was patrolling the grounds. "I don't think there's many lingering walkers after we took out most of the herd. We'll be fine, just stay alert."
"Seems only the Lieutenant can get her to stop once she gets going, but even that will take a while."
"It's so loud, we could use her for a biter siren," Merle grunted, moving out of the same night Rick had. "Put her up in the tower on lookout."
"Well, can't keep an eye out for walkers standing around gossiping like old women," Daryl stated, moving off on his rounds of the wall again.
..-~-..
..-~-..
It seemed like hours before the screaming stopped, another hour before the Cajun turned up on the wall again, taking his rifle with a grim nod.
"She alright?" Daryl asked, not even pretending he didn't get the full story through the grapevine.
"No, but she's been down this road before, it just takes time." The Lieutenant said. "Sorry about that."
"No worries." Hopping off the wall, Daryl gave the Cajun a parting nod and took up his patrols of the ground again.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Later he slipped into the dorm, peering cautiously into the dorm cells, checking on those inside. Something about walkers getting into a previously secured gate just made him nervous about the possibility of stragglers.
It didn't take much for those assholes to create more with innocent victims.
Quickly glancing into the Mother Superior's room, he found the woman sitting up in the cot, the little girl and dog curled up at her side.
She caught his eyes as he passed and he paused.
"Sorry," he whispered softly to avoid waking the girl. "Just making my rounds."
Stroking Annie's temple, the woman eased out from under her, approaching the open door cautiously, holding herself to keep the chill of the night off her bare arms.
"It's alright, I understand times have changed and so have rules," she closed the door quietly behind her, walking at his side as he continued his rounds.
"Sorry about your little girl," he said, peering in on Beth curled up on a cot, Herschel at her side on a chair half asleep.
"It's not your fault," the woman cooed. "That poor girl has been through hell and it lingers in her."
They reached the end of the hall, where Daryl hesitated, before quickly poking his head into the woman's office. Everything was still, so they moved on.
"I'm just glad she has that soldier of hers," the nun went on. "I'm afraid she'd be worse off if it wasn't for him. Seems he's got a way with the young ones, charms them somehow." The woman clasped her hands together. "I don't know what she'd do without him. Fade like a wilted violet, I'd imagine."
"She ever talk about what happened?" Daryl asked as they moved down the halls that lead to the washroom with its ancient gravitational toilet and claw footed tub, peeking in on the cells that they passed on their way down the lonely corridor.
"If she does she doesn't say a word to me about it. Think the poor girl's blocked it."
"Probably for the best."
"Hm."
They moved down the corridor opposite, heading for the kitchen and dining room.
"Mr. Dixon?"
"Daryl," he corrected. "Nobody ever called me Mr. Dixon, world's gone to hell ain't expecting propriety now."
That was a lie. Sophia used to call him Mr. Daryl, meeting propriety halfway.
They didn't talk much before she went missing, but he vaguely recalled overhearing her ask her mother when 'Mr. Daryl' would join them at the fire one of the first nights the Dixon's were in camp at the quarry.
A sharp look from the girl's father had her snapping her mouth shut pretty fast.
Come to think of it, Daryl should have kicked the man's teeth in when he had the chance. Stomping him would have given him a little closure to the rage he sometimes felt over the way Carol had been.
She came a long way though, no longer tentative in her approach to people, no longer soft spoken and meek.
He couldn't have been more pleased to see how she bloomed without that asshole.
"I want to thank you, Daryl, for being so kind to Lafayette." The woman at his side said. "In the months before he brought you and your brother back, he was so lonesome. That man is a social butterfly, loves people, but…I don't think he quite knew what to do with us. He's really opened up and I have you to thank for that. Truth is from what I gather he moved around a lot as a young man, didn't have many friends, I think he was just desperate for some kind of family. In some ways he's like a little boy, so eager for companionship, but gets his heart broken easily."
"He's a good man to have around," Daryl replied. "I'm sure he's found family here with you."
"I think he's found a brother in you, honey."
"Does this mean I get to give him a snicker-snag? Because he's had it coming for a while now," Daryl shot back.
The woman laughed softly. "Oh heavens, don't start that, it's bad enough I'm scared to even approach that garden shed with you boys holing up there…could you imagine if you all started acting like a fraternity?"
At Daryl's confused look the woman beamed.
"I've heard about the lady's undergarments you boys have draped about in that shed," she explained.
He scowled. Was there some kind of community bulletin where they posted up-to-date information for everyone to read? How the hell did she know about the lingerie so fast?
"I also heard about you and Carol, honey." She went on. "If you ever need a priest and a church, I'm sure Father O'Rourke would love to perform a marriage ceremony."
Okay, there had to be some kind of post-apocalyptic phone tree going on, that or someone had a big fucking mouth.
He had never been happier then when he reached the backdoor and his patrol of the dorms ended.
"Well, my road ends here, goodnight, Daryl," the woman said.
He nodded to her.
"And, honey," she stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Thank you for everything you've done for us. You're a good man."
..-~-..
..-~-..
Running into Rick in the darkest, most untraveled corner of the convent grounds in the early hours before daylight, Daryl approached him quietly, watching the man stare off into the darkness.
"Chasing butterflies?" He asked, gazing in the same direction as Rick.
The man blinked and drew himself together with a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry." Placing his hand on his hip, Rick bowed his head in thought. He always seemed to be living in his thoughts lately.
It didn't piss Daryl off so much as it worried him.
He didn't like nutty Rick.
"You know when we take Woodbury that we're going to be taking down women and children too? Everybody will take up arms to defend their town, just like ours would to defend our group." Rick said.
Daryl nodded. "I know."
"You ever kill a living, breathing child, Daryl?" Rick asked him.
"Of course I haven't," he replied.
"Neither have I," Rick said. "And I'm not looking forward to it."
"I've been thinking," Merle broke in from the wall nearby where he was seated, idly dangling his legs.
"How long have you been there?" Rick demanded, immediately tensing in the man's presence.
"Long enough to watch Daisy Dover there bore a hole into the nothingness," Daryl's brother hopped off the wall with a grin. "Didn't trust him to keep a good watch while he was in La-La Land."
"What have you been thinking, Merle?" Daryl demanded, trying to get his brother off Rick's back.
"Of a way we can take down Woodbury without taking out innocents."
Rick gave Daryl an unsure glance, but Daryl decided to encourage his brother.
"And?"
"Ol' Phil, he likes to bring back spoils of war to the people. Finds a straggler from another group, takes him back to Woodbury and finds out where the group is holed up. Then he mounts a supply party run, with himself – oddly enough – at the head of it. He goes in with about eight men tops, eight of his best and most bloodthirsty, they play innocent, get close enough to the group and…well let's just say he goes home a hero with food and ammo, while the group feeds the worms where they drop." Merle leaned against his baby brother smugly. "You find someone who is brand new to the Governor to play straggler—"
"We can lead him into an ambush." Rick finished.
Merle gave Rick the gun with his remaining hand. "Take out Phil and his most trustworthy, dangerous heads of military state and you might be sitting pretty with your conscience intact. You get lucky someone with no balls like Ol' Milton will take over…he's a little less bloodthirsty."
"Milton?"
"Milton Mamet. Science geek type, nice enough, but lacking machismo."
"You on the level about this?" Rick demanded.
"Wouldn't lie now, what would be the point? Send my baby brother into battle where he has to kill kids? He wouldn't and couldn't do it."
Daryl squinted at Merle. He was probably right, but if it came to Carol and Judith and Herschel and anyone within the convent walls, he wouldn't hesitate.
That thought scared him just a little.
"There's one catch though," Merle added. "Whoever plays straggler might not find themselves in the best of situations. The Governor likes to be creative when extracting the information and generally doesn't leave witnesses to his war crimes, if you know what I'm aiming at."
Running a hand through his hair, Rick sighed. "Okay, I'm going think about this a bit…we'll bring it up to the others after we get back tomorrow from our supply run. Even if we ambush them we'll need more ammo and medical supplies."
"Rick," Daryl stepped in. "We can't ask someone to go into Woodbury to be tortured and killed."
"We'll think of a way that'll get them out, just...let me think on this, okay?"
Both Dixon's nodded, Daryl a little grudgingly. He didn't like the idea of sending someone into Woodbury alone. It felt like a sacrifice and he only knew one asshole dumb enough to volunteer to be the lamb.
The Cajun Dialect
Revenant - Ghost