New Meanings To Old Words: Love
Such a big huge HUG for all of you for the awesome response to the last chapter. These past couple have been ROUGH on me, and I love you all for making sure I don't lose steam. We've got a shit load of filler to work in before we get to Barn-mageddon. Don't worry though, it'll be useful…I think. (I hope) Some bonding, some long overdue confronting, and the start of a battle that may just spell their end… SO YEAH…good shit, but filler.
As always read, review and most of all enjoy the ride!
~michelle
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).
Amen
It had finally happened. Danny's ass was finally in worse pain than his leg and abdomen combined.
Shifting on the cold, hard ground he rubbed a hand over the tattered mound of flesh at his thigh and grimaced. He probably shouldn't have sat on the ground in the first place, but he'd just been so…spent. So fuckin' spent that he couldn't do anything but stagger a few steps away from the grave. The fuckin' grave that he hadn't even been able to do more than take a few shovelfuls of dirt out of before he'd been bested.
He'd fallen to the ground, shrugging off T-Dog's consoling hand and just stared as Glenn and T-Dog finished what he'd barely been able to begin. It had been a long time since Danny had felt disgusted in himself, months since he'd looked as himself as a burden to the people he cared about in this new world. But sitting on that cold ground, his leg thrumming with pain as his torn muscles protested any tiny twinge, he felt that disgust settle deep in his stomach.
What use was he going to be to Callie and the kids, not to mention any of the rest now? His gimp-ass couldn't even work a fuckin' shovel into the ground for longer than five minutes. Danny stared at that fuckin' hole that T-Dog and Glenn had dug and snarled.
"You okay man?" Miles' voice piped up around him and Danny slipped his eyes over to where the kid had settled himself at the base of a tree nearby. On his lap sat a spiral notebook, no doubt one of Jenna's, while another was open in his hands. The kid had been reading and re-reading the words scrawled upon those pages all night by the light of the little camping lantern beside him.
Danny lifted his eyes from the notebook to meet the worried gaze of Miles and he felt his lips twitch with a bit of a smile. Nodding his head, because he didn't quite trust his voice yet, Danny waved a hand out in dismissal of the kid's worry.
Miles snuffed out something akin to 'right' and then started sifting through the marked up pages of the notebook again. Danny watched him out of the corner of his eye, marveling a bit at the change that had come over the boy in just a day. He'd apparently cornered that anger and whatever else had been plaguin' him and taken control. Whether it was from his little conversation with Daryl or the small chat the boy had with Callie, Danny didn't know. All he knew was that the kid didn't look like he was about to snap anymore.
And for that Danny was grateful.
Miles had become less of a child to him and more of a brother. In the beginning the kid's age alone had always panged a bit of that parental response in him, but since the CDC there had been a marked change in the boy that no one could deny. And the way that Miles was dealing with Jenna's death.
Fuck, Danny actually envied the boy on that one.
Because with Jenna Danny's parental response had never gone away. She had always been a kid to him. And now she was just another one that he'd failed. Danny's hand came down hard on his arm and he felt Miles' eyes twitch, the sunlight filtering down from the slowly rising sun lighting up the blonde hairs atop the kid's head in patches.
Snarling Danny shook his head and rubbed at his arms, shifting slightly under Miles' oddly perceptive gaze. As he turned he picked up the sight of a figure heading towards him. A tall leggy blonde figure wearing a straw cowboy hat.
"Oh fuck," Danny muttered reaching his hand back and slightly shaking the sleeping Ben sprawled spread-eagle on the lawn behind him. Ben snorted and swatted angrily at Danny's hand earning a chuckle from the fuckin' peanut gallery. Danny glared over at Miles lifting his middle finger before waving the chucklin' son of a bitch over towards him.
"I'm guessin' you want some alone time with Andrea then," Miles said rolling the two well worn notebooks so that he could shove them into his back pocket as he got to his feet.
"I'm guessin' you no longer value your life way you're goin' on 'bout it," Danny spat back smacking Ben's hands as they sleepily smacked at him. "Hey," Danny snatched his hands back from the rolling groggy Ben and gave a slight chuckle. "Fuck kid, gettin' too strong for this shit." Ben rubbed at his head and scrunched his face before shifting his eyes about.
"S'mornin'?" Ben half-asked his eyes slipping to the approaching Miles. Miles and Danny both nodded and Ben groaned and sheepishly looked around. "I tol' you not to let me fall asleep."
"Yeah. Sue me," Danny muttered his eyes slipping up to Andrea as she came to a stop near the grave dug not far from them.
"Huh?" Ben responded pushing to his feet and yawning. Miles settled his hand on top of Ben's head and then shifted his eyes to Andrea.
Danny watched Andrea's eyes as they settled on Miles, and it was interesting to see the bit of shame that flew into those blue orbs. They stared at each other for a few seconds and finally Andrea huffed out a sigh and jutted her hip which made Miles sigh and shake his head. Letting out a chuckle Miles turned Ben, and his tiny little glarin' eyes away, and started off.
"I'm gonna take Ben inside," Miles tossed over his shoulder to Danny. "You need help up?" Danny waved a hand again his eyes never leaving Andrea as she watched Miles go. "Right. I'll bring you back some coffee, wake your ass up a bit before-" Miles stopped talking and at that point Danny shifted his eyes over his shoulder to the boy. Miles let his gaze slip to the grave.
"Thanks," Danny said his voice loud enough to break the kid's stare with that fuckin' hole. Miles slid his eyes over to Danny and then back to Andrea. "See if Gracie's up too, would ya."
"Yeah, yeah," Miles waved a hand and started off. "Like I'm gonna let 'em wander 'round." Danny heard the kid mutter as he shook Ben a bit as they walked. "C'mon, short-stuff. Let's go wake up the love-birds." Ben's responding chuckle was the last thing Danny was able to make out before the two disappeared into the glare of the rising sun.
"Do you need help up?" Andrea asked quietly, bringing Danny's attention back to the woman staring at him from the grave site up ahead.
"No," Danny shot back rolling to his good right leg and bending his knee under him. He heard her shuffling steps and looked up at her from his position on his knees.
"Do you want it?" Andrea asked raising a brow and extending her hand down to him. Danny stared at her for a moment taking in a few slow breaths through his nose. Finally he lifted his hand and gripped tight letting her pull slightly and help him to his feet.
Wincing slightly Danny pulled himself up to his full height right in front of her. She gave a half-hearted tug on her hand, attempting to pull it out of his iron grip but he held tight. He stared down at her, lifting his other hand and tipping that stupid hat of Jenna's back so that he could see her eyes. Eyes that she worked to hide because of the unshed tears shining there. Danny shook his head.
"Danny," Andrea began, but he didn't let her finish. He didn't really know what she was going to say, but he figured it was going to be something stupid. Something about how sorry she was. Something about how she was there for him.
Danny pulled on her hand and dragged her into his chest, offering her silent support. Knowing that she'd never ask for it. Never break down in front of him. Never show that kind of need, and that kind of weakness to him. Not again.
Not this Andrea.
She dragged in a breath against his chest, and he held tight to her hand while wrapping his other arm around her shoulders. His fingers tangled into her hair, and the hat slipped off of her head and to the ground at their feet.
She wouldn't ever ask for that support, he knew that. But that didn't mean he wouldn't give it to her anyway. He held her tighter, letting out a breath when he finally felt her hands slip up and grip into the fabric of his shirt. She was gentle and careful not to hit at the large stitched area in his side but she pulled him closer to her.
She wouldn't ever ask for support. Just like Callie wouldn't. And just like Callie, Andrea needed to learn that she didn't have to ask. Danny slipped his head down so that his mouth landed at her neck and he felt her shudder just a bit against him, her hands gripping a bit tighter.
"Are you alright?" Danny asked quietly, his mouth moving against the rapid pulse in her neck. She jerked her head a bit away and then nodded a few times at him. His thumb moved up to slide away a tear that had managed to escape and she shot fully away from him.
"I'm fine," Andrea said quickly both of her hands flying to her face to work the rest of the tears away. "I'm fine. How are you?"
"I'm buryin' a kid today," Danny said in a matter-of-fact tone that had her back stiffening and her mouth hanging slightly open as she stared at him. Danny bent, groaning at the pull of his stitched up side, and snatched the hat from the ground at their feet. He looked at the worm straw hat and let his fingers slide over it. "How'm I supposed to be?"
"I'm sorry," Andrea said, staring down at the hat in Danny's hands. He let his fingers glide over the brim a bit longer and then handed it back to her. She took it and he felt her eyes follow him as he worked slowly over towards the empty grave he'd been starin' at all damn night. "Were you out here all night?" He nodded his head and listened to her let out a sigh. "Did you sleep at all?"
Danny looked over at her and held her gaze for a moment before shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. He slipped his hand over his cheeks smirking a bit at the feel of the light stubble covering them.
"You carried Amy for me," Andrea said, her voice quiet but for some reason her words echoed in his ears. Danny turned to her, staring at her as she stared at the grave. She blinked a few times and lifted her eyes to him. "You covered her, and carried her, and put her into the ground so gently." Andrea's jaw clenched and her head tilted to the side a bit as she gave him a small wavering smile. "I want to be able to -" she shook her head and lifted her hands only to let them fall helplessly at her sides again. "What can I do for you?"
A long beat of silence filled the air around them.
"Stay," Danny said finally, his voice surprisin' the fuck out of him with how strong and clear it was. Her eyes widened just a bit, and he nodded at her. "Stay with me." Andrea stared at him for a long time, and he watched her hands clench and unclench at her sides. She smiled just a bit at him as she nodded her head before putting the stupid straw hat back in place.
Danny slipped his eyes away from hers and then back to the large hole in the ground before him. He got lost in his thoughts for a moment, and didn't even hear her approach. But he felt her hand slip into his and squeeze and he smiled when she rested her chin against the back of his shoulder.
"Carl!" Ben's voice shouted out as he dashed out from under Miles' hand on his head and towards the other boy.
"Easy," Rick's voice called out as Ben rocketed towards the slowly staggering, but up and walking Carl. Carl's face broke out into a slightly pained grin as Ben came forward and Rick lifted his own smile up to Miles who stood back and watched Ben slide to a stop by Lori. Lori smiled down at Ben and then over at Carl whose face scrunched a bit in pain when he apparently jarred himself the wrong way.
"Maybe we should take a break," Lori said with a grimacing look up at Rick on the other side of their son.
"What do you think?" Rick said angling his face down to Carl and missing the bit of an exasperated look that crossed Lori's face. Miles shook his head as Carl shifted his attention to his father and steeled his spine a bit, pushing through the pain. "You wanna stop for a bit?"
"No," Carl said firmly jutting his chin. "Let's at least make it to the porch."
"A'right then," Rick said smiling down at Carl and tightening his grip just a bit at Carl's arm, his other hand supporting his shoulders. Rick looked over at Lori and gave her a smile that she just shook her head at. "He knows what he can do. Let him push through it if he can."
"I just don't want him pushing too hard," Lori said looking down at Carl and catching his eyes.
"I won't," Carl said nodding at his mother and then looking over to Ben. "I got this mom. I just want to make it to the porch. Then I'll take a break."
"I'm gonna go see Daryl," Ben said smiling at Carl as he passed by. Rick shook his head and Miles did the same.
"Knock first," both Miles and Rick called out after the disappearing form of Ben as he dashed out of view. Ben tossed his arm over his head waving them off and Rick lifted his smiling gaze to Miles. Miles pushed off of the wall he'd been leaning on by the screen door and nodded a good morning to the Grimes'.
"Gonna be up and runnin' in no time, man." Miles said settling his hand gently onto Carl's shoulder. Carl's head nodded and his face contorted in a bit of pain as he worked to get outside.
"Yeah," Carl said holding Miles' gaze for a minute before pushing the door open and using it to keep himself up. "No time," Miles followed the boy's slow progress over towards the chair near the door and watched the kid settle himself gently down.
"Danny still outside?" Lori asked quietly as she caught the screen door before it could close fully. Miles nodded and ducked his head when she put a hand to his shoulder. "You okay?" Miles nodded again and crossed his arms over his chest as she patted him. Lori slid a glance to Rick before sliding out onto the porch.
"You need somethin'?" Rick asked quietly his hands settling at his hips as he ducked his head a bit and looked at Miles. "Danny need somethin'?"
"Coffee," Miles said smirking at Rick. "Danny needs some fuckin' coffee."
"I'm sure he's not the only one," Rick said and chuckled. His head nodded a bit and his eyes slid towards the hallway where Ben had disappeared. Miles watched a weight settle over Rick's shoulders and he grimaced a bit shifting on his feet, which caused Rick's eyes to slide back over to him.
"You get those two; I'll take care of gimpy outside. Deal?" Miles said holding out his good hand to Rick.
"Why do I feel like I got the short end of the stick in this deal," Rick said shaking his head as Miles laughed as they shook hands. "I'm pretty sure Maggie or Patricia's still in there makin' the coffee, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind you waitin'."
"Yeah?" Miles said angling his head towards where he knew the kitchen lay. He grimaced a bit, thinking about how he'd been acting of late, and knowin' that the Greene family wasn't really lookin' at him in the best light right now. "Maybe I'll just-"
"Go," Rick said giving a little push to his shoulder. "Honestly," Rick said holding his hand on Miles' shoulder for a minute and squeezing. "No one is blamin' you for the way you acted. You were upset. Rightly so. And quite frankly I'm damn impressed with how you've bounced back from it, Miles. I really am. And I know Callie is too."
Miles nodded his head and shifted his eyes at the mention of Callie. His thoughts instantly went back to his conversation with the woman yesterday. The revelation that those dog tags had in fact belonged to her brother. And the promise that she'd made him.
"Go," Rick said giving another little push to Miles' shoulder and sending the boy on his way. "Get Danny some coffe I'm sure he needs it."
"You want a cup?" Miles asked turning and walking backwards watching Rick shake his head. "You sure? You look like you could use it too, man."
"Thanks," Rick said running a hand through his hair and waving his hand. "But I'm good."
"That's a damn lie," Miles said turning from Rick's smiling, tired face and waving his hand over his head. "I'll have them make you an extra fuckin' strong pot." Miles didn't turn but smiled as Rick's chuckling 'Thanks Miles' reached his ears.
Miles continued on, working his bandaged left hand through his thick shaggy hair and brushing it off of his forehead and out of his eyes. He was gonna have to ask someone to trim it up for him pretty soon or he'd end up lookin' like a fuckin' Muppet. Miles laughed suddenly at the thought of the pet name his mother had always called him as a child, when the summer months would hit and she'd let him do whatever he wanted with his hair. The grown out locks always thick and unruly.
Her little Muppet.
Voices sliced through the memories of his smiling mother as he got closer to the kitchen, and he shook his head away from the last memory he had of the woman who'd birthed him. Her body flying back as the bullet he'd put through her head ended her second existence in this world. Miles clenched his jaw tight and lifted his eyes from the ground as he entered the kitchen.
Shane stared back at Miles with an interested air, his head bowed as Patricia slid her fingers over his head and the small on the top. They stared at each other for what felt like hours. Patricia's voice was echoing loudly in Miles' ears as she inspected Shane's miniscule wounds, wounds left by her husband's clawing desperate fingers, with a small smile on her lips.
A fuckin' smile.
"You're lucky this wasn't deeper," Patricia said quietly letting her hands fall from Shane's head. "Head wounds can be tricky. You said you caught it on a broken window right?" Shane nodded idly his eyes never leaving Miles. "It's healin' up fine. And your leg seems to be doin' good as well."
"Thank you, ma'am." Shane said finally shifting his eyes away from Miles just as Patricia shifted hers to the boy.
"Oh, Miles," Patricia said waving a hand at the boy. "I didn't see you there. C'mon sit down. Since I'm apparently makin' the rounds this mornin', come an' let me check your hand out for ya."
"No, it's," Miles looked at his hand and cleared his throat before looking up at her. "I'm fine. It's alright. You don't—"
"C'mon now," Shane said getting off of the stool he'd been sitting on and heading over to Miles. Miles felt his jaw clench tight and his hands ball into fists at his sides. Shane reached out and Miles tried very hard not to pull away from him. Shane's hand slipped in that oh so familiar way around to the back of his neck and he shook him in what should have been a friendly manner as he pulled Miles towards the stool. "You don't look a gift horse in the mouth boy. Let her check ya out. Gotta get you back into fightin' shape right. Gonna be movin' on soon."
Shane's eyes flitted to Patricia and she smiled tightly at him. Miles watched the woman shuffle towards him and reach out a hand for his. Shane's hand remained at Miles' neck holding him in place as Patricia worked to unwrap the bandage.
"From what I hear," Patricia said idly, her eyes slipping up to Miles briefly and then up to Shane. "Rick has asked for y'all to be allowed to stay on here through the winter. Hershel's not quite keen on the idea but—" Patricia shrugged and again looked to Miles. "He's not a man to throw women and children out in the cold without damn good reason. He's took in me and Otis-" she paused and dipped her head to her chest and Miles clenched his jaw.
Shane's hand clenched almost painfully around the back of Miles' neck and he struggled not to wrench himself free of the man. Patricia looked up again, tears shining unshed in her eyes as she finished removing the ace bandage and splints from his hand. Miles shifted his fingers a bit, the twinge of pain imperceptible really through the rush of blood. He shifted them and was able to circle his hand around to give Patricia's a single soft squeeze. She smiled up at him and blinked away her tears, her head nodding as she shifted her hand away.
"That's very good," Patricia said tapping at his left hand and apparently shaking off what she'd been sayin' or thinkin' before. Shane's grip at Miles' neck loosened a bit, but was still a very heavy presence along his shoulders. "You've got some good movement in there. Can you do that again for me?" Miles moved his fingers and squeezed a bit at her hand. "Very good." Patricia looked up at him. "I'd say we might be able to take the splint off and just wrap it up, but we should probably have Hershel give the final okay on that one." She patted his hand and moved away leaving his hand bare on the kitchen island. "You stay here and I'll go get him."
Miles opened his mouth to tell her not to go but Shane's hand at his neck had his mouth snapping closed again. Miles stared down at his arm, the horrid smell of his unwashed skin prickling his nose as he gingerly stretched his fingers. The pull of the underused muscles in his forearm a bare twinge of discomfort compared to what it had been.
Or what it could have been.
Shane's hand lifted from his neck and Miles felt the older man shift around so that he could stand where Patricia had been. Miles felt Shane's eyes settle onto his arm and watched as Shane's flattened palm smacked into the kitchen island right beside where his arm was laying.
"Damn look at that," Shane said his voice alight with laughter, as he tried to hide that dark edge that had swept over his entire being in the past few days. Miles shifted his eyes up to watch Shane's dark eyes as he stared down at his arm. "You can see right where that fucker had his jaws on you." Shane shifted his hand and pinned Miles' arm before he could lift it, his other hand coming up to trace the outline of where the plaster from the cast had been pressed deep into his skin leaving a small scattering of scars along Miles' forearm. "You're one lucky son of bitch there, Miles."
A second later Shane shifted his eyes to Miles' and they just stared at one another. It happened pretty quickly, and to Shane's credit if he'da been expectin' it he probably wouldn't have been taken off guard. Miles got to his feet, the stool he was settled upon clattering to the ground behind him. His hand, that lucky fuckin' appendage that had been pinned down, shifted out of Shane's press and shoved hard at the man's chest. Miles advanced like a man on a mission, his right hand shooting out and shoving again at Shane's bulky chest.
Shane's eyes were wide and when his backside came up against the hard counter behind him he grabbed a hold of it as Miles reached out with his left hand and grabbed a fist full of his shirt. Miles glared hard into Shane's face, marveling at the fact that he was slightly taller than the man and could actually look down upon him just a bit. His own body's bulk almost matched the other man's but not quite. Not yet at least. Shane's hands had clenched into the counter behind him and he stared hard at Miles, as the once-boy-now-anything-but stared him down.
"I'm only gonna say this to you this one last time," Miles ground out through clenched teeth. "Don't fuckin' touch me. You know what," Miles said inching a bit forward. "Better yet, don't even come near me. I'm done with you. I'm done, Shane. You get me?" Miles tugged on Shane's shirt and pulled him a bit. And fuck if Shane didn't smile at him.
A beat of silence followed. A heavy beat. Filled with that same sort of threatening haze that had filled the cab of Otis' truck as they drove back from the FEMA station. Only this time that threatening haze wasn't one sided. This time Miles was throwing down his own bit of heat.
"Sure, Miles." Shane said quietly his hand lifting up to grab into the hand balled into the fabric of his shirt. Miles flinched as Shane's grip tightened on his still healing hand, but Miles didn't loosen his grip. "I got you." Shane pulled Miles closer his hot breath fanning over Miles' face. "Big man now huh?"
Shane's hand clenched a bit tighter and Miles' felt his lips twitch with the snarl of pain he worked to push down. Miles opened his mouth to respond but he was beat to the punch.
"Nope, still very much a kid." Callie's voice slipped into the room. "My kid," Callie said in matter-of-fact tone that had Shane's eyes sliding over to her instantly. Miles continued to glare down at the man before him for a second, watching a flood of something fill into Shane's eyes before a slow tight smile tilted his lips.
Miles backed away from Shane letting his hand fall from his shirt and he raked his fingers through his hair as he shifted his eyes to Callie in the doorway. She spared him a quick glance before her attention went back to Shane. Callie was settled at the doorway, her back against the frame and her arms crossed over her chest as her attention shifted between the two of them again. Miles let his gaze slip to where Callie's fingers were tapping very lightly on the butt of the gun settled into the front of her waistband. It was an idle movement meant to convey a distinct message.
One that Miles was absolutely sure Shane wouldn't miss.
Miles shifted his eyes back to Shane watching the man shake his head and point a finger at Callie. The motion of his head didn't stop as his eyes met hers and when Callie pushed off the wall, Miles slipped towards her ready to put himself between the two.
"Is there a problem?" Hershel's voice bellowed out and Miles shifted his attention to the older man, while Callie and Shane continued to stare at each other.
"No," Shane said with a smile his hand fisting in the air for a moment before he pointed one last time at Callile. "No problem. None at all. Just too many damn cooks in the fuckin' kitchen, Hershel." Shane turned his back on them at that point and worked his way towards the door that would lead him out of the house.
"We're ready to bury her," Callie's voice called out, her hands slipping back to her back pockets as she rocked back on her heels just a bit. Shane stopped his movement, his hand settled on the door and his eyes sliding over his shoulder to Callie.
Miles watched Shane's jaw clench, his nostrils flaring just a bit as he apparently swallowed down a bit of something acrid in his mouth. Miles let his eyes slide to Callie watching her just stare down the man, a hint of sadness on her face and in her eyes as she lightly shook her head. Something passed between Shane and Callie in that moment, something that took the edge out of Shane's eyes and gave Miles a glimpse of the man that he'd been months ago.
Shane nodded his head at Callie and Hershel who had posted up at her back. His gaze slipped over Miles like a cold blast of water on a hot day, and Miles glared as Shane turned and left the house. Miles didn't move from his spot until he felt a hand at his back guiding him back towards the kitchen island. Hershel picked up the stool that had fallen to the ground and righted it, watching idly as Callie settled Miles to the chair.
"You may be a big man now," Callie muttered in a low voice into his ear as they walked. Miles shifted his eyes watching Hershel move off to wash his hands paying them no mind. "But you don't poke that bear without someone at your back. You get me?" Miles nodded his head a bit and shifted to sit down, staring up at her as she stared down at him. "We'll talk about that," she waved her hand around at the kitchen counter that he'd had Shane pressed up against. "Later. You and me. No more fuckin' excuses."
"Callie," Miles called out as she turned and gave a nod to Hershel. She shifted her eyes back to him and he took a deep breath. "Daryl knows," he shifted his eyes to Hershel, thankful that the elder man was workin' hard to pretend to pay them no mind as they talked. "You could just ask—"
"I don't want to hear it from him," Callie said quietly turning around and putting her hip to the island. She shifted her eyes to Hershel and then back to Miles. "I want to hear it from you. I need to." Callie stepped closer and bent towards him. "You want me to treat you like an adult. You have to earn that. You know that, Miles. You want to play back up to me when we go-" again her eyes shifted to Hershel who merely raised a brow but didn't say a word. Her eyes came back to Miles and she poked him in chest. "You tell me your damn self. I can't trust you to have my back if you've got a monkey on yours. Clear?" Miles nodded and swallowed. "Good, now get your hand checked out and get your ass outside."
Miles watched Callie go, his eyes not leaving the doorway even as Hershel settled in beside him and began poking at his sore left hand. Miles flinched just a bit when Hershel shifted his wrist and finally lifted his eyes to the older man staring hard into his face.
"Patricia's right," Hershel said quietly holding Miles' gaze steadily. "You're a lucky man, son."
"I know," Miles said letting his eyes shift to the empty doorway again. He nodded his head and met Hershel's gaze with a small smile. "I know, sir."
Tell me again, when the victims are singing
And the Laws of Remorse are restored
Tell me again, that you know what I'm thinking
But vengeance belongs to the Lord
Tell me again, when I'm clean and I'm sober
Tell me again, when I've seen through the horror
Tell me again, tell me over and over
Tell me that you love me then
Amen. Amen. Amen.
Daryl shifted painfully and tossed his pack onto the bed. He glared down at the rumpled sheets as he worked to catch his breath and snarled when the pain in his side nearly buckled his legs again. His fisted hands smashed into the bed on either side of his worn out pack and he growled. Fuck this shit.
Stay in bed. Don't move. Relax. Sleep.
Fuck. Did that woman know him at all?
There wasn't a way in hell he was stayin' cooped up in this bed while the rest of the group was out there payin' their last respects to Jenna. No fuckin' way. Shifting forward he reached and threw open the flap of his pack and dug both hands inside. He pulled out items with no regard for where the fuck they was gonna land, tossed 'em aside in a frenzy of adrenaline and anger.
When he'd had Ben drag the bags in moments after Callie left them he'd contemplated havin' the kid find it for him. Contemplated havin' the boy help him. But the sad look in Ben's eyes when Rick had stuck his head in the door to tell them it was time had Daryl just wavin' the kid off. Rick had eyed him for a moment then, and Daryl felt the heat of it on his shoulders. Not willin' to turn his head and regard him fully he just stared out of the corner of his eye at the man standin' in the doorway.
"You gonna be a'right in here by yourself?" Rick asked quietly and Daryl snarled and shook his head.
"Better on my own," Daryl growled out turning to face the other man. "Don't need y'all sittin' here babysittin' my ass. Made it just fine on my own before y'all came along, with a lot worse than this." He moved his hand along his body and Rick shifted his weight on his feet.
"A'right, Daryl." Rick said nodding his head and turning to leave. He turned back and looked at Daryl from the doorway and let his head drop a bit. "You know that no one is judging you for it right?" Daryl's jaw had clenched and his nostrils flared as he stared at Rick. "You did what you had to do. No one out there is judgin' you."
"Get the fuck outta here, Deputy Do-right." Daryl had ground out through clenched teeth, earning a tired sigh from the other man as he finally left the room.
Daryl's hands finally hit off of the shirt rolled up at the bottom of his pack and instantly his mind stopped workin'. His hands fisted into the fabric, and he pulled it out slowly. He pulled it and held it up and glared at it. That fuckin' blue shirt. His only 'nice' shirt. The one he'd been wearin' when he got home and found Merle waitin' for him, all their fuckin' bags packed and ready to go.
He felt his throat close up a bit but swallowed through it as he shook the fuckin' shirt, glarin' at the wrinkles. He never really knew why he'd kept the thing. Never really had a reason. Fuckin' thing shoulda been a rag by now.
But it wasn't. So he figured that had to have some kinda meanin' behind it.
He shifted around and swung the soft cotton shirt over his body, sliding his arms through and pushin' past the pull of his torn up sore muscles. The sleeves were still rolled up, settling tight around his forearms as they settled into place.
His only nice shirt.
A reminder of the way his life had been turnin' 'round right before all this shit had hit the fan. The promise of that life, settled deep into the fibers of that blue cotton. His only nice shirt. Same one he'd been wearin' the day he shook hands with the man that was responsible for helpin' to turn his shit life around. The man that gave him a job and advance that paid to bail Merle outta lock up only days before that prison got overrun by geeks and riotin' fools.
The man who'd hired him without even meetin' him. The man who'd smiled and said 'I have nothin' but faith in you and your ability to get this done, Daryl,' the day he'd met him. The fuckin' day he met him.
The man who'd apparently died on the road with his family.
The man whose daughter he'd just plunged a knife into and killed.
Daryl's hands fell from the buttons, stopping before he could get to that top one. He was sure that if he buttoned that last button, the fuckin' blue shirt would end up chokin' the life outta him. Daryl shifted his shoulders around, the fabric bunchin' strangely on his shoulders. He smoothed his hand over the front of it and thought about tucking it in.
Snarlin' at himself he left it to hang freely. He looked down his body at his boots, the ones that Ben had untied and retied six times 'fore he felt like he got it right. Then he looked at his ripped and torn cargo pants, covered in more grime and gore, and as fuckin' clean as they were ever gonna get. He knew he looked fuckin' ridiculous in his wrinkled shirt and stained up pants, but he didn't fuckin' care.
He wasn't stayin' in this room while they laid that girl to rest. And he was gonna show her as much fuckin' respect as he could. Even if his respect came in the form of a fuckin' wrinkled shirt.
Daryl's body hunched over, his hands flattening on the mattress before him again as a wave of dizziness and nausea nearly floored him. His knees buckled a bit, but he held strong pushing up against the pull of his heavy fuckin' concussed head. He pushed himself upright and glared down at the bed and its soul jarrin' comfort, knowin' he didn't deserve it right now. His nose twitched as he rubbed at where his shirt was rolled up at his forearms and pulled at the sleeves a bit.
The world tilted one more time, and he fought the urge to shake his head against it. Knowin' that would just set it flyin' off in a multitude of fuckin' directions. He waited a moment, let the spinnin' ebb away to a more manageable level and then trudged over towards the door. He glared down at his feet as he slapped his hand onto the knob.
His boots were fuckin' loose.
A smile titled his lips despite the discomfort of the ill-tied shoes, as he thought back to how fuckin' excited Ben was to be helpin' him. Daryl turned the knob, his other hand shooting to his side and over the mass of bandages settled there as he tried to hold himself together while he wrenched the door open. Lifting his eyes from the floor he met the steady gaze of Rick.
The former Sheriff's deputy was settled against the wall across from the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes met Daryl's straight on, and Daryl glared back.
"Tol' you to get the fuck outta here," Daryl grumbled as he worked his way slowly out into the hallway. He pitched forward a bit and snarled at himself for it. His eyes snapped back to Rick, waiting for the other man to reach out a fuckin' helpful hand. He glared a bit when the other man made no move to help him. Daryl eyed Rick watching as he slid up out of his slightly slumped position, his hands dropping from their place at his chest and settling at his slim hips as he regarded Daryl with a steady gaze.
"And I did," Rick said quietly watching Daryl throw himself up against the wall next to the door. Daryl glared at Rick as he settled his back to the wall.
"Don't need your help," Daryl muttered pushing off the wall and settling his right shoulder to it. He stepped forward, that shoulder sliding along the wall and keepin' his ass off the floor and his movement steady. He heard Rick move and caught the man dipping his chin to his chest as he slowly followed behind.
"I'm not here to help you," Rick said quietly his eyes lifting up and headin' down the hallway a bit towards the front door. Daryl followed his line of sight down the hallway and spotted Callie leaning against the wall further down with a little smirk on her lips.
"We're here to make sure you don't kill yourself," Callie said quietly nodding her head as her eyes slipped over Daryl's shoulder to Rick. Daryl shifted his eyes between the two and shook his head as he continued on down the hall towards the slightly smiling woman. Rick's presence at his back was heavy and uncomfortable in how foreign it was.
It took him longer than he would have liked to make it down the hallway to Callie. Longer than he'd expected it to. The world tilted on its axis as he pushed off the wall and out towards the waiting screen door. When he pitched forward he expected both Rick and Callie to rush forward and right his ass, but they didn't. In fact, Callie moved out of the way and back towards Rick as Daryl practically fell towards the screen door.
"Amazing how similar he is to a twelve-year-old, huh?" Callie's slightly amused voice echoed in Daryl's ears and he growled low in his throat. Stiffening his spine he shoved his right hand against the screen door sending it flying open. Callie chuckled when he glared over his shoulder at her and Rick shook his head.
"Fuck both y'all." Daryl muttered as he stumbled out onto the porch. Callie shifted her eyes to Rick and they both raised their brows in amusement.
Daryl continued on, his hip gliding along the railing of the porch with each of his stuttered steps. His boots felt ridiculous as they shifted around on his ankles makin' each step even more difficult than it shoulda been. By the time he reached the fuckin' stairs he was out of breath and blinkin' like mad in an effort to get the world to turn right-ways-up again. His right arm slipped over his wounded side, his fingers pressing deep and workin' to keep his innards from fallin' out that gapin' hole in his side.
"You pull a stitch?" Rick's voice echoed from behind him causin' Daryl's eyes to slip up from the stairs and over his shoulder to the two fuckers at his back. Daryl shook his head, his eyes slipping over to watch as Callie slipped beside him. He figured this was gonna be the point where she took his arm and held his ass up as they worked themselves down the stairs.
But again, he was wrong.
Callie slipped past him with a small smile, her fingers gliding very softly over his forearm. She shifted her eyes over her shoulder as she walked, her nimble fuckin' feet take her down the five stairs and onto the grass. She turned around, put her hands on the railings and just smirked up at him.
"C'mon," Callie said quietly watching him with a bit of a sad smile sliding in over her smirk. "Ain't got all day, Dixon."
Daryl took a breath, shifted his loose booted foot down one step. His face contorted with the odd pain but he pushed past as Rick settled in takin' each fuckin' step with him, but still not offering a hand of help. He reached the bottom and Callie moved back just enough to let him settle in front of her. His head fell to her shoulder for a moment and he felt those fingers of hers slide up and tangle in his growin' out hair.
"Nice shirt," Callie said into his ear, her warm breath fanning along his neck and sending chills down his spine.
Daryl lifted his head from her shoulder and stared at her, using her face as a focus point as the world tilted and faded in and out. He blinked a few times, feeling her hand slide off of his head and onto his shoulder. She slipped it down his arm, over the fabric of his nice wrinkled fuckin' shirt and she smiled down at that blue fabric.
She remembered.
Of course she would. She was the only other one who knew 'bout his and Jenna's odd little connection. She patted his chest and moved out of his way as he pressed past her and began trudging more purposefully towards the group settled out aways from the house. He moved on his own the whole way, his steps faltering more than once, but he didn't fall.
Never had a fear of it either.
Not with his two fuckin' shadows in place at his back.
The sun was filtering down through the branches of the trees and shading the group as they stared at the fresh dirt of the newly covered grave. The wind, the birds, life itself seemed to have halted for just this moment.
Danny shifted awkwardly, his hand settled upon the walking stick—he wasn't fuckin' callin' it a cane- that Hershel had passed to him when he arrived. No matter how much he shifted, his feet still seemed to be stuck to the ground, as if that soft earth of the grave before him was just going to open up and drag him down to the depths of hell.
No one had known where to start, and Danny had taken the lead in asking Hershel to get them started. Hershel had stared at him for a long moment, no doubt wondering why Danny would want a stranger to lead them in this moment of grief. But it hadn't taken the elder man long to realize that no one else could even breathe let alone think of speakin'at the moment.
Hershel had of course nodded his head, and opened his Bible at that point, not wastin' a moment more. And as Hershel began reading Danny's mind had drifted off. He settled on so many things, but it all circled around one. He was still here.
His wife was gone, but he was still here.
His son was missing, but he was still here.
Jenna and her entire family were gone, but he was still here.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters." Danny barely heard Hershel as he quietly recited the verse that everyone knew. Psalms 23:1-23:6.
Danny's head shifted as Hershel continued on, his eyes sliding over to his right where Callie was settled. He watched in silence as she stood beside Daryl. Ben settled near Daryl's leg and Gracie hiding her little face in Callie's hip.
"He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of the righteousness for his name's sake."
Daryl reached out at that point, and dragged Callie under his arm. He tucked her in tight at his side, his hand falling a bit down to where Gracie's head was settled. Danny couldn't help the small smile when he heard Daryl mumble something about 'needin' a better crutch than a little boy'. Callie hadn't responded at all, just nodded and left her eyes fixed to the ground.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Hershel stopped at that point, his large hands closing his good ol' family Bible and his eyes shifted around the group. Danny felt the moment when that gaze settled on him and he took a deep breath in. Hershel held Danny's gaze, Maggie shifting in her spot to offer her father a hand of support. "I feel I don't have the words-"
"Those were fine words," Danny said, clearing his throat of the rasp and shaking his head against the tears. "Good words." Danny shifted his eyes to Callie, finally meeting her gaze head on. They were the same words he'd uttered over the graves they dug at her little plantation home when they'd buried her family oh those many months ago. "We appreciate it."
Danny shifted his eyes around to the group and shifted on his feet again, pushing past the pain in his leg and working to step just a bit closer to the edge of the grave. He caught onto Carol's eyes, then Dale's. His mind was workin' a mile a minute as he shifted from face to face and lingering gaze to lingering gaze. He hit Miles' down-turned head as he stood next to Andrea and Dale, and he finally swallowed that fuckin' lump in his throat.
"When we first met Jenna on the road," Danny said in a much more confident voice than he'd expected. "I knew from the moment I saw that red hair of hers she was gonna be a handful." Danny smiled and felt the sting of tears in his eyes but shook them away as smiles met his eyes. "She was-somethin' else. You could just tell the girl wasn't the type to take any shit, apocalypse be damned, the girl was determined to survive."
"That's putting it mildly," Callie interjected and he turned to her with a smile.
"Oh I know," Danny said and Callie chuckled. "Girl bit me, put poor Miles in a headlock and shot a hole in one of the tires of the Hummer."
"To be fair you did punch Mike," Miles said as he wiped the back of his loosely bandaged left hand over his mouth. He shifted his eyes up to Danny and then to the group.
A small bit of silence fell over them again and everyone's eyes seemed to bounce between Danny, Callie and Miles. Danny bowed his head and again stared at the grave.
"Jenna was one of the good ones," Danny said quietly, his voice yet again betraying him by crackin' just a bit at the last word. "She was everything that was perfect in the world that we used to live in, and everything that we needed to be in this new fucked up version. She was strong when she needed to be strong. Soft when she needed to be soft. Smart as a fuckin' whip too," Danny smiled and then firmed his lips. "She was kind to those in need. Tough on those that wronged her. And she didn't deserve this."
Danny roughly tossed his hand out at the grave before he shoved it at his face and wiped it over his eyes as he clenched his jaw. Danny shifted his eyes around the group, watching as heads bowed further. Seeing and hearing the tears that were being shed by everyone. And Danny couldn't help but let his anger at the entire situation, his anger at the fuckin' world at large take a hold of him in that moment.
Jenna didn't deserve to die. And as Danny skimmed over the faces of the group, he couldn't help but feel as though this wouldn't be the last time they gathered round to pay respects to a fallen friend. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks as his eyes shifted over Shane settled in next to Rick and Lori. That rift that had started when they first got stuck on the highway; Jenna and Sophia getting lost; Carl getting shot; Jenna's death.
They were all a precursor to a turning point for this group.
And once the world around them settled down again, there would be only one truth left behind.
They were breakin' apart at the seams, and if they let it continue, the casualties would continue to mount up until there wasn't anything left but a bunch of tiny graves scattered around an empty field.
"Enter ye in a at the strait gait; for wide is the gate and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction," Danny's voice quavered just a bit his eyes slipping around the group as some kept their heads bowed and others lifted startled eyes to stare at him. Danny met Shane's gaze and continued on a slow steady tone. "And many there be which go in thereat. Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it."
Danny felt Callie's hand settle at his shoulder and he tore his gaze away from Shane. Danny lifted his hand and grabbed onto Callie's fingers, knowing she recognized the other verse he'd said as they left her house and those tiny little crosses behind. Danny's eyes slipped over to Rick, feelin' the other man's gaze settle hard upon him. They stared at each other for a long moment before Callie squeezed his shoulder.
"You alright?" Callie asked quietly. Danny shifted his eyes to her and let his hand fall from where he'd been gripping hers.
"Fuck no," Danny said in return. "But I'm not gonna let this break me. Or us."
Callie nodded and squeezed his shoulder again and Danny let her slip up and kiss his forehead. He wanted to draw her into a hug, to hold her to him and use her as the support she'd always been for him. But he didn't. Instead he let her slip away and settle at his back as Daryl trudged up beside her.
Stiffening his shoulders he leaned just a bit on the cane Hershel had given him and stared long and hard at the grave as the rest of the group began to disperse. Danny well knew it was past time for him to start standing on his own two feet in this world. And if he was going to help to make sure that this group didn't break apart, he was going to have to start depending less on others to keep his ass up and more on workin' to keep everyone else from lettin' this world, and what it could make of people, drag them down.
Rick let his eyes roam over the group as they slowly started to go about their day's activities following Jenna's service. His eyes lingered on Danny as he spoke quietly with Hershel. There had been something in that final part of scripture that Danny had quoted, something of a deeper meaning that Rick was finding it hard to zero in on.
As usual, Rick figured Callie knew exactly what that had been about, and he made a mental note to ask the woman later.
After they'd had time to mourn. Callie and Danny were holding up much better than he'd expected, but he could tell that the entire group was just a stone's throw away from falling to pieces. Rick's hand slipped off of his hip and dragged through his hair as he watched Lori and Miles help Carl back into the house to lie down. Patricia was following slowly behind obviously saying something to Lori who had turned her head to the other woman and nodded idly.
Ben and Gracie were settled on the ground near Jenna's grave, while Callie crouched down in front of both of them speaking in a hushed tone with a sad smile. Daryl watched them from his position settled against the tree near the grave, Dale and Glenn both standing nearby obviously talking to the man. Daryl's head was shifting idly in what Rick figured could have been a nod, as he half-listened to whatever was being said to him.
Callie's eyes shifted over to Daryl at that point, catching his eye and Rick smiled when Daryl rolled his eyes. Hershel's slightly annoyed comment about 'bed-rest for the entire lot of them' echoing in Rick's head as he watched Callie slowly get to her feet and walk over to Daryl.
Rick slowly walked towards the house, his eyes sliding around the lush green fields. Again he found himself marveling at how peaceful it was, how untouched by the horrors of this new apocalyptic world they now lived in it was. He watched as his people began to settle in at that little campsite they'd set up. Watched as a routine began to build and people seemed to shake off that weight that had been settling over them. Settling down on the stairs to the porch Rick ran his hand over his mouth and breathed in through the slats of his fingers.
He sat there for a few minutes just breathing as he waited. Getting himself mentally prepared for the conversation he wanted to have.
Rick's gaze followed Hershel as he worked his way towards where Rick had settled himself on the stairs of the porch and met the Doctor's surprised gaze head on when the elder man lifted his eyes from the ground to him. There was a beat of silence, where Rick let his gaze slide around the small campsite they'd set up, over to Jenna's grave and then back to the man staring at him in askance just one more time. Rick nodded his head then and pushed up to his feet, his hands going to his hips as he regarded Hershel with a stiff stare.
"You need to reconsider," Rick said, his voice a bit more hoarse than he was expecting. He took in a deep breath and cleared his throat as Hershel's brow lifted.
"I beg your pardon?" Hershel questioned watching Rick begin to slowly pace in a small circle.
"Askin' us to leave," Rick said quietly, his footsteps halting as he turned to face the man staring at him in mild shock. Rick swallowed hard and nodded once. "You need to reconsider." Another breath and Rick was facing the man fully now and feeling the words just pour out of him. "If you saw how it was out there, you wouldn't ask it of us."
"You're upset," Hershel said quietly, and lifted both of his brows when Rick let out a disgruntled sigh. "You're upset, and you're puttin' me on the spot."
"Well, I mean to put you on the spot." Rick said shifting closer so that he could keep his voice from carrying too far to the group still milling about close by. "These people look to me for answers. Callie and I have been pourin' over maps. And your girl Maggie has been gracious in her attempts to help us figure out a safe place to bunker down. And I do appreciate that, and everythin' you have done for my family and this group." Rick's chin began to wobble, his emotions getting the better of him. He ducked his head and averted his eyes as his arm shot out to indicate the people at large.
"I didn't ask to lead them," Rick said quietly. "I didn't ask for this responsibility but I have it. And I can't –" he took a breath and shifted his eyes back up to Hershel. "I'm not askin' for you to make this decision today. But after the price your man Otis paid to save my boy. After lettin' Callie and Danny bury Jenna here. The least you can do is give it some thought."
"You're a plain spoken man," Hershel said with a shake of his head and a small sigh. "Just as Callie and Danny are plain spoken. I can and do respect that."
"You'll consider my request?" Rick asked, his voice threatening to break again. He couldn't think of having to push out on the road again once Carl was on his feet and they'd found Sophia. He couldn't think of having to try and make things work when all he'd be thinking of is the what ifs.
They'd been lucky with Danny, and dealin' with his wounds the way they did. But if something dire happened again, who's to say what kind of luck they'd have. He couldn't risk that. He just couldn't.
"There are aspects to this," Hershel began slowly, his eyes slipping up to watch Callie as she made her way slowly over to them. Daryl was settled on the ground at the tree with Ben and Gracie his eyes watching Callie walk away. Rick watched Hershel's eyes as they lingered on Callie, and he knew that there might just be a few more things that he was going to have to ask that woman when all was said and done. "Things," Hershel continued his voice as hoarse and raspy as Rick's. "Things that I can't and won't discuss." Hershel's eyes slipped away from Callie and back over to Rick. "But if you and your people respect my rules. I make no promises, but I will consider it. You have my word."
"You have mine," Rick responded almost immediately as they both worked to their feet. Callie came to a stop at Rick's side, her arms crossed over her chest and the old worn out crocheted sweater that he'd seen Jenna wear every now and again held tight over her body. Her eyes shifted to Hershel and the two shared a nod before Hershel's gaze slipped to Callie's gun and then back to Rick. Hershel gave both of them another curt nod and made his way into the house leaving them alone.
"Everything okay?" Callie asked quietly her hands slipping down and settling in the back pockets of her jeans as she rocked back on her heels.
"Yeah," Rick said quietly nodding. Slowly he reached out a hand and tapped his finger to her gun. "We need to talk about a few things. And finally loop Shane in on everything."
"He said yes?" Callie said her eyes shifting to the porch and the screen door that Hershel had just gone through.
"He didn't say no," Rick said in return and held her gaze when she shifted it back to him. Callie shifted her eyes back to where their group was set up, both of them watching Shane slowly approach. Rick slid closer to Callie, settling his hand on her shoulder and squeezing once.
They both took a deep breath and steeled their nerves. Battle lines were about to be drawn.
Tell me again, when the day has been ransomed
And the night has no right to begin
Try me again, when the angels are panting
And scratching at the door to come in
Tell me again, when I'm clean and I'm sober
Tell me again, when I've seen through the horror
Tell me again, tell me over and over
Tell me that you love me then
Amen. Amen. Amen.
~Amen / Leonard Cohen
AN: I loved every verse of that song, but only picked two…'cause I don't wanna kill y'all with my music choices. Anyhoo….lots going on here. For those who may not have ventured over to the companion fic. If you read "Books and Covers" in A Thousand Words, you'll understand Daryl's shirt and the meaning a bit more…(I did try to make it so you wouldn't have had to read that but if you want a bit more…head on over).
This chapter was like pulling teeth, but I'm glad at what I got in there. I felt I rushed poor Jenna's funeral…but really, I don't see them lingering long there. It's sad, and it's a harsh truth of the world, but that's it. A truth of the world right….say goodbye, and move the fuck on… harsh but that's how they roll.
:( AS WE ALL FUCKIN SAW LAST NIGHT.
HONEST TO GOD. Still reelin' here people.
Anyhoo…Onward and upward to more fuckin' filler!
Much love!