Two weeks ago this chapter was non-existent. The first draft was an absolute train wreck, the second draft slightly improved, and then the third draft finally came together mere hours ago. I'm so pleased that I managed to write this, I love what developed here, and it perfectly covers everything I had been trying and failing to communicate in future chapters. The rest of the story is better for this chapter, and I hope you love it!
Sunday, February 22
"Are you sure you're ready to do this?" Carol asked, and not for the first time. "You know you don't have to."
Standing at the kitchen counter, Lana stared at the Tupperware container of lasagne, the innocuous serving of food acting as the catalyst for one of the most difficult conversations she would ever have. She was feeling sick to her stomach with nerves, though the nausea could be attributed to other things, her recent life decision included. For the longest time she stood there in deep thought, itching for a cigarette to steady her nerves. Instead she chewed her gum a little more fiercely, summoning her courage.
Fucking hell…you can strut a cat walk in an itty bitty g-string…you can do this too.
"I got this," she said out loud, looking up at Carol. "I want to do it now."
Carol nodded, her support having wavered not once over the last few months. "You wanna practice one last time?"
"No, I'm just gonna do it," she decided, clearing her throat and then taking the gum out of her mouth to dispose of.
Pressing the Tupperware container into her hands, Carol looked her in the eye. "I know exactly what he's going to say…everything will be just fine."
Quietly thanking her, Lana took the container of food and then turned on her heel, forcing herself to walk out of the house and to do this. She couldn't put it off any longer, she was already supposed to have done this an hour ago…poor man was probably starving for lunch by now.
Days had passed since their return from the Kingdom, since that horrible attack in which Denise had died. This was hardly the time for her to be making huge life decisions, but as the dust settled on the attack and the community descended into mourning that's exactly what Lana had done. Carol had a way of making things clearer to her, the innate ability to find exactly the words she needed to hear…just not the words she wanted to hear. It had taken surprisingly little time for Lana to come to her decision, one that she had reached entirely on her own. Carol's support was making the world of difference, she didn't think she'd have the strength to carry out her decision without her there practically holding her hand.
Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life.
Those were the words Carol had said when Lana told her the decision she had reached, the words that seemed to seal the deal for her. Carol was right, this was indeed the first day of the rest of her life, the first day of her new life. Change was coming for her, perhaps the biggest change she had ever made since the day she set foot in America at the young age of sixteen. It was terrifying what she was doing, almost as terrifying as the prospect of saying the words out loud to a person other than Carol. What she was about to say was not only life changing for her, but for someone else too, and though she'd like to think she could allow him a few more days of not having this over his head, now was the time to do it.
If she didn't do it now, she didn't know when she'd summon the nerve again.
When she reached Rick and Carrie's house she made an active effort to slow her breathing down, highly conscious of the way her heart was racing inside her chest. She gripped the container of food tightly, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she crossed the porch. Her mere presence here was probably going to raise some eyebrows and arouse curiosity, but she needed to get this over with. Once it was done she could go home to Carol and Tobin and hide for the rest of her days. Reaching the front door she drew a fist and knocked loudly, starting to rehearse the words in her head.
"Come in!"
Hearing the faint call from inside she opened the door and peered inside, but when she felt the warmth from the burning fireplace she made quick work of getting in and closing the door, not wanting to let the cold air get in. She looked around the living room and wondered where everyone was, taking note of the toys and blocks scattered haphazardly about…it was awfully quiet for a home that housed a tornado-like toddler.
"Hello?"
"Hey," Carl greeted her, looking over the back of the couch. "Wha's up?"
Relieved to find someone, Lana tentatively moved towards the living room where she found Carl and Enid sitting on the couch together, the television playing a movie of some kind. "Is Daryl upstairs?"
"Yep," he nodded, turning his attention back to the television.
"And…and Carrie?"
"Dunno."
"At all? You've got no idea?"
"Nope, and I don't care," he sighed. "So long as she's not here driving me crazy."
"She's asleep upstairs," Enid spoke up, looking at Carl in exasperation. "She told us she was going for a nap."
"Oh, yeah," he frowned before slowly smiling at her.
Trying not to roll her eyes at the lovelorn teens, Lana looked into the kitchen and wondered if it was okay for her to just make herself at home. She turned back to Carl to ask where the plates were, and it was then she noticed his arm was around Enid's shoulder. "Are you two allowed to be alone together?" she blurted out, recalling that she wasn't allowed at his age.
Their reaction was instant, Enid cringing in embarrassment as she moved away from Carl's embrace, while he simply glared at her. "Way to make things awkward," he complained.
"Sorry. I'm just taking this up to Daryl," she apologised, gesturing to the Tupperware container. "I'll get out of your hair."
"Be careful," Enid warned. "Last time Carl told him to get back into bed he threatened to shove his head up his own ass."
"I'll bet that was the polite version," she muttered under her breath, wondering if this was really the best time to be seeing him.
Nevertheless she was there, and she wasn't stopping now. Trying not to disturb the two teenagers any more than she already had she made her way into Carrie's kitchen and started looking around, quickly finding a plate and the cutlery draw. When she stood there watching the plate of lasagne turning around in the microwave she tried not to feel like she was being a complete stereotype by bringing food to someone on bed rest. But Carol had made this for him, and she had jumped at the reason to see him…if that made her a stereotype, then so be it. She needed a pretext to the difficult conversation they were about to have, and if it couldn't be alcohol or cigarettes it had to be food.
When she made her way upstairs she took care to keep her footsteps light, not wanting to disturb Carrie asleep in the master bedroom. Yet when she reached the first floor and turned to the staircase to the attic, Lana couldn't help but peek through the open doors of her bedroom. It made her shudder in embarrassment to think that she had once been in there snooping, back when her head was in the clouds and she was seething with envy. Much had changed since then, and when she looked inside the bedroom she managed a small smile. Carrie lay fast asleep with a stack of pillows to make her and the belly comfortable, while beside her Judith was sprawled out wide, somehow taking up most of the bed. Both were a brief glimpse into Lana's own future, one she had only recently decided to take on.
Leaving them undisturbed she slowly made her way up the final staircase, again rehearsing everything she had to say, but the moment she reached Daryl's room words evaded her. The curtain that acted as a makeshift door was open, revealing to her the sight of him leaning out through his open window. Her heart leapt into her throat, horrified to see that he was making a break for it out onto the roof.
"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?" she questioned in outrage. "What, are you gonna climb down the damn roof?"
In quiet disbelief Daryl turned to face her, though he made no effort to bring himself back inside the window. His expression was one of astonishment, his lips parted in a surprised gape, and then slowly he explained. Bringing one arm up he revealed the lit cigarette he held between his two fingers, and then understanding dawned on her.
"She's a damn blood hound," he muttered, gesturing to the stairs behind her. "Carrie. She knows I'm not s'posed to be smokin'."
Lana's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, realising she had made a fool of herself. "Oh, right," she muttered. "Sorry."
She now stood there awkwardly, bracing herself for his usual quick witted retort, for him to ask if she had hurt herself jumping to conclusions, but he said nothing of the sort. Instead he was just looking at her, the precious tobacco burning away unnoticed. But before she could get too ahead of herself she realised it wasn't her that he was looking at, but rather the plate of food in her hands.
"Carol sent it over," she explained, starting to wish she could just sink into the floor. This was not going according to the script in her head. "It's lasagne."
"Thanks," he muttered, turning his attention back to the cigarette. He took one last draw and then leant outside again, likely stubbing it out on the roof tiles.
Closing the window behind himself he got to his feet and made his way over to the bed, picking up his shirt and gingerly slipping it on. As he redressed Lana looked at the crisp white bandage wound around his hips, remembering the horrible journey into Washington in which he lay there bleeding. He normally maintained a stiff upper lip when it came to injuries, simply brushing hard scrapes and bruises aside as if they were nothing, which was what scared her so much to see him in pain, to see the look of fear on his face. The stab wound had been bad…it could have been so much worse.
"Brea here yet?" he asked gruffly, buttoning up his shirt. "She's s'posed to take this damn thing out."
"The drain?" she asked, recalling the extent of his treatment.
"Yeah. She 'ere?"
Lana shook her head. "I think they're running late."
At this he looked up in concern, peering at her through the hair that fell over his face. "What's the time?"
"Almost two."
He held her gaze for a few moments, worried. "Ain't like them to be that late," he murmured, restlessly shifting his weight between his feet. "They radio in yet?"
"Rick's all over it. He said you should stay in bed," she added, though technically this was more of an unspoken instruction where Daryl was concerned.
"Oh yeah? Well Rick ca-"
"Shove his head up his own ass?"
Having started towards the doorway he came to a dead stop, looking at her in annoyance. But to her relief his frustration seemed to turn into bemusement, for she could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to hide a rare smile.
"That's not what I was gon' say," he muttered, fixing the last button on his shirt before starting to roll up the sleeves.
"What were you going to say?"
Changing the subject he turned his attention to the plate of lasagne she held, appearing to give it his approval. "Thanks," he said as he took the plate from her, turning away and slowly sitting down on his couch. "Looks good."
"It is," she nodded, feeling her heart beginning to pound again. She could feel it there in her chest, beating uncomfortably against her ribs, and it was rather distracting. Taking a deep breath she tried to figure out how to start, trying to gauge if he wanted her to leave now that she had delivered the meal. But she didn't suffer in turmoil for too long, for when she made no move to go Daryl looked up at her with uncertainty, his fork poised midair.
"You…you wanna sit?"
Lana hesitated, still rehearsing the words she had to say. "In a minute," she began, taking a deep breath. "There's something I have to say first."
Not looking surprised, Daryl took his first bite of the lasagne and then leaned back into the couch, balancing the plate on his knee. "Figured you weren't here 'cos of the food," he said with his mouth half full. Despite trying to look perfectly at ease he was staring straight into his plate, no doubt suspecting what she was there to discuss.
Lana allowed herself one more moment before beginning, unable to put this off any longer. "I'm not here because of the food…I'm here because I'm staying in Alexandria. I'm done with him."
She paused for a moment to let these words sink in. She had made a point of not saying Vetor's name, feeling like it was practically forbidden these days. Regardless it wasn't necessary. Daryl knew exactly who she was talking about.
"Done, huh," he said lightly, taking another bite of the lasagne. He was still staring at his plate, which was perhaps what made it easier for her to continue.
"Yes. It occurred to me a few days ago that I'm…relieved," she said, feeling her burden easing. Just as it had when she spoke these words to Carol two days ago, now she started to feel better. "I'm relieved he's gone."
Daryl made a noise under his breath, his shoulder jerking ever so slightly. "Ain't ever that simple," he muttered, briefly glancing up at her.
"Well it is," she said firmly, trying to drive that home to him. She'd had days to think this over following her decision, days to come to terms with what it all meant…now it was time for him to hear it. "I thought I'd be chasing him down, begging him to change his mind, but I'm not. He left, and it wasn't as bad as I always thought it would be."
"He ain't really left," he argued, looking up again. "He's out there waiting. Things gon' change when he comes back looking for yah?"
Lana shook herself, but when she started to explain her words caught in her throat, making her take pause a little longer. Trying to collect herself she hastily blinked her watery eyes, taking a deep breath. "Mina and Mitchell are leaving tomorrow. They'll meet up with him…they'll tell him I'm not coming."
At this Daryl seemed to soften, and when he looked up he actually held her gaze. "I thought they were talkin' about staying."
"So did I," she said quickly, her throat starting to tighten again. "I think they changed their minds after what happened to Denise. They don't want to be here for a fight."
There was a long silence now, Daryl still looking up at her, but eventually he looked back down at his plate. He pushed the food around a little, restless in the silence, and then he finally spoke. "So that's it then? They're goin' with him, and you're staying?"
"Yes."
"He gonna come back and change your mind?"
"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "Even if he did come back, I don't need to say goodbye. I've got nothing left to say."
"Always somethin' left to say."
"Not for me," she stated, certain of this.
As she said these words she felt the tightness in her throat and chest beginning to ease. Merely saying those words to him helped reinforce to her that she had made the right decision, that she really could let go of Vetor once and for all. She would never forget the last words he had spoken to her the night the entire truth came out in the armoury, the cruel words he said in Portuguese so that no one else would hear them. A whore is always a whore. He was angry with her, frustrated that she had ruined his plans for them to flee Alexandria, but those words were unforgivable. The more she dwelled on them over the following days the more distant she felt to him…she tried to imagine her dad saying those words to her mum, to imagine him being so cruel to someone he loved. When she knew he would have never said that, it was then she knew that she could join Vetor out on the road, that she wanted to stay in Alexandria.
"I'm keeping the baby."
Her statement was met with silence, and she stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something other than take another bite of his food. But when he gave no discernible reaction she continued, wondering if perhaps he hadn't quite heard her.
"I'm keeping it," she repeated. "I gave the pills back, I'm taking prenatal vitamins. Carol is helping me quit smoking," she added, still waiting for him to react. "I've got a nicotine patch and everything."
"Good for you," he murmured, still not looking up. "That's real good."
Lana's heart was sinking fast. She was never going to hold him to any responsibility that he didn't want, her enormous decision had been made independent of his involvement, but didn't he had anything to say? She wanted to demand a reaction from him, to pointedly remind him that it was his fucking kid she was going to have, but she held her tongue.
"You can come to the ultrasound if you want," she began, preparing the most rehearsed words of all of them. "But if you don't want anything to do with this, I get it."
Daryl's fork stopped mid air, and for a moment he sat there still. "You want me to come?"
"If you want to. There won't be much to see, it's too early."
He seemed to consider this, and then he took another bite of food. "I'll come," he muttered, talking with his mouth full.
"You don't have to."
"I said I'll come," he said sharply, looking up at her in annoyance.
His willingness to come to the ultrasound left her feeling taken aback…after days of preparing herself for the worst, for him to refuse any involvement whatsoever, he wanted to come. It was a good sign, a good first step, though admittedly one she hadn't prepared for. Standing there before him she slowly took it all in, getting her thoughts in order while he continued eating. The silence between them was excruciatingly uncomfortable, and her self-doubt told her to get out while she was ahead. She had to leave before she did something to make him change his mind.
"I'll let you know when," she muttered, taking a step back before turning away.
"Where you goin'?"
Stopping in the threshold she looked at him over her shoulder, surprised to see he was disappointed with her departure…not that he didn't try to hide it.
"Thought you was gon' sit," he said pointedly, gesturing to the other end of the couch.
Considering the merits of it, Lana summoned all of her courage and then elected to stay. He had invited her to sit…he wanted her to stay.
"Weekend at Bernies," she said conversationally, picking up the DVD from the coffee table. Latching onto a safe talking point she settled onto the couch and looked at the cover.
"Glenn brought it over." There was a brief pause as she studied the back and read the description, then he continued. "You seen it?"
"No."
"Put it on."
Oh, thank fuck, she thought to herself. If she was going to stay for a while this was exactly what they needed - something that would allow them to be in one another's company without the pressure of filling the silence. She rose from the couch and took her time organising the television, listening to the sound of Daryl's fork tapping against the plate as he ate.
"How's your hand?"
His question prompted her to look at her hand, observing the three scratches he had left her with the day Denise died. When they were surrounded on all sides by the Saviours she had begun to panic, certain that they would recognise her should they catch so much as a glimpse of her, and Daryl had the same thought too. After shoving her down and locking the doors he had lunged at her, smearing his bloodied hand across her face and through her hair, but when the Saviours got the doors open it was him who panicked. Reaching across Denise he had seized hold of her right hand, wrenching her back to him even as the Saviours wrestled her out. His fingernails dug into the back of her wrist as he tried to grab hold of her coat, but when the Saviours seized him too there was nothing he could do, his sheer desperation leaving her with scratches across her hand and knuckles.
"It's fine," she said lightly, showing him the healing scabs.
"Looked swollen the other day."
Inserting the DVD she resisted the impulse to look back at him again. The only time he had seen her since their return to Alexandria had been the afternoon of Denise's funeral, a time when her hand had indeed been swollen. They had barely spoken that day, he was so out of it on pain killers he could barely stand without Rick and Glenn beside him.
"Not any more," she assured him, showing him her hand again as she came and sat back down on the other end of the couch.
"Good," he muttered, wincing when he leant forward to set his empty plate onto the coffee table.
"Have you seen Tara?" she asked tentatively, broaching the subject of Denise's death. When he shook his head she continued. "I saw her at Denise's grave yesterday. Have you been back since the funeral?"
"Ain't been no where."
At his heavy tone she took pause, getting the feeling he didn't want to talk about it…but she did. It didn't matter that Rick had tried to reassure her none of it was her fault, it felt that way. Carl hadn't needed her, she had only been coming to support her when she discussed terminating the pregnancy. "You seemed to know her pretty well, because of what happened to Carl. Did sh-"
"You gonna hit play, or what?"
Getting the hint Lana promptly shut up about Denise, and instead turned her focus to the television, surprised when he let her take control of the remote. She had expected he'd be the type to insist on maintaining possession, like her dad who couldn't stand the thought of anyone else deciding on the channel or volume. Wondering if he had any other little surprises up his sleeve she set the movie to play and then settled back into the couch, glad they had something to fill the silence for them. Nevertheless she kept watching him from the corner of her eye, anxious that he might not really want her there, that he was just trying to be polite. Unlike Carl and Enid downstairs, Lana and Daryl sat at opposite ends of the couch, which felt odd because she recalled what they had done on this couch, and it did not involve sitting on opposite ends with their clothes on.
"You know, I been called plenty o' names before," he began conversationally, getting comfortable by putting his feet up on the coffee table. "But ain't no one ever called me a dick head."
A smile slowly crept across Lana's face. "Maybe not to your face."
He laughed at her comment, but a split second later the amusement vanished, replaced by a grimace of discomfort. His lips curling downward he let out a slow breath, wincing as he glanced down at his belly. Watching him in concern she resisted the urge to ask him if he was alright, suspecting how that enquiry would be received.
"If you can't laugh maybe this movie isn't such a good idea. How about Titanic?"
"Just watch the damn thing," he admonished, shaking his head at her in exasperation.
Starting to feel a little more comfortable in his company, Lana too settled back and put her feet up on the coffee table. It hadn't escaped her notice that this was really the first time they had been alone in one another's company fully clothed, without sex. Given she was having the baby of a man almost twice her age, perhaps it was a good thing they actually get to know one another on a less intimate level.
Monday, February 23
Though the drapes were thick enough to keep the warmth in, Lana's comfortable sleep was betrayed by a gap that allowed the sunlight to stream inside. Slowly she began to rouse, eyes blinking slowly as she acquainted herself with the less familiar surroundings, but she was not at all alarmed to awaken in a bed that was not her own. She could sense Daryl behind her, could feel the way the blankets were draped over the gap between their bodies. Moving slowly so as to not awaken him she turned onto her back and looked at him beside her, enjoying the ability to see him in a state she never had before. He was sleeping on his front with his face turned away from her, arms stretched upward and around his pillow. They had shared a bed last night, but just as they had when they sat on the couch watching television they remained completely on their own side, neither of them reaching out to the other. In a way that was a relief, their lack of physical contact easing a small amount of pressure she could feel in the back of her mind.
It was cool up there in his attic bedroom, the space having less insulation in the walls and roof, but she could tell it had been compensated for. The mattress was topped by a plush comforter, making it softer and warmer to sleep on, and it was perfectly complemented by the heated blanket that had been running throughout the night. Feeling the cool air outside the bed Lana pulled the blankets a little higher up over her shoulders, taking care to not pull them away from him by mistake. She hated the cold weather, having never endured it in the north west of Australia. Heat she could handle just fine, but not the cold. Though it was a nice treat when it snowed, the winters here in America always got old quickly, particularly when living on the road.
At this her thoughts turned to Mina and Mitchell who were leaving in a few short hours, allowing themselves just enough time to have one last sleep in and enjoy a hot shower. Conscious of their departure Lana knew she ought to get out of bed, to join them with their last minute packing, to spend time with them. The twin siblings had been part of her group for a year and a half now, and though at times they had been distant and less than sympathetic to her plight with Vetor and as their leader, they were her group. She knew their decision to leave wasn't about her, that they wanted to avoid war with the Saviours and to not leave Vetor alone out there, and for a brief moment she had considered changing her mind. She didn't want to say goodbye to them, to watch them drive away from Alexandria never to be seen again. But this thought had been brief, and she was grateful that they withheld their plans until she had already made her own decision. She was keeping the baby, and she was staying in Alexandria…she couldn't go back to Vetor, even if that meant saying goodbye to Mina and Mitchell.
"I said now. Now!"
At this sound Lana raised her head, frowning in concern. Downstairs someone was yelling…was everything okay down there? When the yelling continued she sat upright, her heart beginning to pound.
"No!" someone yelled back, sounding angrier than the first. "Please, just leave me alone."
"Do not make me say it again. Now!"
Beside her Daryl was moving a little, giving a heavy sigh. "Ain't nothing t' worry about," he murmured.
"What is it?"
"Just the daily drama of getting Carl outta bed."
As if to support this statement, the voice she now placed as Rick's yelled out again. "You've got two minutes to be vertical, or there'll be hell."
While Lana breathed out in relief before slowly laying back down, she felt her cheeks starting to redden. Rick and Carrie both knew she was here, that she had stayed the night, and she dreaded what they might be thinking. Nevertheless she couldn't think about this for long, and while she settled back down she watched as Daryl slowly pushed over onto his back, still moving gingerly.
"It's barely past seven o'clock," she murmured, having checked her watch. "Aren't teenagers supposed to sleep in?"
Daryl murmured in agreement, his hand rubbing his face before falling limp across his chest. "Kid probably wants to lie in bed an' jerk off some mornin' wood…he should cut him a break."
At this Lana managed a smile, relaxing again as she turned onto her side to face him. "Well, we've all had mornings like that."
Giving a light chuckle he slowly sat up, and when he turned his back to her Lana took the opportunity to drink in the sight of him, but not out of lust. She had seen only fleeting glimpses until now, for he almost always shied away from completely undressing when they had sex, but today she had a completely uninterrupted view of his back. Last night they had gone to sleep almost fully clothed, Lana ditching her jeans only in the name of sleeping comfortably, and Daryl too had been fully clothed. But at some stage during the night he had taken his shirt off, allowing her to now study the array of scars on his back. Unlike the last time she had seen them she didn't try to touch them, recalling that he was particularly skittish about that. Instead she simply studied them, her eyes roving his body in the brief moments in which he fumbled around in his nightstand. The scars were old and mottled, but they were deep pink in some places, unlike the scars from her motorcycle accident which were still bright pink.
Having found what he was looking for, a pack of cigarettes, Daryl rose to his feet and then reached for his shirt where he had left it across the foot of his bed. Taking her last opportunity she looked at the two tattoos, not surprised to see they more resembled demons than angels. Seconds later his shirt was on, and he was glancing at her as if embarrassed that she had been looking. She too feeling a little embarrassed Lana quickly averted her eyes, wondering if she was beginning to overstay her welcome. There had always been an unspoken agreement that they would share a cigarette after sex, and then it was time to leave, both of them.
"I should probably go," she began tentatively, sitting up again. "I should be with Mina and Mitchell."
He was sitting on the edge of the attic window now, cracking it open just a little before lighting the cigarette. "If that's what you want."
Detecting a hint of disappointment, she wondered if perhaps the cigarette wasn't his subtle way of telling her to go. Though she remained sitting she pulled the blankets higher up her shoulder again, feeling the draught coming in from the window. Nothing about last night had gone the way she expected it too. As the movie progressed they became more and more at ease with one another, and when it reached its inevitable conclusion it felt only natural for her to rifle through his collection of DVDs to select another. Before they knew it night had fallen, the hours having slipped by without the pressure of forcing conversation.
When Carrie had called upstairs asking if he was ready for dinner, Daryl had called back that Lana was there too, that she was staying for dinner. This had been met with surprised silence, the type that made Lana's insides writhe in anxiety, but to her credit Carrie merely asked if she wanted a soda with her meal. Though it would be embarrassing to go down there and admit she was alone in Daryl's bedroom, she couldn't stand the thought of a pregnant woman carrying a tray of food up two flights of stairs.
"I'll go down and get our plates," she murmured, getting up from where they had been sitting on the couch.
"Carl brings it up," he simply stated, but the way his body language changed suggested to her that he thought she was leaving, that she was using this as an excuse to ditch out on him.
Conscious of that she had made sure to not dawdle, and summoning all of her guts she went down and prepared to face the Grimes family. But to her relief she wasn't met with a number of accusatory stares, merely the sight of Judith sitting in her high chair eating her dinner, grinning as she dropped her spoon to the floor and used her hands. Michonne too was there, but as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening she merely said hello before continuing to bustle around the kitchen, putting together containers of food to take to those on watch.
"You want some of everything?" Carrie asked, gesturing to the two plates on the counter, one laden with food and the other empty.
"Mom!" Judith shouted, banging her hand on the highchair tray. "More peas?"
"Eat your beans first," Carrie said sternly, brandishing a pair of tongs at her. "Lana? Everything?"
"Yeah, please," she said, watching Judith from the corner of her eye.
"Mo-om!" she called again, her voice getting louder. "I need more. Pleash…"
Ignoring her demands Carrie started serving up Lana's plate, and though rations were meagre these days she was generous. Tonight it was her turn to cook meals for those taking watch, so perhaps she had a little more to work with.
"There's soda in the refrigerator, help yourself."
"Thanks, Carrie."
"Mommy!"
"For the love of God, Judy, eat your beans first! Every night the same argu - oh, Lana wait," Carrie stopped her as she headed for the hall. Hastening to the refrigerator she opened and reached inside, and then she came over and swapped the can of cola on Daryl's plate for a can of Orange Crush. "He won't drink Coke, he says it rots your teeth."
"Thanks," she said gratefully, appreciating the tip, surprising though it was.
Carrie lingered a moment longer, still ignoring Judith's demands for more peas. "You should ask him about how he got his teeth fixed for free," she suggested, throwing her a bone. "It's a good story…it's typical Daryl."
Indeed it was a good story, one that managed to fill the thirty minutes in which they ate together, and from there things only got easier. One comfortable conversation sparked another, and for the first time in the all the months since knowing him they actually talked like two people, enjoying one another's company as if a dark cloud didn't linger over their shoulders. She didn't recall exactly how she ended up staying the night with him, though she knew it had been at his invitation. Nothing had happened between the two of them, and she wasn't sure it ever would again. Right now she couldn't tell where things stood between them, if trying to make things anymore than they currently were was even a good thing. Daryl was almost twice her age, he could rightfully be called a cradle snatcher…did that bother him? Did it bother her?
"How's them cravings?" he asked her now, still sitting at the window sill smoking the cigarette.
She grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought that up. "Fucking horrible," she admitted glumly, looking at his cigarette in longing. "Between putting up with me and Carol both quitting I don't know how Tobin hasn't run off."
Daryl chuckled lightly, though he pressed his elbow against his stab wound when he did so. "I tried quittin' once, before all this," he said conversationally. "Wanted more money for beer an' shit, but ended up spendin' it all on Big Macs."
"Big Macs?"
He nodded. "Put on damn near fifteen pounds just from eatin' through the cravings…had a gut on me. It's good she's helpin' yah quit."
Nodding in agreement she restlessly picked at the nicotine patch on her arm, knowing she was due for a new one by now. "Carol's been great," she murmured, not mentioning that were it not for her support she might have crumbled, might have terminated the pregnancy and gone with Vetor after all.
Conversation stalled at the sound of more yelling from downstairs, Rick having returned to hustle Carl out of bed. Finishing his cigarette Daryl closed the window and got up, pinching his shirt and shaking it as if trying to rid himself of the smell. It was ineffective, and when he lay back down into bed beside her Lana could barely resist the urge to move closer to him, to get close up and take a deep breath. She could smell it on him, could taste the tobacco on her tongue, and when she clenched her hands together and told herself to resist she only felt the craving grow. Fuck, it would feel so good to have a cigarette between her lips, it would be better than sex…even sex with Daryl.
"Maybe I oughta cut back," he murmured, moving away when he noticed the expression on her face.
"If I have to get fat, then you should too."
Forcing herself to, Lana too moved away from him, but still she could taste it in the back of her throat. Though it was less and less of a good idea, Lana wanted to stay longer, and so she lay back down and put her head on the pillow, laying on her side to face him. He was looking at her with what seemed like a blank face, showing almost no expression, but she knew that wasn't the case. It hadn't taken long for her to really notice the way he hid behind his hair, the way he intentionally let it fall over his eyes. They were his most emotive feature, and they gave him away every time. This morning his expression wasn't blank, not when she took the time to look past his hair to his eyes. He was wary of her, guarded, and eventually the reason why came out.
"If you weren't pregnant, would you b' here right now?"
It was a loaded question, one that required a considered answer. His question had two means, both equally important to him. Would she be here in Alexandria? Would she be here in his bed?
"Yes," she stated confidently. "I would be."
"Sure?"
"Yes," she repeated, looking him in the eye. "Even if I wasn't pregnant, I'd be here."
Still her answer didn't seem to be enough, his eyes still wary of her. Nevertheless he turned onto his side and then reached out, his hand hovering in mid air before tentatively touching the top of her elbow. For a moment there Lana froze, the touch of three fingertips making her skin feel as though it was on fire, but she didn't recoil. Instead she lay there watching him, waiting for him to say or do something else. Her heart was pounding in her throat, and no doubt he could hear the way her breathing had changed. What was he doing…what did he want?
"C'mere," he said lowly, moving towards her ever so slightly.
When she did as he asked she saw the way he changed, his eyes softening now that he saw she wasn't rejecting him. As though this was her first time she could feel herself shaking with nerves, a stark contrast to her cool and calm demeanour the first time she had seduced him into sex. Was that what he was doing now in return? Was this him coming onto her? If that was the case, this was possibly the first time he had ever initiated anything with her.
Her stomach was twisting in knots, and she could barely breathe. "Wait."
Immediately he froze, though his fingertips were barely skimming the front of her tee shirt. His former wariness had returned now, and he looked at her in trepidation. In an instant he had closed off from her, and so she quickly sought to clarify the problem.
"Would you want this if I wasn't pregnant?"
Hers was a counter question to his, both of them trying to determine where the other stood, and to her relief he didn't need to think about his answer.
"Fuck yeah," he softly growled, his voice low and husky with desire.
Satisfied with his answer she took his hand and guided it to her body, telling him it was okay. She didn't wait now, and without hesitation she leant forward and brought her lips to his. Before this morning he'd never been one for kissing, the two of them often too rushed to get straight to the final act, but today he kissed her back with ardour. An embarrassing moan slipped from her throat, the taste of tobacco in his mouth soothing her craving while the kiss itself sent a rush through her body. Still she was trembling, because suddenly it felt intimate, and that was not something they'd shared before. But after spending the night in close proximity without so much as an accidental brush of the foot his touch felt all the more intense.
She felt his hand slipping between her legs, finding his way inside her underwear before he worked two fingers inside of her. Even as she allowed him to do this she wasn't quite sure what it all meant. She didn't know if he only wanted to fuck, if he wanted more than that, if he really did want her regardless of her pregnancy…but perhaps it was a good thing it remained unspoken for now. They had time to figure it all out, and they didn't need the pressure of trying to be something that hadn't developed of its own accord. That's what was happening now, they were letting things develop naturally.
Impatient now, Daryl groaned as he pushed himself up and onto his knees, reaching for her underwear and dragging it down her legs. A great sense of urgency came over them now, making them fumble a little. Becoming a clumsy mess of limbs she too tried to divest him of his sweatpants, mindful of the bandage around his hips and the cautious way with which he moved. Sitting up with him she tentatively put her hand on his penis, feeling like this was the first time she'd ever done it. A short nod of his head spurred her on, her eyes darting upward to take note of the way his lip curled upward in approval.
He was panting by the time he returned his hand between her legs, fumbling in his haste, and she quickly sought to keep him on track. Multitasking, she placed her hand atop his and made him slow down, making him pay attention to the way she extended his fingers and brought them to the right spot. Though she'd enjoyed sex with him he still on occasion required direction, as did she for that matter, and it paid off that they listen.
"Like this, huh?"
She nodded, releasing his hand and reaching instead for the buttons on his shirt. "Just gentle," she advised, her hand quaking as she opened his shirt.
Gaining access she let one hand aimlessly touch his chest, feeling the soft hair before moving up to his shoulder, to his neck. Feeling bold she reached up to his face, running her fingers through his hair before pushing it back off his face. It was a revelation, she'd never seen his face unhindered by the hair he preferred to hide behind, allowing her to really see him. His features bore the hallmarks of the life he had lived, his hooded eyes adorned with both smile and frown lines, skin weatherbeaten from years enjoying life on his motorcycle.
Despite her interest he shied away, not that she had expected any different. Jerking his head back from her hand he brought his lips back to hers, no doubt an effort to detract the attention from himself. Allowing him to do this she brought her hand back to his face yet again, fingers stroking his patchy facial hair while they kissed languidly. She could still taste tobacco in his mouth, and so long as he kept kissing her like that she would let him do whatever he wanted.
At his direction she laid down, coaxing him with her every inch of the way, but he quickly faltered. He flinched as he moved onto his knees, not that it seemed to stop him from trying to get what he wanted.
"You okay?" she asked, looking at the bandage.
He seemed intent on ignoring his injury, and her concern too. Not answering her question he was leaning over her, one hand still between her legs while the other grasped the bottom of her teeshirt and yanked upward. Understanding what he wanted she fumbled to take her shirt off, swearing when her elbow got caught and delayed her, but her real concern came from him, from the way he had stopped to stare down at her.
"What's this?"
Following his gaze she looked down at herself, at the shadow of a bruise just below her ribs. "The other day. Them," she said shortly.
His expression darkening Daryl made to turn away from her, muttering something unintelligible below his breath, but she quickly stopped him. Seizing a fistful of his shirt she gave it a pointed tug, refusing to let the Saviours be the reason they stopped now. She released him only when he looked back at her, and it was then she reached behind herself and fumbled with the clasp on her bra, wishing she had the foresight to wear something a little nicer than the practical choice she had made yesterday.
"We doing this or what?" she asked expectantly.
He stared down at her, his jaw flexed in righteous anger as he looked at the bruise on her abdomen, and then to the scars on her hip and leg from her motorcycle accident. But the moment she wrestled her bra off and tossed it aside his mind was back on track, and if he weren't so serious right now she would have laughed at him, at the way his attention could be so quickly diverted. Now he seemed to rush at her, kneeling between her legs before gingerly laying down atop her. Welcoming his touch with a long, gratuitous kiss, Lana hoped to avoid letting him see her bare back, knowing he wouldn't respond well to the bruises and scrapes from where the Saviours had wrestled her out of the car and down to the ground.
Before she could stop to appreciate the moment he was inside her, a strained breath escaping his throat, and she couldn't be sure if it was one of pleasure or pain. When he started moving he was doing his best to keep his weight off her, but already she could see the way he was trembling. Every move that should have felt good was tempered by a wince of pain, one he tried and failed to hide from her. Nevertheless he persevered as sweat broke out on his hairline, valiantly ignoring her words of concern.
"You want me to get on top?" she breathed as she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, trying to minimise his movements.
"Nah, I'm 'kay," he grunted heavily.
Not believing him for a second, Lana was having none of it. Making herself clear she stopped moving, one hand pushing at his shoulder until he too stopped, looking down at her in wary confusion. Hovering above her his hair fell loosely about his face, compelling her to reach up and push it back just like she had before, letting the light fall across his features. When she whispered for him to get off her he did so without delay, though he seemed to finally admit defeat when he slumped down onto his side, panting to catch his breath.
"You're a dick head," she said affectionately, shuffling over to his nightstand and opening the top drawer. "You were stabbed, and you're still trying to get some."
"Better watch your mouth," he warned, his hands following her as she moved.
She could have used a little more warming up than she had, it usually took her a while anyway, and given the urgency they both felt she selected a well used bottle of KY and made good use of it. "Lay down," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I got this."
Conscious of not hurting him she took her time to settle herself on top of him, grateful for the headboard that provided something to hang onto. It took some adjustments, but when she sank down onto his length she was confident they got it right, that he wasn't going to hurt himself. His hands were firmly latched onto her ass, fingertips digging in just a little as he set a comfortable pace for them, controlling her movements to ensure she didn't jostle him too much. Her decision to take over had been the right one, that much was made clear by the way his lips parted and his features relaxed. The expression on his face was one she had only seen a few times, most notably the day they had fucked in the back of an abandoned car outside the walls. The thrill of being out in the open and visible to the dead had been exhilarating, though their decision to go ahead without a condom was coming back to bite them, not that it had been the only time they had risked it.
It was exhilarating being with him like this, and not just because of the sex. Blooming in the back of her mind was a sense of excitement. It had been days since she decided she was going to stay in Alexandria and keep the baby, days since she had quit smoking and started taking prenatal vitamins, but now that she had told Daryl she felt like it had come full circle. As if a physical wall had come down she began to feel tentatively excited, this feeling compounded by the way Daryl stared up at her, his hair no longer hiding his emotive eyes. For a few happy minutes there were no Saviours, no Biters in the world…just them in that moment, slowly starting to figure things out.
Every step Rick took brought with it a feeling of weariness, the kind of debilitation a man of thirty eight years old should not yet feel. He was heading home after a long morning of being on watch, of laying in wait on the side of the highway just waiting for something to happen. Though he needed to be at his best it had been difficult to keep his eyes open that morning. It was a cruel twist that he would lay his head down at night and find himself awake for hours, but when he had to be on alert he felt the ever growing need to close his eyes and rest.
It was no small wonder that he couldn't sleep at night, given the difficult situation he found himself faced with right now. Richard and Brea should have been here twenty four hours ago, and their absence was a dark cloud that loomed overhead. Though tardiness was often times out of ones control these days, being twenty four hours behind schedule set Rick on edge, making him nervous. He didn't know what to do about it. Should they risk travelling to the Kingdom to find out what was happening? Should he go to the Hilltop and take Dr Carson up on his offer to come to Alexandria, relieving the Hilltop of their only doctor?
For now Alexandria's consensus had been to hold tight, to wait a few more days. Anything could have come up, and both Richard and Jesus deserved the benefit of the doubt from them. He doubted they had both double crossed them, for they needed Rick as much as he had needed them. Besides, perhaps he ought to cut Richard some slack. It was indeed a tough sell for him to convince Brea to leave the Kingdom and risk journeying to Alexandria, a community that was now under the Saviour's attention. To Brea her first loyalty was to the Kingdom, to her people there of which there were many. Getting her to leave could be a tough sell…perhaps Richard just needed more time.
Despite having reached the most rational and logical conclusion, that Richard simply needed more time to convince Brea, it didn't make the wait any easier. Right now Carrie felt like a ticking time bomb, just like Lori used to…it was this comparison that kept him up at night. Both of wives had faced a difficulty with their pregnancy, a risk of which there was only so much he could do to address. For Lori, that risk had meant the end of her life…what would that risk mean for Carrie?
Trying not to think about the worst case scenario, Rick roughly wiped the soles of his boots before stepping inside his home, set on making only a quick stop. He had another task ahead of him, one that could take upwards of thirty minutes depending on how things went, and he had to find something to eat before departing. Rations were tight and he was famished, though it seemed like he wasn't the only one. To his pleasant surprise he entered the kitchen to find Daryl there, sitting up on the counter with a bowl of food in his lap. For a moment Rick simply looked at him, for it had been days since he had come downstairs for anything other than to use the bathroom. This certainly was a welcome change.
"Where's Carl?" Daryl asked, forgoing any kind of greeting.
"On south watch," he answered, slipping a piece of fruit into his satchel before turning to the refrigerator, his stomach clenching in hunger. "He could probably use some company," he suggested, hoping to encourage him out of the house.
Daryl shook his head. "You need to lay off him a bit," he warned in disapproval. "We've all been him."
"How so?"
"Come on…kid just wants to lay in bed and whack the weasel. Let him."
Coughing around the piece of roast potato he had just taken a bite from, he looked at Daryl in exasperation. "Thank you. I'd never visualised that until this moment."
"You know he does it."
"Knowing and visualising are very different. Thanks to you, I have both." Still hungry he selected a few items and set them onto the counter, throwing together a sandwich that would have to tide him over for the rest of the day. "Go on watch with him, you know he likes your company."
"You need me to give him the birds an' the bees talk, huh?"
Sensing that it was only a tease, Rick played along. "He's had that, and he doesn't need it from you. He's learnt enough from you already."
Daryl smirked, still looking into his bowl of food as they talked. "I could teach you both some things."
"And I could teach you to oil your bed frame." At this Daryl paused, and with great satisfaction Rick watched the way his jaw flexed. "Don't think I haven't noticed your good mood this morning, or the reason for it trying to sneak out the side door."
He huffed under his breath, trying to appear aloof and indifferent. "She says she's keepin' it."
Sensing the conversation taking a turn, Rick took care to match his tone. "I figured she might be," he said, not needing to clarify what Daryl was talking about. "I'm glad she's staying."
"Mmm. Same."
The conversation stalled a little, allowing Rick to tidy up before taking a bite of his sandwich, though overall it was less than appealing. Having moved a great deal of their food away from Alexandria to hide it from the Saviours, there was only so much he could do with sun-dried tomatoes and lettuce on a sandwich.
"You heard from Richard?" Daryl asked, setting his bowl into the counter beside him.
On the inside Rick groaned, having hoped that he wouldn't bring up this subject. "Not yet."
"How long we gonna be waiting for 'em?"
"It's under control."
There was a brief pause, but only brief. "We seen any more o' them pricks out there?"
"No."
"So why we sitting here with our thumbs up our ass?" Daryl questioned, itching to know what was going on, frustrated by his current limitations. "Lana said they'd be setting up a base around, somewhere near. We should be out looking for 'em."
"It's under control," Rick repeated, making sure to drive this home. "You want this?" he offered, gesturing to the other half of the sandwich.
"Taste like shit?"
"Yeah."
"Give it Carl."
Rick chuckled, putting it onto a small plate. "Good idea. You can take it to him," he said pointedly.
Slinging his satchel over his shoulder Rick made a quick departure, for although he was glad to see Daryl was in a good mood that morning, he had asked some difficult questions. Down at the gates was a small crowd, Mina and Mitchell going about the process of saying their goodbyes. Though Vetor had been a thorn and Lana tended not to socialise with many, Mina and Mitchell had at least tried to settle in to Alexandria and make some connections, which was perhaps what surprised Rick the most about their decision to leave. They didn't want to fight the Saviours, nor to be party to anything that might incite an overreaction on their part, and the news that Alexandria had been harbouring fugitives like Mina and Mitchell was sure to do that. Nevertheless Rick didn't hold their decision against them, understanding that sometimes people just had to do what was right for them, that he too could be selfish with his decisions. He doubted he would ever see them again, that they would ever turn up outside the gates asking for sanctuary, but he wouldn't rule it out just yet.
In no real rush, Rick joined Michonne who was seated on the hood of the truck they were taking out that day, waiting patiently while Mina and Mitchell said their goodbyes. Slowly the crowd of Alexandrian's began to disperse, and as they left Rick caught Carrie's eye. She was spending the day with Tara, helping her go about the difficult task of packing before moving in with Rosita and Eugene. She couldn't stand living there in the Infirmary without Denise, but hadn't been able to bring herself to start packing not only her own belongings, but Denise's too. They were heading off now to start, Judith walking hand in hand between them, thrilled to be hanging out with her Aunt Tara.
"You got anything to eat?" Michonne asked, her stomach giving an audible rumble.
Without hesitation he opened his satchel and passed her the apple he had taken from home. "Slim pickings at home?"
"Very slim," she confirmed, taking a large bite of the apple. "Maggie's milk supply drops if she's not eating enough."
This soon to be a problem of his own, Rick commiserated, grateful when she passed him the apple to take a bite. "We can't have that."
"She was talking about switching Herschel to formula to save on food for her, but Glenn talked her out of it pretty quick."
"Good," Rick muttered, passing the apple back. "It won't be like this forever. We can manage with what we've got."
"There's been some rumblings," Michonne added, lowering her voice. "About how much food we're giving to Vetor."
"Rumblings from who?"
"Oh, you know…" she answered, telling him she'd rather not give names.
Though he understood the disapproval, he was satisfied with the situation. "He's out of our hair, and he's leaving Lana alone," he stated. "If that takes a few cans of beans and dried soup, I'm okay with that. If we need more we can ask the Kingdom for help, they won't say no."
"Sure we can ask them for help…whenever we see them."
To this he made no reply, for by now there was nothing left to say on the subject. They were giving them a little more time, the benefit of the doubt. Though it was at the forefront of his mind for every minute of the last twenty four hours, Rick tried to focus his attention on what was happening right now, on getting Vetor the hell away from Alexandria as quickly as possible. They would have some gasoline and engine oil, food, medical supplies, water, a tent, sleeping bags, batteries, weapons and ammunition, though not too much of the latter. The van Vetor already had at the safe house could be slept in, allowing all three of them to rest should they need to. It was just enough to get them far away and settled someplace else, making Vetor no longer a thorn in Rick and Lana's sides.
He was proud of Lana, proud that she was sticking with her decision to stay in Alexandria even after the rest of her group did an about-face on their plans. She was doing what none of them thought likely, letting go of Vetor and moving on with her life. According to Daryl she planned on keeping the baby they had accidentally conceived, she had spent the night with him, and to Rick's surprise he felt rather curious about the whole thing. What had gone on up there? What was happening between them? If he knew Daryl at all the answers wouldn't come out until he had downed a few beers, and given the state of things now neither of them were about to relax and kick back with some drinks.
Lana had been the last one there saying her goodbyes to Mina and Mitchell, and though he was antsy to get on the road he hadn't rushed them. But they didn't seem intent on painfully drawing it out, and a few minutes later they looked to Rick and Michonne, indicating that they were ready to go. Tearful, Lana was wiping her cheeks as she backed away a few paces, preventing herself from saying one more thing, from taking one last hug. Instead she shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat, her lower lip trembling until she managed to pull herself together.
Without delay they filed into the vehicles, Michonne jumping into the rear and settling amongst the array of belongings and supplies, while Mitchell, Mina and Rick sat up front, Rick taking the driver's seat as usual. Allowing Lana to open the gate for them he took it slow as they passed through, allowing the three of them one last opportunity to wave goodbye to one another. Only going slow he took a moment to glance at the newest Walkers on their spikes, the dead Saviours that had attacked them last week. Though it had been quite the effort to capture them and then safely wrangle them into position, for who knew it was such strenuous work to impale a fresh corpse onto a spike, it was most satisfying to see them there guarding the place.
Lingering only to ensure the gate closed behind them, Rick set off down the road towards the safe house that Vetor had been occupying for the last week and a half. They travelled in silence, and though his animosity had never been directed to Mina and Mitchell he was glad that their journey was a mere ten minutes. Everyone knew what he thought of Vetor, that he couldn't wait to get him the hell away from Alexandria, and that didn't exactly make for good conversation with those loyal to him in spite of everything.
Just as they had been when he and Michonne were out there that morning, the roads were clear and without anything of interest. They arrived at their destination safely, the tyres kicking up dust as they arrived at the very safe house to which his people had fled the day Alexandria was attacked by the Wolves, the day the quarry herd turned around and passed through their community. Not to his surprise Vetor was sitting on the front porch waiting expectantly, his bags packed and the van ready to be loaded up. Rick was pleased to see that he was ready to get on the road without delay, that he wouldn't be lingering longer than necessary.
Stepping out of the truck he allowed Mina and Mitchell to go forward, leaving it to them to explain to Vetor that Lana wasn't coming. Instead he went around to the back where Michonne was waiting for him, and with her help he quickly unloaded the supplies from the back of the truck, setting everything out and onto the ground for them to do with as they pleased. As they worked he watched from the corner of his eye as Vetor slowly approached, looking most unhappy with the situation.
"I thank you for your hospitality," Vetor began smoothly, extending his hand to him.
Taking it only in the spirit of getting this over with, Rick took his hand and shook it. "Any trouble out here?"
Vetor shook his head. "Just me and the woods," he answered. "Everything inside is as I found it. I will replenish the food supplies I have used."
"No need," Rick said bluntly, taking the last tub that Michonne passed him. He set it onto the ground with the others and then turned back to Vetor, wanting to make himself clear. "You'll want to be getting on the road soon."
For a moment Vetor simply looked at him, apparently bracing himself before broaching the subject they all knew was coming. "I would like to see Lana one last time," he requested, gesturing to the truck. "I n-"
"No."
"I need to be sure she's making the right decision," he continued, not at all perturbed. "Lana thinks with her heart too many times, and not enough with her head."
"She knows what she's doing," Michonne stated, climbing down from the truck and standing at Rick's side. "She's starting her life over."
"Staring life over with him?" he questioned skeptically. "She's led with her heart, not with her head. It is not the right decision for her, or for you."
"How's that?" Rick questioned.
Vetor looked at him in exasperation. "The Saviours will find you, and they will punish you for her. Every day she plays her fantasy she is dangerous to you."
"It's a risk we've accepted."
"A risk you know nothing of," he warned darkly. "You don't know what you're doing."
"We do," Rick stated bluntly, staring Vetor down. "And so does she. She's had enough of your shit."
Silence fell now, Vetor taking a heavy breath as he looked away, looking to Mina and Mitchell as if they would help him. But they gave him nothing, most likely agreeing that it was in Lana's best interests she never see him again. For a long moment Vetor looked down at the ground, slowly coming to terms with her decision, one he apparently hadn't seen coming.
"I respectfully ask that I be allowed to say goodbye to her," Vetor began, taking a deep breath as he looked up at Rick again. "I at least deserve that."
Having anticipated this request, Rick's answer was on the tip of his tongue. "If she wanted to say goodbye to you, she'd be here."
"But-"
"You're not welcome in Alexandria," he stated, slowly taking a step forward. He held Vetor's gaze, willing him to hear this, to understand. "You're not welcome by me, or by her."
At this explicit rejection the tension grew, Vetor's eyes narrowing as his hands clenched into fists by his side. He seemed fully intent on staring Rick down, on continuing the debate and trying to force his hand, to force his way back into Lana's life as quickly as she was trying to flee him, but Rick didn't allow it. Having made his point clear he stepped away and turned his attention to Mina and Mitchell instead, shaking their hands and wishing them luck.
"I understand why you're leaving," he murmured to them both, keeping his voice low. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where we are."
"Thank you," Mitchell replied, his gratitude sounding genuine. "Really…thank you."
"Look after Lana," Mina requested, her youthful face taut with emotion. "She can be a bitch, but she means well."
"We will," he assured her. "And, I know."
Leaving things at that he and Michonne returned to the truck and got in, wanting to get home quickly. As he started the engine he lowered the window and looked at Vetor, who was still standing in the same spot he had left him. His eyes were still dark with anger, furious that Rick wasn't allowing him the opportunity to change Lana's mind. It wouldn't surprise him if he ignored all warnings and attempted to make contact with Lana, if he attempted to come back to Alexandria anyway. Regardless of the method or his intentions, Rick wouldn't allow that to happen, even if it meant taking drastic measures. Until now the only reason he had refrained from putting a bullet in his head was for Lana, to allow her the process of leaving him rather than taking him away from her. Now though, he felt less generous with his restraint.
"Good luck out there," he said shortly.
What seemed like a bitter laugh escaped Vetor's mouth, and he folded his arms across his chest as he continued staring Rick down. "And good luck to him."
Not validating that with a response, Rick raised the window and then departed, sparing one last glance at Mitchell and Mina before leaving them behind. As quickly as they had arrived they were departing again, and though there was indeed the anticipated sense of relief, he couldn't help but ponder Vetor's parting words.
And good luck to him.
Who was he wishing luck to? Daryl, or Negan?
A/N - I hope you enjoyed, please do leave a review!
One week until season 8 resumes!