Chapter 23: Recovery

Daryl packed one last box into the back of the truck, effectively leaving zero space for anything else. Even if they hadn't found people on their trip, they'd gotten enough supplies to last almost until winter.

Daryl and Merle had come upon a once popular big box store, and while most of the food aisles had been wiped out, they'd come upon a goldmine in seed packets and other things that would make creating a sustainable garden just a bit easier.

"Anything else?" Merle asked, as he and Daryl stepped back into the store and looked around the place.

"Just one more thing."

"What's that?"

"Not sure yet," Daryl admitted with a little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"The hell you goin' on about then?"

"I promised Lydia I'd bring her back somethin' special."

"Oh, the kid that can't hold a conversation? Ya made her a promise? Think it's alright if you break it. She won't be none the wiser."

"You wouldn't understand, bro." Daryl thumped his brother on the back and started off toward the toy section.

"'Cause I was smart enough not to spread my seed around? Just be glad Lydia ain't got Dixon DNA. Dixons ain't never amounted to nothin'."

"Yeah? That's the shit our daddy used to put in our heads. We wasn't gonna be nothin'. We wasn't gonna do nothin'. We was gonna be just like him. And I think that's what he wanted." Daryl shook his head. "Not me."

"Not you," Merle grinned. "Got yourself a real fine woman and a kid that ain't never gonna know the life we knew. Just don't expect old Uncle Merle to be changin' no diapers on account of only havin' one hand."

"Always an excuse," Daryl snorted. Merle laughed then, and he stopped on one of the almost fully stocked aisles. "Guess there ain't much call for toys these days, huh? This world? Seein' a kid is a rare thing. Like seein' a shootin' star or some shit."

"Saw two just last night."

"Kids?"

"Shootin' stars." He stepped over a few broken toys on the floor. "As long as there's people, there's gonna be babies. Gonna be new people. The world might be dead, but it's comin' back. And I don't mean like them…things out there."

"When did my baby brother turn into a dreamer?" Merle asked with a snort, picking up a teddy bear covered in dried blood. Daryl said nothing. He reached up onto a high shelf and pulled down a dusty box. Inside was a baby doll. It wasn't one of those creepy dolls with painted on eyes that always gave him the creeps. It wasn't a rag doll. It was a baby doll that looked real. It had perfectly sculpted ears and a real looking nose, and he figured it was probably made of rubber or hard plastic. But it looked like a real kid. He remembered the girls at school going crazy over dolls like that. "You find yourself a present?"

"I think Lydia'd like it." Merle came over and brushed some of the dust off the box.

"Ain't she a little young for somethin' like that?"

"When she's older, dumbass," Daryl muttered.

"What's a kid in this world gonna do with a damn baby doll? When she's old enough to tie her shoes, she's gonna need to learn how to shoot a walker through the brain, not play house with a plastic brat." Daryl knew Merle was right, but he still wanted his little girl to have things she'd like, even if this world would force her to grow up faster than she should have to. He thrust the doll into Merle's chest, and Merle scoffed but held onto the box.

Just as he was rounding the corner, he found one sad looking teddy bear, missing half of its stuffing and one beady eye. It was pathetic looking, but he remembered having one quite like it when he was just a little thing. He picked it up off the shelf and tucked what stuffing he could back into it. It could be sewn. The other eye was nowhere to be found. But it was the only one that wasn't covered in muck and blood.

He brushed the dust off of its nose, and Merle shook his head.

"That girl. She's got you wrapped around her finger, don't she?" he asked. "Never thought I'd see the day a Dixon man would be picking up dollies and teddy bears." He picked up another toy off the shelf. A cap gun. "This right here. This is what you oughta give her. Let her practice early." Daryl said nothing and started off for the door. Merle tucked the toy gun into his pocket and shrugged. "Uncle Merle can't go home empty handed. 'Sides. This is better than a damn baby doll."

...

Lucy had made it through the night. She was still weak from loss of blood, but the fever had broken, and she'd felt well enough to have some breakfast. Negan, Carol was certain, hadn't slept at all. So after breakfast was finished, she encouraged Negan to go get some rest. He didn't want to stray far from his wife, but he'd settled for camping out on the couch in the living room. Carol had brought him a blanket and a pillow, and she'd returned to Lucy to check her bandages.

"I'm gonna die, aren't I?" Lucy asked quietly, as Carol focused on gently wrapping the stump of her arm.

"Your fever broke. That's a good sign. You were bit days ago. If you were going to turn, I think you would've by now." Lucy nodded then. She took a deep, shaking breath and blinked back tears.

"I don't know how to thank you, Carol."

"No thanks needed. There aren't a lot of people left. We should take care of the ones who need our help, right?"

"If we stop caring for people, we'll become the monsters."

"What?" Carol asked.

"Oh, it's something I said to my husband. When everything first started, before I was even pregnant, we had pretty much sealed ourselves up inside of our house. There was only one way in and one way out. Our house was the oldest, biggest house in town. Negan bought it for me as a wedding present." She smiled, at the memory, but her smile quickly faded. "It was one of those old homes that everyone expected to look nice at Christmas with lights in the windows a big Christmas tree. Everybody knew that house. Everybody. So when everything happened, it was the first place people thought to come. It was big, had plenty of place to spread out. And they kept trying to get in. They were desperate. And Negan didn't sleep for what seemed like a week. He was so worried about someone getting in. A person or one of those…things."

"We call them walkers."

"Walkers," Lucy murmured. "Yeah. That sounds right." She shook her head. "One of Negan's buddies from work came, and he and Negan just about killed each other. He pulled a gun on him, insisted he had a right to use the space since we had so much of it. It was just the way he came at us. He was half crazy. Just lost his wife. And the next thing I knew, the gun went off, and Negan…" She sniffled. "He killed his friend. That friend would have killed him. My husband? He's a big man. Tall. Strong. He played college football. But he was gentle. And there he was, standing over his friend with a gun falling from his hands. And he was shocked. Didn't speak for hours. And I held his face in my hands, and I made him look at me. I told him it was ok. I told him that if he hadn't, that man would've hurt us. But I also told him people were going to keep coming. People that didn't want to hurt us. People that just needed help. And I told him that if we didn't help people, if we didn't let them in, there wasn't any point in going on. We might as well join the dead." She took a shaking breath. "So we started letting people in. Just one or two at first. But before we knew it, we had a whole house full. And it was good for a while. Months, really. And then someone died in the night, and the virus spread like wildfire."

"That must have been terrifying," Carol murmured. "I can't imagine."

"He woke me up in the dead of night. He blocked us in our room. They were clawing at the bedroom door. We escaped out the window and jumped down onto the roof of the porch. I still don't know how we made it out alive, but we did it. We made it all the way to Atlanta, and then…" She looked down at what was left of her arm. "He's a good man. He is. But if I die, I don't…" She choked back a cry. "He's been so strong, and we've kept each other going. I'm afraid what might happen to him if…"

"Don't think like that," Carol urged. "Hey. Your fever's broken. You're still here. You have a son you still have to name."

"Oh," Lucy laughed. "I haven't even thought about it."

"Not once?"

"No," she sniffled. "I didn't want to think about it. I think it's because a part of me didn't expect to survive the birth. I honestly didn't think I'd get to see him. And look at him. He's perfect." Carol glanced over at the sleeping baby in the little bed they'd made for him. Lucy let out a shuddering sob. "I'm not going to get to see him grow up." Carol sniffled and looked at the baby monitor she'd brought down with her. It was sitting next to Lucy's bed.

"I lost my daughter. Several months ago."

"God, I'm so sorry," Lucy whispered.

"We got caught in a herd. She got scared and ran. I didn't know how to help her. I felt frozen. Paralyzed. I felt like my heart had stopped, and I was watching everything in slow motion." She wiped at a stray tear. "Everyone in our group helped look for her in one way or another. But the longer she was out there, the more time passed, everyone started giving up hope. Even me. Except one person." She smiled sadly. "His own brother had gone missing not long before that. He was so sure she was going to be ok. He went out there looking for her, when everyone else told him it wasn't worth the time or the effort. She was gone. But he kept looking. He kept giving me hope. And one day, she was there, but it wasn't her. She was gone. My Sophia."

"Sophia," Lucy whispered. "Poor thing." Carol sniffled and nodded, wiping at her own tears.

"She'd been gone, probably since the day she ran into the woods. I wanted to die right there along with her. He blamed himself. I blamed myself. I was angry, and he was pushing people away. Including me, because he was so mad at himself for trying to give me hope. But here's the thing. Sophia walking out of that barn and not being my little girl anymore? It could have killed me. Maybe it would have. But I kept pushing on. And I think part of that is because I knew that even if she didn't make it, I could keep going for her. To remember her. And I am thankful every day for that man, that stranger that nearly got himself killed looking for my little girl and giving me hope that something good could still happen."

"What happened to him? The man?" Lucy asked, sitting up in bed a little. Carol smiled.

"I married him." Lucy's eyes widened, and Carol laughed. "He'll be home any day. He's looking for the rest of our group. It's a long story. We got separated."

"I hope I get to meet him," Lucy smiled. "What's his name? Maybe I could name my boy after your brave husband. If he was a girl, I'd call him Carol."

"That's sweet, but I think Daryl would prefer you to give him his own name."

"Daryl," Lucy smiled. "I like that. I understand. Negan says the same. He says no son of his is going to be a Junior. He's gonna be his own man, he says." Carol smiled and picked up the little one, handing him over to his mother. She cradled him in her good arm and kissed his head.

"You'll be alright for a few minutes if I check on my baby?" Carol asked. Lucy smiled.

"Hmm. Yeah. We'll be alright. Right?" The baby yawned and sucked his fingers, and Carol smiled.

"Yeah. I think you're gonna be just fine."

Author's Note: Sorry it's been a few days since the last update. I've been working like crazy and then so exhausted on Christmas. But here's the next chapter. Please let me know what you think. And yes, Daryl is coming home SOON. Promise. Feedback is always appreciated!