Day 56
My side was pulsating with pain, and I was clenching my jaw so hard I was surprised it didn't pop yet. My breathing was steady, the issue with my lungs suddenly overtaken by something more significant. The kid's head was on my lap, while Hershel was putting pressure on his wound. Luckily we were finally back at the farm, and Rick pulled to a stop almost next to the porch of a house. I saw a majority of our group there, surrounding another car, ready to leave. A rescue mission, perhaps.
The guys left the car, and I could see Rick hug Lori, and how Maggie basically skipped her father, throwing herself at Glenn. He didn't hug her back, just pushed her away. For fuck sake, what did I tell you, man?
"Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery," Hershel told the woman and walked into the house.
"Who the hell is that?" T-Dog asked as he walked over to open the door for me.
"That's Randall," Glenn answered.
"Yeah, great, so fucking happy with the introductions. Can someone take him away from me, though?" I yelled at them from the back seat. My side was killing me, and the kid's head was making my leg go numb.
When Rick and Shane finally lifted the unconscious body from me, I opened the door and sputtered out of the car.
"You alright?" T-Dog asked me, and I just gave him a quick nod, looking around at the faces in front of me. "Maggie, Dixon. Come with me." Without checking if they actually listen or not, I made my way to the house, to the bedroom, Carl was occupying while he was shot. The brown-haired woman was quick behind me, and I asked her to bring me fresh bandages, antiseptic cream, and stitch kit. I know Hershel would tell Patricia to leave some for me before she takes the rest to the shed.
"Ya alright?" Daryl stood in the door, biting on his thumb and looking me over. I finally lifted a hand from the wound on my side and grimaced at the fresh blood that covered my hand.
"Just peachy. Nice vest." I reached for my pack and took out one of the bottles I got at the bar. Maggie came back moments later and set everything on the metal tray next to the bed.
"Thank you, Maggie. Go back to your father, he might need you more." I told her softly, and she looked at me and then at my side with wide eyes.
"But what about-"
"That's why Dixon is here." She looked me in the eyes for second and then nodded sharply and left the room. I looked up, seeing that Daryl still didn't move from his spot. "I need you to stitch me up. Please. It's in an annoying place, and I can't do it myself."
He hesitated before quietly closing the door but still not moving any closer to me. "Why me?"
I sighed and stood up slowly. "Because I trust you. And I also believe that you'll not comment, pry or show any signs of pity." Hunter furrowed his brows at what I said. OK, so I have to show you first. With another deep breath, I untied the shirt, that was around me. I clipped the reins and slowly took them off, carefully putting them on the floor. I used my right hand to get me out of the ripped top, while the other still was pressing the wound. Daryl could see my chest now, covered in a worn black bra, and that made him blush. But as I slowly started peeling the fabric from the bullet wound, he noticed what I was talking about.
I was watching him, for any kind of reaction, as his eyes traveled over my scarred stomach. Four long, ragged lines covered almost entirely my lower abdomen. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down before he finally looked me in the eye. And I wanted to cry because for the first time since I got them I didn't see pity in person who saw them. Just an understanding. So I nodded and sat down on the edge of a bed.
He went over to the bowl filled with water, and I noticed that he already washed his hands. He would help me either way, and that made me feel slightly better. Especially after our argument.
"That will hurt," He said in his usual gravely voice, and I smiled at him.
"That's why I have this. Some to clean the wound, some for the pain." I lifted the bottle with a golden liquid and took a few big gulps. The alcohol burned my throat and spread warm feeling all the way to my stomach. Daryl worked on cleaning my side with fresh water, and I giggled a little when his fingers touched my ribs. He tensed for a second and send me a questioning look.
"I'm ticklish."
"Sorry." It's funny how just a few days ago I was the one taking care of him, and now he was here, next to me.
"So, how did that happened?" Play it cool, El. He's asking about tonight, not about that.
"We found Hershel, and when we were about to leave, some guys rolled into the bar." I shrugged and looked ahead. Memories of last night were still fresh in my mind. "Friendly at the beginning. But then they were pressing on about inviting them and their group to stay with us. Fishing for information. I lied about where we were. But still, fuckers drew on us. Rick killed one I did the other." I could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of my head, but I didn't dare to move. Would he judge me? Yeah, it was self-defense, I didn't do it for fun. I could just hope that he'd understand. I took another sip of whiskey, and then he reached for the bottle.
"Ready?"
"Give me a second." I stood up, making him step back, and I pulled my machete out and placed it on the floor. I quickly worked my belt and pulled it through the hoops of my pants. I sat back down and bit down on a worn-out leather. He made me freeze in my spot as he placed his knee on a bed, next to my hip. Then his right hand snaked around me and hold me still while the other quickly poured the alcohol on the wound. I flinched, and his grip tightened on me.
I don't know which feeling was stronger at the moment. The painful burning sensation over my ribs, or warmth of Daryl's firm grip on my bare skin. I closed my eyes as I tried to focus on the latter, my breath sped up a little, hopefully, the only sign of my state.
After a moment, I felt a rag pressing again against my side, and the hunter's hand left my body. A slight shiver went down my spine when sudden coldness hit me.
"Lay down." His voice was low and huskier than before. When I looked at him, he was blushing again, and his pupils were dilated. Interesting, maybe I have some effect on Daryl Dixon, after all.
I did as he said and spread my body on my right side and watched him move a chair next to the bed.
"Wait. Give me another one." I reached for the bottle and downed some more liquid when he prepared the needle and a thread.
"Ya gonna be hammered. When did ya eat last time?
"Hm... yesterday morning, I think. And being drunk actually sounds appealing."
"Do ya wanna bite down that belt again, or ya ready to finish yur story?" I thought about that for a moment, realizing that he was right. I was already quite tipsy, so I started talking again while he worked on the stitches.
"So we killed those guys. Were just about to leave the bar when another car pulled out. I guess they were scavenging with a bigger group. Long story short, we were shooting at each other. One of the bullets grazed me." I winced in pain a little when he pulled the thread harsher, and he apologized.
"And the kid?"
"Oh, man. He was on a roof, and the other drove the car, told the kid to jump down. He didn't make. Impaled his leg on a metal fence, while his buddy took off. Rick didn't want to leave him for walkers."
"Fucking stupid."
"Trust me, I already told him that, repeatedly."
"Sit up." Daryl cut off the thread when he finished, and I did as he said. Very gently, and also trying not to touch any naked part of me, he wrapped a clean bandage over my ribcage, securing it with a pin.
"Thank you."
"Is' alright." I moved to grab my top and put it on when he stopped me. My eyebrows furrowed, and I cocked my head a little.
"Ya will get it dirty."
I grinned at him and licked my lips. "You just want to keep looking at my boobs, right?" Another blush flooded his face, and he looked away from me.
"Pff, I just fixed ya, not gonna let ya destroy all my work." He took off his new leather vest and started unbuttoning his shirt. At this moment, I decided that I definitely was drunk or hallucinating. What is happening? "Here."
Daryl handed me his shirt, leaving him in his wife-beater. Oh, well, that's disappointing. I nodded and put it on. It was way too big for me, and it smelled like him. Fresh forest mixed in with that musky scent. I had to close my eyes for a second to concentrate, to not show just how much I wanted to bury my face in the fabric.
"Ya wanna talk about it?" I just told him what happened in town, so he wasn't talking about this. I took a shaky breath and shook my head.
"No. I'm sorry." I looked at him and touched his arm gently. "One day, though. One day I'll tell you about mine, and you'll tell me about yours." He tensed at my words but kept looking in my eyes. If he wasn't sure that I saw his scars at the CDC, now I confirmed it.
He swallowed thickly and finally softly nodded his head. I smiled at him and patted his arm, slowly buttoning his shirt.
"Thanks for the shirt." I wiggled my eyebrows and looked him over. "You know if you want to take off something else, I wouldn't mind."
He sighed and turned around to leave the room. "Yeah, ya gonna live."
I giggled, and we both made our way to the dining room. The rest of us already sitting around the table. I watched Daryl nod at Carol, and my eyes narrowed. I sighed and shook my head. He's not mine.
I took a seat next to Lori on the last available chair and took another drink of whiskey. Yea, I took it with me. The plan was to get drunk and then finally go to sleep.
"Are you OK?" The woman next to me asked me, and I nodded.
"Just a graze." I started rolling up the sleeves. For once, Daryl had a shirt with them still attached, and they were too long for me.
"Pff. It took a chunk of yur skin, woman." I cleared my throat at his comment and glared at him.
"Nonetheless, I'm fine."
"Are you gonna tell us about that kid now?" T-Dog asked Rick, and he nodded.
Sheriff paced for a second before starting. "We couldn't just leave him behind. He'd have bled out if he lived that long."
"Walkers were coming almost from every direction," I added, to explain his last statement.
"What do we do with him?" Andrea finally asked a question everyone wanted to. I looked at Rick, waiting for his response. But Hershel came back, drying his hands.
"I repaired his calf muscle as best I can. But he'll probably have nerve damage. He won't be on his feet for at least a week."
"When he is, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road, send him on his way." Rick decided, and I nodded at that.
"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?" Andrea asked again, and I looked at her.
"He was impaled on a fence. That is his chance for a new start, far away from us." I told her and saw a few people nodding in agreement.
"You just gonna let him go? He knows where we are." I fucking forgot how annoying Shane is.
"He doesn't. He was blindfolded and unconscious all the time in the car. He's not a threat."
"Not a threat? How many of them were there?" Rick and I looked at each other and then with Glenn and Hershel. "You killed three of their man. You took one of them hostage. But they just ain't gonna come looking for him."
"They won't!" I told Shane sternly. "There was one man alive, he left Randall to die. And I doubt that he thought we'll take the kid with us. For all they know, he was eaten alive in that alleyway."
"We should still post a guard," T said, and I actually agreed with him. Yeah, Randall wasn't a threat, but he was still a stranger who shot at us.
"He's out cold right now," Hershel said. "Will be for hours."
"You know, I'm gonna go get him some flowers and candy." Shane scoffed and moved to walk away. "Look at this, folks. We back in fantasy land."
"You know, we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet. Let me make this perfectly clear once and for all." Hershel stood straight, with a serious look at his face. "This is my farm. Now I wanted you to go. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor. Keep your mouth shut."
Shane glanced around the room, that crazy look again in his eyes. He shook his head, and when he saw that no one will say anything, he left the house.
"Look." Rick started again, calmer now that Shane was gone. "We're not gonna do anything about it today. Let's just cool off."
People started to leave the house, and I followed the older man.
"Hershel! Do you have a moment?" He looked at me and led me to the room I fixed myself before.
"What can I do for you? Is it your wound?" My hand automatically touched a painful spot on my body, but I shook my head.
"No. So, um, that's awkward." I started and cleared my throat. Now that adrenaline was gone, I felt everything that happened to me in the past few days. I had a sore throat, my lungs still hurt with every breath. And now, to add to it, I was shot. And on an excellent way to get drank.
"So, a day before the barn. I was with T-Dog, looking for-" I couldn't even say her name. After another sharp breath and a nod from the man, I continued. "Long story short. We were at the creek, cooling off. There was a walker in it, we hadn't noticed. I nearly drowned."
At that, Hershel's eyes widened, and he immediately grabbed a stethoscope that was still around his neck. "And you didn't say anything?"
"We all were occupied with other stuff. And then, well, you were gone."
"Take off your shirt."
"Nope."
"Elena, I need to properly listen to your lungs, from both sides. Take off your shirt."
I looked him in the eyes and swallowed harshly. That's precisely what I tried to avoid. I slowly did as he said and stood straight only in my bra. I looked ahead, making sure not to make eye contact. He stood still for a second, and I knew what he was looking at. Fuck, two people in one day, that's a new record for me.
Hershel finally moved and started listening to my breath, pressing cold metal to my skin. First to my chest and then to my back. "Take a deep breath." I did as he said, and it hurt.
"It hurts when I do. And my throat is sore." I whispered when he finished and allowed me to get dressed again.
"You may have pneumonia, or at least early stages. We still have some antibiotics. Wait here for me."
I used the time Hershel was gone to collect my stuff from the floor. He came back after a few minutes with a glass of water and a bottle of meds.
"Take one every twelve hours for four days. And if you feel any worse than now, come to me straight away." I nodded and moved away to leave and finally go to sleep.
"What happened?"
I sighed and stopped, turning slightly. I ran my tongue over my teeth and looked at the older man with a sad smile. "I told you, world was already scary, long before the apocalypse. That's just one of the examples."
I finally sat down on my sleeping bag and exhaled deeply. With so many people in our group, it was hard to even get here. T wanted to know if I'm alright, and it took me almost fifteen minutes to convince him I won't die.
Then I had to repeat it with Dale. After that, I found Rick and asked him to tell everyone to let me sleep and basically fuck off.
And then, just when I was crawling inside my tent, Carol came to apologize. I told her that we'll talk tomorrow and zipped the flap on her face. Not literally, of course.
I know, super rude. But I just couldn't do it any longer. I appreciated the fact that there were people who worried about me. And that Carol wanted to make amends. But it had to wait.
I was in pain, my lungs, and side killing me. And thoughts of Sophia came back to me again. So I just sat on my makeshift bed and cried silently, drinking whiskey in between.
I cried for a little lost girl, whom we didn't safe. And for her mother, who will carry that loss for the rest of her life. I cried for Lori and her unborn child because she must be terrified. Our future is uncertain, and we couldn't know if she will survive long enough to give birth. Or if she'll survive the labor.
I was crying for Hershel and his family. Their loss was even worse as they believed for the past months that all this is just temporary. And for Glenn, as today he saw how cruel world really can be, and I had a part in this.
So I finally cried for myself, for the old wounds that I usually kept well hidden and today were opened again. For past losses and the new ones that happened recently. That's why I was hesitating at the beginning when I met Dale. For precisely that reason. Because I fucking knew that once I get to know those people, I'd care.
And guess what? That's exactly what was happening right now. I cared for this group, alright, the majority of them. I'd do what needs to be done just to protect them. Not to mention Daryl. This stupid, annoying, carrying, sexy redneck. I don't even know how harmless flirting, and joy of embarrassing him, twisted into something more profound. When did I start to care for him on a completely different level?
I chuckled at that and took another big gulp of alcohol. At this point, I was most definitely drunk, and I enjoyed it. In the peace of my tent, just by myself, without a need to filter my words to anyone or to control my body language. I was more relaxed around those people, true, but not wholly hundred percent myself. There were still parts of me that I didn't want to show or tell.
Someone cleared their throat just outside of my tent. Nowadays, for a doorbell or knock. I groaned a little and propped myself on my elbows.
"What?"
"Um, I'll come tomorrow." This sweet gravely southern drawl that I loved and hated at this same time. What the hell is he doing here?
"Is fine. Come." I quickly ran a hand over my face trying to wipe away any traces of tears. He'll be able to tell, of course, but that way I might avoid talking about it.
He unzipped the entrance and then crawled inside, taking a spot in the corner. His eyes were watching me, his teeth gently nipping at the bottom lip. Maybe inviting him inside was actually a bad idea. I'm drunk, and he is just sitting there, close enough to touch, with his stunning looks and shy manner.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm sorry." He said, lowering his head ashamed.
"Hm, second time this week. Let's not make a habit out of it." He looked up, catching my eyes and seeing a big grin on my face. "I blame Rick."
"What?"
"Well, we didn't argue until he showed up, so yeah," I answered and saw that little smirk in the corner of his mouth. I stretched my hand, offering him a drink. He looked at it for a second and then took it drinking from it quickly.
"If ya make one comment about drinkin' from this same bottle, I'm leavin'."
I pouted at him and scrunched my eyebrows. "You're no fun."
"It ain't funny."
"Um, yes, it is." I sat up and winced at the pain on my side. "Thank you."
"What for?" He passed me the whiskey, and I drank it happily.
"For apologizing and stitching me up. And for the shirt." He looked down, yes I was still wearing it. "You know, you not getting it back, right?"
"And why not? I don't have a lot of those." He grunted and moved his head to the side.
"Because it smells like you." I winked at him, and he rolled his eyes.
"Ya really crazy, woman."
"Daryl!" I cried out, pretending to be deeply hurt. His smirk widened, and I shook my head, reaching for my pack. I fibbed with the items inside and finally fished out my small notebook. I flipped the pages until I found the right one.
"Whatcha doin'?" I glared at him and grabbed a pen.
"Marking that you called me crazy. It was exactly -" I switched to the previous page and did the quick math, which wasn't easy in my current stage. "- twenty-one days. It was my record!"
He snorted at that and moved closer, trying to look over my arm at the item in my hand. "Ya really got a calendar?"
"Yup, it's just a plain notebook, so it will last me for years. I'm trying to fit a month per page." I moved it slightly so he could see what I did. "Today, we are on day 56, or well. I'm counting since we all met upon a highway. It's Monday, the 16th of August."
He looked at me, and I saw that he was impressed for a second, but then scowled and shook his head. "It ain't matter anymore."
"It does, Daryl." I looked back at my book, flipping through the pages. "It will help. Even stupid things like birthdays, you know. When is your birthday?" I grinned at him and looked up, excited.
He didn't reply, just took a bottle from me and started drinking again. And once more, I was lost in the sight of him, how he drank, how his arm muscles flexed when he moved it. I blinked rapidly and looked away. Evil thoughts, very inappropriate. I'd probably scare poor guy to death if I'd try anything. He would shut me out completely, and that's something I didn't want. I enjoyed being his friend, even if that's the only thing I'll ever be.
"Come on, Daryl. You're the only one I don't have in here."
"October 2nd," His voice was low, and he cleared his throat after speaking. I beamed at him, and quickly found the right page, writing his name next to a date.
"What 'bout ya?"
"Christmas Eve. So how old will you be in October?"
"Why?"
"Checking if I'm not too old for you." I winked at him again, and he blushed. But I could see him smile, and his eyes weren't shooting at me, so that's a good sign.
"35."
"No fucking way!" He just hummed at that and nodded. Of course, I knew he was older or the same age, but yet he didn't look it. Or maybe I was too drunk to tell.
He took another sip and then handed me the bottle. "So ya younger or older?"
"Younger, three years."
"Ya don't look it."
My eyes widened, and I rose my eyebrows. "Did you just give me a compliment?"
"Pff, forget it."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while. That's something I discovered during our hunts. We didn't necessarily have to talk to enjoy each other's company. Sometimes I just got lost in my thoughts, and Daryl knew it so he'd leave me alone. And when he was focused, or tracking, I'd stay quiet, just admiring his work.
"T-dog told me." Daryl finally whispered after minutes of silence. I looked down at the bottle in my hand and noticed it was nearly empty. I offered it to him, I had enough already.
"Yeah, it was fun." I shivered slightly at the memory.
"Why didn't ya say somethin'?"
"We were already worried enough. About Sophia, you. What good would it do?"
"I heard ya cough. Ya good now?" I heard something in his voice, some softer tone to his normal gruff one. I nodded and smiled.
"Yeah, Hershel checked, I'm good." He looked at me, studying my face for traces of a lie. Can he do it? Can he see through my bullshit?
"Yeah, I can."
My eyes grew big. "What the fuck, Daryl? Can you read my thoughts, I'm really that drunk?"
The hunter laughed for a second and shook his head. I never heard him do that before, and let me tell you it was the most beautiful sound I heard in a long time.
"Nah, ya said it out loud."
"Oh. Um," I turned my face away from him. First, to hide my embarrassment. Secondly, because I started to be too aware of his presence in my tent. Daryl's big frame taking the majority of an entrance, his musky scent filling my nose. I need to fucking control myself and my thoughts. "Hershel gave me some antibiotics, I'll start them tomorrow."
I moved around and put the calendar away and then lay on my right side, looking at Daryl. He obviously didn't know what to do with himself, but I didn't care anymore. We had a pleasant conversation, no more arguing. I was hurt and drank, and I just needed to sleep for a week.
"I'm sorry Big Boy. I don't know how much longer I can stay awake," I whispered, closing my eyes for a second. A big yawn escaped my mouth, and I didn't even try to hide. He made some noise in agreement, and I smiled.
"Night, Daryl."
"Night, El."