EPISODE 27 – Made to Suffer – Part I

Rick completely lost it after that. Understandably.

And Daryl unexpectedly took charge. When Hershel implied that the baby would die without formula, he glanced at me and said:

"Nah. No way. Not this one." He was more determined than ever. And as self-confident as I've only seen him when he hunts.

He gave instructions to everyone, then turned to me: "Can ya go check on Rick? Make sure he doesn't get himself killed…"

"Of course."

"What about me? What do I do?" Sive asked him like his little soldier.

And he got on one knee to level his eyes with her, very seriously, with a hand on her shoulder: "Carl just lost his mom. Ya need to be there for him, okay?"

She nodded, emboldened by her new mission. I was so thankful to him, because she could have as easily been crushed by those new losses. Connor was gritting his teeth in his little cell, boiling over his lack of strength and powerlessness. However, as much as I'd have liked to go and comfort him, my new family needed me more.

I find Rick slaughtering walkers in the dark underground corridors. I don't try to stop him; I just make sure none of them can harm him. When he finally collapses, I sit by his side in silence for a long time. Then, when I hear his breathing calming a little, I ask:

"Are ye ready to come back to us now?"

"I- I can't."

I sigh. "Believe me, I understand. I… I've been where ye are now. But, as much as ye'd want to crawl into a hole and die, there are people out there who are counting on ye. Carl needs ye. And the baby needs ye."

"I know, I… I just need more time."

"Okay." I squeeze his shoulder, and he glances at me gratefully. Now that the area is cleared, I guess I can leave him with his thoughts for a while. He's not going to do anything too stupid. Like I had Sive to keep me alive, he has his own kids.

Daryl and Maggie get back from their run at the same time as I reach the block. He shows me the formula with a proud smile that is completely new and adorable on his features. I prepare the bottle, discovering my muscles go through the motions automatically, since I've been doing it so many times a day, for two little twin girls, for several years after they had ended up draining me from my breast milk. But when I go to feed the bawling babe, Daryl just shyly takes the bottle from me.

There is no describing the amazed look on his face when she stops crying to drink in his arms.

Everyone becomes silent. It's the most beautiful sight. So sweet and pure in this fucked up hell of a world. And it brings tears to my eyes. The look Daryl gives her, then raise his head to us in turn. That's the look I had so craved to witness on Connor or Murphy's face when our girls were born. That's the look I was deprived of.

While they talk about names, I turn to find Connor watching as well, leaning on the entrance of the cell behind me. Our eyes meet and, as often, we know we're thinking the exact same thing. It's hard to draw a deep breath, and I go to lean on the wall beside him. He's uncharacteristically timid when his fingers brush the back of my hand before lacing it with mine. I can barely breathe, feeling all of a sudden how much I have truly missed him all this time, all at once. Though, when I glimpse up again, I find Daryl's eyes on our intertwined hands, and his grin fading. My heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach. I can't bear to hurt either one of them. Yet, what choice do I have?

After that, Rick comes and checks up on us from time to time, but remains withdrawn still. Daryl continues his leading role, making decision that we can all agree on. Although, he makes sure to spend as much time as he can away from the cell block. He sleeps at the tower to keep watch, or in the guard room upstairs. He keeps clearing the prison with Oscar, and even Carl. He never looks me in the eye. Only talks to me if he absolutely must. Never says a word to Connor. And I ought to swallow my frustration. What right would I have to ask him for anything more?

I know the loss of Carol is affecting us both. But I can't even talk to him about that. And the rage it ignites inside me also keeps me from reconnecting with Connor.

Of course, my saint feels it, though refrains from saying anything. He's focused on getting back on his feet, and getting to know Sive. She's still observing and testing him, not entirely trustful yet. Soon, he's able to walk outside, help us at the fences, get some much needed practise at killing walkers. I can see he's exerting himself, rapidly draining his meagre reserves. Though he needs to prove himself, to be useful, to feel a little bit in control again. I get that. So, I let him be. However, I feel his eyes on me every time I'm not looking. I feel him aching at my cold behaviour.

I'm being fucking stupid. But that's not new.

So, that evening, as I see that Daryl isn't returning yet from that basement where they found Carol's knife. I allow myself a moment. I don't want to wallow in misery. I don't want to grieve for her. I want a moment of happiness to balance it out.

"Hey love." I surprise Connor after he's put Sive to sleep in the top bunk.

Watching him with her still makes my breath hitch in my throat. I've dreamt of this so many times and now, I actually get to witness it happen. They're becoming father and daughter. And I fucking love to see him awkward and hesitant. He's always been so confident, even cocky. But being a father doesn't come as naturally as being charming to him. And it's the cutest thing to watch him try so hard. Especially when she's being difficult and he turns to me with a desperate look. I can only laugh at that, completely melting. Though, if I can very well see that she is making him work for it, she is also falling in love with him a little more each second.

However, on my end, I haven't brought myself to move from the mattress on the floor to the bottom bed with him yet. Even though Beth helpfully installed a sheet to block the view from the door.

He smiles wistfully at the nickname. And I whisper, not to wake our kid: "I've got a gift for ye." Then I mutter to myself dumbly: "Well not really a gift, since it's already yers but…"

"What's the occasion?"

"I imagine us being reunited after all this time is a pretty big occasion, don't ye think?"

He chuckles and I add: "It's not like I'll expect anything in return. Ye being alive is more than anything I could have ever wished for."

I see him gulp, and I clear my throat, not waiting before handing him the bag of his personal effects I fetched from the storage room. In there, he finds his eternal jeans, black shirt and pea coat, even his sunglasses. But, way more importantly, his rosary.

He chokes as he feels it in his fingers reverently. His mouth opens but no word manages to come out until: "…Thanks..."

I swiftly wrap my arms around his shoulders. He buries his face in the crook of my neck and hugs me tight. The smell of him is intoxicating. His body perfectly fitting mine feels like home.

But then, we hear a small commotion in the main room. So, we step out to check if everything is okay.

Daryl has come back. With Carol. She's weak but alive. Thank God.

He's holding her carefully in his arms. And, despite me, my heart swells at the sight of him.