AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
It's very much a transition chapter to move us to the next piece.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"If we can see them, they can see us," Daryl said. "We ain't built no fire yet, but we gonna need hot water eventually. We gonna want to cook food. When we start sendin' up smoke, they gonna see us as sure as we can see them."
"What do we do?" Carol asked.
The dinner that they were sharing wasn't really disagreeable. They'd eaten worse, and they'd certainly eaten less. Still, Daryl hoped that they wouldn't share too many cold meals. He looked forward to settling somewhere where he could find meat for them. He was already daydreaming of a smokehouse and enough meat to see them through the winter when everything was sleeping. He was already imagining steaming hot baths and a place where they could actually breathe and consider building a life—a new kind of life, and a good kind of life.
"We got choices," Daryl said. "The way I see it. But there ain't none of 'em perfect."
"Let's hear what you got," T-Dog said. He was still polishing off some of the food that was left on his plate. He was taking his time chewing his way through a piece of beef jerky. He'd savored every bite of his meal like it was the finest spread he'd seen in years.
Of course, there was a great deal to be said for eating your fill without the feeling that someone was breathing down your neck and waiting to snatch the food away just before you could eat it.
"They here," Daryl said. "Now I knowed we wouldn't be the only ones up here. Like I told you before we even got here—this is the kinda place where people survive. The people from here? That's what they been doin' their whole lives. That's what they was raised to do. This is the end of the world for some people, but it's just another damn day for them. That means that this place? It's the best place to come if you ain't from here. Everyone with a lick of sense knows that. It's paradise, as far as that goes these days. The kinda place where we gonna make a life."
"So, they're here and we're here," T-Dog said.
"And there's plenty of room," Carol said.
"Lots of room," Daryl agreed. "Tomorrow we start lookin' for our place. Where we gonna make us a home. Maybe we stay to ourselves. Keep our distance. Pretend we don't see them. Maybe they do the same."
"But maybe not?" T-Dog said. It wasn't a question and it wasn't a statement. It was something in between that invited Daryl to make commentary as he saw fit.
"We don't know what kind of people they are," Daryl said. "We got the advantage, though, that they don't know what kind of people we are either. I think we gotta be careful with the burying our heads in the sand. We know there's good people out there, but there's not so good people, too. If we wait for them to come to us, it could be that they comin' in a way we don't like."
"But if we go and bother them," Carol said, "then we might be opening up doors that we'd rather remained closed. Or—even that they'd rather remained closed."
"I didn't say there was a simple answer to any of this," Daryl said.
"But you're leaning one way more than the others," T-Dog said. "So, let's hear it."
"I ain't your boss," Daryl said. He shook his head. "I won't be Rick. I won't tell you how to live."
"Even the Round Table had a leader," Carol said. "A leader doesn't mean a dictator."
"You got us here," T-Dog said. "And it wasn't a bad decision. I'm getting lung cancer from this motel room, but otherwise, it's a good damn night. I think I can speak for Carol when I say that we want to hear your opinion." He laughed to himself and put down his newly emptied plate. "And then we can vote to accept what you throw out there or to veto it and start again."
"If we go there in peace," Daryl said, "then we let 'em know what kinda people we are. Maybe we find out that we got people to work with. Survive with. We start things off on the right foot."
"But if they turn out to be bad?" Carol asked.
"Then we do what the hell we gotta do," Daryl said. "We can be peaceful if we get the chance, but we can handle ourselves if that's the way they want it."
"You mean kill them?" Carol asked.
"We do what we gotta do," T-Dog said. "If the law of the land is kill or be killed…"
"We don't know how many there are," Carol said. "And I'm no good at—anything."
Daryl's stomach twisted. She wasn't saying it for pity. He could hear it in her voice. She didn't want pity for either of them. She was simply making an admission. She felt like she really had very little to offer them that extended beyond what she could do with the food that they found and how clean she could keep their clothes and linens.
"Tomorrow—we look for a place," Daryl said. "We start tryin' to find somethin' worth havin'. We keep an eye on them. See if they movin' toward us. We keep our eyes peeled. We don't gotta send out the welcome wagon on day one. Chances are they gonna keep their distance a while too. You can't say you no good at anything. You used that knife alright. Nobody expects you to master what nobody's took the time to teach you. We start tomorrow, though. You learn how to take care of you. Of us."
Daryl didn't miss that there was absolutely an uplifting to Carol's spirit that took place. Right there, sitting with her legs crossed in front of her on the floor and her back against the foot of the motel bed, she lightened. She practically grew a half an inch from the weight that lifted off her shoulders.
Rick and Shane had always viewed the women around them as somewhat lacking—having little or nothing to offer in the way of protecting themselves or the group. Rick's wife, Lori, had strengthened that belief because she'd practically refused to take care of herself. When it came to something dangerous, Lori's thumbs were proverbially put on backward. She suddenly lacked the ability to do anything and very nearly became "overcome with the vapors," as Daryl's brother had teased, the moment that she faced a threat of any kind.
Lori had taught those that wanted to believe that the women were helpless that they were right. And Carol had been swallowed up in that belief because she feared, at the time, bucking anyone or anything. Her husband, after all, had preferred her helpless.
Tomorrow, Daryl would put a weapon in her hands—something more than just the knife that he was sure she'd grow to think of as practically an extension of her own self. He couldn't guarantee that she'd immediately get the hang of it, and he couldn't guarantee that she'd be an immediate markswoman, but he did know that desire went a long way in learning to do something well.
He wanted her to feel like she wasn't helpless. In a way, he needed her to feel that she wasn't helpless. And, even though he could pretend it was because it was in the best interest of their tiny group that she be able to protect herself and others, he knew, deep down, that his greatest concern wasn't the group. He wanted Carol to find her strength for Carol. He wanted her to have it simply because she needed it.
He wanted to help her find it.
"What if we're outnumbered?" T-Dog said. "Realistically—there could be a lot of 'em."
"For that, we hope they're friendly," Daryl said. "And we don't go approaching them blind and stupid. We do what we gonna do for a few days. Get a feel for where we are. Find us a place where we don't bother them an' they don't bother us. Let 'em see our smoke. Keep on guard for any visitors, but go on about buildin' what we're tryin' to build. Then, when it's all settled for a bit, we go look at them. We see what they got. From a distance. We make some decisions. Approach if it's safe. If we think it might be."
"And if we don't?" Carol asked. "Think it's safe?"
"Leave 'em the hell alone," Daryl said. "And we don't mess with them if they don't come near us."
"But if they come near us," T-Dog offered, "then we handle ourselves. We let 'em know that we're going to fight for what's ours, but we'd rather they just went on about their way."
Daryl could see concern on Carol's face. She had a great deal to be concerned about. They all did. When he nudged her, though, and asked her what she thought, she simply nodded and gave him the best smile she could.
"We'll do what we have to do," she said. "We'll hope for the best, but we'll do what we have to do. And tomorrow, we'll start getting ready to be able to do that."
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"The whole point of taking shifts," T-Dog said into the darkness of the room, "is so that those who are supposed to be sleeping get the opportunity to sleep." His voice was barely loud enough to carry to where Daryl was. If he hadn't been awake, Daryl wouldn't have heard it at all.
Daryl sighed. He balled the pillow up again and shoved it back under his face like he'd done at least thirty times before.
"Thought you was asleep," Daryl responded into the darkness. He kept his own voice low. The window was open, but the curtain was pulled mostly closed. It was open to allow for the circulation of air. It was also open so that Carol could call for help if she needed it. There was very little chance that she would need any sort of help from either of them. It was nearly impossible for a Walker to reach the level where they were sleeping and they hadn't done anything that would draw the attention of the somewhat distant group.
"I can't sleep with you worrying all night," T-Dog said. "You worry too loud. She's fine out there."
"I know there's nothin' out there," Daryl said. "Besides—she could call for help if she needed it."
"You can stop worrying about those people. We'll keep our distance until we're ready to interact with them," T-Dog said. "There's no need to rush into that shit."
"Chances are they just wanna live," Daryl said. "Want peace as much as we do."
"If they come looking for us," T-Dog said, "and they come looking for a fight, we'll give them what they want."
"There ain't but three of us," Daryl said. "Be nice to pretend that the danger was equal for everyone, but that ain't the way of the world. Assholes don't just kill…"
"They don't get her," T-Dog said, almost as though he were able to read Daryl's thoughts. "If that's what they're after and if that's who they are, they don't get her. You got my word. She can have it, too, for what it's worth. I'll do what I can, and they don't get her."
Daryl relaxed into the mattress. His mind was practically crawling with thoughts that scurried around like bugs scratching inside his skull. The nest was stirred up and he didn't know how to quiet it down. Slowly, though, things were growing still. His stomach churned a little as his brain caught up with itself.
He worried about how much he'd given away without even meaning to do so.
"I'm just—worried about all of us," Daryl said. "Tryin' to build a life."
T-Dog laughed quietly in the darkness.
"You're worried about the same thing you been worried about since Hershel's," T-Dog said. "Maybe before—I didn't miss wandering eyes at the CDC, and I didn't keep track of all the comings and goings in the hallways."
"The hell you talkin' about?" Daryl asked.
He knew, though, what T-Dog was talking about. And T-Dog knew that Daryl knew.
"I know I invited myself along as a third wheel—fourth wheel? Three and a half?"
"You was invited," Daryl said.
"I never held it against Rick that he wanted to take care of Lori. I never held it against him that he wanted to take care of Carl. Hell—I never held it against Shane either. It's the way it oughta be, right? You take care of what you love. I would've held it against him—both of them, maybe—if they didn't give a shit. I think I held it against Ed."
Daryl grunted in the darkness because he didn't trust himself to say anything.
"My point is," T-Dog continued, "that I didn't hold it against him that he wanted to take care of his family. It was just—how he went about it. It was just that it was all at the expense of all of us. If we'd been asked, even…but it was just take." He moved around in the bed. Maybe he sat up. "I'm not some monster that doesn't want the best for women and children. I just think I'm better for everybody if I'm not starved to death."
"Won't let you starve, man," Daryl offered. "Not if I can help it."
There was another rumble of quiet laughter.
"And I'll give you my word that I'll help you take care of her," T-Dog said. "Her cargo, too, 'cause I can tell it matters to you—if it'll help you get some sleep at night."
"I didn't say nothin' about—why I weren't sleepin'," Daryl offered.
"Maybe you didn't have to," T-Dog said.
Daryl almost felt like he would suffocate. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't comfortable, even, with the thoughts floating around in the air. Even though he hadn't given voice to his thoughts and feelings, T-Dog had heard them. He was in possession of them, and they filled the room.
"Hey—don't worry," T-Dog said. "Just go to sleep. Let me get some sleep. I'll keep your secrets. I've got nobody to tell."