AN: Here we are, another little chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"This weren't the only place," Daryl said around a mouthful of meat and vegetables that he hadn't fully chewed yet. "Never was. Merle said they told him that they was like ten of these places set up an' that's just what they know about. Who the hell knows how many there are like—like spread out. Everywhere."
"Safe zones or…?" Carol asked. Daryl shrugged his shoulders in response.
"I mean—didn't have no proper name at the time they was gettin' started," Daryl said. "That's what the hell Alice told him. When the shit first started to spread, the idea was just to move people away from outbreaks. Then, when they couldn't get people nowhere that was really away from the outbreaks, it all turned into sorta quarantining shit. Merle said that they told him the reason they was so many doctors right here was because they come in special to try to get some kinda hold on the outbreak. Alice said there was more of 'em, but they lost a lot of people before they got smart enough to know what the hell the difference between a sick person an' a done-in person was. Said the only doctors willin' to come up here were the ones like her, I guess. She calls 'em less-conventional. Merle said she called 'em the 'have stethoscope, will travel' variety. Merle just calls 'em the damn ballsy ones that wanted to walk head first into somethin' they didn't know shit about. Somethin' they was thinkin' could end up bein' like the next Bubonic plague or some shit. A lot of 'em died, though, just 'cause they didn't know you couldn't save 'em once they was bit in the wrong place, and those that turned weren't really alive at all."
"Like Hershel?" Carol asked.
Daryl hummed and nodded his head.
"Maybe a little," Daryl said.
"Why didn't we hear about all this in Atlanta?" Carol asked.
"We did," Daryl said. "Didn't pay it that much attention, though, 'cause they didn't know what to call it. You remember that bird flu outbreak or whatever the hell they were talkin' about on the news for a while? Some of the first reports of it come from up here. The thing was—just like we come up here because not a lot of people was up here to start with, the reverse was also true. Not a lot of people left here. That meant that when it broke out here, Walkers were kinda bunched in together with family and friends an' the population was smaller. Scattered. Grouped. Showed up different—looked different—than it did in big places like Atlanta with that damn many people. They thought it was somethin' related to the water at first. Then the wildlife. Started investigatin' the animals. Everyone else was ignorin' the news 'cause it don't affect us and them couple of homeless fuckers walkin' around in the streets of Atlanta causin' news was probably on that new drug they was suspectin'."
"We couldn't even hear the warnings," Carol said with a sigh.
"Don't matter now," Daryl said. "Point is, we aren't alone out here. And that's just the people we know about."
"Why don't they all just join together?" Carol asked.
"Different ideas on how things ought to be done," Daryl said. Carol's stomach churned uncomfortably and she shifted in her chair to try to find a little relief. She feared that her concern over what Daryl was telling her would result in heartburn that was capable of ruining her whole evening. "You OK?" Daryl asked after a second of watching her intently.
"Are they dangerous?" Carol asked.
"Not that we know of," Daryl said. Carol felt some relief. She felt her body starting to untangle itself. "Not that Merle said, anyways. We keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Keep guard. He says they try to keep good relations with anyone they come across. It was one of the problems they had with previous leaders. You go and stir shit up with someone else, you gotta expect that they gonna come and retaliate. But Merle ain't got no interest in stirrin' shit. You prob'ly don't believe me because you ain't known him as long as I have, but—if he's clean? Merle's a pretty damn mellow person. Long as he's clean. And I think he's gonna stay clean as long as he's got somethin' to entertain him an' make him feel like he don't mind wakin' up in the mornin'." He shrugged his shoulders. "As long as he's got somethin' to make him feel better about—wakin' up."
"Andrea," Carol said.
Daryl nodded his head.
"Andrea. Hell—maybe that's too damn much to put on Andrea, but it's the truth. I mean, this place, too—but he wants this place for him to have Andrea. The idea of a kid. He's got a lot of interest in keepin' this place safe an' keepin' the peace among everyone around here."
"I'm glad," Carol offered. It was a weak sentiment, but it was all that she could muster up at the moment. She was concerned, still, to discover that they weren't alone. She was concerned to discover that previous leaders might have left a legacy of bad blood between the groups that lived anywhere nearby. She was relieved that Merle was the kind of leader who wanted peace for his people and his motivation to have it was so strong that, sincerely, she doubted that there were any lengths to which he wouldn't go to keep things as safe and peaceful as possible.
And, in an entirely different way, she was moved to think that a man like Merle Dixon—whom she'd first come to know as nothing more than a drug addict who was too quick to get hyped up on something and wreak havoc on their camp—was so in love with a woman and the idea of his own family, that he could be moved to entirely turn his life around in a quest just to keep the good thing that he'd found.
The more she knew about Daryl, the more she imagined the Dixons had a great deal of life they might want to forget. They might have a great deal that they wanted to escape.
Merle had once found that escape in substances. Now, it seemed, he found that escape in a purpose and home.
Carol couldn't help but wonder if Daryl was looking for the same thing. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd react the same way if he found it. She couldn't help but daydream, just a little—and she was thankful that it helped to relieve the uncomfortable tangle of nerves in her gut—that she may be able to give him everything it was that he needed or wanted.
The gnawing and ever-present voice of Ed told her that she'd never be worth that much to any man. His voice told her that she'd drive Daryl to drugs more than she'd save him from anything in his past. But there was a small glimmer of hope inside her.
After all, he wasn't objecting too greatly to sharing his new home with her. And the way he'd kissed her earlier had felt genuine and hungry in the best sort of way.
She wanted to ask him if it was only the novelty of it all, but she feared the answer.
She'd rather keep her daydreams to herself for now. She'd rather just enjoy what was instead of running the risk of shattering it over thoughts of what might be.
"You OK?" Daryl asked. His voice snatched her out of her daydreams. She could feel that her face was contorted—drawn up in the pain that her final thoughts had caused her as she'd imagined that, maybe, Ed was always right about her. She purposefully softened her expression and put on smile, but from Daryl's own contorted features, she could tell that he wasn't fully believing her.
"I just—got worried," she said. He didn't need to know what she was worried about. And when he responded, it was clear that he was willing to fill in worry for himself anyway.
"Hey," he said softly, "don't worry about it. There ain't been no trouble since Merle took over. But if there is? We'll handle it. He'll know how to handle it."
Carol smiled at him more sincerely this time.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore, OK?" She requested. He nodded his head.
"We can talk about whatever you want," Daryl said. She felt even more relieved.
"What did you get?"
"You done eatin'?" Daryl asked. He was clearly concerned about her unfinished stew and bread. Daryl seemed determined to feed her until she actually exploded.
"I just don't want anymore right now," Carol said. His brow furrowed, so she quickly added to the statement. "Maybe—I'll want something later."
Daryl looked like he accepted that. He nodded his head and balled his napkin up, putting it on the table.
"You want me to—wash the dishes?" He asked. Carol smiled to herself. The offer seemed entirely genuine.
"What if—I wash and you help me dry?" Carol asked. Daryl considered the request and then nodded his OK. He cleared the table while Carol put the stew and leftover bread to the side in case they may want it later. She washed the few dishes they had used and Daryl carefully dried them before stacking them on the counter.
She didn't tell him that she enjoyed simply having him there, beside her, while she did the dishes. She didn't tell him that Ed had never offered to help her in the kitchen.
All she told him was "thank you" for what he'd done, and she gave him a kiss for his efforts. He looked more pleased with the kiss than anything else, and he'd wrapped his arms around her to hold her close enough for him to steal a few more as payment. She'd gladly let him have them.
When the kisses were done, but the warm feeling they left in her belly still lingered, Carol had followed Daryl into the living room and she'd sat on the couch while he proudly unpacked the bag of items he'd chosen.
There were snacks to keep her and the little one fed should they somehow starve before the no doubt hefty breakfast that would be served in the morning. In addition to the snacks, Daryl seemed particularly anxious to share with her the fact that he'd procured two packets of hot chocolate mix—one for each of them unless she really wanted both—because he'd seen it and been sure that an evening at home required such a treat.
His happiness over two battered paper packets of hot chocolate had tugged at Carol's heart, and she'd struggled against the tears that had threatened to choke her when she'd realized that, perhaps, the things that Daryl had chosen to enjoy were things that he'd never really enjoyed before—and he'd chosen to share them with her.
He showed her books that he brought her to pass the wee hours of the morning when the baby in her belly forbade her to sleep. She'd asked for one, but he'd brought her enough to fill one of the shelves in the living room bookshelf.
He'd also brought several taped-up boxes of board games. Carol hadn't missed the certain hint of affection or enchantment he'd used as he stroked the cover of each game and declared that they'd told him all the pieces were there. He stacked up the several games he'd chosen and sat back to display his prizes to Carol with much the same look of expectation and pride that he'd worn when he'd showed her a particularly good kill that they'd needed to keep them all alive on the road.
Her chest ached with more emotion than she might have been able to explain, and she cleared her throat and pretended to have a bit of a coughing fit before she spoke.
"It's wonderful," she said.
"Yeah?" Daryl asked. "Not too bad. For a quiet evenin', I mean."
"It's perfect," Carol assured him. "But—we're missing a few things."
His face fell. He surveyed his small mountain of snacks and the board games.
"What we missin'?" He asked.
Carol offered him a smile.
"A couple of mugs and some hot water for that hot chocolate," Carol said. "And—maybe a couple of cushions to make the floor more comfortable? We could play the game at the coffee table. Maybe—sit together? Share a blanket if it's cold?" Daryl was already nodding. "Would you like that?" Carol asked, already suspecting she knew the answer.
"I'll get the pillows an' blankets," Daryl offered. He got to his feet in record time. Carol knew that if she was on the floor—and once she made it down there to sit among the cushions that he would put down—she'd never make it up without Daryl's assistance. Still, when he offered her a hand to even help her get off the couch, she knew he wouldn't leave her stranded on the floor like an over-turned turtle.
"I'll make the hot chocolate," Carol said. She accepted the packets when Daryl handed them to her to save her from bending to pick them up. "You can set up the game, too, if you want."
"Which kind of game you want to play?" Daryl asked.
Carol swallowed back a laugh.
"I don't care," she said sincerely, "as long as—I'm playing it with you."