AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"The man is damn near a genius," Merle said. "Andrea—you pass me them potatoes, Sugar?"
Carol had been tense at first, but she was slowly relaxing.
Everything with Daryl—whatever that everything may actually be—was so very new that she didn't want to do anything to mess things up. Merle Dixon, at least the Merle Dixon that sat across the table from her and ran the Cedar Falls Community, was a very observant man—much like the man he affectionately called "baby brother" with regularity, especially when he forgot that they might be being observed—and Carol worried that, somehow, he might see through their ruse.
She had no idea how they would handle the explanation that they'd lied about being married and, even though they could say that things had taken a turn toward the positive, she wasn't sure how Merle would take knowing that he'd been lied to. Of course, at some point, Carol knew the truth was sure to come out, but she hoped that they would have a little time to at least prepare themselves for how they wanted to handle things.
She'd been tense when they first got to the cabin, and she'd even been tense when they'd first settled around the table, but she was beginning to relax now.
Merle wanted to talk about the community, and Carol and Daryl were happy to hear more about it and the hope that he had for their future.
Merle was still finishing his meal, as evidenced by his acceptance of the serving bowl of potatoes and the addition of another large scoop to his plate, but the rest of them were done—relaxing back in their chairs as their food digested over conversation.
The one greatest contributor to Carol's relaxation, more than likely, came from the fact that Daryl was casually resting his hand on her thigh like it was a practice he'd had for the past ten or twenty years, and not at all like their relationship—however they might define what was happening in their lives now—was practically brand new.
"I haven't met him yet," Daryl offered.
"You won't, either," Andrea said with a laugh. "At least—not until he has a reason to come outside."
"Recluse?" Daryl asked.
"Tied up to his projects," Merle said. "Like some kinda mad scientist, except it's like—electric shit and machines that fascinate the hell outta him."
"He's nearly impossible to talk to," Andrea said.
"Because he's so smart?" Carol asked. Andrea shrugged her shoulders in response.
"I consider myself fairly intelligent," Andrea said. "I consider everyone at this table to be intelligent. Michonne. Eugene is just…"
"He's a different kinda animal," Merle offered around a mouthful of mashed potatoes that he'd smothered in the gravy that he assumed no one else—all showing evidence of having abandoned their meals entirely—was going to mind if he finished. "I'm not sure if he ain't wired a little bit differently. Friendly enough—asshole's got himself a mullet, even. But the son of a bitch can take twenty minutes to tell you somethin' that shoulda took like two an' a half."
"Still," Andrea said, "he's done big things for the community. He keeps everything in good working order around here. He's more than earned our respect, and he's more than earned the food he eats and the few creature comforts he enjoys."
"Asshole loves the hell outta comic books, magazines, and these little bitty like brain puzzles," Merle said. "Every one we get goes straight to him. He's done with 'em in like ten minutes, turns 'em into the community storage." He hummed and considered his plate once he'd cleaned it of the pile of potatoes and gravy. "We got dessert?" He asked Andrea.
"That chocolate pie," Andrea said. "You want it now?"
"We got coffee?" Merle asked.
Andrea smiled.
"Decaf so everyone can enjoy," she said. "Already brewed and hot."
"Bring it out?" Merle requested. He reached over and, rather roughly, swatted Andrea on the back in what Carol was sure was supposed to be a sign of affection. Merle, like Daryl, was perhaps not always aware of his physical strength. Andrea simply rocked with the thumping on her back and then Merle squeezed her shoulder in his hand.
She got up and brought the pie and the coffee—after waving away Carol's offer to help with a single thing. Even though she waved away Carol's offer to help, though, Daryl got out of his seat quickly and followed her, helping to bring in the plates, mugs, and utensils that they'd need. He also helped clear the table, demanding to Carol that she simply stay seated—too many people passing back and forth, after all, would only create chaos and increase the risk of running into each other and dropping things.
Carol and Merle both sat quietly and waited until the exchange of supper for dessert was done. Quickly, pie was served and coffee was passed around. Everyone settled into their seats again and, as soon as they were situated, Daryl started talking again around the pie that he was clearly enjoying.
"What about the radio?" Daryl asked.
"Oh," Merle said. "Eugene's gettin' this radio workin' with the satellites that are still up there, you know, just flyin' the fuck around 'cause they ain't dropped out yet or somethin'. Anyway, by his figurin', he can tap into the damned things and can broadcast messages or somethin'. He's lookin' for other people. Survivors. Tell 'em we here if they check out alright."
"We wanna do that?" Daryl asked.
"The goal has always been to grow the community," Andrea said. "Expand it."
"But weed out the people that you don't want," Carol offered.
Merle hummed in agreement.
"That's like tryin' to build a utopia," Daryl said.
"That's the whole idea, brother," Merle mused.
"Except it don't work," Daryl said. "There ain't no such thing as a utopia. Shit always goes south."
"Daryl's right," Carol offered.
"You are right," Merle stressed. "Shit always does go south if you go into it thinkin' you gonna build some kinda perfect damn world. You can't do that 'cause people ain't perfect. Don't think you gotta tell my ass that." He drained his glass of water. When he put it down, and without him making any kind of request, Andrea casually refilled it from the pitcher of clear water she'd put on the table. "That's why the hell we got rules. Regulations. Expectations. Whatever the hell you wanna call it. But if we was scared of lettin' a single damn soul in, Michonne woulda never let your asses through the gate for us to even know you were here."
"We'll do the same things as we always do," Andrea said. "We're cautious, in the beginning, with anyone new. We'll weed people out."
"Some of our people's got people," Merle said. "Out there. At least—they hope they got people. The idea is to try to reach them people. Hell—if you hadn't showed up here, brother? I'da been puttin' your name on the list just the same as…as Alice is got her lil' girlfriend on that list. Eugene's steady broadcastin' messages, with names and last known locations. Tryin' to find people. If anybody else is seekin' a place to go—we'll give 'em a chance to plead their case and prove their worth."
"As long as we vettin' 'em comin' in," Daryl said. He let the statement hang. He didn't have to finish it, because everyone at the table understood what he was saying. Merle smiled at him—the kind of smile that went all the way to his eyes. It raised his eyebrows and curled up the corners of his mouth. He looked prepared to give Daryl a hard time, but then he seemed to think better of it and dropped back into his chair.
"Don't worry, baby brother," he mused. "I know how you always been about your play-pretties. Ain't nothin' gonna happen to your little woman, or your kid. We ain't strangers, here, to keepin' out them that ain't got no business inside the walls—or removin' 'em, for that matter, if they somehow stumbled their asses inside."
Merle put his hand down on the table, somewhat roughly, and then he patted the table like he was apologizing to it. He contemplated the goings on around him for just a second, and then spoke again.
"Everyone wanna—take the coffee onto the porch? Pie, too, if you ain't done with it."
The offer was accepted without words of acceptance. Daryl and Merle only took coffee, but Carol and Andrea both helped themselves to a little more of the chocolate pie before taking their whole dessert setting outside.
The porch had a swing, so Carol and Andrea shared it while Daryl and Merle took two rocking chairs. Daryl lit cigarettes for both of them.
It was the perfect kind of night, at least in Carol's opinion. It was getting chilly. It was the perfect temperature for the light sweater she'd pulled on—one she'd found in the community storage house—and the air smelled like the fires burning near the main house.
Carol balanced her coffee cup on the nearby railing and her pie plate on her belly.
"I can't do that yet," Andrea mused quietly. Carol smiled to herself.
"You will soon," Carol said with a laugh. "Before you know it."
"I hope so," Andrea responded.
"Speakin' of all that," Merle said, "there's another thing we wanted to talk to y'all about."
"Talk to us about specifically?" Daryl asked.
Merle hummed.
"Fall Fling," Merle said. "At least—that's the pendin' name of it, but shit's as liable to change as anything else."
"What the hell's the Fall Fling?" Daryl asked.
"Something like a festival," Andrea offered. "Some of the people brought it to our attention that we might consider having some kind of gathering. An event. Something for the whole community. Food, games, music, celebration…you know. A fall festival, of sorts, for the whole community to come together."
"Winter's comin'," Merle said. "Could be good for morale before everybody starts kinda secludin' themselves more inside to stay warm."
"I got no complaints about that," Daryl said, shrugging his shoulders. "I wouldn't think anybody'd be complainin' about the fair comin' to town or whatever."
"Glad you see it that way," Merle offered. "We was thinkin'—after talkin' to Alice an' some others around here—that you'd be kinda like guests of honor."
"We would?" Daryl asked with a hint of a nervous laugh. Carol laughed to herself, much in the same way, when she heard his laugh.
"Why on Earth would anybody care about us?" Carol asked.
"Community growth is a big thing for the future," Andrea said. "Growth for the future, really. In so many ways, people have started their lives over. The community has been able to offer that for everyone here. There's been one problem, though."
"We ain't growin' nobody new around here," Merle interjected. "We had some pregnancies. Couple women come in with babies, but they just weren't set to be born. Every one we've had around here has come too early. If it didn't, it come gone already or didn't last more'n a couple hours."
Carol watched as Daryl gnawed at his cuticle. The discussion of the bad luck surrounding other babies in the community—mostly caused by poor conditions before the mothers arrived at the community, according to Alice and the other doctors—made him nervous. When he gnawed at his fingers, especially as vigorously as he was at the moment, he was either dealing with a rush of nerves or he was working out a problem. Carol had learned that much about him.
"What's it got to do with us?" Daryl asked.
"People are afraid to have babies," Andrea said. "They're afraid—they're the next failed pregnancy. The next loss."
"But the winter is the right damn time for makin' babies," Merle said. "If you catch my drift. Snows here. Gets cold an' people got a mind to cuddle up."
"What'cha want us to do about it?" Daryl asked. "Hell—I can't force people to fuck."
Merle laughed.
"They'll take care of that on their own," he said. "Condoms is in short supply, though. Shorter'n most of 'em's got any idea. Community storage is runnin' out of 'em and we can't hardly never find none these days when people go on supply runs. One of these days, they gonna go in there expectin' a fistful of guarantees an' there ain't gonna be a single damn one left. We figured if we made y'all kinda like guests of honor—made you visible to the whole place that ain't seen you yet—might inspire people to kinda get over their nerves before they don't have a choice. Keep down panic when that time comes."
"Nothing scary or anything," Andrea offered reassuringly. "Just like a—public baby shower. But without gifts, since most of what you need you can get any time you need it, and with more public congratulations."
Carol's stomach twisted slightly, and her plate wobbled when her daughter responded to whatever rush the sensation may have caused in her system. Carol laughed to herself and steadied the plate.
"I never had a baby shower with Sophia," she offered.
"Then there's somethin' good for everyone," Merle offered.
"But you're pregnant, too," Carol offered, directing her words toward Andrea.
"And we'll mention that," Andrea said. "I mean—we already have. But…"
"People can't see it, so they don't too much believe it or care about it," Merle said. "Sorry, Sugar," he offered to Andrea."
"It's true," Andrea said.
"It'll be obvious soon enough," Carol offered.
"But not in time for the Fall Festival," Merle said. "Not if we wanna use it as somethin' to boost morale an' really get people sorta revved up for all the shit we gotta do to get ready for winter."
"What do we gotta do?" Daryl asked.
"Nothin'," Merle said. "Just be visible. Be there. Eat. Do whatever the hell you want. Accept congratulations an' tell people how fuckin' excited you are."
"I don't really see how we can say we're opposed to it," Carol offered. "But—I won't do it if Andrea isn't going to…make a big deal of things, too."
Merle looked pleased at the suggestion. Carol didn't miss the quick wink he tossed in Andrea's direction before he rocked his chair with his foot.
"Don't worry, Mouse, we gonna make sure Andrea gets plenty of attention, too," Merle said with a laugh. "How's about lightin' your big brother another smoke, Daryl?"