AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl heard the rig a long time before he saw it. It creaked and groaned. It was clearly carrying a much heavier load than would be caused by one person or even a small load of materials. Dog barked, once, into the fog that had settled over the land around them and Daryl called out a warning sound that silenced the dog.
He wasn't worried about Walkers. Whoever was driving the rig would be prepared to handle them unless there were just far too many. Nobody set out in a creaking rig without the absolute confidence that they could handle a few Walkers. The fences around the house, too, would hold pretty well unless the Walkers were out of control. Daryl felt pretty confident that he could pick off the Walkers before they got to be too much.
He hadn't seen a herd that would really cause them all a great deal of trouble in a while.
He didn't want Dog barking because he didn't want to run the risk that the animal—or the person driving the rig—or anything else, might wake up Carol.
Dog chuffed a couple of times, but he obeyed Daryl's command to stay quiet even as the rig came into view and rolled to a stop just in front of the gates.
Ezekiel spoke to the horses, set the reins for his return to the rig, and locked the wheels from his seat. Then he dropped down off the rig. Daryl offered him the same warning of quiet when he started to speak and he obeyed much the same way that Dog had—he let out something of a chuffing sound, but he didn't speak. He left the heavily loaded rig—though Daryl couldn't see what was loaded there—and brought only a large jug. He let himself into the gate, instead, and petted Dog generously before he made his way to the porch. Daryl didn't rise up out of his seat for a moment. He was comfortable. Ezekiel put the jug down on the bottom step without comment. Daryl let things lie as they were.
"Coffee on the fire over there," Daryl said quietly. "Whole stack of mugs in the windowsill. They all clean."
Ezekiel nodded as thanks for his hospitality and walked toward the little fire to help himself with coffee that sat on the cooking grate perched just off the fire to keep the coffee warm without allowing it to boil out.
Daryl couldn't see him at all when he disappeared off to the side for a moment, but he already knew that the Good King was taking himself over to view what Daryl had hung up to drain for breakfast.
"A fresh kill," Ezekiel said, coming around to mount the porch steps. By way of invitation, Daryl pushed at the empty chair. Ezekiel accepted the seat as it was offered. Daryl offered him a bag of the tightly rolled cigarettes he'd been rolling from paper and loose tobacco to entertain himself during the past little while. It was a tedious job, but he gathered it whenever they came across it because he liked the repetition and the calming effect of creating the perfectly rolled cigarettes. Ezekiel refused one and Daryl lit a fresh one for himself. He tasted his coffee. It was still hot because he'd accidentally gotten the coffee a touch too hot before he'd moved it from the flames.
"That bastard was in our shed when I come out to get the fire goin'," Daryl offered. "Be a good breakfast, though. Good protein for the baby."
"I brought milk," Ezekiel said, not commenting on the raccoon that would be made into a meal with, more than likely, a great deal left over for later meals. "For the Queen."
"Carol," Daryl said. "For cryin' out loud. There ain't nobody out here but me, you, an' Dog. And he ain't shit for conversation. Just—drop the damn Good King Wenceslas bullshit."
Ezekiel laughed to himself and reclined as much as he could in his seat. He sipped his hot coffee and held it like he was warming his hands on the mug. It was chilly. It was clear, this morning, that fall had settled in around them and winter was sending her warnings of impending arrival.
"Good coffee," Ezekiel said. Daryl hummed. "Is there something wrong with the stove?"
"I prefer to cook out here," Daryl said. "Get a little claustrophobic if I stay in the house too much. Besides—didn't want the smell to wake her up."
"She isn't sleeping well?" Ezekiel asked.
"Not good as I'd want her to," Daryl offered. He relaxed into his seat, as well. He really didn't mind Ezekiel's company when the man wasn't pretending to be something straight out of a fairy tale. He had a decent enough head on his shoulders, he clearly cared about people and family, and he would do damn near anything that was asked of him. He also loved Carol and, honestly, for as much as that could bristle Daryl if he thought about it one way, he appreciated it when he thought about it another.
"Nightmares?" Ezekiel asked. Daryl hummed.
"At least I understand 'em now," Daryl mused.
"Sophia," Ezekiel said. Daryl didn't know if it was a question or a statement. It was entirely likely that Carol had only told Ezekiel part of her story. It was possible that she hadn't told anyone the details of everything that haunted her when she closed her eyes. She hadn't told Daryl everything she dreamed, after all, until he'd finally forced it out of her when she'd woken him by screaming out the night before. Daryl wouldn't tell the man next to him any of Carol's secrets. If she wanted to tell them, she could. She was welcome to share them when and where she thought it necessary or useful, but he would hold them for her.
"Damn near her whole fuckin' life has been a nightmare," Daryl mused, deciding that neither confirmed nor denied Ezekiel's suspicions, and it gave away no precious details of the dancing demons in Carol's mind. "Got a handle on it now, though. Or I'm gettin' one. Know what I'm dealin' with."
"If I can help…" Ezekiel offered, letting it trail off.
"You helped already," Daryl said. "Gettin' Henry to make sure she knows he ain't pissed at her. Ain't goin' nowhere."
"He isn't angry at all," Ezekiel said. "You know how young people are. The anger passes as soon as it comes. He would have come with me this morning, but he's loading more supplies to bring later."
"Supplies?" Daryl asked.
"For your fences and structures," Ezekiel offered.
"Already?" Daryl asked.
"It would be better to have them done as soon as possible. You'll want to set the posts and the ground will freeze soon," Ezekiel explained. "You don't have to worry, though. Henry is bringing a team from the Kingdom. He's told me your plans. They're good plans. They're reasonable and simple. Henry and the team that he's organized will make short work of putting them in place."
"I weren't gonna ask you for no team," Daryl offered.
"You didn't," Ezekiel said. "Henry did. And if you'll excuse my directness, you have requests for me to act the way that you prefer, and I have requests for you. I think Henry wants to do this as something for his mother. I would ask that you allow it and without protest. He wants to show her that—he can help provide for her and for his sister. He wants to show her that he's not angry and, more than that, that he's ready to be considered a man."
Daryl hummed.
"It ain't necessary, but I'ma accept it 'cause it matters to him," Daryl said. "And because you asked me to. I won't never stand in the way of him doin' something he thinks is important to do for his Mama an' the baby. Besides—I'd like to…take her away for a few days anyway. I'd like to borrow a rig."
"You can borrow a rig any time," Ezekiel offered.
"Thanks," Daryl offered. "Need a big one. Might be bringin' back a load. Couple drafts if we got 'em to spare so they don't tire too quick on the way back."
"Is this another trip to Hilltop?" Ezekiel asked. "To bring back things for Michael?"
"He said he'll handle his own affairs," Daryl said. "He oughta be at the Kingdom within the week if what he told me 'fore we left was right. If not, you might see about sendin' someone to check."
"If you're not taking her to the Hilltop," Ezekiel said, "do I have the right to ask where you're taking her?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Hell if I know what you got the right to do an' not do," Daryl mused. "I never been married to a woman who was married before…"
"Married?" Ezekiel asked, latching immediately onto the word. Daryl's stomach twisted. He'd wanted desperately to try the word out. He'd wanted to hear it coming out of his mouth. He'd wanted to taste it on his tongue and to see how it might sound. He'd wanted to see someone else respond to his new truth. Being married to Carol seemed impossible. It seemed like a dream, and it still made him a little nervous.
"Last night," Daryl said. Ezekiel's face quickly revealed something that Daryl couldn't quite name. Was it sorrow? Disappointment? He wiped it away quickly and replaced it with a smile.
"And Henry and I weren't invited?" Ezekiel asked. Daryl couldn't tell if his words were sincere.
"It ain't like that," Daryl said. "Just—an agreement between Carol an' I. Ain't nothin' to be invited to."
"It's been a long time coming," Ezekiel mused. "And just like that, the Queen steps down."
"She's always gonna be there for the Kingdom," Daryl said. "That weren't never gonna change. And…" He hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew what he felt was right to say, but it still felt strange to accept it as truth and to put it out there. Still, he said it because it needed to be said. "However, it is that it works, she's always gonna be there for you. I guess you know that, though, or you wouldn't be havin' coffee on our porch."
Ezekiel laughed to himself.
"I am honored to be welcome in your Kingdom," Ezekiel offered.
"Shut up," Daryl offered, laughing to himself. He lit himself a new cigarette, the other long having burned out. "I'd rather be the Wildman you call me than a King any day."
"Then a Wildman you shall be," Ezekiel said. Daryl assumed, now, that the slipping in and out of his role as king was difficult to control. He spent a great deal of time playing the part. Maybe he didn't always do it to be annoying in private company. Maybe he simply did it because his mind had learned it as a part of himself. Daryl decided he could tolerate it. It was annoying, but it wasn't being done to annoy him—and there was a big difference between those two things. "Still, Carol remains, to me, always a queen. And I do return to my inquiry about—where you and the Queen are going. A honeymoon, perhaps?"
"Somethin' like that," Daryl offered. "I ain't told her yet, but I wanna take her to Alexandria."
"That's a fair ride," Ezekiel said.
"That's where Michonne is," Daryl said.
"Carol has a desire to see Michonne?" Ezekiel asked.
"She needs to see Michonne," Daryl said. "Whether or not she necessarily desires it. She needs to see Judith and RJ. She needs to just—be there for a little while. They got a lotta nice things there, too. While we're there, Michonne'll help her get some stuff for the baby gathered together. Crib an' stuff."
"We have everything Carol will need for the baby at the Kingdom," Ezekiel said. "I have already put together a nursery there for the possibility that she may need to stay there at some point. We have excess furniture. Hilltop is closer if she'd like to choose items from there, even."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"The furniture is extra," Daryl said. "It's Michonne that I want her to have the most. A mother, you know? I think she needs someone to talk to that—ain't me an' ain't you. No offense."
"Nabila is always available for Carol," Ezekiel offered.
"You don't fuckin' get it," Daryl growled. He was a little annoyed that he had to explain himself to this man. Carol would require much less explanation when she woke. She had mentioned Michonne, herself, the night before. She would understand what it was that he was trying to do and what he wanted for her. He didn't want to explain himself to Ezekiel. "Michonne's a Ma like Carol."
"Nabila's a mother," Ezekiel offered.
"That ain't never lost nothin'!" Daryl barked, louder than he meant to. He checked himself with the internal sound of warning that he might have given anyone making that much noise. Dog came trotting over from his patrol of the fences to see if things were OK and Daryl dropped a hand. The animal came up the porch steps and accepted affection from Daryl as assurance that nothing was wrong. Daryl lowered his voice. "It's different," he said. "And I don't owe you no damn explanation for what I do. You ain't her husband no more."
Daryl wasn't sure if Ezekiel looked shocked or amused.
"I'm sorry," Daryl offered.
"Don't be. You're right," Ezekiel said. "I'm not. I'm not certain that—I ever was. I only mean that Alexandria is a fair distance to travel."
"That's why I wanna go now," Daryl said. "Early. Before it gets real cold. Before there's snow. We'll camp tonight, maybe, somewhere an' we'll be there tomorrow. That's just to keep from travellin' in the dark. We'll be back in a week—two if Carol wants—before it gets too cold. I wouldn't go if I didn't think it'd make a world of difference in Carol. She needs to see Michonne, though…and…"
"And?" Ezekiel pressed when Daryl stopped talking.
"When we went to Hilltop, she had to spend the whole damn time tellin' the story of how it was that she weren't married to you no more. Michonne ain't gonna make her tell the story but once before she just makes it damn near a decree that it ain't nobody's business an' they can ask her in private if they give a shit. We've known Michonne a long time. I don't mean it to piss on you or nothin', but…Carol can just be Carol there, she don't have to be the Queen."
Ezekiel smiled at Daryl. Slowly the smile spread into a grin.
"The fuck are you lookin' at me like that for?" Daryl growled. He almost laughed in spite of himself over how damn amused and jolly Ezekiel looked. Ezekiel rocked a little in his chair before he sat back and drained a long swallow from his coffee cup—the liquid had to be nearly as chilled as Daryl's was, but they both continued to nurse it along.
"In Alexandria," Ezekiel mused, "Carol doesn't have to be the Queen. She can simply be the Wildman's Lady."
Daryl snorted, amused by the sentiment.
"Woman," Daryl said. "She don't gotta be the Queen. For once, she can just be the Wildman's Woman."