Living south of the Apalachicola National Forest means that now that Shane's not solely responsible for three teenagers, he goes out hunting as often as he stays on the island now. The kids hunt with him, but they alternate on which one goes out. It's not really walker territory, and even less likely to be populated by idiots like the ones who burned down Beth's hometown. It's rare to go out and not bring back a good sized deer.
Today, it's Sophia out with him, and she's the one of the three that seems to enjoy the trips the most. Carl and Beth are generally more interested in fishing these days than slogging through forest in search of wildlife they may not successfully bring back.
They have a radio in the truck, but it's the only thing that has the range to reach home base. It's only about fifteen miles as the crow flies to the old campground where they park the truck, but getting back home is a circuitous route of nearly twice that.
"Can I radio in that we're on our way back?" Sophia asks once they've loaded the deer she shot from the drag sled into the bed of the pickup truck they checked out this morning.
"Go right on ahead," he tells her. He can load the sled without her, and she's been training in the comms room as part of her chore roster anyway.
Only half paying attention to the radio check-in process, he hears an excited squeal as he shuts the tailgate. When he looks up, Sophia is practically dancing in place. "Shane! They found my mama!"
"That's fantastic news, kiddo." It really is, because honestly, he was starting to wonder when Rick and Merle kept returning from their searches in North Georgia empty handed. "Let's get loaded up so we can get you there to see her."
One of the policies he agrees with is that the search teams never announce survivors until they're safely back at the community and clearing medical. Apparently, they'd had a stupid, mundane traffic accident - vehicle versus escaped livestock, in this case an Angus bull - and a family's joy at a missing family member turned to grief. The family would mourn either way, but those hours of anticipation were something no one wants to repeat.
Normally, the trip takes them about forty-five minutes, but today? Shane risks a bit of speeding for once, and they make it in thirty instead. Sophia shucks out of the truck like she's making an Olympic run, leaving him to turn the deer over to the team that will handle the butchering. By the time he turns in the truck and heads over to the infirmary, everyone is cleared through medical.
He doesn't even have to ask about Lori, because the sheer disappointment on Rick and Carl's faces is enough. It's not grief, at least, so he assumes the group was even more fragmented than expected. Before he can inquire for details, he's enveloped in a hug by a Carol who seems even more fragile than he remembers, but considering she's probably been mourning her daughter all this time, he can understand.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Carol mutters against his chest before pressing a kiss against his cheek. He feels himself flush a little despite his tan, since that wasn't something he expected.
Shane pats her shoulder, meeting Sophia's gaze where she's not far from her mother. He spots Hershel in a huddle with his daughters. Nearby, Otis is openly sobbing, his wife and son in a bear hug. It's three days before Thanksgiving, and he thinks that at least the majority of their people will have something to really give thanks for this year.
"Hey, mama, why don't we go see the house?" Sophia suggests sweetly, gently tugging her mother away. She slides an arm around Carol's waist and points down the length of the peninsula the island actually is. "We can follow that road all the way home."
"How far is it?" Carol asks, and Shane notices she never waivers about Sophia already having somewhere designated as 'home' here.
He glances to Rick, who reveals a set of keys in his hand, and that makes his heart sink a little. There's not enough room at his place for everyone, and he knows that the reunited families will need more space. So he leads the way, listening to Sophia chatter to her mother, while further back, Beth is doing the same with her father, knowing things are about to change significantly once again.
"They gave me the keys to one of the other places across the street from yours, another of the harborside instead of oceanside. It's the four bedroom," Rick tells him. "They told me if we needed the other on harborside to let them know."
"Alright." He's already thinking of how their group spread out among the three houses they have assigned. Taking a fifth might be the simplest solution for the family groups so no one ends up further away due to any other survivors being found. Just because there haven't been for a bit doesn't mean they won't be.
"Hershel says Daryl and Lori were on the motorcycle, and he's not sure where they lost them the night of the fire. We found them up near Johns Mountain. He had a cousin living up that way who had a property we'd have called a compound back in the day. With just him, the women, and Jimmy, he holed up and did his best. Said his girls wouldn't have known where the property was."
Considering the Greene sisters had given every clue they could imagine, Shane figures it's just their bad luck that neither Maggie nor Beth had known of the property. Johns Mountain is damn near in Tennessee. It's a better sort of luck that they found them that far north. "Guess it's a good thing Merle's so damned methodical on searching the northern part of the state, isn't it?"
Confirming that Lori was with Daryl, that's at least hopeful, he thinks. Out of everyone from the farm, the redneck hunter is the most skilled for a world like this, and Lori's not exactly unskilled herself. Hopefully the lack of success in finding them is simply the younger Dixon brother being a little wilier than Merle thinks about where to hunker down and stay safe. The alternative is that they're staying on the move, and Shane's not ready to think about the impossibility of finding them if they do. Carl needs his mama back.
In the end, they do send for the keys to the fifth house, but mostly because everyone hopes they'll need it by finding their last two lost lambs. Officially, Glenn and Maggie move into it, leaving their two bedroom place for Otis's family, since the older man was already sharing it with them. The other shift is the one that has Shane sitting on the small deck off the master bedroom in his place, trying his best not to brood.
Princess slips outside, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "At least the girls are staying together, right?"
He sighs, because this was the best case scenario for Beth and Sophia, both getting their parents back, but they've been in his care for three months. It's such a short amount of time, yet seems like three years instead. "I keep reminding myself they're literally across the street."
Hershel and Carol took the four bedroom, sharing it with the two teenage girls. It meant a free room at Shane's, officially intended for Rick, although his brother has made no move to carry his things across the hall from the room he's been sharing with Carl. Shane honestly thought Carol might simply move into the girls' room here, and stay on with Sophia, but in the end, she'd taken one of the bedrooms across the street. He suspects the girls will still share, despite the room to spread out. It'll take as much time for them to feel comfortable apart as it will for Shane to feel the same with them not sleeping under the same roof.
She hums softly before coming around to sit in his lap, kissing him softly, with no heat behind it. "You like Hershel, right?"
"He seems like a good man." Shane thinks back to the farm, where the veterinarian patched him up after Otis shot him in the woods. "A bit more uptight and religious than I generally prefer to spend time with, but Beth loves him." He's just glad that Hershel's thanks had been as brief as Carol's, a handshake and an assessing look. Being thanked for doing the right thing was something he enjoyed back as a deputy, but now? It's different, somehow.
"I don't know how soon they'll realize it, and their missing kids were probably a barrier before, but…" Princess lets the sentence fade off and smirks at him. "Let's just say I think the girls are going to end up sisters for real."
Startled, Shane thinks over the behavior he saw at the big group supper they'd hosted here tonight. Hershel had seemed as protective of Carol as his own people, and he knows from Dale's gossip that Carol took the idea of Sophia's death so hard she was nearly catatonic when the fire happened. If Hershel's spent months coaxing Carol to survive that unimaginable loss, he could see where the man might develop an affection for the woman.
"He just might be one of those men who doesn't fare well on his own," he muses, thinking about Beth saying Hershel married her mother nine months after Maggie's mother died. "The girls would probably love it, and Sophia sure as hell deserves a better father than Ed Peletier."
"See? Not so much to worry about. You're still the favorite uncle, no matter how that shifts around."
That makes him laugh, and her next kiss isn't chaste. Deciding there are better ways to spend his evening than staring moodily at the Gulf, he grins and gets to his feet, shifting Princess into a bridal carry back into their bedroom.
Most of his people are home safe now. It's just a matter of time before his family is complete again, too.
The funny thing about living with a man like Daryl, Lori thinks, is that he has an eerily good memory for dates compared to any other man she's ever known. It's not that Rick ever forgot carelessly, but the demands of his job often meant certain dates were let slide, especially the longer they were married. Her birthday being ten days before Christmas has always been problematic anyway, and she finally just conceded her day to be part of the holiday celebrations like it had been when she was a kid.
How Daryl learned her exact birthday, she has no idea, because he's never asked her. Logic tells her he probably asked Dr. Stevens, since the physician is the only person who's inquired about it since they arrived at the riverside camp. The three days prior are some of the coldest they've seen so far, with lows in the teens and even a dusting of snow to excite the kids. For Lori, it mostly meant several days cooped up in the RV, unwilling to let precious heat escape by coming and going just to socialize.
The morning of the fifteenth, she wakes to the sound of sleet on the roof of the RV and groans. The weather seemed to be creeping warmer, but a peek out the window shows her it's overcast. Tiny pebbles of frozen rain and sleet are bouncing off the picnic table she can see from the window. The warmer temperature, hovering right at freezing according to the thermometer stuck to the window, just means frozen yuck coming down instead of the prettier snow.
"S'cold as a witch's tit out there, woman, and fucking sleeting. Go back to sleep."
Daryl's grumble makes her check the time. It's past seven, so she's surprised he's still home. Normally, bad weather or not, he's been out helping the able bodied with trips to cut firewood and bring it back to camp. They've collected enough propane to keep everyone warm this winter, by best estimates, but it's a finite resource. Next winter, they'll need the firewood, which has to season for six months or more to burn properly, and probably more permanent housing than RVs the size of theirs allow.
Deciding to take advantage of the unexpected late morning company, she curls up against him, semi-reclined on her nest of pillows, which is the only way she can sleep and breath freely anymore. The baby kicks against him, which makes him roll to lay a palm flat on her belly. "You, too, Lil Asskicker. Let your mama sleep in on her birthday, why dontcha."
The longer they share the bed, the less anxious he gets about how close she is, especially if it's her ever growing belly in closest contact with him, but unlike before, where he needed an invitation to touch, lately he's seemed to be getting attached to small, delicate touches, as if he's afraid she'll smack his hand away. Conversations with the baby are a regular thing, and she hasn't missed the fact that he reads the pregnancy book more than she does.
Then what he says registers, and she risks reaching out to smooth his hair back from his face. He doesn't move away from the contact, just glances up curiously. "You're not gonna go back to sleep, are you?" he drawls.
Lori shakes her head. "Too used to early rising now." No matter how quiet Daryl is, she spent too many years being hyper aware of Rick's comings and goings on different shifts. Daryl is up by dawn every day, usually, and she usually indulges in enjoying the residual warmth of the bed until he's gone to allow him some early morning privacy.
"You hungry?" he asks, pushing up into a sitting position. She lets her hand fall away to rest on her belly before nodding. That sends him to bustling in the kitchenette after a firm instruction to stay put. Something goes from fridge to oven, but he doesn't quite let her see it before he kneels to check on Mittens in her improvised cat bed wedged in the front passenger floorboard.
Daryl's guess that the cat was pregnant proved true, and the kittens are four weeks old, and typically rambunctious little pests. Lori doesn't mind, because they keep her company. He ushers the three kittens and their mama outside to visit the litter box before setting the kettle to boil. With the awning out on the RV, they're out of the weather as long as they don't go exploring. She can't imagine Mittens allowing that just yet.
Her bladder and the baby get at odds with his stay put request, but she tucks herself back in her spot as soon as she's done, just in time for him to hand her a cup of hot chai tea. The enticing, mouth watering smell of cinnamon pervades the RV by the time Daryl calls the cats back inside, giving her a clue that whatever he snuck into the oven, it's probably going to be sweet. It only takes about ten minutes, and he keeps his broad back between her and whatever he's got while he plates it.
When he comes toward the bed, he's got the plate behind him. An embarrassed flush tints his skin as he comes to a stop. "It ain't a birthday cake, and all I did was finish 'em up after Miranda made 'em and froze 'em for me, but…" He trails to a stop before bringing the plate into her line of sight, two piping hot cinnamon rolls dripping with icing set in its center.
"This is perfect," Lori breathes out, taking the plate. "Thank you." She runs a finger through the warm icing, popping it into her mouth and smiling at him. "Better than birthday cake, actually. I don't like cake icing all that much."
The boyish grin that earns her makes a warmth settle in her chest that she firmly ignores. She's still married to Rick, despite not knowing where the man might be, and pregnant with Shane's baby. Daryl deserves much better than her conflicted affections and drama that would have kept the trailer park she grew up in hopped full of gossip for months.
The sweet treat is as luscious tasting as she expected, especially knowing Miranda made them for Daryl. The other woman is a whiz at adapting recipes to suit their current ingredients. While she could probably eat them both, she offers the plate to Daryl so he can take the second. "It's better when it's shared," she urges, and he accepts, taking his time with the treat before taking the plate to the sink for her.
"When's your birthday?" Lori asks, curious and hoping she hasn't missed it.
"You don't hafta…" Daryl trails off when she narrows her eyes at him. He knows that look by now and rarely argues with it much. "March twenty-eighth." Without prompting, he adds. "I'll be forty four."
That makes him a full ten years older than she is, which is actually more than she thought. Honestly, she'd thought he was much closer to Rick and Shane's age, although considering the tales he's told her of Merle still being home when he was in his upper elementary school years, it makes sense. The elder Dixon brother is probably in his early fifties.
"I'll keep it in mind. Hopefully a certain someone will give me time to surprise you, too." Lori's due a full month prior to his birthday, so they'll have an extra for any birthday breakfast she manages for him.
"You decided on a name yet?" he asks, coming back to sit down on the bed.
"Not yet." She pulls the baby name book out of a stack of fiction she's collected and pulls out her little list. "I thought about naming her Charlotte, you know."
"After her brother?" When she nods, Daryl shakes his head and takes the list when it's offered. "That's a heavy load for her to carry. Maybe she needs something all her own." He skims the names, a furrow between his brows. "You like the traditional stuff, don't you?"
Considering Carl's fairly old school name combined with the names she's been considering, Lori isn't surprised at the observation. "I got in the habit before. Didn't want Carl to be one of a half dozen boys with the same name." Her own name was fairly common, at least the nickname designation she uses, and she'd never really liked that.
"Smart. Had two other Daryls in elementary school with me, although both spelled it different."
"Which one do you like best?" She hasn't been able to decide, and Charlotte is her front runner. He's right, though, that it would have too much sadness attached.
"Dunno. Tie between Hazel and Judith, maybe."
She isn't surprised that he liked the single nature based name in the list. "Judith was Carl's third grade teacher. He had the biggest crush on her and swore he was going to marry her when he grew up. It was the most adorable thing I ever saw." It doesn't hurt as much to share stories of her son now, and she sees Daryl's lips quirk up into a half smile.
"Must be something about third grade. I wanted to marry my third grade teacher, too."
Lori giggles. "Maybe a boy thing. I don't recall wanting to marry a teacher until at least high school. Do you remember your teacher's first name?"
"Mary, I think." He passes the list back, and she tucks it away along with the book. "Maybe give her one of your names for a middle name, if they go with either Hazel or Judith."
"I'll think it over. See if it works out in my head." She grins at him. "Someone told me when I was pregnant with Carl to yell the full name a dozen times in a row to see if I could stand it." Although a full name for the baby is tricky, as rightfully, her last name should be Walsh, even if Lori's is still Grimes.
It makes him snort with quiet laughter, and she leans in to hug him. "Thank you."
Surprisingly, he slides an arm around her, leaning into the embrace. "You already thanked me," he grumbles.
"For remembering my birthday. Not for all this. You could have just written me off when we got here. Not many men would stick around."
"Wasn't gonna abandon you or the baby like that." There's a tension in his frame now, and he turns just enough that she's as close as she's ever been. "Baby ain't gotta be blood to love it."
Lori knows she shouldn't, but the emotion in his voice, that genuine affection for her unborn child, makes her press a kiss to his cheek. He makes a surprised sound, but doesn't scurry away. Instead he studies her for a long moment, blue eyes intent.
The shocking part is when he reaches up to slide his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, touch gentle and massaging. "You gonna be mad if I kiss you?" he asks quietly. "Cos I've been wanting to do that a little while now."
Her answer is to kiss him herself. It's sweet and wistful, and he lets her lead in a way no one ever has, his shyness about physical touch extending even here. This adds another complicated layer to her already complex life surrounding her daughter, but she can't bring herself to resist when he wants it, too.
What happened with Shane was two people desperate to feel anything that wasn't grief, despair, or horror at the loss of Rick and the world collapsing around them. This? It's what she thought love would be as a little girl, dreaming of a world outside the poverty stricken world she grew up in. Soft, sweet, and for the first time since she reached adulthood, as honest as her heart has ever been.
Lori has no idea where this might lead, but for once, she's finally okay with not knowing, so long as it's combined with the unshakable faith she's grown to have that Daryl is going to stick by her side no matter what. He knows who she is, as dark and grubby as all her secrets can be, and wants her anyway. She thinks maybe she could kiss him forever, just for that.
A/N: The lack of intent or discussion between Lori & Daryl is deliberate. They'll finally talk things over in the next chapter. That one will probably be solely Lori/Daryl, since the collected group on the island is all content except for missing Lori & Daryl. The chapter after that will be the actual reunion, which will cause some interesting drama. I am estimating four chapters total before the story ends.
Side note: if there's something I'm missing that you would like to request before the story wraps up, please let me know. I haven't felt particularly inspired on the reintegration of Hershel & Carol to their daughters, but I could scrabble something together if someone just really feels the need.
