Taking it to the Grave

The next morning, I felt my shoulder being shoved with some kind of hard surface. I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting the bright lights, Daryl was shaking me with his boot while standing over me.

"Wake up and get ready," he said gruffly, "we gotta get goin'."

"Goin'?" I croaked, my throat was always worse in the morning. I did notice it didn't hurt as much as usual.

"Huntin'," Daryl answered as if it was the most obvious thing, before walking off.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I sat up as I rubbed the sore spot on my shoulder where the sole of his shoe dug in.

Daryl hadn't gone hunting since before we got to the prison, and since finding all the food, there wasn't a reason to. Even when he did go, I hadn't been allowed to for a long time. Why am I going? I ignored all the questions ping-ponging around my head and quickly got up. My legs felt restless with the possibility of leaving the cell block, going outside.

I grabbed the long sleeve plaid I'd taken off to sleep, slipping it over the t-shirt to cover my arms comfortably. When I stood, I pulled my pants up a bit, they just barely fit. I'd heard others talking about going on a run for supplies and clothes when things were a bit calmer, I hoped it was soon. I went to my cell, contemplating what to bring. I was unsure if I would use my slingshot, but I brought it in case, tucking it into my pants behind my back with my gun. It was a bit uncomfortable with both, I'd gotten used to the gun there, I contemplated asking someone for a holster.

I secured my throwing knives around my thigh, internally sighing that I'd had no practice and would probably be useless with them. After grabbing the hunting knife Daryl had given me some time before, I was ready. I met Daryl downstairs, he was waiting in the outer-room by the door with Rick.

My walking slowed as I internally questioned if Rick was coming.

"I'm just not sure it's the best idea . . ." Rick's eyes went to me ever so briefly.

"If it ain't we'll be back sooner. Need a break, and I'm tired of that canned shit. Want somethin' real."

Maggie smiled at me while handing me a pill and I took it without a word. She stroked my head and walked off, Rick said something else I didn't catch before following her.

Daryl opened the door for us to leave just as Maggie called out, "oh, Daryl, here!"

Daryl turned to her as she tossed a small pill bottle, the contents rattled inside as it soared through the air before he caught it. "This-"

"-Her meds, in case you're gone for a while," Maggie explained.

Daryl examined the bottle, leaning on the door to push it open with his back, "When do I give it to her?"

"In four to six hours."

"Got it," Daryl gave a curt nod, shoving the bottle in his pocket while stepping away to hold the door open for me.

As we walked along the corridor, he noticed I was holding the knife and took it from me, shoving it into his pack, muttering something about not having a sheath for it.

"I thought Rick was comin'." I said.

"Why'd ya think that?"

"Ya always take Rick now."

Daryl shrugged, "guys gotta learn, they all do. Can't be the only one that knows that shit. I can't concentrate and relax if I'm always tellin' him what to do."

"But he's a grown-up. He knows what to do."

Daryl scoffed. "Ya'd think so wouldn't ya? Rick's never even been huntin' before all this. And christ, he's so fuckin' loud!" Unintentionally, his voice rose with annoyance on the last word.

I was a bit confused, I couldn't imagine never going hunting, going without all daddy taught me, all he made me do. Daddy would always talk about what it would mean to be a man, what a man knows, or should do. How could Rick go his whole life not knowing how to feed and take care of himself? What did he even bother teaching Carl if not hunting and finding food?

It would explain a few things about Carl . . .

"But . . . I'm loud too," I told him. "That's why ya didn't le'me come. 'Cause I was coughin'."

"That's different, can't control that. Rick's a grown ass man, he should know how to walk three steps without alertin' everythin' in miles."

I smiled, feeling a swell of pride in doing something better than Rick. I got a bit of satisfaction listening to Daryl complain about him.

"I still cough though."

"Haven't this morning. Didn't hear ya at all last night. Used cough all night, sounded like it hurt bad."

It did. I felt happy that the coughing was slowly going away, my throat didn't hurt too bad except for when I first woke up in the mornings. I kept my face blank, just because I was starting to feel better didn't mean anything. There were plenty of times I started to feel better only to get worse.

"We runnin' out of water?" I asked.

"Someone say somethin'?"

I shook my head.

"We don't have a lot."

"Ya gonna build a rain catcher?"

Daryl looked at me, taking a few moments to think it over. "Was thinkin' 'bout it. No concrete plans yet. Didn't think you'd know 'bout somethin' like that."

"Daddy taught me. We used to build little ones for camping. Sometimes they didn't work right though."

Daryl hummed in acknowledgment and walked on.

"Ya really went all out, huh?" Daryl said, eying the slingshot in my hand. He'd already found and killed two squirrels.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, I knew bringing the slingshot, my knives, my gun, and his spare hunting knife was too much, but I wasn't sure what to bring.

I paused, turning my head to the right. I waited, then heard the soft rustling again. Daryl noticed my stillness and pointed in the direction the sound was coming from. Slowly, we stalked in that direction, seeing movement a short distance away, we crouched low to the ground. I briefly wondered if I would have heard the sound had it come from the left side.

"That should be enough for today . . . if we can get 'em all," Daryl said, peering over at the small group of squirrels. There were four of them, each of them either digging or chewing.

"Can't shoot 'em all at once," I thought out loud, if we got one, they'd scatter.

He shook his head in agreement, "what're they doin'?"

I glanced at him, internally questioning the tone of his voice. Scanning the area the rodents were chittering around, it was obvious what they were doing, yet Daryl continued to wait for an answer. When he turned his head and raised an eyebrow at me, I understood.

It'd been so long. So long since I'd been hunting, so long since Daddy took me himself and taught me anything. Daryl was testing me, he knew what the squirrels were doing, he wanted to be sure I knew. As Daddy used to do so often.

"Eatin'." I answered. There was more, I knew that. I kept my eyes on the clearing, looking for a hint of what Daryl wanted.

He said if we get them all, that would be enough. How do we do that?

Four squirrels. One spot. All eating . . .

"They eat there," I began to realize. "Like a feedin' ground."

"So?"

"They'll come back. If we get one, we wait."

Daryl actually smiled, "ya got it. Nice thinkin'."

I turned my face away to hide my expression, the heat in my cheeks would give away the swell of pride I felt in my chest. Daryl's motions were slow as he aimed, he took his time instead of taking the first one down quickly as I thought he would. I watched his movement, intrigued, and almost jealous. I wished I had a good hunting weapon, I wished there was something I was good at like him. I wanted to ask to use the crossbow, but I knew it wasn't the right size. I also did not want to be embarrassed if I couldn't nock it properly.

I'd just barely heard the thwack from the weapon as the squirrels scattered.

"That's one," Daryl said after retrieving the dead animal. I stayed where I was, watching him saunter toward me. "You get the next one, use the slingshot."

I frowned, "it'll be quicker if you just git'em all."

"Quicker ain't always better." Daryl lowered himself on my right side.

I sighed and didn't bother to argue, partly because I did want to try, I wanted to be helpful, I was just afraid it wasn't going to go well. I turned out to be right.

After waiting for nearly half an hour, I was getting impatient and tired. Just as I was about to open my mouth, I saw a bushy tail in the distance.

Another followed, slowly scampering their way to the spot. Glancing at Daryl, I could see his patience was unwavering, I doubted he would care if we sat there for hours. How could he be so patient with this, but not with so many other things?

After using a decent-sized rock I'd found while we were waiting, I'd only missed and scared them away. My muscles tense and my stomach dropped with anxiety, I kept my head down, waiting to hear it.

"Relax, ya had a lousy shot. Happens. Not like ya touched that thing in forever anyway."

My eyes met his briefly, he must've known I was waiting for a much worse reaction. I felt a bit annoyed that it wasn't what I got. I had a bad shot, he should've been yelling at me, tell me what I was doing wrong, tell me what I can do right.

At the same time as being annoyed, I felt a bit calm, it was difficult to understand or explain.

I didn't say anything to him, and as Daryl went into his hunter mode, he had no reason to speak. It was awkward as it took long for the squirrels to return. When they finally did, Daryl shot it himself.

As he went and got the body, I stood and stretched, my foot was tingly with a sleeping sensation, while my thighs ached from being still so long. Daryl made me try again on the third squirrel. I actually did a lot better. I had to maneuver myself closer to get a better shot, and it worked. My excitement from taking the animal down was short-lived when I saw the tail twitching.

Fuck, I hate this.

Daryl and I slowly stalked over to the stunned squirrel. I'd hit it hard in the head, but not hard enough. I never liked doing this part, but with Daddy there was no room to argue.

This isn't daddy.

I looked at Daryl in dismay, "I don't wanna do it."

"Ya know . . ." he trailed off, looking back at the injured animal.

"I know," I replied, knowing what he meant. You know this happens, you know you'll have to do this sometimes. You know this is how it is, it's just food. "Just don't wanna this time."

Daryl gave a nod, and I watched in surprise as he put it out of its misery. It was odd doing the things I used to with Daddy with someone else. It was easy to forget Daryl didn't act or react as he did.

A very long while later, I was standing and stretching again.

"I think we got 'em all," Daryl stated, walking back toward me with another dead squirrel. "Or, at least 'nough for now."

I replied in a nod, my back and legs were sore. I never thought I'd want to return to the prison so badly.

Daryl handed me a knife, "here, go mark that tree. We'll try comin' back another time."

After I was done carving a large X into the tree, I turned my heel and followed Daryl, who was walking ahead of me in long strides.

"Ya did good today, kid," Daryl spoke as we walked along together. I felt the pride bubble inside of my chest, until he spoke again, "ya just need to practice using that thing again. That's all."

I frowned to myself and didn't look up at him. I hated that I always had to practice. Why couldn't I just remember how to use it all the time?

Close to ten minutes after, Daryl stopped abruptly and I had to look back over my shoulder to see if he was even still following.

"Here," he said, kicking the ground in a single spot, clearing some of the grass to make a dirt patch.

"Here?"

"Yeah, we got some work to do."

"We skinnin' 'em here?" I asked curiously, I thought that was odd. Why wouldn't we just do it when we get back to the prison? We weren't even that far away.

"Just ours."

I took the cooked piece of meat off the sharpened stick before placing it into my mouth. Looking across the small fire, Daryl was inspecting his own.

Daryl decided, as some kind of hunting reward, we would have our own meal alone, before returning to the prison. I didn't see it as much of a reward, we still had to skin two squirrels, sharpen sticks for cooking, and make a fire. The only reward I saw was being alone, and outside.

There was still an ache in my throat as I swallowed the meat, but I enjoyed being out. My eyes continuously wandered around the trees. We'd only seen one Walker, and Daryl wanted to sneak around it, rather than waste time and energy killing it. I noticed Daryl had stopped eating, my stomach dropped when I saw the look he was giving me. It wasn't angry, maybe sad, annoyed, but intense.

I didn't ask, because I knew, I knew before he said it. I'd been waiting for it for days.

"I didn't want to do this back there . . . wanted to make sure we were alone. Needed space . . . time to think . . ."

I swallowed nervously, picking at a piece of raw meat I'd placed on my stick. I had no intention of cooking it, my appetite was gone, but I wanted to look busy.

"I'm gonna tell ya right now, what ya did was stupid. It was wrong. I need to know ya get that."

I realized he was waiting for me to speak after a few moments. "I do."

I didn't want to talk about Carol, but I had to. I couldn't keep it inside me, and I couldn't take Daryl's silence after my confession. It was as if Carol could drudge up every bad emotion, reminding me of not only her death but everything at the farm. The whole topic made me sick, but this had to happen. I knew that.

"'Cause I feel like I should be punishin' you or somethin'. I was mullin' it over for a while, you do somethin' wrong . . . there's consequences."

"I didn't want to."

"But you did."

My throat burned from tension, my words came out in a whimper, "I was scared-"

"-That ain't no excuse. Look 'round us, look where we are. We live in a prison, the dead are walkin', everythin's scary. I can't lie t'ya and tell ya it'll get better. We're always scared, and we're gonna keep bein' scared for a long time."

The conversation felt neverending, as if my guilt had frozen time, I would never escape it. I didn't know what he wanted me to say if anything. I'd confessed, I messed up, there was nothing else to do. Does he want me to confess to everyone else?

"You know how . . ." Daryl paused before continuing. "When you told me about your dad? Or you. You told me you were bad."

My eyes widened and I stared at him. I was bad, is this why he's talking about punishment?

Daryl noticed my reaction and rolled his eyes. "Stop. I ain't gonna hit ya. I am never, gonna hit ya. When you were bad, you weren't allowed to tell no one, right?"

I nodded.

"Why?"

"Daddy said not to."

"But why?"

I continued to just stare at him, completely lost in what he wanted me to see. Was I supposed to explain how embarrassing it was? Did he want me to tell him how scared I was when people would find out how bad I was?

Daryl became impatient and shook his head at me. "Because he did something bad, you had to keep a secret so he wouldn't get in trouble. Not you, him. He was bad, and you weren't allowed to tell. Just like with Carol."

I opened my mouth to argue. I didn't understand. What did one have to do with the other? They were separate situations, different people.

"You lied about what Shane did, and what your dad did."

"I never lied 'bout that." I finally spoke. "I said I was bad."

"That don't mean the same thing to these people, Toby." He motioned his arm in the direction of the prison. "Ya can't cover for people. When someone does somethin' bad, ya can't cover for 'em. No matter who they are."

"Conquenses," I tried to get out, I knew I'd said the word wrong immediately. The tightening in my throat kept me from attempting it again. I pursed my lips and kept my eyes open wide, staring at Daryl. Guilt, shame, embarrassment were all taking a physical toll on my body, making me feel heavy as if I would be dragged into the ground. I was afraid if I blink, moved, or spoke again, I would cry and not stop.

I didn't want that, I wanted to be strong. I was tired of being the little girl. I fucked up, I had to own up to it. I wanted Daryl to give me my punishment so I could take it and move on as if it would fix everything. I didn't understand what daddy had to do with it but wanting to move on, I didn't question it.

"Consequences?" Daryl questioned, nibbling on his thumbnail. Daryl tilted his head then moved his hand away, taking a deep breath and he broke eye contact. I continued to stare, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.

Tell me, just tell me what I do. Tell me what it is.

When Daryl looked back at me, I knew he hadn't originally intended an answer. His expression was expectant, yet confused as to why I hadn't figured it out.

"Yer livin' with 'em."

My eyes burned, forcing me to finally blink. Large droplets of tears streamed down my cheeks as if they'd been building. I attempted to suppress the sobs that jutted out from my chest, but it was difficult. The harder I tried to compose myself, the worse the crying became.

"Ain't nothin' I'm gonna say or do to fix it. We've all had our share of fuck ups since this shit started . . . we gotta bare it."

As I was covering my face, trying to wipe the tears and snot, a hand gripped my shoulder. I was briefly reminded of Shane when I looked into Daryl's eyes. He'd gotten up and sat beside me.

"Hey . . ." Daryl waited a bit before continuing, not wanting my crying to drown out his words. "She was dead, Toby. You could see it when ya looked at her, she wasn't gonna make it. Whether it was the bite, or the arm, or some other infection, she wasn't gonna make it. And she didn't want to."

My crying seemed to slowly dissipate after his claim. I didn't understand. He'd told me he wasn't going to make me feel better about it, he told me what I did was wrong. Why is he telling me this?

"I ain't sayin' I agree with what you did. Not sure I disagree either." He moved his arm away and looked at the fire, it was beginning to die. "But I get why you did it. As nuts as that guy was, he was prob'ly one a'the few of us that woulda honored her decision. If Carol survived all that, she would not have made it. Ya get me?"

I only furrowed my eyebrows, trying to make sense of his words.

"A lot of us, even me, were still naive about how things had to be at the farm." Daryl continued, "Shane woulda just been branded a murderer, well fuck, he already was but y'know."

I shook my head, not fully understanding.

After watching me shake my head, Daryl pursed his lips and sighed. "Shane was under so much heat . . . what Carol wanted wouldn't've mattered. I hated him, don't get me wrong, I won't tell ya different. But I respect what he did for her."

"But . . ." My voice cracked and I coughed. "You said it was wrong."

"You lied, you covered it up. That was wrong. But you didn't kill her, there was nothing you could've done. None of that is on you. Need to know you get that too."

After considering it, I wiped my nose with my sleeve. "Okay . . . I . . . I get it." I think.

"I know it's hard, but we ain't talkin' 'bout this again. Everyones moved on, it's over. We gotta too. But we ain't gettin' that chance if we go around diggin' up ghosts. Alright?"

I nodded slowly, sniffling again.

Daryl stood and stomped out the fire, beckoning me to stand. We gathered our things, before beginning to head back to the prison. The silence was awkward, I appreciated it and loathed it at once. I had nothing else to say and was glad it was over, but his silence had me question what was going on in his head. I knew he wasn't angry anymore, but something in my head contradicted that.

You fucked up. He hates you. It's your fault, he's just being nice so you stop crying like a baby.

"I'm glad you told me," Daryl said as we walked side by side. My head whipped in his direction, he only briefly glanced back, his expression seemed almost content.

I wasn't sure what it was, but suddenly, every muscle in me relaxed. I believed his words, so simple, yet effective.

I purposely walked closer beside him, my shoulder gently brushing his arm.

A couple of days after our hunt, I was standing outside, watching Daryl's back as he worked on the large blue barrel. We'd been spending a lot of time in the courtyard, but hadn't left the prison. I wished we would, but I didn't voice any complaints, I was just happy we were allowed to roam more freely.

Daryl had the barrel on its side, on a foldable table they'd found in some storage room. He'd brought it outside to make it easier to work. I'd been helping him, and a few others build the rain catcher. There was a plan to build more in the future, but we had to be sure it would work out.

"Can we throw my knives today?" I asked. Among the new freedom, Daryl had offered to start throwing knives with me outside. It had been exciting to start doing it again, he was way better than Merle was. He'd set up a large piece of plywood to lean on the fence, not the best thing to work with, but enough until he had time to set up something better. Which he said he was planning on doing after the first rain catcher was done.

Daryl paused his movement, I couldn't see his face, only the backs of his arms. "Umm . . . Maybe. I wanna get as much of this done as possible today. We'll see what gets done and how late it is."

I frowned and fiddled with the metal spigot in my hand, twirling the wheel absentmindedly. They had found a few of them and a lot of other random parts and objects in some kind of repair room in the prison. The plan was to attach it to the bottom of the barrel to dispense the water.

Hearing some voices in the distance, I turned my head to see Sasha and Lori walking by the fences. Something was in Lori's hand, she was bringing it to her mouth and chewing, I couldn't tell what it was from where I stood. I rolled my eyes.

"Again?" I murmured.

"Huh?" Daryl turned, then followed my eyes, "What?"

I briefly glanced at him, a bit embarrassed I'd said it outloud. "Just . . . Lori. She's eatin again, she had like three bowls at breakfast. Why she always eatin'?"

"I guess lil' Shane over there has quite the appetite."

"Shouldn't we be rationin'?" I'd asked before his words registered.

"I talked to Rick about that. Gonna give it a few days then we'll be cuttin' back on food. Everyone's kinda just enjoyin' it right now."

"Why did you say that?"

"I know you don't like the guy, but we live with him, he's gonna come up sometimes."

"No, I don't care about that." I do, I hate when you say his name. I hate when you talk about him. But there's no use bringing it up. "What you said about Shane."

Daryl stopped his movements, hesitating for a few long moments before sighing. "Shouldn't've said that. Forget it."

"I wanna know."

"M'sorry, alright? Won't bring him up again. Wasn't thinkin'," he mumbled the last part before getting back to work. "Pregnant women just gotta eat more, that's how it is."

I moved closer to Daryl, standing at his side and even leaning a bit over the table to see his face.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard a comment like that, and definitely not the first time I'd heard it from Daryl. But anytime I heard it, I was either too sick to speak, or too tired. For months I wouldn't talk about anything, let alone Shane.

People would talk quietly about it when they thought no one was listening. I recalled Shane talking about it himself, I always brushed it off, not thinking of it as important information.

So many questions were dancing around in my head. I was so used to seeing Lori pregnant it was easy to forget them. Since I was feeling better, Daryl was no longer mad at me, I felt as if I could actually talk.

"How long will she be like that?"

"Pregnant? Won't be too much longer." Daryl then held out his hand for me, it took me a second to realize he wanted the spigot.

"Everyone's been sayin' that forever. How long she s'pposed to be pregnant for?" That wasn't my actual question, my actual question was: When will she stop eating?

"However long pregnancies normally last," Daryl shook his head as his voice got lower, he was getting annoyed.

"And how long is that?" I watched him use a marker on the barrel, circling around the spigot to get the right size of the hole he'd be making.

Daryl stopped to turn to me, raising an eyebrow while handing the spigot back to me, "nine months."

Damn. "Has it been nine?"

The corner of his lips twitched as he scoffed. "Depends on who ya ask."

I felt nervous, I could feel his irritation. I didn't want to make him mad again. I hated the last time we barely spoke, I wanted to stick with him and help. But I also wanted to keep asking stuff, I had a sinking feeling I couldn't do both.

"What's with ya today? All these questions." His comments, a bit edgy, confirmed my thoughts. "Yer never this pushy."

"I'm confused," I confessed.

"Well, yer gettin' on my nerves. We got shit to do."

I bit my lip, unhappy that I hadn't asked the question that was really gnawing at me. "One more?"

Daryl tossed his head back in exaggeration, "fine." then he sighed and looked over at me. "what?"

"Why is it Shane's?"

"What?" Daryl said again, this time completely dumbfounded.

"You said that thing, about lil' Shane. I heard it with other people too. The baby is Shane's." Shane said it too, but I didn't mention that part.

Daryl watched me, his eyes only leaving mine to quickly look around as if checking for people. I tilted my head and furrowed my eyebrows, not understanding why he was only staring without explanation. He didn't even look annoyed at that point, just completely floored, and a bit lost.

"Well, uh . . . what's the question again?"

I took time with my question, trying to word it right before asking again. "Why would Shane be the dad, when Rick is Carl's dad?"

"Are you just . . ." The confusion left Daryl's face and his posture became rigid as he turned back to the barrel. Making it obvious he was fed up, his voice took on a sharp tone, "are ya messin' with me?"

"What? No-"

"-Why don't ya just go ask Lori, ya love fuckin' with her so much."

I rolled my eyes and bit the inside of my cheek, annoyed with his annoyance and mood swing. I slammed the spigot on the table, mumbling a curt, "fine," before turning away. He wasn't being any help anyway.

It must have taken him a moment to realize, making him quickly run before grabbing my bicep and yanking me back. "Wait, Toby, don't!"

"You just told me to!"

"I didn't actually mean it!"

"Then?" I couldn't even finish my question, what is it he wants? I was doing what he said.

Daryl sighed heavily, "Just forget about it and help me with this will you?"

I reluctantly agreed, the topic didn't come up again. I'd learned my lesson and would just keep my mouth shut. My eyes kept trailing to Lori as she walked further and further away, finally turning around one of the buildings and disappearing from view.

Here's the second part. Please review and let me know what you think. I'm hoping I handled the scene where they spoke about Carol properly, I wasn't sure. I struggled.