Chapter 4 - Damn hippy
The early morning sun cast an orange glow over the prison, making it look almost homely. Daryl was up with the dawn, as he tended to be these days - he didn't sleep so well anymore - so figured he might as well be up early and get things done before the day grew too hot. Planning on changing the brake pads on his motorbike, he headed for the vehicle bay, but stopped as he spotted a figure up on the hillock, the small grassy slope away from the buildings, to the east of the cellblocks.
"What the...?" He squinted to try and get a better look.
He could see the new girl up there on her own, practicing what he guessed was yoga, stretching up and dipping down, apparently unaware that anyone else was around.
"Goddamned tree-hugger." he muttered to himself as he reached his bike, and turning his focus to the Triumph, he got to work.
A while later, he was aware of her approaching, and his stomach clenched, but he did his best not to look up.
"Morning. Daryl, right?" the newcomer approached the scruffy man, who was on his knees, intently studying his bike.
"Uh-huh."
"Just wanted to check that there's no hard feelings from yesterday - you know, your crossbow at my head, my knife at your friend's neck... we good?"
Daryl finally looked up at her with a hard stare, noting that she had that look of permanent amusement on her face that seemed to be her natural resting expression - a crinkle at the corner of her eyes and the edges of her lips slightly raised as if she was trying to suppress a smile. As if she knew a funny joke but wanted to keep it to herself. Or, Daryl thought, maybe as if she was thinking of something debaucherous.
He must've stared into her eyes too long because a strange unbalanced sensation rolled over him, like everything was tipping sideways. He'd never felt that before, and he didn't like it. "I don't know ya. So, I don't trust ya. Ya gotta work for that."
"Got it." came the upbeat reply. "I'll work on the trust."
Daryl just glared at her, but she didn't seem perturbed by this in the least, and gave him a big smile.
"Alright, I'll catch you round." She started to walk away, when Daryl called out to her.
"Saw you up on the hill. Whatcha doin' up there?"
"Little bit of yoga." she said over her shoulder. "Just got into the habit of getting up with the sun and stretching out."
"You some kinda damn hippy?"
Tahlia shrugged. "Just like yoga, that's all. Helps me feel strong."
Daryl gave a snort. "Yeah right. Like some stretchin's gonna make you strong."
"Maybe you could try it out for yourself one day." she suggested, her lips twitching with a smile. "I'd be happy to show you some."
"Naw!" he said with disgust. "Never gonna happen. That shit's just weird."
"Let me know if you change your mind." Her eyes danced in amusement at the look of blatant distaste on his face, and she smiled to herself as she headed back to the cellblock.
Daryl wiped his oily hands forcefully on a rag, scowling as she sauntered off, irritation bubbling inside him as he waited for his world to level itself out again.
Later that morning, Daryl was headed back up to the prison to fetch his hunting gear, when he stopped in his tracks. Down by the washing troughs, he could see two women embracing in a long hug. They pulled back and held each other at arm's length, still deep in conversation.
"Fuckin' kiddin' me." cursed Daryl, a sense of betrayal spiking him as he frowned at the sight, before stomping back to his cell for his crossbow.
"Hey!" Daryl called out gruffly to Carol as she headed into the courtyard. "Thought ya said ya can't trust the happy ones?!"
"What's that now?" She dropped the basket she was holding between their feet.
"New girl. Saw the two of ya all cosy down by the troughs. Thought ya said she was way too friendly!"
"Well, she is friendly. It's kind of refreshing, actually." Carol gave him a small smile. "I was just explaining to her how we keep this place ticking over, and we ended up having a chat."
"A chat?! Two of ya were huggin' like long lost buddies down there!" bit Daryl accusingly.
Carol looked sheepish. "Oh. Yeah, well we were talking, and I ended up telling her about Sophia... and... and all that."
"Ya told her 'bout Sophia? She's only been here for 5 goddamn minutes!"
"Sorry, what's the issue here?" Carol asked with a frown. "I made a judgement yesterday, and now I've gotten to know her a little, I'm taking it back. I like her."
Daryl dragged the toe of his boot moodily in the dirt. "Just don't think ya should be spillin' ya heart to some stranger."
"Well, she's not exactly a stranger, is she? She's a friend of Michonne's." Carol reached a hand up and tapped Daryl's cheek and gave him a playful grin. "Aw, pookie. Don't worry, I'm not gonna bump you down the friend ladder for her. You're still my bestie."
"Whatever." grumbled Daryl.
Tahlia wandered around the prison that afternoon, trying to get the lay of the land. Carol, although a little stand-offish at first, had been super helpful that morning in showing her the basic running of the place and the things that needed to be done, and Tahlia had thrown herself straight into lending a hand with the washing, which seemed to put her on good footing with the older woman, and before long she'd found that they were chatting like old friends.
After living rough and having survived on her own for the last couple of months, it was comforting to be back in amongst an established group. Since The Turn, she'd witnessed terrible things, seen people behave in despicable ways - not just for survival, sometimes just because they could – enough to almost shake her faith in humanity.
Almost, but not quite.
She truly believed that the majority of people were good and kind and worth knowing. So even though she had opted to leave her last group because she just couldn't get on board with the way they conducted themselves, she was certain that they were an exception to the rule, and it would only be a matter of time before she happened upon good people again. And already, after only one day of being in this community, she was feeling more at home than she had since the beginning. She wondered if Michonne was right, if perhaps one day she might be considered a part of this group, if they might become her family. And only then she realised how much she wanted that, wanted to form connections again, wanted to be cared about.
Well, she was sure as hell going to try her best to fit in, do her best to add some value.
As she passed the infirmary, she paused in the doorway, watching the white-haired man - Hershel – she remembered, stitch up a cut on the teenager, Carl's, forearm.
Hershel glanced over his shoulder. "Come on in, darlin', if you want to."
Timidly, Tahlia took a seat at the table next to the older man. "I was just watching you work. You make that look so easy!"
"Some wounds are easier than others." He wrapped a bandage around the freshly stitched wound. "There you go, son. Good as new."
"Thank you, Hershel!" Carl jumped up and bounded back outside.
"You got a medical background?" Hershel asked her.
"No, not at all. Wish I did though, sure would come in handy in this world, huh?"
"You interested in learning some? I'd be happy to teach you, we could always use more people with medical know-how."
"Love to!"
"Well, if you've got nowhere else to be, let's get started then."
Hershel spent the afternoon explaining the group's story and how they ended up at the prison, and how things operated, then moved on to basic first aid and injury treatment, and had her start practicing sutures on a dead rabbit (she managed to keep her shuddering to a minimum). He loved to teach people, especially on subjects he was passionate about, and he'd found a very eager student in Tahlia. He was grateful to have her there – most of the other group members preferred to be in the action - going on runs, fighting walkers - rather than in the gloomy infirmary.
The sunlight started to fade, and he shot Tahlia a guilty look. "I'm afraid I've kept you here all afternoon! I must apologise, time just got away on me. Hope I haven't bored you half to death. We'd best get out to the courtyard and see how everyone else is getting on."
Tahlia shook her head, a happy smile on her face. "This has been the best afternoon I've had in a very long time!" she said truthfully. "Would you mind showing me some more another time?"
They headed out towards the courtyard. "Whenever you like, darlin'."
Hershel ushered Tahlia to one of the tables with Maggie, Beth and Glenn, who greeted her warmly and she was quickly immersed in their chat and laughter.
Two tables over, Michonne was pleased to see that Tahlia seemed to be quickly acclimating to life at the prison, pleased to see that the others were taking to her so quickly.
She let her mind drift back to those days right at the beginning when she'd lost everyone who had meant something to her, when giving up seemed like the only option. Then Tahlia's path had crossed hers, and for some reason, she'd decided that Michonne was worth saving.
Michonne had been resistant at first, but gently, persistently, Tahlia had taken her under her wing and encouraged her forward. She had been exactly the kind of person Michonne had needed. The kind of person a lot of people seemed to have needed, as it turned out. She was cheery and laid-back while still clearly capable of defending herself and those around her, not crippled by wariness and fear like so many others. So Michonne had stuck with her, this girl who had pulled her from darkness and made her see that there was still light.
Always light! Tahlia had once said. There's always light somewhere. And the darker it is, the less light you need to make a difference.
Along the way, they had picked up – and lost – many people, but the two of them remained constant. Tahlia, being Tahlia, was always quick to befriend strangers, despite Michonne's wariness. They hadn't ever stayed in one place too long; they hadn't found what they were looking for. Even though they never really knew what that was.
They were just looking. And being.
They still managed to laugh every day, to find something to smile about. It wasn't until after Michonne had lost Tahlia that all of that started to fade away and she had found her heart darkening, her positivity fading, her trust in others wavering - and that's how she became the wary, mistrusting, closed woman that had arrived at the prison fence that day with a wagon of baby formula.
Through this group, she'd slowly felt the heaviness start to lift and life become brighter. That's how she knew they were on to a good thing here, that's how she knew that it was this they had been looking for all that time ago, and that's why it was important to her that her long-lost friend saw that too and made a place for herself here with this group.