AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I think most everyone missed the last chapter, so if you did, please don't forget to go and read it first.
I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think!
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"If it comes down to it, we walk," Daryl said.
"We just leave?" Carol asked.
"If it turns into that," Daryl said. "Listen—I don't wanna leave. I want to keep that until it's the last possible solution we got. This shit's been hell, I don't see it gettin' any better for a while as far as the Walkers go, and I'm worried about Andrea not havin' the spirit to fight half as damn hard as I know she can if she's got her chin up. Shane wants what the hell we want—find some place and build somethin' to ride this thing out. If we're stuck, we might as well be stuck as damn comfortable as we can be."
"A farm," Carol said, echoing what they'd discussed previously.
The night was quiet, and Daryl was on watch. Carol was supposed to be sleeping, but she was huddled near him on the old porch of the farmhouse where they were currently staying. For now, it was plenty warm enough that Carol didn't need any kind of jacket, and neither did Daryl. At night, the temperature dropped slightly, but it wasn't cold. Not yet. They had to start thinking about that, though.
Carol leaned against Daryl for comfort rather than warmth.
"We'll find a place. Maybe we'll find a couple of abandoned farms together," Daryl said. "That's the best thing we could find. It'll take a while of keepin' watch in turns and workin' to get fences up, but eventually we could surround the place. Improve the system little by little, you know? We'll hunt up what supplies, food, and meat we can before winter. Build smokehouses and store meat to stretch whatever we find in stores. Maybe it ain't perfect this winter, and maybe we all go without a little, but if we keep improving the fences, they ought to keep the Walkers out. And when the spring comes, we can do what people have done for fuckin' centuries. We plant. We grow food."
Carol burrowed comfortably into Daryl's side and hugged against him. He closed his eyes, for a moment, to the comfort of her presence. He turned his head enough to kiss her forehead.
"You make it sound like—we could really have a life in all of this."
"We could," Daryl said. "Carol—we can live OK until this thing passes. We play our cards right? We can live better'n OK. We can live good. Might struggle at first, but we can pull outta that. There ain't no reason our life's gotta be terrible. Hell—it might even be better than it was. We might not even wanna go back when it passes."
"What if it doesn't pass?" Carol asked with a hint of humor to her voice.
"Then we live OK until this is just the way that everybody lives," Daryl said. "We just—accept this is our life. Maybe we'll like it that way. Have us a place to live. Food to eat. Safe walls and fences. We'll have everything we need."
"Can we build all that alone?" Carol asked.
"Homesteaders and shit did," Daryl said. "Fuck—we're Dixons. We're every bit as tough as any of them were, aren't we?"
"It would be good if we had more people, though," Carol said.
"That's why I don't wanna split off from the group until it's clear that it can't be helped. The whole damn thing is gonna go about a thousand times smoother if we've got a bunch of hands. Besides—wouldn't be terrible to have some people around. Not if they're decent people, and not if they're interested in buildin' what the hell we want."
"Who's interested?" Carol asked.
"Everybody wants to find somethin'," Daryl said. "There ain't no damn body that's too dumb to know that this movin' around like nomads can't last but so long. We ain't built that way. Maybe we could be, but…it ain't no kinda livin'. And, anyway, the cold'll catch us sooner or later and somebody's gonna freeze to death sleepin' in a car or in a fallin' down barn. Dale and Glenn—they'll go either way. T and Jacqui will too."
"Rick?"
"He's bound ass and determined that the government has some secret stronghold set up somewhere and if we make it there the whole damn land'll flow with milk and honey, or whatever."
Carol giggled and rubbed her face against Daryl's arm. She was tired, and she really should be sleeping.
"Isn't the vision of building something so—so wonderful—a little like that? We're going in search of the land of milk and honey?"
"Big damn difference is I got the sense to know the government ain't got shit to offer us. What he's talkin' about is some government built and government run utopia, and I know there ain't no damn such thing. What I'm talkin' about? We find us a couple damn cows, breed 'em, and find a hive or two and the land will be runnin' with damn milk and honey. I ain't talkin' about a utopia. I'm talkin' about somethin' good—great even—that we can build with the strength of our damn backs and the workin' of our minds."
"I believe you could build it," Carol said with a satisfied sigh. "I believe you could make all that happen."
"For you and Soph? I might not make it happen, but I'd damn sure try."
"I love you," Carol said, snuggling into him. It was impossible for her to get any closer, but with every effort she rubbed against him. He enjoyed the rubbing and the warmth of her body. He loved her affection because it was so freely given and always so genuine.
Daryl had always wanted to be loved just like Carol loved him—it was how he knew, really, that she was perfect for him.
"I love you, too," he assured her, lighting a cigarette for himself.
"You think Rick'll come around or—he's determined to go in search of this government fairy land, Daryl?"
"Hell if I know," Daryl said. "He thinks the damned thing is in Washington, D.C. Hell—when's the last time you ever knew of a single damn thing that was worth anything comin' outta Washington, D.C.?"
Carol laughed quietly in response to Daryl's question. It was answer enough.
"What about Shane? You said he wants what we want, but does he want that badly enough to go entirely against Rick?"
"There ain't a whole lotta love there," Daryl said. "At least—I get the feelin' there's less and less every day."
"But do you think he'd be willing to break ties with him entirely?"
"If he don't wanna go to Washington, D.C. on some crazy ass search for the government funded holy land, he might," Daryl said.
"I think you're forgetting one thing, though," Carol said. Daryl hummed at her in question. "Shane—Shane might not have that much love for Rick, but he's very fond of Rick's wife, Lori, and their little boy, Carl. Do you really think he'd be willing to leave them just because he doesn't want to go on a pilgrimage to D.C.?"
"He ought to," Daryl said with a half a shrug.
"He loves her. He loves Carl. Could you just—leave Sophia and me behind because we wanted to go somewhere crazy?"
There was a heavy dose of teasing in her voice, and Daryl felt it. There was no challenge. The question wasn't even genuine. She simply wanted to tease him and, perhaps, to prompt him to tell her exactly what he did.
"You know that not a damn thing in the world would convince me to leave you or Sophia," Daryl said.
"Not even—if we went somewhere crazy?"
"I'd follow you through hell, woman," Daryl said. He laughed to himself. "Because I love you, but…also because I know my ass'd get lost long 'fore yours would."
Carol tried to stifle her amusement and snorted quietly.
"You might get the chance to be in hell with me," Carol mused. "I wouldn't say we're too far off with the way things currently are."
"We gonna make it better," Daryl assured her. He didn't know exactly how much truth there was behind that statement, and he certainly had no power to promise her such a thing, but he had all the intentions in the world to do everything he could to find some kind of life for his family—somewhere they could do better than just survive, no matter how long all of this might last.
"I don't think Shane's going to leave Lori," Carol said, her sincerity returned. Daryl lifted his arm, dropping it around her, and she snuggled her face against his chest in the same way she'd been snuggling against his arm before.
"Maybe he ain't ready yet," Daryl said. "But the fight ain't fully fought. We're just throwin' ideas around. This place—it ain't structurally sound. I mean it ain't gonna fall in around us in the next day or two, but it ain't fit for the long term. We'll stay here a couple days. Maybe a week. Rest and throw some ideas around while we can keep it pretty well protected. But what we're lookin' for—really lookin' for— is on down the road a bit. We're entering an area that's overrun with farms. We want somethin' good—somethin' that backs up to some woods if we can find it and has a pond or two at the least. We don't have to break off today. We can make that decision when we come to it. Decide to let 'em go when we're showin' 'em the damned promise land and they still can't see the forest for the trees. If Shane don't stay then, then he don't stay. Simple as that."
"But we're going to be OK?" Carol asked.
"Better'n OK," Daryl said, pulling her tight against him. "I'ma teach you and Sophia—and Andrea—every damn thing you need to know. We're gonna build somethin' worth havin'. Now—you ain't on watch so…why don't you close your eyes a bit and let me do my job?"
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Merle sometimes accepted the company of Anna, Sarah, Rebecca, Margot, Jane, or whoever the else wanted to offer some company. He'd share a meal, share a drink, or share a seat when they were watching something happening down at the arena. What he didn't share, though, was his bed. He thought that might discourage them from following him around like puppies, but it seemed to have the damn opposite effect. The knowing they weren't getting it seemed like it made them just that more desperate to have it.
Merle would have been flattered if he gave a shit.
What didn't seem to change with his entertainment of half-hearted company was that Alice and Philip, whom he only called the Governor when other people were listening, were concerned about Merle's mental well-being. He drank, and he drank heavily, but he decided to limit his day drinking to keep the two of them off his ass. He also decided to come up with something active that would make them sleep better and feel like he was feeling driven by something.
"We have almost everything we need here," Philip said, sitting with Merle and watching Penny play on the swings some distance from them—far enough away where she wouldn't be bothered by the concerns of grown-ups, but wouldn't be out of their sight. Woodbury was safe, and the last Walker there, that hadn't been rendered harmless, had actually been a senior citizen who died while napping outdoors and got up to walk. Still, Philip was taking no chances with his daughter and he demanded that she remain, at all times, within his sight or within the sight of someone he trusted. "Is there something that you need? Something that you're not satisfied with, Merle?"
"I ain't criticizin' your town. Hell—you got this place runnin' like clockwork. People here don't gotta worry about shit. Except, of course, when the hell the supplies runs out."
"We've got run parties," Philip said. Merle hummed at him.
"That shit's temporary and you know it. Find a can of beans. That's fine, but you got to find more tomorrow. Bag of jerky? It'll feed you for a while, but you gonna have to find more. What I'm talkin' about is somethin' sustainable. Long term."
"We're expanding the fences," Philip said.
"Great for bringin' in more people," Merle said. "Advancin' the whole idea of buildin' families—future generations. But most the shit around here is houses. Housing developments. The town. You can plant a couple gardens in a backyard or two and, maybe, you could graze a goat, but it ain't sustainable. What the hell I'm talkin' about is actual farming. Livestock grazing. Hell—even maybe look into our own kinda reserve. Get some wild animals livin' there so the huntin' don't never run dry."
Philip laughed to himself. He was considering it. Finally, he looked back at Merle.
"You think that people would be willing to leave what we have here to volunteer to work on that? Somebody has to build it."
"There's been city folks and country folks since the dawn of time," Merle said. "There's bound to be people that would like. Besides—we can commute until we get walls up. Build some shelter. We make it safe? We'll find the right damn people to live out there."
Philip looked at him, half-amused.
"And who's going to—find this Eden, Merle? Start the work of getting it going? Find the things we need and the people who would prefer to work hard doing all that over—living in town and waiting for supply runs to bring them what they need?"
Merle laughed to himself.
"You could leave that shit to me," he said. "If you trust my ass enough to let me go out huntin' and doin' shit on my own."
"It's not a question of trust," Philip said. "I do hate to lose my right hand around here. What about—matters of security? What about situations with potential new members and potential threats?"
"You let me do this," Merle said, "and I promise I'll still make myself available any time Robinson or somebody else can't carry the load."
Philip laughed to himself.
"Are you just—going out there to look for her, Merle?"
"I'll look for what we need," Merle said. "You got my word on that. Help get it built. It don't hurt, though, to keep an eye open."