AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
"I need you to listen to me," Daryl said, walking close enough to Andrea that they bumped shoulders every now and again when one of them took a step that was slightly out of rhythm. Daryl had meant to only walk the road with her, but they'd ventured slightly into the wooded area.
Andrea hummed quietly.
"Are you listenin'?" Daryl pressed.
"Yes, I'm listening," Andrea said, letting a little irritation seep into her tone. "What else can I do, Daryl?"
"Dixons don't check the fuck out," Daryl said. "You got that? They don't. They don't check out, and they don't opt out. Dixons stay. They fight."
"I don't know. Looking around, it seems to me like—Dixons do a lot more disappearing than they do staying," Andrea said. "And it feels like—most of that's my fault."
Daryl felt a little like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Why the hell would you think it's your fault?" He asked.
"I'm kind of a hub," Andrea said. "It might be better if people kept their distance from me. I mean—Amy, Merle…I didn't stop the Walkers that were after Sophia…"
Daryl stopped walking and he reached out and caught Andrea's shoulder. He turned her. Very little light from the flashlight illuminated her face, but he could see enough of it.
"Listen to me—it weren't your damn fault. None of it was your fault. And there ain't nobody blamin' you for shit."
"Except for me," Andrea said.
"Well—you just stop it, then. Stop that shit right now. I mean what I said. Dixons don't opt the fuck out. I see it in your eyes, Andrea, and I don't like what the hell I'm seein'. Carol needs you."
"What the hell does Carol need me for? To ruin her life? I lost Sophia, Daryl."
"You didn't do shit!" Daryl barked, he winced, wishing he'd been quieter. He didn't hear anything around them, though. "You didn't do shit," he said, lowering his voice. His fingers, he was sure, were digging into the flesh of Andrea's upper arm, but he didn't care. He needed her to feel his words as well as hear them. "Sophia run 'cause of the Walkers. You were doin' what'cha had to do to keep from gettin' killed. It wouldn'ta done Sophia no good to see you torn the fuck apart, neither."
"She's gone, Daryl," Andrea said.
"And we gonna find her," Daryl said. "We won't fuckin' stop until we do."
"Because—that's what Dixons do?" Andrea asked. Daryl hummed at her. "Merle…"
"Is out here somewhere," Daryl said. "Not a damn thing can kill Merle Dixon except Merle Dixon." Andrea laughed quietly.
"That's what he always said," Andrea offered.
"It's true," Daryl said. He wasn't certain if he truly believed it, but he was certain that Andrea needed him to believe it. She needed to believe it. The mind, Daryl knew, could kill someone just the same as poison. He couldn't stand to watch any more of his family being picked away—not by anything.
"Then, where is he, Daryl? Because—I really…I need him to be here, Daryl. I really—I wish that he was here."
Daryl swallowed, purposefully and quickly, as many times as his throat would allow. The pain in Andrea's voice was sincere. It was thick, and heavy, and it choked him as surely as it choked her.
"Me too," Daryl said. "I wish he was here, too, Andrea. And—if he could be? I guaran-damn-tee you he'd be here, Andrea. And wherever the hell he is? He's tryin' to get back to us. I know it. Back to you. Merle would walk through hell on his fuckin' knees to get to your ass, Andrea. He ain't done real good at it, but that's what the hell he's been doin' his whole damn life. Every time he gets clean. He fuckin' sucks at stayin' clean, but…the fightin' to get that way again? He does that shit for you. And he's gonna do whatever the hell he's gotta do to get to you now, too. But that means you gotta clear your damn head. Be sorry an' sad if you gotta, but Dixons don't opt out. You hear me? Because Merle? When he finds us? Do you have any damn idea what he'd do to my ass if he found out I didn't keep you from doin' some stupid shit?"
"How is he ever going to find us, Daryl? How are we ever going to find him? We keep moving. Even Merle would tell you that—it's hard to hit a moving target."
"But he'd also tell you that it ain't impossible," Daryl said. "And—Merle would tell you that he always hits his fuckin' mark."
"What about Sophia?" Andrea asked.
"She's movin' as sure as we're standin' here," Daryl said. "But we gonna find her, too. And I ain't gonna be the one to tell her that her Aunt Andrea ain't waitin' on her…so…you hear me, right? Dixons don't opt the fuck out—no matter how bad it gets. You hear me?"
Andrea sniffed and wiped at her face. Daryl couldn't see the tears in the darkness, but he knew they were there, now, without a doubt.
"Yeah," she said, patting his hand. "I hear you."
"Come on," Daryl said. "Let's keep lookin'."
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Daryl's first hunt for Sophia—which he started the moment his burning eyes opened to let him know there was even a hint of light in the sky—turned up fruitless. His eyes burned and felt like he'd washed them out with sand. He was torn between wanting to keep looking for the girl who, he figured, must be terrified, and his need to protect what was left of his family. If Sophia had found somewhere safe, which he believed she had, she was likely clinging to it for dear life. She might not come out to get him because she feared what might intercept her as she attempted to reach him. He was going to have to get close—he was going to have to get really, really close. He hated leaving Andrea, Carol, and Dale alone on the side of the road, though. They'd already killed a few Walkers that had come through while Daryl was looking for Sophia, and he couldn't stand the thought of them getting overrun.
After his first hunt, he washed his face thoroughly with cool, clean water to try to perk himself up. He drank the coffee Carol had made, ate the food that she offered him, and set into the difficult task of convincing her to move.
He knew where the woods opened toward that house where everyone had gone. He knew how to get into the woods from there and, honestly, there was a good chance that Sophia was moving toward the house. She could probably hear voices and, maybe, she could see evidence of life there. She might go seeking protection and the help of someone who could find her Mama.
Daryl finally convinced Carol that, at the very least, he could feel like they were all safe there. He could focus entirely on looking for Sophia and trying to think like the ten-year-old. He could let his mind rest from having to worry about too many things at once.
Carol was reluctant, but she agreed. Daryl cleared out a car for Sophia. They put food and water on the hood of the car and a clean blanket inside. Someone had found some window chalk in one of the vehicles and Daryl had Andrea chalk out a message, in her nice handwriting, that he dictated. They told Sophia to stay in the car, he'd be back for her.
Then they got everyone packed up and they made it to the farmhouse.
At the farmhouse, they found places to park based on where other vehicles were parked. As they mounted the porch steps, they were greeted by an old woman who looked, for all intents and purposes, like every image of Mrs. Clause that Daryl had ever held in his mind.
"We're—with the group," Daryl offered before the old woman could speak. "I'm Daryl. This is Carol, my wife. Andrea—my sister-in-law. And Dale, a friend. Our daughter's lost, and I gotta go look for her, but…it ain't safe for them to just wait on the side of the highway."
"Come inside," the old woman said. "Come inside…your daughter, you said? She's lost?"
"Got left behind," Daryl said. "Walkers went after her and that little boy that got shot. Carl. Rick—left 'em behind."
"The boy who was shot," the woman said. "My—Hershel's with him now."
"Same boy," Daryl said. "Sophia—our daughter—was with him. She's still out there. I gotta go look for her. Burnin' daylight as we speak. But—I don't want my family standin' on the side of the road."
The old woman smiled softly to herself as much as she smiled at Daryl. She had a hand on Andrea's shoulder, since she was closest to her. She nodded in Daryl's direction.
"Will you take something to eat?" She asked. "Some water?"
"I got water," Daryl said, gesturing toward his pack. "Food, too. I just need somebody to keep an eye on what the hell I got left of my family."
The woman nodded, and Daryl accepted that as proof enough that Carol and Andrea would be safe here in the meantime. He kissed Carol and practically pushed her inside with the old woman. He dropped off the bottom step of the porch even as the screen door slapped shut behind him. He started off across the field, toward the wooded area, and checked his supplies as he went.
He had food and water—enough to offer Sophia something if he found her, and to keep himself going until sundown—and he had his crossbow, bolts, and a knife.
He had a few good hours of daylight left, and he had the promise that his family—what was left of it—was as safe as they could be in the meantime.
111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Merle hammered a wooden stob into the ground and looped the cord around it before he moved on to the next spot where he intended to hammer in another of the pieces of wood that he'd piled up for just such a task. The first job he had was to outline the location of their new Eden—or at least the start of it. They could always expand, but this was good for now. He'd worked hard to find this place, and he was pretty well satisfied with it. It had been a running farm. Actually, it had been two running farms. The plot of wooded area between the sprawling farms, and the woods surrounding them both, had served to keep the two places separate and to offer some privacy, but they were right there next to each other.
It was, honestly, a huge plot of land, but that's what they needed and that's what they wanted. Having been used for grazing cattle, there were a number of wells on both pieces of land—which would now be joined. There were already some fences in place, a farmhouse that wasn't too badly destroyed, one that was burned all the way to the ground, and a handful of various sized barns. There would be room for crops, for livestock, for homesteads, and, if they were smart about their fencing, even for allowing them to keep an area where they might encourage the growth of the wild game population.
Merle was sweaty and tired. He'd walked this land until he had practically worn holes in the soles of his boots. Now—and only now—he was committing to starting the process of marking out where the outer fences would go.
Tomorrow, he would start digging the post holes.
The Governor had given him permission to take all the hands he needed to get the job done. He could gather up a group of able-bodied men and get the fence posts set in a couple of days. Then would come the stringing of the wire—offering the smallest amount of protection possible to allow them to keep working without too many guards—and then they would start the more arduous work of getting really solid fences up. There would be large gates—Merle could see them in his head—similar to the ones that welcomed people to Woodbury. Through those gates, they could bring in supplies and livestock.
There would be a house—a comfortable cabin—tucked away on a quiet little piece of the property. Merle would build it himself, accepting help, of course, since the loss of one his hands made every damn thing far more complicated than it had to be—but he'd do most of the work himself. It would be cozy, and warm, and like something straight out of the magazines that Andrea used to like to flip through. And it would be there, waiting on Andrea, for when Merle found her.
She'd be thrilled as shit to find him like this—sweating out the toxins he'd piled into his body more and more each day, starting to sleep more without the booze because the labor worked his body to the point of absolute exhaustion, ready to make up to her everything he'd ever done wrong in the past.
Merle told Philip this place was for him and for all the good citizens of Woodbury. They were all welcome there, of course, but really this place was for Andrea. It was for Daryl. It was for the whole Dixon clan that Merle had let down, in one way or another, over and over again. He was done letting them down. Merle was going to be the big brother that Daryl deserved. He was going to be the husband that Andrea deserved. This place was a fucking Eden—or it would be—with just a little more sweat, and Merle wasn't afraid to sweat. In fact, he relished it more these days than he ever had before.
When he was sweating, and when his muscles hurt from use and strain, Merle's heart didn't hurt so much, and his head was clear to think about Andrea in the best way possible. His mind was clear to think about all the good that he was working toward—all the good that she deserved. Merle was going to make good on every promise he'd ever made to her. He was going to give her everything her ass could ever even dream of wanting. All he had to was find her.
And he was sure he was going to find her.