AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!
111
When Daryl opened his eyes, he was acutely aware of the fact that he had slept a long time, and that he had slept soundly. Often, when he woke, it was still dark. At the very least, it was often the twilight time when the world hasn't quite committed to a new day. This morning, when he opened his eyes, the sunlight in the bedroom streamed in brightly enough that he blinked against it, unable to recall the last time he'd seen that sight upon waking.
Daryl rolled over. His arm felt for the body of his wife. He found her, and she rolled toward him, smiling. Her hair went in every direction. It had been damp with sweat the night before, and it had been well-wallowed into the pillows and mattress. They had both had a lot of feelings to work out, and they'd worked out them well together.
"You OK?" Daryl asked.
Carol stretched and made a humming noise.
"I'd say I'm—better than OK," she said. She frowned slightly. It was her playful frown. "Why do you look worried, Pookie?" She teased.
Daryl touched her lips with his fingertip.
"Mighta got a little rough last night," he said.
"You did," Carol confirmed. "But—I liked it."
"Didn't hurt you?" Daryl asked. He sat up and found his cigarettes beside the bed with a saucer he'd snagged from the kitchen cabinet downstairs to use as an ashtray.
The night before, they'd gotten the generator going, but they'd only run it just long enough. At this moment, unless Hershel or someone had turned it on, the house would be without power. They'd gotten the hand pump working, as well, so that nobody had too far to haul water. They'd handed out sleeping arrangements, and Daryl had taken the master bedroom with Carol without even asking anyone what they thought. Nobody had offered any argument, either. Daryl thought that Lori looked like she'd considered it, but he was pretty sure that he'd caught Rick telling her something along the lines of she should reconsider.
Everyone had been fed, bathed, and sent to bed. Daryl could only imagine what had happened after that. After getting Sophia tucked in and making sure she was sleeping soundly, he and Carol had retired to the bedroom together, and they were just waking. Around them, the house sounded still.
Carol shrugged and moved to lean toward Daryl.
"You didn't hurt me any way I didn't enjoy," she offered. Daryl leaned enough to meet her, and he offered her a kiss. She smiled at him and, reaching for his cigarette, took a drag off of it before she returned it, quickly rolled over onto her back, and sat up in a fairly fluid motion. Daryl reached his hand out, brushing his fingers against her back, just to touch her skin.
As soon as she was sitting upright, she reached her hand out to catch herself—to catch the mattress—and she balled the sheet up in her fingers for a moment. Daryl instinctively put his hand to her back.
"Oooh," she breathed out.
"What?" Daryl asked. "What is it? You OK?"
"I'm fine," Carol said quickly. Her voice was bubbly, suddenly—too bubbly. Daryl knew that she had a certain tone of voice that she'd learned to put on when she was putting on a show for someone or otherwise covering up her truth. She'd learned the skill, if you could call it that, from her first marriage. She was pretty good at fooling most people, but it didn't fool Daryl—and he didn't really like that she used it to cover anything over when she was talking to him.
Daryl leaned and eased his hand around to find hers. She'd loosened her grip on the sheet. He caught her hand and squeezed it. She didn't look back at him immediately.
"Don't lie to me," he said.
"I wouldn't lie to you," she said, turning to look at him.
He frowned at her, letting her know without words that he knew what she was doing. She gave him a tight-lipped smile that blossomed into a more sincere one. It made him feel better to see it.
"I just sat up too fast," Carol said.
"Dizzy?" Daryl asked.
Carol nodded her head gently. Daryl squeezed her hand and tugged at it.
"Don't get up right away then," he said. "Come here—stay with me a couple minutes. Don't want you fallin' in the floor."
"I'm already feeling better," Carol insisted. "I just—sat up too fast. Things spun a little. It's probably—dehydration. Stress."
"You'll get Hershel to check you out," Daryl said.
"There's not much he can tell me," Carol protested. She hated anything to do with going to the doctor. She had since they got married—since before then, even, and Daryl knew that most of it stemmed from the fact that she related any kind of medical treatment to things that happened to her with Ed. She could find nearly anything—even a simple check-up—a bit panic inducing.
Daryl winked at her, gave her a reassuring smile, and worked her hand in his.
"I'll stay with you the whole time," he said. "Hold your hand. Just let him check you out."
"There's not much he could do," Carol said. "Not much he could tell me. All we've got here is—whatever we might find in the medicine cabinet. And we've got the first aid kit in the RV. We lost everything else."
"We'll find more," Daryl said. "I'll move it up the list. Top priority to get Hershel some supplies. Prob'ly not a bad idea no damn way. All the same, though—let him check you out for what it's worth."
"There's no need to bother him, Daryl," Carol protested. "If it makes you feel better I can…dig around in the bathroom cabinet and find a thermometer. I can take my own temperature."
"We'll have a look around the house," Daryl said. "I ain't askin' you for the world, Carol. I'm askin' you for…my fuckin' peace of mind." His stomach tightened. "I've lost Merle. Lost Andrea. Their kid. Just—humor my ass and let Hershel look you over?"
Carol frowned at him. He saw her throat move as she struggled to swallow down a little emotion that, maybe, was threatening to come up. She nodded and squeezed his hand back.
"Fine," she said. "But—I'm telling you it's nothing but stress and dehydration."
"Good," Daryl said. "We'll get you a big glass of water, and once he tells me that? I'll rub your feet an' back until you can't feel stressed no more. You'll just be a big ole pile of feel-good goo."
Carol laughed, and Daryl's heart danced the way it always did when he managed to make her laugh.
"You better not make promises you don't intend to keep," she playfully warned him.
"You got my word, woman," he said with a wink.
111
"I'm worried about you," Philip said. "As a friend."
"You done all the damn worryin' you need to do," Merle said. "You're relieved of fuckin' worryin' about my ass."
Merle was sipping his second whiskey and water. Philip was sipping the same. Alice was meant to be coming back to drive Philip back to Woodbury after a while—she might even be arriving any minute—but she'd left him there, apparently, to drink with Merle and try to talk him into coming back to what Philip was calling "the land of the living."
"What you've done out here is amazing," Philip said. "I appreciate it. Woodbury appreciates it. Everybody who's going to come out here and benefit from the land and the…and the food, Merle, appreciates it."
"I hear a big damn but comin'," Merle said.
"Your magnum opus can't be your final work," Philip said. "You can't just—sit out here and waste away. You have a lot to offer the world and—if you don't want to keep doing this, that's fine. There are other things to do."
"I'ma work on my house," Merle said. "Work the land. I'm fine here."
"At least until the others move here," Philip said, "it might do you some good to—get out. Come back and visit Woodbury a little. Hang out. You know? See somebody besides Al. Me."
Merle smiled to himself.
"You ain't all I see…" Merle said.
"If you're seeing more than us," Philip said, "then you might get Al to have a look and see if you bumped your head while working out here."
"You brought Penny out here last week," Merle said. "And Al brought her two days ago to see my goats and my dairy cow."
Philip smiled.
"Penny likes you," Philip said.
"Well—it don't say much for her taste," Merle teased. Philip laughed, and both of them spent a moment enjoying their drinks. Merle passed Philip a cigarette. He lit one for himself before offering the lighter in Philip's direction. Philip didn't often smoke, but he did occasionally have a cigarette or two with a drink.
"I'm not saying you have to move on completely," Philip said after an amiable silence.
"You haven't moved on," Merle retorted.
"No," Philip admitted. "And—maybe I never will. Not entirely. Look—I'm not looking for marriage again. I'm not looking for long-term commitment or a replacement. I'm not saying never, but I haven't found the woman yet that was meant to be Penny's mother…nobody can replace what she had. Not entirely."
"I'm hearin' another damn but," Merle said, tapping the lighter on the table.
"But—a piece of ass is a piece of ass, Merle," Philip said with a laugh. "And—it's not the be all and end all of the world, but it does wonders for the mood sometimes."
Merle laughed to himself.
"I bet it sure ass does," he said.
"There are a half a dozen women right now, Merle, at Woodbury—good looking women—that would love to show you their thanks for putting all this together."
"I bet they would," Merle said.
"You could decide if you want strings or not."
"I'm good just as I am," Merle said. He shook his head at Philip. "We're a lot alike. You an' me—and, hell, Al. We know what the hell loss is. Not just any loss. The big damn one…you know? The one your ass don't over. You lost her. You loved her an' you lost her. Same as me. Big damn difference is…you got Penny. Me? I got no damn body. That might just be the biggest damn thing I got in common with Al."
"She thinks you would benefit from doing something outside of this," Philip said. "Getting out."
"Gettin' out and gettin' balls fuckin' deep in some strange is two different things," Merle offered.
"Then—a job," Philip said.
"Don't look to you like I'm full up on jobs?" Merle asked.
Philip laughed.
"Living out here alone, playing Old MacDonald while you get this set up for everyone to move in and do their part? It doesn't suit you, Merle. Not entirely. You do alright with the building, and the plowing, and the planting…and even with your precious pigs and goats and shit. But there's more to you than that, Merle. You want more than that."
"Maybe I'm tired," Merle said.
"I've got a job for you," Philip said.
Merle laughed. He finished his drink and, using the whiskey bottle and the carafe of water on the table, he made another drink for himself. He refreshed Philip's drink while he was going. Alice would come to drive Philip. In the meantime, Penny would stay with Mrs. Anderson, or one of the other old ladies in Woodbury, and then she'd spend the night with Alice eating junk food and doing all the things that Alice let her do when Philip had enjoyed a night of bachelorhood.
"Now it comes out, the real damn reason you're here," Merle said. "Your lack of true concern about my damn dick disturbs me."
Philip snorted and tipped his glass at Merle in a false toast before he drank a longer sip than usual from it.
"If you wanted the pussy," he said, "then I assure that there is a woman of just about any size or shape that you might like who would be willing to offer it to you. I just thought you might like a little adventure."
"You thought I might like to do some dirty work," Merle said.
"Nobody does it quite like you," Philip said. "But—honestly, I'd be going out with you. We'd go out together. You're the best person I have for making honest judgements. You—you don't fuck around. You can admit if we're looking at people who can be rehabilitated, or if we're looking at lost causes."
"Take Al."
"I will," Philip said. "But you and I both know that Alice is…well…she's a bit of a bleeding heart. She'll see someone with half their skull cut off and swear she can at least try to save them. You'll do what needs to be done."
"I don't know if I have the stomach for it right now," Merle said. "I weren't lyin' when I said I was tired. I'd rather stay here—work on what needs to be done."
"This needs to be done," Philip said. "And it won't keep. I sent reconnaissance out today. There are signs of a small group. They didn't get too close. We have very few details."
"But let me guess—one of 'em is sure as shit a blonde that fits Andrea's description."
"No," Philip said, laughing. He shook his head. "This isn't bullshit, Merle. We're going out at first light. You, me, Al, and a couple others. If you'll go. We check them out. Figure out if we can approach them. If we can—we figure out if we can rehabilitate them, check to see what their health is like…the whole nine yards."
"And if they're too far gone?"
"Same as always," Philip said. "We decide what's the most humane route we can take."
"Besides leavin' 'em the fuck alone," Merle said.
"If that's the best route," Philip said. "I'm asking for your opinion. If you go—you don't have to pull a single trigger. Not if you don't want to. At least consider it. I'll send Al in the morning to see what you decide. Sleep on it."
Merle studied the drink in his glass.
"Fuck," he said. "I don't have to sleep on it. But—we both damn well better get to sleep soon…especially if you're really thinkin' we're leavin' at first light."