Disclaimer: Randomcat23 does not own TWD.
Negotiating Terms
Knock, knock.
Daryl blinked his heavy eyelids.
Knock, knock..
He kicked out defensively, not recognizing the room around him. He flipped over, ready to fight, and then froze. Carol and the girl stirred and that was enough context to ease his fight or flight instinct.
Knock. Knock.
"Gimme a minute," he said. The cabinet screeched on the floor as Daryl nudged it away from the door. He winced at the sound and his muscles' aching struggle, but when he opened the door Rodney made no comment on their extra defense.
"Morning. Everyone's to meet downstairs."
Daryl nodded once and closed the door. Carol sat up while Sophia rubbed her eyes. Without exchanging a word they put on their shoes. Carol tucked a granola bar into Sophia's pocket. Daryl declined the offer; his stomach lurched at the thought of eating. While they got ready, he thought about grabbing his crossbow, but decided against it.
The voices outside rose from murmurs to conversations once they left their assigned room and again when they exited the hallway. While he didn't pick up any troubled undertones, Daryl tapped the knife at his hip while simultaneously missing his crossbow. He'd feel better about going into the crowd if someone had his back. Someone with a weapon.
Daryl yanked Carol's elbow to keep her from joining the thickest part of the crowd.
She frowned, but halted. He blushed when he caught her rubbing the place he had grabbed her.
"Don' wanna be too far from an escape," he said, in an attempt to apologize and explain himself.
Her watery gaze focused on the crowd as she said, "Okay."
In the center of the room Kenny and Rodney stood on a raised platform. Kenny waved them together with another list in his hand. His five o'clock shadow was gone. At Rodney's whistle, the murmurs ceased.
"Mornin' folks," Kenny greeted. "Hope you slept well. Like I said before, can leave if ya want. Those who stay will be put to work. That starts today."
"The world ended!" Someone yelled from the middle of the crowd. "Why work? We should be-"
"Are ya deaf? I said ya can leave." Kenny's voice rose and the crowd split, revealing a middle-aged man with bags under his eyes.
Kenny shrugged. "Honestly, go. Ain't that many of those dead 'uns out there now. You'll fair okay I guess." As if an afterthought, he concluded, "I don't offer free board."
"Maybe I will!" The man insisted and then looked around for support.
"Mhmm, go ahead." Kenny coughed, disinterested. "For the rest of ya'll, I got work assignments."
Before anyone else could voice concern, Kenny began reading family names and their assigned tasks. The outspoken man disappeared into the crowd, apparently giving up the fight. For now. With a quick look, Daryl didn't immediately recognize the man from yesterday who had talked about the military either. Had he been killed for voicing dissent? Or did he leave in the night?
Daryl took another step back. To his surprise, Carol wordlessly copied his movement. She was a quick learner, he liked that. Selfishly, he also liked that she followed his advice without any sass. He straightened his pose a little. It felt good to have his knowledge recognized.
First thing was first, they had to get Genesis into what Kenny called livable condition. As Kenny said yesterday, reinforcing the wall was his priority. Most of the men were assigned to that task, Daryl included. Others would be cleaning the downstairs. A woman named Samantha was taking the kids to scrub the kitchen.
Task list complete, Kenny folded up his paper and yelled, "Get to it!"
Carol shooed Sophia toward the group of kids. The woman in charge of them didn't bat an eye at Daryl's hard glare. Carol's easy smile and laugh must have made up for his shortcomings.
He grabbed Carol's wrist as the rest of the crowd dispersed.
"Keep an eye out, alright?" He loosened his grip as she nodded. People split around them. Chains ground against metal and the dock doors opened, flooding the room with sunlight.
"You got it, Pookie." She beamed.
"Cut that out."
She laughed at his retort, gripping his arm slightly before sauntering away.
An unwanted blush bloomed across his face until he realized she was simply playing her part of wife. His dumbass hadn't thought about the physical affection aspect of faking a marriage. Daryl bit his thumb as Carol disappeared into the back of the building.
"You agreed to it. Not like you never faked anything before."
Like fear before getting in a bar fight, just to give himself a second of advantage.
Or concern over Merle's missing drugs.
He spat then walked out into the sun.
The sun broiled above. Despite the heat people were content with being told what to do. Along with a few other stragglers, Daryl passed a truck with a water buffalo. Smacking his lips, he realized he'd drank nothing but alcohol for the last few days. He stopped to grab a cup before trotting over to the fence.
Two large men, the one named Rod and the other Rodney, were patrolling the existing fences with crowbars, plunging them into the heads of the few dead. Under Kenny's guidance, the fence crew wasted no time getting started. A few men were down on their knees sorting sheet metal into piles. At the far end of the fence a group of people were laying brick along the roundhouse wall.
Kenny nodded at his arrival and then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the two men at his side. "These dead 'uns are triggered by sight. So ya'll are gonna attach these steel sheets to block the view. Double Rod and Neal up in our tower are going to keep the dead off you while ya'll put together the screen. Make it so it'll hold up long enough for the other crew to get that brick wall built."
"Why?" The speaker was a middle height man. Daryl recognized him as the outspoken one from earlier today. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and puffed up his chest.
"Pardon?"
"Isn't the army coming?" He gestured to the empty field.
Kenny kicked the toe of his boot into the dirt. "You don't listen, do you? Let's shoot straight, you and I. I don't think the army is coming. I also don't give a damn what you think is right. I gave you a lift out of Atlanta and so far you've done nothing to repay me. So either help with the fence or get out!"
Rod and Rodney flexed their muscles. A well timed shot erupted through the air and a nearby corpse collapsed, its head a blob of goop. It was only then that Daryl noticed the guard tower near the fence gate. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end; it wouldn't take much to shoot any of them standing here. The rifleman, Neal, kept the gun pointed into the field, however.
Humbled, the man gulped and dropped his head.
Kenny shrugged. "No? Alright, the fence is yours." He then nodded at Double Rod and walked away.
"We got rope, zipties, and plenty of metal," Rod instructed while he palmed his crowbar. He wore a wide brimmed hat that would be ridiculed on anyone else except a man built like a barrel. "Kenny doesn't want the dead banging on the chain link fence for too long. So, it doesn't matter how it goes up, just as long as the dead can't see us."
His partner, Rodney, spoke up next. "If you think you need some other kind of material, we can make a run for it if we don't already have it stashed here. Rod and I will keep the dead away, you just cover the fence. Alright?"
As the group nodded, another gunshot echoed out from the guard tower. Heart in his throat, Daryl searched for the target, relaxing only when he saw the dead corpse out in the field. Without batting an eye, the two guards left them to patrol the fence. Their nonchalant dismissal broke the tension. A second passed until one man raised a hand and introduced himself.
"I'm Jonathan."
A second man, the outspoken one, followed his lead, lifting up his thick hand, "Mike."
They all formed a quick circle and shared names. In addition to Jonathan and Mike, there were three other men. Jules, a man with tan skin and a neatly trimmed beard. A tall, bespectacled man introduced himself as Vernon. Lastly, Paul, who proudly wore the title of PTA parent.
Daryl firmly, but briefly, shook all their hands, muttering his name once. The dirt under his finger nails clashed brightly with their smoother hands.
Jonathan, looking out of place in his golf polo, clapped his hands and said, "Well, let's get to it."
He dropped the coils of cord next to a post. Jules pulled a metal sheet from the pile and rested against the fence. They all cocked their heads at the puzzle.
Daryl whipped out his knife and cut a generous length of cord. While everyone looked on, he laced it through the fence and back at the approximate width of the metal. He figured they'd need two cords per sheet, one near the top, one near the bottom. As long as they used the larger pieces, it should be enough to keep the metal flush against the fence. By the time he had the sheet in place and a knot tied in the middle, the other men had picked up on the technique.
"Good idea," Jonathan said. He began cutting rope. "Never thought I'd be so happy at a train yard. I do miss my cubicle though."
"I was at a board meeting when it all started," Mike said as he lifted a new sheet. "It just flashed across the TV screen, New Unknown Disease. It didn't matter to me at the time, but now, now I know that was the beginning."
Other's joined in, hesitantly at first.
"My boss just told us to leave, has it really been a month? No explanation, no nothing. He stormed out of his office. It didn't really click until we turned on the TV. That was the day Baltimore went up in flames," Jules said with a shudder.
"My boss made us stay," Paul said. "Put the whole building on lockdown. I couldn't even pick up the kids from school."
The more they spoke, the more Daryl put into his work, strapping the metal sheets and hauling others over. He shifted further down the fence. He sure as hell wasn't going to share some sob story. He definitely wasn't going to tell them how Merle busted down their trailer door, cackling one second and then dead sober the next when he said, It's our time Little Brother. The end of the world has come!
Since the sheets were pretty uniform in width, he found the length of cord that worked best and set to cutting several lengths of it. Distancing himself from the other men had two results: it reduced his growing discomfort and he was mostly forgotten while the others bonded over stories. Piece by piece he moved down the fence toward the building.
"Woah man! You're making the rest of us look bad."
Daryl shook off the offending hand. They were all sweaty and staring at him. A quick comparison of progress validated the comment. He'd set up four sheets in the time the five of them had set up two.
"Ain't got time to wait for the dead." Daryl jerked his chin at the fence and they all gave the one lumbering corpse in the distance a quick gulp. Daryl pulled his knot tight. "Gotta finish it."
"That's what we were just talking about...some of us may leave." As if saying it solidified his decision, Mike threw down his cord.
Jonathan picked up the discarded bit. "Make sure you talk it over with your wife."
"She'll agree." Mike chuckled weakly and said, "We need to find a hotel for her. She's already not digging the tiled floor. I wonder where-"
A bell rang and Kenny called from the door, "Lunch!"
Abandoning the fence and the discussion about leaving, they all followed Kenny's voice back to the roundhouse. Daryl's stomach grumbled loudly, finally giving in to the need for food.
In just a few hours cleaning crew had transformed the interior. Where there had been brown dust and metal shavings, there was now just clean concrete. Gravel kicked from the beds outside had been swept into piles. All the old safety signs warning workers of fall danger and electric shock reminded Daryl of shitty bars and their knick-knack covered walls. It wasn't homey by any means, but it no longer felt too industrial for habitation.
The long tables placed in the middle of the room added a lot to that effect. It wasn't far cry from a cafeteria. He caught a whiff of beef and potatoes and followed the scent to a large pot in the back of the room. There was already a long line. Samantha dished out servings into bowls. Daryl saw Rodney walk up to her and plant a kiss on her cheek.
Daryl was left standing in one of the open doorways as the men dispersed to their families. His stomach growled again as he scanned for Carol and the girl. He finally found her when she waved. The tension was back between his shoulder blades as he wiggled down next to her right smack in the middle of the bench. Sophia chatted quietly with another girl. Someone cried, but was comforted with a pat on the back by the person next to them.
Carol slid him a glass of water and an obligatory, "How'd it go?"
"Fine." After pausing he completed the charade, "You?"
"My arms are sore from washing!" A woman across the table laughed with Carol and the conversation ambled on.
The room buzzed as people chatted and giggled, most settling into some resemblance of normalcy. Daryl eyed the food and sipped his water constantly to occupy himself. The noise grated on his ears. His foot tapped rapidly, trying to expend nervous energy.
It only got worse once he finished the water and crunched the cup in his fist. He quickly picked up his stew bowl but before he could take a slurp, someone bumped him with a short "Sorry!"
Elbows grazed against his, hands brushed his arms as people shuffle back and forth. A few times he got a kick to the shins under the table and he glared at the possible offenders. The mute threat went unnoticed.
Too many people.
Too many people here with their loved ones.
And Merle...wasn't here.
He didn't belong here.
Daryl clenched his teeth, fisted his jeans, bent the fork. As sweat pooled between his shoulders, the defensive rage bubbled. Daryl darted from one smiling face to the next, seeking a target and simultaneously discarding.
It was the bump against his back that set him off. He shot up like rocket and shoved the offender.
"Don't fucking touch me!"
Only after he yelled did he realize it was just a teenage kid. The whole room went silent. Daryl ran. Whispers chased him the whole way up the stairs. Carol's pure voice pierced the cloud of concern, "He had a rough day. I'm so sorry. So sorry."
He slammed the hallway door shut and then stomped to his-their-room. Alone with his fists at his sides, his temper snapped. Daryl grabbed the nearest chair and tossed it across the room. The damn thing clattered but refused to break. He kicked it again and it rolled across the floor like a square wheel.
"Stupid."
Sophia's bedroll caught his eye, neatly rolled and stashed. Their meager belongings sorted and purposefully placed. And then there was his corner, a bag full of empty alcohol bottles and crossbow bolts. Dirty. Other. Drenched in sweat, Daryl stopped pacing. His arms hung limp at his sides.
A tentative knock on the door and then Carol entered, solemn faced.
"Don't fucking say anything."
"I brought you a bowl."
Daryl glared at the peace offering. He rubbed his face. The fleeting barrier gave him just enough time to compose himself and swallow the ball of embarrassment. The stew sloshed in the bowl as he grabbed it. Anger spent, hunger had returned in full force. It was barely warmer than room temperature, but he shoveled it into his mouth.
Carol righted the chair and then eyed him carefully.
Outside, one walker rattled the fence outside. From here he could see the expanse of the yard and how little of the fence work had been completed. Daryl slurped down the last of the meal and turned from the threat.
What was he doing here with these people? Their concern and fears, their office politics and family matters? What was he doing pretending to be a husband and a father?
"A bunch of people told Kenny they're leaving," Carol said, breaking the silence.
"So?"
"So. Should we?"
His legs twitched, urging him to run. Instead, he clenched the bowl and purposely looked anywhere except her. Persistent, she joined him at the window. Together they watched the walking corpse thrash outside.
Leave? How could they? Carol was a petite little thing, her girl even skinnier. They'd be eaten alive if they left this place. They belonged behind these walls. He, on the other hand...
Down below, Rod swung his crowbar and made quick work of the dead thing trying to get in the fence. Daryl's fence mates from this morning shuffled after the large man, bellies full. Mike and Vernon was nowhere to be seen. Daryl's cheek protested, but he bit at it again, thinking. He wasn't an idiot like Mike, he knew how to survive in the wild.
"You sure about this?" He said.
"What do you mean?"
He gestured between them and then to the room.
Her entire body compressed like she was trying to transform from dirt into a diamonds. It happened so seamlessly he knew she must have done this before. Steeling herself before the next hit, the next verbal punch. Then she tossed her head back and relaxed again, owning whatever she was about to do.
"Do you want sex?"
Daryl blanched. He tried not to notice the way her jeans clung to her thighs or the exposed v of skin below her throat. Carol waited expectantly. At that moment, her bra strap slipped down her shoulder. Blushing, Daryl buried his focus on his stew bowl and muttered, "What the fuck?"
"I don't think I have to remind you, but you killed my husband," she said evenly and then shrugged. Only then did she fix that errant strap. "I'm not going to lie and say there isn't a terrible part of me that's grateful for that. But..." Her steely resolve faltered. "I tried to pay you with the rifle and our supplies but you said no. So. Tell me. What do I have to give you to make you stay and keep us safe?"
He couldn't think of one thing this woman had that he wanted and he sure as hell wasn't going to take her up on her newest offer. The very idea of her throwing herself down, dutifully taking off her shirt and pants, just made him sick to his stomach. He had to set down the bowl, unfinished.
How desperate do you have to be to offer up your body to some asshole like him just for some feeling of safety? How scared do you have to be?
Posed there in the sun, she didn't look desperate or scared or even sad. Head high, brow curved, she looked determined. Just like she said, her predicament was his fault. A woman alone in a sea of strangers. Why would she trust him, also a stranger?
"By a streak of bad luck, you're all she's got."
Suddenly an idea came to him, a possible end to their agreement. If safety was her concern, he could change that. She may be unable to defend herself now, but he could change that. Who knew how to survive better than him?
"How about I teach you to use a knife? Maybe take ya outside and work on some self defense?"
"How would this help?" She crossed her arms again, not defensively, but calculating. The movement hid the skin previously exposed by the opening of her shirt.
Daryl eased off the wall, comfortable now that they were back in familiar territory. "Easy. You learn to defend yourself, then you won't need me."
"So. You teach me how to fight and then you'd leave?"
He lifted one shoulder. "I'd do whatever the fuck I wanted. If we can make up being married, we can also make up a story about why you kicked me out."
It wouldn't be difficult. Her gruff, angry husband abandoning her in the middle of the night? Of course he did. What they wouldn't know is that he left her with the skills to protect herself. She'd be alright.
And he'd be alone.
That felt right.
Daryl bit at his thumb. Carol cocked her head slightly and said, "Alright. But, I will let you know when I feel ready. You don't get to do one lesson and then bail."
"For cryin' out loud, I ain't gonna half-ass it. Your life depends on it." An oddly sentimental way to put it, but it did matter to him. If he left her unprepared and she died, he might as well have murdered an entire family. "I better get back to the wall. Those assholes don't know what the hell they're doin'."
"You alright man? You gave us a scare at lunch." Jonathan handed Daryl a sheet of metal.
"Just a bad day," Daryl grumbled. He hadn't forgotten he'd made a scene, but he sure as hell wasn't willing to defend himself to these strangers. Thankfully, Jonathan just sighed as if he understood and let Daryl work.
They found a rhythm. The repetitive task felt good. Cut rope, dig ditch, place metal, tie knot. While the other men exchanged small talk, he just tried to not think about Carol standing there offering everything to get him to stay. He tried not to think about Merle screaming curses in the streets of Atlanta.
Cut. Dig. Place. Tie.
Cut. Dig. Place. Tie.
A commotion behind them interrupted the system and they all craned their necks to look at Kenny dragging a man from the roundhouse.
"Now, I don't have too many rules." Kenny said. He pushed the man toward the fence. "There may come a time for relaxing, but it ain't now! Get back to work!"
The man shrugged off Kenny's hand and slouched his way to the fence. They all eyed him curiously. He was young, maybe in his mid twenties. A few tattoos peeked out from his shirt sleeves which he rolled up past his forearms.
"That dude's a fuckin' asshole," he said by way of greeting.
Jonathan spoke first. "He's just asking us to work a bit."
The new guy shrugged again. Clearly disappointed that no one was jumping up to take his side, he caved. "Whatever. I'm Marcus and I guess I'm working the fence now."
"Welcome to the team," Jonathan said, beaming. He handed Marcus a shovel and explained their process.
Uninterested, Daryl returned to his systematic task. He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out the best way to teach Carol how to defend herself. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could stop pretending to be something he wasn't.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome!-randomcat23