Disclaimer: Nope, TWD isn't mine.
Out of Necessity
The tension in the roundhouse lingered like a tight muscle knot; it refused to give way despite the heat and the downtime. People whispered behind hands and stayed out of Kenny's way. For his part, Kenny had become a ghost that prowled the back hallways and rooms. If Jonathan or Jules walked into the room, the older man scurried away. He must have been keeping busy, however. The pantry was stocked, thanks in part to Kenny completing runs on the train at night.
Daryl laid low, biding his time until he could search for a map. One benefit of everyone sitting on edge was that few people paid attention to the quiet redneck. It look a little bit of pressure off from trying to act like a husband. Work at the fence was completed in near silence. If Kenny was walking on eggshells, the wall crew tiptoed on them. Jules had taken to glancing over his shoulder every time Rod or Rodney walked by as if anticipating a crowbar to his head. Some couldn't stop looking in Neal's direction as if they were just waiting to be picked off. The only one who remained unfazed was Jonathan.
Neal never fired in their direction.
They never saw Marcus again.
That first night after the incident a group of twenty live corpses crowded the fence. If anyone was thinking about leaving the roundhouse, they abandoned their plans after seeing the pile of bodies. After all, there were walls here, there was food. People reasoned that Neal didn't shoot Marcus dead, he just scared him off. And Marcus stole medicine, after all!
At the end of the third day, Kenny, together with Double Rod and Jonathan, laid out concrete rules for living at Genesis. It was a repeat of the first day except Kenny no longer commanded the room. He was somehow diminished by the entire ordeal. He still wore those small glasses and read from a piece of paper. He also played with his hat constantly and looked up for approval after every other line. In the end, the group agreed to the new rules.
No stealing from the community banks; inventory would be taken daily.
No weapons allowed in the dining hall; you kept them in your room and holstered until you went outside.
Kenny promised to be more open about his plans. He then explained a rather impressive vision for Genesis, complete with a pharmacy, a first aid station, kitchen duty cycle, showers, and even a television room.
Daryl wasn't completely convinced this wouldn't all crumble, but the crowd bobbed their heads along with Jonathan and his slick grin. He'd won them over, ensuring calm. At the very least Daryl wouldn't have to worry about rushing Carol and the kid out of Genesis before they were ready.
If it ever came to that.
Daryl did not search for a map just yet, not wanting to draw attention to himself during this tense time. Sneaking around could easily be interrupted as mischievous or worst, devious. Besides, he still had to hold up his end of the bargain. Therefore, he put all his spare effort into teaching her how to use a knife.
Conveniently and somewhat disconcerting, there were more and more of the hungry dead clawing at the fence each morning. He and Carol had their work cut out for them. He didn't feel the need to lead her through movements to warm up anymore; she got enough practice being useful. If Rodney started at one end of the yard and they the other, they had the fence cleared by breakfast.
Carol massaged her sore arms and hands every night but she never complained. By the end of a week she could strike the dead through the fence just fine. Ever since that second lesson, his chest tightened a little in anticipation before they'd go out to practice. He put a ban on close quarter lessons, troubled by the way he kept thinking about the feeling of her fingers on his skin.
He didn't want to admit he was proud, but there wasn't another word for the warm satisfaction that flooded him each time she successfully struck down a corpse. He refused to name the different contentment he felt each time she smiled at him.
Don't get attached, Baby Brother. Merle's voice always piped in before Daryl could fully return Carol's grin. She don't like you. You're just a tool.
A shield, a guard.
Not a hero, not someone worth liking.
Theirs was a relationship of necessity.
Wasn't it?
Once evening rolled around and it had finally cooled, the dining area emptied. People retired to their rooms to collapse into their beds or went outside to lounge in the twilight. Just as the sun bled into an orange blaze, Daryl made his move. He'd seen most of the building already. The train docks that had become the dining hall, the offices upstairs where everyone slept. He'd even peeked into the kitchen on the side of the building a few times. But he'd never seen the back half of the first floor where Kenny and the others disappeared to at the end of each day.
Armed with Sophia's directions, that's where he set his sights on finding a map.
His brain was a jumble of decisions. Stay. Leave. Together. Alone. He'd been so sure just a few days ago but now he wasn't. He wasn't sure about a lot of things anymore. So, Daryl focused on this simple task: determine their location. Then, at least, he'd be prepared to make an informed decision.
They hadn't explicitly been banned from this area, but he'd never seen anyone except Kenny and his crew leave the train docks for the shadowy hallway. Daryl ducked down it after double checking that no one was around.
All the doors in the hallway were locked. Some had signs labeling them as Storage or Tool rooms. He pressed his ear to each door and skipped the ones he heard noises behind. Finally he found the silent and open door at the end of the hallway, just as Sophia described.
He could have laughed.
There were maps everywhere. Railroad maps for Pennsylvania and New York were plastered across the back wall. Kansas. Washington. Canada. Every state, every rail line, dating from the 1800s to the present. He flipped through a pile on a table, trying to eliminate some locations and deduce more likely candidates. How fast did trains travel? He thought it had been a three day ride from Atlanta, which would put them almost anywhere in the continental United States, but Kenny had also said something about detours...
It's all flat terrain outside, but the entirety of the Midwest looked like that from his knowledge. No mountains, only a little change in topography. None of the maps had marks or large circles indicating settlements. He squinted at the labels, but didn't find any locations called Genesis.
He let out a frustrated a huff.
A noise came from the hallway. He turned around, heart in his throat, ready to confront Kenny or Double Rod with only a half-assed explanation. After Marcus, the fear of punishment lingered like a long winter, chilling his bones. But it was Sophia and two other kids staring back at him.
"What's your Dad doing?" The young boy-Jules' kid, he thought-asked when no one moved or said anything.
Fuck.
He held his breath, waiting for the inevitable He's not my Dad.
"I dunno," Sophia said with a shrug. With a twinkle in her eye she added, "He's just weird sometimes. Come on." She tucked her hair behind her ears and then skipped down the hallway. The two kids followed her.
Daryl let out his held breath, thankful Sophia inherited her mother's quick thinking. His relief tinted slightly when his ego retorted, "She thinks I'm weird?"
Daryl huffed at himself. Distracted, he shifted through another pile of maps, but came away empty handed. Why did Kenny have so many maps? He left the navigation room scratching his head and nearly collided with Jonathan.
"Sorry!" Jonathan righted himself. "Did you see the kids go by here? We're playing hide-and-seek."
Daryl pointed down the hallway. "They ran down there just a minute ago."
"Thanks! What are you up to?"
Daryl shrugged. "Just stretching my legs."
Jonathan glanced over his shoulder and into the map room. "Find anything good? They have a great collection in there."
"Not really." Out of options, he gambled next. If Jonathan knew where the map room was, it wasn't secret information. The surprising twist gave him pause. What else had he missed while wallowing around in the background? Daryl set that question aside. "Got curious, so I was tryin' ta figure out where we are."
"Huh. You know, I hadn't given it much thought. But-" He was cut off by the little boy from earlier taunting him with a raspberry from down the hallway. Jonathan playfully shook his fist and then clapped Daryl on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I have a very important mission. See you tomorrow!" He said by way of departure and jogged off.
Daryl frowned, already dreading the small talk waiting him tomorrow morning. How much longer could he hold up this charade? He'd been lucky so far. A husband and a father eventually had to act like one. It was a bit of a catch-22; he tried to stay away from everyone so he didn't give himself away, by doing so he looked like a recluse, a deadbeat, someone with something to hide.
Without a map, even if Carol made the decision to leave tomorrow, they would have no idea where to go.
Daryl ran a hand over his face and then set his jaw.
"It's fine," he told himself. "I'll be gone before I fuck it up." He immediately corrected himself, "Rather, we'll be gone."
He spent the rest of the daylight trying to look unassuming while searching for another source of information. He moseyed around the back of the roundhouse, poked his head into open rooms while listening to the kids squeal with glee during their game. Residual whiffs of buttery mashed potatoes floated out of the kitchen. He posted up outside, craving a cigarette. From there he could hear Sam cleaning a large pot and humming to herself.
The big industrial building kept a close hand. He collapsed onto his mattress stumped and strangely perplexed as to why this setback didn't upset him. He was contemplating that when Carol came in with Sophia close behind. The girl cheekily grinned at him and then dashed into her room.
"Found the map room," he said.
Carol paused her evening tidying. "And?"
"It's a bust. There's just maps everywhere."
"Oh...that's strange. Well, I haven't been able to get an exact location either. Everyone I talked to only had guesses."
"Midwest?" Daryl offered his current theory. A funny tightness took over his stomach. They were definitely not in Georgia. Definitely a foreign place. Definitely far from home.
Carol nodded. "But no one's even sure which state we're in."
"I guess we still got work ta do, then."
"Yeah, I guess we do." Her cheeks dimpled and Daryl caught himself returning the expression.
The next day, Laura waddled out into the yard with Carol right on her hip. Both women held a water jug between her hands. Daryl smirked at Carol's hair sticking out from her head like a porcupine's spines. Then, seeing Jonathan dash toward Laura, he scowled and rushed out to meet Carol, taking the jug in one hand only half a second after Jonathan took the one from his wife.
"Thanks." Carol produced a stack of cups from her back pocket and handed them out to the men.
"Thank you...Carol, right?" Jonathan inclined his head.
"Yes and you're welcome."
The men sipped the water appreciatively as the women admired the fence. The sunlight glimmered off the metal sheets.
"We're nearly done," Jonathan said after starting his second cup. He pointed his pinky at a stack of railroad ties. "Then we can start the guard tower."
"I hope they can finish the brick wall soon," Carol said. They all assessed the group setting brick and mortar. Progress had been made, but at their current pace, it would take a long time to wall off the entire yard.
"I'm just glad we can't see the dead anymore!" Laura said. Wrinkling her nose did nothing to hide the fearful glance she cast at the gap in the metal sheeting. "Well, almost."
Jonathan kissed her cheek. "Better let us get back to it then, ladies."
Carol and Laura took the unused cups and the empty jugs. Waving, they walked over to the crew building the brick wall.
Jonathan dropped his hand and sighed. Hands on his hips, he turned to Daryl and asked, "How's she holding up?"
It took him a second to realize Jonathan was asking about Carol. "Fine, I suppose."
"That's good, that's good." He sighed wistfully. "This whole thing is hard. Laura's been crying every night since we got here." He scratched his ear and sighed again. "I know Laura's really appreciated Carol's quick friendship. You got a good woman!"
Daryl nodded.
"I'm glad to hear she's holding up well, though. Especially after the whole mess with Marcus." Jonathan shuddered dramatically.
Thinking of Ed, Daryl winced. "Yeah, well, Carol's seen worse."
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, Atlanta was bad, ya know?" Daryl licked his lips just long enough for a lie to form. "She watched some poor asshole get torn apart right in front of 'er."
"Oh."
There wasn't much else to say about the carnage they all witnessed on their way here. No doubt Carol saw plenty like he described, but Daryl mentally reminded himself he'd need to fill her in on the back story. Just in case.
After an appropriate amount of time had passed, Jonathan asked, "How long have you two been married? You are married right? I don't see a ring, but..."
Daryl cursed himself, but garbled together a quick response, "Lost it escaping Atlanta." Daryl rubbed his ring finger to hide the lack of a mark.
Jonathan murmured sympathy. "At least you made it. But yeah, how long have you been married?"
Daryl did a quick mental calculation, figuring in Sophia's age and said, "Thirteen years."
"Nice. Did you live in Atlanta? Nice. A little easier to catch the train then? Who would have thought our greatest cities would be the worst dangers when the world fell."
Jonathan picked up the next sheet of metal. Daryl caught the sagging corner. They dropped the metal into the dusty ditch.
"Laura and I met at work," he said without prompting. Daryl toed at the edge of the sheet while Jonathan unbuttoned the top of his shirt and fanned his neck. "We always talked about moving to Atlanta. All the restaurants and culture, you know."
"Right." Daryl kept his focus on the work. Knots, metal, digging. Jonathan's chumminess unleashed a pool of sweat between his shoulder blades. Thankfully he was saved not too long after they had secured their second metal sheet.
Kenny's unexpected approach nipped all conversations in the bud. He didn't say anything as they worked. No criticism, no commentary. The back of Daryl's neck itched under Kenny's steady gaze.
Eventually, Kenny said in his low drawl, "Daryl, right? Got a favor to ask."
Daryl drew the handkerchief from his back pocket and tried to wipe his hands nonchalantly. "Shoot."
Kenny wandered a few steps away from the work area. Daryl joined him and his neck sweated again with the added heat from Jonathan's and the others' stares. The sounds of metal pieces sliding off the pile and thumping into place continued, but at a slower pace. They weren't doing a good job hiding that they were trying to eavesdrop.
If Kenny was privy to the spying, he gave no indication besides walking out of earshot. Once there, Kenny raised a tan, crooked finger. "There's an old town about a mile and a half from here. I'm looking for someone to go there tomorrah."
It was phrased like a request, but somehow it didn't come off as one. Maybe it was the solo summoning, or the way Kenny's green eyes demanded compliance. Or begged compliance. Daryl wasn't sure anymore.
Regardless, he was intrigued. A day without fence work was as tempting as his alcoholic haze had been. Something to take the edge off. He squinted at the horizon. "What do you need?"
"I need hoses. Two inches." He made a circle with his fingers. "And some hardware. I got a list."
Daryl took the scrap of paper Kenny dug out of his pocket. Clamps, glue, sealant, and a few other items were listed in a neat scroll.
"Alright."
"Aren'tcha gonna ask about yer payment?"
"Payment?"
Kenny followed Daryl's gaze toward the fence crew. He swatted his wrist in the air. "This kind of job is exponentially more dangerous than slappin' some metal on a fence, so you deserve something in return." He raised a wild eyebrow. "Fair?"
Daryl took the bait. "What do I get?"
The lines on Kenny's face relaxed. "Smokes. I got some beer. And I'll throw in some bracelets for yer girl."
Without a reason to say no, Daryl accepted. After a handshake he asked, "What do ya need hoses for?"
"Pumping water. Those water buffalos ain't gonna last forever." He paused to adjust his cap. "And, well, I better deliver on that shower stall idea or the women will have my head."
Daryl would have laughed at the light joke, but Kenny turned away and spat. Instead, he complimented the idea. "Smart."
"Necessary," Kenny countered and then said, "So, we got a deal?"
"Yeah, I'll go."
"Just bring it all to me when you get back tomorrah." Kenny thanked him and then wandered back to the roundhouse, squaring his shoulders and ignoring the group at the fence.
Daryl made a show of rereading the list while the fence crew finished stacking wall supplies. They trickled toward the roundhouse for dinner. If they had any questions, they kept them to themselves. Daryl pocketed Kenny's list.
It took him a few steps to realize it, but the feeling struck him like a slap. He couldn't wait to get outside the walls. He snorted at himself. A few weeks of safety and he was already sick of it. Between the close quarters, the lie, the dead walking, each day was a puzzle and if he slotted the piece wrong he'd put himself in danger. Going on this mission felt like the right piece, however. Fostering favor with the man who saved them all might come in handy later.
"And, I might be able to figure out where the hell we are."
That positivity washed away any anxiety left by Jonathan's questioning. He also breezed over the other question that came to mind: why send him when Kenny could send Rod or Rodney? Was Kenny trying to build relationships? If so, sending someone out of safety was a weird way to accomplish that. At the same time, here he was, excited to take on the task. Maybe Kenny was better at reading people than Daryl gave him credit for.
He didn't bother to stop in the dining hall as Carol would bring him a plate. It was an easy pattern to follow; if he didn't show up at dinner, she'd come upstairs with his food. Lukewarm, but food nonetheless. Instead, he began crafting a mental list of items he'd need for the trip tomorrow.
His fingers itched to hold his crossbow.
To his surprise, Carol and Sophia were already in the room when he got there. The change in routine put him on edge. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just thought we could have dinner together up here. It's spaghetti today," she said cheerfully. She'd moved a desk into the middle of the room, completing the dinner set with napkins and silverware. Her and the girl beamed up at him.
Daryl rolled a sore shoulder and pulled out a chair. With a gruff thanks he started gobbling up food. Across from him Carol twirled a spoon in her bowl, looking pretty in the sunlight. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sophia's stifled snicker at his messy technique. He'd be embarrassed, but damn it, if the girl didn't copy him, and now sported a smear of pasta sauce on her cheek.
He snorted; they were really looking like some kind of family. Then he frowned, remembering Jonathan's inquires from earlier.
"How was the rest of your day?" Carol asked, breaking the silence.
"Ah. We got somethin' ta talk about." He wiped away a stray tomato with the back of his finger and then sucked it clean. Ignoring Carol's disapproving blink he said, "Jonathan asked me how we met, how long we'd been married." He kept his voice low, still unsure how well the walls were insulated.
Her eyes widened and changed to hazel in the golden sun light. "What did you tell him?"
"Gave some bullshit answer about Atlanta." He glanced at Sophia, adding, "And I guessed thirteen years."
"Okay. Okay." She patted her thighs while focusing on the ceiling. "We will work off that then." Carol got up and grabbed a notebook. Her pasta cooled while she started jotting down notes. "We should keep it simple, as close to the truth as possible."
"Make sure you're payin' attention too, kid." Daryl slurped up another noodle with a nod at Sophia. She had passed the first test the night he went searching for a map, but it highlighted the fragility of their situation. They should have done this from the very beginning. It was some kind of miracle nobody had asked enough questions. Daryl swallowed and then scolded himself; no doubt they had and Carol had just skillfully answered without giving any concrete answers.
"I'm not stupid," Sophia insisted. She straightened herself in her chair.
"He's not saying you are, sweetie." She handed him a sheet with a short list of details. Where they met, occupations. Neighborhood. Names of immediate family members. Most of it was the answers they had given Kenny. "It's pretty easy, I think. We already said our occupations. If it's okay with you, we can just say we lived in our neighborhood 'Prairie Hill.'"
"Fine." He wasn't going to disclose the name of the trailer park he and Merle had called home.
"Do you think we need anything else?"
He looked over the list of facts. They painted a basic, but complete plan of their fake life together. "Nah. Good enough."
Even as Carol sat down in front of her bowl again, she continued sketching. "If other stuff comes up we can record it in here and talk about it over dinner."
"Fine."
With a noodle halfway down his chin he said, "Also, I'm goin' on a run tomorrow for Kenny."
"Wh-what?" That pretty little blush on her cheeks faded as she dropped her pen. It rolled under Daryl's foot.
"Kenny's sending me on an errand," he repeated hoarsely, wary of the high pitched fear that had crept into her voice.
"To where?"
"There's a ghost town a mile or so away. He needs supplies for water pumps."
"You're leaving?" Sophia abandoned her meal and sent her spoon clattering across the table.
"With all the dead outside? That's dangerous! You aren't actually going are you?"
Daryl went back and forth between mother and daughter. Sophia frowned and Carol waited for him to recant. Instead he growled, "You think I can say no? He threw a guy out for...What are you cryin' for?" The heat left his words but the exasperation did not.
"I just...I guess you can't say no." Carol wiped her cheeks and turned from him. "Are you going alone?"
Sophia cast a pinched grimace at him and clamped her arms around her body, shattering the picture perfect family scene from moments before.
Tsk, Darylina. It's a farce, remember?
"Yeah, it'll be better if I'm alone," he said, the words thick and weighty in his mouth. For something he'd been telling himself for weeks, it was difficult to say out loud. Overwhelmed with the need to run, Daryl stood with his dinner bowl.
"How long will you be gone?"
He inhaled sharply before spinning around to face her. He sliced the air with his hand as if he could cut off her worry and its invisible rope tugging on his chest.
"Listen. Ya don't hafta pretend ta worry about me. "
"I'm not-"
"Ya don't hafta," he insisted, blocking out the hurt in Carol's voice.
"Daryl!"
He stormed out of the room with his half-eaten bowl, uncomfortable and desperate to escape her concern and the girl's disappointment.
In his haste he bumped into Laura, eyes wide and dewy, who asked, "Is-is everything alright?"
"Fine," he growled and pushed past her. As he stomped down the stairs he heard Laura call out to Carol. He sped up.
By now, the dining area had mostly emptied. He threw down the bowl into a wash bin and then stalked off behind the building. Even outside with the wind rushing through the field and the hazy sunset, he couldn't escape her voice in his head or the image of her crying. It sapped any residual excitement and turned it into shame.
"Goddamn it," he muttered, turning back to the building and then, just as quickly, abandoning the idea of returning to their room. He'd have to eventually if he wanted his crossbow. And, if he wanted to apologize.
Daryl threw his back against the brick wall. He patted his pocket and sulked when he didn't find a cigarette. All this difficulty will be worth it once he had those cigarettes tomorrow, but he didn't think the bracelets would be enough to win Carol and Sophia's favor back.
She's just worried 'cause without you, she's a dead woman.
Daryl bit his lip. Merle's taunts weren't nearly as convincing as they once were. And what if it was true, if Carol actually cared about him? That would mean-
Stop right there, Baby Brother. No sense entertaining the impossible.
But...
Stop. The internal voice hit back harder, like thunder, a punch, and a stab all at once. Ain't nobody ever gonna care about you.
He flinched as if someone threw physical blows at him. Eventually, the barrage stopped and all he could hear were the faint moans of the dead and the wind rushing through the field. He exhaled weakly and watched the sunset until the sky darkened to purple. Daryl then peeled himself off the wall, intent on finding some place to crash for the night.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading, extra thanks to my reviewrs! I'm very excited for the next few chapters so I hope you'll stick around and read them. Cheers!-randomcat23