Disclaimer: I do not own Walking Dead, its characters, or its plot. I do not make any profit with the creation of this story. Abilene and Willy are the only thing that's mine.

Laundry Dilemmas

I stood beside the picnic table and watched the group I'd taken the time to get to know go about their day. It had been two days since Willy and Shane had their confrontation, and the latter hadn't been seen much since.

I preferred it that way.

Dale smiled kindly at me as he approached. "Shouldn't you be resting, honey?"

I had finished feeding the chickens and done my gardening for the day. My feet and back were aching, but when I tried to sit, I couldn't get comfortable for some reason. No matter how I moved, shifted, alternated, I still felt sore and achy in some part of me or another. Back, bottom, intimate regions, you name it and it had some problem when I sat down a certain way.

"I'm as rested as I'm gonna get." I shrugged, adjusting my position for the tenth time.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied in his soft, kind voice.

I smiled at the older gentleman.

He patted my free hand.

Our small piece of quiet was broken as a figure emerged from the tree line, limping toward camp. The odd shapes on either side off the head made me think of a certain hunter and his crossbow.

Daryl.

He had gone against all advice and went looking for the little girl yesterday, staying out after dark. Carol, Rick and Glenn were on the edge of a panic attack when he hadn't returned by the time everyone went to sleep last night. I think Willy and I were the only ones who weren't worried, we knew a country boy in the woods would be more than alright.

I observed the hunter walk to a tent that had a motorcycle parked nearby and squirrel carcasses strung between two trees.

Daryl Dixon wasn't an easy man for me to peg. There were moments where I could swear, he was about to do or say something decent. . .then he does the exact opposite and is completely surly. His redeeming quality, the only one I have found thus far, was the devotion and determination to locating the missing child.

My eyes flicked to Carol. The woman was beginning to lose hope, I could see it. Nothing anyone had said so far was helping. Every time the search came up empty, another large chunk of her hope dissipated.

Daryl and Rick were the only people from the group who seemed to have hope that Sophia was alive.

I turned back to the hunter. There had to be more to him, whenever he looked at Carol I could see something different in his eyes. He wasn't as he seemed to be, but didn't want anyone to know that he cared.

"Has he started moving yet?" Willy asked, unwrapping a ham sandwich as he walked around to stand beside me.

"Nothing." I replied dryly. I understood he was waiting excitedly for movement and growing to occur, but this was the third time he asked me that question today.

He set the sandwich down on the picnic table and bent over, cradling my baby bump in his large hands. "Hey, little buddy, ya gonna start moving in there? Huh?"

I giggled, he looked a bit silly leaning over to talk to my belly with a smear of mustard on the corner of his mouth. "You look ridiculous, Willy Pickens. You have mustard on your face."

He licked at it, missing it completely.

Boys! I huffed mentally, rolling my eyes.

A small nudge from my bump had me staring incredulously at my stomach. Happiness flared momentarily, until I realized it was only after he asked for movement.

I glared at Willy.

He laughed and nuzzled his nose against my bump. "It ain't my fault he knows I spoil ya both rotten."

"You think he behaves for you because you feed him special treats and brought him rare items found these days?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"No. That's just a sign of the bond we have." He grinned, kissing my bump a few times. "Don't be jealous, he'll love ya best cause you're his mama."

Okay, I couldn't stay mad at him. Darn it.

I smacked his arm as he stood up. "You can go back to herding cattle or whatever you were doing before you decided to stop by."

He grinned, remaining unphased in the slightest at my abrupt mood changes. He was used to them by now. "Yes, ma'am. Try ta get a bit of rest before ya get back ta work, please."

"Yeah, thanks." I grudgingly agreed, still a bit sore about him getting a response so easily.

Willy dropped one last kiss on my bump and stood, eating the rest of his sandwich as he walked toward the cattle pasture.

I sighed and lowered myself on the bench, settling for people watching while I had free time. Carol moved mechanically, more habit than anything, as she washed and hung laundry. At times she would grab something she'd already washed to wash again. Andrea was still more concerned with pick up trucks and maps then helping with laundry.

I wasn't entirely sure where Lori was.

Daryl had disappeared into his tent and had stayed in there throughout my conversation with Willy and even after, while I sat at the picnic table. I suspected he was resting or preparing to return to the search.

I tried to remember if I'd seen him or anyone else do his laundry since they've been camped here. Not one instance came to mind.

I decided then that I would see if I could do it for him. He'd worked so hard to find Sophia, the least I could do is clean his clothes if he wouldn't take the time to. Carol couldn't offer, she was barely able to wash her own laundry, the poor soul.

I nodded, determined.

I walked over to Daryl's secluded tent and paused for a moment. There wasn't a door to knock on and I wasn't sure he'd appreciate me shouting at him in his campsite. I frowned, brain working for a solution. Should I try to knock on a tent pole and see if he hears me?

Ah, what the heck? Maybe he won't yell at me.

I tapped my knuckles on the nearest pole and waited patiently for any sign that he could hear me.

"What?!" A male voice growled from inside.

"Hi. Daryl?" I called uncertainly. He sounded irritated. I hadn't watched his tent closely, things might have happened.

The tent split in a flurry of movement and the slightly shaggy haired hunter emerged. "Yeah. What ya want?"

"Well, I noticed that you were spending all your time in the woods and haven't gotten to your laundry yet. I am needing to do mine, so I thought I could wash your clothes while I'm at it. You can still search for the little girl and when you get back, you'll have fresh clothes." I bit my lip nervously.

"Why the hell would ya do that?" He snapped, his usual gruff manner. Blue eyes piercing me.

"After all you've done to locate Sophia, you deserve a fresh set of clothes to change into when you rest." I answered honestly. "You've done more than the others have. Carol should be offering, as the mother, but. . ."

He glanced behind me, shifting on his feet. He looked uncomfortable that I was trying to be nice to him. My suspicions were being confirmed.

"I can wash my own damn clothes." He growled, blue eyes narrowed.

"I know, but I imagine you'll want to leave as soon as possible to start searching again. Doing your laundry will take away from your search time." I pointed out with raised eyebrows.

He grumbled, shifting on his feet and glaring at me as he thought over my words. "Fine."

I nodded, staying where I was.

"What now?!" He snarled, irritated.

"I assume you'll want to gather your laundry yourself. I don't imagine you want me in your tent." I answered calmly. I knew the hunter got irritated easily if he was in the middle of something.

"Whatever." He grumbled, disappearing into the tent.

I waited patiently for him to emerge with the dirty clothes. I wasn't disappointed, though he grumbled and made some things clatter against each other, he did in fact return with an arm full of clothes. I took them from him and chose to ignore his grumpy frown.

"I will go get these started for you!" I said cheerfully, turning and walking back to the laundry station the ladies had set up.

Carol was still in the cycle of washing, wringing, hanging and re-washing a handful of items from each load. Lori was sitting with Rick and Herschel on the porch. Rick was pale and looked like he was about to fall over if he hadn't been supported.

He was a good father. He was nearly killing himself to give his blood to his son.

I hope I could be a good parent to my baby. I don't know to raise a baby in this world. Before, everything I could possibly need or want I could order or pick up from the local store. I would've had to worry about health risks, sure, but not as severe as now. Now, when the pharmacies and hospitals ran out of man made medicine, that was it. There may be natural alternatives, but not everyone has access to that knowledge anymore. You can't look it up on Google or call the local doctor up.

It was a hell of a time to have a baby.

I shook those thoughts away. It would do no good dwelling on it now. He was coming, ready or not.

I settled carefully beside a hand washer that Herschel and Maggie had slightly altered for me. The rhythmic, repeated movements comforted me and reminded me of home. We washed clothes like this, even before the world went crazy and the dead returned to eat the living.

My thoughts kept returning to Daryl as I washed his clothes and mine.

He had a look in his eyes.

He was not a bad man, neither was he as pure as freshly fallen snow. He was somewhere in the middle. He tried to be hard and cold, but it wasn't in him to be that way. A part of him cared and he didn't know how to deal with that. It made him angry-frustrated.

I can see the man you could become, Daryl Dixon. You just need time and subtle guidance.

I frowned, glancing between the hamper of damp clothes and the hanging line.

I could hang the clothes on the line, but I had heard that it was a bad idea for pregnant women to do that kind of thing after a certain point in the pregnancy.

But, which point was it, again?

I glared at the line, wheels turning full throttle, going through every piece of information I'd heard and read trying to remember when exactly that point was supposed to be. I didn't think I'd reached it, yet, but I wanted to be sure.

Maybe I could use a smart shortcut to hang up laundry without risking injury to me or my fetus. I could find sticks to work as extensions of my arms, but they were pointy and unstable.

I highly doubt ripped clothes would be appreciated by the hunter who pretended he didn't care. Holes meant better access to skin, which meant greater chances at being bitten and I don't think he'd appreciate that.

I scowled down at the clothes, laying innocently in the basket.

I would need help.

I scanned the camp site. Dale wasn't on top of the R. V, so he was most likely inside the R. V or walking. Andrea was perched on top of the R. V with a hat and shotgun, Lori hasn't been able to get the blonde woman to pitch in with laundry so there wouldn't be help there. Carol was completely immersed in chores and I wasn't that desperate. The big man, T-Dog I think, was heading back to camp from the direction of the house.

He looked like my best bet at the moment.

Here goes nothing.

I left the hamper with the line, walking as fast as possible across the yard to meet him before he found something else to occupy his time.

"Excuse me," I called to him, waving a little to ensure I caught his attention.

"Hey, are you okay?" T-Dog asked, concerned, watching me carefully as I stopped beside him. He hovered beside me like he'd either run for Herschel or try to provide any provisions I needed himself.

"I'm fine. Could you do me a favor?" I asked hopefully. Please say yes, I pleaded in my head. You look like you would say yes to what I have in mind.

"Uh, sure. . ." He replied, though it was more of a question.

"I have a hamper of clothes I can't hang up and if I don't find a way to soon, they'll mildew. Could you pin them up for me, please?" I looked up at him with hope. He was taller than me and obviously couldn't be pregnant, being a man. He also wasn't busy with life threatening search parties or blood transfusions. Those facts made him the perfect choice to help me.

"Yeah, I can do that." He nodded, a relieved grin on his face.

He totally thought I was going to ask him something else for a favor. If I were a turkey, I could totally milk this for all it was worth. Fortunately for him, I'm not a turkey.

"Thank you." I smiled gratefully. Yes! Problem solved. Torn clothes crisis averted.

"It's no big deal, don't have anything else I gotta do at the moment, might as well be useful to somebody." He followed me without question to where I left the clothes. He began with Daryl's pile, eyebrow raised at what was obviously the hunters shirt, but he didn't ask.

I appreciated and respected that.

"I don't mean to be rude and you don't have to answer, but your name isn't really T-Dog, is it?" I asked, hoping it wasn't an offensive question.

T-Dog shrugged. "Nah, just a nickname. I prefer it anyway."

"Too embarrassing?" I guessed, curious now but respecting the obvious boundary he set up.

"Yeah, you could say that." He chuckled. "How far along are you?"

"Not sure, exactly. My best estimate is between three to four months. I lost track once we started moving a lot, the date book I kept was left behind at one of our old camps. He should be coming before too terribly long, I've heard the time flies." I smiled widely, lovingly stroking the growing bump.

He blinked. "Oh it's a boy?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I mean. . . I think it could be a boy, but all this walker stuff happened before I was able to find out." I frowned, wishing I knew for sure. "The morning it started I was scheduled for a sonogram at five that afternoon."

"I'm sorry, but you've made it this far. That counts for something good, right?" He smiled, still hanging Daryl's clothes.

He had a point.

"You're right." I murmured, memories of those best forgotten days replaying in my head.

"Do you mind if I ask you where the father is?" He asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

I blinked up at him, body instinctively tensing. "What?"

"I mean, it's clear that Willy dude cares about you and the baby, but he ain't the father. He treats you more like a sister and you treat him like a brother. Which leaves a mystery man we haven't heard about or seen." He explained, shocking me with his insightful conclusions. They hit the mark dead on.

I had hoped that no one had noticed the sibling bond and assumed that he was my husband or whatever. I had hoped that it would deter them from asking about the father, but in the span of one minute, I was being proved wrong.

I wasn't sure I knew this guy well enough to spill my guts out to him.

"Look, T-Dog, you seem like a nice guy and you're being a great help to me at the moment. I don't want to be a jerk or anything, but we haven't really talked to each other much. The father-it's complicated and I'm not sure I know you well enough to talk to you about it." I felt like a total jerk.

"You don't have to explain anything to me." He shrugged and his posture changed, revealing the awkwardness of the situation.

"Its nothing personal." I added lamely, feeling worse now that I'd made him uncomfortable.

He nodded repeatedly. "Yeah, yeah."

"Maybe we can remedy that." I rushed out, nervous and wanting to make the awkwardness and discomfort disappear. "We can ask each other harmless questions to get to know each other a little better. And maybe. . .you know, a bit later. . .one day. . .I will feel comfortable enough to tell you all about him."

He was quiet, making me sweat and. fidget nervously.

Please say something. . . Anything. . . You can even tell me it's a stupid idea, just say something. I begged silently, biting down on my bottom lip.

"What's your favorite color?" He finally asked, breaking the silence.

I thought for a moment, sifting through memories.

Got it.

I grinned. "The clear blue the ocean turns when there aren't tides or tidal waves messing up the hue. So clear it's almost like looking through liquid glass, and you can see everything. All the life underneath your feet. An entire world down there, untouched by any of the bull that goes on on dry land."

I returned to my body, remembering that I was on a farm in the walker apocalypse and we were talking about favorite colors. "What's yours?"

"Green, I guess, if I had to pick just one color." T-Dog answered, he paused when he realized that Daryl's clothes were hung and it was now my shirt he was holding up to pin. "Uh. . ."

I blushed, coming to the same conclusion he had. My underwear and bras were in the basket. "It's fine. If you don't they will mildew and I will have to bother Willy to grab more on the next run for supplies. Just pretend they are yours if it will make you more comfortable."

He snorted, but hung up the shirt and grabbed the next item.

I let my eyes wander a bit. Shane, Rick. Glenn and Dale were gathered on the porch and it didn't look like they were having a pleasant discussion.

*~Glenn~*

Shane glared at Abilene's back as she and T-Dog talked. "What do we really know about her? Besides the fact that she's pregnant." He snapped when Dale opened his mouth to reply.

"It's not really our business, Shane." Rick reasoned, sitting in the single chair available.

"How is it not our business? For all we know she could have killed people or somethin!" He said, eyes blazing with angry fire and cooler than ice cubes. "Think about Carl-think about Lori!"

This was just getting more ridiculous and insane.

"Dude, she's pregnant, what do you expect she's going to do?" I hissed, glancing at the woman in question.

"Glenn is right. She's just a girl who's expecting a baby." Dale stressed the end sentence, kind and true as always. You could count on him to tell it like it is, no matter what you think or what happens.

"Shane, I don't think she's a threat to anybody, especially in her condition." Rick spoke in that deceptively soft voice of his.

"You can't know that! Plenty of women committed murder or theft while they were in her condition. It never stopped them." Shane growled, unrelenting.

"If she wanted to harm anyone in our camp, she would have done so already. She's had countless opportunities. Not to mention that she's lived with Herschel and his family for nearly a month without incident." Rick pointed out, not budging either.

"Not every killer began right away." Shane tried, again, to persuade us. "She is a threat, Rick, and we can't just let her-"

"That's enough! Abilene is not a threat and nothing-look at me, Shane-nothing is going to be done to her." Rick had changed his voice to the intense cop voice he'd used more than a few times in the past.

Shane stormed away without another word and I sighed in relief. Thank God that was over.

I glanced over to the laundry section, scanning the area and landing on the topic of the argument disguised as a discussion.

Abilene was trailing Shane with her eyes, her face and posture worried.

Shit, we must have been louder than I thought.

I attempted to smile at her, but I probably screwed up, because she didn't lose the worried look.

Damn.

*~Abilene~*

The conversation intensity escalated and Shane looked more frustrated as time passed. Dale, Rick and Glenn looked like they were ready for it to be over.

At one point, Rick changed, his lips moved faster and his face became harder. He wasn't the kind father now. He was the leader putting his foot down about whatever they were practically whisper shouting over.

Shane got fed up at that point and stormed off, the glare he sent my way contained enough venom to kill an entire herd of cattle.

I turned back to the porch. Rick, Dale and Glenn were still gathered there, although they looked more relaxed now. Glenn caught my gaze and attempted to smile, but I was weak.

I drew the terrifying conclusion that the group on the porch were fighting over something to do with me.

There was no other explanation I could think of.

I was still staring at Glenn, thoughts in chaos, when the yell rang out.

"Walker!" Andrea yelled from the top of the R. V.

The camp jolted with life then, fear and uncertainty running wild as guns were loaded and feet flew for the tree line.

Time slowed down and sped up at the same time. My heart pounded terror through my veins, I wouldn't be able to get up to the safety of the house in time depending on how close it was to camp. Faces flashed through my mind. Patricia, Beth, Maggie, Jimmy, Willy, Missy.

A gunshot exploded through the air, taking away my breath.

Did it hit the mark? Was there more than one?

"No!" A voice yelled shortly after. "No!"

"It was Daryl!" Another shouted out amidst the chorus of exclamations.

Daryl?

Someone shot Daryl?

The news sunk in.

Oh my God!

Suddenly, laundry dilemmas, awkward conversations with T-Dog and venomous glares from the crazy cop didn't seem that important.