[A/N: It's been so long. I know. I'm sorry.]
Asha felt Beth's hand slip into hers and squeeze. She glanced down and realised Beth had found Daryl's hand in the same way on her other side.
"Jeremiah Carter 1837-1874 Beloved Father"
The three of them stood in silence contemplating the epitaph. It was obvious why this grave had caught Beth's attention.
The cemetery sprawled around a lone house. The large two story building was aged and a little ramshackle, but the golden afternoon light and rustling breeze imbued it with a sense of quietude.
After a moment Daryl shifted, straightening his crossbow where it was strung across his chest and gesturing for Beth to climb back on his back. Beth wobbled slightly on her injured foot – thanks to a mishap with a concealed trap whilst taking down a walker – before looping her arms around his neck so he could lift her piggyback style. He gestured to Asha that they should continue on towards the house. She nodded, shouldered their one remaining semi automatic – which she was carrying for its use as a club since the ammo had run out a few days ago – and took Daryl's usual position on point for their small group.
The tentative peace she'd reached with Daryl at the shack had, at least so far, lasted. It wasn't quite the easy camaraderie that they'd shared whilst hunting the Governor - they were still too wary of giving offence for that – but it was a marked improvement on their more recent treatment of each other. However it was a far cry from the closeness they'd previously shared. Asha sighed. Even as she scanned the approach to the house, noting the whisper of the long grass against her legs, she could feel Daryl behind her. The awareness of him never seemed to leave her these days. Much as she repeatedly told herself she couldn't ask anymore of him, the ache in her chest increasingly told her she wanted to.
'Wait up,' he muttered as they reached the porch. Beth slid from his back and leant against the stair rail. Pulling his bow into his hands, the steps creaked as he passed Asha and paused at the door. Without prompting, Asha swapped the rifle for her knife and took her usual spot on the other side of the door. With a quick traded glance, Daryl pounded his fist against the door frame, Asha instinctively holding her breath into the long moment that followed.
'Give it a minute,' he growled. 'It's a big house.'
Asha strained her ears, but only silence came back to meet her. Eventually Daryl grunted, pushing the unlocked door open and stepping into the hallway.
The house looked solid and secure. Someone had boarded up the bottom floor windows with thick planks of wood. The hall was dim as she followed Daryl, breathing in air that was stale, but not as stale as it should have been.
'It's clean,' Beth said, hobbling in behind her and running a finger along the hall table.
'Yeah,' Daryl grunted. 'Someone's been tending to it.'
The hairs prickled along the back of Asha's neck. 'I don't think we should stay here,' she said softly.
Daryl's eyes slid briefly to Beth's ankle.
'Gotta stop somewhere.'
'I promise not to burn this one down,' Beth said tiredly.
Asha nodded unhappily. They did need to stop. They'd been a few days on the road since setting fire to shack, the last with Beth injured. They were filthy and tired and just about out of provisions – and they hadn't seen another house for miles.
'There ain't no dead,' Daryl said, 'but we still gotta check this place properly.'
She nodded, tightening her grip on her knife, pushing open the closest door and then pausing.
'You weren't exactly right about there being no dead,' she said.
Daryl was suddenly at her shoulder as they looked at the rows of seating facing an open coffin. It was occupied, Asha could smell it, but the scent was muted somehow and overlaid with something chemical. She edged closer knife raised, but the walker – and it clearly had been a walker even though he was laid out in his Sunday best with a veneer of makeup smeared across its corrupted flesh – didn't move.
Daryl reached past her and she jumped as his arm brushed her shoulder. She hadn't heard him creep up behind her. His finger sank into the cheek of the dead man, dislodging a clump of flesh and makeup. Asha's nose wrinkled as a fresh wave of putrefaction assailed her.
'It's a damn funeral home' Daryl muttered, flicking the goop off his fingers.
'It's …strange,' Asha said. The scene in front of her was so disconnected to their reality that she wasn't really sure what to do with it.
Daryl harrumphed, turning back to where Beth leant against the door frame.
They swept the rest of the ground floor before returning to the hall, where stairs led upstairs, and a separate set of narrow stairs led down.
'Up or down?' she asked.
Down,' Daryl said. 'Ya stay here. Ain't like the idea of us all going down there together.'
Asha nodded. Too easy for someone who was hiding to slip out and trap them down there.
Shit, she really was becoming paranoid.
Daryl was looking at her oddly. 'What, no argument?'
She shook her head.
He grunted and disappeared down the stairs. A minute or two later he was back, a couple of packs of white gauze in hand.
'What's down there?' Beth asked curiously.
Daryl shrugged dismissively. 'More half painted dead. Looks like someone ran outta dolls to dress up.'
'It's beautiful,' Beth said, pushing herself upright off the wall. 'Someone wanted these people to have a funeral. Someone remembered that they used to be people, before all this.' Beth's intent gaze switched between them. 'Don't you think that's beautiful?'
Daryl grunted. 'Let's get your foot wrapped.'
Asha shrugged, avoiding Beth's gaze. Beautiful wasn't the word that came to mind so much as futile – but she wasn't sure she liked what that said about her. 'I'm gonna check upstairs,' she said instead.
'Careful,' Daryl grunted.
Asha blew sharply out her nose. 'Always.'
The house was almost as clean upstairs as down. The beds were made, although they smelt a little musty, and when she pulled the double doors to main bedroom wardrobe she found row upon row of neatly folded clothes – men's, women's and children's. She stared at them in consternation for a moment and then, leaving the robe doors wide open, she went from room to room opening all the other cupboards. With the exception of a collection of blankets in a hallway cupboard, they were all empty.
Then she went into the bathroom.
She stared blankly at the first aid kit sitting neatly and perfectly alone on a dust free shelf in the cabinet behind the mirror. An unsettled feeling spread through her body, the blatant obviousness of the bright red package taunting her as she tried to figure out what it meant.
'Asha.' Daryl's voiced echoed up the stairs, not exactly alarmed, but definitely insistent. She snatched up the kit and darted back down the stairs.
Daryl and Beth were in the kitchen – a country style kitchen with a wooden dining table – staring at the open cupboards and the row upon row of tinned and packaged goods. She pulled up short, boots skidding slightly as her mouth opened.
'Holy shit,' she breathed. Her stomach suddenly rumbling at the sight of food.
'This is someone's stash,' Daryl muttered.
'What?' Asha struggled to force thoughts past the hunger response dominating her body.
'Ain't a speak of dust it. Someone only just put it here.' Daryl was turning a can over in his hands.
Asha frowned, then lifted the first aid kit and placed it carefully in the centre of the table. Given the state of their shrunken stomachs, there wasn't much that could have torn Daryl and Beth's attention away from the food, but the first aid kit did it. Beth grabbed it eagerly, ripping the zipper back to reveal an interior that looked like it had been packed in the drug store yesterday.
Daryl looked at Asha questioningly, bottom lip folded into his mouth as he chewed on it.
'It was behind the bathroom mirror,' she said. 'There was nothing else. The shelves had been wiped clean and it was just sitting there.'
Daryl was obviously right. Someone was using this place as a stockpile.
'What if they come back?' Asha asked.
'I'll deal with 'em.'
'There's still good people,' Beth cut in.
Daryl grunted. 'Don't reckon the good ones survived.'
'If they did,' Asha said, 'I don't reckon they stayed good for long.'
'That's crap Asha,' Beth retorted.
'Oh I still reckon there are people capable of being good,' Asha admitted pessimistically. 'But most of the time they're the same people who are capable of being bad – there's just more reason to be bad these days.'
'That is such bullshit Asha,' Beth scoffed. 'You just mean that it's easier to be bad. It's always been easier to be bad. That's just all the more reason to try to be good.' The young woman shook her head. 'Besides, I don't buy it. I won't. All these people ya talking about, they can still be good if they weren't so ready to give up on everything.'
Asha lifted a shoulder, trying to shrug off vague feeling of shame at Beth's words. 'Guess I always have been a bit of a cynic,' she mumbled.
'Anyway,' Beth continued. 'Whoever put this stuff here, they didn't try to hide it. They wanted whoever came here to find it. Bad people wouldn't do that.'
Asha frowned, hoping that Beth was right but unable to settle the uneasy feeling in her stomach.
She glanced back at the food, and the feeling in her stomach shifted. Her eyes settled on a distinctive blue and yellow label. God, she hadn't had peanut butter in ages.
She snatched up a jar, digging out a finger full and closing her eyes as she wrapped her tongue around it. She couldn't help the satisfied groan as the sticky substance stuck deliciously to the roof of her mouth.
When she opened her eyes Beth was grinning at her, and Daryl had grabbed himself a jar of pig's feet of all things – but was looking pretty pleased with it.
Asha grinned back. Beth might be right, or she might be wrong, but right now they had food and that could only be a good thing.
'I'm gonna finish checking upstairs,' she said, scooping another finger full and taking the jar as she headed back towards the stairs.
Daryl splashed the last of the bucket of water on his face, shook off the excess and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He scratched idly at the scruffy growth on his cheek. Pair of scissors wouldn't go astray. He couldn't be bothered with a razor anymore – hell he'd barely bothered with one before the turn – but he wasn't interested in challenging Rick in the beard department either.
He grabbed up his leather vest from where he'd draped it over the edge of the bath, pulling it on over the grey flanno he'd claimed from one the bedrooms. He'd de-sleeved it of course, since at the tail end of summer it was still too damn hot for sleeves, but he'd stuffed another into his pack - sleeves intact – because the weather had to turn sometime soon.
He had to admit, it wasn't terrible feeling clean again – or at least as clean as he could get with a bucket of cold water from the tank attached to the house and a clean shirt. Most of the time he was indifferent to dirt – always had been – but whilst Beth and Asha never bitched about it when they were on the road, they never missed a chance to clean up when water was available either.
Must be a girl thing.
They tried to insist he do the same.
He'd given in this time. Now that Asha had crawled out of her cone of silence, she'd given every indication of being a persistent pest about it – and he knew what a pain in the arse she could be when she had an idea in her head. He shrugged his shoulders inside his shirt to settle his vest into place. The feel of the clean shirt definitely didn't suck.
It was strange to find the house so stocked with food, medicine and clean clothes – in a range of sizes. There was no sign of whoever used to live in the house, no photos, no personal effects, none of the bits and pieces of stuff strewn around that marked pretty much every one of the thousands of houses they'd been though since the turn. The place had been wiped clean and then…restocked was the only word for it really.
He scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but as he headed back downstairs, he hoped that Beth was right about whoever had done it not being bad people.
The front door creaked as he stepped out on the porch. Asha sat on the top step, eyes turned out to the lengthening shadows in the graveyard. She'd changed into a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that were too big and cinched in with her belt around her waist. Her face was hidden behind her hair, still damp from her wash and hanging around her shoulders. He was suddenly reminded of easing her glove of her hand after her encounter with Seth, of her cleaning up in the river. He hadn't seen her hair out since them.
He grimaced. Damn idiot thinking about her hair.
For an instant he thought about going back inside, but his feet had other ideas and he stepped forwards sinking down silently next to her.
She glanced at him smiling slightly before turning her attention back to the distance. The sun had set and the last of the light was quickly fading from the sky. He wondered if the time would come when he wasn't half wary when he looked in her eyes, wondering if she'd slipped away again.
They sat in silence, breathing in the warm summer air. After a moment, Daryl's attention was drawn to the movement in Asha's hands. She was idly flipping her knife over and over again, her eyes still on the trees as she ran the tips of her fingers along the blade and then around the hilt. This was definitely a new habit she'd picked up. Then his eyes narrowed at the chip in the tip of the blade, the long score mark along the hilt.
He reached out and caught her wrist, taking hold of the knife. She raised her brows at him, but let him take it out of her hands.
'This ain't yours.'
He'd used Asha's blade. It was the same make, but hers didn't have either of the marks that had caught his eye.
'No,' she said sadly. 'The Governor didn't let me keep mine. It's Nash's. I took it… after…'
She reached out and brushed her fingers along the knife. 'Nash always brought my dive knives for me, and this was his favourite make.' She touched the chip in the blade tip. 'Guess his had a harder life than mine. They're good dive knifes, full tang design, stainless steel alloy that holds an edge without rusting easily. Good thing my brother was a bit of a macho idiot and picked a blade that's kinda on the big side for a dive knife.' The corner of her mouth quirked wryly as she met his eyes. 'Walker skulls are a little thicker than fish skulls.'
He ran his thumb down the edge. 'Needs sharpening,' he said, handing it back.
She smiled. 'Well, if you've got a stone or file stashed away somewhere, knock yourself out.'
'Pfft, sharpen your own damn gear.'
'Fine.' She rolled her eyes, raking her hair back off her face. Her left hand when she raised it, was marked by the puckered scar, still raw looking. He hissed through his teeth, catching her hand for a better look.
'Still oughta have this covered. Can't afford for it t' get infected.'
'I know,' she said softly.
Why was she looking at him so strangely, corners of her mouth turned up slightly? Her hand stayed soft and compliant in his as he turned it over.
'Just thought I'd let it breathe whilst there wasn't much chance of it getting dirty,' she said. 'I'll wrap it up with some of that nice clean gauze left by our kindly benefactors before we leave.' A quick frown ran across her face as she looked up at him. 'Just when do you think that's gonna be by the way?'
Daryl sighed, letting go of her hand so he could scrub tiredly at his face with both his. He hated this leadership bullshit. He could handle being in charge on a supply run and he'd always been ready to give Rick or the council his opinion, but it wasn't the same as having to people looking to him, just him, all the time, to make those decisions. He knew he could keep them alive day to day, but he didn't have a plan for the big picture shit.
'Dunno, Beth ain't gonna be able to move fast on that ankle.'
Asha was frowning as she looked out at the deepening twilight. 'Beth could be right about the people here. They could be good.'
'Could be.'
'Who's well stocked enough to leave a stash of food and medicine like that?' She sounded baffled, just like he felt. Even at their best stocked when they'd been at the prison they couldn't have afforded to do that.
'Might be worth hanging around to find out?' he suggested.
'Maybe.' Her eyes were hard when she looked back at him. 'But if we do, we don't just sit here playing house, waiting for them to come back and hoping it's all ok. I want to get a look at them before they see us.'
'Hmmm.'
'We should clear out,' she said, frowning as she thought about it. 'Find somewhere nearby to camp and keep an eye out. Or at least keep a low profile here so we can disappear if we see someone coming. Circle back and watch them.'
Daryl grunted.
She had a point, but mostly he was just glad she was making a point. It seemed another sign that she wasn't going to relapse back into blank oblivion. He'd been waiting for it to happen since they'd burnt down the shack, but so far she seemed to be holding on.
'What?' she challenged. 'You think I'm paranoid?'
'Paranoid's better than not givin' a shit.'
She actually went pink, looking quickly away. 'Well, someone who means a lot to me pointed out that I needed to stop sulking and pull my own weight.' She swiped both hands down past the corners of her mouth. 'God it was getting heavy though. And I was so tired.'
'How tired?' He frowned at her.
'Tired enough to think about it,' she admitted softly, perhaps a little shamefully. She suddenly looked grey with exhaustion, all the long hard days etched in deep lines on her face. After a moment of silence she glanced at him. 'You never have?'
Daryl snorted. 'If I was gonna opt out, I would have done it a long time ago. He gestured vaguely. 'Long before any of this.'
Asha was watching him from the corner of her eye. 'Maybe Beth is right about you being the last man standing.'
'Ain't nothin' to be proud of.'
There was a moment of silence before Asha spoke again. 'There's gotta be more to life than just surviving cause we're able to.'
He stared at her stunned. She was frowning in thought. He suddenly felt just how different their pasts had been.
'Best part of my life's been since the turn, ' he said quietly. 'The prison, what we had-'
She glanced sharply at him.
'The group,' he clarified quickly, feeling his neck flushing. 'What we all had together. Community.'
She nodded, looking away.
He really had been thinking about the group, but after her look, he wasn't sure that he didn't mean what they'd had more specifically too. He chewed his bottom lip for a moment. Maybe most of all damn it.
She was gazing pensively into the distance. 'We really built something there. Just like Hershel wanted. Could it really be that simple? Maybe we just have to work harder to balance out all the shit that's out there with good days in order to make it all worthwhile?'
Daryl had the feeling that she wasn't really talking to him anymore. But then she glanced at him and smiled a crooked half smile. 'You know what that means right? We need to have more days like the one we had by the river and-'
She suddenly went bright pink and focused on her hands.
Recollection of that day flooded him. It had been a good day. One of the best, and he was lost for a moment as he remembered the feel of the sun falling through the leaves and a scraggly cat sauntering out from the bushes.
And he remembered the night that had followed.
'At any rate,' Asha said, shaking her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts. 'I'm still here now, but that means I've got to really be here, even if that means I'm acting a bit paranoid.
Daryl blinked, trying to recall their earlier track of conversation. 'Paranoid ain't gonna get us killed, not being paranoid might.'
'So you do think I'm paranoid?'
Her hair had fallen back over her face, but he could see the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. His hand twitched as he thought about brushing the hair of her face and raked his fingers through his own hair for something to do.
She sighed leaning forwards and resting her forehead in the palms of her hands.
'So that's it then?' she asked softly. 'That's all the plan we've got?' Her voice dripped with self derision. 'Maybe hang around and see who shows up? Hope they're good and they've got somewhere safe.'
Daryl grunted. Spoken out loud it sounded like wishful thinking.
Asha sighed again. 'What was the plan before we found this place?'
'Head south. Easier to ride out the winter.'
Asha nodded. There was the faintest shimmer of hope behind her eyes when she looked up. 'Michonne knows my code. We could leave some signs.'
It was dangerous to hope too much that that would lead somewhere, but he shrugged anyway. 'We can do that too.'
Behind them, strains of piano music suddenly drifted out the open door.
'She shouldn't be doing that,' Asha said brow furrowing. 'Someone might hear.'
'Ya wanna tell her to stop?'
Asha hesitated. 'No. Let her play for a bit. She shouldn't have to stop. She should be able to play as long as she wants, sing as loudly as she wants. She should be in a house filled with her family, with a fridge full of food, be going to sleep in a warm bed with her biggest concern what she plans to do after graduating school.' She sighed heavily. 'At least she can have the music and the warm bed tonight. Besides, she's not playing that loudly.'
They sat quietly, listening to the music and Beth's sweet singing.
'I don't know how she does it,' Asha added softly.
Daryl raised an eyebrow.
She smiled a sardonic little smile. 'Keeps the faith,' she explained. 'After everything, she's still full of light when the rest of us are…' She trailed off and shrugged.
Daryl grunted, but he knew what Asha meant. Ever since Beth had decided not to take her own life at the farm, she'd had a positivity that he'd never really understood. 'She can play, he agreed 'But ain't no one gonna be sleeping in a bed tonight.'
Asha raised her brows at him.
'We'll be downstairs, where the exits are.'
'Thought you said the place was boarded up tight?'
'Yeah, too tight actually. I loosened the boards on one of the windows in the back room in case we need a rear exit. Guess you ain't the only paranoid one.'
Asha laughed softly, nudging him gently with her shoulder.
The corner of his mouth twitched upwards at the casual contact.
They sat there as the dark settled in accompanied by the quiet sounds of Beth's music, until Daryl suddenly tensed. There was a shadow moving between the headstones, too fast to be a walker, but low to the ground. He reached for his crossbow. Asha shifted as he moved, leaning forward, eyes alert.
'What is it?'
Daryl swung the bow in the shadow's direction. 'Dunno.'
The shadow edged closer, disappearing occasionally behind the headstones, but making its way inexorably towards the house.
Daryl stepped silently off the stairs, Asha behind him knife in hand.
The shadow had disappeared, and Daryl stepped forward, think he was going to have to go into the graveyard. Asha gripped his arm, shaking her head. Then the darkness barked, and the tension drained from his shoulders as a dog shaped shadow trotted out of the darkness.
'Don't shoot it,' Asha said.
'Ain't gonna shoot it,' he muttered disgustedly, lowering his crossbow. 'We ain't that hard up for meat.'
Asha exhaled in relief turning back to the stairs. 'Mangy mutt,' she muttered under her breath.
The mutt was mangy – a one eyed creature of indiscernible breed with a mess of grey matted fur. Daryl crouched down, holding a hand out. 'Come on dog, what are ya doing out here. Ya hungry?'
The dog whined softly, taking a couple of hesitant steps forward and then stopping.
'That thing is not coming in the house,' Asha said from the top of the stairs. 'I can smell it from here.'
As if it understood, the hound barked suddenly and then trotted away into the darkness.
'What have you got against dogs?'
'Nothing, when they don't stink like an open sewer. Dogs are great,' she paused in the door heading back into the house and grinned. 'I mean, they're not cats, but they're pretty good.'