New Meanings To Old Words: Love
This chapter was a BEAST. There was so much to work in, cause this is really such a busy time at the farm… so I had to cut around and re-situate everything and place patchwork with each segment. JESUS. So yeah, this one has kinda become a bit short…if you consider 8k short… HI FUCKIN' NUTS HERE *waves*
Not a lot of plot movement, but necessary sliding forward made. We're really only catching up with Daryl and Miles, and Rick and Callie. There's a good bit of slipping around in the timeline, overlap and what not in the next two chaps. I think I've worked it so that you should be able to follow but at the end of next chap (yeah next chap) I'll kind of spell it out in case you got lost.
A quick word to my reviewers and readers. I feel as though I have not told you lately that I love you. (And shit yeah I pulled out the fuckin' Van Morrison…deal with it) I got mad FEELS for all of you. I appreciate you more than anything, and honestly, strange as it is when I go 'round thinking 'bout the things I'm grateful for on Thanksgiving this year…this site, you people, and the wondrous friendships I've been able to form as a result of this exercise in CRAZY are gonna be on the fuckin' list. So in short…. THANK YOU ALL for reading, and enjoying what I'm putting out there.
As always, enjoy!~michelle
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).
New Blues
Miles stumbled back as the weight of the saddle hit him hard in the chest. Daryl heard the kid wince only a bit as he no doubt scrabbled with his broken hand to hold tight to it. The kid let out a huff of a breath as his back hit into the door of the stable he'd been standing in front of and Daryl grimaced. Shaking his head Daryl rubbed hard at his face and chewed his bottom lip a bit.
He probably shouldn't have been so rough with the kid. But if he was bein' honest, he was takin' the high road as it were. He wanted to smash his fist into the brat's face for the way he'd been acting last night. The way he'd got up in Callie's face.
It had taken a good bit of resistance on Daryl's part not to do just that when he'd dragged the kid off to that log and sat him down. He'd stalked in front of him, his hands itching to slam the kid a few times and knock some fuckin' sense into his head the way Merle had done with him when he was a kid. Finally after a few fuckin' deep breaths, he'd knelt down in front of the kid and opted instead to use Merle's words. Words that had stuck with him, 'cause fuckin' Merle hardly ever used 'em to get a point across. So when he did, Daryl knew them words was damn important.
"Time to grow the fuck up, boy."
And those words, just as they had for him years ago, had sparked something in the boy's mind. Daryl wasn't sure what exactly, but he saw the change in the kid's expression almost instantly. Then he watched him sit there for hours and work to wrap his mind around everything. When Danny'd come and taken over, tellin' him that Callie and Rick were done with Hershel. Tellin' him, but not really tellin' him, that he should get his ass in there, he'd left thinking that the next time he saw Miles the kid's head would be back on straight.
Wishful fuckin' thinkin'.
He'd been on his way to the house to tell Callie he was leavin'. Some pansy-ass part of him screamin' that he'd regret it if he didn't. But he'd been stopped short at Miles bursting through that screen door. Watching that kid tear ass outta that house, head down, unshed tears in his eyes had Daryl going from mildly pissed to hopping fuckin' mad in a manner of seconds. He didn't really know what to think, and he'd just reacted, grabbing the kid and pulling him to a stop.
The look in that kid's eyes when he'd turned him 'round.
Shit.
Daryl rubbed both of his hands on his face as he snatched a saddle blanket off the near wall. He turned and rolled his eyes spottin' Miles still clutching that saddle to his chest and starin' at him. Shaking his head, Daryl tossed the blanket onto a nearby stool and crossed his arms over his chest. Miles stared back, his still teary red rimmed eyes searching Daryl's for some kind of answer to a question he was too afraid to ask.
Daryl shook his head again and let out a long sigh before turning and opening the stable door behind him. He lead the mare out and put his body to task getting her ready, while his mind stayed settled on the kid. He knew what he wanted to say to him. Simple placating words that he'd never heard uttered but had always wanted to hear. Words that really wouldn't help matters in the long run, but would appease that broken bit of his heart and mind that was causin' the kid to lash out.
Yeah, he knew what he wanted to say. But Daryl wasn't the guy to give you what you wanted. He was the fucker that did what needed to be done.
"You gotta come to terms with it, or let it out, kid. Or it's gonna eat you alive and leave you for dead," Daryl said not lifting his eyes from his task as he settled the blanket on the horse. When Miles didn't respond Daryl shook his head and spun around, spearing the kid with a sharp look before advancing on him.
Miles backed up, again hitting his back against the stable behind him. The horse settled in there whinnied and Miles visibly shook as Daryl reached out and grabbed the saddle out of his grip and tossed it aside.
"C'mon," Daryl said angrily bending down just a bit and glaring into the kid's eyes. "Spit it the fuck out boy."
"He killed him!" Miles seethed, his words loud and vehement. His breath hissed out after the last word, his eyes sliding around the confines of the stables as if saying the words out loud was gonna make the fucker magically appear. Daryl snarled and backed up, his arms staying crossed over his chest as he watched Miles search around. "He—" Miles stuttered a bit and caught Daryl's eye. Daryl nodded once, and that was all it took.
In that instant Miles must have realized that Daryl had figured it out. That he understood who 'he' was, that he knew. And just like that the flood gates opened and Miles was reaching out and grabbing Daryl's shirt, pulling him close spitting his next words right into Daryl's face.
"He didn't just kill him, man." Miles said wild eyes slipping back and forth over Daryl's stoic expression. "He murdered him. Took his rifle right out of his hands and shot him. Not dead, the shot didn't kill him. No he shot him to slow him down. Shot him twice, so that he wouldn't be able to get away from the geeks." Miles shook Daryl as he spoke and Daryl's hands finally fell from their position across his chest and grabbed the kid's upper arms.
His grip was tight, but not painful, just enough to push the kid back and extricate his hands from Daryl's flannel. Daryl stared at the kid's eyes watching him wrestle with what he was saying for a moment. Both of Miles' hands lifted to his head and he raked his fingers through his hair. The pain from his broken hand obviously forgotten in that moment. He pulled at his hair and his shoulders lifted and fell with each ragged breath he dragged into his lungs, his eyes were fixed at a point on the ground between them.
Daryl let him go. Let him figure it out. Let him get where he needed to be.
It was sudden, the way the kid's shoulders fell with that last long deep breath out and stayed low. Daryl knew that feeling. That sudden instance when that weight you were carryin' was lifted off. He'd felt that before. When he'd sat on that balcony of that office building in Atlanta with Callie so long ago. The both of 'em sitting in that pissin' drizzlin' rain tellin' each other their secrets.
Yeah, he knew exactly what Miles was goin' through.
Watching someone you care about, someone you respect and trust do something so-horrific. Watching and not really knowing what to do with the knowledge that's been suddenly thrust upon you. Daryl knew that feelin' all too well.
Merle killed David. Killed his own boy.
Murdered him right in front of Daryl.
Shot him in the gut and left him for dead, screamin' and cryin' at the side of the road. Wailin' like he was, Daryl figured a whole mess of Walkers had found him before he'd died. Ripped into him, made his last moments a livin' fuckin' hell. But Daryl hadn't had to watch that.
Not like Miles had.
Daryl'd tried to reason out what Merle had done. The kid's momma, Annie, she'd been bit. Her death had made sense at the time; at least as much sense as any of the shit going on around them coulda made.
But David.
Daryl hadn't been able to look at Merle the same after that. And Merle, fuck Merle'd become a different man too. A man that had to live with the fact that he'd murdered his own son. The road that they'd found themselves on after that moment was much different than the one they'd been on before.
Daryl lifted his thumbnail to his mouth and chewed at the ragged nail bed, his eyes watching the kid as he continued to tug at his hair. While there were more differences than there were similarities in what Merle'd done and what Shane'd done, the end result was the same.
And right now, that end result was tearin' this kid apart at the fuckin' seams.
"This world changes people, kid." Daryl said his voice low and rumbling in the shaded confines of the stable. The sound of it shaking Miles out of whatever thoughts he was sharin' with that spot on the floor. Daryl watched Miles lift his gaze, his hands sliding slowly out of his overgrown dirty blonde locks. "It leans on them tendencies we got," Daryl continued letting his hand fall from his lips and dangle lifelessly at his side. "The ones we hid away in those dark recesses of our minds where it was okay to daydream 'bout offin' your wife or your boss, or beatin' some smart-mouthed motherfucker three shades of purple. It plays on 'em and exploits 'em. Tweaks 'round in your head whispering in the background, spoutin' off shit 'bout survival and doin' what needs to be done." Daryl shook a finger at Miles as the kid's mouth opened to start refuting what he was sayin'. Daryl shook his head and continued. "Weak fuckers," Daryl spat, swinging that pointing finger out towards the closed stable doors. Towards where one such weak fucker was settled out beyond those doors, glaring at the world around him. "Weak bitches who can't see no other way but giving in to those tendencies, they do shit that can't never be undone. And that shit," he slipped his waggin' finger back over to Miles watching the kid's eyes go wide. "That shit changes more than just them. It changes everyone around them."
"Shane murdered someone," Miles said in a much more calm tone than Daryl had been expecting. "He shot him, and I didn't do anything. I stood there like an idiot and I watched-heard-Otis getting torn apart. His screams, man," Miles was shakin' his head again and his good right hand ran back through his hair.
"I know," Daryl said crossing his arms over his chest. Miles' eyes snapped up and he stared hard at Daryl for a moment before opening his mouth.
"He didn't even care," Miles said letting out a mirthless chuckle as his head shook slightly. "He didn't even-he got into the truck with me like nothing happened. Then," Miles sniffed and caught Daryl's eyes. "Then he was comin' up with stories," Daryl's brow lifted. "Not explaining, not excusing, nothing. Just sayin'…tellin' me what I should say." Miles shifted his eyes to the closed door and Daryl's hands fell from his chest, his eyes narrowing on the kid. Takin' note of how the his voice had changed, become lower, fearful. "He was makin' sure I knew-"
"He threaten you?" Daryl's tone a bit harsher than he'd been expecting and effectively cutting off whatever Miles was about to say. The kid shifted his eyes back to Daryl, and Daryl stiffened just a bit in a strange sort of shock. Daryl wasn't sure why he was shocked, he didn't really expect much in the way of decency from Shane, but still.
How the high-and-fuckin'-mighty have fallen, huh, little brother?
"Not flat out," Miles said quietly, holding Daryl's gaze with his. Daryl felt his lip curl in a snarl at the kid's words. Or rather the ones he didn't say. Not flat out, but it was sure as hell implied. "But he keeps eyes on me. I can feel it."
Daryl shook his head and moved to snatch up the saddle from the ground where he'd tossed it. He stalked back over towards the horse and finished saddling her up. He heard Miles shifting about, his feet kicking idly at the hay strewn about at their feet. His breaths leaving him in long sighs. Daryl settled his hands to the buckle he'd just finished tightening and stared at them.
His blood was boiling through his veins as he listened to that kid, and he was a fuckin' kid no matter if he was eighteen now or not. He was a fuckin' kid. Daryl's hands clenched, his mind going back to the way Shane's eyes had been following Miles 'round camp. The way he kept smiling at him, and puttin' an unwelcome hand to his shoulders. Draggin' him 'round and braggin' to Rick 'bout how it was all Miles back at that FEMA station. Savin' him. Savin Carl.
That fuckin' bastard. He was hurtin' that boy in a way that was more damaging than any kind of physical beat down ever could. Draggin' that boy right into his guilty conscious and workin' to smother him with it.
And that thought, well, that shit was just the last fuckin' straw. Daryl snarled then and spun around, startling Miles from his staring match with his shoes.
"He comes at you," Daryl said through tightly clenched teeth, his voice a seething whisper. "He comes at you, threatens you. You come to me." Daryl watched Miles lift his brows in surprise and shook his head at the kid before he could open his big trap and say something. "You come to me. Not Callie. Not Danny. You come to me." Daryl licked at his lips and worked the rough palm of his left hand over the knuckles of his right hand; the one that had already had the pleasure of smashin' into that bitch's glass jaw once. "Me and him got unfinished business."
Miles was quiet for a moment, starin' at Daryl in that assessing way that the kid musta picked up from Callie. Finally, Miles nodded once, and Daryl returned it almost fuckin' eagerly. His eyes shifting towards the closed door, almost wishin' that rat bastard would open them doors and walk in. Shaking his head Daryl turned and grabbed the reigns of the horse he'd just saddled and started walking her to open back end of the stable. He heard Miles following and stopped, hearing that loud ass sigh that always signaled more to come.
"Callie and Danny," Miles started quietly, causing Daryl to shift his eyes over his shoulder at the kid. "They know something's up. Both too fuckin' quick." Daryl gave him a look, and Miles waved his broken left hand around. "I know, I'm a fuckin' open book. I get it. I'm workin' on it." Daryl smirked and Miles gave a tiny smile. "Should I tell 'em?"
Daryl stared at the kid for a good long while, his teeth hookin' in and chewin' at the inside of his cheek. He didn't really want the kid to do it. And he knew why he was askin'. Cause both of those idiots wouldn't waste a second in confrontin' Shane about it.
Daryl shifted his eyes out towards the woods. He'd most likely be gone most of the day on this search, leavin' Callie and Danny. If Miles did tell them, even one of them, he wouldn't be there to help them when they did confront Shane.
Growling low in his throat Daryl shook his head. The kid had been through enough shit in the past few days. If he needed an outlet other than Daryl to help him handle what he was goin' through then he couldn't deny him it.
No matter how much he wanted to.
"You do what you gotta do to keep your head on straight, kid." Daryl said, catching Miles' eye. He held the kid's gaze for a good minute, watchin' him grapple with the conflicting thoughts rollin' in his head. Finally Daryl cleared his throat catchin' the kid's attention. "You don't owe Shane nothin', ya hear. You don't."
Miles nodded stiffly and Daryl shifted, grabbing his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder before mounting the horse. Miles worked his way closer, handing up the small bag of provisions Carol had made up for him earlier. Miles didn't let go of the bag as Daryl grabbed for it, and held Daryl's gaze for a moment before nodding again.
"Thanks man," Miles said simply, letting his hand fall from the bag. Daryl nodded, suddenly feelin' strangely self-conscious and shifted his eyes around him. Miles let out a chuckle and shook his head before smacking Daryl's knee, which earned him a wry raised brow on Daryl's part. "See ya when ya get back," Miles said waving and heading out the open back door before Daryl. "And don't worry," Miles shot back over his shoulder. "I'll keep her from doin' anything stupid."
Daryl watched the kid glance at him over his shoulder. Their eyes met and Miles nodded, his eyes still clouded with that horror that he'd been forced to witness, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. At the sight of it, Daryl wanted to yell out. Tell him that it got better, that you learned to deal with it.
But Daryl'd never been good with lyin'.
So he just nodded his head, watching the kid disappear around the other side of the stable, and turned the horse towards the wooded area. His eyes slipped over his shoulder as he trotted along, and he caught sight of Callie's figure on the porch. Her mass of wavin' locks blowing around her as she stood by what he assumed to be Rick. He watched her for a minute, and she turned to him, as if feelin' his gaze on her.
A shock of something tore through him when that gaze settled on him, even at that distance he felt her eyes lock onto him. Felt it straight down to that unsettled spot in his stomach. His eyes squinted, and he watched the dark shape lift a single arm and wave a hand at him. His arm lifted and returned it, the motion so quick and reflexive that he found himself shakin' his head and rollin' his eyes when the returned the appendage to the reigns a second later. He turned his back to the woman, still feelin' her eyes on him as he trotted along. One thought slidin' into his brain.
He hadn't said good bye.
Same ole troubles
At my door
Same ole misery
Coming back for more
Right about now
I could use
Some new blues
Rick woke with a very familiar crick in his neck.
Shifting slightly onto his side, he groaned just a bit at the way the couch cushions slid under him as he moved. His left hand lifted from under the blanket to rub at his neck, while his sore legs stretched out and off of the edge of the couch. His feet settled to the floor and as he flexed his toes happy that he'd at least remembered to take his shoes off this time. Though honestly he didn't remember taking them off.
The pins and needles sensation of his slowly waking right arm had him shaking the appendage a bit and smacking it off of his knee a few times to stop the unwelcome feeling. Groaning and rubbing at the sore muscles in his neck, he dragged through his slightly hazy brain. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what he had done to deserve sleepin' on the couch this- His eyes popped opened as the blanket fell from his body and pooled at his feet, his bleary vision cleared and the fog lifted from his mind.
Images flooded in, causing his hands to lift and cradle his head as it fell from the weight of it all rushing back. The rain hitting his skin like icy needles for hours, till he was so chilled he didn't think he'd ever feel warm again. Callie and Jimmy working with him, all of them pushing past the exhaustion that was pressing down on them as they dug those graves. The three of them dragging the bodies of Jimmy's family out of that church and to their final resting place.
The ground being so soft from the rain that he hadn't been able to get out of the first grave after lowering Jimmy's father into it. The horrifying claustrophobic feeling that had his heart hammering in his chest as he clawed at the loose dirt trying desperately to find purchase.
Callie's face; the pain etched onto it as she grabbed for him, holding tight to her hand as Jimmy helped to pull him the rest of the way up. The hot feel of her blood running down his arm as she once again ripped open the wound on her palm with her efforts.
Jimmy's face as he toppled to the ground under the weight of his mother's dead body. The strained whimpering noise that the boy made as her gray arm slipped out of the bag and slapped into the wet grass.
Callie standing at that spot where Jenna had died and seemingly risen again. Her red-rimmed eyes sliding to the woods where the trail of blood from the girl's wounds had led before being washed away by the storm.
The conversation with Jimmy and Hershel that wasn't really a conversation at all. But instead a one-sided recount on Rick's part explaining what they'd found at that church, and what the boy had been doing on his excursions to the place. Callie had quietly settled on a chair in Hershel's office, her eyes staring hard at the photo settled upon the man's desk. She hadn't said a word, a fact that had worried Rick the whole time. The only conversation she took part in was a silent one, spoken in volumes in a pointed look held for a long time between her and Hershel as she stood to leave.
Rick rubbed his hands up his face and into his hair. He grimaced a bit, feeling the bits of dirt and grime settled deep in his thick hair at the root. He was pretty sure at this point, no matter how many showers he took, he would never feel clean of that horror.
He let his hands slide back down to his face, and peered through the space between his fingers at the table before him. The sight of the second neatly folded blanket reminding him that he hadn't been alone on this couch last night. Fleeting, hazy memories of a quiet conversation with Callie. Mumbled words to one another of support and understanding as they settled beside each other on the couch. Both too tired to move, no matter how much they wanted to. He'd been eager to get in to see Carl, and she eager to explain things to her kids. To the no doubt angered redneck she shared a tent with. But neither had apparently had the strength left to move.
He remembered her chuckling at his clothes. An off-hand remark about the clothes not makin' the man. He'd looked at her then, the tiny bit of a sad smile playing on her lips. She'd shifted her eyes to him, and peered through her barely open lids.
"The uniform didn't define who you were, Rick. You defined it." Callie had said shifting beside him and patting his thigh. He stared at her for a long time after that, watching her eyes close again and her head roll along the back of the couch as she searched for the energy to propel herself off of the couch. Those words settled deep inside of him, the exact words he'd needed to hear.
Words that he'd hoped Lori would have said when she came in to bring him the change of clothes, and watched him put that uniform shirt away in a drawer.
They'd sat in silence after that, and he'd felt himself being dragged down by the pull of sleep. The sounds of the house receding far into the depths of his working brain until they were nothing more than white noise. He was startled slightly awake by the feel of her head falling to his shoulder, a sigh leaving her lips as she settled in. His final memories were a bit hazy, almost dream like. There were the remnants of the earthy smell of rain and dirt still evident under the mask of the fragrant floral shampoo she'd used wafting over him as she settled her still damp head onto his shoulder. The feel of the smile that had slipped on to his lips when he'd shifted his shoulder a few times trying to dislodge her, knowing she had somewhere she'd rather be spending the night.
"If you do that again, I'm gonna shoot you, Rick," Callie had muttered after his third attempt. Her hand sliding a bit towards where she usually kept her gun, not realizing that her gun wasn't there at the moment. He'd grabbed her hand chuckling and held it tight, listening as her breathing slowed to that steady rhythm of sleep. Figuring that he'd just move her after she fell asleep.
He didn't remember anything after that, exhaustion dashing his plans of depositing her safely into her tent with Daryl. And it must have been a pretty deep sleep to have had such a lingering effect on his brain. To have made him forget for even a moment where he was, and what had happened.
The sound of laughter caught his ears. Familiar laughter. Laughter he hadn't heard in a while.
Carl.
Slipping his neck back and forth a few times until a loud and satisfying crack had him letting out a groaning sigh. Rick reached down and slid his boots on and got to his feet. He rubbed at his eyes roughly as he walked, bumping hard into the doorjamb before shaking his head and opening his eyes fully.
He slipped his up to the room where Carl was and felt the smile tilt his lips as his arms crossed over his chest. Callie was settled on the chair beside the bed, the one that either he or Lori had posted up in every few hours since they'd arrived. Her hair was down around her shoulders, honey colored curls and waves that fell slightly into her face as she leaned forward and pushed Rick's old campaign hat around playfully on Carl's head.
Ben and Gracie were both settled on the foot of the mattress smiling as well. And while the sight of all of them smiling and laughing made him feel good, it was the sound of his son's laughter that made his chest feel lighter. Made that vice around his heart slowly loosen and allow his shoulders to slacken a bit. He shifted on his feet and settled his shoulder against the door frame while he watched Callie slowly, and tiredly, settle herself back into the chair.
She'd obviously been up a while. She'd had time to change her clothes from the ones she'd been wearing when she settled next to him on the couch. She was now dressed in her usual pair of jeans this time with a long sleeved gray shirt, the Nike logo on the upper right of her chest worn out no doubt from years of washing. The sleeves were pushed up onto her forearms, her bandaged left hand dangling between her knees as she smiled at Carl. He could just make out the shape of her gun, as always settled into the front of her waistband. His eyes narrowed at the memory of the fight Danny had put up to make sure she was able to carry it. She must have felt his eyes on her at that moment, and as her eyes lifted to his he smiled wanly at the dark circles still settled below her vibrant hazel eyes.
"Hey dad," Rick turned, catching Callie pushing to her feet in his peripheral vision, as his attention was taken up by his son. Carl's voice was still a shadow of its usual exuberance, but the smile on his face was wide and getting wider as Rick returned it. "Callie was tellin' us about the first time they found Jenna and her brother. Did you know that Jenna beat up Miles?"
"I did not," Rick said shifting his gaze to Callie as she approached. There was a sad little smile on her lips and she lifted both of her brows at him as she slid around the bed.
"Well she did," Carl said almost proudly as he shifted on the bed. He winced as he no doubt pulled at his stitches with the movment.
"Easy," Callie and Rick said at the same time which made Carl roll his eyes. "That what had you laughin'?" Rick question, resisting the urge to go and coddle his boy and opting for maintaining his indifferent stance at the doorway. The bounce of his leg must have given away his slight need to move, because Callie was chuckling low in the back of her throat as she came to a stop by him.
"Yeah," Carl said nodding slightly and fixing the hat on his head. "She had him in a headlock and refused to let go until he apologized for calling her a fuckin' ginger."
"Hey, we had a deal," Callie turned and pointed a finger at Carl, who ducked his head and chuckled. She shook her head and shot a slightly cowed look at Rick. Rick returned the look with a shake of his head, working hard not to laugh at his son's language and give a somewhat half-hearted stern look to Callie.
"Just be sure you watch it in front of your mother," Rick said waving a hand and smiling as his son beamed up at him. He shook his head as Ben laughed and waved his hand in the air dismissively, mumbling something about 'fuck not bein' that bad a word'. Rick shifted his attention just in time to see Callie slap a hand to her head and close her eyes muttering about 'rednecks' and their 'fucking colorful vocabulary'. Rick chuckled a bit and then shifted his eyes down Callie's body, his eyes catching at the sight of her sock covered feet. His brow twitched. "Where are your shoes?"
"Oh," Callie said, a bit dramatically as she opened her eyes wide and pierced him with a look that said 'you'll love this'. "Well, it seems a certain redneck has taken the liberty of further extending his dumbass ways to keep me from leaving the farm. And this time he's enlisted help," She waved her hand over the bed and Rick caught Ben smiling widely back at them.
"I ain't tellin' you where they are," Ben said, his eyes shifting to Rick. "Daryl promised to let me shoot his crossbow if I got her to stay put and rest the whole day."
"Wow," Rick said lifting humored brows at Callie who rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That's a mighty fine reward, Ben." Rick watched the kid nod his head, his attention again settled on the photos strewn about on the bed between him and Carl. Rick's eyes lingered on them for a moment, watching as Gracie grabbed one and handed it to Carl. It was a sweet scene, and it once again had Rick's gaze slipping to Callie.
Callie crossed her arms over her chest, watching as Carl smiled sadly down at the photo and then up at Gracie as she crawled back down towards Ben at the far end of the bed. She'd woken up a few hours ago, her eyes instantly catching on the forms of Ben and Gracie playing cards at the little coffee table in front of the couch. Ben's eyes had lifted as he smiled at her and then shifted over her head. She sat up slowly, trying not to wake Rick who she had apparently fallen into during the night. The poor man had been stuffed up into the corner of the couch, half laying and half sitting against the raised arm while she'd been lying against him.
Lori was staring down at her and for a moment Callie thought she saw something flare in the other woman's eyes. But Lori had shaken it off and moved forward, her arms extending with a wad of clothing. Together, Callie and Lori had removed Rick's boots and lifted the dead weight of his legs onto the couch, situating him into a more comfortable position.
"Man's always slept like the dead," Lori had muttered with a smile down at her husband. "Carl's the same way."
"I know that wasn't meant as a joke," Callie said picking up her clothes and leaving the room with the woman. "But considering he woke from a coma a few months ago, to this," Callie waved a hand around in the air. "That's fucking hilarious." Lori had laughed then and looked back to Gracie and Ben with a smile. Placing her finger over her lips in a shushing motion, she waved them to follow them out of the room. After dressing, Callie had worked her way back to Carl's room, finding Ben and Gracie settled on the bed and Lori standing near the door.
"They were askin' about Jenna," Lori had said quietly, her eyes slowly lifting to Callie. She then settled a warm hand on Callie's shoulder, squeezing just a bit. Callie looked at Lori's small comforting smile in a strange bit of awe. "I wasn't sure," Lori said before she took a breath and let her hand fall. "I figured you'd want to—"
Lori had left the statement hang there, and Callie had simply nodded watching Lori exit the room. Callie had then stared at the kids on the bed for what felt like hours before she moved towards that chair. She'd wrestled with words, the slight muttering and laughter of the boys ebbing away to silence that clung to the air around them.
"Is Jenna dead?" Carl asked and Callie's eyes slipped up to his pale face. She stared into his eyes and he stared back, his straightforward gaze so much like his father's that it startled her for a moment. Callie's gaze shifted to Ben and Gracie and she nodded her head once, letting her eyes slide back to Carl. Knowing there was more to that heated stare. "Really dead or-?"
Callie simply stared, not really wanting to say out loud that Jenna wasn't really dead; that she was out there, walking the woods. After a few seconds Carl's head began to nod, a small amount of unshed tears shining in his eyes. The sounds of Ben and Gracie sniffling at the foot of the bed had caused both of them to break eye contact.
"I didn't get to say good-bye," Ben said idly pulling at the frayed straps of his backpack. Callie reached out then and tapped on his backpack, gaining his attention. His eyes lifted and she smiled.
"We don't say good bye to the people we love," Callie said quietly. "We remember them and we carry them with us always." She tapped his backpack again and he smiled just a bit. "Right?" Ben's head nodded, and Gracie shifted closer to her brother. Callie's eyes had slipped back to Carl who was watching her with a steady assessing gaze. She took in a breath and settled back into the chair smiling at all the kids. "Carl, did you ever hear the story of how we found Jenna, Mike and Nina?"
And that was that, the sadness had ebbed away. Not left, but pushed back a bit, as the good memories of times spent with the girl overshadowed it for a time. Callie had told the story, leaving out the bits that had given her nightmares at the time, and let the kids begin to grieve.
"Can I have a word?" Rick's voice cut into Callie's memories of earlier that morning and she shifted her eyes from the bed to him. He raised a brow at her and she nodded. "Ben," Rick called out catching the boy's attention. "Y'all be sure to take it easy there. Not too long in here, a'right? I'm leavin' you in charge of things."
"Hey!" Carl protested, earning a smile from Rick.
"When you're up on your feet, you can be in charge," Rick wagged a finger on his son. "But till then," he flattened his palm up towards the ceiling and shrugged. Carl pouted and Ben beamed making Callie chuckle and shake her head as she left the room with Rick.
They made their way towards the door, Callie leading the way and shifting a look over her shoulder to him as they ventured out into the brisk morning beyond the shelter of the house. Rick squinted and shielded his eyes as he followed Callie's sock muffled steps onto the porch. She slipped forward letting her gaze slide over the rolling hills of the farmland, and their little camp area scattered about near the lane.
"What time is it?" Rick asked his voice still scratchy from his deep sleep. Callie shifted and spared him a slightly humored glance before slipping her eyes to the watch on his wrist. He chuckled and lifted it, shaking his hand a few times. "Broken," he said simply staring at the face with a sad little smile.
"It's probably a little after eight," Callie said, watching Rick continue to stare at his broken watch for a few seconds more. He lifted his eyes to her and then out to towards camp. Callie crossed her arms over her chest and let her eyes slide around the groups of people slowly milling about in the brisk morning air. Wiggling her sock clad toes she frowned a bit when she didn't find that shoe stealin' redneck bastard anywhere.
"Have you talked to Hershel this morning?" Rick asked quietly, and Callie's eyes shifted to him. His gaze was still out on the RV, and she followed it. Lori was standing with Carol and Andrea, a bundle of clothes no doubt the ones she'd left to get for Carl settled in her arms.
"No," Callie said quietly, her eyes shifting back to watch Rick as he stared at his wife. "I think its best we give him a bit of breathin' room right now. Don't you?"
"He had offered before to take me up and get me a good lay of the land before," Rick started, his hand running through his hair before he shifted a look to her. "I'm guessin' that's probably off the table now."
"Let's just let him come to us," Callie said quietly, her eyes skipping over the farm. "He's got a lot to deal with right now. And I don't think us hounding him is the way to stay on his good side." Rick's head dipped to his chest as he nodded his agreement, but his eyes stayed on Lori working her way through the campsite. Callie sighed and shifted so that her hip was settled along the railing. A part of her wondered if the man had even heard a word she said. Another sigh left her lips as Rick's head continued to nod idly and she rolled her eyes. "You talked to her yet?"
"Hmm?" Rick's humming response of feigned ignorance had Callie cracking a wide grin as he lifted a brow at her. She shook her head and then wagged a finger at him which had him smiling just a bit.
"Don't 'hmmm' me. You know exactly what I'm talking about, Rick." Callie shifted her eyes to where Lori was now working towards Glenn. "So?"
"We haven't really had a chance," Rick said idly and Callie let out a 'pffft' that he sighed at. "What?"
"Y'all have been holed up in that room with Carl for days," Callie said smirking at him and he grimaced. "What's wrong?"
"She's-" Rick let out a breath and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "She's changed." Callie lifted a brow at him and turned to face him fully, catching his eyes.
"Haven't we all?" Callie said idly, her hand slipping down to tap at the gun settled in the front of her loose fit jeans. "Not to crush any fantasies you may have had 'bout me, Rick. But I wasn't a gun toting bad-ass back in Georgetown." Rick chuckled and lifted a brow, and she waved off the 'oh really' look he was giving her. "We've all changed, Rick. We had to."
"She pretends she hasn't though," Rick said quietly, his eyes shifting back to Lori speaking with Glenn. She looked like she was handing the kid something, no doubt the list of supplies he'd asked her to make up. "She used to fight with me."
"You miss fighting with your wife?" Callie said a bit incredulously and he shifted a glance to her. "Why Rick, I never pegged you for the type. Kinky." Rick shook his head and listened to Callie let out a bark of laughter as she tried to wave off her last statement. "What do you want her to fight with you about?"
"Anything," Rick said in an exasperated tone waving a hand at the world around them. "Lori always challenged me. Always. She constantly made me prove I was right. Made me argue my points." Callie watched him smile a bit as he got lost in memories of a life long gone. "It's what made me fall in love with her." He looked at Callie and smiled. "Because it wasn't really arguing," he furrowed his brow a bit and Callie shifted on her feet. "Not at first. Not until later." He shook his head. "After a while it became less about debating the best course of action and more arguing over every little detail. I honestly got to the point where I just couldn't do it anymore. I lost the will to argue, lost the will to want to prove myself. Lost the will to fight. That's where we were before I got shot."
Callie stepped a bit closer to Rick and he shifted his attention to her for a fleeting moment before returning it to his wife's form.
"But now," Rick said quietly watching Lori move around the camp area. "Her guilt's gettin' the better of her." Callie bit at her lip and watched Rick slide a knowing glance over his shoulder at her. He didn't say anything, didn't need to. They both knew exactly what he was talking about. A second later he slid his attention back to Lori and continued. "She's so keen to prove to me that she's with me. Workin' so hard to make me see that she's got my back no matter what. That she loves me," Rick shook his head and turned to Callie with a wide-eyed stare. "Now, any time I make a decision she's always the first to back me. No questions asked. No reservations, at least none that she voices for long. There might be one moment of questioning on her part, but then it's followed by nothin' but blind faith. And now, God especially now, I need her to-" Callie lifted a brow at him a smirk tilting one side of her lips, making him sigh. "I'm making decisions for more than just me, her and Carl now. In times like this, a man needs to have someone at his side that will challenge him. That will make him prove that what he's sayin' is the best way."
"So you don't talk to her," Callie said lifting a hand to him and waving it around. "Because she supports you," Rick gave an exasperated sigh and Callie held up a finger stopping him from saying anything. "And you need her to fight you on everything, and pretty much be a contestable bitch 'bout everything. So that when you make a decision, you're more confident in it because you've had to prove your point to her?" She made the last part a question because she wasn't absolutely positive she was following where the man's mind was leading.
"Yes," Rick said quickly, in that way that made Callie think he was really saying 'By jove I think she's got it', and had her chuckling. "I need her to be like you," He finished nodding his head and pointing a finger at her. Callie began laughing, her head shaking just a bit as she smacked Rick on the back of his shoulder.
"'Cause I like you," she said watching his eyes skip to hers. "I'm gonna let that backhanded way you just kinda called me a bitch slide." Rick groaned a bit and shook his head at her and Callie settled her hand to his arm. "I get it. Really. And I'm sure that you can get it back to that," Callie said squeezing his arm. "But it ain't gonna happen if you both keep skirtin' around the issue that's making her act that way. Time to man-up or shut up, Rick. 'Cause if you think it's eating away at you, imagine what it's doing to her."
Rick stared at Callie for a long moment, his blue eyes boring holes into her. His jaw clenched tight a few seconds later and he shifted his attention back out towards the RV. Rick watched as Lori stepped up behind Danny, both of them watching as Shane, Andrea and Carol headed down towards the highway. Rick sighed and Callie squeezed his arm again before letting her hand slide off of him. He turned to see her facing the other way, his eyes following hers towards the sun on the horizon, and a distinct crossbow wielding silhouette settled upon a horse. Callie lifted a hand, a fleeting sort of wave to Daryl. Rick watched in awe, as despite the distance the man returned the gesture almost immediately. Callie's hand fell, and her eyes staying on Daryl for a moment longer before they slipped to her sock-clad feet.
"Speakin' of contestable sum'bitches," Callie muttered, before slipping humored eyes up to him. "I think it's about time we probably clued Shane in on what you're planning to ask Hershel."
"Yeah," Rick said with a sigh, his eyes again slipping to the retreating form of Shane.
"There's a very good chance that Hershel's not gonna change his mind, Rick. Especially not after-"Callie waved a hand and Rick slid his eyes back to her. "We need to discuss all the possible choices. Even the ones you don't like." Rick lifted a brow and she poked him in the back. "But I don't need to be tellin' you that now do I?"
"No you do not," Rick said in a slightly amused matter-of-fact way that had Callie laughing again. "But I'd rather have a bit more ammunition ready before we enter into that battle."
"Shane's a formidable opponent," Callie said nodding her right hand idly rubbing at her left. Rick raised a brow and opened his mouth but she lifted her hand and stopped him. "I know he didn't mean it," Callie said quickly. "We were both in the wrong. I'm not holding any grudges."
"Think you can get Daryl to see things that way," Rick asked raising a brow.
"Do I look like fucking Jesus?" Callie said raising a brow back and causing Rick to bark out a laugh as he shook his head. "Like asking me to heal lepers, turn water into wine, or make a blind man see. Shit, Rick." Rick shook his head again and raised an appeasing hand.
"A'right, a'right, I get it," Rick said closing his eyes for a moment and letting the chuckle rumble out from deep in his chest. This woman. God, where was she years ago. "You have a chance to look at the maps?" Callie nodded and tossed a thumb towards the RV.
"Yeah, Glenn did some recon with Maggie," Callie said lifting a humored brow at Rick. "I had Ben bring them in when he went to get his backpack. They're in the living room."
"Well, let's take a look," Rick said turning to follow Callie inside, his eyes shifting over his shoulder to the moving black specs that were Shane, Andrea and Carol on the road. "Looks like we got a bit of time before we have to enter the fray."
"Oh goodie," Callie said sarcastically as she pulled the screen door open. Rick grabbed the door and shooed her inside, letting his eyes slide back towards Lori. She was lingering by Danny's side, her eyes fixed to the three retreating figures that could barely be seen now, while Danny was searching the area behind them. Looking for something, or someone. Miles was sauntering up from down near the stables, but Danny barely gave the kid a wave as Miles made his way over to sit by Glenn and T-Dog. Rick watched the other man with an interest as he continued to stare off into the distant forest area behind the house. "Rick?" Callie's voice caught his attention and had him turning to face the woman waiting for him. "Everything alright out there?"
"Yeah," Rick said furrowing his brow a bit as he slid inside the house. "Yeah," he gave her a smile that she raised a disbelieving brow at. "It's fine. Just," he looked back over his shoulder towards the door. "Never mind. Let's go take a look at those maps."
Callie's eyes shifted over his a few times, searching for what was really bothering him, but Rick waved her off. She shook her head at him and continued on. Her voice as she spoke of the small farms surrounding them that Glenn and Maggie had marked off for her, settled far off in his mind. He felt himself nodding as she spoke, but his mind remained back outside. On Danny and his searching. He didn't even know what was bothering him about the way Danny was looking around. It was just a feeling, settled deep in the pit of his stomach.
Something that had him wondering if maybe he should have gone out to ask about it.
Same ole rain
On my roof tonight
Same ole feeling
Something just ain't right
Lord you know
I could use
Some new blues,
~New Blues / Kate Campbell
AN: Well, there we go… I'm hard at work on the next chapter, and yeah….we're gonna be jumpin around a bit in this morning area again. Don't worry, when we get to the MEAT of the Daryl goodness that is Chupacabra it's gonna be a nice focus. Stay with me! Method to the madness I swear!
I'm not sure if y'all are interested or not, but I am actually working on the prequel for this story-which will be mainly Callie and Danny's journey with the misfits…but it will include the Dixon brother's journey to the Quarry as well. And the whole story of Daryl, Merle, Annie and David. I feel I've built this mythos for MY Daryl and MY Merle that really needs to be told. I'm hoping to start pulling that together once I get my head wrapped around this one. So there's that.
A'right, that's it. I'm done. Brain 'sploded.
See ya next chapter!