Trigger: Child Abuse
"I was drunk, you can't hold that against me!" I laugh, sitting on a stool in Hershel's kitchen peeling carrots. "I just graduated high school and Abby and I thought it would be the best idea ever to go to a drag show. We got so hammered that Joshua and another friend had to carry us home while we sang Free Bird."
We all laugh, Carol and Lori had offered to make dinner for everyone and I figured I'd pitch in. Daryl went out to look for Sophia. Abby and Joanne took Jimmy, T-Dog, and Patricia out training while John and Joshua went to check the highway to see if there was any sign that Sophia had come back. Rick asked me to stay back and called it "helping keep an eye on things," which was code to rest because of my eye. Which now is full-on purple, covered a bit by the small bandage Maggie had put over the scrape. It was been a few days so it didn't look as bad.
"No judgment here." Carol chuckles and holds up her hands. We can feel the underlining worry she's masking, but at the same time hoping to keep her spirits up. "I have had my share of drunkin' outings. I had a friend, in high school. We got so drunk one night that we puked in her parent's pool. The next morning, they made us clean it while we were pretty sure we were dying from hangovers."
"Everclear?" Lori and I ask at the same time and laugh.
"Oh lord, even the name makes me sick." Carol laughs and covers her mouth. Even Patricia chuckles. She was Otis' wife, still here and ready to help where she can. I admire her.
"The Irish in me can drink, but that shit? No thanks. I'll stick to Southern Comfort." I laugh and shake my head.
"We bet you will." Carol laughs and raises her brow at me, letting on she may know exactly what happened that night at the CDC. Her tone and eyes are full of mischief.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask like I have no clue what she means as if she hadn't seen Daryl walk into the rec room that night, carrying his bottle of Southern Comfort.
"You and Daryl seem to have found a common ground… over the said drink of choice." Carol gives me a playful look before returning to the potatoes she had been dicing.
"And? What? Can't make friends?" I ask, tossing the carrot I was peeling into the bowl next to me.
"Friends, that let you borrow their clothes?" Lori asks with a raised brow and suddenly everyone is looking at me, including Maggie who had stepped back into the room. She's the farmer's daughter, again someone I have not talked to much.
"Yeah." I nod, looking down at the green flannel that belonged to Daryl. He had given it to me early this morning when I said I was cold. I can feel my cheeks warming as I laugh a bit. "I was cold and he was being a gentleman."
I poke my tongue and laugh, tossing another carrot into the bowl. I was up early this morning, having fallen asleep in Daryl's tent. I slept through most of the night and can't remember what I dreamed, just know it wasn't a nightmare. I always remember those. I woke to Daryl pretty much bear-hugging me as I was in the same spot I was when I fell asleep. He claimed to have felt me shiver and was quick to offer the green flannel, said it was his best one and kept him warm many nights. I tried to argue with him, but it just got me the press of his lips to mine and a mutter of "shush woman."
"Right…" Carol teases and pokes my side causing me to squeak.
"Men don't randomly go giving their clothes out. A jacket yes, but a shirt? Darlin' you've got yourself one smitten man." Patricia pipes in, grinning as I look at her in slight shock. Having lost her husband, her eyes convey that she is still trying to heal and is trying to do that through friendship.
"Especially when about two weeks or so ago you weren't so friendly towards him. Was there more than drinking going on that night at the CDC?" Lori teases.
I shrug, all of a sudden focused on peeling the carrot in my hand. It was nice, sitting here and joking while making dinner. It seems like something out of a movie, something I would have longed for once. I know they are waiting on an answer and my silence is giving me away, but it's Maggie who laughs and leans down to look at me for a minute.
"Oh, she was really friendly with Daryl. I know that look." She laughs and nudges me, having her case of being smitten, with Glenn.
"I knew it!" Carol chirps. "I thought I heard something when I had gone back down to the rec room to check on you and make sure you got to bed. You and Daryl were both gone."
"You slept with Daryl?!" Lori pipes in causing the girls to chuckle and nod.
"It's okay honey, none of us here are virgins. I wasn't always quiet and meek." Patricia grins. "Otis was a wild one. Loved him since I was nineteen. He knew his way around the bedroom and other places if you know what I mean."
"Patricia!" Maggie laughs with the rest of us, Patricia shrugging. She does look like a meek woman, her blonde hair always back in a ponytail and her apron smoothed over her dress, but I have learned to never judge a book by the cover.
"Fine. I had a drunken one-night stand with Daryl." Rolling my eyes playfully and toss the last carrot into the bowl.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, before Ed, I had a few one-time encounters." Carol laughs.
"Rick has very nice hands and that's all I'm saying." Lori laughs as she snaps the tips off the green beans in front of her and looks down into the bowl with a blush.
I admit, Abby and I joke and we have had these same talks, but this was fun. I didn't have much of this back before, then again I didn't have a lot of friends either.
"So what we have established here is, you all are a couple of freaks deep down. Got it." I tease.
"So, how was sex with Daryl?" Lori raises a brow in response to the freak comment.
"We need to know. I've been rooting for you two. I knew it was only a matter of time." Carol laughs, patting my leg as I feel my whole face flush.
"What, were you taking bets?" I ask, raising a brow.
"Yes." Carol and Lori laugh at the same time.
"Linda was in on it too," Carol adds.
"I hate you guys." Dropping my head to laugh for a moment.
"Daryl? The boy you've been wearing a beaming blush for?" Patricia asks as she stops mixing seasonings in the bowl she was holding.
"That's the one." Lori nods.
"It was…" Pausing before I just say fuck it, no use hiding it now. "It was great. Honestly, we were drunk, and fuck he knows how to use his hands. His kisses were possessive and I tried to deny it, but he left me with a pleasurable ache. He picked me up, and I am not used to that. As a curvy gal, you don't want people to pick you up."
I muse, smirking as I look down and grab a potato from Carol to peel. Every woman at this table has felt that smitten feeling, had their heart flutter with just a smile from the right man. My face is flushed as I think back to that night. I was honest. Daryl played every curve and every inch of my body like a fiddle. He didn't make me feel ashamed or broken. Him picking my two hundred and twenty-pound ass up. The way he towers over my five-six frame makes me feel safe. I catch myself still smiling after Maggie nudges me.
"A determined man can have the strength of ten men." She laughs.
"Pretty sure your weight was the last thing on his mind." Carol teases.
"You are all terrible." I laugh.
Our joking is cut off by a gunshot and yelling. We all look at each other before setting things aside and rushing out the door. Worry and panic are painted on our faces as we stand at the end of the walkway. Carol takes my hand and I sweat I can feel her heart racing as we fret over what is going on.
In the distance, I can see Rick and Shane, something or someone with them. Andrea, Glenn, and Abby ran toward them as well. Standing in the distance with the other women… I see the person they're carrying is Daryl. Oh, God. No. No. No. Did that shot hit him? Where did it come from? A million thing race through my mind as I stand frozen for a moment, fear rising in my throat like bile before I take off running, dropping the dish towel I held in my hands. I call Daryl's name, rushing to Rick's side as he and Shane carry him.
"What happened? Is he alive?" I ask, panic setting in as I walk alongside them.
"He's okay, Murphy. The bullet grazed him, but he looks like he may have other wounds." Rick explains.
I nod as Carol takes my hand when we reach her, giving it a gentle pat. I don't register it at first, more focused on Daryl. I know I need to give them room and let them help. I'm helpless at the moment as Carol and I follow them inside, my hand shaking a bit. He was semi-coherent and muttering, which is a good sign. Carol stands with me by the staircase. As much as I want to go up there, I know I need to give Hershel room to work and not add to the chaos. The squeeze of my hand brings my attention to Carol.
"Daryl is far too stubborn to not bounce back. You know this." She smiles and brings her other hand up so both of hers are holding mine. She's worried as well, not wanting to lose another member of our group.
"I know. He is not allowed to be anything but, wouldn't be Daryl if he wasn't." I chuckle softly, my free hand wiping at my eyes as I force down the urge to panic.
Carol and I both turn as Andrea calls my name. She wipes her hands on her jeans and gives me a timid look. I can tell she is feeling guilty, but I'm confused as to what as we had only heard the shot and didn't know where it came from.
"Murphy I'm sorry." She starts, clearly worried and a bit panicked over how I may react to what she has to tell me. "I… I thought he was a walker and just went on instinct. I would never intentionally hurt him."
"You shot Daryl?" Carol asks and I stand staring at Andrea, both of us confused. Carol narrows her eyes a bit, almost as if she wants to say something but doesn't.
"I know I fucked up." She admits, her face is a bit flushed. "Murphy, I know sorry is not going to fix it."
I stand shocked. Yes, over the last week or so she has gotten on my nerves and I have avoided her because I know she is a good person deep down. I know she'd never hurt anyone intentionally. Yes, I'm worried, but I smile and hold a hand out for Andrea who takes it after a bit of hesitation. She still braces for a reaction, I'm able to tell by the way she looks down for a moment until I speak.
"It's okay. Trust me, I have wanted to shoot him a time or two. We all know you'd never hurt anyone on purpose." Squeezing her hand. I'm angry yes, because she has been harping on getting a gun, and then when she has one, she shoots Daryl. "Good luck with Daryl, he knows you'd never mean to hurt him, but we also know that he is as stubborn as a mule."
"Thank you." She sighs softly and squeezes my hand in return. "Honestly, I think I will let him rest a bit before talking to him. I am probably the last person he will want to see."
She gives my hand another small squeeze, smiling a bit. With a nod, she lets go of my hand and makes her way back outside. I chuckle to myself, not humorously, but just because of the situation. Of all the people to accidentally shoot, Daryl would be one of the last ones. He has a temper and I know he would realize Andrea didn't mean it, doesn't mean he won't still be angry. As long as he is okay, I'm fine.
"Come on, when Hershel is done I am sure Daryl will want to get cleaned up a bit." Carol nods, I can tell she was trying to keep me busy and herself, I know she cares about him as well.
I nod as she climbs the stairs, Hershel stepping from the room and followed by Rick and Shane. Both pass me and place a hand on my shoulder for a bit, to which I thank them before Hershel approaches me.
"He needs to wash up, and prevent any infection. Feel free to use the shower, there is a basin in there and some wash clothes." Hershel stops and places a hand on my arm, once Rick and Shane walk away. "I will leave him in capable hands."
He nods to Carol and me as Lori pulls Rick and Shane aside to talk. I nod will a "yes sir." Carol says she will head down and get Daryl some fresh clothes from the line while I check on him. Smiling, I give her a nod before she kisses my cheek.
"Sending me in to tame the bear?" I laugh.
"Your the one least likely to get bit." She grins before walking away.
I laugh before turning towards the bedroom. The door had been left ajar so I slowly peek my head in, seeing Daryl sprawled on the white sheets and holding a bandage to his head. The aura around him is tense, but then I can't blame him. His body shows the stitches in his side and I bite my lip wondering. Quietly I close the door and walk around the full-size bed and sit on the edge.
"Hey." Unsure of how to start.
"Hey yourself." He murmurs, not looking up at me.
"Hershel said to help get cleaned up so you don't get any infections." Gently touching his cheek, frowning when he flinches. From our talk, last night, showing pain got him beaten. He wasn't used to people caring.
"Had worse." He grumbles.
"I know, but that doesn't mean you have to deal with it alone." My voice is soft, offering my hand to him. "You're safe with me."
My words are a silent promise that I am not judging him for his pain and I am not going to hurt him further. I look up when a knock comes on the door, Carol's voice behind it saying she left clothes in the bathroom. I give a soft thanks before looking back at Daryl. When his eyes meet mine I can see the hesitation. He's a wounded animal who wants to lick his wounds in peace.
"I'm not a child." He snarks, causing me to roll my eyes at him.
"I didn't say you were. I am trying to help. Remember that whole fucking talk we had? Ya know, it's okay to need help. Well fucking let me help." I snark back. I know I shouldn't snark, but I can be stubborn too.
"I can do it myself." He grumbles, sitting up and glaring at me, his tone low like he wants to snap. His eyes only soften when he sees the small flinch he caused me.
We are both stubborn, and as we talked about showing pain or emotion was met with negativity and at times violence. I understand that he is just like me, worrying about letting someone help and I can't fault him for that. I can see he feels trapped and he doesn't want to admit to making a mistake and getting himself hurt.
"I never said you couldn't." I sigh.
"Just leave me be. I will handle it." Gritting his teeth looking down, sighing in frustration.
"Fine. If you do want my help, I'll be downstairs." Rolling my eyes. I didn't want to push him to talk or let me help. Even though I know his reasons, I'm still frustrated with him and I know that's a double standard.
I give him one more glance before making my way out of the room. Closing the door, I lean against the doorframe and shake my head. I can't fault him, not when I would be the same way. I have snarked at Abby before for trying to help. Maybe I am trying to baby him. He's a grown man, he has handled himself long before I came around and he doesn't owe me anything. I worry, but at the same time, he needs his space to process what happened. I can give him that.
"I know you're still out there, woman." I hear Daryl murmur through the door.
"I was just leaving, don't worry." I snort and push away from the wall, ready to retreat downstairs.
"Don't." I hear him sigh, his tone conveying his uncertainty.
Running a hand over my face, I shake my head and place my hand on the door. As I go to push the door open, Daryl is on the other side pulling it open. He looks down at me, his blue eyes showing just how worn he felt. Lifting my hands, I cup his cheeks. When he flinches I retract my hands.
"I wasn't trying to baby you, I worry. I care about you and I don't want to think about all the bad things that could have happened." I confess.
"I know. I just ain't use to it, but you're right, I know I need to get clean." He sighs, placing a hand on his side. "Hershel said this bandage is waterproof, which I admit, not sure how that works."
"It just means you can get it wet. Not soaked but a little water won't hurt." I explain and offer my hand. "Offer to help is still there."
He sighs, taking my hand. I know he doesn't want to feel like a child and that's not how I am trying to make him feel. He has taken care of me last night and I just want to return the favor.
Releasing his hand to close the bathroom door once inside, Carol placed Daryl's bag on the counter by the sink. I can feel the tension coming off Daryl, knowing this is awkward, since the last time I saw skin, so to speak, was at the CDC. I place a hand on his arm, looking up with a small smile.
"You're safe with me, I promise." Nodding. "You took care of me last night, let me return the favor?"
My voice is soft as he nods silently. I watch him take off his belt and drop it to the floor, the rest of his clothes following. I motion for him to sit on the edge of the tub, facing inward. Thank goodness for clawfoot tubs. His gaze is cast down, almost as if he expects to be scolded. I know he is showing vulnerability and respect it. I feel privy, and I know it's from our past conversations.
Reaching over, I turn the water on and take the shower head from the holder. My other hand reaches out to run my fingers through his dirty and matted locks.
"Gonna start with the hair." I warn as to not startle him.
He gives a hum in response as I start to wet his hair, the dirt already running out. Gently I work my fingers, careful of the graze from the bullet. Dark water swirls around the drain, I can see Daryl's gaze cast toward it as I grab the soap. Handing him the shower head for a moment, I lather my hands and carefully work them through his hair. My nails gently scratch his scalp and I can almost hear a hum of appreciation for it. I've never really taken care of anyone in this manner, outside of school and interning, but this is more than some random project.
Taking the shower head, I rinse his hair and ensure all the dirt and soap are gone. His hair is slowly returning to its lighter shade. Once done I hang the shower head up and grab a towel and washcloth from the rack behind me. Having him hold the washcloth, I use the towel to dry his hair a bit and then hang it back up on the rack.
"I'll let you wash your face." Smiling when he looks up at me. His eyes are soft and nothing like their normal rough and stubborn gaze.
I watch him stand up and wet the cloth. Handing him the soap, he lathers the cloth, setting the soap back on the holder for the moment. He takes to his face, closes his eyes, and runs the cloth over his skin, behind his ears, and across his neck. He leans into the spray of water, letting it rinse away the grim. When he's done, he hands me the cloth. I can't help but lean up and kiss his chin and grin at him, trying to make this as easy as I can.
He snorts at me, amused. Taking the shower head, I spray his back before taking the lathered wash cloth and cleaning the dirt away from his skin. I notice the scars on his back, but with his vulnerable state, I don't mention them. I have his trust in helping him shower and I don't want to run that. His scars speak to me, telling me how our stories are similar and how we will live with the marks given to us, but maybe we just may be able to move on. Turn the pain into a reminder that we made it and those of us who hurt us are long gone.
"Last time I got stitches was a friend's mom. She was a nurse and took me to the ER. Mom never noticed and dad didn't care. I fell and hit my head on a rock, my stupid ass was trying to climb a tree." He tells the story as I lather his arms and chest, ensuring I get as much as I can. "I was afraid to tell my dad, knew I'd be in trouble. Dad beat my ass when I got home and called me a fucking pussy. He told me next time I want to be an idiot, I best pray I end up dead. My friend's mom though… the only woman in my life at the time that seemed to care. She was a good woman."
I can hear the strain in his voice as I take the shower head and wash away the soap, careful of his side. He doesn't look at me, just keeps watching the soapy water swirl down the drain. If I heard him sniffle, I'm not saying much. I am getting familiar with how his mind works.
"Your dad… I'm sorry he was a piece of shit." I murmur.
I kneel a bit, starting on his legs. I'm a med student and bathing someone is not anything out of the ordinary. Listening to Daryl, the mother hen in me kicks in and all I want to do is take care of him. I try to keep attention off what I'm doing, because I know if it were me, I would be itching to get this over with.
"Yeah." He mutters. His stance tells me how he is feeling defeated with the sagging of his shoulders.
Standing up straight, I hand him the washcloth and rinse my hands under the spray of water before hanging the shower head up.
"I will let you finish the job." Chuckling and hoping for a smile. Even though he's stark naked and we have seen each other's bits and pieces, I want to give him his dignity. "What happened out there?"
I turn a bit and hear him mutter thanks. I hold my hand up and give him a thumbs up. Plus I know he doesn't like staying on the topic of his past for too long.
"Horse got spooked and threw me. Rolling down a cliff and deciding to impale myself with an arrow sounded fun. Then Andrea shot me." He snorts as he grabs the shower head and finishes washing.
"Well, let's not do it again." I nod.
"There goes my Friday night." He chuckles and shuts the water off. "Ruinin' all my fun."
As he hangs the washcloth over the side of the tub, I turn and hand him his towel. His stitches are going to be tender, but I know we had to get the dirt off.
"Want help?" I ask so he doesn't think I'm babying him.
"A little." He nods, stepping onto the rug by the tub, wincing a bit.
"Gotcha." Walking around, I take his towel and gingerly dry him off. He stands still as I work, eyes closed for a moment. Leaning up, I kiss his hairline where the bullet grazed him. When he stands up straight, I hand him the towel and let him finish drying as I pull fresh clothes out of the bag. I trade him for the towel, hanging it up on the rack.
"Thanks…" He mutters.
"You're welcome." Nodding as I turn my back to let him get dressed, only turning back when he asks for a bit of help with his shirt. I oblige, helping him tug it over his head, and then give him a small smile. "Let's get you resting again."
"Yes ma'am." He nods as I grab the duffle bag and stuff the old clothes into it.
Grabbing the towel as well, following Daryl out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. I lay the towel over the pillow as Daryl lays back against it and hang the duffel bag on the bedpost then wipe my hands on my jean shorts.
"You rest, and I will go grab you dinner." Nodding.
He nods as I walk from the room, closing the door most of the way, and smile when I see Carol with a tray of food.
"Thought he may be hungry." She holds the tray up a bit, a bit meek but her eyes reflect gratitude.
"I was just heading down to get him something," I explain.
"Would you mind if I took it to him? I need him to know I'm grateful for him and what he has done. He's done more for her than Ed ever would have." Carol explains softly.
"I think that is exactly what he needs. Grumpy bear and all, but he needs to hear that." Smiling.
I pat Carol's arm and smile before I head downstairs to eat. When I reach the bottom I'm greeted by Rick who looks to be coming from checking on Carl.
"How's he doing?" He asks, nodding his head towards the stairs.
"Sore. Carol took him up something to eat, he is gonna be a bit stiff tomorrow but he'll pull through." Smiling up at Rick. "How's Carl?"
"Sleeping. Out of the woods, but still can't help but worry." He nods softly, his voice peppered with worry and blame. I know he blames himself. It's a habit we all have I've noticed.
"I'm glad to hear it. Both patients are gonna make a speedy recovery." Chuckling softly just to lighten the mood. "Come on, Sheriff, I'll make you a plate."
Nudging Rick, he nods and responds with a "yes ma'am." I glance up the stairs before walking with Rick into the dining room. You can cut the tension with a knife. Hershel is clearly not happy about this little get-together, but Maggie insisted. Hopefully, we can make it through this dinner and everyone can avoid any awkward encounters.