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Chapter 13: Aftermath

"NOOOOOO!" Daryl screamed and ran to Lane. He grabbed her under her arms and dragged her back behind the truck for cover. He felt her blood, all warm and sticky, begin to drip down and saturate his hands. But the sickly sweet metallic smell of her blood was threatening to sicken him. Something that had never bothered him before.

He'd watched with a undeserved pride as she spoke to everyone, the way she encouraged them to hold on and the way she congratulated everyone. And then to see her jerked to the ground, blood seeping from her stomach?

Merle continued to return fire, providing cover as best he could so Daryl could get Lane inside. But Merle knew it was pointless to keep shooting. The Governor had already made his point. He'd be having tea and cookies back at Woodbury within the hour.

Merle kept berating himself over his lapse. He'd been so busy watching his brother and Lane take down those walkers, and even mentally celebrating with them, that he missed that the Guv's white truck doubled back.

-/-/-

"No! Lanie. Open yer eyes! Open yer Goddamn eyes!" he kneeled over her in the grass and turned her limp body over and held her in his arms while Michonne stood by to protect them.

Ethel and Miriam came bursting out of the cell block as soon as they'd heard what happened on the walkie. But they were still stuck at the doorway and Miriam had to hold Ethel back who was beside herself and desperate to get to Lane.

"Daryl?" Ethel and Miriam yelled from afar as soon as they saw him running toward the prison, holding Lane's limp body to him.

"Go on! I got ya covered," Michonne promised as she followed from behind, making sure they weren't surprised again.

"Oh My God! My darling girl," Ethel ran shaky hands over her niece's pale, unconscious face.

"I gotta get her to Hershel," Daryl reminded as he continued to carry her down the hallway, but not before calling out for Michonne.

"We gotta get that gate resecured by nightfall. Can you gather some folks? But still keep one person per tower ta see what ya can do. Keep em safe!" Daryl insisted.

"I'll take care of it. You go take care of her!" Michonne wasn't sure how it had happened, at least not in such a short period of time, but she was starting to care about these people. Moreover, she wanted to be a part of what they had. To build something worthwhile together! To have people also care about her.

Daryl hurried to the infirmary, trying not to focus on how pale she was and how much blood he felt seeping through her clothes and onto his hands.

-/-

"Hershel!" Daryl kicked impatiently at the infirmary door, waiting impatiently for them to open it. "It's Daryl! Dammit open up!"

"Son? What happened?" Hershel unlocked the door as soon as he'd heard the panic in the younger man's voice. He quickly stepped out of the way so Daryl could carry Lane inside and set her on the nearest surgical table. Beth saw Lane unconscious and jumped up, immediately passing Judith to Carl so she could run over to help out.

"Hershel? Is she going to be ok?" Ethel and Miriam were right behind Daryl, the small room now very crowded.

"Her pulse is a bit weak," Hershel pulled his stethoscope out of his ears to answer his cousin. "Do you know her blood type?"

"O+," Miriam spoke up. She remembered it from the last time she'd been in the hospital.

"That's good. We may need to do some transfusions depending on how much blood she's lost. In fact, we should have written everyone's down before," Hershel lamented. "Who else do we have that's O+?" Hershel asked.

"I am," Daryl and Ethel both spoke up in unison. The only reason Daryl knew this was because his brother would often drag him down to give plasma when money was tight.

"That's good. Now Ethel and Miriam. You know that I'll do everything I can, but I need you two to step out and give me some space," Hershel explained in his southern genteel way, much as he had to Rick when Carl had been shot.

He was fully prepared to do the same to Daryl, except he might need Daryl's physical strength. And the romantic in him couldn't bring himself to separate the two young fools and Daryl didn't seem like he was dealing with this so well.

Beth ushered Ethel and Miriam over to the adjacent room, where they could still stay with Carl and Judith and also to keep an eye on Rick.

"Beth, we need to cut her clothes off. Will you pass me those scissors?" Hershel requested but before Beth could even reach the instrument trays, Daryl had pulled his knife out and effeciently cut off her shirt, pants and panties, and kevlar vest. Thank god she wore the vest, he thought as he fingered the bloody item.

"Alright, I need to rinse the wound with saline. I'm also gonna need the area swabbed with Betadine," Hershel let Beth gather up all the tattered clothing while he began saturating the wound so he could see just how bad the damage really was.

Lane began to stir and wake up, protesting at the pain from Hershel's initial exam. She couldn't help but squirm to get away from the pain it was inflicting and her face became contorted with pain, tears leaking from her closed eyes.

"Stop it! Yer hurting her! Give her something!" Daryl couldn't take it anymore and screamed at Hershel. Hershel however, simply ignored the outburst and remained calm, an ability acquired by years and years of training.

"Daryl, if you want to stay in here, then you have to calm down and do exactly what I say!" Hershel gave Daryl no doubt he meant what he said. "Now hand me that IV bag," Daryl bit his lip and wanted to hit something, but took a deep breath and complied.

"Beth, get me the Ativan, Lidocaine and Fentanyl," Hershel continued his litany until he had all he needed. Only then did he put on latex gloves to examine the gunshot wound. He was very gentle, taking care to delay the more probative exam until he got the IV started and the pain killers in her system.

"I'm so sorry!" Daryl whispered over her limp body, tears forming in his eyes which he angrily wiped away before anyone else could see.

"Don't leave me!" he pleaded so softly, Hershel and Beth almost missed it.

"Like you left her? All of us?" Beth's blonde ponytail snapped around. Her big blue eyes, were angry and unforgiving and looked so strange and foreign in her innocent face.

"Elizabeth Annette Greene!" Hershel's voice rose in accusation as he glared at his youngest child. It was such a rare occurrence to have Hershel raise his voice, much yet yell, that both Beth and Daryl jerked in surprise.

"Apologize NOW young lady!" Hershel ordered, his tone leaving no doubt as to his seriousness. This time it was Beth that started to cry.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," her lower lip quivered, far more afraid her dad was upset and disappointed in her than she'd ever been of Daryl.

"S'ok. Yer fine," he grumbled, feeling suddenly weird and awkward. But at least she was the first person honest enough to call him out on what he'd done. And there was nothing she could say or do that would make him feel any worse than he already did.

"It's not fine Beth, but we'll discuss it later." Hershel promised, and Daryl saw Beth wince at her father's words.

"Lane isn't going anywhere," Hershel made sure Daryl looked at him, needing to convince Daryl to believe. "You and she may end up with his and hers matching scars, but she's going to be find."

Daryl stood by helplessly and watched while Hershel started the IV. Hershel then prepared the Lidocaine injection. The Lidocaine injection would hurt so he waited a bit until he was sure that the Ativan and Fentanyl had started to take effect.

"Daryl, she may try and pull away, so hold her still for me," Daryl held her firmly and watched Hershel stick the needle right into the angry wound. He must have made five or six separate injections and Lane jerked at the first one but the others didn't seem to bother her as badly. Hershel then used his gloved fingers and various metal tools to open it up the wound further to get a better look.

"Good news. The bullet went all the way through and I see no fragments. There's some internal bleeding. No organs appear to be nicked, likely thanks to this vest she wore. She took even more hits here and here," Hershel pointed out two ugly reddish-purple welts on the small of her back.

This time it wasn't fear, or grief that consumed him. This was cold, calculating rage...the kind of dedicated fury that is able to wait and plan to exact maximum vengeance.

"Beth, place the oxygen mask over her nose." Hershel hobbled over and then injected more medication into the IV, grateful yet again to have the prison's facility at hand. "Keep an eye on her respiration, her heartbeat and blood pressure."

"Yes, Daddy," Beth let go of any remnants of her earlier dispute with her dad, and rose to the task without a question. Her only focus was to help Lane.

"I need you to hand me those sponges, clamps and sutures." Hershel explained. "It's going to be bloody so if you can't handle it, we can get someone else ...Carol?" Hershel looked the younger man in the eye. But Daryl refused to back down and handed Hershel the requested items.

"Ok then, let's get started" Hershel figured Daryl had seen about as much blood and guts as he had. But also knew just how different it was when it was someone you cared about on the surgical table. Hershel began by splaying Lane's wound apart with clamps.

"That's good, Daryl hand me a sponge," and so the surgery began. Hershel's calm monotonous tone and repetitive orders seemed to calm Daryl. And after a while, Daryl seemed to get the hang of it, often anticipating what Hershel would need and handing it to him before he was even asked.

And after an hour of Hershel precisely stitch up veins and absorb blood, he finally began stitching her closed. Once he'd finished with the entrance wound he needed Daryl to roll her over on her back so he could close up the exit wound on her abdomen.

"She really gonna be ok!" Daryl hadn't swallowed in so long that his words were barely more than a croak. But his words weren't even a question. They were the truth.

"She'll need to rest...and avoid stress!" Hershel's intent was very obvious. "But if she can have some time to recover she'll be fine. It may take six weeks before she's a hundred percent, but as long as she doesn't do anything stupid, she'll heal nicely," Hershel patted Daryl on the shoulder.

"Here, tape this, " Hershel handed over the surgical adhesive and gauze, then went to remove the oxygen mask off Lane's peaceful face. Hershel hummed in pleasure that Lane was now breathing perfectly well on her own and her heartbeat was strong and regular.

Daryl fell into the nearby chair in relief as he felt all the adrenaline suddenly crash. Hershel let Ethel and Miriam in so they could see for themselves how their niece was really doing.

"Oh my poor Baby!" Ethel bit her knuckles as she stared at Lane, still looking frail. It reminded her so much of the last time she'd visited Lane in the hospital...ironically also the result of a madman's brutal actions.

Miriam caught sight of Daryl's pale face, and pulled him up outta his chair and into her arms, not affected in the least by his reluctance. Daryl still had a hard time with all their hugging and touching, but was slowly starting to becoming a little more used to it...yet still absolutely refusing to admit he at all liked it. And he really liked Miriam. There was a pragmatic strength about her that he admired.

"Thank you son," Miriam patted him on the back, somehow knowing he would find a way to blame himself.

"Yea? Fer what? Leavin' ya'll here alone or lettin' her get shot?" Daryl pushed Miriam so he could turn away. But Miriam was having none of it. Her strong hands gripped his shoulders and spun him back around to face her. Her wise eyes had wrinkles at the corners, but the sharp blue orbs had a way of seeing everything in him.

"No! For getting Lane back here to safety," Miriam clarified in a simple, almost school teacher like voice. But Daryl wouldn't believe her and Miriam half expected an eyeroll.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you and you alone are personally responsible for everyone's safety here," Miriam's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "And if anything happens to them, then it's obviously your fault."

"Stop it. I know what yer doing? But it don't change the fact that she wouldn't have been shot and be lying on that table now if I hadn't walked out," Daryl tightened his fists so much he began to lose blood flow to his fingers.

"Yer right," Miriam agreed with him, knowing it was pointless to try and point out the flaws in his logic. But Daryl squinted his eyes at the old lady, knowing something was up. She wasn't the type to just give in. She had something up her sleeve.

"Ya know, I just had a similar discussion with Glenn. You see, Maggie had just spent hour upon hour listening to the man she loves get brutally beaten." Miriam left out that it was Merle that had done the beating. "And when Maggie refused to take her clothes off for the Governor, he threatened to cut off Glenn's hand and bring it to her. Glenn apparently feels that Maggie should have just let them cut off his hand rather than let the Governor see her niblets?" Miriam pressed him to support his flawed logic.

"It ain't the same. Yer just twisting everything all up!" Daryl snapped back, feeling beaten and discouraged.

"No I get it. You MEN are completely responsible if anything bad ever happens to your woman. No matter what," Miriam continued pushing, hoping she'd finally get through to him.

"It ain't like that either," Daryl mumbled, completely out of his league in this sort of verbal sparring.

"No, it isn't. Not exactly. You had no idea this would happen and Rick didn't give you much choice. And as hard as it must have been, you came back anyway. Now there is only one man who is responsible for what happened to Lane. And that's the Governor!" the tone of Miriam's voice told Daryl that given the chance, she wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in the Governor.

"Daryl, this just isn't that complicated. We both know why you came back," Miriam gave him a sympathetic look and then she bent over to kiss Lane's cool cheek. And before he could move away, Miriam placed a gentle kiss atop his forehead. It only broke Miriam's heart further when he instinctively flinched away slightly. He caught himself, but could tell she noticed. But she didn't press him about it.

"Come get us if you need us," they both insisted but left her in his care, each knowing full well that Daryl wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

-/-

"How's she?" Merle was the next person to show up. Merle had continued to hold his position n the tower for hours until Carol finally came up to relieve him.

"Hershel says she'll recover," Daryl wouldn't even look up, seemingly entranced by the rhythmic machine that monitored Lane's vitals. "Gonna scar but nothing got hit inside."

"I'm sorry she got shot," Merle felt awkward and uncomfortable. Heartfelt moments weren't his specialty. "It's my fault. I missed him cause I wasn't payin' attention. I just didn't expect him to double back. I might have winged him though," he needed to say or do something that might make a difference. But Daryl just sat there woodenly, just like when there momma died. Daryl had just sat in the chair for days, not moving or talking or eating.

"She's a hellava lady, I'll give ya that! If she hadn't taken charge the way she did? The way she got everyone in position? That asshole might have actually gotten inside the perimeter," Merle actually sounded proud of her.

"She shouldn't have had to. It should have been me...or Rick!" Daryl screamed at Merle, finally exploding in guilt-fueled anger.

"I'm going after him," Daryl's jaw was firm and set as he spoke. "And I'ma put an arrow right through his other eye...then I'm gonna cut off his hand. Maybe give it to Glenn. Maybe cut off some other part for Maggie!"

"No little brother, ya 'aint. That's fer me to do," Merle's eyes were still haunted by the images of the deep red welts covering Daryl's back. Welts he knew his drunk, no-good father had meted out... Welts Daryl took because Merle hadn't been there to stop him. Merle knew if he'd stayed he'd have killed their daddy, but in hindsight that would have been better than Daryl growing up like that.

"Yer place is here...with her. And I owe the Governor!" Merle was reminded of all the little ways he'd been manipulated into doing really awful things for the Governor. Sure he could have said no, but that really wasn't an option. Not if you wanted to live. Telling the Governor 'No' was a quick way of getting killed. Those who did ended up with a shiv in the gut. Or they'd have an unfortunate scouting accident like the ones he'd been told to inflict on others? Merle was well aware he'd done bad things. Drugging...Robbin...Fighting. But he'd never killed a man or hit a woman. Until the Governor.

"Daryl." Lane's eyes fluttered open. Her mouth was painfully dry and she was disoriented and confused. The pain was the next thing she became aware of, a sharp burning in her side.

"Shhhh, yer gonna be just fine." Daryl scrambled to be closer to her.

"Are you really here?" she begged, her voice so raspy he could barely hear her.

"Course I'm here. Ain't goin' nowhere," Daryl nodded, gently lifting her head up to give her some water, yet only allowing her a few small sips per Hershel's instructions.

"Merle?" things were slowly coming into focus and she struggled to sit up and gain her bearings.

"Right here Sugah! Ya just need to lay yer pretty Lil' head back down and rest'," Merle came over a little closer so she wouldn't need to sit up to see him. His tone was so different...almost kind rather than crude. Even Daryl nearly got whiplash when he turned to see if it was really Merle talking.

"It hurts," Lane squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. "What happened?"

"Ya were shot...took one in yer side," he explained, much calmer now that he was sure she was really gonna be ok.

"Merle? Would you get Hershel?" Daryl asked and to his astonishment, Merle complied without comment.

-/-/-

"Is the yard secure?" Lane was desperately fighting sleep, but she needed to know that they were all safe tonight. Hershel had just given her something more for the pain and it was making her tired and loopy, so it was hard to stay awake.

"Yeah. Merle, Tyreese and the other new guy took care of it," Daryl wished she wasn't still worrying about such things.

"Alan," she mumbled as she tossed her head, frustrated by how fuzzy everything was.

"Huh," Daryl frowned.

"New guy. Name's Alan," Lane slurred.

"Ya need ta sleep. Stop bein' so stubborn and tryin' to fight it," Daryl smoothed the hair off her forehead, lingering a second to stroke the silky ends.

"No," she shook her head. "Can't," she whispered, her words trailing off.

"S'ok. We got the place secure. Thanks to you," he allowed himself a moment to compliment what she'd done, without wallowing in his own guilt.

But she still shook her head 'No'.

" 'fraid you won't be here. This might be a dream and when I wake up you'll be gone." her words were almost unintelligible and she reached for his hand as if to prove he was really there with her.

"I ain't no dream. I'll be right here when ya wake up," he quietly promised and scooted his chair closer so she didn't have to reach so far for his arm.

"Come," she pulled his arm tighter so he would have to lean partially on the bed with her. "Here," she tried to show him, scooching over to the side of the cot to give him room.

"Cain't. I'll hurt ya," Daryl told her, but still lay partially on the bed beside her.

"Please?" Lane's voice was becoming even threadier. How could she still be so damn stubborn. And that was when he realized why he hadn't told her goodbye. Because he knew he never would have been able to leave.

He tried to lay down, but the bed was simply too small. She groaned in protest when he got up, but he assured her he'd be right back. And so he was. It took barely a minute to wheel one of the other beds over next to hers and when he settled next to her, she snuggled closer.

He watched as her eyelids slowly shut and her chest began rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic pace and she finally fell asleep. He lay there just watching her for a while and for the first time he really, not only understand, but felt how Rick could lose it. He gingerly draped an arm protectively over her waist and hoped he never had to find out.

-/-/