Honorable Intentions

Chapter 2: Unlikely Friends

Carol Peletier, formerly Caroline Watson, listened to her daughter with half an ear as she eyed the tattered shirt she'd picked up out of the laundry pile. She mentally crossed her fingers as she dropped it into the water and scrubbed it on her washboard. They'd scrounged it from a Cracker Barrel on the outskirts of Atlanta. She'd always thought the restaurant chain was rather kitschy but admitted now that it had come in handy when the world went to hell. It didn't stop her from missing her Maytag though.

The quarry camp was rough but it was a vast improvement over the tangled snarl on the highway. Ed had grumbled but saw sense in sticking with a larger group. When Dale mentioned the quarry, the rest of them had readily agreed. They'd formed a convoy and kept to the smaller roads, thinking that the interstates and bypasses would have garnered the lion's share of the traffic. It added both miles and driving time but had been worth it in the end. Now, they had a perimeter set up, some simple alarms in place, and patrols to guard against uninvited guests.

Carol smiled and flicked an affectionate glance at her daughter, who was still chattering nonstop despite having gone on for the better part of five minutes. It was so good to see the girl happy and excited. There had been very little of that recently. Carol was grateful for every smile and every new tale Sophia came back with. She pulled the shirt out of the bucket, folded it back on itself, and then rubbed it briskly along the washboard. She looked up just as Sophia announced with a lofty air, "That Carl, he's such a dumb head, Mom." She gave a guilty grin at Carol's reproving look but marched on nonetheless. "He was all puffed up proud saying that girls aren't as good as boys because boys can hunt and track and do stuff. He said all girls can do is women's work." She squared her thin shoulders, chin lifted haughtily. "Amy heard him and told him that he would have to eat those words as soon as they got Dale's reels tacked up. Her and Andrea are going fishing soon. She said their dad showed them how."

"She and Andrea," Carol corrected. "And Amy is absolutely right, Sophia. Girls can do anything that boys can do."

The girl nodded stoutly, her honey blonde hair flying about her face. "That's what I told the dumb head. But I decided that telling him won't be good enough so I'm going to show him too. I'm going to learn how to do stuff and help out more than that ole Carl Grimes ever could. Mr. Daryl told me that I could help him. Just you wait, Mom. That Carl won't know what to think when I bring home a whole mess of squirrel. That will show him. See if it won't."

"Daryl," Carol said softly. "Sophia, when did you talk to him? What do you mean he said you could help?"

Her guilty expression was a dead giveaway that she'd said more than she intended. Sophia bit her lip, big blue eyes staring warily up at her mother. "He said that I could as long as you said it was okay," she muttered. "Please, Mom. He promised he'd let me help. If I learn to skin stuff real good, he might show me how to hunt too and then I'll really be able to tell Carl what for. Mr. Daryl said I was good at it. He let me do the rabbits all by myself."

Carol shook her head, even going so far as to tap her ear with the wrinkled pads of her fingers. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd understood what her daughter was telling her. She stared long and hard at the desperate girl. "Sophia Marie, I want you to tell me the truth right now. When did you talk to Daryl Dixon and did that man actually give you a knife and let you skin dead animals?"

Sophia nodded and looked even more woebegone as Carol's jaw hardened. "I just wanted to help," she said. "I wanted to do something so that I could earn my keep. Carl said that I wouldn't nothing but a waste of space."

"And you thought the way to change his mind was to go to a stranger and make him your own personal tutor," Carol blurted out. "Sophia, honey, I know that you mean well but to go bother Mr. Dixon when you know that he and his brother keep to themselves. What…I mean…why would you? And what is your father going to say, Sophia? You know he won't allow this."

The girl's pale eyes flamed and she stiffened even more. "He said he would let me as long as you said it was okay, Mom. You, not Dad, just you." She glanced around hurriedly but lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. "I told him what Dad said about his hunting, about us not needing it."

Carol swallowed noisily but still asked, "And what did he say?"

Sophia grinned, clearly pleased with what she was about to reveal. "He asked me what I thought. I told him that what he does is good and that it helps everybody. I said all Daddy does is drink beer and complain." Carol's brows lifted to her hairline but she stayed silent, hoping the girl would continue. "I don't want to be like that. I want to do my share just like everybody else."

"Sophia," Carol said carefully. "Do you really think this is the best thing? I mean, there are other ways to help, sweetie."

"He's nice, Mom. Quiet. Don't bother nobody. He even started skinning his stuff down here by the water cause he knew some people were squeamish about that stuff. He's not like the other one, Daryl ain't. He's good."

Carol bent back to the laundry, her mind whirling at the idea of her daughter defending the surly redneck whose only interaction with any of them was the mess of field-dressed game he left near the communal cooking area. To find out now that he'd spoken with her girl, and even agreed to help teach her was mind-boggling. A few facts abruptly clicked in her mind. "Sophia, if he was down here then how did you come across him much less talk to him and help him out. You're not supposed to be down here unless one of the group is with you."

"One of the group was with me," Sophia protested. "Mr. Daryl was here too." Her hopeful expression quickly fell as her mother's face tightened. "Yeah, he didn't go for that either. He said I shouldn't be wandering around by myself. I knew he was down here so I followed the trail and hid behind some bushes. He must have heard me because he told me to come out and help him. So I did. Are you gonna tell him its okay, Mom?"

"I'm going to talk to him," Carol hedged. "I'll decide what to do then. If the man tells me that you were pestering him, Sophia, there will be consequences. Just so we're clear. And don't mention this where your daddy can hear. He won't like it."

Sophia huffed, crossing her arms over her stomach. "He don't like nothing." Her mother raised a warning brow, causing the girl to drop her gaze to the scuffed toe of her shoes. "Yes, ma'am. I won't go off on my own again."

"That's my girl," Carol ruffled her daughter's short hair.

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The air in the tent was as thick as molasses, the humidity adding an uncomfortable dampness that made everything sticky and close. That was the only word he could use to describe it. Stifling. Like a wet cloth draped over your head. He kicked at the tied back flap in hope of catching even the slightest hint of a breeze. Daryl knew it was stupid to hide in the tent when the sun was still up but considering the alternative, he figured it was the lesser of two evils.

Merle wasn't around when he'd shuffled into camp and dropped the bulk of the game off at the main fire. He'd kept one rabbit and a pair of squirrels for them and left the rest. He took a quick look around before heading for his tent set back away from the others. He knew the gal's momma by sight but hadn't said but a few words to her in passing. The Morales woman took the meat and smiled her thanks. The dark-haired woman, Lori he'd heard her called, had her wayward son in hand for a change and had him bent over a book with a pencil clenched in his teeth.

The boy had taken an interest in his crossbow when they first set up camp. It hadn't taken Daryl long to set the boy straight and send him packing. Better him then Merle. He'd have shown the boy a few tricks that his mama wouldn't appreciate and laughed when the shit hit the fan. Daryl didn't dispute that Merle usually got results, if not the ones he originally intended. Since they had no plans to move on just yet, he told the kid to get lost, threatened to cut his ears off if he caught him around his crossbow, and matched the disapproving glares he got with his best "fuck off" look when the kid went running for cover.

It was one of the main reasons why he was so damned put out over letting the girl get to him. He should have kept his head and told her to leave him be. He should have left her cowering behind that damned bush. Should have or not, he'd gone and stuck his nose where it didn't belong and done was done. She'd surprised him with her refusal to back down once she'd found her footing, jumping right in when he'd thrown out the casual invitation to help. He figured she'd run for the hills, possibly crying. Instead, she'd turned the tables on him and now he was stuck with the possibility that he was stuck with her.

Daryl grunted out a curse before rolling back to a sitting position and pulling the old duffer closer. He pawed through the jumble of stuff until his fingers caught a piece of soft leather. He pushed the flaps as wide as they would go, tilting the bag back and forth until he saw the case wedged underneath a tin of Sterno. He hooked the belt loop near the top and tugged it free. The pliable leather was scuffed and worn but in amazingly fine shape for its age. A quick twist of his thumb undid the clasp and the flap with it. Inside, the dull gleam of bone and steel caught the late afternoon sun.

He pulled the knife free and examined it closely. The bone handle was ridged and grooved to keep it from slipping. The single-edged blade was small and sturdy. It was a sturdy construct, perfect for little hands. Merle had given him the knife for his eighth birthday. It was the first present he'd ever gotten so he kept it long after he'd replaced it with a brother to the one riding on his hip. The blade was pitted and worn but still useable. If this thing was going to be done, then he was damned if it wasn't going to be done right. He took out his whetstone and oil and set to work putting an edge back on the blade.

He'd just made a few passes when a soft step outside brought his head around. Daryl couldn't see much more than a foot and the bottom part of a leg but he knew immediately who it must be. The girl hadn't wasted any time. He edged closer to the flap and bent his head until she came into view. Her eyes widened as they met his, her breath catching in her throat. She sidled back before catching herself, and then surprisingly retook the ground she'd just given as she stepped closer. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Best to let her start. He could pretty well guess why she'd sought him out but decided to let her confirm his suspicions. She looked at him expectantly but when he stayed silent, she shifted uncomfortably. This one, he thought, was about as much of a talker as he was. He settled in to wait her out.

"Mr. Dixon," she said finally after several uncomfortable minutes. "I need…that is…I'm here about my daughter." He shrugged, still watching her closely but not speaking. She swallowed visibly before continuing. "She said that you were going to show her a few things if I was alright with it. Is that true?"

There it was. She was giving him an out if he wanted it. He could take it; say that the kid misunderstood and that he was too busy to play nursemaid to some snot nosed brat. He could walk away with no regrets. The memory of her bracing, already expecting to be shot down stayed his hand. Sophia had trusted him when it came right down to it and he couldn't or wouldn't dishonor that. He sighed and nodded once, his eyes on his boots so that this woman wouldn't see his weakness.

"Girl wants to do her part," he offered gruffly. "I ain't got no problems with that if you don't. I don't want it to cause no trouble." He chanced a look at her face, in time to see the way her face fell as she took his meaning. "You don't need to worry about nothing," he drawled, nodding at the knife in his hand. "I figured this would work for her. It'll work for what she'll need it for."

Carol watched him closely, seeing the way he angled his body to the side. She followed his gaze to the tiny knife and felt her eyebrows go up as she took it in. It fit snugly in the palm of his hand, the blade short and stubby compared to most that she'd seen. The handle was rough and textured, giving it a better grip. She smiled slightly at his thoughtfulness. Clearly, he was planning to do right by Sophia if this was any indication. "She'll like that," Carol told him as she let her smile broaden.

"You sure it's alright," he questioned.

She hesitated then, a storm of indecision making her eyes more gray than blue just then. She understood what he was asking as much as what he wasn't and was weighing her options. He thought she was going to change her mind as her gaze found the child sized knife still clutched in his hand. Something softened and settled in her expression. She gave the same curt nod that he had just minutes before. It almost teased a smile from him before he caught it and pushed it back.

"Fine," he barked more sternly than he intended. "You make sure that she knows not to waste my time. You people want full bellies and I only have so many hours in the day. She needs to be serious about this if it's going to happen. I ain't got all the hours in the day to play nursemaid."

"I'll tell her," Carol affirmed. "She'll be there when you want her, Mr. Dixon."

"Daryl," he corrected. "Just Daryl."

That peek-a-boo smile crossed her face once more. "Daryl," she repeated softly. She turned on her heel to head back to the main camp. She'd gone a few steps and then looked over her shoulder to catch his eye. "Thank you," she gave a funny little nod before continuing on her way.

He watched her go, his heart pounding like thunder in his ears. Two little words from her had almost destroyed the tight rein he had on his wayward feelings. That woman and her little girl stirred something in him that he couldn't define nor explain. He'd heard the emphasis and weight she'd placed on those words. Daryl had no clue why she agreed to this fucked up plan but there was no point in beating it to death. It was done. He picked up the stone and started working the blade. Tomorrow would come soon enough and he would be ready.

End Chapter 2….