Honorable Intentions

Chapter 3: The First Step

To destroy is always the first step in any creation. ~e. e. cummings

It started out small, little things that most wouldn't notice but she did. Maybe it was because nobody had ever done anything nice for her. Maybe it was because it didn't fit into a neat and tidy box that she could label. Maybe it was wishful thinking. It was never obvious, never something that she could point to. It drove her crazy, wondering and hoping that she was right only to gulp back a fearful thought that she was wrong. Would it be so wrong? What could it hurt?

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Sophia's introduction to the fine art of butchering and preparing game began a few days after their monosyllabic conversation. He showed up just as she filled her bucket with fresh water and dumped in a thimble of detergent, stirring it briskly before settling the washboard into the lee. He gave a short nod by way of greeting and gestured toward a rocky outcrop a short distance down the bank. She returned the nod with one of her own, and sent Sophia running with a flick of her hand. The girl waved madly to her mother before following in the hunter's wake.

Carol watched them go with a curious twist in her belly. Whether or not this was a mistake, she had yet to decide. Surely if Ed managed to put two and two together, there would be hell to pay. And yet, there was every opportunity that Sophia would come out of this stronger and surer of herself. For that, Carol was willing to risk her husband's wrath. It would be worth it if it kept Sophia from ever feeling the fear and helplessness that was burned into her mother's heart.

She couldn't help but smile at his choice of timing. It was almost too perfect. Most of the time, the women came down to the lake together, making a hen party out of the twice weekly laundry sessions. Carol had gotten into the habit of bringing Sophia with her, just the two of them, on odd days just to get away. Strangely enough, Ed let her make these trips alone unlike those with Lori, Jacqui, and the Harrison sisters. Those, he never failed to tag along, sitting on the tailgate of the Cherokee with his beady gaze fixed firmly on her.

Carol could never predict what Ed might do at any given time. She watched for the tells, the hints that would give him away. He wanted her isolated, alone, and dependent on him. He tolerated more than loved Sophia, resentful of the attention that Carol lavished on her. She was his, bought and paid for, and he made sure that she knew it. He never let her forget it.

She worked her way through the pile of clothes, keeping half an eye on the pair further up the shoreline. She let a little chuckle escape as she watched her daughter speak animatedly to the taciturn man. Sophia talked with her hands, gestures getting more elaborate as her excitement increased. Carol's eyes widened as the man plucked the knife from the girl's hand, setting it on the stump they were using as a table and doing some motioning of his own. She couldn't make out the words from this distance, but his sudden increase in volume was enough. She waited anxiously, watching for the slightest hint that Sophia was going to bolt. To her surprise, the girl hung her head and held out her hand. He ran a hand through his hair, head cocked to the side as he pinned the girl with a menacing stare. He then picked up the knife and slapped the hilt into her upturned palm. Sophia gave him an impish grin and bent back to her squirrel.

Carol watched them, her mouth falling open in disbelief. Her timid girl, her Sophia, had managed to shock her mother to her bones. Gone was the quiet, fretful child and in her place was someone Carol didn't recognize. She threaded her fingers through the frail chain at her throat, fingering the cross that hung there. She held on to the charm and gave thanks for whatever power was responsible for sending this man across their paths.

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He couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with the girl. She usually talked a mile a minute.

Today, she stared at her hands, barely looking up when he pointed out a way to remove the pelt in one piece or told her to angle her cuts to get the most meat. She watched him, her eyes following his hands, and then she only nodded before bending back to her work. Something wouldn't right.

He nudged her, giving her a small nod when her gaze flicked up to meet his. "You alright?"

She blew out a breath, tucking wispy strands behind her ears as she studied him. "Fine," she replied shortly.

Daryl hadn't been around kids much but he knew a bald-faced lie when he heard it. He tapped her elbow, almost laughing at the put upon sigh she gave before looking his way. "You sure?" He questioned. "You're too quiet. My damned ears don't know what to think."

An unwilling smile tugged at her mouth but she successfully bit it back. "I was just thinking is all. Thought you'd be happy that I've shut up for a change. You said last time that my talking would be the death of you."

It was his turn to fight a smile. She had him there. "Never you mind what I said. Today, I want to know why you ain't talking." Her face fell, a sudden haze of tears making those big blue eyes shine. Daryl wanted to cuss and throw something. He never meant to make her cry. Fuck. He was in for a penny so he might as well hold out for the pound. She would tell him eventually. He just had to wait her out.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves in her haste to get them out. He nodded reluctantly, motioning for her to continue. Her eyes fell back to the rocky ground, a tear leaking out and tracing a wavering line down her cheek. "Do you believe there's a God?"

He moved uneasily, not sure what she wanted him to say. He bit his lip, feeling his cheeks and ears burn. Fuck. Of all the places she could go, she went there. Damn kid. Damn his stupid ass for asking in the first place. "Do you want the answer I ought to give ya or do you want the truth?"

"The truth," she didn't even hesitate. "Tell me the truth."

He rolled his shoulders, fingering his chin as he avoided meeting her eyes. "I don't know," he said at last. "Never saw anything one way or another to prove if He's there. Never had a reason to think about it. Why, girl? What's that got to do with you?"

She sidestepped his look, turning her head toward the lake and wide expanse of sky. "I don't think He's real," she confided. "He's supposed to be there for the good people. He's supposed to look after them and help if they need it. But there's good people dying and bad people still here. It's not fair." She wiped her cheek with a rough hand. "I tried to talk to Him like the preacher said. Asked Him to help me and my mom. I told Him if He did, I'd do anything. I did too, everything I promised. I cleaned my room, stayed quiet, and even helped with other chores. It didn't change anything. Mom still...he still..." her voice broke as she gulped back more tears. "How could He be real? My mom's a good person. I kept my promise. How could He be real and not help us?"

Daryl looked down at his trembling hands, his voice forsaking him as her words took him back. Back to an eight year old boy following his big brother into the woods because Daddy had come home drunk again. It was better to sleep under pile of dead leaves than to stay there and listen to the shouts and screams from the other room. Back to a scrawny eleven year old pulled out of the closet by his hair, ears ringing from the slap that split his lip and puffed up his cheek. Back to the belt and pipe laid on the table and being told to pick his poison. The way his back went numb after so many licks, blood pooling in the waistband of his pants. Back to a sixteen year old watching as his big brother and the man he'd learned the hard way to hate stood toe to toe as they traded blows.

Merle had come back after a two month stint in jail to find Daryl broken and bleeding in the bedroom they shared. Their bastard of a father caught him with his back turned and broke a bottle over his head before the boy knew he was there. Daryl fell to his knees, arms lifted to protect his head from the old man's steel toed boots. The broken shards of the bottle cut his knees and back as he tried to roll away. He heard the son-of-a-bitch laugh and knew he'd be lucky to be alive once this was done. Merle hit their father like a runaway train, knocking him into the dresser and shattering the mirror above it. Merle didn't waste the opportunity, climbing on top and unleashing hell. Daryl managed to rise to his knees and pull his brother away before he beat the piece of shit to death. He remembered all the times he'd prayed, begging someone to come and take him out of there. Merle had been the only one to answer.

"Sophia," he had to work to keep quaver out of his voice. "Have you ever…."

She was shaking her head before he could finish the thought, blonde hair whipping about her face. "No sir, never. He don't pay me any mind. Mom always sent me to my room. He told me to keep him company once when Momma was going to the store. She got a funny look and laughed and told him not to be silly. After we got back, I could hear him yelling in the kitchen. There was a lot of noise and I was scared. Momma told me never to leave my room when he was mad." Her wretched expression tore at his heart. "He hurt her because I didn't stay. Maybe if I had, he wouldn't have done that."

Daryl's jaw tightened at the thought that the man would have done worse if given the chance. Her mother had protected her the only way she could. "You can't think like that," he growled. "Don't take blame for something you can't change. Your momma knows what she's doing."

Sophia mulled that over as she swept the mess of entrails into a neat pile and set them aside. "He won't like it, me being here. He won't let us come back if he finds out, will he?"

Daryl shrugged, deciding to deal with it directly and not duck the question. She knew the truth and any attempt on his part to get around it would undo the fragile thread that bound them together. He didn't know why it mattered so much. She wasn't anything to him and it shouldn't matter if she didn't come around anymore. It shouldn't and yet it did. "Probably not." He cringed inside as a mournful expression contorted her face. Before he knew what he was about, his hand lifted and playfully tugged her hair. She looked up at him startled, her blue eyes wide and questioning as they pierced him. "Don't worry, alright? I won't let nothing happen to you or your momma."

Hope flared briefly in her eyes before it blinked out like a light. "You can't be there all the time."

"Then get on back to your mamma, girl," he snapped. "You either want to learn or you don't. I told her I won't waste my time."

Sophia started back at his harsh words. "I want to learn," she stammered. "I just don't want Mom to get in trouble for me."

"I told ya I'd watch out for you and your mom," Daryl repeated. "We'll figure something out."

She couldn't hide the doubt edging her expression but there was something else that caused his heart to clinch in his chest. Trust. She took him at his word. Somehow, someway he had to find a way to keep it.

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A few days passed, and then a few more. Some days, he wasn't there and some days neither were they. There wasn't a day that went by that she didn't see him. It might be out of the corner of her eye as she followed Sophia about the camp. It might be at dinner when the group huddled around the fire, speaking in low voices about whether it was worth their while to go back into Atlanta. He stood at the edge of the light, behind his mountain of a brother, watching in the quiet way of his. Their eyes met briefly before his danced away, listening to every word and weighing every argument.

They opted to make a run, sending a group out for the first time. The young man, Glenn, would go since he knew the way. T-Dog, as he called himself, also volunteered. Jacqui and Andrea decided to tag along as did Morales. There was some excitement when Merle Dixon announced his intentions to make the trip. Carol watched Daryl from the corner of her eye, noting the way his fists clenched at his side. He stayed silent, letting his brother work it out. Daryl shook his head when asked if he wanted to go, mumbling something about hunting. Most missed the brief glance he tossed in her direction but Carol didn't.

That look confirmed a suspicion she'd had for the past couple of days. First, there was the extra meat she found when it was her turn to make breakfast. Then there was the sack of herbs, berries, and tubers that tasted like a potato when roasted in the coals. There was also a thick, coarse root in the bag that when put in water, created a soapy lather. She discovered that by accident, and couldn't help but laugh. Soap wasn't high on their supply list. It was nice to find an alternative. The biggest surprise was the red toothbrush, still in its packaging, that found its way into her hands.

She glanced toward him as the group broke up, the ones going to Atlanta heading toward their tents to get ready. To her surprise, his blue eyes were on her although they flicked away almost as soon as she looked up. She felt Sophia's fingers twine with hers and smiled down at the girl watching her with a solemn expression. Carol started to speak but cut off as a rough hand grasped the back of her neck. She felt more than saw Ed giving the younger Dixon a baleful look before his gaze swung back toward her. "I need to get a list together," she smiled and ducked her head. "It'll be easier with a group for them to pick up some extras."

"You keep your mind on your business," he warned. "Get your ass to the tent and stay there. We don't need nothing from these ingrates. Take her with you. I don't want to see you out wandering around."

"Come on, Sophia," Carol put a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Let's go, honey."

The pair headed for their tent at the edge of the clearing, heads almost touching as Carol whispered reassuringly to the girl. She felt his eyes on her, on them, as they walked away, feather light and fleeting. She resisted the urge to look back, knowing that Ed would be watching her like a hawk. The back of her neck burned, feeling those cool blue eyes on her again. She shivered involuntarily, but managed a smile as Sophia gave her another worried look. "It'll be alright, sweetie. Come on, let's go make our list." Hand-in-hand, they ducked into the blue canvas tent.

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His fingers slid carefully along the bolts, checking the nocks and fletching before thumbing the tips. His eyes followed Merle as his brother checked his pistol before tucking it into the waistband of his pants. A Bowie knife was pulled out and examined, the edge gleaming as he tested it with his thumb. He hissed out an oath and then tucked it into the sheath at his hip.

"Keep your mind on your own business, lil brother," Merle ordered as he pinned Daryl with a knowing stare. "Don't get your ass into trouble while I'm gone. Ole Merle can't be here to watch over you every second. I got places to go and things to do."

"Fuck off," Daryl retorted. "I know exactly what you've got to do."

Merle grinned, his hand riding the butt of his gun. "These fuckers don't know how to handle things. Best if somebody who knows how to give orders is along for the ride. Who better than me?"

"Who better than you," Daryl echoed. "Just make sure you make it back, bro. Don't get your dumb ass into more trouble than you can handle."

The cocky chuckle he got in response brought an unwilling smile to Daryl's face. "Trouble is what I do best, baby brother. Don't doubt that." He looked up into a pair of ice-cold eyes fixed on him. "You, however, are about to get your bony ass kicked the way you're eyeballing that woman and her pup. Her piece of shit husband ain't too bright but you ain't being subtle. Neither is she."

"I wouldn't eyeballing nobody," Daryl protested weakly. "You're fucked in the head, Merle."

He didn't have a chance to avoid the fist that connected with his chin. Daryl spat a bright stream of blood and knuckled his split lip before rolling into his brother's knees, trying to take him down. Merle's boot hit him in the gut, driving the air from his lungs. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Darylina. I ain't time for your hissy fits right now. You just do what I say and leave the mouse and her kit be. Don't go dipping your pen in another man's well."

"Never stopped you," Daryl muttered.

Merle laughed loudly and ruffled his hair. "You ain't me. Now do what I say and not what I do, baby brother. You'll live longer." He slapped him playfully on the back of the head before making his way out of the tent.

Daryl stared after him, daubing his lip with the rag from his back pocket. Fucking asshole had a point. Still, he'd given his word to that little girl. He wasn't about to break it despite what Merle had to say on the subject. He tasted metal and spat out a bloody mouthful before crawling out of the tent. Fucking prick. He'd go hunt and then he'd sort out how to make this work.

End chapter 3…