Honorable Intentions

*This chapter contains scenes of spousal abuse…

Disclaimer: Don't own The Walking Dead…just playing in the sandbox. Please don't sue me.

Chapter 4: To Make a Connection

When you feel a connection, a gut connection, a heart connection, it's a very special thing~ Alfre Woodard

The group left for Atlanta that morning with the sun. Glenn, the Asian kid, wasn't thrilled to be an ad hoc team leader, preferring to go at it alone. He reluctantly agreed to guide them to the department store and scout around while the others gathered what they could. Everyone put together a wish list and then gave it to Jacqui and Andrea to whittle down to something manageable. Morales assigned pairs so that nobody would be wandering around on their own in the walker infested city. Merle nodded agreeably as the plan was laid out, but the look he shot Daryl before they loaded into the cars said as clearly as if he'd spoken, that the older Dixon was only going along to get along. If there was anyone giving orders, then it was going to be Merle Dixon.

Daryl didn't envy the others. His brother was a handful at the best of times. One glimpse of his eyes, feverish and hazed, was enough to tell Daryl everything he needed to know. Merle was high as a kite and bent on having things his own way. There was trouble coming and it had Merle's name written all over it. Daryl hesitated, the urge to give warning on the tip of his tongue. He shook his head angrily, his hands worrying the strap angled across his chest as he watched them roll out. It was a stupid thought and Merle would kick his ass if he interfered with what his brother had planned.

Merle would most likely to spill the beans about their earlier plan to join up with the group for no other reason than to rob the camp blind. He'd whispered for Daryl to wait until they came back before trying anything. Merle was convinced that without him there to back Daryl up, the younger Dixon would fuck the thing up royally. Daryl shrugged it off, secretly pleased that the fool notion was being set aside in lieu of the Atlanta trip. The group wasn't necessary for their survival. Merle pointed out at least once a day that the group needed them more than they needed the group. Despite the truth in that, he was reluctant to go off and take their chances. Especially now.

He automatically sought the two of them out, making sure they were alright before he headed into the woods. The woman was at her tent, bent over a shirt with needle and thread in hand. She was wholly absorbed in her task. Satisfied, Daryl continued toward the tree line, his eyes sweeping the camp for a glimpse of a familiar blonde head. He darted a look back toward the Peletier tent, hoping that he'd missed her but there was no sign of the girl.

He marked out Lori Grimes, hovering over her boy as he read one of Dale's ragged books. She glanced up as she caught sight of him, brows raised questioningly. Daryl didn't act as though he'd noticed, continuing his steady trek toward the woods. He swung wider, rounding the RV so that the cluster of tents following the arc of the clearing came into view. Miranda Morales gave him a friendly nod that he returned absently before she turned back to a pan of water steaming over the fire. There she was. Two girls were huddled together, their heads almost touching as they passed a rag doll back and forth between them. Sophia looked up and grinned as she met his gaze. Having noticed, the Morales girl also smiled and even went so far as to wave before she bent back to their game. Daryl eased his crossbow over his head, bringing the weapon to hand as he walked swiftly toward the trees. The sooner he left, the sooner he'd return. He heard his name and turned back in time to see her come flying toward him across the grass.

"What the hell, gal? Whatcha doin?" He squinted at Sophia, noting the Morales woman had made no move to stop the girl's mad dash across camp.

Sophia skidded to a halt before him, her blond hair flying about her face and her breath coming hard. "Can I go? You're going hunting, right? Let me come," she panted.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Sophia," he began. "Look." He shifted his bow back to his shoulder, mouth a thin line as he tried to keep his expression clear. "I can't take you out with me. You ain't ready."

Her face took on a mutinous expression as she met him glare for glare. "I won't ever be ready unless I learn. Cutting up rabbits is one thing but that won't help me if Walkers get into camp."

"You stick close to the tents," he ordered tersely. "There's enough people around to keep you safe so long as you stay where you're supposed to be. Don't be wandering off like that idiot boy."

They eyed each other as silence fell between them. "You said you'd watch out for us," she reminded softly. "You said you'd teach me if I wanted to learn."

"I never said a damned word about taking you out with me," he barked roughly. "It's one thing to gut squirrels and skin rabbits. It's not the same as dodging walkers and having to move quick and quiet. You don't know what you're asking."

She crossed her arms trying to look surer of herself. "I know it's not the same," she insisted. "I still want to go."

"Why?" he challenged. "What good's it gonna do ya? Nothing out there but dirt and blood."

"I don't want to be afraid anymore, okay!" She shouted vehemently. She clapped a hand over her mouth but the words were already out. There was nothing she could do to take them back. Her eyes rounded over her hand, staring up at him wide-eyed as a colt on its first legs. She dropped her hands, an eerie calm settling over her. She'd accepted that she couldn't undo it so she let it go. "I'm afraid," she stated clearly and succinctly. "If they come up here, I don't stand a chance. I can't fight them off and I can't take care of myself if I run. What else am I supposed to do?"

He wanted to argue, to tell her that it was possible to survive on her own if she had to. He had when he was a kid. Nine days he'd wandered alone in the woods with not a soul looking for him or caring if he lived or died. He finally made it home, only to find the old man passed out on the couch and Merle off some place, either high or in jail. He knew better than anyone how she felt. "You stay close," he muttered as he spun on his heel and stalked away. "I don't want to hear any whining about being hot or thirsty or nothing else. You wanted to do this. It's on you if you can't keep up. I'm not gonna baby you." He paused long enough to catch the Morales woman's eye, waving a hand to show that the girl was coming with him. She shook her head wonderingly but waved back, the two of them already forgotten. "Hopefully, she'll tell someone where you're at if they come looking," Daryl commented sourly.

"She knows that I've helped you most days," Sophia answered brightly. "The only one who would ask is my mom and she won't mind." Her bemused expression gave him pause so he stopped and looked at her expectantly. "Momma trusts you," she confided. "She said spending time with you would be good for me."

Daryl didn't know why those bits of news made him want to laugh and cuss all at the same time. She trusted him, did she? He snorted under his breath but continued walking without further comment. If Merle could see him now, he'd never hear the end of it. Darylina would become more than an occasional taunt to get a rise out of him. He'd probably have to break the son-of-a-bitch's nose to get him to quit.

"Let's go. We're gonna lose the light if we hang around here all day," he rasped, unslinging his crossbow as he made for the tree line. "You stick close. I ain't got time to be looking for you if you get yourself lost."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Sophia returned in an exasperated tone. She stomped after him, muttering to herself. Daryl kept walking, but a smile briefly touched his lips as the words "stupid jerk" reached his ears. She definitely had spunk, that's for sure. He couldn't wait to see her reaction to the surprise he'd made up with her in mind.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

She couldn't contain the smile nor keep from skipping with every other step. The girl had a pair of squirrels tied with a length of sea grass string slung over her shoulder. Her hair clung to her neck and forehead in sweat matted clumps and she was muddy from head to toe. Her smile beamed out brighter than the lowering sun though, and her hands lovingly cradled the slingshot he'd given her.

Daryl thought long and hard before going that route. Sophia was a natural with a knife and didn't shy away from blood, despite her fragile appearance. It was different when the dead thing you were cutting into was intent on making a meal of you and not the other way around. She shied away from guns, covering her ears when one was fired close by. Time and familiarity would take care of that, but not her instinctive fear of it or rather the noise it made. Anything loud caused her to draw back, wide-eyed and pale. The first time he saw it, Daryl had to stop himself from taking his fist to her so-called Daddy. He knew what made the girl so easy to spook. He knew it all too well. The slingshot had been the simplest compromise.

He chose oak for its strength and durability, knowing from experience that the wood would hold up well. Daryl chose a branch with a natural fork just the right distance for what he intended. He tucked it close to the fire to draw out moisture and cure the wood. He poked through all the junk he and Merle carted about but couldn't find what he needed. The next best option was the RV. The old man, Dale, somehow managed to have a bit of everything in the cupboards and hideaways of his dilapidated vehicle. He approached warily, side-eyeing the man as he voiced his needs. "I need a length of tubing, something that is flexible and won't break. An old inner tube would work best but there ain't nothing like that around. You got anything?"

Dale rubbed his chin thoughtfully, pushing that stupid hat back off his forehead. "I believe I might have something you can use. Give me a minute." He disappeared into the RV, muffled thumps and bangs wafting out as he rummaged through the cabinets. "Aha," he crowed, reappearing a moment later with a small roll tucked under his arm. "Thought this might still be in there. I picked it up at a hardware store some time back. The clerk said it worked well for making lures and gigs. I've never had much luck with it but there you go." He handed it over but hesitated, his blue eyes keen beneath the brim of his cap. "Here," he proffered his other hand in which rested a worn leather belt. Daryl's brow furrowed as he looked from the belt to the man and back. "Use that for the pouch. It's old but still in good shape. It should work."

Daryl huffed out a laugh, somewhat amused that the old man had followed his train of thought so easily. He took the belt and tucked it into his pack along with the roll of tubing. "Appreciate it," he muttered. "I won't use much. You'll have the rest back before dark."

"Take what you need," Dale waved him off. "It's good thinking on your part. It won't stop anything big but will give the kids something to protect themselves. Let me know if you need anything else."

Daryl didn't correct Dale's assumption that he was going to make enough for every kid in the camp. He gathered up the rest of what he needed before heading into the woods. The pieces went together easily enough. He scooped up a few acorn husks to try it out, aiming for a gnarled knot on a nearby hickory. The cap met the bark with a muffled thud, before bouncing into the leaves and out of sight. He tested the bands, pulling and twisting them this way and that. They held true, sliding easily in the notches he'd carved in the forks. He nodded satisfied and tucked the slingshot into his pack.

"You did good," he complimented. "Real good. Just make sure that you keep it on you all the time."

She beamed back at him, hiking her shoulder to draw his attention to the squirrels. "Can we clean these before going back to camp? That Carl…he won't know what to say. I'll bet he never hunted anything in his life."

"Hold on," Daryl admonished. "We'll clean them down where I always do. I'll drop them off with the rest of the stuff. You have to tell your mom where you've been. She might be ready kick both of our asses."

"I told you that she won't," Sophia grumbled, giving him a withering look over her shoulder. "She told you it was okay to show me this stuff."

Daryl blew out an irritated breath, tossing her glare right back at her. "She said you could help me, not go rambling off into the woods. Either way, it don't matter if Carl has ever hunted. We ain't doing this to one up that punk. Got more important things to worry about, girl."

They forded a creek, stopping in the shallows to scoop up a few handfuls of rounded stones at the waterline. "These are best because they're smooth," he told her, holding it up so she could see it clearly. "Next time somebody goes to town, I'll tag along and try to round you up some marbles. Aggies would work best but they're hard to find. They give you a little more heft than creek rock will. Even the rocks might be enough to slow down a walker if you're careful about your aim."

She nodded eagerly, her rapt gaze intent on the weapon in her hand. "So I could get away if I needed to and be able to get food. That's great. Thank you, Daryl." Impulsively, she spun and wound her arms about his middle. His breath left him in a rush, frozen at the unexpected embrace. Slowly, gently, he patted her back with his free hand before easing free. "I'll be careful. I promise. I won't lose it or let anybody else fool with it." Her big blue eyes looked up at him solemnly.

He didn't answer, just gave an acknowledging nod and motioned for her to follow him. Ahead, they could see the glint of the lake through the thinning trees. He angled toward a worn path that would take them right to the water's edge. It should be deserted this time of day. They could clean up, get the game ready for cooking, and let her get in a bit of target practice before heading into camp.

They heard the others before they saw them, a jumble of raised voices that carried clearly across the water. Daryl gestured for Sophia to follow and broke into a slow jog. It wasn't likely that walkers had made it up this far without detection but in a world where the dead rose up to feed on the living, anything was possible. The first thing he saw was an old faded yellow Cherokee with the back hatch up. His gaze darted around the clearing, searching for the source of the noise. There. At the water's edge, three or four of them were clustered together like a gaggle of geese.

Sophia whimpered behind him, pulling his head around to give the girl a questioning look. Her face was pale with wide, worried eyes and her lips thin and white. Her hands shook as they clenched tightly around the haft of the slingshot. "What the fuck?" He questioned sharply. Before she could answer, a loud voice broke over them like thunder.

"You don't tell me what! I tell you what!" Ed Peletier screamed at the diminutive woman cowering before him. He batted the other women aside like flies and landed an open-handed slap to Carol's face. Her head reeled from the blow, her hand coming up automatically to cradle her battered cheek. She was swiftly pulled away by the blonde girl, Amy, who tried to assess the damage. Carol waved her away, turning back to the ensuing fight as Ed bulled his way past Miranda Morales and reached for her again.

Daryl spun toward the girl who stood frozen in her tracks as she watched the scene below unfold. Tears made muddy tracks down the girl's cheeks but she didn't make a sound. It made his blood boil to think about how many times she had seen this display. He hesitated, not wanting to leave her here but also not willing to bring her any closer than they already was. He knew he couldn't send her back to camp alone. Fuck. He caught a glimpse of Shane headed toward the women at a lope with his gun already in hand. Carl trailed along behind, his eyes huge saucers in his thin face. "Sophia, go to Shane," Daryl ordered. "Go on." She looked at him blankly, pulling a muffled curse from him as he bent down in front of her. "Go on, gal, and do what I told you. I can't leave you here and I won't let you go down there. Go on. I'll be right there after I get your momma."

"You won't let him hurt her anymore, will you?" She whispered.

He shook his head, a lump tightening his throat. "No, I won't. Now go on."

She took off toward the deputy at a run, her feet flying over the rough stones. Shane saw her coming and stopped, a hand lifting to shade his eyes. Daryl dropped everything but his knife and took off at a run toward the milling group. The women were still shielding Carol from that fucking prick. He continued to yell taunts and curses as he tried to shove his way through. Her head snapped around as another blow connected with the side of her head muffled by the sound of Ed's mocking laughter. The fucker never saw him coming as Daryl hit him full force from behind and sent him sprawling.

The bastard went to his knees in the rocky soil, his breath leaving him in startled rush. Daryl didn't stop, kicking the downed man viciously in the ribs with a booted foot. "Sorry fucking son-of-a-bitch," he spat furiously. "How does it feel, asshole? Do you like that?" Another kick to the ribs was followed by a jab to his face that brought a stream of froth-flecked red pouring from Ed Peletier's smashed lip and nose. The man mumbled in mushy, rounded syllables but Daryl paid him no mind as he waded back in with fists flying. Another punch pulled the man's head around roughly, blood splatter dusting the rocks at his feet. Ed's knees buckled, one eye swollen shut while the other stared blurrily at the furious hunter stalking toward him.

Daryl palmed his knife, sunlight dancing along the razor-sharp edge as he grabbed a handful of lank hair and forced the man to meet his eyes. "You better listen good, you fucking piece of shit, cause I'm only going to say this once. Touch her again and I'll gut you. I'll cut you up and feed what's left to the walkers. I don't give a damn what rights you think you have, but they're done. Starting now, you ain't shit to her or the girl. Blink in their direction and I won't stop next time. I will not stop. You understand?"

"Yeesh," Ed stammered, weaving drunkenly as Daryl released his hold and stepped back. The man wobbled before kneeling in the dirt, head lolling.

Daryl suppressed the urge to hit him again. Instead, he went to the place where the women stood, the other two examining the rapidly darkening bruise on Carol's face. Her red rimmed blue-gray eyes locked on his the minute he came into view. Her face suffused with fiery color, darkening the already massive bruise riding high on her cheek. As her eyes fell, so did his heart…right to the floor. He couldn't stop himself from ghosting a finger over the mark, mouth tightening as she winced. "You alright?" He asked softly. She nodded, still staring fixedly at the dusty toe of her sneakers.

"Sophia?" Her query was muffled by the sopping wet shirt Amy gently tucked into her jaw line.

"I sent her to head Shane off," Daryl returned. He jerked his head toward the younger Harrison sister. "Can you take her back to camp? I need Shane's help here." She nodded briskly and walked swiftly to where the volatile deputy hovered with his two young charges. Amy gathered them up with a smile and led them toward camp, Sophia peering over her shoulder until they rounded the bend and disappeared from view. "Will you take Carol back and stay until I get there?" Daryl gave the Morales woman a sideways look. "Make sure she keeps something on her face."

Miranda nodded her assent, putting a supporting arm around Carol's waist. "Wait," Carol entreated. She untangled her arm and wobbled back to where a visibly frustrated Daryl stood waiting. "What are you going to do with him?"

He glared at her before he could rein it in, his tone harsh and bitter as he answered. "Does it matter? Do you give a damn after all of this?"

Her back straightened, her chin lifting despite the pain that flickered across her face at the movement." It's not him that I'm worried about. He deserves what he got and more besides. Don't do anything that you'll regret, Daryl. Not on my account."

"I promised the girl I'd watch out for you," he retorted. "He won't bother you again."

Something shifted in her eyes as she looked at him. Unbelievably, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She gave him a short, sharp nod and walked away without as much as a glance at the prostrate form of her husband.

Shane dropped a hand on Daryl's shoulder as the women eased away, his other hand riding the butt of his gun. "Can't say that this sack of shit didn't deserve what you gave him," Shane commented. "Thought you were gonna beat him to death." He kicked some loose gravel in the fallen man's direction, a sneer adding an ugly curve to his lip. "If anybody ever deserved it, he does. Well, this is the last straw. I say we cut him loose and send him on his way with a clear understanding that if he shows back up, we won't be so nice the next time around."

Daryl nodded in agreement, his mood suddenly lighter despite the throbbing in his hands. He jerked his head toward the pathway winding up the hill. "Let me grab my stuff and we'll send his ass packing." He sprinted back to the spot where he'd left his crossbow and game, slinging them over his shoulder. Shane had the sack of shit on his feet by the time Daryl made it back. He stepped closer until they were practically nose to nose. "We'll drive you back to camp," he growled. "Patch you up and give you enough food and water to last for two days. I figure with a full tank of gas, that'll be enough. You hit the highway and just keep going, asshole." He noted that Shane had shifted to add his glare to the menacing one Daryl wore. "I meant what I said. They're off-limits. When you go, just keep going. There's nothing for you here."

It took both he and Shane to get the barely conscious man into the back of the Cherokee. Shane slammed the tailgate and gave Daryl an appraising look. "So you planning on becoming a family man now?"

Daryl's hand tightened on the hilt of his knife. He squinted at the deputy, trying to gauge whether the man was on the level or being a shithead. "She deserves better," he grumbled. "They both do."

Shane seemed to accept the noncommittal answer, shrugged and then slid into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. He tossed Daryl a half-smile as he climbed into the passenger seat and angled to the side to keep an eye on their cargo. "I think there's gonna be some changes when the rest get back from Atlanta," he announced.

Daryl flicked a glance toward Shane but didn't answer. He knew that things would be different from now on. He rubbed a thumb over his battered knuckles and tried to think about anything except what those changes might be.

End part 4…