(A/N: YAAAAAYYY! The last re-write is finally here. This was always a filler chapter so it's not so exciting but hopefully still well receieved. There's a lot about the last part that I changed to try and make it a little more interesting so please guys, I want lots of feedback on this!
Also, I probably will not have the next one up until late in the week if at all before the finale. Sad I know but I just sarted a new job here in addition to my current job and I have a busy early week to contend with! Promise things pick up from here so hopefully it'll make up for a bit of a wait…it won't be too long though, I promise!)
Chatpter Nine: Vatos Pt. Nine
Coming down from the intensity of a fully armed stand off, no matter how brief it happed to be, was not exactly the easiest in the world. Settling rattled nerves and trying to stem the kick of adrenaline that had everyone right up on edge wasn't exactly the quickest process to go through either. Then there was the fact that what had just happened couldn't be considered any less bizarre and confusing and it was quite safe to say there wasn't any of the group that wasn't experiencing some level of sensory overload. Of all the possible out comes the convergence had to offer, it was safe to say neither faction would have ever predicted such a closing.
Sixty seconds, and a little old lady was all it took to blow the gang's tough as nails facade right out of the water. She'd exposed the men collectively for what they were, survivors, and good men about as likely to beat, maim or kill anyone as much as Rick and the others were. All anyone had any more was a good game to talk in order to get their way, it was easy to look and sound tough when the need came about. The Vatos, as it were, were apparently no different and when push came to shove they hoped they wouldn't need to follow up on ominous threats as much as those who were being threatened. Glenn was safe and sound, and presumably had never even been in any real danger at all. The irony of the matter was that in actually Glenn, as a hostage had been far and beyond much safer than any of the rest of them had been walking into the situation at hand.
Daryl decided just then, right as they crossed an inner courtyard towards Glenn's location, that he was going to give the Chinaman a what for when they got back to camp. Stomping over deadened grass, he mulled over just how badly he would chew the little punk out for putting everyone else under so much stress and making them expend so much time and energy that could be better spent elsewhere. Never mind all that, to walk away from things and head back to the quarry having given away half the guns and ammo was outright ridiculous considering the little pain in the ass had most likely been sitting pretty and playing some sort of make shift checkers the whole time. They were the ones who had worried to the point of giving themselves ulcers over his well being while Glenn himself had probably been on cloud nine the entire time. For that, there was sure to be an exchange of words.
The only good thing to come out of the matter, if he could call it that, was a realization Daryl would continue to be floored by even if he were pre-warned about it a dozen times in a row. Rick was right, in order to get out alive and on top of anything they were facing, they needed to take it on together. There wasn't anything quite like being out numbered that they had been in the ambulance bay to drive that point home. Daryl and his brother had burned a lot of bridges in their self-imposed ostracizing. They'd put a lot of effort into fashioning themselves as the outsiders, only out to watch each others backs unless they had need to take advantage of the group for their own personal gain.
From day one, Daryl himself had managed to establish himself as the one who was too hot headed and unpredictable to get all too close to. A volatile and shifty son of a bitch that couldn't be trusted further than he could be thrown, who didn't give a fuck about anyone other than himself. It might have been that it was Merle's influence on him. Maybe it was one of many deep seeded issues that was the cause of it, there was no way in telling for sure but for the longest time that had been the only way Daryl had know how to be, and certainly it was still the only way he was fully comfortable with being. Things had shifted however, and with the chances of finding his brother growing slimmer by the second, much to Daryl's chagrin he had to admit that the quarry was where his people were. And they were his people now, all of them. That didn't mean he had to like them, and it was doubtful he would pull an about face over night, but the time in which self isolation was an option was quickly coming to a close. Daryl had to get figure out a way to get along, even if each and every one of them just so happened to grate on his last nerve.
Analeigh shuffle stepped and half hobbled through the terrace, trying her best to keep up with Daryl, whose strides were much longer than her own. He pulled her along behind him, grip still steadfast around her wrist having taken hold of her again as they'd set off in search of Glenn. Sheer instinct undoubtedly, a little extra insurance and piece of mind that she was being kept out of harms way as much as possible if something got stirred up again. It was the longest, and the closest for that matter, that they pair had kept in each other's company and for however oblivious Daryl was of the fact, Analeigh was made all the more aware.
"I think you can let go of me now." She winced slightly, taking an odd step, jarring her injured leg just enough to send a sharp pang of pain up it's length.
"Huh?" He tightened his grip and hauled her up slightly as she faltered in her footing.
"My wrist…. I think you can let go." Analeigh repeated. "I don't think they're gonna try nothin' or anythin'"
"You might be right...might not be though."
Daryl halted in his tracks and slipped his fingers from around her.
"Guess we'll see won't we?"
"Guess so."
Analeigh rubbed at her wrist, easing the slight ache of the skin where he had held on to her just a little too tightly.
He fixed on her again, a dead stare she could feel intently scanning her, testing her even, searching for some sort of reaction she wasn't even sure she wanted to give. She hated that stare, everything about it. She hated the way it froze her to the spot and the way it made her feel so vulnerable, exposed even. She hated the intensity in those blue eyes, so predatory in nature it was hard to tell if he was downright glaring at her or keeping her in his sights just long enough to get in her head. Whatever the case may be Daryl undoubtedly had the uncanny ability to set every bit of Analeigh on edge.
"Best keep close anyway." He took a second look around the terrace. Gnawing on his thumbnail anxiously, he tried to sort out just how much trust he wanted to relinquish to any of the men they still knew so little about. "Do yourself a favor and don't go wanderin' nowhere."
"I know…I won't."
"Good." He shifted on his heel and moved off towards the staircase the others had already made their way up. "'Cause I ain't coming after you if you do."
Barring the fact that it was abandoned, run down, and run through, on the inside, the hospital was everything it was meant to be. Quiet, calm, and in an odd way even comforting, even with the windows boarded shut and the doors solidly welded shut from the inside. Standing within it's walls, there was little that gave even the slightest indication that anything having had gone horribly wrong in the world outside it's sanctuary. No broken glass, no splintered wood or holes broken through the dry wall. There was no assorted debris, scattered trash, or any degree of disarray whatsoever. Inviting and infinitely more livable than was to be expected, the hospital was stark in its contrast to the office tower.
Whatever may have happened within the hospital walls when the outbreak had first hit, there had been a concerted effort to clean or repair anything left damaged and disrupted. The rooms within were full of people learning to live the best way they knew how despite the upheaval they'd had no choice but to go through. Home was where the heart was and if this was to be their home then it only make sense to restore a sense of comfort and safety for those who were stuck without anywhere else to go. They were making the best of their situation as they went along while a the same time doing whatever they could to improve upon what was presented to them as their new life. That as the difference to Analeigh between herself and them. That was the difference between living, and just merely existing, and what she had been doing could barely even be considered the latter.
Reaching the end of a long corridor, a crowd of people gathered in some sort of common room soon came into sight with Glenn's red hat leaping out distinctly from the crowd of dressed down residents. He was blessedly without so much as a scratch on him in and smack the middle of the array of people gathered around an elderly gentlemen in a wheel chair.
"What the hell is this?" Rick asked.
"An asthma attack." Glenn replied, wrought with concern as the man fought for every breath he managed to sputter out. "He couldn't get his breath all of the sudden."
"I think he meant what is all this." Analeigh twirled her finger about, gesturing at the room and the current happenings. Phillpe had cut through the pack and was attending to the man with more care and compassion she would have ever imagined based on first impressions. "Can't speak for anyone else but it's not somethin' I expected to walk on into."
"We thought you were being eaten by dogs, man!" T-Dog chimed in, naturally relieved but more than just a little put out by the conditions at hand.
"Not exactly." Glenn smirked and gestured to a small dog bed tucked against the base of one of the tables and filled with three tiny Chihuahuas. As far as vicious man eating hell spawn went, they were more likely to be more of a nuisance than take a chomp out of him, small stature aside.
"Not exactly seems to be the running theme 'round here…you're supposed to be a hostage and you're not even tied up."
"Can I have a word with you?" Rick interrupted the reunion and steered G. aside from the group. "You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met. We walked in ready to kill every last one of you."
"I'm glad it didn't go down that way."
"If it had, that blood would be on my hands."
"Mine too." G. insisted. "We'd have fought back, it wouldn't be the first time we had to…protect the food, the medicine, what's left of it. These people, the old ones, the staff took off…just left them here to die. Me and Phillipe were the only ones who stayed.
"What are you?" Rick tried to piece together a little more information. "Doctors?"
"Phillipe's a nurse, a special care provider…me, I'm the custodian."
"Dude that's a nurse…" Daryl smirked to himself.
"Is there something wrong with that?" Rick questioned the impromptu insinuation. Now wasn't the time or the place to be stirring the pot or rather, re-stirring it for that matter.
"Just sayin'."
"You 'just say' a lot of things." Analeigh muttered from the sidelines. "Doesn't mean your words or your opinions mean dick all."
"You'd know all about that." Daryl bit back under his breath.
"Really?" Rick huffed, enough edge in his voice to convey the fact that the time for verbal sparring was certainly not in the middle of trying to sort out new circumstances and forge new allies. "You can't even hush up for five minutes?"
Analeigh opened her mouth to complain only to think better of it before apologizing with a heavy sigh and a dirty look tossed Daryl's way.
"We do what we can to help…to take care of them." his explanation "It's not much, and it's getting harder but it's the least we can do…it's the least anyone could do…and a lot more than most people now a days would do."
Rick took a moment to fully appreciate what exactly it was the men were risking. The world had gone straight to hell in a hand basket and he was certain that the majority of the population had gone along for the ride. But the fact that there were some people still willing to forego the luxury of safety, and put their necks on the line for those who could not meant that there was still something left worth fighting for. The rest of the world may have been a wash, but was long as there were people like this, like Morgan, and like Glenn and the others as bad as things got there was still a chance. As long as people were willing to uphold something of a normal decent life meant that a fresh start wasn't completely out of the picture yet if they could continue to rise above and survive.
"You say your friend's a nurse?" Rick cocked his head to the side slightly. "He know how to stitch a wound?"
Ending up in a make shift hospital was apparently the best outcome that Analeigh could have hoped for in the long run of things; even if she didn't care to admit it. Whether she wanted to keep firm handle on her denial or actually relent and admit it, like it or not her leg was in bad need of medical attention from somebody who knew what they were doing. The act of getting said attention, however, was nothing she was overtly thrilled with.
Her mood wasn't what anyone could have called the greatest to begin with. What was bad only further spiraled into what could only be considered god-awful after Rick had more or less gently enforced the issue of seeing to getting her leg tended. He apparently thought it was a preferable idea at the very least, and basically a necessity if she were to venture back and stay at camp with them. For what it was worth Analeigh didn't relish the thought of having to dig even small amounts of dirt and grit out of an open wound on a daily basis either, especially without anesthetic. That aside, anything that was about to be done to her leg in the relative cleanliness of the hospital didn't exactly inspire eager willingness to let Phillpe have at. Memories of stitching her own wound were still fresh in her mind as something that nobody wants to have to do twice. With the flesh now even more tender when the wound was fresh, Analeigh wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the process. At least when she had been sewing herself up there was some sense of control that she had managed to retain, hardly the way things would be with having it done for her. She had trusted Rick to help her out and everything had turned out fine and dandy. Walking into a completely different situation and putting trust in yet another person she didn't know from a hole in the wall didn't do anything to set her at ease either. Rationally Analeigh knew full well the threats made towards her in first meeting the men had been empty and disingenuous. But at the same time what residual trauma of the things she'd experienced at the hands of strange men previously didn't allow much in the way of reasonable and rational thought process.
Rick had, however, assured her that she wouldn't be left alone while being dealt with. While he and T-Dog had taken the guns and went to discuss matters with G. in a room just down the hallway, Glenn and Daryl had been appointed Analeigh's personal bodyguards (for lack of a better term). Neither of them seemed to keen on their assigned task for the day of course. Glenn on account of being on the heavier side of a little squeamish, and Daryl (as per usual) just plain put out for the sake of being plain put out.
"God…" Glenn grimaced as he took a peek at the exposed wound primed and ready to be treated. "How has your leg not actually turned black and fallen of?"
"Dumb luck most likely." Analeigh snapped. "How the hell should I know?"
"Dude…" He wrinkled his nose and turned three shades of green. "That is gross."
"You're the one that keeps lookin' at it."
"I wish I knew why…but I can't look away."
"Ain't even your leg." Daryl chortled. "You can't man up a bit?"
"I don't see you takin' a gander." Analeigh snarked.
"Don't gotta to know I've seen worse." He shot back. "Hell I've had worse."
"Sure you have."
"What…you wanna see the scars."
Analeigh huffed and rolled her eyes. Everything had to be a pissing contest with Daryl, like he was trying to prove something to someone, anyone who would listen. In a way it was almost as sad as it was irritating, the way he stormed around with his back up looking to pick a fight over just about anything as if that would lend him some sort of validation. It was like he was a neglected kid, acting out in all manners to get some small scrap of attention that never came his way. Maybe he'd been hurt too deeply to ever recover, maybe that was the reason all he knew was to lash out and overreact. Maybe he had always been that way, or maybe he was overcompensating on account of unforgiving conditions. There were layers upon layers of issues to be dissected at any rate and at the end of the day, the more time she spent around Daryl, the more Analeigh got the impression they weren't at all so very different; not that he would ever have mind to hear it.
"You can stop pacin' any time now." She grumbled, narrowed gaze trailing him too and fro as he moved back and forth over the span of the small exam room. "Ain't like I ain't already nervous enough as is. Watching you put a track in the floor ain't helping a damn bit."
"Yeah, well…you ain't the only one wound up around here. I got shit on my mind too."
"And what would that be exactly?"
"Merle." Glenn replied for him. "Anything else doesn't exactly count in Daryl's world."
"That or maybe ya'll are too busy assuming I don't give a rat's ass to notice otherwise."
"He's here ain't he?" Analeigh came to his defense. "Far as I can tell, nobody put a gun to his head to come and help you out of a bind…or what everyone thought was a bind. Maybe some people just take longer to figure out how play nicely with everyone else…don't mean they won't ever, or that they don't care."
"Whatever."
"If you can't care about family…who can you care about?" She brushed off his disregard for her statement as quickly as he had hers. "I got a brother…two actually. I get it….believe me I do."
Daryl's demeanor slipped slightly and with a slowed pace he snuck downcast glimpse in her direction. "If you got a brother then why ain't you with him now?"
"I think we best leave that story for another day." Analeigh smiled wistfully, unspeakably thankful any further explanation was suddenly interrupted by Phillipe's return.
Antiseptic wipes, a small pair of scissors, some long medical tweezers, and a ream of fresh gauze were all lined up on the sterile stainless steel tray in his grasp. Nothing out of the ordinarily or particularly intimidating looking and yet somehow at the same time, an array of items nothing less than ominous to Analeigh's eyes, perhaps with very good reason.
"I can't close it up again, not without risk of infection." He informed her apologetically. "The tissue's already red and inflamed, which means it might be already but at least if it's open it'll have the chance to drain; you'll need to keep close watch on it."
"Drain?" Glenn blanched slightly and gripped at his stomach as several nauseating images flashed through his mind.
"Oh for cryin' out loud." Analeigh muttered under her breath.
"Be thankful it ain't him in your place." Daryl cracked a rare grin at Glenn's expense. "Got a splinter in the heel of his hand and we had to listen to him bitch about it for three days."
"Hey, it was a big splinter okay?"
"Oh I'm sure my heart's bleedin' for you." She gibed with an amused smile of her own.
"These have to come out." Phillipe gestured towards the remaining sewing thread laced through and barely holding Analeigh's flesh together.
"That's fine." She shrugged. "I promise you, so long as you can make it better I ain't complainin'."
"Yeah, well…you might…it's not gonna feel good."
"Wasn't really expectin' it to."
Leaning back in the chair, Analeigh took a deep breath grabbed herself a good hold firm of the vinyl padding on the arms.
Phillipe snapped on a latex glove and pulled the tray towards himself. "You need to stop, go ahead and say so."
"Just get on and get it done with."
A cool splash of disinfectant against her skin and there was little Analeigh could do in the way of backing out now. A clink of metal on metal as Phillipe pulled the scissors from the tray and slipped them beneath the thread of the first suture. Where the blades should have been cool and smooth to the touch against her skin, torn edges around the wound still tender to the touch meant all she could feel was harsh, rough heat that spread like wildfire across nerve endings.
Phillipe snipped the thread and slid his scissors upwards, snipped again and slid upwards. The higher up the scissors slipped, the more tender the flesh was. Each light graze of metal, and the pull of the dried blood cracking away from itself as the wound spread open made Analeigh want to crawl out of her skin. Scissors were swapped out for tweezers and as Phillipe tugged out the first scrap of thread, she bit back a gasp and held her breath; he slowly tugged out the other piece and she tensed again, fingernails cutting little crescent moon indents in the arm rest of the chair.
"Are you okay?" Glenn peered sympathetically from beneath the brim of his hat, noting her discomfort.
"Just peachy, thanks."
Another tug and she squeezed the chair a little harder.
"If you need to stop…" Phillipe offered.
"I don't." Analeigh grit her teeth as he took grip on another piece of thread. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."
The thread slipped through the wound a little and lodged itself stuck.
"The sooner we get this over with…" She winced as the nurse tugged at the thread again. "The sooner we can go lookin' for Daryl's brother."
Phillipe wiggled the string a little, freeing the flesh around it and working it bit by bit through it's puncture site.
"The sooner we can go lookin' for Daryl's brother, the sooner we can get the hell outta dodge…and the sooner we get the hell out of dodge…" Analeigh sucked a breath in and with a yank the sliver of thread with a little knotted end pulled free from her leg. "The sooner I can sit happy as a goddamn clam and forget all of this…heal up a little…maybe work my way back home after things die down a little."
"Might be holdin' your breath a while on that." Daryl muttered from the corner of the room, clearly having been made uncomfortable himself by the impromptu medical procedure.
"You never know."
"Two down…" Phillipe tapped his tweezers on the side of small tin in the middle of his tray and prepared for the next extraction. "Twelve to go."
"For shit's sake." Analeigh whined. "Please don't count."
Leg already throbbing as it was, she gripped the chair again and took a moment to ready herself as well.
"Plannin' on finding your brothers?" Daryl asked quietly.
"Who said they're missin'?"
"You're here…they're not." He retorted. "Chances are one way or the other somone's missin'."
"Funny thing really…the way you actually sound interested…"
"I was only askin'."
Analeigh dropped her head slightly. "Like you actually care."
"Why are you so sure I don't." Daryl's expression soured as if he took her words as an actual affront.
"Because I ain't stupid…you care about anything I have to say all of the sudden…sure, I believe that alright…"
"Forget it." He spat, gentled disposition done a way with just as soon as it had settled in. "I Try to be nice for a change…"
"Why's it even any of your business?"
"I said, fine…fuck it."
"I know where my family is…" She caved and gave him a scrap of what he was apparently so desperate to know if for no other reason than to shut him up and put an end to what was tantamount to a bratty child's temper tantrum. "Since you're so damn eager to know…I put them in the ground myself…"
Daryl stiffened and cursed under his breath. Any bridge built with Analeigh, however slight and however shaky it may have been, now stood shattered once again. He'd have said something if he knew just what words to offer, but much as skill with niceties, his apologies more often than not left something to be desired. All he could do was turn to face her, a crumpled mess of a girl forced again to scratch the surface of wounds as deep and painful as that which marred her physically. A crumpled girl still settled on the examining chair with new tears collecting at the corners of woeful eyes with her voice falling barely above a whisper.
"Satisfied?"