Disclaimer: Not mine. :(
Notes: Thanks to Angelinaa for Beta work, and to the readers (as always) for sticking with this story and for all the amazing feedback they give! :)
Chapter Eleven
(Daryl's POV)
Mika stares at him in the low light chewing her bottom lip so hard he's surprised she hasn't drawn blood. She turns to Carol beside her again face blanching. "I don't think I can do this."
Carol ruffles her hair soothingly. "Yes you can; I know you can."
"She's gonna know, I'll mess everything up."
"We'll uh we'll be downstairs." Glenn grabs Maggie's hand pulling her away trying to ease some of the tension giving the little girl less of an audience; no matter how much they all want to hear her voice; reassure themselves that Carl is alive.
"Us too." Sasha nods her head to Beth who looks only too glad to leave unlike everyone else.
Girl needs to get over whatever the Hell her problem is with Fin Daryl scowls.
She can't still be mad at Fin for taking Carl away. He didn't even think Beth and Carl were all that close to begin with… Beth was friendly with Carl sure; but she always seemed to be putting distance between them; trying to identify herself with the adults of the group and not the kids. He watches her scowl as she gets up, maybe it's because she takes care of Judith feels like she has to carry the resentment for Rick who's too pre-occupied getting his son back.
He watches her stomp after Sasha staring at him over her shoulder mouth puckered in annoyance before jerking her head back around pony tail swinging behind her head.
He doesn't understand the hostility she's shown the last few weeks more and more openly on her face anytime someone talks about Fin coming back. Knowing that Fin took Carl to save his life; how Beth can possibly still be upset over that when Rick has let it go completely astounds him. Beth's always been a little emotional; back at the farm especially; she'd been beyond sheltered; catered too by her Father unprepared for the harsh reality the world had become… but in the prison she seemed to really grow up; toughen up… found a place in the family, adapting.
This enraged hostility doesn't make sense to him. He's sick of this passive aggressive shit. He's half a mind to corner her and ask her just what the fuck is stuck in her craw; girl stomps around looking like someone pissed in her cornflakes almost daily.
Carol speaking again draws his attention back to the rest of the group. "You'll be fine Mika, just ask her how Carl is just like yesterday and pretend we're not here." Carol is still trying to sooth her nerves.
She stares at them. "But you are here."
He watches Carol try to hide her smile, lips twitching slightly. "What time do you usually talk?"
"It's just always after everyone goes to sleep. It's not specific." She stares down at her shoes the Walkie clenched white knuckle tight in her lap.
"Well it's dark now, I could be asleep; we all could be especially since you can tell her we're checking the woods for her again tomorrow."
"But you said…"
"I know, but she might ask. She already knows we've been looking for her, it doesn't make sense for us to just stop. She'd question that more, okay?" Mika nods slowly.
"Yeah, okay." She turns the dial on the walkie with two fingers, clicking the switch while the green light flashes. "Everybody be quiet."
Rick grins quickly bringing his hand to his mouth to cover it. Michonne looks away hiding a smile.
"Fin? Fin are you there?" A burst of static follows her voice, then nothing for a few minutes.
"Maybe it's too early." They're all just so anxious to try to narrow down where they might be; searching one hospital location is going to be tricky enough without anyone getting hurt; they don't want to start with the wrong one.
"She usually doesn't answer right away. Sometimes I think she's not in the same room." Mika explains looking at Carol.
"We can try again later…"
There's a sudden burst of static from the walkie in Mika's lap making her jump like the plastic box might bite her. Carol lays a steadying hand on her shoulder all their eyes going wide when they hear the voice.
"Fin can't talk right now, please try your call again later."
Rick's head snaps up. Michonne grabs his bicep in both hands whether to remind herself not to talk or him Daryl isn't sure.
"Carl!" Mika's grin is ecstatic.
"You were expecting maybe James Bond?" His voice sounds raspy he coughs after he speaks before letting the button go silencing it.
Mika's face scrunches in concern. "I thought you weren't sick?"
They wait silently all but holding their breath for his answer.
"I'm not. Turns out having a tube shoved down your throat for a few weeks kinda hurts."
"He was intubated; they are definitely at a hospital." Michonne is whispering to Rick who nods hand rubbing over his mouth taking in the knowledge of just how sick his son was: how close to death he had to be for the last few weeks for Fin to intubate him; for her to need a machine to breath for him, he must have been closer to death then he was on Hershel's farm after he was shot not so long ago.
"They'd have to have power to run something like that." Michonne is nodding at Rick's assessment. "We need to look for signs that one of those locations has a generator running."
"Might not be running anymore if he's awake." Carol reminds them.
"She's too smart to make it that obvious." Rick stares at him, nodding slowly right before Mika shushes them all urgently holding a hand up to silence them face deadly serious.
"How are you feeling?" she asks when they're acceptably quiet once more.
Static.
Then; "Like I got chewed on, I'm gonna have some awesome scars."
Mika pushes her button again. "I heard Maggie tell Glenn the other day that 'Chick's dig scars' so I wouldn't worry about it."
Carl must push the button on his end but he's laughing too much to talk, starts coughing which cuts off abruptly with a beep and clack of static.
Mika stares at Carol lips pursed "Was that funny?"
It takes them a second to stop laughing. The relief of hearing Carl's voice making them all feel a bit high.
"Where's Fin, is she there?" Mika asks next.
"She's passed out still. I don't think I've ever seen her look so exhausted." Even Carl's voice scratchy as it sounds is laced with concern. It's like a punch to his gut. Their eyes all turn to him, he can feel them. He keeps his eyes on Mika; holds her gaze willing her to ask what he needs to know.
"Is she okay? Is she hurt?"
The long pause before Carl answers her questions claws at him, twists his insides tighter with anxious guilt.
"Not on the outside, she's just…she's so sad. I just woke up yesterday, so I haven't seen a whole lot but she's just…" there's a beep a burst of static while he tries to swallow and can't and everyone is staring down at their hands now or at the floor. Except Mika who just stares back at him silently.
"She says she's fine…but she doesn't look fine. She looks worse than she did after Lizzie…" Carl's voice trails off while he coughs roughly for a moment still holding his button down instead of cutting off the connection. He clears his throat before he continues every word only making it worse; twisting the knife in Daryl's chest deeper, the pain growing rapidly sharper; piercing straight through to his back so intense he can barely breathe around it.
"I don't think she's been eating much either; I ate today but she barely touched anything… she's been sleeping since early afternoon, but she's not sleeping well… she was screaming about an hour ago, and twice before that… I tried to wake her up but I couldn't so I left her alone until she stopped… I had to go out in the hall it got so bad, I couldn't take it anymore…"
Mika's eyebrows are drawn tight over her eyes she chews her lip looking physically pained for her friend. "She's having nightmares?"
Daryl remembers her nightmares ages ago; the violence of them. Having to shake her awake calling her name in the darkened loft of a cabin in the woods while Rick and Carl and Beth pretended to still be asleep… far as he knew she hasn't had them since the farm…He'd thought destroying those monsters had finally obliterated the horrors that haunted her at night…
"It's worse than that," Carl tells them voice laced with pain. "People being ripped apart don't sound like that… she's just…broken."
No one speaks for a long moment on either end.
There's a muffled sound on his end of the line and Carl tells Mika to "Hang on,"
Then clear as day her voice unmistakably upset. "Carl! What the Fuck are you Doing?!"
"Watch your Mouth Finny! It's just Mika Relax!"
More muffled sounds and her voice gets louder; closer. "I told you not to get up! Get your ass back in bed before you fall! And then I swear to God I will so beat your ass!"
Carl scoffs "You can't beat me I'm mortally afflicted remember?"
"I'll show you mortally afflicted in about five seconds!"
"What are you my mother?!"
There's a dismissing snort. "Thank God no, rotten kid I'd have to beat your ass everyday…"
"You do know I'm taller then you right?! And if I WAS your kid I'd beat my own ass, God the horror…I'd probably be a Ginger too…"
There's a smacking sound and the sharp bark of Carl's laughter and Carl's voice barking "Eh, Bite Me!" through the laughter and then an emphatic "I don't like left overs!" followed by more laughing and then severe coughing and a burst of static.
When the walkie beeps again it's still Carl speaking voice rougher then it was moments before. "I have to go now Mika, Finny's got a few weeks of saved up snark she's gonna let me have, and apparently that's supposed to be scary…"
"I'll show you scary…"
"You don't scare me I know Daryl!"
There's silence on both ends except for Carl's breathing. "I'm sor…"
"DON'T YOU EVER BRING HIM UP CARL GRIMES! EVER!"
"I'm Sorry! Fin!"
Carl must let go of the button because it goes silent, they wait for half an hour but neither one of them comes back.
When he lies down to get away from them some time later he knows he'll never sleep; not tonight. He should have just taken watch from Tyreese. At least on the roof he could pretend there was something he was supposed to be doing.
Laying here trying to ignoring the sound of Rick and Michonne still talking about plans on the other side of the thin plastic walls of the shed is pointless…
At least their talking tonight and not… He tries not to think about the other sounds he knows he's heard from the Rick's room the last few weeks… muffled or not he knows those sounds… he wants to be happy for them.
He should be happy they finally figured each other out… He wants to feel anything but the way he feels lately… The knots in his insides twist, his eyes burn in the darkness thinking of her. At the briefest glimpse into what her life would be like if they did nothing; left her and Carl to find their own way…both of them safe from Walkers; laughing and joking like she did with Luke…
He could almost believe she'd be okay without him.
Except for the nightmares; and Carl's words flooding his insides with the sharp rush of distress, fanning the dull ache in his chest.
She's just…Broken.
Broken because she left?
Broken because she decided not to come back?
He stares up into the darkness over his head for long hours elbows braced against his sides on the mattress twisting and turning the long since frayed lock of braided hair he carries every day in his pocket right next to the letter with her words; aware it might be the last tangible thing he has of her.
Possibly the last words she'll ever tell him; at least they're written down so he can hold them in his hand; read them again and again…even if they burn; ache all the way to his bones.
She loved him… no woman had ever said that to him…Hell no one had ever uttered those words to him in his whole damn life; not in his memory.
She Loved him…swore it was true and left him anyway.
He thinks of her outburst at Carl, at his stumbled apology…
If she can't even stand the sound of his name…his throat tightens.
How is that love?
How can this crippling ache gnawing at his insides be the same euphoric high he'd lost himself in, reveled in every moment he could mere weeks before?
Maybe if he could sleep he'd see it in his dreams too. The raw pain morphed into images that he's confident could rival the ones tormenting her; he'd be the one torn to pieces on that asphalt road…
He keeps his breathing slow and even ignoring the expanding tightening pressure behind his ribs the sensation squeezing each breath he draws; presses into his chest sitting over his heart like a lead weight.
By the time the sun rises, he's beyond exhausted but the time for sleeping is over.
He's going out today no matter what.
:: Walking Dead ::