Ch. 9
Daryl was kept in the infirmary for a week.
At first, it was a nightmare. Besides having the doctor buzzing around him on an hourly basis, the Governor was spending every single free moment there as well.
He wasn't being nasty or cruel or anything like that. That's what made it even weirder. He was being nice. Overly nice. He talked to Daryl about family life, and told him about how he hoped their child would grow up to be strong and smart. It would have to, to survive in the world as it was.
Daryl got the idea that if the man wasn't a complete psycho, he might've been a good parent. Hell, he probably was a fairly good parent to Penny, when she had been alive and all.
Still, there was no way that Daryl was going to let him take their child. He'd kill it, and himself, before he let that happen.
Every day, Daryl carefully watched for any options that might present themselves. A scalpel being left out, for instance. Or even just something sharp that might be within reach.
Sadly, for him at least, the doctor was extremely cautious. She cleaned everything up all the time.
As time ticked on, Daryl started to wonder if it was possible to kill himself some other way. He had been very weak before - could he starve himself to death? It might be an option. The doctor might not have the means to hook up a feeding tube. She seemed to barely have anything decent as far as medical supplies went.
Just as Daryl was thinking about that, the doctor came in. She was followed by a young woman who was pushing a cart. There was a machine on it that Daryl didn't recognize.
"What's goin' on?" He asked, eyeing them warily.
"We're going to do another ultrasound, just to make sure the baby is still alright. You'll get to see it, too."
Daryl started to protest, but both the doctor and the Governor would hear none of it. The Governor gave him the option to have the ultrasound while he was awake or unconscious - either way, it was going to happen, so Daryl shut up. He justified this mentally by telling himself that it would be good to see the proof of his pregnancy for himself.
Seeing Daryl calm, the doctor spoke up.
"Very good, Mr. Dixon. Now, I'm going to apply some gel to your abdomen. It's going to be cold. Then I'm going to use this wand to see the baby. You'll see a picture there," she pointed to a small screen on the machine. "You'll have to excuse the age of it, it was the best we could get."
Daryl wouldn't have known a new ultrasound machine from an old one, so he just shrugged.
The young girl forced a smile at him before moving to lift up his shirt. He'd been dressed in a spare set of scrubs a few days prior as there were no hospital gowns available.
Once this was done, the doctor applied the gel. Then she began to use the wand.
Daryl's eyes focused on the screen. For several seconds, things were very blurry. He couldn't make anything out. Then, the doctor seemed to find something. She began moving the wand in a very particular place.
"Here we go," she said, looking at Daryl then at the screen.
Daryl raised an eyebrow.
"It looks like a blob," he noted, but he felt unable to take his eyes off it.
It was real. This whole thing was real.
"It will look more recognizable in a few months. For now, at least, it seems like it's doing alright."
"...Good," Daryl mumbled.
A weird feeling had come over him. It was a mixture of fear, anger and… happiness.
He was going to have a kid. A real kid. Even if it had half of the Governor's genetics, it was still his too. It was someone to raise. Someone to teach to fight the good fight.
Daryl couldn't help but smile. He decided right then and there, that yes, he was still going to make sure that the Governor wasn't going to raise their child, but he wasn't going to hurt himself or the baby to get there. He would have to figure out something else.
00
At the end of the week, Daryl was released from the infirmary.
The Governor led him back up to their home. He was still being overly nice, holding doors and even supporting Daryl if the man seemed to sway from weakness in any way.
Of course, Daryl was still handcuffed. He wondered if he would be sent back to the bedroom, or what would happen now.
The Governor seemed to be on the same mental wavelength as him, because he soon began to discuss this.
"Now, Daryl, as you know, this baby… Well, it changes things."
"Obviously," Daryl replied.
The Governor smiled, and David walked out of the master bedroom. The kid had a chain in his hands.
"You'll no longer be confined to the bedroom. You will now have access to the entire house."
The kid came closer with the chain and wrapped it around Daryl's neck. He then placed two locks on it. The other end of the chain was locked to a bar that had been installed near the front entrance.
"The chain will give you enough movement to walk around freely. It stretches to about fifty feet. If you try to leave, that is as far as you will get - fifty feet."
"You've collared me up like a dog," Daryl said, stating the obvious.
He was mad about it. This was almost as demeaning as being handcuffed to the bed.
"Unfortunately you've yet to earn my trust. Maybe in time the chain will be removed. For now, though, there are some rules."
Daryl stared at him.
"The main rule is that you do as I say. As I have raised a child before, I know better than you what should be done to help the baby. If I tell you to eat, you're going to eat. If I give you vitamins, you're going to take them. If I tell you that we're going to see Dr. Stevens, then I expect you to comply and come along willingly."
So, things weren't that different than from before. Daryl would just have more room to move and food and such.
"Are we clear?" The Governor asked.
"Crystal," Daryl answered.
He could already feel his heart rate starting to speed up. He wanted nothing more than to deck his captor in the face, but he knew doing so would be pointless. David would probably take him down, and then he would face punishment yet again.
He reminded himself that he still had time. At some point during the next seven and a half months, he could probably find a way to escape.
That's what Daryl told himself, at least.