AN #1: Y'all are all so kind and supportive! It really means so much to me. :,)
Disclaimer: I do not write for or own TWD or AMC.
OoO
The girls didn't talk much after that.
Neither did the boys, but they at least attempted conversation. Tyreese tried to draw them out, and was rejected one by one.
Daryl, for his part, knew when to shut up. It was one of his few true talents, but knowing when it was better to stay silent was perhaps the most valued.
Carol distanced herself from them, walked hand in hand with her girls. Mika sniffled occasionally, and whenever she did, Carol would bring a hand to the back of her hair, and lean down and plant a slow kiss on her forehead.
Daryl didn't miss the way her eyes scrunched up, the way she bit her tongue and breathed deep. He'd seen her do it a million times, and he knew her routine. She was holding it together for them, always for them.
Judith was getting fussier and fussier as the day went on. She was tired of being held, and squirmed and squealed almost endlessly. He found himself playing a game of acrobats with her; pushing her into his shoulders, against his breastbone, cradled in the crook of his arm, on his hip.
It didn't matter. She was pissed off.
He had searched that damn diaper bag for a pacifier more times than he could count.
Lizzie kept staring at them, sending dirty looks at the baby and rolling her eyes. He found himself making faces right back at her in annoyance.
Well, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't work magic. She wanted to scream, so she was going to scream.
It was about midday when her screeching seemed to become too much for Carol. The areas to the left and right of the tracks had leveled back up into hills, and the walkers were getting more frequent, hissing and pitching forward over the edge headfirst, where Carol usually waited, her steel-knuckled knife in hand.
He felt a swell of pride every time she snarled, every time she drove that blade home. She was strong. And he had helped her find her strength.
She sheathed her knife with a grunt, turning around quickly. She walked towards Daryl with an exasperated look on her face and reached towards the baby.
He practically threw the kid at her.
Judith didn't seem to mind. She kept right on wailing, gnawing on her fingers the whole time.
Carol flipped her over into the crook of her arm and lifted her lips, looking closely and running her finger over the top of her mouth.
Judith protested loudly, whipped her little fingers at Carol and screeched angrily.
Carol sighed, turned again. She reached into the diaper bag on Daryl's arm and started rummaging around angrily, a twist in her mouth and lines in her forehead.
Daryl took the child from her gently, and handed her the diaper bag.
She sighed. "Thank you," she breathed, closing her eyes and taking a breath before looking again, this time patiently.
She came back up with a tiny tube, smiling in her small way. She motioned for Judith, and Daryl gave her to her quickly, taking the bag back to swing over his shoulder.
Carol unscrewed the tube quickly and rubbed its clear contents all over the inside of Judith's mouth, being kicked and screamed at the whole time.
But by the time she capped the tube and put it back in the bag, Judith had quieted, and the day was silent again.
There was a collective sigh of everyone in the group.
Carol handed the baby back to him and smiled again. "Just teething," she sang, taking Mika and Lizzie's hands once again.
oOo
There weren't many walkers after that.
They walked until the little girls were tripping over their own feet in exhaustion, Tyreese practically carrying Beth himself.
They slept for a few hours, Daryl on watch, and then they got up and started walking again.
Beth didn't seem to be getting any better, but Carol wasn't too worried, so he squished his apprehension and focused himself with other things.
Like Judith. His arms ached with the weight of her. He couldn't defend them at all with her in his arms, and since Tyreese had Beth on his shoulder, it was Carol who had to keep her eyes peeled, her hand on her hilt. He didn't like being so defenseless, exposed, but he didn't know what to do about it.
It wasn't easy for Judith, either. Constantly being held in sticky arms was making her crankier and crankier.
He was really tired of walking.
But he thought, to an extent, he had it easy. All he had to do was watch out for her. He didn't have to worry about Beth falling and him having to protect her in an attack. He didn't have to worry about a scared little girl and her psycho sister.
He just had a baby. That's all.
But if it somehow wound up just being them two? If they got separated or...or...something else...
He would have to think of something else. A sling, or something, to keep her on him but let his arms be free.
They turned off the tracks on the second afternoon, and got to the safe house on the second night.
They turned the corner on the vacant dirt driveway. Carol gave Lizzie a boost so she could hop over the wood fence and pop the latch, and then they were in.
The sight was bittersweet. The Civic was there, with half a tank, which either meant that someone was here and hadn't left yet, or no one had made it to this evac point.
The door was still locked, which was good. Daryl didn't remember where the key was, but Carol did, and thumbed along the underside of the porch swing for the taped key.
When she found it, they knew. No one was here.
Good and bad. Bad, that no one had made it here. It was probably where Luke had been coming for, so whoever was with him, had left with him, was either lost in the woods, or gone.
Daryl's bet was on gone. You didn't just let a little boy turn. People didn't do that.
The house was stocked with a week's worth of food for four people, and another diaper bag and a car seat.
Daryl immediately set Judith down on the floor and pulled his shoes off. They had chosen this house because it was a "green" house, with a well and a pump and solar panels. They had taken the solar panels for the prison and rigged them up to the washrooms, but the water was still on, and working.
And because it had been vacated before anyone could die here, so the house smelled like vinegar and dust, not blood and brains.
Carol immediately set to work checking the house thoroughly, making sure that all the doors were still locked, shades still drawn, and that no one (or thing) had gotten in. When she had proved to herself that they were safe for the time being, she ushered the girls into a bathroom to shower, and took their clothes with her to the sink.
Tyreese laid Beth down on one of the couches, and then laid down himself. He could hear their duel snoring almost immediately.
Judith, for her part, was crawling all over the place, under the table, by the useless tv, staring up in awe at a sight she had never before seen.
A house. Couches. Windows with curtains instead of bars.
Carol finished with the girl's clothes and went into one of the back bedrooms for replacements.
By the time she was done with them, every single one was moderately clean and had on new (if ill-fitting) clothes.
Carol's clothes fit alright, as did Lizzie's, but Mika's were too big, Daryl's too big, and Tyreese's too small.
It didn't matter. They were clean, and now they could eat and rest, and then head out in the morning.
OoO
They crashed in various places that night. Tyreese and Beth stayed where they had been, and Carol took Mika and Lizzie in the master bedroom with her.
Which left Daryl and Judith. Again.
He loved the kid, he did, but he needed a break. He really needed a break.
Not to mention, he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about sleeping in a bed with her. There was nothing weird about it, he just…it was a baby. He wasn't the kind of guy that snuggled up with babies and sung lullabies.
It was different, back out on the tracks. He didn't have to think about it.
But what if he rolled onto her? What if she smothered herself on the pillows?
There was a black hole of anxiety rolling in his gut. He couldn't leave her, because what if, by some freak accident, something got in?
What if Lizzie got out?
He just didn't like it. He wasn't capable of this, he just knew he wasn't.
So when he felt a knock on the door, he almost cried with relief. Judith was sleeping peacefully (on her back) under the thin quilt.
Carol peeked her head in, looked past where Daryl sat at Judith on the bed. She smiled, her eyes crinkling up at the edges. She assessed the situation, and then padded into the room on socked feet. She crawled over him onto the bed and tucked herself into the covers beside Judith, who sighed in her sleep and started sucking fervently on her fingers.
Daryl gulped, his mind racing a little. What was she doing here? Where was he supposed to sleep now?
Maybe he could just conk out right here. He was tired enough.
He leaned his head back on the mattress, sighed and closed his eyes.
"Lizzie and Mika were kicking me," Carol whispered.
He felt himself laugh more than he thought it was funny. She just made him so damn nervous.
He didn't know what to think, so he didn't say anything.
There were a couple minutes of silence at that, so long that he was sure she had fallen asleep.
And then: "I'm going to win, you know," she murmured coyly.
He jumped at her words, then turned his head to try and see her.
It was useless. It was dark out, and they had the shades drawn to ward off unwelcome visitors.
"Win what?" he questioned roughly, covering his nerves with annoyance.
"This war of attrition. You're going to get too tired, or too uncomfortable, or you're going to see a spider and come crawling up here with your tail between your legs," she clipped out matter-of-factly.
He scoffed. "I ain't afraid of no spiders," he answered incredulously.
"Mm-hm. We'll see," she sang.
He didn't answer, but thirty minutes later he was still awake, his neck hurt, and he kept feeling like things were crawling on him.
Lots of creepy crawly things, covering him and winding their way into his mouth and nose and swallowing him whole, their little red x's shining like devil's eyes in the night.
He knew it wasn't real. Knew it was just his exhaustion playing tricks on his mind.
Blood in his nose.
Screaming in the living room.
Tears running down his face.
He swallowed deep, felt their little black legs run prickly and stinging down his throat.
Not now. I ain't doin' this now.
He breathed them in, breathed them in down into the crevasses and orifices of his lungs, felt them make nests down there.
Something sticky under the bed.
A stack of baby books in the corner.
Dirty fingernails, pushing things away, trying to hide as deep as possible beneath the frame.
He felt something deep inside him clawing to get out. They were hatching, breaking free, they were growing and now they were coming out of him to eat him again, eat him from the inside out, and all that would be left of him were his bones.
Knocking the books over with a slap, a cloud of dust invading his nose and mouth as a swarm, a hive, a pack of black things tore towards him, huge, black, with little red x's on their back.
He couldn't scream. He couldn't let him know where he was, he had promised Merle he would hide, wouldn't make no noise.
He had promised and he had swore and Mama had always told him it was a sin to break a promise.
But they were coming for him to eat him and they were in his hair and his ears and crawling over his Superman pajamas and they were going to kill him.
But he couldn't move, the screaming was getting closer, the yelling was getting louder, the banging of bone against drywall was echoing across the world, the entire world was shaking, and he couldn't move because he had promised and his Mama said, his mama said, his mama said, and Merle was taking care of him now.
He laid there and let them tear across him, and he didn't move, didn't breathe, stayed still and quiet as a ghost and covered his ears and closed his eyes.
And then the noise was there, that terrible voice was there, and it was all for nothing, it didn't matter, he had found him.
Merle tore him from under the bed, lifted up the window and tossed him out onto the grass. There was a shadow in the hallway behind the room, he was coming, the noise was coming.
He stuck out his finger, his finger he still had, where the nail was torn. There was red, so much red, pouring from his nose and his eyes and his mouth, and he bellowed at the top of his lungs for him to run, go, hide, leave here and don't come back, that he'd come and find him, promise, swear, go, be quiet.
He shook the spiders from where they clung to his shirt sleeves and ran, ran, ran until he couldn't run any more.
oOo
He came out of it hyperventilating. The fear had his heart clutched in its iron fist and would not, never would, release him.
He clutched at the quilt behind him, gasping, squeezing his eyes shut so he didn't have to see what might be there, what was there. He strained against the need to scream, the need to yell and run and get away get away get away.
He felt a hand on his fist, jumped at the contact. Carol hushed him softly, slowly unwound his fingers, put hers in his. She pulled softly on his hand, and he slowly stood, clambered on the bed, buried his face in the pillow and breathed deep, tried desperately to calm his racing heart.
"It's okay," he heard her murmur. "It's alright. Everything's okay. You're here. It's okay."
He nodded his head into the pillow, breathed again, tried to shed the spiders from under his skin, tried to breathe without them crawling up inside him and eating him alive.
She traced his scars with her other hand the way she had the night before, and the effect was so different. Before, it had been nice, if strange. Tonight, it was the only thing keeping him whole, the only thing keeping him from going back into his childhood, never to resurface. The only thing keeping him sane, this feeling so starkly separate and different from anything he had ever felt.
He slept.
OoO
AN #2: I know this was slow guys, and I'm sorry. I'm going to try and write the next one fast to keep this story going. :)
