AFishNamedSushi - Well, thank you very much for your kind review. I'm glad you understand that Merle isn't just the 'bad guy' as well. I'm kind of sad to see him portrayed as the stereotypical villain in a lot of fanfictions. And not just because I hate him, all villains have their reasons for being 'bad' and Merle certainly could have many hidden behind that tough Dixon exterior of his.
earthbound68 - I can neither confirm nor deny that I'd ever kill of Merle. But I can tell you that Merle is a much loved character with me. ^_^
KrisAnthemum221 - After ten minutes, when I finished laughing at your review, I realized you're right. Still love the man though.
LL - Merle has his reasons, which will be revealed in due time. Yes, I enjoy a strong Carol, but there's a fine line sometimes with people taking her strength too far. I've never seen her as an ultimate warrior, but she steps up when the need arises and this I respect.
GG - Don't worry. I have a lot of respect for people of faith (I'm not religious at all, but I do respect others religions) and I would never have Missy give up her faith so easily. ^_^
Axelrocks - Of course Merle called Daryl a dumb ass, he's Merle. Can't ever be outwardly nice. ^_^ I think he's just overprotective of his baby brother, doesn't want to see him get hurt.
MarionArnold - Big calls abound, indeed. Carol is definitely a strong lady, I think she has no real fear of taking a punch anymore, and it's a damned shame that she should be used to them, but Ed was a dick and is dead, so...you know...
Amenthiste - Thanks! Reviews like yours keep my creativity fueled! No, honestly. If it wasn't for kind reviews from all you kiddos, I wouldn't be updating so damned fast. But you guys get me excited about what's around the bend and force me to write. ^_^
spygrrl99 - The thing I love about TWD is little tidbits of back story you get from the characters. Back story keeps me happy as a clam and I'm glad you're intrigued by the Old Missy and her story. This please me. *smug face* XD
Surplus Imagination - The brothers speak the language of Dixon when it comes to Carol. ^_^
Geez, here's another of my personal favourite's as far as chapters go. I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter Fifteen: Tremp
**The Lieutenant**
By the time they arrived at the abandoned farm, it was high noon and both men were sweating heavily.
The cool spring air had turned on its ass to become the sweltering heat of a summertime Georgia.
The Lieutenant liked it. It felt more like home.
The moved into the farmyard quietly, weapons drawn, prepared for anything. It seemed for as dumb as the uggies were, they sought out remnants of humanity like they still recognized the places where humans once stood.
Or maybe it was true that they could smell a living being long after they were gone.
People were never dumb enough to leave their keys in their vehicle like the movies always showed, but Daryl and the Lieutenant still gave the cab of the truck a once over just in case.
As they pulled themselves up from inspecting a toolbox on the ground by the open driver's side door, they found a group of three uggies ambling around the corner of the house.
Daryl raised his crossbow and fired, taking one down to make the chances a little more even, before the two men moved out from around the truck, knives in hand. Taking down the remaining uggies, they looked around quickly for more, before moving on into the house cautiously.
Inside it was relatively clean, signs of hasty packing were found in the bedrooms, but all in all there were no signs of the former occupants being gnawed on, they found it clear of the undead, the doors having been secured enough to prevent the uggies from getting inside.
"Okay," the Lieutenant said as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Keys, food and weapons first," he said, "everything else is a luxury."
Daryl nodded. "I doubt they'd have any, but keep an eye out for formula for the baby."
"Will do. We'll load the truck once we find the keys."
"With our luck the man of the house probably took them with him when they left," Daryl pointed out, looking about the front hall for a key rack.
"You know how to hot wire an old truck like that, Texian?" The Lieutenant asked.
The younger Dixon gave him a quick glance.
"Of course you do," the Cajun stated with a grin.
"You can thank Merle for that," Daryl mumbled as they moved into the kitchen, hoping to find a key rack there. "The dumb bastard seemed to think I'd make a good car jacker when I was small enough."
"Small enough for what?"
"To walk clean of grand theft."
Opening the cupboards, the Cajun grinned and began pulling down cans of food.
"You have brothers, Cajun?" Daryl asked.
"Naw, I wrecked the joint when I left the womb." He chuckled. "Made it good and uninhabitable. Ain't no way anyone was getting in there when I was through with it."
Snorting, the youngest Dixon moved on to another room, crossbow at the ready.
Following him, the Lieutenant kept his eyes alert for things that could be used. "'Course my Mamere said it was my big old head that did the dirty work."
"What's a 'Mamere'?" Daryl demanded as they checked every little cubbyhole they could in the living room, looking for the keys.
"A mean old boo hag that lived in the swamp," the Lieutenant replied with a laugh, before admitting softly, "my grandmother."
"Where was your mother?"
"Crestwood Care Facility, state run loony bin." He poked around in a desk drawer, but looked up at the redneck to gauge his reaction.
Daryl glanced over his shoulder at the Cajun and the Lieutenant gave him his craziest look, squinting one eye and widening the other.
"I get you now," Daryl muttered, moving on.
Chuckling, the Lieutenant followed him. "She was…frail."
"Frail?"
"My Mamere's word for suicidal."
Daryl squinted at the man, before turning back to dig through a tiny decorative chest on a credenza. "What about your pa?"
"What's that now?" The Lieutenant asked lightly, folding his arms and resting his hip against the credenza while Caryl dug through the chest. "So, what's with you and Merle anyways? You do love each other, yeah?"
"Don't be a pussy," Daryl snarled, reaching into a pocket of a jacket that had been left lying on the couch.
"Yeah, you're right, emotions are for the weak," the Lieutenant returned smugly.
Daryl pulled a set of keys out of the pocket and held them up triumphantly, tossing them at the Cajun.
"Go make yourself useful, Fay." He ordered.
Catching the keys, the Lieutenant smiled his funny little cat-like smirk. "Alright, but when I get back we're going to continue this discussion about our feelings…"
"After you tell me about your daddy," Daryl shot back.
"Je ne parle pas Anglais," the Lieutenant replied casually, moving out into the front hall to try the keys out on the truck. "You're going to have to translate that word for me!" He shouted back over his shoulder.
Stepping out of the house, he found himself suddenly pushed to the ground, something clamping down on his shoulder, driving pain through the nerves there right up his neck.
The smell of rotting flesh permeated the air and the Lieutenant struggled to get at his knife.
The uggie on top of him, discovering his teeth blocked from chomping into tender flesh by the Lieutenant's heavy Kevlar flak jacket, pulled back to snap at his face, but by then Daryl had emerged from the house. Picking up a piece of wood from a pile beside the door, the redneck swung it hard and knocked the uggie off the Cajun.
Rolling away from snapping jaws, the Lieutenant scrambled to his feet, kicking the thing's ass, sending it face first onto the porch floor, where both men fell upon it, putting its undead life to a quick, messy end.
For a moment both men eyed each other, before Daryl spoke. "Did it get you? Are you bit?"
Quickly fumbling to remove all his gear, then his flak jacket and the camo shirt underneath, the Lieutenant eyed his bare shoulder. "Naw, but I'm going to have a hell of a bruise, I can tell you that right now…I feel like such a tortue…"
"You looked like a dumb ass turtle rolling around on your back," Daryl pointed out. "Next time pay more goddamned attention."
"Next time I'm going to try not to scream like a little girl," the Lieutenant shot back playfully.
"Come on, I'll give you some coverage while you try those keys out." Daryl said.
..-~-..
..-~-..
They were loading whatever they needed onto the truck, taking only what the necessary items first.
Packets of seeds that the Lieutenant had found in the root cellar went into the various pockets of his pants and jacket, while Daryl loaded canned goods and preserves from the shelves that lined the root cellar into boxes, before they were loaded into the back of the truck. One good thing about Georgian farmhouses was that there were always preserves in the basements. Didn't matter if they were canned peaches or pickled carrots, everything could and would be eaten.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Standing in the master bedroom later, the Lieutenant pondered the mess of clothes on the bed before him.
He had no idea what women needed in the way of clothing. Or even what sizes the Missy or the other Sisters were. Hell, he was just thankful they hadn't asked him to fetch them back underthings yet, he didn't think he could wrap his mind around that.
"Trying to find a flattering pair of panties for yourself, Fay?" Daryl grunted, stopping in the doorway. "Let's go, we're burning daylight."
"I don't know quite what the nuns will want for clothing." The Lieutenant admitted softly.
The gruff man moved to stand beside the Cajun, eyeing the clothes as well. "Well, first things first, I don't think nuns will need the sheer teddy," he remarked flicking the flimsy thing off the bed onto the floor.
"I'm very uncomfortable right now," the Lieutenant said.
"You get used to it after they ask for tampons."
The Lieutenant paled. He didn't want to ever mention the pad-like things the Old Missy had ordered him to pick up for the women, he didn't ever want to think of that again. He had bought out the store (figuratively), stocked them all up for two years and didn't plan on ever broaching that subject again. Ever. The girls would just have to…stop…bleeding…every month.
At his side, Daryl's eyes sparkled. "They already asked you for tampons, didn't they?"
Shifting uncomfortably, the Lieutenant motioned to the clothes, ignoring the jibe. "Maybe one of everything?"
"Just grab handfuls of pants and shit," Daryl stated. "Let's go."
Nodding, the Lieutenant couldn't argue with that logic, stuffing two old valise's with clothes, before following Daryl out the front door.
"I'll drive," Daryl commanded. "I read somewhere that they don't even have cars down on the bayou yet."
"I'm amazed you can read, Texian," the Lieutenant shot back.
..-~-..
..-~-..
"Now I figure if Rick's broken up from the group, he'll be heading for familiar territory, he'll either head here," Daryl pointed to an area on the map that the Lieutenant held open in his lap. "To the Greene farm or backtrack to the highway here. We'll start looking at the highway first."
"You're the man with the plan, I'm just along for the ride."
They drove for the longest time in silence, the Lieutenant watching the countryside roll past his window with sharp, quick eyes. When the world first went to hell, he didn't think he'd miss it as much as he would. The way things were, the way he was.
"Who's Eloise?" Daryl asked from his side.
The Lieutenant quirked a brow, but kept watching the trees and grass pass by. The sky had been grey and overcast all day, but it finally seemed like it was about to do something as in the distance a rumbling could be heard, coming from a nasty black cloud that hung low in the East.
"You mentioned her in the guard tower that night."
"Do you think with the world the way it is, you'll live to be an old man?" The Lieutenant asked. "That even if you live that long, you'll probably be taken down by cancer or a heart attack? Without modern medicine, there's not much chance of survival."
Daryl was quiet. The man had been surprisingly talkative all day and suddenly he decided to clam up.
The Lieutenant eyed him for a moment.
"Defan Eloise…" he muttered, turning back to the window. "Doesn't matter now."
Taking his eyes off the road to give the Lieutenant a quick glance, Daryl scowled.
"Who was she?"
"My gaienne. Beloved," he corrected for the man at his side.
The first few drops of rain splattered against the windshield as the skies decided to open up slowly.
"I thought you said you didn't have anyone back home in Louisiana."
"I didn't. She's been dead seven years."
The rain fell down a little harder, landing with heavy splats on the windshield.
Daryl turned the wipers on. "Maybe we should find a place to hole up until the rain stops," he suggested. "Don't want to get caught blind in a downpour."
"Yeah." The Lieutenant agreed.
..-~-..
..-~-..
After cleaning out a gas station, they parked the truck at the back door in case of a getaway and settled in to wait out the rain.
Resting his head back against a shelving unit, the Lieutenant sighed.
Daryl positioned himself at a window, just out of sight of any uggies, but keeping an eye out cautiously.
"Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm," the Cajun sang softly, teasing the youngest Dixon brother. "I know it's been coming for some time. When it's over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day."
At his lookout, Daryl glanced over, but said nothing.
"I know," he went on cheekily, "shining down like water. I wanna know; have you ever seen the rain? I wanna know; have you ever seen the rain? Coming down on a sunny day." Stopping abruptly, the Lieutenant beamed at Daryl. "CCR, huh?"
The other man scoffed.
"Yeah, much better than Lynyrd Skynyrd any day," he went on idly.
They were silent, allowing the rushing sounds of the rain outside to take over the conversation, before Daryl glanced back at him again.
"So, what happened to her? Eloise?" He asked.
"Defan," the Cajun replied. "I didn't love her enough."
Daryl angled his head long enough to pin the other man with a long, hard look, inquiring without words for further details.
"We were going to get married in the autumn of that year, but I had fallen into a…I took her for granted, I suppose." The Lieutenant stuck his long legs out and crossed them at the ankles. "Every morning the sweet girl would wake me with a kiss and the smells of her home cooking. The girl could whip up beignets from Northwest winds and rabbit tracks, I swear. For months leading up to that day I noticed she was…clingier than normal. Like she desperately needed me and I couldn't ever understand why. It was like she didn't want to be alone and I was getting annoyed by it.
That morning, I showered, dressed and ate her breakfast, complaining that the pancakes were a little rubbery, they were still the fluffiest things I have ever eaten, but…I didn't kiss her that day before I left. I just left." The Lieutenant paused.
There were things that no man could ever get out his head. The death rattle of a beloved grandmother who struggled to live, the first time you came under fire from live rounds and enemy insurgents, the uggie that tackled you to the ground with monstrous intent and the look of a beloved hanging so still.
Realizing that he had fallen silent, the Cajun cleared his throat. "Who knows what darkness lies in the hearts of men?" He sighed. "Never hurts to tell a woman you love her, either. Poor thing had been suffering in silence for months, years as far as I knew. When I left that morning, she took an extension cord and…I found her that night."
Daryl glanced back out the window awkwardly.
"Two seconds out of my day to kiss her goodbye and I couldn't find the time. Imagine that."
Outside the spring rainstorm hammered down on the Georgian soil, replenishing the nutrients for the countryside to turn a lush green. Time marched on, whether the dead walked the earth or not and inside the gas station the two men were peacefully silent on the outside, while inside they both churned with ill feelings and regrets.
"Carol had a little girl," Daryl began suddenly, eyes on the raging rainstorm outside. "Named Sophia…"
The Cajun Dialect
Tremp - Wet.
Je ne parle pas Anglais - I don't speak English. (obviously the Lt. was kidding when he said this).
Tortue - Cajun swear for pussy (also translates into turtle, the Lt. meant it in the sense of the female genitalia).