Surplus Imagination - I have it on good authority that Tallahassee is lovely. I've never been, but heard lovely things about the lovely people who live there. Very friendly and sweet people, I've heard. (Really wish chocolate could be sent via email...) V_V
Sira1 - Aw, thank you. I really, really love my reviews. ^_^
Axelrocks - The thing about Melissa McBride is that her eyes are so damned big and beautiful and expressive, that she can emote with just a look.
Brazen Hussy - Get out of my head! (I kind of ship Merle and Michonne too...a little...)
Violeta27 - She ain't gonna shack up with Tyreese if I can help it, sister! (Ah, the beauty of fanfiction...) Slutmonger, eh? Best last name anyone had ever. XD
skittletitz - Yeah, you never really can fool family, can you?
Lilone1776 - Daryl is just one of those people that attracts all kinds...I kind of like that he isn't so alone anymore. He needs more love. And not just the kind we all know Carol is going to provide him (giggity!)
AFishNamedSushi - I'm not digging shithouse rat crazy Rick right now...it'd be better if they didn't show his delusions, but alluded to them...but whatever, I'm not a professional television writer, so...meh.
I had half a day in class today, so enjoy this chapter I wrote while doing nothing. *blissfully doing nothing*
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Chapelet
**The Lieutenant**
Merle was easily distracted once you found the right topic.
So, the Cajun sat himself down on an old trunk at the end of the bed and opened up a discussion about women and sex with him.
Of course talking about women and sex could only distract so long before the man heard boots and the sounds of talking coming from the main room of the house.
It was almost like a light flashed behind the older Dixon's blue eyes and he was suddenly re-energized, pushing to his feet.
The Lieutenant stood up as well, prepared to prevent whatever Daryl believed would happen between Merle and the man named Rick. Cautiously treading along behind Merle, the Cajun eyed the two newcomers.
The one was a cute, pixie of a young woman with pale eyes and short, bobbed hair. The other was a gaunt looking man who looked like he needed a couple of nights of good sleep.
The man eyed Merle with guarded, wary eyes, his hands on his hips, hanging close to the pistol at his side.
The woman seemed less than thrilled to see Merle, hanging back beside the door.
She looked strong, but at the same time there was a frailty to her.
"Merle," the man greeted simply.
"Officer Friendly, it's been a while." Merle returned with his smarmy grin.
Rick nodded once, firmly, before he turned his gaze on the Lieutenant, eyeing him with much more caution.
Under the man's blue gaze, the Cajun felt like something dangerous, something filled with poison that was to be avoided. He had the distinct feeling his help and friendship wasn't wanted by the man. There was a clear, keep-away-from-me-and-mine, look on his face.
Glancing over at Daryl, the soldier found the youngest Dixon giving him a reassuring nod.
"Rick, that's the Cajun." Daryl said.
Rick eyed the Lieutenant for the longest time. "I understand you and yours took my group in."
"We sure did. The nuns are taking real good care of them." He said.
Rick's eyes darted around the room quickly, looking for danger, before returning back to him. "If it's all the same to you, when we get back to your group my people will be moving out."
"We won't stop you, if that's what you want." The Lieutenant said.
Suddenly turning away from the Lieutenant, Rick addressed Andrea and Daryl, ignoring everyone but his own people.
Exchanging a quiet glance with Merle, the Cajun adjusted his rifle and headed towards the kitchen, making a sharp turn when he found Michonne tucked into a corner glaring at his approach and heading for the small gap between the fridge and the wall.
"What do you think we should do with her?" Rick asked Daryl as they stood over Andrea.
"Tell me, blondie," Merle grunted from his spot by the bedroom doorway. "Who's going to be sticking it to you now that you've left the Governor's bed behind?"
Planting his forehead in the palm of his hand, the Cajun sighed and quickly darted out of his little hidey-hole.
"Merle," he began, physically guiding the man back into the bedroom. "Did I ever tell you about this spicy Creole girl I knew from the Big Easy?"
"What the hell?" Merle snarled.
Pushing Merle backwards onto the bed, the Cajun slammed the door closed and leaned against it. "There was this girl I knew once…"
..-~-..
..-~-..
By the time the Lieutenant deemed it safe to release Merle, the cabin was quiet.
Daryl and Rick had moved outside to catch up, while Michonne and Andrea spoke in soft tones with each other.
"We thought maybe you killed each other in there," Andrea greeted warmly.
Michonne looked more than a little disappointed, which insulted the Cajun boy a little.
"Naw, not dead."
"Wish I were though," Merle snarled. "Goddamned Cajun doesn't know when to end a story."
"It's called good narration, couyon."
Stepping into the cabin, Daryl nodded a greeting to the Cajun and Merle, Rick ignoring them with a somewhat frosty silence.
"We're going to try moving Andrea in the bed of the truck," Daryl said. "We'll have to drive slow though, makes us sitting ducks for walkers or the Governor's men should we run into them. But we can't wait here for a month until she heals up."
"What do you need me to do?" The Lieutenant asked.
"We're going to try lifting her gently and carrying her out, but…we need to keep her leg as still as possible."
"I can help with that."
Daryl nodding, eyeing his brother. "Merle, you wanna pull our truck around."
Merle held up his stump hand.
"You can get it in first at least," the younger brother stated. "Don't need to change gears driving it around." Pushing around Merle, Daryl settled himself at the end of the sofa, near Andrea's feet, Rick moving to her head, Michonne taking a gentle hold of her legs.
Andrea gasped and winced, but bared her teeth against the pain.
Getting the door, the Cajun eyed the group as they moved very, very slowly.
Halfway to the door, Andrea winced and cried out.
"Sorry," Michonne muttered and adjusted her grip carefully.
As they passed by the Lieutenant at the door, the Cajun could see a fine sheen of sweat already glistening on the blonde's brow and he winced in sympathy for her. She wouldn't make the trip awake, he knew the first bump would have her passing out in pain.
Maybe it was for the best if she passed out, anyways.
Once Andrea was loaded, the Lieutenant moved to slid into the truck beside Daryl, but found Rick motioning him towards the truck that held Merle.
"You ride with Merle," he ordered.
Peering over at Andrea and Michonne in the back of the truck that Daryl was driving, the Cajun nodded. "Alright."
Rick eyed him coolly for a moment, before carefully walking away, not once turning his back fully on the Lieutenant.
..-~-..
..-~-..
They drove in the lead, Merle eyeing the countryside as they passed, moving at a snail's pace in the direction of the convent.
For about an hour they moved at their molasses speed, before turning down the cattle trail that lead to the convent.
Behind them the truck that held the others followed.
If Andrea wasn't passed out by now the rough gravel road would do the trick easily as it was barely travelled and rutted out in places.
Relief washed over him as the church steeple came into sight over the hill that crested up to the convent and the Lieutenant smiled a little. It was funny how such a place could be considered home, that just seeing the steeple felt comforting.
As they rolled to a slow stop at the front gate, he spied that young boy from Daryl's group at the gate, unlocking it with Sister Mary Monica's set of keys. The one's with Saint Dunstan on the chain.
Pulling into the convent with a wave of thanks, the Lieutenant drove up the overgrown circular drive, stopping the vehicle in front of the infirmary, thinking it was the best place to put the injured woman.
The other truck tucked itself in behind.
Emerging from within, the Cajun stretched and flashed a wide grin at an approaching Carol and a few of her group who were hurrying over.
The short haired woman flung herself happily at Rick, who caught her with a small, hidden grin.
Watching Daryl's group rejoice, the Cajun leaned himself against his truck and waited for his own group to join him.
The Little Missy came running out of the dorms, followed by the blonde girl Beth and the wee boo made a mad dash directly for him.
Chuckling at the dog flopping after the wee one, the Cajun dropped to one knee and scooped the girl up, holding her against him.
"Well, there's a jolie boo," he teased her.
The Little Missy pulled away from his embrace with tears in her eyes and the Cajun's smile faded. He glanced about, Father O'Rourke was high on the wall, but there wasn't a nun in sight.
"Where is everyone, honeychild?" He asked.
"Nobody's around and they won't let me into Mother Mena's office," the girl sobbed, toying with the Cajun's rifle strap.
Feeling his stomach drop, the Cajun glanced around for someone who could translate child for him.
From her spot beside her sister, Beth eyed the man quietly, before turning her eyes on Carol.
She looked wan.
"Where is everybody?" The Cajun demanded.
Before anyone could answer, he handed the Little Missy off to Merle who grappled with the unexpected load, and pushed through Daryl's group, heading for the dorms.
Carol caught up with him halfway there, tugging at his sleeve.
"Lafayette," she said in a soft, strong tone. "We lost two," she said. "I'm sorry."
His pace hastened and he practically kicked the door in in his rush, leaving Carol behind.
The woman, more determined than he would have expected, caught up with him again. "She won't come out of her office, we tried talking her out, but…I don't have the heart to force my way inside."
Pulling himself to a stop at the crossroads where the dormitory's hallways crossed, the Lieutenant turned to Carol.
"What happened?" He asked, eyeing Daryl and a handful of his group as they approached Carol from behind.
"Sister Gertrude passed away," the woman began.
Remembering what Daryl had said about being infected, the Cajun processed the rest in his mind as Carol's mouth moved, but no sound was heard.
"I'm sorry," she finished.
"Who?" He asked, knowing she had said who was involved, but he wasn't thinking right.
"Sister Gertrude and Sister Mary Monica."
Taking in the group that gathered behind Carol, Daryl standing close behind the woman almost protectively, the Lieutenant's eyes met Rick's and he found there was less ice there than had been before as the man quietly took in the scene.
"Did the wee one...? Did she see anything?"
"No."
"Mother Superior?"
"The other nuns witnessed it, yes."
Nodding, the soldier took a few steps back from the group and turned slowly, heading down the hall a little slower than he had previously.
Reaching the door at the end of the hall, he raised a shaking fist and knocked. "Open this door, cher."
There was no sound, no hint of life beyond the oak door, so the Cajun knocked harder, louder, with a little more desperation. "Honeychild, open the door!"
Sensing eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder and found Daryl's group standing where he left them, still eyeing him.
Turning back to the door, the Lieutenant had never wished to be left alone more in his life than at that moment. He was a people person, but he wanted the eyes to just go away.
Quietly he heard Daryl usher his group off, enlisting their help in getting Andrea off the truck bed.
Lafayette knocked again on the door, before backing up, preparing himself to kick it in.
With his foot raised, he halted in time to hear a soft click.
The door opened a fraction, revealing darkness beyond and the Cajun dropped his foot.
Glancing behind himself to ensure the hall was empty, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The only light in the room came from two votive candles that were lit near the old chair the Missy liked to curl up in, the thick curtains that were always parted for the sunshine had been drawn, casting the office into near darkness.
But the Old Missy was missing and while his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he panicked a little.
"Beb?" He called softly into the room.
Removing his rifle, he moved to place it by the door where he always kept it, when he finally found her, standing just to the right of him in the darkness.
The light from the ajar door illuminated her pale features, turning her into a ghost in the darkness.
The Lieutenant took in her frail looking appearance, the red rimming her eyes, the flush of sorrow tinting her cheeks pink, the way she looked so young and helpless as she stood trembling at his side, her hand clenching a rosary that had been snapped in two.
She wasn't the strong, spirited woman he had left, but some wretched creature shaking all alone in her room.
Feeling like his absence had somehow done this to her, the Cajun paused, growing marmoreal under her gaze like the victim of an ancient gorgon.
A broken sob tore from her throat as the woman dropped the broken rosary and the Cajun shut the door quickly, afraid someone would see the woman in the state she was in.
In near darkness now, with only the candles giving the world nearest them a golden glow, the Cajun felt small, firm hands fumbling for him in the dark and wrapped his arms around the creature on instinct, pulling her to him tightly.
He supposed he never had given her form any real thought, but in his arms the woman was so small, like a little bird with fine bones and a madly drumming cadence rattling her chest as her heart thrummed.
"I'm sorry," he said, feeling that somehow he was at fault for everything. If he had stayed home, if he had stayed where he belonged…
"What now?" The woman asked, sobbing the question into his chest like a sick mantra.
Thinking that he needed to calm her before her wee heart gave out as it raced wildly, fluttering against her ribs, rattling his stomach through his gear, the Lieutenant pulled back, fumbling for her face with his hands.
"Honey, look at me," he commanded softly.
In the near dark, her eyes sought his out. They were so wide and fearful that it broke his heart.
"Hey," he said, motioning to his eyes with two fingers, "be with me. Right here."
She focused on his eyes with a small nod.
Taking her upper arms in his hands, the Cajun pulled her against him, still maintaining eye contact he waited until the woman calmed somewhat, before speaking. "You with me?"
She nodded ever so.
"Yeah?"
Again a nod.
"What colour are my eyes?"
She sniffed. "Fayette," she mumbled, "in the darkness…"
"You know this one, honeychild." He whispered, teasing her without any humour to his tone.
"Grey." She sighed. "They're grey."
Giving her a forced little grin in the hopes of masking his own crumbling resolve, the Cajun spoke, "you sure?"
She nodded. "Yes."
The Cajun Dialect
Chapelet – Rosary
Jolie – Pretty (I've covered this with jolie catin, but just refreshing your memories on this one).