skittletitz - Whenever I think of drowning in warm fuzzies, I think of being buried up to my neck in Tribbles. That would be the life. (random comment!) XD Anyways, thanks for the reviews. All of them you've ever given me!
Lilone1776 - Honestly, I'm with Daryl, Rick just needs a good nights sleep. He's going nutty due to lack of rest...I'm sure. And stress...but sleep is a good start. Yeah, I must find a reason why the MS lets the Dixon's get away with scruff...maybe because (like me) Daryl's scruff isn't actually off-putting and Merle's is hardly there at all (he does tend to keep pretty clean cut).
Brazen Hussy - I need a Merle siren that I can flash every time he's in a chapter...hope you didn't see any babies crawling on the ceiling during your withdrawal period...
HistoryBuff101 - But if you're a history buff then you know everything worth knowing already, therefore no studying required (who needs physics when you can recite the timeline of the Battle of the Bulge, amirite?). ^_^ I would make the worst parent, methinks. Thanks ever so for taking the time out of your obviously busy schedule to not only read but review this work, I greatly appreciate it.
GG - I'm actually shocked I didn't have any rulers whatsoever in this story yet...I must find a way to write one in...
Surplus Imagination - I think Rick was too exhausted to argue with the stubborn Old Missy...he was probably just shocked she was more concerned with him getting some sleep and then shaving that anything. XD
Axelrocks - I know, right? Like the world ended, but I'm sure you can find loads of plastic razors and shaving cream just lying about...geez, shave it off, Rick. It'll take about three minutes out of your day.
AFishNamedSushi - To answer your question (the most important one). No, she didn't burn the lingerie. This will come into play later. Also, I imagine the Lt. will be simply mortified when he realizes how much of a rogue he was while still a wee bit drunk.
MollyMayhem84 -I have mentioned this to you privately, but I want everyone to know how much I really took your last review to heart. It means so much to me to hear things like that, you have no idea. I write things to entertain people, but to know just how much they entertain is the highlight of my day. May good things come your way, MM84.
Proper Cajun hangover in three...two...one...
Chapter Thirty: Cagou
**Daryl**
"Hey, Daryl?"
Looking up from where he was making more bolts for his crossbow, the youngest Dixon eyed Carl as the boy approached.
"What's up, little man?" He asked.
"I can't find my dad anywhere, have you seen him?"
"We're heading out in a bit, he's probably just off somewhere getting himself together."
The boy nodded. "If you see him, let me know, okay?"
"Sure thing."
"Hey, little man," Merle stopped Carl's retreat.
The boy eyed him warily. "What?"
"Where'd you get that capgun?" The oldest Dixon pointed at the 9mm at Carl's side.
The boy eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Just curious is all."
Touching his gun, Carl turned and walked off without anything further said to Merle.
Daryl eyed the retreating figure of the boy, before pushing to his feet. "Maybe I should look around for Rick, get the party in full swing."
He turned to his brother and the Cajun, the latter who cradled his forehead in the palm of his hand, his entire body bowed like a limp piece of celery. Sharing a small, barely there smile with his brother, Daryl headed off towards the church, looking for Rick piece by piece around the convent.
Poking his head nervously inside the kitchen of the dorms through the backdoor, Daryl spied Maggie and Beth standing around the table where a couple of nuns were sitting mending clothes, he cleared his throat.
"Sorry to invade," he began. "Have you seen Rick? Carl was looking for him."
"Mother Mena said the man named Rick was taking a rest in one of the spare rooms, I can get her if you want." One of the nuns said. Daryl wasn't sure if she was Sister Mary Claire or Sister Mary Elizabeth, the two nuns were both youngish and he still wasn't sure which one was which yet.
"No, that's alright. I'll let Carl know." He paused. "Do you know if Rick is actually sleeping?"
Sister Mary Agnes (one of the ones he could tell apart) beamed. "I peeked in on him an hour ago, he was shifting about, but seemed pretty deep in sleep. Poor thing."
Daryl nodded. "Alright. Thank you."
"Uh, Mr. Dixon, if you see the Lieutenant tell him that the Mother Superior is looking for him. She's pretty upset that someone got into our supply of communion wafers."
Bowing his head, Daryl backed out the door and headed back around for the little campfire the others had set up at the north-western corner of the convent lawns where he had left his brother and the Cajun.
He took a quick detour towards the front gate where Carl had set up watch with that woman from Tyreese's group and told the boy that his dad was fine. He also told Carl to spread the word that war was postponed until Rick got his beauty rest.
The boy nodded and took off, heading for the rectory where Glenn and the other men had set up camp inside the priest's home.
Dropping onto an upside down pail, Daryl went back to making his bolts.
"Hey, dumb ass," he said to the Cajun after a bit. "Mother Superior found out about you eating up her graham crackers."
"Body of Christ," he corrected weakly, still hiding his eyes from the world around them, "and he was delicious."
"No regrets, huh?" Merle asked.
"Smart assed reply," the Cajun grunted, too hung-over to even find the proper words to respond with.
"Well," Daryl set his work down. "Not going to get anything done sitting around waiting for war." He pushed to his feet, strapping his crossbow onto his back. "Hunt us some grub, brother?"
Merle nodded, pushing to his feet with a grin. "Always up for shedding blood." He clapped the soldier hard on the shoulder. "You in, Cajun?"
"Words." The Lieutenant muttered.
"Guess it's just you and me, baby bro." Merle stated with a wide grin.
..-~-..
..-~-..
They had waited until they bagged a couple of fat rabbits and a grouse of some kind, before Merle began yapping.
"I think that Sister Joan has it hard for me," he stated.
Daryl scoffed. "She doesn't look that dumb by half."
"Fuck you, I'm very winning." Merle argued.
"Yeah, Merle, you survived being eaten by mindless freaks, you're winning the human race." Daryl replied.
"Whatever, man. At least I've have more women than I have eyes."
"That right? How's the clap working out for you?" Daryl shot back.
"Shut up," Merle snarled. "It was that goddamned red head from Macon…I know it was. She looked like trouble from the get-go."
"Ever hear of a rubber, big bro?"
"Can't find ones big enough," Merle replied. "Besides it throws off my swing."
"I'm amazed you didn't have spawn running around a third of the state."
"That I knew of." Merle stated. "Speaking of sticking it to nasty little things. What's that tight little minx of yours like? My gut tells me she's a wildcat."
"Shut up, Merle." Daryl growled.
"She had a kid though, huh? That's gotta move some walls back about a foot on each side, right?"
"Shut up!"
"How big are those things when they come out anyways? About the size of a football, right? Bigger? How big was the kid's head?"
"I swear, Merle, I'll shove this crossbow up your ass and pull the trigger." Daryl snapped.
Grinning at his little brother, Merle backed down. "Alright, sorry, man."
"You shouldn't talk about Sophia like that," Daryl went on. "Or her mom."
Merle caught up with his brother, eyeing him with that look only Merle could eye him with. For a second Daryl thought his brother was going to say something, mock him or insult him, but his brother quietly looked away, gazing at a walker who was slowly stumbling towards them.
Both men watched it struggle to make its way through the dense underbrush of the woods, before Daryl calmly fired a bolt into its head.
"It's gotta be rough, losing your kid to these assholes." Merle stated.
Bracing his boot on the side of the walker's head, Daryl yanked his bolt out. "Gotta be rough losing your kid at all."
"Fucking world's worse now more than ever before, kids shouldn't have to put up with this shit." Merle went on.
"Hell, we shouldn't have to put up with this shit," Daryl said giving the walker one last shove with his boot, turning it onto its face.
"Amen, brother. Amen."
They walked on.
"What do you make of this idea of Rick's?" Merle asked. "Taking out the Governor, doesn't seem like something a cop would do."
"It's Woodbury or us."
"You know not everyone at Woodbury are assholes. Most of them are just trying to scratch and survive like everyone else." His older brother said. "A lot of them are assholes though, but so's half your group."
Daryl pushed aside a briar bush, stepping out of the thick of the woods into a lighter meadow. "Merle, you might want to stop calling other kettles black."
His brother chuckled. "Oh, I know I'm an asshole, that's what sets me apart from the rest. Do I care? Fuck no. But that bratty little fucker and his farmer's daughter better stop giving me nasty looks before I set their heads spinning."
"Do you have any idea what kind of hell you put them through, Merle? It wasn't exactly a tour of Disneyland for them."
"They're lucky that's all I did to them. Governor had me doing worse to others. If you ask me, I wouldn't even bother going after the man, he's crazier than a shithouse rat." Merle went on.
"That's why he needs putting down," Daryl pointed out.
They pushed through the edge of the trees and found the thick stone wall of the convent spread before them, the back gate closer than the front, so they headed towards it, walking alongside the wall.
"Besides," Daryl added before they reached the gate, "humanity has gone back to tribal days and it's survival of the fittest rules."
"Alright, baby brother," Merle cooed playfully. "We'll kick ass Dixon style, besides when you and Carol have little ones, they're going to need all the space they can to run around the countryside raising hell. Especially if they've got big heads."
"Shut up, Merle."
..-~-..
..-~-..
After cleaning their kills, they handed them off to the women in the kitchen and headed back for the campfire, where the Cajun still slumped in on himself, had been surrounded by the rest of the woman doing laundry in a huge blackened pot they were heating over the fire.
Daryl could hear the gossiping from halfway across the lawns and wondered if the Cajun was even awake to hear some of the things the women were chatting about.
Beside him Merle's face lit up when he spied Michonne glaring at him from a spot on the wall near the women and Daryl touched a hand to his chest before he could move towards the woman.
"Start a fight and I knock your ass out, brother." He warned.
Chuckling, Merle nodded and split off, heading for the front gate where Father O'Rourke was on watch.
Kneeling on the ground beside the Cajun, Daryl eyed him.
The man still had his hand covering his eyes, his elbow resting heavily on his knee and someone had draped a t-shirt over his head, but under the shirt his mouth was hanging open slightly, the only sure sign Daryl had that signified that the man was asleep.
Nodding to the women who all stopped their talking to greet him, Daryl got up again.
"He's been like that for about two hours," Sasha said, folding what looked like a pillowcase.
"We didn't have the heart to wake him up to move him. So we put that shirt over him before the sun fried the back of his neck," Sister - Mary Elizabeth he was guessing - pointed out.
Smiling a little, Daryl nodded and moved off.
..-~-..
..-~-..
He made a few rounds, eyeing the grounds for threats that weren't there, but could exist all the same. Knowing how easily it was to get lazy after a day of inactivity, Daryl moved across the lawns, heading for the back of the church where nothing seemed to happen.
Overhead the sky looked like rain was in the forecast for the night, by the dark shade of the clouds, Daryl would have wagered a thunderstorm as well. He wondered if everyone had a hole to hide in come the night, because the convent was full to overflowing.
Rounding the corner of the church, he was shocked to find Rick just standing among the wooden crosses of the cemetery, staring off into the distance at an empty spot of lawn just behind the storage shed.
He looked a little more rested, clean shaven and bathed, but still somehow looked rough. The red around his eyes didn't put the youngest Dixon at ease.
Quietly stepping up beside their leader, Daryl eyed him quietly.
Rick nodded to an unasked question.
Trying to find the source of Rick's attention, Daryl squinted at the distance.
It was almost a full two minutes before Rick acknowledged him, turning to the shorter man slowly.
"Okay," Rick said suddenly. "You want us to take a breather, we'll take a few days."
Bowing his head in agreement, Daryl agreed.
"And you're right," the taller man went on. "Prison's not safe right now, but we can't just stay here and eat up all the nuns' food. We'll head back tomorrow morning for our supplies. Maybe help them out the best we can while we're here."
"Okay," Daryl said. "I'm with you, man."
Reaching out, Rick set his hand on Daryl's shoulder and squeezed. "I know."
"Come on, let's get the others gathered." Rick ordered with a jerk of his head in the direction of the campfire.
Eyeing the spot Rick had been staring at quietly, Daryl struggled to see what their leader had seen, before turning and following behind him.
..-~-..
..-~-..
That night as he ate his meal of canned veggies and rabbit, he eyed the Cajun as the soldier mended his own gear.
"Why don't you just find a new damned jacket?" Merle snarled from his spot in the corner of the garden shed where he had settled among a tarp and some old ratty blankets like a crow in a nest. He had been forcibly removed from the infirmary by Michonne after it was decided Andrea was to stay in there, naturally where Andrea went so went Michonne.
"Why, Merle, if I wore anything but this uniform I'd be just another gangly Cajun in a jacket." The Lieutenant replied smoothly. "Don't you know women love a man in uniform?"
"I think the way things are, women'll settle for a man who doesn't want to chew on them these days." Merle shot back.
"Guess that means your odds have skyrocketed, couyon." The Cajun shot back.
Daryl scoffed as Merle threw an old oil filter for the lawnmower at the soldier.
"Except for Sister Joan," Daryl added.
"Yes, I've noticed the interest your brother has taken with Sister Joan," the Lieutenant began almost sternly.
For a second Daryl was almost certain the Cajun had left his body and the Mother Superior took up residence in it. It was eerie.
"If I wasn't so sure of the woman's ability to handle herself, I'd knock Merle on the ground and sit on him again." He went on.
"What can I say? She's finally in the presence of a real man," Merle returned with a wide grin.
"And you know that nuns take a vow of chastity, yeah?"
"Not after they meet me, I can guarantee that."
Looking up from his mending, the Cajun eyed Merle. "Let's just assume that until I'm dead and you put a bullet through my infected brain stem, these women will maintain their chastity."
"You gonna stop me, gator-baiter?"
"Yes."
Daryl eyed his brother, waiting for Merle's face to click into that look he got when someone was added to his shit-list.
The click never came.
Instead, after staring at the Cajun for a long, intense moment, Merle grinned. "What if she comes to me willingly?"
"Can't stop her, won't stop her. Her vows are her own to break, but as long as she wants them to remain unbroken then I'll be here to protect them. Understand?"
"I can't understand a goddamned ass backwards thing you say, Cajun." Merle replied. "But I get the gist." He added.
It was then that Daryl realized that somehow the Cajun had found the right button to deactivate Merle.
The Cajun Dialect
Cagou – Appearing to be sick. Feeling ill.