ImOrca - I really need to find a way to write Glenn into the story more...I love him so much. I just...so many characters and plots need addressing...dang it...I promise more Glenn will be seen in this story.
SilverWolf84 - I know. Too much good luck, someone needs to die...
Peta2 - I wish I were an Army Brat, my life would probably have much more structure...though I wouldn't be an internet geek and therefore wouldn't be writing stories like this...ah, life choices, interesting. ^_^ Thanks for saying it seemed authentic, never being on an army base, I had to write the base due to army bases I've seen on such classic films as G.I. Jane and Major Payne...though I think Major Payne was at an ROTC...either way...quality film. *dies a little*
HGRHfan35 - Ugh, I'd imagine coffee in the nose would be worse that soda pop...yikes...^_^ Thanks for the review! Hope you have a great week!
Brazen Hussy - Ah! I need to have a scene where they come across such a suit and hat and Glenn can be all 'remember that time you pimp slapped a walker? Well I got you something...' I think Merle would handle it better than Daryl, Merle seems like he's been around more women than Daryl. That being said Daryl is used to getting tampons for the ladies of the group...so...
Lilone1776 - You asked for a chapter of the Dixon's at Camp Femme, and you get one! How about them apples?
skittletitz - Have you ever been snapped by a mousetrap, it's an experience one does not easily forget about...
Laura - I'm not a huge Michonne fan either, she comes off as too obviously bad ass and it just doesn't strike me as all that realistic. That being said, I do love her as a character with potential, if they'd only tone down the bad ass thing a bit.
Supfan - Coool, great review! ^_^
AFishNamedSushi - Never apologize, I do upload wicked fast sometimes...this story just flows like the Nile and I've had very little writer's block with it (knock on wood). I agree, Rick is probably so chill about lady things by now...I know for a fact he's picked some up on the way home a time or two (all good husbands have and he seems like a good one).
Surplus Imagination - I should - at some point - work in a battery operated marital aid...soon...*rubs hands together evilly*
GG - Oh yeah, like you've never gotten a stiffie from seeing a metric shit-ton of ordinance...riiiiight...XD I was so tempted to write 'we're going to need a bigger boat', but in all honesty they need a truck...my Tyreese (because there hasn't been much show Tyreese), is practical. Why would they need a boat? (I'm being sarcastic...it doesn't sell well in type). ^_^
I wasn't going to do this, but a few of you wanted to see the Dixon's adventures in Girlstown, so without further ado, THE ADVENTURES OF THE DIXON BROS. IN GIRLSTOWN!
Chapter Fifty: Mojo
**Daryl**
Dormitory 9 was, apparently, the women's barracks.
Daryl wouldn't have known as he searched through the first trunk he came to, except for the fact that when he began going through the toiletry bag he came up with a lot more make-up then the average military man needed.
The tampons threw him for a moment too.
Behind him Merle was going through a trunk of his own and coming to the same conclusion.
Both Dixon's exchanged quick, awkward glances over their shoulders at the other, before going on with their work.
A smashing sound from the bathroom where Maggie had disappeared, had both men on their feet, heading to her aid.
She stood before a condom machine type thing, watching as female items poured out of the crushed front.
Maggie offered them a nervous smile and they both glared at her in mild disinterest.
"No, walker," she said, eyeing him and only him. The woman still hadn't brought herself to forgive Merle for what he did to her, but she was sensible to deal with it in small amounts. Lately she just ignored his presence, which served everyone fine. "Just pads and tampons."
Daryl felt his upper lip draw back in a flinching sneer, before he stepped back into the main room.
Sure he had brought the women plenty of lady things in the past, but it didn't mean he was comfortable with the subject. Maybe he had a hard time comprehending how a woman could bleed so long without dying or passing out. It wasn't logical in his mind.
He honestly couldn't fault women for hating the process, he wouldn't enjoy bleeding non-stop and having to cram something inside him to…
…he just weirded himself out.
Glancing over at Merle as they went back to going through the trunks for useful things, he cleared his throat.
"Hey, Merle?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell is this?" He held up a small metal device that had handles like a pair of scissors, but ended in a thing that looked like the top and bottom to a set of false teeth, only the edges were smooth and the curve was inverted.
His brother eyed the thing. "Whatever it is, it's probably not important."
"That's an eyelash curler," Maggie said, on her way to the door to stack up an armful of lady things beside it in the 'need' pile. "And it's completely useless."
Tossing it aside, Daryl dug into the trunk again.
"Why the hell isn't Michonne in here going through this shit?" Merle snarled.
"Because she just happened to have volunteered for door duty," Maggie chirped, heading back into the bathroom.
"My ass."
"Mine too, woman scouted ahead, she knew what we were in for," Daryl growled.
Picking up a round compact of what looked like candy, Daryl held it up for his brother to investigate.
"Birth control," Merle pointed out casually.
"Looks like Pez candy," Daryl muttered setting the thing in his 'need' pile beside him.
"Think we could convince Glenn that's what they are?" Merle asked.
"I think you're already on his shit list, so you'd better watch yourself."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Maggie stated marching past with more things for the pile.
"Jesus, are you ever going to unbunch your panties around me, woman?" Merle demanded.
"Merle," Daryl warned, shaking his head at his brother. "Don't start."
"Fuck them, they want to hold grudges they can eat my ass," Merle growled back.
Maggie paused beside him, her hands folding. "Do you know what kind of hell you cause people, Merle? You're a mean, vicious asshole of a human being and you don't even care!"
Daryl pushed to his feet as Merle did the same, eyeing Maggie with that mean look he got.
"Watch your tone with me little lady, I'm a believer in equal rights and I'll slap you down just like I'd do any man that spoke to me like that."
"Try it, you big bully," she growled, pushing her face in his.
Merle grinned.
Daryl's blood froze, he knew exactly what was coming and he already had his own hand up, grabbing Merle's by the wrist just inches before his palm could make contact with Maggie's face.
He restrained his brother with a firm grip. "Merle, get back to work," he ordered, eyeing the two as Maggie glared at his big brother.
Pursing his lips at Maggie, Merle chuckled. "Maybe another time, sweetheart."
"Anytime, Merle," she returned. "See, cause I'm not afraid of you like you'd like."
Yanking his arm out of Daryl's grip, Merle turned his back boldly on Maggie and went back to digging through things, while Daryl eyed the farmer's daughter for a moment. He was sure an apology was needed, but not from him.
Wasn't his damned fault Merle liked to piss people off.
Still, he shifted his weight from left leg to right and looked down. "Sorry," he said softly, hoping his brother wouldn't hear.
Maggie looked at him with a small, forced grin, reaching out to grip his upper arm kindly, before going back into the bathroom.
..-~-..
..-~-..
They were halfway through the trunks when Merle tossed a pile of condoms into Daryl's lap.
He winked down at his baby brother.
"Those are precious commodities, best keep them for yourself and we won't tell anyone about it," he teased.
Daryl scoffed and set them in the 'need' pile. "Don't need them."
"Oh, she holdin' out on you with sex, baby bro?"
"Carol can't have any more kids," he pointed out.
"Even better, rubbers ruin the game," Merle replied.
"Yeah? How'd the post-game clap work out for you?" Daryl shot back.
"Fuck off."
Smirking proudly to himself, Daryl went back to sorting through things for useful items, when his brother spoke again.
"You disappointed?" Merle asked.
"What?"
Looking over his shoulder, Daryl found Merle eyeing him.
"You broken up over that? Not having kids?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I'd probably be a shit dad anyways," he admitted.
"Bullshit to that," Merle growled, moving his body so that he knelt facing Daryl's back.
Daryl turned as well, eyeing his brother.
"I figure you do everything opposite of what our daddy did, you'd be one hell of a father," his big brother said. "Besides, you always were the sweet one. Figure you'd make an alright daddy."
It was the first compliment Daryl ever recalled getting from his brother that didn't end in an insult or a threat of bodily harm and it threw him off his defense with Merle.
"I wish you had a better life, baby brother," Merle admitted. "Of the two of us, you deserved it most."
Daryl flinched, not sure how to react to Merle's sudden kindness.
"Of course I'm the better looking one, so I figured you were due for something good," his brother added with a grin, turning back to his work.
There it was, Merle had returned to his old self and all was back to normal in the walker filled world at the end of days.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Before they headed for the infirmary later that day, the Cajun caught Daryl's sleeve and asked him if he would bring him the dog tags of any Marines he took out.
Up until that point the man had been content to collect his own, but now he was asking Daryl to do it with a curious lilt that thickened his Cajun accent.
When they entered the infirmary and took out several trapped walkers, he moved among them quickly and collected the tags, before they began going through their loot, not really thinking much about the Cajuns request.
But that night as they secluded themselves in the HQ building again, bragging about their finds, the Cajun sorted through the tags Daryl brought him, before smiling widely.
"Thanks, cabri," he said.
"Something please you?" He asked.
"Looking for a friend, but…he's not here, so…small hopes, yeah?" The man stated with a grin.
Daryl nodded.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Later that night, Daryl and the Lieutenant sat on watch together at the back door into the building, eyeing the narrow slats they had left in the boards to peer out at the night, keeping an eye out for walkers.
"You think more on being a daddy?" Daryl asked the Cajun.
Easing back in his rolling office chair, the Lieutenant stretched his long legs out before him. "Sure have, yeah. I was thinking about this last night and I have a theory."
Daryl waited for him to share, when it was apparent he was waiting for permission, the youngest Dixon snarled, "am I going to have to press it out of you?"
"Well, I was giving it some thought and…I guess maybe it's why I took Colonel Davenport's death so hard. See I sort of…deep down I guess, I thought of him as a…you know. Well, the thing I liked about him was that he wasn't afraid to let you know that he was proud of you, of the work you did, the things you accomplished." Shrugging the Lieutenant sighed. "Maybe that's a good sort of father to be, yeah? Couldn't hurt to let the kid know you love them too. Keep them safe and happy and even if you are disappointed in them and the choices they make, you never stop loving them. Course as a bastard boy with a rapist daddy and a man who's daddy seemed shifty as all hell, you and I are the worst sort to theorize properly on what it takes to be a father."
Thinking on this for a moment, Daryl bowed his head to his hands and picked at a hangnail idly.
"I wish I could have found Sophia alive," Daryl admitted suddenly. "Girl had a shit daddy, she deserved to know what a good one was."
"Carol's husband was a—"
"Son of bitch."
The Lieutenant nodded. "Beat her?"
"And Sophia too, I'm sure. Things feel unfinished," he added. "With Sophia gone, things feel unfinished…I don't know why. They just do. I used to watch her and Carol together, maybe then I wanted to be with them, you know? Just the three of us…but I wasn't good then, still not good enough for Carol. I always liked to be close to them, they'd huddle together and I'd be lingering nearby like some kind of creep and…maybe if I was with them then, if they were mine, Sophia wouldn't have gotten chased into the woods and Carol'd be a lot happier."
The Cajun's grey eyes studied him quietly, so calmly, before he spoke. "I'd die a thousand times if I could bring Sophia back to you. I would," he insisted. "What's the life of a silly Cajun boy compared to the life of a baby girl who barely had a chance to live? But…words can't do much more than be heard, I can't bring her back just by saying that, though I do mean it. I'd love for it to be true. I think it would make you happy, content. And you deserve to be. Of anyone I've ever met, I think I'd like you to be happy most of all. You always do things for everyone but yourself and you still think you're not good enough for Carol, but Jesus H., Daryl, the woman adores you. You can just see it in the sparkle of her eye and I think you make her happier than you'll ever know."
Daryl sneered a little at the man, but said nothing. He really wasn't used to such high praise and it made him uncomfortable.
"I don't know much about family, mine was pretty broken, but I think we're all family now, which is why I want nothing but good things for you and yours."
Not sure what to say, Daryl bit the inside of his cheek. "Hey," he finally uttered, "you have a thing for that nun of yours?"
"I shouldn't," the man replied simply. "God knows it'll send me straight to hell…but I can't help it. I want her close to me where I can take care of her better, make sure she's happy and safe. Sleep in the same bed as her, so that I can watch over her and the wee boo when they sleep, so they don't have to wake up scared or…needing something, anything."
"I get you," Daryl nodded. He really did, it was the same way he felt during the winter, when Carol would sleep close enough to him that he felt a little less tense, wondering where she was, if she was safe. It was the reason he slept easier now with her in his bed and his arms.
"Maybe it'll be the death of me, yeah?" The Cajun teased. "Falling in love with a nun, can't be good with God…"
"I dunno," Daryl replied. "If he's as loving and merciful as they claim, he shouldn't have a problem with it."
Reaching into his pocket, the Lieutenant pulled out a small leather bag on a piece of leather twine. "Hey, Glenn found my stuff today," he said. "Found my worldly possessions."
"What's in the bag?"
"My mojo," the Cajun replied with a grin. "And my grandparent's wedding rings."
"What the hell is a mojo?"
"Good gris-gris, Texian, good gris-gris," he handed it over to Daryl with a grin. "Here, you take it."
Daryl eyed the bag. "Well, take the rings out, dumb ass."
"Naw, you take those too," the Lieutenant clapped him on the back. "They brought happiness and love to my grandparents, they'll do you and Carol good, yeah? But, ah, you have to add something personal to you in the bag or it won't work."
Not really a heavy believer in whatever the hell the Cajun was trying to sell him, Daryl narrowed his eyes at the bag.
"Like what?"
"Something that means a lot to you, could be symbolic, a lock of Carol's hair, maybe?" The Lieutenant winked. "Or…a piece of that pretty headscarf she likes to wear, something you love."
Unable to throw his gift back in his face (and maybe deep down a little touched that the Cajun gave him something as precious to him as his grandparents wedding rings), Daryl asked, "are you sure?"
"Yeah, I told you, I want you to be happy. Now, of course, I'm not expecting you to marry Carol right away, you're not that kind of man…but the rings are there should you ever need them."
"Thank you."
"Semper fi, brother," the Lieutenant returned with a grin.
The Cajun Dialect
Mojo – Often used in reference to a mojo bag, a voodoo charm worn about the neck that often holds within it spices, coins, amulets, animal parts or various items that can hold a special meaning to the wearer. A mojo bag is considered a living entity and often gets fed alcohol or water to keep it 'alive'. Mojo bags are often not shared unless a very special, thick bond is formed between people, wherein it's believed that part of the spirit of the original holder can be transferred and added to the magic of the bag, to help protect the new owner with an even stronger force.
The Marine Dialect
Semper Fi (Semper Fidelis) - Always faithful.