MollyMayhem84 - I agree on the whole ant thing. I try to corral them into a jar and then toss them outside, even spiders (whom I loathe entirely).
skittletitz - We're not being kind, we're being honest. Your work is just too damned gorgeous. *calls upon inner Michonne*
Pass the Porn Tea - Oh yeah, I finally get to write 'porn' and 'tea' in the same sentence...anyways, ignore my dumb assed comment on your screen name. Thanks for the review! I feel your hurt. When Daryl Dixon cries you just want to find whoever is responsible and hurt them, badly.
GG - I agree wholeheartedly on the 'make yourself less of a target' mentality. And while Daryl wasn't exactly abusive to her, she was wounded by him leaving and I think she's gone back to that stiff upper lip Carol in an effort to cope.
Sira1 - Oh gosh, I'm really embarrassed at your kind words. The fact that you couldn't get this story out of your head just makes me blush a little. Thank you! (I'm glad you're with me on the sappy Glenn/Maggie thing...like really? Carol and Daryl get little to no interaction and Glenn's just going to propose with a severed walker ring?...basically a ring he stole off a corpse. Mmm romance!)
SilverWolf84 - Sorry to hear you've been sick. I hope you're feeling better. I just had a wicked stomach flu this Monday that decided it wanted to infect me on my last week of class before my practicum...lovely.
LaurenEmilyxx - I hope you passed your exam...I'd hate for you to have failed because of this silly fanfic of mine. ^_^ Thanks a lot for the review!
Sorry I couldn't get back to all my lovely reviews, huge influx again. But you are all much loved. No lies. These updates come so fast because of you, so really you should be thanking yourselves for motivating a starving college girl...
That being said, I'm sorry it's an OC chapter again...I promise it's with a purpose...we're trying to resolve the Caryl tension thing, kids! We need this chapter...
...sorry.
Chapter Fifty-Six: Freesons
**The Lieutenant**
Sitting on his cot later that night eating his meal, the Cajun couldn't help but feel that the garden shed was a little more crowded than it had been the last night he slept there.
Motioning with his fork in the direction of Daryl, asking Merle silently what was up, he received a shrug from Merle and was basically told to forget about it.
From the cot he claimed after Daryl left, Rick too eyed the man quietly as he ate his evening meal, unsure what to do or say.
So the three men avoided the subject by eyeing their food like it was a Sunday afternoon football game, while Daryl stewed over his own plate stubbornly challenging anyone to say anything about his presence.
"So," Merle sniffed, "a soldier and a nun, huh? Seems like the beginning to a good porno."
"Or a bad joke," Rick added.
"You ever notice how in porn the pizza never really gets properly delivered?" The Lieutenant pointed out. "It just sort of gets cold in the corner or mashed up in the action…then you get little pieces of cheese and salami stuck on the actors."
"Only you would watch a porno and keep an eye on the pizza," Merle grunted.
The Cajun shrugged. "Never watch porn when you're hungry, I guess."
"That's 'never go grocery shopping hungry', dumb ass," Daryl stated.
"Either way," the Lieutenant replied.
Everyone fell silent as Rick huffed a short burst of laughter, eyeing the man quietly, waiting for him to finally crack.
He just smiled slightly and bowed his head.
"Never thought I'd miss just sitting around talking," he stated. "Not having to kill or run." He trailed off softly. "I don't know what would have become of us if it wasn't for you and yours, Lieutenant."
The Cajun was quiet on his cot, fork of rice and game meat halfway to his mouth.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, for taking care of my people, for taking care of me." Rick stated.
"Your people? My people? Not much of a difference anymore is there?" The Lieutenant finally said. "We take care of each other, it's what human beings should do in times of dire circumstances. I'm only sorry that I failed you and lost Maggie. I've never made a stupid mistake like that in years and, well, how do you properly apologize for essentially killing someone?"
Merle scoffed, gathering everyone's attention. "Shit," he muttered. "You think you killed that girl? Hell, what happened to her isn't anyone's fault, shit like that just happens now. You can be as careful as you want, still going to be some biter somewhere waiting to chew on your ass if you're not careful. She made the choice to go out there with us, knowing the risks and we lost her. You have to start thinking of these civvies as soldiers, Lieutenant, they know the risks and when they're lost in battle you mourn then and honour them, but you move on. Isn't that right?"
"That is what we're taught in basic," the Cajun agreed. "I just never really thought of it that way before, I suppose you get used to seeing people die in uniform, not in jeans and pretty green blouses."
"Well, get your head out of your dumb Cajun ass."
"Thank you, Merle, your motivational tactics will be an inspiration to us all for years to come." The Cajun replied.
"She was so young," Rick stated. "She shouldn't have had to die that way. Not now."
"You want to pity someone?" Merle growled. "Best pity your boy Glenn. You of all people should know what it's like to lose someone you've had your dick in, Officer Friendly."
The Lieutenant frowned. The sentiment was there, but he was sure there was a better way to word it.
"Glenn has to go on now," Merle went on. "Alone. You think about that. Christ, you're all saying we're stronger together, but have any of you shithawks ever stopped to think that what we need more than a group is someone warm and curvy to come back to?"
At first the Cajun thought Merle was just being his naturally horny self, but there was a point to what he was driving at and somehow the Lieutenant had a feeling the man was addressing an issue that was a lot closer at the moment then Glenn.
"Glenn won't have that anymore, probably not ever again. You think you feel bad, think about how he feels, that was his woman and he lost her. To him it was his duty to protect her, to keep her out of harm's way and he failed her."
"You're spouting some heavy truth tonight, Merle," Rick said.
"You dumb asses better be listening, then." Merle replied, pushing his plate and mug aside and easing back onto his cot. "Ain't got a lot time to fuck around, she could be dead tomorrow and walking around as some other thing. But it wouldn't ever be her again. Ever."
Lafayette eyed Merle quietly for a moment, before turning his gaze to the man's brother who sat stubbornly in his nested spot at the front of the old lawnmower. He had a feeling the 'her' in that speech wasn't Maggie or Rick's wife or anyone other than the woman Daryl had left in the storage shed. Slipping off the cot with his plate and mug in hand, the Lieutenant sighed. "Well, I'm gonna take these back to the kitchen."
"I'll help you out," Rick said.
Collecting the plates and mugs in both hands, the Lieutenant shrugged. "Naw, that's okay, you get some sleep."
..-~-..
..-~-..
The stars were out brightly in the night sky as he headed in the directions of the dorms, the full moon was shining off the dewy grass and everything was bathed in an ethereal light from it.
Taking a quick, cautious look around at his surroundings, he found it surprisingly quiet and vacant.
Only Sister Mary Agnes at the front gate and Tyreese's man on the wall could be seen.
Them and Grace quietly swaying back and forth on the swing tied to the walnut tree by the church. Realizing that she hadn't yet noticed him leaving the shed, he hustled across the lawns quietly in the shadows, setting the plates and mugs on the church house steps as he passed, keeping low and to the ground.
Smiling as he approached her, he moved up behind the swing and the woman like a panther, before leaning over the top of her head.
"Deathtrap, huh?" He cooed.
She rounded on him with a small paring knife drawn and he leapt back, sliding on the grass and falling directly onto his ass.
"Holy Hell!" He shouted.
Gaping down at him, she dropped the knife and touched a hand to her throat. "Lafayette, good heavens!"
"Where'd you get that?" He demanded, embarrassed to have been caught so off-guard by the knife.
"You told me to carry something on me at all times at night," she stated. "Good Lord, you've aged me ten years creeping up on me like that."
"You aged?" He stooped over and scooped up her bitty little knife. "Really useless choice of weapons, cher."
"Better than nothing," she argued taking it from him and slipping it back into her back pocket. "I'm not about to go carrying a sword like Michonne."
"You really shouldn't carry it there, either." He pointed out.
"Is there a reason you're over here, Lieutenant?"
"Never saw a nun on a swing before," he replied with a grin.
"But you've seen one fly which is a much harder feat, I can tell you," she returned. "What on earth makes you think I can't test this contraption out for Annie?" She demanded, heading back to the swing.
With a grimace at the anticipated accident that was about to happen, Lafayette reached out and snatched the knife out of her back pocket before she sat back down on the swing.
"Mind your hands, honey," she stated firmly flashing him a wicked look.
"Knife," he explained.
"I've had it in my back pocket for days it hasn't punctured my pride yet," she said, pushing off a little with her barefoot.
He tossed the knife at the ground where it stuck into the earth and pocketed his hands, watching Grace swing idly. "Tomorrow I'm looking through the loot from the base for a better knife for you."
"Mine is just fine," she argued.
He sighed. "Yours would probably be cute at scratching the itch on a kitten's back, we'll find you a proper knife sheath too, something you can clip on or wear on a belt."
"I don't like belts," she replied sticking her legs out as she swung. "Too restrictive."
"Oh ye yi," he muttered. "You and Annie are a lot more alike then you'll ever admit. Where's your rifle?"
"In my office on the shelf," the woman replied.
"Think that's the right place for it?" He demanded.
She stopped swinging and eyed him archly. "Lafayette, since when has my carrying a weapon meant so much to you?" She demanded. "I never even carried one the first five months you were here, why should I start now?"
"Because I want you to be safe," he stated. "And from here on out you're going to learn a few things from me on how to defend yourself."
"Such as?" She stood up, folding her arms.
"How to take down a grown man," he said.
Grace chuckled. "Oh, honey, you'd better clarify 'take down' before I begin to think you're a wicked dog again…"
"You know what I mean," he replied with a small grin.
"Fayette, sweetie, I was sandwiched between four very mean brothers, I know all the hurt points on a man to get him on his knees," she stated, heading to the church steps to ease down beside the forgotten dishes, eyeing them with a small furrow to her brow.
"Military takedowns are a lot more effective then snakebites, beb." He replied taking a seat at her side, shoving the plates and mugs over with a metal rattle grating over the concrete steps.
"I actually preferred the jump on his back and knee him in the kidneys until he toppled under the pain and pressure method of sibling take downs," she replied calmly.
Feeling the corners of his mouth jerk into an automatic grimace of sympathy, Lafayette blinked at the woman in mild shock. "You know that can really damage a man inside?"
"Don't I know it, made my oldest brother John urinate blood once," she said. "I fight dirty when I have to."
The Lieutenant wasn't sure if he was frightened or impressed…probably frightened, it was always the soft spoken ones.
"Oh, honey," she said. "Don't worry, I felt bad about it afterwards."
"Still gives me freesons, beb."
"What's that mean? You're always speaking Cajun and I never understand half of what you say."
"Which? Freesons? Or beb?"
"I have a good idea what 'beb' means, I meant freesons? Bele? Cher? Any or all?"
Slipping in closer to her, the Lieutenant made a small thoughtful sound. "Well, freesons is…uh, let's see. It's, uh, the bumps…ah when you're scared. Goose pimples, is that right?"
"Um-hm, what about the others?"
"Uh, cher is a sort of endearment, I suppose."
"What kind of endearment, Fayette?"
"Sort of, well, it's the sort that means I hold you in the highest regards," he finished with a beaming, crooked grin.
"Um-hm, and bele?"
He hesitated. "Oh? I don't think that one translates."
"Doesn't it?" She inquired.
"Besides, I thought you knew that one?"
"Lafayette?" She asked.
"Hm?"
"I wish you'd talk to Daryl, I don't think he should be alone in this world just because he's afraid of losing her."
"Yeah," the Cajun replied eyeing the grounds around them. "I know. I'll take him hunting tomorrow after the funeral, see what I can do. But…my gift of gab only goes so far and generally stops with the fairer sex."
"You're an awful flirt," Grace stated firmly.
He chuckled. "I used to be."
"Those poor women."
"Every last one of them."
Grace blinked at him, before pushing to her feet. "Goodnight, Lieutenant."
..-~-..
..-~-..
"Where do you think you're heading with that rifle shouldered?"
They were piling into the trucks the next morning to head to the prison where Glenn and Herschel decided they wanted to bury Maggie, when Grace approached the truck he was climbing into with Daryl, her rifle shouldered.
"To a funeral," she stated calmly.
"No you're not," he replied. The look she gave him had the Lieutenant quickly back pedaling with his tone and he cleared his throat. "You really shouldn't."
"But I am," she stated slipping into the truck cab, lowering the barrel of the rifle towards the floor as she settled it beside her. Exchanging a glance with Daryl, the Cajun huffed silently as the other man shrugged.
"Fine, cher, but you keep close to me, yeah?" He demanded.
"I'll tether myself to your right side," she said.
"You'd better hope you do, I'm not even close to fooling."
She blinked up at him, before looking past him and motioning someone over.
The Lieutenant stepped back from the door as Carol moved to enter, sliding into a spot beside Grace. Glancing up he spied Daryl looking less than thrilled, but the man quietly eased in behind the wheel.
Squeezing his frame into the truck with the other three, he found it hard to shut the door but managed just fine, crushed up between Carol and her rifle and his own rifle and the door, was more or less awkward for him, but he managed.
As they left the convent gate behind, the Lieutenant cast a glance across the women to Daryl who was eyeing the road darkly, following behind Rick and Glenn in the makeshift funeral truck.
He wasn't sure how Daryl felt about Carol outside the convent walls, he was certain the woman was used to being in the unprotected wilderness beyond them, but he was sure sitting on prickles with Grace in the truck with them.
The woman was damned stubborn.
The first uggie they drove past, the Lieutenant was certain he saw Grace lean forward in the seat, but he wasn't sure if it was fascination or fear that led her to investigate the creature further as Daryl slowed the truck as the head truck pulled to a stop in order for them to turn onto the highway.
Tensing in anticipation, the Lieutenant eyed the uggie as it noticed them and began a hectic shuffle towards their vehicles. He knew that there was only one visible uggie, but that a herd of them could very well lurk anywhere nearby in the forest surrounding them and he found it was an unpleasant experience to have someone he cared for out among the threats and dangers of the world beyond the walls.
Preparing to hop out at the creature should the need arise, he touched a hand to the handle on the door and the other to his rifle, but as it approached it veered off, heading for the truck ahead of them. Glenn opened the door and knocked the thing over, hopping out to crush it's head under his boot.
"Don't look, cher," the Lieutenant suggested to Grace.
The woman refused to listen to him, watching the entire, gory scene quietly, eyes wide as Glenn vented a little anger and frustration on the thing.
"We shouldn't have let her come," Daryl snarled.
"Oh, good Lord," Grace huffed. "I'm not a delicate rose petal, you two."
"Yeah, wind up like Maggie, ain't my fault," the youngest Dixon went on.
Even though the comment was directed at Grace, the Lieutenant had a feeling that Daryl was actually thinking of the other woman in the truck as he complained.
"Think you're underestimating our ability to take care of ourselves," Carol spoke gently, her tone holding a sharp, almost firm quality to it.
"Good, don't look to me to save your asses," Daryl replied. "You want to be stupid and throw yourselves into the fire pit."
Crouching low in his spot, the Lieutenant realized that he may have chosen the wrong truck to ride in.
The Cajun Dialect
Freesons - Goosebumps