Argh! I had lovely replies typed out to all of you, but as we all know the save button makes fools of us all. Ah well, you kids know I love each and every one of you.
Surplus Imagination - You know...I had nothing against Martinez. Not really, actually bummed he's dead. But you know people die in this world.
Axelrocks - Yeah, Martinez died as he lived...by a jar of pennies...wait...
Merle's Right Hand - You are a beautiful woman. *creepy face* You know I love ya, girl and you'll always be Skitz to me! (Even though your new screen name is kick ass and I love it).
spygrrl99 - The Adventures of Milton and Merle...should be it's own spin off story...
MollyMayhem84 - It actually was (even though I actually feel the same way at times too...like maybe that ant was going somewhere important, to visit his sick ant grandmother or to take care of an orphaned ant baby). See, Spy reads everything you guys say in your reviews, because I care. ^_^ (Thanks for the inspiration!)
peonies01 - Thank you and I do love your kind reviews!
HGRHfan35 - Milton is adorably awkward.
Lilone1776 - The thing about lunatics is they zig when they should zag...so maybe tangling with him will be tougher than they assume...or maybe a lot of people will die before the Gov dies...like the people we love...the allies, the convent group people...
Ms Q - Haha! I'm glad you enjoyed that. Often times I'll write something small that I'm quite proud of, but it goes unnoticed. I'm glad you caught that one. It made my day that you enjoyed and appreciated it. Thank you.
Brazen Hussy - Guess what, my dear? Merle POV chapter coming up after this chapter...because the darling man has been neglected for far too long. Giving you a friendly head's up.
GG - Yeah, Rick's group should just dick around some more, maybe the Gov will just do all the work for them? ^_^
SilverWolf84 - The man is an animal. A wild, rabid beast, to be sure. Thanks for the review!
Supfan - Yeah, the best thing about having a AU fic is that whoever dies that I disagree with, can live on in my world! Mwahaha! Ah, it's good to be a writer sometimes...And I agree, Milton did have a good heart, he was just weak and easily intimidated for the longest time. I'm glad he finally grew a pair.
TwilightEclps - You asked for more, you got more! Thanks for the review!
This chapter is dedicated to Surplus Imagination. Who asked for a 'dude talk' chapter. Unfortunately I couldn't work the tattoo talk in (just yet, wanna wait until Merle can get in on the talk), but I'm hoping it'll come eventually too.
Chapter Sixty-Nine: Frère
**Daryl**
Sitting on the wall the next morning, Daryl eyed the walker that egghead Milton had brought with him, contemplating just putting a bolt through her brain and putting it out of its misery, when Rick scaled the wall at his side and took a perch as well.
"What do you think?" He asked. "Plans might change now."
"Plans are still good," Daryl said. "We just need to adjust. Hell, Maggie died getting them damned missiles, we may as well use them."
"Milton was telling Andrea that the Governor's killing everyone who goes to Woodbury, we can't send the Lieutenant in now."
"We can still lure him there. I dunno, leave a trail of damned breadcrumbs, get him to that mall somehow. It may even be better for us, with the Lieutenant free, he's a good shot can give him a bird's eye view, cover us better."
Rick heaved a deep sigh. "Remember the days when we were just running from walkers?"
Daryl scoffed. "Yeah. I remember throwing a line of squirrels at you too," he added.
Beside him Rick laughed softly. "Yeah, you did." He clasped his hands together and eyed the walker tied in the forest. "We've left a long trail behind us, haven't we? People and places, like cairns marking where we've been."
Daryl eyed him. "Yeah, the thing about cairns is they're supposed to mark a safe passage or a place to hunt, not death and decay where we've been hunted. Burned out husks of barns and bodies buried in quarries."
"Yeah," Rick nodded. "Well, we're going to turn things around. Can't keep living on the run. I won't move these people again. We need to put down roots."
Daryl reached up and rubbed his finger against the side of his nose. "Carol wants to stay here."
"And you?"
"I'll stay where she's happiest."
Rick cleared his throat. "Well, I don't know if anyone wants to go back to the prison after this, but there's not much space here for all of us and I don't want to overstay our welcome."
"You know they want us here, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"We'll talk to the Lieutenant and Grace about it, I'm sure we can work something out. Hell, that lumberyard had a whole shitload of blocks, maybe we could even expand the walls out a bit, build a few more sheds for privacy."
The two men fell silent for a moment, eyeing the forest.
"I've been thinking about this," Rick said suddenly. "The Governor, this war, everything. We can't keep viewing the world like civilized men. We need to act on instinct, less regard for how things used to be and more like warriors, like tribal men."
"I'm already way ahead of you on that one, brother," Daryl grunted. "Dixon's were never civilized."
Rick laughed softly.
"I get you though. These people, this convent. They're ours and we die protecting them, because it's our community, our clan. We take care of each other, makes us stronger."
Reaching over, Rick gripped the back of Daryl's neck companionably.
Any other man who would touch Daryl like that would lose his best lover on a lonely night, but Rick was allowed this privilege, because that was as close to a hug as Daryl Dixon would ever give the man.
The two of them sat there for a while in silence, the morning seemingly warm and pleasant, promising a beautiful day.
And then Daryl spied the Lieutenant heading out for an early morning hunt and he slipped off the wall on the outside to join him.
"You coming?" He called back to Rick who still remained on the wall.
The man studied his surroundings before he too hopped off the wall to join them.
..-~-..
..-~-..
"Hey, Fay, why don't you tell Rick about that woman?" Daryl suggested.
It was two hours later and they had already shot a few ducks, they were beating the bushes for a couple more, but mostly they were just enjoying the brief time off they had from walkers and the threat of Woodbury and the Governor.
"Which one? The one with the dog or the one with the hair?" The Lieutenant asked.
"The one with the dog didn't have hair?" Rick asked.
"No, she did, just not like the one with hair had hair."
"Like, she had long hair or what?"
"How do I put this in a way that won't offend the Texians…?" The Cajun pondered out loud. "You know those things…they, ah, clay pots with grassy detritus growing out of them?"
"Chia pets?" Rick asked.
"Yeah."
"She had an afro?"
"Sure, just not on her head."
It took Rick a moment before he caught on.
"Oh."
"Nice girl, though. One of them hippie flower children types, hell of a mouth on her. Why I remember this one time, we were at the—"
"Not that woman, I meant the one with the funny smell."
"Yeah, no they were the same girl, she said it was patchouli, but…we all know what it really was. Smelled nothing like patchouli." The Lieutenant leapt over a log, while Daryl and Rick moved around it.
"Does Grace know about this patchouli smelling, hairy woman?" Rick asked, throwing a sly grin in Daryl's direction.
"Yeah, what was with that little display yesterday? You two hook up?" Daryl asked.
Quirking a brow, the Lieutenant glanced about, squinting in the sun as they passed into a meadow. "Shouldn't we be duck hunting?"
"Oh, you're ducking something," Rick replied.
"Did I ever tell you about the time I was bitten by a llama?"
"Don't change the subject," Daryl growled.
"Bit me right on the knee, I have the scar to prove it."
"Why'd it bite you on the knee?" Rick asked.
Deciding he wasn't going to fall for the Cajun's razzle dazzle tricks, Daryl got back to the topic at hand. "If I were her I would have slapped your smug Cajun mouth."
"No, the llama bit me on the knee," the Lieutenant clarified with a grin. "Can't slap with hooves, couyon."
"You're a dumb ass," Daryl said.
They walked on for a moment in silence, before the Lieutenant spoke up again.
"Truth is I highly respect and admire Grace," he began, "and she has an ass shaped like a peach and I've made peace with that too."
Glancing at Rick to see his reaction, Daryl was pleased to find the ex-cop grinning. The man needed this, to just be a man again, ribbing other men, talking shop, being somewhat normal.
He supposed that was what they all needed when they could get it, normalcy.
"In fact you should all take a good look when we get back, it's a thing of beauty."
This time Rick laughed softly.
"Did you just give us permission to check out your woman, hoss?" Daryl asked.
"Well, looking's free," the Lieutenant said. "Just don't tell her I said that."
"You scared of her or what, Lieutenant?" Rick asked.
"Hell yeah I am, woman's got a history."
"He's heard things," Daryl pointed out. "Blood in your piss type things."
"What?" Rick asked.
"How's things with your woman, Daryl? Since you've pried into my affairs and all…" the Cajun changed the subject quickly.
"Fine."
"I like Carol, she's a beautiful woman."
"Yeah, well, looking at her ain't free, dumb ass." Daryl snarled.
"Oh I know! Looking at Carol comes with a price. That's why I do it surreptitiously."
Daryl mouthed 'surreptitiously' to Rick in confusion, the man shrugged.
"Of course I meant Carol's a beautiful woman in the way she acts and speaks, she's classy and graceful, elegant in the middle of a genuine circle in hell. The fifth circle, full of the wrathful and the sullen. Carol is the fallen angel who blesses us sinners with her beauty and her charm."
"And what's Grace?" Rick asked.
"Grace? She's that shimmering little point of light called 'Hope' that Pandora left inside that box. She's that reason a man has to carry on, to fight, to die, to live, to survive, to love. She's everything a man needs."
"You know," Rick began, "most of the guy friends I had before all this went down, they usually just got together and talked about tits and ass."
"We covered Grace's ass already," the Lieutenant said.
"Yeah, and Fay's gonna uncover it soon enough if he gets lucky," Daryl retorted.
"Not that one," Rick said. "He's going to need a ring to uncover it."
"Jesus," Daryl breathed.
The Lieutenant shrugged.
"That don't bother you at all?"
"What? Marriage?" The Cajun shrugged. "Why should it? People make such a big deal out of the institution and don't get me wrong I used to in my youth as well, but the truth is if you get along with the person, love them, have fun with them, enjoy their company and not just their body, then why not marry? Unless you're a philandering asshole, it shouldn't bother you to remain faithful to one person. Besides, Grace is a goddamned catch, the woman makes men piss blood, for Christsakes."
"I thought the idea skeeved you out?" Rick asked.
"Not when it's men other than me. Grace wants to make a man piss blood, it's kind of interesting to comprehend."
"You mean it turns you on to think about her kicking the crap out of a man's kidneys?" Daryl teased.
"Of course not…well...no. Not really."
"You one of them masochist weirdo's, can't get it off unless she's squeezing your nuts or something?" Daryl went on.
"Reasons why pre-marital sex should be mandatory," Rick said. "The Lieutenant's going to be very disappointed when he finds out Grace isn't into that kind of sex play."
The Cajun laughed. "What about you and your woman, cabri?" He demanded. "She have to step on your bibette just to finish a round?"
"Carol wouldn't do that kind of thing," Daryl said. "She's a good woman."
"Lori used to have a bit of an exhibitionist tendency," Rick spoke up suddenly. "We used to have weekends out of the house, rent a hotel room…she liked to have sex in front of the open windows there."
"You dirty fucker," Daryl stated.
The men's laughter startled a couple of ducks out of the underbrush nearby and the Lieutenant and Daryl both paused long enough to shot two down, before going back to laughing.
"Mais foutre, I think we're lost," the Lieutenant remarked after they sobered long enough to collect the ducks.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**The Governor**
"Have they been found yet?" He asked.
The black man who he had decided would replace the missing Martinez shook his head. "Not yet, sir."
Smiling, the Governor clapped the man on the back. "Well, they can't have gone far. Trails are always there to follow."
"I suppose so, sir."
"I'm going to give you until the end of the week to find them, that's fair enough, right?"
The man looked mildly panicked. "I don't—"
"Of course, we've lost track of time since Milton disappeared, he was our time keeper, so I'll assume that the week ends in three days."
"Sir—"
"The wicked will be punished. I have faith in you. Remember now, you do what you need to the terrorists, but I want the black woman alive. The one with the sword." Philip beamed at him. "Say goodbye to your wife and children."
"What?"
"Before you go out to find the prison group survivors, you should say goodbye to your family."
The man swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Three days."
Giving the man's shoulder one final squeeze, Philip left him, heading across the street for his home once more. He had stopped the man (he wanted to say his name was Charlie) on the street as he saw him leaving his post at the gate, but was eager to get home. He had to feed Penny before it got too late. She couldn't eat so close to bedtime.
Stepping into his apartment home, he grabbed the food for Penny first thing and headed for her room, ignoring Martinez in his chair.
Opening the door, he knelt down to come face to face with his baby girl as she sat propped up in her bedroom.
Philip had pushed aside all his good jackets on their hangers in order to see his sweet girl, and she was framed by his clothes on either side of her.
Tucking a copper coin into his daughter's mouth he smiled as it slipped out and added to the growing pile in her lap. She'd eat when she got hungry enough, he supposed. Once they found the cure to her disease she'd bounce right back. It couldn't hurt that that Michonne woman had split his baby girl's tongue when she stabbed her in the back of the head. But Penny was a strong girl, she'd bounce right back, he had no doubt.
Idly scratching at the empty socket under his eyepatch, Philip stood up and closed the door to his daughter's bedroom, moving to pour himself a tumbler of whiskey, easing down at his table, eyeing Martinez.
Things would get better. He'd make everything right again.
The Cajun Dialect
Frère - Brother
Detritus - Junk, Garbage
Bibette - Penis