So many kind reviews. A few newcomers too, very much welcome! ^_^
I know, I know, going to be a lot of people complaining about not finding out what's happening with those at the Mall in this chapter...but deal with it, kiddos, I have loose end's to tie up at the convent and such. I'm sure you won't fault me for leaving a bit of the action behind for some angst, right?
Chapter Eighty-One: Maison
**Old Missy**
The Convent
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stroked Annie's hair off the girl's forehead and smiled.
"Sister Mary Agnes will be right across the hall if you need her," she said.
"Why won't you just stay here tonight?" The girl asked. "In case I need you."
Sighing, Grace stood up. "Because they need me on the wall tonight. Sister Mary Elizabeth is in the infirmary with Herschel and Mr. Mamet and Father O'Rourke and Sister Mary Agnes are both catching up on their sleep."
"But I need you."
"I know, honey. But we can't always have what we want. You'll be perfectly safe and Sister Mary Agnes is right across the hall, besides Boo's with you and Mr. Daryl's dog."
Annie buried her face in the grey fur of the dog sleeping on the cot at her side.
Sister Mary Elizabeth had to literally drag the dog out of the infirmary where it had flopped its huge frame on a cot beside Daryl's and refused to move during the surgery.
Herschel and Mr. Mamet were still working on the man, they took another unit of blood from the young nun, but the surgery was so far going smoothly thanks to the generator and the equipment from the Marine base.
"Will you come back in the morning?" Annie asked.
"Of course."
The little girl blinked up at her. "You have to promise."
"I promise."
Annie rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. "Promise not to break your promise?"
"I swear, honey. I'll be just outside on the wall." Grace said, pulling a jacket on to shield herself from the rain. She knew if Lafayette were there he'd be puckering his brow at the thought of her going out to stand in the rain on the wall all night, but with very little people left at the convent, she was elected to wall duty in the downpour.
"If you don't come back, I'll understand," the little girl whispered.
Grace felt that frost shield she had put up around her melt a little at the sight of the girl. She had promised herself she wouldn't let on how upset she was with the entire situation, but here she was crumbling.
She straightened her spine and levelled her chin. "Don't be silly, honey. Now get to sleep and try to keep covered up tonight, this rain is cold and it's getting colder." Leaning down, she pressed a quick kiss to Annie's forehead and moved to the little box where Judith was sleeping.
With no real option, Grace had placed the box up inside her chiffarobe, her sparse collection of clothes shoved to one side of the rack so that the box could fit inside and off the cold floor.
Inside the box Judith was sleeping so sweetly, her chubby cheeks pink with good health, her eyelashes fluttering against the tops of her cheeks.
"If Judith wakes for any reason, you get Sister Mary Agnes, right?"
Annie nodded on the bed. "Yes. And if she doesn't, then let her sleep. I know. And don't bother her or wake her, because she's warm and happy in her crib."
"Good girl, you're growing up so fast, sweetheart." Grace remarked. "Carl will be in shortly, he can watch Judith after that, okay? Don't worry if you wake and she's gone."
"I won't. Is Carl going to stay inside with us?"
"He'll be in shortly and I'll tell him to make himself comfortable next door in Sister Joan's room, she won't mind."
"Okay."
Moving to the door, Grace snatched up the .22 rifle the Lieutenant had given her and slung it on her shoulder.
"I love you," Annie called after her.
"I love you too, sweetheart," Grace replied easily from the doorway. "Now be good for Sister Mary Agnes and Carl."
With the rifle on her back, she scurried down the hall, heading for the door. Now wasn't the time to be matronly. With the protectors gone away to war, she knew that she'd have to finally lay hand on the rifle.
She wasn't lying when she told Lafayette that she knew how to handle one, as a southern woman who grew up in the rural areas of Georgia, she used to go rat shooting with her brothers, but that had been with pellet guns in all honesty. Still, a gun was a gun and her aim would probably be no different. She was a good shot, not a crack shot like the Lieutenant, but then again he was a trained sniper, but she could at least hit what she was aiming at given a decent distance.
With no other options, she was prepared to step up if needed. There wasn't any hesitation on her part, not anymore. She made her peace with the fact that things weren't like they used to be.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Merle**
The Road
Sitting in the back of the truck, huddled under a tarp with Karen and her son as they sped down the highway, Merle glowered out at the rain. It was lowering the temperature of the normally heated Georgian night until you could practically see your breath and there looked like no end in sight. No stars, nor any moon to give him hope of clear skies overhead.
Every now and then Karen would look over at him as though weighing his worth with her eyes, before she returned her attention to the cold, damp world around them.
If the biters didn't get them then pneumonia from the damned cold and damp would. It was cold enough to turn balls into marbles, but they had no choice.
In the front of the truck Michonne drove, Carol and Mrs. Douglas on either side of the Cajun fawning over his sorry ass.
Hell, it wasn't like Merle was displeased by the dumb bastard surviving his ordeal, he just wished the stupid ass would snap out of his confusion and start speaking English, the babbling French wasn't helping anyone.
It seemed like hours in the rain before the truck turned down the cattle trail of the convent, sliding and spinning in the mud, before Michonne pulled it over to the side, one side driving on the grass which gave them traction enough to make it through the mudpit that the trail had become.
Eventually the truck slowed and Merle peeked out and around the tarp, but he couldn't see much in the rain, he knew that they were getting close to the convent though and odd as it was, he felt a form of relief wash over him.
He never had a home, never cared much to have one, but there was something oddly comforting about the thought of pulling the truck into the convent and stepping out in the safety of the lawns within the walls.
Maybe it was the fact that he was just looking forward to checking on his brother, before curling up where it would be dry and warm.
God, he just wanted to be dry and warm. His nest-like bed never seemed so inviting before. The day had been hell and he just wanted to sleep.
Eventually they pulled to a complete stop and Merle glanced out and around the tarp again, finding them at the front gate of the convent.
He hated that feeling of absolute relief he felt. It meant he was feeling sentimental about the fucking place.
Sister Mary Claire opened the gate for them, her clothes plastered to her body in the rain and her face pale, eyes wide as they drove inside past her.
No sooner had the truck stopped, then Merle leapt out onto the soggy grounds, where the trucks were beginning to wear muddy ruts into the grass before the church. Worried they might be put into some kind of situation where the newcomers could be accosted, Merle held out his hand to Karen to help her down from the back of the truck, keeping her and her son close until he could explain things to the others.
There seemed to be no sign of Rick or the others, so they were either still at the mall or never coming back. Of course the heavy rain made it hard to see anything that wasn't in his face.
Helping Michonne remove the Lieutenant from the cab, Merle kept his eyes out for the others, but after dragging the Cajun halfway towards the infirmary, he only came across Carl who was heading inside from the wall.
He eyed them quietly for a moment in the hard rain, bowing his head so that a small waterfall poured from the brim of his hat.
"Better put him in the dorms for the night," he suggested. "Herschel's still working on Daryl in the infirmary, he doesn't want contamination from outside sources while he works."
Merle hefted the Lieutenant up as the man begun to slip, glad to hear that his brother was still with them, if only just and veered off for the dorms, following Carl, Mrs. Douglas fussing over the Cajun from behind.
"You'd better fucking appreciate what I'm doing for you," Merle growled to the Lieutenant as they stepped into the dorms, both men creating a lake beneath them.
The man lolled his head on his neck and eyed him quietly.
Carl led them down the hall, before pushing open a door into Sister Gertrude's old room. "Here," he said. "He can sleep in here."
As Merle settled the Cajun with Mrs. Douglas still lingering, he snarled at the old woman. "You know we have a man with a gunshot in the infirmary, right?"
"I have no clue where that is," she argued.
"Who's this?" Carl demanded, hand on the pistol at his hip.
"Hardly a threat," Merle replied. "Take her to Daryl and Herschel."
Carl hesitated, eyeing the woman. "Is she from Woodbury?"
"Yeah, and she can help out with my brother." Merle struggled to get the Lieutenant to still on the bed as he kept trying to leave it for some reason. "Lie down you stupid coonass bastard."
"Je n'appartiens pas ici." The Cajun argued.
"Shut up and lay down or I'll knock you out," Merle snarled. "Carl just get your ass over to the infirmary with Mrs. Douglas! Stop being a little shit!"
The young man scowled at him. "Fuck you, Merle. I shouldn't have to take orders from you."
"You'd better choose your next words wisely, boy." Merle replied, pushing the Lieutenant back onto the bed roughly.
Karen stepped forward from where she lingered in the hall with her son. "I have him, Merle, take Mrs. Douglas where you need her."
"I'll stay with her and Noah," Michonne offered.
Giving Carl one last acidic look, Merle stormed out of the room.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Carol**
The Convent
As soon as the truck stopped, she was out the door, heading for the infirmary in the rain.
It was selfish of her to worry about Daryl first before getting the Lieutenant settled, but all she had on her mind was the need to know if he survived the surgery. Everything else sort of blurred.
By the time she reached the infirmary, she was soaked right through and entered the building quickly.
Across the main room she spied Herschel and Mr. Mamet still huddled over Daryl's body and she couldn't see, but from the looks of it they were still working on him.
Herschel glanced up as she entered.
"Carol we're still working on him," he said quickly. "He's fine so far, but if you don't mind I would like it if you weren't here right now."
She nodded and backed out the open door with a soft, "sorry."
Pressing herself against the wall beside the door, huddled under the overhang, she heaved a sigh, but still felt the tears that were threatening to spill all day fall. She gripped the wooden rose at her collar tightly and watched the rain fall, eyeing the way a foggy mist seemed to mingle with the droplets as the heat of the earth dissipated into the atmosphere as the temperature dropped and cooled the area down.
She wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that the surgery was taking so long.
Finding Merle and Mrs. Douglas heading through the rain towards her, she sniffled back the tears and cleared her throat, not wanting to upset Merle.
They both nodded to her and stepped inside.
After a few minutes of what she was sure was Merle explaining things to the others, he emerged alone and stood beside her quietly, watching the rain for a moment.
Carol glanced over at him.
In the darkness she could only make out his vague form, lit by the lights coming from within the infirmary where the generator hummed power to the entire building for the time it was needed most.
Quickly and pointedly, Merle Dixon reached out his good hand and clamped it on her shoulder, there was hesitation right before it landed, but when it did it was warm and rough and heavy and real.
Catching his eye, Carol found him watching her with furtive, darting glances, before he nodded once and removed his hand, heading for the frat house.
She watched him disappear into the rain, before deciding to go and seek out Grace and to check on Judith and Annie.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Old Missy**
The Convent
Standing on the wall, the hood of the light jacket she had on keeping most of the rain off her head, shivering from the cold and wet, she eyed the truck parked in front of the church between long bouts of keeping watch on the land beyond the wall.
The rain was still pouring down on her head hard, but in the flashes of lightening that had begun streaking across the sky she caught sight of the truck and the buildings better. The only downside to the lightening was that it flashed then her eyes had to readjust to the darkness again and it made keeping watch harder.
It seemed to be getting colder as the heat evacuated the ground that had soaked it up all day, or maybe it was just because Grace had been standing in the rain for about an hour.
Maybe it was the sign of bad news that someone hadn't come to find her yet. Maybe they were trying to decide how to approach her with the news, maybe they were debating who would be the bearer of bad news.
She tried not to think about it. Tried hard not to think about how oddly desolate her life would be without the Cajun.
And then a flash of lightening and Carol was there, walking the wall, heading towards her.
Grace felt like her legs would fail her as she stood still, trembling hands clutching at her rifle as she fought not to break down and frighten the other woman.
Carol was probably in hell herself, Daryl was still in surgery and there was just too much blood taken from Sister Mary Elizabeth, no more could be taken for the man.
"Grace," Carol shouted over the rain, her hands clutching a rifle of her own.
Bowing her head, Grace prayed one last time that the news was good, before she turned to face Carol.
"We found him," Carol said. "He's alive, in rough shape but—"
Grace didn't intend the sob to escape her throat, but it tore out from her in an animalistic cry. She thanked God, she thanked every Saint and angel she could think of quickly in her head, before smiling at Carol. "Good, I'm glad."
The woman nudged her. "Go on inside, he's in the dorms for the night, I'm sure you would like to see him. I'll take your watch."
Slipping the rifle onto her back quickly, Grace pulled Carol in for a tight hug and pressed a thankful kiss to her cheek. "Thank you," she said, grasping Carol's hand in hers tightly. "I've prayed," she confessed, "for the Lieutenant to come home safely and for Daryl too. Seems God might be listening tonight," she finished, hoping it gave Carol peace of mind.
Beaming, Carol nodded. "Must be. Go on inside."
Grace gave the woman one last smile, before hopping off the wall carefully and racing for the dorms. Slipping and skidding on the grass in an undignified manner. If anyone were to see her in her haste, she would lose all face at the convent, but she didn't care one bit. All she wanted was to feel his heart beating beneath her cheek.
Inside the building she shed her waterlogged jacket, dropping it on the ground just outside the door to either rot or wash away with the rains, she didn't care, she wasn't dripping on her floors.
The first room she came too was the one he was in, she knew because of the ruckus inside as she peeked in.
On the bed, pale, sweaty and looking weak, was the Lieutenant, struggling like a kitten against Michonne's arms as she restrained him to the bed.
"Je n'appartiens pas ici!" The man protested wildly, fighting with all his power against being confined to the cot.
Grace stepped into the room, heading straight for him. "Lie down," she commanded, "before you hurt yourself, good Lord."
Falling still and silent at her approach, Grace spied the man struggling to make sense of something, he looked confused and a little frightened.
Glancing around the room quickly, she found two newcomers standing quietly in a corner, drenched from the rain and shaking from the cold. "Michonne," she said softly, easing onto the edge of the cot, "why don't you take those two and get them some warm, dry clothes and open a jar of preserves for yourself and them, I can take care of the Lieutenant."
The woman's eyes sparkled and she bowed her head. "He's a pain in my ass anyways."
Grace smiled at the woman's words, eyes on Lafayette who had begun to tear up as it seemed his mind caught up with him.
"Thank you, Michonne," Grace added before the woman left. "For bringing him back to us."
"Well, it was easier than we thought it'd be. Truthfully, I'm kind of disappointed." At the door she paused. "He's going to be fine, just a little confused from blood loss and a nasty concussion. Got real lucky."
As Grace was left alone with the Lieutenant she quietly studied him for a moment as he flopped back onto the bed, eyeing her with heavy lidded eyes, ready to fall asleep at any second.
"You stupid ass," she stated, wiping tears out of her eyes stubbornly. "You stupid, stupid son of a bitch."
As a principle Grace never swore, but she felt there weren't words enough that could sum up what exactly she was thinking at the moment in regards to the Cajun lying on the cot.
"Je me sens comme si je veux vous voir nu," he mumbled, running a weak finger down the side of her face, tracing the path of a tear.
In the dark she couldn't make out the glassy, dazed look in his eyes, but she knew he was confused by the mere fact he was speaking French with her. He knew she didn't know much.
"I don't speak French, darling," she whispered, feeling a droplet of cold rain water trickle out of her hair and down the back of her neck. "You know that."
"J'aime une femme avec une petite poitrine," he said, eyes sliding shut.
"You're never going far from this place, ever again," Grace admitted. "You're going to stay close to home from now on."
He opened his eyes, but barely enough to really see much.
"You must be tired, honey." She said. "Get some rest."
"Je t'aime, pie bavarde." He muttered one final time, before falling asleep.
Pushing to her feet, Grace eyed him as he slept with a calm, measured look, before deciding it was safe to get out of her soaking wet clothes, hurrying to the door, she closed it and quietly shed her wet clothes onto the floor and pulling a clean white nightgown from Sister Gertrude's chiffarobe to slip on.
Moving back to the cot, she slipped in beside the Lieutenant, mindful of the bandages on his ribs that showed through the open buttons of his ill-fitting flannel shirt, she lay her head against his chest.
If she could hear his heartbeat and feel his breathing she'd be able to sleep peacefully.
The Cajun Dialect
Maison – Home
Je n'appartiens pas ici – I don't belong here
Je me sens comme si je veux vous voir nu – I feel as if I want to see you naked
J'aime une femme avec une petite poitrine – I love a woman with a small chest
Je t'aime, pie bavarde – I love you, magpie