Disclaimer: Don't own them. Except for Fin. : )
Notes: Un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine, apologies in advance. : )
updated: 3/31 for typo corrections. Hope it helps!
Chapter Four
(Daryl POV)
Rick gets up slow, obviously in pain.
Daryl follows him upstairs after the girl goes outside with Beth and Carl.
Rick slowly ascends the stairs one step at a time and sits down on the double bed tucked into the corner. It's obvious Carl must be sleeping on the floor next to him from the pile of loose bedding. The sleeping bags rolled and tucked in the far corner are probably the girl's.
He wonders for a few moments if it's safe to leave Carl and Beth outside with her. They're both armed, and she left her bow leaning against the wall by the door before they stepped outside.
He's not sure he could be that trusting.
She's obviously not foolish. Hell. Eight people is a fair few to have killed. Maybe she's just confident that she doesn't need the bow to take them out.
The idea makes his skin itch.
Carl seems to get along great with her, and she seems generally friendly towards him at least.
He's pretty certain the way Carl stares at her all the time the kid's fighting his first crush, not that Daryl could blame him. Girl was memorable to say the least and she'd saved his life—which tends to leave an impression on someone.
He'd learned that himself.
He leans his back against the wall beside the bed, slides down to have a seat on the floor. Follows Rick's gaze out the window to find Carl and Beth hanging by identical belt harnesses from the large tree limbs outside the loft window. Beth is swinging in slow circles, Carl using her shoe each time it passes him to spin her faster, they're both laughing.
God, how long has it been since he saw them both laugh?
Hell, since any of 'em had a reason to laugh?
Rick's gaze doesn't move from the scene as they sit in silence, eyes locked on Carl. Fin is using some kind of strap to climb the tree, hands framing either side of the trunk, boots braced against the rough bark. She climbs with a practiced ease; like a cat-positive she won't fall.
Carl stops spinning Beth and mimes shooting towards the ground with his fingers. Fin is laughing at whatever he's saying as he gestures wildly at the two of them.
"Not sure if its genius or dumb to corner yourself up a tree like a Damn coon with Walkers on the ground."
"Almost three years, most of it alone."
His mouth tightens into a hard line, mulling that over. Obviously she's found something that works.
"Carl says she's as good with that bow as you are."
He feels himself frown; not sure why that bothers him. It's a smart weapon, and it's a hell of a lot easier to make arrows then bullets. He watches her shift her weight to the limb that Carl and Beth are suspended from walking across its surface with careful feet.
"It's not a bad bow." He won't comment on her shooting. "Can she be trusted?" They've been burned too many times.
"She saved Carl when he was alone. Patched me up with those herbs and fed us both. She could have just walked away. Shit Carl had no idea she was even there 'til the first Walker fell. He told me: he would have been ambushed from behind by five more. He thought it was you when he saw the arrows."
He's not sure what to say to that. Must have been a shock to him, obviously.
Tiny redhead shorter then he was dressed like Damn Rambo? Daryl probably would have swallowed his tongue had it happened to him.
He's starting to see how the crush developed...Shakes his head.
"She told Carl she'll get him a bow when we get where she stays. We could use something other than guns. Not many bullets left."
That's always a problem…like food.
"Smart for him to learn, it's quiet too." If he had a spare bow he might have taught one of them ages ago.
"That was what she told him; said not to use his gun because people could hear it for miles. That as long as other people didn't know you even exist, they couldn't hurt you."
She's not wrong. How different would their lives be if Meryl hadn't found Glenn and Maggie on that baby food run? If the Governor had never found them...
His chest tightens for a moment thinking of his brother, his dead, hollow eyes…
"Shit people are Assholes, world going to Shit don't change that." He'd been stabbed in the back and beaten down long before it all went to Hell.
"I don't know a lot more about her, not sure what to make of half she says. I don't think she's crazy; she's saved Carl twice now—that's got to count for something, saving a complete stranger. She's obviously smart, and capable on her own; sounds like she's been running from people as long as Walkers." He pauses watching them outside. Weighing the choice between them.
"Know what I think?" Daryl's still watching her in the tree. Rick turns his head to look at him. How many people have they turned away in the past, ignored to save themselves?
She's more than okay on her own; she's not asking them.
"Think she's taking a bigger chance on us."
:: Walking Dead ::
He's back downstairs trying not to think about when they're coming back inside; refusing to go out and check on them when Carl and Beth come inside closing the door behind them.
"Where's Fin?"
"She said she wanted to get something and to go ahead and get the stove going with water." Beth moves to do just that.
Daryl yanks open the front door, steps out onto the porch looking around for her. It will be dark soon, it's no Damn time to be alone in the woods.
"She'll be okay Daryl," Carl's followed him out onto the porch.
He scowls. "There's Walkers out there. It's getting dark. No one should be out there."
Especially some Damn girl shorter then fucking Carl.
"She said she'd be back in 30 minutes." Carl leans on the rail to wait obviously not bothered by the withering look Daryl shoots him.
She's back just as it's turning from dusk to dark. She's carrying something off to the side, like she doesn't want it to touch her pant legs as she walks. Carl jumps off the porch steps and jogs towards her while Daryl waits.
"Is that fish?" Carl's asks. Definitely grinning; Daryl can see it from the damn porch, kids practically bouncing. He needs to calm the Hell down. It's just fish.
"How did you catch fish so fast?"
Daryl waits for her answer. He'd also like to know considering it used to take Andrea and her sister Amy most of the day to fish in that rock quarry ages ago. She's barely been gone enough time to make the trek to the lake and back, but she's carrying four large fish at least the length of his forearm.
"Seriously, how'd you do that?" Carl jumps onto the porch ahead of her.
"Had the nets already out, just had to pull them in."
"The Hell'd you get fishing nets?" She didn't have them when she left.
She stares at him for a moment. "Made them, volley ball and tennis court nets from the local schools."
"That is so awesome." Carl's grin is a mile wide.
Kid needs to pipe down.
"Alright, 'nuf of that, get inside." Daryl growls ready to toss him inside by his collar.
Damn girl. Had to be smart and gorgeous. And now he's going to have to go out in the woods alone with her with Rick injured. Try not to get distracted and trip over his own damn feet like an idiot.
"What's his problem?" Carl whispers to Fin as she follows him inside.
:: Walking Dead ::
Damn girl knows how to gut a fish and cook it too. Of course.
Beth tries to help her but Fin has her help Rick change the poultice on his wounds and wash the bandages in water, which he approves of at least.
He snatches one of the fish off the counter while she instructs Beth behind him, gutting it silently listening to her talk. Keeps his hands, and mind busy slicing it into fillets that match the ones already cut while she finishes handing items to Beth. She returns to the counter, standing beside him now; returning to her previous task. He's not sure why her quick precise movements irritate him. Taking care of Rick, making dinner...
Like she has to baby them, the Hell's that all about?
"Can you grab the jar in my bag, it's got a black lid." He stares at her for almost a full minute before snatching the bag off the floor and putting it on the tabletop with a heavy thump. He unzips it and finds several plastic bags with dried leaves and a few small jars. One that looks like grey goop with a black lid.
He unscrews the lid sniffing it cautiously. "The Hell is this?"
"Fat, for the fish." She pulls the jar from his fingertips. She's so tiny standing this close to him in the dark kitchen.
"The Hell you get that from?"
"When I'm home I use fresh stuff, but on the road I need something light that won't spoil. This is mostly Crisco with oil worked into it." She spoons out a glob and the pan starts to crack and fizzle. She drops the gas flame down and raises the pan to let it cool a moment before adding the fish. When the smell fills the kitchen he's not surprised to see Carl hovering again.
"Out the damn kitchen before you burn yourself." Daryl snaps shoving Carl gently but firmly back out the door. "Jesus, go wash or something." Just get out of here. He doesn't need Carl mooning underfoot over Fin.
She's biting her lower lip the corners of her mouth upturned when he turns back to the stove.
"What?!"
She shakes her head, not looking at him. Definitely grinning now.
He can feel his cheeks heating. "Damn Kids."
He's not sure if he's talking about Carl, or her.
"What's cooking?" Rick has hobbled his way back downstairs looking cleaner. Daryl moves to stand against the wall as Rick leans around the stove watching Fin flip the fillets in the pan.
"Some kind of river fish." Fin tells him.
"River fish." Rick repeats. Staring at the pan.
"Well," She leans over the pan mirroring him her tone all serious. "It's fish." She leans back and arches her eyebrow at him. "And I pulled it out of a river."
Rick is grinning and it shouldn't bother him. It doesn't bother him. Shit.
"Carl said something about a volleyball net?"
"Volleyball fish then."
"Well it smells amazing." Rick leans against the counter to steady himself with a shaky hand.
Too damn close to her. Daryl scowls. Why the Hell should he care? Damnit.
"Thanks, but it's the fat you're smelling. You sit before you fall down." She points the spatula at Rick's chest before turning back to the pan scooping the first fillets out and adding the next. Bending to check the paste there; he came in just as she put it in the oven compartment earlier, that and some other dish he didn't see her make. Isn't the first time dinner will be a mystery to him until he eats it. They all have a long sorted history with un-labeled cans.
"What are you, Martha Stewart of the Apocalypse?"
Fin doesn't pause or look at him. "I'd rather be Alton Brown."
He has no idea what that means.
"Anyone but Bobby Flay." Rick chimes in. Fin is laughing.
Daryl's had enough of this Shit. He's about to leave the room when the doorway is blocked by Beth. Carl sneaking back into the kitchen on her heels, again.
"Do you need any help?" Beth offers.
"You wanna set this out?" Fin nods to plates like this is damn Thanksgiving, or Sunday brunch.
Beth moves around the kitchen placing plates and finding silverware to put out. She grins at Carl to sit when she almost runs into him the second time, he does thank God.
Daryl was ready to chuck him from the kitchen again.
Fin pulls the food from the oven and stove serving them at the table like they do this all time . Family dinner by kerosene lantern light. It reminds him painfully of the Prison common area.
Dark shadows dance across the walls with each movement. Carl and Beth talk about climbing with Fin. Rick listens intently hands clasped before him, more relaxed. Whatever tea herbs Fin made for Beth to give him have obviously helped lessen his pain to a more tolerable level; though his face is still tight. He glances back and forth between Fin and Carl as they talk. Daryl's gut twists; he drops his gaze to his plate surprised to see he's eaten it all. Lumpy corncake, fish and veggies; canned peas carrots and corn scavenged from the cabinets apparently.
He looks up when Fin's chair scraps against the floor, she dumps the rest of the food between their plates. Beth protests.
"Stop it. It won't keep, there might not be any tomorrow until late, and you could use a few pounds."
Daryl scowls. They were on the Damn run. It's not like he had time to stop for lunch and snacks. And Beth's always been skinny like Maggie; it's not his fault. He gets up and leaves the room.
He needs to get his head together, fast. Rick says nothing as he all but flees the room.
He swears he can feel Fin's eyes on the back of his neck as he walks out.