"Why'd they even wanna know?" Daryl murmured to her quietly, after the group around the fire had dispersed enough for them to have a reasonably private conversation. Cassia shrugged,
"Morbid curiosity?" She guessed, shaking her head to communicate to him that she had no clue as to what their motive could have been. Daryl gave another one of his awkward nods and returned to the arrow he'd been playing around with the whole time. Cassia turned her focus towards the small fire. It had never been allowed to thrive or burn too bright, for fear of drawing walkers, or even worse; the living. She was suddenly, inexplicably reminded of the last campfire they'd had, when the small horde had found them and had been enough to severely decimate their numbers. The memory of the tragedy seemed to flicker about and reenact itself in the flames, roaring and screaming; those, of course, had been entirely in her head, and the flames themselves were only tiny, dwindling ones, not enough to even warrant being monitored. Cassia's skin was warm, like a comfortable kind of burning, the glow from the small fire emanating across her skin when she held her hand out to inspect the effect. It was odd, though, she wasn't close enough to the fire to feel as warm as she did, and it was only a very small fire, anyway. And why did she feel the burning feeling on her back?
It suddenly occurred to her why the feeling was familiar.
She felt like she was being watched.
Cassia swiveled around so suddenly in her seat that Daryl even looked up to see what she was reacting to. Which was saying something, as he was usually a strong believer in letting people sort out their own problems.
Nothing. There was nothing out there.
So what the hell was wrong with Cassie and why did she feel so paranoid, all of a sudden? There was also this underlying feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on, couldn't quite focus on it enough to figure out what it was, but it was nagging at her, hinting at an emotion from the background of a very blurry, hectic picture.
"Somethin' out there?" Daryl asked her quietly, craning his neck and narrowing his eyes to try and pick out a figure against the darkness. They were both listening out for that telltale groan. Cassia shook her head uncertainly,
"I... don't know." She confessed, and then rose from her seat and quickly made her way over to where Dale was sat atop the RV, binoculars hanging from a strap around his neck. She waved up at him, and had to make a sharp "psst" noise to garner his attention. She'd caught him right on the verge of falling asleep, and he jolted awake, blinking down at her, a little dazed and yet very alert,
"What? What is it?"
"Is there anything out there?"
Dale licked his lips and rubbed at his eyes, dragging a tired hand down his face, then brought the binoculars up and took the time to do a full, thorough sweep of the land around them. He paused for a moment when looking off towards the left, for a little bit, but then shook his head,
"Nothing but a fox."
A fox? Wow. Foxes were tougher than they seemed. Cassia frowned and rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck, trying to get rid of the burning feeling. Daryl made a low, contemplative noise, and when she turned to look at him, he altered his gaze from frowning at the hand she had on her neck and towards her eyes. They shared a look for the briefest of moments. Perhaps Daryl was thinking through the idea that she may well be losing her mind. She wouldn't blame him. She wondered that, herself. Dale squinted down at her in concern,
"You feeling alright, Cassie?"
"Hmm? Uh, yeah. Fine. Thank you." She mumbled and then turned on her heel and made her way back over to the main house, glancing off towards the tree line every few steps. She would never be able to hear or sense Daryl following her, but she could guess he was there, and that turned out to be right, when his face suddenly intercepted her view. When had he caught up? Cassia almost collided with him, which could have resulted in a headbutt, but apparently this didn't concern him, as he just waved a hand in front of her face,
"You finally havin' a breakdown, or what?"
"I'm just tired."
"... Uhuh."
"I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Daryl."
"Wait. Hold up."
She halted, obediently.
Daryl scrutinised her face for a moment before stepping forward a little and hoisting one of her arms up, the right one, in fact, and holding it there, on the same level as his own shoulder. His eyes narrowed as if preparing to see something he desperately wished he couldn't, and then carefully, gently, he inched the sleeve of her t-shirt up with two of his long fingers. Cassia sucked a breath in and held it, silently, not even knowing why. The tension was palpable, and yet, to the outside world, nothing was even really happening - Daryl just appeared to be rolling her sleeve up to bare her shoulder.
A long, visceral scar spanned from just below where the hemline of the sleeve of her short sleeved t-shirt had been, and curled up round the back of her shoulder, finishing off by where her spine was located. It hadn't even faded that much, though it had been inflicted almost two months ago. Daryl tensed up at the sight of it, his fingers curling round the hem of her sleeve, subconsciously. His gaze never faltered, entirely fixated on that scar. Cassia was sure it was a forever scar. It would never fade, or heal up.
"It's still there," Daryl finally noted, speaking the obvious out loud. Cassia nodded her head, very slowly, in agreement, it was a dazed, almost dumb gesture, and she hadn't been entirely instrumental in making it happen.
"I think it always will be."
"What'd he use?" Daryl asked, finally, deciding to disrupt the blanketing, mesmerising silence. He looked a little sorry for asking the question, but she knew his motive must be a more practical one, probably trying to figure out if there was a way for it to heal.
"Glass," she murmured, her eyes glazing over a little. They began to sting from the unshed tears she'd been holding back for so, so long, and she yanked her arm away, tugging her sleeve back down. She drew a hand stubbornly across her face, drying off her eyes, and fixed Daryl with a resolute, business-like look. She nodded to him and then repeated her earlier sentiment, insisting on it,
"Good night, Daryl."
"Night, Cassie."
She thought she heard him sigh.
The next morning was an odd one for Cassia. Firstly, she woke up in a bed. That, more than anything, freaked her out, and she only just resisted the burgeoning urge to scream. Secondly, she felt sick. But not just your average bout of nausea, this was one of those horrible spells of morning sickness, and on top of that, she had one of those feelings again. It had been right the first time, when the quarry camp had been attacked, it had been correct the second time, when Carl was shot, and now...
Lord knew what was going to happen now.
Cassia allowed herself some time to adjust and stretch, though the latter action was a rather uncomfortable endeavour, when one isn't used to sleeping in a bed and is about ten weeks pregnant.
Breakfast was fruit and vitamins.
A group went out pretty early on to look for Sophia. It ate away at her and tormented her endlessly that she couldn't be out there, looking and helping with them. They'd all insisted she needed to stay back at the farm, and she could understand why, but yet... there they were, all out there looking for a little girl who has terrified and most likely starving and alone in a world where the dead didn't stay dead and walked about and wanted to eat her. Cassia hadn't even realised she thought Sophia was still alive until she thought that. Huh. Interesting.
Lori was oddly emotional that day, too, though she would never tell anyone why. She kept approaching Cassia with the look of someone about to spill a very deep and dark secret, but then ended up asking her completely menial things like how to use a compass.
Everyone and everything was just weird.
Cassia, instead of focusing on the oddities occurring around her, decided to practice her skills with knives. She was set up by a small tree just outside the general area of where the tents were. Close enough that Dale could see her and get to her pretty easily, and far out enough not to disturb anybody or hit anyone with an errant knife. She crafted up a makeshift target from a spare, torn red t-shirt, and had used some of the white paint that had been left by the unfinished picket fence to create the outer and inner rings, as well as the bullseye. She was doing a pretty good job, too, when Lori walked up behind her. Cassia had managed to get every single knife within the inner boundaries of the smallest ring, and never strayed any farther from the bullseye than that. Lori gave a low whistle, her hands tucked in her pockets,
"Well I'll be damned. A pregnant ninja." Cassia snorted and skipped over to collect the knives, brandishing them proudly.
"Maybe I'm just out here showing off my mad skills for you to see, so that you'll go report to Rick that I'm not completely useless, after all," she joked, grinning and cocking her head at the other woman. Lori's lips curled up at the corners, and she raised her eyebrows,
"No-one's ever thought you were useless, hon."
"Not out loud, they haven't, no."
Lori rolled her eyes and changed the topic onto something less dangerous,
"So where exactly did you learn to throw knives?"
"I had a roommate once, who was something of a mad, skilled genius. And I can do more than just throw knives."
"Remind me not to get on your bad side again."
"Again?"
"Before... at the traffic pile up? I-"
"Oh... no, Lori, don't worry about that. It was just a difference in opinion."
"It's hard to try and keep hold of your morals in times like this."
Cassia nodded, biting down on her lower lip,
"I know."
Lori gave her a smile, and looked about to say something else when something caught her attention past Cassia's shoulder.
A lone figure was slowly but surely making it's way towards them from the treeline. There was something uncannily familiar about it. Cassia felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise up, and the bad feeling she'd been harboring all morning only worsened. It was almost painful, how sure she was that she knew this person, or at least recognised them from somewhere, sometime. She frowned and took a step back to be by Lori's side, grabbing gently at her hand to hold it. It was just the two of them out there. Dale must be distracted by something, and the others weren't back yet.
The figure was getting closer.
It felt like the person was looking directly at them, focused on them, centering it's entire path towards where they stood. There was no way that was true, right?
... Right? They weren't looking at Lori and Cassia, surely not. Not from that distance.
A couple of minutes later brought the person close enough for it to be discerned that they were, in fact, walking straight towards them.
Cassia felt her foot twitching with nervous, terrified anticipation. Who were they?
They were too close.
Cassia grabbed all of her knives and slipped out of Lori's grasp. She made sure she had a firm hold on two of the bigger knives, tucking the others in along the waist line of her jeans, where Carol had helped her sew in little sheathes for them there, and tugged the hem of her shirt down to cover them. She started to walk, aiming to meet the stranger in the middle. It took her a while to realise Lori was following her, tagging along just behind and a little to the right of her, gun at the ready. One thing about being pregnant was you could never tell if you were nervous or just... pregnant.
It was much easier to pick out their features now. She hadn't wanted to assume a gender, but suddenly, she knew exactly who they were. He'd finally strayed close enough for the details of his person to become clear. There was no mistaking him.
Ross.
It was Ross.
Ross was alive.
Cassia stopped walking, and Lori almost kept going ahead of her, until she realised and swiveled around, concern colouring her features.
No.
He'd been gone. We thought he was dead.
Cassia's trembling increased to a maximum state, and she felt as if every breath she'd been holding inside her had left her body, clawing it's way up through her throat, only to get caught, trapped there. No. Her eyes widened and brimmed up with tears. No. This couldn't be happening. She was still asleep. She'd never woken up that morning.
Ross came to a standstill in front of them. Lori blinked between them, trying to figure out if Cassia was just afraid, or if there was something else.
I thought you were dead, her mind screamed. Her lower lip trembled.
"Cassia," was all Ross said, but it was enough to be the last, final straw that broke the camel's back. Cassia fell to her knees in front of him, eyes still wide, but tears silently streaming down her face now.
"Cassia," Ross repeated, but it was softer this time, and a youthful smile braced his features, a gentle hand lingered down by her face to stroke her wet cheek. For a moment, she remembered why she'd ever loved him. He helped her to her feet, and then she embraced him in an uncertain hug.
Wait.
She was pregnant.
Cassia felt her heart begin to pound tenfold, almost certain it would burst right out of her chest and land with a sickening squelch onto the grass between them, drawing every walker for miles, but it didn't.
Lori licked her lips, confusion seeming to be the only thing she was capable of expressing at the moment.
Cassia took a deep, shaky breath, and spoke for the first time, turning to face Lori and gesturing to Ross,
"Lori, this is Ross. I spoke about him last night, remember?"
Ross wrapped an arm around Cassia's shoulders and grinned down at her,
"You spoke about me?"
Cassia inclined her head awkwardly. Why was he acting so casually? Why and how was he even here? This couldn't be some bizarre, fateful coincidence, could it?
"We thought you were dead."
"Explains why you left without me," he replied, rather bitterly. Cassia winced.
"We would never have left if we thought there was a chance you could be alive. Your hotel room was covered in blood-"
"I know, babe."
"Don't."
"You're still clinging on to your misguided attempt to break up with me, huh?"
"It wasn't an attempt, Ross. We broke up."
"I don't agree."
Cassia gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would not lose her cool with him. Not like this. Not now. Not while Lori was here. Hopefully, not ever. She shrugged his arm off and took a few steps back, anchoring herself by Lori's side.
"Why are you here? I assume it's not a coincidence?"
"It's not," Ross agreed readily. For some reason, he brought his gun out of it's holster on his hip and cocked it open, checking through the bullets to make sure it was loaded. Was he trying to threaten them?
... No. It was more like he was trying to show them he could defend himself if he needed to. She had knives, and Lori had a gun, after all. "My group spotted yours back by the road, when you all went past in your cars and caravans and stuff. I came through to check your group out, and I spotted you. Seeing as I know you, they sent me to come play the welcome committee. So, darling, welcome to the neighbourhood." Ross put overbearing emphasis on the affectionate term. There was an uncomfortable feeling down by her abdomen. Lori licked her lips, nervously,
"Do you mean us any harm?"
Ross turned to her, as if noticing she was there for the first time, though she'd already been introduced to him, and shook his head.
"... Nah, we're more interested in a... mutually beneficial agreement between both camps."
Cassia did not trust that for a second. She'd spent a good four years of her life in a relationship with that man, and she knew him too well to trust that it was as innocent as that. Lori seemed to sense the distrust rolling off Cassia in waves, as she crossed her arms over her chest, and frowned, about to respond, when...
Ross finally noticed the bump. He frowned at it at first, squinting as if trying to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He tilted his head at it, managing to give Cassia the feeling he was boring holes through her centre just by focusing his gaze there.
"... Cassie... how'd you manage to fatten up during an apocalypse?"
Cassia thought she was done with the trembling and the shaky breaths, but it seemed worse than it had been before. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lori's mouth fall open in horror.
"I'm not fat. I'm pregnant," she stated bravely, chin held high, refusing to be that meek, naive girl he used to wrap right around his little finger. Ross' eyes seemed about to bug out of their sockets. He licked his lips for a moment, contemplating, and then said the most unexpected thing,
"Is it mine?"
Lori snapped her head sharply towards Cassia, putting a hand on Cassia's back, as if ready to push her out of harm's way if need be. Cassia's heart plummeted right to the very depths of the Earth, burning up in the molten core. It was surely unsalvageable.
Was he really trying to fool himself into imagining they'd continued the sexual aspect of their relationship way beyond the time it had ended?
How was she supposed to answer this?
She didn't.
She glared at him and walked away.
Ross accompanied them back to the camp, and was still there, trying his best to charm everyone, when Rick and the others arrived.
Everyone but Daryl.
She shot straight to her feet, and the look on her face alone made Rick alter his path and make a beeline towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder,
"He's fine, Cassie. He split off from the group, and went off on his own. He's Daryl. He's fine."
Cassia let out a breath, trying to let Rick's words wrap around her and comfort her, but there was always that seed of doubt. There were too many things that could go wrong.
Ross decided to pipe up then,
"Dixon's still alive? Damn. I'd be impressed if I didn't already know the man's a savage."
Rick frowned at the unfamiliar voice, turning sharply to confront the stranger.
More introductions were made, and once it was established that he was, in fact, from Cassia's past, he was allowed to stay. Although, he was kept under constant supervision. Cassia was a little glad for it.
Daryl still wasn't back.
It was well past midday, Cassia was still playing around with her knives, off to the side with Shane, of all people. He hadn't been so bad, recently. Sure, he was acting weird and for some reason he'd shaved his head - when asked about that he shrugged it off and said it was more practical to have it that way, "ain't nothin' there for walkers to grab".
He was just as obnoxious and untrustworthy and slightly creepy and sketchy as he had been before, but Cassia's opinion of him had improved slightly after the incident back by the traffic pile up, where he saved her from the passing horde. She was grateful for it, and Shane had combat based skills that she could learn from. The guy himself was also benefiting from this, she could tell, as he'd been about ready to lose his mind with frustration and barely concealed anger when she'd wandered over and asked if he was free to train her a little bit. This was a good way for him to get it all out.
Shane was very impressed with her skills, and like Lori, he asked how she'd come to be so good at knife work, and just like she had with Lori, she'd told him about the roommate from Thailand that she'd met through Lavender and Basil. Seeing as Shane was one of the few who hadn't been around her at the CDC when she'd spoken about her herbs and spices family to Andrea and Doctor Jenner, he was naturally curious,
"Ginger?" He'd exclaimed when she spoke of her youngest sister, exactly as Andrea had.
After that, he began to ask about Ross, and she did her best to skirt around the subject as vaguely as possible, not exactly enthusiastic to talk about her now very alive and very present ex-boyfriend, especially because she knew that if she started discussing him with real life people, and not just herself within her own head, then she would eventually be forced to come to terms with his stubborn mortality. It still felt unreal enough at the moment for her to be comfortable with it.
They'd been practicing and chatting for a good hour and a half, Shane's watch told her as much, when out of nowhere, this gunshot ripped through the air, ringing and echoing around them. There was this horrible moment when Cassia and Shane both whipped their heads round to stare at each other, both with wide eyes, the implications of the gunshot clearly running through both their minds at impressive speed, all the gruesome possibilities being shared with each other through a single look. It was horrible because they'd both immediately assumed someone was dead, and not just a walker, no, but someone. A member of the group. Shane was probably thinking back to when Carl was shot.
Carl. Lori. Rick. Dale. Glenn. Andrea. T-Dog. Carol. Carl was upstairs. Daryl? Where was Daryl?
No. Daryl wasn't back. He would be fine. He had to be.
But then there was the matter of their gracious hosts. Hershel. Patricia. Beth. Maggie. Jimmy.
Sophia. Sophia?
"Sophia?" She spoke aloud to a very out of it looking Shane, who threw his head to the right a little, fear and panic and stress bouncing around enough inside of him to cause him to start breathing erratically, he gave her a gormless look and then sprinted off towards the camp. Cassia did her best to follow behind him.
The first thing she saw was Andrea on top of the RV with a sniper rifle.
Okay, so maybe it was a walker.
Andrea surely couldn't be dumb enough to mistake a person for a walker.
The next thing she saw was Rick, Glenn, T-Dog and now Shane running back towards them with a crumpled, limp, blood soaked, grimy, familiar figure.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
Cassia ran forward to meet them, barely able to breath let alone speak to ask them if he was breathing or if he had a pulse or anything. Dale caught her when Daryl had disappeared into the house, as she had wobbled, and almost fell to the ground. She was trembling now, with Dale propping her up, but her unconscious shaking was due to a much greater emotion, one that had her shrugging Dale off and stalking back towards Andrea.
She still had at least four knives concealed in her waistband, and without hesitation, she brought out two.
Two knives flew towards Andrea with deadly aim, striking and staying in the side of the RV, either side of the blonde bitch's head. Andrea let out a scream and jumped, darting far away from the vehicle and whipping her head around to try and figure out where the currently unidentified danger was coming from.
Her shrewd blue eyes zeroed in on Cassia, who was glaring at her as if she'd just massacred an entire orphanage, or actually, it seemed rather more like twelve orphanages.
Andrea stormed forward to meet her, almost, it seemed, ready to punch her square in the face, but she wasn't quick or nimble enough, as Cassia had darted forward and brought a knife directly to her throat, seething from every fibre of her being,
"What the fuck are you trying to prove?" She demanded of the woman under her blade, almost snarling with every word and syllable she uttered. Andrea shook her head in a very rigid, short motion, too afraid of the blade on her throat to move any more than that.
"I didn't- I don't- I didn't know- I thought-"
"You thought. You assumed and you took a moronic risk and because of your dumb pride and your ignorance, the father of my child could die, and I swear to you, if he does..." Cassia trailed off, not sure where exactly she'd been going with that threat. She didn't want to murder Andrea, but she sure as hell couldn't let her get away with...
With...
No.
If Daryl died, Andrea would, too.
Something hard and cold and metallic came into contact with the back of her head, and she froze, immediately tensing up. Slowly, very slowly, she took her knife away from Andrea's neck, a tiny cut remained on the tanned skin there, a small droplet of blood trailed it's way down to her collarbone, where it disappeared just below her shirt. Cassia held her hands up in surrender, the knives clattering to the ground at her feet. The metallic object was taken away from her head, and as she pivoted to face it, she found herself staring down the barrel of Rick's gun. Her chest was still heaving, and she was still practically vibrating with anger. Rick looked... sympathetic, if anything.
Andrea and Cassia were kept far apart after that.
T-Dog had approached her to tell her he thought she'd been pretty badass, but apart from that, everyone else steered clear of her, glancing in her direction with wide eyes and hands usually full of weapons. Apart from Rick, but that was even worse, he just stared at her with somber, pitiful eyes and occasionally ventured close enough to give her quiet reassurances of Daryl's wellbeing.
He was alive, after all, her baby daddy.
So she wouldn't have to murder Andrea.
Finally, Hershel deemed him well enough to be visited, and Cassia was the first one in to see him, just after Rick. She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could manage, worried eyes passing over his feeble form,
"Daryl?" She asked with a certain level of trepidation shaking through her tone.
"Look at tha', it's my knight in shinin' armour," he fidgeted about in the bed a little so he was sitting up properly, propped up against the headboard and facing her with his arms crossed loosely across his chest. He didn't look too bad, considering he'd had a brush with death that same day.
"Rick told you about my psycho moment, huh?"
"He said you were like a pregnant ninja."
"That's what Lori said."
"Guess we know where he got that from, then."
"Always nice to know I'm the subject of local gossip."
"Cassie..." Daryl looked a lot less like he was joking about now, somehow managing to look a shade like Rick, "you nearly slit Andrea's throat. You can't be doin' shit like that."
"She almost killed you-"
"An' look at me. I'm fine. It was a mistake, an' believe me, she ever shoots me again, she gon' wish she'd killed me the first time."
Daryl's all too serious vow was enough to settle her. She ducked her head, a little ashamed now that she thought back over it.
"I couldn't stop," she murmured, staring right at the floor.
"You didn't kill her an' all, which is what counts. Y'all will be fine. She's a big girl. She'll get over it."
"She was about ready to punch a pregnant woman, Daryl. She was pretty pissed."
"Eh, what I heard, you were pretty kickass. You got it." He gave her a feeble little smile, his eyes half closed. He needed to rest. Cassia grinned at him and was about to get up to leave him in peace, when, unexpectedly he licked his lips and spoke again,
"Rick said... uh... Ross...?"
Cassia's grin remained a moment longer and then dropped into a grimace, she slumped a little in her seat, with a world-weary sigh.
"Yeah, he's... not dead, like we thought."
"He was gone-"
"I know. Apparently he made it out alive and all the way here."
"Has he- he hasn't, has he- he, uh-"
"No. He just saw me almost murder someone out there, I doubt he'll try anything now."
"... True," Daryl conceded, with a snort.
"I can handle him. Don't worry about me, you need to focus on getting yourself all healed up, then you can worry about me, if you feel the need to."
"Alrigh'... you got tha'. I'll get right on it."
