Chapter Forty-Nine

Sweat beaded on his brow despite the cool temperatures of the basement room. His limbs were heavy, the warm weight of his daughter at his back, his wife pressed against his chest. Phantom hands still reached for him, the remnants of his nightmare refusing to leave him. Slowly, Daryl pried his eyes open a crack to survey the room. Even in the thrall of night terrors, he was disciplined enough to not jerk awake and let an enemy know of his alertness.

His breathing slowed, and he carefully disentangled himself from his sleeping girls. He wasn't even aware of how he'd wound up between them instead of protectively to the side with easy access to his weapons. He scrubbed his hands over his face and raked a hand through his mussed hair. One would think with the state of the world as it was then, he would have nightmares about walkers and lawless men out to take his family. No, he had to dream about his worthless father. Would he ever be rid of the man?

The chill in the air didn't bother him, in fact he welcomed it against his bare torso. Carol always said he ran hot, and would kick off the blankets in the middle of the night at times. His toes dug into the plush rug beneath his feet as he made his way to the wall where a bank of high basement windows let in pale moonlight. Dawn would soon come to chase even that away, and hopefully the memories of his father as well. He reached his arms up above his head, resting his hands on the sill as he stretched. He wasn't able to bite back the whimper clawing its way out of his throat, the fresh remembrance of his father's cruel words, the sound of his belt as it whistled towards his flesh.

Worthless!

Useless!

Shoulda made yer mama get rid o' y'!

Piece o' shit! She up an' died, an' who th' fuck gets stuck with your ass … me, that's who!

His fingertips dug into the molding, pieces of drywall embedding itself beneath his dirty nails. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare about Jackson, not since Carol had begun sleeping beside him. He could only surmise the news of Dale's death had triggered it. He'd really cared for the old man, would miss him greatly. Unlike Jackson Dixon. Dale had been a right pain in the ass, but he'd always looked at Daryl as if he mattered, as if he were a good man, a member of the group just as good as the others.

Daryl jerked as if he'd been shot as two slender arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes searched the darkness, coming to rest on his wife's worried expression. He could feel the tears cooling on his face, and he felt ashamed for her to see his weakness. Carol didn't speak, taking his hand and tugging him to stand at the bottom of the staircase where the light flooded a strong beam. He prayed she would always be there to pull him out of the darkness and back into the light.

Carol held his gaze, brushing away his tears with the pads of her thumbs. There was no need for words, no need to pressure him into talking about his feelings when they were revealed so starkly on his face. She could see it all, could feel his pain, and wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into the comfort and understanding of her embrace. His own arms crushed her to him as he buried his face in her neck. Only she had the wherewithal to render him a puddle of raw emotion and not make him feel broken and weak. He hated for her to see him like that, but at the same time wouldn't want to be anywhere but in her arms.

"I love you, Daryl. You're not alone," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she carded her fingers lovingly through his shaggy hair. "I've got you."

His chest eased, his pain and lingering fear subsiding as he listened to her croon soft words in his ear. He allowed himself to grieve for Dale, pushing memories of his father out of the way to remember his friend and everything he'd meant to their group. Daryl clung to his wife and felt his strength return, for Carol was his strength, his reason, his will to survive. Without her he was lost. His body might be able to push him through the motions, but his soul would shrivel without her. "Love you too, woman," he growled lowly, kissing her softly. Just a tender meeting of lips, but enough to convey the wealth of love he held for her.

Carol's hands roved over his back, her fingertips tracing the slight raising of his scars, chasing away the last of his nightmares. "You shouldn't suffer alone, Daryl. You should have woken me. You chase away my bad dreams; you should let me do the same for you."

"Y' need your rest," he said simply, pressing his brow to hers. He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake Sophia with their quiet conversation.

A creak at the top of the stairs cut off whatever protests she would have made. Daryl stiffened, realizing he was standing there in nothing but a pair of cotton sleeping pants, his back on display to whomever was coming down the stairs. He didn't look, didn't want to know who would witness his shame, yet reluctant to let go of his wife to grab a shirt. Fuck it! He turned to find Rick's wide-eyed gaze upon him as he came to a stop at the bottom of the wooden staircase.

Thankfully, the good sheriff didn't stare for long, holding out a cup of fresh coffee to his friend. "Hey. Brought coffee this time," he offered lamely.

"Thanks." Daryl took a tentative sip, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste. Rick had a heavy hand with the coffee grounds first thing in the morning. "What's up?"

Rick shifted his gaze towards the windows. "Almost dawn. I was wondering if you were going hunting with the kids this morning. If not, we need to plan a run into town to see if we can't find more antibiotics for Andrea."

Carol shrugged as her husband's questioning gaze fell upon her. "You could probably put off hunting for one more day. We still have some of that buck you bagged a few days ago." Because of the generator, they were able to keep it fresh in the refrigerator.

Daryl thought it over carefully before answering. "A'right, we'll go, but I want t' take Carol an' th' kids with us. Maybe Glenn an' Maggie too. Girl's about ready t' go stir crazy."

Rick frowned in surprise. "You want to take the kids on a run?!"

"Damnit, Rick, keep yer fuckin' voice down," Daryl snarled, glancing over at his sleeping daughter. "An' why th' hell not? Carl an' Soph are good soldiers. For no more'n what we're goin' for, I don't see th' harm." They'd been into Griffin at least twice since they'd found the homestead and the walker activity had been at a minimum.

"Lori's going to have kittens if I suggest –"

Carol hid a giggle behind her hand.

"Well, m' girls are goin'. Y' can explain t' Carl that you're too scared o' his mom t' let him go."

Rick's eyes narrowed at the slight. Him and Daryl might be making inroads into friendship, but he didn't like to be called out. "Fine, I'll talk to her."

The hunter huffed a short laugh. "Y' do that. We'll be ready t' leave when y' are."

*.*.*

Daryl leaned an arm against the driver's side door, gnawing anxiously on his thumbnail as he kept a watchful eye on the road ahead of him. After a rather heated row between Rick and Lori, she'd finally agreed to allow Carl to go on the run. He could understand her reluctance to let the boy out of her sight. God knew he felt the same way about Sophia after she'd been missing for three days, but she couldn't continue to coddle the boy. He wasn't going to learn how to survive tied to her apron strings. He glanced at the children settled between himself and Carol on the front seat of the silver Dodge Shane had driven in the night before. Rick, Maggie and Glenn were crowded onto the narrow bench seat in the extra cab. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. It was a simple routine medicine run. They could do this, he knew, but he wouldn't allow himself to become complacent. He had to stay on his toes.

"So, Daddy," Sophia said, her small voice cutting through the silence. "We're just going to the pharmacy to get meds for Andrea? While we're here, don't you think we should maybe scavenge a little?"

He looked down at his daughter, giving her an assessing stare. "What'd y' have in mind?"

"I don't know. You've never let me go on a run before, but I'm sure we could look around a little, couldn't we?"

Sophia had a bright mind, and he admired her more than he could say. After she'd gotten away from Ed and his oppression, she'd blossomed and grown considerably. Now she wasn't afraid to voice her opinions or ask the right questions. He wasn't going to be the type of parent to discourage her inquisitiveness either. "We're going t' hit th' pharmacy an' a small clinic a few blocks over. After that we need t' see about fuel for th' truck. If things go smoothly, an' everyone's in agreement, we'll check out a few more places."

She seemed to be happy with that answer, and fell quiet. Carl sometimes felt the need to fill the silence, but even he wasn't talking. The kids seemed to somehow know if they didn't pay the strictest attention and remain focused, they wouldn't be invited along again.

Daryl pulled to the outskirts of Griffin, parking next to the farthest edge of the shops where they started. It was becoming their routine when scavenging, not wanting to draw any unnecessary or unwanted attention. Who could really know if they were the only living people in the area? And though they hadn't seen many walkers on previous trips, it wasn't to say there weren't any.

Rick's clear blue gaze met Daryl's in the rearview mirror. "How you want to do this?"

The hunter frowned. Their leader seemed to be deferring to Daryl's judgement more and more of late when it came to strategy. "Glenn and Maggie, take th' clinic."

Carol nodded, turning in her seat to look at the farmer's daughter. "There should be samples there since it served as a health unit."

"Right," she said. "Daddy gave me a list of what to look for."

"I have one too," Carol said, fishing her own out of the pocket of her leather jacket.

Daryl shot her a steady glance. "Want you t' go t' th' pharmacy with Rick."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What? I thought I'd be with you. I'm always with you," she murmured incredulously. He never allowed her far from him. He was her partner.

He shook his head. "Th' kids need t' be with me. You're strong an' you're skilled. I'm trustin' y' t' stay safe." Which was taking a lot out of him to admit. His skin hummed with anxiety at the thought of her going off alone with Rick, but everyone had to partner up. No one would be going off alone.

"Daryl, you sure?" Rick asked, his brows raised in surprise.

Daryl nodded stiffly. "Yeah. I'ma take the kids an' try t' fill a can." He pointed out the windshield at the cars lining the two-lane road. "There should be enough fuel t' fill us up with some t' spare t' take back with us."

"Alright, let's go." Rick checked his watch. "Let's see what we can find and meet up at that coffee shop on the corner in say … two hours."

Everyone got out of the truck and checked their weapons, Daryl grabbing his crossbow from the bed. Carol pulled him to the side, her brow creased with worry. "Daryl, are you sure about this?" she asked, her fingers digging into the flesh of his forearm.

"We cain't send Rick off by himself, an' I'd just feel better if Carl was with me. Th' boy listens t' me, knows I ain't gonna put up with no horseplay. He might not keep his guard up with his Dad. I ain't goin' back an' tellin' Olive Oyl somethin' happened t' her kid on my watch, Carol. Jus' keep your eyes open, watch his back, but y' keep yourself safe first. Y' understand me?"

She bit her lip, her stomach roiling with tension. She had a really bad feeling about his plan. Not for her or Rick or even the kids, but for her husband. It galled her that she wasn't going to be allowed to argue with him on it. She refused to do anything to undermine the faith she and the others had in him. It had taken him too long to get to this point where he felt a part of the group. Instead, she pushed her fears aside against her better judgment, and nodded in understanding. He pressed a kiss to her brow and gave her a gentle nudge in Rick's direction. Her anxiety grew the farther she walked away from him, and she sent up a silent prayer for his safety.

*.*.*

"Focus," Carol sighed softly as Rick looked back over his shoulder where he'd left Daryl and the children. "You know Carl will be fine with Daryl."

Rick raked a hand through his short-cropped curls. "I know. Is it petty of me to be jealous of the time my son spends with him? Your husband is better able to watch out for Carl than I am, and it bothers me ok? I was a cop, Carol. I should be able to watch over him myself."

Carol didn't look at him, keeping her eyes in constant motion along the street, searching for danger as she'd been taught. "Let it go," she warned. "You don't need anything in your head distracting you. Sure way to get yourself killed. You should be happy you have someone to help you watch over your family. Yeah, you were a cop, and I'm sure you were a good one, Rick. Protect and serve, keep the public safe from drug dealers and killers and sociopaths. But we're not in that world anymore. This is Daryl's world where the most basic skills of hunting, tracking, surviving are the most important. He excels at what he does. What he has to teach our children is imperative, vital to their lives now."

The former deputy hung his head. "How'd he even learn that stuff? How'd he come by those scars? Who was he before all this happened?"

"Why not ask him yourself?" she asked, answering his questions with one of her own.

"He don't look like the sharing type, to be honest. I've been trying to get to know him. I trust him more than I ever thought I would, but he's not the greatest talker. Except to you."

Carol stopped on the sidewalk and pressed her back against the building – always watch your back, woman – giving him a long look before casting her eyes back to the street. She didn't want to just blow him off. She wanted Daryl to be able to call him friend, but she also knew her husband would never open up to him willingly. "I – Rick, I'm not going to spill his darkest secrets to you. It's not my place." She sighed and fidgeted with the strap securing her knife to her belt. "When you were a cop, you ever get called out for domestic abuse?"

"Of course, quite often," he said, his brow furrowing.

She gave him a pointed look. "Jackson Dixon was not a good man, nor did he hold his sons in the highest regard. You get me?"

"Christ!" Rick groaned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

Carol took a swig from her canteen and got him moving back down the sidewalk. "Merle is older … roughly about ten years. He and his uncle Drew were instrumental in showing Daryl how to live off the land. It wasn't hard to learn growing up in the wilds of the Georgia mountains. It's all he knew. If you can't trust someone … a parent, especially … who is supposed to love and nurture you, how can you be expected to trust a stranger? Ever? He's made remarkable strides with this group, Rick. He's a good man, though he won't let many see it."

"Carl thinks the world of him. Especially after what he did for you and Sophia … taking the both of you in to get you away from Ed." He ducked his head sheepishly as she arched a cynical brow at him. "Shane filled me in on that."

Carol chuckled lowly, trying to maintain their soft tones. "I'd never met anyone like him, Rick. He was like a powder keg with a lit fuse. So quick to temper. I think Merle did it on purpose just to get a rise out of him. Sophia started it all, really. She kept slipping off to their campsite to spend time with Merle. She liked talking to him, found him fascinating. It scared me to death, thinking Ed would notice. But the one to take notice was Daryl," she explained. "His own background allowed him to see through all the little tells to what I was going through, and he couldn't stand it. He pushed and pushed, offered friendship and safety, practically begged me to leave my husband and move in with him so he could protect us."

"That when everything fell apart?"

Carol snorted. "You could say that. Actually, at times, it feels as though that's when my life began, and I don't regret it. Not for a moment. He saved us … saved me." She turned to him, stopping outside of the pharmacy. "How many people do you know who would have risked so much for me and my daughter? In a world gone mad where they should be worrying about their own survival?"

"I can't name one," he said with a wry quirk of his lips. "I can't even say I would have done it at the risk of my own family. And it's my duty to put others above myself. It's my job."

"Which is why you never have to worry about Carl's safety when he's in Daryl's charge. And you don't have to be jealous, either. Carl knows who his dad is, and he loves you. It's why he's working so hard to train with my husband. He wants to make you proud."

Rick drew the hunting knife from the scabbard on his belt and laid his hand on the door of the pharmacy they were about to enter. He paused, looking back at her. "You've changed a lot since the quarry. That's because of him too, isn't it?"

She grinned that gamine-like grin of hers, her eyes sparkling. "More than you know. It's rather tragic the world had to go to hell for me to find happiness, but I'm glad I got a second chance."

*.*.*

Daryl shook his head as Carl sputtered and spit out a mouthful of gasoline. They were crouched down next to an abandoned Chrysler, a hose extended down into its tank, the other end now shoved down into the gas can between them. "Eww!" the boy groaned. "That's just nasty."

"No worse than your mama's cookin'," the hunter quipped. He passed his canteen. "Here, rinse your mouth out. Next time, try not t' swallow so much."

Sophia stood at Daryl's back, bow in hand with a bolt at the ready, her eyes slowly surveying the empty street. "My turn, next time, Dad."

"Y' see anythin'?" he asked, his eyes squinted against the bright late autumn sun. He couldn't help but smile at Sophia's tenacity. She wanted to learn everything.

His daughter shook her head. "No. That's just it. For a town this size, shouldn't there be at least a few people still around? And where are the walkers?"

He kept an eye on Carl's progress as he thought over what she'd said. "We took out quite a few when we first came here, Soph, but you're right. There really should be more."

Carl pulled the hose from the can and shook it. It was nearly full. "Maybe everybody loaded up and headed to the refugee centers in Atlanta when everything started? That's where we were headed when we got stuck on the highway."

The hairs raised on the nape of Sophia's neck as her eyes made another sweep, narrowing into the darkened alleyways between the store fronts. "Still don't account for the lack of the living, Carl … and that feeling I got of being –"

"Watched," Daryl finished for her. "Be still, th' both of y'. No sudden moves, just your eyes."

Carl capped the gas can and stowed the hose in the pocket of his jacket before taking his bow to grip loosely in his hand. He was sure they were both paranoid, spooked by the eerie stillness, but he wasn't stupid enough to disobey Daryl.

The archer took a firm grip of his own weapon and backed the children towards the mouth of the alley behind them. There was a fire escape with roof access, which would be the safest place for them should his suspicions prove correct. "Roof, now. Weapons out." His eyes pierced his daughter's as he reached for her arm. "Listen for m' signal. Y' don't come down until then. Somethin' happens, find your mama an' Rick. Y' got me, baby girl?"

Her azure eyes were steely with determination as she nodded. There was no reason to voice the fear twisting and churning in her belly. She and Carl made a good team, they knew each other's moves well enough, and her father could take care of himself. He was sending them out of harm's way to cover his back from a distance. She wouldn't let him down.

Adrenaline pumped fast and thick through his veins as he stored the gas can out of sight for later retrieval. He felt a little steadier, knowing the children were out of danger for the time being. He had to find the threat. And he knew there was one; he could feel it in his bones. He held his crossbow at the ready, the string tight, the bolt in place, as he set off down the street. His eyes missed nothing, and neither did his sharp ears. Above the pounding of his heart, he could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze, the children's quiet footsteps above as they followed his path along the roof, the mocking of a crow … and the squeaky wheels of a cart? There was a small grocery store a street or two over near the clinic. It very well could be Maggie and Glenn returning with their haul in a cart they'd procured to make the trek easier on them.

Daryl crossed the street, keeping his steps light so as not to make a sound. He knew where he was, the children could still keep him in their sights. He pressed his back to the cool bricks and whipped his head around the corner for a quick peek. Two men, and neither of them part of his group. It was likely Glenn and Maggie were still ransacking the clinic for medical supplies. He thought quickly and peered up at the sun. They'd only been gone an hour, so there was still hope they wouldn't run into the two while making their way back to the coffee shop. He glanced off into the other direction where the pharmacy lay. Rick and Carol were safe for the present. The best he could do was join the kids on the roof and watch the men from that vantage point. He needed to see what they were up to, where they went and if there were others. This town might not be quite as safe as Merle had led them to believe.

He slowly backed away from the corner and swung around, that feeling of having eyes on him stronger than ever. He cursed under his breath, bringing the crossbow up as the three men stared him down. How the hell had he not heard their approach? He took in the army fatigues the men wore. They were no doubt trained in stealth.

"Well, hey there," the one in the middle, probably their leader, said amiably. The man sounded mighty friendly to have been pointing an assault rifle at him. "You lost, friend?"

His companions raised their own rifles as Daryl's eyes darted quickly, searching for an escape route which wouldn't lead these men to the children. He shook his head.

"Can you speak? We don't mean you no harm."

Daryl snorted and took a step back. If he continued backwards, he'd run into the two men with the cart and he'd be severely outnumbered, even with the kids waiting on his signal to fire.

The three in front advanced on him. "Seriously, friend, we mean no harm. You got a group? We have shelter if you need it."

"Jamie," the second said warningly. "Does he really look like he needs help? I'd be scared to shut my eyes with him around and I did two tours in Iraq."

The third narrowed his eyes. "Tori's gonna want to see him. You know she ain't been the same since she lost the lieutenant. She might like him."

Daryl let out a low growl at the mention of the unknown woman. He didn't give two fucks whether she'd like him or not. He had his own wife and family to think about. Not to mention how his Carol would react if some woman put her hands on him. Would she get jealous? Was she the type? He didn't want to give her a reason. His backward paces quickened, bringing him out into the other street and into the line of sight of the two men pushing the cart. None of them looked as if they were ready to put a bullet in his head, giving him the confidence to widen the distance between them. He gave two short whistles, alerting Carl and Sophia to stand down and stay where they were. He didn't see the woman come up behind him. He only heard the soft irritated sigh she made before she brought the stock of her rifle down on the back of his head. Then everything went black.

A/n: Sorry (so not sorry) about the cliffie. Good thing I post every day, huh? Next time: We learn more about this group, and Carol to the rescue!