Chapter Sixty-Three
Life had never been kind to the Dixons. Daryl knew pain … unspeakable pain which came with years of abuse. However, no broken bone, no sprain, bruise or cut … not even the visceral lacerations of his father's acerbic tongue could come close to the soul deep ache splintering his heart apart. Misery loves company, for with the pain came the rage. Rage, he knew, his constant friend. It kept the tears at bay, and the panic. It forced him to focus as he methodically made his way along the dank, dark corridors of the tombs.
He didn't bother with his bow, its solid weight heavy on his back. As the long blade of his hunting knife rammed into the first walker's skull, he relished the crunch of bone which reverberated along his forearm, and reveled in the cold wash of dead blood against his flesh. After a lifetime of having everything he'd loved ripped away from him, it was hard to have faith Carol was still alive. And he did love her, more than anyone or anything he'd ever dared love before. She and Sophia were his world. How were they expected to go on without her?
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he stared at the slain walkers littering the concrete floor. He ignored the men following behind, Jamie and some of his Marines, Glenn. He knew he was scaring them in the state he was in, but he couldn't find it within himself to care. The need to find his wife, despite his doubts, consumed him.
Daryl left the others behind, facing a new corridor … the same which would take him past the boiler room. It had provided sanctuary for Lori, Maggie and the children, but not for his Carol. Tears gathered in his eyes, and he swiped angrily at them, smearing the blood on his face. He snarled at the two walkers who thought to corner him against the wall, pushing one back while dispatching the other. He came back to the first, the bloodlust heavy upon him as he twisted the knife and drove it deeper, taking immense satisfaction in hearing bone and sinew give way beneath his blade. He was beginning to lose count of his kills. Yet, the number didn't matter. He could slay a countless horde and it wouldn't drive the pain of losing her from his mind.
With a curse, he drew his pistol, landing a headshot to each of the walkers crouched over the fallen body of one of their family. Daryl dropped to a knee beside what was left of T-Dog's body and laid his hand on the man's brow. There was so much he wanted to say. Thank y' for watchin' out for Carol. Thanks for bein' m' friend even though m'' brother is a racist asshole. We'll miss your big heart an' kind nature … but no words would pass his lips for his friend.
Glenn was hesitant to approach Daryl, but he had no choice. Their fallen friends and family took precedence. The bodies needed to be removed and wrapped for burial before they were set upon by more of the dead, and put down before they could turn.
He flinched as a comforting hand came to rest on his shoulder, his eyes dull as they met Glenn's. "We've got him, Daryl. Go … find them. If anyone can, I know it'll be you." Daryl nodded, rising to his feet and continuing on his way.
Jamie watched him go with a fretful gaze. "I should go with him. I need to find Tori just as much as he needs to find his wife. He shouldn't have to do this alone," he said, gaining several looks of agreement from his men.
Glenn shook his head where it was bowed over T-Dog, tears falling unabashedly over his lashes. "You don't know Daryl. This is something he's going to have to do alone. We can only follow behind him to clean up the mess." He took a sheet from Miles and began to cover T's mutilated body after he'd fulfilled his part of the pact, making sure he'd remain dead. "He'll call if he needs us."
"Perhaps you put too much faith in your friend," the sergeant said softly. Though he had great respect for the group's hunter, he didn't know him as well as the others did.
"And maybe you don't have enough. Might want to change that."
Several corridors away and half a dozen walkers later, Daryl leaned his back against the wall, chest heaving from his exertions and the tightening around his heart where Carol usually dwelled. He couldn't breathe, his lungs refusing to fill with the oxygen he so desperately needed. How long had it been since he'd succumbed to an anxiety attack? Yet, he knew it for what it was, his skin humming with dread. His knees gave out beneath him, his hand barely coming up to brace him before he face-planted onto the floor.
The cool concrete pressed into his sweaty brow as he lowered it, his eyes squinching tight against the pain in his chest. It was too much; it hurt too badly, the deluge of memories flooding his mind. The first time he'd unwittingly wrung a smile from her sweet lips, the happiness he'd felt when he'd freed her from Ed and she'd become part of his family, the first time he'd brought her hunting, the bunker and their first kiss, soft touch, the elation on her face when he'd brought Sofia home to her after she'd been lost on the road. A sob broke from his throat as he remembered the first time they'd made love, their wedding, her 'saving' him from Tori's group.
No, he growled, pushing himself to his feet, I won't … I cain't … go on without her! Daryl tightened the grip he had on his knife and strode angrily down the dark hallway, vowing to find her or die trying.
*.*.*
Earlier …
"Two lefts and a right …" T-Dog murmured more to himself than the women crouched behind him. He could feel Patricia trembling against his back, and his heart thundered with the need to protect her. He reached back, gripping her hand tightly as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting her luminous eyes filled with fear. "That's the way out, two lefts and then right through the door leading into the courtyard by our block."
Carol stood behind Patricia and peered around the corridor at the walkers milling about. "That's all well and good, T, but I have a feeling they're not going to just allow us to leave."
"There's four of us and only …" he paused to do a mental count, "eight of them. The odds are in our favor."
Carol grimaced, not at all happy with the blind spots at the end of the corridor. It branched off in both directions, but the low light of their flashlights wasn't enough to see from their vantage point. She could practically hear Daryl's voice in her head screaming at her to find another path. "But what if there are more we can't see?" she tried reasoning with him.
Tori leaned over Carol's shoulder to voice her own objections to his plan. "We barely escaped the last cluster of those things. We can barely see where we're going, much less what's hiding from plain sight."
T-Dog rolled his eyes and huffed out an anxious breath. "This is the quickest route. We're gonna have to take the chance." He glanced down at Patricia, worry etched at the corners of his eyes. She had suffered through the loss of her husband and her home. It was imperative to him to get her to safety as quickly as possible, for her to survive. He was further encouraged he was making the right decision when she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "We're doing this."
Carol and Tori shared a look, but they knew they'd have to defer to him. Out of the four of them, T had more experience with fighting walkers, both on runs and here at the prison in just the few days they'd been there. Reluctantly, both women nodded, mentally preparing themselves for the fight to come. They moved from their hiding place and followed T-Dog, sticking close to the wall until they were closer, knives gripped tightly in their hands, ready.
The walkers were easily dealt with, the left corridor clear, but Carol couldn't shake the feeling they weren't done despite T's obvious relief. After making sure the way was indeed clear, he pushed the women ahead of him, wanting to assure himself nothing would be following them. It was then she heard Patricia cry out as she looked back to him, several more walkers spilling out of the passage behind them. Carol whipped around, her eyes wide with horror as she watched one of the geeks sink his teeth into T-Dog's shoulder while he rammed his blade into the skull of another.
"No!" Patricia wailed, trying to shake off Tori's grasping hands. "Theodore!"
"GO!" he yelled, holding the others back from them. "'Tricia, go, now! You can't help me!"
She shook off Tori and ran to his side, fighting along with him. "I'm not leaving you," she cried. "Carol, take Tori and get out. I'll be there when I can. Go, they need you! Sophia needs her mama."
Tori's fingers curled into the collar of Carol's leather jacket, pulling fretfully. "Carol, c'mon! We have to go. Don't make his sacrifice be in vain by getting your ass killed!"
With a broken sob, Carol fired off a few shots at the advancing walkers before letting Tori pull her down the hall. T slumped against the wall, sliding down to land on his behind as his remaining strength failed him. Patricia sat beside him, tears spilling over her lashes. "Theodore … get up. We can still make it out."
"Ain't going nowhere, sweetheart," he breathed, closing his eyes as more of his life's blood poured freely from his wound. "I can die here just as easily as I could outside. Least down here I don't have to hear everyone crying and sobbing. Things are bad enough."
"Please … I don't want to leave you down here." Already she could hear more of the dead encroaching through the dark passageways.
He could feel the poison of the bite moving through him, and knew he didn't have much time left. Whether from the blood loss or the infection, he knew it was just a matter of minutes. He raised his hand to her cheek, thankful to have her by his side. "I'm so glad I had a chance to know you, Patricia. You made the end of the world worthwhile."
"Theo-"
"I love you. Have for a while now. I'm just sorry it took me so long to tell you," he grunted, the pain worsening with each labored breath. "Please, 'Tricia … please go. I need to know you're safe with the others."
"I don't want –"
T snorted and gave her that boyish grin she adored. "You can't fulfill the wish of a dying man?"
"You fight dirty, Theodore Douglas," she scolded lightly.
"Whatever it takes." Patricia closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his and he could taste the salt of her tears. All in all, it was a good way to go. "I'll be waiting for you on the other side, sweetheart. Just make sure you don't follow too quickly."
"I l-love you, too, you silly man. You make it so e-easy." Her heartfelt cries echoed through the tombs as she watched the light fade from his eyes. Only then did she rise to make her way out, leaving a part of her heart behind with him.
*.*.*
The darkness was oppressive, nearly choking Carol as she followed Tori through the tombs. They'd been aptly named, for she felt as if she were being buried alive. So far, she'd been able to keep her claustrophobia under control, but she didn't know for how much longer she'd be able to quell the choking panic ready to claim her. It wasn't quite bad enough to freeze her limbs, but she'd realized soon enough she hadn't been paying the attention to her surroundings she should. They were lost.
"I think we took a wrong turn back there," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she trained her flashlight on the passage before them. "Shouldn't we have taken a left?"
"He said two lefts and a right, but I still haven't seen a door leading outside. In a building like this, you'd think there'd be a damn exit sign," the woman lamented, shaking her own torch which flickered feebly.
Carol gripped her .45 a little tighter. "I think one of our lefts might've been a right."
Tori moved ahead of her, determined to find the way out. "Can I ask you something?"
Carol nodded jerkily, then realized the woman wasn't looking at her. "Sure, I guess."
"How can you be so calm? I feel like a trapped rat in a maze."
She shivered, wishing not for the first time her husband was at her side. "Can we not say trapped! Please! I'm barely holding it together right now," Carol hissed.
Tori turned and regarded her friend. "Oh, shit … you're not claustrophobic, are you?"
Carol chose to change the subject, fighting to take a deep breath. "Look … there's another fork. Which way should we go?"
Tori eyed the open cell doors lining the corridor before inching ahead. "I don't know. I wish Jamie was here; his sense of direction is so much better than mine."
"Where are we," Carol murmured, more to herself than her companion. "These cell doors are solid steel, no bars." She peered into one shining the light over the padded walls and small bunk.
"Solitary?"
"Maybe. I wish I'd have gotten a closer look at the blueprints before getting stuck down –" Her voice trailed off and her ears pricked, much as they did when she was hunting with Daryl and Sophia. "Did you hear that?"
Tori turned a puzzled frown on her as she neared the end of the hallway, not having realized Carol had stopped more than a dozen paces behind her. "Carol, c'mon. You're hearing things." She raised her hand, pointing to the right. "I think we should go this –" Her scream pierced the dank solitude, the beam of Carol's flashlight shining on the gore stained mouth of the walker which had latched onto Tori's outstretched arm.
The soft pssh sound of the silencer on her pistol was the only thing she could hear over the rapid pounding of her heart in her ears. The walker fell limp to the floor, Carol's aim spot on, but it came too late. She could hear the anguished cries of her friend – cries which would undoubtedly bring more of the dead – and see the bloodied material on the sleeve of her thick jacket.
Carol rushed to Tori's side and pulled her arm over her shoulders, wrapping the hand with the flashlight around her waist. Shadows shifted and moved at the edge of the light, the sounds of moans and growls from the ravenous corpses growing closer. She turned, dragging Tori along with her and felt her panic rise as more flooded the corridor behind them. They were well and truly trapped.
"Go," the brunette commanded in a voice Carol hadn't heard since that night at the spa. "I'm screwed, but you can still get away … or at least hide in one of the cells."
Carol shook her head frantically. "No, I'm not leaving you to be eaten by one of those things. You're coming with me."
"There's too many of them! And I'm dead already …"
"You're one of us, and we don't leave our family behind," Carol groaned, pushing Tori towards one of the cells. She dropped her gun as it gave an ominous click, signaling she was out of bullets. Instead of reaching for her spare, she gripped the knife on her belt and thrust it towards the nearest walker. The ones pressing against its back caused it to shift and she missed her target, the blade entering and lodging near its throat rather than beneath its chin.
She cursed, turning swiftly on her heel and nearly diving into the cell. Tori helped her pull the door shut, the sound of numerous bodies slamming into the steel barrier causing a shudder to wrack her small form.
Tori slumped down on the padded bench spanning the wall, a small moan escaping her throat as she peeled the camouflaged jacket from her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Carol. I was so focused on getting us out of here, I guess I wasn't watching out well enough."
Carol rubbed at the tightness in her chest and collapsed next to the brunette. "It's not your fault. We're under extreme stress." She pressed the torch into Tori's hand and had her shine it on her wound. "I … um … I stabbed a walker and the blade got stuck … lost my knife. Daryl's going to be so pissed at me, and I can't do what Rick did for Cam."
Tori waved dismissively. "No more than I deserve for making you leave Patricia. I know you wanted to stay."
Carol smiled bitterly. "I did. Daryl's brother was left behind due to extenuating circumstances and it took a long time to reconnect with him. It was not an easy time for our family. But I doubt we could have pried her from T's side."
"True. I was the same way when Joseph stayed behind and sacrificed himself for us. I wanted to stay with him." She grinned at Carol knowingly. "You'd be lying if you said you would leave Daryl."
"Not for the wide world." She knew the woman understood. "How are you feeling," she asked, unable to ignore the tremors in Tori's hands.
Tori leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. "Like crap."
Carol scooted off the bench and urged her friend to lie down, folding the jacket and placing it beneath Tori's head. "You're already burning up," she said, biting anxiously at her lip. The sounds of the walkers in the corridor were diminished, but still audible. Focusing on Tori, at least, helped to keep her mind off her panic. "I'm sure they're looking for us by now."
Tori reached out and clasped Carol's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure they are, but it's not going to change anything for me. I really should be more upset, but I keep thinking of seeing my Joseph again. I know he's waiting for me."
Carol brushed at the tears forming in her eyes. "Shh … of course, he is," she agreed whether she believed it or not. So much abuse at Ed's hands had made her doubt her faith a long time ago. It was finding Daryl and having his love which was slowly restoring it.
"Tessa and Sprite are not going to deal well with my death. Will you make sure to give Tessa my jacket? It belonged to Joseph … all we have left of him really," she rambled. "I miss him so much, Carol. God, I'd do anything to have him here with me right now … I'm so scared."
Carol dropped to her knees on the floor beside the bench and brushed a bit of Tori's dark hair from her fevered brow. "Oh, honey, don't be afraid. You're not alone."
Tori whimpered as pain shot through the bite wound on her arm. "You shouldn't even be here with me. You should be with Daryl and your little girl." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes. "I wish I would have known you before and had the chance to be a better friend."
"I do, too. I'm so glad you became a part of our family." She removed her jacket when Tori started shivering violently and laid it over her. The thick leather would keep her warm, she hoped. "Try to rest," Carol said softly, brushing a kiss to her friend's brow. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Carol …"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let me turn," Tori whispered raggedly.
"I won't."
Carol closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. As she watched Tori drift off into a fitful sleep, she let go, giving her tears free rein. One of the flashlights flickered and died, casting them into shadow and she bit hard on her lip to quell the panic which rose to choke her. It would have reminded her of the stairwell at the bunker … but she didn't have Daryl's warm reassuring voice in her ear to chase away her fears, nor his body pressed into hers to make her see she wasn't alone. With him, she knew she was loved, safe, cherished. It was hard to cling to those feelings when she was trapped in the dark awaiting the inevitable death of her friend … awaiting her own if help didn't arrive.
*.*.*
Sophia grimaced slightly as she skirted around Rick and placed the bowl of cool water she carried on the table beside Shane's bunk. Her hands shook, but she returned Rick's sad smile before dropping to the little pallet Carl had made in the corner of the cell for them. Nearly everyone had come by to pay their final respects to Shane, and she'd needed to get away, volunteering quickly to fetch the water for Lori.
Carl slipped his hand into hers as she rested her head on his shoulder, twining their fingers. He took his duty of watching over her seriously while still able to be a comforting presence for his parents. "You ok?" he whispered where only she could hear over the sounds of his mother's sniffling and Shane's labored breathing.
Sophia shook her head and burrowed deeper against him, his own head coming to rest atop hers. "I'm scared, Carl. What if Daddy doesn't find her? How …"
He winced as her fingers tightened on his, her voice trailing away. "Don't think like that, Soph. You were missing for three days … in walker-infested woods with very little supplies, and Daryl found you. If anyone can find your mom, it's him."
Shane took a gasping breath, startling himself awake as Lori laid a cool cloth against his fevered brow. "Shh … it's ok. It's just me," she murmured raggedly, her voice hoarse from crying. "How're you feeling? Can we get you anything?"
The man closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, shaking his head. "Was dreamin'," he rasped, "about Andrea." He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with remorse. "Did they find her?"
Rick laid a comforting hand on his shin where he sat at the end of the bunk with his partner's feet propped on his lap. "She was right where you said we'd find her. Miles and Brian brought her up and now Sprite and Kayla are taking care of her."
Shane clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding against the pain evident on his face. Not the pain from his bite or the raging fever coursing through him, but for the loss of his woman. He'd thought his feelings for Lori had been the real deal, but it was nothing but a desperate attempt to salvage something after the death of someone who'd meant so much to them ... her husband, his friend. Rick's 'death' had left a gaping hole in their lives even their affair hadn't been able to fill. What he had begun to feel for Andrea surpassed the tryst he'd shared with Lori. She was smart, and could challenge his intellect, and she never failed to make him laugh. He'd been so happy with her in the short months they'd been together. He'd found his reason, and now it had been stripped away. His eyes stung with the burn of tears, and he wished he'd stayed with her down in the tombs. He didn't deserve to have his friends pay their respects or sit by his side as he breathed his last.
He caught a glimpse of the children huddled together in their corner, and the pain worsened in his chest to have them see him that way. Shane shot a reproachful look in Rick's direction. "Why are they here? This is … they shouldn't have to see this!"
Lori cupped his cheek in her hand and shushed him. "You really think we could drag Carl away from his Uncle Shane? And where would Sophia be but by his side … especially with Carol missing?"
"Daryl hasn't come back with her?" he asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. He swatted her hand away and pushed himself up into a sitting position, wasting valuable energy. "Hand me my boots. Dixon ain't got no business being down there alone."
Rick surged up from the bunk and put his hands to Shane's chest, guiding him back down to the pillows. "Calm down. You're in no shape to be out of bed, much less down in the tombs. Glenn came up just a while ago to report, and Jamie and his men are still down there. He's not alone."
Shane snorted, following that up with a hacking cough. "Yeah," he breathed heavily, "like Daryl is gonna let them get close to him. He's got to be going out of his mind and taking chances he otherwise wouldn't. Carol's his world; he ain't gonna stop until he finds her … but he's got to think of Sophia too."
"Shane, you need to rest. Getting upset –"
A sharp look quelled her protests. "Lori, how much more upset can I get? I'm dying here!" he growled. "If the last thing I get to do is knock some sense into Rick's block head and send him off to help Daryl, I should be able to do it."
Rick listened to his friend, his eyes darting to where Sophia was curled up with Carl, tears silently washing over her ashen cheeks. She held his son's hand, offering comfort when she was in desperate need of her own. He didn't want to think of what would happen if her parents didn't come back for her. He was a cop, knew firsthand how domestic abuse impacted the survivors. Sophia was strong, always had been, but she'd flourished when Daryl had stepped up and taken on responsibility for her and her mother. She now knew what it was like to have a positive paternal role model. He couldn't allow her to fall into a pit of depression from which they wouldn't be able to dig her out.
"Shane –"
His partner shook his head. "No! You get your ass down there and help him find Carol. Bring them both back." His face fell as another wave of pain washed over him. "And when you do, you tell Dixon to watch over my family, to watch over this baby since I won't be here to do it. We might not have always gotten along, but he's a good man. He'll watch your back."
Lori rose to her feet, so Rick could have her spot on the edge of the bunk, tears blinding her as her husband clasped Shane's hand and pressed his brow to his. "I will … I promise."
Shane swiped at the wetness on his face. "I'm sorry I couldn't save Andrea … and I'm sorry I can't … I can't be here for you. I couldn't have asked for a better friend," he said, unable to win the battle against his emotions. "I l-love you, brother."
Carl shot up from the pallet and rushed to stand beside his father's weeping form. "Dad? Is he?" he asked, feeling every bit the child he really was.
Shane cracked his eyes to look up at the boy, reaching out with his free hand to pull him in closer, cocooned between the two men who loved him so much. "Hey … it's ok, little man. Just means you gotta stay strong … be good to your mom and watch out for your dad."
Sophia slipped unnoticed from the cell, the sound of Shane's final breaths too much for her to bear. Carl would come and find her when he noticed her missing, but he needed to be with his parents, to share his pain and grief with them. She kept her head down, averting her gaze from those of her family lingering in the block, wearily climbing the stairs to the perch. She climbed onto the bed her parents shared, and buried herself beneath her mother's quilt. Only when she was sure she was alone, her face pressed into her father's downy pillow, did she give into her own need to grieve … and pray.
*.*.*
Rick stopped at the barred door in the common room as Carl called out behind him, hurrying to catch up with his father. "You're not going down there, Carl," he sighed, resigned to lock him in a cell if need be. They'd already suffered too much loss in a single morning; he wouldn't put his son at risk.
Carl looked up at his father with red-rimmed eyes and just shook his head. "I wasn't going to ask," he assured him. "I need to stay with Sophia … and Mom. I think they need me more up here."
The former deputy's brows shot to his hairline, his son's newfound maturity taking him by surprise. Just a month ago – hell, even a week ago – he would have fought tooth and nail to accompany him on such a dangerous mission. To see he was now taking his responsibilities to his Mother and partner so seriously, made his chest swell with pride for his boy. He rested his hands on Carl's shoulders and smiled. "I think they do too, son."
The boy nodded and held out the item in his hands. "Shane gave this to me while back, but it's too big for me, and I thought it might come in handy … a little added protection down there, y'know?"
Rick took the tactical vest which had belonged to his friend. He'd had one just like it before the turn, and remembered the little bits and bobs of nonsense Shane had liked to keep in its many pockets. The thick material would indeed be an added layer of protection worn over his thick jacket.
Carl sniffled and averted his eyes, not wanting Rick to see how affected he'd been by Shane's death. "I can't lose you too, Dad."
Rick donned the vest and then pulled his son close, wrapping his arms around Carl's thin shoulders. "I won't be alone down there, Carl. I'm not gonna leave you and your mom alone … I promise. It wasn't Shane's fault he and Andrea got swarmed."
"I know. It was because of that convict." Carl looked up at his father, his gaze cold. "You should have killed him."
"Son …"
"Axel and Oscar aren't so bad. They're down there helping to clear out the bodies Daryl went all Vader on."
Rick couldn't help but smile at Carl's Star Wars reference. He could imagine Dixon giving in to his dark side with Carol missing. He wasn't surprised Carl knew what was going on below. Glenn wasn't the best at keeping things under wraps … from anyone. "Yeah, well, the jury's still out on the three we let into D block." He ruffled Carl's hair and straightened his shoulders. "We'll have to make a final decision once we get this place back in order."
"Dad … just bring him back, please. Sophia needs him."
Rick watched him disappear back into the cell block, sure he would be heading straight for the girl. His heart was heavy as he in turn made his way into the tombs, knowing the job ahead of him wouldn't be easy. The horrid smell of death and rot made his eyes water and his nose sting as he traversed deeper into the bowels of the prison, and he made a mental note to put bleach on the list for the next run. Lots and lots of bleach. He couldn't expect their family to suffer with the filth left behind … not if they were going to make this their home for an undesignated amount of time.
He followed the sounds of muted voices, the beam of his flashlight casting shadows on the blood-spattered walls. Axel spewed forth a steady stream of chatter as they worked, loading the bodies on a cart they'd found outside which Rick could only imagine was used on work detail around the prison. It would make hauling the bodies out of the tombs much easier.
Miles rolled his eyes at the ginger inmate. "Man, don't you ever stop flappin' your gums?!" he hissed in exasperation. "You haven't shut up since you got down here."
Rory heaved his burden onto the cart and snorted.
Oscar groaned under the weight of another corpse, shaking his head.
Brian nodded at Rick when he stepped into the light of the lantern they were using. "What can we do for you, Mr. Grimes?" he asked, moving away from the others.
Rick arched a brow. "Told you to call me Rick. There's no need for formality." He'd tried long and hard to get the Marines to feel comfortable with the Atlanta group, but they still tended to stand on ceremony at times. Instead of arguing, he looked around the toiling men in search of the sergeant. "Where's Jamie? I thought he was down here with you all."
"He is," Brian assured him. "He's following Dixon, scared he's going to get himself cornered." He pointed off in the direction Jamie had taken. "Take a right at the end of the hall and head towards the infirmary."
Rick thanked him and gripped his machete a bit more tightly as he headed off in the new direction. He was relieved to know Daryl wasn't on his own down there, that he had someone to watch his back. He knew how easily it would be to give into the need to lash out. The grief and loss he felt so deeply in his soul at the death of his friend weighed heavily on him. Having to put Shane down before he could turn had been one of the most difficult things he'd ever had to do in his life, and the thought of having to one day do the same for Lori or Carl was unthinkable.
He continued down the dark hallways, making his way around the bodies littered on the concrete floor. As he turned the corner, leaving the infirmary behind, he nearly ran into the sergeant, the barrel of his assault rifle pointed at his face.
"Christ! Man, make some noise when you walk or something!" Jamie hissed, lowering his rifle and swiping a hand over his dirty face.
Rick snorted at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Make noise and draw in the walkers? Not likely. Daryl was always complaining he made too much noise. He followed the sergeant's gaze as he glanced over his shoulder.
Daryl sat on his haunches, his back against the wall, head down, shoulders slumped, the tip of his hunting knife digging idly into the floor. Rick had never seen him so defeated, not even when they'd gone back to that solitary rooftop to find Merle gone. "How long's he been like that?" he whispered to his companion.
Jamie shrugged. "Maybe ten minutes. When he does stop to rest, it's never for long. He won't let me get close, growls like a damn bear if I try, so I've just been keeping pace with him to make sure nothing sneaks up on him."
Rick's eyes widened as he gestured to the number of fallen walkers littering the corridors. "Are you telling me he's done all this by himself?" he asked incredulously.
Jamie tapped a finger to his temple. "He's cracked his gourd. You ever seen a wolf lose its mate?" he asked, nodding his head at the hunter. "Ain't nothing more dangerous. He's hurting and taking it out on anything crosses his path."
Rick sighed and stepped out from around the sergeant, measuring his steps as he approached Daryl. He advanced slowly, surprised when the hunter lowered his head more into his chest. "Daryl … brother?"
He watched Dixon's shoulders slump more if that was possible. He crouched down in front of him, his hands clenching against his knees when he really wanted to reach out to the man, to offer him comfort and understanding, but he knew it would be refused … probably violently.
"Shane's gone. Andrea. T-Dog," he said softly, his voice riddled with grief. He watched Daryl flinch, the blade of his knife digging deeper, the muscles of his forearm straining. "Carol and Tori … there's still hope. They're down here hiding, I'm sure."
Red-rimmed icy blue eyes stared up at him as Daryl's head jerked up, the weight of pain in their depths making him stumble back a step before he righted himself. "Then why ain't I found 'em yet? M' wife ain't one t' hide, Rick," he sneered. "Neither is that little spitfire who leads those soldiers. Y' have any idea how it feels … thinkin' the next corner I come around I'm gonna see her coming at me wanting to take a bite outta my ass?!" His voice was broken, raspy from disuse and fighting to keep his emotions under control. "An' if I do … I … I don't know if I have th' strength t' put her down. Who's t' say I wouldn't just let her have me?"
Rick flinched as his friend banged his head back several times on the wall. "Daryl, you've done everything in your power to arm her, train her to fight, to take care of herself. She's not dead, brother."
"Yeah," he murmured bitterly. "I trained the others too. And they're dead, Rick!"
Rick gnashed his teeth. It enraged him to see Daryl take the blame for something which couldn't have been avoided. It was not his fault, but he knew Dixon wasn't in a good enough frame of mind to see it. "You think Sophia has any doubt in her mind you won't bring her mama back to her? She's up there now praying for both of you."
Daryl's chest tightened at the mention of his daughter.
"Every hope of finding Sophia had been lost when you brought her home. She knows you're going to find Carol too."
Daryl swiped angrily at the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks, smearing the blood on his face in the process.
"C'mon," Rick urged, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand. "You need to get cleaned up and go see your daughter. She needs to know you're ok, and she doesn't have any business seeing you like this."
Daryl growled low in his throat, swatting Rick's hand away. "I cain't go back 'til I find Carol."
"You can, and you will,' Rick insisted. "Half an hour. You can give her that. Then I'm going to come back down here with you and together we'll find Carol. You don't have to do this alone, brother."
*.*.*
Rick and Jamie had stood guard outside the infirmary where clean clothes and hot water had been provided for Daryl to get cleaned up. It had taken two buckets to rid himself of the grime and gore coating his body. He doubted his clothes were even salvageable, except for the leather jacket and his vest. He'd slipped on a clean pair of cargos – the olive green Carol favored – and a fresh button up which still had its sleeves. He could only figure it had come from the last run they'd made, and his wife had hoarded it back for later use. Once he looked more like himself instead of a wild beast – he'd sworn there for a minute Rick was going to check behind his ears – the pair of do-gooders soldier-marched him back to the common room.
He might have grumbled all the way, but he was anxious to see his daughter. He needed to comfort and reassure her he'd find her mother. He had a goal now, something which would ease the pain threatening to eat him alive from the inside. She slammed into him, wrapping around him like a squid as he hefted her into his arms the moment he entered the common room.
It was as if she were just waiting for him before she felt she could let go of her own pain. Pain shared was pain lessened, Carol had told him long ago. God, how he needed her to take away his own. He sat down at one of the tables, nodding his thanks at Alex as she put a bowl of leftover stew and a bottle of water before him. He ignored the food, grimacing at the thought of his roiling stomach, but he quickly drained the bottle.
"You didn't find her," Sophia whispered against his neck when her tears had slowed.
"Not yet, baby girl, but soon." He felt tears prick his eyes at the sight of her tear-stained face and was happy Rick had cleared the room for them. He hated nothing more than the thought of having his pain on display … or Sophia's. "I'm gonna find her, but I had t' come check on y'."
She glanced over his shoulder to where Carl hovered anxiously by the door. "I'm ok, Daddy. Carl's with me."
Daryl nodded, trailing a calloused hand over her soft hair where her head returned to his shoulder. "He'll guard you with his life. The two of you are strong together," he admitted ruefully. "He needs you just as much as y' need him. It's good t' know I don't have t' worry about y' while I'm down there."
"I was scared when you didn't come back. I thought … I was afraid something had happened to you, too," she said, her voice trembling.
The breath hitched in his chest, but he pushed away the rage building. He wished he could kill that little bastard all over again for causing his daughter's fright. "I'll always come back to you, Sophia. So, will Carol." He was starting to believe it, the more he sat there holding her. Their little girl had a way of restoring his faith when he'd thought it was lost.
"I trust you, Dad. I know you'll bring her back to us," she said, her voice a little stronger, determination set in her shoulders as she wiped away her tears. She pushed the bowl of stew closer to him. "Try to eat. You don't need to get weak down there while you're searching."
He huffed at her as she crawled off his lap to perch on the table next to him. "Don't know if I could hold it down."
"Mama would make you eat."
Daryl took the spoon from her and brought a bite to his lips, her smile just like her mother's. The motions were mechanical, but he didn't taste the food, simply doing it to make her happy. He had to admit he felt better, stronger, when he rose from the table and called Rick and Jamie into the room.
Sophia followed him to the door leading into the tombs and wrapped her arms around his waist as she burrowed into his chest. "Be careful, Daddy."
"I will, Soph." He leaned over and pressed his lips to her brow. "Love you."
Sophia brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, watching her father slip into the darkness. She leaned heavily into Carl as he came to stand at her side and twine his fingers with hers. "He'll be ok, Sophia, and when he comes back, he'll have your mom with him. You can't lose hope."
"Mama's a Dixon. Merle says only a Dixon can kill a Dixon." She shot him a fleeting smile. "We're about to find out."
*.*.*
She's armed …
Daryl kept an eye out for walkers as he – Rick and Jamie close on his heels – navigated the corridors he'd cleared earlier, his mind on what his friend had said earlier. He tried to remember if Carol had been wearing her belt this morning. She knew how important it was to keep her weapon handy. She was diligent, making sure her handguns were cleaned and loaded, her knife sharp.
She's trained to take care of herself …
He held up his hand, halting the men behind him as he peered around the corner near the infirmary. They were heading into an area he hadn't yet begun to sweep. No one trained harder than his girls. He had to take that into consideration. If something had happened, he was sure she hadn't gone down without a fight.
"We should be coming up on Solitary," Jamie murmured, keeping his voice low.
Rick groaned, weapons in hand as he glanced over Daryl's shoulder to see the walkers milling around the hallway in the block of cells. There was at least a dozen, several of which were pawing at one of the solid steel doors. "Now, what do you suppose they're after?"
Jamie secured his rifle on his back and pulled his knives, one from his belt, the other from his boot. "Could be mice making noise in there," he suggested. He didn't want to get the hunter's hopes up in case it wasn't their missing women.
"Y' better hope t' fuck it ain't," Daryl growled back. His heart raced as he surged out quietly into the corridor, like a caged panther freed from confinement, taking out two of the geeks before the others even noticed their presence. It was easy with the three of them working together … much easier than it had been on his own.
Rick caught his arm, drawing his attention to one of the dead, a familiar knife protruding from the rotted flesh beneath its jaw. "Isn't that Carol's?"
Daryl crouched down and pulled the blade free, hope flaring in his chest. It just as easily died when Jamie passed him an easily recognizable .45 he'd found lying nearby. It still left her with the smaller knife she kept in her boot and one remaining pistol, but her abandoned weapons did nothing to set his mind at ease.
"It doesn't mean anything, brother," Rick tried to reassure him. "She was fighting and dropped her gun. Look … magazine's empty."
And he knew from pulling her knife out that it had gotten stuck. No … no reason to panic. She was still armed, still fighting. He had to believe that. "Check th' cells," he commanded. "They might've taken shelter in one."
Rick knew what he was doing. Daryl wanted them to give him space to check the cell the walkers had been pawing. He needed them to give him room to see if his wife … he couldn't bear to finish the thought. Instead, he moved off, motioning for the sergeant to follow. However, he didn't go far. The man would need them if things went bad.
Daryl fought to keep his breathing even when his heart threatened to thunder out of his chest, not wanting the men to see him completely lose his shit if he found nothing but his wife's walker behind the barrier of steel. He leaned over, fisting his hands in the jumpsuit of the geek sprawled out in front of the door and hauled him away before he bit his lip and yanked the door open.
A/n: Yeahhhh … y'all ought to be about ready to kill me by now *smirk* Don't worry! I promise lots of lovely reunion fluff next chapter. *hugs*