Well, here it is kids, the last chapter for a while. But only a little while. I'm going to be AWOL for a bit again, but don't worry, I'll be back with more. This is too much fun to write and I'd never abandon it.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Erzulie
**Old Missy**
The day had worn him out.
She could tell that immediately after they stepped into the privacy of her dorm room and he went from holding himself up, ramrod straight and walking with the smooth grace of a tiger, to wrapping his good arm around his ribs tightly, stooping in on himself and dragging his feet like an old man of ninety as soon as the door closed.
Underneath his camo and light gear, she knew he was wrapped tightly around the ribs, duct taped securely at the shoulder in order for him to go without his sling, he was cobbled back together under his clothes like a patchwork scarecrow, but one wouldn't know to look at him beyond the solitude of their room.
It almost hurt her to see the change and she moved to help him ease down onto the bed, taking hold of his elbow gently and finding him heavy with exhaustion against her.
"You pushed it today," she said softly, kneeling to help him with his boots.
"Had to be done," he replied casually, offering her a broad grin that looked just a little plastic around the edges.
Near the door, Annie stood holding Boo in her arms, struggling a little under her weight, her eyes wide. Even the girl could see the change in the soldier once the door had been closed, she looked concerned, worried, almost afraid.
Lafayette smiled at her and held out his good arm. "Are you going to stand there all night, boo girl?"
Quietly Annie moved towards him, crawling up onto the cot at his side, Boo squirming in her arms as she did so.
Grace set the Lieutenant's boots neatly by the door and went to her chiffarobe for Annie's nightgown and hers, while the child wrapped her arms around the soldier's waist, bumping his ribs, causing him to wince.
"Careful, sweetie, remember?" Grace warned.
"Sorry," Annie said, looking up at the man she held, he beamed at her.
"Were you a good girl while we were gone?"
She nodded. "Mr. Dixon said eight bad words and then spit on the ground," she tattled earnestly. "He said I was telling him bull-poop, only he said the other one."
"Cow-poop?" The Lieutenant teased.
"I'm not supposed to say," Annie returned, not understanding his joke.
"Good girls don't, honey," Grace stated, motioning for Annie to join her by the chiffarobe to dress her for bed.
"I can do it," Annie protested, grabbing for the gown.
Grace handed it over and moved to give her privacy from the soldier, smiling as he made a big show about covering his eyes with his hand.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Annie asked, struggling into her nightgown, her head getting stuck somewhere inside it.
"Not tonight, sweetheart." Grace urged.
It hurt to deny her, but the cot was small and Annie kicked in her sleep, she didn't want to risk the girl bumping the soldier in the wrong way and doing more damage than good for him.
Peeking out from around her, Annie chirped, "I'm done," and the Lieutenant dropped his hand with a smile.
"Brush your hair and then go into the bathroom and brush your teeth, I want to see them shining when I come to read you to sleep, little lady." Grace ordered. "Good Lord knows there's probably no dentists left and I don't know how long toothpaste lasts. We don't need you losing your baby teeth due to rot."
Annie frowned, but obeyed her, climbing up onto the cot with her Cajun and dog and giving the former a sweet kiss on the cheek. As she hopped off the cot, her dog did the same, following her out the door and down the hall.
Grace poked her head out the door long enough to see Annie disappear into the bathroom, before returning her attention to the Lieutenant, finding him looking older than she had ever remembered seeing him. It hurt her a little to see him so battered and broken, so she moved to stand before him, still not good at intimacy, clasping her hands before her.
"You should lie back," she said. "Get some sleep."
"I haven't brushed my teeth or hair yet," he returned with a sly grin.
Even in the dim light of the candle someone had lit for them, sitting in the simple sconce on the wall, she could almost count the silver strands that were haunting his dark hair and pulled her mouth into a grim line.
"How bad is it?" She asked, worried he was worse than he was letting on.
"Just tired, magpie," he confessed.
"Truth?"
"God's honest," he returned.
Setting her hands in his hair, she stroked them down and under his jaw on either side, tilting his head up gently, the bandage from the wound to his neck brushing against her pinkie, reminding her of how fragile he could be, how human he was.
He was definitely hers, she decided. Only she could care for him and protect him best (most of the time, she'd later admit, from himself).
The Lieutenant beamed up at her, a genuine smile that brought to mind the first time she had laid eyes on him. Crouching on the wall to her convent, dirty, scruffy and smiling widely in shock and joy at finding them in the garden below.
Dropping a kiss, first to his forehead, then to his mouth, she pulled back and found him looking at her with such open, shining eyes. She knew then that whenever she would begin to doubt her decision to abandon the habit, she would remember the look he gave her and recall that it was worth it all, just to have him looking the way he did at her.
"Sleep, Fate," she whispered. "The rest will do you good."
"You're good to me, magpie," he confessed.
"Yes," she admitted, pulling away from him to head for the door, going to check in on Annie and do her own pre-bedtime routine, "almost like I love you."
"Almost," he teased.
Pausing at the door, she turned back to face him. "Honey, if I could find a way to say it to you without getting you all riled," she began with a small grin. "I'd say it plainly."
"Well," he returned, easing back onto the cot carefully, using his good arm to drag himself into position, wincing at the rough movement, "I'm sure you will when you get back to bed."
She couldn't help but laugh. "Do you often dream impossible dreams, Lieutenant?"
"No," he replied easily, covering a yawn, "lately all my dreams have involved a pretty little nun and a ruler."
"Well, I should be enraged you're dreaming of another nun, honey," she said. "Because you know full well my weapon of choice is a wooden spoon."
"Yeah, I remember the little piece of kitchenware that nearly ended my career as a fulltime hand model," he grumbled.
She folded her arms. "Looking back I feel it may have been worth it the way you torment me horribly."
"Torment you? Cher, I have been anything, if not a proper gentleman with you."
"Do I have to remind you of the Christmas incident, honey?" She asked.
He paled and immediately averted his eyes nervously. "You swore you'd never speak of that ever. Don't make the misère, beb."
"Well, things have changed around here," she argued with a wicked grin. "I think it's time we relive old memories."
"I'll be good," he said with a sigh of resignation.
"Just like that, Mr. Klaus?" She asked, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I think I'll bring up Christmas whenever you start being a complete brat, it seems to be a good way to win any kind of battle with you."
"A man could grow old before his time with a tricky woman like you behind the wheel," he said.
"Don't you forget it," she pointed out with a stern look. "I'll get your toothbrush while I'm in the bathroom," she said casually, stepping out of the room, "you don't look like you'd make it even halfway there."
..-~-..
..-~-..
He was holding himself tall and proud the next day as a majority of their group congregated just outside the church doors, standing on the front steps.
Grace watched him carefully as he spoke in his deep, low tones to them, explaining the meeting he had and his feelings on making an alliance with his friend's group. She didn't think it was a good idea for either him or Daryl to be up and out of bed, but the two men were pushy and stubborn and as much as she tried to get the Lieutenant to rest, he brushed it off with a smile and constantly swore to do it later.
Later, she decided, meant when he went to bed at night, apparently.
"But you don't know that he hasn't changed," Karen argued, her son Noah was walking the wall behind her, but lingering nearby long enough that Grace knew he was listening in to the adults as they discussed the situation.
"We've all changed," the Lieutenant pointed out. "But our basic humanity hasn't. Delgado makes a good point when he says we'll do better with someone to have our backs. It goes both ways in times of hardships, doesn't it?"
"If the Lieutenant says we should, I trust his choice," Carol broke in, in her soft, honest way, holding her thin sweater around herself to ward off the wind that was blowing a little strong. "It couldn't hurt to open some kind of lines of communication with them."
"I think," Tyreese broke in, "all they are now is a group of farmers and ranchers. They seemed happy just surviving there without bothering anyone."
"Tyreese should know," Sasha added, "he stayed with them for a week."
"Besides," Daryl added, "if this asshole in our infirmary, eating our food and generally being a pain in the ass is right and there's a group lingering around these parts, it could be useful to have more than one group of eyes on the lookout for them."
Grace looked to Rick, who was sitting on the steps nearby, but not in the thick of it, holding Judith on his lap and shielding her from the wind with his arms around her protectively. He didn't look like he was going to add anything to the dialogue, just waiting for the results.
"Well, fair is fair," Glenn said. "We take a vote?"
Everyone nodded.
Not at all to Graces' surprise, most of them were in favour of an alliance, though some of them it took a few seconds of thought before raising their hands, she could see there was a desire in a lot of them for peace, but that they had been through a lot and mistrust was common to them.
"What about letting them know where we are?" Milton asked, his left leg in a cast, his left arm in a sling and his middle tightly bound. "I don't know about any of you," he added, "but I wouldn't feel comfortable just letting them know that."
"I agree," Glenn said. "They may just be making this alliance in the hopes of getting that information."
"I don't think they're those kind of people," Tyreese argued. He should know, he spent the most time with them.
"Woodbury didn't come off that those kind of people either," Beth griped. Her eyes opening and flying to Milton and Karen. "No offence," she said quickly.
"No, she's right," Merle pointed out.
"You were the worst one of the bunch, from what I recall," Sasha said.
"Only following orders."
As the group descended into a mild melee over Woodbury and those remnants of the fallen group who remained, Grace eyed Rick who still seemed content to just sit there and watch the going's on, but had no interest in involving himself.
"A vote then?" Glenn suggested once more, breaking up the fighting.
"A vote sounds more reasonable than squabbling," Merle grunted.
Grace's attention turned to the Lieutenant, who was sagging back against the metal railing that guarded the steps of the church, he looked ready to fall down.
She took a few steps around the group towards him, but by the time she got to his side he was forcing his spine straight, holding himself upright again. There was a sheen of sweat that coated his grey features that she didn't like the looks of.
"Are you alright?" She whispered, moving to stand at his side.
He nodded. "Better than I look."
"You look like a plucked chicken," she pointed out as the group voted against letting Delgado's people know about their location, at least for the time being.
"Well I feel like a prime pigeon," he retorted with a wry grin.
Running her hand over his on the railing, up his strong forearm to his elbow, she gripped it gently. "Will you rest for me after this?"
"Is there more incentive then your gratitude if I agree?" He teased.
"If that's what it'll take, darling," she whispered.
Turning his kind eyes on her, her soldier leaned down and rest his forehead against hers, smiling genuinely at what she knew would be her most determined look. Her mother got the same look when she was being stubborn and insistent, her mouth would pull in a straight line, her chin would stick out some, and her brows would lower.
He chuckled softly at her look and kissed her temple. "We'll discuss incentives later, magpie."
Her look must have fallen, because as soon as he said this, his expression changed to one of genuine sincerity and he pulled away from holding the railing to slid his arm around her waist, resting his large hand on her hip and pulling her in close against him.
She stuck out her hand to avoid crushing his ribs, resting it against his chest.
A little shy to be against him with so many people nearby, she ducked her head and eyed the Lieutenant's scuffed, worn army issue boots, standing firmly on the stoop beside her dainty little bare feet.
"I'm fine, pie bavarde," he whispered in her ear, nuzzling her cheek with his patrician nose. "I'm much better than you think. I just look like hell."
Drawing her eyes up from the ground, Grace looked over at the group who was slowly dying away and found Carol hovering beside Daryl in much the same, protective, stubborn manner. Daryl – it seemed – was busy watching them back and Grace tilted her head at this. He was deep in study, watching the Lieutenant as he bowed his head to Grace. Before she could clearly make out what the look was about the Cajun was dropping a kiss to her cheek, fingers flexing against her hip and stealing her attention.
"Je t'aime plus que vous ne le saurons jamais," he growled in her ear, drawing her in closer for a kiss.
"One of these days I'll catch on to what you say in Cajun, you giant oakwood," she replied, feeling him smiling against her cheek.
"I'll worry about that day when it comes in ten-fifteen years, magnolia blossom," he returned slyly.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Later, when the winds were picking up almost brutally, tearing through even their natural, forest wind break, she was on the wall, making her rounds with Lafayette's beat up .22 rifle resting in her hands, she was thinking about their decision and the other group.
There was no way they could read minds, peer into the hearts of men to see their intentions, but she wanted to trust them. It was hard because there were people who she knew couldn't be trusted, people who could tell lies as easily as they could blink, but it would crush Lafayette for his friend to go back on his word in such a vile, wretched manner.
Keeping one eye on Annie, playing inside the wall, hopping and dancing around with Boo the dog, one eye on the outside of the wall for danger and the one Buddha would have labelled her inner eye, on Lafayette sitting in the shade with a few of the other men, doing as little as he could while still doing something. They were cleaning guns with the unloaded weapons spread out on an old blanket on the grass around them.
She supposed it was better than him moving around too much, but she still would have preferred he rested in bed.
Carol was on the wall as well, heading her way, hand holding her rifle strap, slung over her shoulder.
"Those men don't slow down," she greeted idly in passing, "they're going to undo all the work Herschel and Mrs. Douglas did."
Grace frowned at the men behind them, but didn't know what to say.
For a moment the two women stood on the wall, eyeing the woods before them. No words were said.
Grace was trying to find a delicate way to ask Carol, to maybe learn something about what her role in the odd relationship she shared with Lafayette was supposed to be. It was hard to admit she was green to something so common, at the age she was.
"Would you ever get married?" Carol asked suddenly.
"I'm just getting over and reconciling my relationship with God," Grace said. "Marriage is possibly the last thing on my mind."
Giving her a mildly incredulous look, Carol tilted her head. "Really?"
"You were expecting a different response?"
"I just thought because of your," she hesitated, "because of the relationship you have with the Lieutenant and who you are—"
"I should hope I'm not silly enough to encourage such thoughts in that Cajun boy's mind," Grace retorted.
"Well, obviously not right away, but would you marry at all?" Carol clarified.
"Marry Lafayette or any man in general?"
"Would it matter?"
Grace smiled secretly to herself. "Indeed it would. I don't think any man would do for me, but that Cajun boy."
Smiling, Carol studied the woods. "It would be nice though, to have a wedding around here."
Laughing, Grace nodded. "Well, maybe it'll be yours, because I don't think mine is coming up anytime soon."
"Oh no," Carol protested, "after Ed, marriage is…not something I'd ever do. Not yet."
"Well, marriage is for younger women," Grace said. "I think we're both old enough to know better."
"Maybe we'll get lucky and one of the young girls will get married. Then we'll have it easy, all the fun of the celebration and none of the commitment hassle."
The two women burst out laughing on the wall, before they went back to patrolling.
..-~-..
..-~-..
The Voodoo Dialect
Erzulie: (Ezili) She has tremendous power and is feared as much as she is loved. Also, she has several different roles: goddess of the word, love, help, goodwill, health, beauty and fortune, as well as goddess of jealousy, vengeance, and discord. She is usually known as a serpent that coiled upon itself lives on water and bananas. She is depicted as a trembling woman who inhabits the water. She has no specific function, but is approachable in a confidential manner. In every sanctuary there is a room, or corner of a room, dedicated to her. She is closely associated with the Blessed Virgin Mary and her symbol is the heart, usually one broken with an arrow in much the same way as a dominant Catholic portrait of Mary has it. Despite her flirtations and loving ways, Erzulie is a virgin. She is the complete converse of the crude sexuality of Papa Ghede. She may not be a virgin in the physical sense, but in the sense that her love transcends the earth, it is a love of higher forces. She belongs to the family of sea spirits, but has become completely divorced from her origins as to be now almost exclusively a personification of feminine grace and beauty.
The Cajun Dialect
Je t'aime plus que vous ne le saurons jamais. - I love you more than you will ever know.