Noxi: So we're getting to a point where I am winging it around the cattle. What they're called, and how to care for them, and holy shit am I lost. Montana as well. I'm not really going to make this fic a fact fic, but I will try to work in as many real details as possible. They just might not be in the right way. Welcome to my world.
I'd just like to say thank you to FaeriesMasquerade for being so wonderful.
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
The Calm
"Ya can't run forever boy." He knew that voice. Knew it like he knew the rhythm of the heart beating in his chest always giving him away.
"Always know when ya scared." A laugh echoed around him, sending his blood pumping through his veins, loud in his ears. It was always his damn heart, thundering away in his chest, louder than a damn freight train that did it. And the more he thought on it, the louder it got.
"Think I'm just gonna let ya go?" He tried to swallow, his tongue thick and his mouth dry. There was something holdin' him down and he didn't like that feelin' of helplessness that choked him.
He opened his eyes, blinking slowly against the blur, and felt the panic seize him.
His old man was above him, a knee to his chest, leering down at him. The same blue eyes that he knew he carried stared back at him. Daryl hated him. Hated how much he was the old man without even havin' to do nothin'. They shared that blood and that was all it took. He talked like him, walked like him. But it was the eyes. His Ma had never been able to look him in the eyes and not see his old man. The same perfectly clear blue, untouched by any other color or dimension.
How many times had he seen them clouded by rage, or hate, or drugs?
"Ya been marked by yer blood, baby. Ya been marked by him."
How many times had he seen them, looking down at him like this, ready to inflict on him more pain than he was ready to handle? How many times had he wanted to cut his own eyes out in the mirror because all he could see was the old man lookin' back at him?
"Think I won't find ya?" He sneered down at him, teeth stained brown from years of smoking.
It was hard to breathe. His chest felt heavier than it should have and he couldn't move. His arms went taut with the urge to push him off but he couldn't move them neither.
"I'll find ya," the old man breathed above him, bringing their faces nose-to-nose. Daryl flinched, his chest still heavy with the weight, turning his head away.
"I always find ya boy."
He jerked awake, breathing heavy, his chest still unexpectedly weighted down. The light streaked in through the window lighting the foot of his bed, the sheets tangled at his ankles, sweat makin' his clothes stick to him and he saw the problem.
"The hell you doin' in here?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his heart still thundering in his chest as the image of his ol' man clouded his thoughts.
The tan and gray cat from the other night was perched on his chest, eyes lidded to slits, paws curled to her chest. She didn't move as he shifted in the bed, ineffectually trying to get her off.
He raised his hand to push her off and her head snapped to watch, eyes instantly alert. He froze for a moment, unsure if she would do anything. He'd never been a cat person. The only ones he'd ever seen were scrawny ass things that were always lookin' for a meal and never wanted you to touch'em. If ya did, ya got a set a red tracks for yer trouble.
He knew a warning look when he saw one. She was comfortable where she were and she didn't want to go nowhere.
"Shit," he muttered, letting his head fall back to the bed, the nightmare beginning to fade to the back of his mind. Couldn't believe he'd been dreamin' bout the old man of all things. He came here to escape all that shit, to get as far away from that nightmare as he could.
"I always find ya boy."
Fear gripped his chest and he knew it weren't the cat weighing him down.
He could hear the old man now, as vivid as if he were right there, right now and that sent a shiver down his skin. He'd run this far just to get away from him, to get away from that voice, and his hands, and that fear.
"Fuck!" He tried to sit upright, the pinch on his chest knocking his thoughts loose, and he saw that the cat had dug her claws into his skin. She was watching him closely, tail flicking back and forth.
"Damn thing," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. She didn't move, even as he tried to sit up, leaning back on his elbow without much luck. She still wasn't moving.
He glanced out the window, watching the light, and realized he was up later than he wanted to be. He should have been up and movin', and chances were Carol and Dale were already.
"Can't be doin' this." Couldn't be sittin' here dwellin' on his past, and he sure as hell couldn't be sittin' here lettin' this cat get her way. She responded by purring, and retracting her claws, resting her chin against his chest. She peered up at him, her blue eyes wide and innocent suddenly.
He let the dream of his ol' man drift to the back of his mind, and pushed that fear with it, and hesitantly brushed his hand along the cat's back.
She closed her eyes contently, her purr growing louder the harder he pressed against her back.
He groaned.
"Definitely can't be doin' this."
XXX
"Mom, I'm gonna be late!" She turned away from Sophia's voice, trying to focus on Hershel's. Her lips were poised to say no, but something compelled her to hear him out.
"Carol all I'm asking is that you stop by to see her. I can't hold her here. Don't have the room. If you don't take her I'll have to send her over to Freemont, and you know they don't take care of'em like we do."
She bit her lip, clutching the phone tight to her ear. She couldn't take do it. It wasn't a decision she could make. It wasn't something she could do right now.
"Hershel, I don't think I'm ready for this. And if Ed comes home-"
"Just a look."
She sighed, all the air leaving her lungs. She couldn't do it. If Ed came home to another horse, after he'd just taken Sky to be sold because of her, she could only imagine what he would do to another one that she brought home without asking him about it.
"She's beautiful Carol. Just come see her. Before I have to send her away."
"Mom!"
"I'm on the phone Sophia!" She thrummed her fingers along the counter, staring out the window. It wasn't like they didn't have the room in the stables for another horse. And he was only asking her to come and look at the horse.
"I'll see you soon then?"
She couldn't stop the chuckle that slipped passed her lips. Hershel knew her well enough that she couldn't deny taking a peek at the horse. She loved them all, and she couldn't pass that up.
"Alright Hershel, I'll stop by. But only to look," she warned, feeling a weight fall over chest, dark and foreboding. Hershel laughed and said his goodbyes, hanging up.
She bowed her head, gripping the sink tight. It was the third night without Ed, without Sky. She knew it was only a matter of time before he came back home, trailer empty, gloating. He'd wave his winnings in her face, threaten her again, and tell her that this was how it was going to be.
This was her life.
She swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill again, biting her lip hard. She took a deep, steadying breath and looked up.
And saw Daryl cross the yard to Dale waiting by the stables. Dale gripped Daryl's shoulder and she watched as he shifted from underneath his grip, not returning the smile that Dale was giving.
"Mom?" She turned sharply. Sophia stood in the archway, backpack clutched to her shoulder, head cocked.
"Are you coming? Or should I call Mrs. Grimes?" She shook her head no, and picked up her purse.
"Let's go baby," she said, steering Sophia out of the house, holding her close.
XXX
Once he'd finally gotten the cat off, washed his face off, and put a clean shirt on he walked out.
To food on the front step.
He stopped, unsure of what to do. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. She'd told him this was how it was going to be. But he couldn't remember the last time someone had ever made anything for him. It'd just been him, Merle and his ol' man since his Ma had…
No. He couldn't take her food. He didn't want to be some damn charity case. Since the moment he got here that's was all it was startin' to feel like. Job opening up, people takin' him in, cookin' him food. Did he look that fuckin' bad?
Did people think he needed to be taken care of?
"Can take care of maself," he growled lowly, the cat twistin' between his legs, peering up at him. He eyed the food, his stomach growling appreciatively. He sighed.
He sat down on the step, and uncovered it, pulling the plate to his lap.
"Just food," he said quietly, starting to eat. The cat sat at his side, cleaning herself.
But it wasn't just the food. It was the way her hand had felt in his, soft and inviting, and the way he'd felt when she'd looked at him. He'd never felt that kind a tightening in his chest before. The way she didn't judge him or pity him just at that first look. Cos he knew what he looked like – some damn redneck piece a trash who didn't have nothin' more than the hand-me-downs on his back and the scowl on his face. He knew he weren't nothin' to look at. Ugly, warped and broken.
That's what his life had made him. He'd had to fend for his own for a long fuckin' time. How many times had he had to use the crossbow sittin' idle in the cabin just behind him so he'd have dinner or breakfast? How many times did he go without food for days? He'd mended his own clothes for years, learned to care for his wounds, and didn't have nobody lookin' out for him.
Ya got used to it. Ya got used to takin' care of yerself. Didn't take handouts from people. No matter how hungry he might a been. Merle taught him that ya never took handouts. Ya had to earn what ya wanted. Course, he was always the one to do the earnin' for both him and Merle for a long time too.
'Specially when Merle got high.
He set the plate to the side, downing the coffee.
He didn't want this to be a handout. He wanted to earn it. He'd work hard for the food that she provided him with. Cos that was how it worked. Ya didn't take nothing for granted.
He watched Dale walk out of the stables, a pale in his hand, walking toward the house. He figured it had to be the milk. Dale explained to him yesterday that milking the cow, Nettle, was going to become part of his workload. And he figured out that cows weren't any smaller than horses. One look at that thing and he was already nervous.
The little girl opened the screen door and took the pale from him, smiling and talking.
Too many things to get used to round here. Kids, home-cooked food, big animals, and women. He didn't have none of this shit back home. It was just him, tryin' to survive on his own, nobody there to help.
Not that he wanted any help. That was the point. He didn't want no help. Didn't want her cooking for him, didn't want nothing from her.
"It's just what I do."
Except she'd said it with that haunted look in her face, her shoulders dipping, and those green eyes darkening dangerously. How many other things did she just do? He knew that look. Knew what you hid in the curve of those shoulders. He'd tried to hide from the world by pulling it all in countless times.
He stood up, giving himself a shake. Weren't none of his business what she did or didn't do. Wasn't part of his job to think about that no matter how much he may a felt that pull. He took off, leaving the dishes behind. He was only here to work.
"Daryl!" Dale clapped him over the shoulder, smiling wide. "Good morning." He didn't want to hurt Dale's feelings, but he didn't want to give him the wrong impression either. He dipped his shoulder down, slipping away from his firm grasp as subtly as he could. Dale's hand brought up to many memories, and his fingers were to close to finding the marks on his lower neck.
He didn't need that coming out. "Mornin'," he mumbled in return.
"How're your hands?" Confused, he glanced down at his hands and realized that Dale was asking because of what he'd unloaded yesterday.
"Weren't nothin'." Dale didn't look convinced, but he started headin' for the stables anyway.
"Ya sure? I can get ya a pair of gloves to protect your hands." Daryl looked at his hands again, curling his fingers into his palms. He let them fall to his side before Dale saw the scars that littered the backs of his hands.
"Ain't nothin' I can't handle. Been workin' with my hands my whole life," he said gruffly. And it were true. He'd been doin' all kinds of jobs that left his hands calloused and hard. Construction mostly, sometimes the auto-shop. Mostly it was the crossbow that did it – the draw of the string. Some days he'd even shape his own bolts, just to keep his hands busy. But what he'd never admit was that it wasn't the jobs that had left the scars.
Dale nodded. "Alright then." He picked up a coil of rope, draping it over his shoulder.
"What about the stick?" He pointed to the metal stick, which looked like something easily used to hurt.
Dale glanced over his shoulder. "The hotshot?" He shook his head and walked passed Daryl. "Carol and I don't use the prod, and it's best you learn that now. Ed's the only one who's found it…necessary to. Cattle don't need a shock if you just tell'em what ya want."
Daryl thought about that and found he liked the idea. And if the 'hotshot' shocked the cows? Then he didn't want no part of that and he was glad they weren't neither. He may not a wanted to be around the big beasts but he sure as hell didn't want to hurt'em.
"Come on," Dale called, heading for the pasture where the cattle grazed. "Gonna show you how to talk to the cows." He didn't think talkin' to the cows was gonna get him or Dale anywhere, but he followed regardless.
XXX
She sat out front, watching Hershel's house. Sophia had wanted to come with her when she'd told her about it, but she couldn't miss another day.
She shouldn't go inside either. She shouldn't even be here. She couldn't take another horse in no matter how beautiful she was. Freemont may not have put the kind of love and dedication that she and Hershel did into their work, but they still did it right. Still took care of the livestock they had.
She watched as Maggie, Hershel's oldest daughter crossed the yard from the chicken coop. She was a beautiful girl and she was bright. And she had her trouble, just like everyone else around here.
But it didn't matter. Maggie was good to her father and she did everything she could to help him out around the farm.
"You've got your own farm to deal with," she muttered, and put the keys back in the ignition.
"Hey Carol." She jumped, letting out a squeak. She clapped a hand to her chest as her heart raced and turned to find Otis, Hershel's foreman, leaning in through the window.
"Sorry," he chuckled, his grin warm and apologetic. "Didn't mean ta scare ya." Carol sank into her seat, laughing nervously. She didn't think Otis could ever sneak up on anyone. She was really out of it.
"It's fine. I just didn't hear you is all." Otis laughed again, his frame shaking.
"Ain't like I was sneaking up on ya or nothing. Come on up," he said, gesturing her forward, stepping back from Jeep. She took one last worried glance at Hershel's house. This was her last chance to leave before she did something she wouldn't be able to take back.
Her last chance to make the better choice.
"She's just in the barn. She's damn sweet she is," he continued smiling broadly. But she wasn't really listening.
All she could think of was how many times had she made the better choice, for the sake of Ed? How many times had that ever done her any good? How many times had he done the same for her?
She breathed deep and pushed the door open, letting her keys hang in the ignition.
He'd never done anything for her sake. He'd always made it his mission to make sure she knew who was in charge, and who made all the decisions.
"You're gonna love her," Otis said, walking at her side, rope coiled in one hand. She just nodded, already feeling the dread slip up her spine.
"Got some work to her though," he admitted softly. She looked at Otis, confused. No one had said anything about work, though she didn't put it past Hershel to not add that in when trying to get her here.
Otis chuckled nervously, rubbing his head. "Oops. Guess Hershel didn't tell you that part. Come on," he urged.
She followed him toward the stables, her chest heavy. She was only going to look. That was all. Nothing more.
XXX
"Look so-Daryl." He shot Dale a warning glare as he corrected himself.
This wasn't going how either of them had planned. Daryl certainly hadn't planned on being caught in the middle of a herd of beef cattle, sweating and stinking and nervous as hell.
"You're nervous. They can sense that." He bristled. What the hell did he mean they could sense it? And how the hell did he know if he was nervous or not? Just a bunch of big, dumb animals that didn't know how to get themselves from one pasture to the next without some damn 'roundup' as Dale called it. It wasn't like at any second if they got spooked they'd all tear ass and trample him into the dirt.
"I ain't nervous," he growled back. Dale just smiled as he shifted out of the way of the one young ones that were bold enough to come jogging by him, shaking its head.
"They're just cows Daryl. Beef cattle if you want to label'em. We just raise'em to be meat." Dale watched him, and he didn't like that scrutinizing gaze. The more Dale stared, the more he wanted to scramble back over the gate and do something he was familiar with. But he couldn't chicken out now. This was what he came here to do.
Dixons ain't no pussies.
He grit his teeth at the familiar voice in his head. "Why don't you just stand there for a bit, get used to'em around ya while I'll tell ya a little about them?" He didn't want nobody to think he couldn't handle the work. They were just big, dumb dogs if he thought about it. One of'em was probably gonna be his burger later on.
He swallowed back the anxiety and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Now you don't have to know anything special. Once they hit maturity they're all just cows. Ain't nothing to it. Nettle, in the barn, she's the house cow. They keep her for milk. Only one they got. Young females are heifers, young males are bulls. But they're all just calves when they're babies." Daryl nodded, letting the calf mill around him, as he took in the rest of the cattle.
If he averaged right, they had about a hundred head of cattle, maybe more. Weren't much in the grand scheme of things, but when there weren't many of you to handle'em? He couldn't imagine it got easy.
"What's that-that number they got on'em?" He'd noticed that plenty of'em had been marked by something that looked like a number in their ears.
"We tag them with a tattoo so they can't be stolen and for when we sell them. Tracking." Daryl glanced at Dale, skeptical. He understood tracking like he knew how to walk. But stealing? Cows? Who the hell would steal a damn cow and how the hell would they do it?
Dale laughed, making some of the cows shift away from him.
"Trust me," he said, and Daryl immediately shifted, thinking that he didn't. "People do it. The cattle industry can be a tricky business. If you don't watch your beef, someone will come along and pull a few away. People try to sell'em off, or just want them for the meat. It isn't a steady business if you're not watching your profit. Otherwise, it's really just the same thing as putting a scan code on anything in the store." Dale shrugged, leaning against the fence. Guess that made sense. Had to keep track of the shit that made ya money. Didn't want to lose none of it, and you had to have a number system to sell it.
"Plus we got wolves up here in the winter months, if we're unlucky. Winter gets to be long, and cold and especially hard. We do a lot of sitting around, watching out for the cattle, taking turns. Don't want'em to be eaten or get sick or hurt. Carol, well, she takes real good care of us in the winter." He watched as Dale's eyes took on a faraway look as he gazed into the herd of cattle.
"We had a real bad winter once; frigid winds, snow you couldn't go anywhere in. Was the year I lost my wife." Silence sat heavy between them and Daryl didn't know what to say as Dale twisted a ring on his finger. He hated personal shit like this. He was bad at it, bad at making people feel better. He never liked it when people tried to make him feel better so he avoided it at all costs. Pity was for the weak, and Dixons weren't weak.
He swallowed heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Merle made sure he knew that.
Dale cleared his throat roughly, and continued on. "We had more ranch-hands then, more cattle too. And every day she trekked through the snow, six feet deep on some days to bring us coffee, or hot chocolate, warm food and blankets. That was the year she'd had a broken ankle too," Dale said, trailing off, still twisting the ring on his finger.
Daryl tried to imagine Carol, all gentle limbs, hobbling through six feet of snow on crutches and in a cast, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn't imagine snow for one thing, and the moment he tried to imagine her broken foot too many memories surfaced of his own.
Broken ribs that left his side mottled, and his breathing labored. A broken wrist that left him angry and incapacitated for a week. Inflamed, throbbing wounds that wouldn't heal because they kept being reopened.
Wounds that never healed, wounds that kept reappearing because he put them there.
He cleared his throat, knowing the silence had gone on too long.
"Ain't never seen snow 'fore," he admitted softly, looking up at the sky, trying to forget. He couldn't imagine what it was like to see something cold, and solid fall from the sky. Couldn't imagine what that kind of cold was gonna feel like on his skin. He didn't have nothing that was gonna keep him warm once them winter months came along. He was screwed.
"I knew you were a long way from home," Dale said quietly. Daryl swallowed heavily, immediately wishing he could take back the admission. He didn't want nobody peeking into his past, didn't want them to see just what kind a person he was. If they did, he didn't think, no he knew they wouldn't want him around.
Dale was watching him closely and he turned from him, hiding the shame and the pain that he could feel written on his face.
"It's alright," Dale said finally, moving into the herd, letting his words carrying over his shoulder. "Not like the cow's care who you are."
Daryl watched Dale's retreating back as he moved through the herd, and for once, he didn't feel so threatened by the comfort in those words.
XXX
"Ain't she beautiful?" She watched the horse with a growing ache in her heart. She had to agree with Maggie. She was beautiful. She was a buckskin, and Carol loved buckskin's. Her coat was the color of honey as her legs tapered off into the rich color of coffee. Her mane, the same rich brown color, fell well beyond her shoulder and was in need of grooming; in fact she was in need of a lot of care. She'd been badly neglected.
Carol couldn't miss the laceration across her shoulder, or the way she shied away from human contact.
Another wounded, broken animal. How many more could she possibly take in? How much more work could she take on before she justcouldn't do it anymore?
"How'd it happen?" She heard a heavy sigh come up behind her and she turned to find Hershel approach, carrying his medical bag.
"She was left here," he drawled, watching the mare carefully. "Owner didn't watch where he was going, caught her shoulder on some loose metal. Tore right into the poor thing. She's sweet Carol. Good-natured."
Carol didn't doubt how sweet she could be. But right now she needed a lot of care, and a lot of attention. She already had five horses, and a herd of cattle to tend to. Not to mention her growing problems with Ed.
Did she have the time to take another horse in? Would Ed allow it?
She berated herself. Of course he wouldn't. How could she be so stupid as to even think it. He'd taken Sky Dancer to be sold all because she'd made one stupid mistake. All because she'd not paid better attention.
"First time owner?" She told herself she was asking for the horse, for curiosity's sake. Not for any other reason.
"One time owner," Maggie said vehemently, walking into the pen where the mare awaited. Carol breathed deep. First time owner's either succeeded well or failed miserably and this beauty had been unlucky enough to be granted the latter. She sighed, rubbing her arms nervously. She felt for the horse, she really did.
Maggie approached her slowly, talking to her in a low voice. The mare didn't react like Outlaw would have, but her ears fell back against her head and she took several nervous steps back. She snorted heavily, her tail flicking back and forth.
"Easy girl," Maggie murmured, stepping closer, hands up.
"Does she have a name?" Hershel watched Maggie for a moment, as she got the horse to allow her to touch it, before answering her.
"Tiger Lily." Carol shouldn't have asked because the more she knew, the more connected she felt to the horse. She watched as Maggie stroked Tiger Lily, talking quietly to her, rubbing her affectionately.
"Maggie seems to have taken to her," she commented, watching Hershel from the corner of her eye.
Hershel sighed, his shoulders drawing in deep, and he shook his head. "We can't keep her. I don't have the room, and Maggie doesn't have time between school and her other work here on the farm."
Maggie turned with a glare pointed at her father, and Carol couldn't help her smile.
And the more she watched Tiger Lily, the harder she found it to make up reasons why she couldn't take her, the more heart pulled her to the horse. The way she stared at them all, the hurt in her eyes carried a sadness that weighed at Carol's own heart. She recognized that kind of lost hope that you didn't think could be restored. There was more to Tiger Lily's pain than just one incident.
"There's more to her than just the one wound isn't there," she said softly, watching Hershel's face for confirmation. He ducked his head, rubbing at his forehead. He drew a deep breath.
"We found a few old scars along her legs, a few more along her neck, beneath her mane. I think when she received the latest one her owner decided it wasn't worth seeing if she'd live through it." She bit back the sudden wave of tears.
How many times had she thought she wouldn't survive another one of Ed's hits, another broken bone, another night of self-hatred?
How could she say no to her? How could she deny Tiger Lily the chance at a home where she would be loved?
"I can't," she choked back on a whisper, clutching at her sides, her own stupidity hitting her hard. She could take Tiger Lily home but would she be loved?
Would Ed allow her to stay and be loved? Would Ed treat her the same way that her previous owner had? Would she only be taking Tiger Lily right back into the same cycle she was trying to escape from?
"Why don't ya just let'im go?"
"Carol?" She couldn't do it. She couldn't take Tiger Lily to a place where it'd only become her prison, where she'd be subjected to false hope. She couldn't trap her in a place where pain and suffering might become a part of her when she could go somewhere else and be free.
"I can't," she bit back, and turned away, before she broke down in front of them.
XXX
"Good," Dale remarked, watching him from across the backs of one of the cows. He was good at knots because he was good with his hands.
"Ain't nothin'," he muttered, head ducked. Weren't nothin' at all. And he was gettin' used to the cows around him too, used to feeling them brush up against him, their tails flick against him. The lowing as Dale said it was, didn't rattle him so much, and if he thought about it they were just meat walkin'.
They were used to people so he didn't scare'em and he liked that.
The sound of tires drew his gaze to the front where he watched the Sheriff's car pull up. Rick Grimes pulled himself out, eyes scanning the property for someone. He pulled back into himself.
"Rick!" He flinched at Dale's voice coming loud behind him, and he took a step back, rope clutched tightly in his hands, knot forgotten.
Rick waved at them, and started in their direction.
"You can, uh, go take a break if you want," Dale said hesitantly, watching him.
"What?" Dale nodded toward his hands and he looked down, realizing he was squeezing the rope, pulling the knot out, his knuckles going white.
"M'fine," he grumbled, avoiding Dale's gaze as Rick hopped the fence. He wasn't gonna walk away just because of some Sheriff.
Rick waded around the milling cows like they didn't bother him and that pissed Daryl off more than it should have. It wasn't like he'd been born around cattle and horses like these people had. He was just gonna have to accept that they lived and breathed this shit unlike him.
"Hey Daryl," he said conversationally, tipping his hat. Daryl just grunted his response, tossing the rope over his shoulder so he wouldn't keep strangling the thing.
"Carol here?" Dale pointed off, shaking his head.
"She took Sophia to school and hasn't been back since. Suspect she had some errands to run today." Rick nodded, watching the cattle absently.
"Sasha's been watching Ed's status in the auction," he said after a long pause.
Dale took a step forward but didn't say anything. Daryl waited for Rick to say something more but the silence continued and he hated the way it sat heavy between them all, like they were just waiting for someone to be choked on it.
"Well?" he barked, taking a step toward Rick, surprising both of them, "the hell does that mean?"
Rick blinked, glanced at Dale, and then looked back at Daryl. "It means," he said, taking his hat off, the action sending an uneasy ripple down his spine, "that Ed's coming back home."
XXX
She'd made a stop at the grocery store to pick up some bacon, bread, a few things Sophia needed for school. She'd wandered down the aisles thinking about what Daryl might like, avoiding going home, trying to take her mind off of Tiger Lily and Sky Dancer and Ed and everything that was going wrong.
She grabbed a can of green beans and threw them into her basket furiously.
"Dammit Carol," she muttered under her breath, feeling helpless and useless and so angry at herself. Why did she let Ed influence everything she did? Why didn't she fight back? Why did she let him get away with it?
She bit her lip, throwing another can into her basket.
Because of Sophia, and Bluebird, and Outlaw and Nettle and everyone else who relied on her. She hadn't even done anything wrong. Henry had just left, and Ed still managed to make that her fault. Still managed to punish her for it.
She couldn't let anyone else deal with that.
No matter what happened. Even if all she ever wanted was to watch him –
"Carol?"
She flinched, wrenched from her thoughts, and turned to find Andrea watching her curiously, head cocked to the side.
"Are you okay? I called your name a few times." Carol pressed a hand to her chest and breathed, fighting back her own thoughts. She nodded, and forced a smile to her face. She couldn't believe she'd let those thoughts drift in her mind while she'd been wandering in the store.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Andrea smiled, nodding at her basket.
"Were the cans talking back?" Carol was confused for a moment and then it dawned on her that Andrea must have seen her violently throwing the cans into her basket.
She felt her face heat up in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have seen that." Andrea laughed, letting her basket hang at her side. "I know how sassy peas can get." Carol laughed a little, easing up. It was only Andrea.
"Hey, so how's that new guy I sent your way? He working out well?" Carol didn't know what she was talking about and then she realized.
"You mean Daryl?" Andrea's face lit up, nodding.
"Yeah, he was at the bar the other night. Looking for work. I figured since Ed had been in there bitchin' about losin' Henry that you guys would be in need of a new hand." She didn't know what to say. It had never occurred to her that Daryl might have shown up that day because he knew that they would need him.
She bit her lip, chewing the healing split, and felt a pang of gratitude sweep through her. He'd come there, possibly knowing what he was getting himself into, and had still said yes.
She had to fight back the sudden emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn't believe he had done that.
"Yes," she murmured, swallowing it back. "He's settling in very well." She heard Andrea mutter 'good' as she pulled something off the shelf.
But Carol didn't miss the way her eyes searched her face. She propped one hand on her hip, brows raised and nodded at her face, eyes darkening slightly. She swallowed, not liking the look she was getting.
"Did Ed not take to it well?" She would have choked in surprise had it been anyone else. But Andrea had always been the one to be forthcoming about her and Ed's situation.
She smiled faintly, hand fluttering to her face. "Accident with the horses. In the stables," she fought to stop herself from chattering on like an idiot. She knew they were foolish lies, and she knew that Andrea didn't believe a single one. Andrea had always thought she should have reported Ed to someone, let him be locked up for good.
"That why he took Sky Dancer away from you?" Something caught in her, and her eyes widened. Her chest constricted, and she fought back the sob rising in her throat. It was the way Andrea had said it, like she was sorry that he'd done it. Like she knew Ed was despicable and he deserved to have his lungs ripped out. Like she knew that everything Carol endured was all because she had loved Sky Dancer, and she loved Sophia and the rest of those she cared for.
"I have to go," she whispered, and turned, leaving Andrea behind.
"He doesn't deserve anything you do for him!" Carol knew that but it didn't change the fact that she still couldn't leave them all behind.
XXX
"You could have gone with him." He didn't say nothin'. Just shifted from one foot to the other. He knew he was chewing his nail, and he knew it was a bad habit he did when nervous.
He saw Rick watchin' him.
"S'fine," he growled back, feeling anxious when he didn't really need to.
He didn't know how to handle this waitin' shit. Not like he had to be worried about anything. He weren't gonna let that Peletier ass touch him.
But that was problem. He could stop that dick from doing anything to him. But Carol?
"When ya think he's gonna be back?" Rick crossed his feet, fingering his hat as he thought about it for a moment. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.
"Can't say as much," he answered finally. And it just pissed Daryl off more. What the hell were they supposed to do, wait for him? He could come back at any time and what was he supposed to do?
Hide in the cabin? Run to the woods? Watch their shadows through the kitchen window as he beat her? Listen to the sounds of it happening?
He couldn't do that. He'd done that his whole life, and he'd regretted it every minute. But what else was he supposed to do?
"Daryl," Rick said, pushing off from the fence, "there's no point in getting worked up over it. This isn't your problem. Not but three days here. This isn't something you need to concern yourself with."
He watched Rick for moment, and knew by the look in his eyes that he was being sincere and genuine. He weren't being an ass, and he weren't only thinking about himself.
He nodded, but didn't move. "I know," he said, rubbing at the back of his head. "I know, but I told her I'd work. We got a…a contract." They didn't really. Not like he signed nothing. But he wasn't gonna pull the shit that the kid before him had. He wasn't gonna leave her when she needed him.
Rick smiled, like he knew it wasn't true. "Alright then."
He didn't say anything more and Daryl was glad for it. He didn't care if the silence prickled at his neck, or the sweat stilled on his skin. He needed to do something other than just wait around for Carol to get back.
"Daryl." His jaw clenched and he didn't acknowledge that Rick had said anything. But he could see Rick watching him from the corner of his eye and knew that he was gonna say whatever it was.
"I don't –" But he didn't get to finish because Carol's jeep pulled up and he was stepping away from Rick, cutting off the conversation before he had a chance to finish it, whatever it was.
Carol stepped out of the jeep, and once her eyes landed on Rick, she hesitated, clutching at her purse on her shoulder. She held a plastic bag in her other hand, her fingers curling around it tightly.
"Rick," she called, letting the door close behind her. "What's going on?" She looked between him and Rick, panic settling over her. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she tucked in as if she were preparing for the worst. She knew something was wrong.
"Is Sophia okay?" Rick went to her, resting a hand on her arm, squeezing gently.
"She's fine Carol." She nodded, still looking around, unconvinced that everything was fine.
"Where's Dale?" Rick cleared his throat, twisting his hat in his hands. Daryl hated the way he took his time, letting the silence stretch on. He could see Carol getting more anxious by the second and he couldn't blame her. He was feeling the same way and he knew what it was already.
"Dale went to pick up supplies for the roof." Confusion slipped across her face, and she glanced at the house.
"The stable roof? Dale said something about Daryl fixing it." Her face opened up.
"Oh yes, he'd been working on it." Rick nodded.
"Storm's coming." Carol didn't say anything. She pulled her purse down her shoulder, mouth set in a grim line. She knew Rick was avoiding whatever he had come here to say. He wanted to spit it out, wanted to get the hell out of there. He didn't want to be a part of any of this business.
Despite everything that he didn't want to do, he knew he shouldn't do, he wanted to tell her that he wasn't going anywhere.
That he was going to stay.
"Carol, Ed's on his way back."
She went rigid, hands curling into fists as she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes flicked to his, and for a moment he held them, watched as the fear dilated her pupils. And then her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and she blinked and the fear was gone.
The green darkened, and in place of the fear was a resolve he'd not seen before.
"Thank you Rick," she said softly and turned away, walking toward the house, her shoulders drawn in tight.
"Carol?" She stopped, only to look over her shoulder.
"Sasha thinks it'll be soon." Daryl watched her waver. Whether it was because she wanted to ask him about Peletier or something he wouldn't know. Because she only nodded and continued back to the house.
Rick sighed heavily as he watched her go.
"I ain't got any right to ask of this but…"
"But yer gonna anyway." He nodded, face grim. Daryl didn't like the way it sounded. He could feel himself getting involved deeper than he'd wanted.
"Things are gonna get heavy around here once Ed gets back. You say you'll stay," Rick propped his hat back on his head and hooked his thumbs through his belt. "Then I'm gonna ask a favor." Daryl hated favors. People always wanted'em and they never returned them. Least, not for him. His experience with favors had left him with enough bruises and run-ins with the law than he cared for a lifetime.
But Rick didn't know that, didn't need to know that. "Storm's comin' Daryl. And there ain't nothin' any of us can do about that. Carol's been keepin' strong for so long that I'm not sure she can survive this one. Just like to know that she's got someone lookin' out for her."
Rick started walking away, shoulders set. Daryl didn't think Rick had seen Carol's eyes right. Didn't think he'd understood that look. She'd been survivin' this long, and he'd seen something in her eyes.
She was prepared to survive whatever Peletier had to give. Rick was wrong. He knew that by the look in her eyes, and the sheer fact that she was still there. How many times had he walked away from something that didn't seem possible? How many scars did he have to prove it?
People surprised ya every day. And Carol didn't seem the exception. Besides, she didn't need nobody to look after her. She'd been doing that her whole life. And he sure as hell were the wrong person to be askin'. He weren't no good at lookin' after nobody. He'd fucked that up more times than he cared to admit.
"Maybe ya should a brought her an umbrella," he grunted, walking away before Rick could say anything more.
He was surprised to hear the laughter that followed him. And he couldn't help the tiny lift of his lips at the sound.
A/N: This is the first chapter that I delved into both of their POVs and I enjoyed it. And your reviews would mean the world to me.