Noxi: There are quite a few flashbacks in this chapter, some that take place from the chapter before, and others that take place from the past. I hope that each of them are easy enough to figure out. This is also primarily Carol. She has a lot to say, and I think that's because I'm finding an end to a voice of hers that she needs to make peace with. Thank you so much for your patience with this. I've found that I'm a slave to my own whims and my own writing, and this story has taken a lot of patience out of myself, and I'm sure a lot out of each of you. And for that I am eternally grateful. I don't know what I'd do without each of you here reading, and reviewing. You are what make me enjoy writing this continually. Thank you for still being here. This is for faeriesmasquerade who is the most wonderful person ever. She does a lot for me and I love her. If you haven't read her story, Three Little Birds, you absolutely must. Go forth my kittens.
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
Warning: This chapter is so very hard on Carol. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I swear that it will come to an end soon enough but for now I continue to haunt you all. Trigger warnings for intense angst, violence and death during childbirth (this one is rather hard on the emotions – not so much graphic).
Gasping for Air
A chill ran up his spine, sending goose bumps down his skin. There was a chill wind in the air, and it hadn't stopped drizzling all day. The storm had finally stopped, but it hadn't stopped raining. It was the rain that kept the memory alive and fresh, like the echoing pain of one a his ol' man's kicks to the back when he was down. He'd feel that for days, his spine never really right until he got Merle to help him out.
"Daryl."
"Who the fuck are you?" The rain pounded against his neck, chilling him to the bone.
He tried to shake the voice, pulling at the broken fence again. Cattle had taken down half of it, and most of it was unfixable. They'd have to either buy new shit, or make their own. He didn't know what they did round here. Least this was something he could do.
"Daryl, did you hear me?"
"You fuckin' hear me?" His legs shook with the effort it took not to take that step back. But he didn't let that stop him from standing up tall. Standing up to him.
He shook himself again, hating the way the goosebumps crawled over his skin. He dropped the log in a pile, his shoulder stiffer than ever, and rubbed at his face. He was tired and he just wanted to curl up next to a fire and close his eyes. But there weren't no time for that.
"Daryl!" He jerked at the feel of a hand clasping his shoulder, the ache still ever present from the storm. He turned, shook from the memory, and found the Sheriff's gaze drilling into him.
And then Dale behind him, and all the other townies who'd come to help out. Too many eyes staring at him, too many people watchin' him.
"Git tha hell off me," he growled, shaking Rick's hand off his shoulder, and moving for the truck.
He could hear Rick following him but he didn't want to stop, and he didn't want to make a scene. There were too many unfamiliar faces, and too many unfamiliar names floating through his head. The exhaustion was making him irritable and he was already on edge from last night. He wasn't ready to talk to no one about it.
"Daryl, I need to talk to you about last night." He snorted, yanking the door to the truck open. He knew Rick would come round eventually but he weren't ready to give in, and he sure as hell weren't gonna do it in front a all these people that he didn't know.
"You mean you need a statement." Rick ran a hand through his hair, for once without the hat, and looked at him pleadingly.
"Daryl," he started, voice desperate. "What the hell happened here?" Daryl took a moment, staring out at the farm. It was ruined. The pasture, once occupied by more than a hundred herd of cattle, was now void of anything.
The shed had collapsed over the hood of the truck and it had taken four people to remove the roofing, until there was enough room for Daryl to move the truck away from it. The horses had scattered, some to their own pasture, others to the river a mile off, and he hadn't seen Outlaw yet.
Now it was a mad race to catch the herd, and find those that had run off. He was getting irritated, angrier, by each passing second.
"Can't ya tell?" He said, glancing around. Rick eyed him, hooking a thumb through his belt. "Shit got out a hand." He turned and hopped into the truck, and went to close the door behind him.
But resistance met him, wrapping around his upper arm tightly.
"I said who the hell are you?" A thick hand fell on his shoulder and pulled him back, turning him around. Anger ripped through him. Who the hell did this sonuvabitch think he was?
"Ed don't," Dale called out. How many times had Daryl's ol' man grabbed him like that, held him like that?
"Fuck off old man," Ed shouted. Daryl's jaw clenched, and he turned, slipping out from beneath the hand. It was hard to see Ed's face with the headlights shining around him and the rain falling heavy in his eyes.
He missed the shove directed at him and he went down on his knees.
"Daryl, I have to –" He grabbed Rick's wrist and twisted, the motion so fast Rick didn't even know what was happening. He had Rick on his knees, hand to his back.
"Don't touch me," he whispered threateningly in his ear, as he bent over Rick's prone body. "I ain't in the –" And then he was being pulled off of Rick and thrown to the ground. He looked up, and before he could do anything, he only registered the fist coming at his face.
He saw black for the briefest moment, his hands in the mud, fingers curling in the grass. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the shadow over his eyes.
"Shane don't!" And then an arm wrapped around his neck and he was being hauled off the ground, his breath cut off. He reached up, grasping at the arm around his neck.
"You wanna play rough?" Shane whispered in his ear, hot breath on his skin. Daryl coughed once, struggled against the arm around him, and panicked. White lights prickled at the corners of his eyes and he couldn't pry Shane's arm from around his neck.
Come on lil brother. Big, bad deputy man got ya tongue?
"Get off me!" he growled, struggling in vain at Shane's arm wrapped firmly around his neck, cutting him off. How many times had Merle put him in this same hold, laughing, thinking he was making a game of it? How many times had he ever gotten out of Merle's chokehold?
How many times had he panicked so bad that he'd made a fool of himself, unable to get out?
Rick stepped toward him, and fell to his knee in front of him. "Didn't wanna have to do this," he murmured low. Rick nodded back to Shane and he was released. Daryl stumbled forward and climbed to his feet, coughing and choking.
"Assholes," he bit back, rubbing at his neck. "Chokehold's-"
Shane laughed, mocking and harsh. "What?" he scoffed. "Illegal?" Daryl's eyes narrowed, and he looked at Rick. He'd thought better of the Sheriff. Thought he'd have better friends than this one. "You made a move on an officer of the law ya inbred hick," Shane snapped, stepping toward him, hand on his holster.
Daryl inhaled deep, holding onto that breath. His jaw ached, and his fingers curled so tight in his hands they felt like they would break. "You think you can come up here," Shane threatened, closer still, "and get away with murder?"
Daryl felt like he had been punched again. He didn't murder nobody. He didn't even touch Peletier.
"Don't touch me," he growled, taking a step back, trying to remove himself from the situation. He didn't need to make this worse. Didn't need to find himself with Peletier beneath his feet, and blood on his hands.
Cos if he really wanted to, he could take Peletier.
He could kill him.
But he didn't. Peletier was the one who'd come up here and put hands on him. Peletier was the one who'd come up here looking for trouble. Daryl didn't ask for this. He'd kept his distance, knew that the minute Peletier came back he was gonna have to be on his guard. He'd never expected to get run over by the sonuvabitch.
Daryl stood, rubbing at his jaw, and shook himself. He glanced around, all those unfamiliar faces watching him in fear, like he was some kind a killer.
This was exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. This was what he'd expected the moment he'd come here. These people didn't know him. These people were gonna look at him and see nobody and think he was capable of anything.
"I didn't murder nobody," he whispered heatedly in Shane's face. And for a moment, he thought he was gonna lose it, and clock Shane as he watched the smirk lift up the corner of his lip. But he backed off quick before he made the mistake of hitting this officer in the face. This wasn't the right time, and it sure as hell wasn't the right person to be gettin' involved with.
He shouldered passed Shane, moving until he was passing by Dale, and he felt there was enough space between him and Officer Shane.
"Daryl, I'm gonna need that statement from you," Rick called. Daryl shook his head.
"Jus' gonna hafta to get it later," he said, and pulled his crossbow out of the truck bed, and walked away.
"Oh an' Shane," he glanced back, letting the crossbow rest on his shoulder, an ease of comfort settling over him at the weight. Shane's smirk turned to a snarl and his hand went for his holster, adjusting his belt.
"That's Deputy ya dumb redneck." Daryl's hand curled around the crossbow tighter. Dale shook his head softly, just enough for him to see and no one else.
Go 'head lil brother. Show the asshole what he don't know. Show him what it means to be Dixon.
He grit his teeth, muscles clenched. All it would take is one swing for that asshole to know that he weren't gonna put up with his shit. Didn't matter if it did anything or not. Just to show this fuckin' Deputy that he weren't nobody that could be pushed around.
And the one person in his head would be damn proud as hell that he did.
He turned on his heel, and swallowed hard, connecting with Shane.
"Chokehold's for pussies Deputy," he said with a sneer. Shane's lip curled, and he lunged at him only to be stopped by a bruising grip from Rick. He was surprised that Rick was able to keep his dog on a leash.
"Let go," Shane growled, tearing his arm from Rick's, and stalking away.
"I'm gonna have to talk to you Daryl, eventually," Rick said, watching Shane carefully. Daryl knew that at some point, the truth would have to come out. A man was lying in the hospital and people needed answers. Answers that only he could give. But right now all he wanted was to get away from all of these people and find a place where he could be himself.
And the closest place he was going to get to that was in the mountains. He needed that now, before he lost himself.
"Where are you going?" Rick called. Daryl took a deep breath, and fought the urge to keep walking away. He'd already made an enemy out of one officer; he didn't need to make two. He glanced over his shoulder, and watched as Rick fought the urge to stop him and kept his distance.
He nodded to the mountains, and held up the lead rope in his hand.
"To do my job." And he took off.
XXX
"He's beautiful, isn't he?" It didn't matter what Ed thought though. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever held. Small, and precious, and hers. His blue eyes looked up at her, round, perfect. A gift she would forever be grateful for. And like a gift, fleeting in its happiness.
"Carol?" She flinched out of her memory, a memory she had long forgotten, had long since pushed away. She brushed at the tears rolling down her cheeks, and turned to find Sasha standing at the end of the hospital bed. She hated hospitals. Hated everything she remembered about them. There was a reason she had never visited them, no matter how bruises, wounds, and broken bones she had suffered.
Only one good thing had come from them, and Sophia never liked them either.
"I'm sorry," Sasha said, her voice filled with pity, though her eyes shifted to his body and Carol watched as uncertainty shimmered there. "I could give you more time. I hadn't realized…" Hadn't realized what? That she had wanted to be alone? That she didn't want to be alone? That she felt so cold in this place? That the white walls reminded her of the one thing she had kept hidden in the darkest parts of her mind?
That every time his chest rose she wanted to slam her hands back down on it and stop it?
The monitor beeped loudly at her, drawing her eyes to it.
She blanched at the thought. She was an awful person for wishing that on her husband. But she couldn't deny that she stood here and she waited. Waited for the moment that he opened his eyes and everything went back to exactly what it was before. Waited for the moment that he wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed the life out of her for everything that had happened.
She ducked her head, and closed her eyes.
Waited for the moment when he stopped breathing and she never saw those green eyes staring back at her ever again.
She shook her head, her hands curled against the stiff white sheets. She couldn't bring herself to touch him even though his hand was right there.
How many times had those hands left a bruise along her cheek, or her arm, or her neck? How many times had that hand touched her when she didn't want it? How many times had that hand groped her roughly in a vain attempt to be pleasurable?
She shuddered at the thought. She shifted away from the bed, moving away from him. She would go to hell for all of the thoughts she bore against him. She would die a thousand times over for ever wishing harm against him.
"'Then if you walk contrary to me and will not listen to me, I will continue striking you, sevenfold for your sins.'" She murmured. How many times had she wanted Ed to die for everything he had ever done to her? How many times had she prayed for just this?
"What did you say?" Sasha looked at her with concern, the pitying look in her eyes making Carol feel like she couldn't do anything. She didn't need that pity, and she didn't need her concern.
"I'm fine," she said forcefully, and she could see in Sasha's that she didn't believe her. But Sasha said nothing further.
She nodded hesitantly and pulled out her pen. "I just need to ask you a few questions, if you can do that." She looked down at Ed, swallowing hard. She'd never be ready to face what happened. But it was either now or later, and if she did it later it would probably be to either Rick, or worse, Shane. Carol nodded.
"Let's start with when Ed first got home." Carol took a deep breath, watching Ed's still body.
The monitor beeped softly, the little green light jumping up.
"I…I was inside the house," she said, the memory of the night before still there, vivid and haunting.
Another beep, another jump of the light. The tube down his throat was uncomfortable to look at, and the right side of his body was covered in a mass of bruises. He had been trampled.
And he hadn't even seen it coming.
"I uh…I heard the truck pull up." The IV sat in his arm, dripping life into him, keeping him sustained. But it was his heart that kept going, on its own. What kept his heart going? What was it that motivated him to live?
"Carol?" She shuddered, and clasped her hands together.
"When I heard the truck through the storm, I ran down the stairs looking for Sophia," she murmured, remembering back. It was the only thing that had mattered. It was all that had ever mattered.
"You're dead bitch!" She trembled, the rain so cold but his words piercing her deeper.
"I'm gonna-" She watched in horror, the scream stuck in her throat as she watched one of the cows take him down, its hooves running over his legs and another over his arm.
"ED!"
"Carol." She jerked. Sasha's hand was gripping her softly, her eyes holding her worriedly. "Are you sure you're alright?" Carol sucked in a shuddering breath, and pulled her arm from Sasha's grip. She wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes.
"Yes," she breathed. But she wasn't. How was she supposed to be after that? How was she supposed to forget last night?
She heard Sasha sigh. "What happened after you found Sophia?" Her eyes flew open and she turned to Sasha sharply.
"I didn't," she said heatedly, remembering. Her fingers dug into her sides, painfully. "I ran from the house, into the pouring rain, into the storm calling for her. But I never found her. I found him," she trembled, the tears slipping down her cheeks again.
"Ed!" she screamed, for him. Why? Why was she wasting her energy on him? Why did it suddenly matter that she get to him?
"ED!" her lungs ached and her throat was sore. She couldn't breathe, and she couldn't feel, and she couldn't stop watching him. She struggled to get to him, struggled to reach him, struggled to save him. That's what she was doing, wasn't it? She was trying to get to him to save him? But why?
"Gotta get outta here." It was his breath, warm against her ear that stilled her. She turned to look at him, suddenly noticing his arms wrapped firmly around her, holding her back. He was between her and the cattle swarming around them. He was protecting her.
"Daryl?" Her heart jumped at the realization that he was all around her. Holding her close to his chest, his own heart pounding a harsh, steady rhythm against her back. He was breathing heavy, his eyes dark in the night. She couldn't see what he was thinking, but she could feel his arms trembling around her.
"Gotta move," he yelled above the sudden crack of lighting and the cattle dispersing around them. She turned back to Ed's body, lying still on the ground. He was crumpled, bloodied, broken.
She curled into Daryl's back, her hands pressed to her mouth, pushing back the cry.
"What happened when you found Ed, Carol? What happened?" She stared into Sasha's eyes, needing to tell her how she'd found him, needing to tell her that Ed had deserved every single hoof that had trampled him.
"I thought he was dead," she muttered.
He was dead.
She felt Daryl shudder at the proximity of her body, at the way she pressed closer. How many times had he left her the same way? How many times had she been left bloodied, broken on the kitchen floor, on the bedroom floor, on the bathroom floor, and wondered if she would survive what had been done? It wasn't just her body that had been broken, it was her spirit.
She was dead inside.
And now, as she watched Ed be trampled into the ground, she didn't even care that the cattle were a threat to her as well. Her life didn't matter.
All that mattered was that he never get back up, ever again.
"Where was Daryl when you found Ed?" She looked up confused.
"What about Daryl?" Sasha was quiet a moment, her pen still. And the realization of the question slowly dawned on Carol and the anger boiled low in her stomach.
"Daryl was out there, trying to save me," she said vehemently. "You think Daryl knocked the cattle loose on Ed? You think he pushed him down in the mud and got the cattle in a frenzy all to trample Ed?" She said louder, her voice nearly at a scream. She could see people stopping outside the door to stare in, but she didn't care.
"Ed was the one who came home, after selling my horse might I remind you, without my consent and started this trouble. He went out there for whatever goddamn reason of his, because he always has one, and I don't know what he wanted! Daryl hadn't even met Ed before! Ed probably had some idiotic notion in his head that Daryl and I were having an affair! From one stupid glance at Daryl! That's how Ed works!" she screamed, her body tingling, unable to breath and unable to stop the tears. "He doesn't care about anything but himself Sasha," she whispered vehemently, clutching at her purse, at the last of her strength, unable to believe that she had just said all of those things in the presence of Ed.
Sasha stood, stunned.
"He takes the best parts of you and he crushes them, makes you believe that you're the one who's wrong every – single – time. Even when you know that you had no control," she whispered, gasping for air, "he still has you believing that it was your fault."
"He's dead," Ed said harshly, and walked away, the disgust clear on his face.
At first, she ignored him, clutching her son closer to her chest. She caressed his cheek, tears of joy sliding down her face. He was everything she had ever wanted. She didn't care what she had done to get him, the nights she had suffered. She had seven blissful months of quiet reprieve. There was less fighting, less hitting, less yelling. For once, Ed was a human being.
"What should we call him?" she whispered, loving the feel of him in her arms. But it didn't matter what Ed wanted to call him. She already had a name picked out. He was joy personified. He was love in physical form. This is what she had been waiting for her whole life.
"Sawyer," she murmured, pressing her head gently to his.
"He's dead bitch!" She froze, pulling away from Sawyer slowly. "He's fucking dead and it's your fault." Ed leaned in close, but she couldn't stop staring down at the child in her arms; the one whose body did not move, whose eyes did not seek her out, whose body was cold, lifeless.
"It's your fucking fault that I don't have a son. It's your goddamn body that couldn't hold him. It's your body that can't do anything," he whispered vehemently in her ear, where no else could hear, clutching at her shoulder so hard she almost screamed out.
And then he pulled away and walked out of the room.
And she was left alone, as the pain consumed her.
"It wasn't my fault," she cried out, pressing her hands to her face.
"Carol!" She flinched as hands pressed firmly on her shoulders. She looked up through the blur of her tears and her fingers, and saw Sasha instead of Ed, and behind her now stood Jacqui, looking worried.
"Sasha, I think that's enough for now," Jacqui said firmly, pulling Sasha away from her. She shuddered, and curled inward, turning away from the women staring at her. Sasha watched her a moment before nodding and walking out. Carol breathed, and sank into the chair behind her, the tears falling hard.
"If you need anything," Jacqui said warmly, taking her hand in hers, "you call me." Carol's chest clenched, and she nodded, needing to be alone.
And when Jacqui finally left, she broke down in sobs. This was why she never came to the hospital. This was why she suffered every broken bone, bruise, and wound. Every time she came here, every time she sat in these white rooms she remembered.
And if it wasn't one thing, it was another.
"If I'm not being haunted by you," she whispered, staring at Ed's still body, the monitor blipping back at her, "it's by the pain of the past."
She buried her head in her hands, and shuddered out a breath, unable to stop the tears.
"And it was your fault," she whispered. "You took him from me."
XXX
It was like finding home. It was like being able to breathe again.
Once he put the farm behind him, and the mountains above him it was like he'd never left home. This was the feeling he'd been missing all along, the one where he knew exactly who he was. He didn't have nobody telling him what to do, or what he was doing wrong. Didn't have to worry about nobody watching him all the time.
This was his life. This was who he was.
Tracking and hunting. Finding a trail where nobody else could. He was best at this.
And he was gonna find them horses, and those stray cattle. And he weren't gonna need nobodies help to do it.
He hitched the crossbow higher on his back. The lead rope felt unfamiliar around his neck but he didn't know what else to do with it, so he opted for hanging it around his neck, keeping it out of his way, but still easy to grab.
He trudged along a trail that looked marked by years, one that must have been used by Carol many times. It was too wide for humans and he could just make out recent prints left by a horse.
He didn't think they'd taken a ride recently, so he knew it had to of been one of the horses. The only guess was to which one.
If it was Molly or Bluebird he figured he could do it, lead'em back home. He'd watched Carol rope'em in with nice words and calm hand gestures once. So how hard could it be?
Didn't take a genius to know that they liked to be treated with respect and love, just as anybody did.
He spotted a deer trail that veered off to the left and further into the forest, but the horse trail kept going straight. And as much as he wanted to hunt the deer he knew he needed to find the horse before nightfall. He didn't know what was out here, but he knew what could be out here; bears, wolves, and he knew some kind of cat. He weren't sure, but he didn't want to be out here to find out.
That was when he heard water. He listened hard, straining his ears for the direction it came from.
When he was sure of where it was he took off, keeping eye of the tracks before him. And when he slipped around a wide tree, pushing some branches away he saw her.
"Bluebird," he whispered. He recognized her light grey coat, so light it was almost white. Her black mane and legs gave her away though. He'd never seen a black and white quite like her.
He stepped toward her, careful not to spook her. Her head jerked up, her black mane swinging in the sunlight that tried to peek through gray clouds. The rain may have stopped but the sun still hadn't come out yet. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him and she snorted. She tiptoed a few steps nervously and backed away.
And he froze, not knowing what to do.
Cat go ya tongue lil brother?
"Shit." He didn't know what to do. Here she was, ready for him to take back and he didn't even know how to approach her.
Ain't got the balls Darylena. Bitches can sense that, he laughed mockingly.
"Fuckin' shut it," he growled at the voice, tightening his hand on the strap across his chest. He looked down and saw the crossbow and the rope hanging there.
"Idiot," he muttered, and pulled the lead rope over his head. Maybe she'd see the rope and know he just wanted to take her home. Least he could do was try the damn thing since that was what he brought it out here for.
He held it loosely in his hand, and watched her reaction. He didn't want to scare her off. He'd seen how fast these things could run and he didn't need her takin' off. He'd lose her then and there was no tellin' how far she'd go.
"Hey there Bluebird," he tried, soft as he could. Laughter echoed around him, and he clenched his jaw tight, fighting back the urge to scream at it.
He took a step toward her and she shifted, eyes getting bigger. He tried taking another step toward her and she danced back two more steps, tossing her head back with a whinny.
"Goddammit!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration.
Never did like nothin' that was bigger'n ya. He forced out a breath, and inhaled, ignoring the voice. Couldn't control what ya couldn't fight, he whispered dangerously.
Daryl closed his eyes and slumped to his knees. It was true. He'd never liked it, but he was afraid of anything that was bigger'n him. He couldn't fight it, couldn't defend against it. Couldn't do nothing. He was powerless.
That was how the horses made him feel. Powerless. Made him feel stupid, and worthless. He left Georgia cos a that shit. He'd left his ol' man and Merle behind cos a that. He opened his eyes, and found Bluebird's. And this time he could see in her eyes the fear that he didn't see before.
She was just as afraid as he was. He laughed softly.
"Bluebird," he said, pulling the crossbow over his head and setting it on the ground. "Ironic yer name's Bluebird. Can't escape nothing," he sighed, letting his arms go lax at his side. He sat down, crossing his legs.
"Got history with that name," he said absently, looking up at the branches above him, the clouds beyond that. He caught the edge of a birds wings in the dim sunlight, and heard the rustle of an animal nearby. "Ma used to tell me this story about these Indians, these Cherokee." The sun peeked through an opening in the clouds above him, lighting up the glade. Course, the Cherokee had special meaning to his Ma. Didn't mean they meant nothing to him. He just remembered the story pretty damn well.
"Weren't no happy story, that's fer damn sure. But Ma always had a way with words," he murmured, remembering. In fact, his Ma had told it to him in a place that weren't much different than this; in the woods, beneath the mountains on a hot summer day in Georgia. Course Ma had been drunk on wine, and he could remember the smell of her Virginia Slims like they were burning right now.
"She could tell you something and have you believing it six ways from Sunday," he whispered softly, still able to hear her voice, still able to feel her fingers brushing across his forehead. He closed his eyes, remembering, one of the softest touches he'd ever received from her.
Ma did a lot a things wrong, didn't always do right by him an' Merle in the end. But that didn't mean he loved her something.
"Cherokee had a word for Bluebird," he said, opening his eyes to watch the light play in the trees, twisting the rope between his fingers. He could remember all the times he and his Ma had gone out into the woods beneath the mountains of his Georgia, how they'd retreat to this little spot they'd claimed their own all to escape his ol' man.
She'd told him a lot a things out there in them woods. Things bout the stars, and his ol' man, and what Bluebird meant to her.
"Tsa-quo'-la-de," he whispered, letting the word roll off his tongue like it was still yesterday that she'd told him, and he was only seven. He glanced around quick, suddenly aware that he'd let slip the one thing he'd never wanted anyone to know.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he was still alone.
Couldn't believe he could remember it. He remembered the day she told him that, and what it had meant, that Bluebird was her name. Something the Cherokee had given her. He didn't know if he really believed it, but he didn't not believe it either.
She'd told him a lot of Cherokee stuff that day. 'Bout tears and babies and flowers. He never forgot the way she sounded; sad and angry, like it had happened to her. He didn't know much about his Ma, but he knew about her moods and he knew when she was tellin' the truth and when she was lyin'. His Ma hadn't been lyin' then, when she had told him about her name. And that made him wonder about a lot a things. About her, and about him. Who he really was.
Suddenly, he felt a rush of breath across his face and he looked up startled to find Bluebird looking down at him. He went stiff, his blood cold at the sight of her standing so big before him. Her nostrils flared at each breath she took, and she nudged his face, her nose cold. He flinched, unsure of what to do. He'd never faced a horse like this before. But he couldn't let her get away now that she was right here.
And then she reached over and started nibbling on his shirt near his shoulder.
"Hey now!" he scolded, and she bent her head lower until she was looking up at him, as if through her lashes and she nudged his chest this time.
And he couldn't help the laugh that escaped him.
"Yer trouble, ain't ya," he murmured, reaching up to pet her. She never took her eyes off his as he slowly rubbed her face, still hesitant about this big animal standing over him. It still made him nervous, but he didn't feel threatened by her.
He chuckled. "Whole lotta trouble," he whispered, as she rubbed her face in his chest. He swallowed hard.
"Alright now," he said firmly, grabbing hold of the rope and holding it up for her to see. She tossed her head back, her black mane shining in the sunlight. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
She didn't step away from him though and he took that as a good sign. He stood up cautiously, and held his hands out, waiting for another move or her to run away.
But she just budged him none too gently, and he shook his head.
"Fine," he said, and clipped the rope to her halter. "Let's get back then." He started off, picking up his crossbow.
And before he could take a step she was draping her head over his shoulder and rubbing her face along his.
He couldn't stop the laugh that echoed around them both, surprising himself, and scattering the birds to the sky.
XXX
"Mrs. Peletier? Can you hear me? Mrs. Peletier?" She was floating. She could see bits of color and sense only the bodies as they shifted around her. It was impossible.
"Carol?" She looked up, slowly, confused.
"Do you know where you are?" She looked around, taking in the white walls and the white jacketed people. And then the smell hit her and she knew. She didn't want to be here. She hated this place and everything it reminded her of.
"Hospital," she whispered, staring at the emergency doors as they opened and two EMT's walked in. She knew Ed had come through those doors.
"Yes Carol, you are. Do you know why you're here?" She looked back at the doctor and realized that it wasn't just any doctor; it was a friend.
"Jacqui," she murmured, reaching up, grasping at her collar. Jacqui smiled warmly, her hand pressed gently into her shoulder, comfortingly.
And then Carol saw her hand, saw her hand covered in blood, looked down at her other hand and saw her lap covered in blood.
And she screamed.
"Carol!" She woke, screaming, to someone shaking her and calling out her name. Jacqui stood above her, and Dr. Jenner behind Jacqui. They both stared at her, worry heavy in their eyes. She wiped at her face, and slumped forward, trying to catch her breath.
"Carol, are you alright?" She felt Jacqui's hand on her back, comforting and yet binding at the same time. She nodded, and pulled away from Jacqui, feeling a tremble take over her.
"I'm fine," she muttered. She looked up at them both, and realized that something was wrong.
"What happened?" She said standing up. She glanced down at Ed, and saw that he was the same as before, as least to her eyes.
Jenner stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Mrs. Peletier –"
"Carol," she interrupted. He looked down at Ed, and nodded absently.
"Carol." He flipped a page over his clipboard and adjusted his glasses. "There's been no change in Ed's status. His vitals are as stable as can be for now, but his brain continues to show no signs of activity." Carol swallowed hard, her eyes finding Ed.
She didn't know what she had expected, but she wasn't sure this was it.
"So what are you saying? Is he dead? Is he alive?" Jenner pressed the clipboard to his side, and took his glasses off, pressing his lips together tightly.
"He's alive, albeit on the life-support. Whether his body will recover is what remains to be seen. But it is his brain that concerns me." She looked at Jacqui, still not sure she was understanding.
"Right now, we have him in an induced coma, to protect his brain from further damage. But…" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "To be blunt, he may never wake up. You can choose to keep him on life-support, on the chance that he may recover and wake up."
Carol felt the shock slowly seep into her bones, and she fell into her chair. That wasn't all he was saying though. There was more.
"Or?" she whispered, wondering what her other option was.
Jacqui stepped forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder softly.
"Or you could take him off life-support and see if he recovers on his own. He may or may not, and depending on the state of his injuries he will either recover of his own accord and wake up..." He trailed off and Carol looked up, her nerves tight, her body coiled.
"Or what?" she asked desperately, needing to know. She had to hear it from him. She had to know what that the final outcome of this might be.
"Or he'll die." And if she had thought that a burden would be lifted by those words, she was wrong. It was like she was drowning, and someone was holding her under the water.
XXX
Bluebird continued to nudge and nibble him all the way back, and he couldn't hide the smile from his face. And he knew Dale had seen it, the moment their eyes met.
"Alright Blue," he growled gently, reaching back to pet her, "enough now." She snorted, and bumped his shoulder.
"Daryl." He glanced over his shoulder, avoiding Dale's eyes this time. He was already embarrassed thinking about his walk back with Bluebird, and he didn't need Dale to see him lookin' all chummy with the horse.
"Good," he said gratefully, patting Bluebird's side. "She's the last one, other than Outlaw." Daryl looked about confused.
"You mean…" Dale nodded at his unfinished sentence.
"That's right. Molly and Foxtrot already came back on their own about an hour ago. Seems you fared rather well with the young Bluebird here," he said, eyeing him questionably, the corner of his lip tilting just the slightest.
Daryl ducked his head, knowing his face was going red, hating that it had.
"Ain't nothin' but a damn horse. Weren't nothin' to it," he muttered hotly, tossing the rope over to Dale quickly.
"Is that so?" Dale asked wonderingly, looking up at Bluebird, patting her gently. She reached over to give Daryl's shirt another nibble and he bit his lip, not knowing whether he should pull away or let her be.
"Seems she's taken a liking to you," Dale commented absently, pulling her away from his shirt and guiding her away.
"How would you know?" he growled, letting his walls come back up, turning away from them.
"Bluebird's got a good head on her," Dale said, Bluebird dancing next to him, tossing her head back as he said so. "She knows who's genuine," and he began to walk away, pulling Bluebird along gently, "and who isn't." Dale glanced over his shoulder and let their eyes connect for a moment.
Dale turned away from him and led Bluebird back to the pasture where the others waited for her. And Daryl stood there, quiet, feeling as if someone had just stripped him of his clothes.
XXX
She leaned forward over his body, taking in the tubes and the monitors. Pausing a moment on each bruise and wound, on his swollen shoulder and the cast on his arm. He was a patchwork of white and ugly discolor. And as much as she hated to think it, she wasn't upset by it. It was retribution.
But the monitor blipped, signaling his heartbeat, which was still going, always going. Didn't matter what had happened to him, he was still here to haunt her. Didn't matter how much he had hurt her, he never paid for it.
"All you've ever done is hurt me," she said, her voice shaky. "Hurt us," she whispered vehemently.
Blip
The tears slid down her cheeks, hot, and accusing. "All Sophia ever wanted was a father and you've done nothing but hurt her. Ignore her. You don't even pretend to love her. All she's ever wanted is for you to see her as your daughter," she whispered fiercely, hating that Ed had to be unconscious for her to confront him.
But it didn't matter. She couldn't stop the words now.
Blip
"And me?" she spat furiously. Her hands were gripping the bedrail tightly, knuckles white. "You beat me, knock me to the ground, and abuse me. But I can take that Ed," she murmured, swallowing hard. "I can take the punches and the slaps and every shove. But when you tell me that I'm ugly? When you tell me that I should never have been born into this world?" The tears blurred her vision and her head bowed, until she was falling to her knees at his bedside. "When you tell me that no one will ever love me?"
She choked on a sob and reached into her pocket, pulling the switchblade out. The blade caught on her pocket, tearing the edge and she fumbled with it, her hands shaking furiously. She stared at it, watching her reflection in the blade.
"I gave you everything Ed," she said as her breath hitched. "All I have ever done was love you."
Blip
But it had never been enough. No matter what she had done it was never good enough. She had given him everything since the day she had married him. And what had he given her in return?
"Nothing," she murmured, getting to her feet, the switchblade clutched tightly in her hand.
"You've done nothing for me in return. And now?" She looked down on him, feeling the anger of the last twenty-two years consume her.
Blip
"Now you're paying for it," she growled. If he came back, he'd kill her. She knew that. He'd gone out there with the intent to harm Daryl, she could see that now. Daryl had done nothing, and Ed wouldn't have had any knowledge of who Daryl was. But he saw Daryl and went for him. Ed was crazy, and mean and he was evil.
And if he woke up now, she was dead.
She leaned over him, her breath hitching in her throat as she closed the space between them. She had to place her hands on either side of his head to steady herself, and the blade gleamed in the dim hospital light near his head. For a moment, she was mesmerized by it. She had never once thought she would be able to get the blade so close to Ed's neck before.
She looked down, and took a deep breath.
Blip
He smelled like disinfectant, far from his usual sweat and booze. And his face was pallid and bruised, the tube from his mouth making her queasy.
"Induced coma."
He was still in there, still alive. It didn't matter what happened to Ed, he was like a damn cockroach. They just didn't die.
She blanched, the thought scaring her. But it was true. He wouldn't ever die. He wouldn't ever leave her. The tears fell, and she bit her lip to stop the sob.
Blip
"I hate you," she whispered hotly, and leaned back suddenly, raising the switchblade over her head and slamming it down. She was trembling, breathing hard, her knees shaking. She wished this would all just end. She wanted to go home and sleep. She wanted to ride hard and fast and forget everything. She wished none of this had happened.
She closed her eyes, falling to her knees once more, her head resting against the cold rail.
"I hate what you've done to me."
The monitor blipped.
XXX
He was helping a man named Jim carry the wood that was still usable to places around the fence where it needed to be mended. There was a comfortable enough silence between him and Jim, once they'd gotten passed introductions and an awkward silence.
Jim grunted and the log slipped from his hands, falling to the ground. He huffed, and wiped at the sweat on his face.
"So," Jim offered, and Daryl took a deep, annoying breath. "How'd this happen?" He looked back, stunned that Jim had even asked. Every else had kept their distance and hadn't bothered to talk to him. Jim was the only one who'd volunteered to help him.
"How'd what happen?" he grunted quietly, hoping that Jim wasn't asking what he thought he was. Jim picked his end back up and they continued walking again. It wasn't heavy, and Daryl suspected he could have done it on his own but Dale didn't want him to injure himself when it could be prevented.
"The stampede," he said, shifting the log higher, "how'd it happen. Did Ed really drive that truck at you, into the fence?" Daryl stopped walking and glanced back at Jim, not caring what his face said.
Damn these people and their gossip. Damn these people and their judgments. He didn't need this shit.
"Gimme this," he said roughly, and pulled the log from Jim's hands, grunting with the weight, and storming to the fence.
He hated this, hated them all.
He was straining with the weight when he let it fall to the ground, and he breathed in relief when it was gone. He rolled his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm and his back, shot to hell now.
That there Dixon pride lil brother, a harsh laugh mocking him.
He kicked at the fence and grunted, taking off toward the stable where Dale was. He wasn't gonna sit round here and put up with this. This was why he'd gone after Bluebird in the first place – didn't need to be judged by these people, questioned by them. He knew who he was, and what he was capable of.
If they didn't know that Peletier was an asshole who deserved nothing less than what he got, then they were all dumbasses.
"Dale," he called, rounding the corner and hearing voices coming out of the doors. He slowed down, and went in quietly. He recognized the voice he heard, the very first that had actually welcomed him into this town. He watched them from afar, not really able to see them from the furthest end, as they stood near the other entrance. He could only make out the blonde he'd first met and the sheriff's wife. The other's stood outside the stable, behind the wall.
"I mean she's decided." Andrea – that was her name with her big smile and those interrogating eyes.
"What did she decide?" A female voice he didn't recognize, probably the brunette from that Greene farm. She sounded sad.
"She's taking him off life-support. She's going to see what happens after…" The silence in the stable was deafening, and then everyone exploded.
"What do you mean she's taking him off life support? He needs that to survive!"
"It's her choice Allen. I think it's about time she finally make one that's hers," the sheriff's wife said fiercely, taking a defensive step toward the one that had spoken.
"You can't really mean that Lori. This is her husband we're talking about. The man who provides for her." Someone snorted derisively.
"You've got to be kidding me! The man beats her George, or are you just too stupid and blind to notice?" That was Karen, the feisty brunette that had a son of her own. She had made it obvious what she thought of him, and he liked that better than the others hiding behind their sidelong glances and their whispers. At least he knew where she stood.
"That's enough now," Dale said, loud enough to be heard above the others. "It's Carol's decision, and it's her husband. If this is what she thinks is best, then it's what's best. For her." Daryl could just make Dale out, giving them a pointed look. They were all silenced.
"That's what matters."
Daryl hadn't thought much of what might happen to Ed, just as long as nothing came back on him. But thinking about it now, thinking about Carol choosing life or death for a man that had held hers in his hands for who knew how many years set his teeth on edge. And as soon as the thought dropped into his head, the thought that -
He was running, running so far from the farm and so fast that his chest hurt.
He only took the time the grab his crossbow before he disappeared through the trees.
XXX
"Are you sure Carol?" She couldn't take her eyes off Ed. She knew what Dr. Jenner was asking her though.
Are you sure you want to let him go?
Are you sure you can face his death?
Are you sure you actually want to take that chance that he won't come back?
And that was when she knew. She knew that no matter the chances whether it was twenty-five, forty-nine, or ninety-nine percent. She knew what the answer was.
"I'm ready," she whispered. She looked up, her eyes meeting Dr. Jenner's and she saw the very question he was asking.
Are you sure you're ready for this?
It didn't matter if she was or not. She couldn't let this go on one minute more. He was gone. He wasn't coming back right now. In the simplest of terms he was dead. His heart worked, his lungs, his muscles, every part of him worked thanks to the machines. Except for his brain.
The one part that he needed the most. The only part that mattered. And it was dead.
She laughed, a short, cruel burst that sent tears down her face.
"It has to be now," she bit through her pinched lips, fighting back the sobs. Jenner nodded and turned to Jacqui.
"Jacqui will give you some forms to sign, in that you give consent to see if the patient's life will sustain itself without life-support. They also explain that you understand that his body is not at its proper level, that he is brain dead and therefore his chance of survival is very small. The papers explain that you have decided not to wait to see if he recovers any functioning before seeing if his brain and body will respond on its own. Do you understand?" But she didn't really hear him. All she could see was Ed, lying on the bed before her.
Was this really happening? Was he really going to die?
Would he never take another breath again? Would his chest truly stop rising?
Would he never be able to hurt her, ever again?
"Give them to me," she whispered, taking the clipboard from Jacqui forcefully. She didn't even bother to read them, just signed her name where the large black X waited for her at the bottom.
She could see them exchange glances but ignored it. She had to do it before she lost the courage.
Would Ed do the same for her? Would he have given her the same chance at life if he was in this position? She wasn't sure that he would.
And so she waited, painfully, as Jenner and Jacqui prepared to take Ed off the life support. And the more she watched, the more she waited, the more it felt like she was killing him.
And that was eating her alive.
"When will you be ready?" Jenner turned to her, understanding clear in his eyes, and he nodded just barely.
"Soon," he said. But it wasn't soon enough and when the time finally came she could barely breathe. She wanted to get out of there. She didn't want to be there to watch him die, not when it felt like she was the one pulling the trigger. Because she was sure that's how this was going to end, in his his death. He couldn't come out alive after this, could he? Not after everything he had ever done to her.
How many times had he wrapped his fingers around her throat and she thought she would die? How many times had he threatened to kill her with her words? How many times had he left her mottled with bruises by his fists?
How many times had he left her broken and not even cared?
So why should she care now? Why? Why did his life matter one damn bit when he'd never cared for hers?
"I'll return in a moment, and we'll begin," Jenner said as he left. She didn't notice as she bowed her head, her hands trembling in her lap.
"But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you," she took a shuddering breath, and clasped her hands together, knowing now why she had fought to keep Ed alive within herself.
"Pray for those who abuse you." She felt Jacqui's hand rest firmly on her shoulder and squeeze.
It didn't matter what this may look like, or what anyone thought of her. He was dead, and she wasn't going to keep him alive any longer. She would only torture herself waiting for the day that he woke up, waiting in dread as he never did.
That was a pain she could not bear.
Jenner came back, and the trembling in her hands became so bad that she had to intertwine them together so tightly that they began to ache.
Jenner said some words, his mouth moving, but she heard nothing. She only nodded, and she watched as he started pressing buttons and unplugging things and soon she could hear the beep, echoing on its own.
Ed.
He was unplugged from the life-support and he was still here. She almost laughed, but choked on it and felt her body shake.
And then it happened. The green line that represented his life dipped lower, went longer without coming up.
She watched as the life left his body, and the color drain from his face. And she felt the panic constrict her chest. She couldn't breathe and it was like the world was crashing around her.
He was fighting it. She could feel it. He was struggling, gasping for air. He wasn't going to die. She would never be rid of him. He'd haunt her, forever. He'd taken everything from her and he was still managing to do that, even in death.
It was his hands, and every bruise and pain they left on her. It was his mouth and every vile taste he imparted her with. It was his eyes, and the way he would look at her with such hatred or the way he would look at Sophia, not his daughter but something more.
It was Ed.
"Carol! Stop!" She felt Jacqui's hands pulling on her arms hard and looked around, and realized that it wasn't Ed who gasping for air, but her. And that she had her hands around his neck.
She pulled back like she'd been hit hard, and her vision swam. She fell to the ground, her legs shaking hard as Jenner's voice talked around her, distorted.
And when she looked up she watched as the green line ran, and the scream echoed in her head, loud and louder still until it was cut off.
And he was gone, the silence so loud that she couldn't take it anymore. She had to leave. She had to get out of there. She stood up, with the help of Jacqui and couldn't stop the trembling. Jenner was saying something to her, about Ed and being dead, but she didn't hear him. It didn't matter.
This was all that she had ever wanted, but she couldn't take it. She had to go.
"Mom?" Carol heard the voice but couldn't believe it as her eyes found the doorway. And there stood Sophia, her face a mask of horror, eyes wide as she took in the sight of Ed, lifeless on the bed.
"Sophia?" she called weakly. Jenner's voice crashed over her, Jacqui clutching at her arm and talking into her ear, talking to Sophia and it was deafening and it was so loud and she couldn't move and she didn't know what to say.
Ed was dead and she had never wanted Sophia to see him like this, to see it happen. This was her burden to carry. This was her sin.
"Sophia – "
And she ran.
A/N: Okay, so doctor lingo I just made up. Bluebird is a Blue Roan. I may have said differently in a previous chapter but this is now set in stone. Thank you so much for reading, and STILL being here and being the BEST EVER.
I swear the angst will die down soon. SOON. I just hope you all can hold on just a bit longer.
I love you guys.