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Milton's Historical Logs #90
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
O'Hara arrived yesterday evening with six of his men, Sergeant Rhoades and Sergeant Fredricks.
While this is good news to hear that Tennessee and Georgia are otherwise quietened down, I am worried that this calm may precede a storm.
They not only came with good news about the peace of the two states, but that the region seems relatively free of infected. In fact in the past few weeks since the attack on the convent, I haven't seen a single infected walking about.
Granted I don't stray far from the convent.
Daryl has begun work on his new home with the help of his brother and the Lieutenant, who seems more interested in playing his squeezebox than actually helping. I hope no one dies, but…anyways.
I wandered in on Grace and Carol in the kitchens this morning, they were discussing wedding plans. I don't think Grace wants a big wedding, but I know she's eager to have it before she gets too big for her gown (her words not mine.) Carol on the other hand seemed oddly distracted. Of course neither woman noticed me at first, I find people don't tend to notice me much.
Rick's making huge strides in his recovery, but he did have youth on his side. He still seems more interested in Judith and the other children, wanting to remain close to them as though he personally made it his duty to keep watch over the children. No one else seems concerned, but I am worried that this change in personality isn't the only one. I'm only hoping that his changes are mild and not at all negative.
I'm worried about Herschel. Since losing Beth the old man hasn't been quite himself, he's still there, but I sometimes worry he may be heading downhill fast. Mrs. Douglas has been keeping him occupied with small things and St. James, Cash and myself have been playing whist in the infirmary after hours with the old man in the hopes of giving him some distraction, but Herschel is definitely still in a dark place from losing his last daughter. Maybe the wedding will do him good.
If the wedding ever happens.
Current home population: 39 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men.)
Current away population: 0
Current forecast: 63º, Sunny
Current mood: Sore (I'm not made for physical labour. Next time Daryl threatens me I'll just say 'no gracias'.)
Addendum: I think Merle may actually kill the Lieutenant today. I don't think Merle cares much for zydeco music…
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**St. James**
"Les Mardi Gras s'en vient de tout partout, tout alentour le tour du moyeu,
Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est une patate, une patate ou des gratons."
"I swear I'm gonna choke that French turd out," Merle snarled.
Posted against the infirmary wall, St. James watched Merle as he raged at the Lieutenant nearby who was idly pushing and pulling on his squeezebox and crooning.
Merle, who – it seemed – was doing less than nothing at the moment, seemed easily disturbed by traditional Cajun music, which amused St. James and his fellow medical staff who had emerged from their sterile cave to listen to the music as a distraction from the beige nothing that had become life at the convent.
Sipping at his mug of coffee, a rare commodity and growing rarer by the day, St. James watched the Cajun as he smirked knowingly and continued his singing, playing oblivious to Merle's obvious irritation.
He supposed the Lieutenant was looking for a good fight after a few weeks of nothing but idle leisure.
Someone could die and St. James almost looked forward to it.
The Lieutenant wasn't the only one who was bored.
Daryl was working on his new home and from the looks of the foundation, it was going to be a masterpiece, four basic rooms, fieldstone foundation, even a root cellar for emergencies.
Turning his mug around and around in his hands, St. James studied the convent grounds, paying close attention to Adele and the Major. The poor woman was going to break her heart over that O'Hara, but there wasn't much St. James could say about it, Adele was her own woman.
Still he watched them carefully.
O'Hara seemed nice enough, but he was unavailable to the world, it was obvious by the way he cut himself off physically from it.
Although he couldn't really talk, Adele needed a companion, not a lover, she wasn't ready for that, but she needed warmth and friendship and St. James wasn't able to provide that properly to her.
But he still wasn't sure about O'Hara either. It could only end in heartbreak with that one.
"Les Mardi Gras sont dessus un grand voyage, tout alentour le tour du moyeu,
Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est un poule maigre, ou trois ou quatre coton maïs."
"Cajun dick," Merle growled.
Everyone stopped what they were doing as Carol, Michonne and Grace approached, the two pregnant women swollen and beautiful, but also dangerous.
"Merle, honey, let him have his fun," Grace pleaded on behalf of her man. "He rarely gets the chance."
Merle acquiesced to the woman, offering her a small, mischievous grin.
St. James smiled warmly at Carol as she moved to stand beside him against the wall. She looked from him to Adele and O'Hara and back again.
He quirked a brow, but the woman merely smiled again and rubbed his upper arm.
The thought occurred to him then, that because he came from Adele's people, because he looked after her there to the best of his abilities (it was hard with thirty men watching him), that perhaps they thought he would be the one to hold Adele's affections. The truth was, the woman wasn't ready for anything serious and St. James wasn't the man she deserved.
Looking then from Carol to Daryl, St. James raised both his eyebrows in inquiry and Carol smiled sheepishly. She had admitted to him under doctor-patient confidentiality during her last check up, that her sex drive had been insatiable lately. Now it was a private joke they shared and he enjoyed that closeness to the woman. Carol was unlike any creature he had met as of yet, she was so pure and kind even after all the hell that had fallen upon them.
He would be honoured to be considered a close friend of hers.
Maybe it was because they had both lost a child. Carol, her beautiful angel of a daughter and he with his toddler son.
Well, he assumed his son was long gone. There was no real point in going home to check, not if he was going to walk into a scene of horror so black that it would taint his soul.
No, Brandon was dead. St. James' mother was dead, there was no one left at home for him to return to.
Of course, he didn't tell anyone about Brandon. His son was his own cherished secret, something his heart would hold on to, something his heart would keep safely locked away where he could pull it out at Christmas and on Brandon's birthday to dust off and air out fondly.
Spying Adele parting with O'Hara for the dorms, where he knew she would be putting Langdon and Celeste down for their midday nap, St. James downed his coffee and started off after her, with the excuse of returning the mug to the kitchens.
He paused by O'Hara who was helping Glenn and Layla clean weapons on the front lawn and knelt beside the Major, eyes on the trees beyond the convent walls.
"Hot today," he greeted calmly.
O'Hara nodded.
Glenn and Layla looked up at the two men, before Layla smiled and wiped her hands on the front of her loose dress, before pushing to her feet. Glenn was close on her tail, following the beautiful woman into the church.
O'Hara watched them go calmly, blinking at the backs of them, before turning patient eyes on St. James.
"I like you, Major," St. James said. "But I adore Adele."
O'Hara quirked a brow, but said nothing.
"She needs nurturing and growth, but before she can blossom, she needs to be tended to gently."
The soldier was quiet for a moment, offering the former Air Force medic to contemplate his next words carefully.
"I don't care if you return her interest, but I do care whether or not—"
"I see," O'Hara said, his voice distant as though carried through a great mountain train tunnel. Steadily, the man pushed to his feet and stood awkwardly for a moment, hands twitching at his side, before he turned sharply and marched off, heading for the gate.
St. James watched the man hop up onto the wall with a frown, unsure whether his talk was successful or not.
Finally he stood up and headed into the dorms where Adele had disappeared, hoping to find her and feel her mental state out.
Maybe he was prying a little into her personal life, but he honestly felt responsible for her heart. It was so fragile, so innocent and beautiful despite the hell her 'father' had put her through.
The sound of someone singing a Fleetwood Mac song in a sweet, arid Cajun tone had him stopping at a particular room and lingering in the doorway, watching as Adele (much like her brother) crooned lovingly to the children in her charge.
The woman was perched on the edge of a bed, hand rubbing circles in Langdon's chest, soothing the boy's soft hiccupping cries as he drifted into an angry nap.
Setting his empty coffee mug on a nearby icon pedestal, St. James folded his arms and leaned in the doorway, smiling at Adele's sweet singing.
"I'm not saying we need to revolt or anything," Andrea's voice disturbed his enjoyment of the song as the woman passed by him in the hall, side by side with Cash. "But we really need to establish some sort of leader before we fall prey to more attacks."
"Who the hell is gonna attack us?" Cash demanded. "Think we killed everyone within a hundred miles of Georgia…"
Quirking a brow at the two, he turned back to enjoying Adele's singing to find the woman facing him from her spot on the bed, quietly watching him just standing in the doorway.
He straightened. "I was…looking for a good excuse to be creeping around the doorway," he explained sheepishly.
She smiled and motioned him inside.
St. James stepped into the room.
Adele continued to gently soothe Langdon's mewling. "He's decided to attach himself firmly to Major O'Hara," she said with a gentle smile.
St. James nodded. "O'Hara is…different."
"He's kind," she said.
"He's…different."
Adele looked at him with her large grey eyes. "You don't like him?"
"I…do like him, actually, I just…don't want to get too attached to him."
She tilted her head.
"In case he…well he's in a dangerous position, you know?"
The Lieutenant burst in quietly, which seemed to St. James a feat to accomplish, but the six-something giant Cajun looked like he was about to explode.
"I'm getting married," he hissed.
"Yes," St. James replied.
"Tomorrow, you'll be there, yeah?"
"We…couldn't find an excuse not to even if we wanted," St. James returned.
"Stag night tonight," the Cajun stated, pointing at the medic. "Karaoke, drinking and Mrs. Douglas said she'd strip, so bring your greenbacks." He took two steps to his sister, pecked her on the top of her head and hurried out.
St. James took a moment.
"Did he say Mrs. Douglas—"
"Yes," he confirmed.
"I suppose we make do with what we have," she pointed out softly.
"I'm more curious about where he thinks we're going to find the gear for karaoke," St. James murmured.
"Don't underestimate my brother," Adele said, adoration in her voice. "He's brilliant."
Leaning against the wall, he returned to his silent vigil as Adele continued crooning to the children. He wondered briefly if he should continue trying to gently warn her of O'Hara and the precarious situation she could find herself in with him, but decided against it for the moment. Adele was happy and he couldn't be the one to bring her heart down from soaring once more.
Instead he turned his mind to wondering whether or not Carol and Daryl would officially marry now. Maybe when Daryl saw the Lieutenant marrying, it would encourage him to do so. Not that St. James needed them to marry, but he would welcome as many celebrations as the convent could have.
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itsi3 - I think we can all agree that insatiable Carol is perhaps the best problem Daryl could have.
Surplus Imagination - As always, you seem to be on my trail. ^_^
Claire Randall Fraser - I seriously think Michonne enjoys the hunt more than the actual stringing up and gutting of her prey. Hehe.
georgiapeachs - I seriously would love it if there was a whole box of sex toys just sitting around in the bowels of the dormitory cellar...like this thought haunts my every waking minute.
auntheddy - My mom too. 'I love you more' is the sweetest thing I can imagine. I don't know why. *sap*
vickih - Milton, always practical, but never prepared for street wise situations.
DarylDixon'sLover - Thank you.
Yazzy x - Daryl and the Lt are so much like brothers at this point, I love the idea of them physically tousling and fighting like giant kids and Carol and Grace having to break it up.
Brazen Hussy - I agree. That poor boy is in for a huge shock.
Ciao Bella - Yikes! You are a brave soul for reading GD&S, BCB and JtCR in two days...my hat is off to you, my friend! And thank you for the sweet review! You're a beautiful human being! I hope good things come your way! ^_^