DarylDixon'sLover - Good question. Important question. A question for the ages!
Taemom - Well, thank you! Very kind to come back from a lengthy hiatus to such lovely reviews!
RuinNyght - To be honest, I'd want Fate as my wingman in a fight.
itsi3 - Thank you! It's good to be back! I missed this story lots and lots!
Claire Randall Fraser - You know the right thing to say to tempt me to keep writing! It's reviews like yours that get me going and I'm like neck deep in this series again! I forgot how much I love writing it.
RandomMoonshadow - Thank you! I kind of fell in love with the Colonel too. I love small people who can hold their own.
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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Plastic Jesus
**Cash**
"She looks like a little kidney bean cozied up in a blue binky," he remarked as they stood around the sleeping babies.
"She's a killer in disguise," Merle argued lightly, gingerly touching the little girl child's hand with his finger.
"She has Daryl's grump face," Glenn added.
"You're all gonna see my grump face if you don't back the hell away from her," Daryl broke in, heading towards them from the doorway, pack on his shoulder. "Grace just got her down…"
"You heading somewhere?" Merle rasped.
Daryl reached into the crib and adjusted Scout's blanket gently, ignoring his brother.
Rocking back on one foot, Cash watched the two Dixon's curiously, before glancing over at Glenn who was also watching them with a concentrated gaze.
"Merle, I need to talk to you," Daryl muttered to his brother. "Alone," he added, glaring at Cash and Glenn.
"Aw, shit no," Cash griped. "I ain't going nowhere. I live here too."
"How'd you like to live in the infirmary for a month, dick?" Merle snarled.
"Touch me, you big brute, and I'll tattle to that nun you're sweet on."
Merle raised his fist and Cash ducked away from it, bouncing behind Glenn.
"See that?" He bragged to his brother. "I'm growing. Last year I would have pegged that little dick."
"Real character development, Merle," Glenn congratulated dryly.
"What's up, baby bro?" Merle asked.
Again Daryl was quiet, before leaning in close to his brother and saying, "I need you to watch Scout for a few days."
"Where you going?" Cash demanded.
Both Dixon's glared hard at him.
Inhaling deeply, Merle said, "I'd like to help, little brother, but I hate kids. Can't stand them."
"I like them," Cash provided. "But my hourly rate is high for babysitting."
Glenn stepped to the side to give Merle a shot at Cash, but the bigger man didn't take it, eyeing Cash quietly, before turning back to his brother.
"I figured you'd get a fire lit under you eventually."
"Well, I'm not sitting around anymore, if she's not back then something happened and I'm not fucking around," Daryl said.
As the two Dixon's strode from the room, Cash and Glenn waited for a beat, before Cash stretched languidly and yawned.
"Well," he said, scratching his gut, "that doesn't concern me."
Roaming out from behind Glenn, the blonde headed for the door, hoping to dig up a snack before bedtime.
Inside the kitchen he found Layla, Milton and Herschel, all three talking lightly to each other as Layla moved about the kitchen washing the after dinner dishes with a quiet Sister Ruth and Carl.
Easing down at the table, Cash picked up one of the cans of apple sauce left there for snacking purposes from their last season's harvest and opened it.
"What's on the discussion board?" He asked, using his finger as a spoon to scoop out the sweet puree.
"Children," Herschel said.
"For or against?"
"Milton was saying about…" Layla paused. She was learning English fast, but struggled from time to time with words.
"I was telling Layla how better our chances are of surviving as a clan, if we bear plenty of offspring now."
"Get while the gettin's good, I feel you," Cash stated, sucking on his fingers.
"I think," Layla said, standing beside him. "We should bear a child, yes?"
Cash laughed. "You're getting your English confused again, darling. Yes means a positive, no means a negative. We should bear a child, no!"
"I am positive we should bear a child." Layla said. "Yes."
Laughing again, Cash scooped up more applesauce. "What are you spreading around here, Milton? You little pencil necked geek?"
"It's for the good of the continuation of the group," Milton stated. "We carry on through our predecessors. If the country, if the world rebuilds, we would like to be considered founding members. We could hold a lot of influence."
"Who's this we, jackass?"
"It's for the best."
Licking the applesauce with smacking lips, Cash eyed Layla who stood so primly at his side and said, "you don't let men breed you, okay?"
"Just you." She said.
"Well," Cash pushed to his feet with a grunt, taking his jar of applesauce with him, "I gotta see a man about not being here."
Moving down the dark main hall of the dorm, he stepped out into the light of the convent lawns and paused near Merle and Daryl who were still debating together.
Lighting some of Delgado's tobacco in a pipe, Cash stood nearby and eavesdropped for lack of anything better to do.
"I'm not waiting around forever," Daryl growled. "Sitting on my ass while she's out there!"
"I'm not stopping you," Merle said. "But if something has happened to your little girl's mama and then something happens to you, who do you think is gonna raise her? It ain't gonna be me. Shit, you think I ducked all those paternity suits for fun? Hell no!"
The thought that there could be some young Dixon's still out in the world running free scared Cash a little and he grimaced.
"I know," Daryl replied.
"The Eagles," Cash murmured.
The two men turned on him with hard looks.
Not intending to be heard, Cash blinked, before explaining. "He's already gone…is the joke." Cautiously he approached the men. "Look, Carol's gone, Fate's gone, Grace is out of commission until she recovers, with Daryl gone we'll be short some leaders."
"I'm not a fucking leader," Daryl snarled. "How the fuck many times does that need saying?"
"Sure we have Rick, but somedays I swear he's two T's without any crosses." Cash went on calmly. "But you're going, we can't stop you."
Merle glowered in disgust at Cash, before shrugging. "Tennessee walking retard has a point."
"I have feelings, Merle," Cash replied evenly.
"Eat shit," Merle shot back quickly. "Look," he addressed his brother again, "go, but…be careful. Alright?"
Daryl nodded.
"Take dipshit with you," Merle added.
"Roadtrip!" Cash exclaimed, thrusting his arms up into the air, holding his pipe high.
"No," Daryl rejected the idea.
"Come on?" Cash dropped his arms and his pipe and had to stoop down to gather it up.
"Look," Merle reasoned. "You're leaving me here to watch over the tribe with crazy assed Rick the dick, I think you should suffer a little too."
"I'll take Glenn," Daryl tried.
"Cash," Merle argued. "Glenn is too valuable around here."
"Hey," Cash whined. "Come on, man. That hurts me."
"Is that the bargain we're making?" Daryl asked, defeated.
"Yep," Merle grunted. "You want me to watch over your small squid, then you gotta take Cash for back up."
"We got married in a fever," Cash started singing lowly, his goal now to just piss both Dixon's off for treating him like chattel. "Hotter than a pepper sprout…"
"You can't go!" Grace declared from behind them.
The three men turned to find her standing in the dorm doorway, looking pale and sickly as ever, St. James hovering over her as usual.
"I have to, it's been too long," Daryl said.
"We can't have a bunch of our people out there, wandering about loose," Grace argued.
"We can't afford to lose any either!" Daryl snarled. "That's Carol out there! And your man, don't you care at all?!"
Almost breathless, Grace slumped against the doorframe of the dorms and huffed.
St. James was quick to catch her, holding her up.
"She has no strength to fight," he declared for her. "Just go! Good luck!"
Grace tried to protest.
Worried for her, Cash took a step in her direction, but was shoved by Merle after his baby brother.
"Watch out for his ass," Merle ordered.
With his eyes still on Grace, Cash nodded.
"What's wrong with her?" He called out to St. James as Merle moved to get the ex-nun into the dorms.
"Infection," St. James replied before they ducked inside.
Cash frowned at the empty doorway for a moment, before turning to catch up with Daryl who was already halfway to the gate.
**Carol**
They had decided to split up for the rest of the day to get familiar with the layout of the place.
The Lieutenant was handling the secure areas, open only to military personnel, so she took to the tent city outside the main building.
The people weren't strange to her, they smiled and greeted her politely. But there was a stand-offish quality about them, like they didn't trust her quite yet. And that was completely understandable, she probably looked wild with her well washed clothes, beaten by hand for months before they rigged up electricity at the convent, muddied from their misadventure, still proudly worn.
She wanted to stand out. There was something strange to her about going back to cute little slip on shoes and capris.
As she passed by a particularly large tent she heard raised voices and stopped, curious to witness all she could.
"I don't give a goddamn if he's the Prince of Denmark, he's not even getting an empty cartridge from me!" A feminine voice declared. "You can tell him to come down here and pry my munition from my cold, dead hands!"
"Come on, Connolly, don't make my day worse. Just give me a few rounds."
"Fuck you, Vecchio, and fuck your Major-General!"
"Come on, he's gonna chew my ass out if I return empty handed—"
"You linger in here and I will cut your dick off, get out!"
"Okay," a new voice broke in calmly. "May I suggest something—"
"You shut your fuckhole, pipsqueak! Do I look like I'm fucking with you? Does my face read bitch?"
"Right now it does," Vecchio grumbled.
"Oh, you did not just fuck with me today!"
Peeking into the tent, Carol spied a fierce looking woman facing off against the men, her black hair smoothed back into a tight bun, her dark eyes flashing hellfire.
"Connolly, just…be cool for once, okay? Gauthier rides our asses every time you give us grief," the calmer man said.
"Well, maybe Gauthier should fucking learn that I can't just hand out shit whenever poor boys come begging at my door!" The woman growled. "And you both better back the fuck off!"
A movement in the corner of her eyes caught Carol's attention, as well as the woman's. They both glanced over as Colonel Kravitz strolled by, clipboard in hand.
"Colonel!" Connolly called out.
Stopping short, as though expecting her to call him to a halt, Colonel Kravitz entered the tent, clasping his board before him primly.
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"You're in charge of personnel here, aren't you?" Connolly demanded.
"I…yes."
"Good, then tell these two personnels to get out of my tent before I castrate them."
Furrowing his brow a little, the Colonel flashed a nervous, crooked grin at the men, asking, "you gentlemen have requisition forms?"
"The Major-General shouldn't need them," Vecchio growled, glaring hard at Connolly.
"Well," the Colonel drew both lips between his teeth in thought, before releasing them and shrugging. "Sergeant, there's nothing we can do. Rules are rules."
"Rules are rules, aren't they? Do you hear that, gentlemen? Rules are fucking rules! Get out of my tent with your bullshit!"
Grumbling, the men left, passing by Carol who lingered long enough to be spied by the Colonel.
"You know we should get a drink sometime, Colonel," Connolly said. "You're alright."
"Thank you, Connolly," the Colonel replied, motioning Carol into the tent.
She stepped inside tentatively.
"Sergeant Zoya Connolly, this is Carol Vancoughnett, wife of one of our new Marine recruits."
"Oh," the woman said. "Another Marine walks among us. This is indeed a red letter day," she beamed and offer Carol her hand. "How are you finding the place?"
"It's…different," she admitted.
"I can tell you're not fitting in yet, huh?" The woman asked. "Still haven't changed your clothes."
"I…wear them with pride," Carol replied.
"I see that," Connolly said. "Tonight, I'll take you out, introduce you to some of the women on base. They'd love to meet you, I'm sure."
Carol smiled. It would be a perfect chance to get gossip about the place. "I'd like that, thank you!"
"And I'll find you something nice to wear," the woman added with a laugh.
Glancing to her side where the Colonel had previously stood, she found it empty and frowned.
"Oh, he does that! Busy man, Colonel Kravitz."
"But he's nice, right?" Carol asked, hoping to get right down to the gossip.
"Oh, sure! Colonel Kravitz is one of the best loved officers here! He's a sweet guy, quiet and patient, but I wouldn't fuck with him. I've seen him take down men twice his size."
Filing that away, Carol looked about the tent. "You said you're in requisitions, where's all the weapons?"
Sergeant Connolly smiled. "I'm not at liberty to say. All I can tell you, as a civilian, is that I just the forms here. This is the paperwork tent."
"Of course, sorry. I…I've been outside in the real world so long, I forgot about rules and regulations."
"Must have been hard," the woman said.
"I," Carol hesitated, before saying, "I want to go home."
"Really? Back out there?" Connolly demanded.
Shrugging, Carol said, "I fit in there."
Tsking, Connolly touched her arm and replied, "we'll fit you in here. Just takes some time, I'm sure. They put you in the main building?"
"Yes, in the basement."
"Yeah, we like to try out all the new recruits there for a while, until we're sure of their loyalty. They'll move you to the tent city soon enough, so enjoy the luxury."
"Do they do that to all the newcomers?"
"Sure, we all did it." The woman fell silent for a moment, gazing over Carol's head.
The tall figure of Major-General Gauthier stood there in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out a little.
"Major-General, sir," Connolly greeted.
"Sergeant," the man began, "I'm beginning to think you turn my men down so often because you like my visits."
"That didn't take long for them to run and tattle to you, sir," Connolly shot back.
Reaching into his pocket, the Major-General withdrew a paper. "Requisition forms for the supplies we need."
Taking the form, Connolly read them over, before smiling sweetly up at the man. "And…you just happened to have them on you?"
"My men didn't take them, I didn't have them then, a runner just brought them by."
"Uh-huh," the woman replied. "Well, watch me as I bend over, that's what you came for, isn't it, sir?"
As the woman bent over with the paper to tuck it into a folder, the Major-General pointedly looked away, in Carol's direction.
Her eyes met his cold, olive oil green eyes and they held the gaze for a long, almost awkward moment.
In this moment, Carol tried to place the man's race. He was sort of golden skinned, but didn't look like he was any of the Nordic races or even of African descent. He might have been Latino, but again he didn't quite fit.
Gauthier? That was a French name, wasn't it? And he did have a bit of an accent, like…he wouldn't be Cajun, would he? Some kind of…no…Carol had no idea, the man didn't make sense in the way he looked or the way he sounded. Nothing seemed easy about him to read.
"Carol, isn't it?" He asked finally.
She nodded, broken from her intense study of him.
"Okay!" Connolly chirped. "Requisition filed. You should have your supplies by morning."
"Thank you, Sergeant."
"And…next time, sir," she added with a cheeky grin. "You can just swing on by, you don't need an excuse."
The Major-General blinked at her for a moment, before he turned and stalked towards the door, he paused and turned back. "Maybe I enjoy when you tear into my men, Sergeant. They always return pale and shaking."
"You sadist, sir," she returned with a grin.
As soon as the man left, Connolly licked her lips and said, "I would climb that redwood like a squirrel."
Carol looked at the opening to the tent long after the man had gone. "What's he like?"
"I don't know, he's a strange one, doesn't talk much. Think he doesn't mean to come off as an asshole, but…he's seen some shit out there. Fucked him up bad, I think."
"We've all seen shit," Carol said, turning back to face the black woman.
"I mean, he's seen some shit," Connolly emphasized the word. "But I'll tell you one thing, if I could choose a soldier to lead our men outside these walls, it'd be him and I'm glad it is."