Notes:
Not sure if any of you are confused by the timeline of this story. But this is all happening in the time between the end of season 5 and the beginning of season 6. So for the sake of this story, the time between Reg dying and the walker parade is going to be a few weeks. All the other events in the show are as follows, like the conversation between Rick and Daryl about not looking for more people. Also, in the last chapter the scene where Denise is looking at Tara and the Wolves coming are obviously not the same day. I am re-watching season 6 to prep for writing Pandora into the story which is why this is a little messed up.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Denise found Pandora later sitting on top of the bed with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. She shut the door with her foot as she was carrying a steaming bowl on top of a tray. The smell set Pandora's stomach rumbling, she couldn't remember how long she had been sitting like this, not that that was anything new.
"I thought you might be hungry." Denise said as she placed the tray on the table beside Pandora's bed. Before she had even stepped away, Pandora was setting the tray in her lap, the blanket slipping off her shoulders now forgotten as hot food awaited her. A few moments passed in silence while Denise leaned back in the chair folding her arms over her chest. "I want to work on something else but don't worry you don't have to stop eating." She added quickly with her hands raised in defense.
Pandora gave her a sideways glance, the spoon in her mouth still showing she had no intention of stopping.
"Daryl told me what happened when you two were talking." Denise said. Pandora's hands started to shake, causing the hot liquid to spill onto her skin. Pain flared for a moment, but surprisingly the usual noise in her head was quiet.
"I want to teach you something else to help us understand how you feel. It's a scale alright? All you have to do is hold up fingers, easy right?" asked Denise.
Again, Pandora was caught slightly off guard with the spoon halfway to her open mouth, but she nodded before continuing.
Denise smiled, nodding a few times, "Okay. One finger means you're feeling good. Two fingers mean you're feeling some worry, but it is still okay to go on. Three fingers mean you are willing to try, but we should be careful of what we do or say. Four fingers mean we need to change the topic or activity. Five fingers mean we need to stop right now because you think you might have a panic attack."
Pandora mulled over the words in her head, deciding that what Denise was asking seemed easy enough. Placing the empty bowl back on the tray, she watched Denise with her hands folded in her lap.
"What number are you on?" asked Denise. Pandora held up two fingers. The anxiety was there, it always was, but did not feel too bad right now.
Denise moved on to the next question, "What happened outside?"
The image of the woman's intense, prying gaze flashed through her mind. "Someone else was outside, talking to Daryl." Her voice was low, monotone even in an attempt to keep control. "I don't know her name, but she kept staring at me."
"Something about her made you uncomfortable?" Denise asked, pushing her glasses up on her face. Pandora nodded, it was the swirl of emotions in the other woman's eyes. She couldn't place it at the time, but it seemed like judgment. Judgment for not being strong enough, for being too broken or for needing care when there were other things that needed to be done. Maybe she had been right before to think about wasting a way in bed, what kind of world was this for someone like her, someone so broken.
She didn't notice that Denise was leaning toward her now with her hand on top of Pandora's, calling her name. The air seemed tight, like there wasn't enough of it in the room to fill her lungs. Dimly hearing a question about a number she raised five fingers.
"You're alright, you're in Alexandria in your room, and behind the walls you are safe." Denise's voice was strong and clear. She pressed something into Pandora's hands, it was hard and cold, plastic maybe. "Tell me about what you're holding." Denise prompted.
Pandora's brain started and stopped, her fingers running over the object in her hands. "Four legs," She whispered shakily. "Small tail but it has big ears."
"Keep your eyes shut, and keep telling me." Denise prompted again.
It seemed so stupid, but by the time she had figured out it was a plastic elephant, her breathing had come down to a normal rate. When she was asked what number she was on, she held up two fingers and it felt true.
When she opened her eyes, Denise was smiling again, a big goofy looking grin. "You're doing great." She told her as she stood up. "Daryl is in the room to the left tonight ok? If you need anything he is right there."
Then Denise was gone, shutting the door behind her and Pandora was alone again, the plastic elephant still in her hands. Her mind was whirling and she was too antsy to sleep now. The window called to her with the promise of its cool night air against the fire her nerves were causing inside her.
When she tried to open it, it wouldn't budge. Figures, she thought, can't have windows that open. The feeling of being trapped crept into her mind, panicking she tried to open the window again but of course nothing happened. Stumbling, she moved to the door, throwing it open. Just the air in the hallway calmed her down, but she needed more.
She flew down the steps, throwing the front door open and gasping, only to be met with the piercing gaze of Daryl who was smoking another cigarette. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside her escaping through half-open lips, but Daryl only raised an eyebrow at her.
"May I?" She asked, pointing to the pack in the pocket of his vest, ignoring the question in his gaze. Sighing, he handed it over along with a box of matches. Grinning at him, she struck the match and lit the cigarette, immediately inhaling the smoke it created. Turning to look out at the street she realized how dark it was. It must have been late, not that she had any concept of time without clocks.
"Can't sleep?" He finally asked after a long silence.
"No, and I wanted some air but the window wouldn't open." The tang of panic was still there, even under the taste of smoke. She didn't need to explain that to him, part of her was sure he had guessed anyway. Suddenly the need to speak was overwhelming, words bubbled inside her screaming to be let out.
"I had a place and group before," she left unsaid what had happened to both. "Our place was nothing like this, it was a campsite all fenced in with a gate. We did what we could, built up the fences, and had people watching. We even had a garden, you know? Just a little bit of stuff."
She paused. Taking a long, deep drag to let the smoke fill her lungs and remind her of where she was. The words, her new mantra played on a loop in her brain, blocking out anything else. Flicking the ash off the end of the cigarette, she looked back at him standing with his arms over his chest.
"We ain't got no fences, they built a wall though." His voice was hard, not in a cruel way, just to say that what he knew was fact. Fences stop the dead but not the living. Walls, they could keep the living out. They had climbed right over the fences, come in at night and—the thought slipped away when she felt his hand on her shoulder, the contact grounding her again.
"S'alright?" He questioned eyes boring into her. Giving her shoulder a tight squeeze, he asked, "What number are you on?"
The world was focused again, everything becoming sharp and colored. She rolled her eyes slightly at him, but raised two fingers.
"Doc knows her stuff huh?" He asked.
She nodded, flicking the cigarette onto the ground. She was about to stomp it out when she realized she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"Oh ya," Daryl and opened the front door, producing a nice pair of steel-toe boots. "Got you these, some others brought them back from a run."
"Thank you." She said as she slipped them on, there was a little bit of wiggle room in the front but other than that they were perfect.
"Listen it's late, but Doc says that if ya see the wall it might help with the yah know, saying calmly." He said "staying calm" like it was a place she could visit, like she could go to this place called calm and stay there.
Nevertheless, she nodded, hands balling into fists. Somewhere in her brain, a voice screamed that she was moving too fast. But the idea of seeing the wall was too good to pass up on. Without a verbal answer, she stepped off the porch and waited for him to join her.
They walked in silence as she feared speaking would break the calm that seemed to have surrounded them. The feeling that she needed to share more of her story had passed, Daryl seemed to understand this as well as he didn't ask any questions.
She bumped right into Daryl's back, she was so wrapped up in her own train of thought that she hadn't noticed they reached the wall already.
"Oh," the sound was more like an exhale of air than an actual word. What stood firm and tall in front of her was like nothing she had seen before. Huge, metal sheets were placed more than eleven feet high, steel poles framing them. She stepped around Daryl and ran her hands over the ridges of the metal. How had they managed to do this with the threat of the dead looming over them she wondered?
"How is this possible?" she breathed, glancing back at him over her shoulder.
He shrugged, "Got it up in the beginning, there's a quarry down the ways, drew all the walkers in. They ain't had much trouble."
It took her a few moments but the end of his sentence finally clicked somewhere in her brain. "Wait. There is a quarry full of the dead?"
He nodded, looking unsure. Pandora held up one finger to show that she was fine. At that, he snorted.
Both of her hands were pressed against the wall now, running over the cool metal. Leaning forward, her head touched it and it made her feel better. Denise was right, the knowledge that this was here made her feel safe again, safer than she had in a long time.
With her head still on the metal, the weariness seemed to be leaching into her bones now. It pulled her down like she was swimming in the ocean during low tide. "Can we go back now?" She asked.
He nodded, holding his hand out for her to take. She did not even hesitate before she took it. Her feet felt heavy, like someone had replaced her blood with cement. She wasn't sure she would have made it back if Daryl wasn't pulling her gently by the hand, catching up to walk beside him she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Thank you," She whispered sleepily.
Notes:
Thank yo so much for reading! I know this chapter is a little slow it gets better I promise! Also a huge thank you to my Beta reader the lovely Arrlow. Expect updates every Sunday at least for the next month I'm trying to write as much as a can white I have the inspiration.