Chapter 5: Tradition

tradition (noun) - a long-established or inherited way of thinking or acting

Time at the pantry hadn't been physically grueling. Daryl could do that shit in his sleep—lifting, bending, fetching. It didn't take a genius to grab this or put that there. What truly fucked with him was Jessie. He would have two minutes of starting to get stuff organized and she'd just pop up behind him like Casper or some shit. Not that she really spooked him, but the suddenness caught him off guard. She never wanted anything. Mostly chatting and fishing. Wanting to know if he was okay with his housing and if not, she was in tight and could get him moved. By the time his shift ended, he was 'bout ready for a hunt but Sasha was nowhere around and it didn't feel right to leave without her. So he grabbed his gear and headed out back and got busy while he waited.

A short while later, Daryl heard the commotion but continued the task of reviewing bolts for mending and discarding. The discard pile stood higher than he liked. Another run might not secure replacements, but he could always fashion something from the wild. More noise sounded from Noah and Gabriel's room. What the fuck?

"Hey, Daryl." Noah joined him on the back step. His breathing was heavy and sweat dotted his forehead.

"Hey."

"You going to the Cassidy's? Everyone's invited," Noah said.

"Yeah, I know," Daryl mumbled. "I ain't thought much about it."

"Noelle's expecting you," Noah said with a straight face. "She talked about it a lot."

"She's a good kid. So what was all that noise in your room?"

"Yeah…about that. Can you help? I thought I could do it on my own, but it's heavier than I thought."

"What's heavy?" Daryl asked.

"Chairs," Noah said. "They're not really heavy, but I can't take them all at once…not by myself."

"So I'm going one way or another, huh?" Daryl muttered.

"You don't have to stay," Noah said quickly.

"I know."

Daryl carried four chairs and his compound bow to the gathering at the Cassidy place. Noah trailed behind him with three chairs. The trek to the party didn't take long as everyone was housed within shouting distance of each other. No fences and decent-sized yards created an expansion of the closeness they created first in Atlanta then the prison and later during their journey to Virginia. Daryl was glad they hadn't been forced to live near the original residents. It would have felt off.

Tables formed a lined across the backyard and the shortage of chairs stood out. Upon their arrival, Carl with Judith in his arms shouted, "Daryl and Noah brought more chairs!"

"Thanks." Dominik reached for the chairs, but Daryl gave him two and followed him to the tables. "Noelle wasn't sure you'd come. She wanted to remind you, but Dad wouldn't let her."

Daryl felt the heat rush his face and released a low grunt. The young girl was sweet and a complete bad ass with the bow. "She's alright."

Noah set his chairs at the table. Daryl left the teens to claim a secluded spot at the base of an oak tree on the far side of the yard. From this position, he had a view of the guests as they arrived with covered dishes and warm greetings. A real, old-fashioned, welcome party was the kind of shit Daryl avoided. The urge to hunt returned. He felt the itch pricking over his arms.

"Here," Rick said, handing him a cold beer. "You look thirsty."

Daryl took a long gulp. The brew wasn't bad, but he slowed down to savor it. Finding beer on a run was like some fairytale bullshit of finding gold at the end of a rainbow. Too good to be true. He frowned at his friend. "Where'd this come from?"

"I'm the law here and I'm not at liberty to disclose that information," Rick answered with a grin.

"Some shit never changes," Daryl mumbled. "Big stash or is that a secret, too?"

"Big enough." Rick nodded toward the group. Only the kids were empty handed.

"Not enough for seconds," Rick said, "but enough. How's the pantry?"

"We ain't got no beer." Daryl had another swallow. The taste took the edge off the need to hunt. "It's a job. Job's a job."

"Yeah. Not too sure about the job assignment thing."

"Yours fits," Daryl said, but he noticed how Rick had become tense. "What?"

"You're in the pantry…doesn't seem a good use of your skills. Michonne's gardening. Nik, too."

"You did that back at the prison."

Rick nodded. "I did…"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with puttin' food on the table." Daryl finished the beer. "Somebody's gotta do it. Just like you keepin' order again. Shit, can't believe I said that, but it's true."

"Can't argue when you're making sense," Rick murmured.

"Well, shit, Rick. I always make sense."

##

Lanterns were set about five feet apart around the perimeter of the backyard. Tables and chairs from neighbors provided enough seating for all invited guests. Nik admired the view as the Cassidy's new extended family arrived. Crossing paths with Rick and the others had been nothing less than Divine Intervention and Nik welcomed the opportunity to finally return to some semblance of normalcy to express not exactly gratitude but something.

"Excuse me."

The curt tone of his wife cut him deep and he paused in his reflection to catch her arm. "Wait."

Dawn tried to tug free, but he only pulled her toward him and back inside the house. "Can't have dinner without plates—"

"Stop," he said.

"What?" she asked. Her gaze met his briefly and then she looked down. "Stop what?"

"I'm sorry." Nik took the plates and set them on the counter. He then tilted her face to look at him. "I thought I had mentioned it. I forgot."

"Mentioned it?" she repeated, her eyes wide. "It's a dinner party for everyone. That's not something you mention. It's something we discuss. Plan."

Voices filtered through the open kitchen window. More people had arrived and the distinct bellow of Abraham echoed against the wall. Noelle's squeal alerted them to Daryl's presence and maybe the arrival of Sasha and Noah, too. Dawn's half smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Something else lingered there, something more than irritation at Nik for failing at appropriate spousal communication.

"What is it?" Nik asked.

"They need plates. Are you manning the pit because if not, you better get out there before Big Red takes over."

"Huh?"

Dawn pointed outside where Abraham stood at Nik's barbeque pit, and a fire blazed. Nik clenched his jaw, but he stood his ground. His wife was more important than playing who had the biggest balls.

"Fuck him," Nik said. "What's up with you? It's not the party." Upon her glare, he shrugged. "Okay, maybe some of it is and again, baby, I'm sorry. I'll make it up. Tonight, tomorrow, every day for the rest of our lives but tell me what's really wrong. I know when you're really mad at me and this ain't it."

She went to the back door and Nik wondered if he had lost her, but she closed it. When she turned to face him, her gaze drifted over everything except him. The avoidance of eye contact was a warning, but not in opposition to him. Whatever unnerved her this much would no doubt make him want to fight her battle with his fists swinging, but he knew better than to go blind. He needed details first. He pulled himself onto the kitchen counter and waited.

"How was your day in the garden?" she asked. Finally, her brown eyes locked on him as she moved to rest her hands on his thighs.

"Okay, I guess. Can't complain about working a half day," he said, trying to make light of an interesting four hours.

"How was it for Michonne?"

Nik frowned. "I'd rather talk about you."

Her grip on his thighs tightened and he closed his hands over hers. He admired the difference in their complexion. Her golden brown flesh was a lovely contrast against his lighter olive tan coloring. He drew her toward him and crossed his ankles behind her to close her in.

"Sweet talker," Dawn said softly. "So, this job at the clinic… You know Sasha was assigned there, too."

"How's she doing?"

"Better, I think. Better than me. One of our first duties was mopping the floors—"

"Yeah?" Nik's jaw clenched.

"After they were spotless, we washed the windows and dusted the shelves. Of course, I tried not to make assumptions. Both of us want to help, but when a patient came in and they wouldn't even let me in the room—"

"You're a world-renowned pediatrician. It's bullshit," Nik muttered. He gently pushed her aside to ease from the counter. "I'm gonna have a word—"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," he argued.

"No," she said. "It would be so easy to let you play the hero, but no. I need to figure this thing out. I'm sorry I took my frustration out on you."

He shrugged. "That's what I'm here for."

"No," she said, stroking his jaw,"it isn't. How was your first day?"

"Half day? Please. It was a dream compared to last year." He glanced outside and watched their children interact with their guests. "We need to ask them about school. There aren't too many around here who look like them. Gotta make sure they're okay."

He moved toward the door, but she squeezed his hand and he stopped.

"We should stop dancing around and just say it," Dawn said.

"Bigots…racists never die, not even when the world hits the reset button. Stupid will always be with us. It's different for me because I'm white. I'll never fully get how things make you feel, but I hurt when you hurt. I want to kick ass right now, but you want to handle it. So we'll do things your way… for now."

"I love you."

"I know." He pulled her to him. "I love you more.

##

The evening seemed surreal. A gathering of friends, her man drinking beer and a baby in her arms. Michonne navigated life from a practical perspective, but suddenly she felt off. Despite the evening breeze, perspiration dampened her neck and trickled down her back. The wooden bench felt unsteady beneath her trembling legs. Her breath quickened. Judith shifted, struggling to get down but Michonne held the baby closer.

"It's okay," Michonne whispered. "Shh…"

"Michonne?" Carl squatted beside her. "You okay?"

"Take her." Michonne gave the baby to him and stood. At first, the ground seemed uneven. Her vision blurred, and the noise and closeness of the party was too much. Stumbling, she moved toward the wall of the house and used the structure for support. She felt Carl's warmth on her back.

"Michonne, what's wrong?" Carl's heavy steps rocked the ground.

"I…I'm okay," she stammered. The uncertainty in her voice frightened her but she refused to acknowledge it as strongly as she refused to turn around.

"Stay here. I'll get Dad."

Somewhere, Carl's words made sense, but not here. Michonne continued to stumble. Her destination was uncertain. She just had to get away from the noise. Something troubling bubbled inside her and she feared that if she didn't move far enough away, it would explode.

It could have been hours or minutes. Time lost meaning. Clutching her abdomen with one hand and the kitana with the other, Michonne quickened her pace. From the distance, she heard her name but the sound was so soft that it could have been a whisper or her imagination. Soon, she was out of breath. Her legs buckled and she crumpled to the ground.

##

Sasha wasn't sure what to expect. Work at the clinic had been unpredictable to say the least. Of course, cleanliness was a priority at health facilities, but the attention to mopping and wiping windows seemed excessive. When she received the assignment, she thought it was because she was once a firefighter. Helping people. Saving lives.

"Stop," she muttered to herself.

The word grated Sasha's ears and she glanced around. Several seconds passed before she remembered that she had the house to herself. Noah and Gabriel's attendance at the gathering was no surprise, but Daryl's absence stunned her. At this point, their code was tight. He would never hunt without her, so he maybe he was at the Cassidy's too.

Against her better judgment, she took a quick shower, changed into more comfortable pair of jeans and t-shirt, and headed toward the cadence of familiar voices. Most of their group had arrived, including Maggie. Mismatched chairs adorned a line of tables. Plates, cups, and silverware presented a cute hodgepodge. Tyrese would've… Sasha swallowed hard, suddenly angry at the intrusive thought. Her constricting throat made speaking impossible when Tara approached. The awkward moment brought a flush to the other woman's cheeks and then her expression softened in understanding. Sasha grunted in response. The last thing she wanted was anyone's pity.

It was too much, Sasha decided. First, a job and now this. Acting, no pretending like everything was normal when nothing would ever be normal again. Shaking her head in silent protest, Sasha turned on her heel and headed back toward her new home.

"Hey! Sasha, wait!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, but she did not take another step. When she opened her eyes, Dawn stood there. "What?"

"I want to apologize about today."

"Why?" Sasha asked. "None of it was your fault."

"No, but I let it get to me and I shouldn't have."

"Are you a saint?" Sasha asked. "We should have shoved those mop sticks up their asses, but we didn't. Maybe we're both saints. You were frustrated. Both of us are more qualified, you especially. Maybe you should open your own clinic."

Dawn's expression softened a bit. "Maybe. Would you join me if I did? I wouldn't do it alone."

Sasha sensed a stillness settle around them as she stared at Dawn. Gone was the anger and traces of hurt lingered, but they always do. Calmness that had been absent from the other woman for most of the day had returned. It was the demeanor that Sasha associated with Dr. Dawn Cassidy and it suited her.

"You're serious," Sasha stated. "Like, not showing up tomorrow and hanging up your own sign in the morning serious."

"Whoa." Dawn held up her hands, but warmth lit her face. "That's kinda fast. Gotta talk to Nik and the kids, but girl, you're making me think this could be a plan."

"If you do it, I'm in," Sasha said. The need to hunt faded. Ideas sparked in its place. Would they face opposition? Did it matter? What would they need to get started?

"Okay, okay." Dawn pulled Sasha into a hug. "Thank you. Nik wanted to draw blood and I was close to slapping a bitch, but this is a so much better. To be honest, I was concerned about how they handle healthcare for everyone. If everyone received the same service, but now I won't have to be—"

"Mama!" Noelle's cry startled both women. When she reached them, her face was flushed. "Mama, come quick. Daddy says you have to make a housecall."

"Seriously?" Dawn asked.

The girl nodded, making the soft curls bounce around her face. "Yes, he wasn't joking. He already has your bag."

"Okay. Talk to you later, Sasha."

"Want some help?" Sasha asked.

Dawn shook her head. "No, but if I do, I'll have Nik or one of the kids get you. Okay?"

"Okay."

A short time later, Sasha balanced a plate of grilled squirrel, potatoes, and corn on her lap. Daryl arrived with an offering of cold beer.

"Where?" she asked.

"Rick." He nudged her to make room on the Cassidy's steps. As he sat, he added, "There's room at the table."

"Yeah and?"

"Nothing. What's up with you and Mama Cass?"

She chuckled and he smirked.

"Later," she said after a quick glance around. She trusted Daryl, but there were others who were too eager to please their new neighbors. In privacy, she'd confide in her friend.

He nodded.

"Yours?" she asked, gesturing toward the meat.

"Nah," Daryl said. "Mine taste better."

She laughed.

Around them, their group enjoyed dinner. Her doubts about the gathering were proving unfounded, but she wondered about Dawn's sudden emergency. Maybe she should've left with the doctor. After a studied inspection of their companions, she realized that Michonne and the Grimes were absent. So were Glenn and Maggie.

"What?" he asked.

"Dawn had a medical emergency—"

"At the clinic?"

"No, here. Did you see Noelle come get her? I offered to help, but Dawn turned me down."

Daryl shrugged. "Don't worry about it then. Hey, how much longer you hanging around?"

"Are we leaving now?" she asked, amused by his lack of subtlety and the ease of their togetherness.

"Yeah. C'mon."

Usually their walks took them away from the supposed safe confines of the homestead, but this short journey led them back to the home they shared. Sasha rarely reflected on the changes since the world turned. Too much sadness weighed her down, but right now, with Daryl beside her, she couldn't help but cast a faint smirk at the fact that she lived with three men and shared a bed with Daryl Dixon. Never, when she and Tyrese first arrived at the prison, had she imagined this outcome. Strange how had life a way of flipping the switch when she least expected it.

"What's so funny?" Daryl mumbled. A tinge of red on his face made her wonder if he guessed her thoughts. Then, just as suddenly his expression crumpled into a frown. "Aw, fuck."

"What—?"

"Hey!" Jessie's arrival interrupted Sasha. The other woman seemed to just appear and plant herself directly in the path to their home. "This is a surprise."

"What is?" Sasha fought to keep her tone neutral.

Jessie blinked, but her focus remained on Daryl. "I'd like to chat with you about some changes that would be good for the Pantry. Mind going for a walk with me?"

"Yeah," Daryl said, "I do. I'll see you tomorrow."

"It would better if we can work the details out ahead of the morning start—"

He shrugged. "It can wait." He nodded at Sasha and they walked around Jessie.

The final trek to their place was in silence, but Sasha sensed Daryl's annoyance. He paced the floor before setting his crossbow on the dining table and began inspecting the tips of the bolts. She watched, listening closely to the series of grunts that rumbled from his chest. From the back came the shuffling sounds of Gabriel as he performed his nightly rituals. To her surprise, he joined them in the front room.

"How was fellowship at the Cassidy's?" he asked.

"Good company," Sasha said. "Good food. Where were you?"

"Found a space to hold services," Gabriel said. "It's quite a mess, but it'll do. Daryl?"

"Huh?" His tone bit and even Sasha was taken aback by the force behind it. In the silence, Daryl looked at them and his expression softened. "What?"

"Found some bolts in the closet over there. Left them outside your door."

"Thanks," he mumbled. "You know, you should've come…after you were done."

"I figured they're starting a tradition and I'll go to the next one," Gabriel said. "I meant to come, though, but I got excited. The place is perfect for gathering and worshipping. Being grateful that we made it. The journey wasn't easy, but we made it." He swallowed hard and nodded. "Noah'll probably be late tonight. Anyway, good night."

##

Rick didn't like waiting. He wasn't a patient man. Standing outside the bedroom while Dawn examined Michonne was not his first choice. He wanted to be beside her, taking care of the problem, fixing it. But Dawn advised him that space was needed. Nik and Carl stayed nearby to make sure that Rick…obeyed.

Finally, the door opened and Dawn stepped outside. She gave Nik her bag and told him to go home and play host. Then she pulled Rick aside. Of course, Carl remained in listening distance.

"It's something we all have experienced in one form or another," Dawn stated quietly. "Her body's response to the stress of…everything…struck her in the form of a panic attack. She's resting and she's fine. You don't have to worry about her having a physical illness. I gave her some tea to help her rest and a list of breathing exercises. Resources are low, but I'm working on it."

"But…Michonne…" Rick frowned. "She's so strong."

"She still is, but elements of our lives now are overwhelming. There's a tradition of thought that black women are strong and fierce and can handle anything, but although we do, that mode of thinking is hazardous when we, meaning black women, try to live up to this ideal and don't pause when we should. All of us process things in different ways and sometimes, we delay that and push our emotions down into a pit. I'm sure you're familiar with the term PTSD."

Rick nodded. The memory of Lori's death and his reaction came to mind. He saw her everywhere. For awhile, he wondered if being with her wasn't the answer. Then Michonne arrived. Eventually, he realized he had a life after Lori. Before the outbreak, life's biggest concerns were manageable although at times they seemed looming. Now, becoming too comfortable was dangerous.

"You can go in." Dawn touched Rick's arm. "She's okay. Really, she is." She went to Carl. "Let your dad see her first and then it's your turn. She's a little concerned that she worried you."

"No," Carl said, shaking his head. "No, I'm okay."

"I told her, but it'll mean more coming from you." Dawn headed toward the door. "Come and get me if you need anything. Anytime. Okay?"

Rick nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

He didn't see her leave because in the next breath, he was in the room with Michonne. His back rested on the closed door for a second before he took large steps to her side. She opened her eyes when he reached her.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked, covering her hands with his left hand and reaching to cup her face with his right. "Don't be. Just don't be sorry."

"I don't know what to say. I should be able to handle this by now—"

"Why?" he asked. "We never talk about all this. We go outside and we smell death. For months from the prison to here, we marched through it. We ate dogs to stay alive, Michonne. I bit a man's throat to save my family. We've been through hell. Hell, we survived a tornado! Handle what? Life isn't supposed to be like this—"

"But it is," she said, her dark eyes bright and clear. "It is and I can't give in to the luxury of letting it get to me."

"Who says?" he asked. "I haven't made you feel like…"

"No, no." She shook her head. "Not you. No, Rick. It's just…"

"We're here. And it looks like the old days. A subdivision. Jobs. A diner. A pantry. You're in uniform. It just feels so…so surreal. We've been fighting for survival for so long…every day is one thing after another, and then today, we're at a cookout. An old-fashioned, outdoor cookout with our friends and I didn't know that it felt wrong until I started to feel closed in." She squeezed his hand. "Is Carl okay? What about Judith? I can't remember what happened."

"They're fine." He bent forward and kissed her forehead. "Everyone is. Dawn said something about tea."

"Yeah, herbs from her garden. Not too bad. Maybe you should have a cup, too."

Rick laughed. "Maybe we all should. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Better now that I know. I'm sorry I worried you," she said. "And I've taken over your bed."

"It's yours."

"Ours?" she stated quietly.

Rick stared. "Are you sure?"

She nodded.

[Author's note: Thank you all for your patience. I wasn't sure about continuing this story, but the feedback and taking a step from it helped me gain renewed interest and focus. Reviews and comments are appreciated and definitely, most definitely your patience. More is coming. Thanks again!]