The Walking Dead - Dixon Bloodfall (A Walking Dead ff)

Chapter 13 - Guilty Thoughts

The night soon took hold of the world, and Merle had long since retreated to his cell, since he was still disallowed from Quinn’s company under the strict rest only order Hershel had given her. The others went about their daily business, but Daryl was quick to finish his personal chores.

“Rick.” He appears besides the leader, unintentionally shocking him out of a trance. Rick admits a soft smile, allowing himself a moment of embarrassment, before turning to his comrade. “I got somethin’ t’ say.”

“Go on.” The smile fades almost instantly. Daryl was his most trusted ally since Shane left, aside from Hershel and Glenn. He knew the arrival of his brother had put him in a tight spot, one of emotional distress.

“I know ‘yer worried ‘bout Merle stayin’, but, you don’t have to be. He won’t do nothin’ while he’s here.” His voice comes out as a sigh, relieved almost.

“Because of the girl?”

“I never seen him like this, maybe once when I was a kid ‘er somethin’. He, he cares ‘bout that little girl. A lot. S’ long as she’s okay, he won’t do nothin’.”

Rick nods at his friend, pleased with the information. Something isn’t right, however. Daryl’s delivery is off, less enthusiastic than it should be. Extending a concerned glance, Rick decides to prod a bit further. “You alright with that?”

Daryl looks at him for a moment, then turns away. Despite the trust these two men shared, a lifetime of repressed emotions barred the younger Dixon from successfully expressing his feelings. If he could, he’d say he was hurt. Jealous, even. Merle honestly thought he was replaced, and yet it was he who had replaced Daryl. Without a word, he nods, and recedes to his cell, the furthest one away from the others.

“Hey there.” A voice comes from Quinn’s cell doorway, quiet and weak in it’s own respect. There wasn’t a window to be sure, but she figured it must’ve been way too late for any visitor. Not that there was a soul in here she thought would actually want to talk to her. With an audible grunt of effort, she rolls over the cot and peers from beneath the thin sheets at the intruder on her bed ridden privacy. What she can make out through the darkness is a face she hadn’t seen before, just as pale as her, and perhaps even more sickly. “I heard we had a new visitor.”

“Wish I was here - “ She stiffens as her abdomen shoots out an pain; an alarm of sorts, that she shouldn’t be moving. “Under better circumstances.”

“Don’t we all.” The woman laughs. Her voice is soft and sweet, despite it’s obvious frailty. She walks further into the cell and leans up against the opposite wall. “I’m Lori. S’ nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you’re Carl’s mom!” Quinn’s voice takes on a new life. Through the pain she sits up, smiling eagerly at the woman. The conversation went fluidly from there, bouncing from introductions to swapped stories, peppered with amusing jokes and desires for the old days, though Quinn had found herself forgetting more and more of what life used to be like. This woman was kind, motherly, and despite her weakened condition, very strong. Of course she was the tepid mate of the leader, it ebbed from her so strongly.

It was only when she questioned Quinn of her wound did that strength seem to falter.

“Shane did this to you?” Her voice held an exasperated tone of disbelief, as if Quinn had personally insulted her. Taken back by the sudden turn, Quinn stares back. Her hand tenderly touches the patch on her stomach, hidden beneath her shirt.

“Yeah. He did. After I stabbed him.” She trails off, noticing the peculiar look in the woman’s eyes. This information seems to fall on unwilling ears, and Lori blinks. She shakes her head, struggling momentarily to comprehend. A few moments of this uneasiness go by, before Quinn asks - “Did you know him?”

“Thought I did.” Lori answers softly, running a hand through her long, chocolate colored locks. “Why, can I ask?”

“He was gonna take me back. I’m never going back there.” Quinn nestles herself into her bed, clinging to the covers, her hands clumping up fist fulls. “I don’t know why Governor hates Rick so much, or Merle, or this group, but he’s a horrible man, and so’s that place.”

“It’s alright, honey.” She affirms several moments later. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, hun. If you’re up for it.” The two share a nod, and Lori leaves her cell.

Quinn wants nothing more than Merle at her side, protecting her again, but knows that’s not possible. It comes on just as sudden as her longing for her caretaker, but she feels heat rise in her cheeks, and her eyes blurry with tears. What she wouldn’t give for a good cry right now. She felt trapped, more so here than she had ever felt in Woodbury, but she couldn’t cry. It just wasn’t happening. There was no release, no way to relinquish those thoughts, those feelings, and so she’d remain restless and unhappy for most of the night, until bad thoughts faded into the ebony embrace of sleep.