Here We Are, Come Join Us (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 10

Allison was still sitting beside the pump, cooling off, when she heard a voice behind her. She'd been lost in thought, considering returning to her tent for a belt or two and perhaps sneaking some in for Daryl, in order to help him rest. But she knew that Mr. Hershel didn't allow liquor in his house and she really didn't want to risk getting the whole group kicked off of his farm.

"Allison?" Dale's spoke her name softly, questioningly. She wheeled around in surprise and he visibly blanched, as if he was afraid of her. Well, she had given him quite a dressing-down earlier, so his reaction wasn't entirely without reason.

"Yes?" she replied without much enthusiasm.

"I wanted to apologize for my remarks earlier," he said. "Andrea was so distraught, I was just looking for any words that might comfort her...but you're right, I shouldn't have done so at the expense of minimizing Daryl's injury or his value to the group."

Allison considered his apology and briefly wondered if Dale was truly sorry for his words, or simply sorry that she'd overheard him uttering them. He seemed a bit uncomfortable at her silence and hesitantly continued.

"You're right, we're all so careful with our words when it comes to minority groups and such....even people in wheelchairs aren't 'handicapped' anymore, they're 'differently-abled'....but yet we feel free to mock a hard-working underclass of people just because they live a different lifestyle than we're accustomed to," he finished awkwardly.

Oh, Lord, she inwardly moaned, I'd better put him out of his misery before he wants to join hands and sing "Kumbayah". "S'OK, Dale, we're good. I know now that you didn't really mean anything by it." She gave him a small smile to convince him that she held no animosity. "I'd better go back and check on our patient." Dale fell into step beside her as she walked to the house.

"I hear that Carol and Lori are helping to cook a big dinner in the kitchen for everyone to share tonight," he said conversationally. "Our way of thanking Hershel and his family for letting us stay."

If using up Hershel's food and his hot water to wash all those dishes afterward is any kind of "thank you", Allison thought to herself wryly. Out loud she simply commented "That sounds nice."

Once inside she opened the door to the bedroom a small crack and peeked inside to make sure he wasn't sound asleep. Seeing him fidget uncomfortably she called out "Knock-knock, you decent?"

"Can't remember anyone ever describin' me as 'decent', but come on in," he replied.

She placed her hand on his forehead and announced "No fever, which is good. And surprising, considering you had an open puncture wound in that swampy water."

She sat down in the chair beside his bed and dug into her bag for her stethoscope.

"Wasn't no swamp, it was a river. Running water is clean water."

"Running water or not, the fish still use it as their toilet," she replied, placing the tips in her ears and reaching for his chest. "Put your arm around my shoulder and sit up with me, please. Deep breath." She listened to his lungs at several different points on his chest and then on his back.

"Everything sounds clear," she commented, putting the stethoscope back in her bag. "How do you feel? Have you been coughing at all? Are you able to take deep breaths without any sharp or stabbing pains?"

"No, yes, I'm fine," he said dismissively, as she eased him back into a prone position.

"I'm serious; now is not the time to be a hero – if you're feeling any sort of chest pain I need to know about it."

"Told ya, I'm fine!" He growled.

She untaped part of the bandage on his torso and peeked at his wound. She noticed one stitch was broken and that the injury was bleeding slightly.