Well, this is it, kiddies. The last chapter in Black Cat Bone. But don't worry, I have one last story in this series! It's called John the Conqueror Root and I'll post it tomorrow night! So, don't cry, this is not the end yet!

To everyone, I mean everyone, I just want to say thanks. You're all the reason this story keeps going. If it wasn't for your reviews and support, I would have never gotten this far! So, thank you!

Chapter 53: Erzulie II

**Carol**

When Carol opened her eyes again the sky outside the infirmary window was dark and Daryl was dozing in the chair beside her.

She felt sick to her stomach and tried to get up to be sick, but couldn't in time and coughed over the edge of the bed.

Daryl was at her side instantly. "Are you alright?"

"Just dizzy and sick," she said.

Milton came over from his bed two down and knelt to help Daryl clean up the mess she made.

Embarrassed, she apologized to them, but neither man was put out.

"How long was I out for?" She asked, finally managing to get herself propped up with her good arm adjusting her pillow behind her.

"All day," Daryl said.

"How are you feeling, Carol?" Milton asked calmly.

"Like my stitches are coming loose, figuratively," she added the last part before he panicked over her real stitches.

Leaning over, she was sick again, this time into a bedpan Daryl handed her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again.

"It must be the concussion," Milton assured her. "Try not to move so much."

"It's not me that's moving, it's the walls," she whispered, closing her eyes tight.

Even with them closed tight, she had that feeling of vertigo, like she was in the hold of a swaying ship.

"I'll go get that air force surgeon," Daryl said. "He might know if there's something to do. Where'd they say he was bunking?"

Milton blinked rapidly. "Uh…the garden shed, I think."

Chancing to look about her after a few minutes, Carol spied Milton still beside her bed, sitting on the one next to it and watching her quietly.

"Sorry," she said.

He shrugged. "Vomit doesn't bother me."

Adele peeked out from her curtain and opened it a little. "Are you okay, Carol?"

Slowly so as not to set off her dizzy spell, Carol turned to face the young woman.

"Do you remember me?" Adele asked. "From the camp?"

"Of course, I'm glad to see you're okay." She motioned to Milton. "This is Milton Mamet. Milton, this is Adele Deveau."

"I, uh," Milton flushed bright red and scuffed his slippered foot on the floor. "We've not really met, but…I was there when you had your baby." He said.

Adele's eyes sparkled a little in the dim light of Carol's overhead lamp. "Oh, did you see everything, Mr. Mamet? I'm sorry if it shocked you."

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to see everything," he said, still unable to look the young woman in the eyes. "Very impersonal."

"Don't tell me you've never looked at a woman's vagina that closely before," the sharp featured man said coming to stand beside Milton on Carol's left.

Milton flushed and moved back to his own bed, throwing out the paper he used to soak up Carol's vomit into a trashbin almost nervously.

Easing onto Carol's bedside, the younger man eyed her quietly for a moment. "Daryl tells me you're feeling dizzy and throwing up," he greeted, holding up a finger. "Follow my finger with your eyes."

"What's your name, again?" She asked, following the finger. It hurt to move her eyes, but only a little.

"St. James," he replied.

"You're a doctor?"

"I'd show you my MD, but it's hanging on the walls of some air force base in Tennessee," he said with a small grin, tilting her head back gently and looking at her pupils under the light.

"I'll take your word for it," she returned.

Removing the bandage to her forehead, he studied her wound quietly, before saying without taking his eyes from his examination. "So that man hovering behind me, is he your husband?"

"Something like that."

"Well, the institution of marriage was always a mystery to me too," St. James stated, re-bandaging her wound.

"Never been married?"

"Once," he returned standing up. "Very briefly. Like I said, a mystery. I'm just going to check your abdomen out, do you mind?"

She shook her head.

"It's just a precaution in case something was overlooked," he explained as he pulled the curtains closed and sat back down, hand moving to touch her stomach lightly. "So, tell me, Carol, your man still eyeing me with extreme malice?"

"Always," she said. "He's my bodyguard," she added with a grin.

St. James smirked darkly. "Well, despite his impressive glare, I still kind of like him."

"He must like you too," she returned. "You're still alive."

"Oh no," St. James argued lightly, "it's just the MD. Keeps me alive. That's the only reason Martin kept me in such good condition, even though several times I know he wanted me dead." He paused as his hand felt her lower stomach, just under her navel. Frowning, St. James felt again just to be sure, before saying, "how old are you, Carol?"

"Forty-four," she said.

"Are you…have you experienced menopause yet?" He went on.

She shook her head. "No. Not yet."

"So you still get your period?"

Her eyes darted to Daryl over the doctor's head and the man caught on quickly.

"It's Daryl, right?" St. James asked turning to him. "It's been a while since she ate, do you mind getting her something to eat? Could be why she's a little dizzy."

Daryl frowned, but didn't say anything, just sort of slunk away.

Once he was clear of the infirmary, St. James moved up a little closer to Carol's head on the bed.

"How long since your last period?" He asked.

"I don't know, the days have been kind of melting together…maybe a month or two?"

"Okay, just stay put," he rested a rough, warm hand on hers and patted it.

"I know what you're thinking," she cut him off before he could get up. "I can't be pregnant." She insisted. "After my daughter, the doctor said I wouldn't be able to have another child."

He sat back down and said, "well, doctors have been known to be wrong from time to time. Not saying I'm a saint or anything, but I just want to check out all angles, okay?"

Carol was left alone and waited like a prisoner awaiting their death sentence.

After a few minutes, St. James returned with a pregnancy test he got from the supply closet. She had heard him asking Milton to open the door, but was grateful that he didn't ask Milton to get the box himself.

Handing her the box, St. James eased onto the bed again and said. "We'll see what it is first. I'm not an obstetrician so I could have been feeling yesterday's meal for all I know," he tried to joke, but Carol felt weak.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. "We'll figure things out. I'll go distract your fellow long enough for you to do your thing."

"Thank you," she said.

..-~-..

..-~-..

**Merle**

"So it went well?" Mary Agnes asked.

"It went," Merle replied, sipping at the coffee she offered him. "But things have been going too smoothly for us lately. Anyone knows that means something god awful is brewing. Ain't no one as lucky as we've been."

Tsking, Mary Agnes returned to her work of mending clothes. "Pessimist," she said.

"Optimist," he snarled back.

"Did you hear the Lieutenant left?" The woman asked.

"That's old news, did you hear that girl in the infirmary is his half-sister?"

"Really?" The woman leaned in. "Did he know?" She leaned back just as quickly. "We have to stop this gossiping whenever we get together."

Merle chuckled. "You started it. Clucking like a damned hen."

They broke up their conversation by Rick entering with a box that was peeping and chirping. He looked confused, Glenn was trailing behind him with a heavy bag of something.

"What's in the box?" Merle asked.

Glenn laughed. "Se7en, that's funny."

"Shut up," Merle growled at him, sipping his coffee calmly.

"Delgado sent us back from dropping off those women and Kowalski with…chicks, said he had an arrangement with the Lieutenant."

"So? Why do you look like you just saw old Herschel naked?" Merle demanded.

"I don't know what to do with chicks."

Tsking, Mary Agnes got to her feet and approached him. "We need a warm, dry place for them until they get old enough, then we can let them loose in the yard during the day. I'm assuming that's the feed?"

"I don't know," Glenn admitted. "It's damned heavy though."

"It's probably cracked corn for the chicks. Merle," Mary Agnes said. "Tomorrow can you get some people together enough to go back to the lumber yard? We'll need to build a chicken coop. For tonight we'll rig up a space for them beside the stove here and get it nice and warm."

"What's in it for me?" Merle asked, still sipping his coffee.

"You'll have my eternal gratitude," she returned.

"Sounds shady."

"Rick?" Mary Agnes turned to the cop.

"Sure," he said.

"Now hold on, there," Merle said. "Didn't say I wouldn't, just wanted to know what's in it for ol' Merle."

"Eternal gratitude's all you're getting," she stated. "For now."

"You must have had chickens," Rick pointed out as the woman opened the box to peer inside.

She smiled broadly. "My daddy was a chicken farmer. Oh, Orpington's, good. That's a good dual breed, we can butcher off the cockerels for meat and keep the hens. Looks like…forty-eight of them, perfect."

Glenn reached into the box and pulled out a chick, beaming at it happily.

"Alright," Merle said. "Officer Friendly and I'll head out tomorrow for your damned chicken coop supplies."

"Good. We'll need another heat lamp, Mr. Mamet used ours for that baby's incubator…um, some bulbs for it, more feed if you come across any at the agro store." Mary Agnes bumped and bobbed her curvy ass across the kitchen for a pen and pad of paper to write a list on for them. "Windows, light is important, some vents for air flow, waterers and feeders. Dowling for roosts, wooden egg crates make good nests, or just get a lot of plywood and we can build our own. There used to be multi-purpose netting you could buy, we can make moveable yards for the chickens so they don't get into our garden."

As the woman rattled on, Merle exchanged a shrug with Rick, what he knew about chickens could be inscribed on the head of a pin.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when Daryl marched in, heading for the pot of noodles from dinner.

"Carol up yet?" Rick asked.

"Yep," Daryl replied. From his clipped tone, Merle took it something was eating at his baby brother and took a long swill of coffee, watching as Daryl fixed up a plate of leftovers.

"How's she doing?" Glenn asked, still playing with the chick he held.

"Fine."

"Just fine?" Merle continued the questioning.

"Shut up," his baby brother snapped.

"Trouble in paradise," Merle cooed, taunting his brother with a grin. "What's wrong? She see the size of your prick in full light?"

"Merle," Mary Agnes warned sternly. "Do you want me to heat that up for her?" She offered Daryl.

"Naw, she's not damned hungry," Daryl grumbled, marching out of the kitchen.

Downing the rest of his tepid coffee, Merle dropped his foot from the table as Mary Agnes tapped it on her way past and said, "you know, if anyone else had tried to shut me up I would have broke their front teeth off at the root."

She quirked a brow at him. "You try that with me, Mr. Dixon, and your ass will be spinning out that door. Now come on, I need some help getting some empty jars from the root cellar."

Grumbling, he followed her, only because he had nothing better to do.

..-~-..

..-~-..

**Daryl**

That sharp featured asshole was milling out by the peach tree when Daryl headed back for the infirmary and while he tried to stop him, Daryl breezed by, giving him one hard warning glare to get the hell out of his way or be knocked on his ass.

Inside, Carol was tucking something into the drawer of the bedside table when he entered, but he didn't think much of it as he pulled a tray over and set the plate on it for her.

Watching as she pecked at the pasta, he scowled.

"Not hungry anymore?" He asked.

"Not as hungry as I thought I was," she lied.

"Bullshit."

"Daryl," she argued.

"What'd that doctor say to you?" He asked. "Is it bad?"

"I don't know yet," she replied softly, fidgeting with her free hand and the fork he brought.

After a long moment of silence, she said, "Daryl, you shouldn't have let him go alone."

"What?" He snapped.

"The Lieutenant, I've been thinking and you shouldn't have let him leave alone," she clarified.

"Dumb ass wants to go, let him," Daryl growled. "Not my business what he does."

"He's falling apart," Carol objected. "Can't you see that? His father? All this fighting with no rest, his health? Those ribs of his aren't getting better. He's sliding down the road Rick went down, but…without someone there for him…" she trailed off.

"He'll be fine," Daryl said, more for his ears than hers. "I nearly lost a spleen, and I'm fine."

"He's strong physically and might rest enough to heal his ribs," she agreed, "but emotionally? You know he likes to put up a good front."

Grinding his back teeth, Daryl shrugged. "Nothing we can do about it now."

"Daryl," she began.

He scowled darkly at her and got up, storming out of the infirmary without another word.

Storming up and down the lawns in front of the infirmary, he felt the urge to punch something. Carol was lying to him, he knew it. Fay was gone, dumb ass just up and went on his own like an idiot.

The smell of a freshly lit cigarette had him looking around and he found Cash sitting at the cold, dark bonfire with Andrea who was trying to light it and Beth and Noah who were looking forward to just sitting by the fire.

"Never thought about the hobo life before," Cash was saying, inhaling his newly lit cigarette deeply.

Marching over, Daryl knelt to help Andrea, keeping his eyes on Cash. The man wasn't a real threat, but he didn't like the asshole anyways.

Andrea, with her broken leg cocked out at an odd angle in effort to kneel, thanked him and moved over to a nearby stump as Daryl took over lighting the fire.

"Look at the stars tonight," Beth said.

Nadir and his mother joined the circle then, sitting beside Cash who shifted a little bit away from them with a small frown.

"Hey, Cleetus," Cash said, "I was going to head out tomorrow to scavenge, want to come with?"

"Who said you could go anywhere?" Daryl growled.

"I'm still a prisoner?" He inquired.

"Hell, don't come back for all I care," he shot back, getting the fire lit and gently encouraging it to grow with small twigs.

"Just for that I'm not snagging you a bed," the blond man said.

"Bed?" Andrea asked.

"Thought I'd find us some better mattresses and pillows, since you all seem content to settle down here, shouldn't be a reason we should sleep on those marble slabs the nuns supplied."

"Ooh, soft beds," Beth purred, shivering visibly with joy.

"Spoiled," Daryl griped under his breath. They were struggling to find food and Cash wanted to hunt down beds and luxuries like them.

"What we really need are new clothes," Andrea said. "I've been wearing the same socks since last Wednesday. I don't roll them up at night, just stand them up beside my bed."

"You only need one anyways," Noah pointed to her cast. "Just switch off."

As everyone around him laughed, Daryl cringed, slinking off into the night, heading for the wall. Hopping up onto it, he sullenly sat there and watched the moon through the trees, listening to the crickets and the rustling of the leaves.

Carol was right. He should have gone with Fay. But she was unconscious at the time and he didn't know what was going on with her. Now she was up and keeping things from him.

God, if it was serious.

He couldn't handle that.

But Fay was out there all alone, injured, without someone to watch his back.

Sighing, he slipped down from the wall and headed back towards the infirmary.

Carol was sitting quietly in the near dark when he entered and she smiled shyly at him as he approached.

"Carol," he began, having made up his mind.

"I know," she said.

He pocketed his hands and tried to find a way to ask.

"I'm not dying," she said with a genuine smile. "I'll be here when you get back."

Leaning down, he gave her a playful kiss to the side of her neck and she giggled as his scruff tickled her.

"Go," she urged, pushing him away gently with a brighter smile. "Bring him back safe."

He inhaled the scent of her one last time, loving the soft skin of her neck against his mouth and nose.

Curling her fingers through his hair, she sighed. "I'm proud of you."

"Why?" He asked, pulling back.

"Because you're a good man."

Something in him wanted to scoff at what she said, but because it was her who said it, Daryl felt something inside him shift and he nodded. "We'll be back soon."

"I hope so." She said. "I'll miss you. Now get going, he'll put more distance between the two of you the longer you linger."

He gave her one last kiss.

..-~-..

..-~-..

**Carol**

She sat so still and silent after Daryl left, that she didn't notice St. James standing by her bed or Adele peeking out at her from behind the curtain.

It was Adele softly calling her name, that had her blinking and inhaling, coming back to life.

Quietly, she handed the test stick off to St. James, who eyed it before nodding and easing onto the bed at her side.

"So?"

Adjusting her weak, injured hand back into her lap, Carol frowned. "What are my options?"

"You've got the womb," he returned. "You know your options better than anyone. What I can do, is give you a physical first and foremost, at your age we need to be sure you're healthy enough to bear. And if you had a difficult birth before, we need to keep on top of your health."

She nodded.

"Or," he dropped almost ominously. "We can find a way to terminate..."

"No," she stated, cutting him off quickly.

"Alright," he said. "Well, for now just get some rest. I'll come back tomorrow and look you over better, then we'll set you up with a regimen of vitamins, make sure you're getting everything you need for nutrients."

She nodded again, silent.

St. James touched a reassuring hand to hers and patted it. "Don't worry, I once helped a test pilot pass a gallstone, they're basically the same thing," he joked.

She blinked at him.

"I didn't botch Adele's, did I?" He went on.

Again she blinked at him stoically.

"I'm not helping, am I?"

"No."

"I'll just...walk away then."

Long after he left, Carol sighed. She didn't want this, but she couldn't make that kind of decision without Daryl. Probably a mistake sending him out after the Lieutenant. But she didn't wish it back. She meant what she said, the Lieutenant needed someone at his back and she trusted Daryl to be the right one.

Touching her good hand to her stomach, she closed her eyes and eased back against her pillows, ignoring the spinning that came with moving her head.

She prayed they wouldn't stay away too long.

..-~-..

..-~-..

..-~-..

Surplus Imagination - You're right on all accounts.

itsi3 - I wish I could make it into a movie or series, that'd be fun I'd imagine...plus if I managed to wrangle RA to play the Lt then I'd get to work closely with him and make him say awesome things in his awesome voice.

vickih - Hopefully you'll get to see all those things! ^_^

Yazzy x - Let's hope he comes home!

Brazen Hussy - Guess what? Merle's POV is the very first chapter of the next story in this series, so...look forward to that!

Merle's Right Hand - I know you got art plans! I'm super excited to see them!

ArcheryLefty - Merle will play a bigger part in the next story, so that should make you happy! ^_^ Thanks for the review, hope to see you over in the next story!