Chapter Text
They debate how they want to continue expanding, and eventually settle on the next trench digging expedition being Interstate 66 from where it intersects 81 all the way to the Potomac, where it runs just North of Kingdom. That would create a very large northern protection barrier for all of the communities.
Afterwards, they’d hand 81 from 64 to 66, creating a huge border of protection from the north or west. And an absolutely massive grid to start clearing while they dug out 64 all the way to Virginia beach.
It was huge and excessive, and it’d be a ton of work, but it’d be worth it, eventually, and they’d all decided it was better to do the extra effort to make the huge box now than to keep making tiny boxes with their communities dead center in them. With this approach, they only had to build 3 trenches, as the ocean and river took care of the fourth, and it gave them a huge start for if they decided to expand to cover the rest of Richmond or Washington.
Clearing such a large area would take a long time, but it’d mean protection and a way to easily spot trouble, given any dead within would raise a huge red flag.
As they expanded, they also ran into other groups. Many bad, but a few good ones that gratefully accepted an alliance with them and continued to grow their population. They had trouble, on occasion, but they’d grown and developed into something strong enough to scare or intimidate others into backing off.
Daryl had been through a lot in the last few weeks, trying to help this kid and his Aunt across an unfamiliar country with a crazy group trying to kill them.
They’d finally made it to the Nest, and Daryl had finally made it to a boat that could take him home, but of course there was the kid. And he couldn’t just leave him there, surrounded by walkers.
Once they’re safe, he turns the kid.
“What the hell?” he asks, shaking his head. “What if you hadn’t caught up to me? What if I hadn’t heard you?”
“I knew you would,” Laurent answers, always so faithful.
“Right,” Daryl says, sighing.
“Please stay,” Laurent says then, and Daryl can’t help the way his heart clenches at that.
“I know you need me, I do,” Daryl tells him. “I’ve got others that need me, too. Other kids.”
“I thought you didn’t have kids?” Laurent asks.
“You asked if I had a wife and kids,” Daryl says. “My kids are adopted.”
“Oh,” Laurent says, thinking. “You miss them.”
“Yeah, I do,” Daryl says. “Phoebe, she’s younger than you and an absolute terror but I love her and I’m the only one she really listens to. Lydia, she’s nearly 18, but she had a really rough start in all of this. And I think her boyfriend might take the opportunity to propose while I’m gone and can’t threaten him,” Daryl explains.
“I see,” Laurent says, looking sad.
“There’s one other person,” Daryl says, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how you might react to it, so you’ve got to promise that you’ll let me take you home, even if you hate me after, okay?”
“I won’t hate you,” Laurent says, as if the idea is incomprehensible to him. “But I promise, anyway.”
“I don’t have a wife,” Daryl tells him. “But I do have a husband.”
“Oh,” Laurent says. “But you’re a man.”
“I am.”
“And you are married to another man?”
“Yes.”
“But you cannot produce children this way, which is the purpose of marriage, correct?”
“We can’t have children, that’s true. But we can adopt. And marriage is about more than just producing children. It’s about partnership and companionship,” Daryl explains.
“I did not learn this,” Laurent says, looking confused.
“Yeah, I didn’t think you would have,” Daryl nods. “It’s often considered wrong by religious people.”
“Oh,” Laurent says. “Why?”
“In the world before, people just came up with all kinds of reasons to not like or respect other people. The world had so many, that some felt the need to think of themselves as better, because of certain characteristics. Like race, or gender, or sexuality.”
“Oh,” Laurent says again.
“C’mon, let’s get you back,” Daryl says then, leading them back.
“What is your husbands name?” Laurent asks, a few minutes later.
“Paul,” Daryl tells him, “but nobody call him that.”
“What do they call him?” Laurent asks, curiously.
“Jesus,” Daryl answers, and Laurent’s eyes light up, making Daryl grin.
“Do you also have a nickname?” Laurent asks.
“I do,” Daryl nods. “When I met Jesus, I saved him from walkers. He called me his Guardian Angel. The name’s stuck ever since.”
“Angel,” Laurent says, nodding. “Yes, it suits you.”