"Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude." Hannibal
"You gonna check his ID?"
Ellen raised a brow, her eyes scanning the control panel. "Why would I do that?"
Daryl frowned, watching the woman curiously examine the buttons, running her hand across their slick surface. "I dunno. Guess it's just something you used to do."
"Yeah, I used to wear diapers too."
Ellen noted the silence in the small room after a minute, and looked up from the dashboard. She turned to find Daryl frowning as he looked out the grimy window.
The duo had discarded some of their attire in the journey to scour the interior of the flight deck and recover a black box from the wreckage. They left the grieving woman back on the bank, still reeling from losing her brother and friend on the same day.
The pair had to swim under the water, where there was enough of a gap to slip through to get up into the belly of the cockpit. The slick floor was slanted at a haphazard angle, and they were careful to latch onto the remaining, intact seats to move around the cramped interior.
Cracks from the impact of the fall allowed beams of golden sunlight to filter into the space, shedding a light on some of the otherworldly, decaying pieces of equipment.
With a sigh, Ellen moved to the skeleton on the ground, burying a fist in the captain's pockets.
Her fingers fished around for a minute, before she came back up with a damp wallet. Ellen curled her lip and waved the wallet free of tiny beetles, watching as they scattered, before perusing through its weathered contents.
She pulled the ID card out, the only thing still laminated in plastic.
"Heh, the irony. Dennis Robinson. Homeboy was an organ donor."
Daryl watched Ellen as she sifted around the room, narrowing her eyes as she searched for the flight records.
"That how you honor the dead?"
"The dead don't need honor where they're going. They just need pyramids and a couple cats."
"Thought you--"
"Man, what is it with you? Living in the past all the sudden? Look, I don't remember what my brother looked like. I can't hear his voice in my head when I think about him anymore. It's been so long. It doesn't fucking matter, okay?"
"I met somebody when you were gone."
"Good for you," the woman exclaimed, splashing around before she looked up at him. "No seriously."
"Her name was Leah."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I dunno, because that's what people that were together do. They talk about things."
"Oh, okay." Was all she said.
Daryl eyed the woman's scarred flesh on her back. He watched the way her skin rippled as she picked pieces of equipment up and set them back down.
"Dog was hers."
"Did she have a nice chest?"
"You're impossible," Daryl said with an eye roll.
"Sorry, I meant to say 'good heart'."
"No you didn't."
Ellen shrugged. "This is me talking about things."
YOU ARE READING
Outcast (A TWD Fanfiction)
Horror(DarylxOCxNegan) A medium prior to the apocalypse, aggressive outsider Eleanor has always had an abnormal connection with the dead. But in this new world, Ellen is forced to rely on her survival skills and nerve to withstand another monster entirely...
