Knife Edge [Daryl Dixon]

Chapter Twenty - Shadow of Light (1/2)

Night, the shadow of light,
And life, the shadow of death.
A.C. Swinburne

Washington, Alexandria, and the Sanctuary. Three places Bennett thought he would have no further dealings with, and yet here he was. Sitting in Washington, in Alexandria, and before Rick left to go to the Sanctuary that morning, he charged him with keeping an eye on the six folks from the prison who were sharing the house with him and Kyle. 

The armchair creaked when he shifted his weight from his left ass cheek to his right, and he clenched his teeth in readiness for the pain that shot across his stomach and down his left thigh. As always, it burned like almighty hell, coming fast, then taking its sweet time to go.

The bullet had torn through his skin, lifting a section of bone and leaving his hip flapping like a half-open tin can. All Helen and Siddiq had been able to do was fit everything back into place, stitch him up, and tell him to wait until it knitted itself back together again. 

He gripped the armrest and peered around the room as the pain receded. 

Jeez, this was a lot of beige. The room was large and airy, with cream walls and long sash windows. A stained beige couch with fancy metal feet sat on an even more stained beige carpet.

Still, after sweating through the journey north, shouting each time the nerves in his hip ground together, beige was fine by him. In fact, beige was awesome.

He pushed the heavy linen drapes aside with one finger and checked the street again.

The sky was busy. Clouds were stacking up in the distance, covering the expanse of blue with a blanket of grey, topped off with the occasional fluffy cloud. It was the kind of day that said, Hey, come on out. It'll be great, and then when you did venture out, it soaked you to your drawers.  

Safe from a drenching in his armchair, Bennett's view took him down past the front of the infirmary and across the pond. A woman was talking to the two guards on the gate. One on the ground, the other on a platform on top of the fence. With her hands in her jacket pockets and her hair tied back in a ponytail, he only recognized Sarah when she turned and walked away. 

He craned to follow her until she disappeared behind the infirmary, then he switched to the other side. To the canteen door. 

His face dropped. Still nothing. 

Why, he stewed, did Kyle have to talk to everybody he met? If Bennett could take more than ten steps without wobbling like a toddler, it would take him a maximum of five minutes to get from the house to the canteen, pick up lunch, say his thanks, and then come back. Not Kyle. When he skipped down the steps outside the house, he could be gone anything from ten minutes to an hour.  

Sagging under the sneaking suspicion that Kyle was avoiding him, Bennett sulked. 

He was willing to admit that, Come back so I can shout at you, was a hard sell, but it didn't make sitting on his lonesome any easier. Not when everyone was out there doing something. Getting on with things. He just wanted to be one of them.

Before Helen went to Oceanside, she told him to focus on the progress he had made, rather than how far he still had to go. It was good advice from a good doctor and a nice person, and Bennett he had enough sense to follow it.

He counted them off. Number one, less pain than last week. That was important. Number two, he might not be able to stand up on his own yet but once he was up, he could do some things for himself. Like pull on his pants. Like go for a shit without an entourage. You know, the little things. 

He drew a tired hand down his face. The flip side wasn't without its positives. Yes, he had been shot, but he had also been patched up and brought back to Alexandria. And even if Kyle was avoiding him, he owed him a solid. Just like Kal and Eduardo stayed by Alden's side on the journey north, no matter how much Bennett grouched, Kyle was never far away.