Lost ; Daryl Dixon

Chapter 31

It was more luck than judgement that it was starting to get light out when you stormed out of the house with your pack on your shoulder, your pistol clenched in your fist in case either Rick or Daryl should try to stop you. You were lost in a haze of fury, having caught the end of their hushed conversation in the kitchen, and you weren't above using violent threats to get yourself out of there if needed. Rays of early morning sunlight were just cresting the fence as you approached the gate, debating with yourself for a moment whether to take a car, before deciding it was better to walk. Part of you knew that the time alone and long hike would do you good, giving you time to think and breathe, and part of you just didn't want to risk the humiliation of them turning down your request to take a vehicle. After all, you weren't one of them anymore, or so it seemed.

You kept up a quick pace, relishing the ache in your muscles that came from the physical exertion, though your joints were still hurting from last night's battle. It all felt eerily surreal in the harsh light of day, as if it had all been some kind of freakish nightmare, though you could feel the bruises on your neck from Helena's harsh grip, and you'd had to stop to patch up your wounds, the cut on your back and graze on your arm, which had begun to sting as your sweat trickled into them. What bothered you more than the pain though, was the image in your head of Daryl with his rifle raised, nodding in satisfaction after gunning down a group of people offering their surrender. You hadn't recognised him in that moment, had seen no trace at all of the man you loved, and it seemed he felt the same about you. That's what he'd said, wasn't it? That he didn't know you anymore. It hurt, God, it hurt so bad, but you couldn't dwell on it. You just had to keep moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, determined to make it to the Hilltop before nightfall.

In actual fact, you made good time, having managed to skirt round the few lonely roamers that had stumbled into your path, and it was late afternoon when you arrived. You declared yourself at the gate, seeing recognition flash across the face of the guard, and were granted access without too much of a fuss, making you feel accepted for the first time in forever.

Your relief slipped away as you saw Maggie approaching, lifting your arm to wave to her, and receiving a hard glare in return. Jesus was at her side, smiling softly at you, and reaching out to embrace you while your best friend kept her distance.

'Y/N, I'm glad you came.'

'Thank you, Jesus. I had to get out.'

'Well, you're very welcome. Isn't that right, Maggie?' He turned to the woman at his side, nudging her forward but she didn't open her arms to receive you as you might have expected.

'Y/N,' she greeted you with a small nod. 'How are you?'

'Tired,' you admitted. 'There was an attack last night.'

Her eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping open in dismay, and you hurried to reassure her. 'We lost a few, but it was mostly just injuries, I think.'

'You think?'

'Well, I left at first light,' you explained, but her icy stare had returned. 'Mags, is it okay that I'm here? I can go...'

'No,' she sighed. 'No, I don't want you to leave. C'mon, let's go and get you something to eat.'

She nodded towards Barrington House, and you fell into step beside her as she made her way up the track, leaving Jesus behind, staying back to give you girls the space you needed to catch up.