Lost ; Daryl Dixon

Chapter 25

Alexandria felt quiet. You'd arrived back late that afternoon after a few days of hard hiking to a subdued greeting. There were too many faces missing for you to feel comfortable: Maggie was leading the Hilltop, Carol had made her move to the Kingdom permanent, and Carl... You wondered if you would ever stop expecting to see him around every corner, his cowboy hat tilted on his long wavy hair, his crooked grin so like his father's and his eyes completely Lori. His loss hit you even harder now that you were here to see his absence, and you felt sick with grief.

Rick had assigned you a house, right at the back of the settlement, just for you and Daryl, appreciating that you would need your space after everything you'd been through, and knowing the archer's fears of losing control and hurting someone. You'd joined him and Michonne for dinner, but you hadn't known what to say to either of them. They were trying to make the best of things, to keep going and enjoy the peace that currently reigned, but you could see the pain in their faces.

'I'm so sorry, guys,' you'd offered when silence fell around the table. 'I know that sounds so... incredibly lame, but I don't know what else to say. I loved Carl. He was one of my best friends here, and now that he's gone I just... I'm sorry.'

Michonne had nodded solemnly, reaching over to squeeze your hand. Rick's expression had glazed over and he'd drifted off somewhere else in his head for a while, obviously a coping mechanism though you weren't sure it was an overly healthy one. You wondered if he'd ever let himself grieve properly for his son.

Judith was murmuring away at the head of the table and you grinned at her, leaning forward to stroke a finger down her chubby cheek, before tangling it into her curls. 'Guess you're our future now, aren't you, princess?'

'Lil' asskicker's gonna give this world hell in a few years, y'all just wait,' Daryl added, winking at the child and eliciting a giggle from her rosebud lips. 'She's a Grimes through 'n' through. She gon' be runnin' things in no time.'

You smiled at the image now as you sat on the top step leading up to your porch. It was late and darkness had fallen, the sky pinpricked with stars, as you tilted your head back to peer up at them, marvelling at the beauty of the view. The rest of the neighbourhood seemed to be sleeping, and you wished you were too, but you'd found your roles reversed. For the first time, Daryl had drifted off straight away, soft snores rumbling through his chest as soon as his head hit the pillow, but you were wide awake. You'd laid there for an hour or two before slipping outside and slumping down on the worn wooden boards. You were so happy to be home, relieved to be back amongst familiar faces, and with the security of the fences, and yet you couldn't settle. Something just felt wrong.

*****

'Are you seriously that stupid?' At the confrontational edge to Rosita's tone, you felt yourself bristling, and reached out to snag Daryl's wrist, holding him back to try and keep him out of the argument that you could tell was coming. You'd come out on this supply run with Denise at her request, and you'd watched Rosita and the archer sideline the doctor all day. You'd found yourself impressed with her. It was obvious that she hadn't been outside of the fences all that much since the dead started walking, and yet she was smart, resourceful and determined, and you'd felt yourself growing angry on her behalf, though you knew that at this stage she was taking risks to prove a point. You wished that you'd spoken up earlier, even if it was just a quiet word in Daryl's ear, but it was too late now. You weren't sure he would have listened anyway. He didn't seem all that keen on you being there at all.

'Are you?' came Denise's sharp retort. 'I mean it, are you? Do you have any clue what that was to me, what this whole thing is to me? See, I have training in this shit. I'm not making it up as I go along, like with the stitches and the surgery and the...'