𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥《 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯 》

f o u r// T A Y L O R

"Daryl!" Carol's voice called from the distance.
He had ended up falling asleep whilst on watch the night prior. Having the silence up in the guard tower disturbed, he sat up worried at what had caused the scream.
His hands connected with the rusty, cold metal of the fence that surrounded the slim balcony of the tower as his eyes searched for the woman.
Finally, he found her. She stood with a beaming smile, one of her hands shielded her eyes from the direct sunlight while the other pointed towards the gates.
His eyes shifted to it; he had almost forgot-- that five-seat black car approached the prison. He shot an unconscious smile and flew down those icky stairs.
He approached the car in a rushed walk with that same growing smile when he saw the owner of the sweetest smile he had ever seen shut the driver's door.
"Did you miss me?" Smith's voice sounded, going up to a higher pitch on the 'me' part as she was pulled from the floor by Daryl's strong arms.
He put her down, letting out a grunt as she wasn't as light as he anticipated. "Mm, not really."
"Mm, I'll take that." She smiled jokingly and he laced an arm around her shoulders, walking up to the entrance of block C. 
"So?" He questioned as they walked. "How did it go?"
She looked away for a second. "Didn't find him... as expected."
"And Michonne?"
"I tried. She seemed to understand but I don't know if she agreed with me just to shut me up or  'cause she actually understood." She paused as Daryl hummed. "She mentioned Macon. That's where I had to stop and tell her but... I don't know. When she gets something in her head..."
"Yeah, I know."
"Reminds me of someone I know." She smirked and eyes him from the corner of her eye.
"Pfft. Sure."
"I'm serious, though. You two are very alike." She paused, seeing how he looked confused at that. "You two put something in your head, you don't stop 'til you get it done."
Daryl mumbled an 'I don't know'.
"It's true."
"Maybe." He paused, unlacing his arm as they got to the destination. "But we differ in somethin'."
"What?"
"Maybe-- if The Governor had done to you the same shit he did to Andrea-- maybe I'd feel the same way as her." He paused. "Unless you tried to stop me."
Her smirk dropped and her eyebrows twitched. He immediatly regretted it. What was he thinking? But then, the smile he missed so creeped on her lips. Genuine and loving.
"That's good to know."
He looked down after forcing a pursed lip smile at how embarrassed he was. He could feel his face getting hotter and it was a good thing his hair kept growing at a fast rate to hide it.
"Hey, what's that?" She asked, pointing behind himself with her eyebrows furrowed.
"Oh, that's something we built." He informed after looking behind. "Carol thought it'd be a good idea to have the people eat outside. Bring back some sort of feeling, she said."
"You built that in a week? Wow."
"S'a week."
"Exactly. I couldn't build that in a month."
He scoffed. "The people helped, wasn't jus' me."
"Still. Wow."
He smiled to himself. Having her say that was almost like having someone say they were proud of him. He had never heard that before in his whole life.
Suddenly, Smith was pushed back a bit by a force. A boy. A boy in a sheriff hat locked arms around her body. She chuckled a little after the scare passed.
"Hello to you too, farmer boy." She patted his head through the hat. "How was another week without me?"
"S'just weird not having ya around." Daryl spoke after the Grimes kid not having answered her question.
"What Daryl said." The boy's voice came out muffled through her clothes.
She shook her head and smiled.
"Well, I'm not planning on going out any time soon, so you can take a deep breath and... maybe not deprive of oxygen." She said, exaggerating the tone as she forced a strained and breathless voice.
The boy let his arms go and she took a look at him, her right hand brushing the hair that hung in front of his face aside and she spoke.
"There's something for you in the car." His eyes lit up to her and the smirk won its place back on her lips. "Go."

Two days went by. First thing Smith did after her and Michonne got back to the prison was lie on the thin mattress of her cell. It felt cool on her skin as she lied with sore muscles and aching bones. It made her fall asleep as if she hadn't slept in four days.
The ambience inside the fences was calming, in a refreshing but concerning way. It was wonderful to feel at peace after so long of constant worry but then again... it couldn't be ignored that living in a world of dystopia, death and loss, there was no space for calmness. 
The Law of Murphy. Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
It had to be acknowledged-- The way Smith and the founder group of the prison felt was more than valid. It was post-traumatic stress and it wasn't going away too soon. 
They had been fighting to keep alive, to keep breathing every single day, non stop. Depriving themselves of basic survival needs like food, water and sleep-- living in horrible conditions  just to be sure they'd still be around the next day.
Constant stress.