Penance (Book One): Daryl Dixon x Sage Wilson

~chapter 4~

The next couple of days were filled with farm labor, full stomachs, hot meals, good sleep, and genuine smiles. Carl was slowly healing. We have gotten to know the Greene family so we'll over the last couple of days, it almost seemed as if our worries washed away.

     Maggie was a head on stubborn type of girl, a go getter if you will. She was constantly keeping her eye on the prize- and that seemed to be Glenn at the moment. Beth was shy and silent but she tried to make her rounds when it came to greeting people. Hershel and I talked a bit with Otis about farm life and life before this shit hole. Shane and Lori kept congregating in weird spaces, Rick was focusing on Carl, and everyone else was off doing their own business. There was already too many people to keep track of, and I didn't have time to care.

Every night Daryl and I shared a bed I lost a portion my mind and sanity. Even if we were segregated to the very edges as if we were two magnets repelling, I couldn't get his snoring to ever quiet down the least bit. Even if I were to slap him on the shoulder, he would just turn and tell me to fuck off. What a gentleman.

Life just seems surreal. I even saw Carol smile a bit- I knew Daryl tried going to her and soothe her worry with the fact Sophia would be found. Carl asked Daryl and I everyday if him and Sophia would ever be able to visit Grand Coulee Dam. But I couldn't garuntee anything to either of them.

Just like in the real world- once a child goes missing for an allotted amount of time, they consider the child as good as gone. Unfortunate, but true. But then again. I still held my hopes for Ava every single day, just hoping she would meet her big brown eyes with my green ones again. So I could feel her slowly growing taller as I embrace her each morning. She was like my adopted daughter who happened to be my sister; and I missed her more than anything. Day by day, I felt as if I was failing her more and more. But I knew she wouldn't want me to think in such a pessimistic way, with her being the optimist she was- is.

"Hey, you comin'?" I look up from the splintered wooden porch steps to see Daryl looming over me. I flick a now dead cigarette from my hand onto the step, standing up and snuffing it out. Thanks to Daryl, I started to pick up my smoking habits once again- it helped me cope with the stressors in this world. We were all as good as dead so why did healthy lungs matter when we no longer have doctors feeling up our assholes and vaginas?

"Yep, I am." I sigh, stretching out my arms and looking out into the wooded clearing. "We going back in there today?" Daryl looks at me, biting his lip; a habit I've seen him do since I've met him.

"We gotta. She's close by here, she has to be." He grunts, heading down the steps as I follow suit.

"Daryl, small foot prints don't mean anything-"

"The hell you know?!" Daryl turns to me, swinging his arm out and leaning into my face with cigarettes wafting from his breath.

     "Daryl, it logically doesn't make sense. The trail is cold! Sophia is probably..." I sigh, my breath rising to the air. Daryl gets closer, his rage radiating off of his face.

I turn my head to the side, trying not to go bat shit on the man. Especially in front of everyone; we needed to look civilized, not insane. Within moments, I see a familiar thin figure with a burgundy red shirt and pants running towards us.

"Hey, Carol.." I smile as I see her approach us, her arms crossing across her chest. She looks out into the clearing then to use, Daryl shaking his stance off but not keeping his eyes off of me.

"I just wanted to say thank you..." she looks to me and smiles, putting her motherly and nurturing grasp on my arm. "It means a lot. Without you guys, I would be sick with worry. I really do appreciate it." She gives me a straight smile and puts a hand on Daryl's arm, turning around and slowly walking away. Her soft mannerisms told me everything I needed to know- she was in acceptance she was gone. Sad, but acceptance. But once she actually saw the physical version of her mutated daughter, that denial would hit even harder.

"Come on, I don't have all day to pick daisies." I walk ahead of Daryl, slightly pissed off at his snappiness lately. He's been taking this Sophia ordeal seriously; he truly either felt she was alive and has a chance, or he felt guilt and wanted to prove himself wrong. A part of me felt he had a responsibility he assigned himself. And maybe that stemmed back to his child hood, but who the hell would know.

—————

"Do you have any sort of idea or lead?" I kneel down as my knees crack, trying to see if fresh small foot prints were available since we just had a rainfall.

"All I know is that it has to be somewhere north in the woods. Her footprints ended west pointing towards north." He briefly says as he looks over an edge. "Hey, Wilson." He says my name as if he saw a ghost.

I stand up, joining him by his side. We both reeked of sweat and exhaustion. Within seconds, he was crawling down the slippery bank, towards the water. The water where a doll was floating, precisely Sophia's.

"Holy shit," I murmur as I crouch and slide my way down the bank trying to use the branches sticking out of the ground to my advantage. I look to Daryl who is now reaching towards the water with a branch, bringing the doll in. My foot slides as I attempt to go down more, making me hesitant. Instead, I decide to go to a crooked stump and reach out my hand as Daryl walks back to the slope.

"Get up as far as you can and I'll hoist you up, I have enough grip here." Daryl readjusts the weighted backpack and crossbow on his back, and leans over the slope trying to grab at any possible surface.

I look up as rain pelts my face. My hands felt like they were so cold to the point of falling off.

"Give me your bow, I can use that as leverage." I reach out and point to his back, and he shakes his head at me.

"Nah, I got it!" He says almost a little too frustrated.

Suddenly, something in the mud catches my eye. It almost seemed to be slightly moving- and it wasn't water. How the hell do walkers get buried in feet of mud?

"Daryl, don't. Move." My eyes open wide and point to the wiggling mirage that is slowly emerging from the surface of the earth.

He looks behind him then to me. "I can stick 'em with my knife." I nod to him, trying to be as silent as possible. The walker was still slightly dormant and if we make it quick we should be at little to no risk.

Daryl reaches into his back pocket for his knife, and my chest grows tight. The walker smelled us out now. The high pitched crackling groans sound from the ground, but now it was in several directions- not just one.

"Shit! Daryl, hurry- there's more." I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my knife as backup.

Daryl reaches for the walker but as he does so, his foot slides down and in the moment, I grab onto his hand which was placed on the thick branch. I look over to the snapping walker next to me, my footing slowly slipping from its grip. My hand was still accesible to my pocket, so there were limited options.

"Sage, what the hell are you doing!" Daryl exclaims, trying to kick up onto the slope.

"Not to die, Asshole." I strain and let out a painful whimper as I could feel my arm socket pull too hard. I look to Daryl. It was now or never. I take the knife, losing all balance I had, and stab the walker in the head. I wasn't about to go out by getting bit.

Within moments, Daryl and I both plummeted down into the bank. My body flips slide ways, as I try to grasp at anything possible. A burning and sharp sensation travels through the side of my abdomen, feeling the ache of something sharp inside of me. I feel a warm sensation travel down my skin, and I couldn't seem to register the pain fully.

Then everything was black.