We arrived back at the prison an hour or so after noon.
Our walk had been quiet. Neither of us had uttered a single word, content to storm down the abandoned road in seething silence. We didn’t even enter through the back door. I don’t know if Daryl had been the one to decide or whether it had been me, but the two of us ended up before the broken gate at the front of the prison without either of us questioning it.
I drew my two knives. Daryl pulled his crossbow from his shoulder.
Without a word, we both marched up the pathway that divided the grassy field. Whenever a biter came within reaching distance, one of us dispatched of it in a primal, fevered motion. At one point, several biters came toward us at once, and I allowed myself to let go for a moment, to revel in my inherent violent nature. Two knives, five biters, and a shower of gore. The dead dropped around me in mere seconds.
Whether Daryl noticed the savagery of my knifework or not, he didn’t let on, too focused on his own march toward the gate. I returned to my place beside him, looking up the hill to see the boy, Carl, was watching us through binoculars. His voice was calling out, either for us or for his father, I couldn’t tell. My senses were clouded. Muted, almost, as if my mind were too preoccupied with sorting through my emotions to even bother interpreting stimuli.
I was given an answer a few seconds later, anyway.
Rick, Carol and Michonne appeared by the gate. In a panicked fumble, Rick unlocked the chain and pulled it free, yanking the gate to the side and allowing it to slide its entire length across. Carl quickly caught it and began sliding it back as the three adults charged out into the field.
Daryl and I were already half-way up the hill by the time they had arrived, but, I’ll admit, it was nice to have an escort the rest of the way.
Once we were back behind the gate, Daryl continued walking. His shoulders hunched and his jaw tightly clenched. He walked past the fenced walkway that lead back into the cellblock, down through the concrete courtyard between the two buildings.
Rick made a move to follow him. I reached out and grabbed the sheriff’s arm. When he turned to look at me, both confused and concerned, I shook my head.
Daryl needed a minute alone.
Rick furrowed his brows, turning his body to face me, though his gaze no longer held contempt or suspicion. “What happened?” he simply asked, his voice low, grave, as if he already knew.
I couldn’t hold eye contact, knowing how unchecked I’d allowed my emotions to grow. My gaze dropped to the floor as I shook my head, biting back against the anger and grief and whatever the hell else that feeling was, gnawing at my chest.
Rick seemed to understand, however. In an odd show of compassion, he placed his hand on the small of my back. It was gentle and warm and incredibly unexpected. But I didn’t move away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I know you were close.”
I took a deep breath, looking up to the sky for a moment before meeting his gaze evenly, my emotions finally put in their usual place at the back of my mind.
He looked down at me with those crystalline blue eyes of his full of a sense of empathy I hadn’t seen for quite some time. Philip had once had eyes like that. Emotive and warm. It was nice to see such a thing again.
YOU ARE READING
The Monsters Among Us ➳ Daryl Dixon
Fanfiction𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘭 𝘋𝘪𝘹𝘰𝘯/𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But...
