Unearthed ↦ Daryl Dixon

1.01

If there was one thing you'd learned in your twenty-six years of life, it was that nothing was ever easy; well, almost nothing. You'd grown accustomed to things falling apart, no matter how hard you tried to keep it all together. The only thing you were ever able to keep together was your family.

You grew up in Georgia with your parents and your older brother, Rick. Your mother was a homemaker, always around to support you through your childhood. Your father had fought in the war before you were born, something you had heard little about in your lifetime. He didn't like to talk about it with you, besides once when you were eight years old. It wasn't much of a shock when your brother decided to become a deputy for the local sheriff's department. He was so much like your father, always wanting to rush in and save anyone he could. As much as that scared you, you always told yourself that, like your father, he would be okay. That was until his best friend and partner, Shane Walsh, showed up at your front door one afternoon.

You opened the front door of your apartment, Shane standing in front of you with two deputies standing just a little down the hall.

The look on Shane's face and the way he spoke your name told you everything.

"Is he dead?" You asked, cutting to the chase.

Shane frowned. "He's in surgery right now. I just dropped off Lori and Carl at the hospital."

"What happened?"

"There was a chase. We were told there were only two men in the car, but-" he trailed off. "I'm so sorry."

You stood in the doorway, trying to process the emotions that were rushing over you like waves crashing the shore. You knew this was a possibility, a risk of the job, but you'd never really let yourself accept that. Finally, your mind shifted to Carl, his son.

"How is Carl handling it?" You asked. "Is he okay?"

Shane nodded. "You know him, always hopeful. He's stronger than any of us."

You couldn't help but crack a small smile among the tears you felt racing down your cheek. Shane was right; Carl had a way to make even the hardest of moments a little easier.

"I should get to the hospital, keep Lori company." You responded.

"I'll drive you."

You nodded, grabbing your keys from the table by your front door.

With you working at the hospital, you spent all of your time there, waiting for your brother to wake up from his coma. You were constantly sending updates to Lori, who you tried to convince to go home and have a proper rest each night. It wasn't like there was much to update her on though, only really the fact that he was still alive. The most time that passed, the more you began to lose hope.

As if Rick being in a coma wasn't hard enough to handle, it would only be less than a week until the entire world fell apart.

~.~

You had left the hospital for the first time that night, realizing how badly you needed a proper sleep. With the influx of flu cases, you were past the point of exhaustion. Knowing how bad the city was at the moment, you decided to spend the night at Rick and Lori's house; It was closer to the hospital anyways.

The next morning you awoke to the sound of movement in the kitchen. Checking the clock, you realized it was already eleven.

You pulled yourself from the couch, making your way into the kitchen to find Lori who was making coffee.

You greeted her with a smile, sitting down at the table.

"He still hasn't woken up..." Lori mumbled, pouring two cups of coffee. She headed over to the table, sitting down beside you and offering you one of the cups.