OUTLIVE.
❝The dead were never the enemy.
It was the living. ❞
THE WALKING DEAD.
DARYL DIXON.
BOOK TWO of the LANCASTER SAGA.
[ SEASONS 4 - 6 ]
*****
*I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I simply write to write. Astrid, any addi...
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[ vi. everything falls apart ]
june 22nd, 2012
➸➸➸
"TALK ME TO ME."
The quiet plea came from Daryl Dixon, his body molded against Astrid's as they lay intertwined in their bed. Astrid rested with her back pressed to his chest, her head nestled on his arm, while his chin settled atop her temple. Blankets cocooned them, and an exhausted sigh escaped her lips as she inhaled the refreshing air, a welcome taste from the confines of A Block.
It felt good to be back inside her familiar cell and space. Astrid returned to it as soon as she was able. Meanwhile, elsewhere, Bob Stookey had entered A Block and stayed through the morning, diligently administering doses of medicine to those still afflicted by the illness. Some, like Glenn, remained held within, their release postponed for a few more days. Astrid, however, was among the fortunate ones granted an early exit.
Daryl's fingers traced soothing circles on her back as she stared contemplatively at the mattress below. Her eyes, dry from a lack of sleep, burned dully in their sockets. "What is there to say?" She murmured softly.
"What happened in there last night?"
Astrid's voice was muffled by her pillow as she said, "Everything fell apart. Just like things always do."
Her hunter's lips brushed against her bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth, but she remained still, unreceptive. Daryl wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and nuzzled deeper into the crook of her neck. "And that little boy?" He gently probed.
Astrid drew in a small breath, allowing the memories of young Finn, both alive and dead, to surface in her mind. She sought Daryl's hand and squeezed it tightly. "His name was Finn Stratton," She revealed. "I was taking care of him and his older sister Bailey. They were orphans, and they couldn't be left alone . . . not in there. The boy got sick, and I tried to help him . . . but there wasn't anything I could do."
Regret hung heavy, and Astrid could feel the weight of it in Daryl's sigh. "You needed the medicine, and I was too late," He mumbled. Astrid nodded painfully; she could acknowledge the harsh truth of their circumstances. They had all been too late in some shape or form. Daryl's warmth caressed her cold skin as he suddenly inquired further, "Where's Bailey now?"
Astrid shrugged. "I don't know," She admitted softly. "But I need to find her soon so that I can talk to her and make sure that she's okay." After another long moment of contemplative silence, a notion took root in her mind, and she turned to face Daryl, propping herself up on her elbows. "Daryl, I was thinking about something," She began slowly.
Her hunter, ever perceptive, ventured a guess, "You want to take Bailey in?"
Astrid was taken aback. Her surprise registered as she locked eyes with him. "How did you guess that?" She questioned.
