Survivor - TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Chapter 25 - Crossed

Nelly

I spend the whole day wandering through the woods, the trees swallowing me in their silence. I'm searching for something—anything—that will tell me if Daryl and Carol are dead, or if they just up and left. The thought gnaws at me, but tracking was never my thing. Every broken branch, every smudge of dirt feels like a dead end.

The sun dips below the horizon, and by the time I make it back to the church, the sky is deep with night. My steps slow when I step into the clearing. Daryl is there, sitting on the steps, his body slumped, head resting in his hand. His face is hidden in the dark, but I know it's him. The sight of him sends a flood of emotions through me—relief, anger, confusion. My heart speeds up, but I force my feet to stay grounded.

I should run to him. Should hug him, scream at him for scaring me. Instead, I stop a few feet in front of him, my silence saying more than I ever could. My body doesn't know how to respond to all this pent-up fear and frustration. I'm frozen between relief and rage.

He lifts his head, his blue eyes catching mine under the moonlight. He stands slowly, taking a step toward me, like he's about to say something, to close the space between us, but I instinctively step back.

The hurt in his eyes is instant. He looks down at the ground, scuffing the dirt with his boot, not pushing any closer. I can see it in the way he stands, how the tension ripples through him—he's reading me, trying to figure out what to do next. He's always been able to do that, to see right through me when I don't want anyone to.

But I don't know what to say. And I sure as hell won't be the first one to talk. I cross my arms over my chest, like that'll somehow protect me from everything I'm feeling.

It's Daryl who speaks first. "After we talked," his voice is thick, low, "I couldn't find Carol. I looked for her... found her about to leave."

His words hit me harder than I want them to. "Where is she?" I ask, my voice flat, trying not to let any of the worry I've been feeling all day slip through.

"We saw the same car. The one that took Beth." He pauses, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always does when he's stressed. "We followed them to the city. Found out where Beth is."

My eyes flick between his, searching for more. 

"They took Carol," he finally says, the words hanging between us like a weight. "I'm sorry."

His apology feels heavy, like he's taking on guilt that isn't his. I don't know what to do with it. It's not what I expected. Not from him.

I stare at him, feeling all the tension in me coil tighter. He's watching me closely, like he's waiting for me to speak my mind. I roll my shoulders back, trying to shake off the emotions clawing up my throat. "Don't be," I say, my voice flat, cold. I don't want to deal with this right now. I move to brush past him, heading for the church, but he reaches out and grabs my arm, gentle but firm, stopping me in my tracks.

I don't pull away, but I don't lean into his touch either. I just stand there, frozen in place. His hand is warm against my skin, and it sends a confusing rush of heat through me, making me feel even more confused.

"What happened?" he asks quietly, his voice rough, his eyes searching my face for answers I don't want to give. His thumb brushes against my arm, and it makes my heart beat faster, but I shove the feeling down.

I give him a blank look, like I don't understand what he's talking about. Then I remember—the blood. My hand instinctively goes to my face, feeling the dried, cracked crust of it. It's been there for hours, and I didn't even care enough to wipe it off. "Some people from Terminus came back. They tried to finish us off," I say casually, like it's no big deal. Like it's just another day in this hell we live in.