Too Far Gone // D. Dixon

chapter six

The group had settled down for the night. Just as quickly as the group had blown out the candles and laid down for the night, they had fallen asleep just as easily. 

If only it were that easy for Maren.

They had set up a watch schedule and decided to stick to it. Daryl had been assigned the first watch, but as usual, Maren had also stayed up. She hadn't allowed herself to fully trust this group, she couldn't allow herself to get too comfortable, she knew that's when they'd ambush her. Just like her last group had.

The night enveloped the church in an eerie stillness as the rest of the group slumbered, their weary bodies seeking solace in dreams. Daryl, ever vigilant, assumed his post and kept a watchful eye on the entrance. But he wasn't alone in his wakefulness. Maren, once again, resisted the lure of sleep, her desire to remain alert overriding her need for rest.

She sat against the east wall, her knife gripped tightly in her hand. She sat on the floor, her body tense and ready, her eyes scanning the shadows, her ears attuned to the faintest of sounds.

Maren had always been drawn to the night, finding a sense of security in its darkness, where she could see what was happening and where everyone was at all times. It was a habit born out of necessity and survival, a perpetual state of wariness that had become ingrained into her very being.

Daryl glanced over at Maren, observing her unwavering stance. He understood her need to stay awake, to maintain control in a world that had shown her little mercy, but he didn't understand her restlessness now. They'd been together for week or so now. He had seen the skepticism, the lingering unease etched into her features since the moment they met her. The group sensed her guarded nature, but they couldn't fully grasp the depth of her wariness. They couldn't comprehend the mere extent of what she had endured.

"You should get some sleep," Daryl spoke softly, his voice carrying a note of concern. "I got watch for the night."

Maren sighed, her eyes never leaving the surrounding darkness, her muscles coiled and ready for any threat that may arise, "You can lay down if you want," she replied, her voice weary yet determined. "I'm gonna stay up."

Daryl fought the urge to roll his eyes, his gaze fixed on her as the moonlight bathed her in a pale glow. He understood her need to remain vigilant, but he also recognized the toll it was taking on her.

"Nah," he responded firmly, his voice laced with a touch of stubbornness, "You ain't slept right in days. You should sleep."

Maren's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and gratitude, her gaze meeting Daryl's, "You're not like the others," she whispered, her voice tinged with a blend of admiration and sadness.

Daryl's expression softened, understanding the weight of her words. He had walked a different path, one that had shaped him into a survivor, a protector. Their experiences might have been different, but he recognized the underlying kinship they shared—the scars that marked their souls, the never-ending battle against the darkness.

"I ain't gonna force ya," Daryl replied gently, his voice carrying a hint of understanding. "But I'll be here, keepin' watch. You can trust me, Maren."

Maren's guarded facade wavered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. She nodded, her weariness slowly seeping into her bones. Trust was something she had to earn, but perhaps in the presence of someone who had proven himself time and again, she could allow herself a sliver of respite.

"Daryl, can I ask you something?" Maren murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl gave her a nod, his eyes conveying a silent promise, "Sure."

Maren's voice trembled slightly as she asked the question that had been weighing on her mind, "Do you trust me?" she inquired, her gaze locked with Daryl's.

Without hesitation, Daryl replied, "Yes." His voice carried a conviction that washed over Maren, imbuing her with a sense of reassurance she hadn't expected. It was a simple response, but it held a depth that made her wonder if he knew something, something she couldn't fathom.

"But you don't trust Gabriel?" Maren pressed further, her tone tinged with curiosity.Daryl sighed, his eyes flickering toward the slumbering figure of Gabriel.

"Nah, he's definitely keepin' some shit from us," he admitted, his voice tinged with suspicion, "Rick said he found writing on the wall outside, said 'you'll burn for this' with scratches and stuff."

Maren nodded, her face hardening as she cast a lingering glance back at where Gabriel slept. The revelation stirred a mix of concern and questions within her. What did the cryptic message mean? And more importantly, did it imply a danger that lurked within the seemingly benign walls of the church?

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Maren inquired, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Daryl met her gaze, his eyes unwavering, "Do you?" he countered, his tone steady and resolute. 

"I think people are capable of doing a lot more than you think." Maren spoke as she understood the true nature of individuals could often be veiled behind facades of civility. She understood Daryl's skepticism, his instinct to question and remain cautious.

But then, Daryl shifted the conversation, his voice softer, yet laced with a genuine curiosity, "I know ya don't talk about the past much, I get it. But...what happened out there?"

Maren's face turned pale, her features betraying the turmoil within her. "Daryl..." she began, her voice laden with hesitation, but he cut her off, his urgency evident.

"I just...we gotta know if there's somebody lookin' for ya," Daryl interjected, his words punctuated by concern, "With what Gareth said back at Terminus and the way you wanna keep watch night after night...Is what he said true? Is there somebody after ya?"

A shiver ran down Maren's spine as a flood of memories and fears surged through her mind. She struggled to find her voice, her thoughts spinning. "I...I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling. "I don't know if they're alive."

Daryl's gaze bore into her, his eyes searching for answers, "They? You had a group?" he questioned, his voice holding a hint of surprise. He had thought she'd been on her own for a while. She hadn't spoken much about her time out there.

Maren shook her head rapidly, denying the notion, "No, they weren't my anything," she clarified, her words rushed and tinged with a mix of pain and angered determination, "They took me. I took the first chance I got and ran like hell. That's the truth, and that's all there is to it."

Daryl sensed the weight of unspoken stories hanging in the air, but he knew pressing further would yield no immediate answers, "I'm sorry, Maren," he whispered sincerely, his voice filled with empathy.

Maren let out a sigh, weariness etched across her face, "You know what? I'm actually pretty tired," she admitted, her admission laced with a touch of vulnerability and a desire for respite.

Daryl nodded, accepting her need for rest, "S'okay. Get some sleep," he urged gently, his voice carrying an unspoken promise to keep watch and protect her. 

As Maren settled down, her weariness finally catching up to her, she curled up on the floor, finding solace in the presence of a companion who understood the weight of the unseen burdens she carried. Just as the moon cast its ethereal glow upon them, the two survivors shared a moment of silent solidarity—a recognition that amidst the uncertainties of their world, they had found a bond rooted in resilience and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to carry the weight of their past.

And as Maren finally allowed herself to lie down, her weary body seeking the solace of sleep, she knew that in Daryl's watchful presence, she could find a measure of peace—a fragile ember of trust that had the potential to grow into something more. 

And as sleep claimed her, even if only for a brief respite, she couldn't help but feel a glimmer of gratitude for the one person who saw through her defenses and dared to ask the questions that others couldn't.

Maybe if anyone could understand, it would be Daryl Dixon.