✵ begin again - daryl dixon x original character

prologue - things we wish we hadn't seen

Before him, there was the sick smell of smoke, and clinks of chains, and light sobs of lightly-sounded girls.

Was this the kind of atmosphere he willingly surrounded himself in, or was Pandora simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time? The crossbow, nestled safely in his palms, clouded her judgement. It looked cleaner, almost, than it had many days ago, as if he'd sat over a warm fire, giving his priceless weapon a deep tissue massage.

From the few she'd spent watching him from afar, many days before, she could tell that idea wasn't exactly incomprehensible. Hell, she thought the second he'd leant against a tree, the tree she'd waited behind, that he was going to make out with his precious little Robin Hood accessory.

Yet, today, it all seemed different, peculiar in a way, and utterly shameful for her to simply stare ahead and watch as a seemingly wise, and seemingly kind-hearted man was on the brink of his last moments. His eyes shone with hope for the future, and fear seemed easily replaceable with reflections of years beforehand.

Some would say it was poignant, yet Pandora knew better. Poignant came from experiences, from moments that left a mark in your brain, in your heart, not a slice on someone else's neck.

The sound of such slice felt earth-shattering, and as distant screams erupted across the vast field in which the prison lay, an unmistakable sense of regret settled across Pandora's chest. Why on earth had she given herself the opportunity to stand by and watch, and why, and more importantly, how had she not turned away yet?

She couldn't stay - whether she'd promised herself to, or not, she was in no position to watch, and they were in no position to greet strangers, for their home and livelihood had just been bombed once more. the earth shuddered beneath damp, rugged shoes, yet her hands shook far longer than any matter from Earth could ever dream of.

She'd try again tomorrow, and hope, for all that was good, that they'd still be there. Pandora had a photograph to return to the boy with the crossbow, and a a frown that seemed permanently etched across his face.