in a dark meadow -- daryl dixon

two paths

word count: 3657

"I might love him,"

The confession left Avery's lips like a sigh, an afterthought. She realized she'd said it a bit too late, a blush sparking along her cheeks as she sat in the silence that followed. 

But she'd meant it.

Her and Carol stood in the innermost guard tower, taking the first watch. Armed with rifles, they used the scopes to keep track of the walkers that lingered by the fence, and counted any new ones that emerged from the woods.

A few hours had passed since their group departed for Woodbury, and Avery found her eyes fixated on the curved road leading up to the prison. The SUV had not returned, and as the sun sank lower, her unease grew. 

Tearing her eyes from the road, she looked down at the rifle in her hands, a part of her wishing she had fought harder to go with them. Securing the gun strap over her shoulder, she gazed out into the empty fields. It was quiet today.

Carol smiled softly at her confession but said nothing, sensing she had more to say.

"After all we've been through together..." Avery reached forward, gripping onto the railing of the outlook. "How hard we've fought. Seems like there's nothing we can't overcome together. That sounds painfully cliche, doesn't it?"

Carol shook her head before asking, "Have you ever been in love before?"

"I don't know," Avery trailed off, her mind wandering to all of her past dates and old, short-term boyfriends. She'd had a handful of awkward dinners when the clatter of silverware filled the silence, but then others, right from the start, there was a chemistry, a spark, and they could've talked for hours. The only one that resulted in anything serious was an on-again-off-again relationship that lasted for four years.

He was a financial analyst - tall, broad-shouldered, an ex-water polo player, with naturally curly hair she loved to run her fingers through. He was charming, Avery would give him that. They'd met during one of her shift breaks, when she'd hidden away from the chaos in the ER, unwisely trying to soothe her jitters with more coffee. He'd asked her out on the spot, not swayed by the dark circles under her eyes nor the feral knots in her hair. Maybe that's what she thought she loved about him - that he'd seen her at her worst and still wanted to see more. Avery thought about how silly it was when she was sobbing, curled up beside her phone the first time he called it off, and how indifferent she had become when they ended things for the last time.

Love was different post-outbreak. Life was different. How could it not be - when the fear of losing your life was never fully muted in your mind? The emotions kept bottled up in the monotony of their humdrum lives had been unleashed in a torrent of spark and flame, emotions that they never would've experienced otherwise if not for the need of survival. She felt a love for life and the people around her unlike ever before, as fierce and unrelenting as the tip of her bowie.

And Avery had never experienced anything the way Daryl made her feel.

"If you don't know, I think that's your answer." Carol responded with a knowing smile.

Avery looked at her. "Then how do you know?"

Carol blew air through her lips. "Oh, you're asking the wrong woman. I thought I knew what love was. I can tell you what love isn't, and it isn't dependency or control. Love is freedom. Joy."

Avery hummed in response, sitting on her words. "Maybe I should've said something before he left."

Carol nodded, her eyes finding the grassy fields. "I don't think there's any point in hiding how we feel these days."