Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

TRADE

Kennedy's POV

The sun was barely rising as I made my way across the courtyard, the air crisp and biting. Tara had already left with Magna's group to search for Alden and Luke, and I couldn't shake the gnawing pit of worry in my stomach.

I adjusted the small bottle of medicine in my hand, my thoughts already focused on Lydia. I had noticed yesterday how she kept pulling at her ear, wincing every now and then, and though she hadn't said anything, it was clear something was bothering her. An infection, maybe. I didn't like seeing her suffer, no matter whose daughter she was.

As I approached the jail, I spotted Daryl standing outside, his voice raised in that familiar gravelly tone of frustration. "You think you're helpin', but you're just makin' it worse. You don't tell a stranger somethin' like that, not with all that's goin' on," he was scolding Henry, who stood there, looking defiant and guilty all at once.

I stopped a few paces away, watching the interaction unfold. Henry, bless him, had a good heart, but sometimes he didn't think things through. And right now, he looked like he was on the verge of blowing up.

"What happened?" I asked, stepping closer, my voice calm but concerned.

Daryl turned toward me, his expression hard as steel. "Kid here decided to tell the girl about the Kingdom," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "How it's a day's ride from here. Endangerin' his own damn family, and for what? 'Cause he thinks she's a 'good person'."

I sighed, rubbing my temples for a moment before turning to Henry. "You need to be more careful. This isn't just about helping someone. It's about all of us, the communities."

Henry's face twisted with frustration, and he lashed out, his voice sharp. "I am being careful! Lydia's not like them, okay? She's good; she just... she's messed up. You guys act like she's some monster, but she's not!" His anger flared, and before either of us could respond, he turned to Daryl, his eyes narrowing. "You're such an asshole. If you want the information, why don't you get it yourself?"

With that, Henry stormed off, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. I glanced at Daryl, who just shook his head again, looking like he wanted to break something.

"Damn kid don't get it," Daryl muttered under his breath, his jaw tight.

I sighed softly, trying to push past the tension. "Come on. Let's see if she's willing to talk."

Together, we made our way inside the jail, the heavy door creaking shut behind us. Lydia was sitting on the small cot, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them protectively. She looked like a cornered animal, wary and distrustful. I couldn't blame her.

"Hey," I said softly as we approached her cell. I held up the bottle of medicine, my tone gentle. "I noticed you've been messing with your ear. You probably have an infection. This'll help."

Lydia eyed the medicine, but she didn't move. She just stared at us, her lips pressed into a tight line.

"We've got people missin'," Daryl cut in, his voice gruff. "You know anythin' 'bout that?"

Lydia shook her head quickly, her body tensing up even more. "I don't know anything," she mumbled.

I could see Daryl's patience wearing thin. He stepped closer to the bars, his voice lowering. "What about your mom? She's alone now, right? You think she'd kill our people if she crossed 'em?"

Lydia's eyes flickered, a brief moment of hesitation crossing her face before she answered. "She would... if she had to."

Daryl's jaw tightened again, and I could feel the weight of his anger simmering beneath the surface. I stepped forward, keeping my voice calm as I tried to connect with her. "Your mom did what she had to do, didn't she? To keep you alive. That's why she's done what she's done."