Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

LIES

Daryl's POV

The rumble of my bike cut through the late afternoon quiet as Siddiq and I made our way back to Alexandria, Dog running alongside us. The wind whipped past my face, but it did little to clear the guilt gnawing at me. I hadn't told Kennedy everything. Leaving her at Hilltop had felt wrong, like I was keeping something from her, but I didn't want to add more to her plate, not when she was already dealing with everything going on with the wall and those stolen supplies.

Still, that guilt stuck with me.

As we rode through the gates of Alexandria, Siddiq on his horse right behind me, Dog bounded ahead, eager to get home. The familiar sights of the community didn't bring the usual sense of relief. Not this time. There was too much hanging over me. Negan, Lydia, the whole damn mess.

I pulled up in front of our apartment and parked the bike, rubbing a hand over my face before heading inside. Dog followed me closely, his tail wagging, but even his enthusiasm couldn't shake the heavy feeling in my chest. I was keeping things from Kennedy, and I hated that.

When I pushed the door open, the first thing I heard was Willow's excited voice.

"Dad!" she squealed, barrelling toward me with that wide, innocent grin. I couldn't help but smile, crouching down to catch her in a hug. Her little arms wrapped tightly around my neck, and for a second, it was like all the worries melted away.

"Hey, Bug," I muttered, ruffling her hair before standing up. I glanced over her head to see Carol standing near the kitchen, her arms crossed, watching me with that knowing look she always had.

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Any luck finding Negan?"

I shook my head, the weight of that question heavier than I wanted to admit. "Nah."

Carol sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leaned back against the counter. "How's Hilltop?"

"They're all over it," I replied, my voice gruff but reassuring. "Ken and Glenn, they'll be alright. They got a handle on things."

Carol nodded, though the concern still lingered in her eyes. "Good."

I paused, glancing around the apartment before turning back to her. "What about Lydia?"

Carol let out a tired sigh, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "She's still in the cell. Hasn't come out since..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I've tried talking to her, but she won't listen."

I clenched my jaw, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. Before I left, Negan had somehow escaped, and Lydia was trying to take the blame, claiming she let him out. I knew that wasn't true. I'd kept watch the entire night after she was attacked. There was no way she left the house.

"I'll talk to her," I muttered, my voice gruff.

Carol nodded, giving me a look that said she knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Good luck."

I gave Willow a quick kiss on the forehead, telling her I'd be back soon. She seemed content enough, playing with Dog as I headed out the door toward the cell where Lydia had holed herself up.

The walk was quiet, but my thoughts weren't. Lydia had been through hell, and now she was trying to protect Negan of all people. The weight of it all, the attacks, the whispers, Negan, it felt like too much for any kid to bear.

When I reached the cell, I found Lydia sitting on the cot, her knees pulled to her chest. She looked smaller than I'd ever seen her, her eyes dark with exhaustion and fear. The first thing out of her mouth when she saw me was a question I wasn't ready for.