Between Arrows and Hearts - Daryl Dixon

Little brat

The truck went silent after T-Dog's confession. Cass sat stiffly, her fists clenched tightly against her thighs, her emotions crashing over her like waves during a storm. Guilt, anger, and shame swirled inside her, each fighting for dominance. She wanted to scream. At T-Dog, at Rick, even at Merle for being such a goddamn pain in the ass that they had to handcuff him in the first place. But more than anything, she wanted to scream at herself for running. For not turning back.

Her throat burned with the thought. Sure, Merle was an asshole, someone who'd practically begged to be hated, and he'd almost killed T-Dog. But leaving him handcuffed on a rooftop, left to die? That thought gnawed at her like an open wound.

"Jesus." She muttered under her breath, running her hands over her face. What would they even tell Daryl? Sorry, we were too busy saving ourselves, so we left him handcuffed on the roof? 

"Best not to dwell on it." Morales said suddenly, his tone calm, too calm. "Merle got left behind."

Cass whipped her head around, glaring at him. How could he act so nonchalant? "Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back—"

"Daryl is." She snapped, looking at the back of the truck, where Morales was sitting with the rest. Everyone went quiet.

Rick frowned and turned toward her from the driver's seat. "Daryl?"

Cass swallowed hard, her anger simmering down into something closer to guilt. "His brother," she admitted. "A few days after we got to the quarry, I ran into Daryl in the woods. He's... rough, but he's good at hunting. Brings in squirrels and rabbits for the camp." She hesitated, her stomach twisting. "I was the one who brought them to camp."

She didn't say it out loud, but she felt responsible for both of them being part of the group. Her mind flashed to Daryl's sharp eyes and clipped words. She didn't need to know him very well to guess that he wasn't the type to forgive easily

A sudden blaring car alarm jolted her out of her spiraling thoughts. She turned to look out the window just as a flashy red car sped by, Glenn at the wheel. He was whooping at the top of his lungs, looking like he was having the time of his life.

Cass blinked, her lips twitching into a smile despite everything. 

So that's what Rick meant.

"At least somebody's having a good day." Morales muttered, shaking his head.

Before silence could settle over them again, Cass turned to Rick, her curiosity bubbling up. "Hey, have you ever been to Bistro Huddy in Atlanta?"

Rick glanced at her, clearly confused. "No. Why?"

"I worked there for a while," She said with a shrug. "I don't know, I feel like I've seen you somewhere before."

Rick just gave her a small nod, but the question stuck with him. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was this new world forcing connections where there weren't any. Still, he took the opportunity to ask something in return. "Where are you from?"

"Chile," Cass answered quickly, leaning back in her seat. "I'd just finished college and decided to see the world. I found one of those work-travel programs and ended up waitressing in Atlanta. Three months later..." She gestured out the window, her tone light and tinged with humor. "Well, here we are."

Rick nodded slowly, but his gaze lingered on her. He thought about his own situation —searching for his wife and son with nothing but a shred of hope to hold onto— but Cass? She was thousands of miles away from home, her family likely unreachable, yet she smiled.

After a while, they finally got back to camp. Cass leaned forward, scanning the familiar cluster of tents and makeshift shelters. She saw everyone waiting, most of them probably got worried seeing Glenn come back alone. Speaking of him, he looked thrilled next to his new car.