Catch Fire | Daryl Dixon

FOUNDERS DAY

Kennedy's POV

The pomp and ceremony of Pamela's speech grated on me. The words filtered through the buzzing anger in my chest, each hollow syllable about "justice" and "dedication" landing like a personal insult. I just wanted to see Willow, feel her little hand in mine and make sure she was okay. 

I looked over at Daryl, who was shifting his weight, his jaw tight. I leaned in, my voice low. "This is bullshit."

He gave a nod, hardly moving, just the briefest tilt of his head. On his other side, Carol leaned over, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's not our problem anymore, Ken."

I felt my fists clench by my sides. "Glenn is dead because of him," I hissed back.

Carol's face was soft, yet her words cut deep. "Glenn is dead because of Leah," she replied, her eyes holding mine, steady and unwavering.

Pamela's voice broke over the crowd again, amplified, each word crisp as it echoed through the atrium of Union Station. "Now, tomorrow is Founders Day. An opportunity for our community to come together and celebrate what truly makes the Commonwealth great...its people. And we will celebrate. We will not forget, but we will rise above this. Because we are the Commonwealth."

Applause rose, a hollow echo of forced unity that grated against everything in me. I glanced back at Daryl, wanting out of this farce. "Can we go now?" I muttered.

He didn't hesitate. "Yeah." He nodded once to Carol, and she leaned over with a smile.

"The kids should be back at your place by now," she said. "I sent Elijah to get word to Jerry. He's been keeping them safe, away from Hornsby's mess."

Daryl's relief mirrored my own. "Thanks, Carol," he murmured.

We wasted no time, pushing past the gathering with Dog at our heels, a low rumble of voices and cheering still ringing out as Pamela continued her charade. The relief of escaping the station weighed heavy in my steps, a small pressure easing up as we slipped into the quieter streets of the Commonwealth. Daryl kept his hand on my back, guiding me with a gentle, grounding presence as Dog trotted beside us, eyes alert.

We walked in silence, a thousand thoughts running through my mind, each one blurring into the next until it felt like noise. The anger, the loss, the ache of knowing Glenn was gone, it all mixed and turned over in my chest, too much to process, too tangled to make sense of.

Daryl's hand shifted to take mine, his grip warm and strong, pulling me back to the present, grounding me in the way only he could. "Almost there," he said softly, voice steady. There was something calming in the way he looked at me, a reminder that for all the ugliness in this place, there was still something worth fighting for.

As we turned onto the street where the apartment was, silence seemed to hang over the place. I could feel my heart rate pick up, dreading the moment I'd see Willow's face, knowing she'd heard about Glenn and might still be shaken. Daryl's hand tightened around mine as we approached the door as if he felt the same weight pressing on us. Dog stayed close to our side, quiet and alert.

The apartment door creaked softly as we stepped inside, the low murmur of the kids' voices reaching us. Judith noticed us first, her face lighting up with relief as she hurried over, her arms wrapping tightly around Daryl without a second thought. 

Willow appeared from the edge of the couch; her shoulders slumped, her little face carrying more worry than any kid her age should have. When she spotted us, her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She just looked at us with wide, searching eyes. I dropped to my knees and opened my arms, and that was all she needed. She threw herself against me, her arms clutching around my neck as if afraid to let go.