Unbreakable threads

Chapter Twenty-six : Broken Bridges

The night had settled over the farm, quiet and dark, with only the faint sounds of crickets breaking the silence. Most of the group had turned in, tucked away in their tents or rooms, seeking some small escape from the day's tension and heartbreak. But Alyssa couldn't settle. She wandered the grounds restlessly, feeling the weight of everything she'd said and done pressing down on her, tightening in her chest like a knot.

After her outburst at Andrea, she felt more like an outsider than ever, her harsh words replaying in her mind. She knew she'd crossed a line, that her anger had been misplaced. And when she thought about Daryl—how he'd almost died today, how their last words had been a fight—she felt the ache of guilt deepen. She couldn't let things end that way, not after everything.

Taking a quiet breath, Alyssa steeled herself and slipped back into the farmhouse, her steps soft on the wooden floors as she made her way up the stairs. She knew which room Hershel had put Daryl in, and as she reached the door, she hesitated, gathering her courage before quietly pushing it open.

Daryl lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his face drawn and tense, a fresh bandage wrapped around his side and another across his forehead. He turned his head as she entered, and his gaze darkened, his usual scowl deepening as he looked at her. There was a flicker of something else there too—something guarded and hurt, a shadow of doubt lingering in his eyes.

Alyssa closed the door softly behind her, shifting her weight as she met his gaze. "I, um... I just wanted to check on you," she said, her voice quiet, almost tentative. "I thought... you might need company."

Daryl huffed, looking away, his jaw clenched. "Don't need nothin'," he muttered, his voice rough. "Least of all from you."

The words stung, but Alyssa took a breath, determined to push through. "Look, I know we argued, and I... I'm sorry, okay? I was mad, and I took it out on you." She looked down, her voice softening. "I just... you went out there alone, and when you got hurt, I thought... what if that's how it ended? With us fighting?"

Daryl's gaze softened a fraction, but he kept his face turned away. Her words seemed to dig at something inside him, stirring the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide. "Doesn't change nothin'," he mumbled, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. "Ain't like I asked you to come after me."

Alyssa sighed, inching a little closer, her voice a gentle whisper. "You're right. You didn't ask. But I care about you, Daryl. And seeing you like that today... it scared me."

Daryl's scowl softened just slightly, his walls wavering as he turned his gaze back to her, the hint of a question in his eyes. "I don't get why," he muttered, his voice almost vulnerable. "I ain't worth that much trouble."

Alyssa shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe you don't see it, but... you are. You're more to this group than you know. To me, too."

He looked down, wrestling with her words, and she could see the weight of his self-doubt, the scars left by Merle's taunts and his own harsh self-perception. Finally, he glanced up, his gaze meeting hers with a flicker of something unspoken—a tentative acceptance.

"Fine," he muttered gruffly, shifting on the bed. "You can stay. But no more fussin' over me."

Alyssa gave a quiet laugh, relief settling over her as she took a seat on the floor beside his bed. "Deal." She leaned back, letting the silence stretch between them, comfortable and peaceful.

Daryl lay still, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, though his thoughts were a mess of doubts and accusations echoing through his mind. Merle's taunts from his hallucination clawed at him, bringing back Shane's insinuations from the CDC, too. He wasn't like that—he knew he wasn't. But still, the fear of getting close to anyone, let alone Alyssa, gnawed at him.