Scars & Shadows(Daryl x Octavia)

Chpt 2: Wounds and Scars

The morning light crept into the cabin, filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls. Daryl stirred, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the soft glow. The air was cool, and he could feel the stiffness in his muscles from the previous day. He grunted as he pushed himself up, feeling the familiar sting of old wounds and a few new ones.

Sitting up on the edge of the makeshift cot, Daryl rubbed his face, then reached for his knife to slice open the bandages on his arm. He was careful not to wake Octavia, who had taken the far side of the cabin. She'd barely said a word after they settled in last night. He was fine with that—no need for conversation when silence was easier.

He peeled back the bandage on his side, revealing a deep cut from a walker he'd fought days earlier. The wound looked worse than it felt, but it needed tending to. His shirt stuck to his back, damp with sweat and the faint scent of blood. Without thinking much of it, Daryl pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it aside.

He stretched his shoulders, feeling the pull of scar tissue across his back—old reminders of his time with Merle and life on the road. Leaning forward, he began inspecting the cut in the daylight, checking for any signs of infection.

What Daryl didn't notice, however, was the way Octavia had stirred awake, her eyes barely open but alert. She wasn't sure what woke her at first, but as she lay there, she caught sight of Daryl sitting shirtless across the cabin. At first, she thought nothing of it—just another man tending to injuries, something she had seen a hundred times before.

But as she watched him, she noticed more. The muscles in his back rippled with every slight movement, years of physical labor and fighting carved into his body. He wasn't just strong—he was built like someone who had endured hell and somehow survived. Her gaze lingered on the scars scattered across his back, deep ridges and slashes that told their own stories. She recognized the pain in those marks, though they were different from her own.

Octavia shifted on her bedroll, the soft sound of fabric catching Daryl's attention. His head jerked up, and he turned slightly, catching her watching him.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Octavia blinked, suddenly aware that she'd been staring. She sat up, trying to act casual. "Yeah, fine. You?"

Daryl gave a noncommittal shrug, turning back to his wound. "Just a scratch."

She raised an eyebrow, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she leaned back on her palms. "Looks more than that to me."

He glanced at her briefly before returning to his task. "Had worse."

Octavia didn't respond immediately. Instead, she watched him for a moment longer, her eyes tracing the scars on his back. "Those too?"

Daryl froze for a second, his hand hovering over his bandage. He wasn't used to people asking about his scars. Most just ignored them, and he preferred it that way. His jaw clenched slightly before he grumbled, "Yeah."

There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt heavier than usual. Octavia understood what it was like to carry reminders of a past you didn't want to talk about. She had her own collection, visible and invisible.

"Looks like you've been through hell," she said quietly, her voice softer than usual.

Daryl didn't turn around this time, just kept working on his wound. "Ain't we all?"

Octavia shifted her weight, pulling her knees up as she rested her arms on them. "Yeah," she admitted. "We have."

The two of them lapsed into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. There was a strange sense of understanding between them, even though neither had shared much about their past. They didn't need to. The scars they carried—both on their skin and in their eyes—told enough of the story.

After a while, Daryl finished wrapping the fresh bandage around his side and pulled his shirt back on. He stood, testing his range of motion, wincing only slightly. Octavia watched him out of the corner of her eye, still processing everything she had seen. She had expected him to be tough—his entire demeanor screamed survivor—but she hadn't expected the history etched into his skin, or the way his strength was so quietly present in every movement he made.

"Ready to head out?" Daryl asked, his gravelly voice pulling her from her thoughts.

"Yeah," she replied, pushing herself to her feet. She grabbed her sword and slung it over her shoulder. "Any idea where we're going?"

Daryl nodded, checking his crossbow and his pack. "Spotted some tracks yesterday—could be a herd nearby, or worse. Figured we'd circle 'round, see what's out there. Better to know than be surprised."

Octavia smirked. "Surprises are never good."

"Ain't that the truth," Daryl muttered, heading for the door.

As they stepped outside, the morning sun was higher now, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Octavia fell in step beside Daryl, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. Despite the lingering tension from the night before, there was an unspoken ease between them now. Two warriors who didn't need to fill the silence with empty words.

For a while, they walked in silence, the sounds of the forest their only company. Daryl kept his eyes on the ground, tracking faint footprints and broken branches. Octavia scanned the horizon, alert for any movement. They worked well together—neither one needing to lead, but both knowing how to follow the other's pace.

After a while, Octavia spoke up, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"You ever think about what happens after all this?" she asked.

Daryl didn't look up from the tracks. "After what?"

"This... fight. The surviving. The running."

Daryl gave a low grunt. "Ain't no 'after.' Just the next day."

Octavia frowned slightly, though she knew deep down he was right. "I used to think there was something more. Something worth fighting for."

"And now?"

She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Now? I'm not so sure."

Daryl stopped walking and turned to look at her. His eyes, though tired and hardened by years of survival, held a flicker of curiosity. "What changed?"

Octavia's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Daryl thought she wasn't going to answer. But then, she met his gaze. "People. They change. Sometimes for the better... but mostly for the worse."

He nodded, understanding more than he let on. "Yeah. Ain't no fixin' that."

Octavia's eyes lingered on him, seeing more in him than just a rugged survivor. There was a depth to him—something she hadn't noticed before. He wasn't just a man hardened by war; he was someone who had lost hope but kept fighting anyway.

For some reason, that made her feel less alone.

Without another word, they continued their journey, both knowing they were more alike than they had first realized.

Chapter 3 Preview:
Daryl and Octavia continue tracking the herd but come across an unexpected enemy, forcing them to fight together. As they battle to survive, their trust in each other grows, and Daryl starts to open up about his past—something Octavia never expected from the quiet tracker.