Scars & Shadows(Daryl x Octavia)

Chpt 4: Scars We Hide

The rest of the day passed in relative silence, each of them on high alert after the encounter with the raiders. Daryl led them toward a small creek he'd noticed earlier, intent on finding a safe spot to rest for the night. As they walked, Octavia couldn't help glancing at him now and then, wondering what stories lay behind his quiet demeanor and guarded eyes.

They reached the creek just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the forest. Daryl knelt by the water, refilling his canteen before taking a drink. Octavia followed suit, her eyes drifting to the subtle bruises peeking out from under his shirt.

"You should clean that up," she said, nodding toward his shoulder.

Daryl raised an eyebrow, shrugging as he took a long drink. "Ain't nothin'."

Octavia frowned, crouching beside him. "Could get infected. And you know as well as I do, we don't have time for that out here."

With a quiet sigh, Daryl nodded, reluctantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off his shoulders to reveal the bruises and cuts from earlier skirmishes. Octavia tried not to stare, but she couldn't help noticing the intricate patchwork of scars marking his back and chest—some old and faded, others more recent.

Her gaze softened as she took in the scars, realizing each one must have its own story, its own weight. She hadn't expected to feel sympathy for him, but seeing the physical evidence of the battles he'd fought, the pain he'd endured, it hit her unexpectedly hard.

"Didn't take you for the sentimental type," Daryl muttered, catching her staring. His voice was gruff, almost embarrassed.

Octavia blinked, quickly averting her gaze. "I'm not," she replied, her tone defensive. "Just... surprised, is all."

Daryl gave her a small smirk. "World don't go easy on people like us. You learn to take a hit or two."

She met his gaze, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "Yeah. Guess I know a thing or two about that." She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a thin scar tracing along her forearm, then a faint, circular burn mark on her wrist.

Daryl's eyes flicked to her arm, noting the scars, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "What's that from?"

She hesitated, the usual defiance in her eyes wavering. "A lot of it... from before I joined the Grounders. When I was a kid, I spent most of my life hidden in a room, just me and my brother. Got hurt a lot... trying to survive in ways you wouldn't understand."

Daryl nodded, his gaze shifting to the creek, as if searching for the right words. "World's been hell on a lot of people. Just... comes out different for everyone."

They fell into a thoughtful silence, the weight of shared pain settling between them. Neither of them needed to say much more—there was an unspoken understanding there, the kind that didn't need words.

Octavia shifted closer, reaching out to gently touch a particularly jagged scar on Daryl's back. "This one," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "looks like it hurt."

Daryl stiffened slightly at her touch, but he didn't pull away. "Barbed wire," he muttered. "Got tangled up in some once, on the run from a group. Hurt like hell, but I got out."

Octavia's hand lingered for a moment before she drew it back, her fingers brushing against his shoulder. "Guess we've both been through our share."

"Yeah," he murmured, the edge in his voice softened by the shared vulnerability. "Ain't easy to get by in this world without leavin' a mark."

They sat there in silence for a while, the sounds of the creek mingling with the quiet night air. It was a moment of peace in an otherwise unforgiving world—a rare connection neither of them had expected to find.

Finally, Octavia cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "If we're going to make it out of here, we should probably get some rest."

Daryl nodded, his usual guarded expression slipping back into place as he pulled his shirt back on. "You take first watch. I'll wake up when it's my turn."

She rolled her eyes, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Don't go thinking you're the only one who knows how to survive, Dixon."

Daryl's mouth quirked into a half-smile as he settled down against a nearby tree, his crossbow close at hand. "Just stay sharp, Blake."

Octavia watched him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the man who'd somehow gone from stranger to ally in the span of a few days. She shook her head, pulling her sword close as she took her position for the night watch.