Unbreakable threads

Chapter one Hundred and Twenty seven: Daryls Dream.

Daryl drifted off to sleep, his arms still wrapped protectively around Alyssa. His breathing slowed, his body relaxing as exhaustion finally took over. But as his mind settled, the vividness of his dreams pulled him into a strange and unsettling world.

Daryl felt like he'd just woken up, though he wasn't sure if he was truly awake or still dreaming. The world around him came into focus, and he realized he was in Alexandria—or at least, it looked like Alexandria. But something was off. The place seemed brighter, more alive. The air was fresher, and everywhere he looked, the community was thriving. Crops were growing in the gardens, the streets were clean, and people were smiling, their laughter ringing out in the warmth of the sun.

He turned his head and saw Glenn and Maggie in the distance, chasing after a toddler boy. The boy's giggles filled the air as he stumbled ahead of them, his small legs moving clumsily but determinedly. Glenn caught the boy and swung him into the air, earning squeals of delight. They noticed Daryl watching and waved at him, their smiles wide and genuine.

Daryl waved back, but confusion furrowed his brow. Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't place it. He turned and kept walking, his boots crunching softly against the dirt paths.

And then he saw her.

Alyssa stood in the middle of the square, her back to him. She was motionless, her posture relaxed but confident. The sight of her stopped him in his tracks. The sun seemed to frame her, casting a warm glow around her figure.

Without thinking, Daryl walked toward her, his feet moving of their own accord. When he reached her, his hands naturally found their way to her waist, holding her gently. He leaned over her shoulder to see what she was looking at—and froze.

There he was. The little boy. The boy Daryl had been seeing in his dreams for weeks. His hair was dark and messy, just like Daryl's, but his eyes... his eyes were Alyssa's. Bright, piercing blue and full of life. The boy stood in front of Alyssa, his small hands reaching out, his face lit with joy.

Alyssa turned to look at Daryl, her smile radiant and warm, the kind of smile that could disarm even his deepest worries. She lifted the boy, holding him out toward Daryl as if to say, Here. He's yours, too.

Daryl hesitated, his hands reaching toward the child. But before he could lift him, the boy disappeared, vanishing into thin air. The world around Daryl spun violently, the vibrant colors of Alexandria fading into darkness.

When the world settled again, Daryl found himself standing in front of Hershel's farm. The porch loomed ahead of him, and sitting on it was a teenage version of Alyssa. Her head was in her hands, her shoulders shaking as if she was crying.

It was her as he'd first known her—the scared, headstrong girl they had found in Atlanta. The same girl who had grown up in the chaos of the apocalypse, trying to prove herself to a world that didn't want to give her a chance.

"Alyssa!" Daryl shouted, running toward her. He climbed the steps and crouched down in front of her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. But his hand passed through her like she wasn't really there. She didn't even look up, her sobs silent and distant.

Daryl felt a surge of frustration and heartbreak. He stood and turned, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what was happening. Suddenly, echoes of voices surrounded him—haunting, judgmental whispers from the past.

"She's just a kid."
"He's a creep."

"No," Daryl muttered, shaking his head. The voices grew louder, circling him, taunting him. "No! No, I'm not!" he shouted, his voice rising to a roar. "It ain't like that, man!"

His voice echoed into the empty landscape, and suddenly, Merle appeared before him, leaning casually against the porch railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His grin was sly, his eyes glinting with mischief.