Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Epilogue

There's a lot to do.

People spread out, some to Hilltop, others back to the Sanctuary, but there's a hesitant sense of camaraderie growing in every interaction between our diverse communities. Everyone is going home, but so much will never be the same again.

There are a lot of wounds to patch up and a lot of people to help. I'm busy again, and this time, it feels like a happy kind of busyness that I embrace gladly and fully.

Daryl and I share what happened on our side of things, just as others tell us what happened on theirs, and everything that transpired before we arrived. We took the time to let Carl rest, to make sure that there was no infection looming before we hit the road. By the time we reached the Hilltop, people had moved forward with the final battle. Tara was able to tell us where everyone was, and we wasted no time following their trail.

I'm just glad that we were able to get Carl there. He was able to see the dawning of a great new world.

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I sit in the passenger seat of an old red pickup truck. Dwight sits in the cramped back seat. Daryl drives. He pulls off into the woods and parks in a small clearing, then climbs out and yanks the seat back, grunting for Dwight to get out.

Dwight's face is still taped up on the brow and cheekbone, the bridge of his nose bruised. He said it could have been worse, considering he was found out to be a traitor to the Saviours, but the wounds were still pretty nasty.

Daryl stares him down while I linger by the hood of the truck. Dwight sighs as he looks around, listening to the sounds of insects buzzing and birds chirping.

"I know why I'm here," he says. He swallows. "I know what I did to Denise. To you." His voice chokes as he gestures to Daryl. "To other people. And it doesn't matter why. I knew I'd have to face it...to pay, and I should."

In the two days since the war ended, Dwight was a consistent topic of conversation between Daryl and me. In the grand scheme of things, Dwight's crimes seem far lesser than Negan's, and Negan still breathes, albeit locked in a cell. Daryl didn't take too kindly to me making that comparison, but I know it's because he doesn't exactly subscribe to Rick and Carl's new view on mercy.

I pray that he listens to me now, though, because there's still a part of me that sees Dwight as another version of Daryl, just one who was less fortunate in the path his life took.

Dwight inhales deeply, lifting his chin. "I'm ready," he says. His jaw trembles, and he looks to the sky as his hands shake at his sides. "I got to see Negan taken down, and that's enough." Another deep breath. "Me? I'm a piece of shit. There's no going back to how things were."

He lowers himself to his knees, head bowed. My gaze darts to Daryl, the half of his face that I can see, and his expression betrays nothing.

I hear Dwight let out a tiny sob. "I'm sorry," he whispers. He looks up at Daryl, clasping his hands together. "I'm so sorry. Please." Daryl says nothing. "Please."

"Shut up," Daryl snaps.

Dwight starts to sob softly. Daryl tosses the truck keys, and they land between Dwight's knees, rattling. Dwight's cries cease as he picks them up, shuddering breaths leaving him.

"You go, and you keep going," Daryl says. "Don't you ever come back here again. If I ever see your face around here again, I'll kill you. You go out there, and you make it right." He turns away, motioning to me, and I walk around the hood to his side. "Find her."

We leave Dwight in the woods with the truck. As we return to the road, I thank my lucky stars that I'm not in the third trimester yet—I doubt I'll want to walk much then. Part of me thought we'd be taking the truck back with us, but this works out better for everyone.