In The End | Daryl Dixon

Chapter 68: Not about You

A/N: I finally got my laptop fixed!! I'll try and keep up with updates!! Love y'all & enjoy!!

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I rested my forehead against the cool glass, watching the wind blow through the tall grass outside. It bent and bowed under the weight of it, branches creaking as they swayed, like the world itself was holding its breath. For a moment, I let myself drift—somewhere safer. Somewhere quieter.

Somewhere we didn't have to worry about people trying to control us, or kill us just to prove they could.

In my head, I was back in Alexandria. Our porch was warm beneath my bare feet, the air thick with late-afternoon heat. Daryl was in the garage, sleeves rolled up, grease smeared across his hands as he worked on his bike. Tyler hovered nearby, leaning too close, talking too much, pushing buttons on purpose—because that was what he did best. Daryl muttered under his breath, but he never told him to leave. He never did.

I smiled faintly, the sound of the engine rumbling to life echoing in my ears.

"Hey."

Tyler's voice snapped me back into reality.

I blinked, pulling back from the glass. The reflection staring at me wasn't a porch or a garage—it was the inside of the truck, dim and cramped. Tyler sat in the driver's seat, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped lazily over the door. He was watching me now, brows pulled together just slightly.

"Just one more fight," he said quietly, his hand coming down to pat my knee—gentle, grounding.

I pressed my lips into a tight, almost-smile. "Just one more," I echoed, even as the words felt fragile the moment they left my mouth.

Flashing lights appeared over the rise of the hill ahead, cutting through the field, Rick's light passed through.  Tyler shifted in his seat, put the truck into drive, and we rolled forward with the line of vehicles, engines idling low, everyone moving with the same unspoken understanding.

As we passed the scene, I turned my head toward the window.

The body lay twisted in the grass, one of the Saviors. His eyes were still open, staring at nothing, blood dark and tacky against the dirt. 

This was the world we lived in now. Where just one more fight never really meant one more. Where survival always came at a cost, and someone else paid it in blood.

We pulled into the open field, as more and more vehicles rolled in around us—cars reinforced with welded metal. Engines cut one by one, leaving behind a low, uneasy quiet that pressed in on my ears.

Tyler parked and killed the engine.

We climbed out of the truck, air cool against my skin, carrying the sharp smell of fuel and dust. Before I could say anything, a familiar figure approached us.

"Well," Jesus said, a smile tugging at his mouth, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

He stepped forward and pulled Jesus into a hug, clapping a hand against his back like he was making sure he was really there.

"Good to see you, man," Tyler said, the tension easing just a fraction.

"How's it been at the Kingdom?" Jesus asked. 

Tyler scoffed, "It's definitely an adjustment." 

I scanned the open field, taking it all in. Faces from the Kingdom, Hilltop, and Alexandria moved through the crowd—people who, just weeks ago, had been strangers.  Now they stood shoulder to shoulder, sharing quiet words, trading supplies, offering nods of understanding like unspoken promises.