Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 52 - Gone

It wasn't the first time Daryl felt like this... Felt like he should have done more, like he was to blame for not doing something, anything, that actually made a difference.

It seemed no matter how hard the hunter tried to keep people safe, even when it meant doing the most dangerous things himself, nothing changed.

Because, in the end, Carol was still gone, T-Dog, gone, Amy... Gone.

He hated that he hadn't done more when the time had called for it... That he went with Rick to turn off the generators, that he didn't try to find T-Dog sooner, didn't go further into the search...

Because maybe Carol and Amy were still there, somewhere, at the time, and he could have led them back to the group, back to safety.

But again, Daryl had himself caught between a rock and a hard place, and with this tiny baby crying in front of his eyes, he knew he couldn't turn his back on the current situation unfolding before him.

For a moment, Daryl looked around the group, mindlessly watching as hell continued to break loose. The atmosphere around him was odd, with nobody taking charge, nobody seeming to plan ahead, to think about what had to be done.

Everyone had drifted away, drifted off into their own thoughts; their own sad, miserable, hollow thoughts.

This left Daryl prepared to do what he always ended up doing... What nobody else wanted to. He was so used to standing on the outside, he'd learnt to distance himself so well he could think rationally when it came to situations like this.

Because, as Rick was undeniably in a daze... The group broken down by the all-too-recent tragedy, it seemed nobody had the strength to pick up the pieces.

So, with a heavy heart, Daryl pushed aside everything he was feeling, like he'd learnt to do as a young boy, and he stood strong... He moved forward, and he pulled his crossbow over his shoulder with a look of stone-set determination.

Across the courtyard from him, Rick was still having a hard time trying to focus on anything but that shrill, echoing cry of the baby.

As his own daughter wailed out into the open air around him, his fragmented group began to frantically pull themselves back together, starting with one man who all too often found himself shoved into the deep end when things went awry.

Daryl approached Rick slowly, passing a shaking Maggie, a tense Glenn, concerned Hershel... But it became clear to the hunter, as he neared, that he had clearly slipped into a state of shock.

Because things certainly were going awry for Rick Grimes...

He was hunched over in that same position, eyes wandering over the bloodied baby before him.

Little details stole his attention, stealing away from the horrid sense of realisation that had previously brought him to his knees.

He was lost in the way his newborn daughter shook her hand in the air, tiny fingers tightened up in a fist that trembled with every forceful wail of hunger...

He was lost in the way Maggie's bloody arms still trembled against the jacket that covered her.

Lost in the way she slowly passed the infant over to his son, Carl, who held his sibling for the first time... Whose look of adoration, love, despite what had happened, hollowed at him entirely.