Adapting (A Daryl Dixon/ The Walking Dead Fanfiction)

Chapter 71

Gemma's P.O.V
We stand around the three graves, silence filling the air. The atmosphere of the group is somber, saddening. My hand is warmly encased in Daryl's hand as I look down at the mounds of dirt before us. I look to my left and see Spencer standing between the graves of his parents and brother. Seeing him in so much pain brings back the memories of my parents, tears clouding my vision as I think of them. It's been awhile since I have thought of them and feelings of guilt run through my veins.

Eventually people begin to trickle away from the makeshift ceremony towards Spencer's home, where the wake takes place. Drinks and food has been provided by various people and soon the house is filled with the people of the community. I watch Spencer as one by one people come up to offer their condolences to him. I see him stiffly thank them, not allowing his emotions to show as he speaks with them. I try to become involved with conversation but the memories of my own parents are too much for me to handle.

"Excuse me." I say to the woman I'm talking too.

"Where you going?" Daryl asks kindly.

"Just getting some fresh air." I smile weakly at him.

He nods and gives my hand a squeeze before letting go as I walk towards the back porch. I slip out of the door and into the warm sunshine. I close my eyes and take in the warm heat, however I am met with my horrible memories. I see my mother's last moments, and my last minutes with my Dad. The tears roll down my cheeks and soon I hear the door open.

I turn and see Spencer close the door behind him and I face back towards the sun, wiping the tears away. He walks and stands beside me, leaving a space between us. His hands are buried in his pocket as he looks out.

"It's a beautiful day." He murmurs, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah." I whisper.

I turn to look at him, taking everything in. At first glance you would think he was fine, however on closer inspection I see the subtle redness of his eyes. His posture is slack and he's taking deep breaths, all the signs of grieving. I look away from him, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry about your parents." I say after awhile.

He lets out a breath, "Thank you." He says somewhat formally.

I turn and look at him, "I understand what you're going through."

"I'm sure you do." He says equally as formal.

I turn my body to face him, leaning against the railing, "I lost both of my parents during the beginning of the outbreak, both of them my fault."

"How?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair, "I was working a few hours away, helping out as much as I could for the sick. My parents both worked at the CDC and knew how bad it was getting. My mother rang me and told me to come home immediately, knowing that it was the safest place for me to be."

"What happened?" He asks.

I feel a tear spill down my cheek as I continue, "I arrived and everything outside was chaotic. There were walkers everywhere as well as the army trying to take them down. My mother and father rushed outside when I rang them. As I was going for them, a walker made a grab for me. My mother pushed it off me and in return she was bitten."

I take a deep breath before I continue, "My father and I were the last ones left, until Rick's group came. The power ran out and we barely made it out in time before the explosion. My Dad insisted I go while he chose to stay behind with one of the women from Rick's group. I didn't even get to say goodbye." I whisper, my eyes focused straight ahead.