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OPHELIA WAS IN THE watch tower when she saw Michonne walk towards the gate. But, she wasn't with Merle or with Daryl, she was alone. Ophelia was relieved that she was safe, but she'd left the prison with Merle, and Daryl had followed after them shortly after. So where were they if she was here?
The girl quickly left the watch tower in a hurry and ran off down the stairs to let Michonne in. When she pulled open the gate, Michonne walked into the courtyard and Ophelia closed the gate behind her quickly (before any of the walkers roaming outside of the prison decided to come in as well.)
"It's good to see you. Everybody's been worried about you, especially Rick. He's been beating himself up about the whole thing." She smiled. "I'm glad that you're safe now. But, what happened to Merle and Daryl?"
"He let me go." Michonne replied.
"Who did?" Ophelia asked with furrowed brows. "Never mind. Something doesn't feel right. I have to go and find Daryl."
"He said not to let anyone go after him." Michonne told her as Ophelia opened the gate again.
"I have to." She quietly sighed. "Somethings wrong."
Michonne didn't argue with her — she understood how she felt.
"Be careful." Was all that she said, with a small smile.
"I will." Ophelia nodded, slipping through the gate. "Thank you."
❦❦❦
Ophelia had been tracking Daryl for a while, when she heard muffled crying near her. She furrowed her brows, and began to follow the sound away from the road and through to a field. She pushed her way through a couple of bushes and overhanging branches, when she finally reached the patch of land.
Deceased walkers laid on the floor, soaking in their own blood and torn skin, all lifeless and still. She crinkled her nose at the foul smell — similar to the stench of the walkers back at the CDC in Atlanta — and looked around for any sign of Daryl or Merle, or even the Governor. They might have been with him.
The girl kept on walking with one hand hovering over the knife inside of her belt, until she saw somebody in front of her. It wasn't a walker — they'd all been killed — and they were making quiet crying sounds. They were crouched down on the ground, kneeling next to a walker sprawled out on the floor. There was a bloody knife just a few metres away, and Ophelia felt her stomach tie in a knot.
The angel wings on the back of their jacket quickly told her that it was Daryl crying — and then she knew that something was wrong, because Daryl never cried, or shed a tear, not unless it was something important.
"Daryl." She said in a soft voice from behind him.
Daryl quickly turned his head around to look at her with red and swollen eyes. He tried to stop himself from crying as he saw her, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand and pretending that he was fine.
Whilst Daryl wiped his cheeks as though he hadn't just been crying for his brother, she peeped over his shoulder to try and see what had made him so upset. And then she saw him; she saw Merle as a walker, lying on the floor dead. Her eyes flickered back to the knife by Daryl's side, and she quickly understood why Daryl was upset — he'd killed his brother (even if it was as a walker.)
"He's dead." Was all Daryl said. He tried to say it as though he wasn't crying anymore, but his bottom lip was quivering.
Ophelia didn't say anything as she walked off over to him and knelt down in front of him. She pulled out a red cloth — the one that Daryl had given to her just outside of Woodbury the day that he left to go off with Merle — and folded it inside her hand and dabbed it against his cheeks. It caught any tear that fell down his face.
"You don't have to put on a tough facade in front off me." She said to him, wiping away a tear. "Crying doesn't make you weak, Daryl. It makes you human."
Daryl paused for a moment. "He's gone." He said, looking at her with eyes filled with melancholy. "And he ain't comin' back."
And then Daryl felt himself begin to quietly cry and it didn't matter how much he tried to hold back — his brother was dead and he was never going to see Merle again. And it didn't matter to Daryl how much of a jackass Merle was, they were still brothers, they'd still grown up as children together. He was still his hero, in a funny sort off way. And now he was gone, in one moment he'd lost it all.
Ophelia held Daryl tightly as he began to silently cry to himself, resting her hands on his back. He didn't like crying in front of anybody (it made him feel like a weakling,) but if he couldn't cry for his brother now, he was never going to mourn him, and he would never move on. And in the moments of grief and pain, he let Ophelia hold him closely, and when Merle's death began to really sink in, he found himself holding onto her, and in that moment, he didn't care how weak he looked. All he cared about was missing his older brother.
