What Are You?

Weak

When they found the CDC, it seemed like a Godsend.

Except that he didn't believe in miracles, and though they had electricity and food and running water, it was surely not meant to last.

They all enjoyed their first night with hot showers and great food. They gorged themselves on soda and wine and instant potatoes, smiling and joking like it was the greatest thing in the world and they had nothing to worry about. Like there wasn't an endless horde of walkers and ruin outside the steel-reinforced doors.

Though to be honest, it was kind of hard not to enjoy it, however long it lasted. The air was light and the laughter was plentiful, and the supplies seemed limitless. There was no reason not to be merry.

Carol had started talking more. She seemed to get over Ed's death pretty quickly, and now that she was free of his reign, she seemed to be a happier person. Her daughter, too.

Daryl watched as Carol tossed a spoonful of corn into Sofia's waiting mouth across the table while everyone ate the last decent meals they would probably come across for a long time, and smiled.

It had been a long time since he'd smiled. Sure, it was probably because he was drunk, but he'd take it over scowling and feeling like shit any day. And in his drunken stupor, he decided that, in that moment, he was witnessing a somewhat slow and shifting evolution of the quiet, mousy woman before him.

She was no longer annoying. Or quiet. Or stupid, or dumb.

But she wasn't strong, either.

And he didn't look forward to the moment when her lack of strength failed to save her daughter.

It wasn't her fault.

He supposed there were plenty of women who were just naturally meek and mild and softspoken. But it didn't change the fact.

To a drunk Daryl Dixon, she wasn't hopeless.

At the moment, she was simply weak.