𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 ➪ «𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛»

ch. XXXI - 《new hope》

oOo

Felix and Alice had fallen into a restless sleep in Sam and Irene's tent, lulled by Diana's gentle fingers grazing their skin. Diana had been tempted to join them, her own exhaustion creeping into her body, making her limbs and eyelids heavy, but there was too much to be done.

She didn't know what exactly at first, but she knew that she couldn't nap the day away while the other survivors labored to tend to their wounded and count their dead. One of those was her job.

So she threw herself headfirst into it.

She went into camp, making the rounds, checking up on her patients - the ones that had made it out alive, that is. She added 'deceased' and the date of death in her journal on the records of those who hadn't survived the night. But not to her patient no. 1. Not him, not yet.

Diana was rubbing the tears from her eyes and swallowing the knot in her throat when she was startled by a voice calling her name. She pivoted on the folding chair. "Rick?" She cleared her throat.

The man looked worse for wear, but she guessed everyone did. He approached her with a tired gait, his fingertips rubbing over his eyes and then pinching the bridge of his nose.

Out of professional politeness, Diana offered him her chair and propped up a second one to sit. Rick accepted it reluctantly. She wanted to ask if there was something wrong, but that would've been the stupidest question of the year, so she waited for him to speak.

"Diana, I want you to know that I am so sorry for what happened to your family. After you helped me find mine, this happening is... it's not fair to any of you," Rick's voice was grave and honest. "You're amazing kids, I believe there's nothing you'd do that wouldn't make your parents proud..." His blue eyes bore into Diana's cinnamon brown. "And Diana, your role in this group is invaluable, I hope you know that.

You've taken care of us 'round-the-clock without asking for nothing in return. Well, now I'm offering something, a family. Not a replacement. There's nothing that could ever replace what the three of you have lost – but an addition. Rely on us like we've come to rely on you.

It's okay to not be strong all the time."

His short speech had been unexpected but unsurprisingly welcome. Diana didn't know she was crying until the image of Rick became bent out of shape by the tears in her eyes. The back of her hand flew to wipe them away. She wanted to chuckle to dispel the waterworks, but all that came out were sobs.

She felt moved by Rick's words. The tears of grief came mixed with relief. Pen and journal went forgotten, tumbling to the ground at her feet, while she curled in on herself, bawling. Rick had knelt by her side, as she could see through the spaces between her fingers. His hand was rubbing up and down her back, and he was hushing her gently like her father would.

She cried even more.

The sobs subsided little by little, and although Diana thought she'd feel embarrassed by making such a scene, she didn't. She recalled Felix crying earlier when T-Dog came by. Or when she'd comforted fellow survivors who'd also lost loved ones. There was nothing to be embarrassed about when dealing with loss. Rick would understand her tears.

Diana believed that a good cry could make you feel lighter, better. This was like that and it wasn't. She knew it was only temporary, the grief was still too fresh to be erased so suddenly, no matter how many times she'd already cried that morning.

She straightened herself while sniffing away snot and wiping away tears with the sleeve of her hoodie. She looked into Rick's empathetic eyes and said, "I-" her voice came out gravelly and she cleared her throat, "Thank you, Rick, for real. From the bottom of my heart. And I... I think I never said how happy I was that you found your family, but I am, Rick. I really, really am."