Instincts (Daryl Dixon FF)

e l e v e n

[Season 4, before Internment]

No P.o.V

The ride back to the prison felt much lighter. Margo had her head leaned against the cool glass watching the rain drops flow into each other and down the window. It wasn't like the weight on her shoulders was completely gone but definitely replaced by a much smaller one and still she was sitting heavily on her seat, her fear of floating away not confirming itself yet.

At the prison Rick was standing at the gate, ready to let them in like he had never left his position since they were gone. He had the chain still tightly grasped in his hands, strands of wet hair were sticking to his face, his eyes seemed tired and his hands around the metal revised. A few feet behind him a second person stood near the fence but Margo couldn't quite make out who it was until they had passed the metal posts of the gate and the headlights hit the dark figure. It was her father George, a dark blue jacket covering his bald head, arms crossed infront of his chest. He had his face buried deeply in the collar but still Margo could get a quick glance of his tense eyes and it told her to talk with him as soon as she left the car. So she did. When the green vehicle came to a stop, she was quick to open her door, pass Rick and walk through the damp grass directly to her father. He turned immediately to walk side to side with her.

"How was it?", he mumbled, voice dark, eyes staying focused on the ground. "Good", Margo replied shortly. She knew that he didn't want a résumé of their run, he didn't care about any of the details and even if he would, his decision would stay the same. All he wanted was to know if he had to continue being a brick wall against his stubborn daughter or if she at least could arrange herself with the situation. But for Margo there never was an option like an 'arrangement'. She was the 'all in or nothing' type, either you commit or you don't and people who put one foot into the pool and and keep the other one waiting outside to run away in case the water gets cold are cowards in her eyes. It doesn't mean you have to agree with everything, it doesn't mean you can't throw a tantrum or punch one in the face. Because hell if it did, she simply wouldn't be able to commit.

Rick threw a questioning glance at Daryl and Michonne as they left the car but only she decided to exchange a few words with the leader whereas Daryl just indifferently walked past him to the prison block. "We need to talk, inside", Michonne whispered. Her dreads were getting damper by the second, little droplets dangling at the ends of them and if it wasn't for the white in her eyes the dark brown irises would have blurred with the night air around her. Rick seemed to be a bit startled by her approach but nodded quietly. As Michonne started to pace through the field his feet remained heavy on the ground, a cold feeling washed over him and suddenly he felt like the certainty of his previous decision may just had paid back. And his mind went even further, what if he, the leader of this group of people that had trusted him, was stupid enough to carelessly invite their future murderers into their home? What if everything his gut feeling told him about this "Margo" was just completely and utterly wrong? His hand nervously drove through his beard, he took a final glance at the car next to him before taking off, following the others back inside.

Margo and George had quietly separated into their cells. Most of the people, except those who were chosen to keep guard were sleeping or dozing in their beds and some of them, like Beth, had a small candlelight lit on their nightstand reading a book. Margo had seen her, sitting on the mattress with a small pocketbook in her delicate hands. She had her legs crossed, hair falling gently from her ponytail over her shoulder, the dimmed warm light spread a familiar atmosphere and laid itself like a filter over her face. It was a strange sight for Margo, it felt too comfortable and calm for her world but somehow it magically pulled at her. She was laying on her bed, still clothed in her blood splattered shirt and trousers as she decided to stand back up again and walk down to Beths cell.