Arrowhead ➳ Daryl Dixon

f o u r t y

Presley walked down the street, lazily plucking the string of her bow as Stefan chided on. She couldn’t even bring herself to process all that he was saying. She couldn’t focus on his words, and she hardly even heard them. Numb, she felt numb. Her actions last night were no doubt spontaneous, but the air between her and Daryl almost seemed awkward when she had awakened. She hadn’t even stuck around to share those feelings. She’d left before he could even tell her not to, by leaving rather quickly before he got up.

“Pres? Are you even listening to me?” Stefan asked, his tone concerned. He poked her shoulder lightly with her thumb, watching curiously when she jumped and gave him a confused expression.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” She sputtered awkwardly, fighting to think of something to say to him, scratching the back of her neck as she stared forward. She looked down when he offered his hand, seeing a small pile of nuts in his palm.

“Nuts, unsalted.” He said with a small, innocent smile. She looked up, smiling faintly as she took them and popped them into her mouth. There was a massive difference between Daryl and Stefan. Stefan was safe and secure- he listened to her thoughts and respected what she wanted. He favored her happiness over all else.

Daryl, on the other hand, was about as dangerous as they got. He dove into situations without a second thought, without truly considering the consequences. He didn’t favor her happiness, he favored her life and her safety. Presley was a flame that wasn’t easily contained or even dimmed. Stefan was her opposite, and Daryl was exactly like her.

She needed them both, but she needed them both for different reasons. With a chastened motion, she pushed a small tendril of hair up into the fold of her bandana. Stefan continued to look at her with a concerned expression.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, looking over at a disoriented walker stumbling on the other side of the street. The damned thing didn’t even realize that he was amongst two humans, food, in other words. By the looks of it, his eyes were black and red, signaling that he had become blind from blood that had leaked in his eyes at some period of time. He wandered without sight, broken neck hardly supporting his head.

“Nothing.” Presley said, but Stefan stopped, looking at her with a frown. After a moment of hesitation, she shrugged. “The Governor… It’s strange, not having to worry about him anymore.” She turned and continued walking, this time having Stefan trailing slightly behind her. “He’s gone, but the nightmares are still there. He doesn’t think about me, but I think about him, and often.” Stefan remained quiet throughout all of that. “It just isn’t fair, I guess. He got out of this all easy, and here I am… Still suffering.”

“But you’re alive.” Stefan pointed out. “He’s not.”

She laughed, the sound as empty as a beggar’s bank. “Alive isn’t living, Stefan.” She motioned to the walker stumbling across the street. “I am no better than those damn things. Walking, breathing, but not living.”

“You have something to live for, now, Presley.” Stefan said, rubbing his hand over Zeva’s head. “You have Daryl, you have Zeva… Me.” He added the last part more quietly than the others.

She shook her head. “All of you would be alright without me. You would all survive. Daryl would survive by himself, you would find another group to be with…” She stopped, sucking in a breath. “You all don’t need me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here. Daryl would be up in some tree house living off the forest until this whole thing passes, and you wouldn’t be in as much danger.”

Stefan, much to her surprise, chuckled in response. “Oh, Presley… Presley Presley, Presley… You obviously don’t understand how you’ve given Daryl a sense of living. Yes, he would survive, but he wouldn’t be living. He’d be no better off than those monsters you were just talking about.” Stefan explained, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Same with me.”