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THE HOUSE THE group was temporarily staying at would've been completely silent if it weren't for the low murmurs of the old settlement.
Eachcreak and each hum put the survivors on edge and made it hard for anyone to get sleep, especially Daryl Dixon. He sat at the dining chair with his crossbow on the table as the others slept, his eyes staring forward and his mind elsewhere as he thought.
He liked the silence and the solitude when it comes to his shift, it gave him time to think - to reminisce.
The bitter winter had been brutal. Warmth had become a hard source to find and the lack of supplies was almost a daily thing, but luckily the bitter cold slowed down the walkers which made it a little bit easier for them. It wasn't a season of just surviving, but a season of grief too.
A sound of footsteps brought Daryl back to reality and he glanced at the entrance way to the dining room.
He saw the sheriffs hat before he saw him.
With tired, blue eyes and a gun holstered on his belt, Carl Grimes looked at Daryl with curiosity. "Hi."
The redneck was quiet, but the boy didn't take it to heart. He watched as he sat down at the dining chair across from him, the tip of his large sheriff's hat almost concealing his face.
Daryl was never really good with children, but Carl wasn't just a child. He was a kid forced to mature in the midst of a ruthless world.
In a way, he could relate to him. His childhood had been snatched up and his metamorphosis to adulthood had been quick.
"Do you ever sleep?" Carl asked.
"Nah."
"I keep thinking about the baby, and...everything else," The boy admitted, looking at his lap. He lifted up his head after a moment. "Was Merle a good brother?"
Daryl met his gaze, the name of his lost older brother making him pause for a moment.
Merle was his biggest influence growing up. The two had shared similar beliefs, both having walked through hell and coming back with only a few scars, but that was then. Daryl loved his brother, yet he still acknowledged resentment layered that love too. "I'm sure you'll be a great big brother." He assured.
Carl smiled faintly. "Shane said the same thing to me once," Daryl watched as his eyes averted to his lap again, as if saying his name was forbidden. It was Rick's doing, but the redneck couldn't blame him.
He knew that the late Shane Walsh brought grief to the whole Grimes family.
Rick never showed it, but Daryl wasn't stupid. He saw it in his eyes, especially whenever he looked at Lori and her growing belly.
