The Fallen (Daryl Dixon fanfiction)

Chapter 5

Slipping out of the cell as the group has moved further into the prison. Mowing through a cluster carving her mark into their skulls getting observed at the pull of skin. Parting around the blade dark almost black molasses bubbling to the surface.

She didn't know what she would do if she found Tomas among them.

Maybe she'd keep him as her pet. Peel off his face, pull his arm from its socket, and break his knee as he did her.



A scream slices through the silence. She shouldn't be surprised. Everybody dies. She should have died that day. Bleeding on the floor, a broken mess. Something pulled at her. The overlapping of voices bouncing around her. Frantic cries and bellows of agony. Walking through the darkness, following the cluster of voices. Her brows furrowed at the sounds of doors opening and a beam of light filling her vision. The Cafeteria. Blinded by the light, she walked towards it. Something she wished she had down on that day. The warm and comforting light filled her vision, coaxing her forward. Entering the open room, I saw the group surrounding an older man on the floor, bleeding from his leg. They hadn't yet noticed her. Following the man holding the bow's line of sight to five men in jumpsuits.

Her entire being goes stiff at the sight of HIM.

"Carino?" The word that left his lips brought her blood to a boil. Being all the confirmation she needed. Going for her gun. The bearded man suddenly looks at her eyes wide.

"DARYL!" he screams.

The bowman quickly turned, shooting his arrow at her.

~.~

An airy chuckle leaves her chapped lips. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Another life, even where everything she saw was black.

"That's how I got my beauty mark." She laughs, pushing her hair behind her left ear, tracing over the faint line from the bridge of her nose across her cheek to the notch of her ear that's missing.

~.~

Slowly waking up, her hair matted to the side of her face. Cautiously sitting up, she glared to see the young cowboy watching her every move. Rubbing the left side of her face caked with dried blood. Hissing as her fingers brushed her ear.

"I brought you something to eat," she said, pushing a bowl of roman noodles between the bars. "We would've taken care of that for you, but..." He trails off, going to the side, hearing frantic shuffling and whispering voices. Remembering the old man, the group desperately tried to help.


"He got bit," she assumes, stealing the kid's attention. Spitting onto her sleeve using it to clean her cheek.


"Yeah, but he'll make it." He grunts confidently. She shakes her head sadly. "We just need supplies," he states sternly, but she could see the fear in his eyes as he unfurled a familiar sheet of paper. Then it hit her. Her bag. Her weapons, her map. They had it all. "Tell me where the infirmary is," he demands, pulling out his pistol and keeping a steady hold while aiming it between her eyes.



"Even if I did. You shouldn't go off by yourself," she cautions, holding up her hands and keeping an eye on the weapon.

"I can take care of myself!" he assures. He reminded her so much of HIM. Independent to the point of being hardheaded. I can do it! She'd hear him screech while fumbling with his shoelaces. Unlike his mirror self, who was dependent on her. A pure-blood mama's boy.

"Here." She points to the spot on the paper. Slowly taking her arm back after hearing the click of the safety being turned off. "Take two rights last door at the end of the corridor," she instructs. Breathing easily as the boy holsters his pistol.

"Just like that?" he asks.


"I'm not your mom, and I gave you a warning," she reasons. "What you do with that information is up to you," she shrugs. Taking the steaming cup in her hands and beginning to eat. "Yo' daddy, the one with the crossbow?" She slurps. They both had this shoot first, ask questions later mentality about them. Could be hereditary.

"No, that's Daryl." He snickers just a bit, realizing it, then covers it with a forced scowl.

"Blue eyes and a beard." She concludes.

"Yeah, I'm Carl." He introduces.

"Reese." She replies.



"Like the candy." His face lights up.

"Yeah, like the candy." not having heard that reference in a long time. "You, my guard, Carl?" She asks, eyeing the pistol dangling from its holster on a belt that was way too big for him. Taking a seat on the floor and slurping from the steaming cup.

"Yeah." He nods with pride. Hat tilting forward covering his eyes. She snickers and yet the sight also makes her want to cry. A kid armed with a gun and knife.

"C'mere." She instructs. The boy hesitates. "I ain't goin' hurt ya." She promises. Slowly scooting closer and slowly reaching her arms through the bars. "You need a new belt." She scolds, tightening it. "It should be snug, but shouldn't hurt." She informs. "That way you can feel your gun, and it's not easily swiped." She adds, returning her arms inside and finishing her meal in the presence of her pint-sized guard.

~.~

"Who are you?" There were piercing blue eyes stalking on the other side of the bars.

Looking past the man, to the others standing quite a distance away. Eyes filled with distrust and fear.

Towards who?


She ponders.

Her?

Her eyes trailed back to the tall, lean man she could only assume to be their leader. His stance, his air, and his aura screamed leadership.

"Why we wastin' breath, man." A long-haired redneck grumbles. "She could be one of 'em."

"We don't know that." An African American counters, adjusting the strap of one of his rifles on his shoulder.

"She couldn't have taken out that many walkers on her own." An Asian boy speaks. "You saw the arsenal we found in her bag?" he adds.

"Makes sense." A young, short haired brunette agrees.

"Ain't no princess peach." The redneck grumbles.

"I don't feel comfortable with her here," the woman told him with pleading eyes, her arms cradling her massive baby bump. Their eyes met, causing the soon-to-be mom to take a defensive stance in front of Carl. Must have been his mother.

"What do we do? We can't just throw her out." The leader states

"Why not?" the young blonde asks meekly.

"She could come back." The young brunette answers, placing a comforting arm around her. "There's a road sign every five miles to the prison."



"Slit our throats in our sleep." The redneck mumbles.

"Daryl!" she scolds, sending him a glare.

"Just sayin'," he shrugs.

"She's not dangerous. She told me where the medical supplies were." Carl speaks up, pushing through the protective barrier of his mother's arm.

"You went near my son?" the leader sneers lowly towards her.

"I did warn him. Also didn't think it was wise pissin' off a kid with a gun." She states.

"Beth, take Carl." The pregnant woman instructs as the blond teen nods, ushering the boy away.

"That's it then?" she snorts. "You gon' kill me." She glares up at them.

"I'm sorry, but you're a stranger."

"I'm Nobody." She swallows. Mouth became dry seeing the solemn expressions and eyes avoiding her that her fate was sealed.


"Well, Nobody. You pulled a weapon on me and my people, and I can't allow that." He states hand hovering over his holstered pistol.


"Don't flatter yourself." The words slip through her teeth like venom. Anger bubbled to the surface before she could put a lid on it. "I wasn't aiming for you." She corrects.



"Who were you aiming for then?"



"The inmate, Tomas Alejandro," She breathes. "Long hair, white t-shirt, sentenced to life for beating his wife within an inch of her life and leaving his two boys in a hot car for three days." She lists.


"Who was he to you?" kneeling to meet her eye level. She bites her tongue to stop the sobs from creeping up her throat. A tear trailing down her cheek.

~.~

"Rick, he's the leader." She asks.

"Yeah," she answers.

"Was he appointed...how does it work?" She adds.

"Like a democracy." She smiles. "We're a family. We decide together; we fight together." She ends.

"I take it you all get along from the start."

"Noooo." She laughs. "Like I said, we're a family. And families have their usual squabble."