Z.*༄

Because Rick had taken a life because he believed it was necessary to protect.

Daryl had been willing to give his own away because he believed his was the easiest one to lose. And that was something you couldn’t forget.

The image of him sitting beside you in that car remained burned into your mind. Smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers, the scent of it engulfing your nostrils. The dead surrounding you. How he had spoken about opening that door like it was nothing more than another task to complete.

Like he’d already accepted the outcome before it had even happened.

The memory lingered far longer than you wanted it to.

You tried to drown it beneath routine instead.

That week that followed became a cycle of work. Alexandria was rebuilding itself in more ways than one. Weak sections of the wall were reinforced, guard rotations doubled, and every able-bodied resident found themselves with another job added to an already long list.

Nobody questioned it.

After Pete, nobody wanted to.

Your ankle, however, refused to let you throw yourself into every task.

The swelling had faded enough for Denise, the newest doctor in training, to stop looking quite so horrified every time you walked into her makeshift infirmary. However, the joint still ached whenever you put too much weight on it. Every morning began the same way; the first few steps sharp enough to make your jaw tighten before the pain gradually dulled into a persistent throb.

“You’ve strained the ligaments,” Denise had explained for what felt like the tenth time while wrapping another clean elastic bandage around your ankle.

You’d sighed dramatically from where you sat on the examination table.

“So I can start patrolling again?” you asked her, as you began to roll your sock back on.

Denise paused, looking up at you over the rims of her glasses. “Did you hear literally anything I just said?”

When you offered a warning glare, a poor attempt to threaten against doctors orders.

She leaned back slightly, folding her arms in disbelief, offering you a similar look.

“No runs outside the walls,” Denise began, shaking her head. You opened your mouth to rebuttal, but she was quick to continue. “No patrols. And if I hear you’ve ignored me again, I’ll tell Rick.”

You stared at her, jaw hanging in skepticism. “That’s low.”

“It’ll work.”

Unfortunately, it did.

Rick had taken one look at your ankle after Denise had spoken with him and immediately reassigned you to lighter duties inside Alexandria until you were properly healed.

While others ventured beyond the walls or reinforced the perimeter, you found yourself sorting salvaged supplies, or helping Rosita train some of Alexandria’s newer residents how to properly swing a weapon without hurting themselves first.

You hated every second of it, especially with Finley’s constant teasing.

The girl had heard what had happened from Aaron, and she found it humorous that you injured yourself, again. Thankfully, that was the only thing she could tease you for. Not hearing about the small heart to heart between you and Daryl.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept your hands busy.

Most days, that was enough.

Because whenever your thoughts weren’t occupied, they drifted back to him.

To the way Daryl had avoided you without actually avoiding you. You still caught glimpses of him throughout the week. Crossing the street with his crossbow slung over one shoulder, returning from a hunt with a squirrel hanging from his belt.

Speaking quietly with Rick before disappearing beyond the walls again. When you did encounter each other, it only lasted a few seconds and with Finley at your side,

Never long enough for either of you to mention the conversation in the car.

Maybe neither of you knew how. Maybe he decided to pretend it had never happened. You weren’t sure which possibility unsettled you more.

By the end of the week, the swelling had almost disappeared.

The bruising had faded into a patchwork of dull yellows and greens around your ankle, leaving behind only a persistent tenderness that reminded you to favour it whenever the ground became uneven. It no longer buckled beneath your weight, and walking around Alexandria had become manageable again, even if every sharp turn or sudden sprint threatened to remind you it wasn’t fully healed.

Denise had finally relented.

Still, her warnings lingered in the back of your mind as you stepped through Alexandria’s gates for the first time in days.

The familiar weight of your axe resting against your hip felt strangely comforting.

Beyond the walls the air always smelled different. Damp earth mixed with pine, wildflowers and decay all carried together on the breeze. It reminded you that the world hadn’t stopped simply because Alexandria had found a way to hide from it.

You’d almost forgotten how much you’d missed it. Whatever relief you expected to feel quickly vanished, as quickly as you left.

The atmosphere amongst the group was different.

Rick stood near one of the trucks with a folded map spread across its bonnet while Michonne, Glenn, Abraham, Sasha and Daryl gathered around him. A few others lingered nearby, Morgan standing just behind them, quietly observing everything with his staff planted against the ground.

Rick looked up as you approached. “Ankle holding up?”

You rolled it experimentally before nodding. “Tender, but it’ll do.”

His piercing gaze lingered for another moment, silently deciding whether he believed you. Apparently he did.

“Good,” he replied evenly. Rick gave a single nod before turning back towards the others. “Let’s move.”

He led everyone to the newest objective, the newest pending doom. The quarry was unlike anything you’d ever seen.

Rot. Thousands of bodies left to bake beneath the summer sun, trapped together in a pit that stretched farther than your vision could comfortably follow. Flies buzzed in suffocating swarms above the mass of decaying flesh, while the low chorus of groans rolled through the quarry like distant thunder.

You stopped at the edge alongside Sasha and Abraham, instinctively tightening your grip around the handle of your axe.

“Jesus,” Abraham muttered to himself.

The quarry stretched on for what felt like miles, every ledge and shelf below crawling with the dead. Some wandered aimlessly between abandoned vehicles at the bottom, while countless more stood shoulder to shoulder, compressed into a sea of grey flesh by the sheer weight of their own numbers.

It was a huge herd.

Rick climbed onto the hood of one of the parked trucks, unfolding the map across the dusty metal.

“Everybody gather up,” he ordered out to the crowd. Now, preparing to devise a plan to snuff the problem out.

Conversation died almost instantly.

You stepped closer beside Sasha and Abraham, taking care where you planted your foot as loose gravel shifted beneath your boots.

Rick waited until every ounce of attention settled on him.

“This place is the reason Alexandria’s been standing this long,” he stated, gesturing towards the quarry below. “This is where it all starts, tomorrow.”

Abraham let out a low whistle beside you, leaning into your earshot, head still facing Rick. “Hell of a Tuesday,” he snickered under his breath.

Rolling your orbs, you only snorted in response, keeping your arms crossed. Sasha decided to shoot him a tired glare.

Across the circle, Daryl remained near the outer edge of the group, arms folded loosely over his chest. He barely spoke, his attention seemingly fixed on Rick.

Every so often, almost absentmindedly, his gaze drifted your way. Just for a second.

Long enough to find you amongst the group before returning to the map as though nothing had happened.

The first time, you dismissed it. The second, you caught it yourself.

By the third, Abraham caught it too.His eyes flicked from Daryl to you, then back again, a knowing crease forming at the corner of his mouth before he quietly scratched at his beard.

He didn’t say a word.

It appeared, a few others had begun to notice the intentional distance Daryl had put between you.

Rick continued outlining the route, explaining how the convoy would funnel the walkers along miles of open road before redirecting them away from Alexandria. You listened carefully, again, committing each landmark to memory.

Eventually, he began repeating positions.

“Sasha,” Rick called for her, prompting her to peer up immediately. “You’ll be with Abraham, leading them in the car.”

She nodded once.

“No complaints here,” Abraham added, chin held high with a teasing grin.

Rick’s eyes found you next, assigning you your task. “You go with them, be an extra pair of eyes for them.”

“Understood,” you acknowledge. It wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for, but it made sense.

Your job wasn’t to draw the herd, it was to help keep them moving once they were committed to the route.

“Daryl gets on his bike and follows you three,” Rick continued, his finger tracing the route across the map. “Once the herd’s moving, your job is to keep them on course until they reach the next checkpoint.”

You nodded, committing the route to memory, shifting on the spot. Everything depended on timing. On every person being exactly where they were supposed to be.

Rick had barely opened his mouth to continue when a deep metallic groan echoed through the quarry. The sound cut through every conversation.

Your head snapped towards the pit, taking a step forward, getting a better look at the source. Another groan followed, longer this time and louder.

Then the enormous lorry wedged against the quarry wall shuddered violently.

For one suspended heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the earth shifted beneath it.

The truck lurched forward, screeching loudly. Its rusted frame twisted with a deafening scream of tearing metal before the entire thing rolled onto its side, crashing down the embankment in an explosion of dust and shattered rock.

Its impact thundered throughout the quarry. Every walker stopped, thousands of decaying heads lifted in perfect unison. The first walkers stumbled towards the fresh opening. Then another. Then fifty.Then hundreds.

Your stomach dropped, horror contouring your features.

“Oh, shit,” Abraham breathed, voicing your exact thoughts.

The pressure from behind forced the rest forward like floodwater bursting through a broken dam.

“They’re moving!” Sasha yelled, gripping at her rifle, prompting everyone to copy her.

Rick didn’t hesitate, sensing the growing fear and the pending doom heading toward his coumminty.

“The plan starts now!” he bellowed, already jumping from the truck. “Everybody move! Go! Go!”

The carefully planned operation had just become immediate. People scattered in every direction, following the very brief plan.

Glenn sprinted in the direction he was needed in, calling after his leader. Michonne and Rick were already running for their packs needed

Abraham grabbed the driver’s door of the lead car before turning back.

“You heard the man!” He called for both you and Sasha.

You broke into a run after Sasha, boots slipping over loose gravel.

Behind you, engines roared to life one after another.

Daryl swung onto his motorcycle in one fluid movement, the engine growling beneath him as he kicked it into gear.

For the briefest second, his eyes found yours. He noticed the lest your body lingered near him for a moment.

And the rush of panic washing over your features.

“You good?” he called over the growing noise.

You returned to your fast pace. “I’m fine!”

Whether he believed you or not didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to argue. The first wave of walkers had already reached the gap.

The herd was coming. It moved like a living thing.

A single monstrous body made of thousands of rotting corpses, surging through the breach with an awful, grinding hunger. The sound alone was enough to turn your stomach, a chorus of guttural moans layered over snapping bones, dragging feet and the endless scrape of decaying flesh against rock.

Dust billowed into the air behind them.

“Go!” Rick’s voice crackled over the radio. “Everybody stay on schedule!”

Abraham slammed the driver’s door shut before throwing the car into gear.

Its engine roared.

You hauled yourself into the passenger side while Sasha climbed into the back, already checking the rounds in her rifle through the open window.

The tyres spat gravel as Abraham floored the accelerator, putting distance between you and Daryl. Daryl was the lead, while the three of you planned to meet him at the bottom of the hill to aid him.

Behind you, Daryl’s motorcycle spluttered, weaving effortlessly over uneven ground. The familiar growl of the engine settled somewhere just behind your shoulder.

You glanced into the wing mirror, allowing your mind to wander to a specific man.

He was there, leading them out. Crossbow strapped across his back. Attention fixed ahead, watching everything.

Behind you, the first walkers spilled through the breach, thousands upon thousands pouring from the quarry in one endless wave. They no longer looked like individuals. They moved as one colossal body, pressed together by sheer numbers, the groans blending into a deafening roar that rolled across the countryside.

Abraham kept his foot buried against the accelerator, the car surged forward.

Gravel sprayed behind the tyres as the three of you pulled away from the quarry, putting distance between yourselves and the advancing herd.

In the wing mirror, you caught one last glimpse of Daryl.

The motorcycle cut across the mouth of the quarry, engine snarling loud enough to seize the attention of the walkers pouring through the gap. He stayed just ahead of them, exactly where Rick needed him to be, leading the front of the herd away from Alexandria.

Then the bend in the road swallowed him. You wouldn’t see him again until the rendezvous. The thought settled uneasily in your chest.

Beside you, Abraham shifted gears with a heavy clunk, side eyeing you briefly.

“Ain’t no point watchin’ him,” he said, eyes firmly back on the road ahead. “He’ll get ‘em movin’. We got our own damn job.”

You forced yourself to turn back around. He was right.

Every second spent looking behind was another second you weren’t watching where you were going.

Sasha leaned between the front seats, map spread across one knee.

“Two miles,” she stated, tracing the route with her finger. “We meet him at the bottom of the ridge.”

Abraham gave a sharp nod. “We’ll be there.”

The vehicle rumbled over broken asphalt, weaving around abandoned cars left to rust where their owners had once fled.

Your mind raced every time the suspension bounced over another pothole. Adrenaline settling deep within you. Not enough to stop you working, but enough that you shifted instinctively, anticipating your next move.

Anxiety and anticipation was a terrible mix, it prompted you to tap your foot beneath the dash.

“You keep doin’ that,” Abraham said without taking his eyes off the road, “you’re gonna wear a hole through the floor.”

You glanced down, only just realising your foot had been rolling unconsciously, trying to ease the stiffness.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, adjusting your position.

“Mhm.” The scepticism in that single hum was almost impressive.

Turning to the red head, you scoffed loudly. “I’m serious.”

“So was Denise,” Sasha piped up. A breath of laughter escaped her from the back seat. You shot her an offended look over your shoulder. “This is big, what we are doing, we don’t need you slowing us down. So, take it easy. ”

Ever the optimist, you thought to yourself. Both you and Sasha believed in similar things and even had the same rude way of saying what was on your mind.

Now, you understood the irritated reactions you used to receive from Finley back when you met the group.

So, you sank further into your seat, drawing your attention to the task at hand, keeping your mouth shut.

The road curved sharply through dense woodland, trees swallowing the sunlight overhead until patches of shadow flickered across the windscreen. Its engine hummed steadily beneath you, the only constant amongst the crackle of distant radios.

Your fingers absently tightened around the handle of your axe resting between your knees while Sasha and Abraham exchanged a few words.

Abraham reached for the radio, seated next to the steering wheel, as he pulled up next to a string of red balloons. Halting the vehicle momentarily.

Finally at the checkpoint.

“At red,” Abraham spoke into the device, flagging Daryl down.

Static filled the car, before a gruff reply came. “‘Right, here comes the parade.”

Abraham smirked with a light chuckle, releasing the button on the handset. “That’s our cue, ladies.”

You leaned forward slightly, peering through the windscreen. Hearing the low, familiar growl of a motorcycle.

Daryl burst around the bend, keeping a careful distance ahead of the advancing herd. Dust billowed behind him as the front ranks of walkers shuffled after the noise of his engine, exactly as Rick had intended.

“They’re biting,” you muttered with obvious approval, eyes remaining on Daryl’s figure.

Sasha tapped the headrest of Abraham's seat with her palm, gaining attention. “Keep moving.”

Long enough to see the three of you waiting where you were supposed to be. Long enough for you to catch the brief dip of his chin before his attention snapped back to the road.

Abraham eased the car onto the road behind him, matching the pace Rick had drilled into everyone a few days back at the meeting.

Not too fast or too slow.

Just enough to keep the walkers interested.

Behind Daryl, the herd spilled across the asphalt in an endless river of decay. Thousands of feet scraped against the tarmac, the sound almost hypnotic in its rhythm.

You twisted in your seat to watch them. It was impossible to see where they ended.

The radio crackled again. “Team, status?”

Rick.

Abraham lifted the radio to his lips. “Herd’s committed. Daryl’s got point. We’re rolling.”

“Keep them moving,” Rick replied through the device.

The redhead clipped the radio back onto the dash, returning his hands to the wheel. Continuing down the winding road, the balloons and flares from the other teams guide them from bend to bend.

It continued to stretch on, flares and red balloons appearing one after another like breadcrumbs through the forest.

For a while, everything worked exactly as Rick had planned. Daryl held point, while the herd followed and the three of you kept them moving.

Then Abraham leaned forward slightly over the steering wheel. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Sasha asked immediately.

The redhead squinted through the windscreen before lifting one hand from the wheel, peering at the windmirror. Then a wide smirk appeared appeared on his face, as if a light bulb went off in his brain.

“Couple’a dumbasses.”

You followed his gaze, instantly worried by his mischievous reaction.

A small group shuffled out from the tree line nearly a hundred yards ahead, wandering aimlessly across the road. Half a dozen walkers, maybe seven. Nothing compared to the tidal wave lumbering behind you, but enough to cause a stray group to follow.

“They’re gonna slow us down,” Sasha muttered. “Ask Daryl to go back around.”

“Nah. They’re gonna get folded,” Abraham corrected.

Before either of you could question what he meant, he turned towards you. “Take the wheel.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Keep her straight,” he chuckled loudly at you.

“You absolute—”

Your heart lurched into your throat as you scrambled across the bench seat, one hand snatching the wheel just as Abraham pushed his door open.

Wind exploded into the cab.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sasha groaned, already rubbing a hand down her frustrated features.

Abraham flashed that infuriating grin over his shoulder. Then he raced onto the road while the car was still moving at a steady pace.

“Me? Slowing us down?” you yelled at Sasha, white-knuckling the steering wheel as the vehicle drifted dangerously towards the shoulder.

Irritation is now bubbling in your stomach.

Gravel spat beneath the tyres, as you attempted to adjust your body into the driver's seat. Sasha lunged forward between the seats, one hand grabbing the dashboard.

“Keep it straight!” She ordered over the rumble of the car.

“I’m trying!” You spat in a frenzy, slamming the open door shut.

The truck lurched as you finally managed to slide fully behind the wheel, your hip knocking against the gearstick.

Outside, Abraham barely spared the moving vehicle another glance. He simply shouldered his rifle and strode straight towards the handful of walkers shambling into the road, as though they were nothing more than an inconvenience.

“Fucking stupid asshole,” you hissed beneath your breath. “He’s actually doing this.”

The first walker reached for him.

Abraham drove the butt of his rifle clean through its jaw. Bone cracked, flesh flew. The corpse crumpled before it even hit the ground.

He pivoted into the next without breaking stride. Another skull caved beneath the heavy wooden stock.

Then another.

It was less a fight than it was housekeeping.

Within seconds, the last walker collapsed across the road, leaving Abraham standing alone amongst the bodies.

You leaned halfway out of the window, keeping one hand clamped to the steering wheel.

“Get back in the damn car!” You barked at the stupid man.

Abraham barked a laugh before jogging after the slowly rolling vehicle. “Y’all miss me already?”

He caught the passenger door that Sasha had opened for him, as he planted a boot onto the foot well and hauled himself back into the cab with infuriating ease.

The seat groaned beneath his weight as he slammed the door shut and drummed both hands triumphantly against the dashboard.

“Now that’s how you clear a traffic jam,” he joked, carelessly.

Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose, throwing him a furious glare.

“One day, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” she sighed heavily.

You shot him a flat look as you gripped the wheel, not finding his brazen act funny. Reckless, if anything.

“And if the walkers don’t do it,” you muttered, wagging your free finger at him, “I will.”

Abraham only grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

His chuckles were still echoing around the cab when the radio crackled violently against the dashboard.

Static.

Then Rick’s voice, strained. “Report.”

Abraham reached for the handset, but you beat him to it, one hand remaining locked around the steering wheel as the other snatched up the radio.

“We’re still moving,” you answered, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Herd’s following. Minor delay. Nothing serious.”

Another burst of static swallowed your words.

Glenn’s voice broke through, rushed and breathless. “There’s a horn, Rick!”

Your stomach tightened, as you exchanged a sharp glance with Abraham before looking back to the road.

“What?” You called into the device.

“The walkers are going to peel off!” Glenn shouted over distant groans of the radio.

Silence swallowed the car, even Abraham’s grin disappeared.

Then you all heard it, the horn. The long, blaring horn echoed faintly through the trees, carried by the wind.

Every walker within earshot would choose the loudest sound, which meant thousands of them were about to abandon the route.

“Damn it,” Sasha hissed.

You instinctively searched the road ahead until the familiar silhouette of the motorcycle came into view several hundred yards in front of the truck. Hoping silently Daryl’s engine would distract them.

For one hopeful second, he held his course. Then he slowed for a second.

“No,” you whispered to yourself. Already hearing Daryl’s thoughts, even with the distance put between you.

Then, instead of maintaining his position at the head of the herd, he veered sharply left. The motorcycle disappeared down the side road. Straight towards the sound of the horn.

You stared after him, your jaw falling open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Well,” Abraham muttered, shaking his head, barking a disbelieving laugh. “To add to my stupidity.”

“He ain’t supposed to be doing that,” Sasha snapped, leaning forward to stare through the windscreen. “Rick needs him leading the herd.”

The motorcycle vanished completely between the trees, leaving the three of you alone to lead the herd.

Your grip tightened until your knuckles turned white against the steering wheel, shaking your head in refusal. Not believing the day you’ve already had.

Of all the reckless, stubborn, and infuriating things, he’d actually left. As if you all didn’t already know Rick would handle it.

You reached for the radio before Sasha could, sensing her growing annoyance from behind you. Thumb jamming hard against the transmit button.

“Daryl,” you called after him into the transmitter.

Nothing. The familiar sound of static hissed back at you.

Your jaw clenched, tutting to yourself, pressing firmly again. “Daryl, answer me.”

Static, again.

Then his familiar gravelly voice crackled through the speaker. “’M here.”

Relief and irritation collided inside your chest, but you were quick to ignore it, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“What the hell are you doing?” you demanded, struggling to keep the car centered as the herd behind continued to shamble after the engines. “Get back here. Rick needs you leading point.”

Another burst of static.

“Rick needs my help,” he answered shortly, his mind already made.

“And he needs you here!” you fired back immediately, spitting against the radio.

The herd behind continued its relentless march, walkers pouring over the asphalt in an endless sea of rotting bodies.

“Ya’ going deaf?”

Beside you, Abraham hid a grin behind his hand, loving your sour reaction. Sasha folded her arms, silently agreeing with you.

The speaker crackled softly. For a moment you wondered if he’d already switched channels.

Then his voice returned, “I got faith in ya.”

The words stole every ounce of irritation from your lungs. For a second, you genuinely forgot to respond.

Abraham’s eyebrows climbed almost into his hairline. Sasha slowly turned her head towards you. Neither of them said a word, stunned by his actions.

In trusting the three of you with a hundred walkers.

Daryl continued before you could gather your thoughts. “Keep ‘em movin’. I’ll catch up.”

The transmission clicked dead.

You stared at the silent handset for another second before letting out a long, disbelieving breath through your nose.

“He’s unbelievable,” you huffed, chucking the radio into Abraham’s lap angrily.

The truck continued to rumble down the cracked stretch of highway, its engine humming steadily beneath your hands.

You refused to look at the radio or the empty road behind where Daryl should have been.

Instead, you fixed your attention on the winding asphalt ahead, jaw clenched so tightly it had begun to ache.

Thousands of walkers continued their relentless march behind the convoy, drawn forward by the growl of the engine. Every so often, one drifted a little too far from the centre of the herd before the rest instinctively pulled it back into line.

Good, at least someone was following the damn plan.

Silence settled inside the cab. Not an awkward silence, just three people matching one another’s energy. Well mainly you and Sasha, Abraham seemed amused. As usual.

Abraham lasted all of thirty seconds, not caring for very frustrated women in the vehicle with him.

“So,” he began turning to face you.

You sighed before he could even finish.“No.”

“I ain’t even asked nothin’,” Abraham replied, feigning defense.

Again, you sighed, opting to ignore him. It was best not to feed whatever fire he had started. Abraham rested an elbow against the open window, scratching thoughtfully at his beard, watching you closely.

“Dixon got you wrapped around his little finger or somethin’?” He questioned nonchalantly, sagging further into his seat.

Your head snapped towards him. “What?”

“‘Cause that,” he nodded toward the discarded radio laying in his lap, “sounded an awful lot like a squabble.”

You squinted at him as though he’d finally taken one too many blows to the head. Bewildered by his statement.

It was clear, Abraham had noticed the tension between you and Daryl.

“Did you fall out of the car or something?” You deadpanned, already knowing the answer. “Knocked something loose, up there.”

Abraham barked out a laugh, slapping his thigh. “See? Defensive.”

“I’m not defensive,” you barked back like a moody teenager.

Sasha sighed loudly from the back seat, crossing her arms. “Can we not do this while we’re leading a few thousand walkers?” Always the voice of reason.

Abraham waved a dismissive hand to her, attention still fully on you.

“Car’s stayin’ straight, herd’s stayin’ straight. We got time,” he shot back, pointing behind them.

A dry laugh escaped you, as you shifted forward leaning on the wheel.. Almost trying to hide from Abraham’s analysis.

“We do not have time,” you scoffed, a few words falling shaky from your tongue.

“Sure we do.” His grin only widened as he glanced between you and the road ahead.

Keeping your face toward the road, you could sense the burning gaze Abraham was using. Almost testing you to break and spill whatever gossip he thought you had.

There was none, in your mind.

Daryl, however, might have a different opinion. Especially, when he had decided to keep his distance from you after everything he admitted in the car.

To you, it was just a simple case of a man child struggling to come to terms with being honest with someone. Someone he hadn’t known long, feeling shame for being so vulnerable.

It reminded you of Finley’s Dad, when you had first met them. Emotionally constipated.

There was nothing more to it, especially not the type of tension Abraham had in mind.

“Week ago that Dixon fella couldn’t keep away from your kid.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Finley couldn’t breathe without him askin’ where she was wanderin’ off to.”

Sasha’s eyes flicked to the map that was discarded beside her in the back, sighing heavily. A poor attempt to ignore Abraham’s constant pestering.

Abraham continued casually, “Then y’all come back from that little road trip with Aaron…” He shrugged at you, jutting his bottom lip out. “…and now he’s avoiding you both like the plague.”

Your grip only tightened on the wheel, as you added more pressure to the pedal.

The redhead let out an exaggerated hum. “Lemme guess.” He pointed between you and the empty stretch of road where Daryl should’ve been, “Y’all got stranded out there. Tempers flared. Maybe a little heavy pettin’.”

You whipped your head towards him so fast the car drifted an inch across the centre line.

“What?” You shrieked, brows rising at the claim.

He held both hands up innocently, glancing at Sasha whose nose was wrinkled.

“I’m just workshopin’ possibilities,” he snickered.

Shaking your head, as you let out a nervous laugh. “You have lost your damn mind.”

The idea of seeing Daryl in that light was foreign. Your heart felt heavy, at the thought alone. Mind wondering to your now dead companion, guilt washing over you.

“Nah.” His grin only grew. “Ain’t the first time I’ve seen two people come back from bein’ stuck together actin’ like somebody kissed somebody.”

“There wasn’t anything,” you corrected immediately, heat crawling up your neck. “Nothing happened.”

Of course, Abraham was skeptical. Especially, noticing your flushed colour.

“So you’re tellin’ me,” Abraham said, leaning back comfortably, “Dixon starts starin’ at you every chance he gets, disappears every time you show up, tells you over the damn radio he’s got faith in you.” He counted each point off on his fingers. “And absolutely nothin’ happened.”

Nodding slowly in response, tight lipped, still avoiding his watchful eyes.

“You’re both weird as hell and childish,” Sasha spoke up, finally looking up from the map. “Can we please just continue with the mission.”

You groaned loudly, dropping your forehead against the steering wheel for half a second before correcting the vehicle.

“I cannot believe I’m getting interrogated, by you,” you spat while still hunched over the wheel. “while we’re escorting thousands of walkers.”

“You absolutely can,” Abraham laughed, not bothered by your embarrassed demeanor. “Matter of fact, it’s makin’ this drive a whole lot more entertainin’.”

Shooting him a quick glare, you quickly asked Sasha to back you up again. However, she just shrugged and remained quiet.

“You know what?” you muttered, pursing your lips. “Next time you decide to jump out of a moving car, I’m leaving you there.”

He barked another cackle. “Worth it.”

Before you could think of another threat to throw his way, the radio crackled sharply across the dashboard, the burst of static cutting straight through the laughter.

Silence settled between you, as you waited for the pending voice to speak up. Which allowed the three of you to realise the horn had stopped blaring.

Meaning Rick or someone had successfully stopped it.

“Daryl?” Rick’s voice echoed in the vehicle.

Static answered first, as the three of you shared a knowing look. Daryl had run off without Rick’s say so. Potentially jeopardising the plan. Abraham was quick, ready to reply to Rick with an answer for the absent tracker.

However, Daryl beat him to it.

“M’here.” His gruff tone escaped the small speaker, responding to the leader of the group.

Relief immediately flickered through the cab, even if you refused to acknowledge it.

Rick continued, his voice low but firm. “Won't be long now. They're almost here. I'll get them going your way again.”

The transmission clicked with another burst of static, Daryl most likely stumped on how to reply. Especially, with him now miles away from his objective. Abraham let out a slow whistle, shaking his head as he settled back into his seat. Clearly pleased by the scenario.

Sasha leaned forward between the seats, folding an arm across your backrest as the corner of her mouth twitched upward. Swiftly, she grabbed for the device that was sitting in Abraham’s palm.

“How ‘bout that,” she called toward the radio with unmistakable satisfaction. “They’re coming your way, Daryl.”

There was no answer. Both her and Abraham shared a knowing smirk.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from scoffing, finding a small victory in this as well. Keeping a mental note to tell him ‘I told you so.’

“He shouldn’t’ve left in the first place,” you muttered, settling back into your seat.

Almost on cue, the distant growl of a motorcycle drifted through the trees.

A few moments later, Daryl burst from the tree line, the front wheel bouncing over cracked asphalt as he accelerated back onto the highway. He slipped neatly ahead of the convoy, easing back into the position he’d abandoned, the motorcycle’s engine once again becoming the loudest sound on the road.

Not a single glance spared the vehicle, or a single word over the radio. He simply resumed leading the herd as though he’d never left.

Sasha snorted, rolling her eyes at the stupid man.

Abraham laughed loudly enough that it almost drowned out the groans of the herd behind you. Enough for Daryl to hear.

Daryl’s shoulders seemed to tense ever so slightly beneath the leather vest, as the three of you wore an unpleasant look. Continuing to ignore you. Stubborn, as ever.

The convoy rolled onward, the herd once again following the plan. For now, at least.

After what felt like forever, the four of you had finally hit the twentieth mile.

Daryl rode point once more, the motorcycle growling steadily ahead of the truck. you kept an even pace behind him while the herd shuffled after you in one endless, decaying river.

Nobody spoke.

The only sounds were the engines, the groans of thousands of walkers and the occasional crackle of static over the radio.

It almost felt like the plan might actually work.

Then, the uneasy silence shattered beneath the sharp crack of gunfire.

A bullet screamed across the road, instantly making contact with the car. The windscreen erupted into a spray of fractured glass. Shards cascading over the three of you, unforgivingly.

“Fuck, contact!” Abraham roared, over the shattering of glass.

Instinct seized your body before your mind could catch up. You ducked low behind the dashboard as another volley ripped from the treeline, heart beating beginning to race.

Rounds hammered against the vehicles bodywork, punching fresh holes through the passenger door. Metal shrieked beneath every impact.

“What the hell?” Sasha shouted, already shoving the rifle out of the open window.

Ahead, Daryl’s head snapped towards the gunfire. His motorcycle swerved violently, panic and confusion written on his face.

Figures burst from the trees on either side of the road. Faces hidden beneath dirty scarves and ragged clothing. Automatic weapons raised and ready to kill.

“They’re everywhere!” you yelled.

The first muzzle flash bloomed from the right-hand treeline. Then another from the left. The road had become a kill zone, trying to end your mission short. Prompting you to group the steering wheel tighter, frantically dodging the open fire.

Daryl reacted instantly.

The motorcycle lurched sideways, cutting hard across the centre line as bullets chewed through the tarmac where he’d been a moment earlier.

“Shoot back!” Abraham barked.

Sasha already was. Her rifle thundered through the open window, haphazardly attacking the threats.

One attacker dropped behind a fallen log while another threw himself behind an abandoned sedan.

You shoved your own window down, ignoring the shower of broken safety glass still clinging to the frame. Grasping a pistol that sat in your waistband, aiming it out of the window and behind.

Two quick shots, not aimed to kill. Just enough to force heads down and keep your attention trained on the road. Trying not to kill you or your friends.

The ambushers scattered for cover, as the three you opened fire.

“Daryl!” you shouted instinctively.

He glanced back only once. Just long enough for your orbs to meet through the chaos. Then another burst of gunfire chased him. Bullets sparked off the road around his tyres, missing them by an inch.

There was no choice.

He twisted the throttle. The motorcycle exploded forward before veering sharply off the road and disappearing between the trees. An attempt to cover his exposed body from the enslaughter.

“Daryl!” Sasha called after him.

“He can’t stop!” Abraham shouted.

Another burst hammered into the truck. One round punched through the rear window, glass exploded across the cab again.

You continued to fight the steering wheel as the car fishtailed over loose gravel. The abrupt force sends a jolt of pain through your ankle, making you grit your teeth.

The vehicle lurched around another bend toward a few stray buildings, and the road simply ended. A wall of abandoned vehicles blocked the highway.

Instantly, the tires screamed in protest, rubber burning. But you want quick enough on the break.

For one impossible second the truck seemed to float, as you closed your lids shut. Bracing for impact.

Then, the front bumper ploughed into the rusted remains of an industrial building. Metal folded like paper.

Your shoulder slammed against the driver's door hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs. The seatbelt locked painfully across your chest.

The engine coughed, sputtering out smoke. Then it died, shortly after impact. Smoke hissed from beneath the crumpled bonnet.

Nobody moved, as you remained hunched over the wheel. All of you groaning at the impact.

The peace only lasted no more than a few seconds, then the ruthless attack came rushing back.

More gunfire and shouting of the attackers. The unmistakable groan of the odd straggler from the herd also grew closer. All sets of footsteps inching closer to your vulnerable positions.

“They’re pushing up!” Abraham barked, already throwing his door open.

The driver’s side door protested against the crushed frame before you managed to force it open with your shoulder.

You twisted out of the doorframe before you could get hit by a stray bullet. Crouching behind the distorted piece of metal. Cursing at yourself, quietly.

There wasn’t time for this, you needed to back up your friends.

Three figures emerged between the abandoned cars ahead, rifles raised. However, Sasha fired first.

Her assault rifle cracked twice in quick succession, forcing them back behind a delivery van.

“Move!” she yelled.

Abraham didn’t hesitate.

The former sergeant stormed around the front of the ruined vehicle, gun barking in controlled bursts. Bullets tore chunks from the rusting vehicles, forcing the attackers to duck as he advanced.

You chased after him, pistol already drawn. Every step felt like someone was driving a knife into your chest. Heart pounding rapidly, adrenaline consuming your bloodstream.

Another attacker appeared from behind a wrecked pickup, ready to kill you.

You fired twice, without hesitation. One shot clipped the bonnet beside him. The second struck his shoulder. He cried out, stumbling backwards into cover.

Gunfire erupted again.

Rounds smashed into the car behind you, punching fresh holes through the smoking cab.

You ducked instinctively behind the twisted remains of another car. A strangled scoff escaped before you could stop it. Irritation now replaces the anxiety for your life.

“Shit,” you hissed, clutching the weapon. Whacking your head slightly against the metal, frustrated at yourself while still remaining behind cover.

Already it was ballooning beneath your torn trouser leg. Purple bruising spread beneath skin that was rapidly tightening with swelling.

Sasha slid beside you, firing one-handed over the bonnet while grabbing the back of your jacket with the other.

“You good?” She questioned, searching over your body.

Before you could even respond. Another burst of gunfire answered for you.

Rounds ricocheted off the bonnet above your heads, showering the pair of you with flakes of rust and chipped paint.

“They’re moving!” Abraham shouted from somewhere ahead, still applying pressure on them

You forced yourself upright, biting back the fury that boiled within. Raising your pistol, again. Sasha followed you, already aiming down her iron sight.

Before either of you could attempt to shoot, another attacker sprinted from behind an overturned lorry, trying to close the distance while Abraham reloaded.

You reacted on instinct, shifting your aim, your pistol cracked once.

The man staggered as the bullet caught him high in the chest, spinning him sideways into the rusted shell of a hatchbacks. His rifle clattered onto the road before he disappeared behind cover again, clutching at his chest.

Abraham finished seating a fresh magazine into his rifle. The former sergeant stepped out from behind the wreckage with frightening confidence.

His rifle barked three controlled bursts. One attacker dropped behind a sedan, dead. Another scrambled backwards, disappearing into the trees.

The remaining two immediately broke formation. Abraham advanced another few yards, firing just enough rounds to keep their heads down. The ambushers didn’t fire back this time, just continued to flee the scene.

Boots crashed through undergrowth as they disappeared into the forest they’d emerged from only minutes before.

Abraham’s eyes swept across the deserted industrial yard before settling on a squat concrete office building sitting beyond the wreckage.

“There!” He ushered, pointing to the building. Its front entrance stood half-open, windows filthy with years of grime. “It’ll do.”

He covered the pair of you as Sasha raced for the door.

The three of you hurried, across the cracked asphalt, desperate for safety. By the time you reached the entrance, sweat clung to your forehead despite the cool air.

Abraham shoved the heavy glass door inward with his shoulder.

The lobby beyond was eerily quiet, dust coated every surface. Broken office chairs lay scattered across faded carpet, while overturned filing cabinets blocked sections of the reception area.

The building had clearly no sign of human life, at least.

Sasha followed you inside before Abraham slammed the door shut behind you. Abraham spotted a heavy metal filing cabinet against one wall. Not wanting any stragglers to enter.

“Help me,” he yelled in a hurry. Beginning to shove at the heavy furniture, repeatedly slamming his shoulder into it.

Both you and Sasha didn’t hesitate, jumping into action.

Together, the three of you shoved the cabinet across the floor. Its rusted wheels screamed against the tiles before it slammed against the entrance with a heavy clang.

Adding an extra layer of safety.

Only then did the three of you finally stop to breathe.

The stillness inside the office felt almost unnatural after the chaos outside.

You leaned heavily against the nearest wall, finally allowing yourself to breathe and steady your rapid heart rate.

Every pulse of your heartbeat sent a fresh pain radiating in your skull. No doubt aching because of the rush of energy.

Abraham walked to one of the filthy windows, carefully peeling back a blind just enough to look outside. The road beyond was disappearing beneath an ocean of walkers.

“Dixon got away,” Abraham informed, swiping at the bead of sweat that hung on his lip. He analyzed the little trail Daryl had left in his wake.

The words settled over the room like lead. No one answered. Heavy panting from you all, was all that was heard.

Somewhere beyond the trees, somewhere on the other side of that growing sea of the dead. Daryl was alone.

next chapter!

Daryl’s pace never faltered. He didn’t stare at the stranger that had vanished ahead. Instead, his gaze wandered constantly to the ground.

You found yourself copying him.

Not perfectly, but your eyes stopped lingering on the bright red poncho and instead searched the places surrounding it.

Fresh mud kicked across exposed roots, the faint impression of another boot.

Your pulse quickened, there was two sets of footprints. Indicating more than one person was ahead, potentially with the red poncho or ahead of him.

Daryl noticed it too, the almost imperceptible dip of his chin told you he’d seen it too.

Ahead, Aaron slowed as he caught another glimpse of the crimson color. The stranger drifted beyond another line of pines before disappearing completely.

Aaron frowned, turning his attention to Daryl. “We lose him?”

Daryl crouched, fingertips brushing against disturbed pine needles.

“Nah.” His voice barely travelled beyond the three of you.

“He wants us behind ’im,” Daryl clarified, pointing to the boot imprint which was deeper in the mud.

A chill slid slowly down your spine. They weren’t hiding, they were leading them. To what exactly? The air shifted again, to the heavy uneasiness.

Aaron exchanged a look with the two of you. “So… it’s a trap?”

“Dunno,” The tracker answered, now staring ahead. Daryl straightened, as he began to conjure a plan.

The three of you were out here to recruit, that was the main objective. However, you had to remain cautious. This could be somebody simply protecting their home from unwanted strangers, especially with how people had adapted to the world.

It appeared Daryl wanted to continue, regardless of the looming doom.

None of you argued.

You all continued forward, slower this time.

Continuing, in the path of the stranger, the dense woodland gave way to patches of cracked asphalt hidden beneath weeds. Rusted signposts leaned drunkenly against one another, almost swallowed by ivy climbing their poles.

Civilisation or what was left of it.

A breeze rolled lazily between abandoned buildings somewhere beyond the treeline, carrying with it the stale scent of rust and old rain.

The area made things significantly more difficult for Daryl. It was harder to track in a concrete jungle, so you had to come up with a plan to cover all bases for now.

All three of you now facing the back of a food store, which had a few walkers trailing around abandoned trucks and lorries.

Daryl had convinced a spooked Aaron to pursue the stranger, in hopes of him being good for the community. So, you all stood contemplating your next move.

Aaron studied the opening ahead, the three of you now cut off by a metal wired fence, before turning back to face you.

“I’ll swing round the east side,” Aaron began. You and Daryl looked towards him, offering your full attention. “If whoever that was circles back, they’ll have to cross the road. Might catch where they’re headed.”

It made sense.

Daryl nodded once. “Don’t go playin’ hero.”

“I’ll try not to,” Aaron replied while smiling faintly.

With that, he disappeared through thicker woodland to your right, his blue jacket vanishing amongst the trees until only the occasional rustle betrayed where he’d gone.

You watched the place he’d disappeared for another second before turning back towards Daryl.

Neither of you spoke. He adjusted the strap of his crossbow before starting forward once more. Without Aaron between you, the quiet felt different.

The woods had swallowed him almost instantly, leaving only you and Daryl standing at the edge of the forgotten loading yard. Somewhere beyond the rusting fence, walkers drifted aimlessly between abandoned vehicles, their sluggish groans carried lazily on the breeze.

“All right,” Daryl broke the silence.

Tapping, a hunting knife, against the gate of the loading yard. Alerting the few walkers that lingered. Daryl picked them off through the gaps of the fence, clearing a way in.

After he had successfully removed the threat, you both continued past the gate. Weapons in hand, on high alert.

Daryl’s eyes swept across the lot, taking everything in before settling on the largest vehicle parked beside the loading dock.

A lorry.

The both of you stepped on to the platform, to get a look at it rear doors which were locked shut.

Your gaze followed his, as he analyzed the rusting padlock.

The vehicle sat lower than it should have, the suspension sagging beneath obvious weight. Dirt and leaves had gathered around the tyres, suggesting it hadn’t moved in a while.

“Think it’s supplies?” you whispered, careful not to let your voice carry.

Daryl’s gaze travelled from the shutter door to the flattened tyres before drifting towards the scattered crates lying across the tarmac. Nothing looked disturbed.

“No idea,” he muttered eventually while begging to scope out the area. The man was still on high alert, wanting to make sure your surroundings were safe.

You scanned the other loading bays. Rotting pallets lay scattered across cracked concrete, while rusted shopping trolleys had been blown against the fencing over the years.

Whatever this place had once been, it had emptied in a hurry.

“If there is,” you murmured, nodding subtly towards the lorry, “we could use it.”

Daryl couldn’t argue with that.

Alexandria was still growing. Every extra tin of food, every box of tools or bottle of medicine meant one less supply run through unfamiliar territory. One more week behind walls instead of beyond them.

You stepped carefully, boots scraping quietly against weathered concrete. Years of dirt had settled across the shutter door, cobwebs stretching between the rusted locking bars.

Daryl drifted away from the trailer, boots carrying him slowly along the edge of the loading dock. His crossbow remained raised as pale blue eyes swept across every rooftop, alleyway and broken window overlooking the yard.

Still searching.

You busied yourself with trying to open the vehicle. The padlock had long since surrendered to rust, orange flakes crumbling beneath your thumb.

“I think this’ll give,” you voiced with furrowed brows.

Daryl didn’t reply, only focusing his attention elsewhere.

Sliding your axe beneath the chain, you used the curve of the head as leverage, putting your weight against the rusted links.

Metal groaned, as you huffed. Nothing.

You adjusted your footing before trying again, muscles straining as the old steel protested. Prompting another loud creak echoed across the loading bay, and a curse from your lips.

Still nothing.

Behind you, Daryl’s attention snapped briefly towards the sharp noise before returning to the surrounding buildings.

“Keep it down,” he warned, as he fidgeted on the spot.

“I’m trying,” you huffed while still adding force to the padlock.

A quiet snort escaped him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You shot him an unimpressed look over your shoulder before driving the axe beneath the clasp of the lock one final time.

With a sharp crack, the rusted padlock finally released. The metal thudding onto the concrete with a heavy clatter.

“Got it,” you breathed in relief.

Not offering a glance at your travel companion, you reached for one of the locking bars, fingers wrapping around the cold steel.

It resisted at first before finally giving beneath your weight with a drawn-out squeal of protesting metal. Your stomach tightened, and face grimaced at the noise.

Then, instantly the door swung up barely a foot, the darkness inside erupted with an unwelcome growl.

A wall of rotting bodies surged forward as though the truck itself had burst.

Walkers snarled, clawed and tumbled over one another, days of confinement breaking loose in a single violent wave.

Your eyes widened, in pure horror. “Shit.”

There had to be dozens.

They poured against one another in blind desperation, limbs tangled together after being trapped for so long. The first walker stumbled from the trailer, crashing face-first onto the loading dock before another landed across its back, and another behind that.

The entire lorry had been packed to the brim.

“Move!” Daryl barked out the order.

You didn’t need telling twice.

The nearest walker lunged the moment its boots found solid ground, rotten fingers swiping for your clothes. Your axe came up on instinct, burying itself deep into the side of its skull with a sickening crack. The corpse collapsed, but there wasn’t time to wrench your weapon free before another body slammed into it.

“Damn it—”

A rough hand suddenly caught the back of your top.

Daryl yanked hard enough that your feet almost left the concrete, ripping you backwards before a second walker’s jaws snapped shut where your shoulder had been a heartbeat earlier.

“Leave it!” he shouted over the groans of the dead. The man tried to scramble forward, plunging his knife with his free hand.

Your fingers released the axe without argument, terror coursing through your veins.

Daryl released his hold on the collar of your top, motioning ahead. The pair of you sprinted, in unison.

Boots hammered against the loading dock as the roar behind you multiplied. Walkers spilled from the trailer in an endless wave, tumbling over the lip before scrambling upright, drawn by the noise you’d made.

You vaulted from the dock onto the cracked tarmac below, landing awkwardly onto your ankle before breaking into another run.

Adrenaline pumping in your blood stream, minimising whatever pain that began to spur in your ankle.

“C’mon, car!” Daryl yelled.

Ahead, half hidden between two abandoned delivery vans, sat an old sedan with every window clouded by grime. It was the closest cover.

Daryl reached it first, grabbing the driver’s side handle. The decaying vehicle had other plans.

“C’mon, ” he growled, wrenching harder. But still nothing.

Behind you came the unmistakable scrape of feet. You spun just enough to see the first walkers flooding across the yard, staggering over broken pallets and rusted shopping trolleys.

There were far too many to fight.

“Daryl!” You called, beside him, watching in horror as they closed in.

Fortunately, your petrified calls were heard by the vehicle. With one last pull of the handle, using all of his might, the car opened.

Without a second thought, Daryl began to push you in front. “Get in!”

You didn’t hesitate.

He shoved you into the back door, before climbing through after you, boots catching briefly on the frame as another walker slammed against the side of the vehicle.

The entire car rocked violently, as he slammed the open door shut.

You scrambled across to the front seats, twisting just as Daryl dropped into the driver’s side beside you. Another body crashed into the bonnet, as you both watched in bewilderment.

The growls of the dead swallowed whatever panting that was heard from you both, sweat glazing your forehead.

Walkers surrounded the vehicle almost instantly, filthy hands smearing across the windows as decayed faces pressed against the glass. Teeth gnashed inches away, mouths opening and closing in relentless hunger.

You noticed they all had the same ‘W’ carved into their skull, the same as the murdered woman from the morning. The world outside vanished beneath the grey their skin and bloodstained clothing.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, lids stretched wide as the world outside vanished.

“Fuck,” you whispered, barely hearing yourself over the relentless chorus of growls. “No, no…”

Eyes darting wildly around the cramped interior, searching for something, anything, that could get you out. Every window was blocked. Every door was buried beneath bodies.

The realisation crashed into you all at once, you were stuck and had no way of returning home. Back to Finley.

A sharp ache bloomed behind your ribs, the panic settling in. Your hands flew to the dashboard, gripping the cracked plastic hard enough for your knuckles to whiten.

“Maybe, we make it so they can’t see us,” Daryl attempted to reason, sensing your growing worry. “And in a couple hours, Aaron will come by, get us out. There’s gotta be something in here to block their view.”

Daryl began to search through the car, as you rubbed tiredly at your face. Cursing at your own stupidity, growing irritated at yourself for the lack of awareness you had today.

It only grew with the constant banging of walkers against the vehicle. Now, frustrated at yourself, you began to search haphazardly.

However, you regretted it instantly.

Your hand was now pulling something out of the pocket of the door, a small note. Which contained something that dampened the mood further.

‘Trap, don’t stay, bad people.’

The folded scrap trembled faintly between your fingers. At first, you thought it was from the vibration of the walkers battering the car. Then you realised it was your own hand shaking.

Your eyes skimmed over the hurried scrawl again, exhaling in disbelief.

The words were uneven, as though they’d been written in haste. Dirt stained one corner of the paper, and the graphite had smudged where somebody’s thumb had dragged across it before it had fully dried.

“What?” Daryl asked, still rifling through the glove compartment.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you held the note out towards him.

His movements stopped, with furrowed brows. The paper disappeared from your grasp as he took it, piercing blue eyes scanning the message once before reading it again, slower this time.

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “Hell,” he cursed under his breath.

Silence settled between you, broken only by the relentless pounding outside.

Daryl folded the note once before slipping it into his vest pocket

“What now?” You began to question, orbs still glued to the windows, the words shaky. “I gotta get back to her, Daryl.” Finley, you meant.

Daryl didn’t say anything, which only added to the weight on your chest. He just stared through the windshield, through the endless sea of decaying faces pressed against the glass, his fingers tightening around the note hidden inside his vest.

For once, he didn’t immediately have an answer.

He was just quiet, sagging against the seat of the car. His fringe covered my evidence of true emotion, but you could still feel it. You mirrored the same fear, fear of this being the end.

The car rocked again as another walker slammed into the side, making you flinch.

“Daryl,” you pushed in a pleading tone. Your eyes flickered towards him, at a loss yourself.

He peaked over, his expression unreadable beneath the dirt and exhaustion covering his face.

What came next, made a chill run down your spine.

Daryl chuckled dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. You didn’t say anything, only watched him, waiting for him to patiently add anything.

“I came out here to…” he attempted to explain. Words trailing off, as he stared at the dead that yearned for his flesh before continuing. “I feel all closed up back there. Even now, still feels more like me.”

For once, Daryl Dixon, the man who could track a stranger through miles of woodland, who could put an arrow through a walker’s skull without blinking looked like he had no idea what to do.

“Those people got houses. Jobs. Damn dinners and meetings and all that,” he continued to list off with an unreadable expression. “They’re good people. They deserve that.”

You stayed quiet, letting him find the words.

“But me?” He shook his head. “I get there and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

The honesty of it settled between you, sorrow swelling in your throat creating a lump.

Daryl had always been the person who knew exactly what to do when things went wrong. The first to step forward when everyone else froze. The first to put himself between danger and the people he cared about.

But inside those walls? He didn’t know where he fit.

“I spent so long just surviving,” he uttered quietly. “That’s what I know.”

Your expression softened. “Daryl,” you barely whispered.

His intense orbs finally glanced at you briefly before sneering away just as quick, like he regretted letting you see too much. That was the thing about Daryl.

Everyone saw the survivor.

The tracker. The fighter. The man who could walk into hell and drag people back out.

Very few people saw the man underneath. The one who still wondered if he deserved the good things that came after. That man you saw after the hospital, harming himself just to feel anything.

You swallowed, glancing out at the walkers pressed against the glass before staring back at him.

“Do you really believe that?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t answer. The silence was enough, to voice his overwhelming thoughts.

Your fingers tightened around your thighs, palms resting on them, sweat now clingy to your jeans.

“Daryl… you realise you’re the reason I’m even here, right?”

His eyes shifted back towards you, your words capturing him.

“You found me and Finley when we had nowhere else to go.” Your voice softened, the memory flashing through your mind. “You were the person who walked into a dangerous situation just to protect her… to help us, strangers. ”

Your words seemed to hit harder than the walkers throwing themselves against the car.

Daryl turned away again, jaw tightening as if he could physically force the emotion back down. He wasn’t used to being reminded of the good things he’d done. Not because he didn’t remember them, but because he never let himself believe they counted.

To him, saving people was just something you did. A debt paid. A way to prove he was useful. Not something that meant he deserved a place.

“You gave Finley a chance to be a kid again,” you continued, tone steady now. “Do you understand that? Before you and Carol, before Alexsndria she was just surviving. She was carrying a gun before she should’ve ever known how to hold one. Now, she gets to learn this from people and try and live.”

He’d seen it.

The way Finley always stood too close to exits, and how she slept lightly. The way she watched every stranger like they were already a threat.

Daryl had seen pieces of himself in her, unintentionally learning from him.

“You think Finley cares if you’re good at dinner conversations?” you asked softly, with a small grin gracing your lips. “You think anyone cares if you know how to fit in?”

He’d seen the way she followed him around Alexandria. The way she asked him questions about his crossbow. The way she’d sit beside him quietly without needing him to say anything.

Finley trusted him, the same way the rest of his group did. The same way you did.

Daryl began to grab something in his pocket, as he sat with his thoughts for a moment. A packet of cigarettes and a light.

The man placed the nicotine stick to his lip, as you caught a glimpse of his saddened expression.

“I’ll go,” he abruptly replied.

The words landed heavier than the pounding fists against the windows. For a second, you didn’t understand what he meant.

Until you caught on, the way his eyes moved towards the door and how his fingers tightened around the lighter, lighting the cigarette.

He had a plan, but not a very good one.

Shaking your head, as your heart began to race. Your voice came out quieter than you intended, almost fragile. “No, Daryl.”

He ignored you, taking a long drag of the smoke. Exhaling the nicotine into the air, allowing the smoke to filter around the enclosed car.

You continued to watch him, bewildered by his accepting demeanor. It was like he had already come to terms with it. You were practically frozen to your seat.

“I open that door,” he murmured, the cigarette still hanging from his lip. “I’ll lead them out, you make a break for it.”

Your mouth falls open, trying to muster words. “No, Daryl—“

“You gotta get back to Finn,” Daryl cut you off.

The mention of her name cut deeper, that was exactly what he wanted. Daryl wanted you to think straight, to think about your priorities over him. To let him be the person he had become, a protector.

It reminded you of the promise you made to the girl, to always find your way back to her no matter what.

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth.

How could you tell her you let him walk out there?

How could you look Finley in the eyes and explain that the man who had softened the grief of her father, who had sat beside her most morning on the porch, who had treated her like she was something worth protecting. Someone who she could look up to, other than you.

“No,” you echoed again.

Daryl’s eyes flickered towards you, his orbs intense while shaking his head. “This ain’t your decision. I’m just gonna finish my smoke," he muttered.

Your jaw tightened, snickering.

The cigarette burned slowly between his fingers, the smoke curling upwards and disappearing against the cracked ceiling of the car.

“I’m telling you no, we will get out of here…together,” you repeated, tone harsh and raw. “Besides, Finn would kill me if her new best friend died on my watch.”

The last sentence was supposed to be humorous but neither of you chuckled.

The way he sat there like he’d already accepted the ending, like his life was something expendable, had gotten under your skin.

Your eyes dropped to the cigarette between his fingers, watching the ember glow faintly in the darkness. Watching the way he held it so casually, as if this was just another sacrifice he had already decided to make.

Something inside your chest tightened. Not fear but anger.

“You listening to me?” you whispered.

Daryl’s brow furrowed slightly. “I heard ya.”

His jaw clenched, his body betraying himself. It was clear he heard it but he took none of it in.

Blood boiling with frustration, you leaned forward, reaching across the space between you before he could react. Your fingers wrapped around the cigarette still resting between his lips, pulling it away from him.

Daryl blinked, caught off guard. “What the hell—”

You ignored him.

The small flame burned against your fingertips for a second before you shoved the cigarette into the empty metal cup holder between you both, grinding it down until the ember died completely.

A tiny curl of smoke rose between you.

Gone, just like that.

Daryl stared at the crushed cigarette, then slowly lifted his eyes back to yours. “You serious?”

“Yeah,” you snapped.

Your breathing was uneven now, adrenaline still flooding through you. Your hands trembled slightly, but you refused to let him see it as weakness.

“You don’t get to decide that you’re the sacrifice.”

Daryl’s expression hardened. “Someone’s gotta—”

“We go for the fence, we do it together,” you spoke over him. Determination painted your scowl, ignoring his Martyr attempt. “We make it out together.”

Daryl analyzed you, intently. The conviction in your voice surprised even yourself. His gaze dropped briefly to the crushed cigarette between you both before returning to your face.

“You’re stubborn as hell,” he muttered.

A faint, humourless smile tugged at your lips. “You’re only noticing now?”

A quiet breath escaped him. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Then his expression softened again. “Your ankle.”

The words caught you off guard. You blinked. “What?”

His eyes flickered down briefly, towards the way you’d been shifting your weight. You hadn’t even noticed it yourself. The way you’d subconsciously tried to hide the pain since landing awkwardly on the concrete.

You glanced away for a moment, frustrated that he had noticed. Of course he had. Daryl noticed everything.

“Looks like I’m better with you than without you,” you joked, assessing the damage of your injury. Noting that you wouldn’t get far even with Daryl’s sacrifice.

A tiny shake of his head followed, but there was no fight behind it anymore. No desperation to throw himself away.

“Fine,” he sighed, finally accepting his fate. “We go on three.”

Daryl gripped the door handle, listening, before offering you one of his hunting knives.

The pounding outside had become constant. A wall of noise. A reminder that waiting any longer would only make the situation worse.

You nodded, tightening your grip around the knife. “And my ankle?”

His eyes narrowed, on the threat ahead. Ready to strike at any moment, waiting for the right opportunity.

“Keep up,” he teased flatly.

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitched.

Then Daryl’s hand tightened around the handle of the door, nodding approvingly at you. Anxiety swelled in your stomach, but you still managed to nod in reply.

Now or never.

“One,” he started. The walkers pressed harder against the glass, clawing and tracing blood into the window.

“Two.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

“Three.”

The door barely opened before a violent force slammed against it, brains smothering the window. Both of you halting in your tracks, jumping in your skin at the sight. Then more blood splattered against your door.

With that blow, your door swung open wide. You didn’t hesitate in the next step.

Your injured ankle immediately protested the second your foot hit the ground. Pain shot up your leg, forcing a sharp breath from your lungs.

A hand immediately caught your arm, steadying you before you could stumble. Quickly, finding the culprit you exhaled in relief. Aaron stood before you, arm over his shoulder as he began to eliminate walkers.

Daryl was right.

At the thought, you swiftly glanced toward him. He had also made it out, picking off walkers one by one with a stranger at his side.

The black man’s skin was smothered in brain matter and flesh, no doubt from creating an entrance for him and Aaron to free you. His was taking them out, with precision, using a wooden stick.

You began to help as much as you could, still clinging onto Aaron, with your free hand. Using the knife Daryl had given you, to plunge into any unwanted skull.

Your knife buried itself into the temple of the nearest walker, the blade sinking with a sickening crunch before you shoved the corpse away with your shoulder.

Another lurched forward.

Aaron caught it first, driving his machete clean through its face before yanking it free with practiced efficiency.

“Move!” he shouted over the chorus of snarls, putting toward the gate. “Don’t stop moving!”

You nodded, forcing your weight onto your injured ankle despite the sharp protest that shot up your leg. Pain aching through your calf, threatening to buckle your knee, but adrenaline kept you upright.

Ahead, Daryl had already reached near the exit with the stranger who fought unlike anyone you’d ever seen.

The long wooden staff spun through his hands before cracking into a walker’s jaw with enough force to send it collapsing backwards into two more. Before they even hit the ground, he’d already shifted, driving the opposite end through another skull.

The four of you surged forward together, taking out the odd walker that followed.

Your ankle screamed with every uneven step, but you grit your teeth and forced yourself onward.

The chain-link fence finally came into reach.

Aaron vaulted through the opening first before turning immediately, grabbing hold of the loose gate and dragging it closed behind the rest of you. Rusted metal shrieked as it slammed into place.

Walkers collided with it almost instantly.

The fence rattled violently beneath dozens of grasping hands, rotting fingers curling through the wire as yellowed teeth snapped through the gaps. They couldn’t reach you.

Not anymore.

For the first time since the trailer doors had burst open, silence settled over your group or as close to silence as the dead ever allowed.

You doubled over, palms braced against your thighs while you struggled to steady your breathing. Every inhale burned your lungs, your pulse still racing hard enough to drown out almost everything around you.

Beside you, Aaron leaned against the fencing, equally winded, wiping streaks of blood from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.

“You two all right?” he managed between breaths.

You nodded automatically, through a heavy exhale. “Been better.”

Daryl wasn’t listening. His attention had settled entirely on the stranger, crossbow still in hand.

The man stood several feet away, calm despite the chaos you’d all just escaped. His chest rose steadily beneath the cream jacket, the blood coating his face already beginning to dry, as he wiped down his weapon.

Aaron seemed to sense the uneasy air rolling off of Daryl, deciding to step forward with an inviting smile.

“This is Morgan,” Aaron introduced you both to the man. “We crossed paths, a little after I left you.”

Daryl didn’t seem so easily convinced, ignoring Aaron’s chipper tone. “Why?” He questioned the newcomer.

Morgan seemed to brighten at his question, offering him a soft gaze. “Because all life is precious, Daryl.”

Still huffing, and juggling your sore ankle, you attempted to inch closer to the other three. Attempting to assess Morgan, Aaron noticed your struggle and offered you a shoulder to lean on.

Before you accepted it. Aaron passed you your axe, which had been embedded in the skull of a walker moments ago. You nodded a quick thanks, averting your attention back to the situation.

Aaron began to ramble on about Alexandria, as Daryl remained eerily quiet. You on the other hand wondered back to the note, wondering if Morgan was the one to set the trap.

“No, thank you,” Morgan answered, cutting Aaron’s offer short. “But I’m on my way somewhere, if you could tell me where we are.” He pulled a map from his back pocket and passed to Daryl.

Daryl took it and unfolded the worn paper, instantly his features shifted. His eyes lifted slowly back to Morgan, clearly discovering something.

“Where’d ya get this?” Daryl interrogated the man before passing you the map, noticing your intense gaze.

Peering down at the paper both you and Aaron spotted what Daryl had seen. It was a note scribbled haphazardly onto the lower edge of the map. The note was signed by Rick.

Both you and Aaron shared a knowing glance, all three of you aware this man needed to come home with you.

The journey back passed in relative silence, thankfully you had found the car and Daryl’s motorbike.

Darkness had enclosed the forest that had seemed so alive only hours earlier now felt subdued. Each of you is occupied by your own thoughts. Morgan walked alongside Aaron, quietly answering the occasional question about where he’d been, while Daryl remained a few paces ahead, his crossbow resting loosely in his hands as familiar blue eyes swept the treeline with practiced caution.

Despite putting one foot in front of the other, your mind remained trapped inside that battered sedan. You could still picture Daryl sitting beside you, smoke curling towards the cracked ceiling as he spoke with a vulnerability you’d never witnessed before.

The way he’d accepted death so easily. The way he’d looked at himself as though his life weighed less than everyone else’s. It unsettled you more than the walkers ever could. No matter how many times you replayed the conversation, one thought refused to leave you: if Aaron and Morgan hadn’t arrived when they did, Daryl would have opened that door without a second thought.

Every now and then your gaze drifted towards Morgan, wondering how long he’d been trying to warn strangers about the people responsible for the scenario. The carved ‘Ws’ on the walkers replayed over and over in your thoughts, each memory settling heavier than the last.

Your ankle, however, refused to let you forget itself.

Each uneven stretch of woodland sent another sharp ache through your leg, forcing you to favour one side despite your best efforts.

“You need a break?” Aaron asked after catching another stumble.

You shook your head before he had even finished speaking. Out of spite, you had declined any offer to support you, not wanting to slow them down.

“I’m fine,” you replied while shrugging off the worried glance from the man.

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder. “No, ya ain’t.”

“I’m walking, aren’t I?” You retorted, still hobbling.

“Barely.”

You shot him a glare.

He ignored it, slowing just enough to fall into step beside you.

For the next several minutes he said nothing, only matching his pace to yours. Every time the ground dipped or roots crossed the trail, his hand hovered close enough that he could catch you if your ankle gave way again.

He never mentioned it.

He simply stayed there.

Eventually, the dense woodland began to thin.

Metal sheet walls emerged between the trees.

Alexandria.

Only, something wasn’t right. Even from this distance, raised voices drifted over the walls. Not conversation but shouting.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, and Aaron frowned beside him.

Raised voices echoed beyond the steel walls.

Not conversation.

An argument. Loud enough that every one of you instinctively reached for your weapons.

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “That’s coming from inside.”

Daryl didn’t answer, he was already racing ahead.

The gates stood open by the time you hobbled to them, one of Alexandria’s guards waving the four of you through with barely a glance. Whatever was happening inside had everyone’s attention fixed elsewhere.

The familiar streets felt strangely abandoned. Porch lights flickered against the growing darkness. People hurried in the same direction, anxious whispers carrying through the cool evening air.

You exchanged a confused glance with Aaron before following the crowd, with his aid of taking your weight. Dread sinking in your bones, mind racing. Wondering where Finley had gone, or if she was safe.

As you rounded the final house, the reason became painfully clear.

Almost the entire community had gathered in the front of Deanna’s home. Rick stood in the centre of it all, the light from the bonfire barely revealing his features.

You slowed instinctively, the scene before you made very little sense.

Rick Grimes stood chest rising heavily beneath sweat-soaked clothes, his revolver still hanging loosely in one hand. Dirt streaked his face. Blood, walker blood, spattered his clothes.

He mirrored the man who had survived outside its walls.

Around him, the entire community had formed a wide circle. Nobody moved, they didn’t dare to. The community was terrified by him, clearly.

Pete, the community’s doctor, was being restrained by Abraham. The ginger overwhelming strength pinning him to the concrete floor, as Pete snarled and cursed at Rick.

Deanna remained kneeling beside Reg’s body, trembling as she cradled him. Her grief hung over the street like a suffocating weight.

Your stomach dropped, at her sobs.

In the midst of it all, your panicked orbs found Finley. Subtle relief, flooding you.

She stood rooted beside Carol, fingers curled tightly into the older woman’s sleeve. Carol’s posture remained deceptively calm, one hand resting lightly against Finley’s shoulder as though anchoring her there. But you knew Carol well enough now to recognise the tension hidden beneath that stillness.

She was ready. Ready for anything.

Before the four of you could make yourself known, Deanna finally stared up at Rick.

“Do it,” she spat through the tears, nodding at Rick.

Without a second thought, Rick whipped around and aimed his revolver at Pete and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot tore through Alexandria.

For one breath, everything stopped. The arguing and whispers. Everyone shifting their feet in the crowd.

Everything.

The crack of the revolver echoed between the houses, bouncing off the walls that were supposed to represent safety. The sound was so violently out of place that your body reacted before your mind could.

You flinched, your fingers tightened around Aaron’s shoulder, your injured ankle momentarily forgotten as your eyes widened.

Pete went still.

Then his body slumped, Abraham releasing his grip as the fight drained out of him instantly. The military man grimacing at the blood now coating his face, human blood.

Rick stood there, arm still extended, the revolver smoking faintly in his hand.

The man who had once walked through Alexandria as an outsider, trying desperately to prove he could belong, now stood in the centre of it covered in the evidence of a murder.

Your stomach twisted, your head shifted briefly towards Daryl.

He stood frozen beside you, his expression unreadable. The same man who had sat beside you in that car, believing his own life was worth less than everyone else’s, now watched his friend do the exact opposite.

Rick had decided someone else’s life was worth less.

And somehow, that scared you more.

“Rick…” Morgan whispered beside you, his voice barely audible.

next chapter!

Your boots carried you down the porch steps before stopping altogether, inhaling the air around you.

“Thought it’d be you.” The gravelly voice made you glance towards the neighbouring porch.

Daryl sat on the wooden steps, elbows resting lazily against his knees. Sat outside of the other house that currently occupied no one, no doubt to keep a watchful eye of his family.

His crossbow was gone, locked away somewhere inside Alexandria’s armoury, leaving him looking almost incomplete without it. Instead, he absent-mindedly rolled a small pocketknife between his fingers, the dull blade catching the moonlight every few seconds.

A heavy weight pulled at your chest, screaming at you to entertain him. The same pull that brought you to find him, in each vulnerable state he had experienced since knowing him.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t try,” he replied carelessly.

“Sounds healthy,” you snickered. Now, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling a slight chill in the midnight air.

“Ain’t,” he agreed.

That earned another quiet smile from you.

Without asking, you crossed the small stretch of pavement separating the two houses before lowering yourself beside him on the porch. Now, you sat down on the lower step, allowing a reasonable distance between you both.

The wood creaked beneath your combined weight. For several long moments, neither of you spoke.

Silence wasn’t awkward between you. It hadn’t been, not after the brief moments you’d found one another in.

Together, you watched the empty street stretching beneath the moonlight. Porch lights glowed warmly outside each identical house while crickets chirped somewhere beyond Alexandria’s towering walls.

It almost looked like one of those suburban neighbourhoods you’d driven through before the world ended. Like tomorrow morning people would wake up for work. Kids would catch school buses, it made you wonder what kind of kid Finley could have been.

“Feels fake,” you murmured eventually. Still staring at the new perimeter. “Keep waiting for something to happen.”

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah, it usually does.” His eyes remained fixed ahead, twirling the knife in his hand.

“You think they’re really like this?”

He was quiet for a while before answering. “Dunno.”

It wasn’t uncertainty, it was honesty. Even if Daryl stopped voicing his opinion, he always showed his true feelings. The man was reserving himself for that reason, not wanting anyone to read him.

“I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s an act,” you admitted. “Giving us some sort of security, to let our guard down.” A heavy sigh escaped you, as you continued to ponder.

“’S weird,” he added shortly.

Another pause settled comfortably between you. You rested your forearms across your knees. Your fingers absent-mindedly traced the grain of the old wooden step beneath your palms, rough splinters catching against calloused skin that had long since forgotten what softness felt like.

This was becoming a reoccurring experience, between you both.

Never taking note of one another but always listening.

“Kept reaching for my axe, today,” you professed quietly, a humourless smile ghosting across your lips. “Didn’t even realise I’d done it until my hand hit empty air.”

A dry huff escaped Daryl and nodded in agreement.

You glanced sideways at him, a smirk quirked at the corner. “Guess we’re creatures of habit,” you sang teasingly.

Daryl didn’t smile or laugh, he only remained his stoic self. Instead, his broad shoulders rose in an absent shrug, eyes never leaving the empty road stretching beyond Alexandria’s neatly trimmed gardens.

“More like survival,” he quipped with a huff.

You couldn’t argue with that.

The walls stood tall around Alexandria, but your body didn’t care.

It still catalogued exits and counted windows. It still measured the distance between you and anything that could be used as a weapon.

That wasn’t something a hot shower and clean sheets erased.

A breeze drifted lazily through the street, stirring the leaves overhead. Somewhere nearby, a wind chime clinked softly against itself.

Daryl turned the pocketknife over between his fingers, watching the dull blade catch the moonlight.

“Kid settled in quick,” he began, switching the topic, as his eyes flickered toward the opposite home.

The sudden change of subject pulled your attention back to him.

Following his line of sight, you found yourself looking toward the darkened house opposite. Behind those walls, Finley was probably sprawled across her camping sack, undoubtedly stealing half the floor from whoever had made the mistake of sleeping beside her.

You followed his gaze toward the house, nodding. “She always does. Used to drive Javier mad,” you spoke with a fond smile tugged at your lips. “Five minutes somewhere new and she’d be making friends with anyone who’d look at her.”

A warmth settled quietly beneath your ribs, reminiscing.

“Still does,” he snickered followed by a small chuckle that instantly captured your attention. Daryl glanced sideways at you, through his unruly hair.

It wasn’t much, just the faintest twitch beneath the stubble lining his jaw, but after weeks of knowing him, it felt strangely significant.

The grin softened every hard line in his face for the briefest heartbeat, piercing blue eyes warming beneath the curtain of dark hair falling across his forehead. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, as though he’d remembered himself. His attention dropped immediately back to the knife resting between his hands, suddenly fascinated by the worn wooden handle.

You couldn’t stop yourself from watching him another second.

There it was again. That version of Daryl few people ever got to see. Not the hunter. Just him.

A quiet laugh escaped you before you could think better of it, dragging your own attention away.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. You leaned your forearms against your knees. “I used to think she was just too trusting. Turns out, she just sees people differently.”

“’S not always a bad thing,” Daryl voiced, piercing orbs peering down at you.

Your voice softened, knowingly. “It isn’t.”

You watched the upstairs window where everyone slept. Your smile grew a fraction, thoughts drifting back to the previous day.

“She looked at an apple today like it’d fallen out of heaven.”

Daryl huffed quietly. It was little more than a breath through his nose, an obvious attempt to conceal the chuckle threatening to escape him. Still, it was enough to capture your attention.

“Saw that,” he scoffed.

“She tried making it last,” You added, through a small chuckle. “Tiny bites. Like if she ate it too fast it’d disappear.”

You could still picture it perfectly.

The way she’d turned the apple over in both hands first, inspecting every inch of its glossy red skin as though expecting it to vanish if she blinked. The cautious first bite. The way she’d chewed impossibly slowly, stretching the moment out for as long as she could.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

“I don’t think she smiled that much in…” You paused, realising you couldn’t remember. “…a long time.”

Daryl nodded once. “Needs it.”

Your throat tightened unexpectedly, fingers laced together loosely between your knees. “I’ve spent so long trying to keep her alive,” you admitted quietly. “I don’t think I ever stopped to wonder if she was actually living.”

The words surprised even you. Once they’d left your mouth, you couldn’t take them back. You realised how true they were.

Every decision you’d made had been measured against one question.

You glanced over at him, expectingly. “You think this place could work?” You finally questioned.

Daryl remained still, knife halting in his palm. His eyes travelled slowly across the empty road, lingering on the neat white fences, the carefully trimmed hedges, the porch lights glowing softly outside houses that looked almost identical.

“Don’t know,” he answered honestly. As always. “But,” he began again while shrugging one shoulder. “…she deserves t’find out.”

Your heart clenched. Not painfully. Just enough to remind you why you’d followed this group for as long as you had. Because somewhere beneath the dirt, the blood and the impossible choices. They still fought for people other than themselves, they would protect strangers like you and Finley.

Your eyes found the upstairs window of the house opposite. Behind those curtains, Finley was asleep. Safe.

That was enough.

“Yeah,” you murmured, while still facing away from Daryl, sensing vulnerability in yourself. You’d allow it to show in your voice but you couldn’t allow him to see it on your features.

You could survive almost anywhere. You’d proven that more times than you cared to count. Finley shouldn’t have to.

Another comfortable silence settled over the porch, swallowing down the overwhelming sensitivity that had grown in your chest.

The breeze shifted again, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass through the street. Leaves whispered softly overhead, while somewhere beyond Alexandria’s towering walls a dog barked once before the sound dissolved back into the night.

For the first time in months, the quietness didn’t demand anything from you.

Eventually, you exhaled through your nose and pushed yourself upright, your knees protesting quietly after sitting still for so long. Dust clung stubbornly to the backs of your jeans, and you brushed it away with absent strokes of your palms.

“I’m gonna try sleeping again,” you exhaled with a long stretch of your arms.

Daryl acknowledged the statement with a low grunt, his attention never leaving the street.

You managed two steps before something made you stop. Turning back over your shoulder, you found him exactly where you’d left him.

“You coming?” You quizzed, gesturing toward the entrance of the opposite house.

His answer came with a small shake of his head. “Nah.”

A faint crease appeared between your brows, glancing up at the night sky.

“It’s late,” you informed, watching the moon peak past the clouds.

Daryl paid no mind, trained back to the weapon in hand, firmly sat. “’M aware.”

A small chuckle left your lips, staring at him now. “You’ve been awake all day,” you said, with a hint of concern.

Another shrug. “Gonna sit awhile.”

You recognised the excuse immediately. It was the same one you’d fed Javier more times than you could count. The same one you’d told yourself whenever exhaustion threatened to pull you under before you felt safe enough to close your eyes.

It was never about sitting. It was about watching.

Your gaze drifted across the quiet neighbourhood before returning to him. From where he sat, both houses remained in full view. Anyone approaching would have to pass him first.

A warmth settled quietly in your chest. Not because you thought he believed Alexandria was safe. Because he didn’t. He was making it safer for his family.

“You’ve got the first watch,” you started.

He didn’t bother denying it. “Someone oughta,” he grunted, side eyeing you.

You studied him for another lingering moment before nodding once. It seems so simple to him, to not even budge from his spot.

So, you wanted to mirror that.

“Wake me in a few hours.”

His head turned just enough for pale blue orbs to meet yours, raising a brow questioning.

“You need sleep,” he bluntly stated, taken aback by your order.

The warmth of his words began to settle on your lungs, like a thick layer of smoke. Throat drying up and forcing you to swallow, to help clear it.

“So do you,” you rebutted, accusingly, with a knowing look. An odd gleam of determination glimmering in your eyes, as you stood before him. Masking the odd feeling that had grown in your chest.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

The corner of his jaw flexed. Then his gaze slipped away again, returning to the empty street stretching beyond the porch.

“We’ll see,” he finally huffed, turning away from you making it final. It wasn’t a promise. But it wasn’t a refusal either.

You accepted it without argument.

Turning back toward the house, your hand settled briefly against the cool metal handle before something made you glance over your shoulder one final time.

He was exactly where you’d left him.

Moonlight traced pale silver across the worn leather of his vest and caught against strands of dark hair stirred gently by the breeze. Elbows rested loosely on his knees, pocketknife forgotten in one hand, his attention fixed on the sleeping street before him with the quiet vigilance of someone who no longer knew how to exist any other way.

A lone figure keeping watch over people he’d never admit had become his family. You lingered there for only a second, drinking in his admirable exterior.

Then, with the smallest smile tugging at your lips, you slipped back inside. The door clicked softly shut behind you, finalising your leave.

To no surprise, Daryl never did wake you.

The week that followed slipped together with an unfamiliar kind of ease.

Not because the danger had disappeared. Because, for the first time in years, it wasn’t waiting outside your bedroom door every morning.

Alexandria had a rhythm all of its own.

The gates groaned open at sunrise for supply runs before clanging shut again long before darkness settled across the neighbourhood. Children laughed somewhere between the rows of identical houses, chasing one another along cracked pavements with scraped knees and grass-stained trainers. Someone always seemed to be tending a flower bed. Someone else mowed a lawn that didn’t truly need cutting.

Life carried on, ordinarily.

It was strange how quickly ordinary began to feel extraordinary.

You never quite managed to stop checking every rooftop whenever you stepped outside. Your eyes still counted exits before conversations. You still found yourself instinctively reaching for the axe that now spent more time resting against the wall by the front door than strapped across your back.

Old habits died slower than walkers.

Some mornings Deanna had you walking the streets with Tobin or Reg, learning the layout of the community she’d asked you to help protect. Other days you stood beside Rick at the gates, who had been given the role of constable alongside Michonne.

The work suited you, because it was familiar.

Protecting people had always been easier than learning how to be one of them again.

Finley adapted far quicker than you ever could imagine. She disappeared after breakfast most mornings, returning only when somebody remembered she probably ought to eat.

One day she was helping Carol plant vegetables behind one of the houses. The next she could be found trailing Carl through the streets, Judith balanced confidently on her hip while pretending she wasn’t terrified of dropping her.

Every evening she came home with another story.

She laughed more and spoke louder.

Little pieces of the child she’d been before the world ended, slowly found their way back. You hadn’t realised how much of her you’d buried beneath survival until Alexandria began digging her out again.

Daryl, on the other hand, remained exactly where the world had left him.

Thankfully, Aaron attempted to have him recruit new people to get him comfortable.

Most afternoons you’d catch sight of him somewhere along the walls or disappearing through the gates before sunrise.

Some evenings he’d appear on your porch without invitation, leaning silently against the railing while Finley enthusiastically retold stories about something she’d seen that day.

He rarely joined the conversation, rarely even looked at you. Yet, somehow, he always stayed until she finished talking.

All of you were blissfully deep in routine.

Most mornings found you somewhere near the gates.

Whether Deanna wanted another pair of experienced eyes walking the perimeter or simply trusted you not to panic when things went wrong, you had quietly become another familiar face among Alexandria’s security.

Alongside Sasha.

It wasn’t glamorous work, you both preferred it that way. However, you were both two sides of the same coin. The distraction of work, which you both craved for, was working on you.

But for her not so much.

The walls never stopped demanding your attention, and she was always the first to claim it. A poor attempt to muffle the demanding voices in her head. Luckily, the woods beyond also demand you.

Which was exactly why Deanna found you before breakfast one morning, chin held high.

“I’ve asked Aaron to head outside today,” she’d explained, hands folded neatly before her. “He wants to continue looking for people.”

You’d expected the conversation to end there.

Instead, she’d offered you a small smile. “I’d like you to go with them,” she elaborated while gesturing past the gate.

Your brows had risen. “Me?”

“You’ve protected people for a long time,” Deanna had answered simply. “Aaron seems to trust your judgement. And I trust him.”

You weren’t entirely sure where he’d gotten that impression. Especially, after the first meeting between you.

However, you nodded in agreement.

“If that’s where I’m needed.”

The distraction was always welcomed, as was the opportunity to make the community safer. After spending time in this group, you discovered that you were always safer with numbers.

So, you’d happily aid Aaron and Daryl. Hitching a ride with Aaron in his car, toward an area he had yet to explore.

Which led you to a mysterious woodland area.

The woods beyond Alexandria had a way of reminding you that the world had never truly changed.

The moment you stepped out from the safety of the car, everything familiar appeared. Reminding you of what the world was, past the walls of Alexandria.

The air became colder and silence became heavier. Every step carried the same uncertainty it had since the beginning.

You trailed several paces behind Aaron and Daryl, allowing them to lead while your eyes wandered across the trees surrounding you.

A rhythm the three of you had fallen into naturally.

Birds called overhead, as rays of light filtered through the trees. The distant rustle of animals moving through the undergrowth. Concealing you all.

Aaron moved with purpose, occasionally checking the map in his hands or peering toward the road ahead. There was still something strange about watching him work.

Most people had accepted that finding survivors was a lost cause. Aaron never had, clearly. Hellbent on offering you opportunity after opportunity, after everything you all had inflicted upon him.

He carried photographs of strangers, stories of people he had never met, and somehow still believed those things mattered.

You weren’t sure whether that made him hopeful or stubborn.

Daryl, on the other hand, didn’t need a map.

He rarely did. His attention was constantly moving, tracking anything in his path. Every now and then you caught him stopping for half a second, noticing something everyone else would have missed.

A broken branch, or a footprint. Even a disturbance in the dirt. It was almost unsettling how naturally survival came to him.

Then again, you understood it.

Instinct wasn’t something you ever lost.

It only sharpened.

The three of you continued deeper into the woodland, boots sinking softly into damp earth carpeted with years of fallen leaves. Shafts of pale afternoon sunlight slipped through the canopy overhead, catching drifting specks of dust that floated lazily through the still air. Somewhere in the distance a woodpecker tapped rhythmically against bark, the sound oddly comforting against the silence between you.

Aaron checked his map again. “We should be coming up on the road,” he murmured.

Daryl didn’t answer, his attention had shifted somewhere beyond the path. Familar blue eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the trees.

Something had caught his attention.

Without thinking, your own pace slowed to match his. Keeping a safe distance between the three of you.

A smell reached you moments later, as Daryl continued to follow whatever trail he had found. In the air, a distinct scent of death hung between you. Recent enough that it overwhelmed the senses, lingering heavily amongst the pines.

You exchanged a brief glance with Daryl. He’d smelled it too.

Aaron noticed your hesitation and stopped walking. “What is it?” He began to prod, folding the map away.

Neither of you answered.

Daryl simply tilted his head towards the right before stepping quietly off the trail.

Branches brushed against your shoulders as you pushed through thick undergrowth, every instinct urging caution. The smell grew stronger with each step until the trees finally opened into a small clearing.

Your breath caught, at the sight.

A naked woman hung against a tree.

Thick ropes bit tightly around her waist, binding her a few inches from the ground. Her feet dangled above the forest floor, hair swaying almost imperceptibly whenever the breeze stirred the leaves overhead.

She had turned. Time had already begun claiming her. Dark, dried blood stained the front of her chest, as her organs lashed freely from her stomach.

Her skin had greyed beneath the sun.

Aaron stopped beside you, visibly unsettled. “Jesus, someone tore her apart,” he voiced in horror, analyzing her.

Daryl circled slowly, carefully assessing the corpse.

The woman rotated with the movement of the breeze until her face came into view, now growling in hunger.

Your stomach dropped, finally making eye contact with her facial features. A crude ‘W’ had been carved deeply into her forehead. The wound still bled around the edges.

Whoever had done it hadn’t been in a hurry.

Daryl continued to stare, as he watched the undead bare its teeth. “This just happened,” he informed you both, nodding toward the fresh wounds on her body.

Your eyes followed his, as he averted his attention below. The earth beneath the body had been disturbed, leaves scraped aside and visible boot prints.

Your grip tightened around your axe. “They’re close?” You questioned, but you already knew the answer.

Daryl’s fingers brushed lightly across a footprint, now crouched, nodding at you.

“More’n one,” he confirmed.

You instinctively turned, scanning the surrounding trees.

Only to be met with trunks disappearing into endless woodland. Yet every hair on the back of your neck remained standing.

Without thinking, you found yourself shifting half a step closer to Daryl. Out of instinct.

The same instinct that had seen the two of you slowly begin to hover near one another, after Finley had found him.

He noticed.

His shoulder brushed yours for the briefest moment as he stepped forward, placing himself ever so slightly between you and the thicker section of woods.

It wasn’t deliberate enough for Aaron to notice, or for you to think much of it. Just enough that, if anything came through those trees, it would meet him first.

Daryl’s gaze never left the track marks, rising to his feet. “Let’s keep movin’,” he continued before nodding ahead.

A heavy sigh escaped you, as you stepped closer to the torture woman.

Before following him, you offered mercy. Swiftly, swinging your axe and embedding it into her skull with a sickly squelch and crack of her brain.

Ending whatever misery was left.

Removing the, now bloody, weapon from her head, you offered her no mind. Swallowing the uneasy feeling that grew within, deciding to continue your objective with both men.

Aaron followed shortly behind, offering one last uneasy glance towards the woman.

None of you looked back as you disappeared into the woods further, hoping to find kinder people.

Nobody spoke for several minutes.

Aaron remained unusually quiet, the optimism that usually softened his features hidden beneath a troubled frown. Every so often his hand drifted towards the photographs tucked safely inside his satchel, almost as though reassuring himself they were still there.

Branches whispered overhead as the afternoon breeze stirred the canopy. Birds called somewhere in the distance, blissfully unaware of the horrors hidden amongst the trees. Beneath your boots, damp leaves muffled each step, making the woodland feel quieter than it truly was.

Even after leaving the woman behind, none of you let your guard down.

Aaron walked ahead, unfolding his map every so often to check their bearings before folding it away again.

Daryl lingered a few paces to your left, never quite walking beside you, yet never far enough away that you couldn’t hear the occasional crunch of his boots through the undergrowth.

Your orbs wandered across the trees, thinking of a way to break the stillness of the air. Feeling the uneasiness grow.

“Do we have to be quiet?” you asked eventually, breaking the silence without looking at Daryl. “When you're doing this, I mean.”

A low grunt answered first. “Usually,” he answered shortly. Daryl glanced sideways at you before looking ahead again. “You and your girl talk enough for both of us.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, humoured by the remark. “Do I?” You quizzed, knowing that Finley did have verbal diarrhea but you not so much. Right?

“‘Bout half of it’s complainin’,” he tutted back, still lost in scoping out the shrubby ahead.

You scoffed, nudging a fallen branch out of your path with your boot. “I don’t complain,” you rebutted, like a pouting teen.

He peaked at you then, finding your pestering annoying. One brow lifted, lazily slinging his crossbow over his shoulder.

“You done?”

It was the closest thing to amuse you all day, especially, after the horrific corpse from five minutes ago. You shook your head with a smile, letting the silence settle again.

Which only lasted a brief moment.

“I still don’t understand how you keep seeing things,” you added, watching as Daryl continued his tracking.

Daryl only huffed, in response.

“The tracks,” you clarified, gesturing vaguely towards the forest floor. “The broken branches. Footprints. Half the time I’m looking where you’re looking and I still miss them.”

Daryl stepped over an exposed tree root before answering. “My brother and I hunted.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. “Had me trailin’ deer before I was big enough t’carry one.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze dropping to the forest floor as though suddenly expecting the answer to reveal itself there.

“So you both just… learnt to see it,” you trailed off, still analyzing the areas Daryl’s orbs scanned.

Daryl shrugged. “Most folks only look where they’re goin’.” He hooked a thumb toward the ground without breaking stride. “Gotta look where someone else already’s been.”

You followed the line of sight, his fingers had indicated to.

At first you saw nothing but damp leaves, snapped twigs and patches of moss creeping over old roots. Then, after a second glance, you caught it.

A heel print. Very faint but half-filled with rainwater, making it appear far more prominent.

Raising your brows in surprise, you nodded approvingly. Now, catching a glimpse of Daryl’s point of view. The ability to be a few steps ahead, even when straying behind strangers.

“Told ya,” he snickered in victory. A corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched, barely there, at your reaction.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, continuing to pass him.

“Don’t get cocky,” you warned with a slight smirk.

“Ain’t," he answered, followed by another quiet grunt.

Aaron glanced back over his shoulder, catching the exchange. Slowing is pace, to match Daryl’s.

“It’s nice hearing someone get more than one-word answers out of him,” Aaron teased, breaking from his professional stance on the objective at hand.

Daryl shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

Aaron laughed under his breath, both now trailing behind you.

“I’m just saying,” he mused, adjusting the strap of his satchel. “Usually it’s me talking to myself out here.”

Daryl shot him another unimpressed look. “Could be arranged.”

Aaron only smiled wider. “See? That’s barely a conversation.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself, deciding to add to the teasing behaviour. “I think that’s the longest sentence I’ve heard him say all week.”

Daryl muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Y’all talk too damn much.”

“Careful,” you called over your shoulder, unable to resist. “At this rate you might actually start liking us.”

He answered with a dismissive grunt.

You grinned to yourself, ducking beneath a low branch. The weight that had settled over the three of you after finding the woman seemed, if only for a moment, a little lighter.

Not gone. Just pushed aside.

The forest was quiet again, leaves rustled lazily overhead. Somewhere off to your right, a squirrel darted through the undergrowth.

For the first time since leaving Alexandria that morning, you weren’t counting every tree.

Your attention drifted instead.

You found yourself wondering if Daryl had always been this dry, or if the apocalypse had carved the humour into him the same way it’d carved everything else away. It surprised you how easy it had become to pull the occasional remark out of him.

It surprised you even more that you enjoyed trying.

A sharp whistle cut through your thoughts.

Not from a bird but from beside you.

You barely had time to turn before Daryl’s arm came across your chest, stopping you mid-step. His sour expression had vanished, blue orbs now fixed somewhere ahead.

He didn’t look at you, he only placed a finger over his lips while motioning ahead. The single syllable of a hushed sound came low enough to disappear into the trees.

Instantly, your muscles locked. Every trace of amusement evaporated, followed by your lingering thoughts on the tracker.

Aaron stopped behind you, his own grin disappearing as he followed Daryl’s line of sight.

You squinted through the trunks.

At first, you could only make out shafts of pale sunlight cutting between the pines. Nothing.

Then, movement.

Far ahead, almost hidden amongst the trees, a figure in a faded red poncho drifted silently across the woodland. Not a walker but a person.

Your stomach dropped, as you crouched lower against the shrubs in front of the three of you.

“Shit,” you breathed, barely louder than the wind.

The realization hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t seen him. Not because he’d been impossible to spot, because, for a handful of minutes you’d stopped searching for danger.

You’d been too busy talking, too busy listening to Daryl. Too comfortable. The thought left a sour knot in your stomach.

Beside you, Daryl never took his intense gaze off the stranger, now visible to everyone.

The person wore a red poncho, adding salt into your wound, making him painfully visible to anyone.

“Told ya,” he murmured, voice barely audible, also crouching beside you. “Most folks only look where they’re goin’.”

next chapter!

This led to Michonne and yourself wedging Aaron between them both in the back seats of his car, while Rick and Glenn opted for the front of the vehicle. You held your pistol out, pointing towards Aaron's knee.

An order Rick gave, which Michonne chose to ignore, but you obeyed due to the man's conflicted behaviour.

"Is this all really necessary?" Aaron questioned, lifting his hand which was still bound and nodding towards the gun while meeting your tense gaze. "I've made it very clear I'm not a threat."

You shrugged, jutting out her cracked lips. "Like you said 'we're being cautious', I'm sure you understand," you repeated his own words, patronisingly.

This seemed to shut him up, nodding and turning away from you without another word.

The humming of the old car was all that filled the air for a brief moment, everyone's face contoured in concentration. Everyone was mentally preparing themselves for the unknown.

The idea of a community was an odd one.

Since the beginning, you were with Javier and Finley, of course, they had settled a few times with other groups but it barely lasted a month. It was always about moving, never settling. But, deep down inside you was aware of all the horrors Finley had faced.

The girl was hardly sixteen and she had gone through so much. She deserved time to heal and grieve.

A place to call home. Even for a little while.

Rick reached forward in the passenger seat and popped open the glove box. The light from the box revealed a plethora of licence plates. Head tilting, you proceeded to shoot a perplexed glance towards Aaron.

"Oh, I'm trying to collect all fifty states," Aaron clarified with a small smile. "To put them all on a wall, in my house."

"You have your own house?" Michonne questioned, clearly shocked by his statement.

Aaron nodded towards the woman. "Yeah, see for yourself." He pointed towards his pack which was sitting in her shoe well.

Michonne eagerly opened the front pockets, to retrieve the discarded photos from before. You watched her tentatively, Michonne's once intrigued face turned into a confused one.

Something was off.

"Why don't you have any pictures of your people?" She questioned before handing them over to you, quickly holstering your weapon to see.

Glancing through them all, you were shocked.

There were walls, solar panels and even crops. It was a dream come true in this hellhole, however, Michonne was right. The lack of people was concerning, surely they'd want to show off their hard work and happy community.

Michonne turned to Rick, after seeing you wear a similar face to her. "Have you asked him the questions?" She questioned.

A heavy sigh escaped Rick, before shaking his head. You remembered the questions being asked, after the ordeal at the hospital. It was some weird questionnaire Rick needed, to analyse people.

Your own answers were nothing out of the ordinary, too many walkers and a few people who deserved it.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Michonne opted to ask them, her intense gaze never leaving a bewildered Aaron. When he didn't answer, she pressed again. "How many?"

Everyone in the car was listening tentatively, this was vital information to everyone. The tension was detectable, Aaron could sense all eyes were somehow lingering on him.

"I don't know...A lot," Aaron stuttered, sweat now glazing his forehead.

"How many people?"

You waited patiently, heart steady, watching the man's face drop. "Two," He muttered solemnly.

"Why?"

"Because they tried to kill me," Aaron fumbled over his words once more.

The answers he presented were no different from your own, they seemed sincere, having killed to stay alive.

Until Rick revealed a bigger problem. Rick pulled out a contraption, it looked similar to a megaphone. It seemed to hit them all at once.

"You were listening to us?" Glenn exclaimed, with wide eyes. Your heart sank at the words.

Before Aaron attempted to explain himself, Rick was quick to cut him off. "His people could've had one, they could've heard our plan. This isn't safe!" Rick began to yell, nodding towards you to hold up your weapon once more.

Suddenly, before anyone could process the situation, Glenn cursed out loud.

Glenn was now mowing down the dead ones, in the road, each thump heavier than the last. You clutched tightly to Rick's headrest, as the car began to rock forcefully. The windshield, which once revealed the hypnotizing night, was now smothered in crimson-red liquid.

Heart now racing, mimicking each hit to the dead. Dismembered body parts clung to the vehicle, as they tried to ride out the bumps in the road. Soon, the blood on the window became intolerable for Glenn to peek through.

Screeching to an abrupt stop, your head hit Aaron's causing you to grunt in pain.

"Fuck," you seethed rubbing your temple. Still rubbing your head, you decided to take a glance out of the passenger window seeing a herd approaching. "There's more heading this way!"

Glenn, Michonne and Rick nodded before scrambling out of the car, while you raised your gun to a flabbergasted Aaron.

"Don't you fucking move," you threatened through heavy breaths. Aaron seemed to melt into his seat but continued to analyze the scene with a fear stricken face.

"I don't see them, they must've gotten away," Glenn called while wiping down the windshield, spearing the red liquid.

Michonne stayed situated by the car door, keeping a watchful eye on the walkers up ahead while Rick scrambled for a plan in the car.

Aaron turned to Michonne, "They're okay?" She nodded in response.

Rick began to list off orders to Glenn, as he attempted to start the engine of the car. An unhealthy splutter was heard, not putting much confidence in the group. The car wasn't starting and they had a herd heading straight for them.

You felt compelled to help the group, the doom settling into your bones, so you decided to lower the weapon and escape the car.

Michonne followed, ready to hold off the stray bodies shuffling for them. Readying her katana on the left side, while you readied your axe on the right.

"I'll cover you, just help with the car!" Michonne called to you.

Obeying, you stalked over to the bonnet of the car, you analyzed the damage.

Mud and blood had accumulated below the wheels, well and truly stuck.

You needed to think fast, it was the only way to get to the others. One of the dead staggered towards Michonne, as she fended off others.

Quickly, kicking the knee of the walker it collapsed, giving you time to land two lethal blows with the axe. To add to the bloodshed that night, more sprayed across your irritated face.

This was going to be a long night, even if they made their way out of this hurricane of blood and flesh. Another lingered behind you and you grunted while retrieving the weapon that was deep in a skull, already tired of the continuous setbacks.

Again, you eliminated it using the same technique.

More of them pushed forward, funnelling through the bushes that surrounded the group. That’s when it clicked, you needed to add traction for the wheels.

With that thought, you bounced back over to the bonnet of the car. Michonne was pulling dismembered limbs from it.

“Glenn, I have an idea!” You exclaimed, over the growls of the beasts. “Grab branches! Anything dry. We need something under the tires for traction!”

They couldn't fight this off, adrenaline was coursing through your veins like an electric shock.

Glenn, scrambled, obeying your order. Plucking the shrubbery and shoveling it under the mud covered wheels.

"We need to hurry!" You yelled over the growls of the creatures while attempting to wipe the blood from your face. All the while, snatching at the plants.

"Hold on!" Rick called from within the car, capturing your attention. The man staring up, high above you.

Turning, you spotted it.

A glimmer of light trailed amongst the dark clouds, a flare.

You couldn't watch it for too long, as you heard a frantic cry from within the car. Both Michonne and yourself raced over, shocked by the flare.

"Did you see that?" Michonne called to the group but was soon cut short by the door slamming into her.

You watched with wide eyes, as Michonne's body collapsed to the near grass and Aaron scarped out.

Quickly, you sped towards the woman and swiftly lifted her from the floor. The pair nodded at one another before attempting to chase after him, determined to capture him once more.

"Come on," Michonne shouted to you. Both neglecting the car.

Before they could escape into the foliage of the nearby forest, Rick hollered after them. "Leave him! We need to find our people!"

"I'm not letting him get to his people, they might already have ours," you shouted back, breathing heavily. Allowing the adrenaline in your veins to dictate your movements, reaching for your pistol.

Your heart was hammering in your ribcage, after fighting tirelessly. This wasn't going to be for nothing.

Michonne seemed to agree. "They saw that flare. They'll think we shot it. This is how we find them," she rambled before running ahead with you.

With that, the group of four raced through the forest and abandoned the car. Taking weapons in hand, they set out to reach everyone. Some of the dead had followed, so they had to handle them swiftly.

You breathed in deeply, heart protesting, while aiming down the pistol's iron sight. Squeezing the trigger a few times, two fell. Glenn copied your actions picking off the leftovers. The pistol in your hand felt old, you missed the old shotgun.

Which was still discarded in the city, after the kidnapping.

It was perfect for desperate times.

More appeared, too many of them.

"Shit," you cursed, checking the ammo clip to see. Another curse fell from her lips, grabbing your axe once more. "I'm low!"

Rick shot a few more and Michonne picked some off with her sword, the man turned and stared at you.

He nodded before grabbing Michonne's arm. "We gotta keep movin'," he called over the growls and groans.

However, you noticed the dead ones pressuring Glenn away from the group and further into tall shrubs.

"Glenn!" You yelled.

Gulping down all fear that tainted your bones, if you were low there was no doubt in your mind he was.

He wouldn't be able to pick them off alone.

"Come on," you seethed through gritted teeth.

The walkers surged between you and Glenn, swallowing him behind a wall of bodies.

“Shit,” you cursed, again.

Ignoring Rick's calls, axe tightly in hand, you decide to chase after the man.

A queue of walkers all scrambled towards their next meal, hungry for Glenn. You swung your axe, pushing through the shrubs, hitting anywhere on the dead. Careless with your swings, overwhelmed by the number of them.

Blood began to coat your vision, a few thuds following behind you.

Pushing past some of them, while stumbling on discarded branches, you called for the man again. Panic had struck you again, blinded and alone.

Why were you even out here?

Still stumbling through the forest, you began to wipe the flesh and blood from your irritated orbs.

When vision presented itself, a shocked gasp left your lips.

A dead one chucked its weight on top of you, forcing your form to fall to the soil. Axe falling beside you. Nothing to defend yourself.

The snapping of its jaw was all you could hear, as you struggled to hold it away with your strength.

You screamed, ribcage crying in pain. You needed to use all your strength, everything you could muster from your exhausted body.

Drawl began to drip onto your face, mixing into the flesh and blood that clung to your cheeks. Grimacing, you locked your shoulders before using your trained muscles to throw it off.

Before you could catch a breath, you vaulted on top of the dead one and adrenaline took control. Applying pressure with your thumbs while straining your neck muscles, crying through the squelch.

You drove your thumbs into its eyes and shoved with everything you had until it finally went limp.

Tired and dazed, you chucked yourself off it landing back on the soil. A few breaths were caught until you spotted a worried Glenn standing over you.

"You good?" He rushed over to you exhausted figures and offered you a hand up.

Which he instantly regretted.

Accepting his hand, the rotten flesh and brain matter smothered on your hands now smothered his.

"Nice," He grimaced and wiped his hand onto his trouser after checking you over.

"I'm good, I'm fine," you heaved and smeared blood-stained flesh onto your already bloody top as well. Were you telling yourself that or him?

More walkers were heard and you rolled your eyes with a defeated sigh, grabbing your discarded axe.

"We gotta go, Glenn. Come on,” you huffed.

The pair of you continued further into the forest, attempting to follow a path towards the flare. Both on high alert, weapons in hand.

Until a distant shout was heard, Aaron's distant scream. You were filled with rage and exhaustion, thanks to him, so you chased after the noise as did Glenn.

This guy almost cost your life, you weren't about to leave empty-handed after all that.

Then there he was, pinned to a tree and hands still tied.

Glenn seemed hesitant to help him but you were pleased to help him.

So, in seconds, you grabbed the walker by the collar and plunged your axe into its skull. It went limp and you were quick to release the hold on the axe, not caring for it currently, ready to give Aaron a piece of your mind.

Seeing you, Aaron panicked slightly and prepared to escape your threatening gaze but you had other ideas.

You drew your pistol again, leveling it at his forehead.

At this point, it almost felt routine. Having a gun trained to strangers heads.

“Was running worth it?” you seethed between ragged breaths. “Look at the shit you got us into.” Remnants of decayed flesh clinging to your lips, with each word.

Glenn called your name and walked towards you, and cut Aaron's hand ties causing you to furrow your brows. “We've got other things to worry about, than him."

Aaron still stood there shell shocked, staring at your gun. “Look I’m sorry I jus—“

You pressed the magazine release. The empty magazine dropped into your palm.

“Relax,” you muttered. “I wasn’t going to shoot you.” Showing the clip to him. "You can either lead us to your friends or stay here with my empty gun. Your choice." Finishing the sentence, you offered the weapon with a pointed gaze, chest still heaving in exhaustion and fury.

Aaron was bewildered by the threatening mind game but nodded quickly. "We can make it, together, but only together," Aaron echoed. You tilted your head, the line familiar to you. Glenn halted in his tracks before turning to him. "You said that, I was listening."

The memory of Glenn offering Daryl water, moments before your heartwarming exchange, flashed through your mind. He was listening to everything, does that mean he heard Daryl's and your own whole conversation?

Chills ran up your spine at the thought.

"It's settled then? No more pulling shit?" You glanced towards Aaron who nodded in response, as you grabbed the discarded axe.

Then shots were heard in the distance, Rick and Michonne.

"We gotta keep moving, our people need us." You needed to make sure they were all okay, and Finley.

Glenn was quick to offer you his pistol, due to his rifle still having enough ammo. Before racing towards the sound.

Both men stayed ahead while you were watching the rear, all of them coated in walker blood.

Aaron turned to stare at your steely expression, on high alert. "Hey, look I'm sorry for running. Both of you. It's just...that flare. I need to get to him, I need to get to him," He continued to mutter.

It was clear the man was worried and feared for the person on the other end of that flare, which is why he acted out.

"Keep moving, otherwise we won't reach them," you shot back.

Making your way through the forest, another gunshot was heard and this time it was far closer than the last. All of you sped up, as you heard Rick and Michonne call for you.

When you reached a clearing all of you spotted the two skilled fighters. Rick was aiming at a walker with his revolver but only clicks were heard, he was out too.

Thankfully, Glenn had enough ammo. So, the pair of you rushed towards the other two that were pinned.

Without hesitation, you and Glenn mowed down the cluster of walkers with the little ammo left.

After a few seconds, enough had been cleared to give everyone time. Rick and Michonne nodded at you, grateful for the save.

However, Rick’s face changed when he saw a free Aaron.

"If you really want to tie me back up, that's fine, just hurry." Aaron compromised with his hands raised.

Rick analysed the trio before him and noticed Glenn's reluctant face. "No time, we're going that way," Rick announced, pointing behind him.

All obeying his order, ready to escape this nightmarish night.

The trek ahead of them was long, or so it seemed, the blood and guts weighing heavy on your aching muscles.

Everyone was exhausted.

Glenn ached to be back in Maggie's arms, Rick and Michonne needed to see the two kids, and you needed to have Finley safe. You were aware the young girl would be safe, Finley would most likely be glued to Daryl and Carol both of who'd protect her.

Finley was also skilled to protect herself but the dreaded thoughts still plagued your mind.

Now, you were beside the water tower where the flare had been shot. Searching each dark alley and desolate turn, in hopes to see family. Rick was whistling every so often, to alert them nearby. Turning down another dark road, Rick attempted to reach them once more.

Silence.

A heavy sigh escaped you, they had to be close.

Suddenly, answering your prayers, another whistle was heard further down the road. All of your heads perked up, beginning to jog towards them.

Heart fluttering in relief at the sight of a familiar winged vest.

Daryl stood at the end of the road, beaconing them over.

Soon enough, the rest of the group revealed themselves all escaping from a building. Daryl and Finley soon made their way over to you and eyes softened at your face.

Before you could react, Finley crashed into you and embraced you tightly.

"Good to see you too, Finn," you chuckled tiredly and reciprocated the warm hug.

However, Finley was quick to release you while twisting her face. The young girl was now analyzing you and took a big whiff of your scent.

"Ew, you stink and look-"

"Like shit," Daryl finished the sentence for the kid.

You rolled your orbs up at the man, whose own eyes seemed to take note of your exhausted and bloody face.

A snicker left your dried lips. "Thanks, asshole,” you replied.

"You good?" He asked, noticing your flat expression.

Nodding with a heavy sigh, you patted Finn on the shoulder. "Better than ever," you answered, earning a soft nod from him.

You were grateful to escape that hellish night.

Before Daryl could reply, Aaron started shouting for someone and rushing inside. You and Glenn exchanged a knowing expression, his friend that was left behind was here.

Whereas, Rick was perplexed and instantly followed after him.

Carol soon came into insight with a bright smile, heading over towards you. To your surprise, Carol pulled her into a tight hug. Despite the guts smothering her fatigued body.

"Let's get you all inside and cleaned up," Carol muttered against your ear.

Everyone followed you, reunions finished, entering the abandoned building.

As soon as they entered, you swiftly discarded the over shirt. Blood soaked it and caused you to stink. Your vest top proved little help with the nippy weather at night, however, a content sigh left your lips, the stench was finally removed.

Taking a seat on a wooden table, you drank in your surroundings. Everyone was around talking amongst themselves, Maggie and Glenn kissing happily while Michonne and Carl laughed happily.

An odd feeling rose within you, your mind wondering to Javier for a mere moment. A lump in your throat began to form.

"Hey," a voice grabbed your attention.

Turning, you spotted Daryl standing patiently with a rag in his hand, and a bottle of water in the other. You coughed, attempting to rid the emotion and lingering thoughts.

"Carol told me to pass these to ya, clean yourself up," he explained.

Nodding, you gratefully took the rag and hesitantly began to scrub at your cheeks and chin. Having no clue if you were ridding the grime or just smearing it.

"It was a whole shit show out there," you attempted to brew conversation.

Daryl snickered while picking at his nails. "Yeah, well you're back that's all that matters...all of ya," he gruffly mumbled.

His voice was quiet. Almost lost beneath the chatter filling the room.

You stared at him for a second longer than you meant to. Meeting his gaze, now scrubbing at your palms, his usually sharp stare was oddly soft.

He turned away slightly and shielded his eyes with his long hair, not enjoying the awkward silence.

"Your girl was going crazy, wantin' to go out lookin' for ya. Threatened to fight me and everythin',” he added, nodding toward Finley.

"Sounds about right," you laughed.

"She gets that stubbornness from...her dad," you added, choosing to ignore Daryl’s behaviour.

However, you instantly felt stupid. Daryl didn't know him.

Why would he care?

Daryl must have noticed your shift in mood, trying to shift the topic "Kid can look after herself anyway, she ain't no trouble," he spoke, while shrugging his bow closer to his shoulder.

An attempt to avoid the awkward air.

Your mouth opened to speak but nothing was mustered. Instead, you opted to give him a tight lip smile when you noticed him still peering through the strands of his hair at Finley, who was chatting with Abraham.

Over the past few weeks you had realised the hot headed southerner had another side to him, sure, you had only seen it once. But that moment in the forest was engraved into your brain.

Brain always pulling back to it, whenever you spotted him.

Daryl Dixon was an enigma.

Finally clean, you began to rummage through your pack which Daryl had also brought over. Snatching at your old work uniform. It was the only article of clothing that was discarded there, to help with the bipolar weather outside.

You opted to not put on the oversized fire jacket, it being a nuisance to wear and carry but for some reason you always kept it. Instead you chucked on the work top, over your vest.

Finley waltzed over to you both. "Thank god, you don't reek of shit," Finn exclaimed.

Daryl snickered at the girl, finding her language amusing. You glared at them both while shaking your head.

"I'm uninjured and unharmed, thanks for asking," you replied flatly, earning a small chuckle from Finn.

Daryl watched the two of you bicker for another moment before quietly pushing himself off the wall.

“See ya around,” he muttered.

Slinging the crossbow higher on his shoulder, he disappeared into the crowd before either of you noticed he’d gone.

Not wanting to spoil the moment between you.

Finally, the group successfully managed to rest peacefully that night. Not a single dooming emotion wavered over them.

You, however, had some doubts but the gleeful face Finley would pass her, while they spoke to Aaron's boyfriend, Eric, seemed to settle them.

This was all for her. Surviving for her and finding a sanctuary. You knew surviving wasn't living, so you trusted Finley's point of view. She deemed the men as trustworthy. So for her sake, you’d allow yourself to hope.

However, the morning came and the nervousness soon kicked in amongst everyone.

They had no clue what this community was like or its people. It's all pleasant when you have a glorified version of the place but reality seemed to disappoint, more often.

So, everyone set out on the journey to this mysterious place.

You and Finley had opted for the RV with most of the group. Whereas, Daryl, Rick, Michonne and Carl had decided to trail behind with a car.

Now, the group were patiently waiting for Abraham and Glenn to fix the RV after Abraham had confirmed it was supposedly ‘smooth sailing from here’.

You were seated in the driver's seat, turning the key in hopes to hear the methodical hum of the vehicle. Nevertheless, as you cranked the RV to life it was quick to silence itself. They couldn't catch a break.

You sighed, slouching against the seat.

Abraham, especially, was beginning to feel hopeless. Lifting your gaze to the redhead, through the windscreen, you shook your head solemnly. The man roughly shut the hood, a string of curses leaving his lip, causing the vehicle to shake.

Glenn offered an apologetic look to you, who was also frustrated.

So much for a peaceful day.

"You did jinx us, smartass," the muffled call of Finn was heard.

Going against your wishes, Finley had followed Daryl to the roof of the vehicle to scout out the area.

To no surprise, Abraham seemed displeased by her comment, so he decided to wave a middle finger up to her.

Shaking your head in disappointment paired with a lingering grin, you decided to attempt to get Finley down.

Before you could call for her, Glenn and Abraham were at the entrance of the RV, Abraham sporting an unhappy stare.

"That kid ever shut up?" Abraham questioned, arms crossed.

Snickering, you stared up at the open ceiling window. "Surprisingly not, even in her sleep,” you replied,earning a tired snort from Glenn.

Abraham scoffed. “Hope it’s not contagious,” the military man mumbled in an irritated tone.

Before you could answer, Daryl’s boots thudded against the roof.

“Nothin’ out here,” he called. “Road’s still clear.”

Finley’s head appeared through the roof hatch moments later, hair cascading into the RV and over her beaming face.

“It’s boring up there,” she added while flashing you a tooth grin.

“Good,” you answered, with a small chuckle. “Means you can get down.”

Finley only shook her head, quickly escaping back to the roof. Earning a roll from your orbs.

“Try it now,” Glenn called, drawing your attention back to the situation at hand.

You slid forward into the driver’s seat, twisting the key once more. Whispering a small prayer to yourself.

The engine sputtered and then rumbled to life.

A collective sigh escaped the perimeter of the RV and some cheered with glee.

The cheers slowly died away as everyone settled back into their respective seats. Relief lingered in the air, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the unease twisting in your stomach.

Glancing over your shoulder at Aaron, who was tending to Eric in the bed of the RV

Glenn hovered beside the driver’s door, resting a hand against the frame.

“You alright?” he asked, noticing your dazed stare at the newcomers.

A heavy sigh escaped you, as you diverted your orbs back on the road ahead. Wondering where Aaron was leading the group.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Glenn smiled knowingly, you glanced over giving him your full attention. “I wanna trust them, especially because of Finn. But… I don’t know.”

You were at a loss.

Glenn shrugged, climbing into the RV. “I trust Maggie. She trusts him enough to try,” he offered.

His answer made you pause. You both share the same dilemma, trusting the people you love but not Aaron.

“That’s… not really an answer,” you replied.

“Maybe not,” he chuckled. “But after everything we’ve been through, I think we’ve earned the right to hope once in a while.”

Your gaze drifted toward the roof hatch where Finley’s muffled laughter carried above. Daryl and her opting to stay watch, as Rick wandered off.

“Hope gets people killed,” you sighed, with a glum expression.

Glenn was quiet for a moment, offering a small nod of understanding.

“Sometimes.” He looked back toward Maggie before speaking again. “Sometimes it’s the only reason we’re still alive.”

You let his words settle between you, neither of you feeling the need to fill the silence.

Maybe he was right.

Hope had almost gotten you killed more times than you cared to count. But giving it up entirely would’ve killed you just as surely.

A faint knock against the side of the RV pulled your attention away.

“Rick’s back,” Daryl’s voice travelled down through the roof hatch.

Glenn glanced toward the front windshield before offering you a small smile.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he stated, as he entered to find his seat in the back.

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Yeah,” you muttered. “One way or another.”

Moments later, Rick emerged from the treeline, expression unreadable beneath the stubble on his jaw. Michonne fell into step beside him while Carl lingered a pace behind, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Aaron straightened immediately.

“We’re close,” he said quietly. Leaving Eric to rest alone. “Just a few more miles.”

Rick popped his head through the door window. His gaze swept over everyone inside the RV before finally settling on you.

“Let’s move.” You nodded once, shifted the RV into gear and eased it back onto the road.

The engine hummed steadily beneath your feet as the forest rolled past the windows.

Nobody talked much after that, other than a small complaint from Abraham about your poor driving skills.

“You drive like you stole it,” Abraham muttered from beside you in the passenger seat.

A tired snort escaped your nose. “Technically, it is.”

Quiet chuckles rippled through the RV before silence settled over everyone once more. Every mile carried the same question through the vehicle.

Was this finally home or just another mistake?

The convoy pressed on, Aaron’s directions guiding you farther down the winding roads. Every now and then, you’d catch sight of Rick’s car in the rear-view mirror, never falling too far behind.

You wondered what he was thinking. Knowing Rick, he was probably imagining every possible way this could end badly.

Truthfully, so were you.

The woodland gradually began to thin, giving way to wider roads and scattered neighbourhoods. Houses appeared through the trees, abandoned yet strangely untouched compared to the ruins you’d grown accustomed to.

Aaron leaned forward from his seat, unable to hide the smile creeping onto his face.

“We’re here,” he cheered.

You frowned. “I don’t see anything.”

“Keep driving.”

The road bent gently around a cluster of trees. Then your breath caught, lids widening at the sight before you.

Steel walls towered above the treeline, impossibly high, stretching farther than your eyes could follow. Watchtowers overlooked the surrounding woodland, and enormous gates stood proudly in the centre.

The RV instinctively slowed, allowing everyone to take in their new surroundings.

Behind you, nobody spoke. Not even Abraham.

Your eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror. Rick’s car had stopped as well, which contained Finley and Dary.

For a long moment, neither vehicle moved.

The walls didn’t look thrown together. They looked permanent and safe. Hopeful even.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“Holy shit,” Abraham breathed, enamored by the sheer size of the gate.

No one disagreed.

Aaron looked around the RV, his smile widening. “Welcome to Alexandria.”

After entering the confines of Alexandria, everyone was welcomed warmly, allowed to settle in as they pleased. Showers, food and new clothes.

In exchange, you’d have an interview with the leader, Deanna. An opposition for her to analyze you, no doubt.

And it was officially your turn.

The room was strangely peaceful. It almost unsettled you more than the dead ever could. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting warm streaks across the polished wooden floor. There wasn’t the smell of damp earth, stale blood or decay.

Instead, fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of clean linen.

You shifted awkwardly in the surprisingly cushioned chair opposite the woman, fingers drumming absent-mindedly against the worn fabric of your new jeans. Thanks to the new community, they allowed you to get washed and into fresh clothes.

However, sitting still had become strangely foreign after so long on the road. Especially without your weapons.

A camera sat perched on its tripod, its tiny red light already glowing.

“So…” Deanna, Alexandria’s leader, began warmly, folding one leg over the other. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You glanced toward the camera. “So that’s recording?” She nodded in response. “And everyone gets one?”

“Everyone,” Deanna echoed, confirming your question.

A small sigh escaped your lips. “Guess I can’t complain then,” you sighed, easing into the chair.

“It wouldn’t stop me recording,” she replied with a smile.

That earned the smallest twitch of amusement from you.

Deanna noticed. “I’ve had a few people in here who looked like they wanted to strangle me. And I still recorded it,” She explained with an eerie air around her.

Your mind instantly drifted to Rick, knowing he’s the type.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “That sounds about right.”

Another note was scribbled into the pad resting on her lap. Which made you raise a brow in question but she simply ignored it.

“So” she continued, “tell me who you are.”

You frowned. “You want my name?”

“I know your name.” She smiled patiently. “I want to know you. During and before,” the older woman clarified, chuckling lightly at your comment.

Your eyes wandered uneasily around the tidy living room, lingering on framed family photographs, neatly stacked books and untouched ornaments.

Everything had its place. Nothing looked scavenged. Nothing looked temporary, it was clean and pristine.

“I was a firefighter,” you admitted with a flat shrug.

“I guessed as much.”

Your hand instinctively brushed against the faded work shirt you’d changed back into after showering.

“You kept the uniform,” She noted. Her eyes glazed over the stitching of the embroidered badge.

You nodded. “Before everything became…” you searched for the word before giving up. “…this.”

She waited, not wanting to rush you.

“I liked my job,” you admitted quietly, a wistful smile tugging briefly at your lips. “It wasn’t just work… it was my whole life. I knew what I was supposed to do every day.”

Deanna offered a warm smile, standing from her spot. “I imagine you helped a lot of people.”

“I tried,” you replied quickly. “I mean who wouldn’t at least try?”

“And now?” She questioned, as she moved toward a side table.

The table beside her held a large glass jug of freshly made lemonade. Tiny bubbles clung stubbornly to the inside of the glass while slices of bright yellow lemon floated lazily across the surface.

Deanna poured two generous glasses before offering one to you.

“Now I mostly hit dead people with the same axe,” you mumbled. You accepted the drink cautiously, almost suspiciously.

The first sip caught you off guard. It was cold. Ice cold.

The sharp citrus burst across your tongue before the sweetness followed, the fizzy bubbles prickling pleasantly at the back of your throat. You hadn’t tasted anything remotely fresh in…Well, you couldn’t even remember how long.

Your eyes widened despite yourself. For one impossible second, it felt like the world hadn’t ended. You could have sworn, you were dreaming this.

To your surprise, Deanna laughed. A genuine laugh. At the comment and your reaction to the beverage.

“I suppose that still counts as helping people.”

You only replied with a shrug, unsure on how to respond.

Silence settled again. Comfortable this time. Deanna leaned forward slightly, returning back to her seat.

“How long have you been with Rick’s group? From the beginning?” She quizzed, again.

You shook your head, finishing the remainder of the sweet liquid. “Not from the beginning,” you informed, licking the residue from your lip.

“So they found you?” You nodded in response.

You swallowed, thoughts lingering to the beginning of the end. Which seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“I was travelling with Javier,” you informed with a somber tone, discarding the glass on the coffee table in front of you.

Before you could explain further, Deanna hummed knowingly.

“Finley mentioned him,” she added. “She’s a bright girl, very charismatic.”

Your gaze dropped to your lap, thumbs rubbing absent-mindedly against calloused palms. Tiny white scars crossed your knuckles, each one carrying a story you no longer wanted to remember.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

A tight tug on your heart made you exhale, thinking of how far Finley had come. How much she had lost, and still remained so full of life.

“She’s not your daughter,” Deanna continued, sensing your sorrowful aura.

Shaking your head, “No.”

Deanna wrote more notes in her pad, humming lightly. “But you protect her like she is,” she interrogated, still writing.

You rubbed your palms together, sensing the sweat building up on them. “I promised I’d keep her alive.”

“You feel responsible.” She flashed you a brief look.

“I am responsible.”

“No,” Deanna corrected gently. “You feel responsible.”

It was obvious that the older woman was emotionally mature, aware of subtle tells.

The distinction made you hesitate. “I guess,” you hesitantly replied.

Deanna rested her notebook against her knee, studying you with quiet understanding.

“That’s a heavy burden to carry,” she said softly.

You let out a slow, tired breath through your nose, shrugging. “It’s lighter than carrying guilt,” you mumbled.

Deanna didn’t write anything this time. She simply watched you. “You love that girl, like she was your own?”

The words caught you off guard.

“I…” You paused.“…Yeah.”

The answer came quieter than expected. “I do,” you confirmed.

Another comfortable silence followed.

“I could see that, just from Finley alone.” She nodded, tight lipped. “When I asked her if she had parents, she said no,” the woman began to explain. “But she was clear in telling me you both weren’t to be separated.”

You sat there, silent. Allowing her to ramble on, giving you a chance to analyze the leader.

Deanna was an older woman, which contributed to her wisdom. Matching Aaron, she oozed charisma. All the right things to be warm and inviting. The perfect person to prod and pry at newcomers.

Squinting your lids, you watched as she scribbled another note down. Yes, she has a lot to say but she was clearly good at reading people.

“I used to be a politician,” she explained, almost as if she could sense your confusion at the way she was. “A lot of people hear that and immediately assume the worst.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, before she continued. “They imagine someone who lies, manipulates and says whatever they need to say to get ahead.”

“You’re saying you weren’t like that?” You countered with a pointed expression, a small smirk tickling your lips.

“I’m saying I was a good listener.”

That made you pause.

Deanna cleared her throat, jutting her chin up slightly, before continuing. “People tell you a lot when they think nobody is paying attention. They tell you what they fear, what they want, what they’re trying to hide.” Her gaze briefly drifted toward the camera. “This place was built on that. Listening.”

Allowing yourself to search around the room again, admiring the personality that shone through. It was cluttered with sheets of paper and books. An organized mess, somewo would call it.

It was clear this was where she’d set plans for the community. Where she applied all of her, so called, listening.

“Seems like a lot of trust to build a world off of instinct,” you quipped while rubbing your palms against your jeans. Sensing the build up of sweat on them, not appreciating being under a microscope.

“It is.” The answer came easily. No hesitation.

“I won’t pretend Alexandria is perfect. It isn’t,” she sighed heavily. “There are people here who have never had to make the decisions your group has made. They haven’t had to choose who lives and who dies.” Her expression softened, gazing off into the distance for a moment. “But they are still people. They still deserve a chance.”

Your fingers tightened slightly against your palm, balling them into an anxious fist.

“That’s a dangerous way to think,” you countered.

Deanna smiled faintly, shrugging. “Maybe, but so is assuming everyone is your enemy.”

Lips remained firmly shut, at a loss for words, because you couldn’t exactly argue. Not after Aaron, after all the trails your group put him through and so far he had remained truthful.

Deanna noticed your silence but, true to form, didn’t press the issue.

Instead, she calmly uncapped her pen once more, scribbling another neat line into the already crowded notebook balanced carefully upon her knee. The scratching of ink across paper was the only sound filling the pleasantly quiet room. She was just doodling now, absent mindlessly.

“Aaron has been watching your group since you arrived,” Deanna admitted after a moment, her voice remaining gentle, matter-of-fact. She glanced briefly toward the closed notebook before looking back up at you. “He made notes. About each of you.”

Your brow arched instinctively. You knew it.

“So…” A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped you. “He was spying on us.”

The older woman didn’t appear remotely offended. Instead, a knowing smile settled across her features.

“It’s his job,” she replied simply. “He observes people. He looks for who they are before they know they’re being watched.”

You leaned further into the comfortable armchair, folding your arms loosely across your chest as your eyes drifted thoughtfully toward the softly humming camera.

“Guess we gave him plenty to write about,” you attempted to joke, feeling a slight nervous chill in your bones. The idea of being watched still irritated you.

“I’d imagine so.”

The corner of Deanna’s mouth twitched upwards before she reopened her notebook, quietly scanning over Aaron’s careful handwriting.

“So…” she murmured thoughtfully. “What have I figured out?”

Her thoughtful eyes lifted to meet yours once again.

“Rick leads.”

You nodded without hesitation. “He always has,” you confirmed.

“But he doesn’t lead alone,” Deanna continued, tapping her pen lightly against the paper. “Michonne challenges him whenever she believes he’s drifting too far. He listens… even when he pretends he isn’t.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “Sounds about right.”

She smiled in return before continuing. “Glenn…” the leader said thoughtfully. “Glenn reminds everyone that humanity is still worth holding onto.”

You couldn’t stop the small, genuine smile that appeared.

“He carries hope,” Deanna added quietly. “Sometimes I think that’s harder than carrying a weapon.”

Your gaze drifted absent-mindedly toward the window. That sounded exactly like Glenn.

She continued down the list, occasionally glancing at Aaron’s notes, occasionally studying you instead. Listing every quality the group had.

Deanna chuckled softly, at your reactions, before her expression grew thoughtful once again.

“Daryl…” She paused, almost searching for the right words. “Daryl is… difficult.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, one you couldn’t contain. “You’re telling me,” you chuckled dryly.

The woman hummed warmly, nodding sincerely. “Hard to read. Harder to predict. Aaron couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to disappear into the woods or kill him.”

Despite yourself, a small smirk appeared briefly. “Probably both.”

“I suspect you’re right.”

The laughter between you was brief, but it dissolved a surprising amount of tension.

When it faded, Deanna carefully closed the notebook with deliberate finality, resting both hands across the worn leather cover.

“I’d like to offer you a position in security,” she abruptly stated.

The words landed heavily, an odd weight with each syllable.

You frowned slightly. “Security?” Your tone was flat, mixed with confusion.

“Alexandria has walls,” Deanna described patiently, gesturing vaguely toward the window where the towering steel barriers stood beyond the houses. “Strong ones.”

She paused.

“But walls don’t protect people.” Her ocean blue eyes settled firmly on yours. “People protect people.”

The conviction in her voice was unmistakable. “Most of the residents here…” she continued quietly, “…have never had to survive the way your group has. They’ve been sheltered behind these walls for a very long time.”

Her intense expression softened, at her own words “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

Silence stretched between you.

You rubbed absent-mindedly at the back of your neck, thoughts immediately drifting toward Rick, Finley, Glenn, Daryl… everyone.

Whether they trusted this place. Whether they’d stay.

Whether you would.

“You don’t have to answer immediately,” Deanna reassured, noticing the uncertainty clouding your expression. “I know this is a great deal to ask after only a few hours.”

You slowly nodded, wetting your lips with your tongue, before speaking “But…” Your eyes met hers again. “Why me?”

It was the question that mattered.

Deanna regarded you quietly for several long seconds, her gaze thoughtful rather than analytical now.

Finally, she smiled. “Because every story you’ve told me today has been about somebody else.”

Confusion flickered across your face.

She elaborated gently. “Javier.” A finger lifted.

“Finley.” Another.

“Your group.”

“And even when you spoke about your old job,” she continued softly, “you never told me how it made you feel first.”

Deanna tilted her head ever so slightly. “You talked about the people you saved.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came.

“You instinctively place yourself between danger and everyone standing behind you,” Deanna observed, her voice calm, certain. “Not because anyone asks you to.”

A faint, understanding expression crossed her face. “But because you don’t seem to know how not to,” she finished.

The room fell quiet once more. This time, the silence felt heavier.

Not uncomfortable. Just truthful.

You peaked down at your hands, rough and scarred from years of hauling hoses, breaking down doors, swinging axes, and more recently, burying them into the skulls of the dead.

For the first time since arriving behind Alexandria’s towering walls, you wondered what those hands were supposed to build instead of destroy.

No longer needing to act on your own instincts, now surrounded by caring people.

Was this your chance? A chance to give Finley the life she deserved.

The conversation lingered in your thoughts long after you stepped outside.

Front door clicking shut behind you, muffling the peaceful atmosphere Deanna seemed to carry wherever she went. Warm sunlight immediately washed over your face, forcing your eyes to narrow against the brightness.

For a moment, you simply stood there on Deanna’s porch. Taking in your surroundings, giving your brain a moment of silence.

Enabling yourself to breathe in the quaint space.

The street stretched quietly before you, as children rode bicycles down it with loud screams and giggles. Neighbours passing one another with a welcoming smile, clean and carefree.

It was normal. Back to how it once was.

People watching for a few more minutes, an uneasy feeling swelled in your stomach. Gulping unnecessarily, in hopes to get rid of it.

It was now foreign to you.

Tranquility.

Your boots carried you down the pavement without much thought. Every house looked identical. Coated in fresh paint and a neatly trimmed garden.

Nothing broken or rotting. No desperate scramble to just survive another day.

Your fingers twitched instinctively toward the place your axe would normally hang before remembering, Alexandria had taken everyone’s weapons.

The absence felt uncomfortable. You were too vulnerable.

A voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Finally escaped?”

You glanced up, from across the street, Glenn emerged with Maggie beside him. The second you spotted them, relief softened your features.

A laugh escaped your nose. “Barely,” you snickered.

Glenn grinned knowingly, having his interview before you.

“Well?” he called.

You exhaled through your nose, shrugging carelessly. “I survived.”

“That makes one of us,” Glenn snorted, earning a quiet laugh from Maggie.

Maggie stepped closer, now in fresh clothes and a clean face. Somehow making her look younger, though the tiredness around her eyes remained.

The sound of raised voices further down the street drew your attention. Rick.

Sure enough, you spotted several members of the group gathered outside one of the houses Alexandria had assigned them.

All three of you wandered over to be with your group. Needing to discuss the future and plans ahead.

Rick stood near the porch steps, arms folded tightly across his chest. While Michonne leaned casually against the railing beside him.

Carl sat on the porch with Judith balanced awkwardly on his lap while she attempted to grab his hat.

The sight almost made you smile.

Then your eyes found Finley. The girl sat cross-legged in the grass, examining something in her hands.

An apple. A fresh apple.

She looked completely captivated by it. As if she couldn’t quite believe it was real.

The knot in your chest loosened. Just a little.

You had spent weeks wondering if she’d ever get a chance to be a kid again. Now, she sat in the middle of a quiet suburban street holding fruit like it was treasure.

Maybe this place really was different.

“Hey.” You turned, as your name left someone’s throat. Rick’s attention was shifted towards you.

“How’d it go?” He began to interrogate.

A dozen pairs of eyes followed, everyone in the group eager to hear what she may have said.

As if, she hadn’t done the same to all of them already.

You rolled your shoulders, followed by a heavy sigh. “Apparently I’m employable,” you answered.

Rick’s brow furrowed. “Employable?” he repeated, suspicion dripping from the single word.

A few quiet chuckles spread through the group.

You nodded once. “Deanna offered me a job.” That wiped the amusement from more than a few faces.

“A job?” Abraham echoed, sounding almost offended by the concept. “What she offer you?”

“In security,” you clarified. “She wants people who’ve actually survived outside the walls.”

Rick’s expression remained unreadable. “And?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t say yes.”

“But you didn’t say no,” Michonne observed.

Your eyes found hers for a brief moment before drifting back toward the peaceful street.

“No.”

Silence settled over the group. It wasn’t tense. Just thoughtful.

Rick rubbed a hand across his beard, looking toward the towering walls surrounding Alexandria.

“They’re moving too fast,” he muttered. “Offering us jobs, the houses…”

“They’ve got people baking cookies while we’re still wondering if they’re gonna put knives in our backs.” Carol folded her arms loosely, leaning against the railing of the porch.

“Maybe that’s because they’re not expecting us to,” you added with a small shrug. “I mean look at them, they’ve been here a while… if not the whole time.”

Everyone analyzed the neighbour, where the two homes they were offered sat smack in the centre of it, sensing the innocence.

From what Deanna stated, they needed muscle. People to serve and protect.

Yes, it was suspicious but it was clear they were weak compared to the group.

Daryl, leaning against the porch railing, snorted quietly. “Still don’t trust it,” he scoffed.

“No one asked you to,” Carol answered without missing a beat.

That earned another snort from him.

Glenn stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets. “I think…” He glanced around the neighbourhood before finishing. “I think we should at least see what this place really is.”

Rick didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched a little boy pedal past on a bright blue bicycle, another child laughed as he raced after him.

No fear. No panic.

Just children, being children. Allowed to live, not just survive.

His shoulders loosened ever so slightly. “We stay alert,” Rick finally said.

“Always.”

Everyone nodded.

No one argued.

It was the only answer any of them could agree on. The conversation gradually dissolved into smaller ones.

Maggie wandered over inside of the house, quietly joining Glenn.

Abraham wandered off muttering something about finding a beer, if they actually even had beer here. Rosita rolled her eyes before following him.

Tara disappeared inside the next house with Eugene, both arguing over something trivial.

One by one, everyone drifted away.

Leaving you standing at the edge of the porch, giving you an opportunity to take everything in. Watching as the overpowering sun began to descend, to reveal the pending night sky.

Your eyes found Finley again.

She’d finally started eating the apple properly now, talking animatedly with Carl about something neither of them would remember tomorrow.

Maybe Deanna had been right.

This would be an opportunity to protect. Correctly.

Maybe your hands didn’t always have to carry an axe.

Maybe one day they’d build something instead.

You weren’t naïve enough to believe Alexandria would solve everything.

Walls could fall. People could lie. Paradise could crumble overnight.

You knew that better than most.

This place hasn't earned your trust. Not yet.

As another breeze carried laughter down the quiet suburban street, you realised it had earned something else.

A chance.

For the first time since the world had ended, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe there could be more waiting for you than simply surviving.

And for now, that was enough.

You sensed someone watching, so lost in thought.

Turning your head, you spotted Daryl sitting on the porch steps, elbows resting on his knees.

He watched Finley laugh with Carl and then his gaze flickered to you.

His intense orbs lingered just long enough to notice the way your shoulders had finally dropped, the way you weren’t scanning every rooftop or every corner of the street.

For once, you appeared clean and relaxed.

The corner of his mouth almost twitched before he quietly ducked inside, leaving you alone with the strange feeling that someone else had noticed the weight you’d been carrying.

You remained cautious, entering the dusty barn, fire axe in hand. Continuing to scan the contents of the barn, orbs grazing over everyone. Finley was standing with Carol and Maggie, as they searched a desolate corner, shaking off the water droplets from her hair like a wet dog.

Now, watching Rick, he nodded softly giving the all-clear.

Putting your axe away, allowing your guard to fall, for now, inhaling deeply. You instantly regretted it. "This place smells like shit," you thought out loud.

The barn smelled rotten, you couldn't tell if it was due to what lived in it before or what died within it. Everyone heard your comment, a few snickering and others agreeing softly.

"I told you," Carl, who was holding Judith firmly to his chest, mumbled to Michonne, earning a small nudge from her.

Another shiver coursed through your body, goosebumps beginning to raise due to the cool air kissing bare arms. They were all soaked, clothes clinging irritably, glum stares illuminating their faces as they set up camp.

You noticed the way Finley was beginning to huddle herself into a corner of the barn, as her teeth chattered, an attempt to withdraw from the group again. The girl had acted so brightly when the rain appeared but now she completely contradicted her previous self.

A small sigh left your lips, you had nothing to give the girl due to her own clothes and pack being ruined by the rain, but you doubted Finley would accept anything from her.

Finley was flippant, understandably.

Thunder continued to roar, while everyone attempted to get comfortable.

Luckily, Daryl had managed to get a small fire lit, with the few dry sticks he had discovered in the barn.

You had situated herself by it, needing the company of others and warmth. The mourners had buried themselves in a dark corner to be alone with their thoughts. You did not want that to be you, so you opted to stay closer to the light.

You wished you had spare clothes that weren't wet, all you had was an old fire jacket but it was too heavy to wear with the air still being warm.

So, you opted to huddle with Carol, watching the fire crackle before them. Clothes still damp, by the pitiful flames in front of them. Both Glenn and Daryl were attempting to start a roaring fire with damp sticks, which was proving difficult.

"Nah they're too wet," Daryl gruffly spoke, chucking the last damp stick into the flame.

Most of the group found salvation in the small heat, Carl already passed out snuggling his sister close to his chest. Rick was watching over them, tentatively.

Heart clenching at the wholesome sight, you were surprised at how soft you had become to children.

All thanks to meeting Finn.

You witnessed Finley begin to lay down, in her corner of the barn away from others, she was preparing for sleep. Rubbing your face tiredly, thankfully not smudging dirt onto your cheeks, you contemplated to approach her.

Carol noticed how distressed you and Rick were, staring at the younger generation. "They'll bounce back as I said earlier." Her eyes lingered on Carl, before continuing. "He bounces back, quicker than any of us."

You replied with a soft smile to the older woman beside you, appreciative of the comfort.

"I used to feel sorry for kids, growing up in all this," Rick sighed while shaking his head. "But I think I got it wrong. Growing up is getting used to the world. It's easier for them."

Michonne seemed annoyed by this, furrowing her brows at the man. "This isn't the world. This isn't it," She disagreed.

"It might be," Glenn muttered sadly.

"That's giving up," Michonne countered once more.

Glenn shrugged his shoulders, looking up at Michonne. "That's reality."

"Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with," Rick interjected.

Something bubbled inside of you. The need to reject this ideology he had. Yes, the world was different now but humans evolve with it.

A heavy sigh left you cold lips, eyes focusing on the flames. "The world changes every day. Things before this world weren't the same as the last, we've just gotta find a way to live with this one...for now," you expressed, now focusing on the group around her.

Everyone around you seemed to agree, Carol, Michonne and Glenn nodding in agreement.

You didn't sugarcoat it but you showed them you had hope, hope that one day the reality they stood for wasn't forever.

It would be changeable.

Another heavy sigh escaped you, sensing Rick's intimidating gaze on you, silently asking you to continue.

"If we just sit here and pretend it's not real then it won't change at all, you need to focus on the issue to fix it. Reality can only be changed if you bend it yourself,” you explained further.

Daryl’s fingers stilled against the knife in his hands, that he was mindlessly playing with.

His eyes lingered on you for a second longer than they usually did. Not going unnoticed by you, as you gulped down the unease feeling that grew.

You weren’t talking to inspire anybody. You believed every damn word, for yourself alone.

He respected people who meant what they said.

Rick sat there, encasing himself in his own thoughts, allowing your words to sink in.

"When I was a kid... I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so... so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him," Rick began to relate. "But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead... he made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive." The man paused, staring at the people around him.

An array of strangers, now making a family.

"We tell ourselves... that we are the walking dead." Staring down at everyone, thunder loomed once more adding effect to his stare, watching his own words now sink.

Conflicted emotions spurred within them all, Carol's eyebrows raised as did Michonnes, Glenn seemed saddened by his words.

However, you felt this unravelling pit deep in your stomach.

Those things were nothing like them.

They were hollow creatures with nothing to lose, yes, they once did have thoughts and feelings, but all they wanted was flesh. The only thing that made them equal to the living was their blood-stained hands but that was all thanks to them.

How could you become something you feared?

Daryl began to shake his head at his friend. "We ain't them," he muttered.

Rick's words held a heavy weight on Daryl, you couldn't help the soft but sad look you held towards him, as he began to collect his things. Rick also noticed the shift in the man, attempting to get his attention.

"We're not them," Rick attempted to comfort.

It seemed to fall on deaf ears, as Daryl collected the last of his things before standing. "We ain' them," he repeated.

With one last glance towards the group, the man disbanded from the warmth of the fire. You refused to watch him go, finding an unusual pain in your chest, when you looked at the man.

You couldn't tell if it was pity or something far more complicated.

Everyone seemed to settle down, shortly after, finding the awkward air uncomfortable.

Daryl had decided to keep watch tonight, while everyone else was passed out or decided to spend the night thinking loudly.

You found yourself wandering over to a sleeping Finley, she had streaks running down her resting face. It was either due to the rain or crying herself to sleep again. You were pained by that thought, the girl had been reluctant to rest near you over the course of these weeks.

Out of bitterness or insecurity.

Either way, you didn't care.

You wanted to wrap her up and take every ounce of pain that built up inside her. Even though you swallowed your own pain. It would have consumed Finley if you didn’t at least try.

Then you noticed something draped over the sleeping girl, a poncho.

Slowly, sitting down beside a resting Finley, you inspected the material laying on top of her. It was ragged and used, with stains of blood and oil coated it.

Heart warming, you knew who this was from.

You had seen the material fall out of Daryl's pack, every so often. The man was watching over Finley and you appreciated that more than you could ever express. Finley seemed to lean on him, during the three weeks, an attempt to fill the void within her.

A place Javier had but it was now hollow of him.

An exhausted sigh left your lips, thinking of the man. A foolish man that you had complicated feelings for.

Javier Perez was warm and given, he swallowed you whole the second his brown eyes were on you.

A stray tear fell, rolling down your muddied cheekbones. You was quick to wipe the evidence away, noise beginning to flare.

Stay strong, stay strong. You replayed in your head.

In an attempt to ignore the overwhelming emotions, you focused on the stray hairs that had littered over Finley's face. Tenderly removing them and tucking them behind her ear.

A parental action, something Javier had done for her too. However, Finley stirred at the familiar touch.

Finley's dark orbs met your tired ones. The girl had assumed she would wake up to her father as if it was all a nightmare, face falling.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you whispered as you began to stand.

Finley sniffled, quietly. "It's...It's okay, you can stay," She muttered.

You obliged, finding a spot beside her, now laying on your side to face her. The air was silent for a few moments, neither one of you knowing what to say or do.

Until Finley hesitantly shared the poncho. Barely noticing the small goosebumps on your arm, the smouldering fire casting a faint orange glow.

"It's Daryl's, he gave it to me earlier," Finley broke the silence.

A soft smile lingered on your lips, as you stared elsewhere. "Thought it was, with all the shit on it," you mumbled a reply, followed by a chuckle.

Finley seemed to appreciate the comment, snickering lightly at it, too.

The silence was brief again.

"Look..." you began, capturing the young girl's attention. "I know, it's hard for you to talk to me and it hurts like hell that you're not...But I'm not going anywhere. Your dad was..." you tried to swallow, throat tightening.

"I miss him," Finley cut you off.

You halted any words prepared, which was none, finally ready to listen to her.

"I miss him every day and it gets harder with each day. At night it's worse, I'm waiting for him to hum me to sleep and kiss me on the forehead," Finley shakily admitted. Tears began to stream rapidly, shielding her face with the poncho. "I'm sorry, for leaving you back in the city. If I wasn't so stupid...at the parking lot, maybe I-"

"No, Finn," you interjected, surprising the now sniffling girl. Finley could make out the sorrowful expression on your usually rigid face. "Don't ever blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done to change that night. I know it."

Hand beginning to rummage through your back pocket. A shaky exhale left your lips, a metallic sound rattling.

"He told me one night, our first night in the city, how surprised he was at how you turned out,” you reminisced. “Your dad was... so proud of the woman you were and will become. A sarcastic smart a.”

Finley laughed through her tears at the comment.

"I also know, he'd want you to have this," you sighed, revealing the polished military dog tag. At the sight, Finley inhaled sharply before slowly taking the necklace from you.

Playing with the necklace, the tears slowly became sniffles once more. "I'm sorry, for ignoring you," Finley muttered.

"You never need to be sorry to me, Finn. Never," you replied, with glazed eyes.

Hugging you tightly, the young girl burrowed her face into your shoulder as she gripped the necklace tightly.

"Thank you...For staying safe," She mumbled into your shirt.

After worrying the whole time, you were finally put at ease, embracing the girl.

A lingering gaze caught Finley's attention before any further discussion could be had on the situation.

"Daryl's still on watch?" The girl asked, releasing her hold on you.

Turning, you spotted Daryl, who immediately directed his attention elsewhere. "Yeah, I'll go take over for him. Guy hasn't slept in ages, going to pass out there," you proposed.

"He's cool, I think dad would've liked him," Finley mumbled.

You only chuckled. Knowing how wrong she was. Yes, her dad would be thankful for the man and how he has treated his daughter. But personality wise, they were polar opposites.

Following a brief forehead kiss, you hummed lightly to the girl and stood to disband. "Get some rest, we never know what shit show is a head," you spoke before heading over to the mysterious man.

Daryl was now pacing in front of the door with a crossbow in his hand. Thunder was still striking and clear skies seemed very unlikely for the rest of the night, especially with the way the wind thrashed at the entrance.

Looming near the man, you supported your tired legs by resting against a beam of the barn. Her gaze followed him intensely but he continued to ignore your presence.

"You know you're going to tire yourself out, sooner or later. Surprised your still standing," you expressed, breaking the silence of the barn.

When he didn't reply, your shoulders sagged. "Why don't you go rest, I'll take watch. I haven't seen you lay down...since I've known you.” The realization struck her.

A grunt left Daryl's lips, continuing to pace like a guard dog.

"Nah," he simply replied.

The man rushed towards the door, the chain bashing loudly and a gap began to form. Daryl placed his crossbow down, eyes never leaving the gap. You, however, didn't notice how fixated he was.

"Daryl, come on, you're just gonna get us all-" Taking a step forward she attempted to reach out to him but halted her movements at an eerie sound.

Both of your attentions were drawn towards the outside world, which was still encased within a storm. However, that was the least of your problems.

A cluster of the dead began to drag themselves through the mud and pouring rain, heading straight for the barn. Flashes of thunder illuminate them clearly to the pair.

"Shit," you cursed as eyelids widened.

With lightning reaction speed, you shoved harshly against the door. Pressing your back firmly against the centre of the door, locking your knees tightly. Clenching jaw, you closed your eyes tightly. Thoughts of your working days flashed through behind your lids.

Then a harsh grunt was beside you, opening your orbs, you found Daryl copying you.

On the right side of your face, Daryl had one forearm pressing closely on the door and the other one pressing on the other.

The pair of you grunted and growled, feet sliding against the mud. Not caring for the close proximity of one another, due to the danger at hand. A violent shove from the dead forced a yelp from your lips, the wood digging deeply into your spine.

However, Daryl pushed hard, as you stumbled back to position.

Gasoline had been poured onto the spark of fear in your stomach. Thoughts far away from any inner peace. The only soothing sound was the matching heartbeat of Daryl's, fighting for salvation.

All you ever could do was offer a hand and keep everyone from harm's way, you owed them.

You owed it to Carol. You owed it Rick. You owed it to him.

Staring up, you spotted his intense gaze. Daryl watched you struggle, determination contouring your exhausted features. It added fuel to his flame, to press harder. He nodded softly to you. It added fuel to you both, to press harder.

Although, the pair were becoming weak. There were so many dead outside, begging to feast upon them, and they all were so tired.

Then, Maggie and Finley appeared.

Both of them slammed their weight onto the door, allowing you and Daryl to adjust your hold. The door slipped, a hand reaching through. Your hands worked before your brain, shocked with adrenaline.

Grabbing your axe from its belt, in one swift movement, you brought it down on the dead's arm. It fell against the mud instantly, you couldn't care less in the heated moment, giving them room to push.

Going back to your position, more people from the group bombarded the door with their overwhelming strength.

Clustered in between Rick and Daryl, you began to take in your surroundings. Everyone was coming together, as one, each lending their power. Battling the threat, not wanting to see death's door. You couldn’t hear the thunder anymore. Only Daryl’s steady grunts beside you as he forced the door shut.

Every shove he gave told you the same thing.

Protect them.

So you did.

The sun was threatening to peak into the sky at any moment, as bodies littered the barn. It had been a gruelling night, but somehow the living had triumphed over the dead. They had won the battle of strength.

Now, everyone laid sleeping or resting, weary and worn. You were slumped against the barn door, cautious of the unknown, sleeping somehow. Extremely exhausted, your body gave out, it couldn't care less if it was uncomfortable.

Mud covered your hands and feet, thanks to the rain, again you couldn't find a reason to care. Deep within your bones, they begged for slumber.

Finley, however, had found refuge closer to the once lingering fire. She was complaining about how damp her clothes were.

Surprisingly, night terrors stayed at bay. They usually nestled into your brain and haunted you but for the first time in the past few weeks, they had been fought off.

The only thoughts that plagued you were hopeful ones.

Last night showed you that the group were committed to keeping everyone safe, you were pleased you had stuck with them. Raising and protecting Finley alone would be difficult, without them she wouldn't have made it far.

Especially, without him.

Three weeks of emotional turmoil showed you all of this.

A soft whisper tickled your sleeping mind, your name echoing. Your mind aching for sleep but forcing your eyelids to flicker open to the unlit barn.

No daylight. You closed them again, willing the carousel to return, for your mind to tumble back to dreams.

But you fought against it.

Eyes sleepy and blurred, you could see a silhouette of a woman standing over you.

Sitting up further, the cracking of bones following, you shook your head to help her focus. Vision now clear, you spotted Maggie. Beth's sister. The woman before her had isolated herself, neglecting most contact with you. Beside her was an absent Sasha, who had avoided you too after the brief altercation in the church.

Furrowing brows, you began to stand on heavy legs. "What's up?" You questioned, brain slowly catching up with your body.

"Maggie and I are heading out, check on things," Sasha replied quietly, taking note of most people still in deep slumber.

A bright smile appeared on the southern woman's face. "Join us," Maggie offered.

An unfamiliar expression complimented her bright eyes. Staring off, to spot Carol who was sitting awake beside a now sleeping Finley. Before you could even voice your thoughts, someone had already beaten her to it.

"She'll be fine," a gruff voice muttered. Daryl sat in a corner of his own, picking at his fingernails, eyes never peeking up. "Carol's watching her."

A tired sigh escaped your lips, as your mind was put to ease, and nodded at the two women before you.

Before following Maggie and Sasha, who were leaving the barn, you grabbed the discarded axe that had found a home in the mud. However, you could feel this lingering gaze as your figure began to disappear into the outdoors.

It was an itch you chose to not scratch.

The trio was now bewildered at the sight before them.

Trees had toppled across the field that encased the small barn, which still amazingly still stood strong. Nature had fought with one another, as everyone slept or fought against it. Mangled bodies of the dead ones haphazardly littered the soil, experiencing first-hand the wrath of the weather.

One walker was impaled by a branch, struggling to escape it and attempting to catch its breakfast. The hungry face had made you scowl before loosening your aching bones, ready to kill it.

In one hit, thanks to the rain deteriorating its flesh, with your axe it went limp. Blood splattered, as the axe escaped the rotten flesh, onto your torso mixing with the mud and sweat that already clung to it.

"Look at this," Sasha spoke, eyes scanning the aftermath, rifle close to her chest.

You shrugged as she continued to follow Maggie to a location. "A sight to see so early in the morning," you muttered in reply.

"Should've torn us apart," Sasha added.

Maggie continued, crouching past a fallen tree. "But it didn't."

You were worn and tired, wanting nothing more than to return to the safe confines of the barn. However, your thoughts were soon pushed aside at the sight before you.

Maggie had led you both to an opening, clear of foliage and the dead, and their mouths dropped at the presence before them.

"Why are we here?" Sasha questioned, annoyance laced in her voice. Her question was answered but not by Maggie.

A warmth washed over you, happiness shooting through your chest like an arrow to the heart. Tears began to glaze over your eyes, it was due to the light or the overwhelming sight. The sunrise was glorious.

A glimmer of light, among the three strong women who had just lost people. Doubt lingered in your skull at the thought, taking a seat on a log beside Maggie.

Maggie had gone through a lot. They both had, you had heard stories.

However, when you and Sasha had the stare-down back at the church it was because both of you were lost. Before losing Tyreese, Sasha had lost her partner Bob. Something you were familiar with, now.

You broke your gaze from the scenery, to stare at Sasha who was finally not gripping her weapon.

Sasha seemed torn, orbs also glazed with tears, staring down at the sun peaking slowly from its slumber.

"I get it. Noah, that kid, he said he didn't know if he could make it... that's how I feel," She expressed solemnly.

Another pang to the chest, one of guilt. You felt that way too, after Javier went missing and after everything else that followed.

You wondered if Finley could make it, you wondered if you were enough for her.

A tear threatened to spill but you refused to let it fall, sniffling and wiping it away.

Despite hating being vulnerable around people you barely knew, feeling safe within this trio for some reason.

However, you refused to cry for him. Not yet.

"We’re gonna make it, the three of us will," Maggie whispered. You were taken aback at her words, looking at the woman now who wore a soft smile. "That's the hard part."

Silence fell, the only sound being the sniffles from a conflicted Sasha.

So, you decided to speak up. "It's hard but we've got this, even when we get covered in shit and blood," you began to pick at the dry mud that littered your jeans, a little smirk gracing your lips.

The sarcastic charisma seemed to make both women chuckle. Drawing your attention to Sasha, who was still watching the sunrise, a small sense of guilt blooming in your chest.

"I'm sorry, Sasha," you apologised, gulping down pity. This seemed to capture Sasha's attention, her teary and confused form turning to you. "What you've gone through, I gotta commend you... both of you. And I was a bitch to you after...that isn't me," you explained while biting at your lip.

Sasha's eyes were glazed with tears, stunned at the apology, but she never allowed a tear to fall. Your words seemed to sink in and she offered you a weak smile, her emotions fighting within her.

"We're good," She mumbled shortly. Swiping at the tears that threatened to leave and griping your shoulder briefly.

You nodded lightly, knowing that was her way of reaching out too.

"I'm happy you decided to stick with us. You and Finley. I think everyone is," Maggie added sweetly. Her words were true.

They all were strangers and somehow they connected in the deepest way. In such a small amount of time. In this world, a lot can happen in a few days.

The trio sat for a few minutes, content with one another's company while soaking in the view before them. This conversation between you all was brief but it was needed, a chance to slow down and realise you were still breathing.

After a brief moment, Maggie pulled out a yellow music box from beside her.

"Daryl fixed it," Maggie explained before opening it. That man had a sweet spot, you smiled at the thought.

The southerner began to turn the crank, staring expectantly at the motionless ballerina inside. A clunk of the spring and the metallic rattle was heard before silence. Raising an eyebrow, you stared over at the ballerina which was indeed not dancing to any tune.

Maggie shook her head and grinned, "You gotta be kiddin' me."

For some reason, you and Sasha found this hilarious.

The pair of you exchanged a look before giggling at the trinket, stiff upper backs falling with their hard exterior. Maggie joined in, laughing at the box that was now settled beside her.

Just as you were soaking in the joy, a twig snapped.

In seconds, you grabbed your semi-automatic pistol, from the holster on your thigh, aiming in the direction and the others followed.

There standing before the trio was a man with his hands held high, a very clean man. Your shoulders tensed, lids squinting.

How was he so clean?

"Hey," The mysterious man spoke, clearly nervous by the burning glares he was receiving. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. My name is Aaron. I know stranger danger, but I'm a friend," he explained with a sweet smile.

Aaron, if that was even his name, took a hesitant step forward.

You sharpened your gaze while shaking your head at him. "Don't take another step," you threatened, grip tightening on the weapon. Maggie backed you up, hearing the click of the hammer of her revolver.

The man panicked again, hands reaching even higher than before, legs shaking. "Please, I'd just like to speak to the man in charge. Rick, Right?" He requested.

This only added fuel to your fire. "You've been spying on us?" You spat while taking a threatening step forward. You closed the distance until only inches separated you.

The barrel now remained lowered, but one twitch of your finger would be enough.

"Why...?" Sasha muttered, attempting to process the situation but the gun never moved.

"I have good news," He smiled even brighter if it was possible.

To add to the eerie air, the music box finally began to chime happily. It sliced through the unbearable tension, as it captured everyone’s attention briefly.

You were unwavering, jaw clenching, becoming agitated. Suddenly, you began trudging towards him, growing frustrated.

Gun remained low but in your grasp, you weren't about to let him slip past you armed. Aaron was still like a statue, hands remaining high and sweat rolling down his face.

"Come on. Explain yourself, Aaron. Why have you been spying on us?" You seethed, mere inches away from his face. Your breath fanning over his face with each syllable.

Aaron's lip began to tremble and shaky breaths left his throat, still attempting to smile the whole time.

"I'm...I have a community, it's safe there. A place I want you all to call home," He stumbled over his words and tried to explain.

A community?

You, however, didn't move. Brow just quirked in response.

Sasha and Maggie both reached forward, trying to get your attention. "He's not a threat. Look at him," Maggie attempted to reason.

Aaron's knees were weak and fear painted his face. Staring him down, Aaron visibly gulped, as you contemplated Maggie's words.

"Don't pull anything stupid, you got it?" You finally compromised. When Aaron nodded rapidly, you holstered the weapon.

Sasha was quick to start patting him down, retrieving any guns or weapons he had on him and his backpack. When Sasha gave the all-clear, you were quick to grab his wrists and placed them behind him, vice grip acting as handcuffs. Shoving him forward roughly, they anticipated their return to the barn.

This was going to go down like a led balloon.

“This news of yours, it better be great,” you snickered, as you shoved the mysterious man forward. “Cause I can’t promise someone in there won’t wanna blow your head off.”

Strangers were never viewed as safe in this world. It was a word created from paranoia. The paranoid fear of the unknown.

So, you weren't about to let Aaron slip from your sight, as the four of you entered the barn cautiously.

Slowly, Maggie turned to nod at the women to prepare. Sasha adjusted the pack on her back, while your grip on Aaron tightened causing him to hiss sharply.

You shoved Aaron again, as Maggie opened the barn door. To reveal everyone was now awake and preparing for the day ahead.

"Everyone," Maggie announced. It took mere seconds before everyone was scrambling for their weapons, the metallic cocking of guns threatening Aaron. "This is Aaron."

Daryl's protective instincts kicked in, crossbow in hand, as he brushed past them to scout outside. After scanning the area, he stalked towards Aaron who was still in your hold. The man began to pat him down, giving him his sharpest daggers. You watched tentatively, prepared for any surprise Aaron had up his sleeve.

"He just had a pistol on him and was travelling light, asking for Rick," you explained down to Daryl, who ignored you and continued.

Rick furrowed his brows at the statement, the revolver still aiming at Aaron.

"He was by himself," Maggie continued to clarify.

Rick took a step forward when Daryl completed his search.

The sheriff tilted his head at the intruder, Judith in his arms. The baby began to wail so Rick slowly handed her to Carl, who was staring Aaron down the whole time. Rick nodded to you, giving the all clear to let him go.

As soon as you released your hold on him, Daryl pointed an arrow beside his head.

"It's nice to meet you," Aaron attempted to reach a handout but was stopped by a threatening step by Daryl.

Rick shrugged, clenching his jaw. "There somethin' you need?"

"He has a camp," Sasha spoke up, eyes shifting to Aaron."Nearby. He wants us to audition for membership."

Aaron laughed nervously, glancing between Sasha and Rick. "I wish there was another word, audition makes it sound like we are some kind of dance troupe," The stranger explained, while attempting to lighten the mood. "That's only on Friday nights."

However, nobody seemed amused. Not a single giggle or chuckle was heard.

Aaron nervously fidgeted on the spot, glancing at all the intimidating people around him. Even Finley held her knife out, threateningly.

"It's not a camp, it's a community. I believe you all could be valuable additions but that is not my decision. My job is to convince you to come back home with me," he clarified but noticed the tense atmosphere remained. "I know, if I were you I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. Sasha, can you pass Rick my pack?"

Sasha obeyed, handing the backpack to Rick.

He began to rustle through it, searching through each pocket. "The front pocket," Aaron informed him.

Rick rustled through it cautiously but soon grabbed onto pieces of paper, from where you were standing you could vaguely make out that they were photos.

You tilted your head, piquing interest.

"I apologise in advance for the picture quality, we just found-"

"Nobody gives a shit," Daryl interrupted, followed by a scoff.

Aaron seemed mildly discouraged by his comment and the small snicker Finley added. You gave the girl a pointed look, now wasn't the time.

"You're absolutely a hundred per cent right," Aaron agreed.

Rick began to flick through each picture, and you noticed the perplexed appearance on his face. Aaron continued to explain everything but you turned to stare at Daryl, in an attempt to catch his thoughts.

Daryl wore a stony expression, burning his gaze into Aaron's locks. However, he noticed your gaze and gave you a quick side-eye. You weren’t bothered by him, you wanted to know what was going on inside his head.

Rick decided to make it very obvious where he stood.

Before Aaron could finish his next sentence, Rick's fist swung at lightning speed. Aaron fell, and as soon as his jaw connected to his fist, the man's unconscious weight hit you.

You were too delayed, not catching his body in time. Aaron meeting the wooden floor with a thud.

"That went well," you sighed. Staring down at the stranger, awkwardly splayed below her.

Carol was quick to chuck rope your way, to tie him up, while Daryl was quick to search through his pockets. Daryl nodded to you, as he helped hold Aaron's wrist together. Affirming that they were tight, you quickly pulled him to the nearest beam by grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him. He hadn't portrayed himself as a threat but the idea of walking into a situation blind scared you more.

Should you trust him?

Rick began to bark orders at everyone, in order to confirm they were all safe.

Carl began to rummage through the backpack, while Glenn scouted their surroundings. You helped prop Aaron up, while Maggie was patting down his swelling with a damp cloth.

"Rick, we didn't see him out there. If he had wanted to hurt us, he could of," Maggie called, attempting to be devil's advocate.

He could have.

You were a paranoid freak at birth, always suspicious that there was more to it. Hence why you were hesitant to stick by Carol and Daryl back in the city.

However, Aaron hadn't given her any reason not to trust him.

Rick was still on high alert, still searching around. Paranoia was eating away at them. "Anyone see anything?"

"Just a lot of places to hide," Glenn replied.

Staring up at Rick who was still pacing, from your crouching position. "My gun was out and I threatened to take his life... the guy didn't even try to go for his weapon," you began to explain. "I'm not saying it's safe, but I'm saying he's not a threat to us, right now. If he was looking for trouble, surely, he'd have a ton of shit on him?"

The man stared at her, soaking in her information.

Rick began to nod slowly, ready to speak but was stopped by the groans of Aaron.

"That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick," He laughed through his pain. "You're being cautious, I completely understand."

You remained crouching beside him, as Rick continued to bombard him with questions. "How many of your people are out there? You have a flare gun, to signal your people."

"Does it matter?" Aaron was clearly uncomfortable with Rick's question.

"Yes, it does."

"I mean, of course, it matters how many people are out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say, eight, thirty-two, four hundred and forty-four, zero," He began to list numbers and everyone began to grab their weapons once more.

It was his tone that made you backtrack. Fingertips lingering on your belt, where your axe sat.

"No matter what I say you're not going to trust me."

You shook her head at the stranger. "Don't be stupid, don't play this game, just cooperate."

"Well, it's hard to trust anyone who smiles after being punched in the face," Rick countered with a scowl.

"How about a guy who leaves you bottles of water for you out in the road?"

A scoff left your lips. "I knew you were spying on us." You finally sat, and you began to rub your hands over your face.

Why was he so confusing?

One moment he's happier than ever, the next mixed signals.

Maybe because Rick knocked his lights out, or was there more to him?

This comment seemed to rile Daryl, taking a threatening step towards him while eyes trained down the site of his crossbow. "How long you been followin' us?"

"Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your trail. Long enough to see that despite the lack of food and water, you never turned on each other. Some of you even healed with one another," Aaron explained, his eyes lingering on you.

The face he pulled, watching you and Daryl, you were outraged. He’d watched you and Daryl in that vulnerable moment, when you found the barn.

Daryl seemed to notice the stare too, taking another threatening step. "That what you like? Stalking people?" He prodded with a tight jaw.

Aaron only straightened himself up, to look Daryl in the eyes. "No, I'm looking for survivors. You're survivors, all of you. Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me again, that is the most important resource in this world,” he attempted to reason. The man is now talking to everyone, remembering all of their faces.

Rick stalked forward, while everyone considered what to do, clearly not phased by Aaron's little speech. "How many others are out there?"

"One," Aaron answered. Rick scoffed, shaking his head at the man. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. What is it going to take? To convince you that it's real. What if I drove you to the community? All of you? We leave now, and we'll be there by lunch."

You decided to stand, lingering away from Aaron. Deciding to situate yourself beside Finley, patting her back briefly, as the girl kept a watchful gaze on Aaron.

Rick shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not sure how all seventeen of us are fitting in the one car you and your one friend drove in."

"We drove separately, we wanted to make sure there was room if we found a group. There is enough room for all of us,” Aaron insisted.

"And you parked a couple of miles away...right?" Carol piped up from the other side of Finley.

The distressed man nodded, "East on ridge road, just after you hit Route Sixteen."

Glancing beside you, you could practically hear Finley's thoughts from the way her face contoured at him.

"You believe him?" You questioned, now ignoring Rick's interview.

Finley stared up at your taller form, shrugging lightly. "He's weird but not threatening us," she mumbled. "Sweating buckets, though."

You nodded, agreeing with Finley.

He was indeed weird.

"It could be a trap," you voiced.

"There's nothing we can't handle," Finley replied with a bright smile, determination in her tone.

Your eyes scanned the girl's face and noticed something shining on her neck. Her fathers dog tag sat loosely around her neck, clearly too big for her. You ruffled her hair, before drawing your attention back to the situation at hand.

Michonne was now centre stage, contesting Rick.

"We need this," she expressed her desperation. The woman was clearly worn and tired, everyone was. They had a chance, a glimmer of sunrise that was their only hope. "So, that's what we are going to do."

Your own thoughts were a minefield, one moment you were willing to take the leap of faith but then Aaron spoke so cryptically at times. Then there was Finn, a kid out here for far too long. The girl had been fighting so hard against this world and now she was left orphaned.

She needed this, she needed a chance.

"We'll never know if we don't go, the kids deserve a chance," you uttered before staring back down at Finley with a ghost of a smile. "Besides, there's nothing we can't handle." Finley seemed to brighten, as you echoed her opinion to the group.

Daryl grunted, walking to stand beside Michonne. "I don't know, man." He captured Rick's attention, it was obvious Rick valued Daryl's opinion, and whatever he had to say would put the plan in motion. "This barn smells like horse shit," he snickered, which again earned one from Finley.

Rolling your eyes, at him voicing your own thoughts, you also couldn't help the smirk that graced your lips at the comment. It was poor timing, for such a serious situation, but it seemed to relieve some tension within the group.

A brief moment passed, Rick attempting to collect his thoughts.

Everyone in the group stood by Michonne, mostly everyone, and he took note of that.

The man scoffed with a small smirk while shrugging. "That settles it, we agree to leave. So, we're going."

Fixated on the leather of your tarted belt, you didn't notice Rick Grimes crouching beside you.

Until he made himself known.

"You were right." His words made you jump, attention now to him. "To aim this at my head." Rick was fiddling with your pistol, eyes flickering back and forward every so often.

If this was a poor attempt to initiate an apology on your part, you weren’t having it.

"I don't know what you want from me. But I'm not begging to get that off you," you motioned to her gun.

A sigh left Rick's lips, as he retrieved your axe from his belt. You backed up slightly, lids sharp and warning. Rick held his hands up, meaning no harm.

"I came to apologise. Daryl was just being cautious by taking this from you.” He motioned to the southerner, who stood further from you both wearing a glare. “You're with us now, whether you like it or not, and I was just being selfish," Rick explained, as he passed her favourite melee weapon. "If I were you, I would've done the same thing." Now, passing her the pistol.

Eyes lighting up with surprise, most people would have you killed on the spot for what you did. Rick however agreed with the actions you took, even if it was an attempt at his life.

Biting your lip, analysing the weapon to avoid his gaze, you concealed your expression from him.

There was no need for strong bonds, even if you were grateful.

"We'll get him back, with or without the deal. I promise," Rick reassured while placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Another promise was made and your heart sank further.

Swallowing her pride, you nodded appreciatively. "Thanks." However, the ghost of an unhappy Daryl, who was waiting patiently behind Rick, didn't go unnoticed.

It was strange to hear someone so understanding. Merciful.

You were grateful but you wouldn't forget what he did.

Rick seemed level headed and determined, however he had threatened to sabotage your chance at rescuing Javier moments ago. And no one was getting in your way.

Shifting his attention from you to the group around him. "Alright, I need everyone watching me. This might go south, just be ready," Rick ordered.

Without a second thought, everyone disbanded into their positions. Sasha assumed her position with her scope casting a watchful eye for Rick, and Daryl followed suit.

Tyreese offered to watch over the hostages with you by his side.

The sheriff was on the lower ground in seconds, below the group, preparing the negotiation with the new officers below. His hands raised, discussing the best option for the deal. The group above is out of earshot.

You occupied yourself by scanning the hostages over, grasping tightly to the zip tie to add more pressure to the hold. The larger officer cursed, as you tinkered with the restraint.

Couldn't take any chances.

Assessing the situation, Daryl was quick to snap his fingers at the pair behind him but his orbs stayed trained on the new vehicle leaving the scene.

The plan was sealed. We were ready to leave for the hospital, and a sigh of relief left you at the thought.

Nodding towards you, Tyreese signalled to repress the hostages in the truck. Roughly, you escorted the male officer into the backseat with you sitting beside him. The other hostage was placed in another car with Tyreese, Noah and Sasha, while Daryl settled in the front of the same truck as you.

The truck bumped against each crack and crevice of the decaying parking garage, making its way down each floor. You shuffled slightly in the back, feeling a burning gaze on you. Staring up at the rearview mirror and you spotted Daryl's blue orbs darting away from your stare.

Furrowing brows, hand gripping your gun that sat in your lap, shaking the feeling from his watchful gaze.

Reaching the bottom, Rick was quick to jump into the passenger seat of the truck.

The man turned and spoke. "Seems like they going to take the offer of two. We're getting them... all of 'em."

Your expression remained unwavering while shooting him a firm nod.

Ashamed to admit that your heart fluttered and was thankful for Rick somehow convincing them. However, you wouldn't celebrate until Javier was in your arms. You couldn't wait to have the man you adored so dearly back and to see the bright glow of Finley's grin.

Thankfully, the trip to Grady Memorial was a swift one.

Putting the truck to a halt, you made quick work of opening the door furthest from you to shove the hostage out. A grunt escaped his lips while you took hold of him now out of the vehicle. There was no need for you to be coarse but wanted to be rid of this damn city and escape the hold this Dawn.

Everyone analyzed the intimidating hospital, place sporting little life on the outside.

"Don't go wavin' that gun around, last thing we need," Daryl jabbed, passing you.

Turning slightly to face him, the cop still in your grasp and gun pointing at him, you replied with a roll of her eyes. Nevertheless, you obliged by concealing the weapon back into its belt before they all proceeded toward the building.

Awaiting their arrival were two cops, the ones Rick previously negotiated with, they hesitantly escorted everyone to an ominous hallway of the building.

Stress began to vibrate through your fingertips, clutching tighter to the cop, the tense atmosphere crashing over you. Breath became heavy, mirroring the thumping of your frightened heart.

Behind these double doors is unknown, only catching glimpses of more officers through the window.

The unknown was frightening. Fear, being scared, has a biological purpose, it can't be left as a constantly ringing alarm bell. You needed to head it face-on.

The feelings bubbling within you weren't like anything you’d experienced, in a long time. Not since your first days of fighting fires. Now the hairs on your neck were standing, the same as those days, due to a sketchy deal.

For some unknown reason, you needed to give yourself a real sense of safety and Javier was the person for that.

You needed to see him in that huddled crowd up ahead.

But that never happened.

"He's not there..." you whispered, peering through the glass. You worried orbs scanning over the awaiting people.

Carol had bruises littered on her face while being wheeled in a wheelchair by a blonde girl, who you assumed was the other girl they ached to retrieve.

Cops and doctors were surrounding them. There was hope before. Just a tiny flicker against the wind. But now, there was none.

"Javier isn't there,” you voiced again, swallowing a growing lump in your throat.

Daryl clenched his jaw, shagged hair falling over his face, scanning through the same people. It was no use, he had no clue what the guy looked like.

"They gotta have him,” he added.

"We don't know what condition he's in, he could be on a machine for all we know. Have a little faith," Rick muttered. Trying to ease your growing fear.

The group could see the way your hands shook, still holding the officer. Dread washing over you.

Before anyone could utter another word, the static of the walkie was heard. "Holster your weapons," a woman's voice came through. Dawn. You had concealed her weapon previously, which she desired to have in your grasp, but everyone followed the woman's orders.

Her own group of cops following suit, on the other side.

With that, the double doors were pushed open and they slowly entered the hallway. At one end there was a group smothered in the muck and grim of the outside world but on the other end, there were clean and bright eyed survivors.

Both you and Rick stepped forward with the hostages, trying to scan for any possible appearance of Javier.

"They haven't been harmed," Rick stated, pushing his hostage forward slightly.

Dawn, a dark-haired woman, analysed the people before her. "Lamson? Where is he?"

"Rotters got to him," The female officer, the one Rick had a hold of, confirmed. The other swiftly backed up her statement, after a brief nudge from you.

"Oh," Dawn muttered softly. "I'm sorry to hear that...He was one of the good guys."

A tense atmosphere grew, as did the deafening silence. Every soul was hesitant to make a move or attempt to utter a word, do the wrong thing and the whole plan would explode in their face.

You were growing impatient, wanting to know Javier's whereabouts but there was a gut feeling about where he was.

"I want one of mine first," Dawn ordered. Showing zero remorse for the fallen member of her group, clearly wanting this over with.

Rick obeyed, passing his officer over to Daryl who pushed her towards the cops. Dawn followed by summoning one of her own to push Carol to them. Daryl was quick to accept Carol wanting her safe but his eyes lingered on Beth.

Rick then nodded for you to exchange with Dawn for Beth.

Tightening your jaw, you roughly pushed the man forward following him. Meeting in the middle, your grip didn't loosen. Dawn raised an eyebrow at the woman, surprised by the careless action.

"Is there a problem?" The woman officer asked, with a plain face. Clearly, bothered by you.

If looks could kill, Dawn would've died ten times over. Your daggers burned deeper than any gaze Dawn had ever felt.

"Where's Javier?" You contested.

"Pass me my officer and I will tell you," Dawn replied flatly, with a quirked brow.

When you didn't move from your burning stance, the shuffling of feet piqued your interest.

A firm hand met your shoulder. "Come on, do as she says," The voice of Rick entered your brain.

A few seconds go by, unwavering but soon you obeyed hesitantly.

Roughly, shoving the officer towards Dawn who captured him quickly, you seemed dissatisfied by the act.

Rick quickly retrieved Beth from Dawn’s clutches, moving her to the safety of the group. Whispering entered your ears, everyone checking over the individuals they managed to rescue.

However, you remained statue-like, awaiting for her to hold up her end of the deal.

Dawn noticed how she didn't budge, tilting her head.

"You'll get Javier when I get Noah," she stated, capturing everyone's attention. "Then you can leave."

A snicker left your chapped lips, hand now resting on your pistol. "That was never the deal,” you snickered, through gritted teeth.

"Noah was my ward. Beth replaced him and I'm losing her, so I need him back," Dawn explained plainly. One of her own attempted to protest but she instantly silenced them. "My officers put their lives on the line to find him. One of them died."

You turned with a scowl, to witness Noah limping towards the cops but Daryl had other plans.

"Nah, he ain't stayin' here,” he scoffed while wagging his finger at Dawn.

"You have no claim over him, he's mine," Dawn responded, fingers grazing over her own weapon.

Rick shook his head, stepping forward, shielding your hostile position. "The boy wants to go home," Rick began to explain, wearing a similar scowl to you. "So, you have no claim on him."

Dawn jutted out a lip while shaking her head. "Well, then, we don't have a deal.”

You had reached boiling point, seething throughout the exchange. Swiftly, raising your gun, pointing it directly at Dawn's head.

Dawn's officers raised their rifles, aiming at you. Rick raised a hand, signalling you to calm down, but you ignored him.

Rick shook his head, standing in front of both outraged women. "The deal was you give us three for two, it's done!" He called at Dawn.

"I told you! She'd never take this fucking deal," you echoed the previous thoughts, through gritted teeth.

Noah limped towards the line of fire, inserting himself. "It's...it's okay," he interjected.

Rick began to protest, ordering him to keep put, but the boy continued. "I've gotta do it.”

You didn't protest, for some selfish reason, you didn't want to.

"It's not okay," A southern girl's voice whispered.

You scrunched your brows, and lowered the gun, turning to the unfamiliar voice. There stood a tense Beth who was shaking her head, as Noah passed his gun to Rick.

Beth's worried gaze landed on you, lips attempting to move, trying to communicate with a stranger.

She knew something.

Dawn sighed, "It settled."

"Wait!" Beth piped up.

Swiftly, the girl raced to Noah and engulfed the boy in a tight hug. Then, Beth's posture fell, as Dawn muttered something to Noah. Slowly, the girl released her hold on her heroic friend.

"She doesn't have Javier," the blonde girl muttered.

At that moment, you felt similar to a ghost in a world of paper dolls. Your heart is shattering at those words.

The world around her became white noises as if the previous static of the walkie had been placed into your skull. Fingers went numb and blood ran cold, staring at the officer who was stunned at Beth's words.

Not even a second thought passed through your mind before you began to raise the weapon, prepared to shoot Dawn through her skull. To have her brain matter paint the ceiling.

Before you could even pull the trigger, Beth shielded Dawn with her own form. Not allowing you to shoot. Giving her capture her full attention.

"I get it now.”

Oxygen was caught in your throat at the next series of events.

It was far too quick for anyone to even react, to prevent it.

A glint of silver caught her line of sight, a pair of scissors falling from Beth's cast. The blonde attacked Dawn, stabbing her with all she could muster.

Then, a loud ring entered the thick atmosphere.

Crimson liquid and pieces of flesh splattered across you and Rick, both mortified. Stumbling back, gun dropping from your hand, lids squinting close as remnants of Beth smeared your features.

Beth's lifeless body collapsed into Dawn's arms, and the woman gasped in terror.

Brain slowly catching up with you, you swiped at her debris on your face.

Beth was dead.

As quickly as Beth passed, Dawn followed.

A cocking of a gun beside you ear was heard, and as you turned the shot rang. There stood a tear-stained face Daryl, engulfed with rage, gun raised at a now collapsing Dawn.

Falling lifelessly, Dawn's brain found a home on the white title below them, now laying beside Beth.

Everything sped up at once, brain back in full power.

Waves of emotions washed over you, as you scattered for the discarded pistol next to the dead bodies. Raising your gun in defence, everyone in the hallway followed.

"Hold your fire!" The female officer screamed, raising her palms. "It was all about her, stand down!"

Shaking your head, chin pointed. "Where the fuck is he?" You whispered, emotions getting the best of you.

Terror and sorrow washing over everyone. You were worried about Javier, especially if they could kill an innocent girl.

Sobbing was heard, and Daryl's trembling figure was staring over a lifeless Beth as Carol convinced him to lower his gun. You wished to turn and say something to the man, both of you working hard to get your own people back. Despite their differences, you knew he cared deeply for his people.

Your heart was breaking the exact same way he was.

"He tried to escape," A doctor with thick glasses spoke up with a sorrowful glint in his eye. Staring solely at you. Javier, he was talking about him.

Your orbs widened and stared at the mysterious doctor, as he continued. "I tried to get him out, he was out there for a few days... but she just went ahead and... hunted him down," he stuttered.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, as you lowered the weapon.

His words came as a sad song. Knees beginning to buckle, biting down harshly at your lips. You refused to cry in front of these people. You refused to let them see you as weak. Heavy and shaky breaths left your bleeding lips, orbs now trained on the ground.

In that moment, you wanted the world to swallow you whole.

Javier was dead. Finley was fatherless. Someone you held great feelings for, unspoken ones, gone.

You didn't notice the doctor's approach, lost in dumbing thoughts. "He left this behind," the man muttered. Reaching for your hand and placing something within it. "Javier was a good man, he deserved the chance to be with his family. I'm sorry."

You ignored his words, eyes still trained on the once-white tiles.

"You can all stay," the woman offered. Analysing everyone's shellshocked appearance. "We are surviving here."

Rick sniffled, staring at the turmoil around him. "No! And I'm taking anyone back there that wants to leave," he proposed. "If you wanna come with us...just step forward."

Not a single footstep was heard.

Everyone around you began collecting their things, small sniffles falling from them every so often. You still remained in a shocked state, feet glued to the floor.

How were you going to tell that little girl? How were you going to do this all alone, without him?

You were breaking on the inside and this would decimate Finley.

"You comin'?" A solemn voice dragged you from her statue form.

Facing the culprit, you were stunned to see Daryl standing there with his tear-stained face and an expecting gaze. In his arms was a lifeless Beth. Even after everything, he'd just experienced everything you had said and done, he still cared. He cared for some stranger. Some woman who had been venomous towards him, even after he’d saved her family.

Without another word, you simply nodded before following the group to the exit of the hellhole.

The sunlight was not inviting when they reached the exit, it shined brighter than ever to share its happy rays with the world. However, everyone below wore fractured expressions due to the traumatising events before.

Then one person arrived, the one to possibly turn your broken form into dust.

Ironically, Finley stumbled out of a fire truck with a few familiar and unfamiliar faces.

The younger girl wore a glowing smile, clearly pleased with the vehicle. Everyone from that vehicle wore that same face for mere seconds.

A short-haired woman noticed Beth's body laying limp in Daryl's arms and she collapsed instantly. A thrilling scream exited her lips, as an Asian man crouched after her.

The sobbing was like a knife to the gut. You couldn’t hold it any longer, letting out a strained one of your own. Attention drawn to Finley, the raw emotions you tried to conceal became obvious.

Glancing down at your palms, the hand the doctor had placed something into, and you finally released the cry.

There laying in your hand was Javier's dog tag.

Javier Perez.

A faint sob escaped your trembling lips. Slowly, you lifted the necklace up to watch it twirl beneath the sunlight. Tears stained your blood-stained face.

He was really here and he was really gone.

Staring, you noticed the familiar figure of Finley.

Still waiting.

The young girl stood motionless, staring at a tear stained you, instantly recognising the dog tag.

"...Where's Dad?" Finley's question was weak and shaking, keeping her distance from you.

A pained squeak left your throat, sobs racking over your trembling body once more. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

The abyss was cruel and dumbing, your fiery heart had frozen over with despair.

It infected your brain, mind and body, it almost seemed like you were one of the dead just wandering with no meaning. Oh, how ached to perish in the tears that built up within you. The water would fill your lungs, making you choke until your face was blue in the face. You ached for flames. Despised by your own misery.

Finley was the only reason why you still stood.

You had been aimlessly floating for the past days, trying your best to keep your mind busy. It had only been three weeks since the incident. Three weeks since you had agreed to stick by Rick and his crew. The idea of abandonment petrified you, being alone was your deepest fear.

Even if you originally kept your distance.

You weren't capable of raising Finley alone, especially in the current emotional state you both were in. Any excuse, to keep her mind busy. Finley, however, needed space to withdraw herself.

The young girl seemed to neglect herself, hair left untied and bags appearing beneath her youthful eyes. Finley steered clear of you, which stung deeply. She decided to keep the company of Carol or Daryl.

Daryl barely spoke to anyone, other than Carol and Finley, Beth's death striking him deeply.

Carol welcomed the small talk from the young girl. It was no surprise, the pair were the only ones Finley was familiar with.

Emotions were running high within the group, as a whole. During the three weeks, they managed to lose Tyreese too.

You barely knew the guy, but it didn't take much to realise that he was a good man. Expectingly, Sasha had begun to spiral further. Which had caused a few bumps in the road, specifically attempting to take a hoard on her.

There was a brief mention of the woman losing so much already, instantly making you gut grow heavy, but now she had lost her own blood.

It was an eye-opener, you now understood Sasha's flippant ways.

To make things even worse, they were now walking on foot in the blazing Virginia weather. The plan was Washington, which was a scorching journey after both vans stopped operating, and the water was running low and so was morale.

Sweaty strands of hair clung to your cheeks, standing sluggishly on an endless road with the group, and mouth dry. They had decided to take a break to scavenge.

The rationing was killing you, there was a mouthful of water left in your flask.

You all were waiting for Finn and Daryl, who had decided to leave the waiting group

in search of supplies elsewhere.

She was grateful for him.

The man was conflicted with his own grief but still entertained Finley. Or at least allowed her to bug him. Even when you had said and done things against the man.

Thought of the young girl plagued your mind, concern contouring your face, Carol slowed beside her.

"She's a smart kid," she stated. Turning to acknowledge the woman, you nodded in agreement. "Just give her some time, she'll bounce back. All kids do."

"I never did thank you," you muttered, thinking of a familiar winged vest. "Both of you. You both could've turned a blind eye, and left her for dead."

A light scoff left Carol's lips. "She found us and threatened us to take her back to you. Followed us all the way to the stupid van on the bridge, and even acted all excited when we stumbled down in it,” she explained.

You chuckled lightly at Carol's words, remembering Finley retelling the adventures of their escape from some of the dead back in the city.

"I never was good with kids," you huffed with a shrug, continuing to think of Finley. Flashes of Javier appeared, creating a stinging pain in your heart.

What would he do? You shook the thought of him off quickly, face falling at just his name.

Carol placed a warming hand on your exposed forearm, a sweet smile gracing her lips. "Most mothers aren't at first," the older woman added, her face falling slightly. "Finley loves you, anyone can see that. You being here, for her, is enough. You might not be her mother but... you're all she's got. So, just wait for her to come to you and be ready to scoop her up."

Gradually, you nodded at the woman before she sat down with the group. You never thought this moment would come. A woman telling you how to help raise Finley.

Regardless, you were appreciative of Carol and how welcoming she had been of you.

Everyone decided to take a rest, waiting for Finley and Daryl to return. You sat while watching Sasha stand intimidatingly, rifle never leaving her grasp. The grieving woman was wearing a blank expression, as sweat rolled down her cheek.

It reminded you of yourself before Finley and Javier. A state you never wanted to be in again, that's why you needed to surround yourself with people.

A pop of a bottle drew your attention away from the woman and now to the redhead. Abraham, a man that had returned to the group, sat taking a long swig of an alcoholic beverage.

A snicker left your dry lips at the fool.

"That won't help," you mumbled, raising an eyebrow at the man. Abraham replied with an unbothered shrug and quickly downed some of the contents.

"That's all we found," Tara replied.

Rosita, who was with Abraham, sighed heavily at the man. "He knows it won't help," She nodded.

"He's a grown man," Eugene added. "And I truly don't know if things can get worse."

The snapping of twigs alerted the crew, all eyes zoning in on the area it came from. Sasha instantly aimed down her sight, while your fingertips grazed on the axe, that was attached to your belt.

Everyone soon relaxed when the culprits made themselves known. Daryl and Finley appeared, forcing a sigh of relief from your throat.

However, they returned empty-handed which caused everyone to deflate further. Staring up at the scruffy man, you nodded appreciatively at him. He replied by doing the same.

Everyone began to stand, ready for the trek once more.

Before she could acknowledge the fifteen-year-old, she scarpered towards Carol and claimed a spot beside the woman.

Carol gave her a reassuring smile, over her shoulder, noticing the pained expression on her face, before offering some water to Finley. You had to convince yourself to be happy, knowing it was good Finley had others to speak to.

However, you could not deny the shot that struck her heart.

An hour goes by, feeling like an eternity, and sluggishness begins to settle into everyone. Everyone had slowly begun to mimic the dead, feet falling behind them and mouths hanging low. Unlike them, they were aching for a drop of water.

Surprisingly, you still hadn't caved to take a swig of what remained in the flask. Daryl seemed adamant to do the same.

Glenn turned to face you both, walking side by side in silence. The man offered his bottle to Daryl, noticing the dreary look he held.

"Daryl," He motioned.

"Nah," Daryl replied gruffly, quickening his pace. Glenn attempted to offer again, which caused Daryl's posture to shift. "Don't."

Your orbs analysed the situation carefully, feeling an unnerving tension grow from Daryl.

"Hey, we can make it together. But only together," Glenn attempted a third. Glenn sighed when Daryl ignored his advice and sped towards his wife, Maggie.

It was obvious that Daryl hadn't touched a drop of water in a while, his lips were chapped and he had been out scavenging for most of the day. His strides had slowed over time, originally being at the front of the line to now at the back.

You decided to reach into your bag for the flask, shuffling around a few items, ready to offer it to him. This wasn’t like you. You usually weren't giving but you had yet to apologise for nearly taking his face off with her pistol, back when he found you.

"Tell 'em I'm looking for water," Daryl ordered Abraham.

Putting a spanner in her plan.

The crossbow-wielding man descended into the forest beside them, his figure engulfed in branches. Halting your steps, watching him go. This could be a chance at a peace offering and a thank you.

Briefly, you stared at Finley who was still beside Carol up ahead. The girl was listening to the older woman, as they spoke amongst themselves.

Finley cared about them both. She cared about the whole group. This is where she needed to be.

Fuck it.

"Me too," you muttered half-heartedly towards an unbothered Abraham.

Then, you chased after the archer with the bottle in hand.

You were amazed at yourself, three weeks ago you would have neglected this man as a whole but for some unexplainable reason, Finley got on with him and his group.

Well, of course she did. They were good people.

Trudging through bushes and foliage, you scanned through the array of openings in search of Daryl.

A curse left your dry lips, mind finding it hard to collect thoughts due to the unforgiven weather. Wiping at the sweat on your brow, catching sight of a familiar figure. Quickly, you continued to chase after him.

Soon after, you found a short path that headed toward an abandoned barn. Where you found a sitting Daryl, nearby, under a tree with his back confronting you.

A sigh of relief fell from your tired body, finally finding him.

However, slowly approached him, the oxygen in your lungs caught in your throat. Shivers ran down your spine, eyes falling at the sight.

Daryl sat there broken, curled into himself while harming his hand with the cigarette that previously sat on his lip. You didn't need to analyse his face to know he was crying, the slight shake in his shoulders was enough for her.

People deal with grief differently, it was an odd observation.

Finley had closed herself up, Sasha had allowed herself to spiral, while Daryl needed to force the feeling pent up within him.

You, however, avoided every waking thought of Javier and did your best to keep your mind elsewhere.

A sad sigh escaped your lips, shocking Daryl.

The grieving man turned, knife in hand ready to threaten a stranger but halted his actions at the sight of you.

Daryl was quick to turn away from you, once more, hands wiping at his tear-stained face and stubbing the life out of the nicotine on the grass.

“What’cha want?” He huffed, avoiding your gaze, acting as if you hadn’t witnessed his vulnerable state.

"Here," you shook the bottle next to his ear, now standing beside him. Analyzing the burn on his hand, all too familiar with the way it began to scar. "Drink and chuck some on that, it'll scar," you stated casually.

You didn't want him to feel pity, that was the last thing he needed from you.

The man was still clearly embarrassed.

Daryl grunted, shoving the bottle away. "Don’t need it."

You ignored his angered tone, inviting yourself to sit beside him.

"Don't be an ass," you scoffed softly. The tone caught Daryl off guard, eyes peeking through his strands of hair at you. "Take it.”

"I told ya, I don’t need it," he raised his voice slightly. Shoving the bottle from her palm, flask landing in the dirt. You didn’t flinch, only rolled your eyes.

A soft but exhausted sigh left you dry lips. "Just trying to help,” you huffed, as you grabbed for the object.

They sat there, for what felt like hours, just staring at one another. It was as if they were mentally reaching out to one another, waiting for the other one to give in.

"Why'd you come?" He tutted, echoing his previous question.

Shaking your head, now holding his intense gaze, shrugging. "Honestly, I asked myself that question on the way here," you admitted. Twirling the bottle in your hand, examining his sorrowful face. Every inch of it.

"Told ya, and Glenn. I'm fine," The man grunted, once more.

A large sigh left your lips, noticing the imaginary wall built up around him.

"Maybe because I knew you needed a drink? Maybe I wanted to say sorry for nearly killing you in the city or... thank you for keeping an eye on Finn..." Flashes of Dawn's brain's painting the white tile burned into her brain. Then you continued, "and putting a bullet in that woman's head." You allowed every possible answer to fall from your lips.

His gaze was burning and filled with mixed emotions, you thought you might explode.

Daryl noticed this, in the way your lip wobbled and eyes darted everywhere but him after. So, to your surprise, Daryl snatched the bottle from you. The man began to take greedy gulps of the leftover contents and you sighed inwardly at the site.

You relaxed.

The pair continued to drink in the scenery before you, after he discarded the bottle, in silence. It was difficult for the pair of you, to speak on emotions but they both were aware of their grieving bodies. Shoulders never touched but sat side by side.

Licking his lips, thirst quenched, he stared at your fatigued form.

"She's a good kid, a smart one too. Tried to get her off our scent back in the city but she always found us," He grunted while staring at the barn.

A snicker left your lips, not allowing glancing at him now. The idea of being so vulnerable made you insecure, so it was best not to stare at the man. "You're not the first to say that to me today," you laughed.

"Cause it's true, strange not hearing her yap at the moment," he replied, pulling another chuckle from you.

"I want her to be okay, to be a normal kid. With or without him,” you began to explain. Halting yourself shortly after, realising Daryl didn't need to hear some sob story.

Only the breeze seeping into the gaps of the trees could be heard. Silence seemed to consume you, it was surprisingly comfortable. You fiddled with the grass below before speaking once more.

"Really, Daryl, thanks for watching her and for taking us in," You muttered it, in hopes he wouldn't hear her confession but he did.

He heard every word.

Daryl stared at you the whole time, the man was entranced by the contrasting actions before him, the hard exterior of a woman had cracked under such a trivial thing of a thank you.

He couldn't believe it.

"Ain't no need to say sorry or thank you...already forgotten," His voice sliced through the thick tension in the air while pushing himself to stand. You followed the man, finally allowing yourself to watch him. The man stood over you, an unreadable look on his face. "Check the bullets next time, woman." That joke relieved her slightly, she offered him a tight smile in response, as she followed him to stand.

The pair of you soon left, not a word exchanged after, feeling the presence of one another. A peculiar feeling stung you, you were merely strangers and somehow they had shared a vulnerable moment.

For the first time in these past few dreadful weeks, they both allowed themselves to soften. Even if Daryl's stare was intense, you were thankful to rid the tension.

Allowing drops of emotions to seep through, to help Daryl.

You were thankful for that small moment.

Nevertheless, the tranquility you and Daryl shared was soon shattered. Both had been brought back to reality, after their silent walk back to the group, due to a discovery.

Rick Grimes stepped towards you both, a piece of paper in hand, as they appeared from shrubs. The sheriff's face had a harsh scowl while passing the paper to Daryl. You weren't able to get a peak, however, just by Daryl's face, you knew it was bad.

Then in the corner of your eye, she noticed something peculiar.

A whole case of water bottles.

Salivating at the sight, you noticed how Finley's eyeline was trained on it hungrily too. It struck you how this was the first ounce of emotions she had shown since the discovery of Javier's death. Your face seemed to drop, watching the girl carefully.

Rick soon passed you the note, and dread set in, it read 'FROM A FRIEND'.

Daryl had already begun to search the perimeter around them, his blue orbs trained to every treeline. Panic had set in for everyone, weapons out and alert. You did the same, hand firmly grasping the hilt of the fire axe.

Screwing up the paper, you chucked it into the forest. "Someone knows we're weak, it seems like bait," you vocalised to Rick who nodded in agreement.

"What are we gonna do?" Tara questioned hands firmly on her rifle.

Rick paced, in a conflicted state of mind. "Not this, we don't know who left it,” he began.

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene cut him off, lingering near the sustenance he so desired. "I for one would like to believe it is indeed from a friend."

Finley coughed, mouth dry. "It's just water...what harm could it do?"

You shook you head, in disagreement. "There might be a catch, Finn, we can't risk that."

Finn simply ignored the woman, once again, her dark eyes lingering on the bottles.

"What if they put something in it?" Carol questioned an attempt of being devil's advocate.

That thought seemed to pause everyone, forcing them into complete silence, as the crowd watched the entertainment of bottles.

Suddenly, Eugene was quick to snatch a bottle from the road. Everyone protested against his actions but he continued to stare at the bottle in his hand hungrily.

"Quality insurance," He mumbled, as he fumbled to loosen the cap.

Before a drop could meet his dry lips, Abraham was slapping the bottle and the contents out of his grasp. The ginger man had a face of disbelief, whereas Eugene had a face of disappointment while staring at the now-empty bottle.

However, to everyone's surprise, Finley was quick on her feet and grabbed a bottle.

"Finn!" You shouted, already reaching for the girl.

Suddenly, cracks of thunder were heard.

The echoes being carried by the wind into the group's ears caused everyone to stop. Lightning cracked against the sky sending heaven's light through the clouds, the shade of the sky now turning a deep grey.

Your heart slowed, watching the sun disappear and Finley dropped the bottle at the sight above.

Then the heavens cried.

The instruments within the sky determined to sing out, the trees and grasses as their percussion. Even the rain came in orchestrated rhythm, appearing as the master of the scene. The reason for the happy giggles leaving everyone's lips.

Each raindrop is a kiss dropped onto your dirty covered cheeks. Each one is the same, filled with relief and allows you to relax. Treasure them. To add to the orchestra of the weather, the familiar laugh of Finley made your heart sing.

Piercing orbs fell on your surroundings and you couldn't help but feel the deep feeling of sadness, the same that you had suppressed in your gut for three weeks.

Finley was smiling brightly with Carl and Michonne. Rosita and Tara were laying on the road, rain falling perfectly over them, basking in the glory.

The melody of the orchestra was a bittersweet one.

Finley was finally smiling brightly but you couldn't help but think of him when rain appeared. It seemed you weren’t the only one stuck in your thoughts. Daryl and Maggie both wear emotionless faces.

However, a grip on your arm captured your attention. To your surprise, Finley was there staring at you, happily. It broke your heart but you allowed a genuine smile to grace your lips.

Don't get caught up in the thought of him.

"Everybody! Grab something, anything you can find," Rick called through the clatter of rain.

You were eager to occupy your mind.

Instantly, gathering Finley's flask and your own. Anything to get rid of this gut-wrenching feeling. Finley was by your side, with no hesitation. Still wordless but her presence still lingering.

Then the storm grew vast, its playful vortices unaware of their own strength. Sound alone, shaking everyone's bones to the core.

"Uh, guys!" Finley shouted through the relentless storm. Finley gripped tightly to you, her body struggling against the razor-sharp wind and rain.

"We need to move!" Rick called, collecting the items used to collect water.

Daryl was swift to his side, hair now plastered to his forehead and cheeks. You noticed how the stormy weather matched perfectly with his ocean-blue eyes.

"We found a barn!" He hollered.

"It's not too far, we can get there before this gets worse!" You agreed, hand attempting to shield your face.

Without a second thought, everyone was following quickly to leave the once-welcoming rain.

You and Daryl now lead the torch to a place of refuge, in hopes to be protected from the awaiting storm ahead.

Today was that day.

You had managed to escape the city alongside Finley, Daryl and the mysterious boy, Noah, in a lorry. Daryl led everyone to his group, people he trusted, a group of strangers.

There was a whole family, and more kids, it was a strange site.

You had forgotten children had existed, other than Finley, they were living and breathing in this world. It was unsettling, the idea of discovering more people, but you promised Finley to stick by them.

It had only been a day since your arrival at a church, after Carol's fatal incident.

The wound on your leg had healed somewhat, enough for you to start working on plans. You had discovered that the man Rick, was the leader of the group. The man with all the plans. It was obvious, especially with the way he held himself. A cop at his finest.

However, you noticed the group seemed fractured as if there was a missing puzzle piece to their jigsaw. But it wasn’t your concern.

You had made little effort to get to know them, planning to leave as soon as Javier was safe.

Finley was acting differently, her father clearly plaguing her mind.

The vibrance in her face had fallen, after watching another night pass without her father. Sorrow was caging her, you saw it. The young girl spoke less, which was rare, and she sat in any corner of the church she could find. Seeing what happened to Carol brought forward all of her plagued thoughts, and Finley refused to talk about it.

All you could do was watch her with a pitiful gaze, as Finley sat crossed legged playing with her knife.

The chaotic echoes of Sasha, a woman from Rick's group, breaking apart benches was the only sound to fill the church. Wordlessly, you grabbed pieces of the wood but eyes danced on Finley every so often.

Everyone needed to build defenses, to protect the vunerable.

Sasha slammed harder with your fire axe, one you had reluctantly lent, pieces of timber flying. The enraged woman was clearly venting but she was haphazardly chipping away at valuable resources.

"Maybe try hitting it with less force?" You suggested with a raised brow, reaching for your weapon. Sasha was quick to snatch any grasp you had, causing you to double back.

"I've got it," Sasha seethed. Her eyes were dark and cold, and sweat rolled down her cheek.

Scoffing, reaching for your axe again. This time using all of your strength, snatching it from Sasha's vice grip. "Take a break, I think you need it," you suggested again with a roll of the eyes.

Sasha seemed outraged by a newcomer's actions, so she took a threatening step forward. Snickering, you contested the woman's attempt. Sasha clearly needed to cool off, going through some emotional turmoil but she wasn't backing down. Which only fueled your irritation.

Before the situation could escalate, Daryl walked past and whistled at the pair with pipes in hand. "Hey," he warned.

Sasha rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. You, however, continued to stare daggers into the woman.. After another brief stare-down among the both of you, Sasha bolted off not forgetting to nudge your shoulder roughly.

Shaking off the small attack, you replaced Sasha. Hammering the axe down, to create planks. Your back muscles protruded when drawing back the axe and sweat was quick to build up. With each hit of the axe, you found your thoughts bleeding into the thuds.

Glimpses of Javier's body collapsing to the concrete, from the events of the fateful night, plagued you vision. The wails of Finley, as she chased after the black car concealing her father from them. Before you knew it you were slicing into the flooring below the bench, sweat dripping from your lip.

So lost in thought.

Chucking the axe to one side, realising you had snuck into the exact same headspace as Sasha.

Maybe it was the stupid axe?

"Hey," A masculine voice called followed by your name, capturing your attention.

Staring up, you were met by the cop.

Rick stood there, his baby daughter in one arm and his son standing beside him, with an expecting look. "We're heading out soon."

You turned in the direction of a somber Finley, needing to say goodbye before leaving her with the group.

With a soft nod to Rick, you quickly retrieved the axe before heading over. You always struggled to talk with most people, especially moody teens.

Finley still stayed sat, engraving the wooden panels with her hunting knife. She was writing her name, lost in her own thoughts. Slowly, using the support of your axe, you sat down beside her with a small sigh. You wiped the sweat dripping from your forehead, orbs scanning over the small girl.

When Finley didn't even spare her a glance, you knew it would have to be you to force the conversation.

"I don't think the Priest will be too pleased with you destroying his church," you joked with a tight smile. Pretending as if she didn't witness Daryl stripping the organ of all its parts and yourself demolishing the church's benches.

Finley shrugged quietly, not halting her actions. A heavier sigh, this time, left your lips. Finley's hair was shielding her face, an attempt to avoid your gaze. You decided to softly tuck the girl's hair behind her ear, finally revealing the bags under her eyes.

"Finn," you tutted with a sad look before continuing. "I'm going to get him back to you, I promise. He'll come back to us." It was a promise, one you’d keep forever. You knew it wasn't exactly enough to console but it was enough to finally be able to meet Finley's gaze.

"You can't promise that," The girl finally spoke. "You can't promise anything, we don't know what's going to happen."

Those words cut deep, even if you knew she was correct.

Promising something like that in this world was unachievable, anything could happen.

The burning glance of Finley's sad doe eyes threatened to crumble your rigid exterior. However, you swallowed down the dreadful feeling that sunk deep into your bones.

She may be right but you could promise one thing.

Without a second thought, you grabbed a hold of Finley's empty hand softly, she held your stare. "Fine... Then, I promise I'll always find my way back to you, no matter what," You promised, heart racing at the sight of the tears forming in Finley's eyes.

"Okay?"

Finley didn't reply with words, instead, she leapt into your embrace. You didn't hesitate to reciprocate. The dreaded feeling in stomach seemed to sink and flutter away, at the warm embrace. Soft sniffles were heard, as Finley nestled into you further.

"Stay safe, okay?" Finley mumbled voice vibrating against your shoulder.

You smirked, still holding her tightly. "Always."

Staring down, past her shoulder, to analyse the carving Finley had done. 'Finley Perez was here', was scratched deeply into the wood. She had left her mark.

Of course, you were grateful.

But you still remained reserved, trying to speak when spoken to. You just wanted to get in and get Javier out. The burning daggers of Sasha didn't sway your dreadful thoughts either.

Standing within a warehouse, Rick was using a discarded stick and collected dirt on the concrete to mark out the plan. Thankfully, Noah was here to be their own personal map of the building.

"At sundown, we'll fire shots in the air. Get two of 'em out on patrol. Then once it's dark enough, when the rooftop spotter won't see us, we go," Rick began to explain, creating marks on the floor. "Then we cut the locks on the stairways and make our way to the fifth floor. I'll open the door and Daryl takes the guard out."

"How?" Sasha's brother, Tyreese, questioned. His demeanour was readable, he was hesitant about the plan.

You felt the same way.

"You can't expect this to go smoothly," you cut to the chase. "We've fired shots in town, they'll be on guard, expecting something. There's gotta be another way?" You shot back, feeling the gazes of everyone as you finally spoke up. It needed to be easy and doable, you didn't need to put herself in harm's way for nothing.

Rick nodded, understanding her worries. "Look, I know you don't know us well but we know what we're doing. This is all about us doing this quietly and keeping the upper hand," Rick answered, eyes scanning the group. "They aren't expecting all of us. We fan out, use knives, silence weapons and we do it fast. Tyreese and Sasha will be taking out guards here." He marked again. “Both you and Daryl will take care of whoever is in the kitchen. I got Dawn."

Dawn was the leader of this hospital, the sole cause of Javier's disappearance.

The ex-cop continued to ramble on his plan, however, Daryl exchanged a few glances with Tyrese. The three of them all felt the same way.

"That's best case. New girl is right, we need to think worst case," Tyreese countered, nodding towards you. "All it takes is a slip-up. One of those guys going down the wrong hall at the wrong time. Then it's not quite, all hands on deck. Bullets flying."

"If that's what it takes," Sasha shrugged.

You shook her head, sporting a sharp stare. "Then our people die, my people die?" You reminded her. Sasha simply rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

"We can get a couple of cops out here, alive. We do an even trade and everybody goes home," Tyreese suggested.

Rick stood, nodding at the man. "I get it and it might work but this," the ragged man pointed to the plan. "This will work."

"Nah, that'll work too," Daryl interjected. Rick turned, interested in what the man had to say. "You say this Dawn's just tryna keep it together, right?" Noah agreed to the question. "Then we take two of her cops away, what choices does she have? Everybody goes home like he said."

"She'll be cornered and she'll have to play to our tune, otherwise she loses," you backed their statements further. Even though, twenty-four hours ago, you attempted to blow Daryl's brains out with a pistol. Both he and Carol protected Finley out of harm's way, so she'd stick by Tyreese's plan too.

Luckily for the group, Rick trusted his men, so it didn't take a lot of convincing. Within an hour the plan had already been hatched and ready to move into action.

The plan continued with Noah shooting and alerting the patrolling cops. A trap. They'd be led straight into the clutches of the groups, ready for trading.

However, they needed three. Fair trade. Which would prove difficult, as they sometimes patrol with two, thanks to Noah's information.

Rick assured you they'd get three but you weren’t dumb. Call it paranoia but you weren’t taking chances.

You were painfully aware of the upper hand Carol and Beth had over Javier, you couldn't fight against Rick's large group if one of the cops became collateral. But you would if you needed.

It was promised by yourself to get back to Finley. Breathing in thickly, you prepared to fight and capture whatever cop you’d get your hands on.

Sometime after the small debate. The group were now standing under the scorching sun, as if it was judging them for their acts, they waited in an alley for Noah. He'd have them chase him into his own pen. On cue, the screeching of tires against concrete alerted the waiting group. The pebbles below Noah's boots were heard, as he came to a halt.

Then, you felt a cold metallic item caress your palm as the group stood plastered to the brick wall. Turning, orbs meeting with Daryl's sharp blue ones. Glancing down, you spotted the pistol you had almost used to take his life. He hadn't given it back to you after passing out in the office building.

Nodding, you retrieved the weapon, thankful. This time, you released the clip to check the bullets. It wasn't replenished to full but there was enough to take a few strays out.

Threatening words could be heard, then the click of their guns. It was now or never. Rick was at the front, he signalled the group silently. Everyone readied their guns, the plan now in full motion.

"Where's those rotters you were shooting at?" One cop questioned, halting his actions of handcuffing Noah. His questions were answered by the group appearing, guns ready to be fired.

Your heart sank instantly, at the sight, there were only two. Gritting your teeth, while cursing under your breath.

Just your luck.

"Hands," Rick warned. Their guns were now firmly aimed at the intruders, faces soaked with fear.

"What do you want?"

"Whatever this is, we can help." They attempted to barter.

Nobody moved, your grip firm on the pistol aiming at one of their heads. "You do as we say, we don't hurt you," Rick explained simply.

The duo stared at one another briefly attempting to assess, before settling to lower their weapons. Rick continued to order them around, forcing them to kneel in hopes to handcuff them both. Daryl was quick to start handcuffing, as was Sasha.

You opted to keep you gun threateningly trained, while Ricks stood behind with his.

"We need to talk," Rick explained.

Getting the hostages off the ground, one decided to start asking questions. "Mind if I ask you something?" Rick nodded. "The way you talk, the way you carry yourself. We're you a cop?"

"That's Lamson, he's one of the good ones," Noah informed with a sad smile. "He's the guy for this."

Before Noah could resume, another set of wheels screeched across the concrete. All heads perked up and bodies moved rapidly.

Another patrol car.

Quickly, you jumped to safety with the rest of the group behind some cover. Your mouth dropped, heart flipping and eyes going wide.

They could get three.

Everyone opened fire on the incoming vehicle causing a thunder of panic to strike you, creating electricity within your feet.

Daryl was aiming down his sight, aiming to kill.

Without thinking, you rushed towards Daryl who was aiming straight at the driver. Your wrist bashed Daryl's rifle, pushing it to the ground with a metallic thud.

"The hell," he shouted over the gunfire.

Ignoring him, you watched as all of the cops attempted to all escape in the vehicle.

Quick on your feet, and adrenaline pumping through your veins. You began to chase after the vehicle, attempting to aim the pistol and shoot at the tires.

However, one popped but it wasn't due to your haphazard aim.

Rotating, you spotted Sasha, eyes aiming down her scope. She was a good shot. You’d have to thank her later, before anyone got any ideas to eliminate one of the enemies.

Running toward your objective, ignoring the calls from Rick.

Everyone's followed after your foot chase. Another screech of tires was heard followed by a crash. It worked.

Turning the corner the car had vanished to, Rick forced the group to slow.

The area smelt of that potent scent, one you could never forget.

Ash.

Ashes and remnants of fire were smothered in the vast parking lot, the sight alone made you sweat. The thought of flames licking this place some time ago plagued your mind and reminded you of all the rescues you had achieved.

Spotting the chard bodies only added to horrific memories.

Get yourself together, you shook your head.

Within the scene, the car sat wrecked and abandoned. They had made a run for it. You headed towards the car alone, mind fogged at the overwhelming thoughts, ignoring Daryl’s orders.

It was empty.

"Fuck," you cursed and booted the open car door. They were now empty-handed, which was worse than just having two.

However, another opportunity presented itself.

Starting from behind a truck, the two cops fled in the direction of an escape.

"On me!" Rick called.

Making a B-line towards them, everyone scattered.

The group transformed into hounds fetching their prey, all scrambling for the hostages. You felt the healing wound, on your ankle, burn. Feet hitting the concrete rapidly during the chase. However, you ignored its pleas to stop.

It was primal instinct, she was hunting for a chance at happiness. You ached to achieve happiness for your family once more.

"Where's Daryl?!" Rick questioned, slowing the group's chase briefly. When no one answered, Rick halted. "Tyreese, Sasha and Noah keep going! You're on me!" He pointed at you.

You didn't reply, simply continuing the chase. If there was a possibility of another one, you wouldn't pass on the opportunity.

Rick was quick on his feet beside you, in search of Daryl and hopefully another cop.

Please let there be one more.

Your prayers were answered.

Daryl was struggling below one, the cop had a vice grip around Daryl's neck.

Your gut flipped at the sight, Rick shared a similar face. But Daryl was quicker, before Rick and yourself could approach, the crossbow user began to swing what seemed to be a walker's head against the cop's skull.

The cop toppled over and Rick quickly attacked. Rick shot another dead one near, it fell limp, scaring the stunned cop that had released his grip on Daryl.

What happened next made your blood boil.

Rick Grimes stood over the defenceless cop, gun raised and ready to shoot. The cop hesitantly raised his hand, admitting defeat, but Rick didn't budge. Your eyes were fierce and sharp, if looks could kill Rick would have been dead.

A sluggish buzz made an appearance in your ears, the raging fire sparking within your body.

Adrenaline heightening the growing frustration, clouding any rational thought.

Click.

"Put the fucking gun down," you ordered, pistol pressed firmly against Rick's skull. You weren't about to lose this opportunity because of some asshole.

"The hell!" Daryl haulered, confused.

Gritting your teeth, heat crashing over you body, shaking with rage. "The deal was three. I need three. You shoot him, say goodbye to Beth or Carol," you threatened, mind cold and unwavering.

Daryl gave her an angered glare.

"Rick!" Daryl called to him, reaching for his friends gun. Conflicted by his own thoughts, he disagreed with Rick but he wasn't about to stand around and watch his friend take a bullet for it.

Stress rising and your finger firmly on the trigger. You would shoot him down.

Daryl knew that, he saw it first hand himself.

Sneering, Rick dropped his gun and you released a breath you weren't aware you were holding.

You followed Rick's actions but instead of being able to holster it, Daryl was by her side in seconds.

"Nah, was a mistake given ya’ that," Daryl sneered . He snatched the weapon from your hands. Daggers were thrown your way again and you replied with a stiff upper lip.

You achieved the goal.

It was pointless to fight them. You were smarter than that. Daryl didn't move, holstering your weapon in his pants, that icy cold gaze still holding your burning one.

The atmosphere had shifted completely, you were now painfully aware of where you stood amongst the group.

A sour taste and a threat to them. All because of your own selfish behaviour.

That sour taste remained, as Rick ordered you to be escorted.

The sun was still burning bright, glimpses of it nestling through the warehouse window. Shades of yellow splattered across the floor beside you, creating a vibrant atmosphere to your glum expression.

Unfortunately, due to your threatening mannerisms, Daryl was watching you like a hawk.

Rick demanded someone keep an eye on you.

You were stripped of all weapons and told to keep in line. However, your glum expression wasn't due to that.

Everyone had just returned from scouting the area, minus Rick. Sasha was left alone with one of the officers in the warehouse and he had manipulated her to get some sort of upper hand on her.

Rick was currently chasing after him.

You struggled to keep your composure. Moments ago, you had just threatened a man with a gun to prevent this exact thing from happening. It came as no surprise when your furious eyes bored into the back of Sasha's skull.

Sasha seemed to notice. "You got a problem?" She spat, her sharp eyes meeting your own.

You didn't reply, only continued your stance.

Before you both could bicker like cats and dogs, the door to the warehouse opened, catching the attention of everyone.

You closed your lids tightly at the sight, Rick turned up empty-handed.

Daryl watched you from the corner of his eye, as you began to rub your palms across your face, clearly upset. Rick motioned for Daryl to speak privately. The sheriff's eyes lingered on you, sparing you a small nod.

"He wouldn't stop," Rick began to explain.

You released a heavy exhale at his words, still holding on to some form of hope.

Daryl turned, briefly hearing your breath. "Does this change things?" The archer questioned.

"Of course," Rick answered.

"Maybe not," Daryl tried to reason.

You rolled your eyes at the man, it was a stupid thing to say.

It changes everything.

They have one cop dead, a lovely target drawn on their heads because of it, and one less person to trade.

Your blood was boiling, so you started to run your mouth. "Where is he?" You challenged, clearly aware of the situation.

"Shut up," Daryl snarled. "We tryin' figure this shit out."

"Figure what out? It better be who you're giving up on, cause I'm not going back to Finley empty fucking handed. Especially after all of this shit from your people." You spat your venom, now standing forward.

Daryl was about to spit a vile response back but Rick halted him by raising his hand.

"Look we will get everyone out, no one is going home empty-handed. We just need to figure out how we're going to play this," Rick attempted to diffuse.

"You just fucked up the one good plan we had, you think she's going to take two for three?" You pointed towards the two cops beside her. The pair exchange an alarmed look at her brazen words. "You think they'll even lie for you after you just killed one of their own?!"

"He was a good man," The female officer cut through the thick tension, all eyes lingering on her. "He was attacked by rotters," She lied. You quirked you brows, staring down at the kneeling officers.

Why would she just support them, after everything?

"You're a damn good liar," Rick responded.

"We're hanging by a thread here, he was attacked by rotters. That's the story," The woman confirmed.

Daryl adjusted his crossbow on his shoulder, shrugging at the sudden change of attitude. "You said the trade was a bad idea, what changed?"

You shrugged while shaking your head."This doesn't help the three for two situation."

"She'll take the deal," The female cop replied. "You'll just go guns blazing otherwise, right? Dawn will try and avoid that the best she can."

In unison, you and Daryl snorted at the statement.

"Your bullshitting, you bettin' on it'll go south,” Daryl snickered.

"No, look...I know the good ones from the bad. Just...please...let us help you," The woman begged.

You wanted to believe every syllable this woman allowed to drop from her lips, it was your only shot now. However, there was no way of telling if she was sincere until they faced the situation head-on.

Rick's gaze manoeuvred to the male officer now, who had been kneeling in silence. "How about you then? You wanna live."

The man remained silent, a smirk painting his face as he stared up at the two men.

Without thinking, clenching your jaw, you rushed over to him. Daryl shouted a warning at you but you ignored. Now grabbing him by the neck and dropping to his level.

You were desperate at this point. "Speak, if you want to live," you threatened.

Daryl lurked beside you, but Rick offered him a small nod. Allowing you to continue.

Continuing to apply pressure to his neck, slowly he began to lower. "Dawn's afraid she'll look weak in front of us, it might tip things against her," The man answered, strained due to the position he was in. "She'll think it's a rip-off if you killed one of her guys. So, it's a good thing he got killed by rotters."

A sigh of relief escaped your lips.

One step closer.

That thought alone made your stomach tighten.

You had promised yourself long ago that nothing would happen to Javier or Finley Perez. They had become the closest thing you had to a family since the world had fallen apart, and protecting the father and daughter had become your purpose. Before the world decayed into rotting corpses, you had been a firefighter, someone who ran towards disaster with determination etched into every furrow of your brow.

Some habits never died.

Your devotion to your newfound family burned fiercely within your soul. It never threatened to smoulder, becoming the only reason you still dragged yourself from one sunrise to the next. It was a dangerous thing. Hidden beneath your quiet exterior was a flame prepared to lick at the world until nothing remained but ash.

When your boots finally crunched against the gravel of the car park, you halted the pair behind you. Raising a finger to your lips, you silently ordered them to stay put before creeping towards the stained office windows.

Silence.

Your brows knitted together. There were no groans or shuffling feet.

Nothing.

Lifting your axe, you drummed the hilt against the glass. The vibration echoed throughout the abandoned car park before disappearing into the stillness.

Too quiet. Far too quiet for the middle of Atlanta.

“What the hell?!” Finley hissed, stubbornness staining the teenager’s face.

Without taking your eyes from the building, you raised a finger once more, silently ordering her to wait.

Within seconds, your gaze met a hollow one.

A walker stared back through the grime-coated glass, its jaw hanging limp as strings of saliva and rotting flesh clung between broken teeth. One became two.

Two became five. You knew it.

It had been too quiet.

If the three of you wanted somewhere to rest tonight, you’d have to earn it.

With a quiet sigh, you returned to Javier and Finley. “It’s a fucking mess in there,” you muttered. “We’ll need to clear it out if we want any sleep.”

“What’s the plan?” Javier asked, resting a hand against the rusting shell of a nearby car.

“One of us needs to open the fro—”

“I’ll do it.” Finley tightened her grip around her hunting knife, determination shining through the fear in her eyes.

Both you and Javier exchanged a glance before giving her a knowing stare at her. You shook your head immediately.

“No way, Finn. It’s not safe in there.” She rolled her eyes beneath the twin scowls directed her way. “Okay?” you pressed impatiently.

After a reluctant pause, she nodded.

“Good.” You slung the shotgun from your back before handing it to Javier. “I’ll break the chain and pull them outside. You two stay back and pick off whatever comes through that door.”

Javier frowned, gently squeezing your forearm. “I can do it if you want.”

You scoffed, adjusting your grip on the fire axe. “When have I ever been scared of a few dead?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Javier’s mouth despite himself. “You say that every time.”

“And I’m still here.”

Finley snorted, “You two done? I’d quite like somewhere to sleep before sunrise.”

A quiet laugh escaped the three of you before the mood shifted in an instant. Weapons were drawn and hands were steadied.

Every plan could become your last, every fight demanded everything you had.

You stared at the rusted chain wrapped tightly around the office door, determination flickering in your eyes. Raising your axe overhead, you glanced back one final time.

Javier’s worried expression met yours, he gave you a small nod. You returned it.

Without another thought, you brought the axe crashing down. The chain snapped with a rattling clank.

Instantly, hungry groans echoed from within the building.

You braced your legs, throwing your shoulder against the door as dozens of bodies slammed into the opposite side. Sweat beaded across your forehead while you fought against the growing weight.

It was time.

“Now!”

The dead tumbled out of the door, falling on top of one another scrambling for a feast. Javier began to whistle and Finley took a few steps back, ready to kill them one by one. You grabbed the swinging door, using it for cover before killing the first. In one swift movement, you impaled your axe into the back of its skull, soft flesh melting with the attack. Blood splattered across your face as you quickly detached the axe, the body falling limp. One dead out of many.

You continued this routine, as the father and daughter led them elsewhere to attack. The crimson liquid coated you, consumed by red. 

Another growled at you, detaching itself from the stream of them, its cheekbone on full display as flesh rotted in between its teeth. 

Animalistic adrenaline sparked into your veins, instantly. It only took a few steps forward before it met the same fate as the previous ones. After falling to its knees, you placed a boot on the limp shoulder to retrieve your weapon. It took a few pulls, due to the axe embedding itself further, but with one loud grunt and tug, it was free. 

More blood poured. You were blinded, so blind by the pulsing raging within you and the blood splatter.

So blind that you missed the dead one crawling at your feet, so blind that you missed a herd of them creeping up behind Finley and Javier.

The crawling dead one clawed at your foot, surprising you, forcing you to trip into a sea of the limp ones. Groaning, the adrenaline instantly knocked out of you like the air had been from your lungs. Then a howling scream alerts you, Finley and Javier stood sandwiched in between a plethora of walkers. Heat rushes through you, at the sight, and panic begins to set in. 

Placing your attention on the dead one that managed to seize your ankle, slowly gripping the flesh of her left thigh. Its lower body was no more. The organs spilling out. Seething, you kicked at the dead one's upper body. Then, after it slipped from your body. You dealt the final blow, one swift stomp of your boot to its skull. 

Seeing the others' situation quickly, you were mortified when orbs met their bodies. Javier was limping and attempting to slice through the hoard, however, Finley held tightly to your shotgun that was once in Javier's possession. 

The sixteen-year-old was preparing to shoot it, making your heart sink.

Without a second thought, you grabbed the fallen axe before hollering with fear. "Finn, don't!" 

It was too late. 

The bullet left the double barrel, instantly splitting with a sharp sound, the force beating Finley to the concrete ground. Knocking her out. 

Finley was completely vulnerable and Javier was injured. Gasoline was poured onto the flame within your stomach creating a fearful scream. Your heart was thumping, knees weaker than ever but you attempted to run and save the day.

However, you didn't make it. You didn't save them.

Instead, stray bullets escaped into the air. It was a rifle tearing into the flesh of the swarming dead, the hoard consuming your new found family. They all fell one by one, bodies creating another pile similar to the one you had created. Then, another shot was heard and a warmth blossomed on you. 

Your mouth dropped in sheer confusion before the pain came. 

Sight was immediately blurred when your head met the concrete once again. A spasm of pain rippled from your calf, the heat crashing over you. Confused state, you heard the screech of a car break. Squinting you saw a black car with a cross painted on the back, a person was scrambling to get a limp Javier in. 

With the last of your adrenaline, grunting in protest, you attempt to get yourself up. "Hey, get away from him!" You ordered, but it was strained. 

You could barely see, barely keeping yourself awake. 

Your ears picked up the muffled protests from Finley before the mysterious vehicle took off without a word. Frustrated, you knocked your skull against the gravel of concrete, clutching the bullet wound on your calf, full of rage. Blood began to also pour from your forehead, no thanks to your own anger.

Panic was coursing through your veins, as you attempted to fight off the sleepy state from within. Your body, brain, and tired soul, can only testify that you worked at full tilt for so very long. It was as if your blood was now electricity, the shock waves vibrating through your damaged body as it searched for the off button.

"Fuck you assholes!" Finley cursed, pulling you briefly from the dazed state.

Searching for Finley within your blurred vision, another soaring pain struck you. Not just from the wound but at the sight you saw. Finley had tears staining her face while gripping the shotgun, then she began running far. Not towards injured you but in the same direction as the car.

"Finn...come back...come back..." It was barely a whisper, you were drained and was cold to the touch. Blood-stained cheek fell to meet the dirt, eyes rolling in the back of your head. You were alone, the one thing you feared most. 

All alone, as the abyss consumed your sight and the night sky blanketed you crimson-smothered body. 

You had failed the mission. Failed to keep her family safe. 

It was unclear how long you remained there, but enough time went by that you were dazed when you finally came to.

And daylight had broke.

Face laying on a rough surface, as your thoughts began to collect mixed with the throbbing headache. The headache told you it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the storm within your brain, but you fought the roll of your eyes. Thoughts of the events before plagued you, making you more determined to fight the darkness of your lids.

You needed to save them. 

Then a growl of a monster tickled at your ears, shooting the scraps of adrenaline left within your bloodstream. In seconds, the light of daylight flooded your iris' alongside a figure clinging to a boot. Without a second thought, you shot up and used the other foot as a weapon. The squelch of flesh was heard and your boot sank into the walker's brain, as it met with the concrete. 

It was dead with another hit.

As soon as you used it, pain immediately racked through your ankle and regretted it. You collapsed once more, heavy breaths leaving your frame. A string of curses left your lips, and as you mustered more strength, you crawled away from the corpse towards a nearby wall to prop yourself up. 

Taking in your surroundings, you realised you were exactly where you were before the world went dark. 

Sitting in a run-down office car park, alone.

It wasn't a nightmare, it was real. Your family had been taken from you and blood coated your ankle. You attempted to slow your heart rate, panic settling deep into your bones at the unknown. Eyes twitch at the ache from your skull, orbs finally adjusting to the light, but that was the least of your worries. 

You needed to find Finley, the girl couldn't have gone far. 

To do so, you needed this wound covered up. But there was no way you could do it out here, for anything or anyone to see.

You needed to get into the office building next to you, the idea created sweat against your skin. Most of the walkers had been cleared thanks to yourself and the kidnappers but there was a high chance there was more. 

Especially in a building so tall. 

Wounded and fatigued, and the probability of you surviving another hoard was next to zero.

A heavy sigh left you once again, the idea of movement made you sick, adjusting your neck. Then you spotted something in the corner of your eye. Beside you was a discarded plank of wood, mind instantly conjured up an idea. 

"Come on, you got this," You muttered to yourself encouragingly. You had never been more thrilled to see a piece of wood in your life. 

Slowly but surely you dragged yourself  from the floor, using the plank as a walking stick. Stumbling a few times which irritated you greatly. Sweat still rolled down your  face as you leaned your forehead against the office building. Your mind was racking through possibilities and scenarios, grabbed onto your axe, which had been discarded on the floor, preparing yourself.

Cautiously, you made your way through the array of corpses, to get to the offices. 

The clank of your plank ricocheted throughout the lower floor, as you shuffled around the decaying building. You decided to bang the clank on the lower floor once more, in hopes to see any form of the dead. 

When you watched three rise from the reception desk, you sighed. 

Normally, you would risk picking off three but you didn't trust your body. So, you decided to make your way up the challenging flight of stairs which proved far too difficult. 

After reaching the third floor, you were drenched in your own sweat and pools of blood began to follow you. The burning became numbing, as you began to lose feeling in your toes. 

After a brief scan of the floor, you noticed there was no sign of life or the dead. 

Finding an office with a sofa nestled into a corner, you set up camp the best you could, as vision began to blur, again. Putting your satchel on the couch, you collapsed onto it, instantly sticking to the hideous fabric. 

The plank thudded beside you, as your shoulders finally relaxed. Slowly with shaky hands, you began to rummage through the supplies in hopes of finding something for your bullet wound.

Your eyes met a dreaded object. A stapler and some alcohol. Javier insisted on keeping this, as it was a decent alternative for a thread and a needle. For a botched job. 

Cursing, the idea of stapling yourself alone makes you cringe. 

"For Finn, for Javi." You mumbled, as you silently thanked your brief medical training at the firefighter academy. Your stomach began doing flips.

 Ripping the lid off of the Vodka, as you examined your leg. The bullet had gone straight through, at least you didn't have the job of digging for it. Grabbing the leather handle of your bag, you placed it between your teeth, using it to silence whatever was next. Your head was getting heavy, you needed to do this now. Tearing at your jeans for better access, you readied to pour the alcohol. 

Before a drop could fall from the neck of the bottle, a creak alerted you. You stumbled for your axe, neglecting the bottle to one side. "Give me a fucking break," you whispered.

Your body was now shivering and far too weak to stand and fight. Rather, you chose the pistol that had been discarded in your bag for some reason.

Now slumped on a sofa with your pistol raised at the door, struggling to fight off the void consuming your vision. This wasn't going to be your final stand, you wouldn't allow it. So, gritting teeth tightly, adjusting your grasp on the weapon, as the handle on the door begin to turn. 

Upon the door opening, you spotted a male, and you refused to let him evaluate you.

Click.

 "Fuck," you cursed.

That's why it was discarded in your bag. 

You had pulled the trigger but nothing escaped the gun, just a soft metallic click. 

Your clouded gaze met striking blue daggers, you didn't notice the machete he was clutching onto. Before another figure appeared, he was moments away from taking your life as you struggled to stand and fight.

Then a familiar voice rang through your skull, calling your name, causing you to jolt and crumble to the wooden floor once more. 

You were on the verge of tears, as the voice was music to your ears. Heart soaring, happiness washing over your sweaty face.

"Don't hurt her, you asshole,” Finn called again.

Your vision was blurred but you could make out three sets of feet, one being a pair of sneakers, Finley's shoes. "Finn..." you groaned, face squished to the floor.

"She almost took my damn head off, kid! Gimme one reason I shouldn't." A gruff southern voice entered your ears, one you weren’t familiar with. 

 "Hey, that's enough, the pair of you." A woman's voice spoke up lowly. "We don't need to let the whole city know we are here."

The rest of their conversation was muffled, ears filling with static and your vision swallowed into darkness. Your worn face had finally relaxed, as you passed into slumber, at the thought of Finley finally back at your side. You simply ignored the lurking dread of the strangers that were within her company. 

"We'll find Dad, I promise," Finley muttered. Those were the last few words you heard, before allowing sleep to take a hold of your throbbing mind and body. 

Officially making you a damsel in distress, again.

The initial whirlwind of confusion subsided slowly, but the grogginess remained as your thoughts seeped back. There were muffled voices, as your eyes attempted to reveal themselves but quickly shielded them due to the harsh light. Your lips were chapped and gasping for a drop of liquid to cure the dry throat you had. Attempting to stretch the wave of aches from your body but regretting it. 

You groan, the discomfort of your leg burning all senses. 

"She's waking up, Finley," That previous woman's voice met your ears. 

After a few thuds of footsteps, you felt a palm on you shoulder attempting to sit you up.

 "Hey, are you awake?" Finley's familiar voice had you fighting the strain of your tired eyes. 

You needed to see her, to see if she was unharmed. 

 When you did fight off the darkness, your eyes met with familiar ones. A sigh of relief left your lips, as you spotted Finley's toothy grin. You replied with a soft hum and a soft smile, as you soaked her in. 

However, it dropped at the sight of the strangers lurking in your peripheral and the scrape across Finley's cheek. Heart pounding, your hand was quick to grab you axe which was always attached to your belt. 

There was nothing but air to grab. 

"Hey, it's good, we're safe," Finley attempted to reassure. "Carol and Daryl are good people, they won't hurt us. They helped me around the city.”

Your breathing was still panicked, orbs scanning them. A grey-haired woman was sitting beside her, sporting a soft smile juxtaposing the laceration on you, who you assumed was Carol. The woman was littered with fresh bruises, as her hand laid on top of her knife.

This site did not boost your confidence in them. 

A tut left the man's lips, as he stared out of the large office wind into the city. "Speak for yourself." Finley glared at the man 'Daryl', who wore a vest with wings spread across it.

He didn't spare a glance, clearly bothered by your previous actions. To shoot him.

"How long have I been out?" You asked, wearing a nasty scowl, something Finley told you off for often. You kept that cold stare, in an attempt to keep an intimidating aura, as a warning. 

"Not long but long enough to get that wound stitched up," Carol nodded towards your leg. You could see the intricate weaving of stitches that clasped your flesh shut, and you silently thanked this woman. "You lost a lot of blood, I'm surprised you're even sitting up."

 Analysing Finley once more who was twirling her ring on her finger, something she did when nervous. It was blindly obvious the girl was worried, about her father, the same thoughts plaguing your own.

"Carol patched you up well," Finley beamed at you.

You nodded, giving an appreciative smile to Carol. "It's not often people want to help strangers... but we better make a move,” you began. Slowly, ignoring the excruciating ache travelling through your leg and furrowed brows of the older woman, you lifted her wobbling form from the floor to stand. 

Finley was instantly by your side, trying to support you. You opted for the egg shell coloured wall beside you. 

"You need to sit," Finley seethed. 

"No, what I need is my weapons and to go find your dad," you replied with a heavy breath, supporting yourself already becoming too tiring.

The man shook his head with a scoff, prompting a glare from you. He continued to ignore your existence.

"You're injured, weak and you have a little girl to protect. How far do you think you'll make it?" Carol interjected, her voice turning into cold steel. Juxposing with her meek demeanour. 

The soft scraps of boots were heard, as you opted to stare down at Finley's worried eyes. 

"She ain't worth the trouble. Let her take the kid and her weapons, she ain't no use to us." The southerner jabbed, throwing your weapons below your blood-stained boots. 

The clattering of them echoed off the walls, as you grabbed them swiftly. Ignoring the groaning of your ankle. 

"We need all the people we can get, Daryl. For Beth." Carol countered Daryl, perking your interest. "We don't know what we are walking into with these people."

Wobbling slightly, you decided to take help from Finley. "We don't owe you anything, I didn't ask for your help. Why should I fucking help you?" You spat, not wanting to mix yourself into any drama.

This seemed to outrage Daryl, as he made a threatening step towards the woman. 

However, Carol interjected once more, preventing Daryl from spitting venom. "Look, if we wanted to hurt you, don't you think, we would've killed you by now? Instead, we saved you and kept her out of harm's way. She was tearing up the whole city chasing after that car." The woman spoke truly, standing beside Daryl now as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Plus…they promised to help me, with dad," Finley explained further. "Those assholes took someone from them too." 

Your heart sank, at the sight of Finley's begging eyes. Her desire to stay with them was strong. 

"Finn, we don't know—" you attempted to speak but was swiftly cut off.

Finley gripped tightly to your hand, eyebrows furrowing. "They've kept me safe, they stitched you up. I trust them," the girl pleaded as she pointed to them. "Please, if you don't trust them... then trust me." 

Your mouth was agape trying to form words at the girl before you. Finley always was stubborn as a bull but she never pleaded more demanded. They saved you from bleeding out or becoming a meal for a walker. 

The pain in your leg began to burn higher, alongside the bubbling fear in your stomach, for Javier. You knew it would be impossible alone.These people were the only lead to him, so you’d have to bite your tongue.

Cursing, you nodded softly at Finley. Instantly Finley's smile returned brighter, thanking you, softly hugging you. 

Daryl's scoff didn't go unheard, however.

The moment was cut off by a rackety thud alerting the whole group. Your grip tightened to Finley, frightened to lose her once more, orbs pointing in the direction of the hallway where the noise resonated from. Daryl instantly grabbed a machete and Carol was touching her knife in its sheath, heading towards the noise.

Finley slowly retrieved her hunting knife from her back pocket and passed your axe to you. Hobbling and using the young girl for support, the pair of you followed them. The pain in your leg had turned into a dull throb, which helped, thanks to Finley acting as a human walking stick. 

Travelling down the hallway quietly, echoing growls of the dead could be heard, you gripped Finley and your weapon tighter. The growls of the dead were now mixed with soft taps, causing you to furrow your brows. Turning a corner, you were all met with one. One that had already been dealt with.

 Well, they had attempted to deal with it. 

"That yours?" Carol questioned. The walker was impaled by an arrow onto a beam of the building, it was chopping with its exposed jaw and attempting to grab at its next meal. 

Daryl was quick to dispose of it, his machete coming down, slicing its skull open like butter. "Yeah," He replied gruffly.

"Someone rob you guys?" You quizzed, confusion painting your face. 

"Yeah, some kid found us and decided to take their weapons," Finley confirmed before Daryl could. 

You scoffed, "A kid?" Humour twisted your features, that were still blood stained. 

Before Daryl or Carol could bite back, something drew their attention.

The sound of bullets rapidly firing halted the group.

 It was coming from further down the hallway. Carol was chasing after the sound in seconds, leaving it hard for you to catch them up. The teenage girl supporting you, however, was eager to find the source too. Finley was quick to drag you along with her, even against your protest. 

Suddenly, a walker turned a corner and toppled on top of a surprised Carol.

Finley without thinking let go of your body, in an attempt to help Carol. Prompting you to fall against a wall, the pain in your leg shocking. 

Daryl went to slash the skull open of the dead but Finley was faster. The young girl plunged her hunter knife deep into the brain of it, dark crimson liquid splattering against the girl's face. It fell limp against Carol's body, as Finley retrieved the knife still unaware of your predicament. 

About to curse at Finley, for leaving you stranded, a rough hand forcefully placed itself on your hip. Startling you.

Staring at the culprit, you were stunned. 

Daryl stood beside you, scowl covering his face, preoccupied with something else. Being close to him finally allowed you to take in his features, the man was worn and rugged. His shaggy dirty hair contrasted  against his ocean-blue eyes, which were more prominent due to the black eye growing and dirt smothering his face. 

"Come on," He muttered forcefully before you could interject against it. More frustrated by the events or even think of the proximity of your both.

 "Go," Carol ordered weakly, as she struggled to stand. Daryl and Finley both nodded, as they both dragged you to chase after the culprit of the sound. 

Turning another corner, Daryl halted his support on you. Luckily, Finley was finally at your side again. Daryl put his finger to his lips, indicating to be silent, the pair of you simply nodded. The trio slowed, so the culprit wouldn't hear you approaching. 

Then, Daryl bolted into the room. 

A crash ricocheted throughout the building, and the pair of you panicked and decided to speed up to Daryl.

Entering the room, you found Daryl standing over a bookcase that had a teenage boy wedged beneath it. No doubt the one that robbed them. 

"It's the kid," Finley spat, confirming your suspicions.

By the bookcase that was previously securing the door, was a walker attempting to break through to get its grubby hands on the group. The boy was struggling, sweat glazed his face, pleading with Daryl to help him. He was far too small to lift it alone, so Daryl finally held some power over his head. 

You could see in the southerners eyes that he couldn't care less, staring down at the boy's helpless figure, as he retrieved his crossbow from him.

"Why you following us?!" Daryl bellowed down, at the boy. Passing Carol her rifle and Finley's baseball bat, which she loved so much, as he ignored the dead attempting entry. 

The boy pleaded more, trying to explain himself. You understood Daryl had every right to leave him stranded, you were sure you’d do the same. 

He crouched down, appearing to help, but instead, he grabbed a packet of cigarettes from beside him.

"Come on, man. Please!" The boy pleaded, even more, and tears started to appear in his eyes. 

Finley's grip tightened on you, which didn’t go unnoticed. Staring down at the girl, you spotted a mixture of emotions painting the young girl's face. It was as if she was conflicted with her own thoughts, her brows furrowed in anger but orbs filled with sorrow. 

You sighed heavily at the sight of the poor girl, her heart sinking.  Daryl continued to light a cigarette, not bothering to spare him a glance. 

"He's a kid, asshole." It was a weak attempt at reasoning, you were aware, but you knew a stranger's words might not alter Daryl's opinions. You couldn’t help but worry, especially with Finley watching the ordeal.

Taking a deep breath of nicotine, Daryl shook his head. "Nah, I already helped him once. Ain't happenin' again." He began to walk away, even though the boy begged some more. 

Carol called after her friend, her face in a state of shock at his actions, but he continued past the trio of females. 

"Daryl, stop!" Carol called once more and he halted turning around with a face like thunder. "Stop."

The man snickered, cigarette still in between his teeth, before pointing down at the boy. "You and the girl almost died because of him!" The statement instantly caught your attention, as she went to stare down at Finley once more. 

This caused a slight twinge of rage within you. "What does he mean? That's how you got that scrape?" You asked, hating how out of the loop you were. 

What happened while you were gone?

"But we didn't!" Finley shouted back, ignoring you, face still full of sorrow. "We're still alive!" The girl was now staring down Daryl, who only stared back with an unreadable look. 

Slowly, Daryl shook his head, blue eyes falling to the ground. "Nah, leave em' be."  Again, the man walked away from the scene choosing to ignore the boy's pleas. 

 "Daryl!" Carol shouted. 

Finley released her hold on your frame, however, you were quicker this time and gripped onto the wall beside you to prevent another fall. The young girl was into action before you could protest, attempting to free the young man.

"Finn," you warned, adjusting your foot.

Then the breaking of glass was heard.

The walker was through and your heart sank. 

 It tumbled through landing atop the bookcase. Finley haphazardly jabbed her knife at the walker, missing it and hitting its shoulder. You were quick, too quick.

 In an attempt to use your axe. Hands fumbled for it and dropped it to the ground. The metallic sound rang in your ears, heat rushed over you. The world was moving in slow motion. Before you attempted to grab your axe, a whizzing sound passed you, a gust of wind tickling her cheek.

The snarls from the dead halted and the boy's cries followed. 

A sigh of solace left your dry lips, at the sight of the arrow embedded into the dead. 

Finley was still attempting to lift the bookcase off the boy, as her shoulders shook from the aftershock of the events. Turning her head, you saw Daryl staring at both her and Carol with a cold gaze. 

Was it a change of heart? Or was it thanks to Finn? 

You couldn't care less, just thankful for the girl being alive. Regardless, you were also beating yourself up over being so clumsy, due to the state she was in. 

You despised the weak. 

"Move, Kid," Daryl ordered, now standing beside the girl. 

Finley glared up at him before moving away from the older man and back to your side. You attempted to embrace her, to try and comfort her, but she shrugged you off only offering support for your injury. 

Tutting to yourself, aware of how hurt the girl gets when she cracks under pressure.

Daryl and Carol managed to rescue the boy, who was more than glad to spew ‘thank you's’ to them. The boy was out of breath but still rushed towards the window of the room, you noticed the limp he had. 

"You okay?" Daryl asked Carol, who appeared to be fatigued. 

"I'm sorry, I dropped you earlier...I just y'know..." Finley attempted to explain, but was stuttering over words and her eyes darted everywhere else but your own.

You scoffed, shaking your head slightly. "Almost knocked the wind out of me," you chuckled before ruffling the girl's hair. "Luckily Daryl caught my ass before I could." 

Finn snickered lightly, now staring at you.

"I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here. They probably heard the shot," The boy began to ramble in a panic, drawing the group's attention to him. 

Carol offered a piece of wood to you for support, one similar to the previous plank, you accepted it, quiet eyes trained on the odd boy. 

The boy was a mess, he was pacing while peeping through the window so often. 

It seemed to grab Daryl's attention, the man eager to find clues. "Who?"

"The guys, the ones at the hospital."

"You've seen my dad?!" Finley perked up, speeding beside Daryl to interrogate the boy. Your heart soared, at the thought of an ounce of information about Javier's whereabouts.

So, you allowed Finn to continue. 

Daryl seemed to have the same idea. "Is there a blonde girl there? You seen a blonde girl?"

"Beth?" The boy answered. 

Carol and Daryl both perked up at the name, exchanging a glance. It was her. 

Before they could continue, you hobbled over eager to find out about Javier. "What about a bearded guy? He's got a scar across his eye."

The boy began to stutter over his word, bombarded by curious eyes and questions. "I think so? A guy  just arrived as I left. I've never spoken to him but his dog tag says, Perez." 

This day has been the worst in a long time and to hear that name erupted butterflies into your stomach. 

Javier Perez. It was him.

If you were alone with this information you would've crumbled into happy tears. Especially with the glowing face of Finley, at the mention of her father. You all could finally find one another and continue the journey through this horror-filled city together. 

"You know them?" The boy asked. Everyone nodded, faces bewildered. "Beth, she helped me get out but... she's still there. They both are." 

Before the group could celebrate, Carol's face dropped as she stared out of the window. "They are coming."

Without a second thought, everyone was in action.

You swiftly retrieved your axe from the floor, using the makeshift walking stick to move around. Finley offered you help but you shook her off, ordering her to move forward. 

Daryl and Carol were off in front, checking every corner. The group quickly disbanded from the room, in search of an exit.

"There's a building next door with a basement, we'll be safe there," The unnamed boy informed them.

Darting towards the exit, you attempted to keep up alongside the limping boy. Finley was in your line of sight, that's all that mattered right now. However, the boy stumbled to the ground behind you. Everyone halted but he ordered everyone to 'go'. Carol continued ahead while Daryl was quick to retrieve the boy, with Finley close behind him. 

Suddenly, a screech of a car rang in the group's ears, followed by a thud. The scene before them was startlingly causing you all to halt in your tracks. 

A car, owned by the people at the hospital, hit Carol with force. The older woman went flying and instantly went limp as her smaller body met the concrete. Your mouth dropped, and blood ran cold at the sight. 

Not even seconds goes by and Daryl is scrambling towards her, mortified at the events.

The limping boy restrained him, preventing the group from being caught. "They have medicine, they have what she needs to help her,” he seethed. 

Daryl continued to put up a fight, so you were quick. Dropping the wood, neglecting your leg once more. Now, clinging onto Daryl with your body weight, dragging the pair to the ground, as they drove off with Carol. You weren’t about to let him destroy their only chance at getting Javier back.

"Don't be so stupid," you gritted through your teeth, as you both fell stunned by you dog piling him.

Oxygen was forced out of your lungs, as the pair of you landed on your backs. You cursed under your breath, groaning. The kids helped you both up, but Daryl was quick to ask more questions.

"What's it going to take, to get them back?" He huffed, out of breath, eyes lingering on your form for a moment before training back to the boy.

He nodded slowly, watching the car drive off. "A lot."

After composing yourself, you had a fire lit within you. One objective, to get Javier back. Even if it meant an alliance with strangers. Finley tugged your arm slightly, indicating her to help.

 “We’ll help you," you agreed, staring at Daryl who stared at her for longer than needed. His stare was deeper than any ocean you had ever laid eyes on. 

The southerner simply nodded with a grunt, before staring off prepared to conjure up a plan. 

"They've got guns, people."

Daryl scoffed, "So do we."