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The Hunter Within

The Next World Part One

By the time she and Paul had moved Jake into the air-conditioned front room, he decorated with the array of IVs and monitors that he could have benefited from having access to sooner, it had cooled enough to ease the seemingly permanent beads of sweat that dotted his brow. It had been then, as darkness settled over the commotion of their return, that she had let Daryl lead them back to the big house down the end of the street. Given everything that had happened, it could have been assumed that they had torn each other’s clothes off the moment the bedroom door closed behind them, hiding them away from the world, but the next morning Sophie woke in the same shirt, in the same jeans, that she had been wearing for days.

It hadn’t been for his sake that they had chosen sleep over sex, but for their weary bodies, exhaustion having claimed any eagerness that may have survived. Though the laces of her boots were untied, she had made no further effort to remove them, her body twisted awkwardly in a failed attempt to keep from dirtying the too white sheets beneath her, as if her clothes hadn’t already done so. Wincing at the pain that ran down the length of her spine as she stirred, Sophie lifting the hand she had placed so delicately upon the centre of Daryl’s back – as if to almost fearfully secure him into place – to rub the palm of it against a drowsy eye before studying the greying room around her somewhat cautiously.

A pain induced sigh slipped through dry lips as she shifted a little more, her body complaining at the prospect of another day, of doing anything other than burying herself beneath the sheets, white pillows be damned. Though it continued to protest the way she sat, each and every inch of her body aching, she knew that rest would not come as easily as it promised, her much stronger instincts synced to life on the road, to early mornings. Beside her, Daryl seemed just as reluctant to accept that they had been forced into yet another day, it promising to be just as long, and perhaps as tedious, as the ones that it followed. As she touched at the wooden floor with booted toes, his eyes fluttered open to consider her with an undeniable sense of betrayal, knowing that if she was up, he had no excuse not to be.

Offering him a slight, almost unsure, smile, Sophie stood on a single, unwounded, leg to limp off in search of a fresh towel, an unidentifiable hunger stirring within the depths of her stomach. She had managed to source one from the dresser, they no doubt lay there by Carol during the night, and clean clothes as Daryl followed suit, bands of muscle stretching beneath the thin fabric of his shirt as he moved towards her sleepily. Not knowing what to expect, she shuffled passed him with an air of hesitation, her eyes raking over his somewhat imposing frame as they intercepted in her attempt for the door. As if he had done so before, he caught her departure with a single arm, it snaking around her waist to pull her close with unexpected confidence.

“Mornin’,” he breathed, breath hot against her cheek as he buried a soft kiss amongst tangled hair, her brow furrowing ever so slightly as she studied the almost unfamiliar man before her.

“Morning,” she repeated, unable to manage anything else as he released her to continue on his way, fingers grabbing at drawers in search of clean clothes of his own. “Yours are, yours are on the left.”

With the welcoming familiarity in the way he simply nodded thanks, Sophie felt herself settle a little more, unable to help the guilt that stemmed from his indifferent demeanour. Of course, she had hoped to conjure such a reaction after their argument the day before, but now that it played out before her, she hoped that it didn’t stem from the fear of losing her. He would do anything for you, something scolded her, it entirely truthful in nature, knowing that anything included pretending to be comfortable with something had wasn’t. Fearful that she had frightened him into pretending just so she didn’t have too, Sophie watched him for a moment longer, the sense of routine acting as a balm to her guilt.

Acting out of habit, she stepped out of the room to offer him a moment of privacy as he sourced his clothes, forgetting, somehow, that it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. Feeling entirely stupid, and somewhat disarranged, she pushed herself away from the door that now separated them to bypass the bathroom in favour of the laundry with a prominent limp. Using the toe of the other, she kicked off her already unlaced boots, caked mud sprinkling across the otherwise clean tiles as she moved for the other with a filthy sock. Leaving them where they lay, Sophie moved over the buttons of her long sleeved shirt with one hand as she took to peeling them off with the other, all but toppling over as she caught sight of movement in her peripherals.

“Do you need a hand?”

“No, I’m fine,” she huffed, straightening to consider the way Carol raised an amused eyebrow at the scene, her shoulder pressed against the opened doorway. “Thank you, though.”

“Pass me the scissors,” the older woman disregarded Sophie’s insistence, watching with a sense of hindsight that she lacked as she shifted her weight to attempt removing her jeans. “There is no use doing this the hard way.”

“I suppose not,” she muttered, fingers slipping from the button to search through the bucket of supplies before her, all too aware of the unsalvageable nature of her blood, sweat and mud stained jeans.

Keeping still, Sophie let Carol tend to the fabric, the cool metal of the scissors brushing over her unwashed skin as she travelled up the length of her unwounded leg first and what remained of the denim of the other second. Neither of them spoke, and she supposed that they didn’t have too, Carol not being one for small talk and Sophie not having the energy to initiate it. Instead, she met the older woman’s gaze with a soft smile as she steadied herself with her shoulder, the first peeling away the cut fabric to leave Sophie standing before her in nothing but her underwear. It was nothing Carol hadn’t seen, they both knew that enough to be comfortable with the fact, privacy having been a luxury during their previous years on the road together.

“Thank you,” she whispered, stooping to collect her discarded clothes with a wince, not surprised to have them taken from her and replaced as she straightened. The other woman just smiled, turning to consider the way the door at the end of the hallway swung open. “I’m okay,” she assured Daryl as he faltered mid-step, eyes darting over the pair with a familiar awkwardness as he searched for answers. “Just having my second skin removed.”

“We’ve all been there,” Carol reminded her knowingly, it hard to believe looking at her in that moment, dressed in pressed trousers and a blouse that would still be white at the end of the day. “Your clothes better not be sitting on the floor in there,” she scolded Daryl at the sight of his empty hands, rolling her eyes almost fondly. Almost. “Go. Eat. I’ll get them, and you, shower. Wash that wound out before it gets infected.”

“Yes, mom,” she smiled, suppressing it with pressed lips as the older woman turned in search of Daryl’s dirty clothes, Sophie’s own in tow.

By the time she emerged from the shower, hair dripping and skin tingling beneath the remnants of soap particles, the sky had shed the oranges hues of early morning to settle into the day ahead. Feeling somewhat human again, she moved towards where the trucks had been left with the intention of being unpacked, most of the community having already gathered around to help. Greeting those that she hadn’t been given the chance to do so the afternoon before, Sophie limped through the surprising crowd to find Rick and Vincent in the process of delegating jobs. Despite the selfish desire to go in search of both Maggie and coffee, she excused herself to go check up on Jake, the first of the two promising to come find her later.

It was after stepping through the unlocked door of the infirmary that Sophie found what she had wanted, Maggie smiling through the opened one of the front room as she entered, coffee in hand. While she was perched comfortably on the sofa, it still dressed with the sheets Paul had slept on the night before, the man himself leant up against the wall with a sense of ease that could have had Sophie mistaking them for old friends. The newly acquainted pair were not the most surprising element of the crowded room, however, not when she considered the way Jake sat up against the headboard of the single bed, sheets draped over his legs and frame welcomingly balanced.

“You’re looking better than I feel,” she smiled after offering her good mornings to the others, not being able to help the smile that etched itself onto her weary features as she leant over the bed to touch at his forehead. “Do you feel better?”

“Much better,” he smiled softly, deep brown eyes on hers as she dropped her touch, the air conditioning having been enough to cool his body temperature. “Had some solid sleep last night.”

“He’s even eaten.”

Glancing over at Paul’s almost proud tone, Sophie raised her eyes with the enthusiasm she usually only mustered when Judith ate pumpkin puree without complaint. “That’s awesome.”

“No one can turn down my scrambled eggs,” Maggie smiled, gesturing to the picked plate on the bedside table between them. The room fell momentarily silent as Sophie busied herself with checking the monitors, not really looking at the illuminated numbers and lines, but at the other woman calculatingly. “You’re not going to make me ask are you?”

Sighing, finally letting her gaze slip to Maggie, she shook her head. “We were going to tell you all today. Tomorrow. I don’t know,” Sophie scrambled, having the conversation about telling the others hadn’t been a priority on the road. “What was I supposed to say, Maggie? Without sounding bat-shit crazy.”

Hey, I know this sounds bat-shit crazy, but Jake was bitten and somehow survived, here are the scars and witnesses to prove it,” she offered with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“You knowing that doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” Maggie mused, her eyes dropping from Sophie to consider the wounded man with a sense of understandable curiousity for a fleeting second. “But we don’t keep secrets.”

Nodding at the sentiment, knowing that she was right, she too shifted to consider Jake with a soft, almost apologetic, smile. “I know. You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Glancing back over her shoulder to roll her eyes at the other woman’s teasing tone, Sophie then turned back to her patient, noting the grimy nature of his skin and the mattered, sweat soaked, hair that seemed to cling to it. “Do you feel up for a shower?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“Jesus, do you want to help him up?” She questioned, the other man unfolding his arms to straighten, eyes on Jake as he moved to wrap one hand around his wrist, looping that arm over his shoulders in one swift, practised, movement. “Do you know if Denise has any plastic containers she doesn’t use?”

“I’m sure we can replace whatever we take,” Maggie assured her, setting her coffee aside to move in search of one. “Bite-sized?”

“Please.”

Moving aside, she let Paul fall into step behind the brunette, Jake in tow as he went in search of the downstairs bathroom without needing directions, probably having used it himself during the night. Limping over the threshold, Sophie crowded the small room entirely, she leaving the door open as the slight man set Jake down upon the closed lid of the toilet. With weak fingers, the latter grabbed at the hem of his trademark long-sleeved shirt to pull it over his head, Maggie’s sure approach faltering ever so briefly as she considered the angry array of red and purple that littered his arm. Offering them space, Paul excused himself, he and Maggie dancing in the doorway as they exchanged places.

Leaning over to take the plastic container from her, Sophie gave Jake further room as he unbuttoned his jeans to squirm out of them with little grace. Determined to do it on his own, he then gripped at the glass frame of the shower with one hand and the cool porcelain of the basin with the other to stand, his legs less than steady beneath him as he navigated the small space to sit on the floor of the shower dressed in nothing but his underwear. With his back to the glass, Sophie cupped the container over the dressed wound upon his back, motioning for Maggie to hold it into place for her as she twisted the cold-water tap. Trying to avoid getting herself wet, she then leant over the younger man to collect the bottles of shampoo and conditioner from the tiled nook in the wall.

As she worked to lather his long, tattered, strands of hair, combing out any remaining knots with her fingers, Maggie talked idly about what had happened while they were away from where she sat on the edge of the toilet, arm awkwardly outstretched to keep the bite dry. While it had surprised her that Jordan had moved in with Spencer, the pair playing house with Teddy in Vincent’s absence, that had paled in comparison to the gossip she offered about Carol. “Tobin finally made his move,” the other woman offered with a confirming nod when Sophie denied the possibility. “And I don’t know what exactly is going on there, but he has slept over on more than one occasion.”

“How do you even know that?”

“We were curious and our bedroom window looks right down onto your front door.”

“I’m so glad you said front door.”

“That’s messed up, Soph.”

“What’s messed up is that you and Glenn took turns in watching to see if he stayed,” she laughed, gaze shifting from Jake to consider Maggie with raised eyebrows. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“Hey, it’s been pretty quiet around here, and after we binge watched what seems like every TV show Olivia has in storage, we needed some sort of entertainment.”

“Clearly,” Sophie grimaced, motioning for Jake to lean forward into the water a little more to wash the second dose of shampoo out. “Does Carol know you’ve been spying on her?”

“Probably. The woman knows everything.”

“They're in the bathroom,” the women paused as Paul welcomed whoever had come in search of them, the doorway becoming crowded just moments later as Rick, Daryl and Glenn studied the scene with furrowed brows.

Jake twisted ever so slightly at the prospect of an audience, Sophie following his gaze to consider the way Glenn shifted knowingly, his own eyes raking over his scarred frame in a way that Rick and Daryl no longer did. “She tell you what happened yet?” The first smirked almost instantly, recognising the nature of the gathering as an exchange of missed information. “At the school?”

“Fuck you, man.”

Maggie glanced over her shoulder, curiousity plaguing her features as she considered Daryl’s growled words and the way Sophie hid her blood pooled cheeks beneath loose strands of hair. “What happened at the school?”

“Nothin’.”

“Remember that time during the first winter on the road that we caught you guys in that abandoned warehouse?”

“Holy shit, yes,” Glenn almost fist pumped, his excitement only fuelled by the way Daryl took his leave with a deep groan. Scolding the high five the younger of the two offered Rick, Sophie worked at desperately avoiding his wife’s raised eyebrows by busying her eyes with the soapsuds beneath her fingers. “Finally.

“We’ve got the numbers to handle the unpacking for today,” Rick continued with a contrasting sense of seriousness after the teasing nature of the conversation dissolved. “Glenn’s going to take a few of you out to check out the new safe houses. Are you feeling up to that?”

“Ah,” Sophie searched, considering the occupied nature of her hands before glancing back up at the man. “Right now?”

“Jesus and I can finish up in here,” Maggie offered with a nod, Jake seeming to retreat into himself just a little. “You guys go.”

“You okay with that?”

Despite any concerns that he may or may not have actually had, Jake shook his head ever so slightly, his arms hugging his bent knees a little closer as Sophie squeezed the remnants of shampoo from his hair to stand. Leaving Maggie to awkwardly navigate his sitting frame, Paul swooping in to hold the plastic container for her, she then moved through the infirmary in step with Rick and Glenn, the pair talking about why the first couldn’t and wouldn’t be joining them. On the porch, Daryl had sought solace in a cigarette, his elbows propped against the railing as he glanced out over the empty road before him. Taking in a long, finishing, draw, he butt it out against the wood to settle into place beside her.

“He looks better,” he mused, shifting his weight to adjust the rifle strapped to his back before considering her own injury. “How are you feelin’ this morning? Sure you’re up for this?”

“The less I do the worse it’ll be,” Sophie nodded, not entirely confident in the fact, as she glanced down at the hidden stitches. “Got to keep it moving, keep the muscle strong.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He seemed to study her almost longingly as they came to a stop beside the first of the trucks, his desire to keep her safe playing in the blue of his eyes before he had a chance to hide it. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, a soft smile daring at her lips as she reached out to touch at his bare forearm, the weather in Virginia considerably warmer than what they encountered further north. “I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“Nah,” he mumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he shifted to consider the approach of the rest of their team. “I get it now.”

Knowing that understanding didn’t necessarily make it any easier to accept, Sophie thanked him once again, her smile morphing into an almost daring smirk as she turned in search of her staff, finding it still stashed where she had left it in the back of the ambulance the evening before. With Rick, Michonne and Vincent otherwise occupied, having jobs waiting to be tended to within the walls, and Carl being pulled from where he had been reluctantly stationed at the pantry to check over, record and store the weapons that they scavenged, Tara, Aaron and Rosita made their team seven strong. Knowing that those kind of numbers would require the run van, she, Daryl and Glenn gathered enough supplies for the drive from those scattered around the trucks before moving in favour of it.

To her surprise, five figures awaited their arrival, the lankiest of those becoming entirely familiar in nature. “Vince thinks that he could do with some fresh air,” Glenn answered the question Sophie didn’t need to ask. “And Rick wants us to see what he’s like away from his brother.”

“I don’t think we gotta worry about the kid. He’s a little screwed up, yeah, but who ain’t?”

Glenn seemed to study Daryl with the same sense of surprise that Sophie did, his history with strangers and more particularly, with Thomas’ older brother, entirely contrary to the statement. “I hope you’re right, man.”

Offering the older of the teenagers a smile as the two groups converged, he looking more anxious than usual, Sophie continued to consider Daryl’s claim as they climbed into their respective seats. As if no time had passed, the run team took to their usual positions – it as if they were marked by name – to prop boots up against the adjacent bench and lean weapons against the back of the front seats. Small talk consumed the even smaller space, Sophie listening to talk of the reconstruction and expansion of the wall as she leant forward in her seat to check through the first aid kit they had sourced from the spilt contents of the trucks, ensuring that everything was in its place. Just in case, she sighed, eyes brushing over the tainted wood of her staff uneasily.

Of the three safe houses, the first was relatively untouched, its porch scuffed with idle boots and windows smeared with hand prints in a way that told them that perhaps someone had used it as just that. With the doors and windows still secured and hidden supplies remaining so, it was difficult to tell if it had, in fact, been utilised. The second was secluded enough, sitting on the outskirts of town, that the porch was blanketed with unbroken, dying leaves. Its interior was coated in so much dust that it would have documented any movement within the house, no matter how cautious they were. Just like the first, boxed cans, containers of water and other supplies were hidden throughout its walls, fuel and weapons buried in the backyard, all untouched.

The day was beginning to claim them as they moved on from the second and the picnic lunch they had shared on the back porch there to visit the third and final of the safe houses, it positioned further out of town than the other two. Because of its location, the others had frequented it less, not wanting to risk the journey with low numbers for just a check up. Rolling stiff shoulders, Sophie watched out the windscreen as they sped past an idle herd that lingered on the side of the road they moved over, their moans disappearing behind them as Glenn pushed forward a little faster. Eyeing off the rotters in the rear view mirror, he opted for the long where there, not wanting the pressure of company to hurry their sweep.

“Eugene wants to try and set up some kind of security measure,” Glenn almost laughed as they unloaded from the van to touch down on loosely held gravel to study the house. It bordered modern suburbia, nothing special, nothing to attract any unwanted attention from either the living or dead. “Think’s that it's possible.”

Glancing over the empty street behind them, Sophie considered the notion with a curious frown, she considering strategically placed rotters while the man himself was probably much more technical minded in his approach. “Eugene has his head up his ass,” Rosita almost snapped. “No way we can get a connection from out here.”

“He told us that he could work it out.”

“Yeah, but he also told us that he had the cure,” Tara piped up, rifle clutched in both hands as she tore her gaze away from the house to consider the conversation with a shrug. “Too soon?”

“We gonna do this now or wait for those walkers to catch up?”

Shifting out of the relaxed grip she had on her staff for a much more readied position, Sophie paused to gesture for Thomas and Carl to moved ahead of her at Daryl’s impatience to sandwich the younger of their group within the middle of it as they moved up the drive. The two teenagers didn’t speak, their lanky frames shifting around each other like magnets. Climbing the steps in favour of the front door, they crowded the porch as Glenn flicked through the set of keys for the ones that would open it, the others continuing their discussion about Eugene’s fantasy of implementing technology that just wasn’t as possible as he promised, no one in any hurry to defend him. Beside her, Daryl faced outwards, forearms propped against the wooden railings as he surveyed the still world before them.

Hyper aware of the way his shoulder brushed against her jacketed arm, as he shifted ever so slightly, Sophie took to inconspicuously studying Thomas as he leant up against the window ledge between Carl and Aaron. The teenager paid her no mind at first, his gaze on the pistol he clutched at with a single hand, the fingers of his other wrapped around the other wrist to steady in over his lap. Feeling the weight of her stare, he then lifted his familiar grey eyes to return the gesture, they raking over the calculatingly before his brows furrowed somewhat shyly. Neither of them spoke as he dropped her gaze to consider the length of wood that she held, seemingly all but oblivious to the way she continued to watch him as he did.

“It’s much more fun than a pistol,” she offered when the teenager glanced back down at his own weapon, eyes snapping up at the directed comment. “Maybe I can teach you how to use it some day.”

Thomas considered the offer for a long moment, gaze shifting to consider the way Daryl glanced over his shoulder at him as she waited for an answer. “Teach me?” He questioned, his accent as surprisingly thick as it always seemed to be. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Sophie shrugged, the teenager straightening as Glenn managed the lock to open the door. “I just thought it could be fun.”

Frowning almost suspiciously at the notion, his brows furrowed in a manner that told her that perhaps he had forgotten what fun, or anything other than angst, was. There had been a time where they had endured the torment of pubescence courtesy of Carl, she having grown adjusted and equipped enough to know not to make a big deal out of the way he nonchalantly nodded, hiding a slight, almost childish, smile beneath the ever-present sense of brooding that he held so tightly onto. As he straightened to fall into step behind Aaron, his gaze seemed to shift over her shoulder to consider the way Daryl did the same.

It had been a shock to all of them to find that Thomas had taken to quickly to Daryl, and he to the teenager, but the more Sophie found herself considering it, the less surprising the fact had become. Vincent had been right in saying that they were more alike than he and his younger brother were, even he perhaps not really knowing that they were even more so than that. Though he would never admit it, she knew that Daryl looked at the fifteen-year-old and saw himself, all limbs and frowns, an absent older brother and lack of parental figures, despite the differences in context. He saw a young man who was frightened of the world that he lived in, who strived to escape it, to become something, someone, else.

As she stepped over the threshold between the two, the fear she had held of the teenager in front of her dissolved entirely, her experience in navigating the angry man that Daryl had once been enough to instil confidence. All confidence faltered just moments later as she noticed that Glenn did the same, his frame tensing as he studied the interior, his weapon raised ever so slightly. Instantly on edge, her own hands brushing over the length of wood to rest into their defensive positions, her gaze raked over the dimly lit space apprehensively. Stepping forward to place Carl between the wall and herself, not oblivious to the way both Daryl and Aaron mirrored her action, it more a force of habit than a conscious thought, Sophie sank into herself a little more, eyes dangerous as they met Thomas’ to find that he had his own weapon hovering just below eyesight.

Knowing better than to speak, Glenn turned to gather their attention before pointing first at the boot prints that tracked both casually and hurriedly through the living room, and then to the mess that occupied the kitchen. Someone’s here, he may as well have said, dark eyes meeting hers as he faced outwards once again, Tara shadowing him as he tread across the tiled floor to check behind the bench, rifle propped upon his shoulder. With a tight not, he cleared the immediate space, they each shifting to consider each of the long hall and its various doors with a sense of anticipation. Fight or flight, their instincts debated, Sophie’s heart climbing up into her throat, her fingers tightening around her staff.

Fight, Daryl decided for them, hissing at Thomas and Carl to stay put as he dared forward on silent feet. Meeting the latter's single eyed gaze to reinforce the notion, she moved to follow, the dark hallway threatening to engulf each of them as they slipped into it. Sophie’s gaze touched on the width of Daryl’s protective back as she struggled to keep her weight even, placing it upon her wounded leg, her jaw clenched in an attempt to contain the pain that licked at mid thigh, at her hips, with each step. Lingering by the door as Daryl cleared the first bedroom, she supported herself against the frame with a single shoulder, her stance less than readied. Realising the carelessness of her relaxed position, she corrected herself as he turned to study it, her lips pressed as she nodded at his questioning glance.

Moving on, leaving him to slip in behind her, she used the bladed end of her staff to push back the next door, it hanging loosely on its hinges as it swung back to expose a tiny bathroom. Sliding her hands down its length, she then adjusted her position to pull back the moulded shower curtain, two pistols hovering ready above her shoulders. With the bathroom clear they moved to the next bedroom, anticipation growing as they paused between the split doors mid-corridor, Sophie twisting to motion for Rosita to follow her, gaze touching on where Thomas and Carl watched anxiously, as Tara and Glenn took the opposite side. It was no sooner than she stepping over the threshold into the master bedroom that feet pounded towards them, Daryl raising his pistol in one swift movement to bury scattered bullets within flesh.

Though that man had been less than silent in his approach, the one concealed behind the loosely hanging door Sophie moved through did, he stepping out from his hiding place to swing an axe over his shoulder. Acting on reflex, she threw up her staff to protect herself, the width of wood splintering upon impact with the sharpened steel, he retracting it to make a second attempt. Moving quicker than he did, a third making himself known with a clatter from the opposite side of the room, she wrapped her staff around his temple, it doing just that as the wood snapped entirely. With no time to dwell on the fact, she scrambled for her knife, a hand wrapping around her jawline to force her up against the mirror between them, glass shattering on impact.

Kicking out at his groin, knowing that she was only putting herself in the way of the bullet that someone no doubt tried to put him down with, she scooped to collect a shard of glass, it slicing the rough skin of her palms as she gripped it tightly. As he moved for her once again, she swung to bury it within the side of his neck, blood gushing out over her fingers, down her wrist and arms, as his weight toppled over her, her previously wounded frame loosing its constant battle with balance. Each breath came in laboured, shallow, waves as she twisted her head to glance back at where Rosita had too handled her own assailant, her hair ruffled, knife dripping with blood, and scowl twisted almost impatiently.

It was only then that Sophie unwrapped her hand from around the shard of mirror, stretching out the tingling in her palm as she watched the way Daryl hurried over the threshold to help Glenn and Aaron lift the body from on top of her, despite their lack of need for it. His rifle was shouldered in a manner that told her that he had missed the fight, having moved to check the other rooms before his own bullets had even settled in the chest cavity he had shot them at, he entirely unconcerned about anything or anyone else as he knelt to help her sit up. His almost frantic hands first touched at the cut that spanned the width of her palm before moving to check her other injuries, both old and new, thankfully having already found the worst of it.

“You’re okay.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement, it acting as a balm to the shock that seemed to cloud her thoughts entirely. Accepting the hand he offered with her unwounded one, she straightened to scan the room in search of the splintered pieces of wood, as if she had somehow imagined it all together. Her already shallow breath caught in her throat, pressure building in her chest at the sight, as she located her staff, the bladed and blunt ends no longer connected, the weapon served just below where she had so often placed a defensive hand. Swooping to gather the two pieces, her breath escaped as a tight, tearless, sob, it enough to make her feel just as stupid as she was devastated. Not knowing what to do, or how to fix it, she turned to Daryl for help, her gaze pleading as she held out the shortened lengths desperately.

He stepped forward without hesitation, taking them from her to dutifully work at puzzling them back together. Letting him work, she blinked against the tears that pricked at her eyes, Sophie glanced down at her booted feet, they brushing over the handgun holstered at the man’s hips. Glancing over the way Daryl forced the splintered pieces together with all the confidence he could muster, she knelt to pull it from leather with loose fingers. It was as she stood that her eye caught on the markings engraved into its stock, the pad of her thumb brushing over the craved drawing as she lifted it to study the barbed bat with a frown. Twisting in her place, hands working without instruction to secure the weapon in the waistband of her jeans, she considered the sprawled man, the glass she had embedded beneath his jawline an almost translucent red.

“We can fix it,” Daryl promised her as she turned away from her attacker, her brows rising in silent question. “Heaps of tape will keep it together, some superglue would be even better.”

She just nodded, smiling a soft thank you at him as she hesitantly took the joined pieces from his hands, they falling apart under the weight of gravity alone. “It won’t be the same, though, will it?”

“No,” he frowned, almost as if he were in pain, the hair over his eyes swaying as he shifted to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders all too briefly. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear in that moment, but it was the truth, and he knew which was more important. “I don’t think it will, Soph.”

“You guys all right?”

“We’re good,” Tara turned from where she hovered over the threshold to smile at Carl’s hesitant question, it seeming out of place amongst the blood that stained the floors. “We going to do something about these guys?”

“Supplies have already been found,” Glenn shrugged, motioning back to the kitchen as they collected themselves, each studying the bodies as they considered what their next move would be. “We’ll salvage what we can in here, dig up the fuel and the weapons from the backyard, and take it home. We’ll have to scout for another. Maybe closer to home.”

Each of them just nodded at the notion, Daryl swallowing any complaint he had to let Tara take Sophie, she and Carl leading her back to the kitchen to sit her down at the island. Using the first aid kit that they found opened and picked at in the master ensuite, the other woman worked to stop the bleeding and then clean the cut on her palm, the both of them deciding that it looked worse than it actually was as the others dumped the previously scattered supplies by the front door to move out the back one. Applying pressure to the wound, watching as crimson seeped through the bandage, Sophie glanced up to study the way Thomas stood a little too straight against the wall, his fists bundled around nothing in particular and eyes unable to find something to settle upon.

“Hey, what you did,” she smiled up at Carl as he offered Tara what remained of a bottle of water to wash the cut, he frowning at the notion. “Your dad would be proud.”

“I didn’t do anything?”

“Exactly,” Sophie huffed, glancing down to frown at the stream of diluted blood that ran down her forearm. “I know you, and I know that wouldn’t have been easy.”

He studied her with his remaining eye for a moment, he lifting a hand to awkwardly touch at the bandage that covered the open wound of the other subconsciously, he not realising that it had become an anxious habit of his. Silence settled over those that had remained inside as they waited for the others, Sophie’s hand sufficiently bound upon their return. Heaping each of the supplies into their unarmed grasps, they then moved out onto the porch, leaving the front door to swing on its hinges as they trudged down the drive, seven and a half pairs of eyes brushing over the seemingly empty street. Loading less than festively into their respective seats, Sophie retreated into herself a little, her eyes settling upon the tiny shards of wood that she clutched so tightly at.

The long drive back to Alexandria was filled with debate, Daryl sure that those men had belonged to the same group as Dwight, as the ones that he, Sasha and Abraham, had met on the road the day that the walls had fallen back at the safe zone. Aaron wasn’t so sure, suggesting that they could have been a nomadic group, that he had come across ones like them in the area before, knowing that they would again. Sophie didn’t care. It didn’t matter who they had been or where they had been from, because they were dead, gone. All for a roof and some emergency supplies. That was the reality of the world they lived in now, however. It wasn’t treading carefully to avoid rotters, not fighting over weapons and medical supplies, but dying over a can of beans and half a bottle of fresh water.

“Why would they be squatting in our safe house if they had something, if they had somewhere, else.”

“Dwight, that guy that jumped me in the burnt forest, he an’ his wife were running,” Daryl disputed knowingly, Sophie unable to help but remember the sight of the pair perched upon his bike. “Maybe those bastards were, too.”

The argument continued without any clear winner until they reached the turn off for the welcoming steel walls of Alexandria, the sky beginning to grey above their arrival. As they slowed to a stop, flashing once at whoever was on duty in request to open the gate, Sophie glanced down at the pistol she had given to Daryl as evidence to his case, her gaze settling upon the engraving as it was briefly illuminated, her stomach twisting at the thought of a much bigger threat than what they were prepared for. Past experience made her cocky, however, convincing her that there wasn’t anything that they weren’t equipped for, not after everything that they had already been through.

Her body swayed under the jolted momentum of the van as Glenn coaxed it into first to all but roll through the gate and into the darkened community, the ends of her staff anchoring her into place. It was as they pulled over onto the side of the road, each of them climbing quietly from their seats, that Sophie found herself surprised to be engulfed by the suburbia that was Alexandria, the palpable disappointment and silence that followed their return akin to that of which had accompanied most of their runs back at the prison. Glancing over the less than modest houses, she instead considered the bleak walls and large, chain-link fences she had expected. Realising that they weren’t really there, that things never really changed, she shifted to once again consider the shards of wood she held so unwaveringly.

“I’m telling you, this means something, means they are keeping track of their weapons,” Daryl started once again as they abandoned the truck and collected supplies in search of Rick. “This wasn’t stolen. They all have the same mark.”

“Hey,” Maggie frowned at the somewhat tense atmosphere as she joined them as they moved through the quiet community, Glenn pausing to plant a soft kiss on his wife’s awaiting cheek. “How did it go?”

“We had to pull the supplies from the third,” he sighed, offering Thomas a casual farewell as the teenager attempted to sulk off unnoticed, Sophie’s gaze lingering on him and his hurried departure as Glenn continued to tell Maggie about what had happened.

“Is he okay?” She questioned Carl with a whisper as he climbed up onto the porch of Vincent’s house to knock on the door, the older of the brothers offering them a tentative wave as they continued. “Seems a little shaken?”

“I don’t know,” the one beside her offered, his gaze shifting from where he too glanced over his shoulder to look at her. “But back there, at the house, I wanted to help you guys, and I think he wanted to as well, but, it seemed like maybe he wanted more than that.”

“Sophie,” a familiar voice pulled her from her hushed conversation, she, Carl and Daryl twisting to consider the way Vincent jogged after them, frown etched upon his features, the doorway Thomas stood in left open in his hurry to catch them. “Tommy, he told me what happened, you guys okay?”

“By the same bastards that Sasha an’ me dealt with that time,” Daryl grumbled, the absence of Abraham’s name seeming to hang heavy over the moment of silence that followed. “It had to be.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We're all okay,” Sophie redirected the conversation with an amused smile as the run team climbed the porch steps to move through the front door of the big house in search of Rick, she backtracking as she entered the kitchen to consider the figure standing before the hung map of the greater region. “What are you doing?”

Casually, Paul turned to smile at her, the coloured pen he had been drawing with falling from the paper to be held in an idle hand as he simply shrugged. “Just waiting.”

Before she, or anyone else, had a chance to question what exactly he was waiting for, their attention shifted to the sound of familiar footsteps climbing down the staircase before her, Sophie momentarily remembering who they had come in search for and why. Momentarily, because all rational thought escaped her as she considered the way Rick and Michonne scrambled over their clothes, the pair faltering mid-dress as they took in the audience that awaited them at the base of the stairs. No one made any comment, each of them seeming to pretend that they hadn’t noticed, even Carl, who shifted awkwardly by the door as he met his father’s unreadable gaze.

“You said we should talk,” Rick sighed, almost impatiently as he rounded the final step to move through the kitchen towards Paul, gesturing at the dining room table incontestably before flicking the light switch to flood the room with it. “So let’s talk.”

“I checked out your arsenal. I haven’t seen anything like that in a long time. You’re well equipped,” he started, navigating the wooden table to lower himself gracefully into the seat across from the other man, Sophie’s brow line knitting together as she stepped forwards to lean against the wall that separated them and the kitchen. “But even after considering what hasn’t been unpacked, your provisions are long. Very low for the amount of people you have. Fifty-four, right?”

“More than that.”

“I’m from a place that’s a lot like this one,” Paul confessed, his gaze shifting to consider Sophie almost apologetically as her frown deepened. “Part of my job is searching for other settlements to trade with. Back on the road, when we met, I took your truck because my community needs things. I stayed because I planned to steal it during the night.”

“Fuckin’ told you so.”

“I didn’t because I saw that you are good people, and now I see that this is a good place,” he continued, regarding Daryl’s comment with an amused smirk. “I think our communities may be in a position to help each other.”

The room fell entirely silent for a moment, each of its occupants processing the information, some having moved on to the prospect of trade while others dwelled on the confession. “Do you have food?”

“We’ve started to raise livestock,” Paul nodded at Maggie’s somewhat hesitant question, his laced fingers coming to rest on the table in front of him as he addressed her. “We scavenge, we grow. Everything from tomatoes to sorghum.”

“Tell us why we should believe you,” Rick prompted as the previous, contemplative, silence dared upon them once again. “Tell me why I should trust you after you lied to us all?”

“To be fair, Rick,” Sophie piped up, straightening from her position ever so slightly, her gaze on his stiffened shoulders. “We didn’t tell him about this place either.”

“I’ll show you. If we drive, I can take you back home in a day, and you can all see for yourselves who and what we have to offer.”

Before her, the older of the two men deliberated the offer, one hand resting upon the smooth wood of the table while the fingers of the other touched at the bristles on his chin. “Wait,” Maggie mused before he had a chance to do so completely, she leaning forward in her seat to address Paul once again. “You’re looking for other settlements. You mean you’re already trading with other groups?”

Considering the prospect of not just others, but other groups willing to band together, Sophie shifted in her place once again, her eyes meeting the blue, maybe green of Paul’s as he leant back in his seat to glance over those that awaited his answer, trademark smirk daring at his lips. “Your world’s about to get a whole lot bigger.”








Notes

I know it's not the chapter you wanted or expected, but really, you should know better than that by now. I promise I'm not going to make you wait ninety-two chapters again, but I am going to make you wait. Regardless of its lack of sexual content, I loved this chapter, I loved the sense of simplicity and home that I felt writing the first half of it. I hope you enjoyed it as well. As much as you can having - in some cases - no doubt convinced yourself that sexy time was coming.

Big thanks to LisaP10, Sanders151, Spock, JetCmoon, Maxxx, Thanya and acidburn1209 for leaving your lovely comments. You guys are the bomb-diggity. Seriously. Can't get these chapters up without you. Also, I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Go on, feed the writer.

While I have you here, I wanted to keep to the theme of last weeks notes section and talk about what comes after this story has finished. I have considered everything. From a different character and the same storyline, to all new ones and an all new story. I'm constantly changing my mind, redeciding and replanning, only to come back to the reason I wrote this story in the first place. To build the skills needed to write my own original story with the intention of one day having it published. That is still a road that I hope and plan to start down by the end of this year. It isn't going to be an easy one, and I hope that some of you will join me on that journey to offer feedback, opinions and motivation. That's something I will approach you with when the time comes.

In saying all that, please know that it is all subject to change, forty chapters is a lot of chapters, and knowing me and my forever changing ideas, it is a long fucking time. I might just end up writing about Sophie and Daryl forever...

Comments

Who's here on 2020 for a re-read? :D

Tee- Tee-
4/17/20

@QueenUchi

New readers make my heart sing, especially when they start this journey ten months after I ended it (abit abruptly but we won’t get into that because it’ll make me sad again).

Thank you you so much for leaving a comment. Nothing is more motivating for the unmotivated than a little bit of love. Whenever I get a comment from someone new all I find myself wanting to sit down and grill them with a million different questions.

If youre chasing updates about any eventual stories I write, please follow me on instagram @ sophyl_

Thanks a million again!! xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/28/18

thank you @sanders151 for recomending me this fanfic

Your fanfic has been in the center of my life for the whole month November. Let me just tell you that im in love with everything about this story. Im even at loss of words about how amazing this journey has been.

There have been moments when i actually had to get up and calm down from all the feelings may they be joy sadness or just extreme suffering. Ive been cheering, i've been crying to the point of ugly sobbing, ive been screaming while reading this all.

I dont even know how to tell you how i feel about this fanfic there arent any words for it so ima just AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH about it cause thats the closets that i can think off "insert all the feelings i cant express here"

I am just so thank full for all your time and effort and everything youve put into this story. Cause WOW youre an amazing writer and when you do make your original story please do know that I WOULD LOVE TO READ THAT TOO.

This journey has ended but it will forever be in my heart.

QueenUchi QueenUchi
11/27/18

@Sanders151

I was so surprised to see a new notification on this story after all these months. Thank you so much for taking the time
to comment, I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read since. Please feel free to leave me updated on your thoughts xx

aryaaa aryaaa
11/25/18

Hello,

It's been a looong time since i've read this story. Life got busy and i totally forgot to finish it.

SO i decided to reread everything and lemme tell you...I STILL LOVE IT AS MUCH AS THE FIRST TIME.
Im currently at chapter 62 (right after fort hill) and i can't wait for what is to come.


Sanders151 Sanders151
11/15/18