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The Hunter Within

Begin Again

Though the early morning sky was just beginning to pale over the rooftops of Alexandria, Daryl wasn’t surprised to hear movement from within the infirmary as he climbed the steps to cross the porch, the fingers of his left hand clutching tightly at the handles of two different coffee mugs. Stealing an anxious glance through the glass plane of the front door, he used the other to knock, cursing at the way coffee spilt over the rim of both mugs, the hot liquid running down his knuckles to pool in the spaces between his fingers. As rushed steps moved towards the door, he worked at dividing the load between hands, his nose scrunching at the bitterness as he licked at the residue resting on the left.
“Hey,” he mumbled, straightening awkwardly as the door opened before him, Denise peering through the gap with wide eyes. “Soph here?” He pressed, despite already knowing that she was, as she stepped aside to let him through. She wasn’t anywhere else these days. “She didn’t come home last night.”
“They’re in the front room,” the timid blonde gestured before withdrawing the hand to push her glass up her nose a little, closing the door behind them. “It’s been a rough night.”
“Which one of them hasn’t been,” Tara added rhetorically, Daryl’s gaze snapping to where the woman watched on from the kitchen bench, her own fingers curled around a spoon of oatmeal.
It hadn’t escaped Daryl that she was always here, no matter what time he stopped by, nor did the looks that she and Denise shared when they thought no one was looking. Forcing his stare away, more than willing to ignore the matter, he glanced over the man sat beside her, slumped somewhat weakly in his chair. The slow healing gunshot Scott – one of Heath’s supply runners – had picked up the day of the quarry meant that he was one of the last remaining inpatients, the others having been moved back into their own houses to nurse the wounds of what had happened that night.
Just nodding in response, Daryl took a sharp left, pushing the handle with his elbow and cringing at the dull ache that flared from the shoulder he used to nudge the door open, his eyes brushing over the dimly lit space and the three figures that occupied it. The room smelt like he expected a hospital too, the nose tingling sterilisation only managing to cloud the undeniable smell of open flesh and blood. Of the three, only one was awake, Rick glancing up from the ratted sheriff hat he fiddled with as Daryl silently offered him one of the mugs. Neither of them spoke as he took to leaning against the back wall, placing the other on the bench that occupied the rest of it as his eyes raked over where Sophie was curled up on the armchair, her bruised features smoothed with sleep.
“You look like shit.”
“I feel it.”
“How’s he doin’?”
“Better,” Rick nodded, his voice rough with exhaustion as his own gaze moved back to where Carl lay before him, his right eye bandaged and left arm littered with tubes and wires. “Thanks,” he added, lifting the mug as if to support the notion. “I need this.”
“You slept yet?”
“Not yet. The alarm is set for a changeover, though,” he confessed, a soft smile daring at his worn features, the room falling victim to silence one again. “I was just thinking, about how before Carl was even born, Lori did all this research on doctors and paediatricians in our area, even in the next county over… This is our son, she would say when I told her that her standards were ridiculous, I need to know that he is in good hands…” Rick spoke carefully, his tone just as unwavering as his gaze, the mention of Lori catching Daryl off guard. “Who would have thought that the right doctor was actually not a doctor at all, and that even without the degree and fancy certificates Lori searched so hard for, she would be the reason that both of my children are alive today…”
Knowing that the man wasn’t expecting a response, Daryl glanced over at Sophie’s sleeping frame, his teeth raking over the inside of his cheek as he considered the fact with a swelling sense of pride. He had heard about what she did that night, over and over again, from Alexandrian’s and his own group alike. He had heard how the bullet shattered the bone of Carl’s eye socket and how she dug it out from torn flesh, he had heard how it was almost indistinguishable from the exposed brain. He had heard it all, all the praise when residents stopped him to ask how Carl was doing, but no one ever asked how she was doing, asked if her hands had stopped shaking and if she had stopped tripping over her words when she spoke. He had heard, but he hadn’t seen, not like Sophie had, not like she still did.
He was glad to see that she had showered, her blood stained clothes swapped for a top she almost swam in, it too big around her constantly shrinking frame. I’ll start hunting again, he decided at the sight, a stirring sense of guilt moving his eyes away from the sharp slopes of her collarbone to the yellowing bruises that were only just beginning to fade from her skin, over the scabbing cuts and the damp hair that clung to it. She needs protein, he noted, thinking over the instant meals she had endured over the last couple of nights, the same ones she had lived off since they had arrived, probably since the prison. Just like Sophie, Rick hadn’t left the infirmary since that night, but unlike her, he hadn’t showered, he hadn’t left Carl’s bedside for more than a few, hurried minutes.
“She talk to you about the other day?” Rick questioned, catching the way Daryl studied the injuries she had acquired.
The room fell silent for a fleeting second, for a single, sharp beep of the monitor, a single heartbeat. “No,” he sighed, glancing up at the other man through strands of stray hair before turning to touch at the handle of the cooling coffee beside him. “But not for lack of trying.”
“I take full responsibility for her lying,” he admitted, leaning forward to set the hat aside, his elbows resting on his jeaned knees. “I couldn’t afford to have you thinking with your heart. I needed you out there.”
“Yeah,” Daryl nodded, acknowledging the truth in the notion, his eyes busied in the way the coffee rippled beneath his touch. “Did she talk to you about what Tara said?”
“About Morgan and the wolf?” Rick raised a questioning eyebrow, glancing up at the mmhmm that Daryl hummed, his hand moving from the ceramic of the mug to fold over his chest. “Bits and pieces.”
“’Parently he hurt Carol, knocked her out ‘cause she tried to kill him,” Daryl offered, settling into his stance a little. “Had him locked in the brownstones overnight. Said he could change or something.”
Rick groaned at the notion, leaning back in his chair to press the pads of his fingertips against his temple. The room fell silent as the other man looked to his son, almost studying the soft rise and fall of his chest. “I’ll talk to Carol about it.”
“Tara said that Carol didn’t want anyone to know,” he deflected, not wanting to get the young woman in any sort of trouble. “Made Rosita, Eugene and Denise promise, too, but Tara isn’t happy about Denise getting dragged into it, though.”
“Then we leave it,” Rick decided as he stifled a deep yawn. “Trust that if Carol thought we needed to know, we would,” he decided, nodding to himself ever so slightly, his head drooping under its own weight. “In the meantime, we’ll keep our eye on Morgan.”
“In the meantime,” Daryl corrected, raising his eyebrows as the man stiffened, already knowing what was coming. “We all think you could do with some fresh air. Michonne’s got breakfast on, said she’d drag you there if I couldn’t get you to leave with your dignity. The both of you.”
“But –”
“Ass Kicker misses you. Doesn’t understand why her brother and father aren’t coming home. Been whining all morning, refusing to eat.”
It was a lie, but it was enough to have the other man straightening as he admitted defeat, his eyes lingering anxiously on his son. “I could do with some breakfast,” he sighed, not being able to deny his daughter as he stood tall to stretch out his stiff joints, nose scrunching as he caught a whiff of his own stale odour. “And maybe a shower. Maybe.”
“Michonne was thinking that she could hang out here today,” Daryl added as Rick turned for the door, his intention of not being long all too visible in his tense frame and almost frantic eyes. “Abe could do with a hand coordinating the clean up.”
Michonne was, huh?” Rick huffed as he pulled at the loose hanging door, hesitating before it to consider the innocent shrug he got in response before glancing back at his son one last time. “We’ll see.”
Listening to the muffled voices from the other side of the wall, Daryl smirked at the other man’s promise of being no longer than five minutes, knowing that Michonne and Carol weren’t about to let him leave so easily once he stepped foot in the house. It wasn’t until the front door clicked shut and the familiar footsteps moved across the porch that was hidden by the wall adjacent to Daryl that he dared a glance at Sophie once again. She had stirred ever so slightly at the noise, shifting in her confined space into a more comfortable position. Though the space between them was too great, Daryl held his ground, all too aware of the sleeping figure between them.
Studying the way her eyelashes lay against her cheek, the way her lips were parted ever so slightly with sleep, he felt an increasingly familiar urge to touch her swell within his chest, the sight of her holding his breath captive as he considered the days that had passed since she had stitched him up, her fingers pressing against the exposed scars on his back. He shifted uneasily at the thought, the ridged markings itching for attention. It had surprised Daryl that it had been so easy to have her see them, to have her touch them, after they had gone so long without either from anyone. What didn’t surprise him, however, was the way gazes lingered as she worked, both familiar and unfamiliar eyes brushing over the secret he had carried for so long, for longer than the dead had been roaming.
No one said anything. Days passed and the troubled looks from his family eventually stopped, the unspoken questions made way for conversation and everything returned to normal. They all have their own scars, after all, he concluded, not having missed the understanding that played in the way Carol had touched at his arm, or the attempt to that played in Glenn’s dark eyes as they worked. With that, his eyes parted with the contours of Sophie’s face, travelling down the slopes of battered skin to rest on the way the shirt she wore hung loosely from her shoulders, the left buried within the cushions of the armchair, the right barely hidden by her untied hair.
Trying not to think of his brother, Daryl studied the ridges of the healed wound there, skin warped and deep red, and covered muscle not as strong as it had once been. The scar was by no means pretty, an ugly reminder of the past, and yet, there it sat, nestled within the smooth contours of Sophie’s shoulder in such a mesmerising way that Daryl found himself considering it’s beauty and that maybe, she was the same in the ones that adorned his back. Snaking a single hand over his shoulder, he touched at the length of his own, it stretching across his shoulder blade, it one of the smaller that he had collected. Considering each of them with a sense of uneasiness, the pads of Daryl’s fingers hovered over the slight rise through the fabric of his shirt for a moment longer, the poorly healed skin yearning for the comfort of a different set of hands.
Letting his gaze fall back to Sophie, he considered those she tucked beneath her cheek for support, the skin washed of any evidence of their true potential. Over the years, they had hardened with her, strengthening into tools capable of protecting herself, capable of killing. Biting down on his lip, he frowned at the notion, knowing that they were capable of so much more than violence. How could he believe otherwise when she had held him so gently, when the tips of her fingers brushed against his forearm, a teasing smile playing at her chapped lips. When Carl lay before him, the rise and fall of the boy’s chest only the most current evidence against the notion.
Considering the way Carl seemed almost too big for the single mattress he lay on, Daryl was forced to consider him less as a boy and more of the teenager he had become seemingly overnight. He wasn’t entirely certain how much time had passed them by since he had first met Rick’s son, only that they were quick approaching the second autumn, but found that he was able to measure the years in each foot he grew, in the way his childlike features melted away, his father evident in the angle of his jaw and in the calculating nature of his eyes. The realisation caught Daryl by surprise, his throat tightening as he found a young man lying before him, as he paused to consider how close they had been to losing him.
The Grimes kids were more than just that, to him, to Sophie, to everyone else in their group. They were the future. They were what the world would become once they all left in behind. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Daryl found himself refusing to consider the notion any further, refusing to consider a world where Sophie didn’t exist. He had sampled it once before and had no intention of going back there anytime soon. As if to save him from further thought on the matter, from the way his eyes sought comfort in Sophie’s figure, a shrill beep filled the near silence of the room, the sudden alarm making him flinch as it caught him off guard.
Locating the source, the illuminated numbers hidden behind Carl’s sheriff hat, Daryl rushed to flick off the alarm, despite knowing that it was already too late. Across the bed from where he stood, Sophie forced herself upright with a groan, a single hand coming to rub at her tired eyes before reaching out to touch at the monitor before her. Pulling it around to study the numbers, she worked at stifling the yawn that threatened her weary composure, only adjusting to study the rest of the room once she was happy with what she read there.
“Hey,” she smiled sleepily, gaze flickering from him to the obscured alarm clock as she stood to stretch out. “You’re here early.”
“Carol’s been up since dawn puttin’ breakfast together for the clean up,” he acknowledged, the sound enough to drive him from the couch. “She made you some coffee.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, taking the mug with careful hands, all too aware of Carl’s sleeping figure between them as she retreated. “You should have relocated to my bed.”
In truth, Daryl had considered it, his body weary from the days of cleaning that had followed the fucked up mess they originally called a dry run. “You can’t sleep in that armchair forever. I don’t want to be gettin’ used to it.”
“You could, though,” Sophie dared, eyeing him off over the cup she lifted to her lips, a smile playing in the warmth of her green eyes.
Dropping his own from her teasing nature, utterly lost for words, Daryl worked at hiding the blood that pooled in his cheeks beneath the long strands of his own hair. The room fell still around them as he considered everything that had and hadn’t happened over the previous week, any mention or replica of their kiss falling into the latter of the two. It wasn’t that they had avoided the matter, but rather, just that they had more pressing issues to worry about, Carl being the first and foremost. They were practised in pretending things like that had never happened, but judging by the way the usually casual nature of their coexistence had taken a sharp turn for the awkward, Daryl wondered if they could go on pretending for much longer.
Clearing his throat, looking to chance the subject before he considered any of the other things Sophie’s hands could do, he reached out to touch at the corner of the sheet that draped Carl’s still frame. “Rick said he’s doing better?”
“Yeah,” Sophie nodded, her head dipping as she reached out to fuss over the bandage placement with a single hand, a hint of amusement playing at her tone. “He came to for a little last night. His memory is a little fuzzy, Rick had a good talk with him about what happened... He can wiggle all ten fingers and toes. I would have liked to get him up and about to see how his reflexes faired.”
“There’s plenty of time for that.”
Hmmm,” she hummed, dropping her gaze from him to study the boy for a long moment, lost in thought. “Rick seems to think so, too… I just keep thinking of the reality of this world, you know? Everything is going to be so different for him, there are going to be things he needs to learn all over again. Handling himself out there, handling rotters, is one of them.”
Daryl considered the notion knowingly, unable to deny the logic it held. “When he is up to it, I’ll talk to Rick about taking him out huntin’ or something. Get him out there, living in the real world again.”
“That’d be good,” she smiled, her eyes lingering on the smoothed contours of his face, her lips pressed as she worked at hiding whatever emotion the sight brought forth. “In here, he will be fine, but out there…” Sophie paused, shaking her head ever so slightly, brows furrowed. “Not only has he been blindsided, but that wound... You can see bits of his skull, Daryl. You have to wonder how open to infection it’s going to be. Going back out there, like it was before, in the beginning… That’s not an option anymore.”
“This place is ours,” he practically murmured, eyes meeting the concerned nature of her own. “These guys proved they could keep it the other night. We ain’t going anywhere. Rick’ll make sure of it. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Even so,” she smiled softly, accepting the notion with as much confidence as she could muster. “I looked into skin grafting, just to try and cover the area a little better – Pete had a book on it – but I just don’t think it’s possible. Not right now, anyway.”
“You saved his life, Soph,” Daryl frowned, his own brows furrowing. “He’s still here, an’ that’s all that matters for now. The rest we can figure out later. We have time… It’s – ” he paused, chewing at the inside of his gum as he considered the mantra he had been so desperately holding onto over the clean up – “it’s safe enough here.”
The room fell still around them, Sophie glancing up at him from across the bed, the space between them much too big and much too occupied all at the same time. His words hung over the silence, settling between the beeps of the heart monitor as she shifted her weight almost awkwardly, something that never failed to make him equally as, if not more, nervous. “Daryl, about the other day, I –“
Her eyes moved from where they bore into his own, rooting him in place, heart thumping too loudly, to where the door opened behind them. “Knock, knock,” Michonne pried, the frame creaking as she lingered, sensing the stiffness of his frame and the way Sophie smiled too innocently. “I can come back?”
“No, no,” Sophie welcomed the other woman, Daryl stepping aside to let her move in beside the kid. “He was asking where you were earlier. Said he had something to tell you.”
The other woman attempted and failed to hide the smile that followed as she reached out to brush a lock of hair from the smoothed contours of Carl’s forehead. “Rick had something to eat and Carol growled at him until he agreed to shower,” Michonne added as Daryl folded himself against the wall once again. “I’m willing to bet the last peanut protein bar and we won’t see him until at least lunch time.”
“I’ll take it,” Sophie chuckled, fighting against a yawn that threatened her seemingly fresh mood. “He worries too much to keep away.”
“You’re on,” the other woman beamed, reaching out to shake Sophie’s hand confidently, as if she was entirely unaware of Sophie's aversion to losing anything. “And no cheating. I don’t want Rick rushing down here cause he heard Carl might wake up soon.”
What? I would never do such a thing!” Sophie retreated with a smirk, her eyes shining mischievously, it enough to tie Daryl’s stomach in tight, unnerving knots. It was moments such as those, thick with normalcy and playfulness that he truly realised how out of his depth he was. Drowning.
“Speaking of sleep,” Daryl piped up pointedly, his voice like gravel as he dared a glance over Michonne’s shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Sophie, daring her to contest. “Denise is here, and Michonne is staying. He’s in good hands. You need to look after yourself, too.”
“Daryl’s right,” Michonne backed him up, glancing back at him ever so briefly. “If Rick can do it, you can. But, if I have to tell him that Carl wasn’t awake and asking for him. I’ll be hiding that bar.”
“Not if I eat it first,” she teased, a little less light-heartedly than before, nursing the wounds of being outnumbered. “Fine,” she sighed, catching the way Daryl eyed off the door expectantly. “I’m going. Is the other radio still at the house?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay… Well… I’ll have it on me, so let me know if you need anything,” she stammered, glancing over Carl one last time before taking to the door, Daryl moving in behind her hesitant steps. “Hey, Denise,” she called out, pausing to duck her head out into the stairwell that bordered the opposite side of the makeshift infirmary, a strained yeah replying from a room in the back. “I’m just ducking out for a bit. You good here?”
“Uh… Sure.”
“She’ll be fine,” Daryl groaned, reaching out to grab at her hand as she hesitated, his fingers curling around the warmth of her palm in such a natural way that he had only realised what he had done after the fact.
In his attempt to retrieve it, her own fingers tightened around his, a smile daring at the corners of her lips as she sunk closer into him, dropping her hold to wrap both arms around his waist. He hesitated at the sudden closeness, at the way her body pressed against his, as if he was supporting the entirety of her weight. Stealing a glance at each of the different doors, his mind reeling over awkward possibilities, he folded his own arms around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head as she grew still. They stood like that long enough, the wall clock counting the seconds that passed, that Daryl thought that maybe she had fallen asleep there, his hands snaking to support her weight as he stepped away to see her eyes flutter open sleepily.
“Ain’t no way I’m carrying you,” he chuckled at the sight, despite knowing that he would without complaint, his heart swelling at the way she groaned stubbornly.
Moving through the open door and across the porch, Daryl worked at shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to keep them from straying any further, Sophie busying her own by blocking the sun that assaulted her eyes as they adapted to the outside world. Though the hour was still relatively early, the residents of Alexandria were beginning to stir, the mouth-watering allure of a hot breakfast pulling them out onto the streets, it enough to make Daryl’s own stomach rumble, despite the canned ham and powered eggs it consisted of.
Swapping half-hearted greetings with those they passed, Sophie worked at dodging any questions about how Carl was doing, only offering vague reassurance. Over the early morning crowd that had gathered for breakfast, Abraham was already giving instructions for the day, his tone frustrated enough to carry the theme of the previous days into the one stretched out before them. Between people slacking off on their watch shift or not pulling their weight through the clean up, Daryl was certain that the large man was on the brink of a meltdown, and the fact that the day didn’t officially start until eight sharp would not get in the way of such.
“Daryl!” He called as they tried to navigate around the gathering, Abraham using his size to look over the heads, that coupled with his booming voice making it impossible for Daryl to pretend he hadn’t heard. “You got a second?”
“You go,” Sophie assured him as he turned in search of an excuse, the both of them knowing that she was more than capable of showing herself home, he still not entirely sure that she would stay there. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Traitor,” he groaned as she waved at Abraham from over his shoulder, Daryl knowing that the man drew closer without having to look. Sophie chuckled at the notion, her weary eyes meeting his before she turned for the big house a little more eagerly than he had expected, only pausing to talk to Shelley briefly before brushing her off with an air of politeness Daryl could never achieve.
“Look, I got seven stationed at the different lookouts this morning, another three on wall duty. Five on construction and the rest on clean up patrol,” he continued, Daryl shifting through the numbers as Abraham offered him the clipboard. “Bruce ain’t up for playin’ blocks today, so I gotta replace him on construction, can I pull you from guard to cover me? I’m supposed to be on the shovels.”
“Yeah, sure,” he sighed, not overly ecstatic to be placed on grave digging, the muscles in his shoulders tightening at the very thought of how many they had left. “Who’s on with me? Might make a start before the sun creeps up on us.”
“Jake’s been working with me the last few days, but I think I’ll swap him for you and was thinking about pullin’ either Glenn and Vince from clean up.” Abraham mused over his spreadsheet. “You think that’ll work?”
“Leave our friend from over the border where he is,” Daryl mumbled, pausing to watch Abraham take back the directional arrow he had drawn before turning to scan the space around him for Glenn, finding the younger man by the open garage door of the pantry, instant coffee in one hand and a cooked slice of canned ham in the other. “Glenn!” He called over the bodies between them, pulling him from his conversation with Rosita and Tara, others turning to the sound. “You’re with me.”
By the time Glenn joined him in the ever growing cemetery, moving passed the remaining bodies to pick up a shovel, Daryl was breaking the soil of his first grave, the bandana he kept tied to one of the belt loops of his jeans working to filter the stench of rotting bodies from each breath he took. For once, the other man didn’t say anything, simply excepting his fate in silence as he finished the last of his ham and took to the marked plot beside him. Regretting not grabbing something extra to eat himself, running off what he had managed to poach from the kitchen before Carol swotted him away, Daryl fought against his hunger and the harsh, early morning sun as he worked, shovelling dirt aside until he stood knee deep in the plot.
Standing back to observe his work, Daryl rolled his shoulders before moving to collect the next body, pulling one of the wooden markers Father Gabriel and Olivia had spent the first day putting together, his eyes lingering on the neatly penned name awkwardly. Jessie Anderson. She had been a subject that Rick and everyone else had actively avoided since that night, Daryl only hearing the full story as he and Michonne made the walk back to the big house that first night after. Though he hadn’t spoken two words to the woman, he knew the feelings Rick had less than successfully harboured, he knew the equally so fondness Carol had for her youngest boy, and he knew that Carl had counted the oldest among his new friends.
“You all good?” Glenn frowned, straightening to wipe his brow, it furrowed at the way Daryl’s eyes lingered on the wooden cross.
All but grunting in response, knowing that Glenn knew better to expect anything more than that, Daryl scooped up the hammer from where it had been left by the previous grave to beat the stake like end of the wooden cross into the soft soil, only then turning to retrieve the body it had accompanied. Lowering Jessie into the plot to refill the hole, he couldn’t help but think to the earlier mention of Lori, to the emptiness of the plot he had dug for her. After Rick’s reaction, Daryl wasn’t sure that he would ever get over losing his wife, despite the unpleasantness that had suffocated them – all of them – throughout the final stages of her pregnancy.
Always in favour of busy hands over a busy mind, Daryl worked at patting the soil down over the body before rounding the one Glenn lowered into his own plot, it uncomfortably small in the other man's arms. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he fell back into the rhythm of digging, a layer of sweat coating his body as the sun ascended the cloudless sky above them. It was only the occasional rattle of the main gate, indicating more of the fallen walkers were being taken into the forest to be burnt, or the reloading of a nearby rifle that told them one had gotten a little close to the construction site that worked at breaking the silence that accompanied their work.
Moving onto yet another plot, his shoulders stiff and the stitches of his recent stab wound pulling, Daryl dared a glance over at where Glenn worked before looking over the work he and Abraham had already completed, pausing as his eyes brushed over one of the first plots, Matt’s name sprawled across the horizontal length of the cross. The younger man had fallen victim to the deep scratches that spanned the width of his chest sometime during the night following the breakage in the wall, so silently that if Jake hadn’t been watching him like a hawk, they wouldn’t have even noticed.
Trying not to think further into the way both Jake and Sophie had hovered a little too protectively over Matt in the moments both before and after his death, Daryl took to digging once again, his eyes occasionally flickering over the upturned soil to touch over the grave with a sense of frustration. Gripping at the wooden length of his shovel a little tighter, he worked to recall Rick’s earlier advice regarding Carol and Morgan. Trust that if she thought you should know, he told himself, trying not to consider why Jake should if that were the case, then you would.
“Hey,” a familiar voice broke him from his inner turmoil, if it were possible to call it that after everything they had been through, to pulled Daryl up mid-shovel to greet Rick’s approach before glancing up at the sun. “You two around here hiding from the real work or something?”
Grunting at the notion, Daryl tugged at the bottom of the bandana that covered his mouth. “Michonne hear she lost the bet yet?”
“Not yet,” Rick grinned in returned, a chuckle escaping his lips as he offloaded the plastic cups he juggled in his grasp, Daryl setting aside his shovel to take the mix of preserved fruits. “But I’m sure she will soon. I knew Soph would just be excited to see me under any other circumstance.”
With his own laugh, Daryl looked down at the array of apple, peaches and pears that swam in the sugary juice they had been canned with before lifting the cup to his lips, ignoring the fork it came with entirely. “She hang around long?”
“Not sure,” Rick confessed. “By the time I got my sorry ass down here she had cornered Tobin by the pantry, talking to him about getting supplies for a detachable fence that would run from the main gate and along that road to the back one. Something about flares and leading walkers through.”
Considering the notion, and the sight of Sophie cornering a man Tobin’s size, knowing all too well that she was quite capable of doing so, the trio paused to listen to the main gate as it rattled open, signalling that the others had made it back. “It’ll be done,” Glenn raised his eyebrows, his dark eyes shining with amusement. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“And so it should,” Rick added, pausing to pick at his own fruit mix. “These people proved themselves the other night, proved that they are willing to fight, to adapt. That’s what we're gonna do. We get to begin again here, and we have the knowledge, the people, the resources to do it right.” Lifting the cup to his lips once again, Daryl coaxed the remaining fruit into his mouth before wiping the juices with his forearm. “We gotta start thinking long term… This place, it’s not going anywhere, we aren’t going anywhere.”
Biting down on his lip, Daryl refused to let himself consider Dwight, the men that encountered on the road, despite knowing that one day soon he would have too. We’re not alone here. “I hope so,” Glenn added, glancing up from his own cup of fruit to consider both Rick and Daryl with a sense of anxiety. “I’m kind of counting on it,”
“We all are.”
“Yeah,” the younger man smiled even wider at Rick’s assurance, his unwarranted excitement uncontainable. “I know… I just that… Well… Maggie’s pregnant.”
“Oh?” Rick stammered, the world falling entirely still, his eyebrows raised as he registered the shock of the news much more visibly than Daryl did, he having received the news courtesy of Sophie days before. “Wow…” He sighed, hung jaw moving into an uncontrollable smile. “This is… This is incredible. I can’t believe it, but I really think I should have seen this coming…”
"To be honest, so should have I," Glenn admitted slyly, using his free hand to rub at the back of his neck almost awkwardly, Rick shaking his head fondly at the notion.
“You’ve done good, kid,” Daryl smiled, considering the Glenn he had met at the quarry outside of Atlanta, all confidence and no common sense. “Hershel would be over the moon.”
“We all are,” Rick added, reaching out to touch at the younger man's shoulder before raising his fruit cup in a toast, Glenn chuckling at the sight before following suit. “I’m proud of you, kid.”
Trying to conceal the smile that dared at his lips, Daryl lifted his own cup, never really being one for speeches, let alone congratulating achievements any greater than Merle nailing the new waitress. “Yeah, what he said.”







Notes

Big thanks to Zophie_, Thanya, AliceDays, Kass, Witchy, amberryvonnee and rachelloyd for your ongoing support. You guys are the wind in my sails, haha. Couldn't motivate myself to do this without you all. So give yourself a pat on the back or something.

Hope you enjoy the beginning of a long haul. We've slowed things down a little, but try to remember that these are not based off TV shows so will not be formatted as such. The show usually works on an eight-episode turn around, I don't have that deadline. Hopefully, it isn't too slow moving. What do you hope to read/think will happen in the story to come?

See you in the comments (or on my instagram sophyl_) x

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