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Mibba

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The Hunter Within

North

With the space that remained in the trucks either reserved or otherwise occupied, they had cleared the state of New York within the morning. Daryl had watched from the passenger side window as one state melted into another, not being able to help but remember a time where his world had stretched no further than the mountains of North Georgia, than seedy pubs and run down caravan parks. Shifting ever so slightly, avoiding any obvious movement, he dared a glance between the headrest of his seat and the frame of the truck, his gaze barely brushing over Sophie’s sleeping features before flickering back to the blur of the tall trees, finding the familiarity he had sought in the green of the surrounding forest.
Beside him, Aaron was talking with a lowered voice, he and Cal lost in a conversation about a life neither of them would ever get back. Wasted time, Daryl considered sourly, despite the fact that he welcomed the idle chatter, it favourable in comparison to that of which he had endured in the days passed. The novelty Vincent and Paul had found in pissing him off seemed to have had died off, Daryl wishing that lack of reaction had been its cause of death. He knew that it was quite the opposite, however, that both men had no longer found humour in the way he glared at them, in the way that he mumbled not so empty threats under his breath.
It hadn’t just been the two men that had worked to grant him a wide berth, but the rest of the group, each of them trying their best to avoid his sour mood, a mood that only fuelled Abraham’s taunting, taunting that only made it worse. A vicious circle. While Daryl welcomed the space, while he asked for it, he found himself unable to deny the way his entire being yearned for Sophie, she to seeming to uncharacteristically keep her distance. Mostly, he corrected himself, considering the words she had hissed through a clenched jaw the night before, her impatience weighing heavy on his weary shoulders.
It wasn’t walkers, but it could have been, Daryl reminded himself as guilt threatened upon his resolve, as he dared another glance over his slumped shoulder. It could have been anyone. Blocking his peripheral vision with a clenched fist, it shoved against his cheek, he took to the thinning forest that paralleled them once more, evidence of a fallen civilisation beginning to seep through the greenery. Besides that, the world bordered their journey, the world beyond them, the same one that had them had them entirely surrounded, held only death. Walkers lingered by roads in idle herds, rotten bodies flattened at their feet, smeared across the asphalt.
His gaze followed the figures as they turned to the rumble of their engine, the sight of them only strengthening his resolve, it becoming almost unmoving as they disappeared into the rearview mirror. Despite the evidence of the fact sleeping almost too soundly in the seat behind him, how could Daryl possibly believe that the dead had left any room for good in their new world, that after everything he had done, he deserved anything but the opposite. Tightening the fist in his lap, fingers pressed roughly against the calloused palm, he dropping his gaze to study it, the taste of blood lingering on his tongue as he bit down on the inside of his gums.
Death, he considered, disgusted that he had let those same hands run so impossibly lightly over the contours of Sophie’s body, as if they could achieve anything else but that. But, something argued, his stomach twisting at the way her soft moans had rolled over the skin of his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, they did. They can. They wouldn’t, though, not again. Not if he had any choice in the matter. She had fooled him into believing that he deserved a bullshit fairy tale ending once, and she wouldn’t do it again. He wouldn’t allow it, and neither would the dead. That wasn’t how their world worked. That had never been how his had worked.
His persistent routine brooding was interrupted moments later by a grimy map, it all but thrown into his lap by desperate hands, Cal less than confident in his navigational skills. With the radio crackling angrily, the truck behind them obviously not happy with the sharp turn Aaron took as Daryl corrected their path, Sophie stirred behind him, he, in turn, seeking both solace and distraction in the marked lines. With his attention otherwise occupied with tracking their movements against those that Rick, Abraham and Vincent had spent the afternoon before planning, there was little opportunity for him to dwell on the way her breath washed too familiarly over the slope of his neck as she leant, a single hand grasping at the shoulder of his seat.
Trusting her to be his extra pair of eyes, hers not lingering on the map but instead scanning over the road ahead, he was able to navigate the slowed convoy through the seemingly empty streets of outer Buffalo. Walkers grouped in the place of people, their lazy moans growing excited as they turned to the approach of rumbling engines. No one spoke, save for Daryl’s own huffed directions and Aaron’s infuriating need to confirm each one, as they moved around abandoned cars, their contents and occasional passenger spilt out onto the road. Sophie’s breath seemed to grow deeper, more deliberate, her gaze becoming entirely cautious, suspicious, as they found that their surroundings had become entirely urban in nature.
“We gotta get on to the Niagara Thruway,” a familiar, accented voice crackled over the radio as they threatened upon the slip lane.
Glancing back in the rear vision mirror, Daryl bit back the urge to tell Vincent that he clearly already knew that much, sure that despite the other man’s concern, he wasn’t entirely oblivious to the lines of rusting cars that threatened to block their attempt to do just that. Instead, he glanced up through loose strands of hair to study the road ahead, they having got close enough that signage now offered Aaron further guidance. As he merged onto the thruway, Daryl took to studying the gradual build up of dormant traffic with a twisted stomach, not being able to help but glance back to where Sophie was still perched on the edge of her seat, chin resting on the shoulder of his own.
An undeniable anxiousness settled over the silence that then threatened to consume them entirely as they weaved slower than Daryl would have liked, his gaze shifting to consider the openness, the vulnerability, of their position. “There it is,” Cal huffed from where he too leant forward, his tone strained, forced, as they caught sight of the connecting bridge from where Aaron followed the bend in the expressway. “Hope everyone packed their passports.”
Not turning to consider the attempt of humour, Daryl instead found that an all-consuming nervousness settled over him at the sight of the long bridge, the map not having done it justice. “Daryl,” Rick’s voice crackled through the radio just moments later, it seeming to echo his own worries. “Pull over before you get to the bridge. I want to make sure that thing is cleared first.”
“Got it,” he mumbled, releasing the button to gesture Aaron over to the side, gaze flickering over the blocked lanes ahead, over the stilled chaos of the American customs that bordered it. “Stay here. Keep it running.”
The other man studied his request for a moment before dropping the light grasp he had on the keys, resigning to the instruction with more dignity than Daryl could imagine Sophie would have. Would have, because he didn’t even bother asking her to, instead slipping from the front seat to help her pull her staff free after glancing over the sun-soaked world around them. Releasing the length of wood to her waiting hands, he used that same hand to shield his eyes in search of Rick, finding he and Michonne stalking towards them. Others emerged from their own vehicles at a slower pace, pausing to stretch out stiff limbs and rub tired eyes before joining them at the hood of the first truck.
“Northbound lanes look to be blocked off,” Abraham confirmed as he joined the group, having already moved to survey the visible section of the bridge. “Two southbound, not sure if I could say the same after the quarter mark, though. Would have to go for a stroll to make sure.”
“It’s going to be a tight fit.”
“We’ll have to suck it in,” Michonne sympathised with Rosita’s concern, her dark eyes brushing over the mass of cars, it too big of a job to do anything about.
“There’s no room for error, though,” Sophie chimed in from where she leant up against her vertical staff, brows furrowed. “If we’re crossing, we’re committing. No turning back.”
“Can’t sit around here with our asses hanging out all day,” Abraham nodded to the walker that shuffled from the direction they had come, it on its own not enough to cause them any concern.
“Can’t rush this either,” Rick cautioned, gaze touching on each of them, sensing the impatience that only seemed to be bubbling under the midday sun. “We do this right, or not at all.”
With the last warning obviously directed at the way Vincent eyed the bridge a little too eagerly, the group dispersed, Daryl falling into step beside Abraham as Rick designated jobs, the other man moving towards the sea of northbound cars. Clutching his rifle in both hands, finger daring upon the trigger, they waded through the remnants of the travellers that had once occupied them, small camps dotting the long line of traffic. Upon Abraham’s instruction, they paused at the base of the bridge, Daryl’s gaze brushing over the cars, over the water beneath them, before turning to consider those that Rick had sent to accompany them.
Sophie and Michonne were chatting almost too casually as they moved between dusty vehicles in front of where Heath waited for Tara to catch up. It was only when the stragglers joined them that they continued on, each slipping into practised, readied positions, taking turns in putting down the walkers that their sweep attracted. Dropping the grip he had on his rifle in favour of his knife, Daryl met the rotting frame that shuffled from behind the rusted one of a car with quickened pace, not bothering to catch the walker before he drove the blade through its eye socket in one swift, slightly awkward, motion.
Pulling it free, he let the considered the body only briefly before stepping over it, gaze touching on where Sophie was standing a little too close to the edge of the bridge for his liking, her attention on the water below. “Take a look at this,” Abraham distractingly boomed from his position further up the bridge, his large frame standing upon the roof of an RV that was almost as old and as shitty as Aaron’s. “Someone’s done us the neighbourly thing of tidying up for our arrival.”
Frowning at the notion, Daryl tried to follow the man’s shielded gaze from where he stood, moving closer to the RV when he had little success. Shouldering his rifle and sheathing his knife, he then made the climb, the skin of his palms burning against the metal ladder. From the advantage he had gained, he scanned the length of the bridge with squinted eyes, gaze coming to rest on the cleared nature of the two congruent lanes almost suspiciously. He didn’t like it, not any more than Abraham seemed too, the two men standing in silence as they studied each and every visible inch of the mostly vacant lanes, rotting corpses and scattered wreckage making it only one wide in places.
“This isn’t a coincidence.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Daryl mumbled despite the way his stomach knotted at the thought of crossing it, raising his rifle to take advantage of its scope. Studying the lanes, he found that they had begun to merge over to become northbound, a two lane wide diagonal line across the length of the bridge. “We ain’t got time to sit here and talk about the how’s and the why’s, just that it is.”
“Loose ends make my ass itch.”
“Well scratch it,” he huffed, not pausing to consider the other man as he dropped in aim in favour of the ladder. Touching back down on the suspended asphalt below, Daryl settled into the space beside Sophie long enough to consider her questioning glance with a shrug, barely meeting her curious eyes. “Looks clear, but it ain’t my call.”
“You think it’s safe to cross?” Michonne pried as the small group made a beeline for American ground once again. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder, the weight of the question weighing heavily on them. Turning back, eyes raking over the other woman, he nodded tightly, less than sure with his decision. “Then so will Rick.”
Just as Michonne had suggested, Rick trusted his judgement, despite the uncertainty that both he and Abraham radiated. None of them had expected the crossing to be a walk in the park, having loaded into the trucks that morning all too aware of the shit storm they would be driving into, but they knew that they could handle it. Especially if the path had been cleared for them. Still, they paused to deliberate the map and their options once again, it spread out over the cooling hood of one of the trucks as the small scouting group re-joined the larger one they had broken from, Daryl meeting Rick’s questioning gaze with a nod.
“What are our other options?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tara piped up as Vincent turned to study the sketched border, his grey eyes flickering to consider her and then to gauge Rick’s reaction. “Who’s to say it’s the better one. We have a cleared path, we have daylight.”
“She’s right,” Rosita tread carefully from where she leant up against the hood of the truck, eyes lifting from the map to address the rest of the group. “None of those cars look like they have been started in a long time, whoever did that is probably long gone.”
“Could we leave the trucks here, cross on foot,” Aaron suggested, cringing at his own suggestion. “Find a couple of cars on the other side.”
“We’d have to leave people behind,” Rick discouraged the idea almost instantly. “We’re staying together.”
“So we’re not turning back, and we’re not splitting up,” Paul summarised with raised eyebrows, his arms folded in deliberation over his chest. “That means we’re just wasting time talking about something we should already be doing.”
“He’s right,” Michonne echoed Rosita’s earlier sentiment with a nod as Rick turned to seek her opinion, her dark eyes resigned. “The sooner we do it, the sooner it’s over.”
“The less company we have,” Sophie added with a sigh, it sitting heavy on the reflective silence that followed. “The more daylight to work with if things go south.”
“Any objections? Speak now of forever hold your peace,” Abraham warned, scanning the group before shifting to nod at Rick, his large chest swelling with anticipation. “Let’s do this then.”
“I want Abraham’s truck in the lead,” the man ordered, Daryl shifting to meet his gaze knowingly, assuming his position as the passenger. “Cal and Jesus, you guys are in the back. I’ll drive the second. Michonne, Rosita and Heath are with me. Vince, Tara and Aaron will take the third.” Pausing at the absence of Sophie’s name, Daryl’s gaze darted between her and Rick, the latter gesturing for Jake to join them from where he and the youngest member of their group stood facing outwards on guard. “I want you both with Carl. Do you understand what that means?”
Sophie nodded her gaze touching on Jake’s best guess before brushing over where Daryl stood nearby, her green eyes conflicted, knowing. “You know I do.”
“He is your priority.”
“Rick,” she smiled, a little too nonchalantly for what she was about to say, eyebrows raised. “You know I would die before I let something happen to him.”
He already know that, though, Daryl already knew that, the fact only making letting her go, making the final decision to cross the damn bridge, all the more harder. Hearing it only made it easier for Rick, however, the man taking his leave after silently thanking her, fingers touching at the bare skin of her shoulder in a way that, despite the innocence of the gesture, stirred a sense of jealousy deep within the pit of Daryl’s already knotted stomach. A sense of too familiar stubbornness fought back against the jealousy, against its attempt to shove aside his latest refusal to touch her for the sake of keeping her safe, against how his hand twitched to catch hers as she brushed passed him, it forever stronger.
So instead, he avoided the way she looked at him wistfully in passing, self-loathing bubbling in his knotted stomach as he turned for the passenger seat of the first truck, fists bundled by his side. His knuckles had whitened under the pressure by the time he unfolded one to pull at the door, closing it a little to forcefully as he sulked into the unoccupied seat, those that filled the others knowing better than to ask. Through the rear vision mirror, he watched as the others organised themselves, Rick giving in to what Daryl could only imagine was teenaged bribery to let Carl man the boom gate that they would all pass through moments later.
Daryl held his breath as they did, Abraham coaxing the loud truck through the narrow opening, against the traffic parked before the other barricades. On the other side they paused long enough for Carl to abandoned his only job proudly to take up his seat in the fourth and final truck. Watching the door open and close from his rear view mirror Daryl released the pressure in his chest, it shuddering as his lungs filled once again, before turning to simply nod at where the man in the seat beside him awaited instruction. As if it were also anxious, the truck jolted beneath them before rolling forward a little more smoothly, cars surrounding them on both sides, boxing them in entirely.
Though he had intended to scan the spaces between each one of them, Daryl found himself distracted by the water they crossed as they settled onto the bridge, it nothing like he had seen before. Forgetting himself, forgetting the situation, forgetting the dead, he turned to the backseat almost excitedly in search of Sophie, his heart sinking as he met Paul’s gaze instead. Taking in the way the slight man smirked, not teasingly, but instead comfortingly, he turned back to study the view once again with a hint of disappointment, finding that he was suddenly in no hurry to reach the other side. This is what you would have missed, he considered knowingly, not just if he had refused to come on the trip in the first place, but if society had remained as it had once been.
It wasn’t until they were forced into the centre of the bridge that Daryl found himself able to look away, he glancing out the adjacent windows before turning to the windscreen. Though walkers stumbled out from their various hiding places, none of them posed enough of a threat to concern them, he taking to watching them as they followed the cleared path into the northbound lanes. Canadian customs loomed ahead, that much evident in the large letters positioned above the single building, the two lanes thinning into a single one that would take them through a lowered boom gate identical to the one they had left America through.
Making it distinguishable from the previous one, however, was the single car parked on the other side, its presence enough to have Abraham slowing with a sense of suspicion as they approached. Why just one? Daryl considered, his eyes narrowing on the rusted vehicle as he shifted to open his door, stepping out onto the asphalt to glance back at where Rick frowned from the driver's seat of the second truck. Leaning back into the one he had exited to collect his rifle, he nodded for Cal to follow suit, leaving the crackle of the radio for Abraham to tend to. With light feet and heavy trigger fingers, they moved away from the trucks towards the shade of the structure
Their approach, however, was halted by a figure that stepped out from the both adjacent to the lowered gate, his arms raised in anticipation of the way Daryl stalked towards him without hesitation. Cal’s own aim snapped to the stranger as doors opened and closed behind them, as weapons clicked and the space around them grew almost instantly crowded. The young man appeared to be all confidence, despite the various barrels that trailed his thin, seemingly unarmed, frame. No balls, though, Daryl noted, not at the impossibly tight nature of his jeans, but at the way his covered knees seemed to shake.
“Welcome to Canada,” he offered with feigned indifference moments later, a heavy silence threatening to consume them all, no one making any attempt to humour his feigned hospitality. “Business or pleasure?”
“Business,” Rick replied sharply as he stepped into the space beside Daryl, colt python raised with all the conviction that the younger man lacked.
Already impatient with the small talk, Daryl shifted uneasily, sparing a glance over his shoulder to where Sophie hovered impatiently by the hood of the fourth truck, her gaze meeting his, full of questions he couldn’t answer. “Which is obviously none of mine,” the young man guessed correctly, pulling Daryl’s gaze back to where he slipped from his surrendered position. “Either way, if you want to pass, you gotta pay the toll.”
“In that case, I hope you take card,” Cal scoffed from his position at the head of the group. “None of us are carrying cash.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“We don’t have any supplies.”
“We both know that’s a lie,” the young man dared to raise an eyebrow at Rick’s statement, despite the truth. “But I don’t want your supplies, either.”
“Then what?”
He considered Rick’s cocked head for a moment, carefully at first, before beaming almost unnaturally. “I’ve got a riddle, of sorts, for you. What looks like the dead, and one day will be?”
“You at least could have tried to make it a good one,” Tara sighed almost disappointedly, the grip Daryl had on his rifle tightening at the way the man shrugged apologetically.
“You. Today, if you don’t move.”
“Wrong,” he spoke indifferently, smiling almost smugly. “The correct answer is people, or specifically, a person. One of you stays and the rest can go. That’s how you get the key to move the car.”
“No one is staying with you,” Rick frowned, his word final, as he stepped forward to consider the man with dangerous eyes, lowering his aim as he did, the action less respectful that it seemed. “And you aren’t in any position to be making demands. We have you outnumbered, fourteen to one.”
Without a word, the young man nodded to the booth behind him, a single woman standing by the door, her own weapon raised. “Seven to one,” Abraham corrected, motioning for half of the group to switch their aims before scanning it in search of Vincent. “You wanna shift that car before I have to kill one of your fellow countrymen.”
“I just want to state, for the record, that I wouldn’t give two shits if you did,” Vincent commented in passing, not hesitating as he strolled straight passed the man, seemingly oblivious to the way the barrel of the woman’s rifle trailed him.
“We’re not giving you the keys.”
“We’re not asking.”
Rick’s words hung heavy on the silence that followed, Daryl keeping an eye on Vincent as he set aside his rifle to pull at the driver's door and fold his large frame onto the carpeted floor expertly. The rusted car spluttered to life moments later, it sounding just as bad as it looked. It had started, though, and that was all that mattered. Neither the man nor the woman made any attempt to stop Vincent as he moved the car from where it blocked their exit, neither of them making any attempt to look like that cared in the first place. A quick glance over the rest of the group told him that he wasn’t the only one that seemed concerned about their lack thereof, the air thick with suspicion.
“I just want to state, for the record, of course,” the man continued mockingly as Vincent re-joined the fold, pausing to lift the boom gate, the retreating members of the group turning to listen. “That next time, we won’t be asking either.”
“You’d want to start treading real carefully son,” Abraham warned, his tone growing dark as he stalked forward. “That path you’re on is going to lead you right up to the stairway to heaven to meet your maker.”
“Thought you Canadian’s were supposed to be nice,” Cal questioned Vincent as the others continued towards the trucks, Daryl’s aim remaining unmoving. “So far every one that I have met, have been nothing but bastards.”
“You’ve been here all of five seconds,” Vincent defended himself, his country, despite the teasingly nature of the other man’s tone, despite the one in Daryl’s crosshairs.
With Rick’s own aim on the woman at the booth, her frame hidden behind the thick, ajar, door, Michonne took to the driver's seat of the second truck to coax the large vehicle through the tight opening. It wasn’t until Sophie followed suit, she and Jake peering through an opened window curiously, Carl’s head poking through the two seats, that Daryl and Rick moved. Keeping their aim, keeping their fingers on their respective triggers, the pair circled where the young stranger had stepped out of the way of the trucks to shadow the rest of the group, eyes keeping his as they backed away.
He didn’t say anything, just nodding ever so casually as he turned to seek shelter in the booth he must have come from, leaving Rick and Daryl to converge where the trucks did. Not naïve enough to leave their backs unattended, they trusted their own people to watch them, eyes following their approach, readied hands clutching at loaded weapons. Though he lowered his own aim, Daryl kept a two-handed grip on his rifle, not releasing either of them as he altered course, making a beeline for the back seat of the fourth truck.
“What the shit was that!?” Sophie hissed as he pulled open the door, his eyes touching on her twisted frame before glancing over the shaded booths behind them. “Why are they still alive?”
“Dunno,” he mumbled, it entirely the truth, as he slid into the space adjacent to Carl, the kid looking just as unimpressed, as frustrated, as she sounded. “Let’s just get outta here.”
Sophie made no immediate attempt to do so, her eyes boring into the side of Daryl’s face as he settled into his seat, they narrowing impatiently at his reluctance to look at her. It was with a heavy sigh, Jake diverting her attention to the way the trucks in front of them rumbled forwards, that she turned to grip at the steering wheel. Daring a sidewards glance, Daryl considered the way she gripped at the leather a little too tightly, the muscles of her arms tense. The cab fell painfully quiet, the strain he continuously placed on her patience palpable, as they trailed the third truck, slowly navigating the scattered cars of the increasingly open space only to stop once again.
“What’s happening?”
“Got two busted tires,” Cal replied over the radio, Daryl leaning forward from his sunken position to consider the notion. “They’ve hidden some spikes under some bodies.”
“Stay here,” Sophie growled at no one in particular, and at Carl, all at the same time. Echoing the sentiment, Daryl chose it ignore it altogether, his movements mirroring hers as she left the sanctuary of the truck to stalk along the convoy, staff in hand.
“We got spares, asshole!” Abraham boomed over their approach as he straightened from the busted nature of the driver’s side wheel, his mouth mashed into a tight circle, his middle finger extended to the seemingly unoccupied booth in thanks.
A whir of electricity seemed to fill the silence that followed, the rattle of a lifting carport forcing Daryl’s gaze back from where he too had glanced over his shoulder to check if the serjeants intent had gone noticed. Twisting in his place, he found that not only had that been the case, but more than one of the remotely operated doors had begun to lift, freeing what he could only assume were the previous, undead occupants of Peace Bridge. Quickening, Rick already barking orders, Daryl abandoned any sense of caution to open fire on the mass of rotting bodies that shuffled out into the wide space before them.
The quiet that had laced the two countries bordered only moments earlier was lost to the deafening sound of fourteen weapons being discharged simultaneously, bullets ripping through decaying flesh with varying degrees of expertise. Trying not to consider the déjà vu that plagued the scene before time, remembering a time where he and Aaron had found themselves in a similar, much small scaled, situation, Daryl let the hunter take control. Though it stirred excitedly over his trigger, relishing in the way adrenalin pumped through his surprisingly steady heart, the monster still paused to consider Sophie, to ensure her safety, his entire being eager to have her close.
Knowing that it had kept her alive just as it had him, Daryl worked at locating her amongst the chaos as he paused to reload, eyes searching for the white hair she had bundled lazily that morning. Unable to locate her, his heart quickened, each beat becoming all the more frantic, all the more desperate. Using the butt of his rifle to fend off the first line of walkers, he switched out his empty magazine for the loaded one stashed around his hips, taking aim to put down the next with a single, well-placed shot.
The herd had begun to thin, losing numbers rapidly despite the ground they had gained. Weaving through the rotting bodies, Daryl became less reliant on his rifle, instead seeking the assistance of his sheathed blade. Grunting as he forced it through brittle bone, skull splintering beneath the blade, he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, pulling it free to follow Sophie as she skilfully dodged eager hands. Granted little opportunity to follow her quick movements, Daryl’s attention was forced back onto those that reached out for him, protruding bone managing to brush over exposed skin before he stilled them with swift, practised, stabbing motions.
Sweat beaded along his brow, it ran down the contours of his bloody arms, dripping red on the asphalt below as he gravitated towards Sophie without thought. The advances on his weary frame had begun to grow fewer and further between, his chest heaving as he kicked out to force one into the next, another beckoning for his attention. Driving his blade through the top of its skull, it slipping from brain as the body slumped at his feet, he turned to where they had both corrected their balance, his attempt on them cut short by a swung length of wood.
His eyes met Sophie’s ever so briefly, hers holding his for as long as it took for the next walker to stumble into the proximity of her staff, before she darted under hungry hands, Daryl forcing his gaze from her to catch the rotting frame around the neck. Holding it in place, the walker all but screaming against his hold as she forced the bladed end of her staff up through the back of its skull. Flicking the decay from his hand, he glanced over the body to find that she had already moved on, her retreating frame soaked with both sweat and blood.
Pausing to stab at the walker that advanced on an otherwise occupied Aaron, Daryl shadowed her, his hands moving mechanically over weapons as he did. With the herd growing smaller, the space in which the group fought for did as well, he making a mental note to avoid the living just as he did the dead after taking Rosita’s elbow to the side of the head as she drew it backwards. He wasn’t the only one that fought for space, Sophie all but colliding with Paul as he stepped back from a walker, she stumbling into the rotting frame as she tried to correct herself.
Pausing to drive his blade through the eye socket of the one he clutched at, Daryl left it there as he quickened his pace, she doing the same to the one beneath her. His heart grew desperate at the foresight his removed position offered, it climbing up into his throat, threatening to suffocate him, as a walker took advantage of her position, tripping over its own feet as it reached out to grasped her by the arm. Its teeth dared over the exposed skin of her bicep, her attempt to wriggle out of its grasp entirely unsuccessful, her left hand taking her blade awkwardly.
Daryl was preparing to grab at his belt, to scream for a clean blade, as the skull exploded under the impact of a heavy boot. Paul offered her a quick hands moment later, pausing only to scrape the brain matter from the sole of his shoe, to check that her skin was unbroken, before turning his attention back to the dead. Spinning in her place, Sophie met his gaze ever so briefly, obviously rattled despite the determination she kept. Neither of them made any attempt to close the distance between them, Daryl anchored where he stood by the fear that had settled so heavily over his shoulders, it entirely crippling in nature.
Taking in a deep breath, he managed one in front of the other, he managed to clutch at his knife a little tighter, he managed to continue the task of cutting down the dead as if nothing had happened, just as she seemed to. Daryl moved mechanically, emotionlessly, his fist clenching at his knife as the battle ended, they left standing in a pool of foul blood. His ears rung, the piercing sound deafening as the others gathered themselves enough to understand the productivity of tending to the busted wheels, to the spikes they sat upon. He, on the other hand, remained completely scattered, too busy trying to gather the pieces of his composure to do a damn thing about the way the hunter within sought more blood.
Brushing passed the hand Sophie tried to stop him with, Daryl tossed aside his blade in favour of his rifle, ignoring the way she called out to him, his name muffled under the darkness that cloaked him. Taking aim at the booth, he pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times, as he stalked towards it. Each bullet ricocheted from the glass, they time and effort he put into them shrinking rapidly until it became a steady stream of gunfire, until the bolt clicked mockingly. Resorting to throwing the weapon at the glass, the fist he did the same with was caught by a sure hand, he turning to find himself face to face with an unmoving Rick.
He didn’t say anything as Daryl fought for control, his clenched fists relaxing enough to be returned to him, gaze flickering between the man before him and the head of white hair that hovered anxiously at the edge of the shaded area. Dropping it entirely, he considered the wide eyes that watched them from behind thick glass, loose strands of hair working to hide the narrowed nature of his own. Turning to the sound of Rick’s voice, he caught sight of the way the young man smirked, his fist colliding with the glass plane between them with enough force to split the skin at the knuckles.
“Whoa,” Rick murmured, motioning for Sophie to stop as she rushed forward, as if she would startle him. “Daryl?”
“Hmph.”
“I want to do a quick sweep of the area before we move on,” the other man lied, both of them knowing that he had no intention to stay any longer than necessary. “Soph’s gonna watch these guys for us, you want to back me up?”
“Hmph.”
Not waiting for anything more than that, Rick nodded softly, adjusting his position to touch at Daryl’s shoulder ever so lightly before turning over his shoulder to where Sophie stood. “If either of those bastards steps a single foot out of that booth, shoot them.”
She hesitated for a brief moment, desperation etched into her frown lines as she pulled at the pistol holstered around her thigh, resigning to the request. “With pleasure.”
Hesitating in his place, torn between leaving her alone with them and being nowhere near them all at the same time, Daryl let Rick lead him away, only to find that the more distance the two men put between them and the bloodbath they had been welcomed with, the more the split skin of his right hand began to ache. Rick only bothered as far as the first makeshift camp, the toe of his boot nudging an abandoned bag opened with feigned interest before he turned to consider Daryl, who, in turn, studied the impossible blue of the nearby river before seeking further distraction in the crimson that stained his hands.
“All that time I spent trying to keep Maggie and Glenn separated, I never thought to do the same with you and Soph,” the man joked, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly at the scowl he earnt, despite knowing that it hadn’t been like that at all. “You want to talk about what that was all about?”
“You know what it was about.”
“I do,” Rick agreed, raising an eyebrow at Daryl’s huffed words. “I’m not sure you do, though. This isn’t about the walkers, or about those bastards. This is about something bigger than that.”
“Could have got her killed.”
“The other day?” Rick tried to clarify, Daryl making no attempt to do the same. “Maybe,” he shrugged honestly, having paused to consider the sentiment regardless. “But she chose to come back out here, that was her decision. She didn’t make that because she believes Thomas is alive, because she thought she had to. She did it because she is good at it, because she likes it, because she wanted to. So did you, and so did I.”
Remembering that Vincent had told him the exact same thing in the early hours of the morning they had left Alexandria behind, Daryl bit down on the inside of his gums, his head nodding admittedly. “We needed it, though. Back there, I mean,” he managed, glancing down at his busted fist. “Still do. Just like the prison.”
“Sophie was strong there, I told you that, but that was nothing compared to what she is now. You didn’t have to worry about her then, and you don’t have to worry about her now. She can hold her own, she’s proved that, over and over again.”
“But I do. All the fucking time.”
Propping himself against the frame of the abandoned car, the other man smiled at the confession, it out of place in contrast to the blood that stained his cheeks. “She worries about you, too, more than you will let yourself believe.”
“Ain’t the same.”
“It is,” he assured him from over the dusty, sun-soaked, roof of the car, leaning through its opened passenger window to offer Daryl the broken, long forgotten, cigarette he found there. “What you feel for her is no more or less than what she feels for you, and that, that love, that worry, isn’t a bad thing. It makes you human. She makes you human. You need that, you both need that, now more than ever.”
Considering the prospect as he fished for his lighter, cupping both hands over the flame as he lit the cigarette, Daryl took in a long, contemplated draw before nodding ever so slightly. “Girls like her ain’t suppose to be worryin’ over boys like me.”
“The dead aren't supposed to be walking, but here we are,” Rick shrugged, declining the puff Daryl offered him with a slight shake of the head. “You’re not a boy, Daryl, not anymore,” he added moments later, gaze on the bridge they had crossed, studying it and then him with careful eyes. “You’re a man, and a good one at that, don’t let your doubt convince you otherwise.”






Notes

Forever thankful to Thanya, Tripper, LisaP10 and amberryvonnee for your continuous support. It means more than you realise, so please, keep it up. Also, a big welcoming thank you to JetCmoon, I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts in the future.

Guys. What a week. Long story short, it wasn't my charger that was the problem, my laptop has sadly passed away (and since replaced). I am hoping (perhaps foolishly) that I will get back into the swing of routine updates, but I'm really in no position to be making promises, granted my recent track record. I miss you though! Let's talk. What do you think of the chapter? What do you think awaits them now that they have crossed the border? And now that the first half of the season is almost over, how have you found it? Have you had any obvious smack-you-in-the-face Sophie moments? I definitely have.

See you in the comments 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