Both Eyes Open - Daryl Dixon (under editing)

Some secrets.

As the Rv, the pickup and Daryl on his motorcycle pulled up to the house, everybody stood in the driveway, ready to welcome them, glad to be reunited.

Lara stood on the steps, leaning her front against the back of a pillar, watching the group rejoin and hug one another. She had just showered and changed into clothes Maggie had unexpectedly cleaned for her when she had fallen asleep last night. Her hair hung loose and damp, curling a little as it dried in the heat, giving a different texture to her hair, making her appearance prettier, fresher than the others had seen it before.

Rick stood further ahead of everyone by the house, and looked up at Dale, exhaustedly.

"How is he?" Dale asked, obviously worried.

"He'll pull through, thanks to Hershel and his people." Lori replied from behind Rick, smiling with obvious relief.

"And Shane." Rick added, everyone looking over gratefully to Shane, who looked up curiously, as if he didn't want to be involved in the conversation, standing there in his oversized dungarees, "We'd have lost Carl if not for him." Rick finished with a smile.

Dale nodded and went forward to hug Rick, and Carol rushed forward to hug Lori.

"Thank God. We were so worried." She told her.

"How'd it happen?" Dale asked.

Ricks hook his head, "Hunting accident. That's all... Just a stupid accident."

The group nodded, and most went silent. Daryl hung around by his bike, clutching his crossbow. He looked up at Lara who stood meekly on the porch, watching blankly as everyone conversed together, and then Carol walked toward her. He observed as Lara looked down at the woman in a fleeting confusion, as she was warmly embraced, and then her expression softens, as she returned the hug, frowning into Carols shoulder.

"You good?" Lara asked, as the pair stepped out of the hug.

"I'm good." She nodded in reply, glancing behind her, at the group, together once more.

~~~

Everyone stood around together in a semicircle, facing towards a tall mound of rocks they had formed earlier, out of respect for their fallen brother.

Hershel stood at the centre, having donned a suit jacket, and carrying a small leather bound book, he read,

"Blessed be God, father of our lord Jesus Christ." He closed the book.

"Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character; Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in your embrace. He died as he lived, in Grace. Shane, will you speak for Otis?"

"I'm not good at it. I'm sorry." He mumbled, lowering his head.

Lara, who stood at his side, put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly, and he looked up at her blankly. She watched him, mainly his eyes, in confusion, unable to read his emotions. He seemed... conflicted, but she couldn't tell why.

There was a loud sniff, and Patricia choked, "You were the last one with him. You shared his final moments. Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."

"Okay." He nodded, shuffling on the spot, taking a small step forward. "We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up. "We've got to save the boy." See, that's what he said." He told them, shaking his head as he spoke.