𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒, Daryl Dixon

⁶³, KITCHEN LIGHT

Vex only nodded, watching Maeve lay down the rest of her cards before placing one in the discard pile to end the game.

"See you later, Zep."

Zeppelin stared as Maeve hopped up, descended the front porch steps and took off down the street. She turned back and tossed a way toward the girl before disappearing around a corner.

"Hey, looks like you made a friend."

"Something like that."

Dean raised a brow at Zeppelin, but she shook her head and collected the cards quickly, entering the home in front of Vex and Dean. She spotted Carl, playing his own game of cards with Noah, nodding once to the boy. He whispered something to Noah before standing, quickly following Zeppelin through the home until they found a secluded corner in the kitchen.

"So?"

"So. . ."

"What do you think?" Zeppelin questioned, leaning against the counter.

"I like the people. I just don't want us to get weak."

Zeppelin nodded, looking down at her feet as Carl stepped beside her, mimicking her position of leaning on the counter.

"What about you?" Carl questioned lightly.

"I think it's weird," She admitted, "It's not like the prison, this is. . . running water, and school, and. . . Maeve said they bake here."

"And you have a problem with baking?"

  "No," She said, rolling her eyes, "I. . . it's just. . . I don't know if I can do it."

"What?"

Zeppelin expected Carl's reaction. He was entirely perplexed, standing straight and moving to be directly in her eyeline.

"But--"

"We have to be normal if we're here. I don't know if I can do that. . . I've tried, so hard, to stay the same. To be. . . optimistic and open and be friends with anyone we meet but. . . I dunno, I guess this place, just being here, it makes me. . . makes me wonder if that's really what I am anymore."

Carl frowned as Zeppelin picked at her nailbeds.

"I just don't know who I am anymore. I don't know how I fit here."

Carl hesitated before claiming the spot beside her again. She hadn't looked up yet, still staring at her hands, her open unmarred palms as if they were stained permanently.

"You're my best friend."

Zeppelin smiled sadly, her chest tightening at his words.

"You're strong and smart," He continued quietly, "You're nice, selfless. . . You're a good person, Z. You stick up for what's right."

"Even after I killed my dad?"

"He was going to hurt you. You and your mom, you didn't have a choice—"

"You always have a choice."

Zeppelin's voice was quiet, and she finally looked at him with tears brimming in her eyes.

"If I killed him, how am I any better than he is? What if that's something genetic, something he passed along to me?"

"No—"

"But you don't know that Carl, because sometimes when I'm angry, and all I see is red, I know he's my father. What if I ruin everything here? What if--"

Zeppelin clamped her mouth shut as Carl grabbed her hand tightly. He was looking at her with such sureness, that Zeppelin wondered how people ever disagreed with him. He was so sure of himself, so convicted in his way of thinking.