Broken strings---➤ Daryl Dixon

22

Somewhere between me sobbing and burying my head into Daryl's chest, Rick had disappeared into the maze of the prison.

According to Hershel the baby, which is a girl, is healthy but will require formula soon.

Daryl offers to get some supplies to which I tell him I'll go with him.

"Are you sure?" Glenn asks.

I nod, "I need to do something."

Glenn squeezes my hand before returning to Maggie's side.

Before Daryl and I leave, I pull Carl into a hug. I don't blame him for not returning it but I still figured he'd need it.

I find comfort in the familiarity of the motorbike vibrations and being able to wrap my arms around Daryl. We have to drive pretty far out to find a store that still has a stocked baby section.

As I step off of Daryl's bike, I immediately spot the two lone walkers aimlessly shuffling down the street. Daryl raises his crossbow but I stop him. Pulling my knife free, I walk over calmly and dodge the claws of the first walker. I plunge my knife in between the eyes of the first one and then use my free hand to push it to the floor. The second one approaches but I kick it in the knee which sends it face-first into the concrete. I get on top of its back and dig the knife deep into its skull, then I pull it out and shove it back in. Again and again. Blood splatters across the flecks of already dried blood on my skin.

I feel an arm pull me up and off of the walker.

"I think it's dead." Daryl looks at me with uncertainty.

I catch myself in the reflection of the store window. I look like a broken mess, my hair sticks to my face in a mix of blood and sweat, but I ignore that and focus on finding baby food. I'm relieved to find that the store's baby section is untouched. Daryl and I silently fill out bags with everything. It doesn't go unnoticed that Daryl glances at the toy sections as well, picking up a doll. He catches me staring at him so I quickly smile,

"It's a good idea." I reassure. 

He nods and tucks it away. The moment passes, but it lingers with me, warmth settling in my chest despite everything.

I sling my heavy bag over my shoulder, the weight of it grounding me. Daryl zips his own bag shut, but I can feel his eyes on me.

"You good?" His voice is low, cautious.

I nod stiffly, my fingers tightening around the strap. "Yeah."

Not a total lie, but not entirely true either.

Daryl doesn't push, but I know he doesn't buy it.

"Let's just get back so the baby has a fighting chance."

There's a rush to my step as I make my way through the courtyard of the prison. Daryl and I show the group, minus Rick, the supplies we gathered.
"Does she have a name yet?" I ask Carl but he shakes his head.
"I had some ideas but I'm not sure."

We sort out some formula for the baby, which feels a bit surreal that it's barely a few hours old. Surprisingly, Daryl takes the baby and the formula off me and does it himself. I figured he'd avoid the child at all costs, but actually he looks wholesome. 

"Look at you," I say with a small smile, nudging his arm. "Natural-born babysitter."

He just laughs and then suggests the name 'little ass-kicker' 

The air around us shifts, the weight of the last few hours settling in. The baby coos, oblivious to the loss she'll never understand, and it makes my heart clench.