Honey || Daryl Dixon

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It's quiet for a bit. The silence stretches between us. It's not uncomfortable, exactly, but I'm so tired of not talking. People could never shut up, before. I hated it (yet another thing I took for granted), especially when my mother used to throw those unnecessarily grand parties and I'd had ten people trying to talk to me at once. What I wouldn't give to have ten people, at least, talking to me. You never know how much human interaction is worth until you have little to none.

Daryl keeps his head down, his eyes still avoiding mine. He doesn't seem uncomfortable but sometimes you can't tell. Some people have a much better control of how they present themselves than others. The moonlight reflects off of his skin, casting shadows on the ground around him.

"She keeps asking about going home." I'm not sure why I tell him that. It's not as if he's required to care. Maybe it's my pathetic need for conversation surging up again.

Daryl inclines his head to show that he's listening but doesn't reply. In fairness, what is he supposed to say?

I carry on, "She doesn't understand, you know? She's only young. She thinks it one big adventure — like a holiday. I don't know how to tell her otherwise. I don't know how to make her understand."

"She ain't gotta understand." He says quietly, his voice low and hushed as if he's trying not to wake her up, "Just gotta keep 'er safe."

"Harder than it looks, these days."

This isn't the world I imagined her growing up in, after all. I never expected her to have to grow up in a world where she has to defend herself with knives and guns. A world where she'll never know real trust, real love, real family. In this world she can't have any of the things that were available to her before.

Daryl clears his throat, "She's got her momma. Ain't nobody she's ever gonna love more than her momma. She don't need to understand the world right now as long as she's got you here to protect 'er."

I think that's the most he's said in one go since sitting down. I'm almost blown away. He's right, though. Her father never wanted anything to do with her, or me for that matter. My parents were extremely displeased; despite being divorced and arguing twenty-four-seven they could apparently agree on their mutual disappointment. Typical.
They can't agree on absolutely anything else but they manage to set aside their differences long enough to spend every Christmas torturing me over the lack of father figure in my kids life.

It's always just been me and Bonnie, right from the start. My parents were happy to throw money at us and do absolutely nothing else. It was just me doing it on my own and I think I did damn well. I managed to keep a steady pay check coming in and look after her at the same time. I've kept her safe this far, why can't I do it some more?

Granted, the game's changed. Somebody changed the rules and forgot to give me the hand book. In the old world, protecting your child meant holding their hand while crossing the street. It meant making sure they are alright and keeping them away from dangerous people and all the things that could hurt them. In this world... it's so much more. There's a whole new range of danger to protect them from, a whole new set of people that could hurt them. Now, protecting your child is life or death; for the both of you. It's not enough to love them with every inch of your being. You have to be willing to die in their place. You have to be willing to do horrendous things in order to keep them safe. Horrific things. You have to be ready to be the kind of person society would have condemned before the outbreak happened and sometimes... sometimes you won't have it in you.

"It's different now." I sigh, "The game's changed."

He hums in agreement, his fingers fiddling with his trousers again. I wonder, for a second, if he's got anywhere to be. I know he said he's not going anywhere specific but he mentioned his brother. Will he be looking for him? Is he needed anywhere else? I wonder if he has a group or if it's just him and his brother.