CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
[ before we die ]
THE FIRST THING SHE HEARS IN THE MORNING IS CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER. There are so many of them now, all safe and sound, all happy. So many people have come over the past months, taking refuge within the prison walls and becoming part of their group's big family. It has been a strangely comfortable and prosperous few months post-Governor.
Daryl, at her urging, has stayed closer to home more often, giving up his relentless search for the Governor. I'm more concerned with you getting hurt out there than making sure he's dead, she'd told him, after letting it go on far too long. I won't let him live, not after what he did to you, had been his response. All she had told him then was, simply, I'm okay. But if you go out there you might not be, and I couldn't handle that. This, paired with a stern talk from Rick at her request, seemed to keep him behind the walls more often from then on.
Michonne, however, did not heed her many pleas to stay. Even now, her friend is out there somewhere, doing god knows what and in god knows what state. Her past few nights have been plagued with unrest and worry because of it.
But Michonne is due back this afternoon, and she can hear children playing downstairs. Today is a good day.
She swings her legs over the side of her bed and pulls on her clothes for the day. As she laces up her boots, she takes a look around her cell, cluttered over the months with various knickknacks and gifts, almost all brought back by Daryl from one of his runs. And he brings her something every time. Her favourite flower (though she is still unsure how he'd learned this), a book she'd mentioned once, a portable CD player that he'd managed to find along with a few of her favourite CDs and batteries to get it to work, and various other miscellaneous gifts he'd given her that he'd known she would love.
It all brings a smile to her face, especially because she knows that his cell — yes, after months of prodding, she had convinced him to move into the cell on her other side — looks the same, cluttered with things she'd brought him.
As she vacates her cell for the day she checks on Addie, peeling back the blanket hung in front of the bars for privacy and peering inside. Her daughter is still asleep in her bed, both eyes shut in a peaceful slumber. This too makes her smile, the sight of her daughter getting to be a kid for once, getting to sleep in late without having one eye open at all times. It is with this smile that she jogs down the cell block steps and outside into the courtyard.
It's full, as always, with people new and old socialising as they eat their breakfast, prepared, as every morning that they have fresh meat, by Carol. Each one shouts a greeting at her, and she replies with a nod or smile or wave. She makes her way across the courtyard, hoping to get something to eat before starting the day.
Before she can, though, her name is called and she turns to find Rick walking toward her. "Morning," she greets with a friendly smile. Already, he is covered in dirt and sweat from an early morning tending their substantial number of crops.
"Mornin'," he replies, shedding the filthy gloves on his hands and shoving them into his back pocket. "Hey, I got a lot to do today, I don't think I'm gonna make it on that run. Would you mind takin' my spot?"
"'Course not," she tells him, though when she thinks about it, she can't think of anything around the prison that might need his attention so urgently as to keep him there. And there is a strange, mischievous glint in his eye that she has never seen before. She doesn't like it. Not one bit. Still, there isn't a favour she wouldn't do for Rick. "I'll just get something to eat and get myself packed."
"Thanks, Misty." He claps her on the shoulder with a smile that she easily returns.
"Any time." They part ways, and Misty makes her way over to where Carol stands at the grill, cooking up breakfast for everybody.
The older woman gives her a warm smile as she approaches, as she does every morning. "Good morning, Misty."
"Good morning, Carol," she greets in return. Carol is quick to load up a plate with meat and hand it to her, to which she gives her friend a sincere thank you. She then takes a quick scan of the courtyard, over each table, looking for the person which she shares every meal with.
Unsurprisingly, he's nowhere to be found. Everyone in the prison loves Daryl, with him having brought most of them in, and it's a little too much for his taste. He cannot stand their constant adoration and never ending thank yous, and has stopped eating at the tables in the courtyard to avoid them. Which leaves her, every morning, searching for where he has decided to hide for the day.
With a defeated sigh she turns her gaze back to Carol. "Hey, Carol, have you seen—"
"He's around that corner," Carol interrupts, nodding over at the nearby corner that would easily shield him from the prying eyes of the others. "Got ambushed by Patrick thanking him for the deer and ran off right after." Her friend shoots her a smug, knowing grin, and adds, "go get 'im, tiger."
"Stop," she groans with a roll of her eyes and a dismissive wave of her hand as she leaves Carol and starts toward where Daryl is. Every morning, it's been the same thing. She comes down to get breakfast, Carol insinuates she might have some. . . feelings for Daryl, and she leaves to find him with an eye roll, though her cheeks heat up as she does.
Today is no different, and as she rounds the corner, she hopes he doesn't notice.
If he does, he doesn't say anything. She rounds the corner to find him standing against the wall, eating the meat off of his plate and watching the walkers at the fence. He wears a different version of the same outfit he wears everyday — jeans, a plaid shirt, and his vest — and she tries her best to be sure her gaze doesn't linger on his forearms, where his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows.
When he sees her he seems to straighten a little, and a smile nearly takes his lips entirely upward. "Morning," she greets, as she does every day, with a soft smile.
"Mornin'," he replies with a simple nod of his head. She settles in next to him, leaning her back against the wall and looking out at the field and the walkers beyond. Once she is relaxed, he allows himself to lean back into his previous position.
"You're going on that run today?" She knows for a fact that he is. There is scarcely a group that leaves for a run without Daryl at the head.
"Yep," he says, nodding, mouth full of food muffling his words. "You goin'?"
She is. She has already agreed to it. But she can't help herself and the smirk that comes from her easy smile. "You want me to?"
He only shrugs. "Who else is gonna get my back?"
"Glenn's going," she suggests, "Sasha too."
He scoffs a laugh, as if she's being foolish. "Don't want anybody else gettin' my back."
Oh. "Then I'll come," she says, trying very unsuccessfully to suppress her widening smile. She turns from him to hide it and point at the fence down in the yard. Doing this, she just misses the shy smile playing on his lips that he quickly pushes away. "Big buildup overnight. Gonna have to get on it soon, before it gets to be too much. I was planning on getting to it this afternoon, but apparently I'm going on a run."
He nudges her with his elbow, smiling his usual soft, barely-there smile. "I'll get somebody on it 'fore we go."
She nudges him back, a little harder than he'd done to her. "I'll meet you down at the cars in twenty, then."
When she returns to her cell, Addie is gone from hers. This, like most things, has become customary. Addie only sleeps a little longer than her, and is gone when she returns, gone off to talk to Carl or, reluctantly, one of the newer kids, Patrick.
Misty slips on her leather jacket, useful even in the hot Georgian sun, and grabs her bow and adds the extra arrows she'd made in the past few days to her quiver, before slinging both over her shoulders. With her she also takes her gun, which she slips into the back of her jeans, and an empty backpack for anything she might find of personal use, which goes over both shoulders.
She makes her way back outside and finds the others gathered around the cars. Daryl is there, bent over the open hood of one of the cars, Addie at his side. This has also become a regular occurrence. Her daughter and the man who brought her back to Misty not once but twice have formed quite the bond, and lately he has been teaching her the basics on how to fix cars, per Addie's request.
She only catches the end of this morning's lesson, but the sight of the two of them makes her smile. "So, we're good to go?" Addie, hands and arms covered in grease, asks Daryl just as she approaches.
"Think so," Daryl says, nodding. He closes the hood and claps Addie on the shoulder before nodding toward the driver's seat and handing her the keys. "Start 'er up, we'll see." Addie eagerly complies and jogs around them to jump into the driver's seat.
"How're we looking?" Misty asks Daryl as his attention turns to her. He is covered head to toe in grease and sweat, shining in the mid-morning sun, and she tries desperately not to notice.
Before he can answer the engine roars to life and Addie, inside, lets out a triumphant cheer. "'Bout ready, I'd say," he answers then, shrugging his shoulders, though he has a bit of pride in his eyes. He grabs the red rag out of his back pocket — the ratty one she'd given to him months ago that is well past its time to be thrown away — and starts wiping the grease from his hands. "Fast learner, that kid. Did half the work herself."
"She's always been like that. Give her any task and she'll figure it out, no matter how difficult." Addie has always been brilliant and an extremely fast learner, surpassing many other kids her age and skipping two grades when she was younger. Before, Misty had so much pride for how smart and grown up she was. Now, she just wishes Addie could stay a kid just a little longer.
"Yeah, well, she's like 'er ma."
Her cheeks warm at his words, but luckily for her, she doesn't have to reply. Addie exits the car and comes over to them, grinning. "I should go find Carl," she tells them, and looks from Misty to Daryl as she says, "good luck on the run today, Mamá. And thanks, Daryl."
Then she's gone, jogging up to the courtyard to go find Carl and the other kids. The two get to packing their equipment into the car, which is when they finally notice Beth and her boyfriend Zack, who is joining them on the run, saying goodbye. Or, not.
"Are you gonna say goodbye?" Zack shouts after Beth as she walks away after pecking him on the cheek.
Beth, a smirk on her lips, replies, "nope," leaving poor Zack flabbergasted and shaking his head.
Daryl scoffs at the display as he loads some equipment into the back of the car, then comes to stand next to her. "'S'like a damn romance novel."
Misty bumps his shoulder with hers. "Lay off 'em, it's cute."
Daryl only rolls his eyes in response before walking over to his motorcycle where it is parked, right next to another one. Hers. They'd found it on a run not long after the people from Woodbury joined them, and he'd quickly taught her how to ride it. Now, she takes it everywhere.
"You know," she says, following him over to the bikes, "I think I promised you a ride."
"Yeah, right," he scoffs, chuckling a little.
"I am dead serious, Dixon."
"Get outta here," he brushes her off, making himself comfortable on his bike.
"What, are you scared?" She teases, arms folded over her chest. "You think I'm gonna crash? Or is it some macho guy thing, like you can't be seen on the back of a girl's bike?"
He shoots her a look, and she knows she's got him. "Ain't scared, and I ain't an asshole." He moves from his bike to hers, swinging his leg over and settling himself on the back. "You happy now?"
"Very." She sits herself down in front of him as the others pack into the car. Before she can make another smart remark to Daryl about their current situation, she hears the gates being opened and turns to see Michonne riding through, stopping to talk to Rick, Carl, and Addie as she does.
"Hold on," she tells Daryl as she starts up the bike, and he does, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her entire body tenses at the sudden touch, and her breath hitches in her throat. Steeling herself, she forces herself to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.
She, followed by the car behind them, drive down the road to where Michonne has stopped. As soon as she turns the bike off and is sure that Daryl is settled steadily on it, she jumps off and runs to her friend.
Michonne catches her in her arms, laughing. "Hey, it's only been a few days."
"A few days too long," Misty says, and pulls back to look at her. "I was worried about you, 'Chonne. You're okay?"
"I'm just fine. I promise."
They embrace once more, before pulling away completely. Once they do, Daryl is quick to comment, "well, look who's back."
Michonne gives him a quick once-over and quirks a brow at his position on the bike, but says nothing about it. Instead, she tells him what he's really waiting to hear. "I didn't find him."
"Glad to see you in one piece."
"I'm thinking of looking over near Macon," Michonne tells them then, shrugging her shoulders. "It's worth a shot."
Misty is about to protest, is already opening her mouth to tell her that she should just stay a while, when Daryl beats her to it. "Miles of walkers. You might run into a few unneighbourly types. Is it?"
It's not. No revenge, no matter how sweet it might be, is worth losing Michonne. "You guys leaving?" Michonne asks, changing the subject.
"Yeah, we're gonna go check out the Big Spot. Big department store, there might be something worth getting left," Misty answers.
"You got room for one more?"
"Always," Misty tells her, grinning.
"You just got here," Carl, who has also grown close to Michonne in the past months, protests.
"And I'll be back," Michonne promises before making for the car, low-fiving Misty on the way.
As Misty turns back to her bike she just catches the look that Rick throws Daryl — a small, knowing smirk followed by a grin — and the flushed cheeks and eye roll Daryl gives him in return.
There is a fence around the Big Spot, put up by the military when they'd set it up as a place for people to go. Then it had gotten overrun, so much so that they had nearly thought it wouldn't be worth it to try to get inside. Nearly.
"Army came in and put these fences up. Made it a place for people to go," Daryl explains to the rest of the group as they approach. "Last week when we spotted this place, there was a bunch of walkers behind this chain-link keeping people out like a bunch of guard dogs."
"So they all just left?" Bob asks.
But Sasha smirks, having been part of the group sent out after they'd first spotted the Big Spot to clear out the walkers. "Give a listen," she tells them, and indeed, in the distance, there is music playing.
"You drew 'em out," Michonne concludes upon hearing the music.
"Put a boombox out there three days ago."
"Hooked it up to two car batteries," Glenn adds.
"Alright, let's make a sweep," Daryl says, "make sure it's safe. We'll come back tomorrow with more people."
He leads the group into the parking lot, Misty and Michonne close behind. They scan the parking lot quickly, making sure there are no lingering walkers and grabbing anything that could be of use. They then all gather at the front of the store, where Daryl leans back against the window and bangs against it with his elbow, hoping to draw any walkers inside.
Zack leans against the wall as they wait and says, "alright, I think I got it." He offers no explanation, but by the smile on his face Misty can tell what he's about to say. Daryl has been telling her about it ever since he started doing it, ending each day by coming to her cell saying, "y'ain't ever gonna guess what the kid said today."
"Got what?" Michonne questions.
"I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn," Zack explains, and moves to lean against the window next to Daryl.
"He's been tryin' for like six weeks," Daryl complains, but Misty knows that he's been enjoying himself.
"I'm pacing myself. One shot a day." Misty chuckles, drawing Zack's attention to her. "Do you know?"
She briefly meets Daryl's eyes with a slight smile, before shrugging nonchalantly and replying, "yeah, 'course I do."
"You gonna give me a hint?"
"Hell no."
Daryl cracks a smile, then nods at Zack and tells him, "alright, shoot."
"Well, the way you are at the prison, you being on the council, you're able to track, you're helping people, but you're still being kind of. . . surly," Zack begins, making Misty laugh, if only for the truth of it. "Big swing here." He takes a brief pause before finally telling them his guess. "Homicide cop."
Misty is able to stifle the laugh that bubbles up in her throat, but Michonne does not. Daryl narrows his eyes at her in response. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Michonne replies, still chuckling, "it makes perfect sense."
"Actually, the man's right. Undercover." Misty can't help but smile. She loves this side of Daryl. The playful, teasing side. She loves it even more when he lets the others see it.
"Come on, really?" Zack asks, surprised and completely fooled.
"Yep," Daryl answers easily. "I don't like to talk about it, 'cause it was a lot of heavy shit, you know?" He looks away, meeting Misty's eyes and smiling before he gives himself away.
"Dude, come on, really?" Daryl just looks back at Zack, giving him a look that says, no, of course not, and fights back a grin. "Okay. I'll just keep guessing, I guess."
"Yeah, you keep doin' that."
Walkers slam up against the windows then, finally having made their way across the store after hearing Daryl's banging. "Alright, let's do this," Misty says. Then, throwing a teasing grin Daryl's way, adds, "you coming, officer?"
He just rolls his eyes, and follows her inside.
It doesn't take long to clear out the walkers inside and drag their bodies out into the parking lot. Once that is finished, each of them grabs a shopping cart and splits off into their own directions. Misty sets her bag in the top compartment of the cart for anything she might find for herself, and sets off about finding the things they need.
She wanders down each aisle, scanning the shelves carefully and tossing in anything that might be useful. For herself, she grabs some books, a few more CDs, some more rags for Daryl for when he works on his bike and the cars — mostly so he won't keep wiping his hands off on his jeans — and a pen and journal for Addie. She also snatches a bottle of red wine off the liquor shelf and a Polaroid camera she takes after seeing Glenn grab one. When her cart and bag are full, she starts heading back toward the front of the store.
This is when she hears the crashes and screams.
She breaks into a sprint, pushing her cart faster and faster until she reaches the source of the commotion: Bob, stuck under the toppled over liquor shelf. Everyone else quickly comes running, too, though some are on the complete opposite end of the store.
"You alright?" Daryl asks Bob as he inspects the area, "you cut or somethin'?"
"No, man, but my foot is caught," Bob answers.
Misty, Daryl, Zack, and Tyreese heave up the first shelf as some of the others run over, Glenn shouting, "what happened?"
"Everyone's alright, we're over in 'wine and beer'!" Zack calls out to them.
Tyreese is crouched down and talking to Bob when the walkers start falling. The roof gives way, and the ceiling crumbles as walkers begin raining down on them. One hangs from the remains of the roof by its guts, swinging back and forth, just waiting to fall. "Yeah, uh, we should probably go now," Glenn says as he watches it.
"Bob's still stuck, get him outta there," Daryl says.
"We'll get the others," Michonne tells them, but then it gets worse, and soon it's a steady stream coming down on them. Some splatter on the ground and stop moving, but most don't. Most of them get right back up and start after them.
She sees Daryl only a few feet away, shooting some of the walkers but not seeing the one right behind him, and her heart stops. "Daryl!" She cries, wrenching her bow from her shoulder and swiftly nocking an arrow, "duck!" He does as she says without question, and she lets the arrow fly. The walker falls, and Daryl gives her a quick nod of thanks before moving on.
She returns her bow to her shoulder and draws her knife, feeling that it will be quicker and easier than her bow or gun. She kills a few, the bodies falling at her feet as she moves across the floor, when suddenly, she is swarmed. Three come straight for her, and another soon joins them. She backs up quickly, trying to decide on the best course of action, when she trips over one of the bodies on the floor.
She lands hard on her back, and her knife clatters to the floor, far out of reach. The walkers fall with her, crawling toward her, clawing at her, trying to take a chunk out of any piece of flesh they can. She holds two back with one arm, though she strains against the heavy weight, and kicks at the other two with her feet. With her free hand, she reaches for her gun in the back of her jeans, but can't quite reach and soon she needs both arms to keep the walkers' teeth away from her skin.
She struggles against them, kicking and thrashing and trying desperately to shove off the two on top of her while keeping an eye on the ones trying to crawl up her legs. Her arms ache as the gnashing teeth get closer and closer to her face and she thinks, god, this can't be it, can it? I have to have more time than this.
But then the weight is lifted off of her chest, and the walkers are quickly dispatched. She takes this opportunity to sit upright, get her gun from the back of her jeans, and shoot the two walkers at her feet. When she looks up, it is into a pair of scared blue eyes.
Daryl offers her his hand, and when she takes it he hauls her to her feet. "I'm okay," she assures him, trying to banish the terror from his eyes. "I'm okay." Finally he nods, and she picks her knife up off of the ground.
They run back to the group, back to Bob, still under the shelf and with a walker crawling toward him. Daryl quickly grabs the walker by the shirt and pulls it away to kill it, before heaving the shelf up off of Bob. Misty grabs his arms and pulls him out, then helps him to his feet and hands him off to Sasha, who braces him against her.
That is when they hear the scream. Misty turns around just in time to see a walker taking a bite out of Zack's leg. And it's terrible, a terrible, awful thing to live without a leg, but he'll be okay, she can fix him, and — and he gets pulled off of his feet. And the walker crawls up his body and takes a chunk out of his cheek. And then he's completely swarmed, and Daryl, having grabbed her bag out of her cart for her, is pulling her away and shoving her bag into her hands, Zack's screams echoing in her head, as the roof completely caves in.
The prison is quiet that night. Quieter than usual, as the whole building mourns a boy that everyone loved. Misty sits alone in her cell with the door open and the curtain pulled back, in case Addie needs anything. She pulls her hair free of the tight ponytail she'd pulled it into for the day, letting her hair fall into place around her face.
But it isn't Addie who visits her cell in the minutes that follow, sad about losing a friend, it's Daryl. He appears in the doorway of her cell a half an hour after their return, head bowed. Just back from telling Beth what happened, even after Misty had volunteered to go instead. "You okay?" She asks upon noticing him lingering there.
"Mhm," he answers, nodding his head, though they both know he's not. He'd liked Zack, a lot. "You?"
"It was a bad day," she says in lieu of an answer. He nods, understanding. She remembers then the contents of her bag, and how much they both need it now. Snatching it off the floor next to her bed, she reaches inside and produces the still-intact bottle of wine. "Got this before it all went to shit. You up for it?"
"Sure ya wanna waste it on me?"
"Trust me, it's not a waste."
The place they go to drink the wine is their place, or at least it has been for the past few months. It's one of the guard towers that nobody uses anymore, with the group having largely scaled back their round the clock watches after a few months without a reappearance from the Governor. They sit side by side at the top, leaning against the railing with their legs dangling over the edge, passing the bottle back and forth as the not quite full moon shines down on them.
"This is nice," Misty muses, a content smile on her lips.
"Mhm," Daryl hums in response, nodding his head.
"I wonder how long it'll last." She sighs and shakes her head before taking a swig from the bottle and passing it to him. "I thought I was dead in that store today."
"Wasn't gonna let ya die," is his low, gravelly response.
"Sometimes you can't control when it's your time." An obvious fact. So many have been lost since the beginning, far beyond the control of any of them. Jim, Jacqui, Sophia, Lori, T-Dog. Countless others. "I don't want you to blame yourself when I die, Daryl."
Because she has no doubt that he will be the last of them. That he will have to watch her die one day. Daryl is perhaps the strongest person she has ever met, and is certainly built for this new world.
"Y'ain't gonna die." His tone is harsh, final, as he shakes his head, dismissing the idea outright.
"Not ever?" She chuckles in response. "It happens to everybody eventually."
"Ya ain't gonna die," he repeats, even more forcefully, and her smile fades.
"You never know. Like today. We thought it was gonna be safe, easy, quick, and it wasn't." He passes the bottle back, but she waits a moment before taking a sip. "Nothing lasts forever, Daryl. Everything dies eventually. Like I will. Like this place will. This night, this moment. We just have to make it count before it dies. Or before we do."
She glances over at him and finds herself unable to look away. The moonlight casts a gentle glow on his face, making him look every bit the angel he is. And he is looking at her, really looking at her, in that way only he has, with those blue eyes of his. Like he knows you, like he can see parts of you that no one else can. She has no doubt that is the case with her.
They are caught, suspended, in this moment for seconds, minutes, hours, neither can tell. Every sight and sound falls away, and the bottle of wine is set down next to her, forgotten. The only sound in the silent night is their breathing, soft but becoming increasingly ragged.
Her heart thumps hard and hurried against her ribcage as she finally says, in a strained whisper, his name. "Daryl."
"Hm?" He hums, eyes still locked on hers.
"Can I kiss you?" She finally asks, her voice barely audible. He nods, just a few times, in response, prompting her to lean in closer to him, though she has begun to tremble. It is only when she is no more than a breath away from his mouth that she finally closes her eyes, and captures his lips with hers.
Her entire body is on fire. Everything before now was nothing compared to this. Every touch, every fleeting look, every small moment that had burned between them before turn to dust in the massive blaze of this.
It lasts only seconds. Seconds, and she pulls back, eyes opening, checking on him. His eyes remain closed for a few seconds longer, and flutter open to reveal his lovely blue eyes far softer than she had ever seen them. She wonders, briefly, if this was his first kiss with someone who cares for him.
She leaves it up to him, lingering close but not moving in again and soon, his lips are upon hers again. He is soft, so soft despite his chapped lips and rough exterior. He is soft and gentle and his lips taste like the wine they've been drinking, and when his hand drifts upward to cradle her cheek, she melts into his touch.
This kiss lasts longer, both taking their time with each other now. But when they finally need to part for air their eyes meet again, and they cannot help but grin like a couple of teenagers. Neither says a word, and instead they both turn back toward the bars of the railing, Misty grabbing the bottle again and taking a long sip.
And when she feels Daryl's hand graze hers, slowly, tentatively, she turns it over so that the palm faces up, and he rests his hand in hers. Their fingers easily intertwine, fitting together like the pieces of a puzzle. Misty rests her head on his shoulder, her content smile back on her lips.
They stay this way for the rest of the night, together, drinking wine, and looking up at the glittering sky.