𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒.
chapter fifty-four; The Walking Dead
"So sleep. I got you."
THEY HAD MADE themselves comfortable rather quickly. The group was spread out, but Vex and Dean sat around a small fire with Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Glenn, and Daryl.
Zeppelin and Carl had fallen asleep almost instantly upon setting up a makeshift bed. They were sprawled out beside one another, Zeppelin's mouth cracked just slightly open as she emitted soft snores.
"They're gonna be okay. They bounce back, more than any of us do."
Vex and Rick looked at Carol as she spoke, with a soft knowing expression on her face.
"I used to feel sorry for kids that have to grow up now," Rick admitted, "In this. But I think I got it wrong. . . Growing up is getting used to the world. This is easier for them."
"This isn't the world," Michonne said with a subtle ferocity, "This isn't it."
"It might be. . ." Glenn said after a moment, "It might."
"That's giving up."
"It's reality."
"Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with."
They stewed in that for a while. All of them knew it could be better; they had all lived better.
But there was a flip side Vex thought about. It could be worse. They had each other, they were still together; despite losing members they called family, and losing places they called home, they still had a group.
"When I was a kid. . ." Rick started, "I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war. He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so. . . so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him. But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory, every day he woke up he told himself "Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war." And then after a few years of pretending he was dead. . . He made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves. . . that we are the walking dead."
Vex recalled the many times she thought she was dead. Before the world ended, before she was in the S.E.A.L.s, before she was in the military at all. She remembered every tally-mark in her head, when they passed nine and she believed she had more lives than a cat.
She remembered each time was not a submission. It was not pretending she was already dead, moving through life in slow motion like trying to run underwater.
Every time it was a fight. A refusal against that light going out; every time she told herself this wasn't it. She still had things to do. People to care for. Every time she told herself it wasn't her time yet.
"We ain't them."
Vex looked to Daryl at his quiet protest. He started picking at kindling again, trying to keep the fire alive.
"We're not them, hey," Rick said softly, leaning over, "We're not."
"We ain't them."
Daryl stood, grabbed his crossbow, and departed from the group with finality.
Vex said nothing else. She sat by the dying fire with people that had become family. At some point, Dean scooted closer to her, and they sat together in that contemplative silence.
Time ticked by slowly and fast. The storm roared outside. The doors of the barn, fought against the chain keeping them shut.
Vex said up taller when she saw Daryl press himself against them. She moved into action as Dean did, both rushing to help him.
It wasn't just the storm, it appeared a horde of walkers had arrived as well; too much weight on those wooden doors.
Maggie joined them next. Then Sasha. Rick, Michonne, Carol, and Glenn. Before they knew it, every part of that group was working together, a surge of strength to protect the one place they had finally found refuge, putting every ounce of energy they had into keeping those doors closed.
And after a while the weight grew lighter. The storm confused the horde, dragging them off to follow claps of thunder. Any remainers were presumably wiped out by the debris of the storm. Eventually, even the storm decided to calm slightly. One by one, people eased up. Once the weight was gone people started claiming spots to sleep, exhaustion threatened each member, and they would've been fools to ignore it.
Vex claimed the seat beside Daryl after Zeppelin and Dean had drifted off to sleep tucked into one another. The woman said nothing, resting her rifle between her knees, staring out at their people resting on the ground with a symphony of rain and thunder around them.
"You can sleep, V."
"I know," She said softly, "I just want to be with you."
Daryl could do nothing to hide his shock.
He and Vex had been intertwined since leaving the Greene family farm— they watched each other's backs, called each other out, hunted together, worked together, lived together— they were damn near inseparable. It should not have been such a leap for Vex to yearn for that comfortability in the familiar. It should not have been a shock to Daryl that she liked being at his side. He should not have thought that he was someone unworthy of her care.
But Daryl couldn't wrap his head around it. He couldn't wrap his head around why Vex Williams chose to remain at his side, to joke and stay with him, to care about him in ways beyond survival. Of course, he could understand why he cared for her the way he did. She was strong and smart and loyal to a fault. She wanted to do right by everyone and saved as many people as she could.
And somehow that person, the one who Daryl would believe set the moon and stars in the place with her own war-torn hands, wanted to be with him.
Vex leaned her head on his shoulder with a sigh, entirely unaware of the hurricane in Daryl's head.
And even though Daryl wasn't sure if he deserved it, in times like these he was selfish. He lifted an arm and wrapped it around her, accepting her warmth and comfort the way a child would, lifting his hand only to gently run his fingers through the roots of her hair.
"I'm gonna fall asleep like this if you aren't careful," Vex whispered, her eyelids already growing heavy.
"So sleep," Daryl whispered back, his hands never stopping, "I got you."
So Vex relaxed into his touch, falling asleep within minutes.
And Daryl stayed there, he never stopped the gentle movement of his fingers in her hair, or pulled his arm back even as it began to fall asleep. He didn't even dare try to reshuffle the woman as she nestled into his shoulder in her sleep, her soft, deep breaths fanning over the exposed skin at his neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
He stayed there. Because even if he didn't deserve it, he couldn't help but want it.