A/N:
Hi...it's me. I won't waste time apologizing (although I really am SO sorry this took so long). What I will say though is that this chapter, while I'm glad to have finally finished it, is more of a filler than anything and meant to tide you guys over until I can hammer out the next one. I have a lot of things still planned for the future with this and things will be changing from the storyline in the show so be warned! Anyways- I hope you guys can all forgive me and just remember that I love you all so very, very much.
PS- If anyone is especially curious, I've been taking time off to work on my own origninal novel so that is where most of my time is going...Sorry guys but I felt it was time.
OH! Before I forget, I entered this story into the Watty's. Please vote for this story on Twitter from August 24-31. Use the link and the hashtag #mywattyschoice ....<3
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Charlie
"I can't run anymore." I gasped in between breaths, stumbling to the ground. My lungs felt like they were ready to burst, each breath causing a sharp sting in my ribcage. I fell back onto the soft grass, letting my eyes fall shut. It felt like we'd been on the move for hours though it couldn't have been long at all. I swore I could still smell smoke from the prison fire in the distance.
I felt the warmth of another body next to me as Daryl lied down as well. I automatically rolled onto my side, curling into him. His fingers trailed over my shoulders. "We'll rest here tonight." He finally said. "We can start lookin' for Gabe and the others in the mornin', after things have settled."
I nodded, swallowing over a lump in my throat. The idea of my little brother out there somewhere, potentially on his own, made my heart ache and fear wind itself through my veins. I shouldn't have let him leave the bus on his own. I had been the one who wanted to find Daryl. If it wasn't for me...I let the thought trail off. Wishful thinking never did anyone any good. We had more pressing matters at the moment. We had been thrown back into the outside world. No food, no water, no shelter. Just me, a baseball bat, Daryl, and his crossbow.
I felt Daryl's gaze on me and tilted my head to look up at him. His blue eyes were watching me, a combination of concern and protectiveness filling them. "I'm not gonna let anythin' happen to ya'. You know that. We're gonna be fine." He said in his deep, gruff voice.
I shook my head. "I know, Daryl." I gave him a weak smile, spreading my fingers over the front of his shirt. Beneath the warmth of his skin, I could feel his heart beating in a steady, reassuring rhythm. "I'm worried about the others." They would survive. That I knew. What I didn't know, though, was if I'd ever see any of them again. I gritted my teeth, fighting back the wave of tears that threatened to spill over and streak trails down my cheeks. Crying wouldn't do anyone any good right now.
"We'll find 'em. No matter how long it takes."
I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out through pursed lips. The tightness in my throat subsided. "I hope so." I murmured. The others were family too. I'd lost track a long time ago of all the people I'd lost. Rick, Carl, Maggie...all of them were family now and the idea of losing them as well made my heart ache. I felt Daryl's lips brush my temple before he was pushing himself up off the ground. I sat up, watching as he surveyed our surroundings with the cool, collected expression I recognized as survival mode. "What do we need to do?" I asked.
"Make a fire. Find some food." He grunted.
I pulled myself to my feet. "I'll started getting some wood together. You hunt."
He gave me a weary look. "You know I don't like the idea of you out there, wanderin' around all by yourself."
"I know, but I'm gonna do it anyways." I said, giving him a tiny smile and he let out a huff in response. "I won't go far." I reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze before turning and heading into the thicket of trees that bordered the clearing.
I began picking up twigs and sticks on the ground near my feet, accruing a small bundle of wood in my arms. It was mostly quiet in the forest, the only sounds being my boots against the forest floor and the occasionally chirping of a bird or insect. I made sure to keep the clearing at my back, so I wouldn't get turned around. I was getting ready to go back when I finally heard the distinct noise I was always weary of. The groaning and snarling of a walker. I took a tentative step in the direction of the sound, debating whether or not to let it be. Especially since it hadn't seen me yet. There was always the off chance, though, that it would eventually stumble its way into our clearing. Better to deal with it while I had the advantage. As the walker's rasping grew louder, I knelt quietly to the ground and set the rest of my kindling sticks in a pile near the base of the tree trunk. I gripped my baseball bat tight in both hands.
When I stepped around the side of the tree, I paused. There was a walker. Emaciated and more skeleton than flesh. A knife handle protruded from its chest, where it lay propped against a thick tree trunk. When it saw me, it began grasping at me with bony hands. The skin over it's upper lip had decayed, displaying the yellowed, rotted teeth inside its mouth. I lowered my weapon. This thing could barely move. It wasn't a threat to anybody, lying here starving to death.
Scattered around the base of the trunk were what I assumed to be its belongings. There was a brown canvas backpack, a mildewed rolled up sleeping bag, and dirty blue rain tarp draped over a makeshift shelter crafted from fallen tree limbs. I inched forward and grabbed the canvas bag before sitting back on my heels to search through it. A small cigarette lighter, a compass, an empty canteen, and a small first aid kit. In a small zippered pocket on the front was a wallet. I felt my eyebrows knit together. It was a strange thing to be carrying around still, especially when everything else in the pack was survival items. I supposed that it was the same as me carrying around my old ipod for so long. It had kept me tied to my old life, a constant reminder that once upon time there had been more than just survival.
Curiosity got the better of me and I folded open the worn leather. A wry smile tugged at my lips when I saw the crumpled twenty dollar bill tucked inside. Worthless now. It was ironic considering money had ruled most peoples lives. Now, it didn't matter how rich or poor you used to be. No one was any better than anyone else. I tucked the paper money into my back pocket. Now it would be a good fire starter. There were a few credit cards and a driver's license. I carefully slid it out and stared at the picture. A good looking man with dark brown hair and a clean shaven face smiled back at me. My eyes flickered between the man in the photo and the decrepit, barely human looking creature at my feet. Austin Michael Spence, twenty-seven years old. Just barely younger than I was.
Poking out from a hidden pocket was a folded piece of thick paper. I pulled it out and carefully unfolded a photograph. It was worn and weathered, crease lines crossing over the occupants in the photo. It was obvious he had opened and folded this back up many, many times. He was there, smiling in front of a lake. The sun reflected off the glassy surface behind him, and the sky was a perfect shade of blue. He had his arm around a pretty woman with short, chin length blonde hair. In her arms was a little boy. He had thick, curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. His chubby arms were wrapped around his mother's neck as she held him against her hip. For some unknown reason, the photograph stirred something within me. It didn't matter that it was a family of complete strangers. They had been happy. They had been alive. I looked back at the still growing walker. Now this was what was left.
My hand pressed over my stomach, anxious for the life inside of me. There would never be pictures smiling in front of a lake. There would never be backyard barbecues or birthday parties. There would never be first days of school or lazy summer days spent playing in a sprinkler in the front yard. Instead there would be this and eventually, maybe one day it would be me against the tree trunk and some stranger would come by and go through my belongings. Only they wouldn't find anything of the person I used to be. I didn't have a wallet. I didn't have photographs. All I had was Daryl, Gabe, and this baby. If anything ever happened to them...then I'd be nothing.
I hadn't realized I was crying until a tear slid down my cheek. I hastily brushed it away, feeling embarrassed by this completely unexpected and unwanted moment of weakness. There was the abrupt whizzing sound of something flashing past my ear before an arrow embedded itself into the walker's head. It instantly went limp. I whirled around, looking over my shoulder to see Daryl a few paces behind me, watching me with an expression that was part angry, part relieved.
Neither of us said a word as he stalked towards me and pulled the photo out of my hand. His eyes flitted to the walker as it clicked in his head what I'd been thinking moments earlier. The anger slowly dissipated. He walked towards it still, unmoving form and tugged both the arrow and the knife from its body. The knife wound had clearly been self inflicted. A successful, but no doubt painful and lingering attempt at taking his life. Daryl crouched to the ground and tucked the photo into the walker's shirt collar, catching me by complete surprise. I watched in wide eyed wonder as he stood back up then and turned towards me. He pressed his palm to my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin. Though he didn't say anything, his eyes spoke volumes. He took the backpack from me and shouldered it before taking my hand and pulling me back towards the clearing.
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I woke the next morning to the sunrise, the sky above me painted in vivid shades of pink, gold, and orange. The fire had died out during some point in the night, the ashes still smoldering near my feet. Daryl suddenly emerged from the field, a knotted cloth in his hands. He crouched next to me and untied it, revealing the small pile of blackberries. A small smile stretched my lips.
"Remember when we used to pick these when we were kids?" I asked, as the memory unfolded itself from the back of my mind.
He nodded, popping one into his mouth and making a face. "More sour than I remembered."
"As long as their edible I don't care. Anything's better than snake again." I suppressed a shudder, thinking about the unappetizing meal we shared the night before. We hadn't talked anymore about the walker and the photo I'd found in the woods, but he'd been quiet and thoughtful most of the night, a far away look in his eyes. I knew him well enough to know that the photograph had troubled him the same way it had me. Exactly why it was better off to think of the walkers as inhuman.
"We should head back the way we came. See what we can find." Daryl said, shielding his eyes from the blinding glare of the sun as he looked across the field.
I nodded quietly in agreement, chewing the blackberries slowly and savoring the tartness. I didn't say it out loud but I was more worried about what we would find than what we wouldn't. The idea of stumbling across bodies bearing the familiar faces of friends was enough to steal the air from my lungs.
When I finished eating, we set back out towards the prison. The journey felt so much shorter than it had the night before, when we had been fleeing for our lives. This time, though, each footfall felt heavy with trepidation.
Daryl suddenly threw out an arm, stopping me in my tracks. I looked him curiously and he nodded towards the ground in front of me. "Fresh tracks." He grunted.
I tilted my head and peered at the dirt at my feet, trying to see what he saw. He was quiet, watching me. Finally, shapes began to appear. I recognized the tread marks from the sole of a boot. I looked up at Daryl excitedly. "I see it!"
I knew we were both thinking the same thing...that while this track could belong to anyone, there was a chance it didn't. There was a chance that this was our first sign that the others were alive and well.
For the first time since the attack at the prison, that familiar smirk curled one end of his mouth. "Well come on then, girl. Let's find 'em."
We moved as fast as possible while following the footprints, Daryl taking over. His hunter's eyes were by far superior when it came to seeing things other people wouldn't have even taken a second glance at. Like a small pile of crushed berries mushed into the mud.
"Trail picks up here, like they were in some kinda hurry." He murmured, crouching low to the ground to get a closer look. "Looks fresh though."
"Maybe they found some of the others." I suggested hopefully. Daryl glanced at me over his shoulders and the look in his narrowed blue eyes warned me not to hope for too much. I couldn't help myself, though. Every sign, no matter how small, felt like a step towards Gabe and wherever he was.
We cut a path through the dense wildlife that grew all around us, and eventually, I could see a place in the trees ahead where there was a clearing. At the same time, we both picked up the pace. Clambering out from the forest, we stumbled across a set of railroad tracks that suddenly looked and felt so out of place among the towering trees and tall, tangled fields of wild grass. It sparked the hope in my chest for another half a second, before the sound of walkers snuffed it out just as quickly.
Daryl froze next to me and I stepped around him slowly to get a better look before my hand flew to my mouth. It was carnage. The footprints ended but pools of wet, sticky blood formed a new trail to where three walkers were kneeling over whatever was left of something that once was human. Entrails and body parts littered the ground, but I didn't feel the nausea, my head didn't swim from the smell. Instead, I just felt the urge to know. Who was it?
Before Daryl could stop me, I was moving fast towards the walkers. Using my bat, I crushed the skull of one of them easily and it crumpled to the floor. I grunted as I swung again, falling the next walker with the same full force swing. Before I could get to the third, though, Daryl was there shoving an arrow through it's skull. My heart hammered in my chest, breathing heavy as I scanned the dismembered bodies in front of us. I looked for his converse sneakers, the worn flannel shirt I'd last seen him in, his untidy curls. It wasn't him, though. None of them were anyone I recognized.
"It isn't Gabe." I breathed, staggering a little in relief. Daryl caught me and steadied me. "I knew it wouldn't be. They're all still okay....They have to be...Gabe, Maggie, Hershel...Everyone. Right?"
Daryl suddenly stiffened. When I looked at him, his jaw was clenched, lips pulled into a thin line. My heart faltered. There was something he wasn't telling me. "What is it?" I asked in a hesitant whisper.
He licked his lips before turning to look at me, a pain expression mingling with the anger in his darkened eyes. "Charlie..."
I shook my head. "Just tell me."
He let out a defeated sigh. "Rick tried to talk some sense into 'em....tried to stop 'em..." He drawled quietly. "Hershel was one of the best of us." He suddenly cursed under his breath, running a hand through his untidy hair. "I should've taken the shot, should've done something. Christ."
My hand went to my mouth. I felt like I had been plunged into a pit of freezing cold water. "Hershel." I repeated. Oh god, what about Maggie and Beth? Had they seen it happen? They had lost so much in such a short period of time. Their father had been everything to them...I'd seen how devastated they'd been when we'd almost lost him the first time. When I looked back at Daryl, he was still muttering to himself under his breath. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
He ignored me, shoulder suddenly sagging in defeat. "I couldn't stop 'em." He croaked. "It's my fault that he's dead, that all this had to happen. If I'd just taken the damn shot-"
I grabbed onto his shoulders to steady him before pressing closer and cradling his face in my hands. It was so rare to see him in a moment of pure, uncovered weakness. He hid it so well under his brashness and anger. "Don't you for one second think that this had anything to do with what you did or didn't do, Daryl Dixon. What happened, happened because of that psychopath." I was saying in a hushed voice. His eyes bore into mine, the miraculous blueness of them having an effect on me even after all this time. "Nothing we do now can bring Hershel, or anybody else back. The best we can do is keep keeping on. Find Gabe, find the others. You hear me? You once told me not to shut down on you, so you sure as hell aren't doing the same thing to me."
He pulled me closer to him then, crushing me against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his middle, keeping us both anchored. One of his hands cupped the back of my neck, the other around my waist. His warm breath tickled my ear as I closed my eyes and sank into him, for one second letting both of us feel the crushing weight of what had happened. We stayed that way, clinging to one another for a few minutes longer. Daryl was the first to pull away, the familiar conviction I was so used to back in his eyes.
"Let's find the others. Let's go get our family." I said quietly and he nodded.
The night before, he was the one to pull me together. Today, I was doing the same for him. It hit me harder than ever how much we leaned on one another, how much we relied on the other just to make it day by day. It was where we found the strength to keep going. I pressed my lips hard to his, realizing that if we had found each other somehow in the midst of all the twisted darkness in the world, than there was nothing stopping us from finding the others together.