Hi guys! This is my first attempt at fanfic, and I really hope you enjoy!
Ch. 1: Solace
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead
Dying flames cast shadows on the tired faces of those seated around the fire. Haggard, hard, pale and hungry, the lot appeared startlingly similar to the mindless fiends from which they fled. Alive, yet lifeless, each of them seemed to stare into the writhing heart of the fire…through it, beyond it, into an uncertain future.
Not uncertain, he thought... Terribly definite.
He could drive himself crazy thinking about all of the fucking certainty this new world brought with it.
Those things were out there; that was certain. No one was coming to help; that was certain. There is no cure, no answer... Sooner or later they would all end up in the ground or stumbling across it like those disgusting, fucking things. There is no way out...of all of these things, Daryl Dixon was certain. Painfully, horribly certain.
A bright flame snapped and hissed, stirring Daryl and pulling him from his dark thoughts. He was suddenly aware of the soreness in his back.
How long had he been leaning against that tree? Staring at the damn fire and thinking... Shit.
What good did all these deep thoughts do him?
The hell are we doin'? Sittin' around starin' at a fuckin' flame like a buncha damn moths?
His arms had been crossed over his chest to keep the chill off and his hands had gone numb tucked under his arms. He stretched stiffly and could feel the anger that had settled into his tired limbs. Leaning forward, he rolled his shoulders and cracked the knuckles on each of his hands. He liked to believe some of the anger escaped as he heard the bones pop. His eyes narrowed and he began to take note of his companions.
Andrea was seated on a log beside Lori, her head resting on Lori's weak shoulder. A few strands of dirty blonde hair hung in the woman's face, concealing green eyes that Daryl knew must be seeing ghosts... Her sister; Dale...
Ya can't unsee that shit...ever.
Lori was stock still, her thin fingers resting in her lap.
She ain't but a few shades away from bein' a ghost herself.
Her big, dark eyes staring into nothing... her frame rigid; she didn't want to disturb Andrea who had drifted off against her shoulder. Daryl wasn't sure how this woman would be able to look after a son, a husband, and the baby she had growing in her belly.
There ain't much left of her...
T-Dog sat on the ground with his weary head in his hands and Carl had fallen asleep beside him.
Damn kid; a fuckin' liability is what he is. Never listens; can't hardly turn around 'fore he's gone; gonna go 'n get himself killed if his momma don't wake the hell up.
He had begun to pace slowly in front of the dying fire, feeling the need to move, to release the angry static that was building, charging in his head. Rick and Shane were on watch and Glenn was in the house with Maggie, Beth and Herschel.
Fuckin' pussy... Gettin' special treatment just because Maggie happened to look twice at him. Fine; let him creep into her bed while the rest of us make do in these damn, raggedy-ass tents.
His pacing quickened. He thrust his hands into his pockets wanting to get away. The more he paced, the angrier he became. He had to get away from the fire and all those damn, hopeless fools sitting around making him itch. After a few moments of working up bits of earth with the toe of his boot, he tapped T-Dog on the arm.
The tired man looked up at him, forcing his eyes open, "What's up man?"
"I'm gonna head down to the lake, don't go lettin' them sleep out here," he gestured towards Andrea and Lori.
T-Dog nodded. "I'll put 'em in the tents."
Daryl turned to leave and then called over his shoulder, "Carl too, the little asshole's liable to up 'n leave first time ya blink."
Another weary nod from T-Dog was the only answer that Daryl needed. He snorted and began his brisk walk to the lake.
He was almost at a run when he reached the water's edge. The lake was perfectly calm, still and black under the faint glow of a waning moon. Mist rose off of the glassy surface and seemed to creep over the grass, leaving everything covered in a dark sheen. Eerie. He almost laughed to himself.
What ain't eerie these days?
He sank down to the grass and looked out over the dark water. His hands could feel the wet earth and the chill clung to his bare arms, keeping him awake. Alone, near midnight, at the water's edge... any onlookers might've thought he was lonesome, but he needed this. Needed the space, the water, the dark and the stillness, to reflect on the one thing his mind worked tirelessly to keep at bay...
Sophia.
It had been almost three weeks since Shane opened the barn, releasing the walkers that Herschel had been feeding. Three weeks since they'd all had to watch as a terrible, hideous, pale, snarling Sophia stumbled out into the sun, shielding her face with a gray, rotted hand. His eyes were closed and he could feel himself resisting, backing away from the ugly thoughts.
No. Not again. I gotta make my peace with this shit.
His fingers dug into the earth but he forced himself to picture her again. The gaping wound on her shoulder where the blood had dried black…where the walker must've bitten her... The sunken pits that were her eyes and her small frame shambling clumsily towards them. He could feel dirt under his fingernails but he had to keep going.
Can't keep hidin' from this.
She was looking right at them, him and Carol, as she hissed and growled.
Like some demon come straight up outta hell.
He remembered the way Carol felt in his arms as he kept her from running to her child…limp, defeated, destroyed. She was so weak; he thought he was going to break her with one arm around her chest and the other clutching her waist. He remembered her frame being racked by sobs and it was like she was suffocating in his arms, like she was struggling to get the air she needed to scream...to cry…
Naw!
He finally had to press his sweaty palms into his eyes and force away the thought. When they opened again, he was almost surprised to find himself at the lake. Hadn't he just been kneeling in the red dirt, holding Carol while she screamed? Feeling the fight go out of her as a single bullet was buried in her daughter's skull?
That was nearly three weeks ago...
You can't unsee that shit, he thought to himself as he knelt before the water. I can't unsee it so I damn sure better learn to live with it.
He broke his reflection on the surface as he cupped dirty hands and brought cool water to his face. As the liquid dripped from his chin and was soaked up by the thirsty ground, he began to feel some of the tension rising from his skin, like the mist from the lake.
Least I made myself look at her, remember her this time.
He sighed and splashed more water onto his face, wiping away some of the dirt and grime that had been there for too long. The chill in the air stung his wet skin and he inhaled sharply, feeling cold and alive at the edge of the lake. He sat with his legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, and stared across the glassy surface of the water, temporarily hypnotized by the stillness. He began to imagine that he was completely alone; no walkers, no Rick, Shane, anyone... In that moment he was the only person, maybe the last person on earth… with only the cold air in his lungs to remind him that he was alive.
Then, in a silent instant, his meditation was fractured. On the periphery of his vision, maybe fifty yards down, he noticed a pale form advancing slowly towards the water. His blue eyes narrowed, struggling to cut through the darkness and capture the intruder. He consciously stilled his breathing and froze as he realized that the thin, milky white form belonged to a woman; to Carol.
The chill seemed to invade his chest as he realized that she hadn't seen him. Maybe she needed her own quiet moment. Daryl didn't want to disturb her and instead remained still, cloaked in darkness and the mist that continued to roll off of the lake. He watched as she knelt beside the water and hugged her skinny frame. Her head hung low and he knew that she was struggling to see, or to unsee her daughter, and the terrible way she died As the moments crept past, the two survivors stared into the darkness and mourned; together, yet apart.