DInners at the prison were usually a somber affair. The spoonful of beans and the stale roll (and if they were particularly lucky, chunk of meat) was the ever present reminder that someone needed to go out on another run. And with each bite of food, whoever would go on that run was a step closer to death. As you scraped the last bit of beans of your plate, Michonne was being shot. As you bit into the last bite of bread, Glenn and Maggie were being attacked by walkers. As you stuck a blunt knife into the meat you were eating, Daryl was but a corpse.
Needless to say, the sudden burst of conversation was unexpected.
"Where were you?" Carl said suddenly, admist the clatter of the eating and the talking of the group. At the sudden silence, Carl seized the opportunity for elaboration and he spoke again. "I mean, what were you all doing? Y'know, when this shit happened."
"Language, Carl," Rick interjected, causing another uncomfortablr silence to break out.
The room remained in silence, each moment passing in uncertainty. Did they answer him? Did they remain quiet?
Daryl placed another bite of food in his mouth and muttered, "Hardly an icebreaker." But he swallowed and finally was the first to respond to Carl's request of information.
"Tell ya where I wasn't - anywhere that could help." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, but he didn't speak again, plunging the group into a lull. Carol busied herself and grabbed all the empty plates and Beth quickly excused herself to check on Judith. No one had noticed Michonne slip away. Glenn and Maggie jumped at the chance to go on watch (though everyone hardly suspected it was for the same reason as the others leaving) and soon, the room was almost emptied, with the exception of Rick, Carl, Hershel and Daryl. The Woodbury residents ate in another part of the prison on days where they couldn't eat outside, so the 4 men were left alone.
"Hardly an unwarranted question," Hershel said finally, before fumbling for his crutches and leaving the room.
Rick muttered something about helping Beth with Judith, And left the room towards the cells.
"Daryl?" Carl asked tenativley. "Where were you?" The curiosity was eating away at him. The way everyone had cleared out so suddenly was rather logical, it was a touchy subject, but Daryl's response left him shrouded in mystery.
"G'night." Daryl said gruffly, scraping his chair back, leaving Carl alone.
First TWD fic, so I'm pretty excited. This story will be canon-compliant for what we know about the characters, and will go into their stories from when it all went down. I already have the ideas/plots for Hershel, Glenn and a very tentative one for Beth. So, which one would you like to see?