Daryl took another pull on the cigarette, enjoying the burn in his lungs and exhaling the smoke leisurely. He was sitting on the corner of the walking platform in the guard tower his view of the surrounding countryside completely unobstructed, his trusty crossbow next to him. His pillows and blanket kept the chill of the stone away from his bones, as he leant his head on his forearm on the corner bars and his legs swung loosely beneath him, having discarded his heavy boots beside him. The scenery before him was breath taking, the land was bathed in silver moonlight and above him the sky was like a velvet black blanket with diamond dust sprinkled across it. It was warm nights like this, where the sky was clear enough to see everything, that reminded him of the times he would escape into the forest when he was a teenager, away from his father, away from the alcohol fuelled beatings and sleep by a small campfire under the stars. He would hunt for a while, cooking whatever he managed to catch on the little campfire and after eating his fill he would lie in the dirt, trying to count the stars and would somehow always manage to feel a little bit more at peace with the world.
He grunted, docking the spent cigarette next to him as he was pulled back to the present from his nostalgic memories by the snatch of groaning coming from near one of the fences. He morosely reflected that back then the worst he was afraid of was his father catching up with him whilst he was asleep on one of his little jaunts, though the walkers were now guaranteed to ruin a night sleeping under the stars.
Truth be told he never minded the night watches when he had the opportunity to sit in this kind of beauty. He volunteered to sit on watch, a couple of hours of sleep being the most that he would hope to get now a days when he had the luxury of staying in his own bed in the cell block. His eyes absentmindedly wandered over to her grave, the vase with the small Cherokee rose visible in the stark moonlight. He had kept up the tradition of replacing each rose that withered for the last five months. That was how long it had been since Carol had been bitten, when that little arsehole Andrew had set the alarms off in the prison just after they got there and caused them to be overrun. His gut churned when he thought about the fact that they had spared him. He still wished with all his heart that he had put a bullet in that little prick's forehead when they had first met them. While he was thinking about it he wished they had taken care of all the prisoners when they had first come across them in the canteen. Just avoided the whole fucking scenario.
That little shit's actions ended up causing more deaths than they had suffered since leaving Hershel's farm last year. Lori had died that night, not that he had much time for her with her tendency to be judgemental and meddling in other peoples business but still he never wished her dead. Thankfully, lil asskicker had survived. T-dog had also been bitten but had become so weak whilst trying to run away he couldn't fight them off as they overtook him. The bloody remains of his masticated body had been particularly soul destroying to dispose of.
But of all people, his heart had almost stopped when he realised that Carol was missing. He had tracked her through the halls after finding her knife embedded in the skull of a walker, finally finding her in one of the cells, thankfully in tact but severely bitten on the shoulder. He had stepped into the dark cell with her, his flashlight providing the only light in the room and had watched her fight against the fever that had overtaken her quickly. She had been completely lucid throughout the whole ordeal, as he held her close to him mostly in companionable silence, waiting for her inevitable death. Her stormy blue grey eyes had looked on him with compassion as he tried his best to keep his face straight. She knew him inside out, she could read him like a book even through his best poker face. She had saved him from himself, she had refused to give up on him with as much determination as he had refused to give up on finding Sophia.
After the death of her daughter, which he had taken so personally, she had pulled him back to the group as he tried to separate himself from it. The months travelling after Hershel's farm got overrun simply solidified their friendship and an understanding had been forged, that they friendship was more than companionship. He sighed as he thought about the times they could have consummated their new relationship and didn't get a chance to on the long perilous journey before they found the jail. The jail would have been a safe haven, if only for a little while before all the shit that happened with the governor.
He had held her as she had breathed her last breath, her eyes telling him that she loved him and that she was sorry that she had to leave. Only then did he allow himself to let go of his emotions when she could no longer see him. He had growled in pain as the numbness lifted, the truth sank in that he would never see her smile at him so shyly, so unsurely again in that way that he loved. He had not waited for her to turn, inserting the blade at the base of her head quickly, knowing that if he saw her eyes open again and the blue was tainted with the lifeless hue that he had seen in so many of the walkers, he would be cursed, they would haunt his dreams forever more. He had held her for what seemed like hours, silent tears coursing down his face until he was finally spent. With a couple of shuddering breaths, he had pulled himself together and had left the small tomb with her body in his arms.
The loss of Lori seemed to have overshadowed the deaths of Carol and T-Dog due to the complete breakdown that had ensued with their leader. He had had to step up to lead the group, numbing the pain of his loss, until Rick was ready to join the collective again. Once everything had seemed to settle, he grieved his loss in private keeping his heart ache suppressed and his consistent reserved demeanour in tact. There were times when he saw a flicker of sympathy from someone in the original group cross their faces when they pretended that they couldn't hear him yelling out in his sleep or when he would turn up at breakfast with heavy bags under his eyes. They, thankfully, chose not to pursue it or question knowing they would receive a cutting remark to mind their own business but they all knew about his dreams. It was hard not to know when you lived in so close proximity to each other.
He bit his lip hard, as he felt the hot tears sting at the corners of his eyes, rubbing them impatiently away and clearing his throat gruffly. His father had taught him it was weakness to cry, the resulting beatings had trained him to hide his tears, and hide them well until finally he could stop them at will. Sometimes though even he couldn't stop the dam from breaching. The dreams were always the same, he would helplessly watch as Carol was ripped to pieces in front of him, his body pinned down by an invisible force holding him down, her screams permeating through him right to his bones. He avoided sleep now when he could, snatching a couple of hours when exhaustion overtook him and mercifully let him slip into a dreamless slumber. It was an ironic way to live in this world being more afraid of falling asleep than the monsters that clawed at the fences less than five hundred meters away.
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could clear the images of her away. He turned his thoughts instead to the events of the day. His eyes roamed absentmindedly over the landscape, looking for any movement other than the walkers as he mused. They had held the meeting after breakfast informing the whole group about Charlotte. It had been agreed between Rick, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn and himself not to disclose the particular horrors of her ordeal to save her dignity and having to relive it. They told the group instead that she had been in a fight and due to her injuries had been struggling to get away from a group of walkers. There had been a collective consensus of sympathy for the woman from the Woodbury survivors, though the original group had all looked at the leader with a little suspicion, sensing there was more to the story than was told. At least Charlotte now had a choice whether to divulge the details of her experience to them or not.
She had apparently woken this evening, had a shower managed to eat something and then fallen asleep again as exhaustion had overtaken her. Maggie had come out long enough to heat up some of the stew they had made for dinner and tell them the basic information they had gleaned from their new guest. They felt that it was a good sign that she was talking to Maggie, Maggie's instincts about earning her trust had been the right call. They had agreed to leave her to sleep until the next morning.
He was unsure what to make of her. His first thought had been of some damsel in distress type when he had seen her fall limply to the ground after being let go by Zeke. Once he had gotten over the initial disgust and boiling anger at her appearance, he had been surprised and a little impressed at her lunging up to face them with the small knife. After he had watched in fascinated, disturbing awe as she had killed Zeke, his heart had skipped a beat as her dark blue eyes had held him captive for the briefest of seconds, her pretty, blood stained face set in determination before turning away from them. Her eyes had burned right through him, daring him to challenge her, even though she was outmanned and outgunned. He had a feeling that once she had recovered she would be a handful. The ice around his heart had thawed a little as she had feebly fought against him proclaiming that she wouldn't belong to anyone, but he knew that he had to curb that feeling. He wouldn't allow someone else to get close to him, not after the loss of first Sophia, then Carol and his brother Merle. Everyone died in this Godforsaken world. He wouldn't let anyone else in, he had to protect himself. He lost everyone and he didn't think he could bare to lose anyone else.
His dark musings were interrupted when he heard the sound of the metal gate softly clanging against its frame from behind him. He got to his feet, and sauntered to the edge to look down into the courtyard and was surprised to see a woman slowly padding barefoot towards the metal runner gates that led to the outside fields. He cursed under his breath as his first thought was that she was a walker that somehow had gotten through the gates on the other side. His eyes flicked over to his crossbow sitting on the blankets at the other end of the stone gangway, but stopped dead when he noticed that she was looking straight up at the sky, her head tilted back. Instantly he relaxed when he realised that whoever it was, it wasn't a walker, he could just make out her features bathed in the moonlight as he peered closer at her over the railings. It was Charlotte.
She looked so different. The wild, thick cascading curls that had hung to the small of her back had been twisted into a thick bun at the base of her neck. She was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved red jumper. In the limited light he could see the left side of her face had already swollen, and that she was sporting a busted lip but he had been unconsciously reflecting over her features earlier, trying to make them out behind the mask of dry blood. From the little he could see he surmised that despite her bottom lip being swollen she had a natural bee stung pout, he could see that her dark sapphire eyes framed by thick black eyelashes were almond shape and a little on the small side for her heart shaped face, and that she had a small button nose. She was pretty, not necessarily conventionally but there was something about her that made you look a second time. She was quite tall, maybe 5'8, with a pear shaped figure, her waist and bust line were slender and small but she had generous hips and long legs. He wasn't even sure whether she would have been his type before the world went to shit, but then he couldn't say that he would have met her in any of the bars he used to frequent unless she was slumming it for a night out on the wrong side of the track. Yes, he would have definitely looked twice at her had he met her over a year ago but not necessarily for anything more than a drunken one night stand.
He gazed at her in mild interest from the shadows of the guard tower, as she stood peering through the gate longingly at the field where they grew their crops, where their graves stood at the very end and the pigsty housed their family of swine. She slowly opened the gate, trying to make as little noise as possible and squeezed herself through the small gap she had created carefully closing it behind her. A small smile pulled slightly at his rugged features as she walked tentatively to the grass, and moaned in pleasure as she stepped onto it her toes curling against the blades of grass in appreciation. She let her head fell back, and closed her eyes, her mouth in a wide smile as she sighed happily. After a minute she squatted down running her fingers through the grass feeling its soft, freshness, brushing it lightly against her finger tips. Letting herself fall back on her hunches, and then gingerly lowering her arse to the floor she reached up unravelling her hair from its restraints and quickly fluffed the still slightly damp curls out until they fell into a long wild mass. She gently laid back into the grass with another contented sigh and wiggled her body in the long turf, giggling childishly as the grains she disturbed floated in the air above her. After a settling into a comfortable position, she brought her arms up to support under her head and greedily scanned the diamond like stars drinking in the beauty of the night before her.
Daryl knew that for her the thing that she coveted, and maybe he took for granted, was freedom. He understood the need, the pull, of the outdoors which for him was only natural having grown up with it. For this woman however after the confinement she had endured it would more than likely be the only thing she needed for now, more than food or creature comforts. She would have snuck past Maggie, sleeping in the same room as her to help her if she woke disorientated, then through the dark corridors, past the cell block where they were all sleeping behind the locked gates to finally reach the outside gates leading to the courtyard. The trek through the corridors would probably have scared her half to death, but the lure of standing outside in the fresh air would have probably been too powerful an urge to resist.
He quietly padded back to his blankets, making himself comfortable as quietly as he could. She hadn't noticed him up there in the shadows, and he decided that he wouldn't alert her to his presence, he would be gone in the morning. It would only make her uneasy, maybe even cause her to bolt back inside. She deserved to not be scared or feel trapped especially on a peaceful night like this. He chuckled softly to himself as he heard the soft flutters of snoring coming from below and lit himself another cigarette, the red glow illuminating his face as he dragged on it. He leant his chin on his forearm once again, against the cold railing and watched her sleeping for a couple of minutes before tearing his eyes away from her relaxed form, and scanning over the horizon.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm balmy breeze that ruffled through his hair as the crickets sang their chorus into the quiet night, and the nostalgia of his teenage years enveloped him once again. He silently laughed at the little snuffles carrying up to him from below, and decided to spend the remainder of his watch counting the stars, something he used to do when he felt a modicum of peace with the world and something, he realised with a twinge of regret, that he had not done in many years.