Daryl stretched, testing his mobility, and found that he could only feel the slightest twinge when his healing muscles and skin were pulled taught.
"Thanks doc," he said in a voice that just barely passed as cheerful. He hopped off the kitchen counter, his lip curling into an unconscious snarl when he saw the discarded black threads that had just come out of his flesh. But soon enough, they were out of mind, and Daryl was walking the woods once again. He could hardly help the slight grin on his face, despite the grim task at hand. It didn't really matter, though. Sophia was the only one around, and she couldn't see his face.
The girl seemed happy to be out, herself. Daryl had wondered whether or not she'd still want to go with him when he'd gone in to get her and discovered her sitting at Carl's bedside. (Doc had finally decided Carl could have a few visitors a day, after nearly two weeks of bedrest.) But she'd simply kissed his cheek and skipped after Daryl when he called, and he'd tried not to feel like the baddest cat around when she'd skidded to a halt in front of him and looked up at him with bright, expectant eyes. He could really get used to that. It was about damn time these people started showing him some respect. (He pretended he wasn't awed and confused by it.)
And in true Sophia form, the girl didn't utter so much as a peep for the first few hours of their search. Daryl had found, in the past few weeks of searching with her, that the girl preferred silence to chatter when in the woods. He could appreciate that, but there were some lessons he couldn't teach without offering some sort of explanation. He tended to leave those until the end of the day, so that Sophia could get her fill of the silence of the woods.
"Mister Dixon?" Sophia asked, an edge of excitement in her voice. A sharp glare from Daryl had her hanging her head. "Sorry. I keep forgetting."
"S'okay," he muttered, wishing it wasn't so easy to forgive her. There was very little he wouldn't forgive her, he thought shrewdly. She was, after all, his only friend in this world.
"How come you don't like to be called that?" she asked. By the tone of her voice, Daryl guessed she'd been wondering for quite some time, now. A month ago, he wouldn't snapped at her to mind her own business.
"Ain't like it's somethin' I'm proud of," he said instead, not meeting the girl's curious eyes. "Dixon was my daddy's name. Only thing he ever gave me, 'sides a healthy mistrust of drunks and a whole mess 'a scars. Who wants to think of that every time someone says their name? I'll just as soon just be Daryl, and even that comes with bad memories."
Sophia was quiet for a bit. Daryl finally lifted his eyes to her face, and was unsurprised to see the familiar thoughtful expression gracing her doll-like features. The same look she got after absorbing a particularly difficult lesson. Eventually, she gave an even nod, and uttered her usual response to grasping a previously unknown concept.
"I understand," she said, her voice slightly more solemn and a whole lot less triumphant than it usually was when she said the words. And Daryl didn't doubt it. The girl was sharp, after all. "My daddy wasn't very nice, either," she revealed, a little frown on her face. "But you probably know that. That's why you're so nice to me, isn't it? That's why you want to find my mom."
It would've been true if she'd asked a couple weeks ago.
"I'm nice to you 'cause we're friends," he said sharply, pretending he didn't feel stupid being friends with a little girl. "And we're lookin' for your ma cause she needs to be found."
"Best friends," Sophia insisted, smiling brightly. "What do I call you, then? Mister Daryl?"
"Why you gotta call me somethin'? Ain't like there's anyone else out here. Just say what you gotta say."
"Oh. Well, you missed these deer tracks," she said cheerfully, pointing to her left. "That's what I was going to tell you."
Daryl figured the rest of the group would've been pleased with the haul, but no one even batted an eye when he walked into camp with Sophia's buck slung over his shoulders. (He was certainly glad he'd gotten the stitches out that morning.) "Where is everyone?" he wondered aloud, dropping the deer next to Lori's makeshift kitchen and looking around the empty cluster of tents.
"Over there," Sophia murmured, pointing to the dilapidated barn. Sure enough, Daryl saw most of the group gathered there, Hershel and company included.
"Looks like they're hollerin' at each other," Daryl growled, irritated. "Probably Shane stirrin' up trouble again."
"He scares me a little bit," Sophia admitted, following after him as he started toward the confrontation.
"S'cause you're smart. And he's insane."
"But he's nice to you, isn't he?"
"Yeah. That's cause he's insane."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl trying to file that information away. When her usual declaration of her understanding didn't reach his ears, Daryl realized he was going to have to explain insanity and human nature to her just a little bit better. He couldn't have her putting her trust in people just because they were nice. That was a fool thing to do, and he wasn't going to let Sophia become a fool.
Still, he didn't fancy giving her a firsthand lesson while he shouted down Shane.
"Stay back a bit, Scout," he said sternly, waving her behind him as they drew closer to the arguing. Sure enough, Shane was at the center of it all, shouting about walkers and Lori and Rick. Daryl stumbled back a bit when he caught sight of the former and latter. There was Rick, holding a snarling walker on the end of a pole. "What the hell is goin' on here?" he demanded, raising his crossbow and glancing back to make sure Sophia wasn't too close to the danger. She was still hovering a couple yards off, her face pale and worried.
"Rick and the farmer decided to fill the barn with walkers," Shane spat.
"You're crazy," Daryl snapped, disregarding the man. "Someone else answer."
"He's pretty much right," Andrea said dryly, looking absolutely miserable.
"You might be crazy, too. Rick? Glenn? T-Dog? Anyone with sanity still intact wanna explain this to me?" he asked, looking around at the three.
"Sorry, man," T-Dog said, sounding more angry than apologetic. "They pretty much hit the nail on the head. There are walkers in the barn. Hershel's been putting them there, and now Rick's helping him."
Shane gave a howl of rage and shot Rick's walker in the chest, still yelling and snarling. Truthfully, Daryl had always had a hard time understanding people when they yelled like that. Most of the time, he didn't bother trying to understand the words and just readied himself for the fight that was soon to follow. Although this time, it didn't look like Shane's quarrel was with him. He just kept shooting the walker, never hitting it in the head until Rick finally cut in, shouting the other man down. For a moment, it looked as though the argument was over.
That was when all hell broke loose. The barn door burst open, and walkers poured out of it in a thick stream.
Daryl heard Sophia's startled scream, but he couldn't afford to look back with everything that was happening right in front of him. "Grab my knife, stay behind me!" he commanded, firing bolt after bolt at everything that came close to him. He felt rather than saw Sophia lift his hunting knife shakily out of it's holster, but he didn't pay attention to that for long. The walkers were coming toward him faster than he could take them down, until, eventually, he pulled out his back-up knife and took them down that way.
He was covered in thick black blood by the time the last walker fell.
"Everyone alright?" Rick asked, his voice crackling with adrenaline.
"Dale!" Andrea cried.
Daryl didn't have to look to know what had happened. He turned away from the scene, squeezing his eyes shut. Without meaning to, he drifted to his knees. When he opened his eyes, he was face-to-face with Sophia.
"Y'okay, girl?" he asked gruffly, knowing already that nothing had touched her. He'd made sure of that. But the girl didn't answer him. She was looking at something over his shoulder, a stricken look on her face. "Don't watch," he said sharply, shaking his head. He grabbed her chin to try and turn her face away, but she scrabbled away from him, tears now wetting her cheeks. "Hey. 'Phia, listen -"
"No!" she gasped, her breaths coming sharp and uneven through her nose. "No! Momma, no!"
She pushed past him, dodging as he reached out to catch her arm. "Sophia!" he said sharply, shooting to his feet and spinning around to see where she was going. The girl sprinted away from him, quickly disappearing from sight once she got to the treeline. He was already after her when he heard Rick shouting his name, and for a moment, he couldn't get his legs to stop moving.
"Daryl! Stop!" Rick yelled again. He skidded to an uncertain halt, feeling bereft without the girl around. No, bereft because he didn't know where she was, or if he'd ever see her again. He didn't care how much she'd learned - Daryl didn't want her in the woods on her own.
"What do you want?" he called hoarsely, glaring at Rick as the man jogged toward him. "I gotta - she can't be out there alone too long..."
"Just wait a second, Daryl," Rick said gently, gesturing uselessly behind him. "Did you... did ya see what spooked her?"
Daryl knew, but he wasn't going to think about it. He wasn't going to acknowledge it until he absolutely had to.
"Man, leave me alone," he snapped, turning away from the stupid cop.
"Daryl, I think you need to see this!" Rick insisted.
"Don't need ta see nothing," he replied, already heading after Sophia once more. He could see her tracks clear as day, and he could tell she'd made an effort to keep her trail as obvious as possible. Sophia had learned a little too well how to conceal her passage for Daryl's liking. "'Phia!" He called into the woods, hoping she hadn't gone too far. "C'mon, Scout, don't do this..."
He followed her trail until it disappeared, and it took him only a few seconds before he breathed a sigh of relief and looked upward.
"Sophia..." Daryl began, faltering when he realized he didn't have anything to say. What did you say to a girl when her mother -
He wasn't going to think about that. He couldn't. Not yet.
"I told you," the girl gasped, trying to catch her breath and stop the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I told you, didn't I? I know my mom. I know her. I knew she wouldn't... I told you."
Daryl stared up at her helplessly, mouth agape. He remembered sitting on his charred and blackened porch late into the night, waiting for his mother to appear.
"What made you think we could save her?" the girl muttered, shaking her head. "Some people... some people can't be saved."
He remembered the warm arms of his neighbor, lifting him off the ground. "Everything's gonna be okay, Daryl." She'd said it again and again until it had pounded in his ears like a drum. Like a second heartbeat.
"I tried to tell you."
Everyone had tried to tell him. Merle, his daddy, their neighbor. That firewoman, the librarian, his teacher... They'd all told him she was dead, and he'd kept on looking, anyway. Nothing else had made sense.
"Aren't you gonna say something?" Sophia sniffled, looking down at him with tear-filled eyes. Daryl barely had the energy to shake his head, let alone offer consoling words. He felt that familiar ache in his chest - the one that had dulled over the years but was suddenly as sharp as it had been when he was a boy. That feeling of missing something that hadn't disappeared when he'd realized he'd never had it in the first place.
Silently, Sophia held out her arms, and Daryl could do nothing but catch her when she slipped out of the tree and into his arms. She held onto him, arms around his neck and sharp knees squeezing his sides. Daryl didn't care. He set his cheek against her tangled blonde hair and pretended she was the only one crying.
