Chapter 9: Chasm (Part I of II)
Activity throughout the prison had slowed almost to a standstill. The frenzy and panic were replaced by a regrouping of efforts to make sense of the losses. Many were finding the search for answers difficult. Handling the disaster in D Block relied on an almost unthinking instinct and aggression; creating solutions required reflection on everything that had gone wrong.
And the return to a sense of normalcy ushered in the first wave of mourning.
Daryl counted the number of bodies waiting to be buried. No matter how few of their dead remained, it was still too many. At least the walkers were held at bay for the time being, drawn away by Rick's diversion. There was much left to do, though. As the dirt kicked up in the wind, Daryl noticed that he was parched from sucking in the dusty air and running around in the heat of the day. He was tired too, not so much physically. More like worn down. Carol had seen it after the last Council meeting and was worried. There wasn't nothing to be done about it except to carry on.
The handful of people who worked at repairing the fences had taken a break. It was a good thing. Everyone needed a short rest and some space to breath freely again after dealing with the latest attack. Daryl figured he'd go back to digging graves but he opted to step away for a while as well.
While out by their small cemetery, only him and those bodies, he'd been at a low point. Anger and frustration simmered with each hole he dug out. At the time, everything seemed to have gone off the rails. All that they'd built fell dangerously close to being lost and the things that he cared about were slipping through his fingers. Then Rick had reminded him that they had survived plenty of bad stuff together yet were still alive with a small bit of happiness on top of that. They would handle this newest obstacle the same as all the others: by pulling together.
Eventually, he'd come around to the idea that the situation wasn't as bad as he'd thought, not with the prison, not with this illness and not with Michonne. Working with Rick and the group to keep their home safe had restored Daryl's sense of purpose, sparked a bit of hope that they'd see this latest setback through even if he had no idea how the specifics would shake out.
Now, trudging towards the building complex, Daryl had regrets about the tranquility Rick lost right when Daryl had found meaning in their struggles. He tried to brush aside his guilt despite his sympathies. It felt good being his friend's wingman again, a moment of familiarity in the middle of chaos. As he'd thought earlier, it was only a matter of time before Rick rejoined their efforts and stepped up as a problem solver instead of a bystander. Earning time to wallow in his tragedies was one thing but hanging back when he could be doing so much more bordered on foolishness.
Daryl walked by the outdoor eating area to grab a cup and take a long drink from one of the tanks. The cool water was delicious and he felt better for having taken the time to replenish. Feeling better about where his day was heading, he next wandered toward his cell block to make a pit stop for a few things. Hershel confirmed that it was okay as long as he didn't linger and kept his distance from the others. With his cell being away from most everyone anyway, he could be in and out without drawing much notice.
And he was hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of Michonne, see that she was alright and assure her that he was too.
Just in case, he took the back way. When he spotted Beth and Lil Asskicker, they were clear across the block thankfully. Beth nodded in his direction but made no move towards him; someone must have warned her about keeping her distance, Maggie probably. He signaled anyway for her to stay where she was. Ascending the stairwell, he jerked his head towards Michonne's cell, a silent question as to her general well-being. Beth smiled sadly and pointed up towards the other side of the room.
A somber resignation was how she'd reacted. Something about Michonne had rattled the usually stoic and easygoing young woman. And if Michonne had hobbled up to the catwalk on her bad foot, it meant that she was going out of her mind.
Whatever the circumstances, seeing Michonne wasn't likely to do much to ease his mind.
Surely, being sidelined because of her injury was eating at her; it'd be unbearable to him too, especially with all that had gone on today. It was funny how similar their instincts were even though their lives before they met had been so different. Just like him, if there was a threat, she wanted to be in on the front line.
Calm mood now gone, Daryl made his way to his cell and threw a few items into a bag. He'd find some other place to bunk down until they figured out a long-range plan. His next stop was to seek out Michonne and see for himself how badly damaged she was.
He found her on the upper catwalk right where Beth had suggested. The cane Hershel used on occasion rested next to her against the fence. There were a few people coming and going below her and she clutched the metal grating as she watched them. She held a faraway look, one he recognized from her darker days; her mood was worse than he thought.
The sound of his footsteps entering the walkway from the opposite end drew her attention but only for a moment. Those few seconds were enough for him to see everything. All of his earlier hope drained out of him.
In her face, he recognized defeat and it chilled him even in the mild heat. It had never occurred to him that she was capable of such an emotion. Instinctively, the man in him wanted to protect his woman and step up to fight her demons for her. The friend in him simply wanted to run to her and hold her until everything bad in the world righted itself.
If only he could get close enough to comfort her.
On autopilot, Daryl had taken a few steps towards her but forced himself to stop. Images of what he'd seen in D block flashed in his mind, the bloody faces and cold, bloated bodies riddled with disease. It was a horrible way to go and there was no way he would risk that happening to Michonne because of his weaknesses. He needed to keep his distance.
What he didn't know was what had brought this on. It couldn't have been because of him; if Rick had checked in on her, surely his friend would have confirmed that he was fine. Was the frustration at being injured that high? Or was it something else entirely? She'd been crying and that was something he'd only seen once when she'd been faced with Andrea's death. The signs were all there, the puffy eyes, the despondent posture, such sadness pouring out of a woman who usually projected strength and a fierce deadliness.
Several feet from where she stood, Daryl clenched the metal barrier in his fists and willed himself to calm down enough to ask what the hell had happened and how he could fix it. She beat him to the punch; he heard her soft voice reaching out to him, her tone raw and sedate.
"You okay?" she asked.
Was he okay? This woman made him crazy without even trying.
"What's goin' on, Michonne? I know neither 'a us is one for words but talk to me and tell me what's wrong."
She bowed her head and let out a breath. "What the hell isn't wrong right now?"
"We're both standin' here for one. This day aint been no picnic but there's that."
Shaking her head, she finally turned to face him, such hurt in her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry about before, I—"
"I aint thinkin' on that no more. It's done. It wadn't nothin' but our usual shit. It don't mean I …"
He didn't even know how to finish that. Or rather, he was afraid to finish it. Most of the day had consisted of dodging danger and dead bodies, spending a morning killing people he'd only yesterday been shooting the fucking breeze with. A total shitshow. All except those blissful moments of just her and him, waking up to hot sex and starting the day with the surprise of her more nurturing side. The earlier anxiety over losing her hung in the back of his mind yet what he'd just witnessed on her face felt even more devastating. He couldn't deny anymore what she meant to him. This constant fretting and fussing over her pointed to one conclusion: he was in love with her, whatever the hell that meant.
But he was worse than she when it came to talking, and discussing his feelings was damn near impossible. They were at a volatile place right now and he wasn't going to spill his guts out to her like some lovesick fool. Not when he was this agitated or she this traumatized.
He shuffled a little where he stood but kept his tight hold on the fence to keep from approaching her. Their fight seemed like so long ago. "You had a point too. I was holdin' ya back when you was just tryin' to take care 'a what needed doin'."
"My ankle would disagree," she said, the smallest hint of humor in her response.
"Yeah, I heard. You gon' be alright?"
Michonne shrugged. "It's not bad and Beth wrapped it up good."
They stood in silence, his unease and curiosity hanging between them. She'd yet to address his initial question, not for a lack of explanation but, if he was reading her right, because there was so much to say. What he really wanted to do was grill her about whatever was bothering her because it had to be something damn near catastrophic to bring her down like this. While he'd learned that it often took a bit of time for her to reveal her troubles, Daryl wasn't a patient man. With people dying so quickly and the threat of others getting sick, including himself, it was hard to ignore that "later' wasn't guaranteed for anyone. But he didn't have the energy to force her to open up if she wasn't ready.
"I'm 'a go finish helpin' with the graves in a minute but I'm glad I got to check in on you."
"I'm glad I got to see you too." Her distressed smile tugged at his conscience again. "I can come down and help. I saw Maggie out there earlier so it should be okay as long as I keep my distance. And I don't need both feet to dig. "
Shaking his head, Daryl turned his back to the fence. "Naw, we got some folks on it. You should stay off that ankle for a while." She nodded. Glancing over at her again, he slid down to sit in order to keep from walking over to her. Even if they weren't an especially touchy kind of couple, he did enjoy being near her when the occasion arose. The exhaustion from dealing with walkers and dead bodies and deadly colds hit him in that moment; his emotions were frazzled with all the loss and fear and the admission that he was in love with a stubborn, fearless amazing woman who challenged him more than anyone ever had.
He wanted more time with her even if he couldn't be close.
A moment later, she lowered herself to the ground to sit with him from the other end of the catwalk. They fell into a steady silence, so much unresolved between them but not wanting to be anywhere except with each other.
TBC ...
