As The World Falls
Summary:
Life used to be relatively simple. We were born. We lived. We loved. We cried. We died. It was the only constant life provided for us. Relationships are form ed. Some are broken. Families thrive, while others fell apart. We took the good feelings along with the bad. Life used to have so much to offer.
Now life is not so simple. No. Now the world is much darker, filled with very little hope.
Author's Note: This story will eventually grow into a Daryl/OC. I know, there are plenty out t h ere, but I want to take my shot at it . The story is going to be a long one, many chapters, but will be broken up i n to different Parts, following the Seasons . Th is story follows my OC and her small group of friends as they come across the refugee camp. At least give it a chance and leave a review, let me kn ow what you like about the story and what you don't like about it. I am planning on keeping i t as original as I can while maintaining the original story line.
Part One
Chapter Eleven
Knot
(v) 1. weave 2. complicate
I don't know what to do. Seeing Isaac kneeling at Amy's side, opposite of the sobbing Andrea, I feel my heart constrict, wanting to comfort my step-brother during his loss. Glancing down at my shaking hands, the blackened blood staining my once pale hands. I want to lend a hand, show compassion, but...the very idea causes me to swallow the nervousness down, shuddering at the thought of touching another person. Hearing Daryl comment about the girl being a time bomb, I look over at him. Whatever expression played on my face causes him to scoff as he turns on foot and begins taking a pick-ax to the skulls of the dead.
"Auntie Letty?"
Curling my blood-coated fingers, I cross my arms, not wanting Mel to see the substance on my hands, "Yes, Bright-Eyes?"
"Can I go sit with Uncle Isaac?" Glancing down, my heart breaks at the sight of the sorrowful gaze in the eight-year-old's eyes, "I don't like when he's sad."
Knowing I have to search for the absent Colt, I nod slowly, "If Miss Amy starts moving, I want you to stand behind Uncle Isaac, okay?"
The girl nods and I watch with a heavy heart as the compassionate child curls up on my step-brother's lap. Seeing Isaac instinctively wrap his arms around Mel, I head for my tent. Collecting my Beretta, I check the clip, and slip the gun in my pocket as a just-in-case measure. Not seeing Colt anywhere around the camp of somber refugees, I muse over where my brother could have run off to. Remembering the clearing in the woods he often escaped to, I begin the short trek.
Coming upon the sight of Colt kneeling in front of the standing Natasha, I freeze mid-step. The sight appears all-too-familiar to the memory of Colt asking for his late-wife's hand in marriage. Except, seeing the heavy sorrow written on his face, I shake away the idea, looking over Natasha. Her face is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, her face flushed from heat and I know at my core that it isn't the Southern heatwave that has her looking so warm.
"Colt," I call out curtly, causing both eyes to look over at me, "We have an agreement, yes?"
Colt's sorrow is replaced by anger as he moves to his feet, "Nat wasn't a part of the pact."
"You're willing to bet your daughter's life on that?" I shoot back, squaring off my stance in a silent refusal to back down from this.
"Just because you don't like her, doesn't mean you have a say in this," Colt argues.
Glaring at the thickness of my brother's skull, I cross my arms over my chest, "Last time I checked, the safety of this family has always been and will always be my concern," Removing the gun from my pocket, I raise it, aiming it at the woman, "Either you pull the trigger, or I will."
"You can't do that!" Colt spits out in a fury of anger.
I am surprised when Natasha gives me a small, thankful smile, her tearful eyes sliding shut in muted acceptance. Seeing the reluctance in my brother, I have to hand it to the woman. I still may not like her, but at least she's willing to end it before she becomes a threat. Checking my aim, I inhale deeply, staring at the very human woman in my sights. Swallowing back the inevitable guilt and disgust at the thought of killing a human being, no matter how much I couldn't stand her, she was still a living, breathing human. Curling my index finger around the trigger, I tighten up my stance, bracing myself and clearing the guilt from my mind, I pull back the trigger.
"No!"
As if I don't have enough of a headache. The moment the woman's body crumbles to the ground, my hand shaking at the thought of what I just did, I never see it coming. The sickening crack echoes among the trees, my head snapping to the side as my body forcefully hits the ground. Groaning at the pain added to the already injured side of my face, I blink my eyes open slowly, staring at the sunlight breaking through the canopy of leaves above my head.
"Oh God!" Colt's voice stutters out.
Shaking away the pain, I shudder as another thought flashes through my head. My own brother just hit me. Struggling to my feet, I wince at the pain in my skull, my hand lifting to rub at the injured side of my head. Seeing the crimson coating my twitching fingers, I shudder as my gaze meets the shocked eyes of my own flesh and blood. Without a word, I step forward, brushing by the stunned Colt as I kneel at Natasha's side. As I said, I may not like her, but she had still be human. The adrenaline from the fighting done over the past day gives my weary body enough strength and energy to hoist Natasha's body up. Half-carrying, half-dragging the woman's corpse back into camp, I say nothing to Colt. Ignoring the shocked gasps and stares, I struggle to carry Natasha over to where Glenn stood.
"Where do we bury our dead?" I ask, swallowing back the nausea and pain.
Glenn glances up from the burning bodies and his eyes widen, "What happened to your face? I thought it was starting to heal up?"
"Where, Glenn?" I demand, not willing to talk about the incident between me and Colt. "Where do we bury our dead?"
Heading off into the direction the Asian kid points in, my body trembles as it fights against the exhaustion mounting. Carefully lying the woman in one of the graves dug into the ground, I inhale deeply before grabbing a nearby shovel. Shoveling dirt back into the grave site, I ignore the pain, the exhaustion and the heat as I fill every inch around the woman's body. He promised, I curse inwardly, He promised he would be able to handle it. How could he handle taking out Isaac or even myself? If he can't do it for this woman, how do I know he will keep his word?
"Y''gonna kill yerself."
"Fuck off," I snap, the motion of shoveling more dirt onto the grave having becoming mechanical and repetitious.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I bring my elbow back instantly, hearing a grunt of air leave his lungs before I whirl around on the blue-eyed hunter, "Don't touch me," I sneer out, tossing the shovel to the side, "Every time I let someone get anywhere close to touching me, I end up getting hurt. No one else."
The angry irritation fades from his eyes and I watch as his stance straightens, "The hell happen to yer face?"
"A baseball bat, followed by my own brother's fist because he could fucking do it," I lash out, "He couldn't pull the trigger on some wife of his friend. He couldn't pull the trigger so I had to," I shudder, looking down at the blackened blood mixing with crimson from the woman's body, "I had to put a bullet in a living human being. I had to kill her because he couldn't fucking do it." My hands bury into my hair, fingers curling around the short locks, "I had to kill someone. I..."
"Y'did what ya had to do."
Feeling the hand on my shoulder again, I jerk back, this time bringing my fist against his chest, causing him to stumble back, "No!" I yell out, "I did what he should have done. She was his responsibility. What happens if I get bit? What happens when Isaac gets bit? He can't pull the trigger on this woman, how can I know he can do it for us?" The exhaustion wins over my body, my knees buckling from under my weight and I fall to my knees, "I can't believe I killed someone," I choke out, looking down at my shaking hands, "I...How could he do this to me?"
"If it makes y'feel better, if y'get bit by one o'em, I'll put a bolt in yer head," Daryl's voice is low and calm as he squats down in front of me.
Looking up, I shake my head, choking back the emotional chaos warring within me, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Daryl Dixon." Groaning as black spots invade my vision, my hand raises to my head, fingers rubbing the at the tender spot, "My own brother hit me, Daryl," I mumble somberly, sniffing back the tears threatening to escape, "My own brother...my own flesh and blood. What's this world come to if I can't feel safe around my own brother? What's this world come to if I can't seek the comfort of my brother's arms? He's...he's the only blood I have left...the only person that has never intentionally hurt me. H-how?"
Daryl seems unsure of how to approach the situation, his gaze moving awkwardly between myself and aimlessly somewhere else, before he scratches the back of his neck, "Y'can ride in the truck with me. We're gettin' ready to head out of the camp, once Andrea and Isaac finish burying Amy. Look," His hand extends again, my shoulders tensing, but his fingers twitch, pausing just a few inches away, "y'have gone through more shit in the last twenty-four hours than most in the camp. Y'need to rest. Stop bein' such a pain in the ass and let me help."
I can't be sure if it's because of the mess of emotions in my head, or the utter weariness in my heart and soul, but a small choking laugh leaves my lips. Without realizing it, my body instinctively leans forward, my forehead resting against his shoulder as I feel my body begin to shut down. Groaning as I feel an arm hook under my legs and suddenly nothing is under me, I welcome the warm comfort surrounding me.
"Don'care wat p...ple...say," I murmur, my eyes cracking open the slightest as I stare up at the stoic face of my friend, "Y'good people, Daryl Dixon."
Waking up to something cool pressing against the side of my head, I groan, eyes sliding open to see Daryl's face inches from my own. The moment of silence gives me a chance to look over the concentration poured into his expression, his eyes darkened with thought. Wordlessly reaching up, I take hold of the ice pack against my face, his eyes blinking as if coming out of his inner monologue.
"I know this might sound weird, but..." I sit upright, realizing I was not in my own tent, "you wouldn't happen to have any food on you, do you? I'm kind of hungry."
Snorting, Daryl nods, holding out some jerky, "Should hold ya over until everyone eats before we head outta here."
"Thanks," he nods once more and I swallow back my pride, "No, really, Daryl. Thanks. I've only known one other person to be such a good friend to me, so...thanks."
"Don't thank me just yet," Daryl murmurs, his eyes only flickering with the smallest amount of guilt, most of it apprehensive, "I may, or may not, have gotten into a fight with yer brother," My eyes widen and I choke on the jerky in my mouth, "Wasn't my fault. He said he didn't want y'staying in my tent while y'rested. He grabbed me and then I...remembered yer face, and yer words and it just happened," I glance down at my lap, unsure of what to say, "Maybe got a few licks in each before Officer Douche Bag and Rick broke it up."
"If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about Colt right now," I murmur softly, before glancing up, "Is that offer of a ride still on the table?" He nods slowly and I smile, "You really are a good friend, Daryl. Don't know what would happen if it wasn't for you."
"I do," Daryl comments, causing me to cock an eyebrow, "Y'woulda most likely slaughter those stupid Mexicans, beat the crap outta yer brother and jack sum'one in the face with that shovel."
My head falls back, real laughter escaping me as his words washes over me. Polishing off the last of the jerky, I mutely thank him for the cigarette before lying back on the cot. I know I should probably get my shit together, but for right now, I'm taking a much needed break. A break from Colt. A break from pain. A break from barely-strangers. A break from reality.
Just for a moment.
"Where are you going?"
Zipping up my large duffle bag, I glance down at Isaac standing near the tailgate of the truck. Hopping down, I stiffly and mechanically pat Isaac on the shoulder, offering him a small smile of sympathy before nodding in Daryl's direction. Seeing the understanding, I wonder how Isaac became more compassionate and level-headed than Colt. Choking back my nervous tension, I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his chest.
"Thanks for understanding, bro," I murmur.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he replies.
Shaking my head, I smile after stepping out of the embrace, "No. You were right where you needed to be. Next time we get a chance, I'll be sure to finish another...feather," His eyebrows crinkle in confusion, "In memory of Amy. She was your friend after all."
I flinch out of habit when Isaac presses a kiss to my forehead, "You're nicer than you give yourself credit for."
Snorting, I hoist my bag over my shoulder, "Just don't tell anyone. Next thing you know Officer Dickhead and I will be singing 'Joy to the World'. Oh, and you better take good care of her," I nod in the direction of my bike, "Or I'll have your ass."
Earning a hearty laugh, I am pleased I've managed to get him to forget his sorrow for a brief moment before I wander over to Mel. Kneeling down, I embrace the small girl tightly, dropping more than one kiss on the giggling child's face. Making her promise me to stick with her daddy and Uncle Isaac, I press one more kiss to her forehead before approaching Daryl's truck. Tossing my bag into the bed of his truck, I slip into the passenger seat, grinning thankfully when he offers me a cigarette.
"We're gonna need to grab more on the next run."
"Pretty sure, Glenn owes us after us going to safe his punk ass," I retort, earning a snort of amused agreement.
Lighting up the cigarette, I inhale as my gaze settles on the camp, for what is sure to be the last time.
So? The witch is dead! No, Charlie doesn't think of her in any different light. She is still considered 'that woman' or 'her'. The emotional angst is mostly from shock. Hello, she wasn't in the military like her brother. She's never had to kill someone. Jamie was already one of them when she found him. She's never killed a living breathing person, and along with everything else that occurred, she's bound to crack at some point. Again, hope it doesn't seem too OCC. This chapter was particularly difficult to write because I had to get into Charlie's head, which...wasn't that difficult, and author had to take a much needed smoke break due to the emotional chaos of it all. Reviews = Cupcakes...Author likes Cupcakes! Cupcakes makes Author hyper. Hyper-Author writes more! See pictures?
Ravenclaw Slytherin: Ding Dong, the witch is dead.
For my Followers (who some know I refer to as Minions) Thanks to each of you:
Freckles the Wanderer
Paper Grenade
Pein's Kid
Ravenclaw Slytherin
shyannene
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kore12191
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DementorsKiss95
lilhanna
shmalana
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Coming Next Chapter: Daryl and Charlie get some one-on-one time? What questions are asked? What do you think Daryl would ask? What do you think Charlie should ask? When the gang stop to give Jim his final respects, Charlie goes car raiding? What should she find?
THANKS AGAIN! You guys are awesome! Leave reviews and let me know what you think!
