AN: Just letting y'all know, I have created a bunch of edits/themes that show what I imagine certain parts of the story looks like (i.e. what Bella looks like, the water tower, her tattoos, etc.). They are posted on "Shit Happens" in archiveofourown in chapters 1, 9, and 20 AND also on my NEW tumblr account (redrose689). Please check them out! They are so much fun for me to make, and they give an idea of what everything looks like.
Daryl sat on the freshly turned dirt, knees bent up to his chest and elbows on his knees. His clasped hands rested against his mouth as he stared at the small pile of rocks that acted as a headstone. June said that Bella wasn't religious, but she did like rocks.
His finger tapped against his other hand – the only sign of Daryl's agitation. He didn't want them to create this mock grave. Her body wasn't in it. Hell, she might not even be dead. He argued against this and didn't even go to her "funeral." He didn't know why the hell he was here now, but something about looking at it – feeling it – brought him into focus.
When he asked June if she thought Bella was actually dead, she said, "I want to hope she isn't. She had hope for me. I won't accept it till we see a body, but I still can't help but mourn." June had started crying again, so Maggie took over and Daryl didn't ask again.
June said Bella might be alive, but he could tell by the way June said it that she truly didn't believe it, even if she might not know it yet. From the way they described it, there was only three ways she could've gone: the church, the cell block, or the hallway. All of which were packed with walkers.
Once Hershel got bit, the rest of the group was forced to forget the chase and take him to safety, which is how they eventually found the group of prisoners. They had assumed – hoped - that Maggie and Bella were okay and had found their way back.
Even once they had discovered that they hadn't returned, and that June was missing, Rick sent half of the group to find them and the other half to deal with the prisoners demands. But all it ended with was the deaths of three of the prisoners, and no Maggie, June, or Bella.
The next morning, when the whole group set out to find them, they ran into the shaken pair of Maggie and June. Rick was stunned when he heard about what happened to Bella. He actually had to brace himself against the wall, as he took in the information.
Daryl had immediately shaken his head. "I'm goin' out there," he said, crossbow already in hand as he strode out. But June had stopped him.
So, here he was, hours later. Rick had decided that first they would need to plan how to get rid of all the walkers down in Cell Block B – not only to search for Bella but also to protect the group. But it was taking them a hell of a long time to do so.
He heard footsteps approaching. Daryl recognized the uneven fall of steps, signaling the telltale gait of Rick. It was something that Bella and Daryl often joked about, unbeknownst by Rick.
It was a long while when Daryl finally lowered his hands. "She ain't dead. She ain't dead till she is."
Rick nodded slowly, looking at the rocks. "I get it. She's tough. If any of us could make it out of that, it would be her. Maybe there was another door, or the herd never caught up to her. It's why we are going to go look." When he glanced down at Daryl, Daryl refused to look back up. "It's why I need to know that no matter what we find – or don't find – you won't lose it down there."
Daryl scoffed. He stood up, his crossbow on his back. "If you spent more time worrying about searchin,' then when we wouldn't need to have this conversation."
Rick wasn't fazed or offended. He just rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Well, we are ready to go. First, us two and Glenn need to go out and get some wood. With all the walkers in that cell block we are about to clear out, all we can do is burn them."
The three worked quickly and solemnly. There were a couple of dead trees from the winter that made it easy enough to pick and cut down. They would need a whole lot more, but it's something to get started.
Going back through where they first clipped the gated walkway open, the three had just entered and closed the hole when they were greeted with a warming sight.
All the way back in the courtyard outside their block, Hershel was already up and walking on his crutches not a day later. He was joined by the rest of the group, who were cheering him on. The old man looked no worse for wear.
Glenn started whooping beside him. Daryl squinted at him, hand raised against the sun. "He's one tough son of a bitch."
But Daryl watched as Carl and the rest suddenly began to start scrambling away from the prison. Their wild and reckless movements made him feel dread. Not far behind them, walkers were lurching their way from somewhere in the prison.
Not long after the three men started running, the harsh, jarring blare of the alarms echoed throughout the prison.
The baby blinked at him, her pale blue eyes going cross-eyed as she blearily took him in. Daryl looked down at the little thing, marveling at how this piece of life could still exist in a world taken over by death. He was relieved that as soon as he fed her the formula, her cries ceased. It had calmed the group down considerably. After all the loss and heartbreak they had endured in just that day alone, this acted as another blessing.
The midday sun streamed into the common space, allowing Daryl to feel a bit of warmth he hadn't yet felt in this cold, steel prison. As he looked up to the group, he saw hints of a smile on everyone's faces. He shifted the baby a bit. "So," he glanced down toward Carl, who was watching the baby carefully. "She got a name?"
Carl shrugged, still muted. He kicked his foot lightly against the floor as he mumbled, "Maybe Bella." Daryl briefly stilled his rocking movements, feeling as if a stone settled heavily in his chest. He saw June looking away, her eyes still red from earlier. Carol wrapped an arm around the young girl comfortingly. "Or Sophia. Andrea. Or- " The boy let out a shuddering breath. "Or Lori. I don't know."
Daryl had to smother whatever the hell he was feeling down. He couldn't afford to lose himself like Rick had when he found out about Lori's death, not when the group desperately needed a leader to cling on to. He also didn't want to deal with the loss himself. Not now.
So, he slowly began to rock the baby. He never held one of these before, but something about it felt natural. The baby was still gulping down the formula, gurgling contentedly. "Yeah, you like that?" Daryl never cooed, and he refused to think that was what he was doing that. "Little ass-kicker." He looked up at the group's amused faces. "Right?" he pressed. Even Carl and June laughed.
"That's a good name. Right, sweetheart?"
Bella would've loved her.
Daryl found June and Carl sitting on the floor in the middle of her cell, a large book sprawled open. When he walked in, he jolted when he saw a familiar pair of green eyes. Slowly, he lowered himself to join June, as the girl flipped through a photo album – the same one the two retrieved from the water tower a few months ago. He'd never seen it since and haven't really thought about it as much.
But here it was, revealing countless of photos of June and Bella throughout the years from before. It felt strange, almost intrusive, as he gazed upon their younger, smiling faces. When June flipped the page, the girl looked only ten. He looked at Bella's youthful face. She was probably only around twenty-four? Twenty-five?
As June went through the book, they both got progressively older until it reached a point when Daryl could hardly see the distinction from them then and them now. The only major difference was how carefree they looked compared to now. Bella was often grinning, her eyes flashing as her photo was being taken. In one, she was sticking out her middle finger, eyebrow raised teasingly. Despite how Bella looked exactly the same as she did a few days ago, Daryl could tell that the person in the photo was different from the Bella he knew.
Still, he didn't like looking at how alive and vibrant she was, so he broke the silence. "Y'know, my mom liked her wine." The kids looked up at him, surprised. Daryl didn't like talking about the past – there's no use in it. So, the group hardly knew much about him from before, even Bella. But she understood, somehow, that some things were best left behind. Except maybe for now
"She liked to smoke in bed. Virginia slims," he added. Although, he was speaking to the kids now, he played back the memories in his head. He could still see her there, her thumb flicking off some ash from her cigarette.
"One day, I was out with some kids in the neighborhood. Merle wasn't there, so I was able to. They had bikes – I didn't. When sirens came, they jumped the gun and chased after it. Hopin' to see somethin'. I ran after them, but I couldn't keep up." It had been so long ago, that Daryl, all-in-all, got over it. Still, it felt strange to say this all out loud, especially now.
"When I got there, they were lookin' at me. Hell, everyone was lookin' at me. It was my house the firetrucks were there for. My mom was in bed, burnt down to nothing."
He looked at the two. He had mourned long ago, and this was more for them than anything. "That was the hard part. She was just gone. Nothing left of her. Everyone said it was for the best. But-" Daryl shrugged half-heartedly, letting out an empty chuckle. "I don't know. It didn't make it feel real."
Carl spoke first, surprising June and Daryl. "I shot my mom."
They looked at him, taken aback. But he was looking at the photos, hat covering his face.
"She was out. Hadn't turned yet." Carl looked up at them, eyes blank. "I ended it. This was real."
June put a hand on Carl's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your mom," she mumbled.
"I'm sorry about yours," he said.
Daryl slowly walked along the halls, watching his shadow creep along with him. The sun will still be out for another couple of hours, so as he moved throughout the prison, he took care to keep close to the outer parts. They tended to be the ones with the windows, making it easier for him to see without relying on his flashlight for the whole time.
He felt strangely numb and robotic. Whenever a walker came toward him, he took it out methodically with little thought to it. It was muscle memory, and the snarling and decayed bodies did little to startle him – especially when it was just one.
The urge to look never went away. He felt almost guilty when he was reminded about Bella. After running around to shut off the alarms, the deaths, and the baby, the search for her never took place. When she never showed up throughout that time, it was enough justification for the group to accept her death.
Daryl didn't know if he accepted it. Like his mother's death, this one didn't seem real. But when he thought about what she was against, and how it's been two days since they got separated, he was cruelly reminded about how slim her chances were. This wasn't like June, who they had to search for in a huge forest. This was a prison with exits, and Bella knew where to go. She would've found her way back.
So, maybe he wasn't looking for her – alive, at least. Maybe he was trying to end it. Make it feel real. Maybe then, he could finally and properly mourn.
He was getting close to the cellblock. Cellblock B. While Maggie and Daryl had gone away to get the formula, the rest decided to open the entrance and empty out the walkers into their own courtyard. Dozens had come out they said, and they one-by-one stabbed them in their heads at the fence. There were some shot with arrows, but other than that, there was no sign of Bella. Not amongst the walkers, and not in the cell block. Just a lot of blood.
It was entirely possible that they'll never find her – her or her body. It sickened him to think about it, so he didn't. It was why he had been here, wandering around this cage for the past two hours. For now, he'll continue to look. He doesn't know when he'll stop, but, right now, this is enough.
When he saw the red lines drawn along the wall, he rubbed his thumb against it. It smeared, breaking the line and staining his thumb. Maggie had said Bella drew them so that the others could find the two of them, when they would come looking. He clenched his hand and forced himself to follow.
Daryl saw the church, the classrooms, and the cell block. He saw the tied-up guard Maggie mentioned. There were indistinguishable smears and splatters of blood everywhere, marks from the herd that had resided here. The red lines were there. But she wasn't. She wasn't anywhere.
In one of the rooms he found, it appeared to be some sort of recreational space. It was open and almost sparse looking. But there were instruments. A guitar. A piano.
Anger spiked up, hot and red. It fractured the calm and methodical mentality he had taken on. He hadn't felt this angry since the time at the farm. He felt like he was receding back into the angry man he once was.
Daryl had to get out of there. Without a look back, he practically ran out of the room. He knew it wasn't smart to be like this out here. The group had lost so much in this place already. Daryl didn't even tell anyone where he was going, but they'd probably figured it out for themselves. So, he started heading back, breathing to calm himself down.
Most of the walkers in the prison had ended up being attracted to the loud herd that had gathered in Cell Block C. Thus, the number of walkers that frequented the halls were fewer. There was still quite a few left, but nowhere as near as much as before. Thus, it was easy to handle every walker he came by. There was usually one or two at a time; at most, there was five.
Daryl took one down with his crossbow. He yanked it out brutally, its brains and blood adding to the splatters already on the walls. He continued his way.
The group had quickly found where the civilian walkers were coming from. The whole front of the prison looked like it had gotten burnt to hell, leaving huge holes filled with walkers. The debris still managed to keep most of them there, but there were some gaps where a couple would manage to slip by.
He stabbed one in the head and threw it towards another, toppling it to the ground. He made quick work of it.
The hole in the prison was a huge downfall to the place's security. It was a blind spot, considering how they almost never go to that area, and all the while it attracts walkers in. They will have to deal with it soon, once Rick gets his head together.
Belatedly, Daryl hears more shuffling around the corner. Like clockwork, he raises his knife. But before he could jump out, the walker already lunged toward him.
He didn't see much, since the only light came from a small window down the hall. He just saw a dark blur covered in cold, thick blood that smeared onto his side as he stumbled back.
It was on him before he could even focus on it, but it was easy enough to push it back against the wall. Its wild hair covered much of its face, preventing it from seeing much. Forearm pushed against its throat, Daryl raised his knife to stab it in the head.
But when it looked up at him, green flashed through. Without even processing it, Daryl stilled. The eyes were green – not cloudy. But they had a dazed look, blinking fast, it was clear that they had a hard time focusing on him.
Followed by a shuddering breath, Daryl's knife dropped and rattled against the floor. But Daryl didn't even look at it. With one arm still pressing her against the wall, Daryl, shell-shocked, used his other hand to cup her cheek.
It was more to wipe away the old blood more than anything. Once he saw her pale skin underneath all the walker blood around her face, he could only let out, "Bella?"
She was fiercely fighting against his hold, but her pushes were weak and disoriented. But once he said her name, she blinked at him, eyes hazy. She slowly lowered her arms, her breathing loud and uneven.
But suddenly, she jumped forward into his arms.
Daryl held onto her, his shock fading away into concern. His arms were around her back, where her bow and quiver were still slung around. But she was covered almost head-to-toe in walker blood from what he could see. And although she was able to stand, she was half-slumped against him.
Gently, he pulled back, one arm still around her. It was clear that she was very unsteady on her feet. But there was something else wrong. Her eyes kept shifting and blinking fast.
He sat her down against the wall when she said, her voice slow and thick, "I thought you were a walker. I thought-" Her voice slurred a bit, before she trailed off, disoriented. It seemed like she was having a hard time keeping her head up.
"Bella, are ya hurt?" It was a stupid question it felt, but he had to ask. Dehydrated, probably. But it was hard to tell whether she was hurt externally. She wore a large prison guard jacket that he had never seen before. Covered in walker gore, it also hid any other wounds she might have beneath. Her wavy hair was sticking out everywhere, with blood and other pieces of flesh matted and tangled throughout it. He used his rag to wipe away the blood on her face, but still, she looked like shit.
In response to his question, she slowly raised her hand and touched lightly the side of her head, above her ear. Daryl pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it on where she was touching. As gently as he could, he tried to brush her hair out of the way. But it was matted with bright red blood, and he realized it might be her own.
Lifting her chin up with his hand, he shined the light into her right eye. Her pupil was already blown out, leaving only a rim of green. When the light hit it, the pupil barely constricted. After a second, Bella winced and turned away from the flashlight and his hand.
Daryl's had enough incidents on his bike and in life in general that had made him rather familiar with concussions and head injuries. He would save himself the trip and cost of visiting a doctor and handle it himself.
His experience was enough to see that Bella did, indeed, have a concussion. How she came to have one, and how she was even alive would be for another time.
"Can ya walk? Or do you need me to help carry ya?"
Bella squinted at him as she processed his words. "Screw you. I can do it."
Daryl didn't know whether he wanted to roll his eyes or laugh in relief. She's alive. Bella is alive.
Instead, he pulled her up. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Daryl moved her arm around his shoulders. She leaned heavily against him, and slowly, the two made their way back.
AN: Unfortunately, college is just around the corner. So my updates will most likely become more sporadic, especially as I adjust to this semester. I got a position to research in a lab (WOO), but it'll take up a LOT of my time. But I definitely do not plan on giving up on this story!
Also, I had originally written this chapter to be much longer. I had included events of Killer Within, but ultimately decided that it wasn't crucial for Bella and Daryl's relationship. It felt too drawn out, and, in short, boring. So hopefully, this way is better!