*Aria just can't catch a break can she?
Here's the new chapter. Hopefully, you all enjoy it! Reviews are awesome if you have time! Also, big thanks to all who have followed/favorited/reviewed this story so far. You're awesome :) *
The mind is a complex organ. It's fascinating. If I say the word ball, you will conjure up some image of a ball. Maybe it's red with a yellow star on it or maybe it's got stripes or perhaps it's just a plain color.
The brain is not only complex but resilient too. You could cut one whole hemisphere out and still live. You can actually train the rest of the brain to develop all those skills that the missing side had. That's incredible.
There is one thing that I've learned, though. It's that the mind is also your enemy. See, the brain has a little part dedicated to emotions and the strongest one it creates is fear. That simple emotion is the most important because it decides how we live. It triggers the fight or flight response.
Something as simple as a spider can become your worst nightmare. That fear overtakes you and no matter how many times you tell yourself that it's irrational, that the insect is harmless, your heart still stutters in your chest when you see it scurrying across the floor. Your mind becomes obsessed with this threat and you start imagining all these different possibilities. The spider could bite you or crawl into your mouth at night. It could reproduce there and eat you alive. The scenarios are ridiculous. You know that. But it doesn't stop the feeling of blood draining from your face when it's two inches away from you.
It's a funny thing, the mind. These little fears don't just come out when you're awake but when you're sleeping too. It's a plague that swallows you whole and turns you into nothing more than fear itself. It turns into a monster, one that lives inside you and controls you, and sometimes it wins.
The dream is one I know all too well by now. It's another night where my monster gets the better of me. Hands grip my shoulders tight, shaking me as a desperate voice pierces through my sleep-muddled mind,
"Girl, wake up!"
Fear lets me go for a moment, my eyes springing open. My hair clings to my sweaty face, clothes soaked and chilling me to the bone. Navy blue eyes peer down at me in the dark, my heart starting to slow. Daryl sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me as I focus on calming myself down. My broken ribs protest with each forced breath. The rest of my body aches brutally, especially my fractured arm.
Thoughts of Cas and the Winchesters plague my mind and I push it aside. I'm not ready to deal with that yet. My stomach cramps, my throat dry as sandpaper. All I want is food and water and to sleep.
"You all right?"
No.
Daryl watches me in silence and I finally look to him. He chews at his lip, seeing the answer I'm too tired to admit. Gingerly, wincing in pain, I sit up next to him. Our shoulders brush against each other, almost touching but not quiet. The silence continues on between us as we listen to the soft conversations down below.
"Are they still here?" I ask finally breaking the quiet. I stare down at my hands, playing with the edge of the gauze wrapped around my arm.
"Yeah, came in and checked on you."
So considerate of them.
I wish they would just go away. It was easier thinking they were dead. Knowing that all this time Sam and Dean could have helped me and didn't; it hurts. There's nothing like betrayal, how it cuts deep and has you questioning every moment of your time together.
"Are you okay?"
Daryl stares at the floor, shrugging, and my heart aches. I couldn't protect him no matter how hard I tried. He still got dragged as deep as I did into this crap life. He chews on the inside of his cheek, those ocean eyes meeting mine in the darkness of the cell.
"A lot to take in, you know?"
Dropping my gaze, I nod. I know how overwhelming it is. Decades of doing this; hunting the supernatural and I still have a hard time comprehending all that I get dragged into. Once again, silence overcomes us.
Sitting as close as we are, side by side, I feel like we're miles apart. It's not Daryl's fault either. I'm still stuck in that room. The shock of the whole ordeal plus the brothers and Cas, it hasn't worn off yet. Hell, I was just accepting the fact that my friends weren't dead when those three showed up and decided to drop their bomb. How the hell am I supposed to swallow this down and move on, especially after what happened in that room and what I lost there?
"The others are eating if you want to go down," Daryl offers, leaving the decision up to me.
The thought of going down those stairs is not just exhausting but painful. Not only because of my injuries but because I don't think I can look the brothers in the eye and forgive them. Not this soon. I'm so fucking hurt by those three. But that's what happens, right? When you give so much of yourself and expect the same back, you get hurt.
If you stay and Daryl leaves then the memories are going to come.
My stomach growls and makes my decision for me. Slowly, I get to my feet, wavering. Daryl is there, though, a supportive hand on my lower back. Each step I dread what waits for me down those stairs. I can't deal with the sympathetic stares, the sorry pleas of the angels. Right now, I want to be oblivious to the realties around me.
The group is gathered in the hall of our block, sitting in a misshapen circle on blankets and pillows. Lanterns brighten the dark prison. I've slept the day away, night now thriving outside the barred windows. The light conversations come to a halt when they notice Daryl and me at the top of the stair case. I ignore the stares, focusing on taking one step at a time. Finally, the watchful eyes are gone, their voices soft as they start their conversations again.
I bite back the groan of pain that comes when I try to sit on the floor, not wanting everybody else to worry about me. Daryl and I settle down beside Beth, Carol on the other side of the hunter. The young Greene feeds Judith her bottle, smiling at me as I get situated. Carol hands us plates of food and I take a moment, listening to my friends talk.
Sam, Dean, and Cas sit next to Rick and Hershel, talking in hushed voices. Everybody else is bullshitting, telling stories of the past. It's nothing that is important so I eat in silence, grateful for the lack of attention.
The meal tonight is simple, just a can of baked beans but it's the most elaborate meal to me. That's what happens when you go a week without food. I try to eat slowly; to avoid upsetting my stomach but it tastes so good. So, I end up scarfing it down, grinning in relief when I keep it all down.
"Would you like to hold her?" Beth questions, offering Judith to me. The little girl's pudgy face stares up at me from her swath.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel the loss?"
"She missed you," she urges, noting my hesitation.
I swallow hard around the sudden lump in my throat, nodding. Beth passes Judith to me, helping me get her settled with my broken arm. I fight to keep my thoughts in the present and not back in that room. Judith's little coos pull me out of the dark parts of my mind as she stares up at me with giant blue eyes. Her tiny hand sneaks out of the blanket wrapped snuggly around her, latching onto a lock of my hair. A grin tugs at my busted lips, pleased that I didn't deny myself this.
The baby is content sitting half cradled in my arm and lap, her gentle grunts and babbling filling me with ease. I let myself get lost in her, focusing solely on her tracing eyes as she studies me.
I can't help but note the growing tension in the air, though. It's heavy, awkward even, as the others wait for the elephant in the room to be addressed. The group's gazes flicker from me back to the Winchesters, anxious to question the bomb dropped earlier. I can't forget that what was said doesn't just affect me and Daryl but the others too.
They aren't the only ones curious either. I've got a list of questions so damn long, I'm sure it beats one of Crowley's contracts. But I'm exhausted. I don't have any more strength in me to debate something that is going to happen one way or another.
Merle, however, is tired of waiting. "All right, if none of you got the balls to ask, I will. What the fuck is going on and what you want with my brother and his woman?" He pushes off the wall he's been resting against and stands just outside our circle, staring down Sam and Dean.
Guess I don't get a night off.
"Where do you want us to start?" Dean asks the reluctance heavy in his gruff voice.
"How about what this thing is? I mean you have to know, right?"
The Winchesters share a look, sharing a silent conversation before they answer Rick. A heavy huff leaves the oldest brother and he rubs his stubble covered jaw,
"No matter how we put this, it's not going to be good."
"There is a war coming. One between Heaven and Hell," Sam admits, equally unwillingly to talk about this.
"Showdown between who's the bigger dick and you guys are smack in the middle of it."
"Why? What does a war between Heaven and Hell have to do with the walkers?"
"Because it's not a virus," Cas declares, only making Glenn more confused.
Merle snaps, annoyed since they aren't getting right to the point, "Then what the fuck is it?"
"God's doing."
"What Cas means is that God made this thing to recruit souls to fight Hell," Sam elaborates quickly before Merle can consider punching the angel in the face. His words hit us hard, a moment of silence passing through the group as we absorb this.
For me, though, the words go in one ear and right out the other. I'm numb right now. Whatever they say is not going to be more surprising than the bomb dropped earlier this morning. I stare down at Judith letting her grip my finger tight as she stares up at me with those gorgeous baby blues.
"So, you're saying that God did all of this so he could have an army?" Rick surmises, the rage seeping into his words as he waves to the world outside this stone fortress.
The three angels look away from the leader in shame, mouths clamped shut. Rick shakes his head in disgust, fuming, "You've got to be kidding me."
"Is there at least a cure?" Carol's motherly gray eyes are on me, her soft voice filling the silence. "Aria's immune. She can't be the only one." The group waits for an answer yet the guys don't say a word.
"There is no cure." I don't even realize that the words have left my mouth until the despairing stares of everyone land on me.
"What do you mean? How can you be so sure?"
I chew on the inside of my cheek letting my thoughts drift to those hazy moments when I woke up in that room. A shiver runs down my spine, wishing that what happened in that room had been the worst of it. The group waits for me, anxious to hear what I have to say.
Judith plays with my fingers as I stare at the lantern sitting in the middle of our circle. My voice is detached, void as I start, "I don't remember much after the bite. I woke up in this room and the Governor was talking with this guy. Most of it is a blur; bits and pieces, but I know they said something about it not being possible, that my blood didn't have any antibodies. It was like the virus vanished."
"The grace in your soul destroyed it. That's why they could not see anything. Daryl is also immune," Cas clarifies in that clinical tone that reminds me of a robot.
The stillness is unsettling, almost claustrophobic. The others sit in shock at the news. All hope of ever having a life like before has been obliterated. Everyone's infected and will spend the rest of their lives living in fear of turning.
"So, who's behind all this? Crowley's not stupid enough to go to war with angels or God," I point out, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Sam, Dean, and Cas are here for a different reason. If this whole time Daryl and I have been archangels then why didn't they let me die when Shane shot me? Why did Cas save me when I was bitten and stop me from putting that bullet in my brain? There has to be another reason why they are really here. Yeah, there's the war but it still doesn't explain why Daryl and I have to be a part of it now.
"Crowley isn't the problem," Dean admits, fixing me with a look that has that glorious meal bubbling in my stomach.
"You could be a queen. You have no idea the power you hold, more than Lucifer himself."
Of course, Oriax is a part of this. Crowley's assistant, one of the best torturers in Hell alongside Alastair. He has enough power to be anything.
My hands shake, breaths growing unsteady. Dean's dark stare is pained, knowing how hard this is for me.
I'll never escape him.
Beth lays a hand on my shoulder, alarmed, "What's wrong?"
But I can't look away from Sam and Dean. Daryl shifts closer, more perceptive than I realize. He starts to get to his feet, most likely to help me back to our cell when Sam speaks.
"Aria…I don't even know where to start."
Those hazel eyes are drowning, guilt weighing so heavy on his shoulders. He's never forgiven himself for abandoning me the first time around. He blames himself because he left the life, never once looking for me or his brother, who was locked away in Purgatory.
That lump is back in my throat, tears burning my eyes. I look away, my gaze falling to Judith in my lap. She's distracted, playing with a lock of my hair. Daryl's hand rests on my lower back, giving me the support I so desperately need right now.
"I'm sorry for your loss." My head snaps up, glaring Cas down.
"I can feel it too, the little soul. It's so pure, so innocent."
"Don't," I snap, silencing the angel before he can say more.
"Aria," Dean tries with a softness you use for a cornered animal.
"I said no!" I screech, chest heaving.
They don't fucking understand. I can't deal with that. I can't admit it or think about it. Not now, not ever. Judith lets go of my hair, hiccupping before the tears start. I hand her over to Beth and stand up quickly. Agony shoots through me and I stumble walking away.
"A, wait, please!" Sam stresses, his boots echoing off the stone floor as he follows me. I don't get far, though, spinning on my heels to face the younger brother.
This is the last straw. I can't do this anymore. I have sacrificed so much in my life, lost more people than I can count. And I am done talking about it. It doesn't change shit. The fine line that I've been walking between sane and insane vanishes, dropping me into a raging ocean of everything I've kept bottle up.
Sam freezes, my shrill scream bouncing off the stone walls, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
My chest heaves, ribs aching. The room spins, the violent wave of emotions crashing down over me. "I don't want your fucking apologies! I want that fucking monster dead. WHY DON'T YOU JUST KILL HIM?!" The room goes blurry as I let the tears fall. I can't fight anymore. I'm spent.
"He has taken everything from me! And what, you want to send me and these people, my family, there to kill him? For what?! So, he can make me watch them die? So, he can torture me more? So, he can get the fucking PET he wants?" I spit with utter disgust. The word alone makes me go green.
"Oriax has destroyed everything! He has taken everything that can be taken; my family, my sanity, my body, and now my unborn fucking child!"
I clamp a hand over my mouth as the last sentence tumbles out.
No, no, no.
"What?"
Sam steps aside, Daryl standing behind him. Shock paints his worn features, devastation slowly crashing over him. "You-you were pregnant?" he stammers, those ocean eyes wide with disbelief.
Bile burns the back of my throat. The tears cascade down my face as I reluctantly nod my head, afraid to speak. The tremble works its way from my hands to my whole body, chest heaving with sobs that I can barely stifle.
"I-I didn't know," I utter, voice as unsteady as my trembling knees.
If I had known that day we left, I never would have gone. If I knew Oriax was there, I never would have gone. If only I knew.
My legs give out on me and I crumple to my knees, folding in on myself as the sobs take over, "I didn't know. I didn't know."
"I will break you one day, my pet."
And Oriax finally did.
Daryl's POV
"How is she?" I ask the second Hershel and Dean step into the room. My cuticles are chewed raw, the rest of the group standing around the room with heavy hearts. Last night is still fresh in our minds.
"Awake but in a catatonic state," the old man answers before adding, "I checked her wounds and there doesn't seem to be any sign of infection. I am worried about her arm, though. All that shoving must have done some damage."
"Can't you heal her like you did after the farm?" Carol pleads turning to Castiel.
"She won't let us near her. First thing she said to me when she woke up was 'get out,'" Dean admits gruffly, hurt in his green eyes.
This ain't easy for any of them. We know Aria but these guys have years of history with her. There's a lot that we don't know, don't understand, about these four. But I know how much Aria loved the brothers and I know she ain't anywhere near okay after what they've done. It's going to take a long time for her to forgive them.
"There must be something you can do," Maggie challenges. None of us want to see Aria like this. She's been an anchor for all of us and to see her so shattered has all of us desperate to mend her.
"I doubt she wants them to do anything," Michonne comments from her corner near the stairs. She's outside of our makeshift circle, arms crossed over her chest observing us. The three angels glare in her direction and she glares right back unafraid.
"She'll come around. She just needs some time and she'll be okay."
Dean's reassurance is crap, though. Aria ain't going to be fine after what that monster did to her. He knows that too and he's just telling us what we want to hear.
"Bullshit," I snap, staring the eldest brother down, "She ain't even gotten over the first time Oriax attacked her!"
"You don't think I know that?" Dean growls, taking a step my way with clenched fists.
Sam grabs his brother, though, stopping him as he chastises us. "Enough, both of you. This isn't going to help Aria."
My gaze drops to the stone floor. The morning light strains through the dust covered windows casting shadows on the ground. I should have done something last night. Instead, I stood there like an idiot watching her fall apart.
She was pregnant.
Anger and grief rage inside me. I want nothing more than to go back to Woodbury and slit that demon's throat. He has to pay, suffer for eternity for what he did to Aria, for what he stole from us.
I would have been a Dad.
That thought is crushing, knees growing weak. I never thought about having kids. Figured that I was better off not having any because I was afraid I'd be like my old man. It terrified me but with Aria, with her, I could imagine it at least. I ain't the man I was and knowing that I had a chance and it was stolen from me before I even knew, it kills me inside.
Look what happened to Lori. You really think having a kid now is smart?
It's stupid and I know it. I was an idiot. All this time with Aria and I never once thought about wrapping up. Hell, pulling out was an option and I never even considered it. And I'm pissed. I hate myself for putting the two of us in that situation. I should have been thinking of the consequences.
What's your excuse now? She needs you now more than ever and you're too much of a pussy to go to her.
My gaze drifts to the empty cell block, unsure of what to do. It's my fault, all of it, and I ain't got a clue how to fix this.
"We should go over there and kill them before they attack again," Glenn argues, vengeance in those dark coffee eyes. He's been desperate to make the Governor pay for what he did to Maggie and him. I don't blame him because that same hate is inside me and I'll gladly be at his side to take those fuckers out.
"How will you kill the demon? Aria has trained you well but you stand no chance against Oriax."
"Then what do we do? How do we stop this?" Maggie questions desperately.
"You can't," Sam admits, a heavy breath leaving him as his shoulders slump. "The demons will never stop. This is your life. So, you keep fighting and hope that you're lucky enough to live to the next day or you put a bullet in your head. But there's no getting out and there's no going back to the way things were before."
"Sam," Dean chides, staring at his younger brother in disbelief. His words were cold and blunt, something I'd expect from Aria. But that defeated air surrounding Sam quickly changes to one of defense and anger. He glares his brother down, growling,
"What, Dean? You want me to sugar coat it? We're running out of time to prepare them."
"Your brother is right, Dean," Cas intervenes. "Oriax has most likely already assembled an army to attack. It will only be a matter of time."
"Excuse me, but do you mind telling us what the fuck is going on here?" Rick snaps fiercely, frustrated that these three are leaving us out of the loop. I don't blame him either. I'm fucking pissed that these two have kept us in the dark for so long. Knowing some of this shit sooner would have saved us a lot of pain and suffering.
"The convicts that were here, they were part of Oriax's group. The demons were sent here to scope out the prison and hopefully clear it of walkers. Oriax was looking to expand. Create a place of sanctuary where people would come."
"Why's that a bad thing?" Carl asks in confusion.
"Every person that arrived was to be possessed. Basically, he wanted this place to be a recruiting center for meat suits," Dean elaborates, arms crossed over his broad chest. "And since Aria's here now he wants it twice as bad."
My gaze flickers to the cell block door once again, still at war with myself.
She needs you.
I chew at the inside of my cheek, ignoring the discussion.
How do I fix this?
Aria is a mess of broken glass. It kills me to see her like this, but what do I do to make it better?
Anything would be better than nothing.
I catch Merle's stare. Those dark matching eyes tell me what I already know and he nods towards the cell block, wordlessly telling me to nut up and stop being a little bitch. It's all the encouragement I need as I quietly leave the room unnoticed.
This ain't the first time I've seen her at her worst and I'm sure it ain't gonna be the last. But damn it, I told her once that I ain't gonna let her give up. I plan to keep that promise. Aria's a warrior, a survivor, and I'll be damned if I let my girl be anything less. So, even if I get cut on the broken pieces of her heart, I will mend her because she's worth it. She's worth everything.
Aria's POV
I wish there was a way to turn my mind off, a switch that stopped everything; the emotions, thoughts, voices, pain, all of it. A quick flick of a switch, and then nothing.
Those broken ocean eyes haunt my mind, that one worded question playing over and over.
There are no more tears, though. I'm all dried up. So, I stare at the bleak stone wall, my heart fractured beyond fixing.
I would sleep but it's not any better than being awake. I can still feel the knife, hear Oriax's voice slithering against my skin. Not even the memory of my blood coating his hands can stop assaulting me. And if it's not that demon, it's the betrayal of the brothers. The utter heartbreak their return brought, confirming what I keep desperately trying to deny.
A weak sigh flutters from my busted lips. I'm sinking, falling deeper into a hole that I can't climb out of and I don't want to. No matter how hard I fight; everything that I do will end the same way. People die and I'm always the one left standing with more demons to haunt my mind. That's what happens. I'm poisonous to those around me. They either die or leave or end up screwed and it's always my fault.
That night at the bar with Hershel, I never should have stayed. Maybe if I hadn't, Daryl and the others wouldn't have been forced into life, forced to fight a war that isn't theirs.
You could end it. Make it all go away. Not be a burden to them.
Yeah and then end up with a pair of wings on my back.
You could make a deal with Death. Live in peace with your family, no duty.
Could it really be that easy? Just wait for the gaunt man with the cane to arrive and ask a favor?
My duffel sits beside my bed. I know exactly where my spare knives are. I could do it silently, nobody would have to know. It's not like I'll turn and come back and hurt them. A quick slice and then I can talk to Death.
The idea grows like a virus. It latches itself to every thought, rules out all reason making it the only solution.
I sit up, wincing in pain as I reach into my bag and free a switch blade. Pressing the button, the blade flies open. I don't hesitate, gripping the knife in my right hand and pressing it to my left forearm. It's awkward with my broken arm but this is the only way to do it quick.
It can all go away.
But I can't move. The blade sits pressed to my skin doing nothing. I stare at the way the sharp edge rests on my already bruised and torn skin.
Just do it. This is what you want, right?
I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
One, two, three…
Yet, I can't push the knife deeper. I can't force the blade to slice open my skin and let my life pour out.
"You gonna do it?" A shadow falls over the room, that southern drawl on edge. My eyes remain glued to the knife, though.
"I don't know," I whisper, wishing I could just fucking do it. I don't care if Daryl is here now. I just want it to end. This world would be better off without me.
My body trembles, a lone tree struggling to hold on in a wind storm. The room starts shrinking on me while my heart threatens to burst free. The air grows thinner, panic gripping me tight and suffocating me.
"I can't, I can't," I gasp.
Daryl's in front of me in an instant, gripping me by my shoulders. He's speaking but the words are all white noise. I stare at the knife caressing my skin, watching it bounce with the tremble of my hand.
Breathe, damn it!
It's impossible, though. Even as I tuck my chin to my chest, gasping for air, I can't get enough. The anxiety has dug its nails deep into my bones and isn't letting me go. It owns me, making me its bitch.
The hands are tight on my shoulders, the words still soothing but it's no use because I can't focus, not when I'm struggling with every fiber of my being to not pass out.
"Aria!"
A harsh breeze sweeps through the small cell, chilling my sweat soaked skin. Then another even stronger gust of wind hits me and I curl deeper into myself. My mind is a scattered mess and I struggle to ground myself before this panic overcomes me completely.
Deeply worried voices fill the steadily shrinking room before Daryl's gruff drawl silences them, "Shut the fuck up and get out!"
Rough, warm fingers slide between my cold, dead ones, latching on tight. I try to focus on that but my mind has other plans.
"Aria."
Just do it.
"Darling."
What's wrong with you? You know how to use a knife. You know how to kill. Why can't you do it?
"Look at me," Daryl demands, that tender drawl rough as he shakes me. I jump at the harsh contact, my gaze cutting to his navy blue eyes. Fear holds those hues prisoner, his grip on my hand crushing as he asks, "What are you doing?"
My gaze flickers back to the blade. It's still there, shaking in my grip as it continues to wait.
What's wrong with you? Why are you so damn afraid? I thought this is what you wanted?
Tears burn my eyes, ready to spill. My lip trembles as I whisper, "I just want it to stop."
The thoughts in my head run rampant, clashing and twisting together. I don't know what's up or down. How the hell do I know what I'm doing? What I know for certain is that I want this pain gone and the only way I know how to make it go away is to cut it out. Let the grief pour out of me. If t takes my life so what? I'm a cancer, anyway. I need to be cut out of these people's lives. But for some fucking reason, I can't slice my veins open.
"I just want it to be over. I just want to die and I can't even fucking do that," I gasp, those tears springing free as they roll down my cheeks. "I don't want to be broken anymore."
My grip on the switchblade has pain radiating up into my bicep, the broken bones in my forearm protesting greatly from my fierce hold. Just once I want what I want without any repercussions. Is that too much to ask?
Daryl squeezes my hand tight, bones protesting. I flinch but the hunter's grip is relentless. "You feel that?" Meeting that ocean stare, I nod. "You're not broken, do you understand me?"
"Yes, I am," I bark back, chest heaving. "I'm fucked up."
Those fierce ocean eyes are storming, determination brewing in those hues. He's going to make me believe him but I'm tired of the lies. I lurch off the bed, knocking Daryl back. Instantly, I regret my decision as a wave of agony sweeps through me. I waver on my feet, my concussion still making me dizzy. Daryl gets to his feet slowly, blocking the cell door as I lean back against the stone wall for support.
My voice is raw, choked with tears as I fume, "Why do you keep fighting for me? Why am I worth saving? I'm poison to you."
And even as the words leave my mouth, I know that Daryl doesn't believe a single fucking one. He's never cared about my baggage or the shit that comes with being in my general vicinity. For once, I wish he would see what I see and make this all easier on me. His gaze leaves mine, drawn to the blade that is still clutched in my shaking fingers.
"Drop the knife, girl," he orders, but it doesn't hold an ounce of the heat that it did before.
I shake my head, struggling to keep my sobs from escaping, "No, no, I want this."
"Darling, if you wanted to do this, you would have already done it."
And I know that. It's why I'm still clutching the damn thing because my mind wants to but my heart won't let me. The broken and beaten soldier inside me still refuses to die. It's the only fight I have left. But even knowing that I can't make my fingers uncurl and let the switchblade fall to the ground.
An inaudible breath flutters past his lips as he approaches, gently gripping my hand to free the knife. Daryl stuffs it in his pocket, taking a step back. I stare blankly at the ground, my vicious thoughts running wild as the silence slowly suffocates me.
"It's the kid, ain't it?" My silence is his answer, the hunter huffing while his feet shift nervously. There's a lump in my throat, Daryl's words tight, "Never saw myself having kids. Was too afraid I'd be like my old man. Fuck, didn't think I'd settle down long enough to have the chance. But when you said you were pregnant, god, I fucking wanted it then."
I bite my lip, fighting the fresh tears stinging my eyes but it's useless. Guilt digs its nails into me and latches on tight.
Stupid girl. You should have known the signs. You did this to him.
Those calloused fingers grip my chin tilting my head up. Not an ounce of blame sits in those dark navy eyes. It's all love and worry and desperation. His thumb traces my trembling lips as he rests our foreheads together."But no matter how much I wanted that, I want you so much fucking more, Aria. What happened ain't your fault, girl. You gotta believe that and if you don't, I still ain't going anywhere. No way in hell am I letting you go."
I grab his hand, latching on tight as I nod, letting his words fight the demons in my mind. A sob bubbles out of me and Daryl pulls me to his chest, soothing fingers carding through my hair as I hold on for dear life. I'm too weak to do this alone and he's my crutch, the glue in the cracks of my armor. I fucking need him and I didn't know how much until now.
The rest of the night is a blur; one that is spent shedding tears, whispering broken apologies, and dead silence. Daryl stays, his hold on me unwavering even as we lay in bed. Everyone takes turns coming to check in on us, though, there isn't anything new.
My thoughts are stuck on an infinite merry go round of darkness. I wish that it was just the physical agony. That I can bear. Mind over matter and all that shit. But when it's your mind playing games on you, torturing you, it's impossible to endure. I'm in and out of sleep when I hear Daryl talking in hushed words with Rick.
The two are outside the cell, the hunter's back to me. Just by the set of his shoulders, I know how worried he is. I almost gave up, gave up and left him. The tears come hot and fast, feeling like an utter failure to Daryl and everybody else. I fought so hard to get back here and then what decided that it wasn't worth it?
Because you're weak.
Morning is just arriving when I wake again. The dark of the prison lightens to a soft baby blue, gingerly getting brighter as the minutes tick by. It's silent in the cell block, the rest of the group still sound asleep.
Daryl's arm is draped over me, his warm breath on my neck. I shift to my back, grimacing as scabs and stitches pull with the small movement. Pain radiates down my arm and up into my neck from my torn shoulder. It's the first time I've slept on it and it's still too tender for that.
What am I going to do?
I've been this low before, felt all this agony and I'm so tired of fighting to get free. It seems that there is no getting back to the girl that I was a week ago. That strong, fierce, in love and smiling woman is gone. How am I supposed to fight in this war when I can't even fight for myself? This group, they all have faith that I'm going to get better, that I can protect them like I have. But all I want to do instead is stay in this cell on this bunk and disappear. I can't even fake hope. Every last drop has been sucked dry. Even with Cas and the Winchesters, we don't stand a chance against Oriax. He's powerful and I can only imagine the army he's acquired.
My thoughts run rampant, the air in this cell stale. I just need to get away. So, carefully, I slip out of Daryl's grip. Spending two days in bed has every muscle in my body as stiff as a steel rod. On top of all that, the simple task of sitting up has pain radiating everywhere. I clench my jaw, ignoring the sharp ache that blossoms in my fractured cheek bone and stand on shaky legs.
Daryl doesn't stir and a deep frown tugs at my lips. I pull the bunched up blanket out from under his feet, draping it over him. He doesn't notice and a heavy sigh escapes me. The second I pulled away from him, he would have been awake. Daryl's a light sleeper and seeing him still fast asleep only serves to remind me of the hell I put him through. I know he didn't sleep while I was gone and it's been rough since I've been back.
Limping out of our cell, I quietly make my way down the stairs and through the block without waking the others. I climb the steps to the catwalk entrance and slip out the door. The morning air is brisk, chilling my skin instantly.
I expect to find Glenn or Rick keeping watch but I'm not even close. Dean leans back against the fence, rifle slung over his shoulder as he stares at the walker-infested grounds. I was hoping to be alone but why would I be lucky to get that?
"Finally some company," Dean comments with a warm and inviting grin as I meet his green eyes. "You know, Cas and Sammy ditched me hours ago."
It's his olive branch. I hesitate, though, debating if I really want to do this. I'm not in the mood to talk with Dean or the other two. The wounds are still too fresh, the anger still red hot, but going back inside means being trapped in that cell with my tormenting thoughts. Besides, the fresh air is more than welcomed.
The sun is just peeking over the tree tops, its rays of orange dancing along the dew covered leaves. I limp out into the growing light, keeping a distance between the eldest brother and me as I lean against the fence. I watch the remnants of night be chased away by the chalky blue of dawn. It's funny how when I was little I used to hate mornings. All I wanted was to sleep late and stay up all night.
After becoming a hunter, though, and driving at crazy hours in the morning, I grew to love it. There's nothing as breathtaking as watching the world wake. Everything is new and refreshed as the earth baths in the sun's warmth. They're truly beautiful. Plus, they're unique in a way. Not everyone gets to see a sunrise, not like a sunset. There's just something about watching the sun push the endless darkness back and take over. It makes me jealous, the way it easily pushes the darkness aside. I wish it was so simple.
"You can talk about it, you know?" Dean offers hesitantly.
I quirk a brow, teasing but it doesn't hold the lightness it used to, "You want to talk about feelings? Thought that was a chick thing, Dean?"
The last thing I want to do is talk, especially to Dean. He lost that privilege once he came back as an angel. I don't trust him right now, not to open up about the shit that happened to me. However, the hunter isn't having it.
"Can we not? You tried to kill yourself yesterday. There's no deflecting this one, A. You got to talk about what happened."
"What makes you think that you're the one I need to talk to?"
I refuse to give in. This is supposed to be my time to clear my head and get shit straight, not focus on the traumas. I'm not ready to handle that shit yet and, honestly, I don't plan on it. Rick was right about me. I blame myself for everything because it's easier. Giving blame a face is simple instead of accepting that shit happens. I should have killed Oraix years ago. I never should have given up my search. These people would probably have been safe if I had just gone.
Dean releases a heavy breath, apologetic, "I'm sorry for all of this, Aria. It's not enough and yeah, you deserve a chance to punch me in the face but what you're doing, what you've done in the past bottling this up, you can't. I know what that does to you and I know that place."
"Have you?"
"Have I what?" he asks confused.
Looking over my shoulder, I meet those perplexed emerald eyes, "Have you let everything out? Talked about all the crap you got bottled up?"
His jaw clenches tight, holding my gaze as he remains silent. "Exactly," I snap," so shut up."
An armless walker stumbles out of the tree line with strings of what was once a shirt draped around its neck. The chilly morning breeze whips around me, the sun's warm rays finally reaching over the tree tops and basking me in warmth.
"Rick told me the same thing a while back that I needed to talk about this stuff. Said I needed to stop blaming myself but you know what? When he stops blaming himself, I will too."
Dean keeps quiet after my little rant quiet and I stand and watch the walkers meander around the yard aimlessly searching for food. My thoughts drift to the rest of the group inside. They're probably up now, Carol and Maggie working on breakfast.
Wonder if Daryl is still asleep?
Thinking of the exhausted hunter reminds me of my situation. I'm beaten to shit. Hell, I can barely make it down a flight of stairs without being so winded I could pass out. And I know Oriax is coming for me. He's not going to let me get away again, not a third time. This is war and, whether I want to or not, I have to fight.
But how can I when I've already given up? I can't face that demon. Beating Oriax is impossible, especially when I have so much on the line. All he would have to do is get a hold of anybody in this group and he's won. I'd surrender in a heartbeat, no matter how much it killed me inside to go back with that monster, I couldn't let my friends, my family, suffer at the hands of him.
"Maybe you should try learning from our mistakes." I turn, facing the brother head on, exhaustion sweeping through me. "Just because I haven't done something doesn't mean you shouldn't."
I rub my temples as a headache starts up. "What do you want from me, Dean?"
He pushes off the fence, taking a step towards me, pleading gently, "Just talk about it."
For the first time, I notice that Dean has aged. There's a shadow of stubble covering his jaw, those light emerald eyes worn. His shoulders sag under the weight of the world sitting on them. It doesn't seem to matter if you're an angel or human, this life beats the crap out of you.
"What do you want me to say, Dean? You want me to tell you that I was held against my will as a walker was forced on me? That I was forced to listen as Daryl screamed over and over for me, begging those assholes to stop? How I was poked with needles and then found out that I can't save my family from this virus?"
My voice is resigned, the burden on my soul only growing as I remember everything that went down. I don't have the energy to yell at him, to make him understand how much I hate this. Dean listens, guilt washing over his ashen face as I go on.
"You want me to talk about how I hung from a meat hook as my greatest nightmare walked in and took the last shred of sanity I had? Or how he told me I was pregnant and then had his henchman come in and beat me to the point of miscarriage? Only to have him tell me he's going to go and kill all the people I love and then come back and tell me in detail how he slaughtered each and every one of them. How about when he held me down and carved the word 'pet' into my stomach? What about finally making it back here miraculously, only to find out that the two guys I considered to be my brothers have been alive this whole time and that just sat on the sidelines and let all this hell happen to me?"
Dean drops his head, staring down at the stone catwalk ashamed. I draw in a deep breath, wincing at the pain from my broken ribs. It's all out and yet none of it makes me feel better. It never does. I just feel worse because now I'm remembering every little detail that went down in that room.
"Talking doesn't make it better. You know why? Because it doesn't erase the memories, the feelings. I can tell you in great detail what went down in that room but it still won't change the fact that his voice is the only thing I can hear in my head. Awake or asleep, he's there haunting me. So, thank you, Dean. You got to hear what you guys left me to and now I have to deal with the memories."
I turn away from him, the anger stirring in my chest, and come face to face with Daryl. His eyes are on me, face blank but I know that he heard everything. Lowering my gaze, I step around him and head back into the cell block.
Now he's going to blame himself.
That's why I didn't want to talk about it. It doesn't help and all it does is hurt the ones around you because no matter how much of the blame I place on myself, everyone will do the same and I hate that. I limp my way back to my cell, curling up on the bed. I pull the blanket up over my head and hide from the world.