Chapter Three
They didn't find him.
After leaving the roof and retrieving the guns, they'd been side-tracked by a group of thugs who saw the guns as their own and decided to kidnap Glenn. When they'd finally gotten the kid back, they'd ended up giving some of the guns to the thugs to protect a nursing home before going to where they'd left their van, only to find the van gone.
Merle.
Relief and pain hit Daryl all at once and it had taken everything in him to keep it all shoved inside. Merle had escaped. He was alive…but he'd abandoned him.
From then on it had only gotten worse.
They had returned to camp only for it to be attacked, cutting their group in half. Then they'd gone to the CDC, hoping for a cure only to be thwarted and barely escape with their lives.
Now this.
Sophia was missing and Carl had been shot.
Daryl had always been a faithful man, devoted to his God…but since losing his family that night so long ago, his faith had taken too many hits and he found himself lost. If he didn't have his faith…what did he have?
Sitting on Hershel's front porch staring up at the sky, forlornly he couldn't help but wonder…who was he?
His faith in his God was nearly gone despite his strongest efforts, his bond with his twin had been broken since the older man's death so long ago, and his savior had abandoned him in a group of people who would leave him for dead at a moment's notice.
What did he have left in this world?
"Heavy thoughts?" He jolted, then tensed as he noticed Rick sitting beside him as if he'd been there the entire time.
He'd never heard the man approach.
Never in his life had anyone other than C-him been able to sneak up on him. It was the only thing that had saved his life when he was younger and escaping the bullies at their school.
How had this man, who couldn't hunt to save his life, have managed to do without triggering his instincts?
"I suppose."
Rick hummed softly. "About Sophia?"
He nodded slightly, wondering why he was even answering yet unable to stop the words from escaping him.
"Some of it."
The man nodded, but didn't pry any further. Instead he clasped him on the shoulder gently, then stood and headed inside.
"You should rest."
A splash of heat crawled across Daryl's cheeks and he noticed with no little mortification that he was blushing. Choosing not to respond, he made his way to his tent and slipped inside, one hand grasping the rosary hidden beneath his clothing.
They would find Sophia…he had to believe that. Because if he didn't, his faith would shatter and there would be nothing left in this world for him to hold on to.
*CONNER*
America.
Five long years had passed since he'd last been in the country, since he'd lost his baby brother to the Mazurkas, and he found that he had missed the place if only just a little bit.
Murphy had loved being in America, meeting new people, learning new languages. America had given his brother a sense of freedom they'd never had in their hometown and he had loved the carefree grin that seemed permanently plastered on his twin's lips when they lived in Boston.
He sighed hoisting the pack on his shoulders up higher and glancing over at his Da. The older man had been looking a bit worse for wear since the loss of his wife and Connor was worried that he wouldn't be around much longer. Since their arrival in America, it only seemed to get worse.
"Where to?" He asked. Noah hummed softly and glanced around.
They were in Georgia, the state his youngest son had died in. They needed to get out of this state.
"Pick a direction and start walking."
Connor laughed and nodded turning in the direction the Highway cars were facing and walking forward, his father following behind him.
They'd be alright. For Murphy, they would live through this test of faith.
No.
NO!
Daryl's breath caught in his chest as he took in the sight before him, and he was distantly aware of his arms wrapping around Carol as she screamed and struggled to get away from him. He paid her no mind, his entire focus on the tiny walker staggering out of the barn.
Sophia.
Little Sophia was a walker.
He had hoped and prayed for her safety, had searched far and wide for her and now this? How long had she been this way?
Why?
WhyWhyWhyWhy?
Why hadn't he been able to save her?
His heart clenched in his chest and tears burned his eyes as he stared at the frail little girl. His throat tightened and he raised his bow to end it for her only for Rick to step in front of him, gun raised and aimed at the girl's head.
The gunshot was deafening.
Carol collapsed against him with a broken cry and he fought back his own grief, rocking her and trying to calm her, watching in the corner of his eye as Lori pulled a pale-faced Carl into her arms and clutched him tightly. Hershel and his daughter were a short way away, clutching two bodies and sobbing out their own grief and as he looked around, Daryl felt something in him shatter.
Everything drained from him, his throat loosening and the hold on his heart leaving completely leaving him feeling strangely empty.
Later that night, as he sat in his tent, he finally realized what exactly the emptiness in his chest was.
His faith was gone.
It had held on so long, through the tender mercies of the Mazurka mob, the death of his brother and father, Merle's abandonment, and the loss of the CDC. It had kept him afloat for years, and was the one of the only things that didn't change when he took on the name and persona of Daryl Dixon.
The realization broke the numbness that had engulfed him since the discovery of Sophia earlier that day and he began to sob silently.
He couldn't help but wonder if without his faith was Daryl all there was?
TBC…