The owl left a bad aftertaste in her mouth, though it did help to soothe the growling in her stomach.
They didn't have anywhere else to go, she could see the tension in Rick's shoulders where he was bent over the map; they were trapped.
The walkers had grown larger in number during the winter, and they were appearing in larger groups than before, surrounding them; they were cut off with walkers at all sides except in places that they already scavenged.
Lori was late, even with all the running they did these days it still didn't trigger the birth, it was enough to put everyone on edge, even though the idea that at any moment the contractions would start was even worse. They needed a place to settle down, if only for a few weeks.
And then what? When the baby was born (if the baby was born, and she hated herself a little for thinking that) how would they survive? How long until the child learned that their cries could mean their lives?
It was no use to anyone thinking of that, especially no her, so she rearranged the crossbow and counted her arrows – she would have to make more soon, maybe there was still a little game left in these woods, they could have a somewhat decent dinner at least.
And maybe she could smooth Rick's frown while she was at it.
Rick had a small satisfied smile in his face and she was still dislodging twigs from her hair when they saw it.
"What a shame." A prison, overrun from the looks of it, walkers dressed in prison jumpsuits all over the courtyard. She turned to Rick, and felt her stomach plunge at the expression on his face.
She looked back at the prison with a grimace on her face "Ain't no way Rick"
He turned to look at her "Darcy, it's perfect, if we take that field…"
"What about the walkers? The place could be overrun, there's more to the yard then what we can see, the gates inside the prison-"
"We have to have a look then, we could cut our way into one of the fences, have a look at the gates. Darcy, we can do this." She could see that from the look in his face that he would not be dissuaded; and what if they did it? Rick saw them through winter, if she trusted anyone's judgment, it was his.
"When there's a will there's a way?"
He snorted "You could say. We're still here."
She smiled and took his hand, tugging him back the way they came "C'mon, let's share with the rest of the class."
"But we didn't get anything."
"And whose fault was that?" She smirked at him.
They did it. And before nightfall, just as Rick predicted, Darcy was still feeling the excitement of the accomplishment as the others sat around the fire to eat.
Rick was patrolling the fence, looking for any weak spots, but after his third time around she thought that maybe he was just using the excuse to be away from Lori.
Things hadn't exactly gotten worse on the Rick-Lori front, they definitely hadn't improved though; Rick and Lori could go a whole day without trading so much as a word, but at least there weren't any more fights; the whole thing had a strange air of conformism to it, but the longing looks Lori shot Rick made Darcy feel like a villain, a thief – stealing a life that was not hers to have…a husband, a son.
Darcy would have passed Carl's attitude to his mother as teenage hormones had it not been for the real anger in his eyes; he was growing up too soon (something Darcy could relate to only too well) and it hurt Lori to bear it, to see what this world was making of her son, what it would make of her unborn child. Carl came to her instead, Darcy was a firm believer that in this world if you were not predator you were prey, so she (and Rick - it was a joint effort) trained his aim (which he was already amazing at, not that she would ever tell him so, the few times she slipped and praised him over something she was surprised his head didn't get stuck between the trees), though he was still hopeless with the crossbow (at least he didn't present a threat to everybody else in camp while carrying it, unlike a Korean she knew).
She turned to help Carol, who was climbing the overturned prison bus where Darcy was keeping watch. She reached down and handed Darcy the little bowl she brought with her.
"I know it's not much, but if I didn't bring you something you wouldn't eat at all." She said. Darcy huffed and looked at where the others were gathered.
"Guess lil' Shane over there has quite the appetite" Carol snorted and turned to look at her.
"Don't be mean." She avoided Darcy's eyes "She hasn't been talking to me, you know? The closer we get to the birth, the more she pulls away."
Darcy huffed a laugh "I think she just resents you for not letting me starve." Carol chuckled along with her.
"If I don't take care of you, who will?" Darcy didn't have the heart to tell her that she didn't need Carol mothering her, that she wasn't her daughter – it was the kind of thing she would have said in the past to keep her at a distance, but not anymore, she appreciated the care Carol had for her. "He won't take care of you."
She didn't need to ask who, and suddenly she felt a familiar anger began to stir hot in her chest; afraid that her next words would hurt Carol she just pursed her lips and looked away.
She heard Carol sight. "Look, Rick has gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would, I'll give him that. Shane certainly couldn't have done it. But I worry about you, about you with him. Don't get me wrong, we're family, all of us - but Rick's changed; I know that he cares about you, I see the way he smiles at you, he's more relaxed than I ever see him when he's with you and he may even love you, but-" She paused.
Darcy turned to her "But what?" she tried not to bark the words out.
"But I know that a part of him still loves Lori." Carol finished quietly.
"If he loved Lori he wouldn't come to me." She didn't want to be here anymore, she didn't want to hear it.
"You care more than you let show, I just don't want to see you get hurt Darcy." Carol smiled at her and brushed back a few strands of her short hair "Come on, looks like Beth is having a sing-along."
She walked back to camp with Carol by her side, she wouldn't fault Carol for worrying about her, it was a refreshing change in her life, but it made her feel worse than ever whenever she thought about Lori. Was Carol right? Did Rick still love his wife? He certainly felt responsible for her (made sure she fed, asked Hershell to keep an eye on her), but he never showed any hints of lingering affection towards her, haven't for a long time – hell, he barely looked at her anymore.
He was different with Darcy, he talked to her, smiled at her, and sometimes he even laughed with her. He was calmer, less weighted down by his responsibilities (both when awake and asleep); it was enough for her, the way they were now, she hasn't felt this content since before the dead started munching on the living.
But it didn't stop Carol's words from running through her mind when she saw the little family of three sitting together, she was the odd piece that didn't fit in the picture, like most places she's ever been to, there wasn't a place for her there. Even thought she loved him, even if she cared for Carl, it wasn't her family.
She was startled out of her thoughts by Rick's voice.
"We all better get some sleep, I'll keep watch over there. We've got a big day tomorrow." He looked around at the questioning faces "Look, I know we're all exhausted, but we gotta push just a little bit more; looks like this place fell pretty early, their supplies must still be mostly intact. There's an infirmary, a commissary-"
"An armory" Darcy said, Rick looked at her gratefully and continued to relay the plan for the next morning.
This place could be everything they dreamed to find – a fortress, maybe things would get better if Rick didn't have to constantly worry about his pregnant wife, maybe Lori would be happier with concrete walls around her to defend her and her children.
She laid down to sleep to the sound of Rick and Lori's argument and anticipated tomorrow.
Tomorrow came and brought a clusterfuck with it.
It started as Rick predicted it would, they cleared what they could and locked the inside gates, pushing inside regardless of the possible exterior damage the prison might have undergone.
But they made it. They found their place, it was a cage and made Darcy stand on edge, but the look on Rick's face made it worth it.
They fought side-by-side as they always did these days, Rick looking back to make sure she was still beside him and crying out for her gave her a hot feeling that had nothing to do with the burning in her legs and shoulders from the exertion.
The others settled in, having their pick on the cells (which Darcy immediately discarded despite Carol's offer on sharing, if Rick was going to make her live in a prison she would be as free as she could inside it) and exhaustion drove them all to a restless sleep, as she laid down to do the same she felt a strong arm wrapping around her waist from behind and Rick's warm breath on her neck, and she closed her eyes with a smile on her face.
A good day, finally.
So of course something was bound to happen.
The next morning they were out to learn the layout of the prison and to find the supplies they sorely needed, the ones they found on the guards Darcy wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, but she had to agree with Carl - the smoke bombs were cool, if a little unhelpful for their particular kind of mobs.
After a brief pep talk and a "no Carl you're not coming with us" speech in which he looked at Darcy as if she would protest his father's decision and she responded with her patented "what the hell are you looking at me for" expression, they were off.
The dark corridors inside the prison looked like an underground maze in a crazy-ass horror house, and started to feel like one after the first group of walkers they ran into.
She tried to control her raging thoughts and focus: Glenn and Maggie were missing (how the hell did they lose two people?), she turned to Rick, ignoring the bad feeling in her gut that told her they would lose another of their own and tried not to look at Hershell.
At Rick's nod she turned to light the way back, now devoid of walkers, and tried to make out Glenn and Maggie from the shadows.
And then Hershell got bit.
Darcy wouldn't be able to tell exactly what happened afterwards, the events were lost in the middle of Maggie's screams and Hershell's blood – so much blood.
She found herself half running (always running) and half dragged along, and she couldn't tell if the noises she heard were from the walkers (cramping the once vacated corridor), Maggie and Hershell or the blood rushing through her ears.
They crashed into an empty room, Darcy and T-Dog holding their weight against the door while Hershell was laid out on the floor between two steel tables.
They were in the cafeteria.
She almost huffed out a laugh; they found the cafeteria after all.
She knelt by Rick's side as soon as T-Dog passed the poker through the handles, she met his eyes – wide, terrified, determined – and started undoing Hershell's belt, wrapping it around his leg as Rick's hand inches toward the axe.
"There's only one way to keep him alive." He met Maggie's terrified eyes, who nodded with teary eyes and held down her father's torso, Darcy and Glenn did the same with his arms and legs.
Hershell's screams were almost inhuman and made Darcy gnash her teeth together, he trashed and shivered, finally losing consciousness before Rick made the final swing and separated his leg from the rest of his body.
Was this what Merle sounded like when he chopped off his arm?
The belt around his leg was clenched tight but there was still more blood than she would have believed pooling on the floor, getting bigger by the second. She chanced a look in Ricks direction at the sound he made, seeing him run his hand through his hair, eyes wide, hands trembling and hoped that this wouldn't be another blow to the man's sanity.
She was startled from the sight of blood by a sudden movement in her periphery; lifting her crossbow from the ground she hissed at Rick, who had caught her movement "Duck."
She stood up over her friends and aimed the crossbow at five men in prison jumpsuits, five very alive men, who were looking at them with expressions that ranged from awe to horror at the gory display; the little man in the middle was the one who voiced their collective thought:
"Holy shit."