You've been waiting

Looking off into the night

Search the horizon

Watching out for smoke and fire

You knew this day would come

You aren't the only one

And so it begins

Standing on the edge

Taking one last breath

Feel the pull of gravity down in the depths

You knew this day would come

And you aren't the only one

And so it begins

And so it begins

"And So It Begins" - Klergy

Chapter 30: And So It Begins

It had been five days.

Five days since the abbey had disappeared behind the trees lining the gravel drive as they drove away. The warmth of the place—its stone walls, the faint smell of dirt, and the quiet comfort of familiarity—felt like a distant memory now, swallowed up by the relentless journey ahead.

Three days since the horde had passed in the night, a wave of death and decay that she still couldn't shake from her mind. The sound of mangled bodies and limbs dragging along the side of the truck haunted her, the guttural groans and wet thuds replaying every time she closed her eyes. She'd stared wide-eyed through the rain-streaked window, too terrified to breathe, let alone move. Daryl's hand had been firm and steady over hers, anchoring her in the storm of her own fear.

Two days since they'd found a safe place to camp out overnight, allowing her legs to finally stretch out as she slept. The momentary reprieve had felt like a gift—one night not spent folded up in the backseat, her body aching from the cramped quarters and unrelenting motion of the truck.

Isabelle sat in the backseat now, the rough hum of the engine vibrating beneath her as she gazed out at the passing landscape. The rain had cleared, leaving behind a world of muted greens and browns. Fields stretched out endlessly on either side, dotted with skeletal trees stripped bare by the season. The occasional cluster of abandoned buildings passed by like ghosts of a world that no longer existed.

Her thoughts drifted back to the abbey, to Laurent's room and the quiet garden she'd once tended. It felt like a lifetime ago. She clenched her hands in her lap, picking absentmindedly at the skin beside her thumbnail.

Her gaze flicked up to the seat adjacent to hers, landing on Daryl. Her legs were stretched out, her cold toes tucked warmly under the side of his leg, her boots resting on the floorboard. The steady heat radiating from him offering her a quiet sense of comfort.

Daryl sat with an elbow propped on the window seal of the back door, his head leaned back against the headrest. His face was relaxed, his features softened in the dim light of the cab. But Isabelle could tell he wasn't sleeping. The occasional bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed gave him away, a subtle motion that seemed almost involuntary.

She watched him for a moment—her eyes tracing the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint twitch of movement behind his closed eyelids—wishing, not for the first time, that she could get a glimpse inside his mind at what he was thinking. Was he replaying the past few days, the seemingly endless hurdles they'd faced? Or was it something else—memories he kept locked away, hidden behind his quiet demeanor and rough edges?

Her fingers toyed absently with the fraying hem of her sleeve as she allowed herself to wonder. Daryl rarely let anyone in, and even when he did, his words were measured, careful, like he was afraid of giving too much of himself away. It left her piecing together fragments, trying to make sense of a man who had survived so much and still managed to be a source of strength for everyone around him.

Daryl stirred slightly, his movement subtle but enough to pull Isabelle from her thoughts. His head didn't lift from where it rested against the seat, but it turned just enough for his eyes to find hers. Their gazes met and locked, and in that instant, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

Isabelle felt the warmth of a blush creep up her neck as she realized, with a pang of embarrassment, that she'd once again been caught watching him. She offered him a soft, shy smile, her fingers stilling against the fraying hem of her sleeve. There was no judgment in his eyes, no teasing smirk or questioning look—just quiet admiration, the kind that left her feeling exposed and seen in a way she still wasn't used to.

Hell, she didn't think she could ever get used to the way that he looked at her.

In those stormy blue depths, she saw everything he didn't know how to say. She saw the exhaustion he carried—not just from the road but from years of surviving a world that seemed determined to take more than it gave. She saw the love he held for her, quiet but fierce, wrapped up in every glance, every touch, every time he placed himself between her and danger without a second thought. And she saw something deeper, something that gripped her heart and squeezed with a force she couldn't explain.

It was like his eyes reached into the parts of her she'd long thought closed off and cracked them open. They made her feel raw and exposed, but not in a way that scared her. It was a pull, a connection that ran deeper than anything she'd ever experienced. It was terrifying and grounding all at once, as if the world outside the truck didn't matter so long as he was looking at her like this.

His gaze didn't falter, didn't waver, and she wondered if he could see into her the way she felt like she could see into him. There was an unspoken intimacy between them in moments like this, one that didn't need words to exist or be understood.

She felt her heart stumble against her ribs as his gaze dropped, his movements unhurried as he reached down and slid his hand under her feet, lifting them and settling them across his lap. Warmth spread through her at the tender care in which the pads of his fingers brushed against her ankle. He adjusted the blanket with a deliberateness that ensured no cold crept in, tucking it securely over her legs.

Daryl's fingers lingered for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against the arch of her foot before his other hand joined in, gently tugging at the edge of her sock. Isabelle didn't resist; she never did. She'd come to recognize the quiet ways Daryl craved physical connection—a brush of a hand, a steadying touch, a silent gesture of reassurance. And this, like all the others, was no different.

The cool air hit her skin as he removed the sock, his hand sliding over the arch of her foot with a tenderness that sent a shiver up her spine. His touch wasn't searching, nor did it demand anything of her. It was simply there, a tangible expression of a need he could never quite articulate. But she didn't need the words. She understood.

Daryl wanted his skin on hers. It was in the way he reached for her in the quiet hours of the night, his arm slipping around her waist, his hand finding its place beneath her shirt, resting against the soft curve of her stomach. It was in the way his gaze softened when she touched him first, tracing the lines of his scars like they were a map she was determined to memorize. And now, it was in the simple act of holding her foot in his lap, his thumb making slow, absent circles against her skin, as if the contact alone could anchor him.

She let him have it—her touch, her warmth, whatever he needed. It was never something she had planned to deny him. Not when she could feel the weight of everything he carried in the way his hand rested against her skin, firm but careful, as though afraid she might disappear if he held on too tightly.

Her gaze softened as she studied him, her heart swelling at the quiet vulnerability he allowed her to see. His rough exterior no longer fooled her; beneath it all was a man who gave everything he had, even when it cost him pieces of himself. And she would give him those pieces back—bit by bit, in every touch, every moment of closeness, until he realized he didn't have to carry it all alone anymore.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his again, and her breath hitched at the sight of the small, lopsided grin he offered her. It was subtle, barely there, but it carried a warmth that settled in her chest and spread like wildfire.

She caught herself staring at his lips. That mouth. She wanted to feel the warmth of it against hers, to lose herself in the way he kissed—like it was the only thing holding him to the world. The thought made her pulse quicken, a soft flush creeping up her neck.

Daryl's brow quirked slightly, as if sensing the shift in her focus, and she watched the muscles in his jaw tighten.

Suddenly, his eyes seemed several shades darker than what they had been. The bright, clear blue from moments ago smoldered into a deep, stormy grey that pinned her in place. It wasn't anger or frustration—it was something else entirely, something that sent a wave of heat washing over her.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, part challenge, part silent question: How do you do that? The corner of her mouth twitched, and without thinking, she nudged him lightly with her heel, a playful gesture meant to tell him to behave.

But with the way he was looking at her now, behaving was the last thing on his mind. The intensity of his gaze wrapped around her, scorching and undeniable, and the thought burned her alive from the inside.

In that moment, Isabelle wished she could transmit her thoughts straight into his mind. Even though she knew damn well, he'd be just as ornery about it.

Don't do that.

Don't do what? she imagined him saying, his voice low and gruff.

Look at me with those eyes.

Well, they're the only ones I got, she could almost hear him retort, his mouth twitching into that lopsided grin that both infuriated and disarmed her.

The thought made her want to laugh, cry, and kiss him all at once. Instead, she rolled her eyes and let out a soft sigh, her foot nudging him again, as if that could somehow keep her emotions in check. But the truth was, with the way he was looking at her, he could unravel her completely without saying a single word.

Daryl's lips twitched, barely hiding the smirk that threatened to break free. He leaned back slightly, his head still resting against the seat, but his gaze never wavered from hers. The weight of it was almost too much—like he was daring her to look away first, knowing full well she wouldn't.

Her pulse thrummed in her ears as she searched his face for something—anything—that might explain what was happening between them. The air in the cab felt thicker, charged with a tension that wasn't new but felt sharper now, like it was teetering on the edge of something neither of them could name.

"I mean it," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't."

He tilted his head slightly, the smirk finally breaking free. "Don't what?" His voice was quiet, but there was a playful edge to it, one that made her want to both kiss and smack him at the same time.

"Don't do that," she clarified, her foot nudging him again for emphasis. "The thing with your eyes."

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. "What thing?"

"You know what thing," she shot back, her cheeks warming despite her best efforts to stay composed.

Daryl's grin reached his eyes then, softening their stormy intensity just enough to make her heart stutter. "Ain't doin' nothin'," he said, his tone low and teasing.

She let out a quiet huff, narrowing her eyes at him as if daring him to push further. "You know exactly what you're doing," she countered, her voice carrying that edge of challenge she knew he secretly liked.

His gaze didn't waver, didn't even falter. "You're seein' things," he said softly, the smirk on his lips betraying him.

Her breath caught at the way he looked at her then—steady and sure, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. She pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling too much, shaking her head as if to break the invisible hold he seemed to have on her.

"You're impossible," she said, the words coming out more affectionate than frustrated.

He didn't reply, but the look in his eyes deepened, something unspoken passing between them in the charged silence. Slowly, he gave her foot a reassuring squeeze before settling back fully into the seat, his hand staying where it was, not wanting to lose the connection.

Daryl's grin faded just slightly at the sound of Carol shifting in her seat up front. Isabelle froze, realizing too late that her last words had carried a bit too loudly over the hum of the engine.

Carol's gaze flicked briefly to the rearview mirror, her sharp eyes narrowing in on Isabelle and Daryl in the backseat. There was a beat of silence before she arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching like she was trying to suppress a smirk. "Everything alright back there?" she asked, her voice casual but tinged with amusement.

Isabelle cleared her throat, shifting her foot slightly but not pulling it away from Daryl's lap. "Fine," she said quickly, the warmth in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "Just… cramped."

"Mm-hmm," Carol replied knowingly, her gaze sliding back to the road ahead. "Sure looks cramped."

Daryl huffed softly, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on Isabelle's foot in what felt like a reassuring gesture. He didn't say a word, though, his eyes fixed on the scenery passing outside the window as though nothing had happened.

Isabelle bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile as she leaned back into the seat. She nudged Daryl's leg lightly with her heel, and tilted her head to the side.

See what you did?

He turned his head just enough to glance at her, one eyebrow quirking in response.

Didn't do nothin'

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him, though the smile tugging at the corners of her lips betrayed her.

Sure you didn't

Daryl's gaze held hers for a beat longer before he let out a quiet snort, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. "Ain't my fault Carol's got ears like a damn bat," he said under his breath, leaning his head back against the seat.

Isabelle pressed her lips together, her smile threatening to break through. She nudged his leg again, a little more deliberately this time, and tilted her chin up slightly in mock defiance."Maybe if you didn't look so guilty all the time, she wouldn't notice."

Daryl's smirk grew, and his eyes flicked toward her in a way that made her stomach flip. "Guilty, huh?" he drawled, his voice rough but teasing. "Pretty sure you're the one blushin' like you got caught doin' somethin' wrong."

Isabelle's cheeks flushed deeper at his words, and she shook her head with a small huff, muttering, "Impossible."

They were just starting to lose daylight when the faint outline of a rusted road sign came into view, partially obscured by overgrown vines. The weathered lettering announced they were 3km to Aposta. The name meant nothing to Isabelle, but the idea of a nearby town—however abandoned or decayed—was enough to stir her from the comfortable haze she'd been drifting in.

Codron leaned forward in his seat, his eyes scanning the horizon as they passed the sign. "We'll skirt the city to the south," he said, glancing over to Carol. "But there should be somewhere on the outskirts where we can stop for the night."

Daryl gave a small grunt of acknowledgment from his seat, his eyes already scanning the faint shapes of distant buildings rising against the deepening gray sky. Isabelle sat up straighter, tucking her feet away from his lap as she stretched her legs.

Her fingers moved to the edge of the window, rubbing at a small patch of grime until she could see more clearly. Shapes began to materialize in the distance—weathered rooftops and the skeletal remains of a few taller structures. Aposta wasn't a large town, but even from this distance, it bore the unmistakable signs of abandonment: shattered windows, sagging walls, and the eerie stillness that always seemed to cling to places humanity had fled.

"Be good to stretch my legs," Daryl muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Isabelle allowed herself a small smile at his words, though her gaze stayed fixed on the approaching town. Her body ached from the days spent in motion, the unrelenting hum of the truck's engine vibrating through her bones. The thought of solid ground beneath her feet—of stretching her legs without the confinement of the cramped cab—was enough to make her exhale with quiet relief.

The truck rumbled onward, the buildings of Aposta drawing closer with every passing minute. Isabelle's stomach knotted faintly as the reality of entering another unfamiliar place settled over her, but she pushed the feeling down. It was just another stop, just another place to pass through. She reminded herself of that, even as the shadows of the town began to loom larger.

The group settled on a towering building that jutted into the sky, standing several stories taller than the ones surrounding it. Its weathered facade bore the scars of years without care, and shattered windows gaped like hollow eyes in the dimming light. An old apartment building, by the looks of it– abandoned long ago by its inhabitants.

"Looks like our best bet," Codron said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he climbed out of the truck.

Daryl's eyes lingered on the building, scanning the crumbling stonework and the tangled vines clinging stubbornly to its sides.

The city itself was a muted mosaic of tan and beige, its buildings blending into the landscape as if they'd been sculpted from sand itself. The apartment building they approached was no different—its weathered facade bore the same earthy tones, though streaks of grime and faded graffiti marred the once-uniform surface.

Above them, a staggering number of rooftops stretched into the distance, almost all of them sharing the same dull orange-red hue. The tiles were chipped and faded, their original vibrancy long lost to time and the elements. The sameness of the cityscape created an almost disorienting effect, as if the entire place had been built from a single blueprint, each building a slight variation of the last.

Even the apartment they climbed toward seemed to echo this monotony, its design functional and plain. But its sheer height set it apart, standing like a silent observer amidst the sea of shorter, sand-colored structures. It was a relic of a time when the city had once aspired to be something more—a place of industry or ambition, now hollowed out and forgotten.

The fire escape clinging to its side seemed like an afterthought, its rusted frame winding upward like a vine searching for the light. With every creak and groan, the building reminded them of its age, but it still stood, stubborn against the slow decay that had claimed so much else around it.

"Better than sleeping out in the open," Carol added, already moving toward the fire escape. It hung precariously, parts of it peeling off in layers of paint and rust-colored flakes.

Isabelle followed closely behind Daryl, her heart pounding faintly as she looked up at the narrow switchback staircase snaking its way up the side of the building. It creaked ominously under Carol's cautious steps, its metal groaning like an old ship in rough seas.

"As long as it holds…" Codron muttered, pausing briefly to test the first platform level with his weight. It shuddered but held, and he began climbing after Carol, his movements fluid and careful.

Daryl glanced back at Isabelle, his eyes meeting hers. She gave him a faint reassuring smile before he nodded once and turned, placing his boot on the first step.

The ascent was slow, every step carefully calculated to avoid putting too much pressure on the groaning structure. The fire escape swayed slightly in the wind, adding an unsettling sense of motion to their climb. Isabelle's hands gripped the rusted railing tightly, her knuckles white as she followed Daryl's lead.

She glanced down briefly, immediately regretting the decision as the ground seemed farther away than she anticipated. Her stomach flipped, and she quickly returned her focus to the steps ahead, where Daryl's boots moved with steady confidence.

"Just don't look down," Daryl said without turning, as if he could sense her unease.

"Too late," Isabelle muttered under her breath, earning a faint huff of amusement from him.

The higher they climbed, the louder the wind howled, whipping through the gaps in the building's facade and rattling loose debris. By the time they reached the fifth story, the fire escape felt as if it might give up the fight entirely.

"This far enough?" Carol called from ahead, her voice carrying over the wind as she stopped at a landing just below a broken window.

Daryl stepped up beside her, peering into the darkened apartment beyond. "Yeah. Looks clear." He pressed his hand against the window frame, testing its sturdiness before climbing inside.

One by one, they followed, the tension in Isabelle's shoulders easing slightly as she stepped onto solid ground once more. The apartment was cold and musty, its air thick with the scent of decay and mildew, but it was shelter.

Codron leaned his rifle against the wall and scanned the room. "I'll check the next few units," he said, stepping over debris to glance into each of the adjoining rooms.

Isabelle took a deep breath, her hands still gripping the frame of the broken window as she steadied herself. The shift from the swaying fire escape to the firm, albeit grimy, floor beneath her feet was a welcome relief. She glanced around the apartment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracked glass.

The room was a time capsule of abandonment—furniture sat in disarray, some overturned, others draped in dusty sheets. The wallpaper, once a cheery floral pattern, now peeled in long, curling strips, revealing patches of damp plaster beneath. A faded rug, its colors muted by time, sprawled across the floor, and shards of broken glass glittered faintly in the fading light.

Daryl moved to the center of the room, his steps careful as he surveyed their surroundings. His gaze swept over the remnants of a life long forgotten—a toppled chair, a photo frame face down on a dusty table. He crouched briefly, picking up the frame and turning it over. The glass was cracked, but the black-and-white photo beneath showed a family—parents and two children—smiling stiffly for the camera. He studied it for a moment, his thumb brushing over the jagged edges of the glass, before he set it back on the table.

Codron appeared back in the doorway, his voice cutting through the thick, musty air. "Found something better," he announced, making a gesture back over his shoulder. "Few doors down. Three bedrooms. Windows are intact, so it's not as damp."

Daryl glanced up, his gaze meeting Codron's briefly. He gave a short nod, his eyes flicking towards the hallway. "And we won't be right next to the fire escape," he muttered, dusting his hands together.

Codron smirked faintly, stepping aside to let the others follow him. "Exactly. And it doesn't smell like something died in there." he added dryly.

Carol snorted softly, slinging her pack over her shoulder. "That's a low bar, but I'll take it." she said, casting a quick glance towards the others before following Codron into the hallway.

Isabelle hesitated, her eyes lingering on Daryl as he adjusted the strap of his crossbow. He glanced back at her, his expression softening when he caught her gaze. He extended his arm toward her, his fingers giving a subtle motion toward the door. "C'mon," he said, his voice low.

She nodded, stepping past him toward the doorway. As she did, his hand found its place gently on her lower back, a natural and unassuming touch that sent a warmth spreading through her chest.

The group made their way down the hallway to the other apartment, their footsteps soft against the old matted carpet. Codron pushed the door open with his shoulder, letting it creak on its hinges before stepping aside to let the others in.

Daryl moved toward the window almost instinctively, dropping his pack beside the wall. He pushed aside the thin curtain, the fabric brittle from years of neglect, and peered out at the streets below. A few walkers stumbled aimlessly along the cracked pavement, their movements sluggish and disoriented.

The last of the day's sunlight stretched across the horizon, casting long, deep shadows over the city. The sky above was a masterpiece of fading light, streaks of purple and pink cutting across the expanse, blending into soft oranges and reds. Beyond the distant rooftops, the jagged silhouettes of the mountains loomed against the vibrant hues.

Daryl scanned the scene below, taking in every detail– the walkers, the empty cars rusting at odd angles, the broken glass and debris scattered across the sidewalks and spilling into the streets. His jaw worked, chewing on the thoughts that he kept to himself, looking for anything that may be out of place.

"Anything?" Carol asked from behind him, shrugging off her pack and setting it on the floor.

"Few walkers," Daryl muttered, his voice gravelly. He tilted his head slightly, watching one of the walkers as it stumbled into a rusted bike propped against a wall, its clattering echoing faintly through the empty streets.

Isabelle stepped closer, her eyes drawn to the window. The colors of the sunset reflected in her gaze, her features illuminated as she stared out at the distant mountains.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice just above a whisper.

"Yeah," he said after a moment, his voice low as his gaze shifted briefly to her before returning to the window.

Daryl's gaze lingered on the streets below for a moment longer before it drifted toward the horizon, where the vibrant streaks of purple, pink, and gold painted the evening sky. The mountains stood like quiet guardians in the distance, their peaks dusted with the fading light of the sun.

The thought struck him unexpectedly—how different the sunsets looked here compared to Georgia. Back home, most of the sunsets were glimpsed through thick, towering trees, their canopies breaking the light into fragmented beams that dappled the forest floor. It had been rare to see the sky so wide and open, stretching endlessly above him like it did here.

He'd never been one to take time to appreciate sunsets. Most days, they came and went without notice, buried beneath the weight of survival and the constant pull of what came next. But now, standing here, the colors playing across Isabelle's eyes and face, softening the lines of her features and bringing a quiet warmth to her expression, he found himself thinking he might start.

"It's different," he murmured, almost to himself.

Isabelle turned her head slightly, her gaze shifting to him. "What is?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Daryl hesitated, his jaw working as he considered his words. "Sunsets," he said finally, his voice low and rough. "Back home, they didn't look like this. Too many trees. Didn't see much of the sky." He glanced at her then, his eyes catching the glow of the fading light reflected in hers. "Not like here."

She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curving in a way that made his chest tighten. "I think that's what makes them beautiful," she said. "They're always different. Never quite the same."

Daryl didn't reply right away, his gaze lingering on her face before shifting back to the window. His hand rested against the window frame, his fingers curling slightly as he leaned forward, the last streaks of sunlight casting shadows over his features.

He felt her arm lift beside him, her touch a gentle, lingering warmth against his back. The contact was brief, her fingers sliding down in a slow, deliberate motion before disappearing.

Daryl straightened slightly, his body unconsciously leaning into the space where her touch had been. He didn't turn to watch her as she moved away, but he caught her reflection in the window, her silhouette weaving through the dimly lit apartment as she went to check the adjoining rooms.

The apartment had settled into a quiet rhythm as they began to settle in for the night– the soft creak of easy footsteps and the faint rustle of fabric filling the spaces where words might have normally been. Each of them milled about with a calm born of exhaustion, claiming rooms, shedding layers, and savoring the rare stretch of space outside the truck's cramped confines.

Carol sat at what was once a dining room table, now a sagging relic of its former purpose. Bits of glass, crumpled paper, and other debris lay scattered across its surface, remnants of the life that had once existed there. The needle in her hand caught the dim light of the oil lamp as she worked it through her shirt sleeve, her movements steady and methodical. She was grateful for the task– her mind finding solace in the rhythm of the needle as she tilted her head slightly, examining each stitch.

Codron had taken up residence on the couch, his long frame sprawled out in a position that somehow looked both awkward and comfortable. One boot, which he'd unlaced as soon as he had plopped onto the cushion, now rested lazily on the coffee table, while the other was stretched out to the side, over the edge of the couch. His head lolled back against the cushions, his eyes fluttering shut every few minutes before flicking open again, as though he were fighting a losing battle against sleep.

Daryl had claimed his usual place near the window. Perched on the wide sill, his back rested against the frame. One leg bent while the other hung down, his boot tapping faintly against the wall below. He could feel the cool air radiating through the panes as the temperature continued to drop outside, and he crossed his arms across his chest to stave off the chill that had started to set in.

His eyes remained fixed on the streets below, watching the occasional walker wander aimlessly through the growing shadows. The streets and alleyways below were cloaked in darkness, the absence of moonlight cloaking everything in varying shades of black.

Isabelle stepped out from the hallway that led back to the bedrooms, her footsteps soft against the carpet as she adjusted the sleeves of her clean shirt. Her hair was down now, the lingering waves left from the braid she'd had it in earlier. She massaged her fingers against her scalp, shaking her hair loose around her shoulders. Daryl's gaze shifted towards her as she emerged, his head turning slightly, though his posture remained relaxed against the window frame.

"I got the bed in our room cleaned off," Isabelle said softly as she approached him, "Found some extra blankets stashed in the closet too. And…" She glanced toward the pack she'd left in the corner. "I laid out some clean clothes for you if you want to change."

Daryl nodded slightly, "Thank you," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up in a soft smile. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before something caught his attention down below, just in the periphery of his vision. His head snapped back toward the window, his brows furrowing as his eyes locked onto the alley below. A flicker of motion– quick, too quick– disappeared into the shadows.

"What's wrong?" Isabelle asked, catching the subtle shift in his posture. Her voice softened with concern as she stepped closer.

Daryl didn't respond immediately. He blinked a couple of times, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The shadows seemed to shift and writhe under his scrutiny, but the movement didn't repeat itself. He leaned forward slightly, his hand resting against the window frame as he tried to focus.

"Thought I saw somethin'," he said after a moment, his voice low. His gaze fixed on the alley for a beat longer before he leaned back, his jaw tightening. "Probably nothin'... Can't see much of anything tonight."

Isabelle frowned, her eyes following his line of sight. The alley below was shrouded in deep shadows, empty save for the occasional walker shuffling about. "You sure?"

Daryl shook his head slightly, his shoulders tense. "Yeah, it could've been a deer or… just the dark playin' tricks."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting back to him as she studied his expression. She nodded, though the crease in her brow remained. Daryl glanced at her then, his eyes softening slightly as they met hers.

He reached out, his hand curling gently around Isabelle's waist, pulling her closer to him. A quiet, reassuring gesture as his hand moved against her back. Isabelle leaned into him, her fingers tracing a light path across his shoulder blades before sliding upward, brushing his hair out of his face.

Her fingers lingered against the nape of his neck for a moment before she let out a quiet breath. "Alright," she murmured. "I'm heading to bed. Don't stay up too late."

"I won't," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "I'll be in there in a few minutes."

She smiled softly, her thumb brushing against his jawline for the briefest second before she leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Daryl's eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of the gesture, his arm tightening slightly around her before she pulled away.

"Goodnight," Isabelle whispered, her voice tender as she stepped back.

"'Night," he said, watching her as she made her way down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He stayed where he was, his hand resting against the window frame, his gaze flicking briefly back to the alley below. The shadows were still and silent now, but his jaw remained tight.

A few minutes later, Carol appeared quietly beside Daryl at the window, her sleeve draped over one arm as she inspected the stitching she'd just finished. She slid the sleeve back on, flexing her arm slightly to test the repair before tugging it into place.

"Looks like it'll hold," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her gaze flicked to Daryl, who hadn't moved, his posture still rigid as he leaned against the frame. Carol followed his gaze, her eyes scanning the darkness. "You see something?"

"Thought I did earlier," he admitted. "Couldn't really tell what it was. It was just a quick movement." His brow furrowed as he shifted slightly, he absentmindedly picked at the flaking paint of the window seal.

Carol tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she searched the labyrinth of alleys below. A moment passed before another flicker of motion caught both of their attention. It was fast– barely more than a blur darting between shadows. Carol caught it out of the corner of her eye and straightened slightly.

"You see that?" she asked, her voice hushed but urgent.

Daryl nodded, his jaw tightening. "Yeah," he said, his tone clipped. His eyes scanned the darkened street, searching every street in the vicinity of the flicker of movement.

"What do you think it is?" Carol asked, her eyes darting quickly from shadow to shadow.

Daryl shook his head, chewing on his bottom lip. "Whatever it is… it's too quick to be a walker."His voice trailed off, his fingers picking at the window sill again as he considered the possibilities.

Carol exhaled softly, her gaze darting between the alley and Daryl's profile. "Could be an animal… or just a person." she offered, though her tone didn't carry much conviction.

"Maybe," Daryl muttered, his eyes narrowing.

The two of them stood in silence, as they sat, waiting for another flicker of movement. Several minutes passed without another movement, both of their eyes straining in the darkness.

Carol's hand came up to rest on Daryl's shoulder. "Whatever it is," She said quietly, her voice breaking the heavy silence between them, "we'll deal with it in the morning."
Daryl worked his jaw as he gave the street one last, lingering glance. The shadows remained still, the flicker of motion they'd seen earlier refusing to repeat itself. His fingers stopped their restless picking at the window frame, curling into a loose fist before he finally nodded.

"Yeah," he said, his voice low and reluctant.

Carol gave his shoulder a light squeeze before stepping back. "Get some sleep, Pookie." she said, her tone soft but laced with an edge of teasing. Daryl didn't respond, but he cut his eyes at her and huffed, shaking his head.

Carol smirked at his reaction, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. She gave his shoulder one last squeeze and turned towards the hallway. "Goodnight."

"Night." He grumbled with another small shake of his head as he turned back towards the window.

By the time Daryl made it to the bedroom, Isabelle was already fast asleep. She was curled on her side, her breathing soft and even, her back facing the empty side of the bed. In the shadows, he just could make out the soft curve of her shoulder rising and falling slowly with each breath.

He shrugged off his button-up, tossing it onto a nearby chair. His boots followed, thudding quietly against the floor, then his jeans. He moved quietly, careful not to disturb her as he slid under the blankets behind her.

The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and as he settled in, he reached out for her, his hand slipping around her waist. His fingers splayed gently against her stomach, pulling her closer.

Even in her sleep, Isabelle shifted, snuggling back against him with a soft sigh. The warmth of her body pressed against his chest and eased the tension that had seeped into him as he was sitting watch at the window. But not all of it.

The flicker of movement he'd seen gnawed at him, the unease sinking its teeth into his thoughts and refusing to let go. It wasn't just the speed of it, or the way it seemed to dart in and out of the shadows. It was something else, something he couldn't quite name, but it sat heavy in his chest like a weight he couldn't shake.

His grip on Isabelle tightened slightly, and for a moment, he simply lay there, his face half-buried in her hair. Her steady breathing was a quiet rhythm that contrasted with the restless churn in his mind.

Eventually, the world outside the apartment melted away, and the steady cadence of Isabelle's breathing began to pull him from his thoughts. The tension didn't fully leave him—it never did—but the weight of sleep eventually won out, dragging him down into the depths of unconsciousness.