Chapter 18: The Weight of Goodbye
"Daryl…" Isabelle called after him, her voice barely a whisper as he disappeared out the door of the shed, his crossbow slung over his shoulder. Gunfire erupted immediately, the sharp cracks reverberating through the thin walls. Carol followed him out, ducking low. Laurent clung tightly to her side, his hands gripping her jacket as the chaos outside grew louder.
Ash paced back and forth near the shed's door, his eyes darting toward the small plane sitting on the tarmac. "We're out of time," he muttered, glancing toward the door as gunfire rang out like a relentless drumbeat. "We're gonna have to make a run for it."
Isabelle knelt in front of Laurent, her hands cupping his cheeks. "You're going first," she said softly, her voice steady despite the chaos outside.
Laurent's eyes widened. "What about you?"
"I'll be right behind you," she promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Ash gestured toward the small back entrance that led out toward the plane. "I'll get to the plane first. I'll signal you when it's clear, then send Laurent, then you."
Isabelle swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she brushed a strand of hair from Laurent's face. "Stay close to him," she said to Ash, her voice firm. Ash gave a curt nod before pushing open the shed door, the smell of burning fuel and smoke rushing in. "We go now or not at all!" he shouted, stepping onto the tarmac. He ran toward the plane, keeping low as bullets whizzed past. Laurent hesitated, his gaze darting between Isabelle and the open door.
"Go!" Isabelle urged, as Ash waved frantically from the plane. "Run, Laurent!"
With tears streaming down his face, Laurent bolted from the shed, his small figure darting through the chaos. Isabelle held her breath, her heart pounding as she watched him sprint toward the plane, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
Isabelle's heart pounded in her chest as she watched him climb up onto the wing and into the cockpit, Ash pulling him up and out of sight.
"Come on!" Ash yelled, leaning out of the cockpit. The plane's engine roared to life, the propellers spinning faster with each second.
The Guerriers forced Daryl and Carol to their knees on the cold, cracked tarmac, their weapons trained on them like vultures circling their prey. Genet strode forward with slow, deliberate steps, her boots crunching against the gravel. Her presence radiated control, her sharp gaze flicking between the two captives with calculated disdain.
The dawn light had fully crept over the horizon, casting a pale orange glow across the bloodied battleground. Behind her, the remnants of her forces stood in a semi-circle, rifles aimed and ready. The tension in the air was suffocating, the faint smell of gunpowder lingering like a bitter reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded.
Daryl's jaw tightened as he raised his eyes to meet Genet's. Blood dripped from the gash at his temple, pooling at the edge of his collar. His fists clenched behind his back, his body coiled tight like a spring, ready to lash out at the first opportunity.
Carol knelt beside him, her face bruised but defiant. Her icy glare burned into Genet, a silent promise that she wouldn't go quietly.
Genet stopped just a few feet in front of them, her gloved hands clasped behind her back. Her lips curved into a faint, chilling smile, though her eyes remained cold as steel.
"You've caused me quite a bit of trouble," she said, her voice smooth but laced with venom. "Do you even realize what you've stolen from me?"
Daryl didn't answer, his glare unwavering as he locked eyes with her. Carol remained silent as well, her chest rising and falling steadily as she fought to keep her composure.
Genet's smile faded, her jaw tightening. She paced slowly in front of them, her boots clicking softly against the tarmac.
Daryl's teeth ground together, his shoulders tensing as he leaned forward slightly. "Good," he growled, his voice rough. "You'll never find him now."
Genet's nostrils flared, her composure cracking for just a moment. She took a step closer, her piercing gaze boring into him.
"Do you think this is a victory?" she spat and laughed sharply. She reached for the pistol holstered at her hip, pulling it out with deliberate precision. Her gaze flicked to Carol, and a cruel smile tugged at her lips.
"If I can't have the boy," she said coldly, raising the pistol, "then perhaps I'll make an example of her."
Daryl's entire body tensed as she leveled the gun at Carol. "No!" he roared, his voice cracking with desperation. He lunged forward, his knees scraping against the gravel, but the guards behind him yanked him back roughly.
"Kill me instead!" he shouted, his voice raw and frantic. "You hear me? Kill me!"
Genet tilted her head, her smile widening as she savored his panic. "Oh, don't worry," she said, her tone dripping with malice. "I'm going to kill you too. But first, I want you to watch."
Carol's gaze didn't waver as she stared up at Genet. She didn't speak, her silence an act of defiance in itself. Daryl, on the other hand, was thrashing against his captors, his shouts echoing across the wreckage.
Carol stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she stared down the barrel of the gun. She refused to show fear, even as her chest tightened and her heart thundered in her ears.
Daryl struggled against the Guerrier holding him, his voice breaking as he shouted again. "No! God damn it!"
Genet's finger began to tighten on the trigger, her expression unyielding.
A single gunshot echoed through the stillness and everything froze.
"FUCK!" Daryl screamed, his eyes squeezed shut from the deafening sound. His whole body tensed as if bracing for the blow he expected to come. But it didn't.
Silence followed the gunshot, sharp and eerie in the chaos that had consumed them moments before. Slowly, Daryl opened his eyes, his chest heaving. His vision swam, but when he focused, Carol was still kneeling beside them, her eyes closed. Her face was turned down and to the side, waiting for the inevitable. He turned his eyes up, searching.
Genet's eyes were wide, her mouth opening slightly as a dark stain began to spread across her chest. She staggered back a step, her pistol slipping from her hand and clattering to the ground.
The guards around them turned in confusion, their weapons scrambling to find a target. Daryl and Carol's eyes darted quickly from guard to guard trying to find the source of the shot.
Genet collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide with disbelief as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She tried to speak, but the words never came. She crumpled forward, her body hitting the ground with a lifeless thud.
Chaos erupted again as more gunshots echoed across the tarmac. Guerriers scrambled, shouting in confusion, but their numbers thinned quickly as Montmartre's men surged forward, their aim precise and deadly.
Daryl turned his head toward the direction of the gunfire. Through the haze of dust and smoke, he spotted Fallou stepping out of the shadows near the edge of the tarmac, Fallou emerged, his rifle raised and trained on the remaining Guerriers. Behind him, more Montmartre fighters moved forward, their weapons firing in erratic bursts as they overwhelmed them.
The Guerrier holding Daryl hesitated, his grip loosening just enough for Daryl to wrench free and slam his elbow into the man's ribs. The rifle fell from his hands, and Daryl spun, tackling him to the ground with a feral growl. He landed a solid punch to the man's jaw before grabbing the discarded rifle and firing it into the man's gaping mouth.
Carol had already lunged for the pistol Genet had dropped, spinning around to take out the nearest Guerrier with a single, clean shot. Her movements were fluid and precise, a testament to her years of survival in a brutal world.
Amid the chaos, Genet's lifeless eyes stared blankly at the sky. The once-commanding figure was reduced to a crumpled heap, her reign of terror extinguished with a single bullet.
The battle raged on around them, but with Fallou's reinforcements, the tide began to shift. Daryl and Carol moved as one, their instincts honed by years of fighting side by side. Each shot, each movement, was calculated and efficient, a deadly dance that carved through the remaining Guerriers.
As the gunfire finally began to die down, the echo of the last shot lingered in the air like a haunting melody. The ground was littered with bodies, the silence broken only by the labored breathing of the survivors. Daryl stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving as he scanned the scene for any remaining threats. His gaze lingered on Genet's lifeless form before shifting to Fallou, who approached with his rifle lowered.
"You're late," Daryl muttered, his voice hoarse.
Fallou gave him a grim nod. "Better late than never, no?" his expression softened slightly as he approached. "Looks like we got here just in time," he said, his tone steady.
Daryl and Carol exchanged a glance, their exhaustion evident, but there was a flicker of hope in their eyes now.
"You really know how to make an entrance," Carol said, her voice dry but tinged with genuine relief.
Fallou stood, his rifle slung over his shoulder. "Took longer than I'd like to gather what was left of my people," he replied, his tone apologetic. His gaze flicked toward the lifeless form of Genet, her blood pooling beneath her on the cracked tarmac. "Looks like you kept her busy."
"Yeah," Daryl growled, his voice low and rough, his eyes lingering on Genet's body. His expression was unreadable, a mix of grim satisfaction and something deeper—something unresolved.
Fallou's face tightened as he scanned the battlefield, taking in the bodies of Guerriers scattered across the tarmac. The faint glow of dawn illuminated the wreckage, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. He shook his head slightly, his jaw tightening. "Her forces will take time to regroup—if they can at all. But we shouldn't stick around to find out."
Daryl nodded, his gaze shifting to Carol. She was already scanning the area, her sharp eyes catching every flicker of movement in the distance.
"Come on," Daryl said, his jaw set with determination. "Let's get outta here."
As they turned to leave, Daryl's eyes lingered on Genet's body one last time. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed instinctively around the strap of his crossbow. Whatever satisfaction her death had brought was fleeting.
Carol's gaze shifted sharply toward the shed, her eyes narrowing as a flicker of movement caught her attention. "Daryl," she said, her voice low but alert, her hand tightening on her knife.
Daryl followed her line of sight, his body tensing as he noticed the figure standing in the doorway. Codron was leaning against the frame. He raised a hand in a gesture that could have been a signal—or a warning.
"What now?" Daryl muttered, his tone edged with frustration as he adjusted the strap of his crossbow and started toward the shed. Carol followed closely, her knife at the ready, her every movement cautious.
The shed loomed ahead, its door slightly ajar, the faint smell of oil and metal wafting out into the open air. Codron stood in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim interior. His face and arms were splattered with blood, his one good eye shadowed with a mix of frustration and something else—regret.
"You alright?" Daryl asked, his voice low and cautious as he stepped closer.
Codron shifted slightly, his posture tense. "I'm fine," he replied curtly. His gaze flicked over Daryl's shoulder to Carol before returning to him. "But we've got a problem."
Daryl's jaw tightened, and he stepped past Codron, pushing the door open further. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, he froze.
Isabelle's heart raced in her chest as she watched Laurent climb up onto the wing and into the cockpit, Ash pulling him up and out of sight.
"Come on!" Ash yelled, waving from the plane. The engine roared to life, the propellers spinning faster with each second.
Isabelle stepped out of the shed, her eyes fixed on Laurent, his face pressed against the small window. She started running as fast as she could, her legs pounding the pavement. But just as she reached the edge of the tarmac, a heavy figure slammed into her from the side, sending her sprawling to the ground.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs, and she cried out as the stitches in her side tore, a hot flash of pain radiating through her abdomen. The Guerrier straddled her, a knife gleaming in his hand. Isabelle twisted beneath him, her fingers scrabbling for anything to fight back with. Her hand found a jagged piece of broken metal, and she swung it upward, narrowly missing his face.
Inside the plane, Laurent's screams pierced the air. "Issa! No!" He pounded on the window, his fists striking the glass. Ash glanced toward the sound, his face twisting in frustration.
The man pressed the knife toward her throat, his breath hot and sour against her face. Isabelle snarled, her other hand finding purchase on his wrist, pushing with all her strength to keep the blade away. Her muscles strained, her vision swimming as the edges of the blade nicked her skin.
Another Guerrier appeared from the side, his rifle raised toward the plane. Bullets ricocheted off the fuselage, and Ash ducked, yanking Laurent back into the cockpit. "I'm sorry," he muttered, slamming the door shut. The plane began to roll forward, its engine roaring louder as it picked up speed.
A gunshot rang out, the sound deafening. The Guerrier stiffened, his body jerking as blood bloomed across his chest. He slumped sideways, collapsing onto the ground. Isabelle gasped, shoving him off and trying to scramble to her feet.
Another guard appeared, his rifle aimed directly at her. He took aim, but before he could fire, a shot rang out from behind. His body jerked as a bullet struck him, and he crumpled to the ground.
Isabelle turned, her vision blurred by tears as she saw Codron striding toward her, his rifle still raised. Blood smeared his face and coat.
"Get up!" Codron barked, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. She stumbled, the pain in her side nearly blinding, but Codron wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her back toward the shed as the roar of the plane grew louder.
Isabelle's eyes darted toward the plane as it began to lift off, the wheels leaving the ground. Laurent's terrified face was still visible in the window, his hands pressed against the glass. "No!" she screamed, reaching out toward the plane. "Wait! Laurent!"
Codron gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on her as she struggled against him. "It's too late!" he snapped. "You'll get yourself killed!"
The plane gained speed, its wheels lifting off the tarmac as it rose into the air. Isabelle's knees buckled as Codron pulled her into the shed. She collapsed against him, her sobs wracking her body as she clutched at her torn side. Blood seeped through her fingers, but she barely felt it over the ache in her chest. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the chaos outside.
Codron eased her onto a makeshift cot, his eye searching for the source of the blood as he crouched in front of her. "You're bleeding," he said flatly, gesturing to the crimson stain spreading across her side. "Stay here."
Isabelle barely registered his words, her tear-filled eyes fixed on the shed's door. "I promised him," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I promised I'd be right behind him…"
Codron didn't respond. He stood, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he moved toward the door. "Stay here,"he said firmly. "I'll be back."
And with that, he disappeared into the chaos outside, leaving Isabelle sobbing and clutching her bleeding side.
Daryl's eyes adjusted to the light, his eyes scanning the interior of the shed.
Isabelle was slumped against the edge of a workbench, her face pale and her chest rising and falling unevenly. Blood stained her shirt around her side where her stitches had reopened, the dark crimson stark against the worn fabric. Her hands trembled as they pressed against the wound, trying to stem the flow. Her tear-streaked face lifted weakly when she saw Daryl enter, and her wide, haunted eyes locked onto his.
Daryl's stomach twisted as he crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling beside her. "Isabelle," he said, his voice rough with urgency. "What the hell happened?"
She tried to speak, but her voice cracked, and a sob escaped her throat. "I couldn't make it," she whispered, shaking her head as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Laurent—he's gone. He's… he's on the plane."
Daryl's chest tightened as he processed her words, his hands hovering over hers as if unsure where to start. "What d'you mean?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and anger. "Why ain't you on it?" Daryl gently pulled her hands away from her side to check the wound.
Isabelle sobbed harder, her body trembling. "I tried to get to him," she cried, her voice muffled as she buried her face in her hands. "I told him I'd be right behind him. I… I let him go…"
Daryl's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly. His gaze flicked to Codron, who had stepped inside and was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"I found her on the ground," Codron said flatly, his expression unreadable. "Genet's men had her pinned. I got her out, but the plane was already gone."
Daryl nodded, his hand reaching up to cup Isabelle's cheek gently. "You're gonna be alright," he murmured, his voice low as he steadied her. "We're gonna fix this."
Isabelle shook her head weakly, her tears spilling over again. "Laurent…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "He's alone."
Daryl's gaze softened, but his expression remained firm. "No, he ain't," Daryl said firmly. "Ash is with him. He'll take care of him, make sure he's safe. You hear me? He's alive because of you."
Carol knelt beside Daryl, her sharp gaze scanning Isabelle's injuries. "We need to get her back to the apartment," she said, her tone gentle but urgent. "We can't stay here."
Fallou, who had been standing silently near the doorway, stepped forward. "I'll get the truck," he said, his voice steady. Daryl nodded, his hands still gripping Isabelle's shoulders as he helped her to her feet. "You're gonna be alright," he murmured, his voice low as he steadied her.
Carol moved to Isabelle's other side, slipping an arm around her waist to help support her. Isabelle winced but didn't protest.
"Let's get outta here," Daryl growled, his eyes darting to Codron and Fallou.
As they stepped outside, the aftermath of the battle surrounded them—a grim tableau of bodies, spent shells, and the faint acrid smell of gunpowder lingering in the air. Fallou led the way toward the waiting truck, his movements brisk but watchful.
"We'll take you back to the apartment," Fallou said as he climbed into the driver's seat, his rifle propped against the dashboard as he started the engine. Daryl nodded as he settled into the back seat beside Isabelle, his arm still wrapped protectively around her. Carol sat on her other side, her sharp gaze scanning the desolate streets as she worked to keep pressure on her wound. Codron hopped into the bed of the truck, settling down against one of the wheel wells.
As the tarmac faded into the distance, Isabelle rested her head against Daryl's shoulder, her breath hitching occasionally as she fought to keep herself composed.
The truck rumbled over the uneven streets, its engine cutting through the oppressive silence that had settled over them. Fallou drove with a steady hand, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every so often to check for any signs of pursuit. The faint, gray morning light illuminated the desolation around them—burnt-out cars, crumbling buildings, and the eerie quiet of a world left behind.
Isabelle's breathing was uneven, her body slumped against Daryl's side as he held her upright. Blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage Carol had tied around her side, staining the fabric.
"You holdin' up?" Daryl asked quietly, his voice gentle as he glanced down at Isabelle.
She gave a weak nod, though her eyes remained closed. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her trembling voice betrayed her pain and exhaustion. Her hand clutched weakly at his shirt as if grounding herself in his presence.
Carol shifted beside her, her fingers pressing carefully against the wound. "You're not fine," Carol muttered, her tone a mix of concern and irritation. "But you will be, once we get you cleaned up."
Fallou's voice broke through the tense silence. "Genet's forces won't recover quickly," he said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Without her leadership, they'll be disorganized, scattered. We've got time, but not much."
Daryl's jaw tightened, his gaze locked on the horizon.
Fallou met his gaze in the rearview mirror, "I'll head back to Montmartre once I get you all settled. Bring supplies, weapons if we can spare them. You'll need to stay low, but for now, you're safe."
Inside the apartment, the air was thick with a heavy stillness. Daryl guided Isabelle to the couch, easing her down with as much care as he could manage. Carol immediately began rummaging through their supplies, pulling out what they had to clean the wound.
"You're gonna be alright," Daryl said again, crouching beside Isabelle and brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His voice was low, steady, a promise he was determined to keep.
Her tears spilled over, her body trembling as the weight of everything hit her again. Daryl squeezed her hand, his rough palm grounding her even as his own emotions threatened to surface.
Fallou cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "I'll leave you to rest," he said. "I'll bring supplies tonight. For now, stay out of sight."
Daryl nodded, his gratitude evident in the slight dip of his head. "Appreciate it," he said gruffly.
Fallou lingered for a moment before heading for the door, Codron following silently behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the apartment, leaving the three of them in a strained, fragile silence.
Carol knelt beside Isabelle, her movements deliberate as she worked to clean the wound. "We'll figure this out," she said, her tone softer than usual. "One step at a time."
Daryl sat back, his head resting against the wall as his gaze fixed on Isabelle.
Her breaths were shallow, but she managed to offer a faint nod, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. Daryl's eyes lingered on her face, tracing the lines of exhaustion and pain etched into her features. She looked fragile in a way that made something twist painfully in his chest, a sharp ache he couldn't shake.
Carol knelt beside them, her movements precise as she pushed the blood-soaked fabric of Isabelle's shirt up and out of the way. The sight of the angry, torn stitches beneath made her wince, but she didn't falter. Isabelle didn't cry out, her fingers curling into the cushion beneath her as she braced herself.
Carol's hands worked quickly but carefully, cleaning the reopened wound with steady efficiency. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint copper tang of blood. The room was silent except for the muted sounds of Carol's movements and Isabelle's uneven breaths.
When Carol finished, she sat back on her heels, exhaling a quiet sigh. "She needs rest," she said, meeting Daryl's gaze. "Real rest."
"I'll make sure she gets it," Daryl muttered, leaning back against the wall again. His voice was low, gravelly, but there was an edge of determination in it.
Carol pushed herself to her feet, wiping her hands on a rag. "We all need to get some rest," she said. "Fallou's right. We've got time, but not much. We need to be ready when they come looking."
Daryl shifted closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from Isabelle's face. Her eyes fluttered open halfway, their tired blue depths meeting his. She looked at him as though trying to anchor herself, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak. He shook his head softly. "Nah, no more thinkin' right now."
He could see the sadness in her eyes, still swollen from her tears. Her lips pressed together as if she were holding back the words threatening to spill out. Daryl leaned in slightly, his voice soft but firm. "Just rest, ok."
Her eyes glistened, and she exhaled shakily. "I promised Lily that I would protect him," she whispered, her voice cracking. The guilt in her tone was raw, cutting through the quiet of the room like a blade.
Daryl shook his head again, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek. "And you did," he murmured, his voice steady. "You saved him. You gave him a chance."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't respond, her eyes searching his face for some form of reassurance. Daryl held her gaze, his own unwavering. Isabelle's breath hitched, but she nodded faintly, her body relaxing slightly as she let his words wash over her. Her fingers curled weakly around the edge of his shirt.
Isabelle's lips parted as if to protest, but the exhaustion in her body overpowered her. She let her eyes slide closed, her grip on Daryl's shirt loosening. Her breathing evened out as sleep began to claim her.
Daryl didn't move, his hand still resting lightly against her cheek. He glanced up at Carol, his blue eyes shadowed but resolute. "She's gonna need time."
Carol nodded, her expression softening. "We all are," she said quietly. She reached out, squeezing Daryl's shoulder briefly before stepping back toward the window. Her gaze turned to the city beyond, her thoughts already shifting to what lay ahead.
Daryl leaned back against the couch, his eyes never leaving Isabelle's face as she slept. The weight of their situation pressed down on him, but in that moment, all that mattered was keeping her safe.
As the apartment settled into an uneasy quiet, Daryl's mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead. They had survived the battle, but the war was far from over. Genet's death might have left her forces scattered, but the threat was still out there, lurking in the shadows.
But for now, all he could do was sit vigil and wait. For Isabelle. For Laurent. For whatever came next.
***Author notes: I'd love to hear what you think about the story so far! I've got some ideas on where the story may be going, but I'd love to hear your feedback! Love it? hate it? Did you see that coming, and even if you did, did you enjoy seeing how it played out? I'm hoping it wasn't too complicated to follow with the flashing back and forth. Just didn't want to spoil it too soon lol
Thank you so much for taking the time to read and follow along! Don't forget to click that "follow/Fave" button so it'll alert you when new chapters are posted. You're awesome!