GIVEN TO FLY [Daryl Dixon]

XXII.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
[ the meeting ]

Andrea leaves before sundown that night. The next day, Rick goes on a run with Michonne and Carl to find guns and ammo. They need it desperately, and he says that he knows a place they might be able to find it. Misty and Daryl are left to handle things at the prison for the day. Well, Misty is. Daryl is mainly on babysitting duty watching Merle.

She sits alone at one of the tables in their common area, readjusting the string on her bow, when the door to the cellblock opens, and Hershel enters. She looks up from her work to offer him a small smile, which he returns before joining her at the table. "Good morning," he says, in that kind way of his that just instantly makes you feel comfortable.

"Morning," she replies, and goes back to what she was doing. But Hershel isn't done.

"How are you, Misty?"

Her fingers still. She opens her mouth to answer, and closes it again. Knows she can't lie, not to him. "Today's a good day." This is all she says, and it's true. Even if they're all on edge, even if there is an impending war, today has been okay. Her mind has been quiet today.

"That's good." It is. It is.

The door to the hallway opens, as does the one to the cellblock. Carol enters the common area from the outside, and Addie from the cellblock. Carol says a quick hello before going into the cellblock, and Addie points toward the door before telling Misty, "taking Carol's shift on watch."

"Okay." Misty nods. "Love you."

"Love you too," Addie calls back, before disappearing through the door. It shuts behind her, and Misty lets out a soft breath.

There is a beat of silence, before Hershel finally says, "you never talk about her father."

That takes her aback. "What?"

"Addie's father. You never talk about him, you don't even mention him in passing. Maybe it's none of my business, but—"

"I don't talk about him because he's not worth talking about," Misty interrupts. "He's an asshole — pardon my language — who never did anything for her or anybody else in his pathetic excuse for a life."

"What happened?" She knows what he's thinking. A few-months-long-fling, a one night stand. But that isn't it. That isn't it at all.

"We met in high school," she begins, trying to keep her voice steady. She hasn't talked about him in fourteen years. "He was easy to fall for. Charming, sweet, strong. I thought he was so cool. He had a motorcycle." She and Hershel laugh together at her teenage foolishness. "I got pregnant when we were nineteen. I was in college. Terrified. But he told me everything would be fine, that we'd do it together, that it would be great.