Triggerfinger ➳ Daryl Dixon

t w o

"How are you doing?" Maggie's swollen belly was beginning to show. She placed a protective hand over her stomach, giving Presley a sideways glance. Glenn had started talking to her again, but he refused to talk about what he thought of the situation. He was scared. Hell, they all were. One baby was enough to take care of, but two? That doubled their chances of getting caught by a wandering walker.

"I'm fine." She said quietly. "But if another person offers me their water I'm going to deck them." Presley chuckled, seating herself beside her friend. Maggie rested her weary head on Presley's shoulder. "I think I'd be throwing up if I had something in my stomach."

"Carl has some nuts. That kid can spot those damn trees better than those survival guys I used to watch on the television." They both shared a quiet chuckle.

"I miss Stefan." Maggie finally said after a moment of silence. Presley's heart dropped. She had a hard time of forgetting what happened for more than a few moments. She'd killed people to save her own ass, but never a friend. Never somebody who she had cared about. Then again, she'd never had that sort of situation happen.

"Me too." She admitted in a whisper. The group knew of what happened, but none of them understood that Stefan hadn't always been like this. He'd gone mad, just like the rest of them. "I'm glad you understand what happened."

Maggie sighed, "Maybe I knew him better than most, but I know that he was a good guy. In the end, I think that was his downfall. Good people don't exist anymore."

"They do if you know where ta look." Daryl paused beside both the women. He'd returned from a hunting trip, with a line of three squirrels tied to his back. Usually Presley went along with him, but she'd been staying back to keep Maggie company lately. "That asshole definitely was not a good guy."

Presley fumed, but there was nothing she could say. Stefan had tried to kill Daryl. There wasn't much of an excuse for that, but the poor kid had gone mad.He hadn't always been that way, it had just happened. For the simple reasoning that nobody would understand, neither Maggie nor Presley said anything.

"Help! Help me!" A scream sent them each lurching to their feet. They automatically looked to Rick, who was balancing a baby Judith on his hip. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Dad, come on!" Carl said, grabbing his father's sleeve and yanking him along. The former sheriff hesitantly followed after him in the direction of the screaming man. The hungry growl of walkers in the direction caused them to keep their hope on the down low.

There was an African American man on a rock with hungry hands clawing for his flesh, their wide mouths parted open with hopeful golden eyes. Presley was the only one not to hesitate. She didn't bother drawing her bow. She pulled an arrow free and drove it through the skull of an unsuspecting roamer with only the force of her arm. By now the other roamers had taken notice in the walking blood bag, but the others had come to the rescue and dropped the rest of them. The entire process only took a few seconds.

The man climbed down from the rock. With a burst, Presley began laughing. She doubled over, holding her sides as she heaved with laughter. "Are... Are you serious right now?" She sputtered between her laughs. The group shared glances as they stared at her.

"Maybe she really is going mad." Carl mumbled under his breath, quiet enough that only Judith could hear it.

"Might I ask what's so funny?" The priest asked, glancing nervously at the hysterical woman.

"Just the fact that you're a priest." She wiped the corners of her eyes as she tried to regain composure. "I mean, of all the people I expect to see during this whole damn thing, I don't think I ever suspected to see a damn priest."