my tears ricochet

Chapter Fifty Eight

Aaron had prompted the newest round of civil war between Rick and the group, picking through options until Michonne was ready to pull out her sword to make a point. The man had been lead reasonably enough, yanking out a packet of photographs from his bag to illustrate what kind of like Alexandria was.

All Daryl could see were heavy, industrial looking walls. Stronger than the prison had been. They had gone up after the fall and were designed for the weight of walkers pushing against it. Houses, streets. It looked like an advertisement for something long gone; old neighbourhoods filled with flowers and bicycles, fruit trees growing inside the wall.

He had voted for it. Glenn had voted for it. Michonne had voted for it. People fell into line behind them, wary but tentatively optimistic about the images themselves.

Daryl wanted that illusion of a home for Ivy. It was truer than a prison cell ever had been. Safer than curling up in ditches or beneath trees, sleeping with one eye open for the living or the dead. He had failed her at the prison but Alexandria could be a second chance.

Rick, edgy with a divided vote, had gone with Aaron. His partner was somewhere out on the field with a larger form of transportation. Everyone else was scattered, taking advantage of a morning spent stationary. The little barn yard didn't have much to offer but there was enough to keep them busy, everyone spread out and catching a bit of the sun from the shade.

Tyreese had nearly smack Rick when he tried to tie Aaron to a post. Daryl wasn't sure how well the man would get along one-on-one with his new companion, but he made himself busy by wrapping a bit of duck tape around his boot that had split from walking, patching it up the best he could. The boots were the last things he had left of his old life; original crossbow abandoned in the prison, clothes lost somewhere between the farm and Terminus.

He didn't have a single component of his old life that wasn't the boots.

"Hero boy looks pretty straight-laced," Abraham said quietly as he ducked down to tighten the knots of his boots. "Wonder what kind of place he's representing."

Daryl resisted the urge to turn around and check over his shoulder. "Sure."

"Might cause a kerfuffle going in there with a kid you aren't related by blood. Especially a girl."

His grip on his crossbow strap tightened. "You got a problem?"

Abraham slowly stood up, knees popping, and stretched. "Not even slightly. But someone might say something. So maybe, if we're going in as strangers, you can confirm a certain kind of story. Save everyone from making their judgements. Not like they're checking last known address and social numbers."

Both Ivy and Beth were sitting outside in plain view of the open doors. Maggie didn't look like she was around but Michonne was sticking close to the girls, rolling a water bottle back and forth between her hands. "Maybe."

Daryl hadn't forgotten Shane's early suspicion back on the farm. If they could avoid the unpleasantness, it might be easier. Ivy had enough history with men without people poking holes between their relationship. The Dixons tended to rattle up unease with people in general and if Aaron was really coming from a semi-self sufficient community, it could be easier.

And was it lying? Ivy was his. Daryl knew that truth straight to his bones. He would burn the world to ashes for his daughter's sake.

Eugene was sitting in the shadows of the barn with his face bruised, old blood crusted to his chin. "What are you gonna do about that?" Daryl asked, switching the direction of the conversation.

Abraham snorted. "Would've died for him. That's all that I can say about that. I found him in the same moment I put a gun in my mouth and he dragged me across the country for nothing."