Blessing or a Curse? ➳ Daryl Dixon

47. Retcon

The light blinded him when he opened the door because he hadn’t been paying much attention as he stumbled up the stairs and fumbled with the front door, having not even taken notice that the lights were on inside. He squinted as he stepped through the threshold, shutting the door behind him.

“Shit, there he is,” Someone spoke up, and after a couple of seconds, his eyes adjusted, and he realized that some of the group was standing in the living room, with unreadable expressions on their faces. Sydney could see Carl, Sophia, Milton, Beth, and Daryl— who had been the ones who had spoken to him. 

“Yep,” Sydney hiccuped, leaning slightly against the door, “Here I am.” 

“Where the hell have you been?” Daryl asked, and it suddenly occurred to Sydney that the other had returned from his adventure with Aaron. 

Suddenly, Daryl was way too close to him, his face in front of him. It was like he had teleported, though he knew that it wasn’t true. “Are you drunk?” He leaned in, seemingly taking a small whiff of the smaller male. 

Sydney snorted. “I was at Spencer's,” He answered, completely ignoring Daryl’s question, though the answer was very obvious by his state. 

Daryl’s frown seemed to deepen at the mention of Spencer. 

“Why does everyone look like someone died?” He questions, raising his eyebrows at the other people in the room. They all seemed to carry this grim look on their face, and it didn’t take a genius to notice.

None of them said anything. 

Sydney glanced back at Daryl, feeling himself sober slightly. “Who died?” He demanded of the other. 

Daryl sighed. “Deanna’s dead. Pete killed her– then Rick killed him. He’s still out there tryna clean this whole mess up–” He told Sydney. 

He blinked, suddenly feeling a lot soberer than before. “Oh, shit, Spencer–” He whirled back around, away from the others, but when he pulled open the front door he was met with Andrea’s grim-looking face. “Oh, what now?” Sydney couldn’t help but exclaim. 

Andrea stepped past Sydney, and her eyes zeroed in on Beth, who was across the room. “Beth, it’s Randall–” 

“Randall, oh my god! What happened?” Beth had rushed to her boyfriend’s side the minute she had stepped past the threshold, practically running the whole way from their house. Randall was sitting on one of the hospital beds, his feet dangling over the edge, lacking a shirt and a new bandage applied to his shoulder. He was covered in cuts and bruises, looking dirty in general, and his hair stuck to his forehead as if he had been sweating before they showed up.

Sydney could see the guilt in his eyes from the other side of the room, though he looked relieved to see her. “I’m sorry, Beth,” He sighed, wrapping an arm around her. He looked overall exhausted.