𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

57 | I GET IT NOW

Daryl's mind had never been so... silent. The thoughts and fears and unknowns ran around like cars on a racetrack, whizzing around, crashing past one another, but they didn't make a sound to him. In the box van he'd found, his hands were tight around the steering wheel, squeezing the life from it, knuckles bone white with the force of his grip.

The boy beside him had talked, told him everything about who he was, the people at the hospital, Beth. His name was Noah, picked up by the group when he was found injured and alone, close to death. They said he owed them for saving his life, and he'd been trapped at the hospital ever since.

Daryl's heart stopped when he saw Tori's body go limp before it had even touched the ground, slamming onto the concrete as the car screeched its tires to a stop. The Dixon ignored the sight of two officers leaving the vehicle as he tried to make a bolt for the door, Noah then grabbing his arms to pull him back.

"Get off me!"

"No, you gotta wait!" Noah pleaded, struggling to hold Daryl back. "They can help her. They got medicine, doctors."

"But she-" Daryl tried to say, a lump closing off the back of his throat. He watched as the officers put Tori's body onto a blue stretcher, then put her in the back seats.

Noah spoke slowly, "You go out there, you're gonna have to kill them. Then she can't get help."

The car drove away, and Daryl had never felt so angry and defeated at the same time. Watching the woman he loved being taken from him, just like that.

"We can get her back. And Beth," Noah said softly.

"What's it gonna take?" Daryl asked, his voice completely strained, eyes stinging.

"A lot," Noah huffed. "They got guns. People."

Daryl pulled himself from the boy's grip and straightened his back, sniffling away the urge to cry. "So do we."

Driving well into the night, the headlights lit the roads all the way back to the church, pulling up on the side of the road where he and Tori had originally driven away from. Daryl climbed out quickly, Noah moving a bit slower with his bad leg. Each step was heavy, snapping the twigs beneath his boots as he led the younger man through the woods toward the clearing of the church.

Candlelight reflecting through the stained-glass windows flickered, settling that small worry in Daryl's head that anything could have happened to the group whilst he and Tori were effectively missing. When Daryl went up the steps to the door, Noah stayed on the bottom one, nervous to go inside.

"C'mon," Daryl nodded to the doors. "It'll be fine."

The church doors were pulled open very suddenly, and Daryl was then facing the barrel of Rick's Colt Python. It made him jump, though he didn't show it, just a slight skip to his heartbeat as his eyes met those of his brother.

"Jesus," Rick exhaled, lowing his weapon just as quickly as he'd raised it. "Where have you been?"

Daryl pressed his lips into a line as he looked over his shoulder, Noah still standing at the bottom of the steps with his eyes wide, afraid. Rick looked down at the boy, then at Daryl.

"Who is that? And where's Tori?"

They could hear dull groans coming from beyond the treeline, the darkness shrouding the woods making it seem louder. Daryl nodded toward Noah with a lift of his chin. "C'mon. Inside."

The younger man stepped up slowly, cautious of the gun that was still in Rick's hand. Rick glared at Noah, making him follow Daryl inside before going in behind him, pushing the doors closed and sealing them closed with a plank of wood between the handles.