Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

Out of the Woods

"You had no right! You should have told us the second you found out!" I hunched my shoulders. The weight of Deadpool's disapproval felt like it might crush me. "How could you be so reckless?!"

The Dixon brothers flanked me on either side, for my protection not the woman who'd been laying into me for the last half hour. I'd seen Deadpool upset plenty of times. This was nothing like that. Several times she reached behind her for the samurai sword slung across her back only to freeze with her hand around the hilt. I had no idea what stayed her hand, but I was thankful for it. My husband may be ready to take a katana to the chest to save me, but I wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea.

To my left Rick continued to scold Carl, his booming voice making walls shake harder than any bomb had the previous night. He jabbed a finger in his son's face, his own beet red, words indecipherable due to his rage. I understood their anger for what it really was, fear. Knowing your son had come one tree branch away from death was a sobering realization.

In hindsight I should have taken Carl up on his offer to hide while he came clean about his brush with death. I'd insisted on staying, knowing Deadpool and Rick would divide and conquer thus lessening the consequences for both of us.

"I trusted you!" she screamed and I visibly flinched. "What if it was Daryl?! Merle!"

She continued to yell, and I said nothing. I deserved this, probably a lot more, and I knew she needed an outlet. I'd seen how pale her face got when Carl first uncovered the bandage on his side. It was a miracle she hadn't fainted right then and there.

I dropped my eyes to the dirt floor, swallowing hard, pointedly ignoring the captive audience sitting in the storm drain with us. They were pissed, and they had every right to be, but I couldn't stop the relief surging in my veins after a long night spent waiting and hoping.

The bombing continued throughout much of the night. It rattled the walls, dislodging debris and showering us with dirt. It felt like the walls would collapse with every explosion, burying us alive. Understandably we were all slightly on edge. There was talk about making a run for it, trying to get to Hilltop, but Two-Face was adamant our best course of action was to stay put until they left.

His logic was sound. The Saviors couldn't keep up a barrage like this indefinitely. Additionally, Negan didn't want to burn Alexandria to the ground. He needed the community and its people to deliver supplies he was too lazy to get himself. This was a temper tantrum by a man irate he'd lost yet another battle.

Twenty-four hours later the bombing had long since stopped, and the sound of The Saviors driving away was a distant memory. Throughout it all I sat by Carl, holding his hand, watching for any sign his life was over.

"I've imagined it." At my confusion he elaborated. "A world when this is over."

"This, being the war..."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"We're all working together, us, The Saviors, Hilltop...we're thriving." It took work to keep my expression neutral. "It's peaceful. It's what it's supposed to be like."

"That's...nice." I raised my hand, putting the back of my hand against his forehead like my grandmother used to when I was little.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if you have a fever." It was the only thing that could explain his crazy talk.

"I'm not delirious," he snorted.