[ It's hard to be sure if the explosions are still echoing in his ears, or if the thunder is his heart pounding. It really doesn't matter.
In the chaos as Terminus had fallen, as the tide had turned and they'd managed, impossibly, to escape-- he'd seen her in the distance. He'd seen someone, anyway, and he'd been absolutely fucking sure of it-- sure-- impossible as it had seemed. They'd streamed out of the cannibal camp, grabbing whatever weapons they could, feeling more like rats fleeing a sinking ship than anything else.
Tyreese had been nearby-- Judith, thank God, Judith had been with him-- and he'd said just enough for Daryl to know he'd been right. So he'd gone after, shouting some explanation that didn't really matter to Rick, who wasn't really listening, having taken his daughter in his arms.
Despite the stories inked on his skin Daryl's not the sort to believe in avenging angels. But it's hard not to think of her like that, in this moment-- to be awestruck alongside grateful. Focus on that. Don't think about the fact that he's chasing her.
Don't think about the fact that she left.
Coming to it after, following her trail rather than adrenaline, he sees the cheery, faded signs and knows what he's walking into. Takes a breath, circles it once to make sure there're no footsteps out. Not a good place to go to ground.
Inside he's slow. Careful. There are more corpses than walkers in the hallway he takes-- he can hear the rasp and growl, scrabbling little fingers on cheap wood paneling, and follows to find the cluster of them around the door.
It's not that it's easy for him. But maybe it's easier. Maybe it'll make a difference to her, that he can spare her having to do it.
One. Two.
Three.
The short forms tumble, leaving only a much taller shadow outside her door. Hesitating. Unsure, suddenly, of what's waiting when he opens the door. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-10-06 11:29 pm (UTC)In the chaos as Terminus had fallen, as the tide had turned and they'd managed, impossibly, to escape-- he'd seen her in the distance. He'd seen someone, anyway, and he'd been absolutely fucking sure of it-- sure-- impossible as it had seemed. They'd streamed out of the cannibal camp, grabbing whatever weapons they could, feeling more like rats fleeing a sinking ship than anything else.
Tyreese had been nearby-- Judith, thank God, Judith had been with him-- and he'd said just enough for Daryl to know he'd been right. So he'd gone after, shouting some explanation that didn't really matter to Rick, who wasn't really listening, having taken his daughter in his arms.
Despite the stories inked on his skin Daryl's not the sort to believe in avenging angels. But it's hard not to think of her like that, in this moment-- to be awestruck alongside grateful. Focus on that. Don't think about the fact that he's chasing her.
Don't think about the fact that she left.
Coming to it after, following her trail rather than adrenaline, he sees the cheery, faded signs and knows what he's walking into. Takes a breath, circles it once to make sure there're no footsteps out. Not a good place to go to ground.
Inside he's slow. Careful. There are more corpses than walkers in the hallway he takes-- he can hear the rasp and growl, scrabbling little fingers on cheap wood paneling, and follows to find the cluster of them around the door.
It's not that it's easy for him. But maybe it's easier. Maybe it'll make a difference to her, that he can spare her having to do it.
One. Two.
Three.
The short forms tumble, leaving only a much taller shadow outside her door. Hesitating. Unsure, suddenly, of what's waiting when he opens the door. ]