Old Haunts

Tension crackled in the air like an approaching storm - thick, charged, pressing down on Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Maggie and I as we stood outside Gabriel's church, double-checking our supplies. The group was splitting up - for now - and not everyone was happy about it.

Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene had been especially restless, eager to move, to get to D.C. and whatever promise still lingered there. Abraham had made his stance clear, standing tall with his arms crossed over his chest, his voice steady but firm.

"We can't sit around forever," he said. "The longer we wait, the harder the road gets. You got a week."

Rick's face was unreadable, but his tone was not. "We don't leave family behind." Finality lacing his words like steel. "They're going. We wait."

I could see Abraham's jaw tick, the muscle feathering slightly beneath his red moustache. He wasn't happy about it, but he didn't argue, either. For now, at least.

I wasn't sure if Abraham's group would actually leave when the time was up. They wanted us with them - needed us, really. The road to D.C. was dangerous, and as tough as he and Rosita were, even Abraham knew they stood a better chance with us at their backs. Still, if it came down to it, I didn't know what they'd do.

I knew two things for certain, though:

1. Hershel would never leave without Maggie.

2. Rick wouldn't abandon Daryl and I - not unless he absolutely had no other choice.

How the hell were we supposed to put a time limit on this? There was no telling where Beth or Merle could be - and that's if they were alive. No tracks to follow. No clear direction. Just hope and desperation.

Maggie had been the first to speak up, her voice tight. "Senoia maybe? The farm?" She had looked between us, her desperation barely hidden. "Beth might have tried to go home. If she could."

I knew that Daryl had his own locations that he wanted to search, but he hadn't revealed them to the others. Not yet.

Maggie continued, voice quieter. "It's not much. But it's something."

And something was better than nothing.

We set out, leaving behind the safety of the church, the rest of the group. The road ahead was uncertain, but turning our backs on this - on Merle and Beth -wasn't an option.

~

Daryl hadn't spoken since we left. His boots crunched against the dirt road in long, purposeful strides. The only sound between us was the occasional murmur from Carol and Glenn behind us, their voices low. Maggie walked beside them, gripping the strap of her bag so tight her knuckles had turned white.

I glanced at Daryl from the corner of my eye. His jaw was set, eyes fixed straight ahead, fingers twitching slightly at his side. I had learned to recognize that tell. He was wound up - too much on his mind.

Merle. Beth. The people we'd left behind. The plan.

Carol noticed it, too. She picked up her pace and fell into step beside him.

"You okay?" Her voice was quiet but full of concern.

Daryl exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head - not in a no kind of way, but more a don't ask me that right now kind of way.

Carol studied him for a moment before nodding and falling back again. She knew him well enough to understand when to push and when to let him be.

I caught her eye and offered a tight smile. She returned it, but I could see the worry in her expression.

Silence stretched between us all, thick and heavy like the humid air clinging to our skin. My boots scuffed against the ground. I kept a hand resting on my gun out of habit.

"Hey." I murmured softly to Daryl.

His eyes flicked toward me, just briefly. He gave me a half-smile - false, forced.

I reached for his hand, fingertips grazing his knuckles before sliding my fingers between his. He didn't just let it happen. He laced his fingers between mine instantly. He held on, his grip firm, grounding.

I squeezed his hand in four short bursts.

Daryl frowned. "Ya doin' Morse Code or sumthin'?" His voice was gruff, but there was a trace of amusement beneath it.

I smiled. "Or something." I paused for a moment, then did it again.

Daryl tilted his head, considering. "What ya sayin'?" He squeezed my hand four times back, mimicking my action while punctuating each word, "Are. We. There. Yet?"

I hesitated, feeling suddenly shy. "It's 'I'm here. Love ya.'" I whispered.

Daryl blinked, then looked straight ahead, his ears turning red. His lips twitched upward. "They mean the same thing."

I smirked. "You criticizing my secret code, Mr. Dixon?"

He chuckled, squeezing my hand once - twice. "Too long. Should just be two."

"Hmmm," I mused sarcastically.

Behind us, Glenn sighed. "We should talk about where we're heading first." His voice was tired but practical. "We're not gonna find them if we don't have some kind of plan."

Daryl muttered, "We got a plan."

Glenn frowned. "Do we?"

Daryl stopped walking. We all did.

His shoulders were tense as he turned and addressed all of us. "Merle ain't the kind to just disappear. If he's out there, he's leavin' a trail, whether he means to or not. We just gotta pick it up."

Carol folded her arms. "And Beth?"

Daryl's jaw tightened. "Same thing. Somebody's gotta know somethin'."

Maggie, who had been quiet for most of the walk, finally spoke. "We need to imagine where they'd go. That's why I mentioned the prison."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. If it ain't been swallowed by walkers. Merle would maybe go back."

Carol exhaled. "And if he's not alive?"

No tact at all.

Daryl's grip on my hand tightened. "He is."

No hesitation. No doubt.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.

Daryl had already begun grieving his brother once. Now, the possibility of him being alive had reopened something raw. If we searched and found nothing... I wasn't sure how he'd handle that.

"We just need to keep moving, keep our eyes open," I said softly, breaking the silence. "Keep focusing on new places to look, and checking every building we pass - just in case. Abraham's seven-day deadline is bullshit. This is gonna take a while."

Maggie's voice was uncertain. "What if they do leave?"

She already knew the answer. Hershel wouldn't go anywhere without her. But she still needed to hear it.

Daryl scoffed. "Let 'em go."

Maggie's lips pressed into a thin line. "They're family, Daryl."

Daryl's grip tightened. "Merle's my family too. Beth's yurs."

I squeezed his hand, my voice steady. "We'll find them.

He swallowed, then nodded as we kept walking.

~

We hadn't stopped since sunrise, the heat pressing down on us like a weight, making every step heavier. The closer we got, the quieter we became. Even Glenn, who usually filled the silence with plans and theories, had gone still. Maybe he, like the rest of us, was too busy remembering.

Daryl walked beside me, his crossbow steady in his hands, eyes scanning the woods ahead. I could feel the tension rolling off him, the storm that had been brewing in him since we left Gabriel's church only growing stronger. His silence was louder than any words he could have said.

We had been walking for hours, six, seven, maybe more - according to the rumbling of hunger in my stomach. Each building we passed was checked, a brief moment of hope before everything started to look familiar. The prison we once called home was coming into view.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Ya good?" Daryl's voice cut through my thoughts, his gaze turning to mine.

"Yeah," I lied.

The prison had been more than just walls. It had been a place of false safety, of hard-earned normalcy before everything fell apart. Now, it was nothing but a graveyard.

When we finally reached the treeline, we stopped. No one spoke. We just stood there, staring at what remained of it.

The fences were torn down, jagged metal twisting like broken bones. The walls stood skeletal against the sky, windows shattered, the insides hollow and abandoned. The yard was crawling with walkers - hundreds, maybe more - mindless bodies shuffling through the ruins as though they'd never left.

A lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing it down.

"Shit," Glenn muttered, running a hand through his hair. "We're not getting in there."

Maggie shook her head, her expression tight. "We don't need to. If Beth came here, she wouldn't have stayed."

Carol exhaled slowly, her gaze hard as she studied the scene. "Merle either."

I turned my head, watching Daryl. He hadn't said a word. His grip on his crossbow was white-knuckled, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might break. I knew what he was thinking.

If Merle and Beth had come here, they could've been swallowed whole.

I stepped closer to Daryl, brushing my fingers against his arm. He didn't pull away, but he didn't look at me either. His focus was locked on the prison, the ghosts of the past keeping him rooted.

"We could check the outer buildings," Glenn suggested. "The tombs might still be sealed off."

Daryl finally moved. "Ain't worth it," he muttered, voice low and rough.

Glenn frowned. "But-"

"Ain't no way in," Daryl snapped, gesturing toward the writhing mass of walkers. "They ain't in there."

Glenn looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he sighed, dropping it.

Maggie took a slow breath. "I don't know if I even wanted to find her here."

No one responded, but I knew what she meant. If Beth had come back to this place, she wouldn't have made it. None of us had wanted to find her like that.

A gust of wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves, and for a brief second, I could almost hear it - the echoes of the past. The sound of laughter drifting through the courtyard. The clang of metal gates slamming shut as we returned from runs. The way Daryl's voice had sounded when he whispered my name in the dark, safe behind those walls.

I felt like I could cry.

"Fuck," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

Daryl shifted beside me, and when I looked at him, his eyes were on me - not the prison, not the walkers. He knew what this place had meant to me. To us.

This is where we'd had our first kiss, where we'd shared the perch together, where we'd gone from friends to so much more.

Slowly, he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. The warmth of his touch steadied me, pulling me back to the present .

"It's just a building."

He knew it wasn't. But he was trying to comfort me. And I appreciated it, even though I couldn't fully shake the weight of it.

Carol cleared her throat. "We should move."

Daryl nodded once, his grip on my hand tightening, two short squeezes - our new code, even though I still thought it was better with four. "Yeah."

We turned away from the ruins of what had once been home, leaving the ghosts of the past behind. Instead, venturing toward the places Merle, Beth and I had sheltered after the prison - the barn, the country club, the funeral home. We'd skip the shack on account of us burning it while we were still a little moonshine drunk.

It was tricky to find my bearings initially, on account on my being unconscious for however long of the journey last time.

Thanks, Merle.

I took us in a few wrong directions before eventually finding my way to the first location - the barn.

It was empty.

Dust and decay had settled into every crevice, the air thick with the scent of rotting wood and old straw. Our disappointment rose as we walked through the dim interior, my heart sinking with every step.

This had been the place Merle, Beth, and I had taken shelter after the prison fell - a brief moment of safety before the world swallowed us up again.

Now, it was just another hollow shell.

Daryl stood near the entrance, his crossbow at his side, eyes scanning the walls as though he could still see us here, could pull our ghosts from the shadows.

"There's nothing," Glenn muttered, kicking at a broken plank.

Carol sighed. "No sign of them. No supplies."

Maggie barely looked around. I could tell she didn't want to linger here, didn't want to imagine Beth standing in this very spot, lost to time.

I ran a hand over one of the wooden beams, tracing the scratches in the surface - marks left by us, maybe, or by others who had come after. Either way, it didn't matter. They weren't here.

Daryl's jaw tensed as he exited the barn. "Next one."

~

The country club was worse.

We'd barely reached the outskirts before the acrid scent of old fire filled the air. Smoke no longer lingered, but the wreckage told us everything.

Nothing remained but blackened ruins.

Maggie let out a slow breath. "Jesus."

Glenn scratched his head. "Who the hell burns down a country club?"

Daryl's expression was unreadable. "Same kind of people who tear apart churches. Or prisons."

I swallowed, my throat dry. This had been another place we'd taken refuge - another stop along the way, another fragile attempt at survival.

Now, it was gone, burned to ashes, just like the farm.

We had been here. But the fire had erased all trace of us, as though we had never existed, like none of it ever had.

Carol nudged a half-burned chair with her foot. "No point staying."

She was right.

We turned away from the wreckage and kept moving.

~

By the time we neared the funeral home, the sun had begun its slow descent, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink.

I expected the property to be empty, probably still surrounded by the walkers that had driven us out. But as we arrived, I was surprised to see that the walkers had either been cleared or simply moved on.

The moment we stepped onto the porch, the door creaked open, and a man stood there, his grey hair wild and his glasses crooked, shotgun in hand.

"Stop right there."

We froze.

His grip on the weapon was firm, but his eyes flickered with something other than aggression-caution, maybe, or exhaustion.

Daryl lifted a hand slightly, a show of peace. "We ain't lookin' for no fight. Just tryna find some people."

The man studied us for a long moment.

"You weren't here," I told him, my voice shaky, the barrel of his gun two inches from Daryl's face. "We took shelter. Me and the two people we're looking for."

The man eyed me suspiciously. "You leave a note?"

My breath caught. "Yeah. Well, not me-Beth did."

His expression softened, just a little. "And I suppose you're the ones who let walkers trash my house too?"

My heart pounded. "Not on purpose," I sniped a little too defensively. "We were ambushed."

He lowered the shotgun slightly. "We were out looking for supplies."

Maggie stepped forward. "My sister. Blonde, young-"

The man's gaze flicked toward her, and something passed over his face. "That who left the note?"

Maggie nodded, her eyes desperate. "Have you seen her? Did she come back?"

A pause. Then he shook his head. "No. Just knew someone had been here. Left a thank-you note. Took nothing but what they needed." He paused. "Your camp nearby?"

"Nah," Daryl answered.

The man hesitated, then finally said, "You leave your weapons at the door. I'm David."

He stepped back, inviting us inside. His kindness, his naivety, baffled me. We could be anyone. Why would he allow us into his home? We outnumbered him, we were dangerous people...

But then I remembered the bodies in his chapel of rest - how they had been cared for, their remains cleaned and presented with respect. This man was kind, generous, one of the few like that we'd come across in a while.

We exchanged wary looks before entering. It could be a trap, but my guts told me it wasn't. We left a few weapons by the door, feigning being unarmed. I knew we'd all kept some stashed. You could never be too careful. Daryl's hands lingered a little too long on his crossbow as he set it down.

He really was attached to that thing.

The funeral home wasn't as we'd left it - crawling with walkers destroying everything in their path.

The embalming tools were tucked away, the space cleared to feel more like a home than a place for the dead. His wife, Catherine - a woman with tired eyes and short red hair - led us to a back room where we could rest.

It wasn't much. A few blankets, a couple of worn-out sleeping bags, and an old air mattress that let out a wheezing sound when we sat on it. But it beat sleeping in the woods.

Daryl and I ended up on the mattress, the others settling on the floor. It wasn't planned - it just happened, and I was glad for it. The hard, wooden pews in the church had not been kind to my back.

The dim light from the lantern cast flickering shadows on the walls, and the only sound was the steady breathing of the others, the occasional shift of movement.

Daryl lay on his back, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ceiling. I turned on my side, watching him.

He must have felt it because after a moment, his gaze flicked toward me. " 'Yur starin'."

I huffed a quiet laugh. "You good?"

His eyes softened slightly. "Yeah."

I knew he was lying. The whole situation was overwhelming.

I shuffled closer, the air mattress squeaking underneath me, and laid on his chest. He let out a slow breath and pressed his lips to the top of my head.

For a while, we just lay there. No words. No promises. Just the weight of everything pressing down on us. I eventually fell asleep, exhausted from a day constantly on the move.

Daryl's eyes were heavy and bloodshot the next morning. I doubted he'd slept at all. Catherine offered us breakfast, another testament to the couple's kind nature. We took the stale, plastic-wrapped croissants to go, munching on them after we thanked them for their hospitality.

Part of me wanted to tell them about our group - to take them with us so they weren't here alone - but we were going to be on the road for a while before rejoining the others. I also got the feeling they'd decline such an offer anyway.

~

We'd walked for hours, diligently checking every building we passed until we came to a bridge. The moment I saw it, my stomach twisted into knots. I knew this place.

The cracked asphalt, the rusted guardrails, the way the land sloped steeply on either side - it was the same bridge I had crossed once before, with Daryl and Merle. That time was just after I went after Daryl in the woods to tell him how I felt about him, when we'd reunited. We'd saved a family on the bridge who were surrounded by walkers. Then Merle, the asshole, had tried to coax them into parting with their supplies in exchange.

It looked different now though. Abandoned cars still remained. But the center section had collapsed entirely, leaving only a narrow, jagged ledge hugging the left side. The rest was a gaping hole, nothing but open air and a drop that would break every bone in your body. It looked like someone had used some sort of explosive on it - probably to escape attack.

"This ain't safe," Daryl muttered, scanning the area.

Glenn looked apprehensive. "So we go around?"

"That could take hours," Maggie said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

I turned to Daryl. "We can make it across."

He nodded after a moment, though I saw the vein in his neck pulse. He wasn't scared of crossing, but I couldn't tell he didn't like the idea of me doing it.

One by one, we moved onto the ledge, pressing our backs to the remains of the bridge wall. It was slow going. The pavement beneath us was cracked and crumbling, the edge barely wide enough for our boots. Every step sent pebbles skittering into the abyss.

Glenn, Maggie, and Carol had barely made it across when the moans started. Walkers ascended onto the bridge from the far side. Dozens of them. Too many.

The three of them scrambled onto the rusted-out remains of two abandoned cars, their guns popping with no concern for keeping quiet.

Panic surged through me. I turned my head too quickly, my foot catching on a loose chunk of concrete.

I slipped.

The world tilted. My stomach lurched as my boot skidded off the ledge, my body pitching backward toward open air.

I barely had time to gasp before Daryl grabbed me.

His hand clamped around my wrist, his grip so tight it hurt. My feet scrambled against the ledge, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing but empty space beneath me.

"Hold on." he gritted out, his other hand grasping my forearm. He pulled, muscles straining, dragging me back from the edge.

I slammed into his chest, gripping his vest like a lifeline. My breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.

"Shit," I whispered.

Daryl's heart was hammering against my ear. His fingers dug into my arms, like he was making sure I was still here, still solid.

He swallowed hard, voice rough. "Told ya this wasn't safe."

I nodded weakly, still shaking.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The walkers were closing in.

We pushed forward, step by step, inching our way to solid ground. Daryl didn't let go of my hand.

By the time we made it across, the others were in major trouble.

Carol, Glenn, and Maggie were stranded the vehicles, surrounded by walkers clawing at them and their ammo running low.

Glenn pulled out his knife, stabbing downward, driving his knife into a skull before yanking it free and repeating his action.

"There's too many. Could we distract them?" I asked Daryl, exasperated.

His eyes darted around, searching for something - anything. Then his gaze landed on an ancient, beat-up, Audi.

"Cover me," he barked, already moving.

I cursed under my breath and followed, gun up.

Daryl yanked open the car door, brushing away debris. He dropped into the driver's seat, reaching under the steering column.

A walker lurched toward us. I fired. Another lunged, and I kicked it back.

"Hurry!"

"Workin' on it!" he snapped, but with no real malice.

A few tense seconds passed as he yanked at wires, twisting them together before the engine roared to life.

I didn't know how the hell he was planning to manoeuvre the car. There was no space...

Without warning, the stereo started blaring, ripping through the silence like a battle cry.

Ridin' down the highway

Goin' to a show

I nearly laughed at the sheer insanity of it.

The effect was instant.

The walkers turned toward the noise, groaning louder, shambling toward the car.

Stoppin' on the byways

Playin' rock 'n' roll

Carol, Glenn, and Maggie took their chance, jumping down and sprinting toward the end of the bridge while the threat was distracted. We followed as the music continued blaring from the car. The sound fading out as we caught up with the others, far beyond the treeline. The last thing I heard before a huge crash - the car being pushed into the bridge's gap under the weight of the walkers pushing against it:

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

Laughter bubbled up in my chest, part adrenaline, part disbelief. I turned to Daryl.

"AC/DC? Seriously?" I panted.

He smirked, as he pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. "Somebody had a good CD collection."

I snaked my arms around his waist and closed my eyes, still stunned by my near-fall.

"Ya scared me." He whispered into my ear, barely audible.

I could feel his hot breath against my skin. "Sorry." I muttered, embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry. Just don't die on me."

"I'll try not to."

~

We walked for many more hours, scouring buildings before starting to lose the light. We decided to set up camp in the woods for the night, taking turns on watch so we all got the opportunity to sleep. There was no shelter in sight - just miles of dense forest stretching endlessly in every direction. It wasn't ideal, but we'd slept in worse places. Daryl had insisted he take the whole watch, but Carol and I had shot him down. He needed rest, too.

By the time we finally got settled, exhaustion clung to all of us like a second skin.

Daryl picked us a spot beneath a thick oak, the low-hanging branches offering some cover. Glenn and Maggie set up near the base of another tree, their backs against the bark, while Carol gathered a few rocks to form a small fire pit. It was risky to light one, but the cold creeping into the air told us we needed it.

As the fire crackled to life, a little warmth seeped into my bones.

No one spoke much. We were all too tired.

I sat beside Daryl, leaning back against a fallen log. His crossbow rested on his lap, fingers drumming absentmindedly against the worn wood. His eyes flicked toward me, taking me in - like he was checking, again, to make sure I was still here.

"Ya good?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, though the image of nearly falling off the bridge still clung to the back of my mind. I could still feel the empty air beneath me, the helplessness of having nothing to hold onto - until him.

I glanced at him, watching the firelight dance across his face. "You saved my ass today."

Daryl huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "Saved ya plenty before, too."

I nudged his boot with mine. "Yeah, but today was dramatic."

He smirked, but there was something softer in his eyes. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing against mine where they rested on my knee. His touch was light at first, hesitant, but when I didn't pull away, he laced his fingers through mine.

That simple warmth settled something in my chest.

For a moment, we just sat there, listening to the crackling fire, the rustling leaves, the distant hoot of an owl somewhere in the trees.

Then I felt something soft hit my face.

I blinked, reaching up, and realized Daryl had just tossed a small, wrinkled flower at me.

I stared at it, then at him.

His lips quirked up, like he was waiting for me to say something.

"A flower?" I asked, holding it up.

He shrugged, looking away like it wasn't a big deal. "Found it earlier. Figured its been a while since I gave ya one."

My heart squeezed. Daryl wasn't the type for grand gestures, but this small one meant the world.

I twirled the little flower between my fingers before tucking it behind my ear. "Look good on me?"

Daryl gave me a once-over, then nodded. "Sure does."

Warmth bloomed in my chest.

I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm settled around me, pulling me in closer.

Even in the middle of all this chaos, his embrace made me feel safe.

~

It took us almost another day of walking and scouring before we reached what was once the Greene Family Farm. It seemed like forever since we'd been there. Had it been a year and a half? Maybe - judging by the seasons, but I couldn't be sure.

Nothing but ashes and overgrown grass remained, the land scarred by the fire that had claimed it. The barn was nothing but a collapsed framework of blackened wood, and the house - Hershel's home, Maggie's childhood - was nothing more than rubble buried beneath time and decay.

Maggie stood at the edge of what had once been the front porch, her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the ruins in silence. Glenn stood beside her, close but not touching, as if he wasn't sure whether to comfort her or let her face it on her own.

Carol exhaled a quiet breath. "It's like it was never here."

Daryl stepped past me, his crossbow slack in his grip. "Fire took it all." His voice was rough, but calm.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, stepping forward. But before I could say anything, something caught my eye.

A flash of color.

Not gray. Not black. Not the lifeless brown of scorched earth.

Purple.

My little tent - the one I'd scavenged right before we were forced to flee.

It stood among the flattened, broken remnants of what had once been our makeshift camp - our safe place. Every other tent had been trampled, damaged by walkers or fire, but mine... mine was still there.

I didn't realize I was moving until I was already kneeling beside it, my fingers brushing the canvas fabric. It was weather-worn, frayed at the edges, but standing.

My hands shook as I unzipped the entrance.

Inside, half-buried beneath dirt and dried leaves, was my old backpack. I couldn't believe it.

I reached for the bag, fingers curling around the straps, lifting it with careful hands. Dust clung to the material, but it was still intact.

For a moment, I just stared at it.

I had left it behind. Left it in the chaos, in the fire, in the loss. It contained all that was left of my previous life, and I'd been forced to abandon it by the herd that attacked.

Yet, here it was.

Daryl appeared, crouching beside me, his knee pressing into the dirt. His gaze flicked from the backpack to my face, his expression surprised.

"Didn't think we'd find nothin' here," he murmured.

Neither had I.

Maggie finally turned, her eyes landing on me, then on the tent. Something flickered across her face - recognition, maybe. A memory.

"That was your tent. You finally got it just before..." She said softly before trailing off.

I nodded, my grip tightening on the backpack.

She swallowed hard, glancing back at the remains of the house. "Feels like it should still be here, doesn't it?" Her voice wavered. "Like we should just be able to walk inside and see her sitting at the kitchen table."

The weight of Beth's absence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Glenn rested a hand on Maggie's back, steadying her. She closed her eyes for a moment before turning away from the ruins.

"There's nothing here," Carol said, voice heavy. "We should go."

I scooped up my backpack as Daryl lifted the soiled remains of what was once his tent. Whatever was under there had been trampled, but I did see him shove a few small items into his backpack.

His eyes met mine, steady. "Ya ready?"

I nodded, slinging mine over my shoulder.

The farm was gone. The house, the barn, the life we had once had here - all of it was dust.

Maggie wasn't quite ready to leave. She took a few more moments to sit on the grass beside Glenn, knees curled to her chest as she said a final goodbye to the place she'd grown up.

Daryl, Carol and I flopped onto the grass, enjoying a few minutes of rest before setting off again.

"Where next?" I asked, brushing bugs from my arms. "The quarry?"

"Nah." Daryl dismissed, rubbing his eyes. "Merle hated it there, wouldnt'a gone back."

"What about Atlanta?" Carol pondered. "In the city?"

"It's overrun." I explained, remembering the time Daryl and I spent there. "Plus, there's the whole hand-cutting-off-there situation. Don't think he'd fancy revisiting."

Daryl winced almost imperceptibly as the mention of Merle's severed hand. "She's right."

We all drifted into thought, grasping at ideas.

I had something on my mind. And I knew Daryl wasn’t going to like it. I waited until Carol went over to check on Maggie.

"What if Merle went home?" I asked him.

His jaw tensed. He didn’t look at me. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

I hesitated, but I didn’t back down. “You said yourself we don’t know where he could be. We’ve searched the places nearby we think of - the prison, the barn, the country club, the funeral home - and everywhere in between. But what if he went back to where he knew?”

Daryl scoffed, shaking his head. “That ain’t home.”

I pressed on. “It was once.”

“Nah,” he snapped, finally looking at me. His eyes burned with something sharp, something defensive. “It wasn’t.”

I swallowed hard. “Daryl-”

“Nah,” he said again, pushing up to his feet. “Ain’t no reason he’d go there. Ya don’t know him like I do.”

I stood, too. “You’re right. I don’t. But I know you. And I know you’ve been avoiding this possibility since we started looking.”

He turned away, running a hand over his face. “'Cause it’s a waste of damn time.”

I still knew barely anything about his past, but I knew it was a sore spot.

“Or because you don’t want to face it.”

His shoulders tensed. He stayed silent.

I took a slow breath, softening my voice. “I know you don’t like thinking about the past. But if there’s even the slightest chance Merle went back-”

“He wouldn’t,” Daryl cut in, but his voice wasn’t as sharp this time.

I stepped closer. “You don’t know that.”

He exhaled hard through his nose.

“Daryl,” I said gently, reaching for his hand. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t take it either.

For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the dark woods beyond our camp.

Then, finally, he muttered, “Ain’t nothin’ good waitin’ there.”

I squeezed his fingers. “Maybe not. But if Merle’s there… isn’t it worth knowing?”

His eyes met mine, conflicted. I could see the war in his head - the part of him that wanted to find his brother, and the part that wanted to leave his past buried.

After a long, tense pause, he let out a breath.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Gonna need a car.”

It wasn’t relief I felt - it was something heavier. Because this wasn’t just about Merle.

This was about Daryl facing something he never wanted to face again.

And I just hoped he was ready for it.

A/N: Thank you so much for your votes and comments. They mean a lot! ❤️