Chapter Text
Her breath was latched high up in her throat, her vision speckled with segments of black. Her worn body slammed against the fence with force that almost threw her backwards, but her trembling fingers quickly laced into the grid and held on for dear life. When she realized her voice wouldn't carry through her exhaustion and fear she vigorously shook the fence, trying to make as much noise as possible. Finally, she mustered out a faint cry despite her dry throat and heavy breaths, and soon enough, a welcome face came into her view.
"Open the gate!" someone called, and Daisy felt a faint sliver of hope present itself as a shiver down her spine. She felt the grid being pulled to the side, and she had to force her fingers to unchlench, just so she could pry herself away from it. She stumbled and almost fell down, but she managed to keep her feet on the ground. She threw herself inside, feeling a wave of relief once the gate slammed closed behind her again.
She fell to the ground when her shaking legs wouldn't carry her anymore, and she could feel the gravel dig into her hands and knees tear her skin up. She tried to calm herself, but when a heavy hand was placed on her back, her quick breaths turned into dry heaving. She pulled herself away, turning and backing from the man who now stood leaned over her.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, but Daisy couldn't trust him - not after everything she'd seen. She looked at him and tried to see his intentions, but all she saw was a stretched-out hand and a pair of blue eyes. "Who are you?"
She suddenly felt cold, and she realized that her shoes had became soaked when she fled. She shivered and pulled her legs closer to her body, her gaze never left the man in front of her. "Daisy."
"Are you hurt, Daisy?" he asked, and she quickly shook her head. When she thought of it, she probably was - her ankle hurt like hell, and there was a stinging sensation on the side of her neck, but she knew what he was asking for, really. No, she wasn't bitten. "Do you have a group?"
"No," she said, and she could see the man look over his shoulder at another male, before glancing back at her. He had eyes that felt like they could see right through her, and he watched her with intensity and scepticism only a man scorched could hold. "Who are you?"
He looked at her for a moment, before once again reaching out his hand towards her. "I'm Rick Grimes, this is my family," he gestured to the people behind him, and Daisy glanced over them, trying to see through them but failing. They watched her carefully, but with gazes that seemed to care about her - it'd been a long time since she'd seen such a look on someones face.
Rick turned around to an older man, and Daisy could hear faintly how he whispered something to him. She thought to herself that Rick's eyes, though pained and careful, looked kind, ones that almost asked her to trust him. She wondered if eyes like that could lie - she thought of darker eyes, ones that she knew she couldn't trust, and it made her stomach turn into a pit.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
Daisy looked up, and saw that Rick was facing her way again. His kind eyes were partially covered by his damp hair, and he had an almost desperate look over his face. She wondered what he'd seen, what he'd had to do. She knew that most people had been tested with things they wouldn't have been able to imagine only a year earlier.
"What?"
Her voice sounded frail, and it made her feel stupid. Rick took a step towards her, and she had to focus her entire body to not automatically retreat back away from him. No matter how kind his eyes looked, she knew better than to blindly trust him. "How many walkers have you killed?" he asked again, and he saw her furrow her eyebrows. "Stragglers, roamers - whatever you call them."
"I don't know," she said, furrowing her eyebrows. Was I supposed to keep count? She'd tried so hard to shut off when things went bad, tried to tell herself that she was a machine made for staying alive, killing all dangers. That there was no room for empathy, especially not towards the dead. She'd soon realized that she was lying to herself, and that her soul ripped further and further apart the more damage she did. She'd always been a pacifist - the world turned her into a monster.
Rick nodded, glancing away from her for a moment before looking back at her. "How many people have you killed?"
Her gaze flickered, suddenly Rick's blue eyes held judgement. She thought for a moment of her childhood, when she'd sit in her grandmother's lap as the woman laid out the tarot cards on the table in front of them. Judgement, Daisy thought to herself - a lifechanging decision, a change on the journey. Was this man her arch-angel Gabriel, lowering himself to take her down one of two roads?
"Three."
"Why?"
He didn't miss a beat, didn't consider her answer before he asked the next question. She thought of the dark eyes once again, the ones she'd looked into so many times, which had shown her such expression of emotional depth. Uncertain, unpredictable, dangerous.
"Because I had to," she said, her voice breaking as she looked at Rick, wondering if he was going to force her to say it. Rick looked at her for a moment before taking one more step towards her, now standing right in front of her feet. He crouched, looking her straight in the eyes when he was finally at her level.
"Who did you run from, Daisy?"
She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat, but it was latched in place, bitter like a piece of coal. She felt her eyes burning from the fatigue her body tried to contain, and she wanted nothing but to lay down and sleep. Though she knew that once she did, those dark eyes would be back, and he'd be with her until the moment she woke up, never leaving her consiousness. She shook her head just briefly, before looking back up at Rick.
Dark eyes, black hair, a wired bat, madness and passion. She hoped with all her might she'd seen him for the last time, that she'd never have to face anyone like him again. She knew she was a dead woman if he was ever to lay his eyes on her again.
Her gaze was lingering on Rick's shoes, and she had to gather the sliver of courage she had left before she looked up and met his eyes. His gaze dashed over her face and she knew he could see it all; her fear, her anger, the emotions those dark eyes had lit on fire. She thought of his haunting smirk and how he'd chuckle at her misfortune, and she finally thought that she'd gathered enough courage to spit it out, like venom in her mouth.
Then she saw Rick's expression, the people behind him, and she hesitated. She thought of the posibillity of starting over, of a clean slate - it made her swallow the bitter taste of his name, pushed the thought of the Saviors far back in her mind.
"Just stragglers," she said, glancing down at her feet for a moment. She found her gaze drifting to over her shoulder and through the fence behind her. She wondered for a moment if he was out there, trailing after her, like the fear that hung off her back like a vail. She wondered if she'd seen him for the last time, if she'd truly escaped. She wondered if Negan would ever stop hunting her.