Authors Note: So this is my first Walking Dead fanfic, seeing as my usual Harry Potter one's are stuck do to writer's block. I understand spelling and grammer is not the best but considering it's a zombie apocalypse I think it kind of fits. I like reviews, but if you have something you don't like, be helpful in your criticism, not just "You have terrible spelling" and so on. WARNING: CONTAINS MALE/MALE ROMANCE, EXTREME VIOLENCE, BLOOD, GOOR, AND SEX. IF YO DO NOT LIKE THAT OR GET OFFENDED THIS IS NOT THE STORY FOR YOU. All else, Enjoy.
The gunshot rang through the farm grounds and forest, all the way up to the distant mountain pass. Rick looked at the small body collapsed on the ground at his feet as he lowered his gun, listening to the muted screams of her mother as Daryl gripped her tight. Rick turned and looked at Carol, weeping into the hunter's shoulder as Daryl hushed her, telling her not to look. Carol pushed Daryl away and ran away, shutting herself in the RV as the others wept and hung their heads. Rick looked at Daryl, who was on his knees, staring at Sophia's corps, jaw clenched. Daryl looked back up at Rick then over at Shane, who seemed to still be in shock. Shane looked over at Hershel, who was sitting on the dusty ground, tears streaming out of his eyes.
"You son of a bitch." Shane hissed at the old doctor, snapping everyone out of their numbness. Shane advanced on the man, his gun barrel pointing down, but his finger on the trigger. "You knew she was in there." He growled dangerously. At that point Daryl got to his feet and gripped the officer's shoulder.
"Cool it." He hissed. "Now is not the time." Daryl looked over at the RV and then to Sophia.
"Get off me, Daryl." Shane snarled, shoving Daryl aside and moving to advance again, but Daryl grabbed him again. Shane turned on the man and whipped out his hand gun, pointing it at Daryl's head. "Back Off." Shane said.
Rick moved and pointed his gun at Shane in turn. "Put it down, Shane." He barked in his 'police' tone. Shane looked over at Rick and took a deep breath before looking over at Hershel, his gun steady.
"He, KNEW" He said angrily, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"Even if he did, right now is not the time." Lori said, moving to Rick's side, Carly clinging to her side, still crying. "Put the gun down."
Shane looked at Lori, biting his lip and looked around him. The other's were ready to fight if they needed to. He looked over at Daryl an wrinkled his nose in discust and lowered his gun. He looked at the UV were Carol was and then back to the redneck.
"You're the one who continued to fill her head with delusions." Shane hissed. "That woman's grief is on your hands."
Shane spat on the sand and stomped away, cursing all the way back to his tent. Rick and the others watched the man go and then turned to Daryl, who looked pissed, but said nothing. Rick went to Hershel and helped the man up, and taking him and his family back to the house. T-Dog went over to Daryl and put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not your faul-"He started to say but was stopped by Daryl shoving his hand away.
"Shut up." He muttered and walked to the camp, fists clenched as he went up to the UV and knocked on the door. He heard a choked "Come in" and opened the door, walking in and closing it quietly. He saw Carol lying on her bed, looking at the withering flower in the beer bottle. Daryl put his gun down and knelt on the floor beside her. Carol looked at him, her eyes red and her face streaked with tears. The two of them shared a look and Daryl rested his head on her knee, which seemed to be what she needed. Not embraces, not words of apology, but just to know that someone was there and cared. She gently stroked Daryl's dirty hair, her fingers brushing against the small cut were the bullet had grazed him just a few days ago. Daryl sighed and closed his eyes, thinking on Shane's words. He opened his eyes and saw the Cherokee Rose in its piss poor excuse for a vase, thinking he's right. Daryl sat up and looked at Carol, not needing to speak to show how he felt. Carol gave a very small, sad smile and nodded.
"At least you tried." She said, her lip quivering as she started to cry again. "Can you please leave me alone for now?"
Daryl nodded and stood up going back out the door with one last look at the mourning woman. He walked slowly, passing by Shane's tent, inside which Shane could be heard cursing and muttering. Daryl stopped for a second to listen before moving on to Rick, who was sitting with the others, his wife and kid leaning on him. Lori saw Daryl approach and looked up.
"How is she?" She asked, sniffing.
"Take a guess." Daryl snapped, spitting on the ground. He looked over at the barn and the bodies littering the ground in front of it. "What're we goanna do about them?" He asked, motioning to the dead walkers.
"Burry the one's we love, burn the rest." Andrea said, playing with a twig.
Daryl took a breath before going over to his tent and picking up his cross-bow.
"I'm goin for a walk." He said as he passed the group on the way to the forest. "Don't worry 'bout me unless I aint back by sundown."
Rick was about to protest but Daryl was already gone, walking into the dark trees. Daryl walked for a long time, not really knowing where he was going, except for toward the mountains. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts, not noticing the footsteps behind him, or the gentle rustle as a bush was brushed by a leg. He was almost a mile away from camp when he felt strong arms wrap around his neck. He reached for his knife but was blocked by a large, muscled body getting in the way. Daryl turned his head to see who his attacker was but his eyes bet a dirty switch blade that he recognized as Rick's. The blade moved forward and all went black for Daryl as he felt the searing, burning pain of the blade cutting into his eyes in one swift gash, the blood and other fluids dripping down his face. He tried to push the taller man away from him, getting stabbed and gashed in the arms before the attacker shoved him to the forest floor, slamming his head against a large log.
Dazed and in an unbelievable amount of pain Daryl was hardly aware of his hands being pinned to his side and his shirt being cut open by the blade dripping with his own blood.