The Darkest Storm

The seasons are starting to mix. But right now, Darcy guesses it’s close to spring. The way the rain fell, the dampness of the grass and fields…it is reaching that time of year when everything outside is bright and fresh and ready to start anew. An abundance of colors start to shine through the typical darkness of winter.

Purple, pink, and white flowers, their petals nearly translucent start to cover the ground. They flow smoothly in the warming breeze. Darcy steps over the previously dry riverbed she and Michonne have followed multiple times in their numerous trips out. It now carries a wide, shallow stream with a gentle flowing current rippling down the middle.

Michonne’s feet graze a root and it bends to snap. They both stop, but are not alarmed in the least. Darcy looks over her shoulder to display an emotionless face. She catches the open meadow at a glance. From the banks of the fresh brook to the foothills in the distance, the fields are blooming as well. They stand tall and vibrant as the sun makes it’s way up into the sky. The sun was hot, but the rain left in their clothes and hair made it bearable for now.

Out there, beyond the swaying branches of the green tree leaves, something dark ambles in and out of small towns and along the streets; something the two woman trudge on in stubbornness to find.

Has it been weeks? Months, maybe? Still they cannot find nor track down the madman who entered their home uninvitingly and tore down what seemed to be everything they fought so hard to build. As a result, the others had given up on the search, and have seemingly let the past go. But it has been harder for others, and it has proven to be a hindrance in their hearts and in the ones who care most for them.

Daryl grows more stone-faced each time she leaves. It aches his heart, seeing her face a few times every-so-often and then, with a drop of a hat, she’s gone again. He’s tried so hard to be patient, but that unfortunately is not in his blood. He’s gone cold again. Darcy has been the light for him for so long that without it, his character slowly starts to deteriorate in front of her.

Darcy tries to get him to understand. The Governor is someone who needs to be destroyed. It is not about anger or the trauma that motivates Darcy, but the avoidance of future destruction. But she can’t help but feel that same light is also missing. Darcy knows she needs Daryl by her side more than anything.

Michonne reaches the tied up horse and looks back to Darcy. She stands, loose fingers tapping on her bow and arrow, scanning through the woods as if her eyes are a comb.

Michonne searches in the side pack tied to the horse and pulls out a crinkled map. It’s been quite helpful to cross out counties and towns each time they go out. She traces with her finger over Macon, something that has been on her mind since this area was proving to be a dud.

“What do you think?” She says flatly. “Camp for tonight and head back tomorrow?”

Darcy looks over to her, “It’s earlier than we planned.”

Michonne shrugs and pats the horse. “I wanna get these books to Carl, before they get ruined by the rain.”

“Is that all?” Darcy smiles.

Ever since they have been going out to find the Governor, Michonne has been bringing Carl back whatever she could find just to keep his life in a way where he could have things that lighten the load of the life he has to lead.

Darcy thinks there is something really great about how Michonne gets Carl and she too has a really strong heart towards him. He’s the young man that perhaps really has figured out how to handle himself in this hostile world. Michonne has shown she has a massive heart towards him and just wants the best for him. It’s a very true friendship because of the respect felt towards Carl, whom Darcy still feels is her baby brother.

“That and the way you sulk around these days.” The dark woman crosses her arms and smirks at her friend. “Got a certain hunter on your mind?”

Darcy adverts her gaze. “We didn’t leave last time on the best of terms.”

“Never thought I’d see him care so much.” Michonne smiles but it quickly fades to seriousness. ”Maybe you should think of throwing in the towel.”

“What?” Darcy furrows her brow.

“You’ve got people who care about you.” Michonne lifts her head slightly.

“They care about you too.” Darcy tells her.

Michonne hesitates pressing the real issue at hand; it’s been brought up before. “None of this is your fault.” Her voice is low and smooth.

Darcy folds her lips inward and stares at the ground. “I want to believe that’s true.”

“What he’s done, the decisions he’s made – there was nothing you could do to stop it except save yourself from it.” Michonne nods unnoticeably, “And you did. You ran. Hell, I would’ve too.”

“I should have stopped him.” Tears prick at Darcy’s eyes.

“You didn’t know that it would lead to this.” Michonne lowers her head and points. “And someday you’ll realize that. I know that’s why you’re out here.”

“I have to fix it. I have to make things right.” Darcy says.

“You have to make things right back at the prison.” Michonne raises her brow. “And this is not the way. It’s not you giving up, it’s you focusing on what needs to be done.”

Darcy turns her frown into a scowl, wishing Michonne would stop repeating what she’s already heard before. “You talked to Daryl.”

“It’s like I said. Never thought he’d care so much.” Michonne shrugs, “Just think about it.”

-

The more Darcy blinks into the darkness, the more she begins to make out the individual baked beans mushed together in the can she scrapes with a plastic spoon. She and Michonne sit, both their features only being lighted by the flickering embers of the small fire in front of them.

Darcy rubs her tired eyes and tries to sort out her conflicting mental bearings. The voice of Michonne was ringing throughout her mind, telling her to “throw in the towel,” and it was the only thing she could think about.

Darcy sighs, utterly exhausted. Her shoulders sag as she glances down at the luke-warm goop that she had mindlessly allowed herself to ingest. She purses her lips and frowns as she continues to rub her eyes.

Less than four hours ago, at least, she’d been hell-bent trying to find this bastard. Now, what? She was thinking of giving up. That’s what it all was coming down to. There was a desperate twist in her gut that told her to push on, that this is what she had to do, for the good of the group.

But the nights were growing quieter, and the pathway was becoming scarcer. Darcy was stretching herself too thin between her duty of finding her Uncle, and her undying loyalty to her family at the prison.

Darcy feels a wave of nausea sweep over her and she puts her head in her hands. She needs to return to those people whom she deeply cares for – to Daryl. He was right all along; there was nothing that was worth less than finding this sociopath. But the idea of being vulnerable, not with just the knowing of the Governor still being out there, but with the new faces along with the old, scares her.

In this world, it was inevitable that you loose every time you open up to people – meaning, people get hurt every time someone reaches a vulnerable state. It has been her biggest fear since she’s joined the group in Atlanta.

But at the same time, she has found herself to be purposeful in this group. She has grown hope in the instance of imagining who she could have become if she stayed with her Uncle all those months ago. The feeling of guilt over what her Uncle had done was fading away, because she knows, and has been constantly reminded by her closest friend, that none of it was her fault.

Darcy has seen and witnessed and has been a part of a group and family that shows each other how they should be treated and taken care of – and she wasn’t ready to give it up or settle for anything less. She wasn’t ready to let go of this life and purpose she has built up and that this group has given her – what Daryl has given her.

The wave of nausea has suddenly turned into joy. She was ready and willing to be there for the same people whom she’s been with all along. She has something to go back to when things got bad, people to care for her when she feels too far gone. Darcy has a home, a family, and a man willing to do anything for her no matter how much shit they went through.

Darcy hasn’t noticed the smile creep up onto her face until Michonne breaks the silence, “What’s with the grin?”

Darcy nods hesitantly, but she is confident and eager. “I’m ready to go home.”