Better Angels

I heard the rumble outside, in the alley, and braced myself for a rough wave of nostalgia. It'd hit me like a punch to the gut, and I'd probably embrace it, emotional pain is something that has become foreign to me, I wouldn't be used to it, but I'd learn to accept it, and eventually learn to go with it.

I loaded my bow and walked outside, leaning against the grey siding of the apartment. They got out of the two vans, there were twelve of them, Mike, had let his facial hair grow out, and it made him look older, but not more wise, nor less threatening, I'd be keeping an special eye on him.

I glared at him as he rounded the first van, he hadn't noticed me, and looked vaugly at ease, his eyes lifting, and locking onto mine, and the realization was very obvious.

We didn't speak, in fact we gave no other signs of recalling or recognition other than staring at each other, and it was only a matter of time before he recalled his sins that I'd personally skin him alive for, and he dropped the trash bag he was carrying, full of God knows what, and ran. That slick bastard ran.

"Shit!" He grunted, running for the tall picket fence at the end of the front yard that devided this devision from the neighbors house.

I don't know why, but my legs started moving, forward, quickly, towards the enemy.

I grabbed a fistful of the back of his jacket just as he was beginning to haul himself over the fence, I yanked with all my strength to pull him back, he stumbled and we fell backwards, him crashing onto me, I bit my lip to restrain the scream that begged to split from my lungs. My back radiated pain like sound waves.

"Fucker!" I yelled, as he jumped off me and ran, stumbling and falling face-first into the grass, I stumbled as well, then launched myself at him, fingers straining to wrap around his scrawny neck, him pushing against me with all his strength, I could imagine that I was probably looking a great deal like an attacking walker.

We fought back and fourth, I was incapable of landing a square shot to his jaw, he moved too goddamned much.

We cussed the living shit out of each other, and finally one of his sweaty hands slipped from my wrist and my hand came down hard, right at his eye.

"Aries! Come on, pick on someone your own size." I was grabbed under the armpits and dragged off him backwards, I glared up at the figure helping me retreat.

It was Glenn, the resolver.

"He needs to die." I seethed, all my calm "Be the bigger man" facade faded into nothing but silly adult stuff while I was being immature and picking a fight with a twenty-four year-old.

"Aries! You can't be left for two goddamned minutes, can you?" Daryl stormed out of the house, jogging towards me and gaining the custody from Glenn, who went over with Rick and Shane to have a little "Talk" with Mike, when in reality, they were asking if he was ok and why I'd attacked him and how he'd provoked me. I glared him down the whole while every time Rick shifted enough for me to see that scumbag's face on the ground.

Daryl scooped me up in a swift motion, nothing more out of him than a amused quiet chuckle and a grunt, as he tossed me over his shoulder and hauled me for the truck.

He pulled open the passengers seat and sat me there, reaching across me and putting on the seat belt, my confusion faded into anger when he grabbed a padlock out of the glove compartment and locked it tightly with not enough slack to squirm out of it.

"What the hell, Daryl!?" I demanded.

He smirked a little "You need to learn to behave and play well with the other kids." He warned.

"You know what he did!" I protested, but he began walking away.

"Asshole!" I shouted after him, his step faltered a little bit, and I thought he was pissed. He slowly turned to face me, face cold and emotionless, then he did something I hadn't expected at all.

He childishly stuck his tongue out at me, turned and proceeded up the walk way to the front door.

He never acted immature, so why was he changing his ways now?

I'd be here a while, and if I wanted to cool down properly, it's start with a little music. He left the keys in the ignition, perfect.

I dug around under the seats and glove compartment to find only a few CD's, Motley Crue being among them, I felt that it would suffice.

I stuck it in the slot and turned the volume down, if I had it my way, I'd turn it up so goddamned loud that I'd get an ear infection, but with all the walkers ruining my fun, I had to deal with the monotone quiet hum coming from the speakers.

"He's the one that they call 'Dr Feelgood." I sang along to the familiarity, then recalling a song I wanted to listen, I started scrolling through, to the point where the familiar soft guitar riffs lulled me.

"Without you, there's no change, the nights and days are the same."

"But with you in my life... You're the reason I'm alive..."

I closed my eyes and sang along quietly to every word, everything in that moment meant so little, as long as I was singing along to Vince Neil's voice, I felt as though walkers, apocalypse, Daryl and the others were just a bad dream.

I kept pushing the left facing seek button, I replayed the song four times before anyone took any interest in me. I laid my head back against the seat and just sang. I love to sing and always did, that's something that hasn't changed.

"Nice voice."

My eyes flashed open and I recovered embarrassedly, fumbling around, almost trying to pretend that I hadn't been singing.

"I heard ya, yer alright."

I don't know why, but I felt flattered and offended at the same time.

"It's not that great..." I mumbled anyways, looking out the window to hide my face, I felt the blush light up my cheeks, and that was the last thing I wanted, the brutal one of the group to see me blush like a baby, if I want to get anywhere as a group protector, I can't be such a chick.

"Well I thought so..." Daryl mumbled, his expression telling me that he instantly regretted saying anything, and I wasn't sure what that meant.

"So where to now?" I asked, to turn the spotlight away from myself.

"Yer sister made arrangments to head out that way this evening." He answered, starting the ignition.

"Wait, she isn't coming with us now?" I demanded, the unwanted feeling of concern taking over me.

"Naw, she said somethin' bout being concerned about you jumping out the back window of the truck, onto the hood of their car, and stranglin' that boy through the windsheild. I think she see's you as a threat to her boyfriend's life. Good job." He grinned, which was such an rare occurance in itself, then he raised his hand, palm facing me, I was confused at first, then caught on. Awkwardly raising my own hand and smacking it against his.

"Well maybe fear is the only way to keep him in line." I say, looking out the window as we waited for Shane to back out first.

What were the odds? Of finding her here? Of all the places in the US, in all the places in the world. And I find her at her old apartment taking refugee.

I'm not sure how to cope with this new discovery, or how to tell the others, expecially Mom. But if there is one upside to this whole trip, is that Daryl let me listen to Motley Crue on repeat the whole drive back.



I was lost in thought, for a long time. I moved with the rest of the group, as our intentions were, when we came to town, was not to pursue my sister, but to find useful items and things to ward off the walkers.

Then why am I so dissapointed that I can't just go home and be alone now?

I felt very irratable, I think Daryl caught on pretty quickly, because all conversation evaporated, and it was deadly quiet in the cab as we followed Shane around town, stopping by five shops and raiding one house on Meyer Street before finally proceeding beyond city limits. I sighed quietly in relief, the music wasn't really working for me, because I'd blocked it out. The dull hum in the background as my mind drifted, back to my sister. Was she going to be my friend again? As I always hoped and prayed? Or will she continue to be a backstabber, green eyed monster that will always stand by that demon's side?

As I thought it over I realized that the latter was most likely.

I was quiet, and bit my lip. Hating how conflicted I felt, but I couldn't think of anything to say to Daryl, or anything to say at all. I tried concentrating once again on the music, to loose myself in it, the lyrics with catchy guitar riffs I found repetitve.

"Girls! Girls! Girls!" Poured from the speakers, adorned with the background sounds of motorcycle snarls and cat-call preverted whistling.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Daryl finally asked as we were five miles from the house. I looked over at him in surprise, more surprised than anything that he'd spoken to me at all, especially about such a soft subject, caring emotionally about other people didn't seem like Daryl's thing, so I just shook my head and decided to keep it to myself.

"Bullshit." He said to my response, which angered me a little bit.

"What? Just because someone refuses to tell you what they think, it's bullshit?" I demanded.

"It's bullshit because I can see that you are dying to talk about it and share your angry words, but no one will listen and it frustrates you, so you stray from the others in bitter silence, because it's the only thing on your mind, and if you can't get it off your chest, what's the point in speaking at all?"

I stare at him in shock, as he just laid my entire life story out before me, it was true, every last bit. I didn't like that I appeared as such an open window to him, so I just looked down and my hands and grimaced.

"I got it, didn't I?" He gasped dramtically, I'd never seen Daryl act so childish in one day.

"I'm annoying you with the truth, aren't I?" He laughed at his new discovery.

"You can't tell anyone!" I exclaimed, horrified at how much pain I'd cause my parents, they had their own troubles to worry about, not including mine.

A wicked grin crossed his face "And if I do?"

"You'll destroy everything!" I exclaim, "I can't even imagine how much..."

"How much what? How will tellin everyone destroy something?" He asked, confused, all humor wiped clean from his face, eyes locked on the road.

"The pain." I whisper, looking forward "You can't imagine that kind of pain that's put my parents through if they knew I was depressed. It'd make me look weak... It'd, it'd make them worry. I'm supposed to be happy, and cheery, for their sake. Not being upset about everything." I whisper harshly, mostly to scold myself, with the rehearsed lines of recoiling pain.

He was quiet, and I feared that I'd said too much.

"You're depressed?" He finally asked after a few cloudy silent moments.

I shrugged a little "It's on and off."

He didn't push it any further, which I was grateful for, but the sympathetic look I caught out of the corner of my eye made me wish I'd said nothing at all.

I looked up then, eyes shifting to the car in front of us, Rick was driving now, and Shane sat in the passengers seat, his face in the side mirror, I looked at his face until I realized that he was looking back at me, an unmistakable grin, far more wicked than Daryl's, stood out prominently on his face.

Great, that's just fucking great. Not only did he see me and Daryl yelling at each other, but not quite, he also saw the sympathetic look Daryl had given me in the end. This day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?

We reached the driveway and followed the others in, Shane didn't look back at me again, which I was grateful. I'm just glad no one else heard the conversation.

When we parked and got out, I gave Daryl the excuse that my back was hurting and that I needed to lie down, he passed it along to the others and they finished unpacking, while I dodged the questions and my parents and ran for my room.

Closing the door behind me and wishing it had a lock, I sank miserably to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest and rested my arms across the tops of them, leaning my forehead against them, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, biting my bottom lip until I tasted blood, that's when the flood gates opened, and everything, everything that I'd spent all morning concealing, hiding and putting on the 'I'm strong' fascade, it faded into nothing as the first fat, hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

What have I done? Inviting Myriah back, was that out of mercy of my mother's happiness, or my own sick, twisted greed? The first sob escaped, concluding my answer.

It was one thing to have her back, but all these other people, Mike's friends and family, I know nothing about them, I don't know how dangerous they could be or if they are theives, robbing us blind in the cover of night, killing many of our people.

I already promised Rick that I'd keep everyone safe. And I'd do that, it will just kill me to do so. I told him that if any of them changed, I'd kill them, if any of them stepped out of line, I'd kill them.

As it seems, no matter what they do, I'm going to have to kill them.

An ugly cry tore from my heart, it felt like it split in half, I hated feeling this weak, even if it was just in front of myself.

My palms were becoming sweaty, and my arm was slick with tears, nothing comfoting around my shoulders besides the rough, black poncho, hanging loosly at my neck, I dabbed under my eyes with a corner of the fabric, crying made me feel no more refreshed, weak... Always weaker...

I took a deep breath, but it didn't take away the burning in my chest, the longing for the words I haven't heard in forever...

"You're going to be ok..."

I wasn't, and I was lying to myself. And I still felt guilty for it. I bit my lip more, taking another breath and burrowing my face against my folded arms again, trying to accept that there was nothing I could do.

Myriah would most likely hate me either way, rather I have to kill one of her people or if I'm the nicest person on earth. It doesn't matter. I can't change her mindset, the way she thinks, how she thinks about him, lying to herself, telling herself that she loves him. It may be the biggest lie of all.

More tears drip from my eyes in unison, I can invision how ugly I must look right now, blood shot eyes, dripping with crytal waters of emotion, sniffles that rack my body, making it ache in pain.

And then I think to myself, thank God no one is here to see my beast escaping...

My beast, that's all it was. Clawing, trying to get free, the emotion suffocating it, making me ugly in the process of it's escape, it never manages to though... And I'm always left dissapointed.

"Aries!"

The voice made me jump, because it was so close, just at the bottom of the stairs.

Too rough to be my Mom's.

Not urgent enough to be my Dad's.

Too southern to be Rick's.

Too... Too Daryl to be anyone else's.

I gulp, and scamper to grab a scarf off the floor and dab and my eyes, clearing my throat quickly, trying to get it as clear as possible so he can't tell I've been crying.

"Yes?" I call back, but just my luck... My voice cracks. I hope he didn't notice.

I hear two footsteps on the stairs, and jump to my feet, looking in the mirror, I fix my hair, blink about seventy times, hoping to clear the redness in my eyes.

The fact that my eyes are briht blue doesn't help either, the red only promotes them.

"Are you ok? You were kinda ina' hurry." Daryl called up.

"Oh, I'm fine." I call back more clearly.

"You sure? Cause I thought you said you were gonna lie down, I hear you all over the place up there."

"I..." I pause and look around "I was just looking for something, but I'm fine."

He was quiet for a few seconds "Ok... Alright, good."

I think he has left, and sigh in relief, until I hear the footsteps again, coming up the stairs, further than before.

He stands right outside my door, and I launch myself onto the bed and lie down, facing the wall.

"Oh, Aries, I have somethin' ta ask ya, if that's alright."

"Ok.. Shoot."

"There is a door between us." Daryl grunts.

I bite my lip, fighting in my head before saying "Come in then."

He does, enters my room slowly, I catch his eyes flit across everything in the room before landing upon my entirely motionless body lying twisted on the bed.

"Er, you dun look too comfortable." He notes, but moves on "Rick asked if I wanted tonights watch shift, you wanna come?"

"Sure." I mumble, my voice slurred from my stuffy nose.

"Are ya sure you're ok?" Daryl asked, footsteps advancing towards the bed, I look over my shoulder just enough to meet his eyes guiltily, and the recognition of the situation crosses his face, and that damn sympathetic look just breaks me.

My eyes feel hot again and I mumble "No." I choke on the words "I'm not."

A comfortable silence passes between us, and I see that he is unsure, as he slowly turns around and sits on the end of the bed. I watch him warily as he does.

"C'mere." he gestures towards himself, his actions blocky and unpracticed.

"What are you doing?" I ask quietly, in no mood for word games.

"Just come here."

I didn't really think about it, just hesitantly scooted over, leaning against his shoulder, his right arm shifting over my shoulders and pulling me tightly against his side, I tense up a little bit, until I realize it's a hug, a awkward one, but still a hug all the same.

I wrapped my left arm around his ribs halfheartedly.

I just started talking, I just wanted it out of me, the damn beast the ravenged my heart and conflicted me each day, I wanted it to just die, die when it's secrets are confided into one person. Not the world.

We sat there in more comfortable silence, he looked straight ahead at the door and bedroom wall as I spoke, I couldn't be entirly sure that he was actually listening, but he was human, so that was good enough for me, I could get the same effect confiding in a walker.

He nodded, glanced down at me every now and again. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly when I got to the painful parts, and the weakness slipped by again, a few stray tears slipped away, he saw them before I could look away.

I pressed my face into his shoulder, against his winged vest, I took a deep, calming breath, realizing that the clothes he wore had the most calming smell ever.

Tobacco, mint, and a rich smell that had the scent of rust.

It was comforting, and when I took another deep breath, it felt like it was actually doing something to cheer me up and clear my head.

"Do they know?" I ask.

He understands instantly "Yes." He says "Rick explained everything."

"How did my mom take it?" I mumbled.

"She was... Surprised, then angry, thought we was lying to her, I'm not entirely sure how it's setting with her, and the only reason she didn't come up ere' demanding a answer from you was because I told her you were takin' a siesta."

"Thank you." I say "you've saved me a lot of stress. Though in about an hour, it won't mean much, because it will be a mad house around here."

"Ain't no hour anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"It was an hour, when you came up ere', there is now maybe ten minutes, you best be gettin' ready."

I look at him, a little surprised, then nod and get up. Glancing in the mirror long enough to see most of the red has left my eyes and that my hair is reasonably straight, I jog down the steps, out to the barn to check on Jack and Jessop, then I glance over my shoulder to be sure I'm not being followed, then venture further into the shed, grabbing a fistful of the off white canvas sheet, I pull it back and a cloud of dust conceals it for a few seconds until it dissapates.

I stand back and look at the red Harley. I grab the gascan off the top utility shelf, gas I have sifened and collected myself for this reason, a ride.

I fill it up and push it out of the shed, forgetting how extering bikes can be, I push it out onto the gravel, hop on and turn the key in the ignition, it comes to life.

For a minute I just sit there, the rumble of the engine, snarling like an angry beast, I'm just all caught up in it again, very much the same as the first time I ever rode it.

I have a little time, I think. A little time to unwind, recall my roots and try to be a little less edgy, and then, Dad steps out onto the porch, sliding a shotgun shell into the gun in his hands, clicking it into place and loading it with a sharp snap, he shouts in a clear voice, "They're here!"