[ lxx. an honest mistake ]

october 27th, 2012

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"ASTRID, YOU SHOULD MAYBE—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Glenn."

Astrid's heart pattered dully against her ribs, each step of her boots amongst the dying leaves heavier than the last as she walked alongside Glenn Rhee. She was exhausted, both in body and spirit. All she longed for now was the promised safety of Alexandria, where the rest of her family awaited her—those who had not succumbed to blind fury.

There was a fine line between necessity and recklessness, and Astrid's husband had crossed it.

"You should," Glenn encouraged.

Halting abruptly, Astrid pivoted to face him, her eyes teary with indignation. "Why?" She seethed. "So we can discuss how my husband abandoned his pregnant wife to indulge in a senseless bloodbath?"

"He . . . He believes he's doing this for Denise."

"He's deluded! Denise is dead, Glenn. And soon, Daryl will be, too!"

"Astrid, you can't mean that," Michonne interjected quietly from behind.

Astrid turned to confront one of her dearest friends. Through the ruins of the prison, through countless bullets, Michonne had been there for her. Even now, with safer odds beckoning elsewhere, the woman refused to abandon her and would embrace such anger as if it were her own.

"I do mean it," Astrid tried to growl. But her voice was trembling.

Glenn continued to gaze at Astrid. She met his stare, only to then regret it, now unable to tear her eyes from the embodiment of reason. Glenn had always been there to guide her. Truly—in every sense—from the Atlanta camp to the very formation of their new family, here in Alexandria. Glenn had created that. And he would do all in his power to ensure it did not crumble now.

"Astrid, you can't run from this," He said, his voice soft but determined.

But Astrid shook her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I can't watch him kill himself," She whispered.

Everything felt wrong. Nothing was making sense in this world spinning out of control. The pace of change from that first day at Hilltop now overwhelmed her, leaving her struggling to keep up.

Taking a step back, Astrid withdrew further from her friends. She could not afford to unravel, not here, not now. "We need to keep moving," She forced out, even as Glenn and Michonne continued to watch her carefully. She turned away and began to walk, tucking her pain into another endless compartment. "The sun will set soon."

Glenn did not follow her. "The Saviors could already be back in Alexandria," He warned.

Astrid felt compelled to turn back around as Michonne pointed out, "And if they are, they're dead."

Glenn shot her a reproachful glance. "I hope not. We need them alive. We need to find out more."

"We do." Astrid nodded tersely. "Then we can kill them."

Their trio slowly set off again. Their steps crunched through the carpet of fallen leaves, the forest around them alive with the chatter of unseen creatures, until their journey to the train tracks brought them to a murky riverbank instead. The body of water stretched wide and was impassable. Astrid's frustration bubbled as she wondered how they had managed to veer so off course. Inwardly, she knew that she could retrace her muddy footprints, but that would only lead her back to the one person who was trying desperately to stay away from her.

Glenn stepped up beside her on the edge of the water. For a moment, they stood in silence. Then, with a soft exhale, Astrid spoke her wonderment, turned bitter by their situation. "How do you do it?" She mused. "How do you see the good in everything?"

Though she kept her eyes forward, she could sense Glenn's gaze upon her. "It's not automatic, Astrid. It's a conscious decision," He replied. "You have to choose to see it."

"And do you always trust it?"

"Most of the time," He admitted. "I did with you. And turns out, you were right. You're not some crazy, murdering psychopath."

Astrid smiled softly, despite herself. She chose to, she supposed. "That's debatable," She chuckled. She glanced at her oldest apocalyptic friend. "We've come a long way since Atlanta, Glenn."

"We have," He agreed softly.

"It feels like there's still so much further to go," She murmured.

Glenn nodded solemnly. In the next breath, however, he released a wistful sigh, as if that were not quite what he wanted. Perhaps, he wanted to freeze this moment in time. Astrid found that she did, too.

She wrinkled her nose as she regarded Glenn again. "So, do you regret meeting me yet?"

His incredulous stare met hers. "Why would I ever regret meeting you?"

"Well, Glenn, in case you haven't looked around," Astrid began, gesturing toward the wilderness that surrounded them, "here you are, in the middle of nowhere, risking everything to help me save my husband from his own demons, while your own pregnant wife waits at home for you."

Glenn chuckled softly. It seemed he would always choose to find lightheartedness in the face of any adversity. It was a quality that Astrid had long since come to admire in him. Then, his expression softened with genuine affection as he thought of Maggie. "I'll be home to her soon," He assured.

Astrid considered her next words carefully. "Have you given much thought to what that's going to look like? Home?" She spoke. "If the Saviors are still out in full force?"

"We don't know that they're out in full force," Glenn reasoned.

Astrid's gaze hardened as she lowered her body to a crouch on the edge of the riverbank. Her reflection rippled and shimmered in the water below as uncertainly as the larger unknown that lay ahead. "What do we know then?" She challenged.

"The world's not what we thought it was."

"No, it's not. It's bigger." With a slap on the water's murky surface, she banished her own reflection and stood upright again. "Between the Hilltop, the Saviors . . . what comes next? There are bound to be more settlements, more threats."

Glenn nodded his agreement, still looking entirely uneased by the promised fact, but before he could even part his lips to speak again, his mere exhale of breath was drowned out by the jarring intrusion of a piercing, human-like whistle overhead. The shrill sound sliced through the otherwise tranquil forest, its eerie echo carrying through and across the treetops with a haunting intensity that set the very leaves trembling.

Astrid's eyes blew wide with alarm. The very marrow in her bones seemed to freeze as she whipped her head around, searching for the source of the discordant melody. As she shifted on the balls of her feet, her left hand darted to her holster, fingers closing around the cold metal of her gun. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Glenn, Michonne returned and seamlessly fell into formation on their other side without a word.

Astrid lifted her firearm and pointed its barrel toward what she believed to be the definite source of the whistling sound, her jaw clenched dangerously as she braced herself. And then, figures clothed in black began to sprout from the already shadowy foliage. Saviors. Each new arrival of one only served to tighten the suffocating net closing in around Astrid and her friends, their ambushers' eyes glinting with malice as their rifles were brandished at their chests.

The whistle reached a crescendo. Then it died instantly.

A final man stepped out from behind the closest tree to Astrid, and his presence commanded her full attention. He stood tall and gaunt and was dressed in a tattered red shirt over baggy blue jeans. His dirty blonde hair curled at his shoulders and twisted with grease, but it was his face that drew Astrid's repulsed stare like a moth to flame. The entire left side of the man's pale face, from his brow to his chin, was discolored—a poorly healed sight of melted flesh and scar tissue.

What had caused such an injury, Astrid could only imagine.

"Hi," The man greeted, his voice deep and raspy. He gestured to their hands with his own pistol. "I suggest you put those down now."

Glenn and Michonne reluctantly surrendered their weapons, while Astrid momentarily hesitated, her grip stubbornly tightening around the cold steel of her gun while she contemplated her chances, how many she could take down in the stretch of a few seconds. But it would not be an easy fire. Her own would fall, too.

With a resigned sigh, she lowered her weapon, and let it drop into the leaves at her boots.

She, Glenn, and Michonne were patted down after that, and their concealed blades were also confiscated. Once all of their weapons were collected into a pile, the scarred man approached Astrid with a predatory gleam in his eyes, his lips curling. With deft hands, he twisted her body and began to bind her wrists with a rough, frayed rope.

"I'm Dwight," He introduced himself. "What's your name?"

Astrid tilted her head back. This man, the very one her husband had sworn to kill, now stood before her. This man whose hands were stained with the blood of so many, including that of Denise. She hoped her expression remained placid as she glanced him over, her friend's murderer, even as she was rattled to her very core.

His fierce shake eventually forced an answer out of her. "Astrid," She managed to choke out.

Dwight hastily turned her around in his grasp to scrutinize her closely. "Astrid? The Astrid?" His disbelief held a twisted sense of admiration. "My, my, have I heard a lot about you. Did you know Daryl talks about you in his sleep?" His laughter was hollow. "I don't mean to sound weird or anything by sayin' that. It's just a fact . . . People tend to think about the things they care about the most when they're about to die."

Astrid hoped she did not react again. Silent and rigid, she allowed herself to be led toward the others until Dwight forced her to her knees between Glenn and Michonne. Just as he moved to silence her with a gag, she leaned back, determined to know more.

"What do you plan to do with us?"

Dwight's fingers absentmindedly toyed with her firearm. "I haven't decided yet," He said. "We'll be moving you soon, but I'm still waiting for the head of your party. He'll come, no doubt, especially if we offer him the right incentive."

The scarred Savior abruptly drew his knife and reached out to grab Astrid's shoulder. But before he could advance further, Glenn's muffled protest formed around the gag already forced in his own mouth, the sound barely restrained. "Stop! Don't touch her! I'll—"

"Shut up," Dwight hissed at Glenn before returning his attention to Astrid. She stiffened, instinctively recoiling, but Dwight only pulled her closer. His blade went to the side of her head, and he sliced through her hair, a thick lock of chestnut falling into his outstretched hand. He tucked the severed strands into his shirt pocket, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, and Astrid's eyes narrowed darkly.

"Do you think Daryl will come easily if he finds only my hair?" She demanded.

"I don't care how he comes," Dwight replied coldly. "Only that he won't leave here the same way."

Dread coiled like a venomous serpent in the pit of Astrid's stomach, threatening to paralyze her. It was a sensation throughout her body that transcended mere apprehension, eclipsing even the seething rage she still harbored toward Daryl for his idiocy and betrayal. Now, that anger seemed insignificant compared to the all-consuming terror that gripped her heart. With every breath, she hoped that her husband was safe, that he was far away from this part of the forest, and that he would not fall for Dwight's trap.

"You don't need him," Astrid growled. "You have me. That should be enough for whatever egotistical edge you get off on."

Dwight's smirk grew into a malevolent grin. "I like you. But I don't want you. I want your husband. Nothing you say can save him."

Astrid faced the Savior's callousness head-on, her fists clenching tightly behind her back. "Haven't you done enough?" She retorted.

"Such as?" He taunted. "Stealing his motorcycle? Or . . . do you mean that unfortunate incident with the fat lady yesterday? Did Daryl tell you that she wasn't supposed to die? You see, I was aiming for him." Each word dripped with disdain, a twisted sureness of the cruelty that dwelled within him. "It was an honest mistake."

Astrid felt her nails dig into her palms as she fought to contain the boiling fury at his words, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached. Refusing to grant him the satisfaction of seeing her break, she met his cloudy blue glare, ensuring her expression remained blank. Unrattled. Unbroken. "You won't get away with this," She snapped.

Dwight rose to his feet and towered over her. "I already have."

Astrid's glare narrowed. She paused, drawing upon the scant knowledge she possessed about this man, gleaned from Daryl's bitter remarks and nasty profanities whenever his name arose. Yet, armed with the little insight she had, she still knew enough now to deal out some pain of her own.

"What about Sherry?"

Dwight stilled.

"You weren't alone when you first found Daryl. A woman was with you. Her name was Sherry," Astrid repeated. "Was she your wife? Your girlfriend?" She observed a fleeting softness in the scarred Savior's angry, beady eyes, a flickering at the mention of the woman, and pressed upon it. "You care for her . . . I can see it. That means you know what it is to love someone so fiercely you would do anything to protect them."

In an instant, Dwight's icy expression shattered, replaced by a mask of indifference as he closed the distance between them again. "Yes," He hissed. "I also know what it is to lose someone I love. Soon, Astrid, we're going to have a lot more in common."

Though aware of the multitude of eyes trained on her, both from her own group and the Saviors, Astrid remained fixated on Dwight. "What has Daryl ever done to you?" She demanded. "You were the one who betrayed him! He risked his own life to save you and Sherry in those woods, only for you both to rob him blind!"

"He slaughtered my people on those tracks," Dwight snarked.

"You killed one of ours first! An innocent woman who posed no threat to you! Her name was Denise, and you killed her. You killed my friend!" Astrid's voice cracked and turned hoarse. "This blood is on your hands! Daryl is not to blame for your actions! You started this!"

"And now I'll finish it."

Tears sprung from Astrid's eyes as she leaned forward onto her knees. She understood that she needed to try harder if she were to stop Dwight from hunting Daryl down. "Please." The lone, pathetic, horrifically vulnerable word clawed its way out of her throat. "Don't hurt him. Don't hurt my husband . . ." She hesitated, inhaling deeply. Then, she drew forth a card she had never intended to play. "Don't hurt my baby's father."

A deadly silence enveloped the forest clearing where the Saviors and their hostages were gathered. Those same sets of eyes that had been trained upon Astrid's face now shifted to her abdomen. The swell of her unborn child was hidden beneath her sweater, though Dwight's piercing stare still found it. She had struck a nerve in the savage Savior.

"What?" Dwight demanded, his voice a low growl as he lowered to a crouch before Astrid again.

"The man you so desperately want to kill is a father. He is a good man," She declared. "If you take his life so callously . . . there's no coming back from that. But right now, there is still a chance to walk away. You know that. Just . . . Just stop this. Let us go, and you'll never see us again, I swear it."

Dwight scratched at the blonde stubble on his narrow chin. Astrid grimaced as she noted the conflicted expression crawl upon his deadened, crude-looking features. He sniffed once and then shook his head. "I wish I could believe you."

Without another word, he finally gagged Astrid and then stood upright, withdrawing from their ring completely. She screamed after him, but her cries were ignored as Dwight disappeared back into the depths of the surrounding forest, accompanied by a cadre of his Saviors, leaving the remainder to stand guard over the clearing and its newfound prisoners.

Alone with her thoughts, leaves crunched beneath Astrid while she gnawed anxiously on the fabric between her teeth. She cast glances toward Glenn and Michonne, but they averted their eyes, burdened by their own silent guilt and anger.

Time crawled agonizingly slow, the setting sun drifting overhead. Soon, the Saviors went about establishing a tiny campfire to fend off the autumn chill. It did not reach her, though. Yet, perhaps, she dared to hope, that if they were taking the time to set up a camp, they would remain stationary for the evening, giving her more time to consider an escape. And more time for her husband to build some distance between them.

But her hopes were dashed in an instant.

A sharp crack of a broken branch sounded. The noise wrenched Astrid's attention to the left side of the clearing. Her eyes widened as she beheld the unexpected sight of Daryl Dixon and Rosita Espinosa concealed amidst the shadows of the trees, scouting a potential graveyard like vengeful ghosts. Relief should have flooded Astrid's veins, to initially see her husband alive and well, but instead, an icy terror swarmed her body completely.

Frantically, Astrid shook her head at Daryl as she tried to convey the peril they faced. Raising a single finger to his lips, he urged her to remain silent, his eyes pleading for her to trust him. But Astrid longed to scream, to shatter the stillness and warn him of the execution that solely awaited him.

Then, beyond Daryl's broad shoulder, a faint movement caught her eye, and she could no longer contain her silence. "Behind you!" She tried to scream, but only a strangled cry escaped her throat.

Dwight had appeared behind Daryl. Astrid's stomach lurched as she watched, helpless and terrified. She could see the glint of metal in the scarred Savior's hand as he lifted the firearm to her hunter's exposed back, a weapon that belonged to her.

Daryl froze, his crossbow dipping slightly as he sensed the danger behind him. Yet he refused to turn around, his blue eyes still locked with Astrid's green. He would only look at her when he went.

Tears blurred Astrid's vision as she struggled to rise to her feet, but it was too late. Daryl shifted his shoulders, inching away from Dwight. And in that fateful, heart-wrenching, world-ending moment, a trigger was pulled, and a bullet slammed into Astrid's husband from close range.

A spray of blood erupted as Daryl Dixon collapsed, the forest swallowing his final breath without a sound.

~~~~~~~~~~

picturing astrid's face when she sees daryl drop. hearing the startled, broken gasp that escapes her lips because it's the only sound she can manage in her shock.

good lord. one chapter left.