[ xxiii. every bit as good ]

november 1st, 2010

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ONE MINUTE, ASTRID LANCASTER was prepared to wrap her arms around Daryl Dixon's neck and never let him go.  The next, she was watching the unguarded hunter drop to the ground from a bullet to the head as she cried out, horrified.  Astrid's heart pounded in her chest, and her breaths came in ragged gasps as she darted forward, dropping to her knees in the tall grass. Unexpected tears began to fall from her face, blurring her vision. She shook Daryl's dirtied shoulders slightly and turned his bloody head to the side, noticing the bullet's trail.  She realized immediately that it had merely grazed his temple.  He was still breathing.

"He's alive!" Astrid announced, her voice choked.

Shane approached Astrid from behind and slipped his hands under her arms to lift her back up. He then passed her into Glenn's hold before returning to Rick's side and helping pull an unconscious Daryl to his feet. The hunter gasped loudly, reawakening briefly as he was held upright. Through bleary eyes, he looked back and forth and then slumped against the sheriff once more, fighting to stay conscious. "I was kidding!" He groaned, his words strained and weak.

Astrid sighed in relief at the sound of Daryl's ferocious attitude as she leaned back against Glenn, but the turmoil inside her was far from settled. Rick and Shane began half-carrying-half-dragging him towards the house, but their steps were halted at the sound of yelling from behind them. Astrid turned and watched as Andrea and Dale ran forward to meet them halfway across the yard.

"Oh, my God!" Andrea yelped tearfully. "Is he dead?!"

The Lancaster woman's anger instantly reignited, and her blood boiled. "What the hell is wrong with you?" She demanded furiously, before she could contain her sudden surge of rage. "Rick told you not to shoot! I told you not to shoot!"

"I thought he was a walker!" Andrea defended breathlessly. "I didn't know! I thought I could handle it."

"Rick said he had it!" Astrid yelled back at her, coming dangerously close.

"That's enough! Both of you!" Rick said harshly, trying to keep the situation from escalating further. "We've got to get Daryl back to the house."

Urgently—yet bitterly, too—the large group that had gathered in the field started back toward the farmhouse once more. The men made sure to keep a good distance between Astrid and Andrea, but their own feud was forgotten as quickly as it sparked—both of them consumed with worry for Daryl who had fallen unconscious once more. Glenn eyed the downed hunter wearily as he was dragged between Rick and Shane. "What the hell happened to him?" He asked. He pointed to his neck. "He's wearing ears!"

Rick hastily ripped the shoestring necklace made of walker ears from Daryl's sweaty neck. "Let's keep that to ourselves," He declared.

"Guys," T-Dog called suddenly from behind them. Astrid and the others all turned back and noticed he was holding a plush little doll that had certainly seen better days. "Isn't this Sophia's?"

Astrid's jaw dipped in shock, her heart sinking at the sight. She remembered little Sophia clinging bravely to the doll as a source of comfort as they ran from the walkers in the woods. "It is," She informed gravely, her mind racing with the implications. "If Daryl found that on the ridge, then that cuts the grid of the map almost in half."

"We need to hurry back," Rick urged.

With no other choice, the large group—carrying a necklace of rotten ears, a soaking wet toy, and a nearly-dead hunter between them—continued towards the farmhouse, where the rest of its occupants were gathered around in the open yard. Lori noticed them first as they approached through the fence's gate, and she ran to meet them on the front steps of the porch. Her thin face was pale with worry. "What happened?" She questioned. "Is that Daryl?"

"Why are you using guns?" Hershel demanded angrily as he crossed the threshold of his home.

"It was an accident," Andrea insisted. "I thought Daryl was a walker."

"Can you take a look at him? He's hurt. Badly," Astrid pleaded, turning to look at the man who had already saved one of their own. She hoped he had enough kindness in his heart to do it again, even if he did not know the hunter at all. "Please."

Hershel Greene stared at Daryl for several seconds before sighing, his expression softening slightly. "Bring him inside," He ordered, making a gesture for them to move from the doorway.

Astrid followed after them into the house but was not allowed inside the bedroom where they were tending to Daryl. Instead, she was left sitting outside his door with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Around her, the world strangely continued to turn. Some went back to making dinner or returned to working around the camp outside, their murmured conversations creating a backdrop to Astrid's anxiety. Time seemed to stretch endlessly only for her as she waited for news, feeling helpless and wishing she could do more.

After nearly an hour had passed, a shadow crossed over her from where she sat on the ground in the hallway, and she looked up to see Andrea squatting down beside her. The Harrison woman's face showed deep remorse. "I'm so sorry," She apologized. "I really didn't know it was Daryl. I just . . . I just wanted to prove myself."

"You did the complete opposite of that," Astrid reprimanded sternly. "You could have killed him. I shouldn't even be the one you're trying to apologize to."

"You're right," Andrea relented quietly. "I'll talk to Daryl."

"He won't want to talk to you either," Astrid added, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Not right now, at least."

Andrea did not respond. Instead, she silently stood up, understanding her presence was not currently wanted, and then disappeared down the hall without another word. Astrid's hands were still clenched into fists as she continued to wait outside the door for another hour, her mind filled with worry and regret. She could hear faint, muffled voices through the wall, but could not make out what was being said. She frowned, angry at herself that she could not be in there helping. She wished she had pushed herself to do better in this world and the last—to prevent this nightmare from even unfolding at all.

A short while later, the bedroom door finally opened, and she looked up to see Hershel and Patricia looking down at her, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and concern. "You can come in now," The former said, his voice gentle.

"How is he?" She asked, rising to her feet.

"The bullet just grazed his head, so no brain injury, thank God.  But he took a bad fall—an arrow pierced his side.  I cleaned it, got him stitched up and medicated as best as I can with the supplies that I still have," Hershel informed. "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he rests, and he'll be alright in a day or two."

"Thank you," Astrid said. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

"You'd be two members short without me," He said matter-of-factly.

She nodded softly, understanding and unable to find the right words to further express her appreciation. As she slipped past Hershel and Patricia into the room, she closed the door behind her, enveloping herself in the solemn stillness of the dark space. She leaned against the wall and looked to where Daryl was sleeping soundly, her emotions swirling like a storm inside her. She moved to sit in a chair beside the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she began tampering with the small knife in her back pocket.

Eventually, she found enough courage to glance up at Daryl and examine his sleeping face.  Her stomach twisted at the sight of him so battered and bruised. Most of his chest was covered by the blankets, so she could not truly see how awful his wounds were. But his cheeks and nose were littered with scratches. Despite the bloody bandage wrapped around his head, he still looked much younger in his sleep, vulnerable and fragile—a stark contrast to his usual tough and gruff demeanor.

"I hate it when people watch me sleep," Daryl's voice broke the silence, causing Astrid to jump slightly before she settled back in her seat.

"Many people watch you sleep?" She returned.

"Not lately," He jested. "Jus' you."

Daryl opened his eyes slowly, and Astrid smiled gently as his tired gaze met hers. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the edge of the soft mattress. "How are you feeling?" She asked quietly.

"Been better," He grumbled, his pain evident in his stiff tone. "Damn horse nearly killed me."

"I should have come with you," Astrid murmured, her regret heavy in her words. She could not help but now blame herself for not being there in those woods when he had potentially needed her the most.  Her decision to stay back at the camp weighed immensely on her conscience now.  Maybe she could have done something to prevent his injuries. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," She whispered, the words barely audible through the lump in her throat.

"Don't," Daryl scoffed. "If you would have come, you probably would'a died."

"I would have been fine," She said stubbornly.

"You're a lot smaller than me, so you would have been thrown farther," He countered. "Would have broken both your legs for sure."

Astrid chuckled breathlessly, imagining the absurd sight of her trying to follow him on that perilous journey through the mountain ridges.  She doubted he would have even bothered to carry her back.  "You're such an ass," She breathed, half teasing, half overwhelmed by the pure relief of just being able to hear him speak.

"I take that as a compliment," Daryl replied smugly.

Astrid laughed lightly again, finding comfort in their banter. She never realized how much she might have missed it until she was faced with the reality of losing it for good.

Suddenly, somewhere behind her, the bedroom door opened, revealing Carol with a tray full of food. "Thought you both might be hungry," She said, her voice gentle as she approached and rested the tray on the bedside table between them.

"Thank you," Astrid said kindly to her, as she pulled a plate onto her lap. The fresh chicken smelled heavenly as she laid the other plate down on the bed beside the injured hunter.

"How are you feeling?" Carol asked Daryl, looking down at him with genuine concern etched on her face.

"'Bout as good as I look," He grumbled, trying to maintain his tough façade, even in his weakened state. Carol glanced at Astrid, then reached forward and pecked Daryl on the forehead. But the hunter brushed her off almost immediately, protective of his wounds. "Hey, watch the stitches," He clipped.

Astrid smiled playfully as she looked up at Carol, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't mind him," She said. "Not everyone can handle stitches like a man."

She felt Daryl glaring at her but the roguish glint in his eyes betrayed his true emotions. "Say's the girl afraid of needles," He muttered.

Carol and Astrid laughed together.  As the latter soon returned to her meal, the former then turned her attention back to Daryl, her expression turning serious. "You need to know something," She started.  Daryl turned his attention to her, curious but wary, much like Astrid. "You did more for my little girl in a day than her daddy did in his whole life," Carol revealed, her voice tinged with both gratitude and pain.

Astrid's heart went out to Carol. The Lancaster woman had not known Ed Peletier very long, but she could see the faint bruises that still marred Carol's arms, a haunting reminder of the abuse she had endured from her husband. The thought of what Sophia's father might have done to his own little girl filled Astrid with a mixture of rage, and sorrow, and disgust, but she found solace in knowing that Daryl was here for Carol and her daughter.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, unaccustomed to receiving such heartfelt praise. "I didn't do anythin' Rick or Shane wouldn't have done," He insisted, trying to downplay his actions, but Carol's words had clearly affected him.

"I know." Carol nodded, even as she refused to let him dismiss his impact on her and Sophia's life. "You're every bit as good as them, you know. Every bit."

With a final smile, Carol left the bedroom, leaving Astrid and Daryl alone once again. Astrid passed Daryl a cold glass of water as he relaxed into his blankets once more. "You're just going to have to learn to live with the love, you know that, right?" She told him.

Daryl grunted in response. Alone, but together, they finished up their meal in silence. Outside, the world was growing darker, and still, Astrid did not move from Daryl's bedside. As the night wore on, exhaustion began to settle into Astrid's bones, but she resisted the urge to leave. Eventually, she kicked her own feet up on the edge of the bed.

Daryl seemed to sense her tiredness from where he had been silently observing her, propped back on his pillows. "You don't have to stay," He insisted.

"I want to," Astrid murmured.  Daryl quietly conceded. 

But the hunter could not find rest again. He continued to watch his companion long into the night. His light and calculating eyes never left Astrid, studying her tanned and soft features and the way her body seemed to melt into the wooden chair. Daryl listened as she exhaled a deep, gentle breath, and he followed her warm, green eyes as they drifted around the shadowy bedroom one last time before she finally closed them, surrendering herself to sleep.

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