If they told you that you had to walk so much, you would often go to the gym after work. Instead, in the last few months before the apocalypse you've been home, after a few missions with the army, you decided to merge with the sofa. Useless the excitement of your father, useless those beautiful afternoons, useless jogging clothes that you had in the closet. And now you've paid with the consequences... A cramp made your leg stiff and forced you to slow down until you stopped running. You put your foot in tension to dissolve the contraction as painfully as annoyingly. Daryl stopped and looked at you. You returned to the group who had offered a break. Too short for your taste... Now you were on the rails again, on those damn rails... In the meantime it was evening and luckily the air was fresh. Your muscles relaxed slowly and gave you relief. Daryl and you were at the bottom of the group, so it was easier for you both to get away later. You didn't talk to each other after this hug, as if you had decided to take some time to think. He didn't hate you, but he felt hurt. And you didn't hate him, but you felt attacked. The bag with your weapons dangled in his hands. When Joe said you were close, it shouldn't be too long. You would surely have reached these people when night falls. You looked at Daryl and said the first thing that came to your mind:

"Listen, we started wrong, how about a fresh start?", you asked, smiling, hoping that was enough to make him say yes. He looked at you uncertainly, then snorted. It wasn't really an answer, but you took it as okay.

"Okay... Y/N Y/L/N, twenty-five years old. My mother became ill at the beginning of the outbreak of the epidemic and bit my dad. I fled with my seven year old sister and we arrived in Atlanta when we fled from Senoia. I met a group and we joined them. Things went well for a while... Then a herd came to our camp and we had to flee. After a month my sister died... The Governor rescued me and you know the rest."

"That's why ya' tried suicide?", he asked tactlessly: "Ya' did it after yer sister died, right?"

You looked at the necklace and then at his face.

"I saw the long scar when I let go of yer wrists...", he admitted.

You had managed to tell your life in less than a minute, and spit out those memories without catching your breath. But the satisfaction had instantly vanished with this bitter question.

"We'll let that question go nowhere, okay?", you suggested.

"Okay."

You sighed, glad to have avoided this topic, even though he had already understood it very well, for your silence was more effective than any possible word. A red dot on the side of the rails caught your attention. You squatted to move the grass and saw a wild strawberry. You already tasted that sweet juice on your lips when a hand took that strawberry.

"Claimed.", Daryl smiled at you and started walking as if nothing had happened.

You were a little confused about his gesture, because he had done it only out of spite. But as long as he was thinking good about you, it was fine. It didn't matter if he was an asshole or not, it was enough for you to have him by your side. You felt less alone. You now quickened your pace to reach him, amazed that he was smiling.

"Fuck you.", you said and he snorted.

He got nervous and wanted to make you stop talking. Sometimes you enjoyed seeing him like that. You knew it was hard to make him talk, but you were confident that one day you would succeed. Patience and perseverance would be the way to success. The sky now darkened with each step and accompanied you in this search for the people. Joe motioned you to walk through the forest, because you would attack them out of the darkness. Two henchmen had gone ahead and now you were waiting for their return to better organize the attack. The group seemed excited to be able to shed blood again. Once the two men joined you again, Joe provided the clues for the attack. The group would be split to attack from each corner. The hunt began, and Daryl and you joined the darkness and hurried away from those bastards. You ran, avoiding the bushes, taking care not to fall. A shot brought a herd of crows into the sky, flying fast across the clearing. You stopped suddenly and clung to a tree to catch your breath but the archer waved to you as you weren't allowed to lose any time. Every minute was precious.

With breathlessness and a hand on your chest, you tried to speak: "We have to go back...", you coughed: "These people..."

"These people ain't our problem!", he shouted.

"But Daryl, they-..."

He ran to you and grabbed you by the long sleeve of your shirt.

"They signed their own deaths 'nd killed those people.", he said impatiently. "Let's move."

He tore you a few feet further, but stubbornly you tried again. You couldn't accept the idea that these bastards hurt other people.

"Daryl wait!", you shouted: "We have to help them!"

"We can't save 'em, damn it!", he barked, "I thought ya' understood that by now!"

You hit his wrist and he immediately turned around and let go. With a quick gesture, you took the bag out of his hand and ran like a madman. You opened the zipper and pulled out a rifle and threw the bag over to the side of the road and emerged from the tree-lined ocean to rest your legs on the asphalt. You saw a pick-up truck and Joe's men with guns. Daryl patted your neck and motioned for you not to talk while he put his index finger to his lips. You walked slowly on the road. This would have been easier for you to surprise. Joe chattered about revenge and as soon as he saw you he motioned for you to come closer. The men made room to give you the sight of their prey. But as soon as you could see their faces, you petrified. Joe's words were muffled by your ears, you were trapped in a trance. There, on the ground and with weapons pointed to their heads, three people knelt, of whom you had hoped to find them alive. Your heart leaped with joy in your chest, though the situation was not the best. But at the same time you were grateful that you persisted so much with Daryl. If you hadn't returned, Rick, Michonne and Carl would have died without mercy. You needed to act quickly before they found out you were on their side. You looked at Daryl, who was anxious to get an idea, but he took a few steps forward, incredulous and upset to see part of his family again.

"Joe... These 're good people.", he said in a voice that sounded slightly weak.

Joe looked at you and the archer, then at his prey. He smiled. You knew he was just pretending because he had fallen into his character.

"These 'good' people have killed our companions.", he growled: "And you know... If there's something I hate, it's liars."

At the end of the sentence, some men threw themselves at Daryl to attack him, and Michonne took advantage of the situation to grab the pistol aimed at them and shoot their attacker. Everything happened as fast as in a movie. You fired at two men who beat Daryl and injured another who approached Carl. The sheriff moved and killed another man, but he was blocked by Joe. Michonne took care of the last two and you threw yourself to Daryl to help him get up. You stood motionless in front of Rick and Joe and didn't know how to behave. Suddenly, the sheriff stormed toward his enemy, sinking his teeth in his throat as if he was emulating the folly of a beast. Nobody moved, suffocated and surprised by his aggressive action, but you ran to separate them. And so you separated them and hit your elbows in Rick's stomach so he opened his jaw again. Joe fell to the ground, forcibly squeezing the wound with both hands. He was bleeding heavily, but fortunately you had managed to hold Rick back in time. Michonne pointed the gun at you and Rick did the same. Daryl scolded you and did not understand your reaction. After all, you didn't know why you had acted that way too... Maybe because you had hoped that Joe had told the truth that despite everything he would keep a spark of kindness. Maybe you wanted to give him a second chance or maybe you just went crazy. You moved to Joe, who complained of severe pain.

"What the hell is this?", Michonne threatened. "Which side are you on?"

"The killing should stop!", you protested.

"That asshole wanted to kill us!", Rick shouted angrily. "Get away from him!"

"Rick, wait, this guy acted the same way as you did. You killed some of his men and he persecuted you to avenge them... If some people killed Carl or Michonne, wouldn't you have done the same?"

The sheriff looked at you without answering. You had hoped he would calm down. After all, Joe would now be left alone, he had no company anymore. He wouldn't be a leader anymore. And if he lied, no one would hesitate to execute him later if you made a mistake.

"Why are you protecting him?", the sheriff asked.

"Because I saw something in him..."

"I know what ya' 've seen!", Daryl interrupted suddenly and everyone turned to the archer and misunderstood his words, while Rick stared at you without lowering his weapon. Daryl was getting angry and realized that you didn't want to give up didn't understand your reasons.

"That son of a bitch raped her!", he declared angrily.

Michonne's eyes widened and asked for confirmation. You lowered your head, feeling discouraged. Daryl didn't need to reveal the incident, you did not want others to know about it. Your silence confirmed the archers words, and Carl and Michonne looked at you alarmingly.

"And after what he did to you...", the sheriff said: "You have the courage to defend him?"

You realized that this was a completely abnormal situation, but your former companion had sorely believed in your mind that people still kept a spark of goodness. You had not forgiven Joe. Abuse can't be forgotten or accepted. But you could go on, you did not want to play the role of the victim. You did not want the group to see you weak. Joe and Rick both acted as leaders. Obviously they were not like the usual acts, but there was no difference to a vengeful plan. But maybe you asked too much, maybe you had to realize that nothing was more reasonable. You looked resigned to Rick without raising objections, and he immediately moved the barrel of the gun to Joe and fired. You didn't turn to look at the body of this man, nor did you move. You just saw a pool of blood next to your feet. Rick reached for his machete and approached the man you had injured to free Carl. He lifted it and pierced his abdomen. Not quite satisfied, he pushed the blade up and reached the side. He literally opened him in two without emitting any emotion. Michonne hugged the boy. Even Rick had changed. Joe was right, this reality is plagiarizing you all...

~

The dusk made the slaughter visible at your feet. The blood had smeared the whole area, including the car and Rick. Michonne and Carl had climbed onto the truck and rested. She tried to reassure the boy, who was shocked by his father's violent reactions and the man who had tried to touch him. However, Daryl and the sheriff were shoulder to shoulder, sitting on the ground with their backs to the car. The archer handed him a red cloth and told the sheriff to wipe away the dried blood on his face. You were happy for them, happy that they were reunited. But you knew that you were superfluous, so you wanted to give them the space they deserved. You now sat by the side of the road and rummaged in the bag you had hidden. You took out your weapons and finally got ready with them. Now that a part of the group had reunited, you felt the consciousness growing in you that there was no place for you. Soon the day would come when you should say goodbye and continue on your own way, but in truth you hoped it wouldn't happen. You've missed them, been an idiot, crazy to stop Rick from killing that man, that bastard. Of course, you had learned nothing from your mistakes, maybe Daryl was right, you were still a child, despite the age and all the shit you had to digest. But that didn't matter now, you had to learn to think before you acted instead of finding yourself full of remorse. The fact is, Joe appeared honest to you when he told you about fictions. Looking through the bag, you reached for the notebook, which you had stolen from one of the walkers who had tried to kill you. You flipped through the pages and avoided reading the past life. As soon as you saw a picture of a child, you dropped it 'cause you've been too emotional lately... You wouldn't have allowed Daryl or the others to see you cry. But when you looked down to pick up this object, you noticed another calligraphy. The notebook had opened on the last pages, so you could read now through some torn pages and another ink:

'I had a pen in the house but not a piece of paper to write on, not that I felt the need. Excuse me, Mister, when I use your notebook because I want to remember who she is. I have now created a small room, so I will not forget. Of course, these pages could be destroyed, but at least I'm trying, right? Actually, I feel like a complete idiot now. Writing is not my strength. I thought several times about whether to leave it. But my story, my past has nothing interesting and I find it almost useless to have to remember it. Well, I decided to talk about something. Anyone who reads these lines will think that a terrible and unhappy story is waiting for him, but he is wrong. To be honest, I'm happy now. And no, I'm not crazy... At least not yet. Maybe I'm lucky, but I had a chance to meet a lot of people, but none of them is like her. A week ago, a woman came to my house... A woman I already met, but in comical circumstances, very friendly, let's say.'

A lump in your throat insisted that you close the notebook, but your hands held that object.

'Her name is Y/N, that's all I know. Well, I know little and actually almost nothing about her. But when I'm close to her, I feel weird. Things are going well between us, we are working together peacefully.'

A crack in the page, missing parts...

'I probably went crazy, but I think I love her. Or somehow... I'm not a genius with feelings, but I feel like I want to spend as much time with her as possible. This situation seems absurd, but I will not mention it. I will only try to give her happy days as much as I can. I really hope that at least on these pages full of ink, I can leave traces of myself.'

Your fingers trembled and released the notebook. You pulled your knees up to your chest and thousand thoughts came to your mind. You felt like an idiot, you condemned yourself with your own hands. These words began to beat inside you, colliding with your throbbing heart in your chest. He loved you... The guy you got that plaid shirt from wanted to make you happy, even though he knew little. You smiled, but in reality it was a grimace of pain. You were able to deny any emotion so that you could always avoid feeling affection. But you have thought of this man too often. Maybe something had escaped you, maybe this time you were not able to understand yourself. You had always been careful to shield yourself and keep other people away. But maybe you let yourself go then. You had allowed him to see other sides of you.

"May I?", a voice asked behind you. But you did not answer, you were so focused on this notebook. Someone sat on your left and as soon as you saw some curls, you realized it was the sheriff. That surprised you.

"I'm glad to see you.", he said, as if it was an effort to admit it.

"Are you really sure about that?", you asked without looking at him.
He coughed a bit and put his arms on his knees.

"Tell me, because you're the one who beat me.", he replied, smiling.

You turned around and apologized with your eyes and he motioned for you to stop thinking, it was all forgotten. You didn't expect to see him so peaceful, not after the murderous rage. But probably Daryl had given him a piece of hope.

"Terminus.", you sighed: "It looks like a good place."

Rick looked at his bloodied hands.

"Yeah, it seems like a good place.", he repeated in a hoarse voice: "We'll go there."

Your eyes lit up.

"And Daryl?", you asked: "What does he think?"

Rick turned to face him and noticed that Daryl was staring at you both as well.

"He agrees."

You smiled in disbelief, but not too much. It was obvious that Daryl had accepted the sheriff's suggestion. Rick was his only point of reference. Maybe they even had a brotherly connection. Then suddenly Daryl's hand was resting on your shoulder, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Y/N...", he said sadly: "I'm sorry."

You immediately looked at Daryl, who quickly lowered his head. That apology was enough for you to understand that he had already talked about everything by telling what had happened. You didn't add anything to his words, you only nodded while Rick got up and handed you his hand. You trusted him blindly, same with his nature and way of thinking. He felt no grudge against you, now it wasn't even necessary. Everything had collapsed and it was up to you all to reassemble the parts. There was no room for the past. You had to look ahead and create a new future.