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"𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭? 𝐀𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭."

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.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Sunny had tried her very, very hardest to avoid Daryl all morning after all that yelling the night before. She didn't want to face that, not now. So, she decided she would need to speak to Negan instead.

Mostly to yell at him for taking the blame, to yell for telling Daryl she'd been visiting him. But also, to thank him. He was trying to be a better man, he really was.

But, Sunny's stomach dropped the moment she reached the cell.

The door was open. Wide open.

Her heart thudded as she stepped closer, peering inside. The cot was empty, the faint outline of Negan's body still imprinted in the thin mattress. He was gone.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. He'd been here last night. She was sure of it. She could still hear his voice in her head, telling her to hang on, that he'd handle everything. But now? Now, it was like he'd never been there at all.

She took a shaky step back, her fists clenching. "What the hell, Negan?" she muttered under her breath.

He'd protected her. Lied for her. Taken the blame for something he didn't do. And then, just like that, he'd left. No goodbye. No warning. Nothing.

Sunny leaned against the cold stone wall outside the cell, her chest tightening. The council was talking about killing him. That much she knew. Maybe that's why he'd run. Self-preservation. But it didn't make sense.

He'd been so sure. So determined to help her.

And now? He was gone. Just like at the beginning. Just like he always did.

She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. Stupid. That's what she was. Stupid for thinking he cared. Stupid for thinking he was her dad again.

She thought maybe this time would be different. That he'd stick around. That she was worth staying for.

Apparently not.

Sunny stood there, rooted to the spot, her thoughts spiraling. She couldn't stop replaying it all in her head—the way he'd told her to trust him, the way he'd stepped in for her without hesitation. She wanted to scream, to hit something, to cry, but none of it would fix anything.

Why did everyone leave?

Her chest felt tight, like the walls of the cell were closing in. She pushed off the wall, her steps unsteady, and walked toward the door. She couldn't stay here. She needed air.

As she stepped outside, the sunlight hit her face, too bright after the dimness of the cellblock. She blinked, trying to steady herself, when her eyes landed on the first person she saw.

Daryl.

He was standing a few yards away, his expression hardening the second he spotted her. His eyes flicked from her to the open cell behind her, and she saw the anger flare across his face.

"What the hell you doin' in there?" He growled, his voice low but sharp.

Sunny hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. She didn't want to deal with him, not right now. But the look in his eyes demanded an answer.

"He's gone," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Daryl's brow furrowed, and for a second, she thought she saw something flicker in his expression—confusion, maybe, or concern. "What?"

"Negan," she clarified, motioning toward the empty cell behind her. "He's gone. Took off."

For a moment, Daryl just stood there, staring at her like he was trying to figure out if she was lying. Then his jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing.

"You know anything 'bout this?" he asked, his voice careful but laced with suspicion.

Sunny shook her head, meeting his gaze. "No. I just found out."

The weight of his stare was unbearable, and she could feel the tension radiating off him. She crossed her arms, looking away. "Guess that's what he does, huh? Leaves when things get too hard."

Daryl didn't respond right away, he just frowned at her. Then, he moved past her, walking down the steps to check for himself.

Sunny stayed rooted to the spot, her arms tightening around herself as she watched Daryl descend the steps, his boots heavy against the concrete. She didn't need to follow him to know what he'd find.

The cell was empty.

Her chest ached as the silence stretched on, broken only by the faint sound of Daryl muttering under his breath when he confirmed it for himself. He didn't look at her when he climbed back up, his expression unreadable.

"Shouldn't have expected nothin' less," he finally said, his tone gruff but not unkind.

Sunny flinched at his words, but she didn't argue. She wasn't sure she could without her voice breaking. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away, her shoulders stiff as she made her way down the streets.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

The council and pretty much everyone was angry, Negan was gone so now that meant they all had to be on high alert. Sunny made sure to stay inside and avoid it all, she was more than certain the blame would be given to her.

Sunny sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, looping over the same questions again and again. Why did he leave? Did he even care about her at all? He said he wanted to help her, to be there for her, but then he just... vanished.

Maybe she really was as stupid as she felt. Stupid for trusting him. Stupid for thinking he might actually care. Negan had always been good at saying the right things, but his actions told the truth. He left.

Her fingers traced the faint scar on her neck, a reminder of how close she'd been to losing everything before. She thought about how everyone would look at her now, how they already whispered behind her back. "Negan's girl," they'd say, like it was some kind of curse.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. She didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway.

Daryl stepped inside, his expression unreadable but his movements careful, like he was walking into a minefield.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Sunny didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the floor. "What do you think?" she muttered.

Daryl leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched her. His eyes softened slightly, but there was still a shadow of frustration lingering in them.

"I ain't here to fight with ya," he said quietly. "Just wanna talk."

Sunny let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "What's there to talk about? Everyone's pissed. They think I helped him, don't they?"

"They ain't sayin' that," Daryl replied. "But yeah, they're angry. Can't blame 'em, not with everything that's happened. You stayin' outta sight's probably not helpin', though."

Sunny finally looked up at him, her face a mix of anger and sadness. "What am I supposed to do, Daryl? Walk out there and pretend like I don't know what they're all thinkin'? Like I don't feel the weight of it already?"

Daryl sighed, stepping further into the room. "Ain't sayin' it's fair. Just sayin' you can't hide forever. You didn't help him, did you?"

Her jaw tightened. "No."

He nodded once, like he believed her, but his expression didn't soften much. "Then you gotta stop actin' like you did. Hiding makes it look worse, kid. You know that."

Sunny dropped her head into her hands, her voice muffled as she spoke. "I didn't ask him to leave. I didn't want him to. He just... he just left. Like he always does."

Daryl sat down on the chair across from her, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared at her. "He ever tell you why he stayed this long? Why he looked out for you?"

She hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Said he wanted to help. Said he... cared." Her voice cracked slightly, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded. "Guess that was just another lie."

Daryl shook his head, his voice calm but firm. "I ain't want this to make ya pissed or nothin'. But you gotta tell me why ya chose him to talk to."

Sunny looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, leaning back slightly but keeping his gaze steady on her. "Outta everyone here, ya went to him. Not me, not Carol, not anybody else. Why him?"

Her stomach twisted at the question, and she looked away, feeling cornered. "I don't know," she muttered.

"Don't give me that," Daryl said, his tone sharpening just enough to make her flinch. "You do know. I ain't mad, kid. I just... I need to understand."

Sunny's head shot up, her face a mix of frustration and guilt. "I don't know," she said, shaking her head as her voice cracked. "Everythin' in my head's screwed up, Daryl. I didn't know what else to do."

Daryl tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowed in thought. "I get it," he said after a pause. "Sometimes it feels easier talkin' to someone who don't expect nothin' from ya. But it don't mean you gotta carry all this alone, y'know?"

She let out a bitter laugh, her hands falling into her lap. "Maybe I do. You got enough shit to deal with, Daryl. Don't want me just bein' a burden on top of it."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice took on a firmer edge. "Don't ever say that shit again."

Sunny blinked, startled by the sudden sharpness in his tone.

"You ain't a burden," he said, his voice steady but low. "Not to me. Not to anyone who gives a damn about ya. You hear me?"

Her throat tightened, and she struggled to meet his gaze. "Feels like I am," she admitted quietly.

"You're not," Daryl said, softer this time. "You're just... goin' through it. And that ain't somethin' you gotta do by yourself."

The room felt heavy, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the silence. Sunny didn't know what to say, but something about Daryl's words stuck. She didn't feel better, not really, but she didn't feel quite so alone, either.

Daryl shifted his weight, his hands resting on his hips as he looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You callin' him dad... speakin' to him... scares the shit outta me, Sun."

Sunny blinked, caught off guard by his words. She tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Why?"

He crouched down in front of her, so they were on the same level, his voice steady but filled with a rare vulnerability. "I know you're hurtin'. Hell, anyone would be after all you been through. But he's already hurt ya, more ways than one. And I don't want him makin' things more confusin' in your head."

Sunny frowned, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Confusin' how?" she asked softly, unsure where he was going with this.

"I know how your mind works," Daryl said, his voice low but firm. "You take on stuff that ain't yours to carry. You make excuses for people, thinkin' it's on you to fix things or make 'em better. And with him... it's different, I get it. But he ain't who you need right now."

She swallowed hard, his words hitting closer to home than she wanted to admit. "He said he wanted to help," she whispered.

"Yeah? Well, where is he now?" Daryl shot back, though his tone wasn't cruel—it was laced with frustration and worry. "He's gone, kid. Took off without so much as a goodbye. That ain't what a dad's supposed to do."

Sunny hugged her knees tighter, her voice small. "Maybe it's my fault. Maybe 'cause he had to take the blame—"

"Stop." Daryl's voice was sharp, cutting through her spiral of self-blame. "This ain't on you. Not one damn bit. He left 'cause that's what he does. That's on him, not you. Don't let him mess with your head like that."

She stared at the floor, her chest tight as tears threatened to spill again. She wanted to argue, to say something that would make sense of it all, but no words came.

Daryl's voice softened again, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. "I ain't sayin' you can't feel what you're feelin'. But don't lose yourself tryin' to make sense of him. You got people here, people who ain't gonna leave. Remember that."

Sunny let out a shaky breath, her voice breaking as she finally spoke. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words heavy with guilt. "I really am. I wanna forget, but it keeps hurtin'. I miss Henry. Miss 'em all. It just... it just hurts, Daryl."

Daryl's hand stayed firm on her shoulder, grounding her as her words tumbled out. "I know it does," he said quietly, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Ain't no way it wouldn't."

Her hands clenched into fists against her knees. "I don't get it," she muttered. "Why'd she even make me be there? Why'd she make me see all that?"

Daryl's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the floor. He let out a heavy sigh, like he'd been carrying the weight of the answer for far too long. "'Cause of me," he finally said, his voice low.

Sunny's head shot up, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "What?"

Daryl leaned back slightly, his shoulders slumping. "Alpha... she knew you were my kid. She said somethin' 'bout us takin' her daughter. So, she took somethin' from me." He hesitated, his voice breaking just a little. "And she did. A piece of ya was lost that day."

Sunny stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. The room felt like it was spinning. "She did all that... just to hurt you?"

"Yeah," Daryl said softly, his voice filled with regret. "She wanted me to feel it. Wanted me to know what it's like to lose someone. And she made damn sure I did."

The air between them was heavy, the weight of the truth pressing down on both of them. Sunny's mind raced, the memories of the barn and everything she'd witnessed replaying in vivid, painful detail.

"It ain't fair," she said finally, her voice trembling. "None of it's fair."

"I know," Daryl replied, his voice quiet but firm. "Ain't ever gonna be fair. But you're still here, kid. That's what matters. You made it through. Don't let her take any more from you."

Sunny's thoughts swirled like a storm, each one sharper than the last. Alpha had done it all because of him. Her stomach twisted at the thought, and it was hard to untangle the anger she felt—anger at Alpha, anger at herself, and even, somewhere deep down, anger at Daryl. 

He hadn't asked for this, she knew that, but the fact that it was because of him made it feel more tangled than ever.

A piece of her was lost. Was that true? Maybe. She didn't feel like the same person she used to be. She felt hollow sometimes, like there was a hole in her chest where something used to live.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally spoke. "I don't want ya to hate me," she said, her words trembling. "I ain't sure what's wrong with me, but somethin' is."

Daryl's face softened instantly, the frustration and guilt from before melting into something warmer. "Hate you?" he said, his voice low and firm. "I could never hate ya, Sunny. You're my daughter."

Her chest tightened at his words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the tears she'd been holding back spilled over. She didn't resist when Daryl reached for her, pulling her into a hug. His grip was strong, steady, and it made her feel safe in a way she hadn't felt in so long.

"You hear me?" Daryl said, his voice close to her ear. "Ain't nothin' wrong with you. You've been through more than most folks could handle. Don't mean you're broken or somethin'. Just means you're human."

Sunny clung to him for a moment longer, her tears soaking into his shirt. It wasn't a miracle fix, and she didn't feel whole again, but it helped.

Daryl pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. "Why don't you try writin' to your mom again?" he suggested. "Get some of this off your chest. Ain't gotta be perfect, just write what you feel."

Sunny sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. "I don't know what to say," she admitted quietly.

"Don't think too hard 'bout it," he said. "Just start writin'. It don't gotta make sense to nobody but you."

She nodded faintly, the idea settling in her mind like a seed. Maybe it wouldn't change much, but maybe it'd help. And right now, she'd take anything that might help.

Daryl shifted, leaning back against the table as he rubbed a hand over his face. "I gotta head to Hilltop," he said, his tone casual, but Sunny caught the way his eyes darted to hers, gauging her reaction.

She frowned. "When?"

"Tomorrow mornin'," he replied. "They need help with some stuff."

Sunny hesitated, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. "Can I come with you?"

Daryl's face softened, but he shook his head. "Ain't a good idea right now. Lydia... she ain't doin' too good. She needs someone here with her. Figured you could stick close, keep an eye on her."

Sunny's brow furrowed. "She's got Carol. And Aaron. Why do I gotta stay?"

Daryl sighed, his voice steady but firm. "'Cause she trusts you. And... 'cause you know what it's like, feelin' like you don't belong. She needs someone who gets it."

Sunny opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. He wasn't wrong, and she knew it. Lydia was barely holding it together, and as much as Sunny hated to admit it, she felt a certain responsibility for her.

Daryl straightened, glancing toward the door. "'Fore I go... think you can take care of somethin' for me?"

Sunny tilted her head, confused. "What?"

He motioned toward their front door. "Somebody wrote somethin' on it. 'Silence the Whisperers.' Real clever, huh?" His voice was dry, but his jaw clenched, betraying the anger simmering beneath the surface. "I'd do it myself, but I ain't got the time. Think you can clean it up?"

Sunny frowned, her chest tightening at the thought of Lydia seeing it. "Yeah... yeah, I can do that."

Daryl nodded, his gaze softening. "Thanks."

A beat of silence passed between them before Sunny spoke, her voice quiet. "Be careful out there, okay?"

"Always," he said, smirking faintly, but his expression grew serious as he stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I mean it, Sun. Watch out for her. Watch out for yourself, too."

She nodded, her throat tightening. "I will."

He pulled her into a quick hug, his voice low. "Love you, kid."

Sunny held onto him a moment longer, her own voice barely above a whisper. "Love you too, Daryl."

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

Sunny scrubbed at the words angrily, her grip tight on the rag as she worked to erase the hateful message. Silence the Whisperers. The phrase felt like a slap, its cruelty glaring in the fading light. The paint smeared stubbornly, refusing to budge completely, but she kept at it, her jaw clenched.

Her thoughts churned as she worked. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Lydia didn't deserve the blame for everything that had gone wrong. She wasn't her mom, wasn't responsible for what Alpha did. And now, with Negan gone, they were looking for someone—anyone—to punish.

Sunny's hands trembled as she scrubbed harder, her frustration boiling over. "Idiots," she muttered under her breath. "Like it's her fault."

When the worst of the paint was gone, she stepped back, breathing heavily. The faint outline of the words remained, a reminder of the damage already done. But at least it wasn't glaringly obvious anymore.

As she worked on the door, the girl had also heard whispers about Lydia being in the cell. Apparently she had taken the blame for letting Negan out, even though everyone knew it wasn't her.

But, she'd stayed in the cell anyway. Sunny supposed she understood wanting to be away from all the glares that followed her everyday. People thought she deserved to be in a cell because of her mom, she followed through with that idea.

The thought of Lydia alone, locked up and alone, made Sunny's chest tighten. She might not be great at talking about feelings, but she sure as hell wasn't about to leave Lydia to deal with this by herself.

She set the bucket down by the door and made her way toward the cells. She needed to make sure Lydia was okay.

She understood more than she wanted to admit—what it felt like to carry the weight of someone else's sins, to be judged for things out of your control. People saw Lydia as Alpha's daughter, not as herself. Just like Sunny was often seen as Negan's kid, no matter what she did to prove she was more than that.

When she reached the cells, she paused, peering inside. Lydia sat on the cot, her knees pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms. The sight made Sunny's heart ache.

"Hey," she called softly, stepping closer to the bars.

Lydia's head shot up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "What do you want?" she muttered, her voice thick with frustration.

Sunny hesitated, gripping the cool metal bars. "Just wanted to check on you," she said, her tone softer than usual.

Lydia sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "I'm fine. You don't have to pretend to care."

Sunny frowned, leaning against the bars. "I'm not pretendin'. I do care." She paused, trying to find the right words. "I know what it's like. People blamin' you for stuff you didn't do. Feeling like no matter what you say, they've already made up their minds about you."

Lydia's expression shifted, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Yeah, well... I guess I deserve it. After everything my mom did..."

"No, you don't," Sunny cut her off firmly. "You're not her. What she did isn't your fault. Just like what Negan did isn't mine."

The two girls sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared understanding hanging between them.

Finally, Lydia let out a shaky breath. "It's just easier being in here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "At least I don't have to see how they all look at me."

Sunny nodded slowly, understanding all too well. "Yeah. I get that." She leaned back slightly, her grip on the bars loosening. "But hiding in here? It's not gonna fix anything. And you don't have to face it alone. You got me, okay?"

Lydia's lips twitched into a faint, almost hesitant smile. "Okay."

Sunny stepped back, giving her some space. "You need anything?"

Lydia shook her head. "No... but thanks."

Sunny nodded, lingering for a moment longer before heading toward the exit. As she walked away, she felt a spark of determination. If no one else was gonna have Lydia's back, then she would. Because she knew better than anyone how much it sucked to face this kind of thing alone.

She had her own pain, her own scars, but right now, Lydia needed her. She needed to be there for someone else, to step outside of her own brokenness and do something for someone who was struggling just as much.

Maybe helping Lydia, really being there for her, would help her too. Maybe it would remind her that she wasn't completely lost—that there was still something left of the person she used to be, before everything went dark. She didn't have to be the broken girl anymore, hiding behind her pain. She could help someone else stand up, even when the world was trying to crush them.

The weight of everything she had faced—the barn, the blood, the loss—was heavy, but the thought of doing something for Lydia, even in this small way, gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't keep drowning in her own darkness.

As she stepped into the night air, the cold biting at her skin, she exhaled slowly, the breath settling deep in her chest. She wasn't sure how it all worked, but she knew one thing: she had to keep moving. For Lydia. For herself.

And maybe, just maybe, one step at a time, she'd start to find a way back to the girl she once was.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

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Apologies that it has took me longer to update than usual, this part of the series has gave me serious writers block lmao. I will try and get past it and try to make sure my updates are more frequent :P

In the meantime, I have a new HG fic published if it interests anyone!!