#glenn's instinct to pull rob close | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storytime-hoe · 5 years

Text

Tough Love Ch.13

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x O/C

Summary: Story picks up during season three as the group goes into Woodbury to rescue Glenn and Maggie from the Governor. However, they pick up another prisoner of Woodbury, Emma (O/C). She is a thief who fears friendships after her hard losses. She stays on the move, studying communities from afar and then robbing them blind. She has stayed alive this way for a while until the Governor catches her in the act. Now she finds herself with the group from the prison in a mission to kill the Governor for what he has done to her. She plans on stealing supplies from the prison group after the Governor is killed, but she might be growing a little too close to the groups members, especially one man in particular: Daryl Dixon.

Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape

Authors Note: Woah. I did not expect to be away for this long but if you do care about my excuse this time it was that I was going through some shit. I moved to college extremely far from home and it was a lot for me to take in. It’s a new environment and I don’t have any friends as of right now so I was in a dark state of mind. I still am struggling, but I am trying to force myself to get into routine again and to be a normal human being who knows how to smile and act like an adult. It’s rough.

Anyway, I am so sorry to leave that last chapter off on a cliffhanger like that. I am going to have the next few chapters up within the week (probably three days apart from one another) so do not worry about me disappearing again. But I live in a different time zone so it’ll be a little different from when I usually post, just a heads up.

That all being said, this chapter is a hot mess per usual, and I am sorry if some of it is contradictory or a confusing. I wrote it very rushed and I am not proud of that but please stay with me it’ll all get good soon.

Previously: Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10 Ch.11 Ch.12

Tears had started to rim the edges of my eyes. The dead were clawing at the balcony's supports, but I couldn't do anything about it, despite Sasha and Glenn screaming at me to get inside the building and off of the collapsing platform. Their words were muffled out by the screams of the dead.

I stared out in front of me like a statue, my world crashing down around me much like the first half of the balcony went crashing down.

My feet flew out from under me from the collision, but I was able to grasp the windowsill and clutch onto the building before the rest of the balcony went down on top on the Walkers. My chest heaved with the grief that was swirling around inside of me. With my mind a jumbled mess and motivation to live now out the door, my arms were quick to start aching as I held on to the window. They wouldn't be able to hold my dangling body forever and it didn't look like there was any other option except down into the filthy hands that would tear me limb from limb.

I wanted to open up the window, but it only opened from inside so I would have to shatter it, which is a lot harder than they make it look in the movies. A window is one tough bitch. No amount of pounding on it with the butt of my gun was breaking it; it didn't even leave a scratch.

With every swing I took at the window I felt my hopes dwindling away. I gasped out a desperate cry and the tears came flowing. This was the end. I not only made it my end, but Daryl's too, and possibly Sasha's and Glenn's if they couldn't get out of this mess.

A dark sadness washed over me. My arms were giving out. I felt my fingers sliding down the windowsill, the hungry cries of the Walkers getting louder, lulling me to them like sirens of the sea. It wouldn't be the peaceful death that I dreamed for at night. I didn't earn a peaceful death. I deserved to be ripped apart, just like Daryl had been, just like my brother had been.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, readying myself to let go of the window and have the fate that everyone I loved always ended with. This was it. My time had come. After all the shit I went through; after surviving months at Woodbury. This was how I went down. I really was pathetic.

Before my fingers could slip from the ledge, a hand shot out from the window and grabbed my wrist so tightly that I yelped at the pain. When the collar of my shirt started to be pulled on, my first instinct was to fight whoever this was. My eyes shot open, and I writhed in the grasp of whoever had me. I figured it couldn't be anyone good, considering I thought my group mates were either dead or no where near me to be of any help, but I froze when I was yanked up high enough to lock eyes with a pair of squinted blue ones.

"C'mon! Le's go!" Daryl gravelly yelled at me, trying to shake me from my shocked state, his glare on me was the same one that he’d given me ever since our last argument. "Stop fuckin' aroun'," he growled at me while clutching at my form still half dangling out the window.

In any other circumstance I would have rolled my eyes. Stop fucking around? Really? Like I wanted to be in this situation for the shits and giggles? However, I refrained from saying anything, I was honestly too relieved to see him alive to form sentences. My brain was turning to putty at the sight of him and all human functions were shutting down in me.

Daryl yanked me the rest of the way inside the building with much effort, considering I wasn't being much help. I looked like an idiot gawking at him from the floor as he wrapped his arms around me to lift me to my feet. I held onto his arms like a lifeline, trying desperately to swallow down all the emotions that were itching to burst out of me.

I couldn't fucking believe he was back. He was here, in front of me, breathing and alive. I was so undoubtedly joyful to see him here again that I wanted to hug onto him and never let go, despite how mean and pushy he had been towards me the past few days.

I ran my hands up his arms to his shoulders and eventually down his chest, trying to convince myself that he was actually here and not some sick dream or hallucination.

"Emma," he started, trying to get my attention, but my eyes darted wildly to every part of him. "Em," he said more urgently, grabbing my hands in his with a rough shake and forcing me to look into his eyes again. He was still a little cold towards me, but his eyes held a much softer look now as he spoke. "I'm 'ere, it's me. Okay? We gotta get outta 'ere."

I stared at him with watery eyes. He was right. I needed to get my shit together before I did get us killed, but my mind was just so cloudy that I couldn't think straight if I tried.

Daryl obviously didn't have time for me to snap back to reality as he gripped my wrist in his coarse hand and pulled me down a flight of stairs and out the back door.

I wasn't the type of person to freeze up in situations, but right now I was acting like a fucking child. My mind was in a haze; panic about Sasha and Glenn and Daryl and me hit me like a brick wall and it was all too much. I couldn't think to help Daryl figure out how the hell we were going to get out of this. I couldn't force myself to be the strong leader that I always tried being. It was like I was turning into a complete fucking different person all because I was spooked by Daryl's short disappearance.

Damn, did I have it bad for him or what?

"Get on." Daryl tugged on my arm roughly and pushed me to get on his motorcycle that he had hidden under some brush. Once I was seated on the bike he took my hands and placed them on the handlebars. "Listen," he commanded, making my eyes shoot to his at the urgency in his voice. If I couldn’t form my own thoughts right now then I would gladly do whatever he wanted me to do. "Ya gotta lead half of 'em that a'way. I gotta get Sasha and Glenn out, can't take em all at once."

My eyes widened as his words registered in my head. He expected me to ride this thing by myself? And with a hoard of Walkers on my tail at that?

"I don't know how to fucking ride this thing," I shouted at him, feeling a part of my usual stubborn self returning.

He rolled his eyes and started it up for me. "Of course you fucking don't," he grumbled to himself. "This is the break. This makes it go."

I furrowed my brow at his condescending tone.

"Em, you'll be fine. It's like riding a bicycle with less work. I'll meet ya at the main road where we left the car. Loose 'em 'fore then."

Before I could even argue that there was no way in hell this was going to be as easy as riding a bicycle, he was running off in the opposite direction, leaving me alone with a herd charging at me.

How did he have so much confidence that I could succeed in this? He saw how I was right now, I could barely make my own two feet work let alone drive a fucking vehicle. Maybe he just didn’t care if I got overwhelmed by the Walkers, because either way it would be the distraction he needed.

My grip tightened on the handles and I gulped as the Walkers were nearing me. I was going to do this because everyone was depending on me. And I was going to live out of spite, because Daryl fucking Dixon was not getting rid of me that easily.

Sure, Daryl might be trying to hate my guts after our last screaming match at the prison, but we both knew he can’t stay that way forever. Most of the time, Daryl and I can't fucking stand each other, even before the night that he declared he was going to stop giving a shit about me, but we are attracted like magnets and there was nothing we could do to fix that. I would always come back to him, no matter how shitty he might make me feel after an argument. And I had a feeling it was the same for him.

Ever since I met him we were arguing and fighting against the intimate tension we have around each other. I think that might be why we are always disagreeing, because we just don't want to be on the same page. It scared me, that was for sure, knowing that there was someone that I was so compatible with. I have been pushing all the feelings that I had away and was in such denial that there was any kind of spark between us. But after thinking that I had lost Daryl forever? There could be no denying it anymore. I was falling hard for the stupid redneck. And I was done denying that, whether he was or not.

I had been driving the motorcycle shakily for a while as I thought out everything. My hands were so sweaty on the bars that I would have to wipe them on my jeans every now and again. My heart rate was sky high the entire time I was on the damn bike, my legs shaking. I couldn't wait to get off of the fucking thing, so I lead my half of the herd away rather quickly and ditched them in no time.

Coming down the road in a zigzag because I could barely driving the fucking motorcycle, I caught sight of Daryl sitting on the side of the road with Glenn and Sash by his side. I praised whatever God would hear me. This nightmare was coming to an end and we could go back to the prison all in one piece.

Daryl stood up as I shakily drove the motorcycle up to him and hopped off of it. I more like fell off the bike, but Daryl's hands were there supporting me in a second. Seeing him alive made me so happy that I could have kissed him right then and there. But me being me I did the opposite.

I pulled my arm out of his steadying hold and reeled it back. I swung my fist at him, coming in solid contact with his arm. Hard.

He was startled and confused, taking a step back from me while he rubbed at his arm. I saw him getting ready to open his mouth and rip me a new one for hitting him, but I didn't give him the chance to speak.

"Don't you ever tell me to drive that fucking deathtrap again," I yelled.

He blinked at me before realizing that I was talking about his motorcycle, then the biggest fucking grin slowly spread across his face.

I wanted to stay mad, but if I’m honest I was just glad to see him with an expression that wasn’t full of hate for me. And maybe finally he had moved passed being angry at me and even if he didn’t like me the way that I liked him, we could at least go back to being normal fucking friend again.

Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad.

***

Taglist:

@daryldixonandfrogs @jodiereedus22 @xchrisxevansx

28 notes · View notes

lovedmoviesb · 7 years

Link

"This is nice." Michonne's quiet compliment cut through the otherwise quiet morning. She was walking stealthily beside him, her feet scarcely making a sound as they traipsed through what would soon be their community.

"It was part of the project that created Alexandria. Took a few weeks to clear it out. In a month or two, we had a proper wall up," he gestured behind them to the steel plates shutting out the outside world. Michonne took them in calmly, her large brown eyes inspecting her surroundings carefully. She was an interesting woman, Rick was sure of that. He'd seen her before, gone on runs with her even. She was always quiet, calculating, careful, almost studious. On the road, he had never seen her smile or heard her laugh. He'd heard her laugh last night. He also had heard her gasping in pleasure.

His wife. It was a strange reality to confront in the light of day. Like waking up in a dream, he was sure he'd imagined the night before. She was so shy, so tentative, nervous even. It caught him off-guard. The Michonne he knew was always sure of herself.

Then again, he didn't really know her. At least, not outside of the Biblical sense.

"Which one is ours?" her voice startled him from his musings. He turned to look at her. She was staring back expectantly. He took a moment to observe her, her long, dark lashes, her round nose, her full, heart-shaped mouth. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. The effect was just as pretty as her elaborate updo had been for their wedding. She was beautiful and she was married to him.

"I thought I would ask you to pick," he nodded in the direction of the large houses. "I figured maybe you should get a say." He meant it as a joke, but instantly regretted it. Michonne had not picked him. He had been chosen for her. It was a daunting thought.

She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth lifting prettily. "Can we pick together?" she adjusted the katana strung across her back. Rick felt himself touch his Colt Python almost instinctively.

"I'd like that," he reached for her hand before he could think better of it. He had dated a girl once before, a pretty, waifish brunette. She hadn't been cut out for this world, and he couldn't save her, but he did learn everything he knew about romance from the experience. She had told him that he was too touchy, always kissing or hugging on her when they were alone. He wondered if his wife would feel the same.

Her slim, dark hand tensed for just a moment at his touch, then she relaxed, lacing her fingers around his. "Lead the way," she instructed.

They strolled through the street in silence, listening carefully for any sign of walkers. Michonne's eyes stayed on a constant swivel, bouncing from the houses to the yards between them.

"Do you like any of them?" he wished he had something better to say than these simple questions, but the woman who was now his wife robbed him of his ability to be clever. He had never found the confidence to say more than a few words to her all those times before. That did not stop him from jumping at the opportunity when his parents began to mention picking a partner for him. Their system may have been antiquated, but following his parents' orders had kept him alive this long.

"The blue one is pretty," her girlish comment brought a smile to his face. He had hoped she would pick that one. Glenn and Daryl had helped him paint it before it occurred to Rick that he should ask his wife what she thought.

"We can go look at it. Just give me a second to clear it out," he released her hand, reaching instead for his gun.

Her fingers clutching his arm made him pause. For a moment, he thought she might have been frightened, but her resolved expression soon dispelled that myth. "Together," she said simply.

He held the door open for her, watching her draw her sword. From the foyer, to the kitchen, to the living room, they quickly canvased the downstairs. When they reached the upstairs bedrooms, Rick felt his heart begin to race.

"What do you think?" he watched her circle the bed in the master bedroom, trying and failing miserably to not think of their first night together. All her uncertainty had vanished once he pressed his lips to hers last night. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, the heat of her, pulling and clutching at him until he felt like he might die of pleasure. Her gasps and moans still rung in his ears.

"It has a good vantage point," she went to the window, peering out. "You can see almost all of the community from here. That could come in handy." She gazed back at him, then looked quickly away. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly.

"Like what?" Rick was certain that he was drooling a bit, but he could not help it.

"Like that," she found the courage to look up again, the hint of a blush beneath her coppery cheeks. "Even before the wedding, you would look at me." She turned to face him, waiting expectantly.

Rick felt his own cheeks coloring. "You're beautiful."

She watched him for a moment longer, clearly assessing. With a nod, she accepted his answer. "All right." She moved towards him, picking her katana up from its resting place on the bed. "We should keep looking."

Rick caught her arm, marveling at the fluid muscle below. His hands had caressed every part of her within reach last night, had delighted in the feel of her beneath him. "It's not just that you're beautiful," he felt compelled to explain his point. If they were going to be married, she needed to know the truth. "I've seen you on the road, and with your people. You're a natural at this." Her face contorted into an expression of confusion. Rick clarified quickly. "You're a leader."

She considered this, her dark eyes unmoving from his face. "So are you," she said at last.

He relaxed just a fraction. Maybe he hadn't gone so unnoticed by her as he had first suspected. "Maybe there's a reason they paired us up." He attempted to smile.

"Did you know? Beforehand? Did your parents ask you?" she was still watching him.

"No," he shook his head. "I knew they were picking someone. I hoped it was you."

The statement hung between them. Rick began to feel ill, his stomach roiling. He could face down a hoard of walkers, but his wife was undoing him completely.

"Well," she spoke, her lips pulling into a mischievous smile. "Lucky you."

"Lucky me," he agreed, grinning back at her. He liked to see her smile. He wondered how he could bait her for it more in the future. Rick pressed his luck, pulling her towards him. She allowed him to close the distance between them. He contemplated kissing her when she caught him off-guard, standing swiftly on her tip toes to brush her lips against his.

His body acted on its own accord, his hands wrapping around her waist, drawing her in deeper. She let out a tiny little gasp that only served to urge him on. It was almost embarrassing, his reaction to her. She pressed her chest into him and Rick knew she would be able to feel him. Her nimble hands walked a path down his body, coming to rest at his waist. Her fingers traced beneath the worn denim.

"Michonne," he loved the way her name felt leaving his mouth, loved the sound she made when she heard him say it. "We don't have to…"

"I want to," she cut him off quickly, punctuating her protest with more wet kisses. He wondered vaguely when she had gotten so good at this, if there was some boy at home cursing his name for stealing her. "Do you want to?" she asked, looking shyly at him.

He was practically ready to burst at the thought. "I do," the words were raspy. "but I thought we were trying to get to know each other."

She laughed lowly, "This is getting to know each other."

"You don't want to talk?" he could kick himself for asking, and his lower half certainly did not appreciate his efforts at chivalrousness. Still, he had to ask.

"I do," she assured him, nipping at his neck. "I want to do this first." She slipped her hand beneath his waistband. "Isn't this supposed to be our honeymoon?"

He lost the battle at once, clutching her to him until his hands ran over from trying to cup all of her at once. They fell onto the bed in an undignified tangle. Rick wished for the second time in less than 24 hours that he was better-versed in this. If Michonne thought his actions were amateurish, she showed no sign of it. Instead, she tugged almost frantically at his belt.

"I used to watch you too," the confession slipped from her lovely mouth.

"You did?" the thought alone was dizzying. "Why?"

"Because of how you handle yourself out there, how you handle your people. It's like you don't even have to think about it. Like you were born to do it." She finally succeeded in her task, pushing his jeans around his knees. "I like it," she concluded, leaning up to kiss him again.

Something in the back of Rick's mind was making a mental note to tell Glenn and Daryl as soon as possible. They'd both teased him mercilessly for his wayward crush on the warrior woman from the Kingdom. He wanted to be worthy of her attentions, of her affections. Something close to a growl left his throat without his permission. Her vest and sweater disappeared in record time and he went to work on her tight jeans, peeling them inch by inch until her skin was bare beneath him. Somewhere along the way, Michonne rid him of his clothing. He took a moment to study her, marveling at how different this all was in the light of day.

There was no hiding with the sunlight streaming through the open blinds, no writing this off as a one-time thing. He was about to have sex with his wife, and this time, he knew she wanted him.

"Rick," she called his name as his head dropped to her skin, running his tongue across the warm surface until she began to squirm uncontrollably. Her hands found purchase around his waist. He pushed them away, his mind on one thing. She began to shiver as he kissed down her body, coming to stop between her legs. "Rick," she called to him again. "What are you going to—"

Her question transformed into a plaintive moan when he showed her exactly what he wanted to do. He fumbled for a moment, adjusting her legs as he went to work, listening carefully for her reaction. Her breathing was labored, which he figured was a good sign, but it was not quite enough. When his mouth closed in around her, she let out a scream, a curse word escaping her. He repeated the motion, pushing in deeper, delighting in her clamping her legs around his head. With another gasp, she fell apart.

"God, Rick," her legs went limp. "Are you ok? I didn't mean to—"

He cut her off a second time, kissing her full on the mouth. "Stop apologizing," he smiled while she recovered. "I wanted to."

"No one's ever done that before," she admitted. "Not like that at least."

He ignored the thought of another man kissing her like that, instead settling for asking. "It felt good?"

She smiled at him incredulously. "It felt great."

"Good," he settled down beside her, watching her carefully.

"It felt good last night too," she told him, rolling to her side to face him. "I was nervous, but…" she trailed off, her hand reaching out to touch him. He pulled it over his neck, bringing them flush together again.

"Are you nervous now?" he asked. Her heart was pounding against his chest.

"Yes," she licked her lips. "Are you?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"Maybe…" she lifted her leg, wrapping it around his. "Maybe we keep practicing until we don't feel nervous anymore."

He chuckled, unwilling to disagree with her. "What about the talking part?"

"We can practice that too," she smiled, her fingers toying with his hair.

"One thing at a time," he kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she allowed him to settle between her legs.

"Agreed," she grasped him and Rick's mind went fuzzy.

”What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," Rick stretched, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his bare skin. Michonne had thrown the curtains open and cracked the window, letting in the cool air. She was sprawled atop him, her hair fanned out over both of their shoulders. "Favorite food?" he asked her.

"Chili Mac and Cheese," she flattened her palm out over his chest. "Favorite weapon?"

"I've had my python since I was a kid. I don't mind the machete though. Favorite thing to do?"

"Spending time with my friends. Maggie and Sasha are good company." She sat up slightly, her lips quirking. "You're giving them a run for their money though."

He returned her smile, kissing her forehead. "What do you want to do first, now that we're in charge of this place?" he asked her. He wondered how this would go, what kind of leaders they would be.

"That's two questions in a row," she chided mildly. "But I'll answer. I want to start a school."

"What kind?" her answer surprised him.

"Teaching people survival skills, scavenging, medicine, weapons," she ticked them of on her fingers. "The more we all know, the better. Then one day, if there's kids…" she trailed off, her skin flushing.

"That's a good idea," he traced patterns along her arm. He could not consider the possibility of children right now, not yet. Their partnership was new. There was work to be done.

"What do you want to do first?" she laid back down on his chest.

"I want to start a farm. Get some vegetables growing. Maybe take the pressure off the Hilltop."

She began to giggle. "Farmer Rick, huh?"

He pinched her. "School teacher Michonne, huh?" he fired right back.

"You think anyone will live here?" her laughter subsided.

"Well, it'll at least be you and me," he attempted to reassure her, wrapping her in his arms again.

"That's not so bad," she mused, smiling at him.

"Nah," he kissed her. "It's not."

#twd #Richonne #love.devil.movies.baby #fanfiction #we're the ones who live

127 notes · View notes

storytime-hoe · 5 years

Text

Tough Love Ch.7

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x O/C

Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape

Authors Note: This one was really difficult for me to write because I wanted it to be so fucking perfect. I wrote it and re-wrote it about a thousand times and I am so drained that I just can’t get it to a place that I am 100% happy with. But it isn’t too terrible so here it is folks. Enjoy!

Previously: Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

I had run for what felt like ages. My wild hair was pasted to my neck and bare arms with the sweat that dripped from me. Every heartbeat pounded in my ears along with the painful reminder that the Governor might be killing the Dixon's at any second now. I couldn't stop for a break, not when their lives could be at risk.

I had told myself, ever since my little brother died, that I would never care for people again in order to save myself the pain and possibility of loosing them. But, the Dixon boys were a different case. I didn't really care about them like I had my brother. They were just a couple of nincompoops who I was willing to help this one time. Daryl was someone important to the prison group and after the way they reacted when he ran off for a few hours, I knew none of them would function if he actually died. And that would mean the whole killing the Governor plan would be fucked.

Down the road I spotted a figure that I had mindlessly assumed to be another Walker limping it’s way to me. It was not until I was closer that I realized that it was no Walker but Michonne.

I slowed to a jog as I neared her, scanning her from head to toe. She looked a little rough around the edges, meaning she put up a fight with Merle no doubt. I had a sick thought that she might have killed him, she was fully capable. But would she?

"Where's Merle?"

She leaned her weight onto one leg, resting her hand on her hip. "He let me go. Said he had something to do."

I shook my head knowingly, looking passed her farther down the road. "He'll be at the Governor's outpost," I thought aloud. "Dumbass is going to get himself killed."

"Why do you care? Thought you only worried about yourself.”

That wasn’t exactly it, but I couldn’t let her know that. “I like to mix it up. Keeps people on their toes.”

I started up into a jog before she could say anything else to me. The outpost was where Rick was going to meet the Governor for the exchanging of Michonne. Merle would beat the Governor there probably. But what the hell was he planning? Why did he let Michonne go? The Governor would kill him on sight if he showed up with nothing to offer him, I was sure of it, and I knew he wasn't stupid enough to think any differently.

The sudden jar of loud music interrupted my thoughts. The music blared so loud that I pressed my hands to my ears out of instinct. I was positive every Walker in the area would be drawn to it something as loud as that. I ran from the road and towards the noise as well, even though every part in me was screaming for me not to.

I came to the opening that was the outpost and slowly crept up along the run down buildings where I spotted several men from Woodbury holding their guns up to examine the source of the God awful noise. A car with its radio on full blast was the cause, and I had no doubt that it was planted there by Merle. This was his plan. What the actual fuck was he thinking?

When a gun shot came from a nearby window, picking the Governor's men off one by one, I knew Merle was behind that too. That fucker was still here and I needed to get to him before the Governor did. Once I pinpointed where the shots were coming from it was easy enough to slip into the building where Merle was perched with his gun propped on top of his metal covered hand.

"Merle, what the hell are you doing?"

He didn't look away from his gun and the targets he was picking off. "You shouldn't be here," he hissed back.

Before I could tell him to come back with me or that we needed him back at the prison alive, two men entered behind me. One of them knocked away my knife that I had in my hand and grabbed my arms, twisting them in an unnatural position. I puled against his hold with a growl of frustration, but I froze in place when the second guy raised his gun to my head. His cold eyes told me he had every intention of shooting me dead right then and there, which I actually preferred if it meant the Governor wouldn’t be getting his hands on me. But Merle had apparently grown a pair of balls, deciding to do something for someone other than himself, and jumped in the way, knocking the gun up just as the shot went off. My heart hammered in my chest as pieces of ceiling rained down from where the bullet had split through it.

I didn't miss a beat after the blast went off to head-butt my captor so I could rip free from his grasp. His nose made a sickening crack against my skull, but I didn’t dwell on it. Instead I went to lunge after my knife, wanting to have something to give me a sense of protection. But just as my hand went to close around it, something solid hit me in the stomach and knocked me to the dusty ground of the shitty building.

"You leave him to me," the Governor hissed out the command to his man who was probably itching to put a bullet in Merle.

His voice sent shivers down my spine and every hair on my body bristled to stand on end, which distracted from the way my insides felt like they were exploding after the kick I had taken. I turned my head towards the door to see him lingering there with his gun in hand. His deadly look was set on Merle and every muscle in me seized with the images of how he might kill him.

I think that is what gave me enough courage to scramble off of the floor and put myself between him and Merle. I had to stand my ground against him, no matter how weak he made me feel. I could not show him that he still had effect on me and that no matter how far away from him I got, he would still always control me.

The Governor was not intimidated by me in the slightest, however. I was dumb to think that I could protect Merle from this monster. He didn’t hesitate to throw his arm towards me, using the end of his gun the slap me across the face. The momentum sent me flying across the floor. He stood over me, his gaze raking up and down my body.

I thought for sure he would command his men to toss me into their truck and haul my ass back off to jolly Woodbury. But he didn't say anything at all. He was an unrecognizable man. His eye was glazed over with a darkness that I hadn’t seen in him before. He aimed his gun at me with a steady hand. When he pulled the trigger I was sure I yelp, thinking the target was going to be my heart. However, he went with shooting me in the thigh as to insure I wouldn't stand up again and get in his way, but still making it so I was alive to watch him fuck up Merle.

My adrenaline was so high I almost didn’t even feel that much pain at first. I wasn't planning on letting the wound stop me from jumping between them again until I felt the cool tip of a gun press to my fevered temple by one of his men. I froze, not doubting that this guy would be happy to blow my brains out if I gave him the chance.

I gnawed on my lip uselessly, watching the Governor wrestle with Merle who was never one to go down without a good fight. The worry that ate me up distracted me from the blood oozing out fast from my leg. I gulped when Merle was overtaken for a moment, the Governor pressing him against a wall, guttural yells of effort coming from both of them. Merle was pushing against him to free himself and I suppose the Governor was taking pointers from Walkers now because he crunched down hard on Merle's fingers, biting them clean off. My stomach lurched at the sight of the fingers being spit onto the ground where I sat.

My throat closed up when the Governor threw Merle onto a busted up table. He sported a venomous look as he hovered above Merle with his gun pointed down at him.

"I ain't gonna beg," Merle yelled at him in a raspy voice. "I ain't beggin' you."

There was no mistaking the finality in his voice. Merle knew this was it. I felt it in the air and so did he, turning his head ever so slightly to catch my eye. He didn’t say anything, but I could heard all his single look told me a million different things. I saw how sorry he was for everything he has done. We both regretted so many things. We both had a lot to be sorry for when it came down to each other and the things we had said and done. We really were sorry too, no bullshit. Even though we never said it to each other, we knew.

An eerie darkness washed over the room. Death himself had entered the room.

The Governor simply ground out a, "No," and the bullet was fired through Merle’s heart.

I was half aware of the inhuman sound that released from my throat. I fell forward and watched Merle fall to the ground in a lifeless heap. My hands shook violently and hot tears rolled down my face before I realized I had even started to cry.

"Leave her," the Governor ordered without sparing me another look. "Merle will take care of her."

Bastard. He couldn’t even kill me himself. That was too easy for him. He wanted me to suffer watching Merle change. I wasn’t even thinking about the change though as the men all left the building and I became vaguely aware of their cars driving away. All I felt was an overwhelming force of such sadness that fell onto me like a wet blanket. I could hardly breath it was suffocating me so much. I thought after my brother died that I would never feel that again, never get attached to people. I tried to make it that way. I really fucking did. But it was fucking no use. I wanted to stop feeling this hurt, but who was I without the pain.

I sat in silence with the tears sticking my hair to the side of my face which was throbbing from where the Governor had bitch slapped me. My knife was clutched in my hand once more. I tried to bring myself to plunge it into Merle's head, but I couldn't. After all Merle had done to me: beat me, whip me, spit on me, curse at me, threaten me. Why couldn't I do it? Why couldn't I kill him before he turned? I sat beside him helplessly sobbing. Maybe because I really didn't hate Merle as much as I wanted to. He was a piece of worthless shit, but we had been through so much he sort of felt like family.

There it was again. The fucking family thing. And the fucking hurt that came along with it. A cute package deal. I thought my family was all gone from the world, or at least that is what I wanted. But who would have thought that the world's biggest douchebag would be the one to put my heart through a fucking blender.

The growls of the newborn Walker that was once Merle perked me up from my stupor. I used the bench and wall beside me to pull myself to my feet and hobble out of the door. The Walker followed after me, growling louder and louder with each step he took.

A new round of tears returned to my eyes and before I knew it Merle was snapping in my face with his foul teeth. I screamed and pushed him away, still not wanting to kill him. Eventually, my leg became too much to limp on and I collapsed to the ground with Merle ready to take advantage of the situation.

I held my knife up and mumbled, "Please," under my breath a million times. I didn't want to do this. I had wanted to kill Merle a thousand times before, but this was different. He died saving my life. He died while helping us all by killing all those men. Merle Dixon, believe it or not, died a hero.

I waited for Merle to reach out for me, to take a chunk out of my leg and rip my skin from the bones. It never happened though. A whir of white wings on a leather vest zipped by me, my guardian angel, pushing the Walker to the ground.

Daryl held his crossbow down at his side as he took in the sight of his brother. I saw the moment reality hit him as his shoulders slumped and he let his crossbow slip from his hand and clatter to the ground. There was no mistaking the tears that gushed from his eyes as well while Merle slowly got to his feet again and stumbled at Daryl with his hand outstretched to him. I thought Daryl might let the Walker bite into him at first, but then the rage swept over him like a curtain.

He took out his knife and pushed Merle down to pin him against the dirt. He let the knife soar above his head before he brought it down into the skull of the Walker. The form went limp but Daryl wasn't done yet. Over and over and over again he brought the knife in and out of Merle's skull. Blood splattered all over him and all over myself as he continually stabbed the body angrily. My heart broke at the sight of him. He was so utterly consumed by the hurt and was dealing with it like he dealt with most things: with an unnatural amount of rage.

I couldn’t watch him be like that any longer. My hands started shaking again as crawled over and reached out for Daryl, knowing good and well that there was a possibility this unstable man could turn on me with the knife next. Too bad he didn’t.

"It's over," I whimpered, swiping away my tears with the back of my hand. Then, more loudly, "Daryl! Stop it. It's over. Enough."

I pulled at his shoulders and he finally let me drag him off of the bloody mess that was once Merle. He laid back on the ground, propped up on his elbows. He didn't hold back his loud sobs, his shoulders shaking with an overwhelming amount of grief. Neither of us paid any attention to the other Walkers that were closing in on us. We needed a minute to process I think.

I sat on the ground behind Daryl with my leg getting worse by the second. He let me keep my arms wrapped around his chest, holding his back against me. He needed some sort of comfort right now, and I was all there was to give it. Even if he did hate me, someone had to get him through this. I lost a brother once too and God knows I could've used someone to hold to back then.

Within a minute though Daryl furiously wiped away at his face and grabbed his crossbow. He forced himself to his feet and away from me. When he looked back down at me he noticed my leg for the first time. I knew he would be angry about it because I came out here when he specifically told me not to, but he didn't say anything. If anything I thought he wavered with a look of guilt. Like this could have been was his fault it any way. Dumbass.

He reached his hand out to me wordlessly and pulled me to my feet. He laced my arm around his neck and took most of my weight off of my leg, holding me across the waist, leading me back into the trees.

Walking all the way back to the prison was not an option with the state that I was in. So, we stopped at the first little town we came upon where I was set down a little too roughly onto the ground. I hissed through my teeth, but Daryl didn't notice. He tossed things out of his way and kicked trash that littered his path like a tempered child. He reached his target finally, a car with a busted out window, and started to get to work at making it run again.

"He saved my life, you know," I said, not knowing if he was really listening to me or not, but I couldn't sit in silence. I needed to talk about it, and he needed to know about it. "The Governor was there," I explained what he probably already knew. "Merle took out a dozen men on his own. I came in and found him and just as someone was about to shoot me dead he stopped it from happening."

"Is that how he died?" Daryl's voice was a little hoarse from crying, which broke my heart just a little more.

"No. The Governor wanted him to himself. He shot me in the leg to stop me from helping Merle. Then he shot him like it was nothing." I shook my head still processing what happened. "He left me there to be killed once Merle turned. I nearly was." I looked up at Daryl and silently thanked him for showing up to save me.

He paused what he was doing under the hood of the car for a moment to hold my gaze. His squinted eyes were brimmed red from mourning for Merle. He chewed at his bottom lip. “Why did you even come?”

I shrugged, really not wanting to explain myself to him. “Sometimes I give a damn,” was all I offered him.

Daryl kept his eyes on mine for a long time. I could see the battle happening in his head, him deciding if he should say what he was thinking or not. I guess he decided to go with the “not” option as he came back over to lift me off of the ground. "C'mon," he mumbled and brought me to the passenger seat. His coarse hands slid up under my shirt unintentionally as he was helping me, causing me to suck in a breath. I reddened immediately and mentally kicked myself for doing it. How could I be so childish at a time like this?

Once he was in the driver seat and had the car started, I got up the courage to talk again. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

Daryl's swallow was audible. "Ain't nothin' ya coulda done."

I tried to blink back the fresh tears but it was no use. "That asshole was right, though. I couldn't save my brother and... I'm just sorry I couldn't save yours either. Death just follows me." I swallowed thickly at the haunting memories. “Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood”

Daryl looked at me and bit at the skin around his thumb, something I noticed was a nervous habit. "What happened to your brother?"

I could tell he was sorry he asked it almost as soon as he did. I was shocked he was even curious about my life. Usually he kept to himself. But he was hurting, and he knew I could relate to it. Anything to help him cope.

"I was with my brother through most of this shit." I swallowed hard at his memory, a momentary distraction for the pain in my leg. "Our mom was at work and we were home alone at the trailer park. We managed to get out of there when everything happened, but our mom didn't make it. She turned. And I was the one to put her down."

"M'sorry," he muttered quietly, speeding towards the prison to get me to Hershel as soon as he could.

I shook my head. "I'm not. A hoard came by when I was with my brother and he was ripped right out of my hands. I watched them tear his flesh apart. I tried to hold onto his hand... I looked into his eyes as his blood covered hand slipped right out of mine. I made sure my mom was peaceful in the end. But his death. His death was a fucking nightmare."

Daryl pursed his lips and shook his head. "That ain't your fault either."

It felt weird talking to someone about this stuff again. The only other person who knew these things about me was Merle and that all died with him.

"I tried to stay away from groups for a long time," I admitted quietly, my voice growing weaker from the blood loss. "I don't want to get close to anyone else when I know I'll just end up loosing them too." My mind must really be fucked up right now. I was only partially aware of what I was saying anymore and I can assure you I would not have told anyone that weakness of mine under normal circumstances.

He scoffed. "That's bullshit. Ya can't live without people no more. We all need people to survive now. It's how it is."

"I'm sticking around until the Governor is dead. Then I'm out." It was the only option Rick had given me anyway, but I still felt a pang of guilt at only being half honest with Daryl. I'll stick around until the Governor is dead... then I'm robbing you blind. That is what I really meant.

I could see the disappointment he wore on his face at my decision. He wasn't my friend, so I didn't quite understand why he even cared that I leave. I really fucking wish I could read his mind sometimes. I suppose our relationship was sort of like his and Merle's was. We had our fights and did our damage to each other, but at the end of the day, whether we liked it or not, we couldn't keep from being drawn to each other.

He bit his lip and focused on the road as he drove. His grip on the wheel tightened and he wanted to argue with me as usual, but he didn't. "Okay. It's not my place to stop you."

"Damn straight."

"But Merle refused to believe that he needed anyone and look where it got him."

I clenched my jaw and glowered out the window, praying that we were almost there. My leg was getting worse by the second and my vision was starting to darken around the edges. I swayed in my seat a little and felt Daryl put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

By the time we got back to the prison we had both cried our tears for Merle Dixon and helped each other get over it because we both knew that was how it had to be. The world really sucked sometimes, but you had to keep going.

I was too weak to step out of the car, but Daryl effortlessly scooped me out of the seat and cradled me in his arms. I didn't like needing help, but I was not about to complain about being pressed against him like this.

"My hero," I teased, trying my very best not to show how much my leg was actually bothering me or how my the world was spinning around me now.

"Don't make me drop your ass on the pavement," he grumbled back as he placed me onto a bed in one of the cell rooms. People we gathered around me to look at what had happened and I soon lost sight of Daryl.

I was relieved to find Hershel's somber face in the mix of everything but when he said, "I'm going to have to get the bullet out," my heart dropped down to my toes.

"Can you do it?" Someone asked.

"I can try. She is going to need medicine. We don't have a lot to spare. If someone else gets sick or injured during this war, then we won't have anything to help."

Rick was leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. Carl was peaking in from behind him with his brow furrowed. I think I could've guessed how he wanted this to go. "Give her what she needs," Rick said. "If we need more later we can figure it out then."

The rest of their conversation went passed me without being heard. I blacked in and out of consciousness. Sweat ran down the sides of my face, coating the pillow I laid on. When they started to touch the wound on my leg I can remember screaming bloody murder. Glenn said something about the Walkers in the courtyard stacking up against the fence in one place, being drawn to my screams.

"She has to stay quiet," Rick warned and left with Glenn and Carl to take care of the fence.

A pair of strong arms held me down across the bed. I could tell it was Daryl by the way his long hair dripped sweat onto my chest every now and again. I tried my best to stay focused on him and not the pain. I reigned in on how he felt pressing me down and how he smelled like sweat and cigarettes and how he still managed to look attractive even when he looked worried as hell.

I would have liked to take more time taking in every part of him, but I thanked God when I finally passed out from it all.

***

Taglist:

@daryldixonandfrogs @jodiereedus22

30 notes · View notes