Summary: You try to hide that you’re sick, but Daryl notices your fever and makes you rest. He acts gruff and annoyed at first, but stays by your side all night, changing the cloth on your forehead, bringing you water, and quietly worrying while pretending he isn’t.
You knew you were getting sick before anyone else did.
It started as a weird ache behind your eyes. Then came the chill that clung under your skin no matter how close you stood to the fire. By morning, your throat felt raw, your arms felt too heavy, and every little noise around camp seemed to hit your skull like a hammer.
Still, you got up.
There was always something to do. Water to carry. Clothes to wash. Food to sort through. People were already stretched thin enough, and you hated the thought of being one more thing for everybody to worry about.
So you tied your hair back, pulled on your boots, and pretended your hands weren’t shaking.
You made it almost an hour before Daryl noticed.
He was sitting near his bike, cleaning dirt from one of his bolts, when his eyes caught on you. You were stood by the water buckets, one hand pressed lightly against the side of your head like you could hold yourself together if you just applied enough pressure.
His gaze narrowed.
“You alright?”
You straightened too fast. The world tilted for half a second.
“Yeah,” you said, voice coming out rougher than you wanted. “I’m fine.”
Daryl didn’t move at first. He just looked at you in that quiet way he had, like he was reading all the things you were trying not to say.
“You don’t sound fine.”
You forced a small laugh and reached for one of the buckets. “That’s because you’re dramatic.”
“Mhm.”
You managed about three steps before your grip slipped. The bucket hit the ground with a heavy splash, water spilling into the dirt around your boots.
Daryl was up before you even had time to swear.
“Hey.” His voice sharpened as he crossed the space between you. “The hell are you doin’?”
“I dropped it,” you muttered, bending down.
He caught your arm before you could grab the handle.
You looked up at him, ready to argue, but his expression shifted the second his hand touched your skin.
His brows pulled together.
“You’re burnin’ up.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m just warm.”
“It’s freezing.”
You glanced away, annoyed because he was right and even more annoyed because he knew he was right.
Daryl let go of your arm, but he didn’t step back. “Go lie down.”
“I’m fine, Daryl.”
He scoffed under his breath. “Stop bein’ stubborn.”
“I’m not being stubborn. I’m helping.”
“You’re about to fall on your ass in the middle of camp.”
You rolled your eyes, but the movement made your head throb. You tried to hide the wince. Of course, he saw it.
His jaw tightened.
“That’s it,” he muttered.
Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed the bucket with one hand and nudged you gently but firmly in the direction of the house.
“Daryl-”
“Walk.”
“I don’t need to be babysat.”
“Then quit actin’ like a damn child.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re very comforting, you know that?”
“Good. Maybe you’ll listen.”
You wanted to argue again, mostly out of pride, but your body had started giving up on you. Every step felt heavier than the last, and by the time you reached the spare room, your legs were shaking badly enough that Daryl had to put a hand at your back.
Not pushing. Not rushing.
Just there.
You sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, trying to make it seem casual.
Daryl stood in front of you, arms crossed, looking deeply unimpressed.
“Boots off.”
You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Boots. Off.”
“You’re bossy when you’re worried.”
“I ain’t worried.”
“Right.”
He looked away too quickly.
You smiled a little, though it faded when another shiver rolled through you.
Daryl noticed that too.
He crouched down without saying anything and tugged at the laces of your boots. You watched him quietly, your fever making everything feel soft around the edges. The room, the light through the window, his hair falling into his face as he worked.
He pulled one boot off, then the other, setting them neatly beside the bed like it mattered.
“You eat today?” he asked.
You hesitated.
His eyes lifted.
“That means no.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“Course you weren’t.”
He stood and grabbed the blanket from the chair, throwing it over you with less care than he clearly meant to. It landed half across your shoulder and half across your face.
You pulled it down with a weak laugh. “Trying to smother me?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
But his voice was softer now.
He disappeared for a few minutes, and you told yourself you were only going to rest your eyes until he came back.
Then you woke up to cool water touching your forehead.
You flinched slightly.
“Easy,” Daryl murmured.
The room was darker now. You didn’t know how long you’d been out, only that your clothes were sticking to your skin and your head felt like it was full of smoke.
Daryl sat beside the bed, one elbow on his knee, a damp cloth in his hand. There was a small bowl of water on the floor beside him, along with a cup and what looked like the sad remains of some soup Carol had probably forced into his hands.
“You’re still here?” you whispered.
He glanced at you. “Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere useful.”
His face tightened at that. “Ain’t useless.”
You looked at him for a moment.
He wouldn’t meet your eyes.
Daryl dipped the cloth back into the water, wrung it out, and placed it across your forehead again. His fingers brushed your temple, rough but careful.
You closed your eyes.
“That feels nice,” you admitted quietly.
“Fever’s high.”
“You been checking?”
“Had to. You were mumblin’.”
Your eyes opened. “What was I saying?”
“Bunch of nonsense.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He shrugged, but there was the smallest hint of amusement in his face. “Said somethin’ about Rick’s hat lookin’ stupid.”
You let out a breathy laugh, which turned into a cough.
Daryl leaned forward instantly, one hand hovering near your shoulder like he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how to do it without making a whole thing of it.
You waved him off once it passed. “I stand by that.”
“Yeah, well, don’t say it in front of Carl.”
You smiled faintly, but the tiredness was already pulling at you again.
Daryl noticed. He always noticed.
“Drink.”
You made a face.
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
He helped you sit up enough to take the cup. You tried to hold it yourself, but your hands were unsteady, so he kept his fingers around it too, pretending he wasn’t basically helping you drink water like you were made of glass.
It should’ve embarrassed you.
It didn’t.
Not really.
Not with him.
When you were done, you sank back down into the pillow, exhausted from doing almost nothing.
Daryl adjusted the blanket around you. Again, not gently at first glance. But he tucked it close around your sides so the cold air couldn’t get in.
“You don’t have to stay,” you murmured.
He sat back in the chair, stretching one leg out. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“You’ll get sick.”
“Had worse.”
“That’s not comforting either.”
“Go to sleep.”
You turned your head slightly, watching him through half-open eyes. He looked tired. More tired than he’d ever admit. His shoulders were tense, his fingers tapping against his knee, his gaze flicking from your face to the cloth to the window and back again.
Pretending he wasn’t worried sick.
You knew better.
“Daryl?”
“What?”
“You’re being nice.”
He scoffed. “Fever’s makin’ you delusional.”
“No,” you whispered, smiling faintly. “You’re always nice. You just make it weird.”
He looked at you then, properly. For a second, all the gruffness slipped. His eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache more than the fever did.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, looking down. “Somebody’s gotta keep you from dyin’ over a damn cold.”
You hummed. “So dramatic.”
“Sleep.”
This time, you listened.
You drifted in and out for the rest of the night. Sometimes you woke to the cloth being changed. Sometimes to Daryl shifting in the chair. Once, you woke to him standing by the window, crossbow in hand, checking the dark outside like your fever was something the whole world might try to take advantage of.
Each time, he came back.
Each time, the cloth was cool again.
At some point near dawn, when the sky had gone pale and the worst of the heat had finally started to break, you opened your eyes and found him sitting on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall.
His head had tipped forward slightly, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest.
He’d fallen asleep sitting up.
You watched him for a while, too weak to move, too warm in a different way now.
“Daryl,” you whispered.
His eyes opened immediately.
He looked at you like he’d been awake the whole time.
“You okay?”
You nodded a little. “Think so.”
He leaned forward and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Then your cheek. His expression loosened by the smallest amount.
“Fever’s goin’ down.”
“Told you I was fine.”
He gave you a look. “Don’t push it.”
You smiled.
He reached for the cloth again, but you caught his wrist lightly before he could move away.
“Thank you.”
Daryl froze for half a second.
Then he shrugged, like he hadn’t spent the whole night beside you. Like he hadn’t checked on you every time your breathing changed. Like he hadn’t looked scared when he thought you weren’t awake enough to see it.
“Ain’t nothin’.”
Your fingers slipped from his wrist, but he didn’t move back right away.
His hand stayed near yours on the blanket.
Close enough that your pinky brushed his.
Neither of you said anything.
Then he cleared his throat and stood, grabbing the bowl of water like he suddenly had a very serious job to do.
“Gonna get you more water. Maybe somethin’ to eat.”
You settled back into the pillow, smiling to yourself.
Could I get a Vanilla Lemon Frosting with Rainbow Sprinkles (“no, no, forget about it. i’ll take care of it all, you just focus on getting some rest.”) + 🍑 (I'm thinking some time after the Savior War but before the bridge. Their daughter is a newborn/a couple weeks old. And reader is up with her constantly so Daryl takes over like the amazing dad and husband he is)
In the Quiet of the Night
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Summary: You’re exhausted after another night with your fussy newborn, so Daryl takes over.
Warnings/Tags: super fluffy, girl dad!daryl, husband!daryl, wife!reader, sleepy comfort, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season 09, no use of y/n
Word count: 655 words
A/N: This is such a sweet request!! I love writing girl dad!daryl, so I was ecstatic to see this in my inbox. Again, this is for my 650 followers celebration, so you can check out that post to see the context behind this anon’s request. This is a sweet, but shorter piece. I mentioned Nickelback because I like them lmaooo.
Masterlist | D.D. fluff masterlist
Just as you had been in previous nights, you were awoken to the sound of your daughter screeching in the bassinet beside your bed. The little girl was only a few weeks old, so it wasn’t her fault that her only way of communication was crying. You were sleep-deprived and your brain was completely fried. She’d been fed less than an hour ago, so there was no way that she was hungry.
Running a hand over your face, you groaned and sat up. It wasn’t until you were upright that your head started to throb. God, a splitting headache was the last thing that you needed. To make matters worse, you could smell the foul scent emitting from your sweet baby and your nose wrinkled. You were about to climb out of bed when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Your husband’s voice was rough with sleep when he spoke up.
“No, no, forget about it. I’ll take care of it all, you just focus on getting some rest.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause she definitely took a shit.”
“Sweetheart, I think I can handle a shitty diaper.”
Even though your skull felt like it was cracking open, Daryl’s words made you smile and you relaxed. Part of you wanted to be stubborn and insist on caring for her, but the fatigue was too strong. You gave in and nodded.
“Thank you, my love.”
“Of course. I’m her damn daddy. I’ll be on diaper duty.”
You loved the sound of that and you grinned. There were still aspects of fatherhood that terrified Daryl, but he’d adjusted surprisingly well. It probably helped that your daughter had already shown that she was a massive daddy’s girl. You sighed contentedly and gave him a chaste kiss.
“Go get ‘em, tiger.”
After taking a second to prepare himself for what was sure to be a disaster of a soiled diaper, Daryl got up and approached the small bassinet. You’d fallen back asleep quickly, so he quietly snuck out of the room with the baby pressed to his chest. While your little girl slept in your guys’ bedroom, she was changed in the nursery.
Daryl set the baby down on the changing table and unbuttoned her onesie. His thick fingers always fumbled on the clasps, but he managed. The fragrant scent hit his nose and he choked back a gag. You had been right. His angel of a daughter had filled her diaper. He groaned and mumbled to the baby.
“Jesus, what is in your mother’s milk?”
The baby answered with a small cooing noise and her tiny lips formed a small smile. She was mocking him. He held back another gag and started changing her. It had taken some practice, but Daryl was quite efficient at cleaning her. As he worked, he found himself pausing to admire the beautiful being the two of you had created. This baby had softened him in ways that he didn’t know were possible.
Once everything had been cleaned up, he swaddled the infant and walked over to the rocking chair. He sat down and began rocking her. Without even realizing it, he’d started humming a Nickelback song, and he laughed when the baby’s face scrunched up. He teased the young girl.
“What? You ain’t Nickelback? You’re a picky little thing.”
Pausing, he remembered the song that you were always humming and he sighed deeply. Daryl wasn’t the biggest fan of more contemporary music, but his daughter was. Her comfort was his top priority. Begrudgingly, he began humming “Love Is Like a Butterfly” by Dolly Parton. The combination of the rocking and his presence put her right to sleep. He smiled triumphantly and whispered.
“Spoiled little girl.”
He must’ve been more tired than he thought because Daryl was starting to drift off. Thankfully, the little girl was supported and lying against his chest. You’d find your little family there a few hours later.
Summary: While Daryl and the Hilltop has to deal with a possible new threat, he tries to find time for his family as well.
Set in Season 9!
Warnings: dad!Daryl, short mention of pregnancy and birth, lots of fluff, mention of a main character death, a little bit of angst, mentions of Alpha and her methods, mentions of abuse, the Whisperers, Daryl being the best dad ever, swear words
Also, I used the names Willa and Ruby for the kids. You already know them from other stories. I didn't want to use a trillion different names, so I thought I am just going to stick to those two. Hope that makes sense.
Word Count: 3,8k
a/n: Writing brain demanded dad!Daryl, so I wrote dad!Daryl.
Disclaimer: Some of the conversation between Daryl and Lydia isn't mine. I just used their quotes from the show to fit the plot.
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• masterlist
It was a quite beautiful day today. The nights were still cool but it got noticeably warmer each day. Summer was approaching - fast. With a smile and a hand on your forehead to shield your eyes from the sun, you watched your seven-year-old daughter play 'tag' with another few kids from the Hilltop. You and your little family had been here since about six months now - after living out in the woods in a little cabin ever since Rick... You couldn't finish that thought without tears blurring your eyes. It was meant to be only a few weeks. But weeks turned into months and months into years. You knew Daryl was still searching for his brother. He had never given up on this. The fact that he liked to live out there just a pretense.
The reason you finally settled in Hilltop? Your second daughter you gave birth to merely a month ago. Of course, Daryl wouldn't let you have his baby out there. He was too afraid something could go wrong - and Jesus and Tara were more than happy to take you in.
"How can you be so calm and... okay about it?" The sudden question from Henry - on which you and Daryl agreed to keep an eye on for Carol, caught you rather off-guard. You blinked and turned your head; focusing on the teenager. "Sorry, Henry? What do you mean?" You threw a question back at him while gently rocking the infant in your arms to keep her asleep. The young man nodded at the gates. "Daryl being out there so often. I mean, he's your husband, right? And a father. He should be here, with you."
You furrowed your brows into a frown and crooked your head a little. "Are you saying he shouldn't look for Eugene? He's family. We have to find him." Henry instantly shook his head. "No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean... All the other times. I... I heard you talking to my mom about it. How often Daryl leaves to be out there." Your expression instantly shifted into a soft smile. You patted the empty place beside the log you sat on; asking the teenager to sit. Henry obliged and sat down beside you. His eyes fell instantly on the tiny girl in your arms, then lifted to meet your eyes. "Daryl is out there because he has to. He needs to. Not just because he's still looking for Rick. If he doesn't go out, he feels trapped. Caged. It's the freedom he needs - and who would I be to take that away from him?" The young man nodded; dwelling a little on his thoughts and your words. You let him; patiently waiting for him to speak up again, but the voice of Mr. Sutton - Earl cut through your conversation. "Henry! It's time for your next lesson!" He looked at you again - almost apologetic. "I-I should-" "Sure, go." You gave him a smile and watched how he quickly walked off.
You spent a whole night and with that over a whole day without your husband, since he was still out searching for Eugene together with Jesus and Aaron. You weren't worried. You knew how strong he was; a survivor. He'd always come back to you - to his family. But it was always difficult for Willa - your eldest. She knew that her daddy was a brave man and able to defend himself, but she was just a child after all and therefore scared he wouldn't come back to her. Understandably. This afternoon, though, the door to your little trailer swung open quietly; revealing a visibly exhausted Daryl. Dog followed him and instantly ran over to greet you; tail wagging and squeaking excitedly. You giggled quietly - since you didn't want to wake Willa, who was taking a nap in yours and Daryl's bed, and scratched Dog's head. Willa did that most of the times when her father wasn't around. Sleeping in your bed any chance she got. It made her feel safe. The smell of her dad.
Daryl was by your side only seconds later. You sat on a comfortable rocking chair in the corner; currently nursing Ruby - your newest addition to the family.
"Hey, babe," you whispered and smiled as he bent down to kiss your forehead, "Hey." and then your lips. "Did you find Eugene?" You instantly asked; reaching for his hand to slip your fingers through his. Daryl nodded; "Mhm." chewing on the inside of his bottom lip - and that was when you knew. Something wasn't right. You could feel it. You knew that man by heart now after all these years. "Is he okay? Are you okay?" "He's fine. Delocated his knee is all. 'M good, too." "But?" Your husband paused for a moment; chewing on his lip again. "Jesus is dead."
Your eyes widened as a wave of shock and sadness over rolled you. "W-What? H-How?" The archer swallowed hard. "Damn new people. Dunno much 'bout 'em, 'cept that they are walkin' with the dead. Wear their faces as masks. We captured one of 'em. 'M gonna try 'n get 'er to talk." Those new and not really good news were kinda overwhelming to you; torn between grief and worry. You lifted your eyes again to look into the blue ones of your husband; instinctively clutching the tiny human being in your arms closer - something that didn't slip the bowman's notice...
"A-Are they a... threat?" He shrugged his shoulders, "Dunno yet. Hope not." and squatted down in front of you. "Me neither." "Dun worry, sunshine. I know tha' ain't easy, but... Please. This lil' gremlin 'ere needs ya more than those worries do." You nodded; knowing that he was actually right. And even if they were a threat... The Hilltop was more than capable of defending itself. You were more than capable of defending yourself. However, you had two daughters to worry about. An infant... The last thing you actually wanted was a fight.
"I know, I know, it's just..." You whispered; eyes landing on Ruby, who was more asleep than awake in your arms but still suckling on your breast from time to time. Daryl understood. Of course, he did. You two didn't need words to communicate. "Hey, darlin'..." He squeezed your hand - the one which was firmly tucked into his bigger hand, and gently cupped the baby's head with the other; running his thumb through the chestnut brown fuzz of hair. "I ain't gonna let anythin' happen to either 'a ya. You know that. 'M gonna protect you 'n our kids as long as my sorry ass walks this damn earth - no matter wha'." "I know that, baby, but... Ruby's barely a month old. A fight - or hence, a war would be-" Daryl instantly shook his head, "Nah. Dun think like tha'." and interrupted your sentence. "Lemme get some more information outta that girl first. Ain't no point in rushing into things, 'kay?" You nodded. "'Kay."
Your husband gave you one of those sweet smiles which were only reserved for you, before he pressed a lingering, sweet kiss against his newborn daughter's head. Then he straightened back up, kissed you again as well. Your lips moved lazily against his and shortly after the kiss ended, you lifted a hand to cup his bearded cheek. "You're tired, babe." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. He nodded, "Fuckin' exhausted, sunshine." and slowly let go of your hand to walk over to the bed where his other child was.
Willa was still napping. Dog now, too; having trotted off during the conversation you and Daryl had to lay down on his makeshift dog beg. You watched him take off his boots and join Willa with a soft expression. "Get some sleep, Dar." "Mhm," he hummed; inching closer to the litte girl and carefully scooping her up in his arms. The archer knew how much she always missed him when he was away - and he always tried to make it up to her. Cuddles, playling together or teaching her some things - just anything to spend time with her.
"'M plannin' to," he mumbled; holding his child in a protective embrace. As if Willa subconsciously noticed that her father was back, she melted in his embrace and cuddled closer in her sleep. Daryl smiled gently with his eyes already closed shut. You watched how your husband and daughter napped together for a few long moments, before you quietly stood up with Ruby still in your arms. You put her into the baby sling Daryl found quite a while ago while being outside and left the trailer.
Your mission was clear. Find Tara and Aaron and check in on how they were doing after Jesus... You couldn't finish that thought. It was always hard to lose a member of your family. You planned to check in on Eugene and Rosita as well. They were your people, too, after all. However, you ran into someone entirely else. A person you didn't see in quite a while and haven't crossed paths with yet since she was here at the Hilltop... Michonne.
"Michonne." At the call of her name, the woman turned to face you; having just stepped outside the Barrington house. Once her brown eyes landed on you, a huge smile spread on her lips - one you couldn't help but to reciprocate. "Y/N, hey." She quickly crossed the distance separating you and gave you a careful hug - one that you reciprocated happily as well. "Hey," you greeted her back. "Long time no seen..." You felt her nod against you before she took a step back to retreat from the hug and face you again. "Way too long..." Then her eyes landed on the little bundle of joy strapped to your chest. Her smile even widened. "You and Daryl...?" You nodded. "Oh, uh, yeah. We expanded our little family. Had her barely a month ago... Her name is Ruby." "That's wonderful, Y/N. I'm happy for you two. I really am. How's Willa?" "She's great. Little whirlwind," you answered; smiling at the thought of your daughter. "How's Jude and RJ?" "Good. RJ is almost as tall as Judith by now," Michonne said, then added with the happiness visibly draining a little from her face: "Jude constantly asks for you and Daryl. Willa, too. She misses you."
You sighed; head lowering. "You could've come to Alexandria, too for Ruby's birth. We all would've been happy to see you." You nodded. "I know, Mich, I know. It's just... I think we came here because Daryl still isn't quite ready to return home. At least for a longer period of time. You get what I mean..." You didn't want to spell Rick's death out. You couldn't. Not in front of Michonne.
She nodded as well; eyes mirroring grief and sadness now. "Yes, I know. I can't blame Daryl for that. I never will. He's been out there all those years, looking for him." You reached out a hand to gently touch her arm in a sympathetic gesture. "And he still is. He won't stop looking. He can't."
"My mom walks with the dead 'cause that's what the dead do. It's their world and we have to live in it," Lydia stated firmly and tugged up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal the bruises on her arm. "And what my mom does, she does for a reason." Daryl had to suppress a scoff; hand gripping the aged steal of the cell bars the girl was caged behind. "Yer mom beats you 'cause she loves you? That's bullshit." Lydia merely shook her head; "No... It isn't." eyes trained on the archer. "When you stay soft, people die," she whispered almost threateningly and told Daryl what happened to her dad. How he died.
"You were just a little girl. It wasn't your fault." Lydia instantly shook her head at Daryl's actually reassuring words. "I was stupid. I deserved to die. But my dad was soft, and now he's the one that's dead." This time, Daryl couldn't prevent a disapproving, disbelieving huff from escaping his lips. "What was he supposed 't do? Just watch his little girl get bit?" "When you can't bend, you break. He broke." The man shook his head. "That's not true. We're makin' it better. We're building it back up. Changing it back." "Yeah?" Lydia whispered; a sarcastic tone swinging in her voice. "You don't belong with these people. Maybe you used to, but not anymore. You're hard, they're soft." Daryl leaned in closer to the bars. "You don't know shit about me," he spoke lowly - dangerously, and just when he wanted to speak up again, small steps suddenly cut through the tense air. Bare feet against stone. "Daddy?"
Daryl froze in all his movements for a moment before every parental instinct inside him took over. To get called 'daddy' by his very own flesh and blood had always been and would always be a privilege. Something he'd treasure until his last breath.
The archer gave his prisoner a warning glare before he turned to face his daughter. The hardness around his edges melted away like ice in the heat of Spring. Especially at the sight of his child.
Willa wore her blue pyjama onesie; stuffed animal her dad found for her back when she was a baby clutched tightly to her chest. Her long, slightly wavy hair - in a mix of yours and his hair color, hung rather messily over her small shoulders. One little hand rubbed her eyes - who looked suspiciously reddish and wet. The love Daryl felt rush through his body in this very moment was immeasurable.
"Willa," he spoke her name softly - tenderly, "Why are ya up, huh? 'S late. Whatcha doin' here?" and took a long stride forwards to get closer to her. Then he squatted down to be on eye-level with the small girl; facing her properly. "H-Had a nightmare," she whispered; visibly trying to suppress a sob. Daryl's heart threatened to break. If he could, he would - even in her dreams, hunt down anything and everything that only dared to threaten her to protect her. To make her feel safe. "'M sorry 'bout that, munchkin. You wanna talk about it?" To that question, the girl only shook her head; bottom lip trembling dangerously. "C'mere," the archer offered without hesitation and opened her arms for his daughter to seek comfort in. She did; short arms reaching around his neck to snuggle against him. Face buried in his shoulder. Daryl lifted her up then; arms securely wrapped around her - like a protective shield.
He just held her for a long moment; giving Willa the time to calm down again and just letting her feel that her father got her. That she was safe now with him.
Lydia watched the scenes unfold in front of her eyes rather... shocked and gobsmacked. The only side she got to know of Daryl was rough. Hard. Unforgiving. Cold. He didn't seem like a family man. "You... You're a father?" She caught herself asking; still in disbelief. The archer looked over his free shoulder to face the teenage girl again. "Told ya... You don't know anythin 'bout me," he almost growled and instantly redirected his attention back to his daughter. Lydia blinked; thoughts running wild inside her head, while Daryl pressed a lingering kiss against Willa's temple. "Where's yer mama, munchkin?" "Asleep," Willa mumbled in the leathery fabric of his signature angel-winged vest before she slightly lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him. "Didn't want to wake mama or my baby sister. You always say they need sleep."
Daryl had been sure his heart couldn't melt more - until now. His expression turned incredibly soft; a small smile gracing his chapped lips. "Tha's very thoughtful 'a ya, munchkin. 'N ya came to look fer me instead?" She nodded with a big yawn. Daryl's smile even widened. "C'mon. Let's getcha back to bed, yeah? Munchkin's need their sleep, too," he said and freed one hand to gently tickle her side - which made the seven-year-old squirm and giggle slightly. Before he rounded the corner to the stair, he turned to look at Lydia again. "We ain't done yet," the archer simply said and without another word made his way up the stone steps.
He carried his daughter back to the cosy trailer you shared as a family, stepped quietly inside - to not wake you and his newborn, and went to tuck Willa back in bed. Made sure she was warm, comfortable and safe. "'Kay... Try to sleep. 'M here now," Daryl whispered and leaned down to press a lingering kiss against the girl's forehead. He was about to leave the tiny room, when Willa held him back. "Daddy?" She whispered into the dark with a slight insecurity in her voice. "Yeah?" She shuffled underneath her blanket; trying to clutch the blanket closer. "C-Can you stay? Please?" Daryl melted all over again. How could he ever say no to her? "Sure, munchkin. I'll stay at least 'til yer asleep. Move over a lil'." The archer couldn't see the relief and happiness in his daughter's face, but he could feel it. After he had kicked off his boots and joined Willa in the actually way too small bed, she instantly cuddled against his side. He smiled as well; protectively tucking her against him. He stayed and cuddled her until he felt her relax and drift back off to sleep. After Daryl made sure that she was still properly tucked in, he grabbed his boots and quietly snuck out of the room.
His main destination was, of course, his very own bed. After yet another adventurous and kind of hard day, he was more than eager to get his very own cuddles. He loved being close to you. He needed to be close to you.
Daryl made two quick stops. The first one was Dog, who laid in his makeshift dog bed. He loved his animal best friend and squatted down to give him a well-deserved head scratch. "Hey, buddy, hey," he whispered, and the faithful canine gave an excited little squeak in return. "Did ya look out for yer ma and baby sisters while I was gone? Yeah, ya did. Good boy. Yer such a good dog." He petted the Malinois for another short while, before he straightened back up to let him get some sleep as well. Daryl's second stop - he got closer to his main destination, was the little crib which stood beside your side of the bed. Of course, he had to check in on his newborn daughter as well. Ruby was fast asleep; tiny fingers curled into fists. He just watched her for a long moment; smiling softly. Daryl fought the want to pick her up in his arms and carry her around for a while; just feeling her light weight and marvelling at how small she was compared to him. How soft and delicate. But he resisted; not wanting to wake her up.
Giving the miniature human a last loving look, he turned to finally go to bed himself. He made quick (but quiet) work taking off his boots, jeans, vest and shirt, before he slipped in bed underneath the covers beside you. His body was acting on its own will and instantly searched for physical contact; naturally. Daryl took you carefully in his arms; pressed his warm body against yours. Chest to back with one strong arm around your midsection to keep you close.
The archer's intention definitely was not to wake you up, but since you had Ruby, your sleep was lighter, and so you stirred. "'S jus' me. Sleep on, sunshine," Daryl whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to your neck; trying to save the situation. But the 'damage was done'. Your hand found his on your waist and you instinctively snuggled closer. He was warm. Always. Like a human heater. "Called it a day, babe?" You mumbled; still a little sleepy. "Mhm," he hummed behind you; hating that he woke you but also loving to talk to you. "Kinda had to. Willa looked fer me." You shifted and turned in his embrace to face him. "What?" He nodded. "Mhm. Had a nightmare 'n wanted to let you 'n Ruby sleep. So she looked for me." You huffed out a breath. "That girl is something else..." Your husband smiled - unbeknownst to you. "Well, she's ours, so..."
He wasn't wrong with that.
"Indeed, baby... But she's asleep now?" "Yah. Carried her back to bed 'n tucked her in." "Good. That's good." You paused and tucked your head underneath Daryl's chin; feeling him and enveloping yourself in his scent. Home. He didn't say a word either; fingers slowly, gently caressing the clothed skin of your smaller back.
"Any luck with Lydia?" The archer shook his head - a movement you felt. "Nah. Not really. Ain't know nothing new except the things she told Henry." he said; voice low but rough. "She'll talk eventually. Judging by all the things you told me so far, her life hadn't been easy. Her mother isn't easy. Give her some time - or just trust Henry with this." Daryl grumbled at your words and shook his head again. "Dunno if I should trust Henry with it. He's acting caring, yah, but so damn... headless 'n reckless, too. Tellin' her about our people and the Kingdom... He doesn't even know her." You couldn't suppress a small giggle. "Wha'? Ain't funny, darlin'. This group could be dangerous." "I know, I know, but...," you started and rubbed your hand over his naked shoulder blade. "Have you ever - just for a moment - considered that Henry is doing this for a reason?" He scoffed. "Which would be?" You bit your lip for a second; smiling. "Well... I think he's in love." "Love?" Your husband grumbled. "Nah."
You raised an eyebrow at him. "No? Never heard of love at first sight? 'Cause I think this is exactly what we got here. Besides, I know how a man in love looks, and..." You paused; burying your fingers in Daryl's lush curls. "... Henry positively looks like it." The archer melted into your touch; having to suppress a moan. "Yeah?" "Mhm. You should know, baby," you teased him a little. "After all, you wear that look everytime you look at me." He grunted and buried his head in your chest; mumbling something incomprehensable. You giggled softly and just held him against you; letting the man cuddle you. "Have some patience, Dar. Things will turn out just fine for us." His grip around you tightened a little. "Hope so," he whispered; trying to turn off his worrying, overthinking brain. No matter how things were going to turn out with Lydia and this new... group, his first priority was to make sure you and the kids were safe.
A/N: I am not confident in this story anymore. My memory has become unreliable so I have to reread each time I update and I know there’s continuity issues. I’m sorry. The show must go on though. Thanks for sticking with me this long. 🩵
A prison.
All towers and concrete and fences. Oh, and walkers.
“Stay with Lori.” Daryl’s hand was on your arm, the gentle squeeze all it took to let you know just how serious he was. You wanted to argue that you could help. That you could be an asset. “I know.” He murmured as if reading your mind. Damn him. Birdie shifted in the wrap against your chest, her own little way of agreeing with her father.
You gave a curt nod that absolutely screamed reluctant acquiescence. “Okay.”
“She’s got a gun. Let ‘er do the shootin’.” He was already taking steps away, arm still outstretched until just his fingertips remained on your arm, waiting for you to agree. The guns were already going to startle the baby, nevermind you firing off shots just a foot or so from where she was bundled. You couldn’t use the bow he’d found for you, not through the fence. He was right again.
“Got it,” you acceded before he darted away, following just behind Carol. You could have left Birdie with her. You were a better shot, not that she hadn’t improved. You yourself had taught her a little. Well, what you could with Birdie almost always attached to you in some form or fashion. You didn’t regret it, even if you did want to contribute more. Birdie and Daryl were your everything. And you would burn down the world if it meant keeping them safe.
Glancing at Lori, you watched her pace the small length of fence where the two of you were told to stay. Her hand was cradling the underneath of her belly. The swell had definitely dropped. This plan had to work because another baby would be joining the fold in the very near future.
Everyone else drew the attention of the dead from further down the walk. Of course, you would have helped with that as well, but the mere thought of allowing even a single set of milky yellow eyes to glance at Birdie made something twist inside you. They were everywhere, drawn by the noise. The movement. The smell of sweat and blood flowing through living veins.
Your eyes found Daryl atop one of the towers, Carol at his side. The woman called out an apology though you weren’t sure what it was for. There was too much happening for you to keep up. It was pandemonium. You felt that familiar constriction in your chest, the panic beginning to crawl through your gut and up towards where you beat and breathed. It was the urge to help. The need to protect Birdie. The worry for your fiancé. You felt helpless and that just wasn’t you. You were meant to be in the fray, fighting to keep the people you cared about safe.
Birdie shifted against you, drawing you out of your racing thoughts, though your breaths still came in shallow pants. You were keeping someone you cared about safe, weren’t you? The most important person. Someone who couldn’t fight for herself. “Ssh, it’s alright.” You murmured, stroking her back.
“Light it up!” You heard Daryl shout, gaze snapping towards him.
Everyone was moving with renewed enthusiasm. A breakthrough victory. The battle was almost over. Well—this one anyway. There would always be another. That was just the world since the Turn. Run, fight, rest. Rinse, repeat. Over and over again. No end to the cycle in sight.
Your fingers pulled tight against the wrap, feeling the solid, tiny form beneath it. You and Lori were bringing babies into a dying world. A literal hell. You could never regret Birdie, but you could feel guilty for what you were giving her versus what you wanted to give her.
When it was all said and done, the only walkers left were beyond the yard, shambling at the upper fences of the rec staging area. The grassy expanse was littered with bodies that would no longer rise and none of them belonged to your own company. It was a win, through and through. Hard earned and desperately needed.
The group was all smiles and celebration as they came together again in the pathway where you and Lori waited. Except Rick—all business and ignoring his wife. God, you wanted to throttle him where he stood.
“Y’good?”
Daryl’s hand on the small of your back admittedly startled you. “Yeah, we’re fine.” Saving him the time, it was your fingers that pulled the edge of the wrap back just enough for Birdie’s sleeping face to be visible to her father, a pacifier rhythmically popping in her mouth.
He snorted, brushing your hand aside to shield the baby from the afternoon sun. It was bright and beautiful, the weather growing warmer each day. Infants, however, couldn’t maintain their body temperature very well, so she still depended on you to ensure she was warm.
“How the hell’d she sleep through that racket?” He mused out loud. It was likely rhetorical, not requiring an answer. You obliged with nothing but a nod of agreement. A kiss—harder than he likely intended—was pressed into your hair before he moved away.
You watched him pass Lori, saying nothing but touching her arm. It was both an acknowledgement and an inquiry. The woman smiled before holding out an arm to you.
“Come on,” she urged. With a tight smile, you complied and entered the yard.
The bodies would need to be moved but for the moment, even you reveled in the open claim. It smelled of rot but it was enclosed. It was as safe as any of the group could hope for, even if it was temporary.
It was a start. It was enough.
To the surprise of exactly no one, Rick wanted more.
Only a few hours had passed, the sun giving way to the moon—the subtle warmth of the day blown aside by the cool air of night—before he was already making plans to move further towards the prison walls.
You and Daryl were perched atop a bus, Birdie suckling eagerly at your breast while Daryl paced, ever vigilant. He never was one to settle, and he wasn’t going to start now. One foot was always pointed toward a potential threat or the next meal, that crossbow loaded and waiting.
“Sit down.” You reached for the leg of his jeans, receiving a miffed scowl when you tugged. “You’re gonna march a groove in this thing and fall into the driver’s seat.”
He had no chance to respond before a bowl clanged against the edge, followed by Carol’s small hands grasping for purchase. You had eaten before joining your fiancè on top of the vehicle and again when he shoved his portion into your hands with insistence that you needed the protein for milk production. You didn’t argue but only because you had a backup plan to ensure he ate as well.
And Daryl was currently assisting said plan in climbing up to join you.
He picked up the bowl as Carol gave you a wink, though she spoke to him instead. “It’s not much, but if I don’t bring you something, you won’t eat at all.” Looking down at Birdie, you smiled, the curve of your lips a conspiratorial gesture. Two against one.
Checkmate.
Ever the gentleman, Daryl pinched some of the meat between his fingers and tipped back his head to drop it into his mouth. “I guess lil’ Shane over there’s got quite the appetite.”
“Don’t be mean,” Carol admonished with a smile while your head snapped up with an hushed exclamation of his name.
He simply shrugged, glancing over at the group around the fire. For reasons you couldn’t quite pinpoint, he was being surly, though the jab was halfhearted at best. Sure, there had been rough patches and disagreements but Lori had been there for you. Hell, she had been there for him too. Advice throughout the pregnancy, a kind word, a smile.
“Rick’s gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would, I’ll give him that,” Carol continued. She had been so unsure about Rick. She still was, but there was a reluctant acceptance in that statement. “Shane could never have done that.” And there was nothing but certainty in that one. Daryl hummed his agreement as you nodded yours while you shifted Birdie to your shoulder to burp her.
“S’wrong?” Daryl asked before stuffing more meat into his mouth. His eyes narrowed, watching Carol rub at her shoulder. He never missed a thing, did he? Well, sometimes he did, but he always caught up. It was just his way.
“It's that rifle. The kickback,” the other woman answered. Handling a gun was still new to her. “I’m just not used to it.”
You could still remember your father teaching you when you were young. There was no curiosity regarding firearms for you as a child. He made sure you were knowledgeable so that you could always feed and protect yourself. If only he knew how that had kept you safe all this time. Well, more so an archer than a gun since just after you had lost your family.
You watched the wheels turning in Daryl’s head. He didn’t look to you for an opinion before a mumbled “hold on.” The bowl clinked against the top of the bus, and he gave a small gesture for Carol to step closer while his fingers went straight to his mouth to lick off the juices of the small meal. You had just begun to roll your eyes when he began to rub at her shoulder.
Oh, how you wanted to tease him, but you didn’t want him to recoil from the woman. He may have forgiven her, expressing it in his own Daryl way, but the man never forgot. That was ground you’d rather not disturb if you could help it. He already looked a little uncomfortable, face scrunching for a moment before he let his hands fall away.
“Better get back,” he muttered.
Carol, however, did not allow the opportunity to pass.
With another wink at you, she was already grinning before she turned those blue eyes towards your fiancé. “You’re being pretty romantic.” He was already giving her that look but the heat behind it was barely even simmering. “Want me to take the baby so that you two can screw around?” She made grabby hands for Birdie before you heard the pfft from Daryl.
Little one successfully passed off, you took Daryl’s outstretched hand and allowed him to pull you to your feet. He had taken the teasing in stride, a testament to his relief regarding a place that at least allowed everyone a stopgap reprieve. He even chuckled slightly. His index finger and thumb found your chin but barely brushed it before he was poised at the edge of the bus.
“I’ll go down first,” he said, bending his knees.
“Even better.” Carol nudged you with an elbow, careful not to jostle the baby. Your mouth gaped for a moment before you shook your head fondly. The atmosphere was light. You felt like you could breathe.
“Stop,” Daryl grumbled. The way his eyes met yours before he began to climb down, a heat braising within darkened blue, meant that he might just let someone else take watch for a while but they’d need to avoid one of those towers.
Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes. In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.
Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 9.7k
Warnings: language, violence, miscarriage fears
PART 7
The days following that harrowing night with Negan was a blur of pain, sorrow and fear. Alexandria, once a beacon of hope and a semblance of normalcy in this world gone mad, now felt like a place of mourning. The air was thick with grief as you all grappled with the loss of Glenn and Abraham.
Maggie had gone to Hilltop after some complications with her pregnancy, Sasha went with her for support and Jesus promised to take care of her. You were all worried about her, but you were more worried for Daryl and Merle.
Were they even still alive?
They had to be. Negan needed them alive as bargaining chips, forcing you to do whatever he wanted. He wouldn't kill them, not yet anyway.
Rick was a shell of his former self. You could see the torment in his eyes, the guilt and helplessness eating away at him. He blamed himself for everything that happened with the Saviours, you knew it even if he hadn't admitted it. You didn't know how to help him, you didn't even know how to help yourself.
The sight of Negan's bat still haunted you, its blood-stained wood a grim reminder of what happened. Ricky and Dean were trying to be strong, but you knew losing Glenn and Abraham and having their father and Uncle Merle taken away was hurting them deeply because it was hurting you so badly.
The community needed strength, hope, and a leader to step up, but your father wasn’t in the right headspace. The people of Alexandria began looking at you for answers, for reassurance that everything would be okay. But how could you promise them anything when your world had been shattered and taken away?
Negan and the Saviours would return in a week's time to gather supplies. You had to be ready for that, however, not even four days after the lineup, a convoy of vehicles pulled up in front of Alexandria—it was the Saviours.
Their arrival sent a wave of dread through the community. People scattered, some rushing to hide, others to prepare for what was to come. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stood at the gates, trying to remain calm.
"Little pig, little pig, let me in!" Negan called out, his voice dripping with mockery.
Spencer was the first to reach the gate but he didn't open it as he spoke with Negan too quietly for you to hear as you hurriedly made your way over not trusting Spencer to handle the situation.
Your sons were following close behind, staying silent but eyeing Negan worriedly.
"Well, hello there, mama bear." Negan grinned, but when you stopped beside Spencer without so much as a greeting or indication of opening the gate, his grin shifted into an angry glare. "Do not make me have to ask."
"You said a week. You're early," Rick's voice spoke up from behind you.
You let out a small sigh of relief as your father appeared by your side before he stepped forward and pulled the gate open.
"I missed you," Negan smirked.
A walker stumbled out from the convoy of vehicles and Negan was quick to make a big song and dance about it as he took it out with his bat just as he had done to your friends a few days prior. You looked away at the sight, and reached down pulling Ricky and Dean behind you as if you could shield them from the pain you felt inside.
Negan rambled on about 'service' before he swaggered forward, Lucille resting casually on his shoulder. He passed the bat off to Rick getting him to hold the weapon. He reluctantly obeyed as Negan surveyed Alexandria.
The Saviours followed their leader through the gates of Alexandira, but you were so focused on Negan, you didn't even notice Daryl standing amongst them until your son called out for him.
"Dad!" Dean shouted.
Your head snapped up instantly and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes met Daryl's. His hair was dishevelled, his face gaunt, and eyes holding a haunted look that broke your heart. He was now wearing a filthy pair of pants and matching long sleeve shirt with the letter 'A' spray painted on the front in orange. He bore the marks of Negan's cruelty, cuts and bruises hidden behind the hair covering his face.
But there he stood, alive.
Daryl was alive.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you held them back. Every instinct was telling you to run to him, to hold him and promise everything would be alright, but you knew better. Any sudden move could trigger Negan's wrath, and that was a risk you couldn't afford to take.
Daryl's eyes flickered with a mix of relief and sorrow as he looked at you and the kids. He didn't dare move or speak, knowing the consequences all too well.
Dean tried to run to him, but you and Ricky held him back gently, your heart aching with the effort. Negan noticed the exchange and he chuckled, revelling in the silent torment he was inflicting.
"Well, well, looks like someone missed Daddy," he taunted, glancing between you and Daryl. "Ain't that just heartwarming?"
You tightened your grip on Ricky and Dean, your gaze hardening. "What do you want, Negan?"
"What do I want? How about a little respect, some gratitude for not bashing more of your friends' heads in?"
Rick took a step forward, not liking how much attention Negan was giving you and the boys. Negan turned his attention back to Daryl, motioning for one of his men to bring him forward.
"Why don't we give these fine folks a little family reunion?"
Daryl was shoved towards you, stumbling slightly but quickly regaining his footing. The sight of him so close, yet still so far, was almost unbearable.
Dean suddenly yanked his arm free from your grasp and rushed the remaining distance to his father and wrapped his arms around him. Ricky quickly followed and hugged Daryl too.
You were moving before you even registered it, Daryl's arms immediately wrapped around the boys, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looked over at you. His gaze flickered down to your baby bump that was no longer hidden now that the secret was out before his eyes met yours once again.
"Daryl, I-" You began to say, your hand barely managing to grasp his shoulder before Negan cut you off.
"No. Nope!"
Negan suddenly grabbed you by the arm and hauled you away from Daryl roughly. You tried to fight his hold, but his fingers only tightened around your wrist like a vice making you wince. He pulled you closer to him, his presence looming and grip tightening.
"Here's how this is gonna work. Daryl is the help. You don't look at him, you don't talk to him, and I don't make you chop anything off of him or his brother back at the Sanctuary. Got it, mama?"
Your heart pounded in your chest as you met Negan's cold, calculating gaze. His smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.
"You follow my rules, and everyone's happy. You don't? Well, I think you know what happens then."
"Leave her alone, Negan," Rick growled, his fists tightening at his sides.
"Oh, don't worry," Negan replied, his tone almost too casual. "I'm not gonna hurt your daughter. As long as she behaves."
His grip on your wrist finally loosened, and he pushed you away roughly. You stumbled, but Rick's strong arms quickly caught you, steadying you. You looked up at him, seeing the worry etched in his features, and gave him a small, reassuring nod.
Daryl's eyes never left yours. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the need to protect you and the boys but also the knowledge that any wrong move could get someone killed.
"Get those kids away from him," Negan ordered.
Daryl quickly shielded the boys away from the Saviour that stepped forward. He whispered something to them before Ricky and Dean reluctantly let go of him and ran back over to you. You reached out, pulling Dean into your side as Ricky stood between you and Rick glaring up at Negan with a fire in his eye that reminded you of yourself.
Negan clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through Alexandria.
"Alright, let's see what goodies you got in the cupboard!"
The Saviours spread out, searching homes and taking inventory of supplies, their presence a dark cloud over the already grieving community. They took what they wanted, guns and ammunition too. There wasn't a single thing you could do to stop them, and you all knew it.
As the Saviours ransacked Alexandria, you kept your eyes on Daryl, silently promising that you would find a way to bring him home. No matter what it took.
-
That night you managed to put Ricky and Dean to bed in Merle's bedroom, the only one left in the house with a mattress after the Saviours' pillaging.
The boys had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted from the day's trauma, but you remained awake, your mind reeling from the events. You lingered by their side for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from Dean's forehead and then quietly left the room.
Your own exhaustion was overwhelming now that you didn't have to maintain the strong façade. The image of Daryl, hurt and paraded like a trophy by Negan, had broken you.
Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. You couldn't afford to break down, knowing once you did, you wouldn't be able to stop. The house was eerily silent, the remnants of the Saviours' invasion still evident in the scattered possessions and the empty spaces where your belongings once were.
You made your way to Rick's room, but hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle. Your emotions were running all over the place. Maybe it was because you were pregnant and it was the hormones, but it didn't matter.
You needed your father right now.
It had been a long time since you felt a moment where you needed him. You had spent so long being independent after running away from home, you were used to not needing a parental figure, but right now... you needed your dad.
You knocked on the door gently, your hand trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. The door creaked open a few seconds later, and Rick's worried eyes met yours. Michonne was asleep on a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor where their mattress had once been, but you shifted your focus back to your father.
He didn't need to ask; he could see the pain in your eyes. Without a word, he opened his arms, and you stepped into the comforting embrace of your father.
"We'll get through this," he murmured, holding you tightly and rubbing your back gently. "We'll get Daryl and Merle back. I promise."
The tears you had been holding back all day finally spilled over, and you clung to him, letting the sobs wrack your body. He held you through it, and you allowed yourself to be vulnerable, letting out the fear and pain you had been holding in.
His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his hold grounded you, even as your tears soaked into his shirt. You cried until there were no more tears left, your body trembling with the aftermath of your pent-up anguish.
Eventually, Rick gently pulled away just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face with a mix of concern and determination. He glanced down at your baby bump, his worry deepening.
"Honey, have you eaten anything today?" he asked softly.
You shook your head, not trusting your voice at the moment. The truth was, you hadn't had time to think about food. The day had been a blur of terror and loss, and your own needs had been the last thing on your mind.
Rick sighed, his brow furrowing. "You need to take care of yourself, for the baby's sake," he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "Come on, let's get you something to eat."
He guided you towards the kitchen, not waiting for a reply. The cupboards were half-empty, their contents strewn across the floor, but Rick managed to find a can of soup that had been overlooked.
You sat down at the table silently, your hand cradling your small baby bump. Rick was quiet as he prepared the food before placing a steaming bowl in front of you. You picked up the spoon with a trembling hand, the scent of the soup filling the air.
"Do you remember that time we went camping with Shane?" he asked suddenly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
It had been a long time since your father talked about Uncle Shane. The two of them used to be as close as brothers, but you heard about everything that had happened between them when the world ended.
But it was still nice to hear him mention Shane again, especially with a smile on his face.
“You insisted on making the soup over the campfire,” he continued to say. “But ended up spilling it and burning yourself."
You managed a small laugh, recalling the memory. "Yeah, you and Uncle Shane both freaked out. You drove me all the way back home even though it was the middle of the night just so I could cuddle my stuffed bear to make me feel better."
"Yeah, I did." He nodded, his expression softening. "I'm your dad, it's my job to look after you. And that still stands. You might be an adult now, but you're still my baby girl. I will always look after you, and your boys, and that unborn baby, okay? I'm here for you, Y/N."
A lump formed in your throat as you nodded, tears welling up again. You continued to sip the hot soup, each spoonful warming you from the inside out. Your father's words echoed in your mind, and you felt an overwhelming swell of emotions—gratitude, love, a fierce longing for the normalcy that now seemed so far away.
"I... I'm scared, Dad," You whispered, your voice trembling.
"I know. Me too," he admitted. "But we'll get through this. I promise."
Tears once again fell freely down your face, mingling with the remnants of the soup. Rick laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, standing protectively by your side in silent comfort. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
The quiet moment between you was interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps descending the stairs. Carl appeared, rubbing his tired eye, looking every bit the sleepy teenager. His footsteps slowed as he took in the scene before him.
"Hey," your brother said softly, his voice still groggy from sleep. "What's going on?"
Rick straightened up, giving Carl a reassuring smile. "Just having a late-night snack. Come join us."
Carl nodded before crossing the room and sitting down at the table opposite you, his worried gaze meeting yours.
"You okay, sis?"
You gave him a small, albeit watery, smile. "Yeah, just... I'm fine."
Carl raised an eyebrow, not buying your lie in the slightest, but he didn't call you out on it though. He was good like that.
Rick moved to the stove, fetching another bowl and ladling some soup into it. He placed it in front of Carl, who frowned in confusion.
"It's, like, what? Midnight? Why am I getting fed soup?"
"Don't make me eat alone," You said, glancing over at him with pleading eyes.
Carl sighed dramatically before scooping up a spoonful into his mouth and shaking his head. "The things I do for you."
Rick chuckled softly, sitting back down at the table and looking at his kids with a fond smile.
The three of you sat in comfortable silence, and for a brief second, the outside world and the Saviours were nearly forgotten as you enjoyed this rare moment with your family.
-
Time blurred together.
Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days. Alexandria was on high alert and slowly began running low on supplies. Between the Saviours taking half of everything, and the community trying to survive, there wasn't much left anymore.
Sometime during the week, Tara returned home from her two-week supply run, only to discover that Denise was dead. You found her on the floor of the infirmary and held her while she cried. Tara spent a lot of time with you in the infirmary after that, trying to help where she could and to step up now that the only other person in the community with medical knowledge was gone.
Groups went out to scavenge for supplies, but most came home with little to show for their efforts. Rick and Aaron had gone out yesterday to try hit a few places further away, they were meant to be back sometime today, but you couldn't stop worrying.
So, you busied yourself in the infirmary, trying to keep your mind occupied, but that was easier said than done. You kept thinking about Daryl and Merle, probably hurt and scared with the Saviours. You needed to get them back, but you didn't even know where to start or how to attempt a jail break them from Negan's fortress.
The door to the infirmary suddenly burst open, startling you from your thoughts as you turned around to find a frantic looking Dean rushing inside. Your stomach dropped, knowing something was wrong.
"Ricky is gone!"
Wait, what?
Tara looked up from the medical book she was studying, her eyes widening and mirroring your own shock.
"What are you talking about?" You asked carefully, trying to remain calm.
"He's gone. I thought... I thought he was with Carl all day upstairs reading comic books, but they're not there. I... I looked everywhere," Dean hurriedly explained.
"I'm sure they're here somewhere," You reassured before glancing to Tara who was already waving you towards the door.
"Go. I'll hold down the fort here."
You nodded your thanks before following Dean out the building. The house was eerily empty except for Judith fast asleep in her cot and Olivia sitting on the couch babysitting. She didn't know where Ricky or Carl had gone and continuously apologised for letting them sneak out. It wasn't her fault though. They were teenagers, it was what teenagers did. Although, you had a horrible feeling that this wasn't just two teenagers having fun. They were up to something.
"I'm going out to look for them. Dean, I need you to stay here with Olivia, okay? I'm taking a walkie, so if they come back-"
A knock on the front door stopped you midsentence. You rushed across the living room hoping it was them, but as you opened the front door you were met with Negan.
The Saviours were here.
You had been too distracted to hear them arrive, and you would have been annoyed with yourself if you weren't so downright terrified now. Negan grinned as you opened the door, and you glared up at him as he sauntered straight past you into the house without an invitation.
You didn't have much time to dwell on it before Ricky and Carl stepped forward both looking guilty and worried.
Wait, they had been with Negan? Did they go to the Sanctuary?
"Where the hell have you two been?" You hissed quietly, grabbing them both by the collars of their shirts and pulling them into the house.
"Take a guess," Carl muttered in frustration.
You glared at your brother, but could see the fear behind his annoyed façade, and your expression softened. You glanced down at Ricky who was staring at the ground clearly knowing he was in trouble.
"Are you both okay?"
They nodded silently.
You sighed before pulling them both into a tight hug. Ricky immediately hugged you back and Carl hesitated for a second before melting into your embrace.
"Where's Rick?" Negan suddenly asked.
The three of you pulled apart as you closed the front door and turned to face Negan properly. He was glancing around the house in amusement before his gaze settled on you.
"You can't just walk in-"
"Doooon't care. Where's Rick?" he repeated, cutting you off.
"Out scavenging, for you," You answered, spitting the last few words out bitterly.
Negan grinned. "Cool. I'll wait."
He strolled into the living room, making himself at home on your couch. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Make yourself at home, why don't you," You muttered sarcastically.
"Don't mind if I do," he replied, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "Got anything to drink around here?"
You shot him a withering look. "Sure, why don't I just whip up a five-star dinner while I'm at it?"
Ricky and Carl stood by quietly, exchanging uncertain glances. Negan merely chuckled, undeterred by your sarcasm.
"I knew I liked you for a reason," he said with a wink.
You bit back a retort, feeling the tension in the room mount. The sooner Rick returned, the better.
"I can go make some of that powdered lemonade," Olivia suddenly said, walking into the room followed by Dean.
Negan glanced over at her, his gaze shifting to Dean with a curious twinkle in his eye that you did not like.
"That would be great, Olivia. Boys, why don't you go help her?" You suggested, nodding towards the front door as you looked over at Ricky, Dean and Carl.
You didn't want them in this house with Negan. The three of them hesitated, because as much as you didn't want them around Negan, they didn't want to leave you alone with him either.
"Nope. The boys stay. She goes. Take your time. Make it good," Negan ordered, pointing to Olivia.
You clenched your jaw but didn't argue as you watched her leave the house before you turned back to Negan who was now standing up from the couch, his attention still focused on Dean.
He took a step closer to your youngest, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and calculation. The room seemed to shrink around you as you watched him, every muscle in your body tense. Ricky shifted a little closer to his brother protectively while Carl stood nearby, glaring at Negan.
"Tell me, kid," he said, his voice dripping with false sweetness, "what's your name?"
"Dean," he replied, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.
"Dean," Negan repeated, rolling the name around in his mouth as if savouring it. "Well, Dean-o, you look like a smart kid. You know who I am?"
He nodded slowly. "You're Negan."
The man’s laughter filled the room, a sound that grated on your nerves. "That's right. I'm Negan. And you know what that means, don't you?" He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing.
Dean didn't flinch, but you could see the tension in his jaw as he nodded.
Negan straightened up, his gaze shifting back to you. "Smart kid," he remarked, almost approvingly. "You did good, keeping this one alive. Ricky on the other hand, not so smart. You see, him and Carl here snuck into one of my delivery trucks and tried to take me down. Killed a bunch of my men... you're lucky I don't kill kids."
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from reacting to what he said. You had about a million questions for Carl and Ricky, but it was gonna have to wait.
You stepped forward, positioning yourself between Negan and your sons. "What the hell do you want from us?
"Fiery, aren't we?" He chuckled, taking a step closer to you. "I like that. I like someone who has a bit of spark."
"You don't scare me, Negan."
He leaned in, his face inches from yours. "Oh, I think I do. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, does it?"
"What do you want from us?" You repeated, ignoring his comment.
"Well, I'm here to have a little chat with Rick. But seeing as he's not home yet, I figured I'd get to know the rest of the fam. And you, darling, are quite the entertaining distraction. You know, it looks like I'm gonna be here for a while, awaiting your fearless father's return. And if you'd like, I think it would be enjoyable to screw your brains out. I mean, if, you know, you're agreeable to it."
Without thinking, your hand shot out and connected with Negan's cheek, the sharp crack echoing through the room. The moment your palm made contact, your mind raced with panic. Oh, that was a bad reaction. What had you just done?
Time seemed to stand still as Negan slowly turned his head back to you, a grin spreading across his face. Instead of anger, he seemed almost delighted.
"Fiery indeed," he growled, his eyes twinkling with dark amusement. "I am about 50% more into you now. Just saying."
Carl took a hesitant step forward, his fists clenched by his side. Ricky mimicked his action, while Dean stood back watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.
Their movements didn't go unnoticed. Negan glanced over at them and grinned.
"Don't worry, kids. I'm not gonna hurt anyone... unless I have to. Now, why don't we all sit down and wait for your fearless leader to come home?"
You remained where you stood, your heart pounding. Negan's grin remained plastered on his face, but there was a new glint in his eye, one that told you he was far from displeased.
"Come on," he urged, waving his hand towards the living room. "Let's make ourselves comfortable. You too mama, you need to rest, right?"
Negan's eyes shifted down to your baby bump and you placed your hand over it subconsciously causing him to smirk. You turned and walked into the living room, the boys following closely behind.
Negan, ever the showman, took his time to survey the room, admiring the decorations as though he were a guest at a dinner party. He finally settled into Rick's favourite armchair, crossing his legs leisurely.
"Now, this is more like it," he said, stretching his arms over the back of the chair. "Home sweet home, right?"
You could see Carl's jaw clenched tight, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep his composure. Dean's gaze flickered between you and Negan, his anxiety barely contained. Ricky, ever the protector, stood closest to you, his body a shield.
"So," Negan drawled, "how's life been treating y'all here in the grand ol' Rick Grimes' Kingdom? Can't say I approve of the decor, but hey, it's cozy enough."
"You didn't come here for small talk, Negan. Why are you waiting around for my father? Why not just come back tomorrow?" You asked cautiously.
Negan chuckled. "Why am I doing this? Because I can. Because it's a new world. And in this world, you gotta remind people who's in charge. You're smart. You get it, don't you? This is all just a game, and I'm just making sure everyone knows the rules."
"So, everything is just a game to you? Killing my friends, taking my husband and brother-in-law, that's part of your game?" You questioned, unable to keep the anger out of your tone.
"Oh, darling, let's not get melodramatic. If you want to survive, if you want that unborn baby to survive, you've got to play by the rules. My rules." He paused, letting his words sink in, before turning his gaze to Ricky. "And you, tough guy? You trying to be the knight in shining armour here? Think you can protect your mama from me?"
Ricky's posture stiffened, but he didn't respond. His silence only seemed to amuse Negan further.
"Look at you, all brave and silent. I could almost admire it, if it weren't so damn predictable." He chuckled with a shake of his head.
Dean shifted uneasily, his eyes darting from Negan to you, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. Carl remained motionless, his jaw still clenched, his eye burning with a mixture of fear and fury.
Negan leaned back in the chair, his demeanour once again relaxed and casual.
"How's the little one doing? You must be a few months along, huh?"
The sudden shift in conversation and question caught you off guard. You instinctively placed your hand on your baby bump again, trying to shield your unborn child from his gaze.
"We're fine," You answered curtly, hoping to end the conversation there.
But Negan wasn't done. He never was.
"Good, good. You take care of that little one. Because in this world, you never know what's gonna happen next." He smirked, his eyes drinking you in. "So, what do you think your daddy will say when he gets here? Think he'll be happy to see me?"
"I think," You said slowly, "that he won't be happy about you threatening his family."
“Threatening? No, no, no. This isn't a threat. It's a promise. And you better believe I'll keep it."
-
The afternoon dragged on, and there was still no sign of Rick. You would have been worried that something had gone wrong on the supply run, but you were too focused on Negan being inside your house and the Saviours standing out in the streets of Alexandria with guns to worry about much else at the moment.
Negan had gotten bored with sitting in the living room and dragged the boys around the house for a 'grand tour.' He found an old razor in the upstairs bathroom and decided to use it. Negan clean shaven was an odd look, but you made sure not to comment on it.
"Holy cow, you Dixon's are like rabbits, huh?" Negan's voice called out in clear amusement.
You turned around on the couch in confusion, but your heart stopped when you saw him walking downstairs with Judith in his arms. Olivia had hidden her cot in the laundry, but it seemed like he had found her anyway. Carl trailed behind Negan, watching him cautiously, not trusting him with the little girl.
"She's a Grimes actually," You corrected.
"Grimes or Dixon, it doesn't matter, it's all the same anyway." Negan shrugged, glancing around the living room. He pointed to you, then to Ricky and Dean on the couch beside you, then to your belly, then to Carl before looking down at Judith. "Wow, there really are a lot of you kids, huh?"
None of you dignified his comment with a response but Negan didn't seem to care, too busy smiling at Judith in his arms.
Olivia returned to the house with freshly made lemonade before Negan decided that it was time for dinner and took over the kitchen to make spaghetti.
It wasn't long before he started to get agitated that Rick still hadn't gotten back, but then Spencer showed up at the front door with a bottle of whiskey for Negan and that seemed to calm him down. You weren't exactly a fan of Spencer, but you were grateful when he took Negan outside and away from your family.
The Saviours dragged a pool table out onto the road in front of the house, him and Spencer now playing a game of 8 Ball while waiting for Rick. The game had drawn in quite a crowd of Saviours and Alexandrians alike. You sat on the porch steps, not letting Negan out of your sight. Ricky and Dean sat either side of you while Carl sat on the porch swing beside Olivia.
Spencer was bad mouthing Rick during the entire game, trying to talk Negan into making him the leader of Alexandria instead of your father. But it was clear Negan wasn't buying it, so you remained silent and watched cautiously.
"You know what I'm thinking, Spencer?" Negan asked, while he lined up his shot on the pool table. "I'm thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly hates my guts. But he is out there right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don't hurt any of the fine people that live here. He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done. That takes guts."
Negan took his turn before lowering the pool cue on the table and turning his attention completely to Spencer. He took a few steps closer to the other man before continuing.
"And then there's you. The guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick's place. So, I got to ask, if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself and just take over?"
Spencer faltered. "No, no. I didn't- I don't-"
"You know what I'm thinking? 'Cause I have a guess." He leaned in closer to him and whispered, "it's because you got no guts."
Negan plunked a knife straight into Spencer's stomach before anyone could react and sliced it across, spilling the man's guts out as he collapsed onto the bitumen road below in a pool of blood.
You were on your feet in an instant, ushering Ricky and Dean back up the porch steps behind the safety of the railing. You drew your own knife from your belt cautiously and descended the steps until you were standing on the curb near the pool table.
"Oh, how embarrassing. There they are. They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong in my whole life!" Negan exclaimed dramatically with a sickening grin.
The silence that followed was deafening. Nobody dared to move or say anything as they stared down at Spencers lifeless body in pure horror. Negan grinned, relishing in their fear as he turned around and picked up Lucille from where the bat was leant against the pool table, but then his gaze flashed towards you.
"Easy, mama bear. We don't want no more surprises, do we?"
You clenched your jaw, remaining silent as your fingers tightened around the knife but you didn't move, and Negan's smirk widened before he turned back to address the crowd.
"Now, someone oughta get up here and clean this mess up," he ordered, as he glanced around waving his bat in the air. "Anyone want to finish the game? C'mon. Anybody? Anybody? C'mon, I was winning!"
A crack of a gunshot cut through the tense air of Alexandria.
You flinched and Rosita stood in front of Negan, handgun raised and a fierce look in her eye that quickly turned to panic when she realised that the bullet hit Lucille and not Negan.
Oh, that was bad. That was really bad.
"Shit! What the shit?!" Negan shouted, looking at the bullet lodged into the wooden bat before he glared at Rosita who had already been pinned to the ground by a Saviour. "You just- you tried to kill me?! You shot Lucille!"
"She got in the way," Rosita grunted.
Negan turned away, pacing and breathing heavily as he tried to keep himself under control. You took a small hesitant step forward, the knife still clutched tightly in your hand. Something was going to happen, no way would Negan let this go unpunished.
You watched as he knelt down and picked up the bullet casing from the ground inspecting it closely before he turned back and glared down at Rosita.
"What is this? What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade. You may be stupid, darling, but you showed some real ingenuity here."
Wait, how the hell did Rosita make a bullet?
Negan continued to ramble on, but you zoned out his voice as you stared at Rosita on the road. Arat had a knife against her cheek, blood trickling down her face.
Rosita was smart, she was skilled, but she couldn't make bullets. Your eyes shifted over the crowd before landing on Eugene standing nearby with a look of absolute terror on his face. Bingo. And there was your bullet maker. That skill would come in handy, you noted silently to yourself.
"Fine. Have it your way. Arat, kill somebody," Negan ordered.
Those words snapped you out of your thoughts in a flash, your eyes widening in panic.
"No! It was me, no!" Rosita screamed.
Arat dropped the knife, drawing a handgun from her holster before spinning around towards you. She barely gave herself time to aim as the barrel shifted past you towards the porch and squeezed the trigger.
"No!" Your scream mixed with Rosita's as you spun around just in time to see Olivia collapse with a bullet through her head.
Ricky, Dean and Carl stood beside her, their faces pale in utter horror. She nearly killed one of the boys. She barely aimed, she just turned and fired. She could have killed your sons or brother. Hell, the bullet could have missed them all and gone through the window and hit Judith asleep inside.
"You son of a bitch!" You growled, anger taking over the rational side of your brain.
Within a second, you had Arat pinned to the ground just how she had Rosita pinned only moments ago. The blade of your hunting knife pushing against her throat.
"You could've killed my kids!" You hissed, pressing the blade down harder drawing a thin line of blood as she winced. "You could've killed my brother. My baby sister! I should slit your throat for it, right now."
"Y/N!" Carl's voice yelled in a warning.
Suddenly, you were tackled to the ground by a Saviour. Your back collided with the bitumen, hard, knocking the wind out of you as the knife slipped from your grasp. You tried to get up, but a fist collided with the side of your face, forcing you back down in a daze.
"No!" One of the boys shouted, but you barely heard them above the blood rushing in your ears.
A boot suddenly collided against your stomach causing you to cry out in pain as you instinctively tried to curl in on yourself to protect your baby. The kicks didn't stop though, the steel caps hitting your side and back relentlessly.
"Enough!" Negan's stern voice snapped. "She's fucking pregnant. What the hell is wrong with you?!"
The pain seared through your body, each breath a sharp agony as you struggled to inhale. Negan's voice cut through the noise like a blade, and the blows ceased abruptly. The Saviour who had been mercilessly kicking you was yanked away, and you felt the air shift as the pressure lifted from your battered body.
"Get back!" Negan marched over, kneeling beside you, his face a mixture of fury and something else—regret? "Christ, are you okay? You're as tough as nails, but you shouldn't have done that. Damnit."
You couldn't find the strength to respond, the pain and shock rendering you momentarily speechless.
Around you, the chaos seemed to pause, all eyes on the scene unfolding. Ricky, Dean, and Carl rushed to your side, their faces etched with worry and panic. Carl dropped to his knees, his hands hovering uncertainly over you, wanting to help but not knowing how.
Negan stared at you for a moment, a flash of emotion in his eyes before he stood up, his gaze shifting to Arat, who was now standing with a hand pressed against the cut on her neck.
"You." He pointed at her. "We need to have a serious talk later. That is not how we handle things people!"
Lying on the cold, unforgiving ground, you wrapped one arm protectively around your stomach, while trying to prop yourself up with the other. Each breath felt like shards of glass slicing through your chest, but you forced yourself to focus on breathing steadily.
"We had an agreement!" Your father’s voice shouted.
"Rick! Look, everybody, it's Rick!" Negan announced happily.
You glanced over as your father pushed his way through the crowd, his hard eyes glued to Negan's before he suddenly noticed you on the ground and he froze. His eyes flicked from you to Negan, then back to you again, a storm of emotions brewing within him. He rushed over, dropping to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch your face gently.
"Are you okay?" His voice was a shaken whisper.
You managed a nod, body shaking from pain and adrenaline. Rick's jaw clenched, and his gaze hardened as he looked up at Negan, fury dancing in his eyes.
"What did you do to her?! What the hell happened here?!"
Negan shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes betrayed a glimmer of concern. "Just a little misunderstanding, Rick. But don't worry, I've got it under control."
"This is your idea of control?" he spat, his hands tightening into fists.
"Rick, how about a 'thank you'? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am. Your kid and grandkid, they hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought them home, safe and sound, and I fed them spaghetti."
Rick gritted his teeth, glancing up at Carl and Ricky briefly before focusing back on you while Negan continued to ramble in the background.
"Another one of your people, well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out... for you. Another one, here, she shot Lucille, trying to kill me just now," he said, pointing at Rosita before looking to where Olivia laid motionless. "So, I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her, that mouth did some major damage. Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat... I don't know, didn't trust her."
"What the hell happened to my daughter?!" Rick growled angrily, glaring over his shoulder at Negan.
"Now that... that, granted, that shouldn't have happened. But, Y/N, here... well, she did break a rule. She got a little upset that Arat shot Olivia so close to her kids. Now, I can understand that. Angry mother, pregnancy hormones making her act out, I get it. I'm a reasonable man, so I wasn't going to punish her... this time. But one of my men seemed to think otherwise. Don't you worry, Rick, I took care of that real quick."
"Not quick enough," he snapped. "Your shit's waiting for you at the gate. Just go."
"Sure thing, Rick. Right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet."
You dismissed Negan's voice as he questioned the group about the homemade bullet. Ricky, Dean and Carl hovered around you anxiously, but you kept your focus on Rick, using him as an anchor as you forced yourself to breathe through the sharp pain across your midsection.
You were fine. The baby was fine. You both had to be fine. Everything was fine.
"I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick, that and whatever you left for me at the front gate," Negan continued to say glancing at Eugene. "And however much you scavenged, it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today. Let's move out!"
The Saviours all began walking down the road towards the front gate, Negan following behind with Lucille slung over his shoulder casually. He glanced back at you briefly, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of guilt flashing through them before he turned around and kept walking.
"Where are you hurt? Are you... the baby..." Rick was unable to finish his sentence as his gaze shifted back down to you, his eyes now shimmering with unshed tears once the Saviours left.
"I... I'm fine," You winced, trying to sit up.
"Easy. Easy," he said, gently helping you.
"You're not fine," Carl snapped worriedly. "You were kicked multiple times."
Rick's eyes widened. "We need to get you to the infirmary, now."
"No," You protested, wincing as you tried to push yourself up. "Our infirmary doesn't have the equipment to check on the baby properly. There's no point going there."
Rick's face tightened with worry, but he didn't argue. Instead, he helped you stand, his arm securely around your waist to support you. As you began to walk, a sharp pain shot through your abdomen, causing you to gasp and clutch your side. Rick tightened his grip on you, his face etched with concern.
"Is she going to be okay? The baby?" Dean spoke up in fear.
"I'm fine, honey. Just a little bruised," You reassured.
The look on Rick and Carl's face told you that they you weren't fine, even Ricky seemed to hesitated sensing you were lying. None of them called you out on it, at least not aloud.
Rick guided you back to the house dismissing the Alexandrians still scattered around the place trying to comprehend what the Saviours had just done.
Each step sent sharp jolts of pain through you, and you couldn't help but wince with every movement. The fear for your baby gnawed at your insides more than the physical pain did. What if the kicks had done more harm than you could feel right now? What if the baby wasn't okay? The uncertainty and the inability to know for sure was eating you alive.
"Boys, go and get some towels and ice," Rick instructed, glancing over at them. "Carl, get some water."
They all nodded and scurried off as Rick helped you lay down on the couch, his hands gentle but firm as he adjusted the cushions to make you more comfortable. He knelt beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch tender and reassuring.
"How are you really?" he asked, once the boys were out of ear shot.
Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, not wanting to show just how scared you were. Your fathers expression broke at the sight of you in clear distress, but you didn't say anything, you weren't sure if you could even if you wanted to.
Instead, you reached down with shaky hands and carefully pulled your shirt up. The sight of the dark bruises already forming over your stomach stole your breath away. The mottled shades of purple and blue starkly contrasted against your skin.
"Oh God," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to get you to Hilltop-"
"It's going to be dark soon. It's... it's too dangerous," You argued, shaking your head as you gently caressed your baby bump.
"I don't care. You need-"
"Dad, it's too dangerous. I won't be the reason more people die today."
"Your baby-"
"I know," You whispered, your voice breaking as you blinked back tears. "I know. The pain... I think it's just my ribs and not..."
You didn't need to finish that sentence and Rick simply nodded, his jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. He placed a hand gently over yours on your stomach, his touch feather light.
The boys returned one by one, Carl with a glass of water, Ricky and Dean with towels and ice packs. You quickly pulled your shirt back down not wanting to worry them more than they already were.
But they froze when they saw your tears, and Rick quickly guided them into action. Carl handed you the water, his eyes never leaving your face as if trying to gauge how serious your condition was.
Dean and Ricky handed their items to Rick who wrapped the towel around the icepack before gently placing it over the side of your stomach where he knew the worst of the bruising was. The coldness brought a brief respite from the throbbing pain, but it did nothing to ease the fear gnawing at your heart.
Rick spoke quietly to the boys, instructing them to stay close but give you some space. They nodded, their young faces set in expressions far too serious for their age. You could hear them murmuring to each other as they moved to a nearby room, their voices a low hum in the background.
Rick stayed by your side, his hand holding yours tightly as he knelt beside the couch.
"First thing in the morning, we go to Hilltop. We make sure you both are okay and then we prepare to fight."
-
As dawn broke, the group prepared for the journey to Hilltop. You settled into the passenger seat of the van, Ricky and Dean huddled together in the back with Carl, Tara, Rosita and Michonne. Your hand instinctively rested over your baby bump, a protective gesture against the uncertainty ahead.
The drive to Hilltop was long and arduous. The once familiar route now seemed foreign, fraught with dangers at every turn as if just waiting for the Saviours to show up. The silence in the car was punctuated only by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional murmur of concern from the boys. Your thoughts raced as you glanced out the window, the landscape blurring past.
The familiar walls of Hilltop came into view and before you knew it, you were stepping out the vehicle as the gates creaked open slowly, revealing the familiar sombre faces of its residents. Maggie stood at the forefront, and relief washed over you at the sight of her alive and seemingly okay.
The group of you slowly entered Hilltop. Rick walked in step beside you, his hand resting on your back protectively. Maggie met you halfway, and Rick lowered his hand from you before pulling her into a tight embrace.
Your heart fluttered at the sight, but grief swelled within you at the reminder that Glenn was no longer here for her.
"You're okay?" Rick asked, pulling away from Maggie.
She nodded. "I'm okay. The baby's okay. All of us."
"You were right from the start," he continued to say. "You told us to get ready to fight. I didn't listen, and I couldn't. I can now."
Just as you were about to hug Maggie, a familiar figure emerged from behind the trailers with Jesus.
Daryl Dixon.
Your breath caught in your throat when you saw him. He looked worn but undeniably alive.
How did he get here? How did he escape the Sanctuary? You had so many questions but couldn't ask a single one as tears burned in the back of your eyes.
"Daryl," You breathed, emotions overwhelming you.
He moved towards you swiftly, his expression breaking as tears shimmered in his eyes. Ricky and Dean sprinted over to him in an instant, and Daryl knelt down and scooped them up, one in each arm, like he used to do when they were younger.
The boys clung to their father, mumbling how much they missed him as Daryl held them and closed his eyes, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.
Tears trickled down your face in a steady stream, and you bit your bottom lip trying to keep it from trembling.
Eventually, Daryl lowered the boys to the ground before he shifted his focus to you. The hair covering his face did little to hide the glistening in his eyes as he closed the distance between you.
He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as if to reassure himself that you were real and safe. Rick stepped back to give you both space, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I thought... I thought I'd never see you again," You whispered, voice breaking.
His arms tightened around you, his embrace warm and comforting, but you couldn't stop the pained wince that escaped your lips. Your body still bruised and battered.
Daryl instantly pulled back in concern, his hand shifting down to gently caress your stomach.
"Are you okay? The baby?" he asked, his voice rough but filled with worry.
"I..." You trailed off.
How were you meant to answer that question when you didn't even know the answer yourself?
Rick stepped forward. "Daryl, she was hurt, beaten. She's okay, but the baby... we don't... we don't know."
"The hell ya mean, 'you don't know?'" Daryl snapped, shooting a wild glare at Rick before he looked back to you in panic. "What happened? What..."
"Dr. Carson is in the medical trailer," Jesus suddenly spoke up, overhearing the conversation.
Maggie nodded, her eyes filled with sudden worry as she looked down at Daryl's hand on your stomach before motioning for you all to follow her. Rick instructed the boys to stay with Michonne and although Ricky and Dean looked like they wanted to argue, Carl shook his head silently at them and they kept their mouths reluctantly shut.
Inside the infirmary, Dr. Carson quickly took charge after you explained the pain and showed him the bruises across your midsection. Daryl looked ready to explode in anger and fear as he saw the extent of the damage on your body.
"We'll do an ultrasound first to check on the baby," Dr. Carson explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "And then I need to examine your injuries, okay?"
You nodded, taking a few deep calming breaths. Maggie hovered by your side as you laid down on the bed gingerly. Daryl and Rick both watched anxiously as the doctor set up the equipment. Your husbands' eyes were fixed on the bruises that marred your skin, his jaw clenching when he noticed the boot shaped mark across your ribs.
Something in him suddenly snapped and he turned, rounding on Rick and pinning him up against the wall of the trailer.
"You best tell me what the hell happened!" he growled, breathing heavily.
"Daryl!" You shouted, quickly sitting up but the sudden movement made the pain flare across your midsection.
"Easy," Maggie warned, gently easing you back down.
Rick held up his hand towards you, silently telling you that it was okay. He stared straight at Daryl, not trying to fight him as he spoke in a calm voice.
"The Saviours happened."
Daryl gritted his teeth. "What did they do to her? Where the fuck were you when it happened, huh?"
"Look, Daryl, let me explain-"
Their heated conversation was suddenly cut short when the soft but unmistakable sound of a heartbeat filled the trailer from the ultrasound machine. The rhythmic thumping seemed to momentarily freeze everyone in place. Daryl's grip on Rick loosened, and he turned around.
"That's... that's the baby?" he whispered, his anger evaporating, replaced by a fragile hope.
"Yes, it is," Dr. Carson confirmed with a smile. "It's strong. Healthy."
Relief washed over you and Daryl took a hesitant step towards the bed, his eyes glued to where Dr. Carson held the transducer against your bump. The tension between him and your father dissolved into the background and Rick exhaled in relief, his posture relaxing. Maggie squeezed your hand reassuringly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Dr. Carson continued his examination, carefully assessing the bruises and swelling on your abdomen and back. Daryl hovered close by, his hands trembling slightly as he ran them through his hair.
"You have some significant bruising, and some cracked ribs," the doctor explained. "You'll need to rest and take it easy for a while, but you and the baby are going to be okay."
"Thank God," Daryl sighed, his voice breaking with emotion.
Dr. Carson left the trailer giving you a moment of privacy, Maggie and Rick following suit.
"Wait, Rick," Daryl called out.
Your father paused in the doorway.
Daryl reached behind his back and pulled out Rick's Colt Python from his waistband. Your jaw dropped in shock as he held it out towards Rick who seemed as surprised as you were. He stepped forward, grasping the familiar weapon and checking the chamber before looking back up at Daryl.
Neither of them said another word as they nodded at each other, the silence saying more than words ever could. Rick holstered the pistol before exiting the trailer and Daryl moved closer to you, sitting on the edge of your bed. His hand reach down, cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn't realised were falling.
"M'sorry I wasn't there to protect you both," he murmured.
You reached out, taking his trembling hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "It's not your fault, Daryl. We're okay. We're both okay."
He still looked worried, his brow furrowed with lingering anxiety. You squeezed his hand again as you stared up at him as if memorising his features. Daryl was okay. The baby was okay. That was all that mattered.
But then, a realisation struck you, and your eyes widened with sudden panic.
"Where's Merle?"
"He... he's still back there. I couldn't get him out 'n he told me to leave without him... to get back to you."
Your heart shattered. "We'll find a way to get him back. Rick will come up with a plan.”
"I ain't worried 'bout my brother. Ain't nobody can kill a Dixon, 'cept a Dixon," he responded gruffly. "I'm more worried 'bout you."
"Doc said we're both fine," You reassured.
"Actually, Grandpa said you had a few fractured ribs," Ricky's voice called out as him and Dean stepped into the trailer.
You smiled at the sight of your boys and waved them over. Dean reached your side first and gently embraced you, not wanting to hurt you any more than you already were.
"You're strong, Mum. You're gonna be okay,” he whispered.
You ruffled his hair affectionately. "Thanks, honey."
Ricky perched on the edge of the bed, his eyes serious. "Dad, what are we gonna do about Uncle Merle?"
Daryl's jaw tightened, but he took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure for the sake of the boys.
"We're gonna get him back," he insisted.
You nodded. "We will. We're a family, and we don't leave anyone behind."
Daryl grasped your hand again, and you saw the gratitude in his eyes. Negan and the Saviours outnumbered your group, but you weren't going to back down, and you would get Merle back. No matter what.
im so late to the party but i just binged your whole daryl mlist. if your rqs are open, can i request a daryl×wife with their son during alexandria era or when they encountered negan (when glenn and abraham,, yk)? im in the mood for angst :> tysm!
Doomsday
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-1114
Classification and content warnings: Angst | Child loss
Temporal setting: Season 7
Word count: 1.4k
Divider by me :)
The sun had barely begun its slow descent over the walls of Alexandria when the echo of that single swing still rang in your ears, the wet crack of Lucille meeting the small body of your son replaying in perfect, unrelenting clarity no matter how many times you blinked or pressed your palms against your temples.
You sat on the edge of the bed you had once shared with Daryl, the one where your boy had crawled between you both on stormy nights, his small hands clutching Daryl’s vest like it was the only safe place left in the world, and you felt nothing but the precise, surgical weight of knowing exactly what had been taken.
Negan had laughed while he did it, had made sure every eye in that lineup saw the way your son buckled, the way his head snapped back before the rest of him followed and then he had dragged Daryl away like a trophy while you stood frozen between the others, Rick’s voice somewhere far off shouting orders that no longer reached you.
Now, hours later inside the quiet house, you heard Daryl’s low drawl calling your name from the hallway the way he used to when he came back from a run but you knew it was not real because the floorboards did not creak under his boots and the air stayed still and empty. You saw your son dart past the open doorway toward the kitchen, bare feet slapping the wood exactly as they had every morning when he raced to greet the sunrise but you knew it was not him because his laughter died before it finished forming and the hallway stayed dark and vacant. The knowledge did not soften anything, it only carved the truth deeper until every breath felt like swallowing broken glass.
You stood and moved through the rooms with the mechanical steadiness of someone who had already died inside and was simply finishing the last necessary tasks. You folded the small shirts your son had outgrown but refused to let go of, the ones Daryl had patched at the elbows with careful stitches because “the boy needs ‘em to last,” and you placed them into the duffel bag beside the spare bow arrows and the knife your husband had sharpened for you the week before the Saviors came.
The house smelled of the bread you had baked two days earlier, the one your son had begged to help knead, his flour-dusted fingerprints still visible on the counter and you did not cry because tears would have required a future worth mourning toward.
Instead you packed the photograph Rick had taken of the three of you at the gate the day Alexandria first felt like home, Daryl’s arm slung heavy around your shoulders, your son balanced on his hip with that same half-grin he inherited from his father and you tucked it between the layers of clothes so it would not bend. Every item you added carried the exact shape of the life that had been erased in one swing and the weight of the bag on your shoulder when you finally lifted it felt like the only honest thing left in the world.
You walked toward the gates without hurry because hurry implied hope and you had none.
Faces turned toward you as you passed, faces you had fought beside through Terminus and the prison and every mile of road between but none of them moved to stop you except the ones who still believed in Rick’s version of tomorrow.
Maggie stood on her porch with one hand resting on the railing where she and Glenn had once planned a garden, her eyes meeting yours for a single unbroken second that said everything her voice could not, she had buried a husband and carried an empty future in the same breath and she understood the kind of rage that made walking out the only sane choice.
Sasha lingered near the armory, arms crossed tight across her chest, the same hollow exhaustion carved into her features that had lived there since Bob and Tyreese and now this, and she gave the smallest nod that carried the weight of shared graves and the knowledge that some losses simply could not be outrun inside these walls.
The rest of them called your name, reached out, tried to reason but you kept your eyes on the metal gates ahead and the road beyond them that led straight to the man who had taken everything worth breathing for.
Rick stepped directly into your path just before the gate mechanism, his boots planted wide the way they used to be when he still believed he could hold the world together with sheer will. “I can’t let you go out there,” he said, voice rough with the same exhaustion you had heard in it since the lineup, “you’re not thinking clearly. We’ll fix this. I’ll find a way…we always do.”
You did not look at him. You kept walking until his body blocked yours completely and he lifted both hands to grip your shoulders the way he once gripped Carl’s when the boy had wanted to run headfirst into danger. The touch snapped something inside you that had been coiled since the moment Negan’s bat had fallen.
You moved without thought, muscle memory from years of survival taking over, elbow to the sternum, knee driving upward, the precise pivot Daryl had taught you on quiet nights behind the prison fences and Rick hit the ground hard enough that the air left his lungs in a single surprised rush. He lay there staring up at you, chest heaving, while footsteps pounded closer from the houses behind him.
“Stay back,” Rick ordered the others before they could reach you, his voice cracking but still carrying the old authority. “Just stay back.”
You pulled the pistol from your waistband, the one Daryl had pressed into your hand the morning of the lineup with a quiet “Just in case, sunshine,” and you leveled it at the small crowd without hesitation. The metal felt warm from your skin, familiar as an old friend and the click of the safety coming off echoed louder than any shout could have.
Rick did not stand, eyes locked on yours with the kind of desperate certainty that had once kept you all alive.
You stared down at him and the words came out steady and low, each one carved from the exact shape of the hole your son had left behind. “Loss only matters to you when it carves your own name into the headstone, Rick. You stood there and watched my boy die the same way you would’ve watched Lori bleed out on that prison floor if you had been there, but I was! Back then you tore the world apart until you got Carl back. Now you want me to sit quiet while Negan keeps Daryl in a cage and my son’s blood dries on his boots…Carol’s buried children and kept walking. Maggie is carrying a baby she will never get to show its father because you decided peace was worth more than blood. Sasha is watching everything she loves rot away and still she stands at that gate every night with a rifle in her hands. But you! You got soft the second these walls went up. The man who dragged us out of Terminus would have burned their compound to the ground before the sun set. I want Negan’s head on a stick and I am going to rip it off myself.” You paused. “For my son.”
You lowered the gun only enough to step around him, the metal gates creaking open under the watch of the guards who knew better than to argue with the look in your eyes.
The road stretched empty and gray beyond the walls, the same road that had taken your husband and your child in the same terrible afternoon and you walked into it without looking back.
Behind you the voices rose again, Rick calling your name once more, someone else starting to argue but none of it touched you.
The only sounds that mattered were the ones that were not there anymore, your son’s shoes running down the street and Daryl’s voice calling you home. You carried the duffel heavier with every step, the weight of two empty futures pressing against your spine and you kept walking because the alternative was staying inside walls that had already become a tomb.
The sun dipped lower, painting the trees in blood-red light that felt like the only honest color left, and you did not stop, not for Rick, Alexandria or for anything that still pretended tomorrow could be saved.
Summary: When Daryl doesn't show up for lunch, you instantly start to worry. What if something happenend to the father of your baby?
Set in Season 11 - episode 14 'The Rotten Core'
Warnings: usual TWD stuff, angst, pregnancy things, established relationship, Sebastian Milton, fluff! a suggestive comment
Word Count: 3,1k
a/n: This is probably one of my favourite stories I wrote this year so far. 🤗
Love In The Rearview Mirror °☆• EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist
Your fingers fumbled nervously with the silvery metallic band around your ring finger. The self made 'wedding' ring Daryl gifted you almost three years back - a symbol of your love and 'marriage'. The seat across from you at the small diner was still empty. You actually wanted to meet up with your husband after his shift but he didn't show up yet - which was very unusual and not Daryl-like. Five minutes too late, sure - but not almost an hour... It gave you major anxiety and worries; fearing that something might've happened to him.
The fear coursing through your veins did not only affect you... The subtle movement inside your belly and the repeated kicks against your abdominal wall was enough for you to know that the tiny growing human inside you felt their mama's turmoil.
Absentmindedly, you ran a hand over your prominent baby bump. "I know, sweetie, I know. I'm sorry, I just... I worry about your daddy," you whispered; talking to the yet unborn child.
Taking a deep breath, you gazed around the diner again. People came and left - but no Daryl. Shit. You had to look for him. Getting up from the both slowly, you went to exit the diner and waddle your way to the not very far police department.
Just as you started to climb the few steps to the main entrance, a soldier stepped out; helmet in hands. When he saw you, he stopped and gave you a once-over, before a smug smirk darted across his face. You were aware of his presence and looked up - but not noticed the look on his face. You were too worried; too tangled up in thoughts and what-ifs.
Did he just try to hit on you? Ew.
"Hello? Uh, sorry, could you possibly help me?" The strange man's smirk even widened as you addressed him. Casually, he leaned against the door. "Well, hello there. Helping you? Depends..." You blinked; hands on the small of your back to support your body in carrying the extra weight which was your almost due baby. "Depends? On what?" "On what you're... offering me in return." You were utterly confused. "Offering you in return? Sir, you're a Commonwealth soldier. Helping people is a big part of your job, no?"
A small chuckle left the soldier's lips. "Yes, but... I've actually just started my break, so... Help ain't for free now, gorgeous. But for a little something, I can do anything for you." You grimaced at the nickname he gave you.
"No, I won't keep you from your break. I'm just gonna ask Mercer then," you declined his... offer and moved to step past him. But the soldier blocked your way; now clearly pissed that you didn't agree to play his little game. "No, you can't. Mercer doesn't have time for you at the moment. He's got other things to do. Come back later," he said; voice cool and borderline threatening.
If you wouldn't have been pregnant, you wouldn't have just let that happen and would definitely have confronted him - but the health of your baby was a top priority. So, you gave in, turned around and waddled away - next destination clear. Carol. She kinda worked for - or well, with Hornsby and probably had more 'authority'. She could help you and get you to Mercer - one-hundred per cent.
Luckily, you found her rather quickly. She just exited the bakery she worked in; seemingly just done with her shift.
"Carol!" You called out; attracting her attention. The woman gave you a smile and made her way towards you - but that smile instantly vanished again when she saw the worried and distraught look on your face. "Y/N, what's wrong?" "I-I can't find Daryl. We were supposed to meet up for lunch at the diner over an hour ago but he didn't show up. You know that's not like him. I-I'm afraid something happened to him," you explained her; trying desperately to keep your emotions in check. "I-I tried to talk to Mercer but they didn't let me. Said he had other things to do."
"How can I help you?" The - admittedly kind but intimidating soldier asked; brown eyes flickering over your pregnant self. "I-I was supposed to meet Daryl almost one and a half hours ago. He never showed up. I-I'm worried something happened to him. I-I'm his-" "Wife, I know," Mercer finished the sentence for you while already reaching for his walkie talkie. "Vickers sent him and Espinosa on patrol in Sector D this morning," Mercer explained and pressed a button on the small device. "Dixon? Do you copy?"
Carol nodded; was visibly alerted as well. You were right... This wasn't like Daryl. "I'll get you to Mercer, c'mon. We're going to find Daryl, okay?" She tried to reassure you - and kinda herself; placing a gentle hand on your upper arm. You nodded; one palm absentmindedly cradling your unborn baby.
Together, you went back to the police department of the Commonwealth. You knew Carol would be your 'secret weapon'. She got you inside and no five minutes later, you were standing in Mercer's office; talking to the man.
No answer. Just static hissing.
Said and done. Mercer knew exactly which buttons to press and what levers to pull. No twenty minutes later, you were standing on a beautiful meadow, surrounded by trees and flowers - and a ton of walkers to your feet. "They are down there? In that house?" You asked Mercer; making sure you got this right. He nodded, "Apparently they are, yes." and turned to the two soldiers he had brought along - not the two assholes which brought Daryl and Rosita in this situation, though. "We go in there and get them. You two stay with her. Make sure she's safe," Michael gestured at you, then looked at Carol. "Let's gut up and go."
"Dixon?" Mercer tried again, then switched. "Espinosa? Do you copy?" Nothing as well. This wasn't a good sign, right? Certainly not. You felt the fear pierce you deeper; heart speeding up further. The baby inside you kicked up a storm; unsettled and probably worried about their mama. You knew this wasn't good but you couldn't help it. The love of your life was in possible danger. You couldn't stay calm.
You swallowed hard and exchanged a worried look first with Carol, then looked back at Mercer. "We'll find them. Don't worry," he said; clipping the walkie talkie back to his armor and stood up. "What are we going to do now?" Carol asked. Mercer looked at her. You could see in his actually very serious and stoic face that he didn't like this situation as well. Two of his soldiers missing. "We're going to talk to the right people."
Whatever or whoever made Daryl and Rosita go there, your gut feeling told you they didn't do it of their own free will. You were sure of it.
You wanted to jump in. You wanted to go with Mercer and Carol, but you knew it was for the best to stay here. This far along in the pregnancy, you were no help but rather another one they would have to look out for. You had to trust Carol and Mercer on this - and you did. You just hoped it wasn't too late.
Staying behind with the two soldiers, your gaze was strictly directed on the sea of walkers Carol and Mercer disappeared into.
Time passed. You didn't know how much, but enough to get you antsier with every passing minute. You wanted to do something. Help. "Shouldn't they be back by now?" You asked the two soldiers standing behind you; looking over your shoulder. "It's a big horde. We should give them more time," answered one of them. You sighed; eyes directed up front again - but that nagging feeling of fear and worry didn't leave you. "W-We should help them." "No," the other man said immediately. "We are told to stay here. So we'll stay until Mercer says otherwise."
You turned fully around to face them; tears brimming your eyes. "B-But I can't just watch. M-My husband is down there. My friends. I-I gotta help." The seemingly nicer soldier took a step closer to you. "I know you're worried, ma'am, but I need you to calm down and especially stay here. Our order is to protect you, so that is what we're going to do." The other one nodded in agreement. "We'll stay here. End of discussion."
As fast as your pregnant legs carried you, you moved fast to meet him. You even tried to run, but couldn't. "Daryl!" Your call of his name attracted the archer's attention instantly. His eyes snapped to you; seeing you almost trip over your own feet to get faster to him, he threw the bag he carried and his weapon aside. He didn't give a damn about this right now and sped up to run over to you. "Careful, sunshine, damnit," he rasped; hands instantly finding their way to your hips to steady you. You didn't care either in this moment, though, and almost threw yourself into his arms - screw the grime and guts he was covered in. "D-Daryl," you sobbed; emotions finally crashing down on you. "'M here, sweetheart. 'S all good, 'm here," Daryl whispered in that deep, soothing voice and tucked your head against his chest; resting his chin on top of your head. The man hugged you as close as possible with the quite big roundness of your stomach; not caring about the others in that moment. You obviously needed him.
You took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a long moment and nodded in defeat. You knew they were right and you hated it. Out of instinct, your hands found their way around your baby bump again; feeling the unsettled movements of your baby. You ran your thumbs over the clothed skin in the hopes of somehow calm down yourself and the unborn child, of course. "Ma'am, are you alright?" "Y-Yes, just... worried and stressed. Baby feels my anxiety." He nodded stoically, but you could see in his eyes that they held compassion and sympathy for you.
You let your eyelids slip shut again and focused on your breathing - calm and steady, in and out. You repeated this over and over again - until one of the men you were with spoke up again. "Ma'am..." You reopened your eyes to look at the soldier. He jutted his head behind you, so you turned around - and what you saw caused a wave of sheer relief and happiness to swoop through your entire body. Mercer, Carol, Rosita - and Daryl approached you in short distance. "O-Oh my gosh, Daryl..." You breathed and couldn't hold yourself back.
"I-I was so worried, baby. Y-You didn't show up for lunch a-and I couldn't f-find you, I-" you sobbed. Daryl pulled back to look at you. "I know, 'm sorry. Didn't mean 't jus' disappear on ya." You knew that. You knew him. "W-What happened? W-Why were you down there?" The archer wanted to answer but another voice cut through the air. "Dixon."
Mercer.
Your husband pressed a firm kiss against your forehead. "'M gonna explain later, 'kay? Go home with Carol where ya 'r safe." "B-But-" He knew you would complain and he could understand. "Please, sunshine. I'll join ya as fast as I can. Need 't get this done. Jus' hafta know ya are safe." His gaze shortly flickers to his growing offspring in your womb. "Both 'a ya." You inhaled deeply, but nodded and gave in. "'Kay." Daryl gave you a nod and reluctantly let go of you to join Mercer and Rosita. Carol and the two soldiers took you back to the Commonwealth. Carol even stayed with you until Daryl returned - best friend's orders.
"Ya okay?" Daryl asked in a soft but low voice. You nodded and turned your head to look at him. "Now I am." The archer squeezed your shoulders with the arm he had wrapped around you and pulled you even closer against him; lips pressing to your temple. "'M sorry. I didn't want ya 't worry. Never. I jus'... I had to do this." "Do what, baby? What was in that house? Who forced you and Ro to go in there?" You asked slightly concerned and placed a hand on his thigh; giving the muscle a reassuring little squeeze.
Like promised, Daryl came home only about twenty minutes later. After taking a quick shower to get rid of all the walker guts, blood, sweat and grime, he thanked his best friend and let her go home as well.
Then, finally, he joined you on the sofa and instantly pulled you against his side; providing warmth and closeness. It was exactly what you needed. Like balm for your soul. He was safe, here with you - with his family.
You were speechless. Stunned. Angry.
Your husband grunted; visibly annoyed and kinda frustrated by the things that happened. "Tha' little rich prick." Your brows furrowed. "Sebastian Milton?" "Yeah... His mother cut off his cashflow so he needed money. In that house lived 'nother rich prick 'fore the world went to shit. Had money in a safe." "So he sent you two in there, past the walkers to get that stupid money," you connected the dots and saw Daryl nod. "What an asshole." The archer nodded again. "'S not jus' tha', though. He had sent several people in there 'fore us. Promised them new chances 'n things they wanted. Got 'em all killed. Found tha' woman trapped inside the room in which tha' damn safe was. She told us but didn't make it."
You swallowed hard; tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Shit..." You felt sorry for all the people who had to die just because Sebastian wanted some extra cash - and hatred for this man. "What... What did he promise you and Rosita?" You questioned quietly then; "Nothin'. He threatened us." eyes widening. "T-Threatened?" Daryl gave you another short nod. "'S why we had 't do it. Threatened our kids... Coco, RJ, Judith... The one inside ya 'n with tha' you as well."
"Baby was worried, too, you know..." You mumbled after a moment of silence in which you just cuddled; hands still intertwined. You felt Daryl's body stiffening at your words. "Wha'?" He more or less croaked out, and you nodded. "Y-Yeah... Baby felt my nervosity and anxiety. Could feel how unsettled they were; constantly moving and kicking."
"Next time I see that asshole, I can't promise that I won't beat the crap out of this little shit. Nobody messes with my family," you hissed; muscles tightening - but Daryl was quick to get you off your... high horse. He shook his head; hand cupping yours. The one which rested on his thigh. "Nah, ya ain't. Yer carryin' our kid, baby mama. Remeber? No fights for ya. Won't getcha anywhere 'sides behind bars. Dun want tha'. Need ya both safe. I get tha' ya want to do this, but... It won't change a damn thing. We clear?"
You huffed and grumbled under your breath but nodded; giving in. He was right and you knew it. "Yeah, 'kay. Fine." "Good girl," Daryl muttered and pressed yet another kiss against your temple. Feeling the touch of his lips on your skin, you turned your head once more and offered him your lips. It was an slightly awkward angle but neither you nor the archer cared. Your lips found each other's anyway; meeting in a lingering kiss full of love.
The archer lowered his head in guilt - something you didn't catch. "Fuck... 'M sorry, sunshine," he mumbled and shifted; moving both his arms to cup your swollen stomach which held his unborn child - big palms framing the bump. "I didn't mean 't endanger ya o-or the baby. Should've found 'nother way outta this, I-" You shook your head and instantly moved; turned your body around and swung a leg over his knees to straddle his lap and face him. "Baby, no. I need you to stop right here," you said in a firm voice and brought up your hands to cup his cheeks; feeling his stubble slightly scratch your skin. "Gosh, I- Shit, sorry. It wasn't my intention that you start to blame yourself for this. I just wanted to tell you how we felt. This isn't your fault, okay? It's Sebastian's fault. He caused this. He did. Not you. There wouldn't have been another way - probably besides killing him but that would've gotten you into even bigger problems, so... You did that right. You did what you had to do. Through that, you kept us all safe. Okay?"
Your words needed a moment to get fully registered by Daryl's rather stubborn brain. You could still detect the guilt swimming in his blue eyes - but then he nodded; chewing on the inside of his bottom lip. "'Kay." You gave him a soft smile. "Sebastian will get what he deserves someday. For sacrificing so many innocent people for something stupid like a bit of extra cash - and for all the other shady things only God knows he did."
Your husband nodded but swallowed hard. "I did things, too. Ya know tha'. Prolly worse things than this lil' prick..." "Yes, I know. Me too. But the difference is you - we, did those things out of commitment to our family. To protect what we love. Sebastian did this only for himself. Out of egoism. Big difference, my love."
Daryl was nibbling on his lip again and just looked at you for a long moment, until... "I love ya," he whispered. "I love ya so much." The soft smile on your lips widened. "I love you so much, too, Dar," you said in a loving voice and dipped your head to kiss him; hands falling to rest on his chest. Daryl's hands wandered as well. From resting loosely beside his thighs to gently cupping your hips and trying to pull you closer - which wasn't quite possible due to the baby bump between you.
You couldn't help but giggle; forgetting sometimes how sensitive he could be for 'simple' things like that. "And that would be bad why...?" The archer scoffed; blushing. Damnit, woman...
You felt that, of course, but just compensated this by continuing to kiss him leisurely; changing the angle from time to time. For you, it was 'just' a declaration of love, but for Daryl...
After a long moment, he pulled back slightly to end the kiss; lips parting with a soft but audible pop. "Darlin'," he started; panting slightly and squeezing your hips. "If ya keep on kissin' me like tha', 'm gonna get a fuckin' boner like sum teenage boy."
In this chapter ~ Trouble simmers when the trip to Hilltop doesn't go according to plan. It seems as though they're...being found at every turn they take. But once nightfall hits and the whistles sound, they knew right then they couldn't fight it anymore.
The world outside was nothing but a blur while Abraham sped down the road as fast as he could. I stared out the window beside me in the back of the RV, lightly holding Maggie's hand from where she tried to rest on the small bed. None of us knew how or what exactly happened, one minute she was getting her hair cut by Enid, a fresh start, and the next she was toppled over on the ground in excruciating pain. In fear there was something wrong with the baby, the rest of us acted fast.
Packing up every useful thing we could manage along with a whole lot of backup, we rushed out of Alexandria to find the nearest doctor; Hilltop was our best bet despite how far away it still seemed. Time was what we needed the most, and yet it was the scarcest thing we couldn't grasp.
My gaze couldn't help but drift to Maggie's pale figure every few seconds, watching her brows furrow, her jaw tense, the pain she was enduring on display for me to see. I felt so useless. Just sitting here unable to do anything to take it away but instead just watch as she physically tried to fight it off herself. Despite not wanting to go down the rabbit hole of fear, my mind still managed to wander, conjure up the worst-case scenario. We didn't know what was wrong with her, if there was anything Carson could do once we arrived, and it was killing me. But I wouldn't say any of these things aloud, so I just delt with it silently, the anxious shaking in my legs never easing up along the bumpy ride.
One in particular had been a little harsher than the rest, jolting Maggie ever so slightly just enough for her eyes to peek open. Instantly she shifted, which then came another groan of discomfort.
My grip tightened ever so slightly to get her to still, "Hey, take it easy." my voice tried to sooth, flashing her a small, reassuring smile.
She exhaled a deep breath, looking around a bit puzzled, "How long was I asleep?"
"Not long," I shook my head, "We're about thirty minutes out." I felt her shift again against the few pillows she was propped up with, her fingers gently squeezing around mine. "Are you comfortable?"
"As comfortable as I can be." she spoke quietly before resting her head, gazing up at me almost gratefully, "I'm glad you're here..."
"Where else would I be?" I asked rhetorically and took my free hand to push back the hair that had stuck to her forehead. It was different than I had expected, but a good kind of different. I swear she could pull off anything. "On the bright side, your hair turned out pretty cute."
My lighthearted yet sincere comment seemed to brighten her eyes, "You think so?"
"I know so." I insisted, "Enid did a good job."
She smiled, "Thanks, Ro."
The change in conversation diverted her attention away from the current predicament, even if it was just for a moment, and it was safe to say it clearly made the both of us feel a little better. But obviously it couldn't last. A few minutes swept with silence before another twinge of pain made her face scrunch up once more, her hand falling down to rest upon her lower abdomen.
I sighed quietly, "What can I do?"
"Distract me?" she suggested.
"What?" I asked softly.
"Tell me something hopeful. Make me laugh...you're good at that."
Although her comment flattered me, I had no idea what to say in order to bring her away from the situation at hand. Something positive, something lighter. I racked my brain for anything to spare, to remind not only her, but myself as well of the better times we had. Where it didn't feel like the end of the world all the damn time.
I took a breath, "Do you remember, back at the prison...how we used to stash a few bottles of wine in your cell and drink whenever life got too overwhelming."
Another smile broke out onto her face at the memory, she nodded, "We talked so much shit about those people from Woodbury. The ones we couldn't stand anyway."
"Jeff." I reminded.
"Jeff," she repeated with a small groan, "God he was the worst. Always sass mouthin'."
I laughed lightly, "Or what about that old lady that had a huge crush on Rick? She was probably my favorite."
"Oh my God," she gasped, "I forgot all about her."
Her reaction only made me chuckle harder, "How could you forget? The time she gave him a kiss on the lips, we had to hear about that for weeks." I huffed, absentmindedly glancing over my shoulder toward the front to make sure no one was eavesdropping, "They were good times though..."
Her smile softened at the sudden wistfulness to my tone, her other hand coming up to sandwich mine, "My favorite part was when Glenn would find us and pour himself a drink...we would talk until the three of us started yawning. I wish we could have that again."
"We will." I reassured, "The day that baby pops out, we'll have a drink to celebrate. Just like we used to."
A soft hum of contentment left her at my promise, leaning down to rest her cheek against my hand while her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "My favorite people." she mumbled.
I felt a little lighter when realizing the old memories of the past seemed to do the trick to put her at ease. It was nice to reminisce, bringing a comforting feel to our hearts in a time of need.
"What the bitch?" Abraham's voice sounded unsurely, causing me to look back again to see the commotion happening on the other end of the vehicle. Feeling the ripple of the engine gradually ease when he unexpectedly put on the brakes to slow us down. And just like that, the moment was broken by reality again.
Maggie perked up a bit when she heard it too, concern returning to crease her features, "What's going on?"
"I don't know..." I trailed off before glancing back at her, "I'll be right back, okay?"
When I saw her nod encouragingly, I stood up and crossed through the narrow hall to the front windshield to see for myself. We had come to a full stop in the middle of the road by the time I gathered around with the rest, something clearly blocking our path. A group of men stood about thirty feet out from the hood, a body lying flat on his back near their feet, clearly wounded and covered in blood. While the rest were staring straight at us like they had been anticipating our arrival, large smiles on each and every one of their faces. It went without saying who they were, we all knew, and I think that's what scared us the most.
"What the hell do we do? Just run them over?" I mumbled aloud.
"Not when their packin' like that," Rick answered, bringing my attention to where their guns were strapped, "Just follow my lead." he spoke before loading his gun and turning to exit the RV.
Instinctively I snatched my machine gun that once was laid out on the table before following behind the group that shuffled out of the narrow space. Aaron hung back to be with Maggie, but the rest of us wanted to make a statement to these assholes who stood in our way. We filed out to stand tall in front of the RV with our guns clutched tightly in our hands, narrowing our eyes to make out their faces from across the way. There was just silence at first; everyone waiting to see who would utter the first word. Threaten the other, make the move, whatever you wanted to call it, I just wanted to find a way around it.
"He's someone who was with a whole lot of someone's who didn't listen." the man with the mustache finally spoke, sounding as if he was speaking in riddles.
More silence.
"We can make a deal. Right here, right now." Rick offered.
"That's right, we can...give us all your stuff. We'll probably have to kill one of you, that's just the way it is, but then we can start moving forward with business. All you have to do is listen." the man said.
I scoffed quietly to myself, unable to look at them any longer with how irritated I grew. The audacity these men thought they held was almost laughable. I had to hand it to them; they were creepy as hell and could probably do a lot of damage if given the chance. But in the end, we would win. No matter how long it took to pick off every last one. We had done it before; we could do it again.
"Yeah..." Rick drug out, "That deal isn't gonna work for us. Fact is I was about to ask for all your stuff, only I'm thinking I don't have to kill any of you...any more of you."
Mustache didn't seem to like that kind of back talk, the smile he wore being slowly stripped. But yet he didn't speak. Instead he wordlessly raised a hand up to signal the man to his right to step forward, watching him follow orders without hesitation as he took out a can of spray paint and shook it almost tauntingly. He then stepped forward toward the injured man on the ground, taking his time to paint some kind of symbol across the sweatshirt he wore before wordlessly falling back in line. You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it was.
"Sorry," he then apologized sarcastically, "My deal is the only deal. We don't negotiate."
Rick's jaw clenched before waving at us to fall back, causing a chain reaction, "Me and my people are leaving." he informed them.
I kept my eyes solely on them as I gently pushed Carl ahead of me, following the others back inside so we could leave.
"Okay, friend..." he spoke again, "Plenty of ways to get to where you're goin'."
His knowing comment made me stop in my tracks and make eye contact with the messenger, the evil grin now returning yet again like he couldn't help himself. I didn't like that at all. Rick noticed this however and placed a hand on my back to keep me moving. "You want to make today your last day on earth?" he called back.
"No...but it's a good thing you bring that up. Think about it, what if it's the last day on earth for you? For someone you love? What if that's true? Maybe you should be extra nice to those people in the RV...or the one you're holding onto. Cause you never know..." he snapped his fingers ominously, "Just like that. Be kind to each other, like you said. Like it's your last day on earth."
His grip slightly tightened its hold on me, "Get inside." he whispered.
That was a no brainer. With my free hand I gripped the railing to walk up the couple steps while he hung back to say one last parting phrase I couldn't bring myself to pay attention to. Last day on earth. There's only two ways this could go in my mind...and I did not like the other option.
Not a second later did Rick follow my lead and slammed the door shut behind him, while I couldn't seem to pull my gaze away from them behind the glass. Still staring with a certain glint to their eyes. Mustache then slowly moved forward toward the practically dead man, raising his foot to kick at him repeatedly until he began to howl in agony.
I put my hand on Abraham's shoulder to pull his attention, "Drive."
He glanced back at me with a flicker of worry, but didn't hesitate to shift the RV in reverse and back it up so we could find another route. Something about that interaction didn't sit right with me. Something about that man didn't sit right with me. He talked as if he knew a secret we weren't in on yet, and the anticipation alone made me want to shiver.
Eugene took his time as he sat tall at the table, searching over the map he'd brought to find another road to our destination. Eventually he managed to pinpoint the next best thing, the safest and easiest way to travel, the only downside was it would surely take longer. But our plan clearly wasn't much of an option anymore as they didn't seem to keen on moving out of the way. But at this given moment, we just needed to get there no matter which direction we went, without any other kind of appearance from the Saviors.
But apparently, that stunt was only the tip of the iceberg with these assholes.
The RV stopped when we were faced with the streets being blocked off yet again, only this time it was with an avalanche of logs that were perfectly stacked. Accompanied by a hanging body wearing the same spraypainted sweatshirt, dangling from the overpass we were parked underneath.
Back up. Go another way.
The brakes squeaked again when we ran into another group of armed people standing their ground side by side. Their smiles the same, their energy dangerous, and the message clear. Like a bunch of soldiers armed and ready for some kind of fight whenever we were ready.
Reverse. Try again.
Abraham groaned in frustration when he was forced to stop at nearly the halfway point to Hilltop. Seeing yet another bunch blocking our path. The only difference now was that there were more of them, lined up and ready. Staring deadpan at us through the clear windows. The sight was growing more chilling the more frequent they became, like they were multiplying, slowly circling us until we had nowhere left to go.
The fourth time we came to an abrupt halt I ran a frustrated hand down my face, "What the hell is it now?" I snapped as I stood up to see what this kind of problem entailed.
Peering out the windshield, we were met with what looked like a line of walkers covering either end of the street. Tethered together with chains so they couldn't wander. There was an obvious pattern here, a setup, and it didn't take a genius to guess who had put this thing together to stall us once more.
"We take them out," Rick instructed, "We can't risk the RV. Stay behind the wheel." he nodded toward Abraham before gesturing for the rest of us to follow him outside.
Our movements were cautious yet guarded, weapons raised high in case we were being watched as we slowly approached the dead with the intention on taking them out quietly. Unconsciously I stuck close to Carl whilst we were out in the open. I didn't want him out here, hell I didn't even want him to come with us to begin with. But either way I knew he would be in danger; with the way the world worked now it followed you everywhere. And though he could handle himself, he let me stand in front of him.
"Putting together a Red Rover like that takes people." Eugene observed, stating the obvious.
I was prepared to ignore his comment and pull out my knife to stab the first one I saw, but when I spotted something all too familiar, it made me freeze. Two bolts sticking out of the walker's chest, the same black and green pattern as Daryl's. The following one wore Michonne's vest and a couple of her dreads stuck on the side of its head. And last down the line held my backpack that Glenn had taken with him on the expedition.
Reality began to sit in for all of us and I slowly shook my head in disbelief, "They have them..." I whispered as I backed up a bit.
"Rose." Rick coaxed as he tried to reach for me.
"Rick, they have them- they fucking have them." I gritted out in fear.
He then moved quickly to stand before me, his hands gently grabbing ahold of my shoulders before I could get too far, "Hey, hey, we will get them back. We'll get them back." he promised.
I shook my head, "No...we won't." I breathed, "Don't you see what's happening here? They're herding us like a bunch of fucking sheep. Forcing us into a corner-"
"Don't finish that sentence," he cut me off with a sharp shake of his head, "They're still alive."
"What if they aren't?" I snapped.
"They are." he assured, "They wouldn't have left this here if they weren't."
The very moment I allowed myself to believe that, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, I realized then just how many people had witnessed my meltdown. Really we were all worried of the same thing, I was just feeling far more expressive.
Finally I allowed myself to breathe, but that too was just as short-lived as the next thing we knew, sudden automatic gunfire started up from all around us. Causing the group to get low to the ground to dodge the ricochet. Quickly did we bounce back from the shock to raise our own guns to fire back toward the trees to find the source that just wouldn't let up. Angry couldn't even begin to describe how I felt, what kind of pressure that struck through my chest. Knowing that our people were being held captive somewhere, most likely beaten and tortured, I wouldn't wish that realization upon my worst enemy.
In the midst of blindly shooting at what we couldn't see, Rick took the opportunity to rush forward and free the walkers so we could easily kill them off with only a few rounds. And when the last body hit the ground, simultaneously we all filed back to the RV to make a quick getaway before someone managed to get hurt in the line of fire. Although it was obvious they weren't aiming to kill.
When the door slammed shut Abraham wasted no time slamming his foot back on the gas, practically sending us all flying forward as he fled the scene. My heart was racing rapidly in my chest, feeling a familiar sting in my eyes as I wobbled toward the table to sit down before I nearly toppled over from how quickly we were speeding. I couldn't help but notice the discarded map, a series of red marks crossing off each and every road we tried. Driving us further from Hilltop, and further from our loved ones. I was unable to think anything but the worst.
All the things I had said to him just hours ago. Was this morning truly the last time I would ever see him? Our last words just meaningless insults we spat at each other? It almost made me sick.
Panic rose to the surface and filled the suffocating air the moment we knew we were free from their restraints for now. Maggie only seemed to be getting worse and we were running out of options. We didn't know how much time left we had to spare.
"Rick."
Abraham's voice brought my attention back to where he sat tall in the driver's seat, the series of unfortunate events growing all the more repetitive. None of us were surprised to see another group standing there, guns loaded, eyes trained, and grins all the more knowing.
"Now can we run them over?" I muttered.
Rick placed a hand over mine before I could even think of raising my gun, "Go back." he nodded to the designated driver.
I smacked him off with a pointed look, "Rick, they are controlling us. We can't let this go on- we have to get through."
"Maggie is in here. Carl is in here. That's not happening, not now." he spoke firm and final before looking to Abraham again, "Go back."
"Where?" Abraham questioned in utter defeat.
None of us held an answer. All we could do was back up again.
Defeated. That's all we were left with as nightfall came sooner than any of us expected it to. The stars now coated the sky like twinkling lights accompanied by the full moon that lit up our surroundings like some kind of beacon. These woods were silent other than the occasional crunch of a branch or a small huff of someone trying to catch their breath. Hauling ass on foot to make it to safety with every last bit of desperation we still had.
When we figured out the RV was a dead giveaway to our location, it was with our best interest to ditch the fucking thing immediately. Along the side of the road was perfectly fine with me, but Eugene was quick to protest. If they were keeping tabs on us, it would be easy for them to connect the dots and track us down; so to everyone's surprise he offered himself up. To drive the vehicle in the opposite direction and draw the Saviors away to give us a fighting chance at making it. It was a hard thing to do, leaving someone behind on their own was the last thing any of us wanted but we didn't have another choice. Maggie's condition was only getting worse, and the sacrifice he was willing to make was something we couldn't just pass up.
I glanced down to where she rested on the cot, Rick and Abraham carrying her on either end while the rest of us kept our eyes peeled. "We're going to get you there, honey. Just hang on." I reassured softly.
The briefest of smiles crossed her face despite the pain she was in before I looked up again to do a scan of our surroundings. It was beginning to grow unsettling with how quiet it grew, one of those times where you wished something would rustle even a little bit to ensure you weren't in another rhelm. Or at least to ensure the world around you wasn't dead. Leaving a pit in your stomach that you couldn't quite explain.
As I continued to squint through the darkness, keeping up with the others, I suddenly felt Carl fall in step beside me as if it were second nature. Our eyes briefly locking which ultimately caused him to speak. "I know you want to protect me...but sometimes you have to let me protect you too."
My brows furrowed in mild confusion, "Where is this coming from?"
"I'm not stupid," he said seriously, "And after what happened to Denise, I won't let anyone die like that again...especially you."
A small frown took over my face as I processed what he was saying. Here I was constantly worried about his safety and ready to throw myself in front of any danger he found himself stuck in. But as it turns out, we had the same kind of agenda.
I shook my head slowly, "Carl-"
Suddenly, my voice was cut off with a bone chilling whistle. It was no longer quiet. But piercing and petrifying.
The few of us jumped at the unexpected noise, unable to pinpoint where it was coming from while frantically looking all around. It sounded as if it was echoing in all different directions and taunting us. Or the echo wasn't really an echo at all.
"Go!" Rick shouted with a nod of his head in the opposite direction, and without further instruction, we took off.
Which way we were going now, I had absolutely no idea. Anywhere if it meant keeping our heads. Though the more my pace picked up to try and get away, something was telling me it didn't matter how far we ran. They got us. There came a whistle from every direction, even if we couldn't see where they were lurking, they could most definitely see us.
Sprinting blindly through the darkness, dodging trees and maneuvering around the giant rocks in our way as Rick and Abraham tried to keep Maggie steady in their grasp. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest with how hard I was pushing myself to keep up, and yet we were still unable to escape it. Leaving a feeling of terror following over us like a thick black cloud that only continued to expand. There came a clearing we managed to spot straight away and instinctively migrated toward, only for there to come a harsh and blinding light that flashed in our faces, slowing us down and leaving us in a state of shock. My eyes adjusted to the brightness enough to see hundreds of men slowly closing in on us, whistling the same tune as they emerged with their weapons drawn.
I felt the flip in my stomach while I didn't hesitate to raise my own gun to aim at the area around us, scanning desperately for a way out. But there wasn't one. They had us surrounded in the giant circle and there were far too many of them for us to take on alone. My breathing grew heavy as I met eyes with Rick's, seeing him look utterly terrified, and that's what made me lose all the hope I had left. When the noise finally died down enough did I dare to look to my left to see our RV parked before us like it had been waiting for our return, Eugene down on his knees right beside it. His face beaten, bloody, and defeated.
"Good." a male's voice erupted from the darkness, "You made it."
I followed the sound just as he revealed his face, the same man with the mustache stepping out to greet us with his so-called approving grin. "Welcome to where you're going. We'll take your weapons...now." he gestured.
Rick's breathing grew shaky, "We can talk about-"
"We're done talking." he interrupted, "Time to listen."
Then there came series of footsteps from all around, a number of people stepping forward to crowd around us intimidatingly to snag our guns and search our figures. Patting down roughly wherever they could reach. They stripped me from every gun, every knife, every tiny blade I had hidden on me and tossed it aside just out of reach. I looked back up when I noticed someone approaching me out of the corner of my eye, watching the balding man get up in my face. Studying me closely while I barely moved an inch. Clearly he was looking for some kind of fear to feed off of me, but I held his stare without so much as a falter in my breath. Unwilling to fulfill his craving.
However in the unexpected events, Carl stepped forward to shove his shoulders back to get him away from me before he could do or say anything, trying to get in between us. My eyes widened and I reached for his arm to pull him back behind me, but mustache was quicker in grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"Hey, you better watch it mister tough guy," he mocked with a scowl before shoving him back to keep him away from me, "Best not try that again."
Carl nearly tumbled over with the force the man had used, and I didn't miss the way his hand rested on his holster in case the kid tried to get near me again. Fixing him again with an unspoken warning. While I on the other hand looked toward him pointedly, something he would easily be able to read.
Don't be stupid.
I knew he didn't want anything to happen to me, but that didn't give him the free pass to put himself in harm's way instead. Like hell I would let these people hurt him.
"Okay..." the man continued when he felt he had made his point, "Let's get her down and get you all on your knees. Lots to cover."
Rick and Abraham hesitantly followed his instruction in setting the cot softly on the gravel floor, helping Maggie upright so she could get down alongside the rest of us. Apparently it didn't matter to them how much agony she was in, everyone had to be held at gunpoint all the same. They held each of her arms and eased her onto the ground in a slow manner so she was able to steady her breathing, before the rest of us kneeled right along with her. My legs nearly trembled as I squatted down beside Abraham, the tiny rocks cutting up my knees. Fists curled into the fabric of my jeans, feeling the chill in the air along with the pure apprehension as to what would happen to us next. They had taken everything, leaving us vulnerable and bare. And now they had our attention.
"Dwight! Chop-chop!" mustache called out with a clap.
Dwight, who was still alive and well, appeared from his spot beside one of their vans and made his way toward the back doors to tug them open. It was hard to make out what lied inside the back of the vehicle from a distance, especially since his frame blocked our entire view. "Come on, we got people to meet."
It felt like all the air was knocked from my lungs. Dwight gripped onto Daryl's upper arm and began dragging him out when he wasn't moving fast enough for his liking, shoving him to the ground where the rest of us were seated. He had a blanket wrapped around his upper body and his skin was deathly pale, blood smeared around his shoulder like he had been hurt in the process of chasing his revenge.
Then came Rosita, Michonne, and Glenn. Each of them being ripped away and looking just as disheveled and defeated as the rest of us. But at least they were alive. Still, it was a lot to take in. The ways we would be tortured for our mistakes, the pain we would have to endure, whatever the cause may have been. I wasn't ready for any of it, but I knew it was coming. Like the way the hairs on your arms stand straight up just before a big thunderstorm.
Daryl's eyes immediately found me in the midst of people, the light made them glisten or maybe he really was close to tears, I couldn't tell. But I surely knew of the warm pools that filled mine within moments. I longed to be closer to him, to reach out and touch his hand if I dared, but he was just out of my reach down the line. The sight of him teetering on the brink of losing consciousness made me sick to my stomach.
"Maggie...?" Glenn quietly called out as he steadied himself on his hands and knees.
All she could manage was a small sob when she spotted him across the way while the men around us silently connected the dots on who was the most important to us. Who we held the closest to our hearts. I tried to keep my expression neutral when seeing the others thrown toward my right, but I couldn't stop myself from glancing back at Daryl again and again. While his eyes seemed to never stray from me, not even once.
"Alright! We got a full boat. Let's meet the man." mustache announced and backed up toward the RV door to give it a knock, falling back in line with the others.
The door opened not a moment later, slow and suspenseful to reveal an older looking man, the same sparkle in his eye that the rest of them had. He was head to toe dressed in black except for the red piece of fabric sticking out of his leather jacket, and a baseball bat proudly slung over his shoulder. The wooden piece had barbed wire wrapped tightly around the head of it, swaying expertly away from his face. He stood there for a moment with shadows casting over his face, leaning back to take us all in.
"Pissin' our pants yet?" he smiled, leisurely stepping out into view, "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close...yep. Gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"
"This one right here." a man behind Rick announced.
I practically felt him internally groan at being called out in the first place, but none of us dared to say a word. Clearly he had our undivided attention so far. The head man walked right over to stand in front of Rick, tilting his head while looking at him like he was nothing but a puny bug beneath his boot.
"Hi, you're Rick, right? I'm Negan."
My eyes widened at the all too familiar name, only this time I knew for sure this had to be the guy. The others that called themselves the same, for a reason that was still unknown to me, they were nothing like this.
"And I do not appreciate you killing my men," Negan continued, "Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool, not fucking cool. You have no fucking idea how not fucking cool that shit is, but...I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. Hell...you are so gonna regret crossing me here in a few minutes."
A slow smile spread across his lips as he paused momentarily to look at the rest of us, studying the fear on our faces before nodding to himself. "Fuck yeah you are. You see Rick, whatever you do, no matter fucking what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really simple. So, even if you're fucking stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it...you ready? Here it goes, pay attention."
Let me take a wild guess. We have to hand over everything good thing we had to spare our lives.
He swung the bat low to the ground, dangerously close to Rick's face, "Give me your shit...or I will kill you."
Jesus, these people were getting way too predictable.
But he wasn't done. Far from it in fact.
"Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me, that's your job. Now I know that is a mighty, big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly motherfucking will. You ruled the roost, you built something. You thought you were safe, I get it, but the word is out. You are not safe. Not even fucking close. In fact, you are fucked, more fucked if you don't do what I want, and what I want is half of your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later...this is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone...knocks on your door, you fucking let us in. We own that fucking door. You try and fucking stop us... and we will fucking knock that fucker down. You understand?"
Rick didn't say a thing; it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. His hair dripping with sweat and running down his face and his eyes filled with tears as he slowly processed what the hell we had gotten ourselves into. But Negan apparently didn't like not being taken seriously, leaning down a bit with his hand to his ear as if he were waiting on a response.
"What?" he whispered, leaning down further, "No answer? You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished now, did you?" he asked, gesturing to the rest of us, "I don't want to kill you people, I just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're fucking dead, now can you? I'm not growing a garden...but...you killed my people. A whole fucking damn shitload of them. More than I'm comfortable with, and for that, for that you're gonna fucking pay. So, now...I'm gonna beat the holy fuck- fucking- fuckity- fuck outta one of you."
My muscles grew tenser than before when hearing what he truly had in store for us, staring mindlessly at the ground in front of me. I was unable to tell if it was because I was processing the severity or trying not to react in fear that would only give him more power. And I would rather die right now than have him control me. I could admit that I was scared when I was unsure of what they had planned, but now, I couldn't have felt angrier.
The man then whirled the bat around once more like we were witnessing a show and tell. "Now, this...this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."
This crazy mother fucker was not only a serial killer, but also had a name for his pet bat that was going to destroy one of us. This had to be a dream. I almost convinced myself that it was, but the harsh ground beneath me and my blood boiling inside my veins proved it was real. It was so very real.
Negan clicked his tongue before taking a walk down the line, eyes looking over everyone, before he stopped right in front of Abraham. From the corner of my eye did I see him sit up straighter to face the man without so much as a cower, looking him dead in the eye.
"Huh." Negan mused at the reaction before reaching a hand up to stroke his greyish beard, "Ugh, I gotta shave this shit." his voice mumbled to himself.
He paced again, landing in front of Carl now. And I had to force myself to stay put despite how fast my heart dropped. "You got one of our guns?" he asked, "Yeah...you got a lot of our guns."
Carl didn't flinch, in fact his gaze only narrowed further. "Shit kid, lighten up. At least cry a little." Negan chuckled a little before he stood up straight again.
My fingers curled tight against my palms once more when watching his boots slow to a stop, before pointing straight at me. I dreaded to look up in his direction, but he didn't give me much of a choice. In the blink of an eye he was crouched down to my level, forcing me to maintain eye contact. He stared, a light shimmering behind his pupils as they almost dilated with satisfaction.
"Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes," he whispered, chuckling to himself, "What's your name?"
Daryl's hard stare burned a hole into my temple but I prayed he could keep it together. If we thought alike in any way, he should know exactly why I didn't want to retaliate, to keep everything bottled up and cold. Don't fuel the fire. When I didn't answer right away he maneuvered his bat yet again, lightly tapping it against his free hand like a clock ticking down the seconds. Silently telling me I was running out of time.
"Rose." I finally bit out. The one word leaving a bad taste on my tongue.
"Rose." he repeated fondly, "That is a beautiful name. But I have to say, it doesn't really match this...badass look you got goin' on." he gestured to the lengths of my face. I knew what he meant.
My glare never wavered when his eyes continued to linger. Clearly he had a fucking staring problem. But eventually to my relief he stood again to pace, leading me to exhale a soft breath I wasn't even aware I was holding.
"Jesus..." Negan drug out once he caught a glimpse of Maggie, seeing her whitened skin and dark circles beneath her eyes. "You look shitty. I should just put you outta your misery right now-"
"No! No!" Glenn yelled before he could even consider it, flinging himself off of the ground to get to her. But he didn't make it very far before Dwight was shoving him down on his stomach with Daryl's crossbow aimed at his head. My jaw clenched and Maggie screamed for them to stop hurting him whilst he tried to fight back from his position. But these men weren't willing to let something like this slide so easily, that much was certain.
"Nope." Negan shook his head before waving him back, "Nope, get him back in line."
With a low grunt, Dwight dragged Glenn by the back of his shirt back toward his original spot all while he continued to shout and protest to protect her. Tears were trickling down his face now and my hands dug into the gravel below me, begging for some type of sign to do something. I couldn't move, not without ending up right back on my ass. But I felt so utterly futile just sitting here watching, knowing I couldn't do anything to prevent their twisted ideas.
"Alright listen, don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First one's free, it's an emotional moment, I get it...sucks don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit." Negan spoke knowingly.
There were wide eyes all around, tracing his every move with the anticipation slowly beginning to eat me alive. His frame pausing in front of Carl again. "This is your kid, right?" he asked Rick, "Oh, yeah this is definitely your kid...this mama over here?" he pointed toward me with assumption.
"Just stop this!" Rick bellowed with a slam of his hands.
"Hey!" Negan yelled, "Do not make me kill the future serial killer, or the hot badass, don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody...everybody's at the table, waiting for me to order."
He gave another devilish smile before swinging the bat over his shoulder, whistling the same tune that would surely haunt us for the rest of our lives. The decision clearly weighed on his mind as he took his sweet time drawing it out for as long as possible. Or maybe he already knew who it would be. He just wanted to watch us suffer until he couldn't find pleasure in it anymore.
It was then I looked at everyone surrounding me, everyone I had come to know and love with my entire being. What I would give to just go back in time, to go back and change what we had been mixed up in. I wanted to tell Glenn how sorry I was that he was out here because of me, because I didn't fight back hard enough for him to stay. I wanted to take back the insults I had thrown at Daryl, the regret and pain almost suffocating me now more than ever. I wanted to scream how sorry I was for every mistake I wish I hadn't made at all. I wanted them to know because right now, I didn't know how much time I had left to look at them.
Part of my foolish mind wanted me to hold out hope, that there was still some way out of this. But there wasn't. We were left with nothing.
"I simply cannot decide." Negan rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, before a lightbulb practically popped out of his head. "I got an idea."
He crept forward and held the bat above Rick's face, "Eenie."
"...Meenie..." He moved to Maggie.
"Miney..." Abraham.
"...Mo."
"Catch." Rosita.
"...A tiger...." Michonne.
"By his toe..." Daryl.
"...If." Glenn.
"He hollers." Sasha.
"...Let him go..." Aaron.
"My mother." Carl.
"Told me..." Rick.
"...To pick." Glenn.
"...The very..." Me.
"Best one..." Eugene.
"...And you." Daryl.
"...Are..." Rosita.
"It."
~ Thanks for reading! (That's a wrap on season 6! How're we feeling?)
Okay, guys... As you've been probably noticing, I experimented a lot with writing smut lately. I tried several new things, styles and phrasings. And personally, I think I've gained a lot more skills in that department. I've gotten way better. So now, I reckon it's time to explore... new shores and unknown territory... And that's where I need your help!
What would you like to see me write? As in smut stuff/themes/tropes?
Please send me an ask (NONNY'S ALLOWED!) or leave a comment and tell me! I'm curious to know - and perhaps I'm gonna give the trope a try in a future fic!
"What?" Daryl asked. Your eyes were flickering over his face and your expression was a bit drawn. He nestled the edge of his thumbnail between his teeth and bit down on it.
You shook your head and ducked your eyes. "Nothing."
"C'mon. That look ain't nothin'."
You shrugged and then your hand came to rest over your injured leg. "I just—'m hurt. You're basically taking care of both of us right now. I'm a burden. And yer still here. I just wonder... what are you getting out of this? Why are you still here?"
Daryl's brow drew down low over his blue eyes. "Are ya crazy? I wouldn't leave ya behind."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough," he said vehemently. He didn't dare to speak what he really was thinking. Not yet. What was he getting outta this? He'd fight a damn herd if it'd give him another minute of your time.
Hiii babes! Congrats on 3k. You deserve that and so much more 💜
For your event, could I request the song Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns ‘n Roses with our lovely archer Mr Daryl Dixon? Fluff all the way because I love it.
Love you! Remember to take care of yourself 💜
Daryl x Sweet Child 'O Mine
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
▶️ part of the lyric-drabble-mania (3k followers celebration)
▶️ word count: 1092
▶️ warnings: lots of fluff, babies? established relationship
▶️ lyric-drabble-mania 80s & 90s special masterlist °☆• Daryl masterlist
divider by @cafekitsune <3
You were the most beautiful, angelic creature Daryl had ever laid his eyes upon. So pure. So innocent. Seemingly untouched by this decaying, rotting world. Never before had a woman swept him off his feet as hard as you did. You were so different from him. The complete opposite, in fact. He was rough, rugged and hot-headed. You were soft, delicate and patient. The huge difference between you two was what held the bowman back from talking to you in the beginning. He was insecure anyway - especially when it came to women. But this only added to his hesitation and insecurity. Daryl was afraid of staining you; twisting you. Most things he touched turned into dust - and he couldn't bear if this would've happen to you. It took him years to work up the courage and 'make a move' on you. But he did - and it turned out to be the best decision he ever made.
'Comrades' - companions into friends. The friendship grew like a beautiful tree; got stronger roots which went deeper and deeper into the earth. And then this 'tree of friendship' blossomed. Friendship into love.
You and Daryl took things slow; let the love between you grow steady. One step at a time.
At some point those two worlds collided; melted together. The lines became blurred. And this collision resulted in the most beautiful way possible: The creation of new life...
Daryl bridged the distance between the door frame and the sofa; coming to stand in front of you. "Give 'er here, sunshine. I'll look after her," he stated; reaching out his hands. "I can see tha' you 'r tired. Go 't bed." You hesitated for a moment; knowing that he needed his sleep as well. Being a Commonwealth soldier wasn't the easiest job. But then you felt the exhaustion in your bones. A yawn left your lips. "'Kay," you mumbled and carefully handed the still crying baby over to her father.
Daryl blinked; trying to get himself out of the thoughts he had gotten lost in. His eyes were still set on you, of course. Watching you from the door frame to your shared bedroom in the small apartment at the Commonwealth. You sat on the sofa in the living room; lights dimmed and trying your best to soothe the crying baby girl in your arms.
A soft smile stretched over the archer's lips. "She's quite antsy tonight," he said in a hushed voice - not to startle you. Your tired eyes lifted from the child to look at him. "Yeah, she is. I don't know why, though."
Then he watched you retreat to the bedroom to hopefully get some much needed rest. Taking care of a newborn wasn't always easy. Sure, this little miracle in Daryl's arms was mostly an angel - but she could also be a little spitfire. "'Kay, 'kay," he focused on his baby girl and adjusted her, so that her tiny cheek was resting against his bare, warm chest. Skin on skin. He was very aware that she loved it, so it was the first thing he tried. Hunger and a diaper change weren't an option, since he knew you tried that first. You mostly did; mama instincts operating at full stretch.
Your partner smiled softly at you; visibly happy that you took the offer. "Sleep," he told you again and leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. You couldn't help but smile. "Thanks," you whispered and hooked your thumbs inside the waistband of his black sleep pants. "But I'd very much like to have a proper good night kiss first." Daryl felt the sheer endless love he held in his heart for you rush through his entire body; tickling every nerve end. He'd never not be touched and overwhelmed by your love.
Another soft smile spread over his lips and he dipped his head once again to grant your wish; giving you a 'proper' good night kiss.
One of his big palms gently cradled her head while the other cupped her bum - keeping her safely locked against him. Then he walked up and down in the living room while softly bouncing up and down. At first was his tactic not very successful, but when he added his deep, rough voice into the mix and one of his other secret weapons, the newborn finally started to calm down.
And it worked.
Daryl's destination was the record player he had gifted Judith. He remembered the happiness shining in her eyes when he gave it to her. It was the one thing Jude had wished for. Now, the record player also made the youngest member of the family happy.
Making sure that the volume was turned down - he didn't intend to wake the whole building, he turned the player on. Since the little lady in his arm was her daddy's child, had she a thing for rock music. This time, Daryl quietly played 'Sweet Child O' Mine' for her by 'Guns 'N Roses'.
Her cries quietened down to small whimpers and whines. "There we go, baby girl, there we go," Daryl whispered with an audible smile. "Told ya daddy gotcha." He returned to the sofa and sat down with her still tucked against his chest; music softly playing in the background. The archer's gaze dropped; marvelling at his daughter. He still had a hard time sometimes to grasp that this was truly his. You. Her. This bond. He had a family now for crying out loud.
Shaking his head in disbelief, he felt the baby wriggle slightly against him. Daryl couldn't help but smile again. "Gettin' comfy, sweetheart, huh?" He cooed. "Yeah, I know ya like 't sleep on my chest. Gives ya warmth 'n safety, righ'?"
Another wave of love hit the bowman, and a feeling of completeness filled his heart. It felt like he was finally where he was supposed to be in life. He had stopped running; had found his peace. That was the man he was supposed to be.
One hand of the archer held her small body securely in place - not that she'd get hurt or something, while he ran his thumb over the tiny hand splayed on his skin. She was so small compared to him. So fragile - but damnit if he wouldn't burn down the entire world to keep her safe. And you. And the kids.
The little girl reacted almost instantly to the gentle touch and wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb; holding onto tightly.
disclaimer: All the lines taken from the songs are not mine. Credits to the artists. I just used the lyrics for the plot, 'atmosphere' and inspiration in these drabbles.
a/n: Requested by @generousbearpersonpsychic as a pt. 2 to The leaver
Classification: Angst with a hint of fluff?
Temporal setting: Season 3-4
Word count: 1,6k
Divider by me ;)
The prison was no longer the hollow, echoing carcass it had once been when you first cleared it, when every footstep ricocheted off concrete and steel like a warning shot, when the silence had felt safer than people ever did. Now it breathed with life, with voices layered over one another in the cellblocks, with the metallic clatter of gates sliding open and shut, with the low murmur of arguments, laughter and crying babies at odd hours of the night and with that life came weight, the kind that settled across your shoulders and refused to be shrugged off.
There were more mouths to feed, more patrols to organize, more weak spots in the fencing to reinforce, more eyes to watch for the Governor’s shadow stretching across the yard and you kept busy because busy meant you didn’t have to sit still long enough for your thoughts to circle back to him, to Merle or Daryl, to the choice that had fractured something fragile and ugly between you.
Daryl kept busy too, almost violently so, especially after his brother’s death. He moved like a man who couldn’t afford to stop, like if he did the grief might catch up and sink its teeth in.
His pain had softened the sharpest edges of your anger, though not in the way people might expect, because you didn’t mourn Merle and you wouldn’t lie and say you did, but you mourned the fact that after everything, after all the blood, betrayal and broken trust, the loss still mattered to Daryl, still hollowed him out in ways you could notice in the way he stared too long at nothing and how his hands flexed at his sides when someone mentioned family.
That stirred something uncomfortable in you, something older than the prison or the break up. It was a reflex born from people never staying, from learning early that attachment was a luxury that turned into a liability the moment the ground shifted beneath your feet.
Some days were better than others. Some days you could sit in the same car as him on a supply run without the air feeling too thin to breathe and without counting the seconds between words. Some days you didn’t veer down a different hallway the second you heard the familiar rhythm of his boots on concrete, didn’t force yourself to take the long way back to the cellblock just to avoid the weight of what hung unsaid between you. Other days, you were sharper, colder, convincing yourself that his endless hunts for the Governor weren’t born from responsibility or loyalty but from guilt and you resented him for needing redemption you weren’t sure you could grant.
It was late when the council gathered in the prison library, the room lit by a handful of lanterns that cast wavering shadows against shelves still half-filled with warped paperbacks and mildewed encyclopedias, the air smelling faintly of dust and oil. You were the last to step inside, closing the heavy door behind you with a quiet click, lingering near it instead of taking a seat, listening to the tail end of Carol and Hershel’s low conversation about dwindling antibiotics and the next rotation of watch shifts, your fingers absently tracing the spine of a book on a nearby desk without seeing the title.
Daryl’s voice cut through the room, gravelly and steady from where he sat slouched in an old wooden chair, boots planted wide. “Gotta make time to go out there. Do what needs to be done.”
His eyes were mostly on Michonne, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, exhaustion etched into the tight line of her mouth. She’d been searching just as relentlessly as he had but with Rick stepping back from leadership, she was needed within the walls more than ever and that reality sat heavy on her shoulders.
“I don’t know where to look anymore,” she admitted, pushing off the wall just enough to pace a step before settling again. “It’s getting tiring. I don’t know if the anger I’ve got left is enough fuel to trump that.”
Silence stretched thin across the room after that, taut as wire. People avoided your gaze almost instinctively, as if the tension between you and Daryl was something physical that could scorch them if they looked at it too directly…everyone except him. He looked at you without flinching, unafraid.
You and Daryl had always been a good pair outside the walls, efficient, wordless and able to read each other’s movements without needing explanation, a rhythm that made survival look almost effortless and everyone in that room knew it.
You exhaled slowly and turned toward the door, wrapping your hand around the knob intending to slip out before the conversation tilted any further in your direction but Glenn’s softer voice caught the air behind you, calling your name.
“We need new eyes out there.” Daryl added, quieter now. His gaze was still on you when you turned back despite yourself.
“And I needed you,” you said, your voice even but tight around the edges. “As in past tense…That trumps what you need, Daryl. It’s too late.”
Heads lowered almost in unison, shame or discomfort pulling them down, except his. He held your stare like he was bracing for impact.
“I’m not pretending we weren’t all hurt by something he did,” you continued, the words measured but edged with steel. “Hell, this place is full of his victims…but I’m trying to move forward, because a scar can’t heal if you keep digging your finger in it.”
The door shut behind you with more force than you intended, the echo reverberating down the hallway and leaving a silence thick enough to choke on.
Inside the library, Daryl’s eyes flicked to Carol, one of the only two people who knew even half of what was splintering through your head. She’d tried to bridge the distance between you more than once but once you realized that, you’d started guarding your thoughts from her too.
“Need ‘er out there,” Daryl said, like it was a fact carved into stone.
“She’s barely been outside the walls since,” Hershel replied carefully. “We’re only living in a prison, son, but she’s making it hers.”
“She wants to leave,” Glenn blurted before he could stop himself, arms crossing defensively when all eyes snapped to him. “Maggie…Maggie thinks that’s why she won’t go out anymore. She’s forcing herself to stay put so she doesn’t get the urge to run.”
Daryl rose abruptly, chair legs scraping harsh against the floor and strode out without another word, boots carrying him down the hall with a familiarity that suggested his body knew where you’d retreat long before his mind admitted it.
The administrative wing was dimmer, quieter, the hum of distant voices fading into a low murmur. Light spilled from beneath one half-open door and he paused there for a fraction of a second before pushing it wider with a careful hand.
You stood in front of a large corkboard you’d mounted to the wall weeks ago, a detailed map pinned at its center, edges curling slightly from humidity. Sections were crossed out in thick black lines while others were circled, annotated in your tight handwriting along the margins. A ruler lay on the desk behind you beside a compass and a stack of folded paper, like you’d been measuring distances, calculating something far beyond the walls.
He recognized the crossed-out areas instantly as places he and Michonne had searched for the Governor without success. The circled ones were farther out, more remote.
“’S tha’ where yer plannin’ to run off to?” he asked, voice low but not accusing, more tired than anything else.
You didn’t turn right away. Your shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. “I’m not leaving.”
“Ya ain’t here either,” he shot back, stepping further into the room but stopping short of crowding you. “They barely see ya.” His hand gestured vaguely toward the cellblock. “I don’t see ya at all. ’Cept I know tha’s on purpose.”
You turned then, finally facing him, eyes rimmed with something that wasn’t quite anger anymore but hadn’t softened into forgiveness either. “What do you want me to do?” you asked. “Do you want me to lie and say I’m sorry your excuse of a brother’s dead? That I could hear you crying at night and it broke my heart not to let myself go to you?”
The words hung heavy between you.
His jaw tightened, throat working as he swallowed. “I want ya t’ stay,” he said, voice stripped down to something raw and honest. “Be mad, hate me if ya gotta. Just…stay.”
A humorless laugh slipped from you as you shook your head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asked, hands flexing at his sides, careful not to move closer in case you bolted.
“That,” you said, pointing at him faintly. “The soft voice…and the apologetic, deer-caught-in-headlights look like you’re waiting for a sentence to be handed down.” Your voice dropped. “I don’t know how to forgive you. I don’t know if I already have and if that’s what this is then I need a better reason to accept it than ‘because I’m in love with you.’”
Silence pooled in the room, thick and pressing. He let it stretch, eyes drifting briefly to the map behind you before returning to your face.
“Should figure tha’ out ’fore you go,” he said quietly.
You held his gaze. “Need to find a reason to stay first.”
His shoulders shifted, the smallest nod betraying how much that answer cost him. “Won’t have t’ look too far,” he murmured. “But I’ll get outta the way. Just in case ya want…the bigger picture.”
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