@chaosandreorder continued from here
It was one of those runs where they were not going to get back to the Prison by nightfall. Michonne and Daryl were scavaging along with seeing if there was any trace of the Governor within a 100 mile radius of the Prison.
It was a little cold that night and Daryl gave Michonne his poncho to keep warm in while he had on only a cut-upped t-shirt and his vest. Finding an abandoned warehouse they had checked out earlier in the day, they decided to hold up there for the night. It was no Holiday Inn, Michonne thought to herself, But they made due, ate some food they had found earlier and went to sleep laying next to each other for some extra heat.
Michonne went out quick but was awakened by what sounded like a dog having a dream. Suddenly Daryl kicked her still asleep. “Oh brother,” she said this time out loud but she wasn’t about to wake him. He was flinching and moving around, mumbling in his sleep.
She saw he was having it rough, perhaps dreaming of Merel’s death or some other horror Michonne knew nothing about. The little warrior decided to curl up next to him and pull the poncho over both of them hopefully to calm him down. She put her arms around him with no intention other than to soothe his fear in this dream.
Daryl’s priorities for the trip were scavenging but he knew Michonne was compelled to track the governor too. He didn’t blame her, not at all, so he helped. There weren’t any fresh tracks anywhere they explored though. Any tracks that were there could have just as easily been from a passerby days ago or maybe even a walker. No one had come through this area in at least a week.
When they decided to settle in for the night, Daryl had shoved his poncho at Michonne. She might not have even noticed herself but she was shivering a bit. Daryl didn’t do it because she was a woman or he didn’t think she could hack it. It was because he could tolerate way colder situations, he had in the past, and he’d rather see someone else be comfortable as opposed to himself.
They’d been busy traveling all day so it didn’t take long to fall asleep, Daryl snoring softly as he always did when he was dead tired. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in for a good sleep. At some point he started dreaming, and not good dreams with shirtless models. By now everyone left alive probably had some form of PTSD and their own fair share of nightmares but Daryl’s predated the end of the world. He still had dreams of being alone as a kid, neglected and beaten by his old man. Tonight it was the old bastard chasing him with a belt, Daryl was his nine-year-old self and trying to hide under his bed before being dragged back out and violently lashed. In his sleep he fought off the attack, muttering and kicking, trying to escape it all these years later.
Michonne covering him and more or less holding him caused him to settle. He roused just enough to remember where he was and was actually grateful it was the end of days. His old man wasn’t around to hurt him or anyone else. Sighing, he patted her hand letting her know he had snapped out of it, that he was okay. He didn’t say anything just tried to relax and clear his head.