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Catching her Chapter 10

/ Daryl Dixon × OC // Merle Dixon X OC (platonic)

Season 1-3 // THE QUARRY

word count: 2000+

edited

Masterlist

The suns afternoon glow drifted through the dirty windshield to swipe at her eyes, she shifted away from the intrusion and further into the seat that hummed gently beneath her. A low groan pulled itself out of her lips as she settled into place.

The truck, which had been on a steady path forward all afternoon, jolted itself to the shoulder and came to a sudden stop. The action lurched her head against the window with a deft thud and ripped her entirely out of the sun blissed half-sleep she’d been sitting in. She exhaled, huffing out another annoyed groan as she woke with stretched arms. Beside her, Daryl was quiet, his lingering silence the only indication of his presence.

“S’Jim.”

She struggled against the last tug of a heavy sleep and pulled back up straight, squinting through the light to see what lay outside. The group had congregated around Dale's camper, their shiny figures in the sun reflecting back sweat and tears. Beyond them, blanketed in shade, she spotted a small figure at the foot of a tree.

“Jim?” Her voice pitched up, eyes pressing onto her companions.

“He was bit. Yesterday.”

Her hands grabbed slowly for the handle, grip awkward and crooked as she forced open the door. His time was up, yesterday, tomorrow. A concept which had long lost its fluidity between days of scavenging and survival, but now it had become a sticky film that dripped through her undeserving fingers like clotted milk.

Jim was nice, Jim was an empty seat saved around a campfire, a smile in a crowd of dissatisfied faces. Jim might have been a good man, she might understand that with the same certainty everyone else seems to possess. She’ll never know now.

Once the final words had been said, they pulled apart slowly, one by one as each glossy eyed and sun burnt face turned away. They grabbed one another by the shoulder to tuck themselves away back to the caravan of vehicles.

With the ritual of Jim’s last rights said and done, all there was to do now was leave. Instead she found herself tucked far enough away from the dying man to watch his shallow breaths without hearing the rasp. She wondered if they’d leave her at a tree one day too, if being a good person meant anything anymore when she was still alive and Jim was the one dying.

Glenn found her first, his form waving her over with a frown before stepping over when he realised she was not following liked he expected. Daryl watched the younger man from the truck as he ducked back over the small grey patch of road. He had his eyes fixed on hers, but she pushed him out to her peripheral with a sigh.

“No one told me.” Her voice violated the sad silence that had quickly built around Glenn, it was a gnawing, grieving thing- she didn’t like seeing it on his face.

“You’ve not exactly been yourself. You can’t think no one’s noticed.” Glenn could’ve been talking about her, but the way his gaze orbited Daryl’s behind her made her furrow a brow.

She relented, if only to ease the tension she bought with her to the conversation. Her hands rubbed over her temples, which instead of relief only served to tighten the strain between them.

“This isn’t easy, you know. We can’t exactly slow down. I can’t slow us down.” The words fell into the air with the grace of lead plunging into a pond.

It felt like waves of shame disturbed the solid ground she stood on and her fingers, with nowhere to settle on, wandered over her clothed arm and ripped open her scabbed skin anew. She watched his face cycle through what she could only amount to distraction or exhaustion, and waited for whatever force that stood on her chest to come and swallow her whole

“You won’t slow us down.” He said with a force unusual for the kind Korean.

“Look, I don't know what happened but you have people now, you should talk about it.” He nodded to her with a placating smile.

His riddle hung stale in the air behind him as he followed the rest of the mourners back to their procession. Each car was getting ready to go but she still wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. The sun soaked ground burned back up at her and sweat was collecting on her brow and in her bra. She didn’t know what to say but maybe something was better than nothing.

“Jim.”

“Quinn.” He didn’t get all of her name out before falling into a coughing fit, pulling on her arm to bring her slightly closer.

She crouched low, letting his breath mist warm air onto her ear. She listened to his words with reverence. The words formed into a morbid poem in her mind, his utterances shaped themselves into a brand for which the weight hung so heavy it sunk inch by inch into her with each step back to Daryl.

They crawled across her into the truck's cab and took root, pulling her back into cracked soil along with Jim as they drove away.

==========

The ride had long since settled into a weary silence, from her at least. Daryl was locked onto the concrete running under the tyres, his hands occasionally occupied themselves with gentle rhythmic taps across the steering wheel, matching the low hum of country rock spilling out of the stereo.

Quinn’s gaze dashed to him every few minutes, cut glances that spilled like exposed nerves. Sharp, full of emotion and entirely overwhelmed. When she wasn’t spinning her head to meet his, her eyes watched the road alongside Daryl’s. The pair seemingly committing themselves to the strained atmosphere, letting the highway flow away behind them.

“I fucking hate talking to people.” She paused, letting out a small sarcastic laugh.

She didn’t meet his confused expression, only continued with her forward stare, allowing the flashes of white and grey to seize her.

“The whole damn group talks too much, tattering on like a bunch of crazed hens.”

His brow creased and he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, shifting to see her properly.

“The hell you talkin bout woman.” He sneered, snapping from confusion into a weary defiance.

“The Vatos gave me Oxy. For my back.” The admission stilled him, it hung deadly in the truck's cabin until she continued, “I’ve been taking them, I need them. For now. But I figured you should know.”

“Why would I give a shit.” He bit back.

His words stilled her, she felt the exposure crawl over her. Slowly and burning red where her clothes left the skin vulnerable.

“No reason, was just telling you.” She tried to hold her composure, a blank defense but her eyes were wide with a wounded fury.

“You already know what I think, I ain’t your goddamn sponsor.” He breathed heavily out through his nose shaking his head.

“I already told you to stop talking crap, I ain't gonna repeat myself again.” He continued, pushing back against Quinn's pinched look.

“And you shouldn’t be such a self righteous asshole.” She snapped back.

“Ain’t self righteous to point out stupidity.” He spoke, disdainful southern tones dancing off his tongue.

“Fuck you, Do you think i’m popping pills for fun? Yeah this shits been a peach all right, I wanted to be fucking kidnapped ya know— thought it sounded like fun.”

Daryl stilled, she hoped this was a sign he understood her. That she was able to stick her fingers into the wound, he wanted to resent her emotions fine but he’d have to put up with it too. After all, he'd shown her just where to press last night.

“Didn’t say that.” He replied soberly.

“You didn’t have too” Her tone flattened, anger worn thin.

The radio hissed with snaking static that punctured the cars tension as the stereo slipped into a slow country song. Rick's voice carried over crackling into existence to announce their imminent arrival to the CDC. Daryl lightly relaxed at the news and she waited for his reply patiently.

“Ain’t worth fighting over.” He finally said.

“Then stop talking like you know me.”

Despite the bite in her words, she was too soft to be defensive, her tone a string of limp arrows missing flight by miles. The sun was low, they’d lost so many people and she just wanted a moment to breath.

“Don’t gotta know you to see you’re gonna mess yourself up”. He shot back.

“Yeah you’d know all about it huh.” She didn’t quite infuse the words with the attitude they intended, the exhaustion haemorrhaging the anger.

He jerked his head her way, “The hell's that supposed to mean?”

“Means you don’t get to judge.” She replied bitterly.

He let out a harsh laugh slitting into her, “Ain’t judging, just won’t be scraping your ass of the dirt when you can’t stand no more.”

“Didn’t ask you to.” She forced herself to turn to the passenger window.

“Ain’t the fucking point.” He muttered, gaze fixed once again to the road.

Quinn kept her own set through the window, jaw pushed down in anger. The exhausted thrash pushing against her chest, hot and uncertain.

“I told you cos I don’t wanna end up in the dirt. Not gonna be able to catch up with y'all if I fall behind.” She barely got the words out, the mutterings uncomfortably twisting on her tongue.

The meaning was there though, tucked between the lines. They sat unspeaking for several yards, the caravan was slowing now and the distance tumbled beneath them like pottering rocks. After a stretch he twisted his hand round the steering wheel and took in a deep breath.

“I ain't letting that happen.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Her anger had long faltered but she continued hiding her uncertainty with spite.

“Goddamn it” He bit, hands slamming on the steering wheel with a hard smack.

She watched him, waiting as the red on his face subsided and the vein across his forehead stopped pushing against his skin like an angry worm. They allowed quiet to settle around them like an awkward veil, neither wanting to pull it off quite yet.

Somewhere near the top of the caravan let out a long tinny beep signalling their arrival, just a few meters down the block was the lone building of the CDC. Looming down at them from the darkening skyline.

The truck rolled to a slow stop, the crunching of bone under the wheel and the smell of rancid flesh permeated her senses. The multistory building shone relatively unblemished compared to the massacre outside its grounds. Corpses lay strewn, clumps of soldiers rotting into the concrete in the Georgian sun. By all rights some were still walking- waiting for prey, the world wouldn't be so kind to keep the dead down anymore.

She made a mental map of the surroundings, routes that flowed through the corpses most likely to stay dead. Where cover could be found alongside concrete barriers and fallen firearms. Daryl form lent over her, seemingly reading her thoughts, his hand popped open the glove compartment and wordlessly placed a knife into her own. It was a bulky thing, the crumbling rubber faded a sickly green that butted out against the serrated blade. It would do.

He stepped out of the truck first, hustling over after she must have taken a minute too long getting ready for Daryl, the man pulled open her door with an annoyed huff. He nodded at her to follow, keeping pace behind her with his crossbow held ready as they joined the others.

Moving in formation, they struck forward taking care to keep the women and children centre, that included her apparently as Daryl gave her a rough shove toward Lori, Carl and Carol as they cowered behind Rick and Shane's forms. She wanted to be offended but it turned to gratitude as the first walker attempted to drag itself to its feet, low groans motivating its fellow dead to follow suit.

Shane's voice bellowed commands as he stormed ahead, only motivating the undead around them to follow.

Rick's voice echoed back, ‘keep moving! Stay close.’

Staying close was obvious, the dead crawling toward them inch by inch was obvious, but most of all how utterly screwed they were. As they came closer to the long gone echo of where the CDC stood, there was no light, movement or any sign of a living being at all. Their pleas were unanswered, no amount of begging a dark building would summon light. They'd come here to die.

‘It's empty,’ Quinn called out.

‘Oh god’ Glenn’s voice cut through only for both to be met by a harsh shush from Lori and Jaqui.

Clutched together tightly they finally reached the entrance, greeted by locked shutters that coldly cut them off any further. The acidic stench of death closed in on them from behind trapping the group of survivors in place.

Daryl pulled back toward her, gripping her arm tightly and leading her back toward him. Shane begged and banged at the door alongside Rick as the Hunter and her filtered through the crowd toward the edge, keeping watch on the encroaching horde.

‘There's nobody there man.’ T-Dog called to deaf ears.

‘Then why are these shutters down!’ The Sheriff rebutted.

‘We need to move, walkers!’ She pushed back, spotting with a sick stomach the first group of shuffling dead to move their fraying limbs upright, pushing against gravity to shamble toward them.

‘Walkers on your left!’ Daryl called back a minute later, shooting them down as the inching dead got further.

Without being able to use her gun she’d be stuck getting close enough for them to take a bite but at least taking them down would be silent, unlikely to draw the rest from the city. The city full of walkers less than half a mile away. With the noise they’d made with the horn, more would be on their way already, she didn’t even know if they had enough fuel to out run them. The worry was sticking to her as she tried to refocus on forming another route through the walkers, any way to get their people back to the cars. Even with no fuel it was safer than being outside, exposed at night.

‘You led us into a grave yard!’ Daryl screamed from behind her, charging forward and catching her arm again in his grip, heaving her with him.

She hissed in pain and pulled against his hand but was ignored as Shane shouted back, drawing in more dead.

‘He made a call!’ Shane shouted out, echoing into the empty space.

‘It was the wrong damn call!’

Daryl let her go and lurched forward only to get pressed back by Shane, who forcefully shoved her with his shoulder as he carried past to Daryl.

‘Just Shut up! You hear, shut up! Shut up!’ Shane provoked, his pointer finger sticking into Daryl's face— barking orders before backing away far too quickly back to the sheriff.

‘We need to go!’ Quinn called into the madness, getting ignored again.

‘Do you hear me? No blame’ The two law enforcement officers were focused on themselves, giving away precious moments to the dead.

‘She’s right, we can't be this close to the city after dark.’ Lori caught her husbands and lovers attention momentarily to Quinn's relief.

‘Fort Benning Rick, still an option.’ Shane pleaded.

“On what. No food. No fuel That's over 100 miles.” Andrea spat back, quick to pull herself over to the bickering.

Quinn didn’t have time to care for the rest of what was shouted, the closest corpse on her side picked itself up and grabbed firmly with leathery fingers at her ankle, crumbling jaws being pulled closer to her soft skin by its iron grip. She stuttered and pulled back her leg, losing balance quickly she plunged the knife down into the walker's skull, releasing the sticky smell of decay into the air. Daryl was on her in a moment, dragging her upright by her shoulder and giving it a tight momentary squeeze.

‘Lets just fucking go!” She finally screamed, followed by Shane's own relention as he repeated her words, albeit more politely for the sake of Rick, who had submitted to his own panic.

The sheriff pounded his breaking knuckles on the metal, each contact sent lightning through the group as they watched the danger draw in. Daryl had already begun drawing her away, moving with the rest of the group back to the caravan, hoping to avoid the hungry mouths around them.

“The camera, it moved!”

Rick's admission stopped them all for a moment, a brief flicker of hope turning in their stomachs. Quinn's feet planted in the ground against the Dixons' firm push toward the safety of the Truck.

“You imagined it” Shane called but the group remained frozen, gasping at the camera.

“It moved. It moved.” Rick positioned himself underneath, staring into its lens.

“Rick, it is dead, man. It's an automated device. It's gears, okay? They're just winding down. Now come on.” Shane pleaded.

It was interesting though, the possibility that anyone looking into the camera was looking into Rick, into his eyes. If there was anyone in there, the door's immovability was on them. They would have to look us in the eye and watch as they killed us. She really hoped someone was there.

“Man, just listen to me. Look around this place. It's dead, okay? It's dead. You need to let it go, Rick.”

Despite Shane and Loris pleading the Sheriff had gone back to his hysterical pounding, crying and begging into the cold eye of the likely empty camera. Shane tried his hardest to force Rick from the way, dragging him only inches before his body twisted in revolt, free of his partners arms to go back to mercilessly screaming at the door.

The composure of the Sheriff, of the strong leader was stripped. Here stood a man, a father, desperate and small—begging for a chance. Asking someone to do what he couldn’t and save his family from the road. The group turned away from him, pushing toward the cars and from the empty tower in front of them.

She tried to tune out, keep a watchful cast over the clambering bodies surrounding them. The sheriffs cries, the screaming women, the sobbing children beat like a drum in her ears. Rushing against her pulse as each scabbed hand crawled its way forward, each pounding syllable urging them closer.

“We don’t have a choice, we need to leave now!” She shouted toward the chaos.

People stepped forward, hesitant at first before grabbing each other into a ducked run past her. Daryl pushed her shoulder against his own for a moment, both preparing to step forward with the majority.

“Come on brother, let's go!” Shane pushed Rick who finally relented, stumbling the first few steps backward.

“You’re killing us!” He pushed against Shane forcing them both forward a step

“You’re killing us!”.

Daryl took forward, keeping a light hand on Quinn’s back to guide her with him. The others had started to make it through the parking lot when she took a worried look to the darkening sky ahead of them, contrasted so harshly by the stark white glow that appeared behind them.

The shutters opened with a sharp hiss and a rattle that brushed through her bones and sharpened nerves. In a second Daryl moved forward passing her lightly toward the entrance, she accepted his unspoken request and retreated into the dark building as he took aim at stray walkers. Covering the arriving group who’d noticed either Rick's cries or the salvation he had brought with them and had turned toward it.

They were safe.

———-

Masterlist

#daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x oc #daryl the walking dead #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x ofc #daryl dixon x ofc #daryl dixon #Daryl #daryl dixon angst #rick grimes #glenn rhee #twd fanfic #twd x oc

Gale x Durge One shot-

“I defied my father for you, power— glory! it was all mine and what did you have me do?” The tears poured now, slipping over the coagulated blood stuck to her skin, leaving damp spots on the collar of her thick robe. “Relinquish it all, in the name of love.”

The word spat out from between the snarled curl of her lips as she circled. Any minute now she’d have him on the floor, on his back helplessly undone with his organs left in a pile of ribbons beside him. And he’d let her, if that’s what she wanted. Such was the creature he was, to be convinced love was being devoted to the point of ruin.

“What did love get me but the leash, cast again over my neck!”

This poor broken girl, if only he could show her their reflection had once been one and the same. That she could rise again, out from under the thumb of a god- just as he once had.

“I was nothing but an empty tenant in your heart. A stray who go too close to the butcher before she saw the knife.”There was rage yes, but what oozed out of her was passion. A dying fire that he had once so enthusiastically lit between them.

It had been a permeating force recently, the regret. Wondering at his side through grand and hollow halls in elysium, its shame often quietly caressed embers he’d worked hard to snuff out. Months since leaving her on the docks. Months since the moment she said begged him to stay and leave the crown behind. Since she left him behind to wonder his godly relm without love.

In hindsight he shouldn’t have left her completely alone. What else was a lone, disinherited Bhaalspawn to do but cause chaos, it was their nature. If their father had stripped them of the urge, it didn’t change anything other than their ability to be accountable. Where before there was a cold absence to their calculations, they were nothing but the most devoted of scholars now. Devoted apparently, to the ambition of murder- yes, indeed it was her nature to seek and snuff out her own kind. He’d just never realised that instinct could extended to her godly father.

“No! No—you have always been special my love, I have never lied to you about my feelings. Where I hold you in my heart is a place most special, and I would have given it to you in its entirety if you’d let me.” he tried to continue but her mouth roared open, sharp canines pulling threads of spit between her lips.

“LIES!” She spat. “You left me, you chose Godhood! So obsessed with your own ambition- just the same. JUST THE SAME!” The words were fractured and resembling Orin’s twisted way of speaking rather than her own. Or maybe that was just how the urge worked, stripping away sanity like a long rod through supple brain.

“I’m sorry my love, I truly am. But what you seek, I cannot allow.” And he was, sorry that was. Sorry that he didn’t know how to help her, that he couldn’t understand what deep seated illness led her to this twisted ambition, because giving her access to Elysium- and her father, wouldn’t cause anything but harm. And the worst part was, even knowing that, he was still sorry he couldn’t give it to her.

“Stupid. STUPID WRETCHED GODS. I’ll gut you, string your lungs above your head and give you the most sacred divinity. CUT, STAB, you’ll be gone. GONE. GONE!” Despite the screaming and the flailing she still hadn’t laid a hand on him, for all her fanaticism she had a rather a tight leash on that large beast. If she wanted him gone- well Alfira was a lesson learnt in that regard.

“I’ll take the babe and lay it at his feet, ANOTHER FOR HIS WRETCHED ARMY.”

He chanced a step forward, hovering his shaking hand out to her as she shrieked more hateful words that passed his deaf ears. Too focused on resting his fingertips on the edge of her shoulder, closing those inches between them to purchase his hand on her in a tender touch. Perhaps the first she’d had since that day on the docks. A misery and comfort all in the same. The action startled her backward into the alter, incense kicking up dust and smoke as it crashed to the cold stone floor. It was cold wasn’t it, under their bare feet.

“No we won’t. The blood of my father Gale- for the life of our son. The blood for life-a god for a mortal, for a shard of a soul.” She seemed somewhat more herself, the startle cutting through to the deep recess where his sweet Othello lay. But it was a shallow cut, and she stumbled against the alter- sliding down it and watching the wet blood drip of her fingertips with all the fascinations of a cat watching a mouse.

What was it she said again, about a babe?

———

Got bored, can’t draw anything without screwing it up so we are going back to writing- hope yall enjoy this i wrote it in the car on my notes app 🫶🏻 apologies for grammar/spelling errors.

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