Hey! So for anyone who has read my one shot, "Rabbits," this is the aftermath, and life for Dani in the prison with the group, and most importantly Daryl. I have followed canon as far as Judith being born, and Lori dying. After that, we have swiftly left the shows timeline. Also, they never found any people hiding in the prison. I've never really attempted anything like this before, but the muse has struck since I wrote Rabbits. Mostly thanks to reviewer Mel-2a who asked if I was going to extend it, and so I've now got a couple of chapters sketched up. Mostly this is a tester to see what the reaction is towards it. If you like, please do review, because that's how I know that I have some interest, and I'm not just wasting my time. I also have no beta, so all mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, or any of its characters. I simply own my character, and this piece of writing.
"Don't stop, Glenn! Please, don't stop! Oh, God!"
I groaned, pulling my hard pillow tighter over my face and squeezing my head down into the stiff pressure of my bunks bedroll. Anything to block out the sound of Maggie begging Glenn to just, "fuck me!". It was late. I didn't know how I knew because it wasn't like there were any clocks around the place. Ricks watch was barely glanced at, and Glenn's pocket watch seemed to be more of a treasured possession than a working time piece. But I could feel it, deep in my gut where my body held onto the old world of timekeeping, 7 AM alarms and making sure I was on the right bus to work in the morning.
Shit, I was just so tired.
Those pair next door weren't helping my sleep deprivation, but it seemed that the torture was finally coming to an end as Glenn gave a long, high moan. I laughed into my arm where I had buried my face because he sounded more like a woman than Maggie did. As silence finally fell, and someone hollered, "thank God!" Down the stretch of cells -probably Rick- I turned onto my back and stared at the underside of the empty top bunk. All I could think about was how much my world had shifted again in a mere three weeks.
How I had totally freaked when I first got here, even though I was positive that another day alone would have sent me sliding into crazy town. I think it was because when Daryl had first met me, half-naked and shivering so bad I couldn't even hold my damn knife if he had come at me, I had been alone. But I'd had people before that, people I cared about a long time before those months of emptiness. People I had lost. So when he had brought me back to his place, a prison no less, the sheer amount of people that grouped around us to inspect me had made my gut twist.
So many faces, and expressions, and voices. So many people. All those different lives and minds, eyes and grim mouths to discover again. Fresh, and whole and clean skin. No blood, no open wounds, no disfigured limbs or broken bones. I straight up panicked. It was fucking ridiculous. I had been so bold with Daryl: had gotten naked in front of him, come on to him, had sex with him. A rough fuck on a cold, hard ground with a fire burning the skin on my cheekbones. So brazen with a man who I was sure was near twice my age and had been a mysterious, possibly dangerous character to come across in the middle of an apocalypse.
Him, I'd handled just fine, and yet I had freaked like a deer in headlights when I had met his family. Except Daryl had been so much easier to deal with. One person after months of rotted faces and my own ghosts. Just one man, who barely spoke and whose facial expressions didn't change, and whose words didn't give anything away about what he was thinking, or feeling. He set me at ease, and something about him made me okay. Not really safe, but okay enough to get naked to bathe, okay enough to proposition.
So when I had seen so many people in one gathering, all ranging in skin and eyes, hair, and ages, I was so overwhelmed my whole body locked up. So many people to lose. It was just so dangerous being around people now. You didn't even have to care about them. Just know them. Just listen to one conversation, see one expression flicker across their face and you knew it was going to hurt. It was going to hurt so much when they died. They even had a baby for Christ sake. Soft, fat cheeks and big hopeful eyes. A tiny baby girl who deserved cartoons and books and fucking Disney characters painted all over her bedroom walls in a real home.
Instead, she got a prison. Bars at night and blood stains on the floors. Several people to tend to and fuss over her sure, but as I later learned, no mother. I didn't even have a name for the kind of cruel that shit was. Now here I was laughing at the sound of Glenn and Maggie's nightly fucking. How quickly your life changed now. You just had to roll with the punches, adapt to the new circumstances every day. One person at a time. That was what I needed to do. Learn one person and care for one person at a time, in careful little chunks. I sighed and curled onto my side again.
My eyes ached and my temples felt like someone was taking a drill to them, but even with the new, blissful silence, I couldn't stop thinking about my new routine, and the people involved in it. They had all been wary of me at first, and Rick had been downright ready to toss me back out on my arse. I hadn't wanted to go, despite the overwhelming amount of people I now had to live with, but I sure as shit wasn't going to beg to stay. I'd survived plenty on my own, and I didn't need any husked-out carcass of a sheriff to pass along his approval for my existence. But Daryl, in his intense way had stared at Rick between strands of his dark hair in silent protest.
"Why?" Rick drawled, without Daryl having to say anything, his accent a twang I was still getting used to, after all this time.
"'Cause I broughta back, thas' why," Daryl bit out.
I didn't understand what that meant. Why her, perhaps? Why was she good enough to bring into the fold, and be trusted? And simply Daryl's decision and opinion of me should have been enough. I didn't know, but Rick accepted it. I thought that was pretty stupid of him and far too trusting. Daryl didn't know shit about me. Seen my bare body and learnt my name, shared an intense moment with me in a small pocket of existence. He knew me enough to do that, sure. But not enough to risk me around people he obviously cared about. I didn't plan to hurt anybody, I didn't need to.
But shit, what if I had? What if I had just killed them all and taken their supplies? Seduced him on purpose to get him to bring me back? Maybe Daryl had already considered possibilities like that and chose to dismiss them for whatever reason he deemed good enough. But it was still a risk. I couldn't decide in that moment, hanging around by the gate, if I had wanted to join a group that took risks like that. I didn't think I could survive losing that damn baby, or people that were good enough; pure enough to trust a stranger simply on another good mans word. They let me in the gates, and into their home but no one really let me in.
Not then, and maybe not even now, three weeks later. But I was okay with that. I wasn't ready to care about anybody yet. I didn't even know if I could or if my heart would allow the room. I already held so many faces there, so many names. Despite the lack of true bonding, like the group already cultivated, I got to know everybody. I'd held Judith a couple of times, and babysat her with someone's watchful eye, namely Beth's. Carl interacted with me more than his dad, although I suspected it was his dad who made him interact, to suss me out. Hershel was just polite, not interested but not rude either.
The decision was Ricks to make, and Hershel silently made that clear to me. Glenn loved everybody, and that was okay but he seemed to love them too fiercely, a bit too much. The others, I was sure they would eventually learn to cope if they lost someone. We had all had to do it before, anyway. Hell, Rick had lost his wife not too many months back and Carl was the one who had to shoot her -his own mom- just so she didn't turn into a threat. Still, I didn't think Glenn would have been able to go on, especially if he lost Maggie, but who was I to judge? I barely knew him.
All the same, I wasn't ready to be cared for like that either, as much as I wasn't ready to care for them yet. Carol smiled nice, but I felt there was something deeper to her, a more solid foundation that she drew from, but it was something that she never seemed to express on her face. Sometimes I would catch her having quiet, intense conversations with Daryl. They appeared to be best friends, perhaps even something more, with the right push. They often looked at me, and I wondered if she was questioning him. Perhaps trying to needle out of him the reason he had brought a strange woman home.
It didn't seem that he had told anyone about us sleeping together, and the more I watched him around people he loved, the shyer he seemed. He had been intense and brief when we met, but I hadn't pegged him for shy. It made me jealous sometimes, the visible way in which he opened up to Carol. It wasn't because I had developed feelings of any kind, and it wasn't because I felt we were in any kind of competition. Mostly it was because Daryl had barely spoken to me at all since he had brought me home. I hadn't expected much of him -if anything- but I hadn't truly expected a cold shoulder either.
It was infuriating sometimes, the jealousy, because it was so misplaced in this world. There was already too much to worry about, too many things to debate day in and out, too many decisions about your life to make. Adding misplaced jealousy and relationships, complications and rivalry just weren't worth it. I still thought he was attractive, and I wouldn't have said no if he wanted to get into bed with me again, because why not? I just wouldn't chase him. I couldn't lie to even myself, couldn't say I didn't have a little crush on him. Why shouldn't I?
We had slept together, that thing still meant something. That little fact, that he knew me. The way no one on the earth did now, that he would be the one to kill me. I hadn't chased him, no, but sometimes I just wanted to corner him somewhere and stick my hand down his pants, just to see what his reaction would be. The very thought left my mouth dry and my fantasies hot -sometimes too hot, too tempting- so I had integrated instead. I did whatever Rick wanted me to, just to stay. Four walls, fences and a bed roll was the luxury of my life.
I wouldn't protest to being thrown out, but I didn't particularly want to, and I think that made Rick antsy, put him on edge, with how okay I was about staying or going. So, he worked me to the bone, tried to crack me open and analyse me. I took most watches, always with somebody else so that they didn't leave their safety in a stranger's hands. Smart. Rarely with Daryl, because he had his with Carol. I shared in laundry duty, 'cooking' or as close you got to it. I babysat Judith with Beth and gave Rick a break, I read comic books with Carl when his dad began to realise how ready he always was to fire his gun, and I did runs.
Which was why I was feeling so damn tired. The run we had done today made me regret my wish to work out more, that day I had met Daryl. Now that I was running with this group, I was getting the workout of my life. My back felt about ready to give and my fingers were bruised from the handle of my knife. My skin was just plain gross, forever covered in blood, sweat and gore, no matter how many times I tried to wash it all off. Which I could do now, because there were actual showers here, and lord have mercy but running hot water if you were really quick.
I'd been dying for the warm pulse again my tight shoulders when I got in, they were unbearably stiff because I'd had to beat a walker's head in with a rock too heavy for me to pick up -let alone bludgeon to death with- and now I was paying for it. But when I had gotten back with Maggie, Glenn and Rick, the two lovebirds made it quite clear they were hitting the stalls, and not just to wash up. I had avoided that shit like the plague and just headed to bed. Which was why it astounded me that they still managed to give it another go once they got into their cell.
Not because of their libidos, but because it was just damn rude to ruin my day twice over, and shit but did Maggie not care that her little sister and dad could hear her begging Glenn to ride her harder? I groaned, so agonisingly tired but just unable to shut my brain down. I threw back the thin blanket, shoved on my pants and laced up my boots. I needed to pace around, let my body be drained with exhaustion and then pass out. I tiptoed out of my cell and glanced around, hoping no one was awake. I fully planned to walk myself to the point that I couldn't walk anymore, but then I thought of Daryl, and I wondered if he would be awake.
I debated, then decided I wanted to see him. When I reached his bars, I pulled back the thin sheet hanging over them and glanced inside. He was awake, and sitting up, knees bent and thick arms hanging over them. His neck looked crooked and his head was angled low so he didn't hit it off of the top bunk. He was fully dressed and looked as exhausted as I felt.
"Hey," I whispered, by way of asking if I could come in.
"Hey," he whispered back and I took that as my cue.
He didn't move from his position, and he didn't stiffen when I sat down on his bed roll like he had been whenever I got close to him lately. I sat right on the edge anyway, his booted feet pressing into the side of my right thigh, and leant across my spread legs, cupping the left side of my face in my hand. My dark hair lent a curtain for me, much as his did for him.
"Can't sleep?" I asked.
He gave a half nod, picking at a loose thread on his already holey jeans that were sun faded and thinning. "With Glenn, an' Maggie fuckin' like that? Give me the fuckin' creeps, don't put me in no mood to sleep."
I laughed and we fell into silence. When it was clear he wasn't going to talk again, I spoke instead. "Have you been avoiding me?"
I didn't know why I was doing this now. It had been three weeks, but when you didn't follow the clock or the days, three weeks was a really long time. Months. You never knew when you would die, so even just a minute was eternal.
"Nah," he denied, still picking his jeans. "Jus' givin' the group time to get to know you s'all."
I shuddered at the way he said it, despite the heat. Like he was trying to poke me with the word, remind me of the way I had desperately pressed my hips into his, my mouth to his ear and begged him to know me. I swallowed away my dry throat. "They still don't trust me."
He stopped picking his jeans but didn't look at me, and when too long passed where he had nothing to do, he began to pick at his shredded and calloused fingers instead. "They will, jus' give 'em time."
"It's okay," I reassured him. "I don't mind if I have to go. I mean, I won't like it, but it's okay."
He finally glanced at me. "S'not okay. Send people out there, might 'swell shoot 'em yaself."
"I did just fine. You didn't rescue me, Daryl," I bit out.
My gut churned, suddenly mad that he believed he had saved me. I didn't need saving, and I hadn't been. I had chosen to come with him. I didn't have to. Loneliness was never a better option, but it was still an option. My choice to make. When I glared at him, ready for an argument, I found his cheeks a dim red in the dark. The fire in my belly dampened, confused. Perhaps he felt like he had done something good, bringing me back that night, and I was chucking it right back in his face, telling him he couldn't be.
"Sorry," we muttered at the same time.
I laughed beneath my breath and stretched. "I'm exhausted. I don't want to fight. I just want to know why you haven't been speaking to me."
He started picking his jeans again, and I grimaced as they come apart beneath his intent fingers. Carol was going to kill him. "S'just…"
"Yeah?" I promoted when his silence lapped too long.
He blew out a harsh breath suddenly, startling me and the hair that hung over his face, obscuring his eyes and his feelings. His mysterious ways were downright sexy, but sometimes I just wished I could see inside his brain.
"S'just that when we… I didn't think I'd ask ya to come back… didn't think 'bout after." He pushed it out like it was festering.
I pressed my lips together, repressing laughter. Sometimes he seemed so sweet and shy and then he flipped out in the more abrasive red neck manner that he looked like. Not with me, because we barely interacted. But I'd seen him do it to everyone. Especially people he struggled to be around, people I could see made him itch. As if they were too clean and soft to be allowed. Like beautiful Beth and hopeful Carl, asking a thousand questions.
"I'm not asking you for anything you know," I reassured him. "I mean, I won't say no to anything but I'm not really looking."
He seemed to relax a little, his shoulders less hunched and his face clearer. He nodded, that quick half bob he did all the time. I stood from his bed and groaned, popping my back like an old lady.
"I am so tired," I griped. I shuffled closer and squeezed his shoulder. "Night, Daryl."
As I turned to go, his hand reached up, so big and rough, covering mine in the slim shaft of light. "Wanna stay?"
I bit my lip, remembering the, "ya wanna come with me?" That brought me to the prison, and to his cell with him right now.
"You know you're a roller coaster?" I teased. "Freaking out about relationship commitment and then asking me to share your bed." I wiggled my eyebrows.
He flushed, ducked his head and let go of my hand as if I had burned him. I stumbled, tired and off balance. "Go then," he grunted. "Ain't gotta stay. Hear ya crying out in ya sleep. Thought you might not wanna sleep alone s'all."
I blushed, both at his change in attitude and the fact that he had heard me in my sleep. Which meant that the others had too. Which also meant parts of me I wasn't willing to share. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Daryl's sour expression made me sigh. He was older than me, a fully grown man and I'd dealt with only two young ones, before. I wasn't an expert on how to deal with them, or how to make them happy. They had been out of my comfort zone, so Daryl was off the scales. Sometimes he seemed so fierce and abrupt, ready to lay down your shit and make you deal with it.
Other times he was skittish, doubtful. Easily hurt. I had to be careful with him, but I didn't know how to be. It wasn't anything right now, me and him. But it could be. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be, but I didn't want the door to shut on it either.
I shoved at his shoulder. "Don't make out like you want me here because you feel sorry for me, Dixon. Move over."
I was probably making it worse, but blunt humour and sarcasm were all I was good at. He moved silently, still on top of the thin blanket so I couldn't wiggle under it. He waited for me to climb in, stiff as a board and barely breathing. I clambered in, on top of the sheet. It was always so damn hot, so I wasn't too bothered about the lack of blanket, but it's absence made me feel bare and awkward.
I shifted onto my hip as Daryl put his arm behind his head, pillowing it. "You going to be weird if I lie on your chest and go to sleep?" I murmured, so, so tired that my eyes were drooping.
"Quit," he grunted, body locked up.
I stayed silent, casting around in my sluggish mind for the right thing to say. "I'm sorry," I whispered, genuinely. "I'm out of my depth too, Daryl. I don't mean to be rude, or nasty."
He was still for a second and then his weight relaxed. I shifted onto his chest and groaned. He felt so good. Warm and solid. Safe. I was just dozing off when he spoke again, poking into my small pocket of sleep. "I ain't promisin' nothin'. Didn't do this shit before and I ain't gonna be no good now."
I snuggled deeper into his chest. "I'm really not asking for anything. You offered. I can go."
"Nah, stay. S'alright. S'just warning ya. G'night."
"Goodnight," I breathed.
One person at a time.