AN: Even though he's only been in a few episodes, I'm highly disappointed that Gareth has not been put into any slash fiction. I mean come on, seriously, LOOK AT HIM! I don't think I've been this excited since that crazy red-neck came out of the woods way back in season one. What was his name again? Oh yeah, Daryl. I like him.

It's been a while since I've written any TWD fiction, so I guess in a way you could say I'm back. Whatever, I just want to write a load of smut revolving around my favorite redneck and favorite cannibal. I would love to hear your thoughts on this, so reviews are highly appreciated if you do happen to stumble across this story! Cheers.

The Daryl/Gareth ship has sailed. - CSM

The Ghost Of You
Chapter One - Awaken

Warmth. The side of his body was heating up, not quite to the point of discomfort, but enough to awaken him from his groggy sleep. Daryl's eyes slowly flickered open, and he found himself hunched up next to a tall oak tree. Darkness flooding his vision as he tried to focus on something and anything. It had all gone terrible wrong, he knew that much. After a few steadying breaths he opened his eyes again, catching a glimpse of the flickering flames that were lighting up the surrounding area. That was where the heat was coming from. It was pleasant. As he studied the flames, his eyes caught something else... a figure of a tall man, sharpening a blade.

The last thing Daryl remembered, was that he was being dragged away. The explosion had gone off in Terminus, throwing them all to the ground, creating an epic battle between good and evil. Daryl clearly remembered leaving that slaughter house, entering the daylight and saving the rest of his friends from the vicious beasts that had imprisoned them. He remembered fighting his way though flames, smoke and a giant hoard of walkers, only to loose Rick somewhere along the way. Rick had always repeated that he saw Daryl as a brother, but to Daryl, Rick was more for a father figure. Ever since he lost Merle, he looked to Rick for guidance. He trusted Rick, but this time Rick had failed him. Daryl vaguely remembered being dragged away, a vicious burning pain inflaming the back of his skull, deep red blood seeping from the source of the pain, running down his neck, over his shoulder and across his chest. Then inky blackness, and nothing.

What had happened? Where was everyone? Where were the rest of his group? Daryl's head suddenly buzzed with energy as he tried to recapture recent memories which were long lost. Had Rick and himself been the only two to survive that day in Terminus?

"Rick?" Daryl croaked. He sighed and then looked through the flame of the burning fire towards the figure who had yet to reveal himself. Daryl assumed it was Rick. "What the hell happened? How long have I been out?"

The figure stayed for a moment, continuing to sharpen the blade in his hand, before he finally turned around and smirked at the helpless soul who had just awoken from a long sleep.

"Not Rick." Gareth spoke through his sinister smile. "Just you and me, redneck." Gareth began to pace over to Daryl, making the southerner feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He desperately searched the surrounding area for his crossbow. The only thing he had to defend himself. No such luck. He had been stripped of everything except his clothes. Daryl tried to remain calm as the cannibal leader stood in front of him, towering over him like a hunter tormenting his prey.

"Don't look so scared. I'm not going to hurt you." Gareth shook his head. "At least not yet anyway."

"What the hell happened?" Daryl asked, shuffling up slightly. He rubbed his eyes viciously and then gazed up at Gareth. The Terminus leader smiled and then knelt down. Balancing as he continued to hover over Daryl, his skinny jeans hugged every muscle in his legs tightly as an old shirt hung over his shoulders. Once perfect fitting, and now too big.

"Well... would you prefer the long version or the short version?" Gareth joked, holding the blade in an intimidating fashion, Daryl stayed on edge for every second of their conversation, and when he refused to answer that simple question, Gareth nodded and continued regardless. "They're not dead, your people. That cowboy, the chick with the sword, the kid with the hat... they're all alive as far as I can tell. That older chick, with the silver hair, she destroyed Terminus. It's all gone, there's nothing left."

Daryl smiled slightly at the thought of his group. At least they were alive, at least they were still out there somewhere. Perhaps there was a small hope that Daryl could be reunited with them.

"Unfortunately for me, that cowboy killed everyone I knew and traveled with." Gareth sighed, looking up at the night sky which was full of glistening stars, before returning his gaze to Daryl.

"It's not a big deal, really. I knew we wouldn't all survive, I just had no idea some little country sheriff would destroy everything I built from scratch."
"Where is he?" Daryl questioned, unmoved by Gareth's words. If he were totally honest, he was happy that Terminus had been wiped out, but he dare not say anything with no protection and a psychotic cannibal sat in front of him wielding a blade. Instead he stuck to a question he knew could not anger his captor. "Rick, I mean. The sheriff."

"Ah, good question redneck." Gareth smirked, he was odd, his mood seemed to change from minute to minute. This simply backed up Daryl's assumption that Gareth was unstable. "That is what I need you for. You little group has gone off on an adventure, and you know where to." Gareth paused, reading Daryl's face.

Daryl simply stared at Gareth, unmoved by his attempts at intimidation. Of course Daryl felt uncomfortable, but that was simply because he was unarmed and way from his group. It had nothing to do with the man who stay crouched in front of him.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Daryl questioned.

"Because, you want to be reunited with them right?" Gareth nodded, agreeing with himself, almost as if he were answering for Daryl. "Yeah, you want to see your little survival crew again, and I want to kill them. So as far as I'm concerned you have two options here, redneck. I could just kill you, slice your throat open and eat you." With that, Gareth lent forward, holding the cold metal against Daryl's neck, pressing it uncomfortably against his skin. "I'm sure you would be delicious... or you can take me to where your group is going, and I can hand you over, before I kill that son of a bitch sheriff."

Daryl considered his two options. How on earth did Gareth think that he could take out the entirety of Daryl's group? Was he delusional? It certainly seemed so. As always, with any living and breathing human being, survival instinct kicked in. Anything to elongate Daryl's lifespan and give him more time to think of a way to kill the sick cannibal son of a bitch, was exactly what he was going to choose. He stayed silent though, not answering. He wanted to see what else Gareth had to say first. He wanted to be able to figure this guy out. At least he was going to try and do so.

"It's your choice." Gareth shrugged, pulling the blade away from Daryl's neck slightly. "Now, where are they going?" He questioned, a sickening smirk upon his lips.

"... Washington."

"Why Washington?" Gareth pressed further, determined to get as much out of Daryl as possible. He was going to seek revenge, no matter what it took. But Gareth was also well aware that Daryl could be lying.

"Bob was telling the truth, when he said we had a scientist with us." Daryl swallowed a breath and felt the cold steel against his skin once more. "His name is Eugene, he says he has cure for all of this, we were trying to get him to Washington, to the CDC."

"Why are you telling me this?" Gareth questioned, surprised at Daryl's honesty. He removed the knife from Daryl's neck completely, but he stayed crouched, in an awkward stare off with the redneck.

"Because I know that at some point, you're going to slip up." Daryl nodded. "If we go to Washington, which I assume we are doing... at some point you'll let your guard down, and that's when I'll kill you."

"Good luck." Gareth nodded, obviously less that impressed with Daryl's rudeness. He stood again, tucking his knife into his back pocket, he walked slowly around the back of the tree that Daryl was hunched up against, making sure his restraints were still securely fastened. "We leave tomorrow morning. I hope your friends haven't gotten too far just yet. I'm not really feeling up to a long drive."

"How the hell are you going to find them? I didn't tell you which way we were planning on going." Daryl shot back, anger coursing though his veins. He felt a tiredness overcoming his body again. He knew at that point that he must have gained some form of concussion. Thinking back to the injury, he noticed that he'd been cleaned up while he'd been out. Had Gareth done that?

"That's why you're coming with me. Partner." Gareth smiled, "and if at any point, you don't co-operate with me..." He paused, shooting Daryl a devious look. "I will not hesitate to kill you."