A/N: I'm in a bit of a stir craze waiting for The Walking Dead to return to TV so I've channeled it out into my writing. Especially since once again I am at a roadblock for my other stories. -sigh- I need more Daryl Dixon/Norman Reedus on my screen.
Anyways, this is my first TWD fiction, and as of now, this is my current OTP for the show. And I doubt there will be any jumping ship.
I meant for it to imply the start of a relationship where two people are still both shaky of where they stand with one another, but knowledgeable that there's something happening between them. Then of course I tossed this relationship turbulence during one of the biggest conflicts they've ever experienced as a group in this post-apocolyptic - or apocolyptic, depending on how you look at it- world.
Happy reading,
Charmed
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Karma Point Redemption
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It's just him and Carol on a motorcycle, and the adrenaline is pumping through him while they dodge the rest of the horde ambling around the farm. Flames from the burning farmhouse were casting sadistic glows upon the torn faces.
The woman behind him was keeping a firm grip, even though her arms trembled.
Driving away in the eerie bright light of the fire, he steers them through the back path which they'd arrived. He'd have been willing to let anyone on their ragtag team get on his bike, away from the mess and the moans of walking death; he'd have even let Lori on, for all of her drama and mind games.
It took all kinds to make a family after all.
And for the first time in his life, he had a family. Not just people he shared blood with, but a family who gave a damn about what happened to one another, who took notice of someone's absence, who shared joy and pain.
He had no doubt there would be mourning when the light broke, but he'd saved someone, and that had to count for something – good karma or whatever they went on about in that "10 ways to Zen" book he'd lifted from that uppity preacher's wife back when the world was sinking into hell.
Good karma, brownie points - whatever it was that he could exchange with whoever the hell was in control up there for what he really wanted.
.
It was early morning when he noticed the tire tracks in the dirt, swerving out of control. Back in the old world, he'd have called it just another drunkard, but now…
"Asian," he muttered, allowing the relief to flood him.
Wasn't going to be just him, and Carol alone.
Alone. The fear he'd had since he found the bloody handcuffs and Merle's cut off hand. Anger, and the roiling grief he'd faced just seeing it there like a twisted pivotal turn in this new life. At least with Merle, he'd have had someone, he had thought then – noise that wasn't his, different from rasping corpses. Wanting room to breathe, to think, was different from being completely alone.
But they weren't alone, now. He wasn't alone now.
He pushed the pedal to catch up to the car, probably just a dozen or so kilometres ahead.
Maybe he had enough karma points to redeem his prize cause he might not be alone, but he'd feel hallow otherwise.
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There was pain amidst all the joy of finding Glenn and Maggie, of meeting up with T-Dog, Beth, and Lori.
No one said anything as they peered through windows discreetly, looking without asking for any more familiar faces. Saying anything out loud would be confirmation, and no one was ready for that just yet.
All they'd agreed upon out loud was heading to the highway.
So to the highway they went.
And Daryl thought maybe dragging everybody along, finding them… Maybe that should've left him satisfied, maybe that should've been enough good-boy points redeemed from the runners of the show, but it wasn't good enough for him so he kept going.
Searching.
And as much as it pissed him off to admit, hoping.
.
The highway scene should've been touching if it weren't for the burning in his chest.
Looking around at the people there, he gave a grimace. Obviously he hadn't saved up enough damn points to have her there.
For one guilty moment he thought, who the hell was Lori Grimes to have her perfect little life?
And the ache in his chest from the hope he was trying to smother inflamed into a throbbing shock.
They couldn't leave her there… Out there, wherever the goddamn hell she was.
She was tough, tougher than most of the people in their group. Her aim was better – if she knew what she knew now about guns, she probably could've taken him down that time in the field. She was protective of her own, and she was smart, resourceful. The woman could handle her own, he knew that.
But she was alone; alone and running from a herd of whack-jobs looking for their latest breathing snack.
Exhaustion had to be taking over soon, and damn… Thinking of her cornered and scared, of the pain she must've been feeling from watching as they left her behind, thinking she was gone...
She'd done what she thought was right, and he'd be damned if she died for it.
He clenched his jaw tight at the very notion of it.
As soon as the camp was settled, he turned toward Rick, looking him in the eye stating rather blandly, "'M goin' tracking."
There is a pause there, a calculating glint in Rick's eye. The man wasn't dumb, he knew exactly what Daryl was saying.
"Might be cold," Rick whispered lowly, like it was all about the weather. "May be better if you just stay put here, on the off chance we need you."
"Be back before it even has time to chill," he told the man.
The stand-off lasted less than a minute before Rick tilted his head and gave a slight nod. Daryl respected Rick's opinion, and trusted it; the man made the right calls and did what was right for the group, especially when no one else wanted to. He didn't have to take leadership, didn't have to be responsible for taking care of anyone other than his family, but he still tried.
Rick did alright by him, and Daryl respected that.
But he wouldn't have given a damn if Rick's opinion was to force him to stay.
Cause if he didn't have enough brownie points to find her on that long stretch of highway, well then…
He'd make his own damn karma.
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His bike was a loud, angry machine that didn't care how loud or angry it came off as, and it suited him just fine. It reminded him of Merle, in a lot of ways, and it was never lost on Daryl that he was in control of the bike, and of his life, now.
The sound of its heavy engine was all he could hear as he darted between the trees.
It's way too quiet, so he strained his ears for any sort of sound.
She could've been anywhere, she could've even been on the other side of the woods he was searching, or maybe not even in the woods at all but in that open field to keep a better eye on the rest of the walkers she had to deal with.
Hell, he could've been attracting what was left of the remaining herd toward him, with all the noise his engine was making. But for once, since this whole horror movie began, he sought out the rasping noise of air dragging through shrivelled lungs.
He wasn't even close to being a statistician but he was pretty sure the odds were stacked against him that she was anywhere close to where he was - he didn't dare even think of whatever odds a person lacking sleep and food had against a tireless mob.
But this was Andrea; she managed to get out of an exploding building seconds before its detonation. His brother and his father had been gambling men, and Merle had given him hell for choosing not to follow, but if Daryl were to place his bets, his bets were on her.
All he had was some nagging feeling, and his own gut to go on, but he was still searching for her, and her latest groupies.
Must be an idiot, he thought as he steered the bike towards the rustling noise off in the distance.
"Andrea!" He called out, cause honestly, if he was going to go out, he wouldn't be whispering when it happened.
He'd go down cursing as loud as his damn bike.
"Andrea!" He tried again.
The smell of rot flooded his nose, coating the air thickly. There were enough of them there, gathered and looking for something, someone. Probably the same someone he was searching for. Gasps, like choking lungs, and inhuman panting assaulted his ear. Panting, not of fear or fatigue, but of famine. The snapping sound of opening jaws, and images of distending mouthes came to the forefront of his mind, spurring him further.
They hadn't eaten yet, but they were hungry, and they were closing in.
"Woman!" Daryl snapped out, frustrated, panicked, and more than a little peeved to realize he was losing his zen, as he gunned down on the gas pedal. "'M waistin' fuel here searchin' for your hide so common courtesy or whatever says you answer me goddamn now!"
He's more than mildly relieved to find her bashing the skull of a walker in with the blunt end of her gun. "Andrea!"
Her blond hair was covered with bits of leaves and small twigs, and her face sunken, but she looked relieved, and she was alive. Her eyes were bright, and she looked ready to cry or pass out, he couldn't tell which first, but her lips had curved into an exhausted smile of relief.
Stopping where he was, he took his crossbow and aimed at the snarler right behind her.
Not my girl, he thought, watching with sick satisfaction as it went down, arrow protruding from deep within an eye socket.
"You can give me a smart-aleck remark after you hurry up and get on," Daryl called out.
She dragged herself towards the bike, her body literally trembling with exhaustion, the last bit of adrenaline carrying her forward. There's another 2 close by, with more in the distance shambling towards them, so he tells her to grip as tight as she can before executing a sharp U-turn away from the gathering swarm.
Far enough away, he felt her head droop against his back, and the softest mumble he'd swear he's ever heard from her slips out.
"Was that?" He questions.
"Said you could've heard me calling back if your engine wasn't so loud."
Making a face, choking back a laugh, he finds the safest exit to take them out of the woods. "Called you twice."
"If you couldn't tell, I was a bit preoccupied when you showed up."
Her voice is muffled from where she was pushed up against him, but she sounded so alive, and so strong he couldn't help but smirk.
He felt her press against him further, and he stiffened out of instinct, before his ears heard, "Thank you… for searching."
Relaxing his body he gives a small shrug of his shoulders. "'M not searching anymore, am I? You're found, and you ain't goin' anywhere any time soon."
The nod he gets makes him think he still had some karma points afterall.
Right now? Daryl Dixon?
Totally zen.
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Fin.
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A/N: There you go. I've toyed with the idea of adding more, but I thought this was a good stop. Kind of like an unfurling. This may not be the end of this particular arc, especially with one of my friends hinting at it. Plus I'd like to uncover more of the chemistry between these two.
Hope you enjoyed,
Charmed