Safe
AN: I don't know where this came from. It just wrote itself out on my computer screen. This has the potential to lead into more of story if there is an audience for it. If you want more give a review to let me know what you liked and didn't like and we'll go from there.
The human heart has hidden treasure, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, whose charms were broken if revealed.
~Charlotte Bronte
Would you ever think that the safest you'd ever feel would be after an apocalypse, well it's the truth. This is the safest I've ever felt, even though nearly everything that goes on two legs is happy to kill you and ravage your body for whatever it wants. Hopefully kill you first, but not always a guarantee, I've found that out the hard way.
But I feel safe because he's here. Well over there, but still. I can see him, he can see me if he looks up. He's across the way picking his way through the scattered underbrush of this little glen we found to bed down in for the night. Looking for a good spot to set up and take the watch he was assigned. Most of them don't like sleeping out under the stars but I don't mind. It also might have something to do with the fact that I sleep in trees; it's a wee bit safer than on the ground, all kinds of predators down there.
I feel safe because he, Daryl Dixon, is here. He's the reason I joined up with these people not too long ago. He found me scavenging in the woods a while back and decided to take me in. Dunno why, I wouldn't pick me. But that's beside the point, he did and so here I am looking across a clearing, filled with people who I'm sure would rather I weren't around; it's not that they're bad people, it's just that I despised small talk before the End and now I think it's absolutely worthless. So as you might imagine I don't know much about any of them and they don't really seem inclined to give it another go at getting to know me.
But he's, I don't know, he's different. There is something about him, something almost shiny under his constant layer of dirt. He's calm and quiet, but mostly he's just there, a constant presence that doesn't waver or change. He also doesn't expect me to be completely normal or anything. I like it; this is certainly a huge change for me considering that for almost this entire time I've been by myself. The other parts I don't like to talk about.
My goodness, where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself, I'm you; well I could be as long as you are a survivor, I am. It's my plan to make that Grim Reaper think twice about coming for me. And if I do say so myself I'm doing a pretty good job. I make people uneasy, always have. I stopped caring when the dead started walking. If you think I'm strange then you don't try to be around me and I have fewer things to worry about. But these people are different, they don't feel comfortable around me but they try, like there must be something redeemable about me.
They know I've got one foot out the door, I'm just waiting for the sign it's going to hell to run. They don't like me because of that fact, I don't care. Or at least I tell myself that I don't. Honestly, it hurts. No I won't abandon them but I'm also not going to stick around if it's obviously going to go the way the War did; if it's time to run, it's time to run. I'm not a coward but I am a survivor.
I do my part to make sure everyone is taken care of, I help hunt, as much as I can but I'm not much of a hunter, I'm more of a healer. I can do a lot with plants, and I do. My bag is full of jars of dried herbs and ointments along with salves to help with bruises and cuts and to relieve pain and itching. I know the best things to use when someone gets sick, I also know where to find all this stuff in the wild. I guess you could call me a medicine woman or something.
I don't care what you call me. There's only one person I allow myself to wish for. I mean I wish for them all but I don't let those wishes get real I guess you could say, for the most part we're all gonna die a not pleasant way. That's the way life is now. We will die young and the best thing you can do is die fighting, and hope that you can get to your insurance policy to stay dead. But I let myself hope for him, hope he finds someone to love and lives happily for a while.
Glancing around the campsite, everyone is pretty much curled up safe and as warm as you can get outside after a rain; the chill in the air makes me pull the blanket a little closer around myself, it's an awkward thing to do in a tree but I make it work. Sure you can get away faster if you're on the ground but I'm not really worried about the hordes finding us, I've had my fair share of brushes with other survivors; and only one of them has been sort of pleasant. Take a guess which one I'm talking about.
Hence the trees and my clothing choices, defense and camouflage first everything else can fall away. It's been awhile since they all started grabbing zzzs, I've been up the tree for a bit longer, though I'm not sleeping. I'm listening and watching.
Daryl's on first watch, I'm usually up when he's watching, not because we talk or anything. He just doesn't judge me and the accepting silence is nice. He's silent like he knows what's going on, like he knows why I do what I do. And honestly he might, I don't know much about any of them.
"You can come on down, darlin', ain't a Walker gonna get by while on I'm on watch. You're safe down 'ere" he said glancing up at my perch. I'm tied to the trunk of the tree about ten feet up, my feet just touching the branch below them, supporting just enough weight to keep the blood flowing. Looking down the dying fire light catches his eyes and for a moment they look like quick silver, and I can't help but smile a little bit, I do trust him. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to go down at least while he's on watch, and then when he grabs zzzs I'll go back to my tree.
Loosening the harness I made for myself months ago after the first incident with survivors I slip down the trunk careful not to make too much noise. Shouldn't wake the others, they are all worried and wrapped up in their own little worlds and need their sleep. It's another thing that sets me apart; I stopped really caring about the world ending and trying to make something that resembled the life I had before. None of it really matters any more. It's over and gone.
"Why do you sleep up 'dere, darlin'?" Daryl asked as I picked my way across the camp to his position watching the natural entrance to the glen we're camped in tonight.
"Safety." I say simply looking for a place to sit close to him, I don't want to wake the others or put us in danger from speaking too loudly. There are two place I could sit one is next to him with my back against the tree he's leaning on and the other is with my back to black woods, hmmm decisions to make.
"Mmmm, I guess that makes sense," he said thoughtfully as I settled with my back to the woods, I don't know him well enough to sit next him. We'll see if we live long enough for that to happen.
"Not much can get you up a tree." I say turning my head to catch the sounds of the forest behind me. My instincts will perk if something changes in the sounds. They're honed really sharp by now.
"True, but yah can get further away faster if yer on the ground." His eyes piercing mine as if hoping mine give away some hint as to why I don't sleep on the ground. The truth is that I've already given away why I don't sleep on the ground. The truth is there in my movements, my behavior.
"I just feel safer in trees." I say, I don't really want to get into why I stopped doing what my ancestors have done for hundreds of thousands of years. It's a period of my survival I'd rather not remember.
"Alright darlin' I won't push yah." His eyes glance down and watch as I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. "Yah know you're safe, right? Non's gonna hurt yah." He's trying to make me feel better, but that's a promise no one can keep. Life took a sudden turn back to hard and short when the dead woke up and started walking.
"I know, some days it just feels surreal. I mean I was studying anthropology, natural medicine and botany and now I'm sleeping in trees using what I know to survive." I can't keep the hopelessness or tears from my voice.
"So anthropology, natural medicine and botany taught you how to use those?" he asked incredulously nodding towards my weapons, the stilettos bound to my writs with their quick release, the bone knife at my hip; he knows I have a garrot wire in my pocket, the handles stick out just a bit so I don't get poked and the only one not visible was the short bow that I can assemble in less than a minute currently resting in the small of my back under my shirt.
"No a morbid fascination with the Vikings and the Middle Ages did. My parents were okay with the archery, thought I could get a scholarship on it maybe. The close quarters combat with knives, not so much, but I didn't give them much choice. I learned it on my own." A wistful smile crossing my lips as I thought back to how much fun I thought it would be to drive my parents mad this stuff. It never occurred to me that it might save my life one day.
"Mmmm," he says nodding, his eyes holding mine looking for something there. He nods ever so slightly, you might miss it because he also throws his head so the small bit of hair that was close to his eye is flicked from its place. "You're somethin' else you know that?" He asks with a bit of smile.
"Yeah, my Grandmother always told me I would never find a good husband. Said that men liked to take care of women. That they didn't want a wife who could throw knives, shoot a bullseye at 500 meters, or any of the other things I can do. She said that women who could do those things found themselves without men in their later years. Said that they wanted a woman to keep a house and all that other bull." I say thinking how ridiculous that notion is now.
"Sounds like your Gran was right proper Southern lady," he says looking away from me. I think I almost see disappointment in his eyes, but that can't be, why would he be disappointed that Gran was proper lady.
"Yeah, she was, had her own debutante ball and all in the said that one of Gran's ancestors attended Jefferson Davis' presidential ball in 1861." Remembering my family is something I haven't done in a while. I try not to dwell on the things I can't change, they're gone and dead.
He snorts a bit bringing me back to the present and out of memories of old plantation homes and debutante balls never to be seen again. "What's funny?"
"I just never thought I'd be sitting at a campfire with a right proper lady." He throws me another smile, he can't be flirting with me. I'm the one that doesn't belong here; I'm here to survive and nothing else.
"I'm not a raght lady." I say exaggerating my accent.
He just snorts at me again and reaches out suddenly to grab my hand, "Miss Bell, I really must apologize for mah lack of manners. I've nevar spent any time around a real lady and so I humbly beg your forgiveness for mah shortcomings." Now I know he is flirting with me, though I still don't believe it, despite the fact that it just happened.
I snatch my hand away from him and swat his forearm in the process. Hoping for a witty retort to find its way through my lips and I find myself disappointed to hear the words "Mah name 'snot Bell," fall out instead.
"I know it's not but you're a right Southern Bell. So your name's Bell. Least that's what I'm gonna call you tell me yer right name," he scooted closer to me and leaned in real close to my ear and whispered "and you will. One day you will." His breath a warm brush across my pulse causing me to shiver.
As he pulls away I can see the smirk on his lips again like he thinks he gained something from making me shiver. "That doesn't mean anything Mr. Dixon. As for my name, it's just a name and that girl has long since died." The look his face falls and I feel bad, but its true the girl I used to died months ago.
"Why are your eyes are dilated?" He asked looking at me with those quicksilver eyes again, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a smile "And why you're lookin' at my mouth?"
Smiling I say "My eye are dilated due to several factors, the darkness," I say glancing around the glade "and mostly due to endrophine releases in my brain. It's a specific reaction the body has, it means nothing. Besides you're one to talk. You're eyes have wander over my entire body during this conversation. And most frequently strayed to my mouth."
"Maybe I'm just not used to havin' such a beautiful woman for company on watch." He said looking at me.
"I've been here." I say looking at him, it's true I have been here, since joining the group, I've just been up my tree.
"Just up a tree. You still haven't told me why yah do that darlin'."
"Somethings take time, Daryl." I say looking at him. I reach my fingers up to brush the stray hair that's fallen back in his eye away and am shocked to hear him gasp as my fingers brush his skin.
"You're cold, darlin' git over 'ere," he said lifting his arm and indicating the small spot next to him. I'm shocked to find that I want to sit next to him, but life is never so simple, 'specially not this life. He must have been watching indecision and uncertainty flicker over my face and eyes because he continued "Your Vikings wouldn't have thought twice about sharin' warmth."
"Fine, being warm at night would be nice," I concede standing up and stepping over the tree roots to settle in next to him. The bone knife on my hip accessible if need be. My things a short distance away, if anything happened I could be gone before anyone knew a thing.
After I sit down next to him Daryl settled his arm around shoulders and started to rub my upper arm. I guess I was colder than I thought "Why do you care?"
"What did yah say darlin'?" I'm not too surprised he seemed pretty focused on the dark space just ahead of us.
"Why do you care? No one else cares about me, at least not really, they don't trust me. So why do you, Daryl Dixon, care about me?" I say getting more defensive than I meant to but nothing in this world is free. And I'm a bit afraid of what his attention is going to cost me.
He took a moment answering my question and he ran the hand that wasn't rubbing my arm through his hair. With a sigh he said "I donn know, I just do. Yah don't seem like yah need protection but at the same time it's like you're lookin' for somethin' or someone you lost. Yah know what I mean darlin'?"
The hand that had been rubbing my shoulder stopped and moved a bit, I waited for what was going to come next; the only thing he did was turn so he could look at me and held my face so I could look into the crystal blue eyes that were pouring out nothing but sincerity. And in that moment I knew I was safe. As long as Daryl Dixon was around I would be safe.
I wasn't even aware that I had started crying until Daryl's thumb wiped away a tear from my cheek. He brought my head down to rest on his shoulder and just sat petting my hair every so often I would catch something he said, I can remember clearly hearing "shhhh, it's alright now.", "Nothing going to git yah." and "You're safe darlin'."
And I was, for the first time since this God-awful mess started I felt truly safe.
AN:Now click that little box down there and give me a review. If you want to read more about Bell and Daryl give me a review to let me know and don't forget to favorite the story to get updates as soon as they are posted! And yes I am aware that Katniss from Hunger Games slept in trees; honestly not a bad policy in life and death situations. Humans have had two feet on the ground for so many hundreds of thousands of years that we forget to look up. Hence why if you're trying to get away, go up whenever possible.