A/N: This story was written between TWO people on RP-ME|| The Posts made by "Nora" and "Daryl" are separated by the LINES.
Memories swam like blurred photographs through her mind. Fuzzy; incomprehensible and incoherent. Nora Brannigan's eyes shifted slightly beneath corseted lids. Her breath sped slightly from the pain in her ribs from the spill down the ridge that she'd remembered perfectly. A car alarm rang loudly in her head from her recollections and she did remember the severe pain spreading like wildfire through her body when she was hoisted over a stranger's shoulder and carried towards that annoying drill.
"Hey... hey, lady." Came a gravely, crisp country voice. The twang edged her eyelids open and her bright blue hues darted in all directions before landing on a rather handsome young man with dark curly hair and chocolate brown eyes. "There yah are. How yah feelin'?"
She closed her eyes again as the reminder set in. Her lips were parched and her head pounded. Her body felt like it was on fire from the agony. "Like I got hit by fifty freight trains. What 'appened out dere? Where am I?"
"Shit... you're like... from a whole other country, ain't yah?" He chimed with a husky chuckle. "You were beat up pretty bad. Found yah just on the outskirts of the camp."
"Runnin' from th'undead will do that to yah." She replied. Brannigan opened her eyes once more as she felt his worried stare. "I didn't get bit or scratched, if dat's what yer wonderin'." She added. A solemn look took to her graceful features and she lowered her gaze to her lap. "So ye saved me. T'ank ye."
He seemed to pause for a long moment before he nodded at her thanks. "Well. Can't be walkin' 'round here callin' yah a foreigner, can we?" He joked. Nora would have laughed if she wasn't in so much pain... and if it was funny. "What's your name, baby gal?"
"Well, it sure as shit ain't baby-gal." She scoffed out, wincing immediately after from her sore abdomen muscles. "Nora. Nora Brannigan."
Shane arose just then, dusting his pants off before offering her his hand to shake. She took it almost hesitantly. "Well, th'name's Shane Walsh, Nora Brannigan. Welcome to the crew." He turned slightly before adding, "get yourself some more rest. Dinner will be ready in a few hours."
Things were moving too slowly for Daryl. The time dragged on and it seemed like hours upon hours had passed since the small group was sent out to scout the city for supplies. He was beginning to grow impatient, which wasn't saying much. However, rather than sitting around anywhere near these people, Daryl had decided to go hunting while he waited. It was something that would occupy his mind while he waited, which might help to keep him from getting too frustrated from having to wait.
Earlier he had stumbled upon a woman in the woods when he had gone to hunt. He found her bleeding out and barely clinging onto consciousness. Daryl had done the best he could with what little tools and items he had on him at the time to hold off the bleeding while he carried her back to the camp where she could be taken care of. The redneck dumped her off into the hands of the Deputy with little interest to stick around and see if she would pull through. Many seemed surprised by Daryl having ACTUALLY brought back a living survivor, but he paid no attention to it. He brushed it off like he did with anything they all thought about him, before returning to the woods.
A couple more hours had passed and when he had returned to camp, disgruntled already about the deer he had lost, but slightly relieved with the news of the scouting group's return. He stormed through the camp, shouting for his brother to come help him with cleaning what little food he had managed to catch, but the only response he got was the frightful expressions of the other survivors. At first he shrugged them off, by now having been used to the funny way people looked at him, but something in his gut told him this time was different. Sure enough, that new Sheriff Woody approached him and with news of his older brother.
After much shouting and many flying squirrels later, Daryl was prepping himself to go into Atlanta to rescue his brother. He passed by the survivors gathered around the usual kumbaya campfire, his eyes wandering briefly over each of their faces as he glowered. He noticed the young woman he had rescued amongst the lot but did nothing to acknowledge her existence as he moved on.
By the time Daryl and the others returned, the entire campsite had been overrun by walkers. Daryl's crossbow was strapped along his back, being rendered completely useless as he was only down to one bolt left. In his hands he firmly gripped the shotgun that he had been given from Rick and immediately began mowing down what infected crossed his path. He emptied the shotgun shells into their heads, watching as their brain matter splattered all over the place. He swiftly moved along, walking down the trail of tents stationed down the hill and began clearing out the infected this way. Over in this direction were the tents that Carol and Ed stayed at, and across from them were the tents that the hispanics stayed out.
He heard Ed's screams as a walker chowed down on his fatass like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Carol had taken Sophia in her arms, horrified and paralyzed with fear. Daryl cocked his shotgun and blew out its brains. "C'MON LADY! MOVE YOUR ASS!" Daryl roared at Carol, seeming to break her from her inability to move as she rushed past him with her daughter. He continued forward, making his way over to the Hispanic's tent that was beginning to get overrun with walkers. One of the little kids was grabbed by their ankle and toppled to the ground with one of the infected. Daryl raised his gun to get a shot. Click. He was on empty and by now it was too late. The tiny child squealed like a pig being slaughtered as the walker took a giant chunk out of his leg. "Sonuva bitch!" Daryl shouted as he rushed over to the walker and tried to wrestle it off of the child.
Daryl Dixon was NOT a name (nor a personality) the lone Brannigan child held interest in getting to know. If anything, she remained at a cold, cruel distance with a judgmental eye; like a hunter stalking its prey. His mannerisms were rash, outlandish and sporadic; a very dangerous combination in the midst of such a New World Order. There was no telling just how many walkers could hear his shouts in the midst of his shouting with Rick and Shane - nor how many walkers could have heard the incessant blaring of the truck horn as he paced in the back of the moving truck.
But it was not Nora's place to say anything and as such, she would keep to her silence, eat apart from the group and try to avoid as many inquiries as possible. Over the past few days, she had felt much better by the next morning and was planning on heading out on her own by the end of the week.
That was, until the horde finally found them.
Nora had turned in early, planning on getting some much-needed shut-eye before she faced another day of pestering and invasive questions. All to no avail, it seemed. Screams of terror and gutteral moans of cannibalistic hunger made her wake with a start and scramble for her weapons. Shane had graciously provided her with them when he had come to the conclusion that she was of no harm to him or the group he traveled with. She had also made a point to try and convince Rick to allow her the option as well.
It worked. Thank God.
She readied her katana, sais and bow and arrow before she limped into the battlefield. She began with the compound bow, taking down a substantial amount before she regrettably ran out of arrows and had to switch to close combat. Sweat and blood dripped from her body as she chopped and stabbed her way through the crowds of the undead, careful not to get a bad brush with any of them.
A bloodcurdling screech caught her eardrums and her head whipped to the sound of the child as his leg was viciously torn apart by the Undead. Nora sprang into action with as much gracefulness as she could muster, cutting a bloody path directly to the scene.
She snuck skillfully behind the walker and with one swanlike wave of her blade, the walker's head was lopped right off. It tumbled to the ground with a hard thump and she proceeded to jam the blade into the brainstem for good measure before she moved to assist Daryl in removing the corpse from the child.
Though Daryl was taken by surprise from Nora's sudden appearance it did not distracted him from continuing with his efforts to help the small child. He pressed his lips together as they pulled downward into a scowl. The kid was wailing loudly, his face soaked in tears as he laid there like a wounded animal. Daryl was never one to watch things suffer. Many would look at him and often they saw the shadow of Merle behind him. One quick look at him and they all assumed he was no different, but they were wrong. His eyes shifted to rest upon the petite woman at his side briefly, his inner struggle just barely visible through his expression as he quickly looked away from her to the kid. He removed his crossbow from his back and placed his last remaining bolt into the flight groove before pulling back on the string. Once his crossbow was locked and loaded the Redneck lifted it and aimed at the child's head. Daryl pulled the trigger, sending the bolt clean through the kid's forehead and putting him out of his misery.
Without even a moment's hesitation he quickly moved over to the corpse and retrieved his last remaining bolt. He gripped the arrow with one hand and ripped it out before wiping it off on his pant leg, his eyes stealing a glance from Nora as he stored the bolt away and moved past her to help with the last remaining walkers elsewhere.
The next morning everyone had begun to gather up the corpses of the deceased survivors and of the walkers and Daryl had given himself the task of making sure they were dead. The Redneck had started smashing his giant pick-axe through each skull of every corpse that he came across, assurring himself that they would never again move. Almost everyone at the camp looked at him with a hint of bitterness as he even did this to some of the fallen survivors. A few argued that it was inhumane and that he should show respect, but he argued back and surprisingly Rick backed him up on the idea. However, the second it became known that someone amongst them had been bitten and Daryl had tried to kill them, Rick had quickly pulled out his pistol and aimed it directly at his head. It was bad enough that everyone was putting up with the dumb blonde for hovering over her sister's corpse without doing a thing about it, but not having to deal with an actual infected survivor in their group? Daryl reluctantly put down his pick-axe and glared Rick down before storming off to begin piling the corpses up to begin burning them.
Though Nora's heart clenched in her chest and stilled a beat as Daryl readied his crossbow for the child's head, she couldn't help but understand his reasons behind his actions. The child would turn, only causing more suffering for his parents when they saw him turn into a monster. The young Brannigan caught his eyes once more after the shot was taken, saying nothing; simply staring. Piercing blue orbs crashed into one another and the inner turmoil sifting ever so chaotically through their depths was enough to almost knock the Galway Archer to her knees.
She turned away from him as he did to her, proceeding to finish the war waging around them.
"He killed my baby!" The Spanish woman shouted, beating her fists against her husband's chest. The words stung Nora's heart and she turned her slated eyes to the dramatic scene. "He killed him! Cold blood, papi, he killed my baby!"
Carol stopped and stared, clutching her precious daughter in her arms as though she was bound by the umbilical chord still. Lori sat with Carl, hugging him tightly as he cried on her shoulder. Andrea was far off in her own world of delirium, tending to her sick sister, waiting for her to turn like a damn idiot.
"How could someone be so cold?" Lori whispered to Carol.
"Because 'e 'ad to." Nora piped up, her voice a bit more stern than intended. Her tone was ripped, shredded. As though she hadn't used her vocal chords in weeks. All eyes turned to her and her cheeks flushed a deep red.
"What did you say?" Bleated the bawling Spanish woman as she closed in on Nora. She bravely grabbed the back of Nora's shirt, ripping the girl up from her seat. "WHAT! What did you say?!"
"Get yer paws off'a me, woman, I can 'ear jus' fine!" She swatted the hysterical mother's hand away in a fury. Her voice lowered immediately and she glanced around to ensure everybody was far enough away not to hear. "Bloody 'ell, lookit the gunslingin' Femme Fatale over dere, weepin' over a corpse." She motioned to Andrea in annoyance, then caught the woman's eyes before getting so close that their noses were almost touching. "Her sister suffered from fever, chills, pain and suffering none of us have ever felt before. Y'know what's gonna 'appen next, right? Dat girl's sister is gonna turn; become a monster. Something that's planning on rippin' flesh from bone. Beast didn't wan' da kid to go through dat pain. That suffering. Poor bairn was already 'urting enough and he wasn't about ta fend off walkers around th'boy when we knew there were those who weren't bitten who needed protection." She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then released it as she noted the mother's tears streaking down her face.
Nora bravely reached up and placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm truly sorry, lass. But it wasn't the beast who killed yer boy. It was them. Y'know dat."
Daryl had just happened to return to the campsite, after having lit all of the corpses in a bond fire off location not too far out, when he heard the women arguing amongst each other. He paused in his steps, his interest barely caught as he started to listen in on the conversation. A sudden guilt knotted itself in his stomach when he heard the mother shouting about him having murdered her son. He nibbled down on his bottom lip in frustration as he lowered his head. Daryl was already beating himself up over it. If he had moved faster, if only he had been within grabbing distance of the walker sooner, that boy would never have been bitten. The Redneck was ready to storm off again, to disappear back into the direction he had just came when the sound of the Irish woman interrupted the sobs of the Hispanic.
He stopped himself from leaving just then, his blue eyes moving to get a peep of the pale woman as she actually defended him. Daryl was astonished by this. Someone was actually sticking up for him? And it was a woman that didn't even know him as well as the others, who really didn't even know him at all in the first place. He stared after her for a moment before lowering his gaze, a thoughtful expression playing upon his features briefly before he silently left to return to the corpse fire, that way no one would ever know he had heard in on the conversation that had just taken place.
The next day the group loaded up all that they had and made it to the CDC. At first it was a dream come true for all of them. They were locked away into the most safest of conditions with amazing food and wines and hot showers, warm beds, but it was all short lived when Jenner explained to them that they were all about to be blown to smithereens when the timer ran out. A little something you would think one would find important to explain first thing when offering you a place to stay. Daryl immediately lashed out at the Doctor, rushing towards him with his bottle of tequila in his hands. Though he didn't get very far before the whole swarm of men held him back. He fought furiously against all of their hands that held him back, but eventually gave out and wandered off to find himself something to hit the indestructible doors with.
Arriving at the CDC had been a dream come true... for starters. Booze, hot showers, music... Lenora wouldn't admit it, but she had taken quite the liking to the last bit. She had taken time to relax, to meditate, workout and dance as she kept herself at a distance from the crew.
And then all Hell broke loose. Nora could feel the rage coursing through her as she remained at the back of the pack, eyeballing the Beast as he charged with a full bottle of alcohol at the very scientist who allowed them into the building... who was now telling them they only had half an hour to live as he locked them all in.
Her own desire to lash out at the cocky bastard was pushed away and she focused on the task at hand, marching up the steps to a security pad just beside the door. She began tinkering and pressing buttons just to see if her futile efforts would work... all to no avail.
"Unh!" She grunted as she shot her combat-boot-covered foot into the indestructible steel. "Rank son of a bitch!" She didn't want to die here! There was a possibility of a cure at home and she had to find it! She couldn't let her father die in vain!
Though her efforts were feeble, it sure felt good to hit something. Her eyes darted around for a possible weapon and fell upon the fire emergency axe.
It looked pretty hefty. Perhaps it could break through.
"These doors are made to withstand a rocket launcher." Said the "good doctor". Nora grimaced.
Fuck...
Daryl glared at the Scientist and despite his explanation that the doors weren't going to budge, the redneck quickly yanked the axe up and began hacking away at the steel doors. He repeatedly swung, over and over, as if this was his only way to vent out all of his frustration and fears. Because he had to be honest with himself, he wasn't just pissed for the sake of being pissed. There was no way Daryl wanted to die. Not like this. He wasn't a quitter and he never planned on being one. And Daryl would be damned if he was going to sit around and accept the fact that some white coated mother fucker was going to choose his fate for him. However despite his best efforts, eventually Daryl tired himself out and he stopped with his futile attempts and threw the axe down before walking away, placing his hands to his forehead in frustration.
Luckily though they did manage to escape the CDC and eventually the group was on the interstate moving south, with hopes of eventually reaching Fort Benning. Their plans, however, was shot to shit when Sophia went missing. Their journey was post-ponned while the group sent out a hunting party in hopes to bringing the little girl back. Daryl would often be the only one out searching for the little girl, at times when others would be resting and getting sleep. During the late nights he still searched and though each time he found no leads, he never lost hope.