Disclaimer: though I wish I would've been creative enough to create TWD, no characters or anything to do with it are mine, and I don't write for financial gain. Shoot.
Additionally, "Rosie" is mine; I created her.
Additionally-additionally, this is a very altered timeline that's based on the show, not the comic; I wrote this at the beginning of season 6 and now season 7 is airing weekly and I realize that it is COMPLETELY different from that's taking place… but it's just for fun. So very alternate timeline without skulls bashed and a certain narrow eyed man in a cell. *sobs*
Additionally-additionally-additionALLY... just go with the flow, pls \(u_u*)z
Her name was Rosie, and she had come flying out of nowhere when Daryl found himself unexpectedly cornered by four walkers. He hadn't been able to draw his gun up fast enough or pull his knife from his hip, so when the swinging hand ax came slicing into the skull of the walking dead before him, he was a bit stunned it hadn't cleaved into him. Once the one pinning him was eliminated, taking down the others was easy. But then Daryl and the girl with curly dark hair and fiery eyes were at a draw; his M-16 aimed at her, her sawed-off shotgun pointed between his eyes. However, it only took a few moments before she lowered her gun, revealing the rest of her dirty face. Daryl didn't move, didn't lower his weapon. But she put hers to her side, and raised an eyebrow at him. She lifted her muddy hands a moment, making him grip the gun tighter.
She huffed. "I mean I did just save your ass." She snapped. That voice! So scratchy, but so velvety. He enjoyed the sound of it.
Hesitantly, he lowered the gun. She even leaned some ways down to catch a peek of his face before he stood straight- and she grinned... how long had it been since Daryl had come along a stranger that grinned? Like they were just passing on the street while walking? Maybe she was insane.
"I'm Rosie." She said, extending a hand out to him. This was weird. He wondered if she was going to grab his hand and stab him, or shoot him, or- but besides all those thoughts, something compelled him to grab her hand and shake. It was firm and confident, much like the way she kept looking at him. "Daryl." He said softly; there didn't seem to be any unease in the way she stood or spoke compared to his cautious demeanor.
"You alone?" He asked, taking note of the backpack she carried as he scanned the surroundings behind her.
"Unfortunately." She said, shifting a bit. So she caught that, huh? "Do you have water?" She asked then, her brows furrowing a bit. Daryl looked her once over again; he just couldn't get a clear read of this girl. She was threatening in the strangest of ways, but he couldn't sense any dishonesty in her, or malevolence for that matter. He unhooked his water bottle from his hip and held it in his hand. "Trade for your pack." He said, and she cocked her head a bit, but nevertheless slipped it off her shoulders. The mostly filled bottle was too enticing to pass up.
"You're not gonna find anything spectacular." She mentioned before smoothly exchanging with him. As she tilted the bottle over her mouth and savored the refreshing liquid, he quickly sifted through her bag.
Books, socks, bullets, a can opener, matches and an empty water bottle. Nothing spectacular, but equally peculiar. Who carries books nowadays?
"Thank you." She said softly, returning the still mostly filled water bottle to him. Daryl returned her bag, his hand brushing hers as he did.
Their eyes met- there's a moment you always remember when you first meet someone. It should've been her running and slamming an axe into a walkers head, but instead it was her wild eyes and hand brushing against his that was to be permanently burned into his memory, and the inability to pull away from her gaze for a bit.
But in the end he was the one to look away first. There was a drawn silence between them; Rosie was almost ready to say her goodbyes and walk away, despite not wanting to leave the only person she'd seen in weeks.
"We have a town- a settlement. There's more people and walls to keep walkers and enemies out." He explained, and her face conveyed hope. She had come along other groups, but they were hostile even from a distance so she'd avoided them, or they looked broken-down- ready to crumble. Daryl didn't exactly look to be the most inviting and trusting person you'd hope to come along, but the fact he hadn't actually tried to kill or capture her said a lot. And even though his eyes were feral and his voice rough, she felt compelled to follow him. "You don't have to come, but the offer is there." Daryl added, pulling the gun strap over his shoulder.
"I'd like to go." Rosie said, nodding.
It was strange how close she'd actually been wandering near Alexandria, and how she went undetected by lookouts when she noted that she'd crossed the street in front of the compound, completely oblivious it was at her side. And Daryl didn't feel the need to point his weapon at her back as they walked together, and didn't feel it necessary to take her weapons when the heavy doors slid open to reveal the homes and community inside. This girl had a strange energy she emitted- something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
But Sasha had called alert to Rick when she spotted the newcomer tagging beside Daryl.
Rosie side stepped a bit when Rick sped walked to them, her hand grabbing the hilt of her axe. Without knowing Rick and his kindness, his cold eyes and strong stance could easily startle someone. "It's okay." Daryl reassured her as Rick approached them. "This is Rosie- found her wandering around." He added, and she scoffed. "Those details are a bit foggy." She mumbled. Did she really just say that?
She stiffened as he spun her around to pat her down, but she didn't object. She knew she'd be outnumbered if she tried to make a move. But her eyes scanned around, bouncing from face to face of every distant person that stopped to observe the stranger. Rick pulled her backpack off and the gun from her hand, handing them to Daryl. Still, she didn't object. At least he kept her with her ax.
Daryl watched as Rosie stood straight when Rick looked down at her. Clearly she wasn't letting him have too much of an upper hand; they both just stared. Rosie wasn't very tall, but she was still a bit intimidating. "You ask her the questions?" Rick asked; Daryl shook his head.
"She's alone, doesn't have much on her." He explained, gesturing to the weapon at her hip.
"How many walkers have you killed?" The first question.
"Seventy-two." Without skipping a beat she answered. Daryl listened intently to the next two questions, as well as Sasha who leaned a bit over the railing.
"How many people have you killed?" There was the second. There was a pause this time, and Rosie's confidence dulled a bit.
"Three." She answered, her voice softer.
"Why?" Rick finished with the last one, his eyes boring holes into her. Rosie sighed. "Because it was too late to save them." Her scratchy voice was even, steady. Rosie rocked onto one leg, her body relaxing a little. Rick was having trouble getting a read on her as well; when he starred people down, his years of experience being a sheriff told him that this was when people's confidence would falter and their true colors would show through. But she just stared back, waiting patiently.
"What profession were you in before?" Rick asked.
"First responder for six years." She answered, showing the paramedic emblem on the shoulder of the worn and tattered shirt she wore over her tang-top. The men exchanged glances; it was lucky having Denise, but to have a seasoned medical professional would be a blessing. "From around here?" Daryl asked, and when she looked at him to speak, the temper of her eyes calmed, the language of her body also doing so.
"Originally from New York, but made my way down to Florida then came back up. It's been safest here- the cities anywhere are packed with lurkers and there's gangs everywhere." She explained. They were both taken aback by the distance she'd covered. But Rick was still hesitant; what with recent events, inviting someone in could be a mistake. He turned to speak to Daryl, trying to keep his voice low. Rosie acted as if she were interested in her surroundings, but kept an open ear.
"I trust enough in your judgement that you didn't bring her in without thinking she'd be of some use. Seems kinda... unusual." He whispered.
"I didn't know she was a paramedic- she doesn't have anything useful in her bag. I think if we have her on our side, she's harmless, but useful. She's got a strong arm with that axe. We'll figure out more as we go." He replied, looking to her. Rosie felt his gaze and looked. The heat of her eyes made him feel warm, secure almost. "You gonna keep an eye on her?" Rick asked, and Daryl paused before nodding. He wasn't fond of babysitting, but he brought her in- his responsibility, now.
He felt like Rick was leaning more towards asking her to leave, but something deep in his gut didn't want her to. "Law of averages." Daryl added, and Rick sighed, reluctantly nodding his head.
Rick walked back to her and followed her line of sight- she was looking at Judith who was toddling along the street with her hands in Carl's. Her heart swelled; it'd been so long since she'd seen a child.
"My names' Rick, and this is our home. We have plenty of people here to keep this place guarded and safe and Daryl here with a couple others continually bring people in to help this place flourish. You're welcome to stay, and you'll get a home after a few days watch. But to stay here, you have to prove your worth and work. If you disagree with that, you can walk right out those doors." Rick explained, no room for negotiation. Rosie nodded.
"Understood." She said. "Mind if I keep this with me?" She asked, tapping her ax at her side. Rick nodded. "Daryl'll be keeping an eye on you for a while." He finished. "Let's go, I'll show you around." Daryl spoke then, and she said, "Thank you, Rick." The two walked down the road leading away from the front gate, and Rosie wasn't oblivious to the inhabitants from all around taking turns looking her over. But if anyone passed them, she offered a grin and a nod. Daryl even took it upon himself to tell her the names of people, and where select few facilities were inside the walls, but not too much at the time. Michonne literally stopped in her tracks as she walked to Rick, a bit astonished at the new girls gestures.
Her lover met her halfway as she turned to look at the curly haired girl stroll down the street with Daryl, occasionally waving to someone who kept their eyes lingering too long for her liking.
"Who's Daryl's new rescue?" Michonne asked. Rick rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, but he couldn't help but smirk. "Rosie, our town's newest paramedic." He explained, and she nodded in approval. "If I didn't know any better I'd say she's lost her mind smiling at someone like that nowadays." She whispered, and Rick chuckled. He had a feeling a great majority of them would all have the same thought process about her.
If it hadn't been from the previous generosity of some of the original inhabitants of Alexandria, Rosie's kindness and willing to make new friends would have been alarming. She'd walk right up to someone and introduce herself, and with ease she could keep a conversation rolling. And there was almost always a smile on her face as she greeted someone, not to mention sweet words when she'd dote over Judith when Rick finally found it fit to introduce them. The way she could get that little girl smiling and laughing only pointed to the possibility that she had once had children of her own, but that wasn't something Daryl was going to ask her outright. But he still wondered as he lingered near her- how was she always so chipper? Or maybe he'd just been in the company of too many unfortunate happenings that it'd left him and everyone else with a sour taste in their mouths. Either way, she was a light that refused to be put out.
And everyday that she made a new friend, she gained the trust of another person. It was hard not to; she kept her word and proved her worth when it came to work and chores and rounds. She had a strong work ethic, and even took to taking it upon herself to clean the streets sometimes. And at night, her sharp eye kept them safe when larger than normal groups of Walkers wandered by. Even the occasional wildlife that poked curiously at the walls.
Her extensive knowledge of the medical field proved itself when she was easily able to fill in the gaps of Denise's studies or opinions. But not only did she offer her opinions, she taught Denise whatever she could with what limited resources they had. To anyone, really, that would take the time to hear her out.
After easily striking up conversations with others, Daryl started to notice she'd try with him, the quietest of the lot, despite being the first one she stumbled upon those couple of weeks ago. It started small, just little comments or asking for his opinion on a matter seeing as he was still "keeping an eye on her" and followed at a distance. Even though he'd rarely answer, she was persistent. Rosie would even go out of her way to walk in an opposite direction down the street to ask how he was doing, or if he needed any help. Despite actually liking her company, he'd always send her off. But then there were nights they'd both have wall guard, and she'd keep pace with him, trying her utmost to get more than two syllables out of him at a time.
Those nights, she'd say something he normally didn't feel the need to comment on with others besides Carol, but was always compelled to do so with her. Carol herself even teased him about this; on one occasion she'd held back laughs as he stuttered while speaking to Rosie, and with an elbow to his ribs in a playful manner, he was glaring at Carol as she laughed. "Stop." He grumbled, walking from the short haired woman who went about grabbing cans from the pantry and chuckling to herself.
"It's nice being somewhere where it actually gets cool at night during summer." She had said as she stood by him, a loaned and silenced rifle in her hands. He eyed her from behind his shaggy bangs for a moment as she looked into the dense woods.
"Compared to what?" He asked, his voice gruff.
"Home, Maryland, Florida. They were the worst, but I guess the tan was worth it." She said, shooting him a small smile and eyeing her tan arms. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she didn't seem to get nervous when he didn't return the smile. She truly had a contagious smile; still couldn't crack him, though. Yet, she reassured herself.
"How did you get that far?" His question was cautious, but purely curious. "I mostly walked, then other times I found a car. After Florida, though, I wanted to come back. Figured if I could barely make it that far there was no getting to California." The tone she spoke in was carefree, like she was catching up with an old friend rather than an acquaintance. But he didn't realize that after being alone for so long, something she craved the most was just talking to another human. Loneliness brought out the unexpected.
"Are you from here?" She asked, wandering a bit away but still staying within talking distance. He took a few steps after her, but still didn't answer, keeping his eyes on the world around them. He didn't know if revealing information to her would backfire, even if it was little details.
"Your accent is barely there but I'd say Georgia." She said, turning to catch his widened eyes. She giggled. "Am I right?" She asked, and he nodded, hiding his grin. Another short stretch of silence as he watched her stroll along the wall, staring down at the Walkers. The few that were there groaned quietly, unable to pinpoint where their voices were coming from. "You don'ave much of an accent being from Manhattan." He finally said, walking past her as she stopped to look down. "Lived there, wasn't born there." She simply stated, scanning the trees.
"When I was still in California- speaking Spanish with family and friends kind of gave me one, but it left when I left." She stated. He listened even after she finished. "Why would you leave California?" He questioned, realizing that again she was bringing him from his usual quiet shell. But now he wanted to know more; he'd only ever heard of paradise from that state. She shrugged, looking at him. "Thought I'd give somewhere else a chance." She stated, gently brushing her shoulder with his as she walked by him. They were continually going ahead of one another and then waiting, and he didn't even know when it had started. It was like this, though. Quiet talks and smiles, sometimes the brush of an arm or shoulder. "How's that workin' out for ya?" He joked, and she rolled her eyes.
"Clearly the best decision I've ever made." She laughed. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic. Everything she said sounded sincere. "This sucks," she paused to point at the Walkers. "But that's beautiful." She finished, pointing to the trees and night sky. Darly had spent so much time alone in the woods that he'd grown numb to the shelter and beauty those trees actually provided, but watching someone else adore his once home during his childhood, he couldn't help but again notice them. "How long were you out there?" He asked carefully, standing beside her.
"A few days after I was cleared from the quarantine zone- after they'd thought it was contained, I left. I made it to Michigan when the world was handed over to the dead, and I've been wandering since." Rosie spoke quietly, and for the first time since she'd arrived, he could hear sadness in her voice. "Two years. I was out there for two years." She added, and he looked away. "And some change." He said, and she released a breath.
"And some change." She repeated, and then a light silence fell over them. No tension, nothing uncomfortable, just silence and the moans of the walking dead.
"I really owe you for bringing me here." Her voice broke the silence, and he watched as she swung the rifle to set against the back of her neck. "I'd encountered a lot of horrible people, and I thought I was going to have to become one if it meant not being alone anymore." She turned so she was facing him, and he turned his head farther to look at her. "Thank you- so much, Daryl. You- everyone; you gave me life again." She smiled at him, and he nodded, not knowing how to handle such gratitude. Any at the prison previously just made him uncomfortable, but one on one like this was even worse. But when she walked away and let her hand slide along his shoulder blades, he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. How long had it been since he'd had any contact like that, or a light-hearted conversation like this? "You're a good friend." She called back, her hands hanging around the gun.
"Friend." He said quietly to himself. That was new, but he couldn't deny liking it. He watched her stroll away, like she hadn't a care in the world.
Continually she made good impressions on people, and her calm demeanor and steady hands brought into account that maybe she'd be good on runs after a few weeks time. But it was still being tossed around; they didn't know how she handled conflict on the outside. However Daryl still stayed near after it had been deemed that she wasn't a threat. He liked to listen to her talk, and began to crawl out of his shell to talk to her. Now he was the one going out of his way to start conversations, even if they were small and about work around Alexandria. But she always greeted him with a smile. When they didn't have chores together, he'd still watch her.
When she sat on the steps of Rick's porch to chat with Carl about comics, or braid tight knots into her hair along her scalp and then sometimes Judith's. He preferred her hair down and around her pretty face-
Daryl blinked a few times. What the hell was that shit?
Quickly his feet carried him to the opposite end of Alexandria; he couldn't be having thoughts about anyone like that again. Not after Beth. He couldn't take that loss again if something happened to Rosie in the midst of developing emotions.
But still... He found himself looking at her, captivated.
Like when she'd read in the grass or on someone's porch. Always the same of three books, but enough to keep her mind moving, she'd say. A still brain is one not much farther from death, she said once before returning to her book; Daryl couldn't disagree. Rosie offered so many new aspects and topics that he realized his mind hadn't actually worked this efficiently in quite some time. Nor had it been distracted enough to shift into this more peaceful mindset; it was a small weight off his shoulders. And if he got to listen to her voice and spend some extra time with her, then what was the harm? He'd give himself that much, even if he was denying the ever growing feelings for her.
It hadn't necessarily been okay-ed, but no one had frankly argued it, either. Somehow, maybe over the nights they had rounds together or just the conversations they'd exchanged while roaming around Alexandria, Michonne had taken a liking to Rosie and without delay asked her on a run with her. Rick wasn't too fond of sending his lover off with somewhat of a stranger (even if the group trusted her), but Michonne was adamant, saying she felt she could rely on this woman. Rosie had covered more ground than any of them, both in and over state lines. She'd mentioned a small pharmacy not too far away, and the infirmary was running low. Who better to take than a paramedic?
And boy, did she prove her worth.
There was far more dark and rotted blood covering Rosie then there was Michonne, but the smiles they shared were sure to hold an interesting story. And although it literally looked like she had dumped her head in a bucket of innards, and riffled in someone's spare parts, she still stood beside Michonne, hands on her hips.
"If there was ever anyone you wanted to have with you on a run-," she paused to pat Rosie's shoulder. "This is your girl, Daryl." Michonne finished, and Rosie smiled, picking some rotted skin that was stuck in the ends of her curls. Daryl looked at Rosie; what the hell happened? But his thoughts were interrupted from a backpack full of medicine and supplies being placed in his hands. "Everything on the list plus more." Rosie said in a content sigh, walking past him towards Rick.
Rick stood a bit shocked after greeting Michonne, inwardly relieved she had made it back in one piece. "Busy day?" He asked, and Rosie shrugged with a grin.
"Nothing I couldn't handle." She replied, rotating her ax in her hand. Rick could only shake his head, and then send her off to get clean. But Daryl watched as she strolled way, acting as if she had just returned from the grocery store instead of a dangerous run.
He figured it out. She had a spark of insanity; that's why she was always smiling. No one in their right mind would act like that if-
"I don't know what to make of that girl." Rick mumbled as Daryl walked to him, showing him the packed backpack. Anything from band aids to surgical glue and hemostats was in there, and odd medications he didn't even know how to pronounce. "She knows what she's doin', though." Daryl said, shooting him a glance.
"Been thinkin' of taking her on runs. Thought about it a little before, but now- seems fit." Daryl clarified, and Rick nodded.
"You comfortable taking her?" Rick asked.
"Comfortable enough. Still got some warmin' up to do... bit of a chatter box." He replied; he was lying. He was plenty comfortable around her.
"Alright then. Talk to Aaron." Rick stated, walking from his friend to deliver the backpack to Denise.
Aaron had agreed quickly. Just like everyone else, he'd accepted that girl when he noted her sunny disposition and hard-working attitude. And seeing as Eric was up and on his feet again, they'd both have a partner now. Double the protection, and double the eyes. But Daryl found himself nervous as he approached Rosie, who was pulling her dried clothes from the line between a neighbor's house. Even then, she still hadn't found a permanent home to sleep in. And even then, Daryl's nerves unsettled when he talked to her. He grumbled to himself before coming up around her.
Always a smile to greet him. "Hey, Angel Wings." She played, folding a shirt in her hands. Just like that, the apprehension was gone and his body felt warm. Rosie had that calming sense about her; he was sure she could calm a rampaging bull, given the chance. Such a contradicting thing to think seeing as she looked to be ready to throw herself into a fight at any given moment.
"Hush." He mumbled, but she just chuckled.
"A little bird told me you're going on a run tomorrow." Rosie said, briefly looking from the corner of her eye as she tossed a shirt down into the basket beside her. Daryl watched her hands- so meticulous in the way she pulled off pins and folded the fabrics.
"Gonna just be scouting out around us." He explained, pushing her basket with his feet every time she stepped sideways to a new piece of clothing.
"Need some help?" She asked effortlessly, looking at him with warm eyes. He could've stayed in that spot forever. He wanted to soak in those fiery eyes, but he blinked, breaking his own trance. "Actually-," he unconsciously reached down to grab her basket, following after her where she moved to the next row. She thanked him softly.
"Been talking to Rick and Aaron and Eric, and we figured we could use another person to help recruit on runs. Interested?" He asked, and she paused mid-fold of a shirt. "Seriously?" She asked, turning to face him. He nodded.
"Do you even have to ask?" She asked, and Daryl smirked, still following her with the basket.
"Sure you're up to wander around again out there?" He asked, almost expecting an answer he didn't want to hear.
"To be honest- and don't get me wrong, because I absolutely love showers and air conditioning- but I miss being out there, sometimes." Rosie refolded the clothing in her hands as she fumbled. "Or at least just being on the move. Is that awful?" She asked softer.
"Nah, I felt the same way when we first got here." His words were reassuring, and it made him feel lighter when she grinned at him. Rosie nodded and grabbed another shirt. "Good to know." She confessed softly, tugging on the basket a bit for him to follow.
They idly chatted; Daryl carried the basket for her to the steps of the neighbor's home she was staying in for a few nights. Rosie sent him off with a pat on his arm, and a smile that warmed his heart, promising she'd see him bright and early the next morning. Daryl readjusted his gun over his shoulder and kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, but he wasn't paying much attention. He couldn't help that his thoughts were wandering around her, and that the-
"Now I'm going to ask you something and I expect a certain answer, so even if you don't want to answer it truthfully just know that I know something." Carol said, coming up beside him and startling him a bit. He didn't even realize she'd walked straight up to him, or that she had followed him a few feet. "What's that?" He asked cautiously. "Do you have a crush on Rosie?" She asked outright. He almost tripped over his own foot.
"Crush? Like kids get?" He snapped, and she side glanced at him.
"Excuse me- do you have significant feelings for a particular woman who could quite possibly be insane but is also one of the nicest people I've ever met?" Carol asked again, smiling at him when he didn't answer this time.
"Like I said, you can lie but I know the truth." She added, elbowing him gently. "Stop it." He mumbled, his eyes jumping to make sure no one had heard her. "Daryl-," she stopped, grabbing his arm.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Carol told him, squeezing his arm a little. He just looked at her with eyes that were narrower than usual. How was he supposed to talk about the spot in his heart that Rosie had began occupying? That same spot that had started to rip into his heart when Beth was killed? It was still something he was coming to terms with- was it that obvious to everyone else if Carol could see it? "Just- don't be so loud." He mumbled, looking at his feet and then back towards where Rosie was. She was already sitting on the porch, reading her tattered book.
"Don't be afraid to love again." Carol said softer, and he sighed. In a world like theirs, loving was dangerous.
"She's good for you. Haven't ever heard you talk this much." Daryl shook his head and continued back along the road. "You both are kind of feral, too." She added in a whisper, and he shoved her playfully as she laughed.
Just as she had promised, Rosie was up just as the sun was peaking over the trees, and swinging on the porch swing with her face buried in an old book that was missing it's cover, waiting patiently for him. Her backpack with all the essentials was next to her, her hand over it like it was a toddler that needed to be held so it didn't fall, but he didn't see a gun with her. Before he made it to the steps she had spotted him, nodding in his direction before she stuffed her book away and basically skipped to him.
"You always happy this early?" He asked, still a bit groggy. He'd had a restless night; he never told anyone, but going on runs made him edgy.
"If it bothers you I can be sickeningly happy. Like singing and summoning birds and wildlife to follow me." She said, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm serious- just say the word and we can have birds braiding our hair." She added, smiling at him.
Daryl liked that she could keep up over rough terrain. It made sense now why she brought little to nothing with- it kept her light on her feet. She still was a bit chatty which he worried would give their location away if anyone or thing was around them, but her eyes stayed wide and alert, and she would respond to the smallest noises just as he did. But then she fell silent. "Do you see something I don't?" She asked, looking where he did, then back before herself. He had spotted some tracks earlier, but had given them up. They were nothing more than a walker, most likely.
"Tracking, thought I saw something." He mumbled, and she walked closer to him. "How do you see anything with all the foliage?" She asked, intent on seeing what he did.
He stuttered a bit- the last person he'd taught was Beth.
"It's too dry now, but you can see it in mud or wet grass the best, or the way twigs are broken. Sometimes in the way stuff is kicked up." He went on explaining, and she listened with rapt attention, even opting to touch the ground where he left his own impressions from his boots. Just another piece of knowledge she could put under her belt. Rosie asked many questions and even trailed behind him a bit to observe the way boots made prints, and he showed her how walking backwards could still give away someone's direction all by the kickoff of dirt at the toe. She picked up flattened leaves, and showed him that she was already picking up on it.
He'd unexpectedly enjoyed teaching and showing her so much that before he knew it, they were upon the small pharmacy herself and Michonne had gone to, and upon learning, the same one she'd visited a few times beforehand. They kneeled behind the shrubbery and trees, counting the number of walkers wandering in front. Rosie sighed. "We left it empty here last time." She said, biting the inside of her cheek. There was still walkers piled around in the street.
"They move around in waves. Either way we gotta get in." He replied, formulating a plan on how to distract them. Shooting would make too much noise, use too much ammo, and there were too many to fight. Rosie sighed, her eyes bouncing around.
"Oh lucky day!" She exclaimed silently, grabbing an empty can by her feet. His brows furrowed- was she a hoarder, too? But then she started sifting through the grass at her feet, picking up small stones. "Excuse me I need this." She said quickly, snapping off a piece of the wire around the pant leg of his ankle. "What the-," he snapped, a bit irritated. "Just watch!" She snapped back, silently placing the stones in the can and tying down the open lid. "Ready to run?" She asked, a devious smile on her face. Before he could respond, she had stood and chucked the rattling can across the road from the pharmacy. It landed with a loud clatter and even rolled and bounced a few times, effectively drawing the attention of the walkers within the vicinity.
"Let's go!" She hissed, tugging on his arm as they ran along the tree line and behind the distracted walkers. Quietly, and carefully, he pried open the heavy door that was chained from the inside, allowing her to crawl in. She tapped the door when it was clear, holding it for Daryl until he was safely inside.
She sighed happily, her eyes looking over the mostly ransacked business. "Piece a cake." She said, patting his shoulder and walking to an isle. Daryl watched her as she picked up an old basket and plucked various items from the shelves. "I take it you've done that before?" He whispered. "Yeah, I got stuck in a mob of those things once and those empty cans I had leftover saved my life." She explained, grabbing a spool of twine and tossing it to him. "Paid you back." She giggled.
"Guess you learn a few things being alone for a while." He mentioned, tossing the twine into her basket.
"Oh definitely. Same go for your tracking?" She asked, comparing two medicines. "Mostly." He mumbled, not wanting to reveal that tracking was a part of his morbid childhood.
"It's really interesting, actually. How you can find clues in the ground like that." She said, rattling a bottle before plopping it in her basket. "It comes with time. All this though- I don't get it." He said, reading the long name of a medication. "I could study a book about it and probably not remember all these names." He mumbled; Rosie tittered.
"I have a trick- you can identify a lot of generic medicines by the prefix of suffix of the names," she started, grabbing it from his hand. "Like this one- anything with 'dazole' of 'sulfa' on it is an antibacterial- always useful." She explained, pointing to a few other bottles. Daryl grabbed another, and examined it. "What about sil-de-nafil citrate?" He took his time sounding out the word, but he wasn't prepared for Rosie to snort, covering her mouth.
"T-that's for erectile dysfunctions." She said through held back laughter, and Daryl placed the bottle back and walked to the next isle. That was embarrassing.
Rosie continued to chuckle to herself as she moved along; there wasn't much food left in the small building, and if there was, most of it was expired and filling the air with an old, mildewy smell which didn't interact well with the thick layer of dust their shoes were kicking up. The two moved silently about the store, following lists and grabbing anything else small they could use. And they both occasionally would peak at one another, also scanning over the building and front doors. Always on the lookout for the threats of the world. Eventually they converged into one path towards the back of the store where a few match boxes had spilled open and some cans of food were dented and hidden among the rubble. Rosie sat cross legged, collecting small items and reading the expiration dates of them. Daryl approached her, opting to kneel beside her.
"Find anything good?" She asked, carefully picking up matches and putting them aside in piles.
He opened his bag to reveal water purification tablets. "Those would've come in handy like two weeks ago- how did I not see those?" She asked, her brows arching down.
"There was a walker up behind the counter; found them in his pocket. He had a damn handful of toothpicks in his eye." He explained, and Rosie grinned at him. He sat down then.
"You did that?" He asked, and she shrugged. "He surprised me, it's what I had in my hand." She said, opening a plastic bag to collect the matches. "Whatever works for you, girl." He said, helping organize the matches. A rare silence passed that Rosie wasn't talking-
"So I was thinking..." Never mind.
"Seeing as we're both going to be going on runs together, and we're bound to run into trouble- I'll teach you basic medical procedures and more if you want, if you teach me how to track in case we get separated." She proposed, zipping her backpack and looking at him. He weighed it back and forth; she had a good point, but she'd have to learn to stay quiet if she was going to track someone. He supposed that'd come with the lessons, though.
"Alright then." He agreed, and she smiled, standing and pulling her hair into a bun. "Ready to go then, gringo?" She asked, extending a hand to him. A new name she'd become fond of calling him. But when she stepped back to hoist him up, her back hit a shelf and with an almost deafening clatter. A section of glass swab jars came crashing down and filling the quiet of the pharmacy. Both of them froze, Rosie's eyes wide and her mouth wording, 'I'm so sorry'. It was no surprise when walkers started to beat and groan against the front doors, testing the chain that held them together. "Fuck!" She hissed, walking to the doors and peeking out when ever there was a chance. "There's not all too much," she said, stabbing her knife between the doors and into a skull when given the chance.
"Let them in and take 'em one at a time?" He asked, and she sighed. "Only solution." She replied, and Daryl went to work at unlocking the doors. Thankfully the chains were only tangled, so it was only a mere minute before he looked back at her, and after pulling her hand ax from her hip and twirling it expertly once, she nodded.
Even though Daryl had jumped back to let the doors swing open, the walkers in front who had had their eyes on him all swarmed towards him, alerting Rosie.
She whistled loudly, grabbing the attention of a greater majority. And after that, it was swift strikes and slices into skulls, occasionally having to push back some that were freshly turned and had some speed still. Daryl's attention often drifted to Rosie; watching her was nothing short of captivating. He didn't know if she had had some previous training, or what kind of training it'd even be to have this kind of fluidity of movements and overall calm demeanor, but she executed her movements in a meticulous manner, like how her hands moved. And throughout it all, she never lost footing of confidence as she went about her end of the task. The spark of insanity he'd noted a while back showed clear in her eyes, but now it didn't concern him. To deal with matters of this kind, you had to have thick skin and a numbness to handle it all. She proved single-handedly that they were not the walking dead.
And they were done; there had been more than expected, and there was still some wandering along the street that would surely see them soon. Rosie leaned against her knees for a little, blood coating her arms.
"Y'alright?" He asked, walking over to her and wiping his knife on his pant leg.
"I'm out of shape." She said breathlessly, standing straight and looking behind him. "Ready to bounce?" She asked, and he followed as they left. Something about her 'getting-down-to-business' attitude intrigued him, made him a little proud even.
Rosie had snatched the car keys right out of his hands when they finally made it back to the car. It had taken longer getting back; she took him up on his side of the deal along the way back. There had been a few detours as he wandered in a strange design to see if she could track him, but she needed more experience. Even though she'd successfully tracked a walker wandering nearby, she'd gone the complete opposite direction that he'd lead her away from. There was always more time, though. But by the time they'd made it back to their car, the sun was setting. Hard to believe that the whole day passing felt so brief.
The air was slowly getting cooler everyday, and it rushed in through the passenger window as he lit a cigarette. Her attention had been on some stray roads they were zooming by, but the comforting smell of cigarette smoke immediately brought her back.
"Sharing is caring." She said, holding a hand out to him. Daryl chuckled; her small comments got to him.
And he learned as she leaned over with both hands covering the lighter that she was unusually good at knee-steering, even when she had leaned back into her seat. She took a long drag, pulling it deep into her lungs and blowing it out her nostrils.
"Been a while?" He asked, flicking the embers off of his own.
"I quit before all this happened and I wasn't lucky enough to find a pack or even a few. No point in quitting now." She said, finally placing her wrist atop the steering wheel and sucking in another drag.
"Why'd you quit?" He asked, but she paused as she blew it out. Rosie shrugged. "Long story."
He left it at that. Judging by the way she didn't willingly carry on the topic like anything else was enough to tell him that it was touchy. But easily she shifted into a different conversation, not letting any silence drift between them. Daryl no longer found it unsettling or hard to speak to her, and even threw in a few jokes that he found her laughing loudly from. A pleasant sound, he found.
Something clicked in his mind. Like the volume turning up the TV so you could better hear the conversation happening; he could finally sort through the muddle in his head that had been pulling him back and forth for weeks. He finally accepted he had more than a crush on Rosie, and that he wanted to almost always be around her.
He'd undoubtedly become comfortable around his friends and the ones he considered family, but none as fast as he did with her. He looked forward to bumping into her if they didn't have rounds together, and was always sure to be a listening ear to her as she was to him when he was having an off day. It had been a long while since emotions such as these had better occupied his heart, and sometimes he questioned his better judgement to be falling for someone again after Beth. But even if life was as it was before the apocalypse, there'd still be a present danger of something terrible happening, right?
"Think of it as you personally taking it upon yourself to make sure nothing happens to her- Rosie watch!" Carol said cheerfully. Daryl had finally turned to talking to her about his dilemma, but his dear friend had continued to reassure him that he wasn't making a mistake in reopening his heart to someone. She recalled his hurt and loneliness forming over him like a shell, keeping him suspended in a state of despair. Slowly and surely he'd started to crawl back out of that shell, but Rosie was the one to break him out of it; to make him smile and laugh like she'd never seen before.
But even if Daryl did start to regress, and he again became who he was when they first met, Rosie wouldn't allow it.
Just as Daryl's heart swelled with affection, Rosie was undeniably falling for the feral man who's rough voice gave her goosebumps. From the very beginning she'd had a liking to his gruff attitude and loyal tendencies. He had a calming way about him, but in an instant could be protective and the fighter she'd come to enjoy spending time with. But Rosie worried for him; she'd catch him sitting or standing away from everyone, his eyes lost in thought. But his body language said everything in those brief moments.
Rosie kept her hands in the pockets of a thick pullover she'd found in the closet of a neighbor's house she'd been staying in, with her shotgun balanced on her forearm. It was a cold night, and the moisture in the air spelled rain soon enough. But rounds would still carry on, even if it hailed.
She spotted him sitting on the steps of Rick's home, his Busse combat knife in hand, but also tinkering with something else. He looked to be concentrating hard on whatever he was doing; it was a shame those shaggy bangs of his hid his face so much. But she approached him anyways, purposely dragging her feet to alert him.
"Hey friend." She said quietly, and he gestured his head towards her, quickly hiding what ever object was in his hand. "You have rounds tonight?" She asked, but he shook his head, leaning forward onto the tops of his knees once he stuffed the unknown item in his pocket.
"Just can't sleep." He replied, slowly spinning his knife in hand. "Mind if I sit?" She asked, doing a once over of the space behind her. Glenn was also patrolling; the area would be fine for a few minutes. She sat closer than usual beside him, but he didn't shy away. He could smell the coconut shampoo from her curly hair that was all around her shoulders as she sat by him. "Kinda lonely out here." She said, her hands still stuffed into her pockets. Daryl shrugged. "S'alright. No ones awake so there's no one to talk to." He said.
"I'm awake. You can talk to me." She said, turning to look at him. "I do talk to you." He said, and she nodded.
"I mean if you ever get lonely- or just wanna vent. You can always talk to me. Or even if you just wanna sit by someone." She explained, grinning at him. He felt his cheeks redden but turned away in hopes she wouldn't see. "You too." He said, and she tilted her head a bit. "You can talk to me." He finished.
"I don't yap your head off enough already?" She asked, playfully bumping shoulders with him.
"Guess not." He said sarcastically. "I like our conversations. They never get dull." He said quietly, again hiding his face. "You know you can be kinda chatty too, once you get going about something." She teased. "No I'm not." He mumbled, and she giggled.
"It's okay- you're my best friend here, I'd probably lose my mind if you didn't talk back at least sometimes." Rosie smiled at him now, the shadow of her face from the street light hiding her usually bright eyes. That made his heart flutter, but he wondered if she at all felt the same way he did? Time would tell, he supposed.
"Rick let me choose a house." She said suddenly, looking down at her boots that were old and ugly. "About time." He replied, also looking down at his feet.
"I didn't realize how big they were 'till you're in one alone." She said, her voice trailing off. And then she took a deep breath, and turned her body to face him. "Wanna be my roommate? I don't know if you live somewhere- I've never really seen you stay anywhere." She said, a little nervous. His mind was a flurry of emotions and words, but he kept a calm composure, simply opting to nod his head. "I'll try it out." He said, and she nodded, smiling.
The first drop was on her boots, and then the rest of the rain fell in succession after that. The two of them looked up from under the overhang of the porch as a steady sheet of fall rain coated Alexandria.
"Well my house is the one right in front of the dock at the pond- there's a crack in the porch beam. I gotta get back to rounds. Don't be a stranger." Rosie said, patting his hand, and letting it slide away before pulling her hair into her hood and walking into the rain. "See ya." He said, watching as she walked with her shoulders brought in tight until she disappeared down the street. The skin of his hand felt hot where she touched; his fist curled and he pulled the item he'd been carving back out of his pocket.
It wasn't until that morning that she'd already been relieved of her rounds and the rain had let up some that he walked to her house, and even walked inside quietly to look around.
It looked like everyone else's, but he was sure she'd change something. According to the few other inhabitants that had had her stay a while at their homes including Rosita, she moved her room around often, never settling too long.
He could see that her backpacks and a few bags of clothing she'd gathered along the way were already placed on the table by the kitchen, and upon stepping into the living room, he spotted a booted foot hanging over the arm of the sofa. Daryl walked around it, and found her splayed across the couch, sleeping. She looked like she'd tried to stay up and read a little based on the old book that was over her stomach, but succumbed to exhaustion. "Dork." He whispered, walking back to the kitchen and looking around. He filled his water bottle up, and even snagged an apple from the basket at the center counter. She was right- those houses were big when there wasn't anyone making noise in them.
More likely than not, he'd move in. But he'd take his time seeing how it went.
It wasn't even a week that passed that it took for Rosie to move something around. The couches were moved to surround the fireplace, and blankets were brought down to said couches where she often slept. A couple nights she'd fall asleep as they talked, and he'd sit with her a while, even enjoying her company then.
Where as everyone's house was neat and proper like a catalog for a realtor, Rosie's home was... home-y. Not messy so much, just actually looked lived in. Shoes were placed at the front door, candles were almost always lit, and every night she took it upon herself to make dinner. Even if he hadn't officially moved in yet, he still hovered around, especially for breakfast and dinner. She was like Carol in the sense that she could make any meal out of anything. Her spot was behind the counter of the bar across from him, and they'd chat while they ate, often passing opinions back and forth about what the next meal should be. And she'd leave snacks out for him if she wasn't to be home in time for meals. He'd repay the favor by doing the 'grocery shopping', as she called it.
"When did you become so domesticated?" Carol teased once as he wandered around the pantry with a bag.
Michonne had been nearby when she said that, and couldn't stop the chuckling that followed. Daryl glared at them both, grabbing a few more things before stomping away. The red rice was worth it, though.
And the few nights they both had off, they'd sit on the porch together. Rosie was always reading and curled in a blanket, and Daryl would either clean his weapons or go about carving whatever he'd been working on for quite some time. They liked just sitting together, watching the world around them go by.
They'd gone a little farther this time, opting to more thoroughly scout out a few turn-offs that no one in Alexandria had looked down before. But there was a whole lot of nothing, and that irritated Daryl. "Waste of gas." He snapped, walking back to the car after investigating a small cabin that was falling apart. Rosie stood there a moment, just staring at the crumbling pieces that used to be a home, and wondered just what happened to it to be in this condition. She'd seen the broken crib inside, and upon the various rooms noted that there had been children's toys. Burnt pictures that once hung on walls were scattered, as well as laundry that looked to had been freshly washed and folded when what ever happened here happened. She sighed.
"Let's go!" Daryl called, and she turned to return to the car.
They could've easily made it over state lines within a day if they hadn't made so many detours, and by the time they'd finished siphoning gas from abandoned cars, the chill of sunset was setting in, leaving them no option but to hide the car deep among the trees and start a fire.
"I imagine people who owned dairy farms out in places like Arizona had plenty to eat with all those cows." Rosie said, fixing them both plates of food cooked in cans over the small fire. "Assuming they could keep walkers from eating the cows." He commented, grabbing the plate she handed him.
"True. I'd kill for some meat in my diet again. I miss cheese burgers." She mumbled, taking a bite of her canned beans.
"When I had my crossbow I got squirrels. Sometimes opossum." Daryl started, but shifted a little. "Someone always complained though." He grumbled.
Rosie eyed him curiously. "About the squirrels?" She asked. He nodded. "Lori used to complain about hunting them but for a while that's what kept us alive." He explained, but Rosie was confused. "Lori?" She asked.
"Ricks wife." He answered, taking another bite.
Rosie thought that Michonne was- oh.
"Judith's mom?" She asked. "She died having Judith." He said, looking at her. Rosie shook her head. "That's a shame." She said, pushing her food around.
"You had a crossbow?" She recalled him mentioning, and he nodded with a deep sigh. "Some prick took it with my bike a while back." He told her quietly, obviously still angry over it.
"You had a bike too?" She asked around a mouthful of food. Daryl placed his cleaned plate down, looking at her with narrow eyes.
"Had."
Fall was unusually cold this time around, but Rosie thought maybe since there was no more cars or businesses or people polluting the world anymore, this is how the seasons actually were supposed to be. Either way, the both of them had retreated into the front seats of the car that night, bundled in their jackets and their eyes always watching around them.
Her eyes roamed over their map with a flashlight on her shoulder, trying to recognize any streets or towns she'd wandered through until she came across one; Crooked Lane. She'd remembered that unusual name, and it leading to a clearance store that was nestled in a strip mall a little closer to the city, and by the looks of it, they weren't too far from it. "There's a strip mall here we can look at." She showed him.
"There's walkers in the city." He retorted, not really wanting to visit. "It's near the city, not in it." She argued, folding the map and wiggling deeper into her jackets. "Could have crossbows." She said silently, and he snorted. "Yeah right." He said, folding his arms.
"I can make more rattle cans if there's a lot." She suggested, looking at him. He was chewing on his nails- Rosie pulled his hand away. "You're gonna get sick." She said, and they eyed each other, but she didn't back down.
"We'll check it out." He mumbled; she nodded. Just then a walker emerged from the trees, wandering by the car but unaware of the two inside. They both watched, expecting more to follow.
"I was stuck in a dumpster for two days once because a group of them lingered. My gun and axe were just sitting outside of it too, but it was too risky to grab for it. Smelliest two days of my life." Rosie told him, sniffling as her nose began to run. Their breath was even visible when they spoke, but Daryl didn't seem bothered by the cold. "The sun beat on it all day, too. It was the worst." She added, wiping her nose with discarded papers in the car. Daryl looked at her, and pulled his dark red cloth from his back pocket and handed it to her.
"Who's gonna get sick?" He asked, and she snatched it from his hands with a grin. "It's cause it's cold." She told him, wiping her nose and keeping it balled up in her hand. "I'll wash it."
He only nodded.
"Me and a friend once got pinned in the trunk of a car during the summer. We'd been running from walkers all day and it was the only place we could find." Daryl told her, recalling the memory with Beth. Still some ache left, after all.
"Who was this with?" She asked, wiping her nose again.
Daryl shifted- Rosie knew now that this meant he was uncomfortable. "She died." He said only. Rosie looked back out to another walker wandering by.
"That was bullshit." Daryl barked, looking over the edge of the roof to the mob of walkers around the building they'd escaped up the side of. "Too many for my rattlers." Rosie said, feeling a little guilty. "I'm sorry." She said quietly, resting her hands on her hips. Daryl looked at her, undoubtedly angry, but not really at her. She had his red cloth hanging out of her front pocket; it looked good with her. "Let's get going then." He said, tapping her shoulder. Rosie nodded and followed, avoiding depressions in the roof and stepping cautiously.
They'd peak in before dropping down, and only if they could get back up which resulted in only visiting a market that was pretty much cleared out. They walked pretty far down away from the large group that had originally chased them up the fire escape, down to where the buildings only had a handful of walkers still wandering around. By the time they reached the end of the strip mall, it was all restaurants and a bar, and they'd only collected an arms full worth of items- nothing really useful except some duct tape.
"Even if we had a truck, bringing a bench home would be ridiculous." Daryl said, helping push Rosie up through the roof slots of a furniture store by the back of her thighs; they were nice and toned. She hoisted herself up, looking down at him through the hole first. "Did you not see how gorgeous it was?" She said, reaching a hand out to him. "Yeah I did." He said, grabbing her hand and then crawling out beside her.
A familiar squelching noise caught her attention, and she craned her neck to look over the edge of the roof. "D'you hear that?" She whispered, and he looked around them.
Rosie crawled to the edge, eventually lowering onto her stomach before spotting the thin man that had just finished cutting into the head of a walker with a machete. He was beside a bike, and he looked to have just been looting these buildings himself. She looked back at Daryl and gestured him to join her, telling him to lower down.
He crawled up beside her and nearly threw a fit.
Rosie looked back and forth between them as he shuffled away quickly, far enough to where he could stand. "What what what?" She asked silently, but he looked furious. "That's the fucking dickhead that took my crossbow and bike!" He snapped, and her eyes widened, looking back over. "No shit?" She asked.
Daryl pulled his knife from his hip, heading towards the opening of the roof. "Where are you going?" She hissed, grabbing his arm. "Take back what's mine!" He said, trying to free his arm.
"And what if there's more somewhere else? What if we're outnumbered and they kill us?" She argued, and he stopped. "Let me distract him- if more show up I'll run in the woods and you can track me later." She suggested, tightening her backpack and handing her gun to him.
"That's crazy." He said, but she already had her legs dangling in the opening. She hung there for a moment by her hands, landing with a soft crack atop old papers and trash. Daryl still followed her, joining her where she looked out the clouded windows. She looked concentrated, careful. "I'm gonna run across into that restaurant, and get his attention. When you get the bike in front, rev it so I know to run out." She explained. Her plan wasn't half bad, but still risky. Anything could go wrong. She was tying her hair up when she looked at him. "Don't forget me." She mentioned.
He gave her a sarcastic look; did she really just say that?
They both opened the door slowly, only wide enough until she could run through. But they had to wait until he turned away. When he finally did, she looked at Daryl.
"See ya soon." She whispered, and then she was bolting across the street. Daryl watched as she dodged a walker and made it to the front door of the building, purposely slamming into it to grab Dwight's attention. "Hey!" He yelled, spinning just in time to see her disappear inside. He ran up to the door that was still cracked open, his machete raised as he slowly moved inside. This was already making Daryl nervous- he didn't like being this far away or having her out of sight.
She sat behind a booth, steadying her breath and listening to his heavy footfalls move around.
"I seen you run in here, you don't gotta be afraid." He said in a mock comforting tone. Rosie rolled her eyes. One of those guys. "You lost? Looking for somewhere to stay?" He asked, and as he rounded one booth, she'd move onto the next, working her way back. "My name's Dwight, but you can call me D, if you'd like." he added, trying to quietly move around the cluttered room.
"I can take you to where I live- there's lots of people, we all take care of each other..." he paused; he caught sight of the ends of her hair as she crawled farther back. "We have food, and water, and medical supplies." He said with a smile. But as he lurched forward to catch her sitting there, she'd already moved on.
"You got anyone else with you?" Dwight asked. "Any kids?" He added, and Rosie shook her head from behind the counter at the farthest end of the store. If she could just get him in the kitchen in time, she'd have him far enough where she could run. But he was getting closer, and she didn't know if she could get around back without him seeing her. She looked for stones, or large pieces of glass she could toss, but nothing was there. She'd have to just go for it.
Rosie shuffled swiftly into the kitchen, leaving the door swinging behind her.
Dwight still approached it cautiously, his machete raised and ready to kill. "Hey there, you don't have to be scared." He said in a low voice, and slowly pushed open the door.
Rosie didn't hide this time, but stood at the end of the kitchen across from him, beside another set of double swinging doors. He kept his back against the open door, smiling at her. It made her skin crawl. "Nice to meet you." He said, but she just glared at him. "My names Dwight. And yours?" He asked; still un-moving. Rosie eyed the extensive scar that covered the left side of his face, and could only wonder what caused it.
And then Daryl finally revved the bike, and Rosie pushed through the doors. Unfortunately, since Dwight had his already open, he covered more ground than she did right off the bat and he was beside her when she passed the counter. The cut of his machete at her side made her wobble, but she still bolted, pulling chairs behind her and effectively tripping him. She could hear his machete clang against the ground, and through the foggy window she could see Daryl sitting on his bike, his gun pointed and ready.
Rosie groaned uncomfortably when she used her side to throw open the door, and could feel the warmth of blood against her side when she held her hand there. But she still ran to him, skidding a bit before she seated behind him and held onto his waist.
"Go!" She yelled, and easily he shifted into gear and was off, leaving Dwight behind, defeated and cursing loudly. It was easy enough to maneuver between walkers on the bike, but every bump was uncomfortable for Rosie. Where she kept one hand on Daryl's side, her other was on her own, trying to apply pressure despite the ache and stinging. She had medical supplies at the car, and thankfully he maintained a fast pace on the bike until they arrived.
He didn't let onto it, but he was overjoyed to have his motorcycle back. He'd built it from scratch, and it still ran smoothly. He even zigzagged a bit widely through the empty lanes, enjoying the feel of open wind at his sides. Upon arriving, Daryl parked beside the car in the trees, his feet walking the bike. He moved while she sat, and didn't notice her head was hung and both her hands holding her side until he moved to check the bag underneath the seat. "Right through my favorite jacket." She mumbled.
"He stabbed you?" He exclaimed, fear coating his voice as he held her by the elbows to help her stand. "No no, I'm okay, he just swiped me." She said, fully able to walk to the car on her own; she just didn't want to. He hurried after her and frantically opened the car door and popped the medical kit, his usually steady hands a bit shaken.
She told him what to do, and how to prepare dressings as she kept her hands at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Up until he had to clean it, she was fine, but now she hesitated lifting her jacket and shirts. "You gotta clean it." He said, standing with saline and gauze in his hands. Rosie sighed, and lifted her clothes.
He didn't say, and didn't ask, but the stretch marks covering her stomach said a lot. A piece of her past he'd speculated on, but never asked about. But this put it all together. Somewhere along the lines, she'd had children.
Rosie was thankful he didn't ask about them, but she kept her eyes on his hands wiping away blood and cleaning the thin gash so he wouldn't see the nervousness in her. She cringed and tensed every time he wiped at her, and he would mumble an apology, but she never asked him to stop. She knew how it went- it could've been worse. But when he had to run large Q-tips inside the wound, she opted to lean against the car and pinch her eyes shut. Seeing others wounds and blood never bothered her, but her own always made her feel faint. Finally, the bandage was taped over it, and she could lower her clothes, and look at her bloody hands. "You okay?" He asked, and she nodded with a grin.
"Oh yeah." She replied, turning to look at his bike as she used alcohol to wash the blood away from her hands. "So that's it?" She asked, and he shifted. "Not worth it?" He asked.
"Actually... it's hot. Rugged. Suits you." She said, patting his arm and moving to the car after he'd put away the kit and her hands were wiped on her jeans, climbing in the driver's seat. "We should head out before he catches up." She said with a groan.
"You sure you're alright to drive?" He asked, leaning in the window after she'd closed the door. Rosie only nodded, resting her head against the seat and hanging an arm besides his. "Lead the way, gringo." She said in a sigh.
Daryl wasn't used to seeing a side of her like this. She was putting on a mask of everything was fine, but he could see she was uncomfortable, and a little pale. But she looked breathtaking in the shade like that with the sun peeking through leaves against her face. She really never stopped moving; nothing could hold her back. He looked at the road ahead of them for a moment, then back at her, biting his cheek. "Hot, huh?" He asked with a smirk. Rosie chuckled, tugging on an end of his hair and moving some from his eyes.
She caught the red in his cheeks that time, but he walked to the bike before she could say something. She started the car and watched him easily pull out of the trees and turn onto the street. "I like you." She said to herself, wanting mostly to be held around him again on the bike.
They drove for a while, skipping dirt roads and only looking for something worth stopping for. Rosie was sore, even after popping a few painkillers. She knew not to take too many. After sitting for so long on shelves, they could have a delayed effect. She'd seen plenty times in her years as a paramedic what that could do to someone.
Daryl eventually pulled into an abandoned gas station, and she parked beside him. Rosie slowly moved from the seat, still leaning against the front of the car with her arms crossed. "I'll hang back." She said, holding her ax against her chest. He lingered a moment, but then went about scoping out the inside. Rosie sighed restlessly. She wasn't going to say it, but she was concerned the cut was going to get infected. Who knew how many walkers he'd used to slice open with that very blade; she'd have to do some deep cleaning and stitching when she got back. No way in hell she was gonna become one of-
Bock.
Her eyes widened, and she didn't move. The soreness of her side was set at the back of her mind as she stood straight, and when Daryl came out, she held a hand up to stop him.
And then he saw the chicken.
"Rosie..." he said softly, looking at her. He had a hunch of what she was going to do next, and didn't like it. Daryl knew that look of hers. With wide eyes that were pinned intently on her target, ready to attack. "It's a chicken, Daryl." She whispered, taking a step towards it and freezing when it jumped a bit away.
"A single chicken- it's not worth it." He argued, and she shook her head. "A single chicken lays eggs daily." She said- another step. "Rosie." He said a little louder, and the pecking chicken took a few steps away. She twitched a bit, latching her ax at her hip.
She glared at him. "You're in no condition to chase a chicken." He said firmly. "You gonna do it for me then?" She asked. "No." he replied, walking towards her loudly. And then the chicken was fleeing, and so was Rosie.
"Rosie!" He yelled, watching as she bolted after it and behind the store that was set at the edge of the trees. Rosie grunted past the burning at her side, and she slipped and twisted between trees and stumps to stay on its tail. Daryl lost sight of her when she ran behind the building and into the thick trees, and relied mostly on the distant sound of her steps and the tracks the left behind. "Rosie!" He hissed, doing his best to run after her.
"You little shit!" She spat out, nearly tripping and effectively bumping her side against a tree. Rosie coughed- it felt like her skin opened a little more with that, but she kept chasing it, unwilling to go back empty handed.
Her hands were outstretched, and she was so close- but the chicken ran right into the snarling hands of a walker. She gasped. "NO!" She bellowed, drawing her axe up.
Daryl heard her yell, and he panicked. He stopped to look all around him, unable to pinpoint where her voice had come from. "Rosie?" He called. "Rosie?" Again, no answer. Oh god, what if she ran into a walker? Or Dwight!?
"Rosie!" He yelled.
"Yeah?" Her voice finally came, and he spun to watch her pushing back a bushel of dead branches, the damn chicken in her other arm.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Daryl snapped, stomping over to her. She was taken aback- "Excuse me?" She asked him, holding her chicken closer.
"You can't go running off for some stupid shit like a fucking chicken! You could've ran into a group of walkers!" He yelled, his eyes narrow and furious. "And I didn't- now we have a chicken that can provide eggs! More food, Daryl! There's nothing stupid about it!" She too yelled now, her face twisting into irritation.
"You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep pulling shit like-," but she stopped him.
"The same shit that got you your bike back?" She said quietly, and he paused. They stared at one another, waiting for the other to say something. But that had stopped Daryl dead in his tracks, enough to make him turn on his heel and walk away back to the cars. She waited until there was a considerable distance between them... and then followed slowly. Running aggravated her wound, and she was sure she'd start bleeding through the bandage soon enough. "But I got a chicken." She whispered to herself, scratching its head.
He was already sitting on his rumbling bike when she made it back, and looked away when she emerged from the trees. Without a word she went back to the car and put the chicken in the back seat, and followed him down the road.
Daryl really hadn't been mad, just... scared. His lack of properly conveying emotions got the better of him once again. After executing that plan to get his bike back, he was already a ball of unsettled nerves and then her running off into nothing like that- he didn't know what he'd do if he lost her. He couldn't even fathom it. She was too important to him. But Rosie was still angry. With her cheek rested in her hand and the other steering, she watched Daryl ride down the street, occasionally looking off to his sides and observing around them. She assumed he knew that they'd have to set up camp again that night; trekking home would be too risky in the dark. She grumbled to herself. "Stupid." she said under her breath, and flinched when the chicken fluttered to the front seat. "I'll tie you up if you do that again." She told the bird, which only pecked at her hand when she moved to nudge it. "Hey!" She snapped.
Camp had been made.
Dinner had been eaten.
Her chicken, which she now called 'Pollo Bowl', was tied by its leg to their camp and wandering around.
Rosie had her nose in her tattered book, and Daryl was carving the hidden item again.
And they hadn't spoken to one another since their fight.
It bothered Rosie greatly. They'd gotten into disputes before, but this was a new level of silence. There was a tension in the air they'd never shared before. She knew they weren't in a good way, and with each passing minute, it irritated her more and more. She needed to defuse the silence somehow.
Rosie looked back down to her book.
"Barren, silent, godless. He thought the month was October, but he wasn't sure-,"
"What are you doing?" Daryl asked; it worked! "Reading." She replied, looking at him. He didn't say anything after that. Okay, maybe it didn't... Rosie shifted a bit, looking back to her book. What she'd do to have earphones right now.
"You don't have to stop." He mumbled, returning to his task. She peaked at him from behind her book, and raised it a little to hide her grin.
"But he wasn't sure. He hadn't kept a calendar for years. There'd be no surviving another winter here." Rosie read to him silently, her voice defusing the tension and settling him into comfort. His sour attitude dissipated and so did hers, but there was no need to speak of it again. They went back to what they always enjoyed- spending time with one another.
And that was the first time Rosie saw Daryl sleeping; her reading had done so. She looked at him when she closed her book, and reached beside her to carefully move his hair from his face. A grin, and then she stood silently to sit atop the hood of the car; she'd take watch that night.
"You found a chicken?" Carl asked, wiggling the bird when Rosie handed it to him.
"We could have real eggs- all the food you use eggs for." Maggie said, already mentally mapping out a spot to make a chicken coop. Rosie looked at Daryl with a smug grin, but he just pushed her playfully before sitting back on his bike. "Come on, then." He said, waiting for her to sit down after she parked the car along the gate.
"Huh?" Rosie asked, holding the straps of her backpack. "You need to see Denise about that cut." He said, and she shivered. Oh, here comes pain. "Oh yeah... you mind taking Pollo Bowl?" She asked Maggie.
"Pollo what?" She asked.
"She named the damn chicken after a fast-food meal." Daryl told her, and Carl laughed. "Either that or Daryl Jr." Rosie said, leaning close to his ear as she sat down behind him. He let the bike jolt a bit when he gave it gas, but it only made her giggle. She took the few brief moments to keep her arms around him, and try to memorize how he felt against her. He was so warm, but stiff with muscle. This is my spot, she thought to herself, about to rest her head against him when he stopped in front of Denise's.
"Need a ride home?" He joked, and she snorted.
"Never thought I'd have a personal escort service." She said, still a bit sore as she stood to walk to the front door. Daryl watched her walk in, still holding her side and waving to him as she closed the door.
"You got it back?" Carol asked, walking up to him with a bag of food over her shoulder. "Thanks to Rosie. She got hurt though." He told Carol, his eyes dropping a bit.
"But I can bet my bucks that it was her idea." She said, and he nodded. "Can't stop a firecracker." She added, handing him a small baggies of cookies she had made before walking away. Daryl stuffed the bag into his vest pocket and observed around him first. They'd have the day to rest and then back to work the following morning- that reminded him. Daryl rolled away easily and with a turn and round around the large pond at the center, he was sitting in front of Rosie's house. He'd spent a couple nights over there, and often joined her for meals, but now it felt fit to officially move in.
Rick chuckled, his arm around Michonne's shoulders and pulling her a little more against his side where they sat on their porch swing.
"I told you." He said, pushing them back and forth. "I never denied it, I just thought it was... unlikely." She argued, crossing her arms. They both watched Daryl park his newly reclaimed bike in front of Rosie's house and carry their bags in; everyone had exchanged hushed words about the new duo when they had left, and Michonne had mentioned how unusual it was to see him warm up to someone so considerably.
"Besides- he's just at her house, doesn't mean anything." She also stated, and he scoffed. "He follows her around everywhere. If not now then they'll be an item soon enough." He told her, kissing her cheek. Michonne tittered, pushing on his side.
Rosie wobbled down the street, still feeling a bit bobble-headed after the insane amount of painkillers she'd inhaled. The wound at her side had already started to show signs of infection, so it had been decided by both her and Denise to cut and scrape away any exposed flesh and skin, then suture together the edges in hopes it would keep bacteria out. All this had been done with no local anesthetic, and besides Rosie having a high pain tolerance, it hurt like hell. The antibiotics and painkillers had also effectively knocked her out for a few hours, so by the time she was wandering down the street, the sun wasn't visible over Alexandria's walls anymore. Rosie hadn't even bothered to put her shirt back on; stretching now hurt too much.
She'd simply zipped her hoodie up to hide the bandaging around her waist and her bra, but she still received strange looks. Her meandering appearance was a stark comparison to her usual cheery attitude. But she still tried to at least grin at passing members, although all she wanted to do was go back to sleep.
She'd finally made it to her house, and was idling up the steps when she stopped. Something occurred to her; something that wasn't there before. Carefully she stepped backwards and looked to her side- and there was Daryl's bike parked in her driveway. The smile that spread across her lips was hidden when she covered her mouth, and she fought to hide it when she walked back up her steps and opened the door. They almost bumped chests, but easily he moved around her, looking down at her sleepy face.
"You alright?" Daryl asked, layered in a flannel and vest; the nights were getting colder.
"Yeah just sore. You out for watch tonight?" She asked, and he nodded. "Brought you some stuff and fixed a couple things. I'll see you in the morning though." He said, gently bumping his knuckles against her chin. He turned and skipped down the steps, but she walked after him. "You gonna let your bike do all the talking?" She called to him with a grin, holding her side.
"Got the point across, doesn't it?" He said with a grin, his bangs hiding the playfulness in his eyes. "Go rest!" He demanded, waving an arm behind himself as he walked down the street, a rifle slung across his back. He met up with Rick who was also patrolling that night, so Rosie chuckled, walking back into her home.
"Finally chose a house?" Rick asked, his thumbs hung on his gun belt.
"For the most part." Daryl answered with a cigarette pressed between his lips as he lit it. Rick looked back to make sure Rosie wasn't within ears shot.
"You two are getting close?" He asked, observing their surroundings and waving to Tobin as he walked along the planks atop the wall. Daryl didn't answer, but instead took in a long drag of his smoke. "We're friends." He finally mumbled in return after a long pause.
"Friends don't steal whole chocolate bars for other friends when it's the last one." Rick argued, and Daryl eyed him, somewhat bothered. He must not have been as sly as he thought he'd been.
"You got mints for Michonne." He snapped, and Rick looked at him with a smirk. "It's like that, huh?" The former sheriff asked, and Daryl adjusted the gun across his back as he approached a ladder to the wall.
"Yeah, it's like that." He answered, leaving Rick behind.
Upon entering her house, there was a small pile of canned goods and various snacks that she assumed he'd picked up from the pantry for her, including a whole bar of chocolate that was still frozen. Rosie bit her bottom lip- did she have the willpower to not eat it all at once? Probably not. But behind her small treasures was her black faux leather jacket she'd worn the previous day, and up front she could see that the slice that had been made by Dwight's machete was mended shut. She gasped, picking up the item of clothing and inspecting how he'd gone about doing that. A secret of the trade, perhaps. Either way, she was relieved her favorite jacket was no longer ruined. And although she wanted to join Daryl on rounds and thank him, her eyes were still heavy and her body still sluggish as she walked passed the counter.
Yet again, something caught her eyes. Something more that was out of place.
Hung on the back of a bar stool was the black jacket Daryl had been wearing during their last run. She grinned. That settled that.
It became clear- very quickly, that Daryl was a peculiar one to live with. He never seemed to actually sleep, and despite being quiet, he left a trail of disaster behind him close to that of a tornado that he was definitely not willing to pick up.
Rosie sometimes would hold off cleaning until late in the night when his trail of destruction ended, but strangely enough, when she left clothes about in the bathroom or over backs of chairs, it would always end up washed and placed in her room by him. In piles, that is.
One night, while he actually took the chance to lounge in his bed with his boots kicked off, he heard exaggerated singing ringing from the bathroom, and sometimes the drumming of her hands on the shower walls. That's when he learned she had a taste for just about every genre of music there was.
Rosie started to leave snacks on counter tops that he'd always snatch up.
Daryl liked the shades drawn, even at night. It made him feel safer.
She loved to rearrange the living room and her own room; the new formation of furniture kept her from getting bored. Eventually, he let her move his room around, also.
He didn't particularly shower often, and despite never actually smelling, Rosie noticed he'd leave dirty spots on furniture from his clothes. As a joke, she one time followed him around the house with a bowl of soapy water and wash cloths until he showered.
And sometimes if they had separate shifts for watch, Rosie would pass off the clothing she stitched for him in those brief moments they had to one another. But they'd always meet for dinner, chatting, and even laughing sometimes. She truly brought the best out in him. From that first time they sat around a small fire in the dark trees, anytime they'd sit together on their porch she'd read to him. Always one of the same three books, but he just couldn't get enough of hearing her voice. Of any of her, actually. He just wanted her all.
Daryl was oblivious to her emotions, to the small signals and looks she'd give him. When they'd sit by each other, and he'd brush against her, she'd always hope for him to grab her hand, or wrap an arm around her. When others teased that they made a good couple, she'd never deny it, only smile and bump his arm with hers. He'd just shoo others away with their teasing, trying to hide his embarrassment or annoyance.
One day, she'd tell herself. One day she'll get him to see it. Until then, she purely enjoyed his friendship.
"An apothecary? Really?" Rosie asked, her voice hoarse and sniffling often. Daryl pushed the covers off her legs when she tried to wrap herself. "You need to break that fever." He grumbled, glaring at her. Rosie glared back. They were equally annoyed.
"I'm okay enough to go." She argued again, resting her arm on her forehead. "Whatever. You'll slow us down." He replied, handing her the water bottle he'd refilled and standing from the spot beside her on the couch she laid on. "How are you gonna recognize medicine?" She snapped, sitting enough to look back at him as he rounded the couch. "Denise is going with." He answered her, and she rolled her eyes.
"Good luck with that..." she mumbled, rubbing her heated cheeks before reaching for the blanket again. Daryl snatched it from her though, balling it up and tossing it aside. "I hate you." She groaned, coughing as she rolled onto her side. Since she'd been sick, the house wasn't as clean, and the air was stale. She only wanted to keep everything closed, and dark. Just as he'd gotten used to having their home open, and letting light in- boom. Gnarly cold.
"See you later." He called to her as he walked to the front door, but she just groaned loudly.
He hated it just as much as she did. Not just going out without his first choice in partner, but ultimately going with Denise. She didn't know the outside like they did. At least Rosita was tagging along. Rosie sighed angrily when she heard the door close behind him, and glanced back to make sure he had actually left, and then over to the blanket he'd taken from her that was on the opposite couch from her. More groaning.
But one of his jackets that was laid over the back of her couch would do just fine. She snatched it and covered her arms, equally enjoying the coziness of it and the smell that was him- wilderness and cigarette smoke. "Asshole." She mumbled, her eyes drifting shut.
It was later in the day when she woke up, feeling not so horrible and finally without a fever, but her throat still burned a bit. Before deciding to wander out of her house, she chugged down her bottle of water and pulled on a thick sweater. Gloom had washed over Alexandria, and her breath was visible before her when she stepped into the chilled air. The trio still hadn't returned, but she wasn't worried.
"Feeling better?" Michonne asked, meeting up with Rosie on the street.
"Yeah, still kind of bleh but better than before." She explained, her hands stuffing into her pockets after she twisted her curls behind her head so they weren't tickling her cheeks. "Crappy timing to be getting sick." She added, looking all around her. "Abraham and Eugene?"
"They took off, too." Michonne told her, bouncing the end of her katana at her side against her palm.
"That's a lot out at once." Rosie observed, wondering how Daryl's temperament was holding up. "Too many-," but Michonne's words were cut short at the sound of a car horn blaring at the front gate. They both jogged to the old pickup truck that raced inside to Denise's house, and Rosie stepped beside Daryl when he rushed from the driver's seat and helped carry Eugene from the bed of the truck with Abraham beside him.
"What happened?" Michonne asked, grabbing one of his legs. None of them answered, and instead focused on getting him from the truck without further aggravating his wounds. "Where's Denise?" Rosie asked, and Daryl only had to look at her for her to understand. Something had gone terribly wrong in that small errand run.
His side had only been grazed from the bullet, and thanks to Denise spotting that apothecary, they had the antibiotics that insured Eugene's injury wouldn't become infected. Rosie had cleaned and bandaged it, and assured Rosita that sleeping was normal after an injury such as that, especially after the rough ride home.
She moved to Daryl who'd stayed looking out the window of the room the entire time. His senses were on high, and he couldn't shake the anger he felt in his bones.
He didn't say anything, didn't show it, but she could see the turmoil in his eyes when he looked at her. He'd grown fond of Denise, and to have Dwight of all people to be the one to take her life only added to the bitterness of it. She didn't try to hold him, or make him speak; she only looked at him from the other side of the window frame. He didn't pull his gaze away or move from her. Rosie offered the smallest of smiles to him. Usually it'd help, but today... he only felt sad.
He still didn't talk when he came home from burying Denise, nor did he talk during dinner. He barely touched his food, but he still followed her to the porch when she grabbed her old book to read for a while. He sat across from her on the floor, his back rested against the frame and his hands and knife working on whatever he'd been hiding for months. Rosie read silently, but she knew from reading this one at least a dozen times, that a particular paragraph always made her emotional, and brought back memories of her former life.
"Then he sat there holding the binoculars and watching the ashen daylight congeal over the land." She paused, sighing. "He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: if he is not the word of God- God never spoke."
Her voice faded softly, and she closed the dog eared book to set in her lap, looking to her side at the dark street. She could feel it bubbling up, and fought to keep a lid on the despair that sat in her heart. Daryl looked up at her, wondering why she'd stopped reading. He'd noticed before when she read this book that she would pause to collect her thoughts, but this time was different. He could see her face tensed, as if choking down a cry. "Rosie?" He finally spoke, but she didn't respond. He dropped his hands. "Rosie." He said again. This time she looked back, but down to her hands gripping the book.
"I miss my kids." She said softly, her voice shaking. He listened as she finally looked up; he could see tears pooling in her eyes.
"I have two toddlers and a husband, wrapped in sheets in the apartment I left them in." Rosie told him. There was more than he'd originally thought- not just children.
"We'd found this complex that was above a market and liquor store, and we barricaded ourselves in. It was a good spot- one main entrance and we could move along the rooftops when we needed something.
"But my husband... I don't know how he could always fall asleep so easily everywhere. Even when they were outside, even when the kids were upset. He could fall asleep." Rosie paused to take a breath. It was reopening; the memories she'd locked away behind that heavy door to remind her that that was an unsafe place to tread.
"We needed diapers, and I'd gone to get them... and I guess he fell asleep. Benicio was smart- he knew how to unlock the door, and Stella would always follow her big brother." Rosie pinched her eyes shut. "That image of looking out the window of the store when I heard them scream- seeing him hold his hands up to stop them from biting- I can't..." she stopped to rest her face in her hands; her shoulders were visibly shaking. Daryl still listened, his brows furrowed in horror.
"I couldn't get to them in time and they died! I couldn't let them become one of those so I... I did what I had to do.
"And I carried them upstairs, and he... he was still just fucking sleeping. But when he woke up, I couldn't stand him. I hated him, but I wanted to be held by him, but I couldn't love him after that... so I killed him." Rosie said silently, tears now rolling down her cheeks. "And I laid them together. And I left." She finished. Before wiping her face repeatedly, she wound her hair up, but soft sobs still wracked through her body. That heavy emotion that had no words to describe how badly it burned and ached sat on her chest, left her breathless and begging for relief. It'd be with her forever, and she knew that, but hoped one day it would be lesser.
Daryl didn't know what to say, how to help her. He'd helped Carol when she grieved for Sophia, but hers had been severed and clean. This was an open and jagged wound that still bled.
"Before we came here, we lost someone in our group. Maggie's younger sister Beth." Rosie looked to him, still trying to calm the quake in her body.
"After we'd been attacked by a different group, me n' Beth got separated from everyone for a long while, found different places and spent a lot of time together." He looked at her for a moment, and then down. "She got taken from me- it took a while to find her again but when we did... she was killed." He told her. His own loss wasn't as powerful as Rosie's anymore, but the aftershocks still affected him, as they probably always would. Sometimes he missed her, and her company.
Rosie sniffled, and rested her head against the house. The friend who he'd been stuck in a trunk with, one that he'd mentioned on occasion but never revealed the name. More than a friend, she saw now.
"You loved her." Rosie said- Daryl only sighed.
He did. But now, it was just... a memory of love.
He didn't expect Rosie to suddenly be crawling to him, and lifting his arm so she could press right up against his side to rest her head against him. Her arm wrapped around his waist, and she situated more against him. "I'm sorry you lost her." She told him, sniffling, and he paused a moment before curling his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. "I'm sorry too." He said, and she nodded. She told him that Benicio had curly hair like hers, and that Stella had eyes that looked like the sun, and how everyday she missed their playful laughter and holding them while they fell asleep. Daryl didn't think that speaking of her children and Beth on a day like this would've brought him any sense of comfort, and even though he still felt a weight on his shoulders, there was a sense of relief being able to speak of them and then be close to someone he loved...
He blinked a few times. His heart swelled a little.
Daryl was in love with Rosie.
He'd tossed the idea back and forth. There had been moments he doubted his decision, but rage fueled the fire. He told himself he'd go, he'd do the deed, then return within in a day. There could always be complications, but for once he wasn't really considering that. There was only one thing on his mind: killing Dwight.
He sat at his bike now, looking down at the key-chain that read 'Dennis'. How did things go wrong so quickly? With the crossbow that had killed Denise clipped onto the back, he prepared to turn his bike on when a swift hand snatched the keys from his. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was. "Give 'em back." He grumbled, but she just glared at him. Her expression was wild and angry; hurt, even. But her eyes were still a bit swollen from the night before. He had held her until she cried the intense pain from her body, until it settled into a low rumble of a reminder. And he was ready to go, knowing she slept safely on the couch. Yet here she was, her hair messy from sleep and ready to murder him.
"Like hell I'm gonna let you run off on your own!" She barked, and he briefly looked around to make sure no one heard her. "Just give me the damn keys!" He snapped, and she folded her arms.
"I get it." She said. "I'm not gonna stop you, Daryl. But I'm not going to let you go alone. You tell me how going against a group of what could quite possibly be a huge number of people pans out?" She said, but he looked away. She was right. But he still was un-moving, tapping his fingers against the gas can. "I'm going with you." She said; her words were final, but he still didn't want to accept it.
"Rosie-," he began to say, but she only shook her head.
"I won't bother you, I won't stop you. I'll only help when asked." She explained, and turned- with keys still in hand, to change and grab what she needed. Daryl sighed. Reluctantly he adjusted the crossbow on the back of his seat to make room for her.
He parked the bike before the gate, and put down the kickstand. Rosie stayed on the bike, watching as Glenn, Maggie and Michonne walked briskly over to them from organizing their arsenal. They were planning to hide some in case the Saviors attacked.
Rosita watched as Daryl slid the inner gate open. "Where you going?" She asked, but he didn't even look at her. "Out." He simply responded.
"No shit- you got specifics?" Abraham called from atop the gate post, his cigar already in hand. She hadn't even noticed him up there. But by the time the others were close to approaching, Daryl had already sat in his seat in front of her and turned the engine of the bike over; Rosie wrapped her arms around him as he wasted no time in racing away, winding around the cars in front of Alexandria.
She was true to her word. The whole time they'd ridden to the train tracks, and even when he hid his bike under the branches of a tree, to where they now walked slowly through a field he'd seen Dwight run through- she didn't speak. Daryl was careful to not step on the tracks set the day before, and he kept his crossbow close to his chest, ready to fire if needed. Rosie followed behind, her ax clipped to her hip and her fingertips touching the tops of the grass that they walked through.
Every time he paused, he'd raise his weapon a little higher. It was her first time seeing the recovered crossbow.
"Is that the one Dwight took?" She asked; she couldn't help her curiosity.
"Yeah." His answer was short, and angry. No more questions. But then they heard footfalls, and they both looked to the opening of the trees. Rosie squinted. "Is that-?" She started to say, but Daryl had raised the crossbow and fired an arrow. It stabbed precariously close to Rosita's face on the tree beside her, and she angrily tore it from the bark.
"Watch the hell out, asshole!" She exclaimed, stomping to him with Glenn and Michonne following.
Daryl snatched the arrow from her hand. "Yeah I did, you shouldn't've come!" He yelled, already speeding into the trees. Rosie followed, shrugging at Michonne as they made eye contact.
"You shouldn't have left!" Michonne told both of them, and both Daryl and Rosie turned to look at her. Whereas Rosie was ready to work something out, she knew without even looking at him that by the way he stormed over to her, he was ready to make a point.
"When I was split off from Sasha and Abraham, he was out there in that burnt out forest with them girls- put a gun to my head! Tied me up!" Rosie looked at him with concern; she'd never heard this before. "I even tried to help him." He added, turning to leave.
"So you think it's your fault?" Glenn piped in now, walking after him.
"Yeah I know it is! But I'm gonna do what I should've done before." He snapped, but Rosie grabbed his arm as he walked. "Daryl, wait..." she said softly. Maybe his judgement was too clouded.
"What for her?" Glenn asked, and Rosie looked at him. "She's gone, man. You're doing this for you." He added, and Daryl stalled a moment. But then he grabbed Rosie's hand and pulled her towards him. "Man I don't give a shit." He told Glenn.
"Daryl-," Glenn stepped in front of him. "We need to get back there to figure this out from home, our home. We need you, and everyone back there needs us right now. It's gonna go wrong out here." Glenn pleaded, the two men staring at one another.
Michonne stepped in then, grabbing his attention. "We'll square it. I will, I promise you. Just come back." She said, looking between him and her.
Daryl looked at Rosie then. She tilted her head, her eyes locked on his, but if he decided against it, she'd still go with him. He knew this by the way she looked at him. It wasn't only that- it was the promise he made to Denise while he buried her. He couldn't let it go. "I can't." He said, looking at Michonne and Glenn before once again turning to leave.
"Daryl!" Glenn yelled. Daryl's hand around Rosie's tightened as he pulled her away. "Man I can't!" He yelled back, leading her through the trees and picking back up on faint tracks left previously. The others watched them leave, and Daryl never looked back despite Rosie looking to Michonne a few times. She'd worded 'we'll be home soon' to her, but didn't know if she could decipher it.
I'll follow you, gringo, She told herself, and him. Oh how she'd come to love this man, but she worried his anger was pushing him to make risky decisions. They were undoubtedly exposed out there in the woods, even with the cover of the trees. And to be in such a vulnerable state of only two… they wouldn't stand the chance of an attack. And they found nothing. The tracks disappeared, and neither of them could find any signs of them ever being there. No discarded bullet shells or signs they had made camp, or tire marks where they might've left their cars. Either they were close enough to not need them, or they were just that good at covering their tracks.
By nightfall they'd returned to the bike, and ridden to the small town where the apothecary was that Daryl had raided before. The two set up for the night inside, opting to sleep at the farthest end from the emaciated Walker and the toddler in the sink. There was still silence between them, apart from when Daryl had asked, "Will you still read?"
Of course I will, she told him. And she did.
And for two days they rode in circles around Alexandria, circling wider every time they came back to the starting point. Rosie learned how to siphon gas when the bike ran low, and at one point she was tempted to ask him to teach her to ride it, but didn't want to break his concentration. Even when they'd first met he wasn't this reserved. Watching him from the corner of her eye when they'd stopped to rest midday near a creek, she realized he'd retreated into a shell. One that allowed him to function, but only in the sense that kept them alive. No emotion shown, no words spoken. He stared off often, and she could only assume he was fighting emotions that threatened to cut him where he stood.
Sometimes in those couple days she'd pat his shoulder, or even try to comfort him. But he remained the same way. He never shied away, but never returned the gesture.
She understood, but she wanted her Daryl back.
More neighborhoods that were abandoned, but thankfully that had food in them. They hadn't planned to be out for more than a day when they originally left, so finding a still decently stocked pantry was a blessing. Rosie stuffed as many items she could into her backpack, as well as Daryl did beside her, picking between smaller options that would fit in the pouch that stored under the seat of his bike. She finished before him, and pulled her backpack on, tightening the straps.
She looked around, curious as to what was in the other rooms.
"Stay close." He said as she walked from the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she observed the living room. The walls were peeling and everything was covered in a layer of dust and mold. The ceiling was torn open, and the walls were breaking. But few photos still hung.
A family once lived here. Rosie didn't rifle through the other rooms; she didn't want to unsettle the ghosts that might still wander these halls. But a bookshelf that was in pieces with the various books pulled her in. She'd read the same three books for years! She loved them, but a change of brain food would be nice. Not much looked appealing, and she grumbled.
"Ready?" Daryl asked, walking up to her where she knelt by the books. "Yep." She answered, randomly grabbing one and following him out the door. Rosie locked and closed the door behind her. This was still a home that held ghosts of a life.
Still quiet. Still silent. But he sat close; their arms touching as they sat together in front of the fire. The cold set in deep, and she was glad she'd thought to grab a blanket from an abandoned cabin. They were gonna need it.
They'd ate and now just sat in silence. Rosie hadn't read this night- her new book was a bit odd, maybe because she'd read the same ones so often. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks- not bad, just different. Next to her Daryl was tinkering with the same small object, and even so close she couldn't catch a peak of it. Oh well, she thought. She kept reading, and upon skipping through a few pages, she read one line that rang in her heart.
"I know. I was there. I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine." She said aloud softly. Daryl's hands stilled a moment, and she sighed.
There was a lot of truth in that one sentence.
Closing the book, Rosie scooted just that much closer to him, and rested her head against his shoulder. He continued, but didn't ask her to move. And her heart sang when he shimmied his back against the tree he sat against so he could more comfortably rest his head against hers and still work on what his hands hid.
You're still here, she thought to herself.
I'm still here, he thought to himself.
They'd raced by the outpost that was originally thought to inhabit the Saviors, and Daryl only gave it a passing glance. He didn't want to relive that massacre.
But a full day of absolutely nothing only landed them in hiding the bike again and walking through dark trees, and had severely dampened his attitude. Everything and anything was setting him off. When he'd parked the bike among a bushel of dead branches, the kickstand had jammed and he nearly kicked it off in attempts to un-jam it. Rosie only followed, biting her cheeks and almost pitying any Walker or animal that crossed his path.
He didn't exactly have an idea of where he was going- he wasn't even following anything. Daryl was now mindlessly wandering, hopeful that he'd find something that showed people had been here.
"Haven't found much." Rosie said then, trying diffuse his bad mood. He didn't answer, just kept walking.
Now she was starting to feel irritation creep up on her. She'd been patient, and had let him be for these three days. But now she could see he was a chicken without a head; he needed to be stopped.
"Maybe we should head home?" She asked softly, walking beside him now. Still, he moved on.
"Maybe the others found him-,"
"If you wanna go home find a car." He snapped, kicking aside a fallen branch. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not leaving without you." She said. You should know this by now, she thought angrily.
"I'm not going back until he's dead." He told her, his voice low and menacing. He sped up then, trying to distance himself..
"Daryl it's been three days and we've found nothing." She argued, and suddenly he was turning and taking wide steps until he was close to her.
"You can go- leave! It's easy for you! Just like when you left your kids!" He shouted. Instantly, they both felt the weight of his words.
Her face twisted into rage, and her mouth opened many times to speak, but none came. How could he say that? How could he say that? The words she'd read the night before rang in her head: I saw the great void in your soul, and you saw mine.
But apparently, it meant nothing to him.
Before he saw the tears pooling in her eyes she turned on her heel and walked away, into the dark of the woods. Daryl stood there, shocked by his own actions, and feeling utterly alone. What did I just do? An unnerving fear that he'd just pushed away the woman he'd fallen so deeply in love with filled him, and he wanted to fix what he just broke... but how?
With an angered grunt, he threw his crossbow to the ground, and watched as the trigger pulled and an arrow went flying into the dark.
She wiped away the tears, but they still rolled down her cheeks freely. Every insult in Spanish and English alike were tossing in her head, but soft sobs still tumbled from her lungs. She hated him, but couldn't actually hate him. She wanted to gut him, but simultaneously wanted to crawl into his arms. She'd only wanted to help. And she found herself regretting ever telling him of her-
"Hey there." A man's voice called, and when she looked up, the beam of a flashlight shined in her eyes. She didn't even wait, didn't even want to bother. She started running- sprinting back towards Daryl. But she didn't know if she was going in the right direction; the trees at night all looked alike. But now she could hear multiple footfalls behind her, and the yelling of men with their guns chasing her. The cold burned her cheeks and her lungs, and she stumbled many times but was able to catch herself.
But she could feel them gaining on her, and suddenly a hand was gripping her hair that whipped behind her and yanking her back. He didn't let go, and his iron grip pulled her backwards far enough until the other men caught up.
"What are you doin' all alone here at night?" One asked, but could only see pieces of his face from the jumping light of the flashlight. Rosie struggled and tugged, but her scalp felt like fire when he yanked her around. "Take her back?" Another asked, and the last one came around to kneel in front of her. He tore the axe from her hip, and held it close to her chest. He looked young, maybe younger than her. But his face portrayed only a sick smile with wide eyes. It made her stomach roil. "Yeah, let's take her back, ask her a few questions. Maybe have a sleepover!" He joked, and the men laughed.
"Fuck you!" She yelled, pulling a leg from underneath herself to kick him away. He only laughed after he'd stood back up, but abruptly stopped.
She felt the hit before she heard it, and felt the throbbing in her cheek and eye before she knew what actually happened. She was on the ground now, and although her mind screamed to run, her body didn't listen. She moved slow. And by the time she had enough sense to try and stand, a booted foot was on her back pushing her down while her hands were pulled behind her. She still fought them, still screamed.
Another foot came down and pushed her face into the ground. And then she saw Daryl, creeping behind a tree with his crossbow raised and fury in his narrow eyes.
He couldn't fight them all- they had guns.
"No!" She yelled at him, and he paused. "No!" Again she yelled. "Shut up, bitch!" One of the men yelled, hitting her between the shoulder blades with the butt of his gun.
Rosie coughed and pinched her eyes closed, and then peaked one open. Daryl was kneeling now, and it seemed her vision was compromised. He looked darker, farther away. "No- no." She said quieter this time, but Daryl shook his head. He knew what she meant, and he fought to not charge them.
"Stand up!" A man demanded, yanking her to her feet and hyper-extending her shoulders. Rosie still fought them and writhed even though her head pounded and her back ached. And she looked back at Daryl who was coming out from behind his tree now.
He watched them take her, the men laughing and speaking incoherently. He watched them take away his girl who still fought against them, and whose blood was on the ground where he stood.
They took her.
Away- away from him.
She could only guess that the reason they didn't blindfold her before bringing her to their compound was because it was dark- enough that without the flashlights, she wouldn't be able to make out anything. Or, they weren't planning on letting her go. Either way, they marched her through the opening of the abandoned water treatment plant with laughter, cruelly yanking her side to side. From what she could see, they had sectioned off the majority of the plant so their focus could be in the front where the tall standing gates were, and inside their walls stood the old, tall water tower. Watch posts were set up, and so were small shacks inside made of plywood and anything else they could find. If it wasn't for their harsh handling and the way anyone moving about looked at her with sinister intent; she could've thought this was a cute establishment.
But even the few women there smiled strangely at her!
Rosie looked back as she heard the gates clang shut; she didn't see Daryl in the dark. He hadn't followed. It's what she intended, but she still hurt.
"Let's go, you." The man who had hit her said, yanking her towards a slatted metal door that lead underground. She stilled her feet, trying to stop from descending into the dark, but he just pushed her. Rosie stumbled down a few steps and spat insults at him, and after what felt like endless steps, she hit the bottom. After her eyes adjusted, she could see she was in some sort of water pressure room; it was filled with large pipes and old and dusted levers that probably once controlled this facility. The door shut at the top of the stairs, and she looked up at him where he was now walking down.
Light barely filtered in through the door, and his features were hidden by the darkness.
But Rosie stood tall, squaring her shoulders when he stopped in front of her. She wouldn't give him the upper hand. And as he walked around her, she'd turn, never allowing her back to be to him. Now that he faced the light, she could see him better. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five! That only made her angrier.
"Wanna tell me what you're doing wandering around out there so late?" he asked casually. Rosie didn't answer.
"Bit unusual, if you ask me." he added, reaching behind himself. "Is it though?" she snapped, and he chuckled.
"Based on how clean your clothes are," he paused to pick up a lock of her hair. Rosie flinched back, her face tightening in anger. "And how nice your hair is, I'd say you have a home." he guessed. She hoped he couldn't see any alter in her eyes or demeanor when he said that. He pulled his hand around again, now holding her ax. She sighed.
"I'm sure we can work out some kind of agreement if you lead me back to where ever the rest of you are?" he offered, and Rosie scoffed. "Fuck you." she said softly. He only smiled. The end of her ax came in hard contact with her stomach, and even when she tried to not buckle over, she landed on her knees and coughed. "No need for that kind of language when I've been nice enough to not kill you." he mumbled, walking around her, and deciding to swing his leg back then forward into her side. Now she toppled, landing on her side and wanting to hold her body, but her wrists tied behind her back only tugged at the ties and started to rub the skin raw.
He was raging, mad with fury, and slowly leading a decent sized herd of Walkers down the road towards the direction they'd taken her in. His eyes never left the road before him, and he gradually sped up every time more would tag along. It wasn't hard finding them- he simply had to rev his engine loudly and they trickled out of the dark trees, snarling and hissing after him.
He wasn't going to let her die. He wasn't going to lose her like he did Beth. He couldn't allow it, and didn't feel he could survive losing another he loved so dearly. Daryl thought them bold to settle so close to the road and out in the open, but it would make it easier to attract more Walkers and do what he planned. Additionally, he thought them to be fucking idiots that they parked their cars outside their compound. The plan formulated: use the car to tear a hole in their walls. Let the Walkers in. Find Rosie. Kill those men. Done.
He wouldn't stray from his plan again. That's ultimately what had gotten Rosie taken.
She couldn't move. Even if she could, she didn't want to. Her belly cramped painfully, and the kicking had effectively made her vomit, and that only aggravated the cuts on the inside of her cheeks from his fist making hard contact with her face a few times. But she didn't tell him anything. She wouldn't. But now he was a bit winded, granting her the opportunity to catch her breath. Her curls were plastered against her bloody and sweaty face, and she found she had to forcefully blow blood from her nose to be able to breathe. More coughing, and she heard the man laugh.
"You're a tough mother, you know that?" he asked, standing straight and walking over to where she laid. Rosie rolled onto her back as much as she could, and looked up at him with red, angry eyes. "You could've had a chance to go home." he told her, squatting next to her and dangling the blade of her axe precariously close to her cheek. "You made the decision to stay down here." he finished, his voice deepening a bit. And then he was gripping her hair and dragging her a ways so she rolled onto her stomach. The last she saw of him was when he stood over her, and she panicked when she felt him grab her arms. But then the ties around her wrists were gone, and her shoulders were aching as her arms fell to her sides. Rosie flipped quickly, pushing away from him as he walked up the stairs. He didn't even look back at her as he left, locking the door behind himself.
She let herself take in the deep breaths she'd needed to, and curled her arms around her stomach where the pain was most intense. She couldn't even pull her knees up.
She tried to stop them, but the dry sobs that shook her shoulders were powerful. Lowering her face and letting her curls fan around her hid her emotions from anyone who might want to peer in from above. And she wondered, how could this happen?
The bike was masked haphazardly among the trees, and he'd only have a couple minutes until they were close enough to see him. There was one thing he appreciated about this group that had Rosie inside: they were stupid. Their cars were parked outside of the walls, unlocked. It made his job a little easier. He popped open the gas cover and stuffed his bandanna in, lighting it with his Zippo. It wouldn't blow a hole, but it would attract the herd. He'd just ran around the edge of the wall when the tank blew, and a loud explosion startled anything close by. Immediately the people inside panicked, and rushed to see what had happened, and that's when the Walkers emerged. A slow moving force that sufficiently scared the people inside.
Even when they shot out at them, it didn't do much. There was even more behind the ones that fell, and soon enough they were at the gates, already pushing and weakening the chains. Daryl avoided them, but made quick work of wrapping his crossbow across his back and climbing the chain linked fence. Inhabitants inside were running and scrambling to handle the situation, and it was enough distraction to allow him over the top and onto the rickety walk of of their watch out.
Daryl crouched as he swiftly walked along it until he made it to the small post, and thankfully there was a gun with a small pile of knives and even a few hand grenades. He picked one up and studied its weight. He could carry two; they were like little boulders. Daryl eyed them, and then he again observed the tall water tower that sat at the center of this place.
The second explosion rumbling through the ground is what drove her to slowly move up the stairs to look out the barred door, even though her body protested. It was chaos; people running in separate directions and looked to be scrambling to formulate a plan against the Walkers that were close to breaching their fencing. She furrowed her brows- what happened? But her thoughts were interrupted by the tall water tower crashing to the ground before her, crushing some people and cracking open. The water that had been held inside spilled out, and rushed through the gaps in the door and across her feet. Rosie exclaimed, watching as it cascaded down the stairs and began to slowly fill the room at the bottom. She looked back outside; Walkers began to filter in slowly, following the remaining people who ran for their lives.
Daryl watched the calamity he'd caused, but felt little joy. He still had to find Rosie who was hidden somewhere among it all. He was stuffing the last grenade in his pocket when a man walking hastily across the quad caught his attention, or more importantly, Rosie's ax he had in hand.
Rosie moved backwards down the stairs when she saw him walking towards her, rage in his eyes and posture. He unlocked the door and threw it open in an animal-like way, and lunged towards her. Rosie flinched, and it gave him chance to grab a fistful of her hair and painfully pulled her out of the room and into the opening. She tripped as she struggled, but he still dragged her through the water around them. He stopped abruptly, and used his other hand to also grab her hair and shake her. "Who was with you!" he yelled at her, but Rosie didn't know how to answer him. Even if she lied, he probably wouldn't believe her.
"Answer me!" he screamed, hitting her again. "Fuck you!" she yelled back, trying to free herself. But then his hands were being ripped from her hair, and she was falling back before she could see what had happened. Rosie rolled, but came face to face with a Walker that was reaching for her. Quickly she turned and used her feet to kick him back enough that she could stand, but she still had no weapon. He had her ax! Rosie turned to get it, but what was before her eyes was shocking.
Daryl had forcefully pulled him away from her, and had him pinned on the ground where he could easily clobber him repeatedly against the face and temple. He didn't let up, and the ferocity of his hits was startling. "Daryl?" she asked softly, but he didn't stop. Snarling behind her demanded her attention and she turned to watch as Walkers made their way towards them.
"Rosie." Daryl said, gently grabbing her arm and making her jump. She looked at him, the rage that was still painted over his face. She didn't know why, but having him there again made her feel weak, protected- she had to fight to stay standing when she leaned against him, her face resting against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and handed her her ax back. Rosie looked down at the man who'd dealt her the beating; he was still alive.
She stood by him, and stared down at the bastard.
He was still awake, and moving a bit as he held his head. But then he looked up at her, and without words reached towards her. She kicked his hand away, and looked to the Walkers that had set their eyes on them. Rosie backed up as they gathered around him, their snapping jaws and gouging fingers taking chunks from him. His screams filled the air as he tried to fight them off, but it was futile. Even if he escaped, he'd join them soon enough. "Let's go." Daryl said, pulling her arm.
She stumbled a bit; her fatigue and the ache over her body was starting to take effect. She grabbed his arm for balance, and he didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around her waist, and lead her towards an opening in the fence he'd made.
The walk back to his bike was easy, luckily enough.
Rosie wouldn't have the energy to help in assisting if part of the herd moved around to them. Daryl knew this. By the way she walked slowly beside him and leaned on him, she'd been messed up. It still made him angry, and would've continued his beatings against that man if it hadn't been for the Walkers. But what mattered was right beside him. The woman who held onto him and was alive. He'd done what he couldn't do for Beth, and he was going to make sure it didn't happen again.
He didn't let her go until they were at the bike again, and he sat her by a tree carefully. Rosie still grinned at him, and held her stomach as he went about pulling the bike from under the bushel.
And when he sat in front of her on the motorcycle, she didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him firmly and rest her head against his back. This is definitely my spot, she thought to herself.
"Ready?" he asked, patting her knee. She nodded, and they were off just as a few Walkers had caught onto the low rumble of his bike. Every foot put behind them and her captors was another ounce of fear lifted off their minds, and when Daryl moved his hand to hold hers at his waist, the pain in her head wasn't so bad. But shortly after speeding down the dark highway, a deep chill set into her bones as the wind soaked into her wet clothing. Daryl could feel her shivering, and knew soon enough he'd need to stop so she didn't keel over from the cold.
Just as he started tossing around the idea of setting camp somewhere in the pines, a rest stop came into view, so he slowed and turned into it. He sat for a little, looking over the area and waiting for any Walkers to come wandering from the dark.
But everything was still. Rosie reluctantly unwound her arms from him, and she waited as he cleared one of the main buildings that was probably once a small convenient store.
He came back to her then, and helped walk her to the building with broken windows that were poorly boarded up. Once inside she looked all around as he went about parking his bike somewhere in back, then working on barricading the doors. Her shoulders still shook a bit as she wandered around, looking at what was left of the dilapidated business. Mostly empty food containers and boxes, but some camping supplies left scattered on broken shelves and on the floor.
"All set." Daryl said, walking up behind her. Rosie turned and looked at him, and noticed him inspecting her face.
"Do I look that bad?" she asked, her voice weak and raspier than normal.
He shrugged, moving his hands to gently move her hair from her face and grab her jaw so he could move her head side to side. There was swollen gashes in her cheeks and lip, and her left left eye was red from burst blood vessels. He sighed.
"Gimme the backpack." he said, and she shrugged it off.
They sat on the ground cross legged and facing each other as he carefully, and as gently as he could, cleaned the cuts on her face and wipe the blood from her skin. There wasn't much he could do for the ache in her gut, but he didn't even ask her to take his jacket when she took hers off to dry. It was heavy on her shoulders, but helped rid the cold in her limbs. Neither of them said anything for some time. Rosie didn't want to tell him that even though she was grateful to be with him again, she still had some animosity lingering around her for his choice of cruel words during their argument before she was taken.
And Daryl didn't know how to go about even beginning an apology. This was undoubtedly his fault. Would she even forgive him if he asked for it?
"We'll head home tomorrow morning." he said, leaning back against a shelf. Rosie pulled the edges of his jacket around her, but shook her head. "No, we should keep going." she said softly, and coughed a bit; that damn cold still lingered in her lungs. A chuckle escaped her lips when he looked at her with an absolutely dumbfounded expression; her stomach cramped a bit.
"What- how? You wanted to go back before." he asked, and she nodded.
"I know. But we've never been this far out before. Might as well circle back around and mark it down, yeah? Might be something worth looking at out there." she explained, moving beside him and sitting close. She was still a bit chilly. "You're all messed up though." he argued, moving his elbow out a little so she could wind her arm around it.
"I'll be fine." she told him, resting her head against him. Her breath warmed her hands where they were cupped around her sore face inside his jacket.
A drawn silence, and she began to feel fatigue tug on her eyes.
"You're an asshole." she said sleepily. Daryl nodded. "I know." was the last thing she heard him say before she fell asleep.
"Anything?" she asked, standing by the bike. He'd spotted the cluster of cars at the edge of the trees and pulled over- gas was running low. "Yeah, just enough." he said, working to siphon the gas. Rosie walked around the car's side closest to the road and watched for anything, her ax at her hip. Her body seemed to ache a little more when she woke up that morning, so she leaned against the bumper and waited for Daryl to finish. Between the four cars, he was able to fill his tank and store some in an old bottle. Sitting in the sun like that felt good. And the quiet around them soothed the dull throb in her head. Maybe she had a brain hemorrhage from all those hits. Either way, she woke up. She was still alive. Rosie exhaled and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze across her cheeks and the sun warming her clothing. She could stay like this a long while if she were given the opportunity.
"All set." he said, walking over to her. Her eyes opened and she nodded and stood, holding her stomach. They walked to the bike, but before getting on, Daryl noticed the vacant look in her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, and she looked up at him. The angry emotions had gone, and when he asked for it, she'd forgive him. But there was something she felt she had to say.
"I didn't thank you for coming back." she started, her hand resting against the seat of the bike.
"When I saw you coming up that night when they had me… I didn't think I'd ever see you again. But you came back for me." she continued, moving to push his bangs from his face. "You don't have to thank me." he said, his rough voice calm. "I'd never leave you for dead." he confessed, and she smiled before leaning her head forward to rest on his chest. Daryl was the one to wrap his arms around her shoulders, his head cheek resting against her head. More warmth in her skin. This is my new spot, she thought with a small smirk. "Let's get going." she said unenthusiastic-ally, patting his sides. Rosie swung her leg over the seat slowly after he did, and she didn't hesitate to rest her head against his back anymore.
It was a peaceful ride. He didn't race down the road, or move too slow. And his hand moved from the handlebar to rest on her knee after some time. Rosie grinned.
It was odd to find a small apartment complex in a cul de sac, but that many rooms in one area could produce results. With his crossbow in hand and pointed, he moved towards the front gate surrounding it, but stopped when he heard steps behind him. He turned to face Rosie who was cocking an eyebrow at him. "What?" she asked, confused.
"Shouldn't you wait at the bike?" he asked, gesturing towards her hand that was still on her stomach. "And what happens when Walkers come and I can't defend my injured and weak self?" she asked sarcastically, but he only turned back around. Rosie chuckled, pulling her ax from her hip. She wasn't completely useless.
They moved slowly through each unit, and found only corpses and already raided shelves and cupboards. Someone had already gotten here before them. But she still insisted they check the upper level and moved to the stairs without him.
"Even if I said no, you'd still go." he mumbled, and she patted his shoulder.
"That's right, gringo." she teased.
"Might as well just say white boy…" he added, looking through the cracked door of the first unit.
"Nah, I like gringo." she told him, following into the living room. Also riffled through. "What a surprise." Daryl said, and she rolled her eyes as she made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom. Medicines and supplies were always her main priority-
And then she saw her reflection in the mirror.
The gashes were swollen, and bruised, and her eye looked awful. Blood red and a bit startling the way the golden color of her iris popped like that. Rosie sighed, and with hesitation, lifted her jackets and shirts to observe her bruised stomach and ribs. No wonder it hurt to do anything. At least the wound at her side had healed before all of this; she couldn't imagine how badly that would've ripped if it were still open. She felt silly doing it, but she pulled her snarled hair into a bun to try and improve how she felt about her image, but it didn't work. She looked and felt crappy no matter what she did.
"It's not that bad." Daryl said suddenly, startling her a bit.
She looked at him and shrugged. "You can say I look like shit- I know I do." she told him, blinking back the extra moisture in her eyes. Daryl looped the crossbow around his shoulder and stepped into the bathroom, then dug in his pockets and pulled out something small enough to fit in his hand. Rosie was handed a small, oval material that had small carvings all over it, and upon turning it in her fingers revealed her name on one side, and a rose on the other. "Did you find this?" she asked, looking closer at it and at the intricate designs covering it.
"I carved it." he said, crossing his arms with his hands hidden at his sides.
Rosie looked up at him, surprise in her eyes and smile spreading across her face. "Is this what you've been hiding?" she asked, and he nodded.
"What's it made out of?" She ran her thumb over the smooth surface. "I dunno, actually." he confessed, and she giggled. "And you don't look like shit." he added, and she looked up at him, holding it in her hands against her chest.
"I love it." she said softly, her beaming smile lifting his spirits.
And then he was stuck there, unable to pull his eyes from her, or stop looking at the way she lit up with the smallest of gesture. He loved her so much, and when she was taken he wanted to tell her so desperately. Sometimes his voice shook when he felt close to doing it. This time was different; he couldn't hold it in anymore. But her smile slowly faded the longer he looked at her, but not from any uneasiness. Rosie could see the emotions running rampant in his narrow eyes, and she started to feel the passion well up in her chest. She could feel it- the anticipation of what he was readying to do, but the wait was killing her. Do it, Daryl, please, she hollered in her head.
It all felt right in his body, and his mind was screaming for his body to move, but fear of rejection held him back. But he needed to do this.
Daryl stepped closer to her after placing his crossbow on the ground, and his hands rested on either side of her jaw, his fingertips touching her hair. Rosie's eyes fluttered, and she nodded, barely enough to notice and stuffed the pendant into her pocket.
And he kissed her.
Finally, after what felt like far too much time, he kissed her full on the mouth and she exhaled softly when he pulled apart just enough to readjust his lips against hers, and kiss her again, and groaned softly himself when she grabbed his face and didn't let him go anywhere. He already knew that kissing her was going to be his new addiction, but nothing could even come close to standing up to this feeling. No Vicodin, no Oxy could make him feel higher than this. Especially when he backed her up so she pressed against the edge of the sink, and her response was to tug on his vest so he pressed right up against her while his hands moved behind her to lay flat against the counter top.
He could feel the cut on her lip every time she kissed him, but she didn't let on to any discomfort. They were hot, like a fever, and intoxicating.
Rosie kissed away from his lips and along his cheek, her fingers running down his arms. Her hands were heavier, and her actions a bit clumsy as they dragged back up along to his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Steady rolls of goosebumps rose on his arms and neck where she touched, and he couldn't keep his eyes open against her lovely assault. Deliberately she took her time to kiss back along his jaw until he could capture her lips in another smooch, but his hands on her back didn't let her move away again. As the seconds ticked by, his head felt lighter, and again and again he found himself thinking, maybe she needs a break, but then Rosie's lips would part and her tongue would tease his, further pulling him from making any decisions that didn't involve kissing her until the end of time.
To his reluctance though, they pulled apart, her hands now resting on his neck. With eyes still closed, and lips swollen with kisses, she lingered close to him, and smiled against his mouth when he pecked her on the lips a few times. Her hands smoothed across his cheeks and pushed his hair away from his face, and he leaned against her hand. Rosie smiled. He kissed her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her back and buried his face against her neck. Rosie held onto him tightly. Her heart felt full- complete. The void that had been blasted through her closed some, just enough to carry her past but also make room for Daryl.
This is my spot, he thought to himself, swaying a little.
When they left, they walked close, and when they rode, he left his hand on her knee. While she observed the passing world around them, Daryl grinned to himself without her seeing. Together, and silently with hushed words and smiles exchanged they went to make one last circle around Alexandria; the farthest they'd ever gone before.
Not much changed in the way they went about their business; they cleared old buildings and homes, and still chatted throughout their day. But now there was a closeness when they walked together; their shoulders would touch and their hands would brush against one another, and on one brief walk back to the bike, she curled her pinky around his and he didn't pull away. During a chilly afternoon, they had pulled over to rest by a field and eat lunch when Daryl pulled her by the hips against himself and kissed her long and hard, interrupting her when she told him about a knife she'd found. He'd developed a habit of launching them into quick lip-locks like that, and it'd leave her with heavy eyes and rosy cheeks, and always unwilling to untangle her hands from his hair or her arms from around his neck. But afterwards they both sat in the long grass, and Rosie used the water bottle to hide her smile and lean against him as he talked nonsense around a mouthful of food. He didn't know why those urges overcame him, but it was the least he could do to stop himself from taking her there on the highway.
And at night, she continued to read, but now always had a spot pressed against his side. If they were lucky enough they could find an abandoned car to sleep in together to escape the cold, and also cozy up for the night.
Between the random kisses and cuddling and bumping arms, by the time they made it back to Alexandria they were walking side-by-side and exchanging hushed words and laughs, and a not so common smile was splayed across Daryl's face.
Rick came to meet the two on the street once he'd heard his bike coming down the road, but he didn't look too thrilled to be talking to them. When they saw him, their smiles faded. Their bubble had burst; back to the real world.
Rosie looked at him through the window of the porch. He hadn't moved from the top step since she had taken a shower and changed, and now that she was pulling on her boots, she felt hesitant about leaving him like that to resume night duty. With her shotgun pulled from the counter and hanging in her hand, she opened the door and walked to him. He was still staring off ahead of him, his arms leaning on the tops of his knees. Her hand smoothed the back of his hair, but he didn't move any.
"I'm sorry." she said, sitting beside him. He shook his head, looking down.
"I shouln't've left. I could've stopped her." he said quietly, digging in his pocket for a cigarette.
"She left of her own accord- I don't think anyone could have stopped her." Rosie responded, watching as he angrily searched for his lighter in his pockets with the smoke already between his lips. Her hand reached into the inner pocket of his vest, and flipped back the Zippo for him. He looked at her, and she grinned. "Maybe she just needs time to come home on her own." she offered, closing the lighter and handing it to him. With the cigarette lit he took long drags, letting the smoke filter from his nostrils. Unexpectedly, Rosie's hands grabbed his face and made him look at her. Her eyes searched his; she could see the guilt.
"Please don't blame yourself." she said, rubbing her thumbs along his cheekbones. Daryl looked all over her face; it seemed looking at the still healing cuts on her made him only feel worse. He ran a finger next to her red eye, and gently bumped her chin with his fist. Without a word, she leaned forward and kissed him once, then again on his forehead before standing to walk to her post.
Daryl watched her leave, her gun swinging in her hand as she made her way down the street and eventually meeting up with Maggie who was on her way to collect eggs from Pollo Bowl. Upon their arrival, Rick had told them first about Carol's sudden disappearance and how Morgan had gone to find her, but the trail had gone cold. Daryl and Rosie told them they hadn't come across any signs of her on their trip, but how Rosie had been temporarily taken hostage by the group. The cuts and bruises were still clear as day on her face, but they didn't bother her much anymore. Rick made it clear than that no one was to leave Alexandria unless absolutely necessary. The Saviors were sure to make a move any day, and they needed their strongest at home.
Daryl had wanted to leave to find his dear friend, but a week was quite the head start, and if no one else had found anything, he was sure to come up with the same results.
So now he sulked, and wondered why she left, and worried if she was alive or already walking with the dead. He couldn't help but feel responsible. He'd known she was conflicted in the days since her and Maggie were brought home from also being captured, but not wanting to pry, he didn't ask much. He figured she'd open up when she was ready. But now, he was full of regret. With a sigh he stood and walked out to the sidewalk and looked around; Rosie wasn't in sight anymore. He bit his lips where he could still feel her kisses lingering.
Maybe she'll come home when she's ready, he told himself, walking back up to the house.
But nothing he did distracted him from his thoughts. Restlessly he moved around, and fidgeted, and when working on his bike didn't do anything and sleep evaded him when night fell, he closed the door behind him and walked down the road. It was freezing at night now, enough to see his breath before him and freeze over the grass at night, and he'd remember seeing Rosie leave for work with only a pullover. So with her leather jacket in his hand, he scoped her out along the wall until he finally found her at the farthest end, leaning over the walls edge.
"You alright?" he asked after he'd climbed the ladder and walked to her. She jumped a bit and looked at him, a smile greeting him.
"Hey, there." she said, and before he said anything else, he put her jacket around her shoulders. Rosie chuckled. "I didn't think it'd be this cold." she said quietly, pushing her arms into the jacket. Daryl leaned over the edge where she had been, and discovered the four walkers eating an unidentifiable animal by the wall she had been watching. He scoffed.
"It was a dog." she said, leaning next to him. He watched as they snarled and tore into it, and felt tempted to shoot his arrows down at them, but decided against it and turned to lean back against the railing. "Can't sleep?" she asked, looking at him. Daryl shook his head and looked around; Rick and Michonne were also on watch tonight, as well as Maggie at the gate. Extra numbers at night now. Rosie watched him. Just when she had started to pull him from his funk, he was thrown into another. She felt for him, and wished she could help, but from past experience, she knew better now to let it run its course. She shifted, and rested her chin on his shoulder with her front against his side. Still, she couldn't just stand there and watch him fall apart.
"Come back to me." she said softly, and he looked at her. Her fiery eyes still had the same effect on him since the beginning.
"I'm here." he replied. Her hand moved the bangs from his eyes. "How can I help, gringo?" she asked, resting her hand on his chest. "You being here helps." he told her. It was true. He had originally come to her this night because he felt he needed her company. Just being by her soothed his temperament. With a grin, and a pat on his chest, he leaned into her and kissed her. He followed her lips when she pulled back, and before he knew it his hands were at the back of her neck and his body pressing her back against the railing. She moaned then, and he felt the breath kicked from his body when she arched against him and pull him by the hips tighter against her body. His mind was a million miles away from his earlier grievances, and only on Rosie, and her lips, and touch, and the soft exhales she made when his hands ran up and down her back.
"Told you." Rick said, walking by Michonne as she stood watching the couple across the wall engage in a heated kiss. She rolled her eyes and turned away, a bit shocked at their sudden shift in actions.
Loud snarls and banging on the wall below them interrupted their moment, and with arms still around her, he looked around her shoulder and down at the Walkers that were starting to pile up. Rosie looked back, and sighed loudly.
"Rude!" she yelled down, and Daryl looked at her. "See you later then?" he asked, and she nodded, groaning when he unwrapped himself from her waist and smacked his hands along the metal wall to draw the Walkers away from piling up. Most of them followed, but some few still lingered below her and reached for her. Rosie let her arm hang down and sway, and her mind wandered. What she'd give to be in the same bed as Daryl right now, with her legs wrapped around-
She blinked a few times and felt her cheeks warm up. "Dirty, dirty, dirty." she whispered, shaking her head.
Everyday got a little easier for him after the initial shock of Carol leaving. He still caught himself wandering around the front gate in hopes she'd come strolling back in, but with the help of day-to-day work and chores, his mind was kept well occupied so he didn't sit and dwell on it. Never finding Dwight weighed in sometimes, but that settled into a dull roar- something that could be taken care of at a later time. And then, there was Rosie to keep him distracted from everything. Not the best, considering everyone was on alert and waiting for an attack, but he couldn't deny how much he liked sneaking behind houses during the day to kiss her, or meeting her at the end of a day to walk her home. A few times she'd sneak her hand into his, and sometimes he'd feel enough of a boost of confidence to hang an arm around her shoulders. People noticed, and talked, but he learned to let it roll off his back. He'd felt tempted to pound Spencer's skull into the pavement when he'd made an advancement at Rosie, but she thought it better to let Rosita know, who had recently been in relations with him.
Behind closed doors though, there was no hesitation in his actions. Whether she'd be cooking, or cleaning, or even walking by- he'd catch her and let his actions speak for themselves. But soon enough, kissing wasn't enough for them. Her hands first wandered underneath the hem of his shirt when she was the one to push him up against a wall, and anytime after that, she made it a point to map out his stomach, then chest, and eventually the muscles along his lower back. Daryl was more fond of using his mouth, and his favorite was trailing open mouthed kisses along her collarbones. But even when his hands massaged her thighs and rounded her bottom, it just wasn't cutting it..
"Daryl-," she tried to say past his mouth, but he grumbled and kissed her more fervently. "I have to-," a kiss, "I have to go to rounds." she said breathlessly, holding his head when his mouth kissed across her chest and his hands gripped her hips to hold her against his lap she straddled. "Then go." he said against her skin, but her back arched and she exhaled loudly when his rough hands slipped under her shirt and followed the curve of her back. "Asshole…" she gasped, pulling his face to hers once more and then prying his arms from around her. His hands slapped down against his legs, and he watched her fix her clothing and pull back her messy hair into a bun.
"You can still tell." he told her, folding a leg up to hide the excitement in his jeans. She shrugged, pulling her jeans up and shooting him a sideways glare. He shrugged back. Her hand dragged across his arm when she walked away, and she grabbed her gun before leaving. He waited until he heard the door close to adjust himself, and grunted in relief when he wasn't pressed uncomfortably against the front of his jeans. She'd notice, eventually.
Rosie was thankful that the air was cold when she left, and hoped it helped hide the flush on her cheeks she felt. But the stirring in her lower stomach was still there, and still demanded to be noticed. Though anytime she crawled against him and his hands gripped her backside, and she ground against him, and felt exactly what he tried to hide in his pants. It was eliciting a feeling in her body she hadn't felt in years. It had been so long- she didn't know how much longer she could go without acting on it. With her jacket pulled tighter around her, she tried to focus on the cold, and tried not to run back to the house.
"There's nothing here- we've been to that strip mall before." Rosie explained, pointing to the spot on the map that Rick was now crossing off. Daryl recalled the day she helped take back his bike at that mall; a good memory, all in all. "Well that leaves these two." he said, pointing to two circled spots that were diagonally opposite to one another.
"We can hit the farthest one first and check the other on the way back." Daryl said, leaning over Rosie who sat at the table. "That's fine. Whatever is easiest, but remember- this is just to scout. You find something, you come back and we'll bring it home with a group. We don't need you two out there alone and longer than necessary." Rick told them, and Rosie nodded.
"You ready?" Daryl asked, stepping back as Rosie stood. "I just need to grab a couple things." she said, moving up the stairs to grab her bag. Daryl folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket before layering on another long sleeve, a jacket and his vest.
"Are you sure she's okay to go back out?" Rick asked, looking at his friend. Daryl eyed him.
"She still looks a little rough around the edges." he said quietly.
"Even if I tried to stop her, it wouldn't work." Daryl told him, and Rick chuckled. "Sounds like you." Rick replied, and Daryl shrugged. He couldn't deny that. Rosie came bounding down then with her ax and side bag, layered in a few shirts and jackets and strolled over to the men. "Not taking much?" Daryl asked, tugging on the strap to her messenger bag. "Just basics." she said, and Daryl looked at the healing cuts on her face and the redness of her eyes he wasn't sure would ever go away.
"Are you sure-," he tried to ask, but she shook her head and turned. "We'll be back soon!" she said cheerfully, and dragged Daryl by the arm. "I told you." he mumbled to Rick.
Even sitting atop the bike some ways down the hill from the store, they could tell there was nothing left. The walls had literally been torn down and the building remaining was scorched. There was definitely no food in there. "Onto the next?" she asked from behind him, and without a word he turned the bike and cut off the road onto the side street that would lead them to the next store on their way home. Food at Alexandria wasn't low, but they wanted to stock up since these runs were now cut down to only absolutely necessary. No one wanted to be caught out in the open. But Daryl and Rosie still braved it, and the bike was easier to hide and maneuver in case they were discovered. She didn't mind being outside of the walls either. With her head hung back as the wind rushed around them, she enjoyed these brief moments of freedom until they were once again locked away and waiting for something- anything to happen.
"Wow." Rosie said, looking at the nearly untouched market they'd found next to the one they originally traveled to which had ended up being empty. They'd stormed in, weapons raised and ready to fight based on the unlocked doors and cleaned windows, but had only found what Daryl had compared to the truck he and Rick came upon once.
"What if someone is storing it here?" she asked, looking around for any sign that someone had been around recently. "The door was unlocked." Daryl said, crossing his arms.
"To make it un-obvious." she mumbled, looking at the ground. "Look- prints." she said, pointing to the pairs that circled around the room and around the many shelves and crates filled with food. Daryl followed them, and looked outside to see if anyone was nearby. "Good catch." he said, knocking his knuckles against her chin gently. Rosie grinned.
"We should get back. Hopefully when we come again the food is still here." he said, holding the door open for her when she walked out. Rosie observed the area, her hand gripping her ax and worried that someone was watching them. Daryl closed the doors silently and walked around her to the other side of the motorcycle. "Too bad we can't fit any on the bike." she said. "We'll be back soon." he said, throwing his leg over after clipping the crossbow to the back. As he turned the engine over she sat behind him and finished tying her hair up, and grabbed his waist as he turned and sped down the road.
Her cheek was rested against his back lazily, her arms slack around his waist. They'd been riding in a straight line for what felt like hours now. A small crowd emerging from the tall trees had forced them to take a detour around the original route home, and it was already later in the afternoon now that they were back on track again. Rosie's stomach grumbled, and she groaned. The cold air was biting at her cheeks, but she still leaned up and rested her chin on his shoulder close to his ear.
"I'm hungry!" she yelled past the roar of the bike and the wind racing passed them, and he leaned back a little. "Me too!" he replied.
"Wanna stop to eat?" she asked.
"Yeah, burger sounds nice." he said, and she laughed.
But then the front of the bike was suddenly wobbling, and a loud popping noise filled their ears. Before they knew it, they were being thrown sideways as the bike suddenly turned out of Daryl's control, and made hard contact with the asphalt before they rolled and slid many feet, then stopping near the bike that had stopped skidding on it's side.
Rosie groaned. On her stomach now, she looked up at Daryl who was on his back and slowly rolling onto his side to face her. "Rosie?" he said, and she moved slowly, and carefully onto her hands and knees. She was sore, but not in serious pain. But when she rotated her arm, her shoulder caught and burned, causing her to hiss and hold it.
"What happened?" she asked as he moved to her, pulling her up.
"Blew a tire." he grumbled, turning to the bike. It still rumbled, but the front tire was shredded and dented, some of the spokes broken. "Your back." she said, noticing the ripped clothing along his shoulder blade and the red that was starting to bleed through. "It's fine." he said, walking from her hands that started to feel for the injury.
"Have to walk the damn thing home now." he spat, kicking the blown tire.
"Oh joy." she said, trying to work the kink from her arm but also noting the blood on her hand when she pulled it away. "Always my favorite jacket." she said under her breath. Rosie adjusted the strap of her bag to her other shoulder as Daryl pushed the bike up, and noted the darkening skies. "Think we'll get home before it gets dark?" she asked, and he shook his head. Rosie followed him down the road as he began to push it, and kept a close eye on the pines around them in case someone came leaping out at them now that they were moving slow. Her hands scooped her axe from the ground when she came up to it; they were lucky to have not collided with either of their weapons when they rolled.
'That good enough?" she asked, placing another branch between his covered bike and the bushes to make it look like one continuous piece of shrubbery. "Should be. It's too dark to notice if you're driving." he said, fixing a few loose pieces of leaves. Rosie turned and looked at the big-rig that had some time ago crashed and landed at the edge of the trees, wiping the sap that coated her hands on her jeans. It made her nervous choosing a spot so close to the open, but they needed to stay inside of something or else they could succumb to the cold. Without a word, she gripped the handle, and waited until his crossbow was aimed, to whip it open. Nothing came out. Daryl pushed her in first, and gave the trees around them a once over before following. Inside, they double checked all the corners and crevices, and locked anything that could be. They sat in seats across one another, looking out the clouded windshield and Rosie keeping her flashlight low. When she turned away, Daryl spotted the tear in her clothing at her shoulder and the blood that had started to come through. "C'mere." he said, turning her shoulders so he could see.
He helped her from her jackets and pulled her old paramedic uniform down her arm enough to see the wound she'd acquired. She hissed and gripped the seat when he wiped the gravel and dirt from the raw skin. "Is it bad?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"Nah. Your shoulder looks like hamburger meat, but it ain't too bad." he said, finally taping on a bandage. "There's your burger." she said, and he chuckled as he helped pull her layers back on.
"No more cuts anywhere?" he asked, moving her face to see if she'd sustained anymore. Her cheek was a little scraped, but nothing serious.
"I'm just a little sore. Lemme see that one on your back." she instructed, reaching to move his clothing. "It's okay." he said, pushing her hands down.
"Daryl." she said sternly, glaring at him. He hesitated. "It doesn't hurt that bad." she said, turning him away from her and pulling his vest and jackets off. Rosie positioned her light on her shoulder as he slid his shirt off, and then she froze. The scars were long, and looked to had never healed correctly from whatever caused them. Rosie didn't ask right away, and went to cleaning the road rash he had on his shoulder blade, but her eyes jumped back and forth between them. What could have caused those? Daryl didn't make a noise the entire time she cleaned his injury; he waited for her to ask about the scars. It was something he hid from everyone, and disliked talking about.
"All done." she said softly, placing the last of the bandaging and cleaning supplies back in her bag. He hurried to pull his clothing back on. "Daryl?" she said, and he shook his head.
"What?" she asked.
"I know what you're gonna ask." he mumbled, buttoning up his jacket and pulling his vest on. She bit her cheek. "From before?" she asked carefully. He didn't answer. He looked straight ahead, crossing his arms. "Those aren't recent." she said, pulling her knees up and resting her arms on them. He still didn't say anything, but could feel annoyance building up. He thought that she would know by now that if he didn't respond, it meant he didn't want to talk at all.
"They're nothing." he finally said, but his voice was deep, and coated in bitterness. "Those aren't nothing-," she started to say.
"I said they're nothing, now drop it!" he snapped, and she looked at him angrily. "Do you have to say it like that?" she snapped back.
"Do you have to be so nosy?" he asked, glaring back at her. Rosie narrowed her eyes, and turned away from him. He did so too, and both of them looked out their windows. Sleep evaded both of them that night as anger took its place. She didn't even try to break the silence this time. She wanted him to stew in his own thoughts, and hoped he'd realize that he didn't need to be so mean about it.
But he wanted her to understand that he didn't want to talk about it, and that was that. As withdrawn as a man he was, he'd found it surprisingly easy to open up to her about other subjects. His feelings, some of his brighter past, Beth- but those scars and the memories they linked to were something he wish he could forget. They were part of the reason he was he way he was. Cold, and angry, and fearless. But then again… Rosie installed a sense of fear in him. One that caused him to worry something terrible would happen to her if he wasn't near her, or didn't make sure she was okay everyday. He didn't want to push her away; deep down he knew she'd only offer to help calm those raging memories, but it wasn't something he was willing to face yet.
Daryl looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was still faced away from him and curled into a ball. Probably cold.
Love had made him scared. It was awful, and uncontrollable, but he couldn't imagine not having it.
How was it that the tension had only become heavier between them? There wasn't even looks between them anymore, just… silence. And walking.
Rosie was growing tired of it, but didn't really want to try and defuse it. She felt if she said anything, he'd bite her head off. Or she would to him. Either way, it wouldn't end well. But she couldn't walk all the way home like this, especially at the slow rate they were going. And when they got home, they'd just walk into the same home. Maybe she should try to talk; she'd hate to bring this home.
With a sigh, she spoke.
"How's your back?" she asked, but he didn't respond. Daryl still felt the edge of anger lingering; if he said something, he'd say it wrong. Rosie rolled her eyes and kicked a stone.
"Are you ignoring me?" she asked, leaning forward a little to try and catch his attention. At least this time he looked at her, but his eyes were hidden by his bangs. She looked angry, and concerned, and confused all at once. "Daryl c'mon!" she said, her shoulders slouching a bit.
"I asked one thing and you didn't even talk about so why are you still mad?" she asked, stepping in front of the bike so he'd stop.
"Cause it's none of your business and you pried!" he yelled, standing straight.
"How am I supposed to know that unless you tell me?" she yelled back, her eyes wide and her hands gesturing to herself.
"If I didn't talk about it then it should've been obvious I didn't wanna!"
"I can't read your fucking mind- you need to talk to me if you want me to know shit like that!"
"Why do you even care?" Daryl bellowed, and Rosie balled her fists and stepped closer to him.
"Cause unfortunately I love you, moron! I just wanted to help!" she yelled back just as loud, but before he could fully process what she had said, she was storming off into the trees, leaving him alone to ponder over her words. He watched her until he couldn't see her, and then looked blankly ahead. His stomach churned, and he felt a lump in his throat form.
Love?
He debated waiting for her to come back before deciding to track her. They trailed in zigzags and at one point even circled a tree, and he wondered if she purposefully tried to throw him off course. But Daryl's tracking skills were seasoned, and his sharp eyes caught everything. Eventually he found the wide open field they led to, and at the edge farthest from him was a dilapidated barn with half of its roof torn off and some of the paneling of the walls gone. He didn't have to follow her footprints to know she'd be in there somewhere. He'd learned that when Rosie was angry, or upset, she liked to retreat to darker places, not in the open. He could see her standing against a beam at the top, and when he moved inside and followed the ladder up to her, she didn't even turn to make sure it was him.
She knew it was by the sound of his footfalls.
He stood across from her, also leaning on an old beam. They both looked out of the blown roof, onto the meadow around them. The tension that had loomed over them once before like a thick fog was gone, but now there was an uneasiness about how silent Rosie was being. It was usually her to be the one to dissolve their arguments, but today, that responsibility was being put on Daryl. She had said what she wanted to say, even though it wasn't how she wanted her confession to be brought forward. She felt childish for it, but she feared rejection. It was a bad argument to lead up to something like that; maybe he'd have even more reason to not feel the need to return the gesture.
"They're from my dad." Daryl said suddenly, his voice quiet. She looked to him then. He was looking down at his foot that was pushing around large pieces of splintered wood, unable to look her in the eye when he told her about this. "After my brother left for the military, I was my dad's target. Took those happening to finally run away." he explained to her. That was all he felt he needed to tell. The details were too much of a burden, and bringing them to light would only make him feel worse.
Rosie looked at him with concern in her eyes. Just by the way he spoke, and stood, she understood now that weight of what he told her was heavy on his shoulders, and felt guilty for dragging it out as she did. Finally he looked at her. The cold made her face pale, and her hair was damp from the dew hovering around them. Without the words to form an apology, she instead walked over to him and lifted his arm so she could hold him around his waist with her head tucked under his chin. It felt good to close that gap between them that had been beckoning to be filled since the night prior, and Daryl's arm holding around her shoulders was the last piece she needed to let those sour emotions go.
"I'm sorry." she spoke, looking up at him. He looked at her, and she grinned when his eyes only held a residual of the anger he had before. "Me too." he replied, but then previous conversation, or argument in this case, came to mind.
"You said something earlier." he said, nervousness rising in his belly.
She felt her body tingle. "I did." she said, her voice cracking. Daryl's back straightened a bit, anticipating his next words. "I do too." he told her, and the small, in all honesty millisecond of a pause he felt before she hid her smile against his chest, almost dropped him to his knees. She leaned up, and he caught her lips with his. It started quick, just a peck or two, but then he saw something in her fiery eyes shift. The wildfire of them settled into something slow burning, and inviting, like he could crawl into those orbs and relish in her warmth.
His crossbow fell to the ground with a loud thunk as he was unable to stop kissing her, and before he knew it, her hands were wound in his hair as his were creeping up under the back of her shirt and jackets again. But she pressed against him, trying to make it clear that she had no intention or desire to stop what they started so often. Those hands that came back out of her shirt ran along her back again, but atop of her jacket this time so he could grip around her shoulders mindfully and start to pull them down her arms. Rosie's mouth left his long enough to help slide the jackets off, but she lingered close to him so her hands could peel apart his vest and jacket when her arms were free. Their movements were becoming frantic, and hurried. They just wanted to feel one another's skin without barriers anymore.
His neck was outstretched as his arms flung his vest and layers off, and quickly wound around her waist once they were finally free, unwilling to part from her mouth. Rosie moaned when his hands slid roughly down her sides and gripped her hips, and his mouth landed on her neck to place open mouthed kisses. She held him there with her arms around his neck for a few moments; she'd gotten dizzy from the sudden rush, but soon was finding she wanted it again. Rosie grabbed him by the face and kissed him again, and simultaneously pulled him away from the opening in the roof and started to sit down, bringing him with her.
In one fluid motion he had pulled her hips against his so she laid flat on her back, and he nestled perfectly between her legs. Now his hands could travel up her front and push up her shirt, revealing what nearly left him breathless: no bra.
He wasted no time in placing his mouth over her nipples that sat standing atop her small, round breasts, and licked and sucked at them. He took his time with this; he wanted to memorize the exact feeling and taste of them. She writhed and moaned under him, her hands gripping his shirts and the ends of his hair tickling the skin of her chest; eventually she yanked him back up to her lips. Now she could shove her hands into his button-up shirt that she'd carefully undone as her mouth kissed him hungrily, and finally she could run her hands along his warm skin, and take in what she'd only had moments of before.
But she still wanted more.
His heavy eyes opened when he felt her hands working at his belt loop. He looked down as she pulled the tongue of the belt from the buckle, then back up at her. With her lip pinched between her teeth, she smiled at him, leaning up for a quick kiss. She wasn't prepared for him to suddenly sit up and unbuckle her jeans. She lifted her bottom as he peeled them from her legs hastily, but groaned angrily when he had to also slip her boots off. Rosie laughed, and pulled her legs back when they were finally off her feet. The cold of the floor was sharp against her bare bottom.
That image of her laying before him on the cold wooden floor in the chilly morning air with her knees starting to spread apart would always, always be burned into his mind- he knew it. He could see the excitement in her eyes, and barely caught the quiver of her full lips as he kneeled between her knees after he finished unbuckled his jeans. Her thighs brushed against his sides when she brought her legs closer to her chest, and felt goosebumps rise where they touched. The cold of the air around them wasn't felt anymore and steam rose off of their hot bodies. Rosie's hands reached up to pull him close, and felt his hand ghost against her lips as he aligned himself.
Loudly she exhaled when he pushed into her, her eyes pinching shut. His breath blasted across her shoulder when he dropped his head, the overwhelming warmth and ecstasy of sinking into her inch by inch until his balls touched her cheeks overcoming him.
"Fuck, Rosie." he groaned against her skin, one of his hands curling in her wet hair that fanned around her head.
There was no wait before he pulled back and pushed in again, and for the first time in years, they both felt a sense of completeness as he rocked with her, pushing airy moans from her and causing him to lose all sense of reality. He buried himself in her, and reached his hands back to grab her ass and pull her as close as she could get even with her legs wrapped around him tightly. Again and again he felt like he would fall over the edge and lose it, but every time he slid back into her, it only got better.
Rosie didn't feel the need to speak, and even when she tried to form words, they'd only come out as vowels mixed with raspy moans. The heat she'd felt the need to extinguish in her lower stomach was only growing, and slowly moving along her body and down her limbs to every end and crevice of her body, pulling her farther away from the world around them. In that moment, all that existed was Daryl, and the way his hand held the back of her head so he could kiss her sloppily, and the emotions pouring over the edges of her heart.
And when she finally could utter words that were nothing short of a whisper, and her hands running down his sides so her fingertips could feel how his hips rolled back and forth, she chanted, "Love you, love you, love you…", into his ear as he gripped the floor above her head.
A tranquility had laid over them like a sheet, preventing them from moving anymore after they'd slipped their clothing back on lazily to hide from the cold and Daryl rested his head on her stomach with his arms around her. They hadn't even bothered to buckle their pants or button their shirts and jackets. The skin of Rosie's body still felt warm- feverish, almost, as his thumb traced the skin of her hip. She could barely muster the energy to move her fingers through his hair after the explosion of an orgasm she felt; one that had approached so slowly yet overwhelmed so suddenly- that left her shuttering and arching off the ground with such an intensity that caused her to scream out, and had left long trails of scratched across Daryl's back.
He smirked when he thought of it. How he could feel how fast her pulse was at the base of her neck when he kissed there; how her face looked when she tightened all around him. And when she pressed her face against the spot between his neck and shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure. Well worth the wait.
"Say that again." he said, and he could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "I love you."
"Again."
"I love you."
The gates opened before them when they finally made it back to Alexandria, just as the sun was disappearing behind the walls surrounding the safe haven. It had taken a great deal of effort for them to untangle from each other and walk the long road home, but somehow they did it. Daryl felt a newfound strength in himself when he pushed the bike, and both of them felt the significant looseness in their limbs after their detour. Conversation had been light, and a little silly on their way back- Rosie even had a giggle fit over a ridiculous joke he'd made, but how could such happiness she felt in her heart not come bubbling out?
"You two were supposed to be back yesterday." Rick said angrily, walking up to them briskly with Carl at his side.
Daryl waited for him to take notice of the blown tire of his bike, but Rosie fought back a mischievous smile. If it hadn't taken them three hours to gain the momentum to move after having sex, maybe Rick wouldn't've been so angry.
"We had to push the damn thing home." Daryl said, his good mood dissolving a bit.
"Did you see anyone?" Carl asked. They looked at him questioningly.
"We spotted a few people around the walls last night. I don't know if it's the Saviors, but either way, someone is poking around." Rick explained.
Good feeling's gone.
Back to reality.
Everyone was on high alert, and shifts were traded off sooner to prevent anyone from getting overly exhausted and not catching if someone came by. Guns were hidden among the town, but no one felt it was safe enough to hide any outside the walls in case someone was watching. No one left to retrieve the food at the building Rosie and Daryl had found. There wasn't even a plan formulated to go for it once the threat had passed. At that time, all that mattered was being ready for an attack. For a solid week, the only times the two were able to spend time with one another was the brief moments they had before they switched off shifts, or if they were lucky enough to have one together. She still passed him snacks.
But after that week of being on edge, everyone started to calm down a little. No one had been seen around anymore, and Rick had sent out a party of people to observe the surroundings, including himself. There was no tracks- no sign that anyone had been around recently.
He still told everyone they should be ready in case Negan and his men attacked, but people started to get comfortable again. Judith was allowed to play outside again, and Rick felt comfortable enough to let her toddle around the town with Carl or Gabriel. Michonne one day convinced him to sit with her on their porch swing like they used to in the afternoon, and the longer he sat rocking, the more the tension in his body slipped away. Rosie felt her best when she spotted Abraham with a cigar in his mouth as he patrolled the streets, and that made her seek out Daryl who was coming down the steps of the gate post, a cigarette pressed between his lips. Seemed everyone was taking a breather, now.
"Hey." she said when he made it to the bottom, and plucked the smoke from his mouth to take in her own drag. "Hey." he said, looking at her. She looked devious- there was a glint to her eyes, but he couldn't decipher it with the smoke in her face.
Her arm draped across his bare chest, and she hadn't moved from his side for quite some time, but he didn't think she was sleeping. Occasionally her leg would shift over his thighs, or her hips would wiggle, and sometimes she'd hum pleasantly, expressing her comfort.
"Why can nothing stay like this?" she asked softly, her face mushed against shoulder. He shrugged, his hand resting on her thigh. "Don't jinx it." he said, turning his head so his face buried in her hair on top of her head. She giggled.
"Hey!" she said suddenly, sitting up.
"Hm?" he mumbled.
"How old are you?" she asked, her eyes on his. His fingers that had started to drum on her thigh stopped, and she looked down at him. "Daryl?"
"Why you wanna know?" he asked, sitting up on his elbows. "Just curious." she replied. It wasn't something he'd ever actually told anyone, and if he did, he always changed his answer to deal with the issue accordingly. "Well how old are you?" he asked, staring at her.
"Twenty nine." she answered effortlessly, and he felt his cheeks redden, dropping back down on his back. "What?" she giggled, and he shook his head, trying to hide his face. "Tell me!" she laughed, shaking him a bit. "What, are you like some sixty year old daddy or something?" she joked, and he shot her a glare.
"You're awful." With that, he rolled away onto his side, stretching his body that still felt like jelly. Rosie crawled over him, her naked body sliding over his until she was in front of him again. She pushed him onto his back and pinned him down with her own chest against his so he couldn't turn away. "I won't make fun of you." she said sincerely, but he just bit his cheek as his hands ran down her sides as hers smoothed back his hair. But those eyes… those damn eyes had him buckling again.
"Forty seven." he said, and her eyes popped open and her jaw dropped.
"You are not?" she exclaimed, purely in disbelief. "I thought you were like- thirty!" she said with a wide smile, and he shook his head. "Well you have the moves of a twenty year old." she said softly, leaning in until she planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Oh yeah?" he said against her mouth, and she giggled as his hands rounded her bottom.
But then there was a faint scream, followed by inaudible yells from Rick- then gunfire. Rosie was up before Daryl, pulling on her clothes and trying to look out the window. They both grabbed their weapons and ran out.
"Rick!" Daryl yelled as he came running down the street. "We're surrounded, get everyone up!" He hollered, running past them and onto the next house. "By Walkers?" Rosie asked, looking at Glenn who was firing over the side of the wall. "Nah, he wouldn't get everyone going with Walkers." Daryl said, looking at her. "Another group?" She asked, but he couldn't say. "We have to help." She said, turning on her heel and running to houses Rick couldn't get to alone.
"Rosie!" Daryl yelled, but that's when he heard the engine rev and then the crashing of the wall beside him. The heavily reinforced truck barreled through their defenses and nearly ran him down. At least ten men hung off the bed of the truck, all holding guns and various weapons and scattering into the streets. From there on out, everything fell apart. There was no matching their guns with his crossbow, and his only hope would be to get to the armory to grab a gun. But when he looked to where Rosie had ran off, he couldn't spot her. "Daryl!" He spun and pointed, coming face to face with Rosita who was pulling him beside a house and kneeling.
"Maggie and Glenn are already with Judith and Carl- Michonne and Rick are getting everyone else." She said quietly, keeping her eyes on the people who continued to file in. "And Rosie." He said, and her eyes shot to him. "She ran off?" She hissed, but he looked away. Why did she have to run off like that? "I need a gun-," he was starting to say, but had one shoved under his nose. He hadn't noticed, but could now see the multiple rifles slung over her shoulder.
They moved sideways along backs of houses, keeping their heads low as they pulled people from their homes and directed them to the exits made by rampaging motorists. It wasn't long before shouts of either victory or killings were filling the night, and somewhere in the distance a fire started. Probably among water where they once burned the Walkers. Eventually they made it farther than he'd seen Rosie run, but from where he was, all the houses were empty and being rummaged through. And then Walkers started filtering in , adding to the chaos. "There's Rick!" Rosita pointed, and he and Michonne with a few other inhabitants were working their way down the street, already heading for the main entrance.
Daryl stood then.
Rosie wasn't with them.
He ran to the street, bashing skulls of Walkers and sometimes shooting strangers when they aimed at him or Rosita. He spun and searched, his eyes jumping everywhere, but he couldn't see her. Panic started to fill his lungs, stopping him from yelling for her. He looked for the ends of her hair if she were running but he couldn't find anything.
"Daryl!" There was her voice.
He spun, and caught her form in the middle of the street fighting off a few Walkers in front of their house. Her backpack was slung over her back, and she was now wielding her hand ax, but with one bloody hand cradled to her chest.
Oh no. Please, no, he begged. She couldn't have been bitten.
He worked his way over to her as quickly as he could, but all the noise was only attracting more Walkers that swarmed in like waves. The invaders that had nearly cleared Alexandria were now establishing their newly conquered fort, and from where he was, he could see that they were getting closer to her.
He wouldn't make it to her in time.
Rosie looked at him frantically, slowly walking backwards towards the front where the main gate had been ripped from its track. It was her last chance.
"I'll find you! I'll find you!" He yelled at her. She shook her head as she inched away from Walkers. Daryl's quick reactions saved his own life when a man wielding a machete ran to him, but fell with an arrow in his eye. "Rosie run!" He bellowed, and she turned, and ran. He watched until she disappeared into the dark of the woods outside the wall, wielding her ax at anyone who came close.
She ran for what seemed like hours. Until her lungs burned and her legs had gone numb, probably causing irreversible damage to her ankle that she had twisted some ways back. Her feet carried her over rough terrain, but she stayed near the road. Wanting to keep an idea of where she was despite the handful of runs she'd done, she always kept it in sight. And she needed to find Daryl. A while back she had stopped crying, the feeling of abandoning him gripping her tightly, but she still ran. If there was any chance of finding him, she had to stay alive. Above, dry thunder was rumbling through the sky, drowning out the gunfire and explosions from Alexandria.
Day break over Alexandria revealed the full extent of the damage that had befallen in such a short amount of time. It was gone; it belonged to strangers and the dead now. But from what Daryl and Rosita could see, not many of their own had been lost. Mostly ones who'd tried to barricade themselves in their homes. But now the men who'd stormed their fort had withdrawn, moving to rooftops and slowly plucking the dead off one by one.
From their spot atop a mountain side, they could see the smoke that still billowed from the town. Daryl was already wrapping the strap of his crossbow around his arm and slinging his rifle around his shoulder. Rosita didn't speak as she followed him. Before he'd find the rest, he'd find Rosie.
Occasionally she had stopped to sit within the trees, never too far from the road so if someone passed, she could see. It was cold all night and that morning, and seeing as she only thought to grab her bag and axe and slip on one jacket, she did her best to rub her arms warm. Her hand that had been sliced when one of the men attacking took a swing at her had stopped bleeding, but it stung severely when she flexed her fingers or unwrapped the cloth to inspect it. No infection yet.
And she waited.
And waited.
When noon came and went, she knew she had to find cover for the night, and hopefully find warmer clothes seeing as the sky was washing over with gray clouds. With one last cautious look in all directions, she silently moved down the street. Her thoughts hung heavy in her mind.
She wondered how everyone was, where they were, if she'd ever see them again. But mostly she thought about Daryl.
"I'll find you!"
She wondered if he really would, in all this forest and all these winding streets-
Her eyes studied a side road that cut from the main highway she walked along, and where a small pile of debris sat at the corner of the small intersection. This was the street the two had taken when they looted the small pharmacy together. Rosie did a few circles, observing the area and hoping no one watched her, but before she could follow the side road, something stopped her. How would he know to look there?
Setting down her bag she went to work, pulling up a large slab of ply board that had been buried in the debris. The mud under her feet proved to be useful, but she paused. What could she write that wouldn't give others away to her location? With a half grin, she smeared the words on the board:
gringo first run together
It was vague, but hopefully he'd get it, assuming he'd come by here. With that set against a tree she followed the side road, looking back to make sure it was standing until it was out of sight.
A steady pace had brought them up the main highway quite some ways from Alexandria by nightfall, but even his own legs were starting to ache. They'd maintained a speed walk all day in hopes of finding her, of tracking anything she left behind. But light drizzles that had come and gone throughout the day had washed any signs away that she had been through here. His patience dwindled. His nerves were on edge when he thought about her alone out here again. He believed she could fight off threats, but could succumb to the cold that was quickly gripping the land. Luckily for them, they'd come across a small group of men that had no doubt been from the attack at Alexandria, and plucking them off from a distance had been easy. They hadn't had much on them, but the two took their warmer clothes and Daryl grabbed a little extra for Rosie for when he found her. He knew she'd be cold in just her hoodie and jeans.
"Is that a sign?" Rosita asked suddenly, pointing to a piece of ply board that had been leaned against a tree. The letters were running down the sign, but as they got closer, he could make out: gringo first run together.
"That's Rosie." He said, looking down the side street it was next to. "Gringo, huh?" she inquired, and he shrugged. "Nickname." He mumbled, and she shook her head with a smirk.
He felt some unease release from his mind. She was still alive when she had made it through here, so hopefully she'd made it a little farther, and could wait just a little longer. "We'll stay here tonight." He said, moving into the trees. Rosita stayed to look at the sign. What had become of the others who couldn't write signs?
"I was thinking..." She trailed off, setting down the granola bar that had been stashed in her bag before they left. Daryl looked back at her from where he stood at the tree line, his crossbow held in hand. "Maybe we should split up." She finished, looking up at him from the small fire before her. "Why?" His voice was calm, as well as his features, but she knew by the way his movements stalled that he was unsettled by her words.
"We have to find the others, and while you're going for Rosie I can look for them." She explained. "You wanna split up? Right after that attack?" Now his voice was more aggressive, but she cocked her head at him with a knowing look. "You know I can take care of myself." She said, tossing small sticks into the crackling flames. Daryl couldn't deny it; she was one of the more self sufficient people of their group. He knew she could carry herself with no problem, but that didn't make accepting it any easier. "I don't like it." He grumbled, turning away from her. She stood then and walked to him, standing and observing the dark trees around them. "Everyone is already gone. Don't need you running off alone." He said.
It reminded him of when he'd gone after Beth, how he never quit until they'd found her. But even after she'd been shot, he carried her body. It felt too similar to that again. He never spoke of it though, but sometimes Rosie could catch the look on his face that portrayed the sadness he was holding in. "You love Rosie like you did that girl?" She asked then. He looked at her. "More?" She asked, and he nodded. "A lot more." He admitted.
"Then it's okay for you to find her and me to find the others." Rosita said as she dipped her head down to catch his gaze. He turned to face the other way.
She looked at him but he hid his face. "The next time we see each other, everyone will be together again." She said. "You go find her. I'll find the others." She said, and after a moment, he nodded. Part of him wanted to tag along with her, but he had to find Rosie. He couldn't let her slip away like that.
The two had parted their ways early before the sun had risen, when only a soft blue hue was filtering through the foggy trees. He could see his breath in front of him as he walked along the street, and he wondered if Rosie had frozen overnight, or if she'd been able to find shelter. The leaves were dead and crunching under his feet, covering any tracks. But as long as the image of that sign kept popping up into his head, he'd keep going. There was still a ways to go, but he had ran days for Beth before she eventually was killed. He'd run for weeks to keep Rosie alive.
It wasn't much warmer in the pharmacy where the dead body still lied, with a handful of toothpicks in his eye, but she moved as quickly as she could. Her arms were stiff as she grabbed bandaging and medicines, also grabbing cans of miscellaneous food off shelves of the mostly ransacked store. Daryl hadn't been in anywhere when she arrived, but she'd stay a while and wait. For how long, she didn't know. She guessed that would come with the that passed. After some riffling through sparse shelves and properly bandaging her hand that she was sure actually required stitches, she pried open a can of corn and ate it, sitting on the counter near the windows so she could watch outside.
A few times some Walkers would wander by, eyeing the buildings as if they recognized it, but they would leave just as slowly as they came. Eventually she rested her back against a checkout post among the counter, feeling fatigue pull at her eyelids. But she struggled to stay awake, bouncing her leg or blinking rapidly to keep her mind from shutting off. All the while her eyes stayed on the road, wishing, hoping, he'd come walking along.
The loud slamming of car doors is what woke her. She didn't even recall when her eyes had closed, or when her ax had slipped from her hand as she slept on the counter. But now the sky was dark and she could see figures moving towards the store, flashlights pointed and guns most likely pointed behind the lights. Rosie ducked behind the counter, scrambling to pull her backpack on and find her ax and gun on the floor, but she stilled when she heard the doors open. Footsteps, soft talking of voices she didn't recognize. Some pushing around empty cans and debris on the floor. She waited until they moved farther to the back, probably towards the medicines towards the back before she rounded the counter and dared to peek at them. Four men, each combing down an aisle, but she didn't know if there was more. She eyed the door that had been cracked open. She could take a risk and slip out, make a break for the forest. Or she could slip out and be shot, or attacked by Walkers.
The men were rounding back towards the front; she had to make a move, and quickly.
With her hand gripping the ax and her rifle, she pushed off her feet and bolted, slipping through the doors but causing quite the racket. She'd kicked cans and nearly slammed the door against the wall throwing it open when it jammed, effectively alerting the men. They yelled after her, but she was already bolting down the street despite her limp. Quickly she made it into the tree line and after leading them some ways into the thick forest, she curved sharply and headed for the outer edge. It would throw them off, and as soon as she could she laid flat behind a risen trunk that would conceal her body. She could hear them, yelling and stomping around. Rosie pressed her face into the damp earth, hiding the trail of steam from her breath. It was so cold that she worried her clattering teeth would give her location away. But after a while they drew back from the trees, slowly making their way to the stores again. She inched up just a bit so she could keep her eyes on them, and didn't dare to move up against a tree some ways back until they were all in one spot. They continued to rifle through the store, always one of them keeping guard outside with a machine gun in hand. But it appeared she was well concealed in the dark of the tree line. She'd stay here where there was a view of everything, assuming nothing came along to blow her cover. And now she could steady her breathing, letting long puffs of hot breath flow out into the cold air.
She struggled to keep her nerve, but every noise made her jump. She wished she would've thought to grab one of the pharmacy coats at least instead of just sitting around and waiting. The skin of her arms was ice cold as well as her cheeks; how long could she sit in the cold like this? When the fog descended, coating her in a film of dew, she pulled her knees up to her chest and held her legs, trying to stop the forceful shivers the wracked her body. In her head she counted, trying to distract herself from the cold biting into her body. Eventually the counts turned to muddled thoughts, and then they wandered to Daryl. How she felt when they were laying in bed together, or when he was first kissing. She tried to draw the warmth from those memories, but they only proved to be a stark reminder of what she didn't have. Even when a tear found it way down her cheek, it was cold. Everything, everywhere was freezing.
And then the leaves crunched near her. She only looked from behind her arm, and could see a slow moving figure start to work its way from the darkness. It was almost too cold to move, but with stiff movements, she scooted around the other side of the tree so she was out of sight and listened as it moved passed her, towards the strip mall. When the footfalls were faint, with skin that ached and limbs that were cramping, she rose to her feet and ran away. She wanted to try and wait for him, but a place like this that was now inhabited was a hot spot for Walkers and people alike. Rosie didn't know where she'd go, or how to go about finding him, but this place was too risky. So she ran, trying to ignore the biting cold as it rushed across her skin.
He'd made it to the pharmacy by night, just as the cold of the land was setting in. But there was already people there, and he didn't know if Rosie could be in there with them. He moved slowly through the trees, the aim of his crossbow true and his feet light on the rough terrain. When he was close, he lowered his bow, observing the two men that stood watch. Surely there would be more inside. Could he leave and assume she had avoided them? He contemplated this; how to draw them out, or how to kill them all, but then what if they had great numbers inside?
He dropped his head as he cursed. He hadn't faced an ordeal like this before. And then his eyes caught something in the faint flickering of their fire. Footprints heading towards him, but they were small, and had strong kick off towards the heel, but what kept him staring was how close they were. It seemed for every step was was another of the opposite foot close to it, as if someone was limping. As best as he could he followed them, but any farther away from the fire light he couldn't see. It could be Rosie. But what if she was chased? There was larger footsteps after the small ones, but they circled close to the tree line and back towards the shop. He took another look at the building, and with a heavy heart, he left. He just hoped she was unharmed. Waiting for day break to come and follow the steps would be too great a risk of exposing himself, so he went in the direction he could see the last of. He tried to ignore the nagging in his head that she might be inside, held hostage, or being tortured. He had to believe she was somewhere else.
1 Week Later
How long could she keep walking? How many times had she passed that log with moss covering it's upturned roots? She had lost count. Somewhere along the lines, she'd lost her bearings and started walking in circles. She was sure of this because she had passed that car that was wrapped around a tree too many times. Thankfully enough, it had had clothes left behind of its last inhabitants, and even if they were a few sizes too big, the extra layers to guard from the cold were a blessing. Food, on the other hand, was scarce. There wasn't much left of her cans, and she wasn't skilled in hunting. Some days when she couldn't muster any more energy than to just walk, she'd sit beside trees and hope something would come along. She'd hope that someone she knew would cross her path, and she'd crawl to them and all would be whole again. She hoped and hoped that she'd hear Daryl cursing somewhere, and she'd find him with squirrels over his shoulder. But there was only Walkers, and rain, and cold.
2 Weeks Later
It wasn't a good sign that he had found the others before Rosie, considering how wide of a distance he'd covered in those two weeks.
Rick, Michonne, Carl, Judith, Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Abraham and Eugene.
He counted all of them. They were all that was left. They never came across Rosita; he could only assume she wandered too far or was dead.
The group was lacking half its numbers. But just as happy as he was to see his friends, his eyes jumping from face to face, they could all see his heart drop when Rosie wasn't with them. There wasn't a need for words. They all knew what he was really searching for among them. Michonne was the one to place a hand on his cheek and look at him, a sad, knowing smile on her face. There was a chance they'd find her eventually, but it was slim to none. He even knew that. Daryl now tagged along slowly behind, sometimes veering off in wide arches around them and tracing the forest floor and side roads carefully, looking for any sign of her as the rest searched for a new home. But it was like she had been lifted from the Earth without a trace, or eaten…
3 Weeks Later
"You're a damn fool, Rosie." She hissed at herself, holding her left arm against her chest that rang with pain. Why did she think she could make that jump from the second story of the building unscathed? Now her already bad ankle was aching again, and her arm broken and useless for some time (assuming it healed right, eventually). She was furious with herself; how could she had let just two walkers pin her? Just two! She glanced behind herself as she hobbled down the town's street, away from the convenience store she had hoped still had food in it, but instead all she had now was her defenses lessened. With a growl, and a curse, she made her way to the trees. The town was picked dry, and staying in the open was dangerous. She had to keep moving. At least she had found a short, but useful aluminum bat in the store. Her own gun had become useless once the bullets ran out, eventually cracking from all the beatings she used it for, and her ax had become lodged in the chest of a walker that she was unable to yank free from when more surrounded her.
1 Month Later
The gun in his hand was undeniably hers- was absolutely. He knew this with every fiber of his being. This was Rosie's gun, broken, laid in long grass, and without Rosie.
He threw it viciously. He didn't want to accept that she might be dead. He also didn't want to accept that when he'd walk back to the group that they'd see tears pooling in his eyes.
2 Months Later
She turned the pendant in her fingers, running her thumb over it's smooth surface. The small amount of light that peeked in through the barred windows of the abandoned asylum was enough to let her admire what she had left of him. He could still be alive, but Rosie had accepted that she could never see him again, also. She'd avoided gangs, and walkers, and starvation, but couldn't find him. Alone, again. Alone.
"I don't think there'd be much inside, but it would be shelter." Glenn said, all of them looking at the eerie building that sat at the end of a long road, nestled deep in trees that were dying from the cold.
"Just had to be the creepiest place to be at night." Carl said, holding Judith's hand who kicked the crunching leaves playfully.
"Let's focus on getting at least one room cleared and secured for tonight. We'll worry about more in the morning." Sasha said, gesturing to one of the front buildings. The large gate surrounding it would prove useful, but if there were too many walkers inside, it could hinder them. "Daryl?" Rick called, and he emerged from behind the group when he finished circling around their cars and his bike, wiping his hands on his pants. Why were walkers so slimy? Though their home was gone, and almost all of their belongings, they'd been fortunate enough to recover some vehicles and Daryl's bike when a handful of men were transporting them back to their main compound. It felt odd to ride without her; made her absence more deafening.
"What do you think?" Rick asked. Daryl only shrugged.
He'd retreated back into his old self. Cold and not willing to speak much. It was worse this time around. "Y'all made the decision." he grumbled, fixing the strap of his crossbow on his shoulder. Before a plan had been mapped, he was already walking along the fence, his eyes on the ground and always searching. He knew to fight walkers, and protect his friends, but the sorrow that had an almost crushing weight on his chest made it hard to do anything more than that. Often times since her disappearance, he just wanted to sit, and stare, and stay there until she came along or until the sadness wasn't as powerful. But life had to go on. With or without her.
He heard them chatting about the room they were going to take, but he interested himself in walking the perimeter. Walkers could be lingering around a corner, swaying in groups until something alerted them. That was the most he wanted to do this day.
She had just started to doze off when the loud metal snapping of the fence around the building jolted her awake. Rosie exhaled- she was so tired. A full night's sleep had evaded her for a long time, and she thought hiding in this old building would finally grant her the chance to catch her breath, but not much was going her way, anymore. She shuffled over to the cracked window, expecting to find a walker trying to push its way through the fence that she'd jumped, but upon seeing a group of people breaking it open, she flattened against the wall. "Fuck!" she hissed, not wanting to risk being seen. She hurried to grab her bag and bat, and made her way down the old hall with broken doors and peeled walls, and sometimes old bed frames and gurneys piled in rooms. Upon opening the door to the stairwell, it creaked loudly. For a moment she paused, listening for yells that would signal they heard her, but nothing came.
Rosie jogged down the steps as she slipped her hood on, struggling to stuff her hair in with one working hand, but she was ready to make a break for it once she reached the fire escape at the bottom of the stairs.
Daryl was coming up on the last back door of the abandoned asylum, his crossbow in hand. The fence along the back was in worse condition than the front; walkers could easily slip in unless they parked a car in front of it. He'd heard something loud come from inside the building, but there wasn't knowing if it was a walker or person until he-
The door made hard contact with his body and arm, but in his effort to protect his face from being hit, the crossbow made hard contact with his cheek instead. Daryl fell back, and took a second to regain his bearings before he kicked the door shut, and watched the hooded figure bolting into the trees with a bat in hand.
"Hey!" he bellowed, scrambling to his feet and running after them.
Rosie heard whoever she hit yell, but her tired legs kept her moving. If she could get enough distance between them, she could circle around and make her way back to the asylum. Once that group of people discovered the multiple walkers wandering around the opposite end she was staying in, she was sure they'd leave, not wanting to waste their time with them. Why else was this place uninhabited?
But she was having a hard time keeping pace. Her body was weak and her broken arm that was jolting around in her make-shift splint was bumping against trees painfully, causing her to stumble as she fought to keep moving.
Daryl could see the person struggling to keep pace, but when they suddenly took a turn and disappeared behind a cluster of trees, he cursed. He looked in all directions, unable to catch any glimpse of them. He panted, still holding his crossbow and using his other hand to touch the spot on his cheek that had been cut. His eyes shot down- there was tracks! He followed them. They winded back and forth between trees, probably trying to throw him off. But eventually the tracks led back to the asylum, and to a different entrance of a lower room. Specifically, through a window, and he could see where they had broken it to climb in through.
"Daryl!" Sasha called. The rest of them had finished clearing a lower part of the three story building, and were luring out walkers from the section they had closed off.
He didn't answer. If the person was nearby still, he didn't want to give away his location.
Rosie stood in a dark hallway where light didn't come in through the rooms, trying to catch her breath. Her lungs burned and the muscle of her thighs twitched under her skin, and soon her head would start pounding. She'd never looked back to who was chasing her, and by the sound of it, the group that was at the front of the building was picking off walkers one by one. That would spell bad news for her unless she could hide or flee again."Jesus Christ." she said breathlessly, standing straight again and resting her back and head against the wall. With heavy feet she trudged down the hall towards the stairwell, but still didn't dare to look out the window in case they were observing. Slowly she moved up the stairs, being mindful to not let her aluminum bat bang against anything.
Just as she had walked through the door and into the dark hallway of the second floor where she was originally trying to rest, a hand gripped the clothing on her back and spun her around, and she was thrown against a wall.
Rosie grunted and threw her bat up, ready to bludgeon who ever had grabbed her, but the strangers crossbow was already pointed at her face-
Crossbow?
They both felt the sense of disbelief as they looked at one another. Both were dirty, and weakened enough that it showed, but they'd recognize each other's faces anywhere.
"Daryl?" she choked out, lowering her bat. Daryl dropped his bow to his side, roughly pushing back her hood to better show her face. Her curls popping out completed her. Her mouth opened to say something, and her lips had just started to curl upwards into a smile when a loud snarl came from behind him. By instinct, she pushed him aside and swung wide into the walkers face, effectively splitting it open. But more were coming- they'd made it up the stairs at the other end. Daryl grabbed her arm and dragged her backwards, pulling the door of the stairwell shut. Rosie backed up as he held it still until the walkers were pressed against it, insuring they wouldn't pry their fingers along it's edge.
And then he finally turned to her, and both of their arms opened as they embraced. Her shoulders shook with dry sobs as he rocked her back and forth, burying his face against her neck. Those two months that had felt like years passing all slipped away; she didn't even feel the discomfort in her arm that was pinned between their bodies. The arm that worked and had been gripping his clothes roughly slid back across his shoulder until it was rested on his cheek; she wanted to look at him. Still, he lingered close, and like always, she had to move his shaggy bangs from his face to see him.
But there he was- her Daryl. And she could see the gloss in his eyes as he looked back at her, and she made a noise somewhere in between a sob and a laugh.
"You hit me with the door." He said, his voice shaking. Rosie laughed, shaking her head and her face twisting into an emotion so strong that it left her more breathless than before.
Then there was only the snarling and slapping against the door, but it all drowned out as he kissed her. Though her lips were cold, they were still full, and soft, and inviting, and it brought back all the warm memories that had for some time only brought him sadness in her absence. It wasn't in any means hurried, or rough, it was just… wholesome. They both relished in each other a few more minutes, letting the bad drain from their bodies and rejoicing in finding one another.
This time, when he moved his arms around her again and pressed his cheek against hers so his mouth was close to her ear, he chanted, "Love you, love you, love you.", softly; nothing more than a whisper.
They made it back to the others shortly after their reunion, and everyone was equally shocked to see her lingering close behind Daryl again. Even though they were lacking more than half the numbers they had at Alexandria, she was still elated to see them all. But she stayed close to Daryl, her hand every so often brushing his or her arm bumping his. Daryl moved against her on purpose- like a constant reminder that she wasn't going to vanish into the wind.
"There's more coming." Maggie said, watching as walkers from different directions started to make their way from the trees and towards them. "Close that gate- everyone get inside." Abraham instructed, and himself and Daryl moved to shut it quickly and wrap the scattered chain around it. He told Sasha about the hole in the fence, and she slipped out to move a car in front of it. The others were already moving inside, but Rosie lingered, waiting to watch as the walkers pushed against the gate. It held, and clattered loudly, but it would do until a better plan was formulated. Daryl grabbed her hand when he turned to join the others, pulling her along behind the doors.
They could've eaten; their guts were empty.
They could've sat with the others; they all had so much to catch up on.
But he wanted her all to himself for a while. He wanted to keep holding her like this, and drink in all of the warmth her body still held that his own had longer for. With her back against his chest and his arms around her, they spoke softly, filling in the gaps of each other's lives that they didn't have together.
She told him about seeing tire marks that resembled his bikes, and how she followed them for days only to find that they had come from a different bike.
He told her that he found her gun, and that before making it back to the group, he had gone back to it and beaten it against trees because he was so angry that he couldn't find her.
Rosie said she had come across Rosita wandering in the forest, but when she turned her around, half of her face had been ripped off and she wasn't herself anymore. She said that she tried walking away- that she didn't want to be the one to inflict the final blow, but Rosita followed her for a whole day. In the end, it was the least she could do.
Daryl confessed that sometimes he'd sit on his bike, but not go anywhere. He would sit still and try to imagine her sitting behind himself with her arms around her.
Rosie leaned to the side so she could look up at him, and her hand reached back to touch his cheek when he gazed down at her. They loved one another profoundly, and to had been ripped from another so suddenly left them both quaking inside still, but every moment that passed, the worry it was just a dream slipped away more.
"I never gave up, but I accepted you might've been gone or dead." she said softly, not even wanting to utter the words herself.
"I never accepted it." he told her.
Rosie exhaled. "Well I guess I'm the asshole then." she mumbled, sitting back against him. Her curled an arm around her neck, pressing his face against hers.
"You better stick around the rest of my life." he said to her, and she grinned.
"Where would I go without you, gringo?"
"We can't stay." Maggie said, shaking her head. "That wasn't even the saviors- but Negan and his men will catch up eventually." she added, looking at Rick. For the greater part of the morning they all had been conversing, trying to decide on the next course of action they were to take.
"But will staying in Virginia keep him away?" Carl asked.
"Staying in state means he'll come along at some point." Rosie piped in then. "I came across a few places that were all under his control. He's everywhere." she told them.
"So no where is safe?" Daryl asked, and they all knew the answer to that, but couldn't respond. "We don't have to fight this one." Sasha said, and Rick nodded.
"If we go, we all agree. I don't know where we'll end up, but we'll follow the road- keep going forward. We'll find a new home." Rick said, and slowly, everyone nodded. There was no home left where a constant threat was present. So they'd leave. They'd start over, but carry with them their experiences and the memory of the people they'd lost along the way.
One by one, they made it to their cars, ready to take on the long and risky journey to where the road would lead them. Rosie stood by Daryl's bike, and she smiled sadly with her hand rested on the seat. It was unfortunate they weren't going home, but wherever her love was and these people she now considered family- that would be home from now on. He came up behind her then, and saw the conflicted emotions on her face after clipping his crossbow to the bike, and worried she'd be unwilling to leave with him.
But she spoke first.
"You sure you wanna go?" she asked, and he faced her. He planted his feet firmly on the ground.
"Wherever you are, that's where I'm gonna be." he said, and listened as the rest of them had driving off down the dirt road leading away from the asylum. Rosie smiled. With a spring in her step, she threw her leg over the seat of the bike and sat down. That was enough for him.
In my fairy tale world- where Rosie is real and they're a couple, they're shipping name would be 'Dasie' 'CAUSE THAT'S PERFECT? DARYLxROSIE = DASIE? NO? Well I thought it was cute (u_u*)
Anyways...
So I already know I'm going to be writing a sequel to this story, regardless of whether or not it even gets any attention, but finishing this in general has made me kind of proud of myself. I started writing it for fun, and then I trailed off for a while because my son was diagnosed with cancer- but then it kind of became an outlet for stress. And a little over half a year later, I finished it!
Thank you to anyone who has come by to read it!
Disclaimer: Any of the characters of The Walking Dead are NOT mine, and I do not write for any financial gain. Rosie IS my own creation, so I have rights over her.
