Well guys, I'm back! It's been a long time, and yes I know I have other stories in progress...they probably have died, and will not be reanimating any time soon. But who knows, perhaps I will be re-inspired later. Anyway. I have recently become obsessed and in love with The Walking Dead. Unfortunately I haven't been able to see any of the third season but I have a rough idea of what has happened. But, I wanted to say upfront, that this story will be deviating from the events of the canon plot. I won't say what ways obviously, and some aspects of the canon plot and/or characters may intersect in this story, or they may not, I don't know, it just depends. So, with that said, let me give you the full summary since the one that led you here wasn't long enough for my liking.
Sentiment doesn't really belong in Daryl's emotional vocabulary. There was no place for it as a child, and certainly no room now when the world's ended. So when the camp is invaded by an unusual intruder, it's all business with her as the camp's prisoner. Until she saves their lives and shows him up. Then it's personal. Its his personal mission to get even with her, get under her skin and drive her crazy the same way she's been driving him like a damn stick shift. But she has a mission of her own, and he'll never guess, let alone believe, what she's set out to do.
So, this being a Walking Dead fanfic, you can be assured of cussing, blood, guts, tension, angst, and all the stuff that makes us love this show. And like I said, my plot differs rather dramatically from the canon plot, so it's anybody's game who lives or who dies. I hope that peaks your interests just a bit, and I hope you'll stick around and leave me a review about what you think. Writing Daryl and many of these other characters is no picnic, so let me know if I'm doing good, if I need to change, and how you like the story. Flames will be thrown to the Walkers. Oh, and as extra incentive for reviews, I will personally reply to each of them as an Author Note before each chapter. With all that said, I think it's time to get this show on the road. Enjoy the ride.
P.S. One last note. The story starts shortly after Rick and the others return from Atlanta without Merle.
Oh, and by the way, if anybody from The Walking Dead is reading this...I'm just going to throw this out there now...that is so awesome and I'm sure you get so much adoration and love from your fans that what I say here doesn't really compare, HOWEVER, if you like what you read here and want to tell me about it, find me on Twitter at alotlikefalling. If you're not terrified out of your minds by the obsession of fanfiction, then I humbly ask you to give me a chance. Read the reviews that people have given this story, the stats its gotten, and see if something peaks your interest, and if it does, please, never ever hesitate to tell me. Even if its just to tell me that I'm crazy and overly obsessed. Alright, I'll shut up now and let people read, cause that is what you came here for. Enjoy.
It wasn't the first time Daryl had the idea that the world ending hadn't been such a bad thing. He probably wouldn't have chosen it to end by being devoured by slavering living dead freaks but it sure put things in perspective. A razor sharp, diamond clear perspective. He sharpened his knife as the Georgia sun beat down on the back of his neck like an unrelenting son of a bitch- kinda like his brother. He struck the knife across the sharpening stick at the memory, his stomach clenching at the familiar pain. If Merle was alive, if they ever found him, or he ever found them, he was pretty sure he could at the very least expect a solid crack in the jaw from his brother's fist. Maybe a broken glass bottle over the head. Merle was never the subtle type when showing his displeasure.
He tried not to blame the other bastards he was with for what happened to his brother. After a while he'd decided he didn't think T-dog dropped the keys on purpose. He'd taken the time to chain the door shut. And he'd gone back with them to try and find him. It took guts, and a helluva guilty conscious, to face an entire city of those flesh-eating freaks. As far as Rick was concerned…Daryl hadn't decided on him yet. He liked him more than he liked Shane, that was for damn sure, but them two were friends, and that had to be questioned. Daryl was waiting for the shit to hit the fan over the woman. He could practically smell it building. He remembered watching two male dogs fighting over a female in heat once. They'd almost torn each other's heads clean off. He could see something similar happening with Shane and Rick. Cause Rick might be more level headed and diplomatic than Shane, but he still had that light in his eye. That light that a man only gets when he's killed someone for fucking with his shit, and he ain't sorry about it either. Merle had that light. Shane had it. And Daryl knew he had it too.
"Speak of the devil." He said to himself as he saw Rick heading his way. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with the cop, but he had no reason to get up and walk away either. Not yet.
"Daryl." Rick said, acknowledging him. Daryl grunted quietly and lifted his eyes, not saying anything in return.
"You think you could head off and rustle up some food for dinner? We gotta be careful about how much of the canned supplies we go through. Dunno when we might really need them."
It wasn't reluctantly that Daryl stood up from his seat, sheathing his knife on his hip. "Sure. How much of the canned stuff we got left?" He picked up his crossbow from where he'd had it resting at his feet. He never went very far without it now. Sometimes he caught jealous, 'drop dead' looks from Andrea across the camp but he just shot them right back. That blonde bitch was gonna cause problems too, he was pretty sure of it. So far Dale and her sister seemed to be able to rein her in, but just for the sake of his sanity he hoped nothing happened to either of them. He could see her losing her shit and blowing them all to pieces.
"Enough to last for a short while. But we're gonna need more soon enough." Rick answered letting out a tired sigh. Daryl could see the deepening bruises in the hollows under his eyes, the hard set to his jaw. He'd just shown up and been named unofficial leader of this sad ass piece of humanity and already it was taking his toll.
"Always more." Daryl muttered before slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and stalking towards the woods. Rick said nothing as he stalked away. Daryl didn't expect him to. Him and Rick shared that silent understanding. There was nothing warm and fuzzy about the understanding- but it was an understanding nonetheless. Rick gave Daryl space, Daryl contributed to the group. Daryl was content for it to stay that way. He clenched his teeth as he thought of what might have happened had Merle and Rick both made it back to camp. It would come to blows, he was sure, and Daryl was sure he'd fight beside his brother. Merle was a ruthless, unforgiving bastard, but he'd looked after him. As much as someone like his brother could look after a kid.
"Coulda done worse big brother." He said to himself as he picked his way through the edge of the tree line outside of camp, heading deeper into the woods. It was the wrong time of day for deer, and all of the squirrels and rabbits had been scared away from camp. They'd started learning that if they got to close, they never came back. So now he had to go further and further for the same amount of game.
"Least I can fend for myself. Didn't expect to get stuck feedin' them city slickers though." He paused when he heard the snap of a twig. Could be food, could be a Walker, or could be someone from camp following him. If it was the last, he'd make sure they were sorry they intruded on him. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was being crowded, especially when he was hunting.
He gazed into the woods, searching to see if maybe the noise had been food. He settled into his predator mode and calmed what remained of his internal dialogue. Everything was clearer when he was hunting. It was just him and his quarry, and who was stronger, and his odds could be told by the fact he was still standing, even after the world went to shit. He breathed in deep, letting the humid forest air drift down his nose and throat and over his tongue. If the prey was close enough he could smell it sometimes, and if it was a Walker- there was no mistaking that stench. The reek of death was overwhelming and nothing about its flavor was subtle.
At the moment he tasted none of the death-scent that Walkers gave off. Only the moisture of the ever present humidity, decaying vegetation, and the faint hint of humanity from back at camp. He held still again, waiting to see if a critter would present itself as a new home for one of his arrows. When he heard another twig snap, he ducked down and leaned lightly against a tree, loosing his crossbow and holding it at the ready. There wasn't much cover where he stood, but you didn't have to be black ops to bring back dinner. Just smarter than the squirrel you were hunting.
As it would so happen it was a squirrel that emerged from beneath a tangle of weeds about twenty feet deeper into the woods. He lined up his crossbow with the target and let out the air in his lungs before he took the shot. The arrow flew straight and true and impaled that sorry bastard right in the chest. He paused before he went to collect it however. More than once bigger game had been scared out of hiding because he'd made a kill. He waited a long moment before deciding nothing else was out there and collected the squirrel, slitting the throat to allow the blood to drain before stringing it up and re-setting the arrow in his crossbow after cleaning the blood.
"More where that came from critters." He said quietly before heading deeper into the woods. He knew he'd be hunting most of the day in order to bring back enough food for the camp. Now that they'd lost Merle but gained Rick they were down to nineteen members. He had never expected to be in a camp with other survivors at the end of the world. It had always just been him and his brother, and ironically Merle was probably the toughest son of a bitch there was, and he hadn't made it. Almost immediately he could hear Merle's drawl in his head, criticizing him, reminding him the world couldn't kill him off that easy, and he oughta be paying attention to what was going on around him. He took a deep breath in and pushed it away. Merle was alive. Only Merle could kill Merle, he had proof of that.
He made another kill and for a moment the guilt of leaving his brother out there with only one hand and a city full of Walkers died. He drained the second squirrel and kept going, for once enjoying the way the heat gave him something else to think about.
He'd caught eight squirrels by about one or two o clock in the afternoon. He'd keep going until it was dark in order to bring back as much food as possible. It was as he was beginning to track the movements of a rabbit that he noticed something else in the brush. A footprint. A human shoeprint to be exact. It wasn't the first time he'd found one in the woods, most of them belonged to Walkers or other members of the camp. This far away from camp though it was likely a Walker. His heart beat quicker and he leaned against another tree, gazing out into the wilderness. If it was a Walker he'd shoot that son of a bitch and make sure that what was dead stayed dead. He kept a steady gaze, searching for that telling jerky walk or the wheezing breaths that formed the Walker's growls. He scanned for broken underbrush or trampled greens but saw none. Sweat rolled down his face and he quickly wiped it away before it could sting his eyes.
"Where are you?" he asked the empty air quietly. He stared back down at the footprint. It wasn't large but he could tell it was made with a heavy duty boot, similar to what Shane wore. Judging by its size and the way it was placed, whatever had made this was likely female or a teenager boy on the small side. He crouched down and went a little further, inspecting the ground for more prints and saw none, but there was still evidence someone had been here, and recently. The earth was only just now becoming dry and crusted over in the sun. Whoever had made this had probably been here when he was catching his second or third squirrel. So they were probably still around.
He followed a trail of bent vegetation and disturbed earth not finding any whole footprints but there was enough of a trail to keep going. With each yard deeper into the woods, the more his hunter instincts settled over him. Merle had been the one to teach him how to hunt and fend for himself in the wild, but Merle himself had never had the patience for a true hunter. He loved the kill, not the chase. Daryl couldn't say if being out in the baking sun tracking persons unknown was his favorite thing in the world, but it beat listening to the tenors of pain from a struggling group of humanity or draining squirrel blood.
As he was tracking he came across signs of a rabbit as well and allowed it to distract him temporarily. He found a mother and several young feeding on rich green grasses in a small clearing. If he'd had a gun he could have taken them all, but he settled for the biggest of the babies. Life wasn't a Disney movie. If he'd killed the mother, there wouldn't be any more babies. Leaving her alive meant there'd be more rabbits to hunt in the future. The others scattered as their fellow flailed wildly, an arrow in its hip, and Daryl crept forward cautiously to collect his prize. He killed it with a swift cut to the throat and made sure to keep his head up like a nervous deer, just incase something else was drawn by the scent of blood. It was as he was stringing the rabbit up along with the squirrels that he heard a definitive cracking sound just outside the clearing. Immediately he ducked back into the trees and then cautiously peered towards where he heard the sound. A shadow twitched as the breeze began to blow the foliage about and he thought for sure he saw a human form moving deeper into the trees.
He moved at a quick clip pursuing what he knew now was a living person. He'd seen shoulders bend and feet moving too fast to be a Walker. Besides, a Walker would have turned at the smell of blood and the sound of his pursuit, not run in the other direction. He was almost at a flat out run, just barely seeing his quarry about a hundred yards ahead of him. A fleeting glimpse here or there and he quickened his pace even more, running almost flat out, heedless to anything else as his focus narrowed in on the hunt. The sound of crashing brush and snapping sticks reached him but it was second to the flash of pale skin he saw when his quarry dared a look over their shoulder. The pace seemed to double and all of a sudden they vanished.
Daryl kept going knowing the woods enough to know that people don't randomly just disappear. He slowed however and then skidded to a halt entirely when all of a sudden the ground ended in a steep, neck breaking slope. He peered out over the edge of the cliff and saw signs of his quarry, a few skid marks in the grass, a smear of dirt on a rock where they had either kicked off or scraped against it. He stared out further into the woods, searching for movement, but there was nothing. Only the tops of the trees swaying in the moisture soaked breeze. Thunder rumbled overhead and the next wind that came through tasted of rain. Off in the near distance he could see dark grey clouds gathering and heading straight this way.
"Damn it." He growled. He kicked a stone down the hill and watched it tumble and finally land at the base of a tree before he turned back. It was an almost daily occurrence- right at about five o clock in the afternoon it would storm violently for about an hour, just enough to ruin good supplies left out in the open, and then break again. He had about an hour to get back to camp with what food he'd managed to collect. It wasn't quite as much as he hoped for, but tracking the intruder was important too. If there were people, live people, running around these woods near camp, that was something to be aware of.
He high tailed it back to camp just as the sun finally let up and the air dramatically cooled. It was a blessing against his sweat slicked skin and he almost smiled as he cleared the tree line again. Everybody was running around quickly gathering up their valuables and putting them inside or under cover as more thunder snarled overhead. He wasn't greeted by the rest of camp as he hung his catch on a peg underneath the awning of the RV. It didn't bother him, he didn't have much to say to any of them, however he would need to talk to Rick, and undoubtedly Shane, about what he'd seen in the woods.
Sure enough, right at five o clock the heavens unleashed their torrents. Most everybody else scattered, but he took the opportunity for clean water to wash some of the dirt off his skin. He shrugged out of his shirt and filthy jeans behind his tent and enjoyed the way the cold water beat down on sore muscles. He wiped as much of the grime away as he could before ducking into his tent and using his last clean towel to dry off. While the rain beat down above his head he listened to the sound and though he was tempted to sleep, the thought of the person in the woods he'd seen kept him awake. They hadn't seemed hostile, choosing to run instead of turn and face him, but that didn't mean they wouldn't track him back to camp under cover of darkness. But if there was just one of them, and the camp on watch, he didn't figure they could do much damage. The only crux of that was assuming they were alone, and not part of a larger group.
When the rain let up he got dressed and emerged from his tent. The rest of the camp crawled out from their shelters as well and he went to the RV to collect his catch to go ahead and start cleaning them for dinner. Dale emerged from inside the RV and caught Daryl's eye as he lifted the string of small animals off the peg.
"You think the whole camp will be able to have a share of that?" he asked.
"You sayin' I ain't pulling my weight?" Daryl growled coldly as he started stripping skin and fur away from the squirrels.
"No, I'm not saying that at all. It'd just be nice if everybody got a share of the meat that's all. Some of us haven't had any in a while." Dale said, wiping sweat away from his brow from beneath his hat.
Daryl shot him a dirty look. "Stop givin' it away then." He muttered. Dale didn't say anything, but Daryl could feel his eyes on the back of his neck before he retreated back into the RV. Daryl had a certain amount of respect for Dale- he looked after the ones he cared about- but there had to be a point when a man drew a line and took care of himself too. Merle was never so good at that balance. Neither was he really. It didn't matter. If he stayed with the group he had the advantage of being able to sleep in relative safety. If he was on his own, he didn't have to think about anybody but himself. At the moment he saw no particular reason to leave, but it was with a little bit of reluctance he cast his gaze around camp searching for Rick. He found him speaking with Shane around the fire pit and since all of the game was cleaned and ready to be cooked, he brought his catches over, handing them to Carol and Jacqui. The former smiled a little and though the expression didn't reach his face, Daryl had a fleeting sensation of pride. That even though it wasn't much, he'd brought food back for this straggling group of humanity. It was more than his parents had done for him.
"Rick, Shane, I need to talk to you." He said bluntly, getting their attention.
"What's going on?" Rick asked as Shane stood by, the tips of his fingers brushing his holstered gun. Rick was also armed but his hands were loose by his side. Daryl managed to snap his eyes back upward and stare the man in the eye before speaking.
"In the woods I saw human tracks. Thought it was a Walker at first but the tracks didn't look right. I kept going and caught sight of someone in the trees. I chased them to the edge of a cliff and they went down the other side. I heard the thunder and headed back to camp, but there's someone in the woods."
Shane's brow furrowed but Rick's eyes were more open. "You saw them?" he asked, shifting his weight on his feet.
"Yeah I saw 'em. Saw the tracks too. Probably a girl or a teenage boy, wasn't very big." His stomach growled a little at the smell of the cooking meat but he ignored it.
"You sure you weren't seeing things?" Shane asked, his dark eyes getting darker and more scathing by the second.
"You accusing me of somethin'?" Daryl growled, advancing towards the other man. Shane leaned towards him to get into his face, and he would have regretted that decision too, if Rick hadn't stepped in between them. He laid a hand on Shane's chest but let Daryl alone, for which Daryl thought he was smart.
"I know your brother had a drug habit, and I know shit runs in the family, and you don't fall too far from your big brother's tree, so yeah, maybe I'm sayin' something."
"If you think I was ever stupid enough to get into the shit Merle did you got another thing comin'!" Daryl snarled. He tried to lunge for Shane and now Rick did thrust his hand against Daryl's chest, pushing him back firmly. Daryl swung a balled fist towards Shane's head to which the cop just pulled back with a smug, shit eating grin on his face. Daryl hated that look. It was the look of a man who'd successfully gotten a rise out of someone, and polished his halo at the same time. It just made him want to bash his teeth in all the more. Merle would throw that at him sometimes, but it was only to teach him to be stronger, tougher.
"Enough!" Rick barked, stepping firmly between the two men. "We'll put two men on watch tonight and see if the intruder comes into camp. Daryl, you can be one, and whoever had watch originally can accompany you. If someone comes into camp, don't be the one to fire first."
Daryl nodded and shot Shane another eat-shit-and-die look just as Andrea came over. "What was all the shoving about?" she asked, sweeping a tussled piece of blonde hair out of her face. Amy wasn't far behind her, looking a little more concerned than her clearly more annoyed sister.
"This one needs to learn not to shoot his mouth before someone makes it impossible for him to get two words out on account he ain't got no teeth anymore!" Daryl spat. Shane's eyes flamed and satisfaction burned like hot, clean fire in Daryl's chest. He'd gotten under his skin.
"Daryl seems to think he saw someone in the woods today. Not a Walker." Shane said keeping a cool, almost icy tone.
"Someone alive?" Amy asked, and the concern in her voice was clear. "Were they hurt?"
Daryl shook his head. "Ran fast enough to out pace me, so I doubt it. I think they're just scrounging around looking for food. But there's no telling if they're with a bigger group, or if they're hostile, or if they're just passing through."
"But no Walkers right? You didn't see any of them did you?" Carol asked from where she was tending the food. It wasn't lost on Daryl the way she instinctively looked for Sophia who was playing with Carl by the RV under Dale's hawk eye.
Daryl shook his head. "No. No Walkers, no sign of 'em in the trees." Amy breathed a sigh of relief and Andrea squeezed her sister's hand.
"Well we know what we're gonna do. One against nineteen, I think we've got the place covered." Shane said, loosing some of the ice on the edge of his words, but his eyes were still dark and Daryl knew better than to think this was over.
Dinner was a divided affair like it usually was. The Morales family was sitting off together. Amy, Andrea, Jacqui, Glenn, and Dale ate together. Shane, Rick, Lori, and Carl ate together. Near them was Carol and Ed and Sophia and even Daryl could see that Carol was just doing everything in her power to keep her head down and out of reach of Ed's fists. Daryl wasn't a knight in shining armor on a white horse, but even he was hard pressed to stop himself from putting Ed in his place- his ugly face beneath Daryl's boot.
Normally Daryl would have eaten with Merle and although they wouldn't have spoken, it was an affirmation of them against the world. Now he ate alone, despite offers from a few people to join them. He didn't have anything against most of them, he just wasn't like them, and he didn't see the point in getting attached when they were probably going to die. Merle had taught him from a young age, even before the world ended, keep to himself. No one was going to look after him or care about him except his brother, and life had proven that over and over again. And so now he ate alone and didn't complain about it.
When it was time to take watch, he climbed up onto the RV with his crossbow draped across his lap. He was joined by Dale who was usually the first one to take watch during the night.
"This is new." Dale said as he settled into his usual camp chair a few feet away from Daryl.
"After what I saw today in the woods, Rick thinks it's a good idea for two people to be on watch. Just in case whoever is in the woods finds camp."
Dale nodded slowly. "You sure you saw someone?" the old man asked.
Daryl narrowed his eyes. "Jesus Christ, do you people think I'm fucking crazy or something? Yes I saw someone!" he spat, his irritation starting to boil over again.
"Hey, take it easy, I'm just asking because I wasn't there. And we haven't seen anybody alive in these woods for weeks." He sounded apologetic, but Daryl couldn't muster any guilt for snapping at him.
He rolled his shoulders and didn't look the man in the eye. "Probably took that long to get all the way out here by foot." He muttered.
The two men sat in silence and kept their eyes fixed to the tree-line. Even though the need for sleep was crawling up on him he made sure he was focused. Any twitch of the foliage, any creeping shadows. He sank deep into his hunter self again, remembering all the hours he'd spent in deer stands waiting for the right buck to come along. It wasn't often he hunted for sport, but he could never say no to an eight prong or higher. Time seemed to dissipate as the shadows grew deeper and the moon climbed higher into the sky.
"You can take off now if you want." Dale spoke for the first time in hours. Daryl moved for the first time since he'd settled into his chair, tilting his head up at the sky. The moon's position told him it was around midnight, maybe a little later.
"You wanna sleep, go on. I got this. Just send whoever else up for watch." His voice rasped from lack of use. He could go for a cold drink right about now, but he would wait. His skin tingled in the cool air and he could damn near sense his quarry nearby. Bolts of energy shot through his fingers as he flexed them, curling deftly around his crossbow, almost like gripping an ice cube without the chill.
"You've been out all day. Go and get some rest." Dale argued but even as he did so, he yawned deeply and tilted his head back, letting his eyes close briefly.
"I'm fine." Daryl muttered, turning his head back towards the tree line. Dale picked himself up off the chair and rolled his shoulders.
"Very well. I'll send T-dog. It's his turn."
Daryl didn't reply. He just kept his gaze fixated on the tree line. His heart was beating fast as though his prey was right in front of him except he could see nothing. He took a deep breath in and tasted the cool night air but something felt off. His grip tightened on the crossbow and he launched himself to his feet as Dale was in the process of climbing down the RV.
"There!" Daryl barked, indicating with his bow towards the far side of camp, near Ed and Carol's tent. There was a small stump outside that they used as a chair when they weren't inside, and on it was a canteen of water and a plastic Tupperware dish of leftovers someone had forgotten to put inside. A shadow was creeping across the grass, moving like a stalking animal, low to the ground, shadows obscuring its face.
"I don't see anything." Dale said but Daryl was already in motion. He flung himself clean off the RV roof, knees bending to absorb the shock. He staggered a little before raising his crossbow up as he managed to get his feet under him. He ran forward calling out wordlessly at the intruder but the shadow flashed like a startled cat. It lunged and grabbed the canteen and plastic container just as Daryl fired an arrow. There was a yelp and the shadow turned tail and ran, disappearing into the nearby tree line. He looked to see if he'd hit the target, but in the pale silver moonlight his arrow was sticking deftly out of the side of the stump.
Daryl didn't wait, he gave chase, slinging his bow across his body to give his hands freedom. If the enemy got the jump on him, he had his knife in its holster at the ready. His feet crashed through the underbrush making a racket even as Dale's calls began to stir the rest of the camp to life. He kept going, straining to see in the moonlight, heart pounding in his throat as he finally slowed down to see if he could hear anything else. He did hear something- he drew his breath short and fast as he struggled to get his bearings, the instinct to hunt and bring down his target roaring through him like a freight train. He thought he caught a flash of someone running and he made to step forward just as a hand fell upon his shoulder.