This is what I've been working on since who knows when. Since I write just about all of my stories on my phone. This one took up two notes because I got tired of taking a full minute to scroll to the bottom of the note. So, I opened a new one and kept working. Ended up with more than 6k before they(as in Daryl and Andrea) kissed. But I'll let ya' read and dictate on this.
My god, this took too long to write.
And you people are slowly devouring my soul from the inside. I check the reviews for The Day the Tulips Blossom and you all say you cried. Now, I never meant for it to be sad. I actually thought it was happy. But, you guys are the ones who call it. So thanks for reading.
Seven Shots
"I've seen a rich man beg
I've seen a good man sin
I've seen a tough man cry
I've seen a loser win
And a sad man grin
I heard an honest man lie
I've seen the good side of bad
And the down side of up
And everything between"
- What it's like, Everlast
Seven shots were fired a day after leaving the farmhouse. The first five shots were fired when the group cleared out an old house. The echo of the fifth gunshot faded into the hills quickly. The sixth and seventh shot came later during a large argument between Shane, Rick, Daryl, Lori, Andrea, and Carl.
"We ain't fuckin' breakin' up the group!" Daryl hollered angrily.
"That fort is the smartest place to go! Protection! Food! Supplies! Everything we need until this shit blows over!" Shane retorted, voice raised.
"We're stronger when we're together! You've said it yourself!" Lori added in, her voice in a low growl.
This fight seemed to repeat it's self often. Anger was consistent and the air around anyone was rarely happy. This fight was going farther this time, and everyone sensed it. Whether it was the look in Shane's eye or the anger in Daryl's voice, that was uncertain.
"We need to calm down! Yelling is not helping the matter!" Rick tried to reason as he always did. But there was no point in that. Things were too far downhill.
"Rick, don't even bother. This HAS to be settled," Andrea spat and turned to Shane. "Daryl is right! We need to stay here! This is a chance for a home! And Lori shouldn't travel anymore!"
"She's barely more than three months along! She can make it to the fort!" Shane argued. "It's only a few hundred miles! If we siphon gas every time we can, we can make it within a week or two!"
"Two weeks of un-needed stress? That is not good for a pregnant woman!"
"I'm right here! And I am not going to put this baby in any more danger than it has to be! We stay!" Lori commanded coldly.
Shane was past his breaking point. His gun was in his hands and before anyone could do anything, he shot. It was the sixth shot. Originally, he wanted to aim at Lori, but the fact his child was in her womb stopped him. So the bullet pierced into Andrea. It ripped a hole in her side, between her waist and her hips, a three or fours inches to the left of her belly button. She fell back and only Daryl moved. He was at her side, putting pressure on the wound.
"What the fuck, Shane! I'm gonna freakin' kill you!" His voice was loud and he wasn't not sure if he should take care of Andrea or take the crossbow off his back and make a hole in Shane's skull. Andrea's eyes were full of fear but she remained silent. Her eyelids flickered for a moment until she passed out from pain. Blood welled up from her wound, coating his hands.
Rick turned to tackle Shane but a gun was pointed in his face. "Stay the hell still," Shane warned. "I will shoot." Everyone knew he would too.
"You don't wanna do this, Shane. I was your goddamned partner," Rick attempted.
"You know I do. I killed Otis so I could get away. And now I shot Andrea too. You think I'd care about you? So many times, man, you've pissed me off and now..." He took a deep breath. "And now I-"
"Don't hurt my dad!" The seventh shot rang out and suddenly Shane was on the ground, choking in his own blood. He grabbed at his throat and looked around as he drowned in the thick red liquid. Carl, shaking,dropped the gun he had been holding and rushed to his mother. Clinging to her, he sobbed. The sound of gurgling went silent and no one moved. No one spoke.
Except Daryl.
"What the fuck are y'all standing around for? Andrea needs help!" He tried to hide the fact that he cared more than he should for this woman he had only met a little over three months ago.
People rushed into action. "I, I'll drive out and get Hershal," Glenn spoke quickly. He had come out of the house at the sixth shot.
He rocketed off to the Grimes' family car and was about to get in when Daryl yelled, "Take my truck, ya' fuckin' idiot! We're gonna need all that medical shit! Plus it's got more gas!" Glenn nodded and climbed in the southerner's vehicle. He drove away as fast as possible.
"We... We have to move her inside," Lori spoke to Daryl. He didn't appear to hear her so she said it again. "Daryl, she needs to go inside!" He swore and picked the injured woman up. She seemed a lot smaller now and a lot more frail. She was no longer the kickass lawyer from Florida or the hardass woman who shot her own undead sister. She was a small, weak and incredibly mortal woman.
Lori led the way to a bed in the house and Daryl carefully placed Andrea down there. Once he did, he went to closet and threw the door open, not paying attention to Lori leaving. Inside there were a few blankets folded neatly as well as a pile of clean sheets. He grabbed one and started to rip it into strips. He pulled her shirt up(but still left her decency), and bandaged to wound as best he could, hoping the bleeding would stop.
Carol came into the room to see him pacing back and forth, muttering and swearing. "Rick... Rick said to come ask if you could help them move Shane's body. Rick is going to dig a grave..." she spoke cautiously.
"That fucker don't deserve a grave! Fucking asshole should be walker food, not buried like he meant somethin' good t' anyone!" Daryl yelled angrily. Carol flinched.
"I... I'm sorry this happened," she whispered, setting a hand on his arm. He ripped it away from her.
"Nah, I'm sorry! Sorry that I couldn't deal with that piece a' shit myself! I'm proud a' the Grimes boy for shootin' 'im!" He didn't realize that he had what some would call 'tears' in his eyes. And Carol didn't mention it. He dragged an armchair to the side of the bed and sat down hard. "Tell Rick t' get T-Dog t' do it. I'm not goin' near that fuckin' motherless, son of a-" He broke off and wiped at his eyes. The tears had stopped but the pure, unadulterated anger still reigned over his mind. "Just... Fuckin' leave." He remembered who he was talking to. "Please..."
She bit her lip and said, "I'll tell you when Hershal gets here." She exited the room.
"Dammit, Andrea..." he muttered under his breath. "Ya gotta be alright."
He unconciously took hold of her hand and quickly gave it a squeeze. He realized what he was doing and let go just before Dale entered. He had been walking around the property at the time of the argument. "What's happened? Is Andrea alright?"
"What the fuck do you think, old man? She just got shot," Daryl growled.
"I'm sorry for asking such a stupid question..." Dale mumbled, looking at Daryl's blood soaked shirt and hands and the bandage around Andrea's stomach. "I saw Shane's body. Did you do that?"
"I wish," Daryl replied bluntly. "Grimes boy did that."
"Carl?"
"I guess."
Dale stood next to the bed as Daryl swore under his breath. Waiting was the worst part. It gave Daryl time to think, time to get even angrier. His head snapped up when Carol's voice came from near the door. "Glenn's back. Hershal could use some help with the-" She didn't have to finish for Daryl to be up and out of the house, grabbing the equipment out of his truck.
He was back in the room in which Andrea lay before Hershal was even at the door. "Move it, old man!" Daryl muttered under his breath.
After Hershal removed the bullet from Andrea's side, he informed Carol of everything that needed to be done and left again.
Daryl found himself back in the room where the blonde lay. It was two days later and she was still unconcious and hadn't woken since she had been shot. She no longer wore a shirt, but the blanket was pulled up to cover her breasts.
Daryl had calmed down some since, though he spat on Shane's grave everytime he went by it. He had taken the pleasure of placing a crossbow bolt in Shane's brain 'just in case' as well.
He sighed as he looked at Andrea's pale face, waiting for something to happen. He was rewarded when her eyes slowly flickered open and she looked around. "Daryl? Where..? What time is it?"
"Somewhere around midnight." He shrugged, pulling the chair to face her better. Relief was hidden in his features. "Don't really know."
"I... I know I was shot but... But what's happened since then? How long have I been unconcious?" She looked him in the eye, blue-green on deep blue. He saw that same fraility, that same fear as he had right after she had been shot. He realized, though, she wasn't lucid. She most likely wouldn't remember this conversation later.
"Shane's dead. And Hershal took the bullet out of ya' 'n Carol gave some blood for you. As for time, it's been a little over two days," he answered, filling her in on the details.
"Shane's dead? How?"
"Carl shot 'im."
"Really? Just when I was hoping I could've..." she joked, smiling weakly.
"You ain't the only one. He was lucky that it wasn't me. He'd 've suffered more." Andrea's smile widened a bit. She started to chuckle but broke off coughing as pain shot through her torso. "Careful, girl. You ain't even partway healed."
She seemed to fade as she looked over at Daryl and reached a hand in his direction. "Can you... Can you stay here... Please?" Her eyes closed and she was gone again, sleeping away pain. He felt the urge to protect rise up. He stayed seated, but gently took hold of her hand.
Carol came in a bit later, early morning, a plate of food in her hands. Daryl mumbled his thanks. "Get her some food if she wakes up?" the older woman asked. He nodded and she silently left the room.
He sighed and quickly ate up the small pile of food on his plate. It was only some vegetable and half a chicken breast, but it was enough.
Daryl looked down at the sleeping blond. She was muttering in her sleep for the third time since she had fallen back into slumber. A frown was on her lips. He didn't like it.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. Sleep claimed him quickly.
"Daryl... Daryl, wake up," a soft voice whispered as a hand gently shook his shoulder.
He woke to see Carol standing over him. She held one "What is it?" he muttered sleepily.
"You should get up for a little. You've been in here for over a day," she mentioned quietly.
" 'Drea asked me to stay..." He mumbled, not wanting to leave.
"Just go wash a little or get a bit of fresh air. If she wakes up while your gone, I'll get you," the tired woman bargained. She knew his stubborness but also knew he needed to get away from the small dusty room.
"Fine... I'm gonna be back..." He felt too emotionally tired too fight. His eyes rested on Andrea's face before he stood and left.
Downstairs, he discovered that Rick had found a generator in the basement and set it up to run. The stove was functional as were the lights.
"Morning, Daryl," Lori greeted when she saw him. She was at the table flipping through a pregnancy book. He thought that pregnancy in an unstable environment like this wasn't the best idea, but he didn't think she should get rid of it.
He grunted a reply and stepped out onto the porch. Rick was there, sitting in a rocking chair.
Rick looked at Daryl, trying to find some hint of emotion in his face. There was nothing more than nothing, perhaps a hint of anger or unease.
"Whatcha starin' at me for?" Daryl grumbled.
"Sorry." Rick paused before saying, "Now I know it's not my buisness but, uh, is there something going on between you and Andrea?"
Daryl scowled. "Damn right, that's not yer fucking buisness."
"Sorry, I'm just asking. It's just that, right before Lori and I were married, she got sick. Bad. Was at the hospital for a few weeks. And I sat next to her hospital bed the entire time... You kind of reminded me of that," Rick concluded simply.
"So what? Gonna give me some lecture 'bout being good ta her? Not hurtin' her?"
"No, no. I trust you know how to handle a lady. Just thought you'd like t' know no one is against you two being together," the cop replied simply, standing and walking back inside.
Daryl leaned against the railing of the porch and sighed. He didn't like when people tried to understand him. No good ever came of it. He preferred keeping alone, to himself. Andrea had been the exception. She didn't have to try to understand his wrapped up emotions because they were the same as hers. Guilt, anger, denial. Loss.
Merle had never tried to understand him. He had kicked Daryl's ass when he felt like it and teased the younger boy for showing any emotion. Made Daryl become something worse than he was. Merle's absence had freed Daryl. Sure, he was angry and sad that his brother had been left for dead on an abandoned rooftop, but without Merle, Daryl became a better person. Someone who actually cared for the survival of others as well as himself.
"Daryl?" Glenn spoke cautiously from the front door.
"What?"
"Carol told me to tell you that Andrea's awake," the korean informed. Daryl grunted his thanks and pushed past Glenn. He tried not to look like he was in a hurry as he went back inside and up the stairs to Andrea's room.
He entered the room slowly. Andrea, still lying with the blanket pulled up to her collarbone, was talking to Carol who sat besides her in the chair Daryl had pulled up. Andrea smiled when she saw him.
"Hey, Andrea." He wasn't sure what else to say.
"Hi, Daryl," she replied. Her voice was hoarse and weak.
Carol stood and left the room, giving them privacy. Daryl took the spot in the chair, turning towards her. "How, uh, how're ya' feelin'?"
"Better, but," she paused. "Still... Still like shit."
"Be careful, blondie, you... You're hurt," he murmured. He tentatively reached out and took her hand in both of his, pulling it closer to himself. "Do ya' remember when you woke up last night?" he asked quietly.
Confusion came up over her face. "I woke up last night?" Her words were slow and weak, but he could still hear her well.
"Yeah. Asked me what happened after that bastard shot you. Did Carol tell ya?"
"No, she just asked how I felt. Why? What happened?"
"Carl shot Shane. The assface is buried at the edge of the woods. Fucking bastard deserved it," Daryl spit angrily. She gently squeezed his hand.
"I would've killed him myself if he wasn't dead right now," Andrea whispered darkly.
"You said the same last night. If Grimes' boy hadn't done it, I'd 've killed the son of a bitch. Either way he wouldn't've lived more than an hour past you gettin' shot." There was a protective quality in his voice mixed with burning anger. She was surprised to see him showing this much emotion. Since Sophia's death, he had retreated into himself. He hadn't so much as smiled since that day. A little over a month ago. He had cried once into Andrea's shoulder as they lay in her tent together. But it had been muted grief, less than he actually held.
It was almost refreshing to see this much emotion from him, even if it was anger. But for him, in a way, it was how he showed affection.
Carol returned holding clean gauze and some peroxide. "I need to switch your bandages," she told Andrea. "Daryl-"
"I ain't leavin'."
Carol accepted the answer without speaking. Andrea pulled the blanket down to expose the bandages as well as her pale pink bra. Daryl eyes only skimmed over her upper body, and latched them onto the bandage. No blood showed on the outer piece. But as Carol peeled off the gaze, he could see the stiches holding together her hurt skin. A little bit of blood had gotten on the bandages due to stiches pulling, possibly from the coughing fit she had had the previous night. Carol wiped down the wound with the peroxide. It stung and Andrea gritted her teeth and squeezed Daryl's hand. After a few minutes, there was a fresh bandage replacing the last.
"Thanks, Carol..." Andrea pulled the blanket back up and yawned.
"No problem. You should get some rest, sweetie." Carol gave the woman a small smile that didn't reach her eyes and left.
"She's right," he mumbled. "You should sleep."
"But I wanted to talk some more..." She was already falling asleep.
"I'll be here. As long as the asses in our group don't force me out, that is. Don't see why I would leave otherwise."
"Thanks..." she mumbled, slipping off into slumber.
The next day, Daryl was in his spot when Carl entered the room. "What's goin' on, little man?" Daryl asked as Carl took the other chair in the room.
"Just... Came to see if Andrea's getting better." His speech was slow and seemed fearful.
"She's good. You okay?" the older man asked.
"Why?" Carl asked sullenly.
"Killin' a man can change a person, that's why. 'Specially a kid." Carl remained silent. There was a space of quiet before Daryl spoke again. "You're a good kid. You protected yer dad and ya protected Shane."
"What?" Carl was taken aback. "I killed Shane!"
"Yeah? If you hadn't, I'd 've made him suffer. Hunted the fuckhole down like he was a dog and made him die slowly. You saved 'im from me. Bastard shoulda suffered a lot more," Daryl trailed off.
"... You really love her, huh?" Carl asked.
"What?"
"Andrea. You really love her. If you only liked her, you wouldn't say that stuff. And you aren't a bullshitter like a lot of people are. You would've actually killed him," the boy stated.
Daryl was quiet. He didn't associate well with feelings like love. His own father hadn't shown him what it was, nor his brother. His mother had, but he didn't remember her much anymore.
"No one is against you two," Carl spoke. "I bet everyone would be happy if you guys told."
"Told what?"
"That you were together."
The next time Andrea woke up, Dale was the only one in the room. He was sitting in the chair to the right of the bed reading a book. "Dale? What are you doing here?" Her voice had almost returned to full strength now.
Dale cleared his throat before answering. "Daryl isn't the only one that cares about you."
"... I know."
"Feeling better?"
"A little, yeah."
"I found some better books, if you want me to get you one," the old man offered. The book he currently held was 'The Wind in the Willows'.
"Sure. I can always use a book to read until I'm given the okay to get up again."
He stood up and left the room. He was back a moment later clutching a slightly worn book. "Sorry if it seems like a teenager's book. Maybe one lived here before this." Dale handed her the book. There was a soccerball on the cover, and a title scrawled across, 'Pretty Tough'.
"That's fine. I used to love these kind of books."
They both sat and read for an hour or so, commenting on different parts of their books. Eventually, Carol came up to bring a plate of dinner for each of them. She paused before exciting the room long enough to speak to Andrea. "Daryl asked me to tell you he's gone hunting and he'll be back before sun down."
Andrea smiled. "Thanks."
"No problem. Do you two mind some company up here? I was hoping I could grab my own dinner and join you..." Carol spoke softly.
"Of course you can," Dale answered.
They sat and talked, the three of them, until dark fell outside. To Andrea, it was calming to hear from them. Having not moved off the bed for a few days, antsy and restless. She found out that Hershal had given them two chickens, a hen and a rooster, so they could have eggs, or raise their own small flock of poultry. It was comforting to know they had some kind of hope, living in a farmhouse only a few miles from Hershal's place.
Carol got up from her seat, all three of their empty plates in hand. "Well, I'm thinking I should get to sleep. Maybe you can try walking around a bit tomorrow, Andrea," she said softly, looking at the blonde.
"Sounds good. Good night," Andrea replied, echoed by Dale as the older woman left the room. "You should get some sleep too, Dale."
"You sure you don't want company?"
"I'm probably gonna go to sleep too."
"Well, okay. Call if you need anything."
"I will," she replied, watching her father-figure leave. She sighed and rolled her shoulders. She really wanted to get up, but she could wait until the following day to try. She wasn't sure how much she'd be able to move around, but, seeing as she could barely move in bed without somehow tugging at the wound, she wouldn't be able to walk around too entirely much.
"Hey." She looked up to see Daryl in the doorway.
"Hey," she replied. "How was the hunt?"
"Pretty good," he answered, entering the room and standing by the bed. "Got a turkey. And some more squirrels, a' course." She smiled.
"I don't know where we'd all be if you didn't provide for us."
He shrugged. There was silence for a moment before he asked, "How ya' been feelin'?"
"A lot better," she spoke, looking at him warmly.
"Good."
There was more silence as she motioned him closer. He complied, caught off gaurd as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down. He lost balence, putting most of his weight on his knees, which were on the bed. "Lay with me," she commanded. He nodded slowly, kicking his shoes off and slipping his legs under the covers so he was besides her. She cuddled against him as best she could, trying not to pull at her wound. He wrapped his arms around her, not minding the contact, but surprised by it.
"Goodnight, Daryl."
"G'night, Andrea."
When Andrea woke early the next morning, it was only for a few seconds, long enough to hear Daryl murmur something about where he was going and watch through half closed eyes as he left the room. When she woke up all the way an hour or more had passed. She sat up, stretching out her arms and back, ignoring the pain in her torso. With a yawn, she reached over and grabbed the book Dale had brought her off the nightstand. She felt a lot better that morning. Maybe because she had the chance to get up that day. Or, more likely in her mind, was the fact Daryl had slept besides her the previous night. It felt nice to have someone besides her as she fell asleep.
She read for a while, until Carol came in with breakfast. She set the plate infront of Andrea. "Thanks."
"No problem. After you eat, I'll help you move around a bit," Carol spoke.
Andrea smiled and dug into her breakfast. It was some crudely made venison bacon, an egg and fried potatoes. A good breakfast, definately. She felt almost spoiled, but reminded herself that Carol spoiled everyone.
As soon as the last sign of food vanished from her plate, Carol whisked it away. "You ready to be mobile again?" the older woman asked.
Andrea nodded. "Definately." She slid her legs over the side of the bed and pushed the blankets aside. She tried to push off the bed, but cringed in pain as it rocketed through her torso. She took a deep breath and did it again, this time, managing to stand. Her legs nearly buckled, weaker from the disuse over the past week or so. "I did it," she said, looking at Carol with a smile. She got a smile in return and then turned towards the door. Daryl was standing, leaning against the poor post. He had a little almost-smile-half-smirk on his face.
"Your doin' good."
Andrea directed her smile at him. "Thanks."
Carol suddenly pulled Daryl into the room. "I have to go help Lori with laundry, so I'm leaving you with her, okay?" She gave him a look that kept him from objecting. "Make sure she doesn't over exert herself. And help her if she needs it." And just like that, Carol was no longer in the room.
Andrea looked over at Daryl, an amused expression on her face. "C'mon. I want to go outside."
"Sure you can make it?" he asked.
She nodded. "With your help. Come on!" She looped her arm on his, using him as something to lean on and they left the room. They made it down the hall easily, but then they came to the stairs.
"Seconds thoughts?" he spoke the question as they paused at the top.
"Hell no." She tightened her grip on his arm and they stepped down simultaneously. She cringed, but the pain wasn't too bad.
"Can you make it?"
"Of course," she said defiantly.
He chuckled. "You're a tough bitch, that's for sure."
She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "Daryl."
"What? Ain't an insult. I'd take tough bitch over whinin' bitch anyday. 'Specially when it's you."
"Why, thank you. I feel flattered."
"Ya' should. I don't hand out compliments willy nilly." They reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the front door.
"But you say 'willy nilly'," she smiled.
He rolled his eyes. "Where d'ya wanna go outside?"
"I just need fresh air, so the porch will be good enough."
"Kay."
She bit her lip as she stepped onto the porch. There was a light breeze that blew hair into her face, but she brushed it back. She squeezed his arm gently. "Thanks for bringing me out here, Daryl. I hate being cooped up."
"No problem, Bambi. I get the feelin'."
She raised her eyebrows. "Bambi?"
"Yeah, Bambi. I saw ya' get out a bed. Your legs shook like a fawn trying to stand for the first time," he joked.
"Thanks," she replied sarcastically, still a bit of a grin showing on her features.
They stood outside for a few minutes, taking in some sunlight and fresh air. Finally, she decided to go back inside. "Let's take the long way back to my room," she decided.
"Long way?"
"As in we go into a different room before facing the stairs again." She went inside, arm still looped in his. They went to the kitchen where Maggie was cleaning up from breakfast.
"Hey, Andrea," the brunette greeted. "Glad to see you're back up again."
"Thanks," the blonde replied.
Maggie placed a handful of silverware on the counter. A spoon fell to the floor, and, by reflex, Andrea bent to retrieve it. "Wait, you shouldn't-" It was too late. Andrea cringed in pain, holding her arm over the wound.
"You okay?" Daryl asked, helping her remain as upright as possible.
"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth.
Maggie shook her head, looking up at Daryl. "You should get her back in bed." He nodded.
"C'mon. Let's getcha back upstairs."
She shook her head. "I'm not sure I can move. It hurts too much." Without another word, he scooped her up, carrying her bridal style back up the stairs. "Thanks, Daryl."
"No problem, Rosie," he replied gruffly.
She raised her eyebrows half-heartedly through the pain. "Another name I don't get. Rosie?"
"Y'know. Like Rosie the Riveter."
"Ah. I get it." He set her down gently on the bed.
"We should check the stitches," he mentioned.
She did a half-chuckle and started to unbutton her top. "You just want an excuse to get my shirt off." He rolled his eyes and pulled up a chair besides the bed. A majority of her torso was exposed, showing pale skin. The area around the bandage was an angry red. He gently pulled it back. She gritted her teeth, making small noises of discomfort at the most uncomfortable of tugs at the bandage. "Sorry," he mumbled.
" 'S fine..."
Now that the bandage was half off, the stiches were exposed. There was a small, nasty red splotch on the bandage where some blood had seeped from the wound. The stitches had pulled at her skin, worse than before. "Gonna be a nasty scar," he said.
"I already knew that."
"You fucked it up pretty bad, tryin' to bend down like you were."
"I knew that too."
He removed the bandage, grabbing another from the sparse supplies that had been left at the end of the bed. He wiped away the remaining blood that clung to her skin around the wound. He patched the new bandage back over. "You want some pain meds? I probably can't get you more than a few ibeprofen."
"Daryl, I don't care if you get me a bottle of whiskey, just as long as it helps." He nodded, vanishing from the room for a few minutes. He came back with a glass of water and three pills. "Thanks," she mumbled. He shrugged and she gulped down the pills. "Let's hope these kick in quick..." She gestured to the empty spot besides her. "Sit."
He awkwardly followed the order, taking a seat besides her, still not used to her need for him to be in close proximity. He placed an arm warily on her shoulders, to which she didn't object. She pressed her face against him, trying to ignore the pain parading through her torso. "Shane's a bastard..." she mumbled.
He nodded, his eyes darkening. "A crazy bastard that got what he deserved."
She took in his scent with a deep breath; crossbow lubricant, the forest, and a hint of motor oil. She liked it. It was so uniquely him. And she'd be a lot worse off if he wasn't around, that's for sure. No handsome man to bring her meals, talk to her, or, like the night prior, sleep besides her. She had liked that. He was warm and his arms strong as they held her. But he was gentle. And really, the security she felt was unusual. Something that was not often felt during a zombie apocalypse.
Daryl shifted, making himself more comfortable. She lifted her head up. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, you know."
He shrugged. "I wanna stay though."
She smiled, though still in pain. "Thanks."
"Ya' don't gotta thank me, y'know."
"Well, I want to. You've done a lot for me."
He shook his head, frowning. "Nah, I didn't do nothin'. Carol gave blood for ya' and Hershal stitched up the wound."
She rolled her eyes. "You were the first one near me when I got shot, you stayed up all night next to my bed when I was unconcious for two days after, you've brought me meals, you've stayed with me for the past couple of weeks and you just carried me up the stairs after I hurt myself. You've done a shit load, Daryl. More than anyone else."
He swallowed, turning his head so he could half hide his face in her hair. "Just doin' what I had ta'," he muttered.
She shrugged. "You're a good guy, Daryl. You just don't want people to know."
Andrea sat in a chair on the porch, breathing in the fresh air. Her side felt much better after a day's rest. She could manage the stairs just as well, but did better with someone's help. She had done a few tasks to help out, some laundry, some dishes. Nothing she enjoyed, but better than nothing. But now, with all of that finished, she could relax. Relax and wait for Daryl. Seemed to be all she did lately. He cared more than the others did. Well, save for Dale, who was protective as always.
It was Dale who came over and sat besides her. "Good morning. Are you feeling better?"
She nodded. "Much, thanks."
There was silence as they both let the wind wash over them. Dale opened his mouth to speak first. "You like Daryl." He wasn't sure how she'd react to his statement, but it certainly wasn't how he expected when she did.
She simply nodded again. "Yeah. Why?"
He shook his head. "I just wanted to know. Daryl's a great man, and I think you two would be good together."
She rolled her eyes, but had a smirk on her face. "So you're basically giving us your blessing if we decide to go for it?"
Dale shrugged. "I guess. But you didn't need my blessing in the first place."
"... Thanks, Dale."
The older man glanced out at the feild. "Looks like your, uh, Prince Charming is back."
She raised her eyebrows, looking out as Daryl came in from the woods carrying a few squirrels as well as some rabbits. "Prince Charming?" She chuckled.
Daryl sighted her and altered his course. He stepped up onto the porch, nodded a greeting to Dale, and turned his attention to Andrea. "How're you feelin'?" he asked her.
"Fine," she replied with a smile. Dale left the porch, heading into the house, but neither of the other two noticed.
"Good." Daryl took a seat besides Andrea. "Ya' still wanna learn how t' use my crossbow? I remember ya' asked about it back when we were at Hershal's. I was thinkin' that it'll more for ya' t' do 'til ya' can get back to guard and such."
She nodded. "Yeah, that sounds great!"
"We can start today, if ya' want. I just gotta set these," he gestured to the string of small dead mammals at his feet, "Up t' drain."
"Okay. I'm all ready, so just tell me when you are."
"It'll be a few minutes." He stood with his various squirrels and rabbits and headed off. Fifteen minutes later he returned, no dead animals in sight. His crossbow was still slung over his shoulder, as always. She stood as he stepped onto the porch. "Ready?"
"Yup." She slipped her arm into his as they proceeded down the three stairs that led down the porch. He showed the way to an outer field, going at a pace she was comfortable with.
He set up some soda cans and bottles on a fence and handed her the crossbow. It was a little heavier than she expected. "Got it?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Show me how you think you should be holdin' it." She moved to hold it up, trying to look down the center of where the arrow would be if it were loaded. "Don't hold it like a gun," he instructed. "The point is that it's not one." He moved to help her straighten her stance, a gentle touch on her elbow, another on her shoulders. "Drop those shoulders, blondie. Relax 'em. Gotta be ready with the thing, not all tense. That might work with your gun, but ain't gonna fly with this." He touched the hand she had gripped on the trigger. "Ease up, doll. Just like the shoulders... Yeah, that looks fine." He took the crossbow back from her and loaded it, pulling the string back with two fingers. It clicked into place and he slipped the arrow in. "Here." He handed it back. She tried to hold it like he told her, and aimed at the center can. "Relax those shoulders." She did so.
Just before she fired, she felt him lightly touch her back, just above her waist. It was a surprisingly sensual touch, causing her to jerk her hands down in surprise. The arrow made it's home in the dirt and Daryl snickered. "Asshole..." Andrea mumbled.
He stooped down and pulled the arrow out of the dirt. He tossed it to her, returned to her side afterwords. He took the weapon from her and quickly snapped the line into place, followed by the arrow. "I'd let ya' try t' load it yourself, but I don't want you hurtin' more."
"Thanks." She took the crossbow back, resuming her stance. This time, he didn't bother her when she shot, as much as he wanted to. The arrow sailed above the target and slightly to the left. "Dammit," she swore.
"Now, now," he said. "Ain't bad for a first timer. And it was better than your first try." He smirked at her and she let out an amused huff.
"You messed up the first one."
"How'd I do that?" He kept the smirk on his face. "Ya' got no proof."
She tried to keep a smile from forming but failed. "You're here, aren't you? I think that's plenty of proof." He chuckled and retrieved the arrow. After he reloaded the silent weapon, she took aim again, a focused determination on her face.
"Straighten your back, Blondie." He touched her back again, this tim in the center. She automatically aligned it. One of his hands stayed pressed to her back, the other moving to make her drop her arms down some. He left both hands there for a long moment before removing them and saying. "Try it now."
The bolt flew and dug into the second to last can on the fence. She smiled. "I did it."
He nodded. "Ya' did good. But it's gonna take a lot more practice. And I'm gonna haveta show ya' how t' take care of one of those too."
They stayed out until dusk, when Maggie came to find them and tell them dinner was done. Both told her they'd head back in a minute.
"Thanks, Daryl," Andrea spoke, handing back his crossbow.
"There ya' go, doin' that again."
"Doing what?"
"Thanking me." He shrugged the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder. "You don't need t' do that."
She sighed. "Well, I want to, Daryl. Get over it." They started to walk back towards the house, and she once again linked arms with him. Her side was just barely aching, so it wasn't just for support. She stopped them for a moment. "Besides. You deserve to be thanked." She kissed him breifly before starting to walk again, pulling him along.
He walked along beside her, struck wordless by the kiss. She acted like it was something normal, something they had done a hundred times before. If they had, he wondered how he could forget that. She chuckled as he remained wordless. "C'mon. Let's go get food." She dragged him up the stairs onto the porch and into the kitchen. No one was in the dining room, most being outside with their meal on the back deck/patio, so both sat in there. Dinner was some soup, thrown together from various cans.
Daryl was still silent as he sat down besides her. She was at the end of the table, so he took the one on the corner. She raised her eyebrows, looking at him, hav. "So, you're being quiet. Does that mean you like the kiss or not?"
He shrugged. "Didn't not like it. Just... Surprised me," he mumbled.
"I'll warn you next time." She took a bite of her soup, completely non chalant.
Women were confusing.
They ate their soup in a comfortable silence. He'd glance up at her and immediately look away. She thought it was cute. She hadn't expected this to be the way she acted after she kissed him. More assertive, maybe. Certainly not the school-boy-with-crush approach he was taking. Sure, it was cute, but where was the fire?
She finished her meal and stood to take care of her bowl, but it was swept from her hands. "I got it," Daryl stated, bring both their bowls back to the kitchen. She followed him in. He felt her gaze as he rinsed out the bowls and set them in the sink. He turned to find she had disappeared. He scruntched up his eyebrows in confusion and stepped out of the kitchen, wondering where she went. "Andrea?"
"Out here." Her voice came from the other side of the front screen door. He followed it. She was on the front porch, talking to Dale. "I came to say goodnight," she spoke, directing it at Dale.
"Goodnight, Andrea," the older man said with a smile.
She returned the smile and returned inside the house, happy that she had said goodnight to the man who acted like a father to her. "Walk me to my room," she commanded, grabbing Daryl's arm. He followed said command, walking with her up the stairs. She paused before her room. She turned to him and smiled deviously. "Here's your warning."
"Wha-?"
She pressed her lips greedily against his, shocking him for a few short seconds. He finally reacted, moving against her lips. They ended up in her room with the door closed. Their kisses grew deeper and she pushed him back to sit on the bed. She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. They both fell back but she pulled away, cringing in pain. "Okay, maybe we can't do that yet." They were chest to chest, oh so tantilizingly close. She sighed and went limp, her head falling on the center of his chest. "That's dissapointing," she mumbled into his shirt.
He kissed the top of her head. "Later then." She nodded.
They stayed that way on the bed. Andrea was comfortable and, well, Daryl was too. Eventually, she murmured, "Stay here with me tonight?"
"Sure. If ya' want me," he replied.
"I do."
"Mmkay."
She pushed up off of him. "I've gotta change." She slipped her shirt off, exposing her torso along with the bandages around her side. He sat up and snagged his hands on her hips, pulling her in. He kissed a line above her navel to the point just under her bra. She shivered and goose bumps rose on her skin. "Mm... Daryl..." He smirked as he continued. She closed her eyes and sighed, thoroughly enjoying the feeling. He nipped the skin under her breast, then moving up to in between the soft flesh. "C'mon... Stop." He continued to suck softly, ignoring her request. "Daryl..." she whined. "Stop being a tease."
"Tease? You're the one that took your shirt off," he murmured before returning to her skin.
"Because I was changing..." She realized her fingers had entangled themselves in the short hair at the back of his neck. "I promise we can do this in like, two, maybe three days, but my side hurts right now..."
He smiled and after a moment more, pulled away. "I'm lookin' foreward t' two or three days from now."
"Me too," she said quietly, sitting in his lap and kissing his lips. After a few minutes, she stood again. "Now let me change. Or are you going to jump me as soon as I take my pants off?"
He chuckled. "It's temptin'. But I don't want you t' hurt from those stiches." She slipped into a cami and a pair of shorts, feeling his eyes on her all the while. She couldn't help but feel lucky at the fact she had him now.
Andrea's last thought before falling asleep was of his arms around her.
"Okay, Andrea. It looks like the stiches can come out today," Carol spoke happily.
"Thank God," the blonde muttered. She was lying on the bed, holding her shirt up enough so the stiches were visible. She was hoping that the faint hickeys Daryl had left on her skin wouldn't be visible. On the bright side, she felt better.
"Might pinch a little," Carol warned. She snipped the top of the stiches. With tweezers and a quick flick of the wrist, she pulled the remaining thread out of Andrea's skin.
"Gah... That feels weird."
"Sorry... Okay, you're all set. Just don't exert yourself too much." Carol set the tweezers down and gave Andrea a smile. "And I do mean when you're with Daryl."
Color flushed in Andrea's cheeks as she pulled her shirt back down to cover the raw pink scar on her side. "What are you talking about?"
Carol rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. You two sneaking around our backs for the past couple of days is pretty obvious to me. I don't know about everyone else, though."
The ex-lawyer bit her lip and smiled sheepishly as she sat up. "Were we really that obvious?"
Carol shrugged. "I don't think so. And besides. Daryl's a good man. You couldn't've done better, exspecially in times like these."
Andrea smiled softly and looked down. "Yeah. I know." She stood and stretched. "Any chance you know where he is?"
"He was out in the yard, skinning a few squirrels last time I saw him."
"Thanks." Andrea left the room and headed down the stairs. Out on the porch, she found Dale. Daryl, however, was not in the yard. "Hey, Dale, have you seen Daryl?"
The old man nodded. "Yes. He just went inside."
Andrea sighed, annoyed. "Thanks." She went back inside and found him in the kitchen. "Hey, there you are."
"Yeah. What's up?" He replied, cracking his knuckles on the counter top.
"Carol just took out my stitches." Andrea smiled at him in a suggestive manner.
The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin and she stepped towards him. "Tha's good." She put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He reacted smoothly, making the kiss deep and passionate. One of his hands found a place to rest on her hip, the other going to the side of her face.
"Get a room," someone said. The two pulled away from each other and Andrea looked over to see T-Dog in the doorway. She blushed and looked away.
"We had one 'til you got here," Daryl pointed out.
"Well, get another. I'm helping make dinner so get out. Find another place to do that." T-Dog proceeded to pull a few items from the cupboard as Daryl grumbled, leaving the room with Andrea following. He led the way outside.
He was stepping down the stairs when he realized she stopped following. Her demeanor had changed entirely. She was standing alone on the porch, arms crossed, staring across the yard. He followed her line of sight. Shane's grave. "Hey. Blondie. You okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied quietly. "Is that...?" He nodded. She turned away from it, sighing. He walked up onto the porch and stood close behind her. She frowned angrily. "I can't believe I trusted him. I really wish I hadn't. I was so stupid."
"Andrea. Ya' ain't stupid. You know Shane was crazy at the end there. Ain't your fault. Bastard was the one wrong here." Daryl set a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him.
"Thanks, Daryl."
"No problem, doll."
Done. Finally. Done. Over eight thousand words.
This was tiring to write. Literally. Most of it was done on my phone as I lay in bed before going to sleep. Gotta love a digital notepad that doesn't have a word count limit. I seriously love the fact I finished this, though. And thanks to all that have been waiting for being patient enough!
Reviews would be lovely, thanks!