Author's Note: My beta threw some prompts at me to keep me writing while I have a bunch of stuff under her review. This series is the result. Please bear with the experimental nature of these musings. They're just character-based sketches where not much happens but it allows me to try out a few, less practiced writing techniques. There will be POV and scene shifts, of course and I'll post them all as I finish poking at them. Also, these aren't beta'ed so I apologize for the mistakes I didn't catch.
Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading!
(I don't own any aspect of The Walking Dead although I reserve the right to cling forcefully to my original, and totally non-essential, characters.)
Chapter 1: Woods
As instructed, Bill and Jamie retraced their steps back to the prison at a brisk pace. They crept along the tree-line like they'd been taught and reached the car without incident. Michonne's eyes followed after them to check for any potential problems as they sped off. Seeing none, she refocused her attention to the man she'd left behind and ran back to the clearing where they'd all split up.
Daryl had loosened his pack and taken out the things he'd need to get back on the trail when Michonne rejoined him. He was as tense as she'd ever seen him, sweat beading at his brow and a determined aura about the way he methodically prepared himself. She'd seen nothing amiss either on her way to the car or on the way back. Theirs were the only sign of recent trespass and even that was slight. Instincts ignited, she scanned the area around them again while her mysterious companion prepared for the hunt.
With a jerk of his head, they went on the move.
When they'd set out from the prison earlier, it was Michonne who'd taken the lead having planned the best use of their time while they foraged for additional food and supplies. Daryl was the usual go-to guy in that department but even he had to concede that she'd spent more quality time in the surrounding area. However, she'd requested his presence specifically as a sign of respect and because he really was the ideal choice for the kind of operation she had in mind. Sasha and Tyreese were somewhat familiar with the area too but had laughed when Michonne proposed her little trip. They had no interest in roaming around the woods trying to scrape together necessities for survival.
But Bill and Jamie had volunteered for the adventure of it and were old enough to behave themselves and learn something. They'd both come from Woodbury and, until recently, hadn't really been exposed to the harsher aspects of surviving in the middle of nowhere. They'd been part of a large group that found Woodbury early on after being driven from a gated community that got overrun. On the one hand, it was nice that there were people, especially young people, who hadn't become overwhelmed by the horrors of this terrible new world. Yet there was also the pity of knowing that that horror would come at some point—and not wanting to be there when it happened.
The group had set out just after daybreak and made pretty good pace, hitting up a few of the farther-reaching but picked over stores. They'd also gotten a decent amount of wild herbs and foraged foods that both Daryl and Michonne knew to be useful.
It had been about time to call it a day when the run took an unexpected and swift turn.
A herd must have shifted the wildlife because Daryl started picking up fresh signs that live meat was in the vicinity. Within fifteen minutes, he'd bagged two rabbits and was convinced that there were deer not far away. The best part: no indication of major walker activity yet to taint their new-found food source.
Seamlessly, the group shifted priorities and Daryl took the lead. He would stay out and hunt with the expectation that he'd be gone for the entire night. Daryl wasn't convinced he'd be able to track the deer in the approaching dusk, however, waiting overnight would lull any targeted wildlife into a false sense of safety and allow him to pick them off first thing in the morning. He couldn't afford to waste time or momentum going back to the prison. Michonne had assumed his preference was to hunt alone but he surprised her by insisting he needed another set of hands if he ended up capturing as much game as he seemed confident of. So he ordered the two newbies back to the prison after loading them down with their haul. Michonne escorted them as close to where they'd stashed the car as she dared, leaving Daryl to scope out the area in her absence. The teens would return the next day with an adult and wait for them.
When it had come time to lay down that plan, Daryl hadn't hesitated about his choice of partner.
Michonne sat idly in her elevated nook overlooking the wooded expanse. It was an excellent view of the area surrounding them, empty except for the insects or rodents lucky enough to escape walkers and survivors alike.
It also gave her a nice view of the silent man resting just below her. She smiled, recalling his annoyance that she was at a higher vantage point than him. But the perch she was on was a little more weight-sensitive and the larger man had to settle for the stronger junction beneath her.
Michonne had done some creative things to keep herself safe when she'd been on the move. Sleeping in trees was one of her least favorite.
Their gear hung nearby, both above and below where they were nestled, all within fairly easy reach if trouble found them. As much as she'd grumbled about it, Michonne actually felt quite safe being so high up and being able to see everything around them. Daryl got to look out for any game prospects and she got to spend a little less time worrying about the wandering undead that could sneak up on her—or the living but unstable creatures also afoot.
The signs of the nightfall were more soothing than either was used to hearing. Being out in the open like this, it made Michonne feel different somehow from when she was on her own, her "pets" her only companions; or even those strangely comforting months of traveling with Andrea. The natural sounds of leaves rustling and bugs chirping were a noted contrast to the cacophony of civilization back at the prison. There, it was always obvious that they were sheltering themselves from something. The sterile, hollow prison hallways couldn't mask the fear and desperation that they constantly lived with. Yet it was home and they were grateful for it.
It was interesting how the both of them blended into the noises around them, hoping to be included as one of nature's regulars. The air had a bite to it but it wasn't truly cold. It would be in a month or so. Tonight was more long-sleeved shirt kind of weather and they had both come prepared.
Michonne glanced again at her traveling companion. He seemed tired but alert; and relaxed, if that were even possible for him. In his element. His eyes were sweeping their surroundings just like hers had a moment before.
As it sometimes happened when she had idle time, Michonne wondered so many things about him. They didn't know each other well but they got along, both content to keep their interactions with the group as simple and uncomplicated as possible. People trusted him. She trusted him too she supposed, at least as much as she trusted anyone and probably only at a minimal level; not nearly as much as the core group members with whom he'd survived since the beginning. Even though he put on a hard exterior, he really cared about his chosen family and keeping them safe, especially since losing his brother. It didn't take a psychiatrist to acknowledge the complexity of the Dixon brothers' relationship. But Daryl had never given up on Merle, right to the end.
Yet, he and Rick were like brothers too. And Carol, well, there was something important there as well. Michonne made it a point to observe the people around her and she initially thought the two had a thing going on. After a while, she wasn't so sure.
It was a piece of information she filed away for unknown reasons. Or unacknowledged, rather.
She was sure Daryl knew even less about her: that she had travelled with Andrea after his group had fled Hershel's farm and that whatever had gone on with them had been deep. Whenever her time with Andrea came up, the hanging assumption was that the two women had been lovers. Michonne wasn't offended by the suggestion. She could see it given how they sure as hell acted like it with the way they'd fought. And if that weren't evidence enough, the way they'd mourned together before Andrea died would have convinced anyone. She remembered how gentle Daryl had been with Andrea at the end—and how gentle he'd been with her in his own way afterwards. He understood because his loss was fresh too.
The rumors were also a little odd to Michonne since the suggestion of romance didn't seam right either. Her sense of betrayal, Andrea's urgency to justify herself, and both women's tears over useless remorse had always hinted at a connection that went beyond sex or friendship. The matter was moot at this point. It wasn't anyone's business what her past was anyhow.
And when it came to someone like Daryl, she doubted it was something that mattered much to him.
He was a straightforward guy but so inaccessible. How had he come to be that way? Had he always been such a mystery or, like her, had he been an entirely different person before the world went to shit.
When she wondered all those things about him, she couldn't help but occasionally consider if he thought of her too.
"You see anything?" The inquiry was the softest of breaths in the breeze, reaching Michonne's ear in the form of a whisper. Michonne didn't let the surprise at the sound of his voice startle her too much. In the dimness, she saw him take one last look towards the fading rays of sunlight and shake his head. If he'd noticed her scrutiny of him, he didn't let on.
Michonne eyed the same pattern of weak spots she'd identified before they'd ascended to their hiding spot. "Nothing for miles. You?"
"Not a damn thing," he responded just as quietly, head tilted up to project his words to her. "I'm grateful for it too."
Michonne nodded. He pulled a bit of dried fruit from his bag and chewed on a piece absentmindedly. After a moment's hesitation, he offered up a piece to Michonne with the raise of a hand. In the same swift, subtle way with which she always moved, Michonne relieved him of the offered snack.
Michonne and Daryl sat in that manner for a while, companionable and casually wary as they watched the sky growing several shades of dark. The forest transformed into murky shadows yet the stars brightly illuminated the elevated world most accessible to their vantage point at the moment. The tops of the trees felt solid and real underneath the moon's light. If the wrong kind of predator were to stumble upon them, it wouldn't be too much trouble to track their enemy with such clear visibility; not that they were expecting it. They hadn't seen signs of anyone near this area or even the adjacent stretch of land. Daryl proposed a watch schedule anyway. It was probably unnecessary but both thought it a valid precaution.
As the evening went on, Michonne wondered if Daryl had felt her earlier, periodic attention on him. It occurred to her that he might be pretty uncomfortable with it given that they weren't exactly buddies. Did he think she didn't trust him or didn't take him seriously? Maybe he thought she still felt sorry for him about his brother. They'd made their piece with the fact that she'd been the last to see him alive. As awful as Merle was and as difficult as he had made her life, she felt that Daryl deserved to know what the man had revealed to her before the end.
Michonne was quite aware of how uncomfortable she made people; it wasn't easy for others to interpret why she did the things she did. Her notice wasn't meant to offend. She'd convinced herself that she had only been thinking they didn't know each other well and now she worried that he was misinterpreting her less than subtle assessment. There was an urge to set him straight about her. And the things that caught her attention were usually worth a damn.
Michonne frowned. She wasn't one for letting her concerns linger. Maybe she should make an effort with him. After all, Daryl was many useful things but being a social self-starter was a little beyond his skill-set.
"Hey, Daryl, why'd you want me to stay out here with you?"
Directness seemed the most natural approach. They had that trait in common so maybe he'd appreciate the tactic. Besides, Michonne really did want to know.
But saying it out loud unleashed another complication, another justification for her interest. There was the curiosity, yes; she'd been honest with herself about that from the beginning. But she was also slowly coming to terms with an underlying motivation, one that was harder for her to admit: her attraction to him. All the musing and scrutiny was bound to lead to that basic compulsion. The woman in her that remembered what romantic desire felt like was fishing for a sign. If his acceptance of her company was an indication that maybe he'd be interested in … something … then she was feeling bold enough to ask about what she wanted. It was a risky move given how closed off the man was but they had nothing but time up in their tree.
To her surprise, he just shrugged and kept sweeping his eyes across the field of trees; so nonchalant while she tried to keep herself from giving a damn about his response. "You're quiet and that works for me. Can't have a bunch of eager young'uns talking my ear off and scaring the food. 'Sides, those two don't know shit about roughing it."
It was sound reasoning. Michonne decided to turn his response around in her head so she could figure out if it was what she wanted to hear.
"Well, I do know about rough. I imagine we both do." Her words sounded desperate to her own ears, needy for a connection. She heard his sigh, felt it move the leaves closest to her leg.
She thought Daryl was going to say something more but he remained silent. He briefly looked up her way before facing forward again. She didn't know what to make of that. Finally, he shifted his head to her side of the tree but didn't try to respond with his direct attention. "Why'd you pick me to come out here in the first place?" It was almost as if he hadn't known what to do with her question and his best response was to test the waters himself and turn things back around on her.
Did she let herself believe that he really had been wondering about her as well?
Michonne didn't reply right away. Back inside the prison walls, her thoughts on the matter had been less complicated. That was before she'd loosened her usual hold on her feelings. She wasn't sure how much she should reveal; how far she should take it. Isolated in the middle of nowhere, Michonne wondered how she and Daryl would seem to someone looking down on them. It was just the two of them out here. Survivors. Broken people who liked silence and simple; who only wanted the people they cared about to be safe.
Beneath her, Daryl sat waiting for an answer to his question, a touch tensely if she read him correctly. She inwardly cursed herself for now almost certainly making him uncomfortable, probably for the second or third time that night. That's not what she'd intended. He wasn't about mind games and neither was she. Perhaps, like her, he just really wanted to know and had the balls to ask.
Michonne hadn't survived this long by playing it safe so why start now?
The air shifted and within seconds, she considered him as he watched her leg descend from its perch above him. It landed solidly and then bent towards the branch extending from the area of his left hip. It was joined by her other leg left to dangle in between the trunk of the tree and the intersection of his right hip and thigh. In three seconds flat, she'd gone from lazily tucked away above him to straddling his body, all while barely making a sound.
It was impulsive, confusing and exhilarating all at once.
Daryl swallowed roughly as she settled against him and positioned herself to sit face to face. The stress started to show as the normally steady walker-killer panicked. He seemed at a loss for what to do with a woman in his rarely invaded personal space, especially one as deadly as she.
A flash of doubt crossed Michonne's expression as she felt Daryl fumble around with his hands, first reaching for her hips and then her back before pulling them away as if it would burn. To steady himself, he secured his body by grabbing the trunk of the tree and the nearest branch to one of her legs.
There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea. Yet the few good reasons had come to her quickly and powerfully. She wouldn't be the person she was if she didn't follow her instincts and stick by her decisions.
Michonne risked looking directly into Daryl's face and almost laughed at the terrified expression. She could work with that.
He hadn't asked her to move and the fear on his face wasn't accompanied by anger. In fact, his breathing had intensified judging by the dramatic rise and fall of his chest. She placed her hand there and felt the hitch before he settled down.
When she again chanced a peek at his face, the terror was still there and it had been joined by, of all things, amusement. Despite the tightness in her chest at the promise of that, Michonne wasn't completely sure how to take it. She cocked her head to the side in thought. Was he laughing at the situation or was he laughing at her? She tensed at the fleeting anxiety over that rejection.
Daryl gingerly moved his hand from the trunk of the tree to the crook of her hip. Michonne closed her eyes at his touch, breathing out a sigh she'd been holding since she'd mounted him.
Resting his other arm across her back, he waited for her to open her eyes and meet his gaze again. "Can't say I saw this comin' when I got up this mornin'; sittin' up in a damn tree with a sword-swingin' warrior woman on my lap." Slowly, he allowed a timid grin to spread across his lips and she mirrored the gesture. They let that hang between them for a few moments.
Daryl broke the connection with a self-conscious glance downward. "Aint much lately could put a smile on my face. It feels good."
The night's natural glow highlighted the transformation of Michonne's face from stoic reserve to pleasantly predatory. She sensed a shift in her emotional equilibrium upon hearing his modest admission. It was damn satisfying when a risk paid off. Feeling the firmness of his body against hers and his acceptance of her embrace, she gave into a whim of pleasure for the first time in a long time.
She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, Daryl's warm hand resting against her side.
There was no hesitation, only action. It was the only way Michonne knew. Daryl was motionless against her, but only for a moment. He trailed his arm further along her body to grip her thigh and leaned into her kiss with a shyness that humbled Michonne as much as it fed her attraction to him.
It wasn't the most ideal time or place for a tryst, yet it didn't hinder the two, solitary souls surrendering pieces of themselves on a crisp, late summer night.
Michonne pulled away first and rested her head against Daryl's; both were attempting to catch his or her breath. Again, her eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the power of her closeness to him. Daryl's hands had yet to wander from where they started but he overcame his nerves and tilted his head up to brush his lips against hers again, lingering at her mouth while she ran gentle fingers through his hair. When he finally released her, Michonne's eyes opened, fully focused on him. His expression was softer than she expected. That fierceness to his bright eyes was still present but the tenderness was a welcome addition.
They didn't speak or move for a while, remaining intertwined as they stole a few more indulgences from their unexpected evening of peace.
When Michonne finally rose up to remove her legs from straddling him, Daryl followed the line of her limbs with his hands, letting her know that the feeling of them around him would be missed. But she didn't go far. Instead of returning to her perch above him, in a silent maneuver, she simply flipped her body around to climb into his lap and lean against his body. They both inspected the security of the area again, Michonne having assessed their rear position as she turned; all was as quiet as it was before the earth had shifted for her.
They adjusted and secured themselves, repositioned and reevaluated, all within the space of a few minutes. When their movements stilled, Michonne felt Daryl wrap an arm around her waist while the other rested beside their bodies within easy reach of his weapon. She re-strapped her katana and curled into his embrace.
Their acceptance of this intimacy was as imperfect as it was necessary.
Daryl was on first watch, so Michonne let her mind drift. There was plenty for her to process, the comfort, the panic, the desire and hesitancy. Yet all that chaos had a calming wonder to it that was quite relaxing. For once, she thought she might actually get some peaceful sleep—up in a tree in the middle of nowhere Georgia with a hillbilly hero who had captured her interest.
She sensed the movement of his head as he looked down on her, perhaps checking to see if she was sleeping. She wasn't.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Michonne smiled. It was funny how close they found themselves now even though they had hardly spoken more than a few sentences to each other in the last several hours.
"Why not? It's not like either of us is going anywhere." Plus, she was a little curious what he thought about all this even if she was a little afraid of his response.
Daryl sighed. "I aint complainin' or nothin' but what got into you just now?"
It was difficult to anticipate the answer that would continue to make all this feel right. And she realized with a sure swiftness that she wanted that. She hoped he would want it as well.
Michonne massaged the arm that held her, adjusting the cuff of his shirt before taking his hand in hers. His grip was solid and steady.
"I guess your quiet works for me too."
When he placed a soft kiss at the crown of her head, she let her eyes drift close in slumber.