Alright, lovelies. You wanted (or demanded) more and I am here to deliver. I'm still not promising a story, but who am I to deny your lovely reviews? Thanks a bunch to lighassnow, MollyMayhem84, Leyshla Gisel, Maddy-MarieXO, i'mnottellin P, and Fany1, as well as anyone else who favorited the story and started following it or me. Y'all are the reason this got written.
I hope you still like me when you get through this... ;)
Thank God it was my turn to keep watch.
The night was cool, the sky clear. I breathed in the refreshingly clean air, enjoying the solitude that came with watch duty. No one else, no talking with people, no problems to figure out. No having to deal with rednecks ignoring me and avoiding my every glance. Just me and the field.
The top of the RV gave me a good vantage point. The moon cast silvery light down onto the tall grasses, the breeze making the field look as if it was rippling with waves. I sat up straighter, scanning the forest line again, but there was no unnatural movement. I half hoped that a walker would show up, something for me to sink my knife into and take out some of the frustration I was feeling. But it was almost annoyingly peaceful tonight.
Almost, except for the unexpected guest Rick had brought back on his rescue mission for Hershel.
I leaned forward, resting my head on my hand, trying to keep my attention away from the barn. This kid was supposed to be gone by now, but here he was, mucking up the silence with his whines. I wanted this to be taken care of. I was filled with a persistent, worrying energy, a ceaseless desire to move.
The open field wasn't the issue. I would be able to see anyone, dead or alive, coming through relatively easily.
The barn was a different story.
I cast another nervous glance at the barn, my foot tap-tap-tapping anxiously against the RV. I knew Shane was keeping diligent watch, but his presence was only a minor comfort. I laughed humorlessly to myself. Shane on watch, that was what we needed in this situation.
The kid – Randy or Randall or something – was in there, bound and gagged. He was just a teenager, and with the way he had been pleading and moaning I doubted he was much of a threat. As long as he was the only one. I was paranoid about what his being here meant for the group. I could already see we were down to two options, and between killing him and trying to let him go again I wasn't sure which choice I disliked more. If only Shane and Rick had been able to ditch him as planned. Now we had even more of a problem on our hands.
I leaned back on the lawn chair, stretching my arms over my head, loosening my stiff limbs.
I snapped back to attention when I caught a light in the corner of my eye. I stood up quickly, walking to the edge of the RV and squinting so I could see as my hand went instinctively to the handle of my gun.
But it was just a fire, the distance making the flames seem small as they flickered. Daryl's fire. Daryl's stupid fucking fire for his stupid fucking camp.
My shoulders relaxed even as my heart sank a little. He had moved there two days after we had returned, leaving in the dead of night without saying a damn word.
Not that the silence was surprising. I had known he wouldn't cope well, but I had hoped against hopes that he wouldn't take it out on me. Before, when either one of us would break under pressure or anger, we could find a sort of calm in each other, a quiet understanding of the conflicting needs to be both alone and comforted at the same time.
Daryl was certainly pushing me to a breaking point. I felt aloof, separate from the others. I hadn't known how much I depended on his presence until he was gone. Even forgetting whatever other feelings there were, Daryl was a grounding force for me, and I felt myself nearly drifting away in his absence.
Drifting away. I sounded like such a girl.
I felt my disappointment slowly giving way to anger, and I encouraged it, willing the roiling resentment to take the edge off the hurt.
I paced to the other side of the RV, back and forth, crossing my arms over my chest, ignoring the look I saw Shane give me.
What did he think he was doing, leaving me to deal with all these people alone? He had been just as much a willing participant that night as I had been. Where did he get off, running away like this?
I turned around, taking another look at his campsite.
"Hey, Shane?" I called over to him, making a decision to act.
He turned his head towards me reluctantly. "Yeah?"
"Can you take over for a second? I'm gonna go talk to Dixon."
He scratched the back of his shaved head, a habit he had developed after Otis. I suspected it had something to do with whatever had happened at the school. Daryl had told me his observations, and I believed him. Hadn't trusted the guy since.
"You're gonna try and talk to Daryl?" he questioned, looking annoyingly smug in his doubt.
"Yeah," I replied, contorting my mouth into a bland smile. No glaring, not even a little bit.
"Good luck on that, Taylor," he chuckled, his eyes not leaving the barn.
I didn't respond, instead taking the few steps down the ladder, dropping to the ground quietly. I took a deep breath, then headed on the long walk towards Daryl.
It took me a moment to make him out as I got closer. He was sitting against the lone tree he had made camp by, holding his crossbow in his lap. He was fiddling with it, running his hands over the different components, his touch gentle. He glanced up at me as I approached, stopping his examination for a moment before giving me a single nod.
I took it as a good sign that he hadn't immediately kicked me out. I went and sat down across the fire from him, criss crossing my legs. I waited for him to make some further acknowledgement, a smirk or a comment, a question of why I was here, but I got nothing.
I couldn't help it. I felt my fierce emotions, so controlling just moments before, fading, the comfort that I only felt with Daryl taking its place. I looked at him, discreetly, watching the shadows of the flames dancing across his form, the yellow light making the curves on his muscular arms more defined. His face, normally more relaxed when the others weren't around, was tense, his lips pressed tight together in concentration.
He looked good, damn it all. I was irritated with myself, and with him for making me feel alone in this. It couldn't just be me that wanted more than the taste I had gotten that night.
I sighed, taking out my knife and digging it lightly into the dirt. I dragged it across the ground, giving my hands something to do as I traced out the letters of the alphabet. We had sat with each other like this before, not needing words to fill the silence, but I was strangely antsy. I half wanted to cry, half wanted to slug him.
I laughed to myself softly, smiling. Maybe I should cry, just bust into tears right here and now. That would definitely freak him out.
He looked up at the sound for a second, then quickly went back to his bow. "Don't you got watch tonight?"
I nodded my head, finishing an F on the ground. "Yeah, but you see, you left me with a kid who won't stop fucking crying and with the ever pleasant Shane."
Daryl stopped, his hands tightening on his bow, his fingers inching towards the trigger. His eyes met mine, his gaze intense. "He do somethin'?"
"No," I whispered, shaking my head before the look in his eyes forced me to glance away.
He looked back down. "I don't trust him further than I can throw him."
I didn't know how to respond to this, to what I was sure was protectiveness, so I decided to be direct. "What are you doing out here, Daryl?"
He looked confused at the change of subject, but his eyes quickly narrowed in annoyance.
"Got tired of these damn people."
I pursed my lips, accidentally stabbing the ground in the stinging flash of anger his words caused, the blade sinking a few inches into the soft earth. I tugged it out, steadying myself. "You including me in that now?"
He didn't even look up. "Don't expect a fuckin' postcard."
I slammed the blade deep into the ground, standing up. I turned away for a second, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to quell the frustration. I looked back at him. "This is how it goes now? We have sex and instead of admitting it meant anything you never talk to me again?"
"Nothing woulda happened if you hadn't found booze," he said, the volume of his voice raised in anger. I could see his face turning red at the mention of our forbidden night.
"What are you, Daryl, two?" I stepped around the fire so that I was closer to him, putting my hands on my hips, knowing I couldn't back down.
"The hell are you talkin' about?" The question came out forced, and he only paused his movements for a second as he looked up at me before breaking eye contact and going back to his work, his hands now jerking, no longer smooth or gentle.
"If you're out here because of what happened-"
"Nothin' happened," he said, and finally put his full attention on me.
"-then I think it's stupid. I know you, I know this isn't-"
He stood up as I spoke, letting the crossbow drop to the ground, and I stopped speaking. He took a couple menacing steps towards me until he was a few inches away, towering over me. "You what? You know me? Think cause I let you come out there with me it means somethin'?" He gestured out towards the highway, towards our hunting trail. "Don't mean shit."
I almost faltered at the look of near hatred on his face, but I knew better than to take what he was saying at face value. I had seen these defenses before. "Fucking stop it, Daryl! I know what this is!"
"You don't know nothin' about me! Don't you talk down to me and tell me you know what's goin on, like you've got a damn clue when you don't. I didn't ask you to come here, and I for damn sure didn't ask you to spread your legs," he yelled, his voice getting louder and louder. I flinched at his words, and he took a step back. But he didn't stop. I could see on his face that he could tell he had gotten under my skin. He leaned forwards, getting in my face. "You did that all your own."
I backed away, blinking furiously against the burning sensation of tears. I was shocked. Never before had he spoken to me this way, looked at me as if the best thing I could do was leave.
"Fine," I said, hating the break in my voice. I looked up, roughly wiping my eyes, looking anywhere but at him.
I would not cry in front of him.
I walked back to where my knife was still standing in the ground, kneeling down to yank it out, using the moment to take a deep breath before I stood and faced him.
I let my stare go to him, determined to not be weak. The anger in his face fell slightly as he looked at me, his chest still heaving from his outburst. "Fine," I repeated, my voice a strained whisper, before turning and leaving.
I had only made it about fifteen feet away before I heard him, just the edges of his gruff voice talking to himself. I turned my head when I heard a thud, looking back over my shoulder.
He was pacing, running a hand through his hair, grabbing roughly at the strands. He suddenly lunged, kicking against a rotted log lying on its side near his tent, and I heard the thud again as his foot made contact.
I turned back around, walking more quickly than before. Good if he was upset, feeling a tiny portion of the mad mix of emotions dashing through my mind. Good if he cared.
Sleep didn't come easy for me after Andrea took over my shift.
I laid flat on my back in my tent, trying to concentrate on relaxing my body, but my mind was in an uproar. His words were on repeat in my head, his hatred, his spitting anger. I was confused, and pissed as hell. Pissed at him for his stubbornness, for talking to me the same way he would anyone else.
Furious with myself for still not knowing what I wanted from him, or what else I had expected.
I could see morning light starting to make it through the vinyl of the tent. I closed my eyes, willing myself to forget.
It felt like I had just blinked when voices outside the tent woke me. I yawned sleepily, and was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I heard Daryl's voice. I jerked awake, sitting up, trying to listen.
"You don't have to do this, Daryl." That was Rick's voice, exhausted and distracted.
"You got another plan you ain't tellin' me about?" Daryl asked, his voice more curt and short than usual.
They walked away, their words becoming unintelligible. Something was going down. I scrounged for my things, leaving my pack and not bothering to tie my shoes.
The sun was bright, sending waves of stifling heat that I felt as soon as I came outside. Any hints of changing seasons from last night were gone.
It was suspiciously quiet outside, even though most everybody was sitting in camp. Their heads all turned to look at me, but no one said anything.
I looked to Glenn. "What the hell is going on?"
He looked down awkwardly, reaching up to hold on to his dirty cap. "Daryl's going to...talk to him." He nodded towards the barn, and I looked where he was pointing in time to see Daryl closing the door of the barn behind him, Rick standing watch a few yards away.
I picked up on the unspoken words. Daryl was taking care of the hard stuff. Again. I swayed a little, uneasy. If he was still in the same mindset he had been in when I left him last night, then this Randall kid was in for a tough time.
I didn't notice Dale until he was next to me, his hand on my shoulder. I immediately shrugged away from the contact, an unconscious instinct. I gave him a small, apologetic smile, then refocused on the barn, frowning.
He looked at me, his expression worried but sincere. "You need to talk to Daryl, Taylor."
I looked around at everyone else, seeing what their reaction was to this, but either they hadn't heard or they didn't want to. Lori hung up another shirt, wiping her hands on her jeans, and Glenn tugged his cap down over his eyes while T-Dog took another bite of some food, but nobody pitched in.
"Why me? And why should I?" I gestured out to where everyone was seated. "I don't see anyone else doing any volunteering."
He shifted his weight, looking a little flustered but persistent. "Torturing a boy for information is just the beginning. Where do you think things go from here?" he implored. "And it has to be you, you're the only one who's got a shot in hell at making him listen."
I turned my back on him, reaching into my tent to throw my gear into my pack. I came back out, avoiding eye contact as I zipped it up. "You're wrong. Daryl doesn't listen to me," I said, shrugging my shoulders into the straps. "I'm going out. Daryl's not the only one around here that can do some hunting."
I left before Dale could ask me to do anything more, hiking out towards the trees near Daryl's camp, trying to ignore the yells and moans that were the results of Daryl's handiwork coming from the barn.
I had no intention of hunting, just a desire to escape. There was a creek running around the property, and the woods had seemed clear enough so far that I didn't mind going on my own.
I walked for hours along the water, listening, moving quietly, feeling myself calm down in the absence of other life. Thinking was so much easier without other people waiting on you.
This aspect of myself, the need to be alone, had always been there, but had become more magnified in the months past, and I relished this time by myself. Even as a little whisper stayed set on the one person who I wouldn't have minded being there.
I didn't return until I started losing the light, the sun shining weakly through the canopy above. I sighed as I got closer to the break in the forest line, reluctant to return to reality.
I stopped in my tracks as soon as I had exited, spotting Daryl at his camp. He was looking at the retreating figure of Dale, his stance agitated. He turned, but stopped when he saw me, looking for a second before bending to rifle through his bag next to the tree.
I thought of Dale's request, looking at Daryl's figure and then back at camp. I groaned inwardly, heading in the direction of Daryl.
He dropped his bag as I got closer, leaning with his shoulder against the tree, crossing his arms. A stand off.
I nodded my head a few times, clicking my tongue , then kneeled down to tie my shoes while he watched. I wasn't sure how this was supposed to go down, how I was supposed to talk to him about any of it. I stood back up, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. Finally, I got tired of waiting.
"Come here," I said impatiently, reaching forward and grabbing his right hand before he could pull away. He stiffened, but let me look. He hadn't bothered to clean himself up yet. The knuckles were red and swollen, the dried blood cracked and smeared over his skin. I swallowed as I saw how much there was, realizing again exactly what he had been doing in that barn.
"You're an idiot. You're lucky you didn't break your hand," I muttered, turning his hand gently and stretching out his fingers one by one, testing them.
He scoffed. "I know how to throw a damn punch."
I rolled my eyes, then looked at him more seriously. "What the hell was that, Daryl?"
The change in his eyes told me he knew that I wasn't just talking about his punching technique. He yanked his hand away from me. "Fuckin' women nagging me today."
I sat down, hugging my knees. "That's not what I meant. I know it had to be done. But it was a little excessive, don't you think? I could hear him screaming."
He rubbed his knuckles, flexing his hand in and out of a fist. "You didn't hear him. He ain't just a kid."
I nodded, accepting. That was all I had to hear. I had only needed to know, to make sure, that it was necessary. He seemed relieved when I didn't ask any other questions, but I could sense there was more. I sat quietly, pinching some dirt between my fingers, waiting to see if he would tell me.
I only had to wait for about a minute before he spoke. "The things he was sayin'... It was fucked up, even for this shit world. Talked 'bout our group..." He paused for a moment, his fist clenching around a dead leaf hanging from a branch. "He talked bout you."
I leaned forward, surprised, but kept silent.
"Saw you and me that day we got back, when Shane and Rick brought him back from the drop off." He paused. "Fuckin' runnin' his mouth about how he could help me keep ya safe…" His words died off. He still wasn't looking at me, crinkling up another leaf and throwing it into the fire, the small pieces causing sparks. "Bastard didn't know what the fuck he was saying."
My heart increased its tempo at his words. I remembered what he was talking about. Kid had managed to loosen the blindfold in all of his struggling, and he had started begging and moaning to every person he laid eyes on, including me. Daryl hadn't reacted well, shoving him hard against the barn door, leaving a bleeding scrape on his forehead. I had chalked it up to just leftover aggression from our night together, but now...
I coughed, choosing not to discuss it further. "What did Dale want?"
He shook his head, his mouth a grimace. "Don't matter. What he wants ain't gonna happen."
His last sentence struck me hard. I didn't know if he was just talking about Dale.
We sat in silence. The longer I was there, the harder I found it to let go and relax. There was a part of me that wanted to forget, to let us go on like this and leave the past few nights behind us. But another part of me was playing like a movie reel, clips of jarring images, of his words and of his actions, both the good and the very bad. The more I thought about it, the less okay I became. I didn't want to keep on keeping on. I wanted him to react to me, to see that he was just as fucked over this as I was. But I knew I couldn't talk to him again. That path was done.
I would have to show him.
I stood up, facing him.
He wasn't paying me any mind, his thoughts somewhere else, and it took him a moment for his attention to narrow in on me.
Before he could stop me, I came closer, standing directly in front of him. I blinked at him, waiting for him to physically push me back or for some vicious verbal lashing to fall from his lips. But nothing came. I was at war, the need to show him how wrong he was just as strong as the intense, unexpected desire I was feeling at being this close and having him accept it.
I bent my head down, grinding my teeth, trying to prepare myself before I looked back up at him. I kept watching his eyes as I slowly, inch by inch, pressed my body against his, not stopping until he was completely cornered between me and the broad trunk of the tree. His body was tensed, his muscles clenched. I tilted up my head so that he had no choice but to look at me as I began to speak.
"This is the last time I'm asking, Daryl. I don't fucking care about Randall or any of it. But right now, you and me. Is this how it's going to be?" I put my hands on his chest. "Are you just going to keep pretending we didn't happen? That you didn't feel anything when you touched me?" I raised an eyebrow as I spoke, biting my lower lip in what I hoped was a seductive manner. I could see a flicker of something in his eyes at my words, a contrast to the stern expression on his face.
I took his hands in mine, just as I had that first time when I asked him to trust me, leading them down to my sides of my thighs, letting his fingers feel the soft skin there. I could feel him resisting, and I pressed myself against him more firmly, trying to distract him from how I was taking control.
"Saying that you don't remember how your touch made me shiver? How when you grabbed on to me, I had to hold myself against you?"
I demonstrated this for him as I spoke, letting my hips move in a deliciously slow circle, teasing, thrilled to already feel his cock moving in his pants at my actions. I smiled to myself, victorious, as his eyes closed, a slight hum in the back of his throat as he let out a breath. I released his hands, and they immediately went to the small of my back, his finger lazily hooking through the belt loops to hold me in place.
I stood on the tips of my toes, sliding my hands under his shirt, running my fingers over the small scratches he had received from me that were still raised on his skin.
"Going to pretend it was just a couple of sips of whiskey that had me giving you these?"
I nuzzled my lips into the crook of his shoulder, letting my teeth graze against his skin as I took a taste of him with a flick of my tongue.
"I still have a mark where you bit me," I whispered, letting my teeth press harder, threatening to break skin. "You saying that was the alcohol? A little buzz that had you needing me that much?"
I suddenly dropped my hand to his crotch, cupping the hardness there and squeezing slightly. He shot to attention, his body straightening as his eyes flashed open. He looked down at me, that now familiar demanding desire all over his face. My body immediately responded, nearly pulsating. I was dangerously close to losing control.
I squeezed again and I could hear the near groan in the back of his throat, his hands moving roughly to my waist, pulling my shirt up with him so that I could feel his fingers against my skin. I pressed my lips to his neck, moving up to his ear, gathering the necessary confidence for my next words. "That's your excuse for how you slid inside of me? How well you filled me? You think it was just a fucking drink that had me coming that hard?"
I nipped at his earlobe, pulling it between my teeth harshly, and I finally felt the growl that I had been aiming for in his chest. He moved his head, his hands trying to angle me so that he could kiss me. Even though my actions had me burning for him, I leaned my head away, pushing against his chest and almost tripping backwards.
He didn't understand, immediately moving to close the distance between us, and I could see the same animal like dominance in his eyes. I held up my hands, shaking my head.
"No," I said breathlessly, swallowing hard when my voice came out unsteady and weak. "On second thought, I'm sure you're right. We were probably just drunk."
I could see the realization cross his face as I made my point clear, his eyes narrowing at me in anger, his hands still half outreached towards me, but I only looked at him for a second before turning around. I stalked away, not giving him a glance back.
Yikes! Mean Daryl, protective Daryl, teased Daryl, oh my! Don't hate me :) but even if you do... drop a review. Hope I didn't scare too many of you away!
