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Disclaimer:

I'm the author of this story. The Walking Dead is the source of the original work. Daryl Dixon/OC fantasy. I don't know Daryl Dixon, do not own the character Daryl Dixon, and do not mean to cause harm, confusion or headaches. This story is simply intended for enjoyment of the readers. Please don't sue me!

They were farther out than Daryl wanted to be from camp and nearing nightfall by the time they closed in on the buck near a stream. They'd tracked him all day through the woods in comfortable silence, and Daryl was a little surprised by how at ease he felt with Claire. The woods were his comfort zone, his safe space, the place where he could finally breathe, rest easy. And there she was all day, walking along, and resting easy beside him.

He was glad she didn't bring up what happened early this morning, with the handholding and the song. He smiled a little thinking about the feel of her soft hand in his, and the words of the song she had sang to him to call him out of his nightmare. Lost boy… He snorted and shook his head. He ain't been a boy in a long ass time. Lost maybe, he might give her that one, but he'd been through way too much shit growing up to feel like anything other than an old ass man.

She turned to him and held her finger to her lips, her eyes questioning at the sound of his snort. He shook his head and opened his mouth before she widened her eyes, pressing her finger tighter to her lips and jerking her head to the right behind her. He closed his mouth and looked around past her, scanning before finally settling on the buck at the stream. Shit. He was so caught up in his own head he almost spooked the very thing that had them out here in the first place.

They crept through the woods quietly, moving like one unit as the scanned the banks and trees, looking for walkers or other signs of people. He whistled softly to her and when she met his eyes he nodded towards the deer. You, or me?

Claire pointed to him, knowing what he was asking instantly without the need for words. He nodded and looked down the crossbow, letting the arrow fly. She smiled and clapped him on the back as the buck went down clean into the stream.

Daryl couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach as he blushed under her smile, but seeing her looking at him like that made him anxious. He just nodded once then stomped roughly out of the woods and down to the stream to gut the buck so they could start back. Just as he was pulling the arrow out he heard the snap of twigs and Claire's strangled gasp behind him. He whipped around to see a hand clamp over her mouth, a second hand pushing a knife up to her throat, while another man walked out towards him with a gun pointed at his chest.

Daryl held his hands up in the air, scanning his eyes quickly over the two men before briefly bringing his eyes up to meet Claire's. They were wild, terrified, and when he noticed she was trembling ice shot down into the pit of his stomach.

"Don't want know trouble," he said, turning his eyes back to the man in front of him. "Just tryin' to get some food for our people."

The man's eyes were cold, hard and unyielding. He nodded towards the buck. "You can keep him. We lost our little birdie here, thanks for taking care of her. We'll be on our way now." Daryl swung his eyes back to Claire and saw her whole body shaking. Her eyes welled as the man holding her pressed his knife into her neck further then slid it down, pricking the skin and drawing a line of blood across her smooth skin.

He saw red then, and before he could think he was charging them, the man with the gun completely forgotten. She bucked and kicked, trying to reach towards him, shaking her head hard, eyes bright with fear. Just as he remembered the first guy and turned towards him, he felt a sharp crack on the back of his head. Claire felt her tears roll as she watched Daryl crumple into a heap in the stream.

They'd bound her tight and dragged her and Daryl for what felt like hours until they set up a little camp, tying him to a tree. He still hadn't woken up, and Claire was sick watching the blood drip down from the back of his head to his neck. She fought the bile rising in her throat as looked at his drooped head, hair completely covering his face. It was only the slight rise and fall of his chest that kept her present and grounded. She'd be damned if these men killed anyone else in front of her, not again.

Claire worked at the wire they'd tied her wrists together with, saying a silent prayer they'd not only bound her hands in front of her, but they'd even left her bandages around her wrists. The pain was unbearable as it was, without having to feel wire digging into her barely healing wounds. But from this position she could reach the knife she'd tucked into the boot of her shoe if she was careful and quick about it. They'd searched them both thoroughly, sure, but she'd hid that third knife Rick had given her under the sole of her boot, and they'd missed it. Her nerves steeled as she thought about sinking the steel into their throats. They weren't getting out of this alive this time.

Keeping an eye on their captors, Claire started to softly hum Daryl's song to him, the one from last night. She sang just loudly enough for the melody to reach his ears, while she worked on getting the knife out of her boot. Just as she was about to finish and start the song again, he kicked and jerked his head up, blinking his eyes open at her.

She watched the panic flair in his eyes as he pulled tight against the rope, and she raised her bound hands quickly to place a finger to her lips. He nodded, eyes flicking over to take in their captors, lounging and cooking squirrel by the fire as they shared a bottle of whisky. He turned back towards Claire and saw the knife flash out of her boot by the dim light of the moon overhead. He watched as she worked through the wire, but was confused when she fastened it a bit to keep it so her hands were still bound.

"Horace, looks like our fair maiden's prince charming woke up," the one with the gun yelled loudly, pointing at Daryl and letting out a harsh laugh. Daryl turned back to Claire but saw the knife wasn't in her hands any longer. Before he could meet her eyes she was yelling back towards them.

"Let this redneck go, it's me you want anyways. He's nothing to you, and I'll take real good care of you if you just let him be," she hollered, voice strong but he could detect the slight tremor in it. What the hell was she doing?

The first one, he wasn't sure his name yet, cackled at that, and his face turned into a sneer as he sauntered up towards them. He reached down and yanked Claire up by her hair, jerking her so hard her legs kicked out, kicking up leaves and rocks as he pulled her over by the fire.

Daryl heard something thunk against the tree when she first kicked up, and just barely managed to keep his eyes up while they pulled her away before looking down. Warmth chased out some of the cold that had pooled in his belly as he saw the knife quivering in the trunk of the tree, already severing the first circle of rope surrounding him. Adrenaline rushed through him as he wiggled to work the knife over the remainder of the ropes, and Daryl steeled his nerves as he Horace force Claire to her knees in front of him.

Horace unzipped his fly and thrust his cock out towards her face, slapping her hard when she turned away. Claire flew back, glancing back towards Daryl as she did, and as she met his eyes he nodded at her. He was ready.

Horace yanked Claire back to him while Walter stood and watched, licking his lips and sneering as he waited to take his turn with her. His eyes widened at the flash of flames licking past his face before colliding against the side of Horace's skull with a sickening crack. He reached for his gun but before he could get it out of the holster, he felt the cold press of steel into his throat.

Daryl didn't hesitate as he slammed the knife into Walter's neck, not even bothering to watch his body fall as blood bubbled up out of his mouth, dripping down his face. He yanked the knife back out and turned to help Claire, the smell of burning hair and flesh turning his stomach further.

After the first smack against Horace's face, Claire didn't hesitate to pick up another log and hit him again, feeling a mixture of horror and triumph as she watched his hair and shirt catch fire. She continued to beat him with the log as he screamed and tried to pat out the flames, attempting to hold his arms up to block her swings.

"Here," Daryl yelled, tossing the knife to her. Claire caught it with ease, dropping the log and not missing a moment before plunging the knife down into Horace's skull. She continued to stab the knife into his neck and chest, over and over, dimly hearing a scream from somewhere behind her. It wasn't until she felt strong arms wrap around her own that she recognized it. The scream was coming from her.

Daryl crushed her to him and held her, wiping Horace's blood away from her face, noting she was covered in it from her hair to her boots. He whispered soft sounds of encouragement into her ear as he rubbed her back and held her, and she collapsed into him with a sob.

He let her cry into him, and Claire balled her hands into his chest, burying her face in his shoulder as she felt her knees give out. He picked her up easily, like he had that first day, and made his way over to a tree next to the fire to sit with her curled up in his lap.

Eventually she felt the tears slow, and she hiccupped a bit before pulling back to look at him. "Want to talk about?" He asked her, his voice low and soft in her ear.

She sighed and shook her head before looking up at him again. "No, but I think I have to," she whispered.

He nodded and tucked his hand under her chin to pull her eyes back up to meet his. "You ain't never gonna have to do nothin' you don't want to ever again," he whispered fiercely.

Claire felt her eyes well as she looked at the expression on his face, and her heart started to stutter a bit while butterflies filled her belly. She smiled softly and then sighed, leaning back down to tuck her head into the side of his neck.

Daryl jumped a little at the sound of her soft whisper a few minutes later, and tightened his arms around her as she spoke. "They were the ones who bound me before you found me a few days ago. Horace and Walter. They came across the little cabin I was staying in with my husband and son..."

Daryl held her tight as she continued her story, resting his head against the side of his cheek. When she finished, he was still for a long moment before sighing. "How long were you with them before I found you?"

She tensed a bit and thought about giving him the answer she gave Michonne before pushing the thought aside. He'd saved her twice now from them alone, he deserved to know. "I lost count after a long time. My guess is about a year and a half?" She whispered, turning her face tighter into his neck.

She heard the growl rumble up from his chest before it ever left his lips into her hair. "How'd you get away that first time?"

She shuddered a bit and balled her fists tighter into his chest. "Some of those, walkers, I guess you all call them, caught up with us. When they struggled to outrun them, they kicked me back into them, I think as bait. I crawled along as best I could and hid in the bushes, kicking the walkers until suddenly they just turned and moved on. I've never seen anything like it, and I honestly wonder if it was a true act of God that kept me alive. I crawled out to see but when I got up to run I slipped and fell. Next thing I remember was waking up to your face."

They sat there under the tree together for the rest of the night, Daryl holding her close. Neither of them minded the two dead men not twenty feet away on the other side of the fire. For the first time since the day her son and husband died, when Claire closed her eyes, nothing haunted her in her dreams.