SUMMARY : (Set late Season 3) The Reader and Daryl find themselves in a life or death situation. It was supposed to be a simple hunt - but when do things ever work out the way you plan?

A/N : A big thank you to everyone who's shown me so much love with my other stories! I love writing and you guys make this all worth it!

This is Part 1 of 2!


It should've been an easy run.

You'd been on a hunt with Daryl — scouring the woods for any animal, big or small, you could bring back to the prison.

The group had been running low on supplies for a while now, but with the threat of the Governor hanging over your heads, most had been wary to leave the prison.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

Carol had done inventory of the food supplies the night before and the expression on her face said it all.

Daryl immediately volunteered to go on a supply run — he was the best tracker in the group and was confident he would not come home empty handed. You offered your services right after because there was no way in hell you were letting him go out there on his own.

You and Daryl had always made a good team — each making up for what the other lacked. Daryl could be a hot head, you calmed him down. You could be naive, he kept you sharp.

There had always been this sense of ease and comfortability that flowed between you two, something you hadn't experienced even before the end of the world.

You knew Daryl cared about you — he may not be a man of many words, but he didn't need to say anything. You just knew — by the way he looked at you, by the way he softened up around you, by the way he became fiercely protective if he felt you were in danger.

And the feelings were reciprocated. Of course you cared about every single person in your group — no, in your family — but it was different with the archer. It was deeper.

So the thought of him going out on a run by himself had you volunteering yourself before you could think twice.

As soon as the words left your lips, you caught Daryl's eyes and saw a flash of worry pass through them, before he reluctantly nodded once. He trusted you to have his back out there but you knew it made him uneasy when you left the prison walls.

You gave him a reassuring smile, knowing you'd be just as safe under his watchful eye.

The two of you had decided to try your luck at a small mini mart a couple miles down the road, and if that place had been cleared out, you'd settle for a good old fashioned hunt.

Not surprisingly, the mini mart had been completely ransacked.

The windows and doors were busted in, the shelves were bare, and even the storage room in the back was cleared out. You'd managed to snag a can of peaches that had rolled under one of the shelves, but other than that, the mini mart was a bust.

You and Daryl had been combing through the forrest for about an hour, no sign of anything alive or dead to be found.

A shiver passed through you as you walked— the sun was beginning to set and it was getting into the colder months now.

You glanced up at Daryl who was walking beside you, scanning the forrest, crossbow in hand.

"We should probably head back," you whispered, breaking the prolonged silence.

Daryl didn't respond, didn't acknowledge your words — just kept his determined pace.

You sighed softly, understanding his reluctance to head back home. "We can try again tomorrow."

Still nothing.

You took a breath. "Daryl —"

"I ain't goin' back 'til we get somethin'," he interrupted gruffly. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the stress in the lines on his face.

"It'll be dark soon and it's not safe out here. We can try again tomorrow," you argued gently.

Daryl slowed to a stop, lowering his crossbow. He stared off into the woods, a faraway look in his eyes. "I ain't 'bout 'ta let our people go hungry, Y/N. I ain't gonna let that happen."

You opened your mouth to respond, but a twig snapping in the distance sent the two of you into high alert.

The archer aimed his crossbow in the direction of the sound, you following suit with your gun. Holding your breath, you scanned the forrest, searching for what made the noise.

Daryl seemed to have caught wind of something, because all of the sudden, he was on the move, motioning for you to follow quietly. You kept your gun raised, glancing behind you every so often to make sure nothing was sneaking up on you.

The wind was starting to pick up, biting at your exposed skin as you ran. An intensely putrid smell suddenly wafted through the air — like rotting meat that'd been sitting out in the sun for too long.

Opting to breathe through your mouth instead of your nose, you continued forward, staying right on the archers heels.

You glanced over your shoulder, but when you turned back around, you nearly ran smack into Daryl who had suddenly halted. He had one hand raised up, the signal for you to be still, and every muscle in your body froze.

He had his crossbow up and pointed off to the right. You glanced at him — his eyes narrowed, breathing steady. Following his gaze, you suddenly found yourself staring at a sight that sent your heart racing.

It was a buck.

It stood tall and mighty, with intricate antlers that twisted from its head and you couldn't believe the sight. You'd never seen a deer so big in your life — yet there it was, standing in front of you, staring right back.

A small part of you felt bad that this animal had no idea there was a crossbow pointed at it, with the intent to kill. But a bigger part of you couldn't wait to see the look on everyones faces when you and Daryl brought home food for a week.

You watched Daryl's finger glide over the trigger, heard him let out a shaky breath, felt the waves of tension rolling off him, smelt the rotting scent from earlier get stronger and stronger and stronger and then…

It should've been an easy run.

All of the sudden, a twig snapped behind you, the deer bolted away, Daryl's arrow pierced the tree the animal had previously stood in front of, and you felt a hand wrap itself in your hair.

Before you could even turn around, Daryl had unsheathed his knife and stabbed the walker in the head who grabbed you. You pulled yourself out of its grasp as it collapsed to the floor and took a few steps back.

"Shit, I didn't even hear it," you breathed heavily, rubbing the back of your head subconsciously.

"C'mere," Daryl rumbled, worry etching his face as he motioned for you to turn. You shot him a confused look before he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, so your back was to him.

Suddenly, he was moving your hair to the side so it fell over your shoulder. "What're you doing?" you asked softly.

"Jus' makin' sure it didn't scratch ya," he murmured, gently feeling around where the walker gripped you. You sighed, unable to stop your eyes from closing — you missed human contact.

And for someone as rough as he was, he had a soft touch.

When he was satisfied you were unharmed, he pulled away and you couldn't help but feel the ache for more. You heaved and turned around to face him, but he was looking off behind you.

You knew where his thoughts were. "You think you can track it?" you questioned, hoping the deer hadn't gotten far.

Daryl grunted, shaking his head a little. "Don't matter. It's gonna be dark an' we gotta get back."

"Maybe you can find a trail — who knows when we'll find a buck like that again."

"Ain't worth it."

"Daryl —"

"I said it ain't worth it, Y/N," he shot back, an edge to his words. "Imma take ya back ta' the prison an' I'll try an' find somethin' tomorrow."

You nodded. "Alright, I'll come with."

"Nah, it's best ya be stayin' with the others."

Confusion spread over your face. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you go out here by yourself," you argued resolutely, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ya ain't lettin me?" Daryl growled in return, narrowing his eyes at you. "Ya ain't my damn babysitter, sunshine. I don't need ya tellin' me what ta' do now."

"Are you kidding me? I'm not telling you what to do, Dixon. You're being a jackass."

"Ya, well this jackass jus' saved your damn life!"

"Why are you being like this?" you retorted, unsure where the hostility came from. "I'm just saying you shouldn't do this alone — I can help you."

Daryl exhaled heavily and you saw a little bit of the fight leave him. "Ya almost got bit, Y/N. I can't have ya out here," he replied, his voice a little softer.

"Well, that's not really up to you, now is it?" you shot back, standing your ground.

Daryl quirked a brow, almost incredulously, before taking a step towards you. "Ya ain't comin' out here tomorrow."

"Try to stop me," you shot back, feeling your confidence waver as Daryl stepped closer until the two of you were almost nose to nose.

A tense silence settled over the woods as Daryl stared down at you — his face angry, but a softness in his eyes, a look you couldn't quite place.

"I need ya ta' be safe," he finally said, so soft you almost didn't hear it. "So ya gonna stay at that prison tomorrow. An' that's that."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared up into his blue eyes, tilting your head up slightly. "Make me," you whispered, unsure where the boldness came from.

Daryl's features darkened slightly and you watched his gaze move from your eyes, down to your lips.

He looked torn, like he was having some sort of internal battle — but all you could focus on was how close he was, how you could reach out right now and touch him.

The ache was becoming too much and just as you were about to lean forward, you heard a growl echo through the silent woods.

And just like that, the moment was gone. Daryl had stepped back and raised his bow, scanning the forrest for the walker. You cleared your mind of the archer and focused on where the growl came from.

The rotting smell you'd gotten a whiff of earlier hit you again, this time much more potent. As if on cue, another loud moan ripped through the air, coming from a different direction than the first and you took a step closer to Daryl.

"More than one," you hissed, keeping your gun raised in front of you as the growls grew louder.

Daryl just nodded, eyes narrowed into slits as he surveyed the trees. "We oughta head back ta' — shit."

Your eyes landed on what Daryl saw and you felt your stomach drop.

Walkers. A herd of walkers. More than just the two of you could handle and you both knew that.

You spun around and saw more limping towards you from every direction — you were surrounded.

"Shit," you growled, feeling your heart start to beat faster. There was no way out of this. You were going to have to fight your way out. Or die trying.

You glanced at Daryl but he was already staring at you, looking more distressed than you'd ever seen him.

Nodding once, you shot him a small smile, trying to hide how scared you were. "We got this," you stated, assuring neither of you.

Daryl nodded anyways. "I know," he rumbled, voice just as unconvincing as yours.

You took a deep breath, moving to stand back to back with Daryl as the first wave of walkers approached.

It should've been an easy run.

You began firing at the dead as they limped towards you, landing a perfect headshot each time. From behind, you could hear Daryl reloading his crossbow, a string of curses escaping his mouth.

You went to pull the trigger once more, when the unmistakable click sounded that meant you were out of bullets. There was no way you'd have enough time to go into your backpack and grab more ammo, so instead, you tucked your gun into the back of your pants and unsheathed the hunting knife you kept strapped to your leg.

You looked back to check in on Daryl, noticing that he had opted for his knife over the crossbow and was stabbing each walker that came at him.

A moan directed your attention back to the task at hand and you stabbed the biter who had appeared in front of you.

It felt as though you were on autopilot — a walker approached, you stabbed, it fell, repeat. You don't know how many biters you'd taken down when Daryl's voice pulled you out of your stupor.

"Y/N!" he shouted and you spun around, locking eyes with him. "We gotta go!"

You saw he was pointing towards an opening that had appeared in the crowd of walkers — this was your chance to escape.

A smile spread across your face and you looked back at Daryl who was now staring at you in horror.

The smile on your face disappeared when a walker launched itself at you, knocking you to the ground, falling on top of you.

You could vaguely hear Daryl screaming your name, but you were too focused on keeping the biters snapping jaws away from your face.

You had dropped your knife during the struggle and now frantically felt around for it, keeping one hand around the walkers neck. You groaned, feeling your arm start to shake under the pressure.

"Daryl!" you cried out, searching for the archer, still feeling around the forrest floor.

Finally, you saw movement from the corner of your eye and watched as Daryl took aim at the walker on top of you with his bow. But what Daryl didn't see was the biter headed straight for him, arms outstretched, teeth bared.

"Behind you!" you exclaimed, just as the biter threw itself at Daryl.

As Daryl pulled the trigger, he was taken down by the walker, landing hard on his side, his crossbow slipping out of his grasp.

And then suddenly, a blinding pain hit you like nothing you'd felt before — it was as though every nerve in your leg was on fire. A scream escaped your lips before you could stop it as tears sprung to your eyes.

You managed to peek around the walker, still thrashing on top of you, and felt your stomach turn.

There, imbedded deep into your right thigh, was Daryl's arrow.