Short chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy. And I do hope people are enjoying this story. I keep getting followers and favorites, but the reviews are lacking. Please, tell me what ya guys think. Please. Even constructive criticism. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Walking Dead, comic or the television series, nor its characters. All I own is my main OC, some other OCs, and some plot points.

Warnings: Daryl and OC romance, swearing, crude humor, sexual content, gore,mentions types of abuse, and alcohol and drug references.


Chapter: Six

Katherine was sketching randomly in the RV when Daryl and Andrea returned, empty-handed, something Daryl hadn't seen her do in a long time; almost made him feel nostalgic. However, the moment he entered the vehicle, she stopped and made her way out, suddenly volunteering to take watch, not even sparing him a glance.

Was she still mad at him?

Upon exiting, she slammed the door behind her.

Probably.

Exhaling deeply, Daryl rolled his eyes in exasperation and trailed after her. For it he didn't, he knew he was destined to not get a wink of sleep that night, especially with Dale continuously giving him looks to talk to Katherine. Daryl had also learned from Merle to never allow an angry woman sleep near you, whether you were in a relationship with her or not.

That didn't mean he wasn't anxious to approach the blonde woman upon the top of the RV, particularly when she was wielding a gun that he knew she knew how to use. Then again, even after all these years, the male was still not entirely sure ho to speak to her when she was angry or upset and when she was with him.

Thankfully, sort of, Katherine spoke first, "Ya gonna tell me where ya got the fuckin' balls to talk to me as if you were my fuckin' father?"

Daryl grimaced. "Ya needed to sleep, Kat. Yer body still hasn't recovered 'nuff. Yer not cut out fer this kinda life, but ya keep pushin' yerself like a damn fool."

Her green glower was shot to him. "You called me useless, Daryl. You know how much I hate that word. Not only that, ya have no right to boss me around like that, especially in front of everyone." Her gaze darkened. "And how the Hell do ya know that I'm not cut out for this kinda life? I made it just fine by myself before you. I'm not useless. Don't you dare say that to me ever again. I had gotten enough of that from Papa and Keith; you are the last person I needed it from."

Daryl paused, faltering.

He could hear the choked emotion in her voice, the strain of holding back tears, but her fury, her guardedness was far more powerful and he wasn't sure what worried her more. The fact that she was so furious and defensive or the fact that she seemed to mind holding back from crying in front of him.

When had that changed? Why?

Letting out a deep breath, Daryl bit down on his thumbnail before placing himself down beside her. "Look," he began, hesitantly, not making eye-contact. "'M sorry, 'kay? I didn' mean it like dat. Ya ain't useless. I jus' didn' want ya to strain yer body further. We need ev'ry able body we can get. Not gonna be able ta help if yer outta commission 'cuz ya passed out. Can't 'ford dat these days." he explained as logically as she could, hoping she'd calm down and understand.

And by the more composed tone to her voice, it seemed to be the case. "I get that," the female admitted. She did. She wanted to be useful to his group and help find Sophia and if she wound up collapsing, she'd become a burden to them and that would that would be terrible. The fact still remained, though: Daryl had behaved inappropriately towards her and had hurt and offended her and her pride. She wasn't a child any longer. "But ya acted like a complete and total asshole."

Katherine turned to him, looking down at the man; she was in the only, so he had to sit directly on the top of the roof. "Ya wanna tell me why you've been up my ass all day? Ever since Glenn asked if we were together. Is that it? 'Cuz he was jokin', man."

Until Daryl had left the conversation.

She noticed him body tense as he gnawed further upon his thumb. Was that the reason? Had it really made him that uncomfortable? Then again, was she really able to talk? It had made her slightly uneasy. But why?

"…No," was Daryl's soft, but genuine reply.

"…Then, why?"

"…I havta protect ya."

His confession had almost been inaudible, a mere grumble, but Katherine had heard and his words left her bemused. She couldn't help, but vocalize that, "I-I don't understand…"

Scowling more so, uncomfortably, he grumbled again, "When dat Walker attacked Andrea, I thought it was you 'nd… I gotta protect ya. Dat's my job."

It had always been his job. Why? He wasn't sure, but it was and he had failed when he couldn't bring her along with him and Merle; she had gotten hurt. He should've persisted.

Katherine shook her head, her own frown marring her face as she sighed. "No, Daryl. It isn't your job. Not anymore." She only briefly wondered when it had ever been and why he had felt that way. "Daryl, I'm almost thirty-one-years-old. I may not have the same kind of survival savvy as you, but…I'm not the same scared, defenseless little girl anymore. I'm a grown woman. It's not anyone's job, but my own to protect me. Besides, there's not much left that ya can protect me from."

Her tone had become bitter and that distracted Daryl from the odd ache in his chest at her words. "Wha's dat su'pose ta mean?" A part of him dreaded to hear. He had noticed the change in his friend. For starters, she didn't smile nearly as much and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He had hoped that the cause was not something drastic and had scarred her in more ways than one.

And Katherine's grim expression did not lift his hopes.

Raking an uneasy hand through her thick tendrils, she gazed down shamefully at her scuffed hands. "…I killed Keith. I killed all those people." she choked out, hands gripping her trusty pistol tightly.

"Kat, whachya talkin' 'bout? Ya said Walkers got 'em." He wouldn't believe that the girl he had basically grown up with, the Kit-Kat he knew could never kill anything or anyone. Ever. For any reason.

She appeared pained. "They did, but…I should've stood up against Keith, say something, but no, I said nothin' and followed him to Atlanta and all those people were killed. I should've said something. Anything. And…and when I-I did…I…" Finally, those tears rose, but never fell. "I shot Keith…I-I sacrificed him t-to save myself...I killed him…them…"

Daryl was rendered silent, chest aching worse than before. He knew he should've insisted that she go with him and Merle. If she had, she would've been spared all this guilt. She already blamed herself for much, she was burdened so much and now, she was weighed down further. Her hands, stained with blood, had destroyed when they were hands to create like the artist she was. He should've been there to protect her.

"Kat," he started, but found that he had no ides what to say.

Katherine spoke over him, though, her voice suddenly sounding cool and eerily calm, "You don't need to protect me anymore, Daryl. Let me worry about me. There are people out there, your friends, who need ya need far more than I do. I can handle myself. Thanks, but no thanks."

Before Daryl could find his voice again to…he wasn't sure as to what he'd say, the blonde stood stiffly. "Think I'm gonna take your advice, though and get some sleep." She tried to sound like as if she hadn't just told him she had killed her brother, but Daryl knew better.

And she left and Daryl was left speechless.

What could he have said? Hell, he didn't even know how to feel about it all. All he knew was that his chest was painfully tight and that he blamed himself.

Then, he uttered, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration, "Sorry, Kit-Kat…"