The Walking Dead doesn't belong to me.
FYI, might be a few days before I can update again... family/holiday stuff. Unless I manage to grab a sneaky minute or two...
Daryl stomped through the long grass, knowing he had no chance in hell of catching anything with all the noise he was making. He'd been marching like this for the better part of an hour with no real direction or destination in mind. Finally he stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily. With a grunt of frustration he flung his crossbow to the ground.
"God damn it! Fuck!"
It was his own fault. What had he been thinking? He hadn't been able to sleep and thought he'd take a watch, or at least a quick walk around the perimeter. Of course that thought had gone right out of his head as he passed by C block. His body had turned as if it knew where he wanted to go. As if that had been his plan the entire time.
So he had stood there like an idiot and watched her sleep for who knows how long. Part of him had just wanted to reassure himself that she was still there. Still safe. Part of him had just wanted to see her one last time. Whatever the reason he hadn't counted on her waking up and catching him in the act like some fucking creep. She hadn't called him on it, naturally.
And he'd had to come off as so fucking needy. Should never have asked her to come with them in the first place and then he'd gone and asked her again. And the answer was still no. Daryl's stomach clenched every time he thought of leaving. Now he was out here pretending to hunt, when really he was just avoiding everyone and putting off the inevitable. Merle was going to be pissed.
Daryl flushed once more as his mind returned to her kiss. Their kiss. She'd warned him in advance so he'd managed to not make a complete ass of himself by running away. He'd been so unsure of himself. Did she even want him to kiss her back? All he'd known was that it was probably his last chance and it was one regret he thought he could live without.
So he'd turned his head and those couple of inches had made all the difference. He'd surprised her, he knew. Hell, he'd surprised himself. But she'd gotten over it quickly enough. He'd felt clumsy and awkward as fuck, but she'd continued to press her mouth against his as if it was alright. She'd ran her hand through his hair and held him in place; only the bars between them. It had crossed his mind to move inside the cell, to really feel her in his arms. She'd moaned and the sound had shot through his body straight to his groin.
He'd heard someone moving around in their cell then and it was like cold water being poured over him. He'd sprung away from her like she'd burned his skin. She had, in a way. He'd never forget the sensation of her hands on him. That was something he could take with him. The awkwardness had taken over then and he'd had no idea what to say.
"Daryl," She'd begun to speak.
"Goodbye." He'd spat out and then had turned on his heel, not quite running, in the opposite direction. He'd been going for some time before he really took note of his surroundings.
Funny how he'd been refusing to sleep in the cells; hadn't even joined Carol in hers long enough to hold her. He was so worried about being caged that he'd missed the fact that he'd been in one cage or another his whole life. All of his own making. It was only in those brief moments with Carol that he ever felt like he'd finally slipped free. It was like each breath he took was laboured until he spotted her. Having her within sight was like air to his lungs. And now he would go off with Merle and suffocate.
Daryl absently rubbed at the scar across his chest. It reminded him of everything. Of how much he owed Merle. Of how, for as long as he could remember, Merle was the only one who loved him.
Merle had been in and out of Juvie throughout most of his teens. Daryl never knew the details, or couldn't remember. He was ten years younger than Merle and was mostly invisible to all of them. He hadn't been lying to Andrea. He had been lost in the woods for nine days. No one had noticed.
Daryl guessed he'd had a few too many knocks to the head as a kid because there seemed to be huge gaps in his memory. Like maybe he was so invisible that he hadn't even noticed himself for months at a time. He couldn't remember how or why simple slaps had turned into vicious beatings. Sometimes his Daddy would take off for awhile and he'd be at his uncle's; the only peaceful times he could recall.
Merle was a lot like their Daddy. He had a temper and he liked booze and drugs. Not a great combination. And he liked women. Well, sex with them at least. They'd always laughed at him any time he'd start mooning over some girl. Convinced him there was some deficit within himself that he was too stupid to see. He'd stayed away from the girls. Realized eventually that the only girls who would go with a Dixon probably weren't worth having.
Daryl recognized that Merle could be mean. He was mean most of the time to almost everyone. But he was nicest to Daryl, when he was in a mood to be. It helped that Daryl was so much younger. Merle liked kids.
The night Daryl got the scar, Merle was passed out in the other room. He'd screamed for him, but Merle was coming off something and oblivious to the fight going on in the next room. Daryl had been seventeen.
Merle had awakened that next morning, seen all the blood and what Daryl had done. He didn't hesitate, not for a second. Told the cops he'd done it. Went to jail. Daryl had had to spend half a year in foster care and then slept on various couches until Merle got sprung. First thing Merle did was come for him. It'd been the two of them ever since. Until Atlanta.
If only they hadn't left Merle on that rooftop. If only Merle hadn't taken Glenn and Maggie. But there was no way around these facts. Merle couldn't be a part of their group. And Daryl was with Merle. Always.
Daryl angrily wiped at his face and noticed something across the field. A deer. A buck. He wouldn't go back empty handed. He would have one last offering to give. A dead animal would have to replace the words he couldn't say.