Charlotte yawned widely and stretched in the warm basking glow of the fire pit, the only source of light aside from the soft starlight, in the green field. "Right guys, I think I'm going to call it a night," She told them tiredly, dragging herself up from the comfy lounger. The group of people lounging around the fire, all in various stages of drunkenness, protested enticing her to stay longer.
"Really," She insisted, gently disentangling herself from Maggie's drunken hug, "I have to be up for seven tomorrow morning and if I'm going to start throwing knives around you're going to want me well rested."
"With ya aim it's not going to make a difference if ya well rested or not," Daryl's voice drawled from behind her as he brushed past her and sat down in the vacated seat in front of her. Maggie's eyes widened at his insult and giggled drunkenly covering her hand over her mouth squealing when Glenn grabbed her from his sitting position on the grass and dragging her back onto his lap.
Charlotte rolled her eyes at Daryl, crossing her arms she huffed, " You couldn't let one go could you?"
"With ya around it's easy pickin's darling." He told her cheekily, ducking his head to hide his smirk. The group tittered and smiled at their banter, used to it by now like a daily show.
"Ugh, get a haircut hippy," She snapped at him, ruffling his hair up.
"Night guys," She threw over her shoulder, as she sauntered off as steadily as she could considering she was walking in flip flops on the uneven grass. Whilst they all wished her goodnight, Daryl struggled to get out of the low seat, almost spilling his drink in a bid to get up and kick her arse.
"Yeah, ya keep walking princess, and because of that it'll be a six o'clock start tomorrow not seven." He shouted after her retreating form, then lumped down, the lounger creaking ominously. He glared at the rest of the group who were all trying not laugh and were looking in any direction but his.
"Oh shut up," He muttered grumpily, causing all of them to laugh out loud raucously at his reaction. He smiled slightly in concession, rolling his eyes at their drunken laughter and shook his head to get his hair to fall back into place where she had messed it up.
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Charlotte lazily closed the gate behind her, smiling at the laughing group sat around the fire pit, and entered the dimly lit courtyard where she could vaguely see couples smooching and cuddling in the ambient light. She removed her flip flops and moved through the courtyard as quietly as she could trying not disturb any of them. She spotted Tyreese sitting on one of the benches with Karen sitting on his lap, talking softly to each other and kissing, she ducked her head feeling like she had intruded on a private moment. She felt a surge of pleasure for her strapping but gentle friend, who deserved the happiness of a good woman, and Karen was lovely. They would make a great couple.
She felt the same wave of wistful happiness that she experienced whenever she saw Glenn and Maggie do something endearing, when they didn't realise they were being watched. The smile that exchanged between them when she puts her left over crackers on his plate because she knows he's still hungry, the kiss he tenderly places on her forehead as she sat on his lap leaning back against his chest, the soft whisper in her ear that makes her giggle. They were so happy, just like Tyreese and Karen were and from what she could gather four or five other couples that she couldn't see in the dark corners. And she was genuinely happy for them, she had started to care for all of them like they were her family, like she belonged and she knew that they all deserved to have someone to love.
But with that she couldn't help feeling the sadness that she may never feel that glow again. That complete trust in a man again, where you give your entire body and soul to them and you feel that they do the same to you. With a growing sense of uneasiness she had realised that she had started to feel the butterflies in her stomach once again, the tale tell signs of blossoming feelings every time she was near Daryl. They had spent a substantial amount of time together, and had cultivated an unusual friendship which was based on pushing each others buttons to get a rise out of the other but it was safe. Maggie had told her of Daryl's past, of the deep relationship he had had with Carol, and she had seen him a couple of times tending to her grave replacing the beautiful flowers when they withered.
The safety came from the very obvious way in which he looked at her as something that he had to protect, like he saw her as being fragile and damaged. He also had an honesty, which was brutal and unfeeling at times, that made her feel self conscious when he would watch her doing something as if he was trying to weigh her up. But the price of that safety, the protection and basic trust that she felt from him from the very beginning was that she knew that it amounted to an almost brotherly feeling. He would never look at her as anything other than a friend.
This made her a little melancholy to think that in time, when maybe she got past the psychological impact of what happened, she would find love again even if it wasn't necessarily physical. She honestly didn't know how she would react to a man touching her again, but she was sure that if the person that she loved, loved her enough that they would be patient with her in time they would both be rewarded. She didn't know whether Daryl would be the best man for that, and for now her feelings for him weren't actually physical although she had to admit that he was handsome in a ruggish way. There was something very endearing about the man, a sweetness underneath the gruffness that he always portrayed.
The butterflies that so very recently seem to flutter in her stomach when he looked at her, made her wish that maybe one day he could be that man. But if it wasn't meant to be then she would happily be his friend.
She heaved a sigh, roughly rubbing at her tired eyes and muttered to herself, "Ugh, great. Now I'm depressed."
She was shattered and was looking forward to her lumpy but comfortable cot. It had been another long day spent preparing for their celebration dinner, and judging by the sky it had to be at least eleven, possibly even mid-night. After they had told the group about the success of their plans last night, Jeanette had suggested that the next evening they have a celebration dinner and everyone shower and dress in their best for the dinner. Everyone had jumped on the idea, and slowly it had escalated into a full out event. Daryl had gone hunting at dawn, returning with a sack full of rabbits that afternoon, whilst they had set up the fire pit in the field and strung fairy lights that they had found in an old box of Christmas decorations around the wooden gazebos in the courtyard.
Maggie, Glenn and Tyreese had gone on a run to the supermarket that they had ransacked many times for food staples, but leaving the alcohol section completely intact. People had put their orders in for what they wanted and the revelry had started late afternoon when the alcohol had flowed and the smell of freshly cooked rabbit permeated the air. The rabbit had sat in cutlets on the wire racks over the fire pits, dripping fat and spitting intermittently. She had refused to drink, settling for the freshly made lemonade that had been made for the children from the lemons they had found in a local orchard. She felt that she wasn't quite ready to let go just yet, and endanger herself by potentially losing control. However, a drunk Glenn and Maggie had been most entertaining to watch and she smiled at the thought of teasing her hung over friends in the morning.
She decided to go and check on Patrick, then finally she would happily descend into her bed. He had been complaining earlier that he had a head ache and wanted to turn in early. Stepping into the cell block she was met with an eerie quietness in the partially lit area. She hesitated for a second, narrowing her eyes to focus on the shapes in the dark, and walked up to Patrick's cell.
The thin cheap curtain that gave so very little privacy pinned in the corners, fluttered slightly in the late night breeze, causing a chill to rush up her spine. She put her shoes down slowly, and raised her hand but hesitated when it touched the hem, she didn't know why but she had the same feeling crawling through her nerve endings like she had in the book shop a couple of weeks ago. His name came to the front of her mind but then died on her lips, her gut told her that making a sound right now would not be advisable. She held her breath, and lifted the curtain slightly, peering cautiously through the small gap.
It was empty. She huffed out the breath she had been holding, dry rubbing her mouth with a shaky hand.
A rustling sound to the left of her caught her attention, she let go of the curtain and slowly padded in bare feet to the end cell where the noise had come from. The rustling sounded like shuffling feet, and snuffling like an animal. Frowning at the stiff shower curtain that was acting as a barrier over the cell door, it moved forward again as if there was something behind it, making a scratching noise as it scraped against the floor. Her hand raised slowly to her mouth to curb the cry that was desperate to be released, she stepped back slowly suddenly feeling a fear course through her body that was making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rise.
"Found you!"
Charlotte cried out in surprise, her hand clamping over her thumping heart. Her head snapped over to the entrance where Mikka was standing in the entrance to the cell block pointing at the cell she was standing in front of.
"Ohh Lottie! You gave away my position," Keira grumbled stepping out from behind the curtain. Charlotte stared at the small, seven year old, and then laughed in relief, shaking her head at her own stupidity. She had let herself get creeped out like some airhead in a cheap horror movie.
"You're playing hide and seek," She breathed, rubbing her face and looking down at Kiera. "Sorry Kiera I didn't realise that you guys were playing a game."
"It's ok Lottie, do you want to play?" she asked, grasping her hand and trying to pull her towards the stairs that led to the perch.
"Maybe another time honey I'm really tired, I'm going to bed. Are you all playing, is that where everyone is?" She asked walking back to her shoes on the floor and slipping her feet back into them. Patrick was probably hiding somewhere in the prison. She smiled shaking her head, kids were so resilient. He would have just got a little too much sun whilst they had worked and then shaken off the head ache after a simple rest.
"Yeah, I haven't found them yet." Mikka scowled, looking around. "We don't have to go to bed yet do we?" She asked almost as an afterthought.
Charlotte laughed, stroking her baby blond hair affectionately and cupping her cheek, "No sweetheart not yet. Although your dad will probably be in soon."
"Oh okay, well night night Lottie," She shrugged before taking Kiera's hand and they ran off giggling, looking for the next in their group that were hiding.
She waved the two girls off laughing at their antics and sighing heavily, trudged back through the short corridor to her cell, thinking longingly of her bed. Finally back in her own bedroom she turned her lamp on, banishing the shadows back to the corners, and flopped lazily onto her cot. She was still wearing the dark blue dress that Chloe had lent her and the white flip flops fell from her feet over the edge of the cot as exhausted sleep overtook her without any warning.
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Daryl stretched out on his bed and put his arms behind his head. It was the early hours of the morning already, and he was hoping that his exhaustion, aided a little by the beer, would allow him to slip into a dreamless sleep. His dreams of Carol still plagued him although he had now learnt not to cry out as much as he used to when she had died and they had started. He had learnt how to bite down, clenching his teeth hard to stop himself crying out, sometimes on the good nights he had started to be able to control his dream when he realised that he was dreaming. Lucid dreaming, he couldn't change it completely but he could fight. He had started to be able to fight although as yet he was still struggling to get to her in time to save her. As usual he would wake up sweating, tears stinging his eyes and his heart pounding.
His thoughts flitted to Charlotte, something that had happened more and more in recent times. He gruffly assured himself that it was to do with the fact that he had in the last month spent every day with her. He closed his eyes, picturing her from earlier tonight. They had all showered, dressing in their best clothes; for him that had been a dark pair of jeans and a shirt that Glenn had found in a suitcase of clothes on a run he had done earlier in the year.
He couldn't lie to himself, he had felt his heart skip a little when he had seen her step out of the cell block. One of the women had lent Charlotte a dark blue dress, a modest Sunday church dress, which was a little baggy on her slender upper torso but had sat invitingly on her wider hips. The colour of the dress had made the colour of her eyes stand out from her soft white skin and she had washed her hair leaving it to dry naturally, hanging in long, thick curls to her slim waist. Every time she had moved past him he had got a wave of the most enticing smell; sweet coconut, clean skin and washing detergent, that permeated his senses making the primal urge to grab her and kiss her really hard to resist.
He tried to banish the thoughts, but every time he refused to think about her blue eyes that at times made him stumble over his words, his mind tortured him with images of her absently licking porridge off her bee stung lips with a flick of her baby pink tongue or the softness of her skin when she had touched his forearm to get his attention the other day. Tonight hadn't helped when her hand touching his hair softly had sent electric shocks all over his body even if it had been completely innocent.
Guilt warred with his feelings, he felt like he was betraying Carol's memory who had only died six months ago but then he couldn't help the physical attraction he had for Charlotte. Initially the only thing that he had felt was a need to protect her, then as they had spent nearly every day together for the last couple of weeks he had found that he started to notice her habits, small things that she did that just seemed to add to an unintentional allure. He found that he had against all reason, and his intentions, developed feelings for her. It was the strangest thing, he had so adamantly tried not to think about the fact that he thought she was attractive that he had overlooked all her other little characteristics which had really gotten under his skin.
Groaning out loud he rolled onto his side, and furiously told himself to shut up. Desperately trying to get his mind to go blank so that he could fall asleep he screwed his eyes shut and counted backwards. After a couple of seconds he realised that he actually wasn't thinking about anything. Sighing tiredly, he relaxed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing before finally feeling himself drifting off, his body feeling heavy into the mattress.
He looked around him frowning, he wasn't sure why but he was standing in the farmhouse. He had only been there once but his stomach suddenly clenched and he felt a wave of trepidation wash over him as the door at the end of the corridor creaked slowly open. Without taking his eyes off the seemingly innocent white door he reached over his shoulder to un holster his cross bow, expecting any second for a walker to stumble through.
After a couple of seconds his curiosity got the better of him and he slowly stalked towards the door his crossbow raised ready for anything that would possibly jump out at him. He hesitantly rounded the corner, seeing the dusty stairs below him he descended them until finally he was looking at what he had seen only weeks before. Only it was different, in the late afternoon light he could see on the moth eaten mattress were two little girls sitting cross legged across from each other playing pattercake. Their voices and the rhythmic claps of their hands echoed eerily through the stillness of the house, as he walked towards them lowering his weapon, every muscle in his body tense.
He recognised them from Charlotte's badly creased photos of her family, it was Jessica and Elizabeth. He would have felt a surge of relief and optimism at the thought of getting them back to their mother who believed that they were dead had his gut not been in knots at that moment, his primal instinct telling him he should get the hell out of there. They were as immaculately dressed as they had been in the photo's, in their sky blue party dresses and black patent shoes, their long dark hair shimmering as their arms moved. Looking down he noticed that both of them had a large cuff sitting loosely on their ankles, and were chained to the wall behind them. They suddenly stopped as if they had become aware of his presence and craned their necks to look up at him, like a mirror image their faces and actions were identical.
"You need to help mummy Mr Dixon." They chorused. He felt a chill run up his spine, the creepy atmosphere in the room seem to crank up a notch now there were two pairs of dark blue eyes staring up at him blankly.
"Help her." One of them said, he didn't know which one he couldn't tell them apart, but then the other interjected, "Yes, help her."
"Help her. Help her. Help her." They repeated over, and over again in a monotonous tone.
His mouth went dry as he stared down at them, before his eyes they slowly transformed into walkers, their smooth mocha coloured skin shrivelled back against the bone, their eyes misted over red and sank into their sockets, and their hair curled and fell out. He felt the bile rise to his throat as he watched in horror. Suddenly both their jaws dropped open and out of their desiccated mouths erupted a blood curdling scream that resonated through him, the chill settling right into his bones.
Lurching up from his lying position, Daryl blindly fought against his blanket which had restricted him in his sleep. After realising he was back in his bed he tried to regulate his breathing, as his heart thumped in his chest and sweat stung his eyes. Roughly rubbing at his eyes, he blew out a deep breath trying to shake off the ominous feeling and reached for his water bottle.
It was only then that he realised that the terrified, high pitch screams that were still ringing in his ears were not from his dreams. They were echoing down the corridor, they were coming from the other cell block.
