Survive

He was in a bar of course, he may not be able to find the good stuff anymore. The drugs. But alcohol there was still plenty of that floating around so why the hell not indulge in it? Why the hell not enjoy himself for a little while? Since his baby brother up and left him with all this sentimental bullshit- bout being there for him, bout what he wanted and not just Merle FUCKING Dixon.

He could of spit back the things hed taken for Daryl, the things he did for Daryl before he was even fucking BORN. But he didnt. They could throw blame at eachother for a hundred thousand things in their pathetic lifetime, but the things he did for Daryl. They didnt matter cause he made those choices. He choose his baby brother above all else, clung to him like the life preserver he was- and here Daryl had left him to drown.

So he took another swig of the bottle, hoping it would do something to easy the memorys of belts, and Daryl, and that stupid bitch whose name he didnt want to cross his mind for the rest of his fucking life- which hell in this day and age- may only be a few fucking days.

No matter how many bottles ended up around him though, he couldnt seem to get drunk enough to get the things off his mind. He vaguely remembered thats why he indulged in drugs. The alcohol got him pussy, the drugs got him relief at least for a little while anyway.

The bar seemed to spin around him, and his head lurched and rolls and he found himself smiling.

In another life, she never woulda looked at him. In this one, it was probably only in his head that she was looking at him. But he could feel her- though she was not here. He could feel her glare, see her blonde hair draping over him like a curtain. He could imagine her from his slouched position on the floor and though- he was half sure his subconscious or whatever bullshit that was torturing himself- the images were slightly pleassant. The glimpses of her. The flashes that invaded his mind, and pieces of his vision.

"Your fuckin' gorgeous." He slurs to no one imparticular, even though he knows shes here- haunting him somehow, and somehow he loves it.

He forgets about Daryl abandoning him and he forgets about Andrea and his world slowly goes black.

.

He wakes up to the sun just peeking through the bar windows, and he wonders how nothing managed to eat him in his unconscious state. He kind of wishes they had as he stretches his aching limps and rubs his pounding head.

He has a new resolve about him as he tames his hang over and hes not sure why- not sure what exactly happened to him while he was drunk, not quite sure he had his wits about him- but something in him had turned, rolled over and he had to find them.

He had to go back and find what was his, even if he wasnt sure what or who that was.

He just had to go back.

It takes him nearly two days to find them, and when he stumbles into their camp just off the main highway- his brother is the first to develop him in his arms. They dont speak of what happened, and the others slowly follow suit, not to discuss his arrival or his decision to come back or why he left, but all to acknowledge his return. All except …..

He hadnt realized hed been searching for her in the eyes of the people that now stood within reach. He looked behind them for any stragglers, anyone not coming over- her hiding somewhere in the shadows glaring at him, and he felt his heart hammer in his chest.

"Andrea?" His voice was hushed like he was whispering them all his darkest secret.

Its Carol who answers him, soft and quiet. "In the woods." She doesnt bother to tell him why rather it be to relieve herself, or scout the area, or whatever- she knows no matter what the reason he isnt going to wait- and he doesnt.

The moment Carol breathes that she's alive, hes gone, pushing past his brother with his shoulder and moves into the woods with a practiced ease that every Dixons probably ever had.

.

She's covered in a bit of walker blood, three corpses next to her- but from the look of her youd think she killed twenty. She was covered in the thick black blood from her cheeks, to her neck, to her knuckles, her white shirt pasted to her skin with the stuff. Her hands were shaking though and a part of him seriously doubted it was from fear.

He just stared watching her frame from down below him, just slightly from the uneven ground, and he found himself licking his lips as he watched her tense muscles- her back to him. The emotions that were running through her he wasnt sure if he understood, but the position she held, the power that rolled off of her- it made his chest swell with pride.

And even though he had never made such a claim on her, the thought entered his head before he could brush it away.

Thats my girl.

It didnt even bother him, and he watched as she started walking opposite of the camp, away from him- he decided hed savor the moment. His ego was deflating as he watched her- unsure how to make his claim, to tell her he wanted her, and not just in the physical sense. He wanted her, all of her for the rest of this fucked up life. He wanted her, he just wasnt so sure the sentiment was returned and if it wasnt- he wanted these private moments to remember. He wanted this raw Andrea to stay in his mind for the rest of forever even if he wasnt part of the memory. He wanted to remember her at her finest and her weakest, and he was sure right now- he was getting both.

Not sentimental my ass, he thought as he shook the feelings and thoughts of her asside. Because paying attention was how you survive- not all the emotions that come with the paying attention- just the paying attention part.

Its how he survived his father- its how he would survive her.

As always, please, read and review. :)