A/N: I am so happy with how this story is being received! It's awesome that you guys are enjoying it and Lily :)
This chapter is one that a few of you have been waiting for ;) Please let me know if I did justice to it!I know that some of my readers are mainly interested in Lily and Daryl as they are 'now' as opposed to Lily and the Governor's separate story arc and that's totally fine. You could easily read this fic as two different stories and skip those chapters altogether if you wanted to. While they offer more insight into several characters they aren't necessarily impacting upon the present day prison storyline. There are actually only about eight more chapters set in past tense Woodbury and after that the perspective for every second chapter will shift to Daryl's POV.
Thanks to all my amazing followers and reviewers! And my beta, Calcifer179.
If you guys like this chapter please review :) Enjoy!
21.
Daryl and I have been different since the Walker attack at the store. Actually, things have been different with everyone. It seems as if the group has been filled with a heart-felt, if potentially fleeting, sense of respect of me, my old group from Woodbury knowing that I had never been able to take down a Walker before. Along with letting people know the ins and outs of the his close call, Daryl had also informed Rick of the incident involving Carl and the unknown boy in the store and I had watched while the Sheriff's jaw had twitched, his hands moving involuntarily through his wiry hair.
"And you're sure?" He had murmured, "You're sure the boy was unarmed."
"Searched him myself," Daryl responded, "Bob said he came out with his hands raised, just looking for help. Bet he'd been holed up there for some time, he was thin as a twig."
I don't know what had gone on after that between the man and his son, but the next time I had seen Carl his face had been pinched in hints of negativity and the gun which never usually left his holster was long gone. Rick has cracked down harder on the group and since forbidden Carol from further weapons training for the other young residents of the prison, having muttered something about "Kids needing to be kids". If anyone else followed my line of thought that it was better having everybody able to defend themselves, they didn't voice their opinions and meekly allowed Rick to go about his duties as usual.
When we're in a larger group Daryl still treats me the same as he ever has, ignoring me and focusing on whatever task is at hand, but I have noticed the odd stares he gives me, his smiles as irregular and rare as his compliments. The night after we had returned from the run, members of the group overjoyed to see everyone safe and a good deal of new supplies, Sasha had been the first to pull me aside, obviously noticing a change in my attitude;
"What happened honey?"
"I took down a Walker…" I whisper, drawing the woman further away from the people now clustered around the Toyota, assisting in gathering up various items from its boot.
"…You what?" She asks, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'.
"Yeah. It was going to get Daryl; I had to help him…save him."
Sasha chuckles as if amused and grasps my shoulders;
"Bet he is so proud of you."
"I guess," I shrug, stealing a glance at the redneck who is already deep in conversation with Rick, "He said…he said I'm "amazing"."
"Wow, high praise coming from Mister Agro over there. He must really care about you."
"Nah, it was after we'd had this big fight and he called me some pretty horrible things…"
"Oh please, Daryl doesn't bother with people he has no interest in. He's barely said two words to me, but whenever I see you he isn't far behind. Your relationship is pretty volatile hey?"
"Relationship? We're not in a relationship," I counter, shifting one hand to my hip and noticing a slight soreness in my wrists from the labour of hiking the heavy baskets around and plunging my knife into the Walker's skull.
"Not yet!" She jests, grinning at me charmingly.
But Daryl has definitely been different around me in our private moments, which have been few and far between the last couple of weeks. Every day I am teaching Maggie and Glenn more of the dance they want to do for their wedding, which they have planned for under a month's time, we spend as many hours as we can spare in the gym, playing the chosen song on my mp3 player over and over while we move throughout the space. The practice sessions always end up with us all in fits of giggles and more than once I have seen Daryl watching us quietly from the doorway, lingering there like a body guard.
On top of that I have been helping Beth and Eileen with the babies and Carol and the older ladies of the group with the cooking and food preparation. The grey-haired 'mother hen' has taken me under her wing, so to speak, and commented that she'll make a fine, domesticated woman out of me yet, my cooking skills no better than boiling water.
When the hunter and I do find ourselves alone it feels as if the air between us is sparking with electricity, a live and threatening undercurrent of tension that is not altogether unpleasant. It sets every nerve ending on my body alight when he stares at me with darkened eyes or touches my hair with a soft and patient hand. But it hasn't gone beyond that; in fact we barely even speak. Neither of us knows how to handle these new found emotions that charge us and I know that Daryl won't be the one to make the first move, even if he does send plenty of heated glances my way that plainly say what he cannot.
As my confidence grows I volunteer for more duties outside the innermost prison walls, even taking up the occasional guard shift at the central gates or roaming the perimeter of the fence line, averting my gaze from the Walkers who press their hands and faces up to the chain-link fence, spitting and growling.
They still make me fearful, and decidedly uncomfortable, and today while I patrol the fence I maintain a steady glare at the ground in front of my feet, my eyes only slipping to check the metal's sturdiness every so often. An unusual sight makes me pause and stare, my brown eyes focusing on the only thing out of place on the ground. I kneel down, ignoring the cries of a nearby cluster of Walkers and peer at the red and bloody mess before me, my nostrils flaring a little when the smell of the meat assaults them. It looks like squirrel, or what was once a squirrel, only a small portion of it remains, and it is shoved between the lowest part of the fence so it sits partially within the barrier and the prison itself. A fine trail of blood is splattered throughout the area and I am surprised that more Walkers aren't gathered here, biting down to feast on the morsel; it must have only been put here recently. But who would have left it there? Is someone feeding the Walkers?
I turn on my heel and head back to the prison, gnawing the inside of my mouth slightly as nervousness rushes through me. Rick doesn't need this, the group doesn't need this, and I'm not sure how'll they'll handle such news.
It takes me a long time to actually locate the Sheriff; the prison is currently bustling with activity as people go about their normal early afternoon activities, the latest one being setting up garden beds and tending to the slow growing plants that are rising from the seeds we brought back on the last run. Eventually I find Rick inside C block, taking time out from his busy day to enjoy a quiet moment with his baby daughter, who is growing at a fast pace and well and truly past the newborn phase now. Her chubby arms are flung around his neck in a small hug as she practices raising her head higher and higher, testing her own strength and cooing in delight.
"Hey baby Judy," I laugh, my voice barely above a whisper, and tickle the infant's chin, Rick turning to face me with his daughter in his arms, "And hey to you too Officer."
"Hi Lily," he smiles, brushing a small strand of peach-fuzz hair aside on Judith's head, "What can I do for you." The cell block appears to be fairly empty, although I can hear what sounds like Tyreese and Karen talking in hushed voice down in one of the far cells, and I am thankful that we have some momentary privacy;
"I was out on patrol, walking along the fence on the far side," I gesture roughly in the direction with one arm, "And I found something…weird."
"What kind of weird?" Rick asks, lowering Judith into the portacot nearby where she lies kicking her legs and gurgling.
"It looked like squirrel meat, like uncooked meat from one of our dinners I guess. Someone had shoved it into the fence."
Rick exhales through his teeth, deliberating over the news;
"You think someone is trying to lure the Walkers in?"
"I don't know what I think, but someone definitely put the meat there," I pause, lowering my voice a fraction more, "What should we do?"
"Keep it quiet for now, can't have people worrying until we know for sure. Take Daryl and have a look. If there are tracks nearby he'll find them and we might have a better idea of what we're dealing with."
I give him a curt nod and leave the cell block, remembering that I had heard Daryl discussing his afternoon watch shift with Zack earlier. The pair are up in the guard tower and I climb the steps slowly, my feet dragging me reluctantly higher, I am far from looking forward to having to investigate the source of the 'bait' in the fence.
"Hey guys," I say, swinging open the lookout tower's door. Zack and Daryl had obviously heard my footsteps, and neither seem surprised to see me, the younger of the two men greeting me with a wide grin that shows off his even, white teeth.
"Well hey there Lilypad! What's up?" He asks, obviously flirting with me. I roll my eyes in exaggerated frustration, but return his grin, watching as he walks over to the open windowed area to peer down at the grounds of the prison. The view from the tower is spectacular, I have only been up here a handful of times, and sometimes it's like you can almost forget that the dark shapes moving beyond the fence are flesh eating zombies. It's so peaceful looking over the green fields in front of the prison building, seeing the rise of trees in front of a cloud spattered sky.
Daryl hasn't taken his eyes off me, and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyebrow raised in a curious fashion.
"Um, can I talk to you for a minute?" I mutter, shooting Zack a quick glance, his grin widening to one of jovial humour as he winks at me, "Alone?"
"Stay here Zack, don't take ya eyes off that gate okay?"
"Yes sir!" Zack says with a laugh, mock saluting Daryl and retraining his eyes back over the prison yard.
Daryl follows me out the tower door and onto the landing above the set of steps, our footsteps obnoxiously loud on the metal floor.
"Everything alright?" The redneck asks roughly, watching me as I twist my thin hands nervously together and look up to meet his piercing blue-eyed gaze.
"We may have a problem…"
"There are a lot of footprints here, hard to tell whose are whose now, ground's so kicked up. I can see your prints…"
"You can tell which are mine?"
"'Course, ya got tiny little feet and high arches, ya walk on yer toes a bit…See here," Daryl says, pointing at a barely discernible smudge in the dirt.
"All I see is the ground," I laugh, peering at the patch of earth he is indicating, "Just going to have to trust you on this one…"
"Come on, we'll go through the gate and around the other side of the fence. It might not be someone in the prison…gotta make sure."
"Oh great, that sounds super fun," I groan, rubbing my eyes tiredly.
"Well ya don't gotta come with me."
"I'm just in a complaining sort of mood today. Let's get it over with."
We walk along the fence line, heading away from the prison buildings and towards the gate that we can see in the distance. We're strolling side by side in quiet companionship, Daryl with his crossbow hanging lazily from one hand and me with the weight of my knife clutched in my tight grip. I carry the weapon with me only as a precautionary measure, and haven't used it since that day at the store, much to my relief. Lost in my own thoughts and the repetitive sound of our soft footfalls I stumble over a rough patch in the lawn and lose my footing, my knife falling to the ground silently. A strong arm catches me as I land on one knee, overturned dirt staining my jeans a muddy brown. Daryl pulls me up gently, curling his hand around my bicep with ease as I move upwards until I am flush against him, panting a little from the surprise of my sudden fall.
"Thanks," I mumble, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.
"It's fine…ya the clumsiest dancer I've ever met."
"Known many dancers?" I smile, noting that his hand has not left my arm and we are now standing chest to chest.
"Just you…"
The air around us seems to crackle, everything else but Daryl's face fading from my sight. An overwhelming urge overtakes me as I stare too long at his mouth and before I can think I lunge for him, wrapping one hand roughly in his hair and the other around his neck. Daryl gives a startled yelp, dropping his crossbow in shock, but I silence him with my lips, crashing my mouth into his. He stands stunned for a moment, not pulling away, but not returning my kiss and I hesitate, the realisation of what I have just done hitting me.
"Oh shit," I begin, releasing him and resting back on my heels, "I'm so sorry. I…I don't know what came over me."
I cannot read his expression, and touch my lips, sore from the viciousness of the kiss. I'm still standing flush against him and go to take a step back, but Daryl reaches out to grab my upper arm once more, his large hand tugging me towards him.
"Come here," he growls, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter like crazy. I place my hand on his neck again, this time more gently and he leans forward, capturing my lips with his. They are surprisingly soft and I gasp quietly into his mouth as he draws me to him, one hand pressing firmly against my lower back, the other weaving its way into my long hair.
The kiss starts off slow and chaste, but quickly builds, his tongue entering my mouth as I am left breathless and unable to move except in response to him. It's been a long time since I have been touched by a man, and I have never been touched by one that makes me feel the way Daryl does. My legs are weak and useless and I push myself into his chest, more for stability than anything else. His hands are eagerly gripping my hips now, forcing my shirt to ride up and I feel him tremble when he touches the skin that is exposed between the hem of my shirt and the waistband of my jeans.
"Yer so smooth," Daryl whispers, breaking the embrace of our lips for a moment, before kissing me with even more desperation. Sliding his hands up under my shirt, Daryl runs his fingers over the flat planes of my stomach and I shudder involuntarily, shocked by his unexpected touch. He is rough and clearly inexperienced, but his passion is intoxicating and I find myself moaning softly as he trails his lips down my neck in a line of hot kisses. If anyone happened to see us kissing by the fence, they would only get a glimpse of the man's broad back as his form completely engulfs my own.
"Fuck, Daryl!" I pull away and he stares at me with a slightly glazed look, as if disorientated from what has just happened. "What are we doing?"
He sighs in exasperation and draws me back towards him;
"For once in ya Goddamn life can ya just shut up?" He groans, kissing me again until I have lost my train of thought. Daryl's hand is wandering a little higher, perhaps higher than he had intended, because just as his fingers are stroking the prominent bones of my ribcage he withdraws his hand from underneath my shirt with a sigh and places it casually on my hip, his other hand still playing in my hair. The redneck moves his lips against mine one more time, kissing me so fervently it quite literally takes my breath away, before removing himself from me, stepping back so there is a small distance between us;
"We should probably head out now."
"Yep, yeah…" I feel half dazed, almost tired. My vision is compromised and my balance off kilter, every part of my body feels weightless and uncooperative as Daryl and I continue forwards to the gate, after I duck to the ground to retrieve my fallen knife.
My mind runs a million miles an hour once we are through the gate, Daryl managing a curt nod to Ryan and Caleb who stand guard there, my face flushing even though I know they had their backs turned to Daryl and I the entire time we were kissing by the fence. We head down the gravelled path between the two outer gates, pausing to stop at the hole in the chain-metal that is held taunt with brightly coloured wire. There are only a handful of Walkers over by this area, the group's efforts to eliminate the undead threats paying off as many of our people have been standing inside the fences daily, stabbing Walkers emotionlessly through the fence. I wait patiently while he fiddles with the ties over the hole in the fence, my stare lingering on his hands that work with skill on the knots in the fine wire. I blush again at the memory of those hands running over my body and shake the image from my head, trying to focus on the task at hand. In my months at the prison I have yet to walk outside the fences and I know we're going into dangerous territory, Walker territory. I slip through the now available gap in the fence line, my body brushing against Daryl's bare arm tantalisingly, the barely there contact enough to make goosebumps riddle my skin. I don't take my eyes off the few Walkers standing in the near distance; their interest peaked by our motions as they shuffle slowly towards us. Daryl joins me beyond the high fence, quickly retying the wires, but loosely so we'll be able to re-enter in a hurry, and before the Walkers are within reaching distance of us we both break into a jog, heading back around the side of the prison to where I had found the pile of meat.
Along the way the hunter takes down a few Walkers effortlessly, hardly stalling his gait, and I hold my knife at the ready, knowing that I'll do what needs to be done if necessary. Once we reach the right place, able to see the small, bloody mound in the metal links, Daryl drops to the ground while I stand guard, thankful that no Walkers are near enough to us to be a threat.
"Ain't no fresh prints over here, no human ones anyway. Looks like we got ourselves a little traitor in the prison."
"You think someone is deliberately trying to draw them in?"
"This didn't happen by accident, not like someone dropped some uncooked dinner into the fence," Daryl sniffs, straightening up and nodding his head back in the direction we had just come from. Our journey back along the fence line and then through the man-made hole is uneventful, and Daryl stops to have a brief conversation with the men at the gate before we head back to the prison buildings, mentioning something about "Checking a breech in the perimeter."
I am almost tempted to dismiss myself and say goodbye, maybe head off to the gym so I can just be alone with my thoughts, but the idea of walking away from Daryl after we have shared such an intimate and precious moment doesn't sit right with me, I know he is not just someone to kiss people recklessly and without feeling. That kiss has pushed aside all doubt in my mind that I don't mean anything to him. It had been heartfelt and sexual all at once and I still feel drunk on his kisses, surprised at myself by the strong reaction I had from even the lightest of his touches.
"I gotta go talk to Rick," Daryl intones huskily, pointing up towards C block as we are nearing the innermost gate, "Tell him what we know."
"I'm sure I've got things to do to…Have to go find Karen actually, she's meant to be patrolling now with Glenn."
There is full pause as we stare at each other, looks of longing and confusion evident in the man's brilliantly lit gaze.
"Ya wanna talk about it? What happened?" He shifts uncomfortably in front of me, moving his weight from foot to foot, his crossbow bouncing limply on his back.
"You think I'm going to go full female on you? Ask you where you think this is going?" I crack a wry grin when a light blush colours his high cheekbones and he rubs his chin, pondering my only partially serious question;
"I just don't know what to do here…ain't never been a situation like this before."
"And what situation is that?"
Daryl sighs a little, a breathy exhale of air that barely passes his swollen looking lips. He steps towards me, taking a cautious glance around to make sure no one is watching and touches my cheek beneath my eye with the rough pad of his thumb;
"Did ya know that yer eyes are the colour of chocolate?"
"What?" I stammer, mentally cursing myself as my voice sounds a little too high-pitched, his simple words and caress already twisting my gut and sending a low throbbing sensation down my legs.
"Sometimes they're almost black…I could get lost in 'em."
He pulls away from me, heading up to the prison without another glance in my direction, as I stand alone in the field, savouring his compliment and the gentle voice in which it had been delivered like a favourite gift. I lock the memories of today away deep within my heart, a tiny smile contorting my lips as I trace the place on my cheek where his digit had rubbed, the skin almost warm to touch.