Chapter 11 - Gotcha

Down by the gardens, Tahlia and Michonne were flowing through a series of movements in a sword kata, while Carl watched them with awe as, with laser focus, they advanced, lunged, spun and retreated simultaneously.

"Tahly..." he spoke up when they had finished. "Remember when you said you might teach me..." He gestured to the sword hopefully.

"Yeah, yeah course I do! But shall we try a bit of self-defense first? Like we said? Work up to the sword."

Carl's eyes lit up at the prospect and jumped forward, "Yes! Can we start now?"

"Sure! Ok, so let's just start with a basic wrist grab. Michonne, give it to me."

Without hesitation, Michonne stepped in towards Tahlia and gripped her wrist, the smaller woman flicking her arm in a circle and breaking the grip immediately.

"Ok, Carl, your turn. This is the movement." Tahlia demonstrated in the air, then Michonne grabbed Carl's wrist, and within two tries he had it down pat.

"Great! Let's try another one."

They worked through breaking a two-armed grab from behind, overhead and underarm weapon attacks, a headlock, and general arm blocks.

Daryl had been working down by the fences that morning and was well aware that Tahlia was nearby in the gardens. The initial anger he'd felt after their last encounter had ebbed after a day or so, and now he was left with an uncomfortable twisting mess of confusion.

Because, the thing was, no matter which way he spun it, the things she had said were more or less true.

Yet that didn't make sense because he wasn't smart and he wasn't talented, but she had made it sound like he was, and she'd said it in a way that made it very difficult to argue.

So he was confused. And irritated. And all the more curious about her.

As he headed back up to the prison, he saw Tahlia and Michonne teaching Carl some defensive moves that looked way too rehearsed to be any use against a real attack. Passing them, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff loudly.

Michonne arched a brow in his direction. "Got something to say, snarky?"

"Whatcha teachin' him that shit for? Give him a damn gun."

"Dad won't let me." said Carl ruefully.

"Ain't gonna be any use against walkers."

"It's not just walkers I'm thinking he needs protection from." replied Tahlia pointedly. "Plenty of people out there you might want to get away from."

Strolling closer, Daryl shook his head scornfully. "But you're just teachin' him defense. Don't wanna wait to be attacked. Ya gotta get in there first."

"He's small-" Tahlia turned to Carl, "-no offense Carl-" then back to Daryl. "He doesn't have the size advantage yet, so at least if he's quick enough to get outta the way, then he can work that."

The hunter snorted. "Good luck with that. Come see me if ya wanna learn some real skills, boy."

"Come on then." Michonne goaded. "Let's see what you got."

"Huh?"

"Take her on, see where your real skills get you against just defense."

Tahlia raised her brows and spread her palms in invitation.

Daryl growled. "I ain't fightin' ya."

"Why not?"

"Don't wanna be responsible for you endin' up in the infirmary. Plus, I don't fight girls."

Michonne hooted. "Wow, that is some serious old school sexism right there!"

"Whatever." Daryl grumbled.

"I'm sure there's a bit of pent-up anger in there with my name on it, right? Don't you want to let a little of your frustration out? Put a pain in the ass like me in my place? Hmm?" Tahlia asked sweetly to provoke him.

Daryl stood his ground, narrowed eyes raking her up and down.

"You're scared!" crowed Carl in delight.

"Ain't!" Daryl scowled at him with an angry huff.

He went to turn away, then decided, fuck it, he would like to let a little frustration out, really would like to put her in her place and take that annoying smile off her face. Plus, now he knew she could handle herself pretty well so it wouldn't really be an unfair fight...

So, he whirled back around and lunged straight towards Tahlia, who nimbly side-stepped him as casually as she'd avoid a puddle. Turning back to her, Daryl caught hold of her arm, and she twisted straight out of his grip, just like she'd demonstrated to Carl earlier. With a growl of frustration, Daryl caught hold of Tahlia several more times, but each time she managed to quickly break his grip, spinning away from him.

Damn, she was slippery! Like a wet bar of soap.

"This ain't fair!" he complained. "If this were for real I'da just knocked ya out by now!"

"Go for it." she goaded.

He narrowed his eyes. Of course he was never going to actually hit her, even though in that moment he really wanted to. Instead, he lunged at her again and she ducked, except this time she spun in a crouch and kicked her leg out, sweeping his feet out from under him, and the next thing he knew, he was on his ass in the dirt, the peal of laughter from Michonne and Carl really aggravating the hell out of him.

With a badly suppressed smile, Tahlia stood over him and held out a hand to help him up.

"Fuck outta here!" he barked, pushing himself to his feet, swiping at her head. She leaned back out of reach, then Daryl, enraged and ready to put an end to this bullshit game, gave an angry growl and charged, throwing himself into her and tackling her to the ground, to the delighted whoops from their spectators. Laying his full weight on top of her, Daryl pinned her arms by her head and held her down securely as she gasped for breath.

Tahlia hadn't expected him to do that. And she hadn't expected him to be so solid. A mass of pure brawn and muscle - she felt like she'd been hit by a tank. Lying still while she tried to catch her breath, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly enveloped in him. His body pressed firmly against hers. The scent of oil and leather and sweat all around her. A smirk on his face, only a breath away from her own. His eyes locked onto hers.

His eyes.

They were bluer and greyer than she'd realised - a squally ocean on a cloudy day.

"Gotcha." he murmured in that gravelly voice, and her stomach tightened and fizzed.

"Lemme up!" Tahlia started to wriggle, knowing that she needed to quickly get herself out from under him and away from the awakening sensations in her body.

"Nope. Admit defeat."

"Never!" she laughed and struggled harder, only causing Daryl to lean heavier on her, securing her hips and legs with his own, his forearms on hers, his hands around her wrists, holding her fast.

He stared into those twinkling green eyes fanned by long dark lashes, her full lips pouted in response to her predicament.

Shit, she was so damned pretty.

Suddenly he was painfully aware of the feminine softness and curves of her body, and as she shifted under him, the friction set off an unanticipated response in his jeans, and he inhaled sharply, immediately rolling off her.

"Ooh, does that mean I win?" she ribbed in amusement, still lying on her back.

Glaring at her, Daryl hoped his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. "Ya didn't win shit."

Quickly, he discreetly adjusted himself, then stood and, after a moment's hesitation, held out a hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Y'ain't half bad." he admitted. "But gonna need more than just what you're teachin' him. Show the boy how to use a blade."

Tahlia nodded at his advice, trying to regain her composure. "I will."

With a terse nod of his own, he turned to head back to the cellblock.

"We should do this again sometime!" she called to his retreating form. "No doubt I'll win again!"

"Ya didn't win shit!" he shouted over his shoulder. Then added, "Pain in the ass!"

He was glad that his back was to her so that she couldn't see the half smile tugging on his lips and the perplexity in his eyes at the fact that she just kept surprising him.

Tahlia was still gazing after him as Michonne and Carl came up to her, patting her on the shoulder and laughing over that little display. Still trying to get her head around what had just taken place, she tried to calm the butterflies that were whipping around inside her at the still very real memory of Daryl on top of her, his face only inches from hers.

Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a quick shake and wiggled her arms and legs, as if the movement alone could shake those thoughts from her head. It was only as she hitched her shoulders and rubbed her cheek against one that she realised the smell of him was still lingering on her skin.