Chapter Ten: Close Call

Close Call

"Got everythin' ya need?" Daryl whispered as we stood outside the side door of the mega pharmacy. We were waiting for Glenn's signal to go in, and I suppose this was Daryl's idea of small talk.

I nodded, pulling out my knife, knowing my bow and arrows would be basically useless in close quarters. I had barely gotten any sleep last night between Beth begging for her family's forgiveness for attempting suicide and convincing Willa and Hershel that it was a good idea that both Maggie and I to go on this run. Hershel was the more difficult of the two to agree, being that he felt that he had almost lost his youngest daughter. I had looked over Beth's suicide attempt, it was shallow and in my opinion, was not an actual attempt to end her life. However, the damage of the action had been done and that had left Hershel heartbroken and fearful of his daughters' lives. In the end, he came around to the idea of Maggie and I both going, knowing that going on runs was something that we could not avoid.

Daryl looked me over, studying my clothing and assessing my weapons. If my cheeks were flushing, hopefully he didn't notice. "Where's yur gun?"

I had decided not to carry one, being that I'm not entirely comfortable with the weapon. It wasn't that I didn't understand how to use a gun, but it was the idea of a loaded gun in my hand that made my palms sweaty and my stomach nauseous. I figured I'd get myself or someone else killed if I had to rely on one. "Must have forgotten it," I lied.

Daryl pulled his gun out of his back of his jeans. "Here, take mine."

I shook my head. "This works," I said as I lifted the knife into his line of sight.

His eyes narrowed as his eyes traveled from the knife to my face. "Ya don't like guns?" Daryl asked.

Boy, was that the understatement of a lifetime. Still, I figured it would be easier coming clean now with him as opposed to asking his reanimated corpse for forgiveness if I got him killed. I shrugged. "Never needed them until recently."

He looked over me, trying to figure me out, especially since I knew he had seen the scars on my lower back. I'd seen dozens, if not hundreds of men do the same thing. I graduated from high school at sixteen, skipping kindergarten and first grade. Finished my bachelor's degree before turning nineteen and walked out of medical school by twenty-three. I had always been smart- a photographic memory plus determination to never need anyone made me nearly impossible to outsmart. During the course of schooling, men were always intimidated by my intelligence and age, or lack therefore of age. They often looked at me as if I were a puzzle to put together, tear down, and then put back together all over again. Something was different with Daryl's gaze; I didn't see the aspect of needing to figure me out through dismemberment. He was just… curious.

"A'ight, ya need to listen fur this sound," he said as he removed his magazine clip and shot a blank round into the air. A distinctive click echoed in my ears. "Ya hear the difference?" I had no idea what prompted this gun tutorial, leaving me to believe that yes, this was his idea of small talk.

I nodded.

"That means the gun is out of bullets."

I wasn't sure where he was going with this; since there is no stupid question, I spoke up. "Does that mean I should run for cover if I hear the person shooting at me gun's do that?"

"Or ya got a few seconds to take a clean shot." He watched me closely. "Yur a good shot," he said finally. "Ya take down geeks with 'em arrows."

I was surprised he had noticed, to be honest. There hadn't been many times that I'd had to put an arrow between walkers' eyes, unless we were on runs. Daryl managed the runs, carrying out Rick's orders and then some. I was surprised he had the chance to keep track of the members of his group around him. Him observing others, ensuring their safety, was a testament for the kind of man Daryl Dixon was. Redneck? Sure. Easily annoyed? You betcha. But above all that, he was one hell of a protector. This group was lucky to have him.

"It's a little different."

"Just 'cause it's different don't mean ya can't do it."

I pushed my lips together and took the handgun that Daryl offered me. I was more perplexed by the man standing in front of me than by the weapon in my hands. He had always been so short with everyone, and at times that included me. Daryl would barely give anyone the time of day, much less hold their hand through something as mundane (for him) as loading and shooting a gun. And yet, here he was, standing in front of me doing just that.

"I shot one like this out there," I said. "Willa's husband gave me the rundown." I held the gun in my palm, looking it over.

"Sometimes it's the only option ya got, Cherry." He paused, scratching his two day old scruff with his free hand. "Ya ain't got no problem shootin' walkers," he said as he gestured towards the bow I carried on my back.

I knew where he was going with this. He was trying to figure out why I didn't use a gun. He knew I knew it was a survival tactic, and that sometimes there isn't another option. You didn't get second chances in this world, so you had to make your first one count. More times than not, you have to defend yourself the first go around.

I shoved my free hand into the back pockets of my jeans and let out a deep breath. Being raped at gunpoint… at thirteen… by a man who paid your legal guardian to do so… well, it just didn't roll off the tip of your tongue. No way in hell was this going to come out of my mouth, but Daryl needed to know something. I didn't want to lie to him, so I'd have to find a happy medium. "There was an... incident when I was a kid. Kind of turned me off the idea of using a gun."

Daryl nodded, his expression softening from the agitated glare I had just received to a more understanding, but still slightly annoyed look. "It ain't just yur life ya fightin' fur out there. Yur doin' this fur that lil' girl. Shit, if we lost ya, it would be a big blow."

It was weird to hear Daryl say something like this, but for some reason, it was nice to hear him say it. He even reigned in his blunt annoyance for show and tell to keep me on track.

I shrugged. "Alright, tiger," I said, giving him back the gun. "I'll be at your disposal for all the lessons you want to give me, but for now, I'll stick to what I'm used to."

Before he had time to argue, we heard Glenn's three tier whistle, letting us know it was time to break in through the side door. Daryl reloaded his gun and secured it away in seconds. Now, with a crowbar in his hands and in a steady position, he wedged the metal object underneath the doorknob and pushed the lock out towards us. "Watch yurself," he said as he applied a heavy amount of force down, pushing the crowbar away from himself. This created enough pressure that the lock broke off easily, his impressive biceps glistening with a light layer of sweat. I could have fanned myself from the sheer hotness this man just exhibited.

I looked at him and he nodded, signaling for me to open the door, which I did without hesitation. I held my breath as he stepped inside before me. I held my knife beside my shoulder as I followed him. When his hand touched mine, gently guiding my knived hand up six inches so that it was beside my ear, I let out a deep breath. He gave me a small nod before walking in front of me, his eyes darting back and forth around our surroundings with his crossbow raised, ready to strike.

To our left, I heard footsteps approaching quickly. I turned just in time to stop a walker from taking a bite out of my arm. Where had she come from? With my forearm pressed against her neck, I went to strike with my knived hand, but stopped inches from her skull. I shook the memory of us working on a science fair project our freshmen year that solidified our high school relationship as BFFs out of my mind. I didn't make friends easily, as I always had my head stuck in a book, but Amy was my kind of people. She was just as awkward and into science as I was. I had actually spoken to her what must have been four years ago when I reactivated my Facebook account- she was a chemistry professor at the local junior college and at the time just had twin boys.

"Amy Bryd," I said softly as I watched her sharp teeth snap at me, drool seeping down her blue lips. She hadn't been dead long, maybe a day. "I'm so sorry," I whispered as I ended her life for the second time. I grabbed her body as she fell forward and eased her to the ground.

"Ya knew her?" Daryl asked, who was now right behind me. I hadn't heard him moving towards me.

I nodded, standing up straight. I hadn't thought about her in years, but damn, she really made high school less shitty. "Her boys," I suddenly said. "She had two sons. There's no way she would have left them."

Daryl looked down at her body and then back at me, not convinced. "Cherry…"

"No, she was freshly changed. They could be here." I looked around trying to pinpoint where she was hiding. "Look," I said, pointing to a closet with it's door partially opened.

Daryl didn't have the heart to tell me it was a lost cause, so he simply gave in, holding his crossbow in position to retaliate if needed. He motioned for me to open the closet door once we had gotten a few feet closer. Before I could put my hand on the doorknob, a little boy, no older than five rushed at me from inside the closet. His eyes were bloodshot and he chomped at such a ferocious level, he almost took my breath away. I held him back with a broom that was propped against the wall next to the closet and turned to look at Daryl.

He looked back at me with soft eyes, and as he approached the undead boy and I, his jaw clenched and unclenched. Without saying a word, he ended the boy's rabid existence. His head turned, not able to watch the child's body fall. "Sorry, Cherry," he said as he started to walk away, to gather the supplies that we came here for.

I just couldn't let it go, not yet. I owed it to Amy to at least make sure that her other little boy was dead. I knelt down to pull the closet door open. In the small closet, pushed against the back, I saw a small figure. Without hesitating, I pulled the child, who was wrapped up tightly in a sleeping back, towards me. I checked for a pulse and when I didn't feel one, I knelt down to put my ear against his lips, just to make sure. He looked so sweet and innocent- someone had taken the time to make sure to keep him from getting cold or to make sure he felt safe. Could it have been Amy? She was already turned. Did the first bite not start the time frame in which you would succumb to the fever and later reanimate? Was it connected to the death rate, how swiftly one was overcome by the infection?

It wasn't breath I could feel, but rather a gurgling noise coming from his mouth. Had I not accurately checked for a pulse? Didn't seem likely.

"Charlie!" Daryl's voice rang in my ears.

I pulled my head up in his direction and barely avoided the boy's snapping teeth. He had turned in my arms. My reaction time wasn't fast enough, I knew I wasn't going to be able to defend myself from a bite. I closed my eyes, the last thing I saw was the boy lunging at my throat. I waited for the feeling of teeth to shred through that delicate skin and when nothing happened over the next few seconds, my eyes flung open to see the boy sprawled along the ground with a bolt to the head.

I sat there, on my knees, looking at the two dead children in front of me. How was this possible? Was that all that was required to make me shut down and nearly get killed? What would Willa do with me? Addy? My heart started to break at the idea of never seeing them again. I had spent so much of my youth closed off because of what was done to me, and even with Willa, Maggie, and Hershel always so incredibly supportive, it was Amy's help who encouraged me to experience freedom. And what good had that done? She, and her two beautiful boys, ended up dead in the most grotesque way known to man.

Daryl's arms pulled me to my feet and he put his hands on my shoulders, looking me over. "Charlie," he said again. "Are ya bit?"

I shook my head, tearing my eyes from the horror film scene below us and locking on Daryl's cold gaze. I couldn't bring my mouth to form words, but when he pressed against me, I took several steps backwards until my back hit the wall behind me. I swallowed hard as he put either of his palms next to my head against the concrete blocks. "Are ya crazy, Charlie?" He hissed. "Ya could have gotten killed. What the fuck was that?"

When I still remained speechless, he lifted his right hand to scratch the side of his face. The quick motion startled me, putting my senses into overdrive. I turned my body to the left, cowering under his arm that was still placed on the wall behind me, letting a small whimper escape my lips.

It only took a second or two to pass for me to realize that I hadn't been hit. My eyes slowly opened and I turned my body to face Daryl's. He had dropped both arms to his side and was looking at my face, but unable to make eye direct contact with me.

"You hear that?" An unknown male voice said from a few isles over, towards the center of the room.

Daryl's eyes quickly turned to the direction and before I had a chance to say anything, he put his hand over my mouth and pulled me into the closet with him. He closed the door, leaving it about half an inch open, as to not make a clicking noise if he were to close it entirely. I closed my eyes, trying to pretend we weren't in a closet. Tilting my head back, I let out a deep breath and tried to remember a coping technique a therapist had told me about once. Find your happy place, or make a happy place. Something about being somewhere that wasn't where you wanted to jump off a cliff to get away from.

My hands shook as I wrapped them around my waist, hugging my back. I needed something to help compress my nervous system, to avoid a full blown panic attack. I wouldn't be able to stay quiet, much less in here if one developed. Rick had given us strict instructions not to interact with others not in our group, he used the words "avoid at all costs" now that I was thinking about it. Made sense after our interaction with Tony and Dave at the pub. I could see Daryl's face illuminate through the slits of the door, light coming from the widows that hadn't been boarded. I let out a few uneven breaths, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, but somehow, breathing was difficult as my chest began to tighten under the intense anxiety. Daryl wrapped his arms around me, pressing his chest firmly against my back. I leaned into him, letting his massive arms cover my upper body in an attempt to get enough pressure to ease my anxiety.

He leaned down to where his mouth was against my left ear and whispered so quietly that I almost didn't hear him. "Yur safe." His warm breath traveled down my ear and to the side of my neck, causing me to feel slightly more relaxed. I could feel the tension begin to leave my body and my breathing slowly started to become even. The tightening feeling in my chest turned into a small tingle, instead of a pressure that threatened to send me into hyperventilation. "Yur safe," he repeated, just as softly.

I nodded, letting him know that I heard him and that I felt it. Felt the safety that was, for that moment, in his arms.

"Wasn't anything," the man outside the closet door said. "Let's get out of here."

We heard footsteps go in the opposite direction. Daryl waited for a few minutes after, as we both stayed in the same position, before unwrapping his arms around me. I let out a deep breath and pushed open the door. Daryl followed suit, his crossbow already up, and scanning the area.

"You good here?" I asked as I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. "I want to go check on Maggie."

He nodded, eyeing me gingerly. I swallowed hard under his gaze, feeling embarrassed. It wasn't like me to completely lose my shit, but then again, it wasn't everyday that I saw my high school best friend reantimated as she and her two zombie kids tried to eat me. I stepped over the three corpses, my heart stricken by their lost and of what would never be for them.

I found Maggie and Glenn coming out of hiding too. "You guys okay?"

"Yeah," Glenn answered. "Are you?" He paused. "You look…"

"Like shit," Maggie finished.

I smoothed out my pony tail and took a much needed breath. "Close call."

Maggie's eyes softened. "With those guys?"

"No, walkers."

"Ya see how many there were?" Daryl asked as he approached us. His bag was almost full; he must have started on his list.

"Two," Glenn said. "They were parked out back. Heard them drive off."

"Think we should be worried?" I asked.

Daryl nodded. "Be best to get our shit and get out." He paused and looked me over. "Ya a'right?"

I nodded.

He turned to Glenn. "Keep an eye on her." He paused. "Gonna find the rest of this shit," he said as he waved his list.

I scoffed and brushed past Daryl to get to the medical supplies behind the counter. I had all but memorized the list, so my sweep took only a few minutes. I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I grabbed a bottle of antibiotics and tossed it into the open duffel bag. I felt nauseous as I wiped my clammy hands on the back of my jeans. As I stood there, I began to feel anger towards Daryl. I knew I was projecting my feelings of helplessness, turning that into something that was easier for me to endure-rage. Cleary his comment to Glenn had made me feel inadequate and I've never done well with those types of feelings.

Maggie's hand on my shoulder made me jump. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Are you okay?"

I zipped the duffel bag and nodded. "Yeah, there were some walkers and then those two other guys…" I paused. "Do we know anything about them?"

"Shane, Rick and Andrea are going to follow them, just to make sure they aren't with those same guys from the bar." She took the duffle bag from me. "Glenn is keeping watch out front."

I nodded. As I looked out into the store from the pharmacy, I saw Daryl walking towards us. "A'right, let's move." He didn't wait for us to respond, but joined Glenn at the front of the store.

Maggie watched me as she joined Daryl and called my name when I didn't immediately follow. I let out a deep breath and by the time I made it to the front, Daryl was standing next to a car looking over a map with T and Glenn, presumably trying to figure out where those two men had come from and if they were a threat.

"We should take the back roads back to the farm," Glenn was saying. "We can't risk anyone following us back."

"Do we wait for Rick, Shane and Andrea?" T asked.

"No, Rick said they would meet us back at the farm in two hours," Glenn answered. He pointed to a route on the map. "They went this way and are going to double back."

"It doesn't feel right leaving them," Maggie said.

"They know what they're doin'," Daryl pointed out. "Can't risk being out here." He paused. "If they ain't back at the farm, me and Glenn will go lookin' for 'em."

Glenn nodded. "Do we have everything we came for?"

"Checked off our lists," T answered. "Car's packed full."

I looked over my shoulder at the car, seeing that there was only enough space for three people. I wondered if I bribed T with those cans of coconut milk that he likes to dip his bread in, if would he ride behind Daryl on his bike. Before I had a chance to pitch T the deal, he, Maggie and Glenn squeezed themselves into the car.

I cleared my throat as I made my way to Daryl. He watched me move through the motions of getting on the back of his bike. I couldn't deny my feelings of anger and embarrassment, so I wasn't going to try to hide them from Daryl.

He murmured something under his breath as he straddled his bike. He barely waited for me to hang onto him before he twisted the throttle and took off. The entire ride back to the farm, his body remained tense, almost making me feel guilty for being angry with him. He had been gentle and reassuring in the closet, ensuring that I knew I was safe. I knew he wouldn't let anything happen to me if he could help it. Still, the idea of him thinking I needed to be looked after was infuriating. Not only did I feel unprofessional, for lack of a better word, for losing my shit to begin with, but telling Glenn to look after me added insult to injury.

I felt Daryl's hard back stiffen into my chest as I held onto him tighter when he turned curves a little too sharply or quickly, something that was uncharacteristic of his driving. It was clear he was just unhappy with my display of weakness. I wondered what exactly it was that angered him so deeply, other than the fact that I almost got myself killed. I supposed feeling like a glorified babysitter could piss anyone off, because today Daryl had to treat me like the scared little girl I had been for most of my life to ensure chaos didn't disrupt. I could have given our hiding spot away and who knows what those ten men were capable of.

I was grateful when we came to a stop in front of the house. I barely allowed Daryl to cut the engine before I hopped off the back of his bike. Without looking back, I pushed past Glenn, Maggie, and T to get inside.

Willa was helping the kids with school work when I walked through the foyer. She excused herself and made her way to me as I stood in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen sink. She could tell that something was off with me. I wanted to run to my room and hide for another three days, but I had to remind myself that I wasn't that scared little girl anymore. While I hadn't made my peace with what happened to me as much as I had thought, I was far from where I was originally.

"Everyone okay?" Willa asked, rubbing her belly.

"Yeah… Shane, Rick, and Andrea followed a couple of guys towards the old Peterson ranch."

Willa crossed her arms, not liking the idea of that. "Any particular reason?"

I shrugged. "I think just to make sure that they aren't dangerous."

She scoffed. "And what if they are?"

"Then we'd taken them out," Shane said from behind us as he lingered in the doorway. "They are held up in a house a few miles from the

pharmacy. Looked like it was just two families hiding out," he added when he saw our confused faces.

"Glad that was the case," Willa said. "Did you need something?"

Shane's eyes lingered from her and then to me. "Andrea said that there was fresh lemonade."

I stepped aside. "Help yourself," I said, my tone short, as I walked out of the kitchen. With Shane in the house, it made sense for me not to be. It was difficult for me to be in the same room as him. Every time he spoke, it felt like a lie and it made my mind drift back to Ottis.

"Ya got a sec?" Daryl asked me as I walked towards the car to help unload it.

I grabbed a bag out of the back seat, but I was unable to ignore him. I thought about pretending I didn't hear him and act like I was too busy, something I would have done to nearly anyone else given the situation. Looking at Daryl though, I didn't see anger mirrored back at me, but rather concern. I didn't know which was worse. I tossed the bag back into the car and nodded. I picked an imaginary hangnail as I followed Daryl towards the horse field. It was fitting that he would lead me this way; it was, after all, where he had first seen my scars.

Daryl leaned against a tree, one foot on the ground and the other pressed against the trunk. He had his arms crossed, his shoulders wide and strong, but his eyes were gentle. He looked absolutely beautiful in that moment. I swallowed hard, trying not to let myself become distracted. My mind was desperate to find some form of comfort after today's incident and I was both excited and concerned that my mind chose that route of distraction to do so.

I pulled myself on top of the fence, my ass resting not so comfortably on the wooden board. I looked down at my feet as they dangled and then reached the third board of the three tiered fence, offering me more stability.

When I looked up, Daryl was already looking at me. His eyes ran over my face, but he was careful to avoid eye contact. "I gotta' know…" he said, his tone soft but urgent. "What happened back there?"

I knew he was referring to the closest and my unfortunately timed panic attack. Or maybe he was alluding to how I almost let a walker bite my face off. Both were pertinent questions. "Claustrophobic," I answered quickly, almost by reflex. I had spent my entire life downplaying my trauma that it had honestly become second nature.

His eyes narrowed and he did something that I didn't expect; Daryl called me out on my bull shit. "Seemed like there's more to it than that."

With my hands wrapped around the board that I was sitting on, I leaned forward slightly. "What I said yesterday… about when I lived in New Orleans. It's all related."

"You didn't say much."

I looked at him, my eyes meeting his. "I said enough."

He shook his head. "Nah, not when it almost gets yurself killed."

"Well it didn't." I knew I was being difficult, but this was a difficult situation. I had never felt compelled to tell anyone other than a therapist about my fear of being locked in a closet.

Daryl stepped forward, surprising me, and in two long strides, he was nearly standing on top of me. "'Cause I saved yur ass, Cherry."

"Then call us even."

He didn't back down, even though I could tell that I was getting under his skin. "Do ya think I'm gonna' hit ya?"

I felt my cheeks turn red and I turned my face to the side, trying to hide the flush. "No," I answered.

His voice softened and he knelt to the side so that he could see my face. "Then why did ya flinch?"

I bit my lower lip and scanned his crystal blue eyes for any signs of malevolence. Of course, there was none. Daryl wasn't the kind of person to get information out of someone to just use it against them later. "Because I'd been hit before and it fucking sucks."

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He already knew I was burned with cigarettes, so it wasn't a jump to think that other things happened too. "Yur uncle?"

I nodded. "My aunt worked the graveyard shift at a diner...she was always at work, it seemed," I said remembering how many shifts she had to work to support her husband and me. He was on disability but he blew that money on booze and pain pills. "He used to get pissed when I refused to take a bath because I didn't want him to watch me," I paused. "When I was nine or ten, I didn't fight back. But the older I got, I just couldn't take it. He was too big, so I just refused." I pushed myself off the fence and turned around so that I could look at the horses and not watch Daryl's face. He was holding it together well, but this way was easier for me to be honest with him. "So he started locking me in the closet in the basement. It was always so cold, even in the middle of the summer." I let out a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts that I had fought so hard to not control me. "Even with a bum knee, I couldn't fight him off. He was so much bigger than I." I felt Daryl's hand on my shoulder, signally that it was okay. I didn't have to keep talking and that he understood. I was thankful for that. I wasn't ready to talk about what came after being locked into the closest.

"My dad used to knock me around. My big brother, Merle, would take the blunt of it when he was there." He paused. "I didn't fight back, either." I put my hand on his and turned to face him. His eyes were watching me closely, as if waiting for me to run. The thought had crossed my mind, but with him standing before me now, I felt relief. With his right hand still on my shoulder, Daryl used his left to wipe away a tear that I didn't know had fallen. "I'd never hit ya, Cherry, or nothin' else to hurt ya."

I nodded. I knew that already. "I'm sorry for-"

His eyebrow furrowed as he spoke. "Don't ya dare tell me yur sorry fur what that asshole did to ya."

Emotions ran through me. I threw my arms around Daryl's wide shoulders and buried my face into the crook of his neck. His body was stiff at first, but the moment he wrapped his arms around my waist, I could feel his body melt into mine. Being accepted and understood were two things I didn't know would ever really happen for me. For one, I never told anyone where they had the option to understand and accept my trauma. For two, I knew it took a special kind of person to do those things. And it only took the end of the world for me to meet that man.

…

"A'right, Cherry, ya already know how to aim," Daryl was saying as he stood a few feet behind me. I held a pistol in my hands as I stared down a few partially broken beer bottles about twenty feet from where I was standing. The sun had barely risen in the morning sky, Daryl insisting that we get an early start.

I turned to face him, and hoped he didn't hear the doubt in my voice. "Maybe we can go over how to load the gun again?"

Daryl crossed his arms, his stance wide and strong. "We've been over cleanin', takin' it apart and puttin' it back together, loadin', reloadin', safety, the whole nine yards. Nothin' left to do put pull the trigger." He stepped closer. "I ain't gettin' any younger."

"Or more patient," I mumbled, turning my back to him so that I was able to face the targets.

He stood to my side, wearing the same curious face that I had seen on one of our firsts runs where he taught me how to syphon gas.

"Yur hands broke?" I lifted the gun and shot each of the six bottles one right after the other, missing only once. I turned the gun and handed it to Daryl, the handle facing him. He took it without hesitation, but looked over me. "What the hell was that?"

I shrugged. "Like you said, I already know how to aim." I paused when he didn't say anything. "I just don't like guns."

He liked my explanation less than my silence. With his brows furrowed, he put the pistol in the back of his waistband. "Sometimes a gun is the only thing that's gonna' keep ya alive." I nodded. I was well aware of the usefulness. "So ya gotta' get over it."

"Jesus, I will," I said. "It's something that's been… an issue… since I was a kid. I'm working on it." I didn't need to say more; Daryl could read between the lines and while he may not know the exact reason, he knew it was something severe. He wasn't going to let it go, though. "I'll keep one one me on runs and whenever I leave the farm," I promised.

"Imma gonna' hold ya to that, Cherry."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." I smiled as I watched him gather the few things we brought to the homemade gun range. "So, what would you normally be doing?" Daryl threw his bag over his shoulder as he looked at me. With a shrug, he started walking towards his bike. "You peg me as an avid skinny dipper." He laughed out loud at my comment, and I would be lying if I didn't say how proud that made me. He was a tough nut to crack. "Seriously, if you weren't hunting or tracking a lost kid," I paused at his grin, "or making arrows. What would you be doing?"

He shrugged. "Same as everyone else."

"Well… there's this pretty great trail a few miles down the road."

Daryl was already straddling his bike. "Another time."

"What? You got some big plans tonight?"

He shook his head. "Look, I wasn't supposed to say nothin', but yur sister asked me to bring you home right after."

I furrowed my forehead as I stepped closer to Daryl. "When did you talk to Willa about me?"

"It ain't like that," he said. "She's worried 'bout ya."

I crossed my arms, refusing to get on his bike. "And you?"

He looked away and turned the throttle. "Come on."

"No."

"Charlie."

"Daryl."

He cut the engine and got off his bike in one fluid movement. "I get where she's comin' from. Yur lucky ya got someone lookin' after ya."

I ignored the last bit of what he said, because I knew that was true. "Where is she coming from?"

"Fuck, Charlie, ya still got them bruises on your neck. Ya know where she's comin' from. Ya nearly got yurself killed yesterday."

My hand absentmindedly grazed the side of my throat as my gaze shifted from Daryl to a spot on the ground a few feet away from us. "I didn't realize that night was such a topic of conversation."

"It ain't like that," Daryl promised.

I bit my lower lip and nodded. "No, I get it," I said as I looked at him. "I know she has my best interest at heart, but at the risk of sounding painfully juvenile, it would be nice if someone was on my side." I paused, trying to collect myself and trying to keep myself from saying anything more, but the need to be heard was so overwhelming. "I know it's not fair that she feels guilty because we were separated as kids. It just is what is. While she got pony rides and homemade cookies, I got cigarettes put out on me." Daryl's face turned the side, his jaw clenching and unclenching. I watched his chest rise and fall at a faster speed, so I changed my tone, not wanting to overwhelm him. "I know what I can handle. Yesterday at the pharmacy was embarrassingly painful, and I probably wouldn't have made it out without you." I stepped closer to Daryl, putting my hands into his. "But I wouldn't have made it this far without me."

He finally looked at me, his eyes soft, although his body was tense. "I'm on yur side," he said, his blue eyes penetrating mine.

I felt my breath leave me as I looked back at him. I could feel the heat radiating off his body and even though it was a solid ninety degrees outside, I couldn't have welcomed it more. He pulled his hands out of mine and cupped my face. His eyes darted back and forth, taking in my own gaze and when his gaze shifted to my lips, I felt my knees go weak. With one hand still cupping my face, he slid the other behind my neck and pulled me closer to him, until our foreheads were touching. He bent down slightly and I stood straight, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Me too," I said softly, gently nudging his nose with mine. "I'm on your side."

I barely finished my sentence before his lips were fervently pressed against mine. I gasped lightly from both shock and pleasure. As my mouth opened slightly, welcoming the deepening of the kiss, I pressed my body against Daryl's. I already knew his body was hard and sturdy, but I had no idea that kissing Daryl would be both soft and chaste. I inhaled his breath as I refused to take my mouth from his, if only for a second, and tasted the cigarettes he had just been smoking. My hands traveled up his neck and when I felt his hair through my fingertips, I ran my hands through his short locks. By now, the hand that was cupping my face had traveled down to my hips and with a strong grip, Daryl pulled me into him even more. A small moan escaped my lips as I felt himself through his jeans. My hands turned into fists, grabbing onto his hair. Daryl sighed heavily into my mouth and when I bit the bottom of his lip, he pushed me a couple feet backwards into a tree. My back hit the bark with a thud, but the only thing I could feel was his hands roaming my body and his lips devouring my own. My body fell completely into his and I could almost feel raw emotions spilling from me as I curled my fingers further into his hair. No other kiss could have prepared me for what I was feeling in this instant. It was nothing short of life changing; I never would have guessed that someone could have that much passion hiding behind such a nonchalant exterior.

Finally, Daryl pulled away, just slightly enough to give us both a chance to breathe. His chest rose and fell at a tempo that was a little faster than mine, but I too was heated. I gently uncurled my fingers and let my hands slide down to his wide shoulders. With Daryl's forehead pressed against mine, I slowly opened my eyes to find him already looking at me. He brought his thumb to my lip, gently brushing over the bruised skin and I opened my mouth slightly at his touch and kissed his thumb. His eyes were glued to me as he pushed his thumb further into my welcoming mouth. I gently sucked on the end of his finger, arching the lower part of my body into his.

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice heavy and thick with lust.

I grinned as I pulled his finger from my mouth and bit my lower lip. I put both of his hands on my hips as I nibbled the stubble around his jawline. He growled under my touch the moment my hands found the edge of his waistband. Breathing heavily, I placed the side of my face into the crook of his neck and he rested his chin on top of my head. His large arms wrapped my much smaller frame into his arms and I let myself fall into him, my palms now pressed firmly against his hard chest.

I wanted to unbuckle his belt and pull off his jeans, but I wasn't sure if that was somewhere we were both ready to do. I mean, we were physically ready to be sure, but emotionally, I was a bit unsure. My feelings for Daryl were already so incredibly strong that I wasn't willing to risk rushing the physical, no matter how much my body wanted to. We could figure that out later, but for now I just wanted to enjoy the moment he and I were sharing. With the side of my face pressed against his chest, I could hear the beat of his heart. With one arm wrapped tightly around my hips, his other hand rested on the back of my neck, keeping me close to him. Contentment and pure happiness spread through my body as I nuzzled his neck gently, letting out a deep breath. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was genuinely happy. So much so, I felt compelled to tell him.

"Me too, Cherry," he said softly before kissing the top of my head.

I moved my hands from his chest to around his waist and held him as he tightened his grip around me. I wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon, and I hoped he wasn't either.

...

So, finally the first kiss. I hope it didn't disappoint, especially since this was a long time coming!

How do you feel about Charlie telling Daryl snippets about her abuse?