Okay! This is my first crack at a Walking Dead fanfic. I just finished binging all 10 seasons, and would love to write more fanfiction for it, but I don't even know where to start. So I figured I'd start here, with a scene I feel like should have been included after Daryl's fight with Alpha. Obviously spoilers lurk here, so don't read if you haven't watched 10x10, "Stalker."

I don't know if I got the characters down right, and it's honestly been so long since I wrote fanfiction, or any piece of writing that wasn't for school, that I don't know if this is even good. All I know is I wanted to see this scene, so I wrote it, and hopefully it doesn't suck. Let me know what you all think!

The pain was excruciating, that was nothing to joke about. But Daryl was used to pain. He'd had his fair share over the last decade or so, and even before that. Before the world went to pot. Daryl wasn't concerned about the pain. What he was most worried about was the massive amount of blood he was losing. The stiff yellow rag he'd grabbed from the floor was quickly turning softer and more red by the minute, but thankfully it seemed to help the bleeding. He knew though, that he would bleed out if he couldn't get a tourniquet on it. Soon. The cords on top of the counter sat there, taunting him, but every time he tried to reach them, the world spun so much he couldn't tell which way was which. Eventually, his head hit the ground and he gave in to the encroaching darkness.

Silence stuffed itself inside Daryl's ears as he woke up. He couldn't hear anything. No birds, no stream, and surprisingly, no walkers. The absence of those regular noises allowed him to hear the labored breathing of who he could only assume was Alpha. Not that his own breathing sounded any better.

"Can you see beyond the darkness? Into the light?"

Daryl hesitated, not expecting the sudden conversation, nor the random question. He considered it though, before finally answering. "No."

There was more heavy breathing on both ends, and Daryl honestly had a hard time distinguishing which breath came from him, and which came from her.

"I'm tinglin' with joy, as I see the ones who broke me all around us, standin' there. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for making me strong."

As much as Daryl wanted to argue with her, he knew all too well what she was talking about. Things he'd suffered his entire life, back with his dad, with Merle. Back before any of this. Things that shaped him. Things that helped him survive.

Alpha's voice came in a little stronger as she continued talking. "Pain made me. Pain made you. Pain made my Lydia."

At the mention of Alpha's daughter, of her abuse thrown around like a badge of honor, Daryl snapped. "You lost her. You drove her away, because you didn't love her." He meant every word of it.

"What did you say?" The incredulous tone in Alpha's voice was clear. As was the rage. More of the silence plugging Daryl's ears was shoved away as the woman struggled to get up. Daryl couldn't see her, but he could hear her. He just hoped his head was clear enough to help him accurately judge how far away she was.

"What did you say, boy? I can't hear you. I'm all ears."

There were shuffling footsteps, inching their way towards the fallen archer, but before he could grab anything to fight her with, there was a loud crash, and then the silence returned, louder than before. Daryl waited for a few seconds, tense, as he kept straining his eyes to spot Alpha, but she never appeared. And when Daryl tried to sit up, he jostled his leg. His body's immediate response was to force him to lie down via a quick blackout session.

He wasn't out for long. He knew it as soon as he opened his eyes. The moon was in the same place through the roof as it had been when he passed out. The unfortunate thing was he could still feel the blood oozing from his leg-the hand holding the rag had slipped, and now there was nothing stopping the wound from resuming it's dump of vital fluids.

His hand felt like it was made of lead, and it refused to cover the wound, no matter how insistent his brain was. Then, he heard a voice, someone he honestly didn't expect to hear again. He hoped for it, and he was planning on searching for her, but to say hearing her here was unexpected would be an understatement.

"I'm not here for them. I'm not here for you. They're human, not perfect."

The darkness combined with the blood in Daryl's eye made it difficult for him to see, but he made out a shape moving towards him.

"Daryl?"

Suddenly Lydia was at his head. "Daryl, come on. We gotta go." She pulled on his arms, trying to drag him away, and that made the archer's pain come back tenfold.

"Wait. Wait. Gotta … stop the bleedin'."

"Okay." Lydia's voice was echoey, metallic. But she wasn't leaving. Daryl took comfort in that. "Okay. How do I stop it?"

His hand still wasn't responding to commands to move, so Daryl jerked his chin towards the cords just above their heads. "Need to wrap that around my leg. Tourniquet."

Lydia didn't waste a second. She jumped up, grabbed the cord, and then crouched down by Daryl's leg. "Right here?"

Daryl couldn't actually see where she was asking about, but he could feel where the cord was sitting. He nodded, too tired to speak. A few seconds later though, he had to bite his cheek to keep from yelling as Lydia tightened the tourniquet around his leg.

"I'm sorry," Lydia whispered. "I'm sorry."

Warm blood filled Daryl's mouth as he unclenched his jaw. He spit the copper-tasting liquid out before answering. "Not your fault."

"I don't mean the wound."

"I know."

Daryl couldn't see Lydia's expression, but the moon provided enough light he could see her turn her head to look at him. Like she didn't know what to say.

"Come on," Daryl finally said. "We gotta go before … any walkers show up."

Lydia sniffed and Daryl saw her wipe her face quickly before nodding and grabbing his arm. He did his best to help lift himself up, trying not to jostle his leg any more than necessary. The added pressure of the tourniquet was actually helping clear his head, even though it was painful, and together, the two of them limped out of the garage and into the woods.

After what Daryl guessed was close to ten minutes of slow moving, Lydia paused.

"What're you doin'?"

"We gotta find something to clean that," the young woman responded.

"Nah, we can't stop. Too exposed."

"We gotta get that cleaned." Lydia wasn't budging on it. "I think I saw some yarrow over there. That should help keep the infection down until we can get back." She helped Daryl limp over to a tree, and practically forced him to sit down. "Just stay there. I'll be back in a minute." She began walking away, then turned and came back to him. She knelt down and got right in his face. "Don't. Die."

Daryl would have responded, but his body was once again not listening to his brain. He barely managed a nod, but it seemed to suffice. Lydia stepped away again. He could hear her rustling around a short distance away, and he knew the smart thing was to stay awake, keep a look out for walkers. The harder he tried to stay awake though, the heavier his eyelids became, until he finally fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Okay, thoughts? Like it? Love it? Hate it? Did I get the characters? Should I try to write more fanfiction for this fandom, or should I stick with what I know? I'd love any feedback! No flames though, constructive criticism only please! Or praise. I'm always down for praise ;) Just let me know what you guys thought?

Also, if you have any prompts for story ideas you want to send my way, I'm always down to try! I don't write slash, and I don't typically write any sort of romance, unless it's already canon.

Thanks for reading!