AN: Thank you for all the fantastic support! A particularly observant reviewer noted that Rylynn calls zombies "walkers", but no one from Rick's group has done so in front of her. Great point! I'm not entirely sure where to go with that note- does anyone have any ideas?
Onwards and upwards. Straight to where we left off…
Rylynn stared at Daryl, his uncharacteristically profound comment momentarily stunning her. Daryl was inwardly chiding himself.
Why'd ya go and say something stupid like that? Sounds like complete bullshit off some dumbass greeting card! Now she's gonna think ya some cheesy asshole who's just tryin to creep on her…
Finally, after a few silent steps, she found her voice again.
"I…I suppose that's a very accurate statement," she admitted. Daryl looked at her, shocked at her reaction. "I am not afraid to live…because we're all going to die."
This was still not the reaction Daryl was anticipating. Rylynn seemed to be made of optimism, not dark thoughts.
She looked at him for reassurance to continue. He continued looking at her, his face blank.
"I mean…right? That's what this world keeps showing us. No one is safe, and we're all going to die. We're all going to have to be put down by a friend or a family member," she continued, her calm demeanor slipping as the words rushed out of her mouth. "So why be afraid of it? Why be afraid of taking advantage of all our time NOT doing that? I mean, each moment I spend running, meeting people, talking to you…they're moments I could very well have spent as a walker, or dead. I don't see life as something to cling to- I see it as a gift."
She looked back over to him. He was still watching her with those same intense eyes that felt like they saw under her skin. For the first time in a long time, she felt self-conscious. She thought that, after all his group had revealed going through, after all his losses that he had spilled to her…she thought that her words sounded naïve and fantastical.
Her bravado fading, she muttered to the ground, "At least that's what I think."
He sensed her loss of self-assurance, and decided to help his companion out.
"Ya see talkin' to me as a gift?" he asked, a teasing tone slipping from his lips. She looked up, gave him a fleeting, grateful smile, and then playfully shouldered him, causing him to tilt off balance and take a stumbling side step.
"Hey!" he joked. "That ain't fair, ya got to give a man a warning."
"And you have to give a warning when you whip out a sense of humor from nowhere," she returned. He gave a silent chuckle.
She suddenly veered off the side of the paved road onto a single-lane dirt path. "The shop is down here," she said. He followed her lead, a ghost of his smile lingering on his face.
Rylynn had been right; this shop was barely touched. Most likely 'cause of that hidden road, Daryl thought as he rummaged through the garage.
"How'd ya find this place?" he called out to Rylynn, who was sorting through the front desk.
"On a run," she responded. "Probably about two weeks after Aaron brought me to Alexandria. Back then, I ran just to stay outside of the walls and keep my skills sharp."
He nodded in understanding. "Know what that feels like."
"Yeah? You guys creeped out by the suburbia charade?" she asked. "I mean, sometimes it's nice. But most of the time, it feels forced."
He grunted in agreement as he dug through filters.
"If…" her voice faltered again. It was so unlike her usual "plow ahead" tone, that it stood out sharply, even to Daryl. "If you…if you ever feel like, trapped, or anything, you can always come running with me. It's a great way to stay in shape, and find some great places, I mean…of course, I mean you or, or anyone in your group, of course."
They made eye contact again, Rylynn searching for reassurance and Daryl trying to see if she was being serious. His inner voice was kicking in again; 'Course she don't wanna spend time with a roughed up redneck freak like ya. She just needs an extra pair of eyes and another body to stay safe. Anyone with a lick of sense can see that. She said anyone in the group, not just ya.
"I'll let the group know," he merely responded after a pause.
"Thanks," she said, and handed him a piece of equipment. "Here's that plug you were looking for."
He took the offered piece and stared at her as she walked back to the box she had been rummaging through. Although her running tights were caked with mud up to her calves, her shoes dragging leaves through across the store floor, her ponytail now slouching and sloppy, he felt like she continued to amaze him.
"Think that's about it," she said, dumping over the empty box. She extended a hand to him, and he grasped it and got up from the floor. She handed him the backpack, now bulging with mechanical parts, which he swung over his shoulders.
"Let's go, Angel," she winked at him, and swung open the door.