A kiss from the wind -The Walking dead. Daryl Dixon/OC
Chapter 6- No compromise.
Summary: The gnarled hand scrabbled uselessly against the ground, rotting body trapped under the mangled car wreck, reaching, moaning and snarling. Charlotte grimaced, moving further out of reach and crouched to the ground. "Come on kid." Daryl's voice sounded behind her, a hand landing on her shoulder, "Leave it. We got ground to cover." Daryl/OC
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Thanks so much for the great responses, please pass this on to your fellow WD Fanfic friends.. I'm really proud of this work! Thanks!
Just saw the last two episodes… oh Gawd, Dale and the brother and screw you shane and who actually watches carl in the god damn zombie apocalypse and woah rick democracy and sexy and ugh! Just ugh! That is what happens to me after this show. The feelings! =[
I DO NOT CONDONE RACISM- THE CHARACTERS HOWEVER- DO!
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It's not until the next evening when she is finally able to get her father alone. It's been a long day, another group left to scavenge and hunt, the rest of Rick's camp were taken in smaller groups to clean up. Charlotte continued to help Betty make the food and deliver it to their guests. Despite the constant movement and work Charlotte couldn't distract herself from Carol. She didn't know all the details, how long ago she had lost her daughter nor did she know all the circumstances. Carol seemed to be handling it, she seemed to hold her head high and smile through the pain as much as was possible in their current predicament. Charlotte noticed how Carols eyes would follow Emma though, how she would watch the child with a fond quirk of her lips as if seeing her own girl. It made Charlottes heart ache for the woman and the massive blow she had sustained, to survive this thing for so long with your child and to then have to watch her die so pointlessly, her eyes pricked with tears as she imagined how she would feel if it had happened to Jamie. She admired the woman's strength. Her eyes found her now, talking to the large dark skinned man, Charlotte thought he had a nick name of some sort but couldn't be sure. It was Carols loss more than anything that coerced her into talking to her father now, a woman who had lost so much, anyone really, deserved some semblance of freedom in this new world.
"Dad?" She asked, as she moved to where he sat, by his own tent, separated from most of the camp, almost as if revered, on a pedestal.
"Yeah?" He asked, smiling disarmingly. Sometimes he did that, even before the dead rose, sometimes he would smile or laugh or cook something for dinner, or cuddle Jamie and it would throw Charlotte for a loop. So used to the violent, possessive man she found herself constantly on edge on these days, and now she felt her skin prickle with anticipation.
"Sit." Her father said, indicating the camping seat beside him, usually occupied by Andrew or one of his other right hand men.
"What is it?" Lawrence asked.
Charlotte swallowed, breathed deeply, "I think we should let them go."
"Who?"
"You know who I mean dad. Rick and his group." Charlotte whispered.
"Why would I do that?" Lawrence asked with a slight frown, though his tone held a hint of a smile under a whole lot of mocking.
Charlotte stared at him, " They don't deserve to be… held captive." her father continued to stare into the distance, if she didn't know any better she would have thought him drunk, "They should be able to make their own choice."
"And leave?"
"If that's what they want. Yes." she said.
Lawrence barely moved, but his eyes found her own, "You would have me free them and lose the doctor the only medical mind we have? What if someone is injured like Tobey?"
You'd kill them anyway, Charlotte wanted to scream, instead she said, "He's a vet dad, a farmer. An old man."
"He's useful." Lawrence said.
"Andrew told me you said that, I don't understand how the others are useful though." She fought to keep a whine from her voice, there was nothing her dad hated more than whining.
"The men. Rick, the redneck, the nigger, the chink. They all survived this long. Weapon training I would bet." Her father said. When nothing else followed Charlotte snorted and said, "So what's your plan? They help around here? How can they do that if they're kept like prisoners? They wont want to help anyone if its not their choice dad."
"They wont have a choice." A menacing tone had entered her fathers voice.
"What do you mean?" She whispered, barely audible.
"We'll break them, that's why we're waiting. Let them let their guard down and then we strike." Charlottes eyes found the camp, milling about, talking outside of their tents, they're already letting their guard down, Charlotte thought warily, they know they wont be shot and they haven't seen the dead since they arrived, they're scared but they're not fighting to escape like they should be.
"What about - what about the others?" she asked eyes landing on Carol, on Maggie and Carl, a child.
"It's been so long since the men had any women around." her father growled, Charlotte felt her breath stutter as she rose from her seat, head shaking. She remembered something, a while ago, that Andrew had said, he and a group, including Randall and Graham had been bragging about teenagers. Charlotte felt bile rise in her throat. "Everyone is so tense and I think there needs to be a little fun around here. Charlotte stared at her father in shock and in disgust, she had never known her father to be so repulsive, so cold, so evil as he sounded in this moment. She took a step backwards head still shaking. "You can't." she whispered.
"And the blonde looks particularly ravishing." Andrea. Oh God, Andrea. Charlotte moved away again, she recognised this mood, the monotone voice, the lack of emotion, she regretted speaking but her voice broke through even as she willed it not to.
"You can't." she said, again, louder this time. "Dad. It's wrong! It's- no!"
She thought of Maggie's sister, the teenage blonde, so quiet, probably the same age as those other girls form Andrews story. The thought made her speak again.
"Dad!" She cried, "I wont let you."
Her fathers eyes met hers again, "How will you stop me?"
Her breath hitched under his gaze, she felt completely at a loss "I-"
She had no time to finish her sentence because her father moved, launching from his chair and then there was a stinging sensation across her cheek and her body found the hard floor. She groaned painfully.
"You'll shut the hell up!" Her father growled, looming over her, where she sat with a hand against her cheek, her face throbbed angrily. "Get the hell out of my sight." Her father stalked to his tent and left her literally lying in the dirt.
"Get up!" Betty's voice hissed from behind as small hands grasped at her arms, "You know not to antagonise him."
"Betty!" Charlotte gasped, "He said-"
"I don't care if he's plannin' on blowin' up the Earth! You know not to confront him when he's in one of his moods."
"Andrea and the women. Those girls he-" Charlotte babbled as she followed behind Betty to a safer distance, "We have to tell them, they need to get away."
"Stop panicking." Betty growled, which sounded rather odd coming from her mouth, "I heard every word. You really think it's wise to be runnin' in there telling them they're in danger? They'll panic and it'll cause chaos, they start revoltin' they'll be shot down before they have a chance to plead their own case."
"Betty-"
"No. We keep an eye and we keep quiet. If it looks like something is gonna happen that's when we do something, 'til then, what they don't know can't hurt them." Betty said. The elder lady pressed gentle fingers across her aching cheek bone, "This'll bruise something rotten."
"I've had worse." Charlotte replied bitterly.
"I bet you have Kiddo," Betty replied, "I bet you have."
Charlotte trailed her eyes towards the refugee camp, the unaware inhabitants littered morosely around their area. She hoped, that if the time came, they could find a way to escape.
"I hate it when your right." Charlotte grumbled to Betty as she steadied herself with a step forward.
"You must always hate me then." She thought the elder lady replied under her breath eyes finding camp again. She met a pair of blue eyes and found herself routed to the spot. Lines marred the skin above the eyes as Daryl frowned and Charlotte turned away unable and unwilling to accept the angry understanding she could see in those eyes. It had been a long time since someone had understood.
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Bit of a crap, abrupt end but couldn't work out how else to end it! This chapter just wouldn't bloody write!
What does everyone think? This one is a bit longer!