AN #1: Y'all are so kind and encouraging, and honestly, without you this story would have been retired as a one-shot! I have a basic plan for how this story's going to go now, so hopefully I'll be updating things more quickly/with slightly longer chapters. Don't hold me to that though!
Disclaimer: I do not own or write for The Walking Dead or AMC
He stomped ahead of her, trying to burn the image of those little arms leveling the gun to her head from his mind.
It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
The gravel crunched under his feet, poking through his boots annoyingly. She hadn't said much the last couple hours.
He supposed it was natural. Maybe the horrors that they had just endured – were yet to endure – were finally dawning on her.
He saw the indents in the rocks where human feet had been, and he had been seeing them for the last hour or so. They had started at an angle, and so he had stolen a quick glance behind him. Sure enough, a mass of footprints were embedded in the mud. He picked out at least three separate sets; a man's, a teenage boys or a woman's, and at least one child.
He didn't tell Beth. He didn't trust himself to find them in one piece, whoever they were, and he didn't want to be responsible for the smothering of whatever hope the girl had left.
If they found people, and they were their people, then great.
If not, it would only be him that would be disappointed.
She was slowing, and he knew that. He knew that he needed to suck it up, take some time, and feed them. He was exhausted too, but his stomach had stopped complaining hours ago. He had gone much longer and done much more physical activity with less food than he'd had in the last several days.
But he was terrified that if he stopped, even for just an hour or two, he would lose whoever made those tracks.
He could lose her.
He knew the notion was ridiculous. He knew it and he didn't care, and no matter how many times he tried to talk himself out of believing it, the thought came right back to him.
It could be her. Every second counted. In just the blink of an eye, her life could be over, and it could have been just that second that he had taken to feed his physical limitations.
It wasn't until she stumbled to her knees and didn't get up that he deemed a couple hours a necessary sacrifice.
He told himself that Carol was a strong woman, that she could take care of herself. Beth was his responsibility.
It wasn't Carol. It wasn't Carol. It could be anyone.
He backtracked to her and grasped her upper arm, hoisting her up. She wobbled against him, protesting weakly, but her eyes were rolling, her skin paler than usual despite the sun, sticky with cold sweat.
He slung her arm over her shoulder and hobbled with her over the rail and down the low slope until they had entered the barest outskirts of forest cover.
He let her down slowly. She slumped against the bark of the pine tree and held up a hand, warding him off. "I'm fine. I'm good. Just…just give me a second."
He just stared at her for a couple seconds, willing her to call her own bluff.
She didn't.
He scoffed. "You're dehydrated," he said softly, an edge of concern leaking through his voice. He set his gun in her lap, and waited until she grasped the trigger with her finger before he nodded and turned.
"I'm gonna go take a look around, see if I can find some game. Don't let yourself go to sleep. Holler real loud if you see anyone. Only fire if you absolutely have to."
She rolled her tired eyes, eyelids drooping. "I think I can handle myself for an hour," she breathed.
He shook his head, torn. She looked terrible. He wasn't sure he should leave her, but if he didn't, she might die. Have a stroke. Something like that. Something bad.
He couldn't have that on his conscious.
He fumbled with his crossbow, absentmindedly counting the few arrows he had left.
"I'll be back in less than an hour. If nightfall comes and I'm not back, stay here for the night and try not to let yourself sleep. When you can see, listen for water and find it. Don't… Don't be stupid. Just think, and you'll be fine." He turned awkwardly, trying to think of any advice he could give her.
Truth was, he knew that if he didn't bring back something for her to eat or drink, give her time to sleep, she wasn't going to make it.
The thought spurred him on, anxiety threatening to overtake him as he imagined her being attacked by dead things, unable to protect herself.
Being taken by the living, worse than dead.
He caught three squirrels, and took off on a run to the tracks. Three was enough for now, and if it wasn't, well, it would be enough for her.
The smell of smoke sent tendrils of terror spiraling in his gut.
He broke through the bushes loudly, his knife high, his crossbow in the other hand.
Beth's head lolled towards him. "Chill," she muttered. Her eyes were closed, her face drenched. He had never seen Beth's hair down in all the time he'd known her, but it had come completely loose from the elastic band that usually held it back.
She was too weak to put it back up.
He leaped into action, skinning and gutting the squirrels methodically, burying the blood and innards deep in the soil and covering it with rocks. The smell of shed blood would attract them anyway, so they needed to do this quick.
He took one of his commercial bolts out, one that was full stainless steel, and skewered one of the little rodents on it, walking over to where Beth was.
"Oh yeah," she said, voice light, eyes still closed. "I made a fire. I'm not that much of an invalid."
He glanced at her, and she offered a small smile.
He smirked, despite himself. She wasn't going to go out easy.
He turned his back to her and held the squirrel low over the fire, cooking it quickly. "Was stupid," he clipped out, forcing the smile from his face. "If I smelled it, anyone else could. Anything else could."
She scoffed. "I built it low, Mr. Know-It-All. You were coming back soon. I was cold. I knew you'd have some poor thing to eat."
His ears perked at her words. He turned slowly. "You're cold?"
Her eyes fluttered open. "It's chilly out here."
Daryl slowly shook his head.
"No. It's not. It's Georgia."
She closed her eyes and shrugged quickly, arms shuddering visibly as she crossed them over her torso.
He handed the now-charred squirrel to her and worked on the other one, keeping his worries to himself.
They finished off two of the squirrels easily, but since they had nothing to carry the third in, he made Beth eat it. She looked much better, but her face skin still looked clammy. He didn't miss the shivers that travelled down her spine every couple minutes, but he figured that if it were serious, she would say something.
If it were truly serious, she would tell him, wouldn't she? She wasn't stubborn enough to walk herself to death?
They picked up the pace after that, and Beth kept up well enough. She kept a rifle on her shoulder, having surrendered Daryl's back to him. He had tried to take them both from her, but she had given him a death glare he had only ever gotten from her sister, so he backed off.
He knew it was heavy though. Too heavy for her.
The tracks were leading them towards a small foot bridge that went over the tracks. It was the worst place to walk; valleys were almost always congregated by walkers. The gravity made it easy to fall and difficult to get out of, and he could see bodies strewn out on the rocks ahead.
They had passed their turn off for the evac point a couple hundred yards back. He knew Beth didn't know how to get there, so he took advantage of it and kept following the railroad, keeping up with the footprints.
He hesitated when they came to the underside of the bridge. There was a map there that showed the railway stations, and the intersecting railroads. It was markered over with what appeared to be coal.
He read the sign quickly and tried to swallow his doubt. If this was Carol, he understood her not going to the evac points. She had been banished, and the last time Rick had had a disagreement with someone in the group, he had killed him.
But whoever she was with… If they were part of the council, they would have turned off.
If this was Carol.
It probably wasn't, and it dawned on him then how stupid he had been. This was, most likely, not Carol. He had to accept that, get over it, move on.
But he would never know if he didn't follow through.
He buried his hands in his hair, trying to make a decision that could cost him and Beth their lives.
Beth was staring at something in the bushes. He followed her gaze, but all he saw was a white-something-or-other. Not important.
He turned as she broke off in a sprint towards the thing.
He almost called out to her to come back when she started laughing, wiping tears from her face. She swiped some snot from her nose, and kept laughing through her tears.
He just stood. And watched. And waited.
She finally straightened, her face blotchy, the biggest grin he had seen her wear in months on her face.
"It's a diaper. Huggies, 6-9 months. Little Cookie Monsters on the outside."
He dropped his bow. And his gun. And he laughed.
He had gotten those diapers for a very special baby just a week before. She loved Sesame Street books.
AN #2: Hope you guys enjoyed! I'm slowly taking elements from the show and adding them in, so you might see some things that look similar (or outrightly the same). Thank you guys so much for reading. I really really REALLY LIKE REVIEWS. *hint hint* I'm a reviewer whore. I want them all.
