The Departure

Daryl

'Goddamn horny teenagers,' Daryl thought as the young couple stripped on the beach. Sarah looked like she didn't know what to do, but Daryl knew that he wasn't going to stick around while they started going at it. He quietly put his clothes back on and handed Sarah hers, as disappointed as he was to see her put them back on.

When she was dressed, they walked through Scott's neighbor's yard to the front of the house and stood on the street in front of Scott's. Sarah laughed and shook her head. "I can't believe that just happened."

"Well at least one of us finds it amusing," Daryl growled humorlessly.

Sarah shrugged and smiled again. "It's just my luck." She stepped a bit closer to him and took his hand in her tiny one. Squeezing his palm, she added "I really want you right now, by the way."

"Tomorrow night?" Daryl asked, hopefulness present in his voice, though he tried to disguise it as cool indifference.

Sarah shook her head again. "No, Scott said he wanted to leave tomorrow if possible. And it's a five day trip. He said we have to sail slowly so that some of the boat's power can be used for the living quarters."

Daryl let his hands glide over her slim shoulders. "Another week? Damn."

"If you look on the bright side, we'll have power on the boat. And at least when we get to the labs we'll have a bed and a bit more privacy. It's kind of difficult to do anything secretly when we're all holed up in the same house here. Privacy is going to be even more limited on the boat." Sarah said with an air of optimism that was basically the opposite of Daryl's everyday attitude. He'd always been a glass half-empty kind of guy. And he didn't want to look on the bright side; he just wanted to be on top of her again.

When Daryl looked at her blankly, she kept talking. "Plus, I've always heard waiting makes it better." She gave him a mischievous smile and felt his pants where he was still hard and yearning for her. After teasing him with that one swift touch, she stood on her toes, kissed him on the cheek, and said "Goodnight Daryl."

He watched as she went into the house and noticed for the first time the way her hips swung back and forth with a sweet gracefulness as she walked. He was affronted again with the harsh reality of a whole week's wait.

Soon after she reached the door and gave him one last glance, Daryl followed behind her into the darkened house. He cautiously climbed the stairwell that led to the bedrooms, trying to be as quiet as possible. It was a skill of his, essential for the incalculable midnight hunts on which he had embarked. He remembered that his was the first on the right side of the hall.

Daryl stripped down to his underwear before climbing under the covers of the bed. His mind spun with the events of that night; so much had happened in so little time. Even though they had barely done anything, he felt exhausted, if only emotionally so.

He hadn't planned on apologizing to Sarah when he went looking for her during her run. He'd only meant to scold her and bring her back to the camp, but now he wondered if subconsciously there was some motive there initially to make things right with her. Daryl ended up saying a lot of things to her that he regretted, a common occurrence whenever he lost his temper and let his mouth work before his brain had a chance to catch up.

Fortunately, she had acted understanding about it all and didn't seem to be holding it against him, but he still felt guilty for his harsh words and way he'd treated her. It reminded him of when he once yelled at Carol, and then Daryl wondered why he constantly kept pushing away the people who cared for him. Was it that he was afraid to hurt them, or that he was afraid to get hurt? Daryl couldn't decide, and he wasn't in the mood to confront his inner conflicts, so he thought back again to the rest of the night's events.

Somehow they had ended up naked under the stars. Daryl could see her body in his mind, splayed out across the sand, waiting for him to enter her. He thought of the way she nearly begged him to get inside her.

With all these thoughts, Daryl found that he was torturing himself. He wanted her body more than ever, but thanks to Glenn, he'd have to wait a whole week for that. Daryl supposed that it was better than Sarah being pissed at him, but wanted more than anything to make her scream his name in pleasure and arch her back in ecstasy.

Thanks to Glenn, all that would have to wait. Daryl looked up at the ceiling, completely annoyed. It seemed extremely unfair that the kid who got some every night from his new girlfriend was having sex on the beach at the very moment when Daryl, who hadn't had sex in months, was foiled in his attempts. Not to mention the fact that Glenn didn't even try to hide it; they were just out on the middle of the beach! Daryl supposed that this had to do with the fact that old man Hershel wasn't around anymore to check up on Maggie.

'Only five more days…' he reminded himself, though it wasn't particularly reassuring. With Sarah in such close proximity at all times, it would be nearly impossible to keep his desires at bay. It would be a true test of his patience, that was for sure.

Then Daryl thought about the quickly upcoming trip via Scott's yacht. He always hated the open water, and the idea of being on the boat for five days straight made him nauseous just to think about. At least things with Sarah were better, so the ride wouldn't be unbearably awkward, thought Marco could be an entirely different story.

He wondered if he'd made the right choice about apologizing and trying to start things with Sarah again. Daryl had never been used to caring about people, even before the apocalypse took place. Perhaps he would learn with her, but he couldn't help but to be extremely cautious with his emotions.

With his eyelids drooping in exhaustion, Daryl eventually fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he realized he must have slept later than usual because of the noise of the group downstairs. He could even hear Merle talking, which surprised him because Merle had never been one to get up early.

Daryl slipped on a dirty gray t-shirt and jeans before heading downstairs to join the others. They were all sitting around in Scott's living room. When Daryl entered the room, Sarah caught his eye and gave him a quick smile before returning back to the conversation.

He sat next to Merle and asked in a groggy voice "What are y'all talking about?"

"They decided we're leavin' on that boat today," Merle said.

"When?"

"Round noon I expect. It's gonna take a while to get all the shit together. Mind steppin' outside with me for a sec?" he asked.

Daryl followed him out the front door, Merle closing it behind them. "You sure you wanna go through with this? You and I could always go back home, try to set up a fort there or something. I still dunno about these people. And once we're up there, there's no comin' back I expect."

Daryl thought for a moment while Merle looked at him expectedly. He knew that Merle wanted him to accept his offer to go off on their own, but Daryl just couldn't justify it. Sure, they could survive with Merle's sheer toughness and Daryl's flair for hunting, but what was the point of going back to their hometown? "Don't ya think it's going to be overrun by now? I mean, it wasn't even good when we left." Daryl pointed out.

"Well we could at least go see if there are any other survivors we know…We could start our own group where we're the ones makin' the rules. Not some washout sheriff and his wannabe posse."

"I don't want to deal with anyone from back home," Daryl said. It was true; while he was growing up, all Daryl wanted to do was get as far away from his hometown as possible. However, since he dropped out of high school, college wasn't a viable plan. No one ever seemed to live his miniscule town. So until the infection he'd been stuck there, and now Merle was asking him to go back? Not likely.

"You don't think Pa's around still? He was a tough bastard, I wouldn't be surprised," Merle said, referring to their father.

"Screw him…I ain't going back for him, y'all know he wouldn't do the same for us." Daryl was pissed that Merle had even suggested helping the bastard.

"Alright, alright. So we'll go with these city people. If they end up leadin' us to harm, though, it's gonna be on your hands brother."

"Well they ain't. Sarah said there's even power on the boat. Guess it must be battery or somethin'."

"What about your bike? You just gonna leave it here?"

He had completely forgotten about his precious motorcycle! "Oh shit, I don't even know," Daryl said. "I'll talk to Scott about it later." He could barely imagine leaving his bike behind, his only true important material possession, save for his crossbow. It was the one thing that Daryl still had from his life before the infection, and he knew he didn't want to let it go.

They went back inside to see that the group had already dispersed and was beginning to gather supplies for the long voyage. Daryl searched the house for Scott, but to no avail.

"Good morning," Sarah smiled and walked up to him. "I fixed you a plate while you and Merle were outside."

The smell of bacon and French toast wafted toward him as she handed him the plate. She must have been cooking over Scott's propane camping stove, as the power in the house was obviously shut off. As Sarah gave him his breakfast, he saw Rosalyn eyeing them with suspicion out of the corner of his eye.

"Thanks," he gave her a half-smile and asked her where Scott was.

"On the boat I think," she said. "Getting the navigation and other stuff set up. Or something like that. I don't really know what any of the boat lingo is."

"Okay, well I gotta go talk to him about taking my bike with for the ride. I dunno if I could just leave it here."

Sarah waved her hand lightly. "It'll be fine. Enjoy your breakfast!"

He took a few savory bites as Rosalyn stared at him with narrowed eyes. Daryl shot back a "what the fuck do you want" sort of look before going outside to find Scott. He took the plate of food with him, impressed once again by Sarah's cooking ability. She seemed like the quintessential woman, what with her talents of cooking and cleaning, but her impressive medical education made her even more surreal in a way.

As she predicted, Scott was busy on the boat. Daryl stepped on and was already put off balance by its rocking on the water. It would be a long five days.

"Hello Daryl, about ready to set sail?"

"I guess. I was meaning to ask ya if I could bring my motorcycle along…"

"Of course, T-dog and Rick are actually going to get it right now and are putting it down in the bottom storage."

"Oh…wow. Well thanks then," Daryl said, surprised at Scott's thoughtfulness. He was the perfect gentlemen, always thinking of others; it rather reminded Daryl of Dale. It occurred to Daryl that Scott wasn't cut out for this world, they had just simply gotten by on luck. His group hadn't been forced to make difficult decisions like Daryl's had.

He waited on the boat for Rick and T-dog to show up with his motorcycle, and finally they rolled it through Scott's backyard and up to the dock. Daryl helped lift it on and they strapped it to the place in the floor where Scott told them to. He was inside the cabin and flipped a few switches out of the thousand that were on the control panel. A large rectangular portion of the floor that contained Daryl's motorcycle slowly lowered itself to the bottom of the boat and a new rectangular piece slid across the opening into place. He rubbed his eyes at first, wondering if that really happened.

"Damn, how'd you afford this thing?" Daryl questioned.

"I was a good investor," Scott smiled and lovingly rested a hand on the shiny control panel. "I don't even know how to work this thing; Brenda and I had only been in it a few times over the course of last summer." He looked sad, but Daryl didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at consoling people for the most part.

After a while, Daryl got off the boat and made his way back up to the house to grab his few belongings out of the room he had stayed in. On the way, he passed by Glenn and gave him a dirty look, though he knew Glenn wouldn't know what the look was about. It didn't matter; he was just a kid and would be too afraid to question it anyhow.

Instead of looking confused, however, Glenn just beamed at him. "Everything alright Daryl? It looks like you didn't sleep well last night."

"My night could have been better…"

"Sorry to hear. Mine was….great. I don't want to leave this place, it's like a vacation. Barely any walkers! And let me tell you, the view of the sky at night is amazing." Glenn was all smiles and Daryl knew just the reason why.

"Oh well isn't that great?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I wouldn't know."

Glenn patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you can make things okay with Sarah again. Just be yourself, I've got faith in you."

Daryl let out a deep breath when Glenn finally walked away, trying to prevent himself from losing his temper and exploding on the ignorant kid. He went upstairs and threw his clothes, crossbow, arrows, knives, and other weapons and survival gear into his bag. On his way back outside, he saw Merle sitting at the picnic table next to the porch, getting his fill of Sarah's cooking.

Rosalyn walked by on her way to the house. Merle yelled to her, "Hey sweetness, mind being a doll and runnin' this plate inside for me? Also, I could use a glass of water."

She gave him a reproachful look, something that Daryl saw coming, even after only a few days of knowing her. In a sassy tone she replied "I thought you were only missing a hand, not a leg too."

"Fine, be a bitch about it," Merle said under his breath as she turned and continued her path to the house. Daryl wondered if he'd ever learn to stop asking women to wait on his every need. Sarah's compliance the other day hadn't helped; it just empowered him. It wasn't all Merle's fault though; their upbringing had more to do with it than anything else. During the Dixon brothers' childhood, they witnessed their mother as a slave to their father's demands. Naturally, Merle just expected that it was how all marriages worked. Somehow Daryl hadn't been fooled by these unfounded notions. If he ever pictured himself in a relationship, it was one in which he was the provider and protector; never the other way around.

"She's a difficult one," Daryl said, turning back to Merle. "Don't even try talking to her…she's some kinda vegan or vegetarian. I don't know what the hell the difference even is, but it's one of those. And she's an environmentalist…and…" Daryl paused, not sure if he should even tell Merle the last thing he knew about her. "She's a feminist."

"Well what a priss; thinks she's better than the whole damn world, don't she? Well she ain't. I thought we got rid of that feminism bullshit in the nineties anyways."

Daryl shrugged and got on the boat. The rest of the group soon joined him. The sun blazed down upon them and it felt at least 85 degrees Fahrenheit, if Daryl had to wager a guess. Sarah was prepared for such hot weather; she climbed on the boat wearing very short shorts and a bikini top hat showed off her ample cleavage.

She told him that Scott always kept extra bathing suits at hand in case friends or relatives ever came to visit the beach house. Sarah had been just lucky enough to find one that fit her tiny frame. Daryl was glad that he would at least have a pleasant distraction, but he still dreaded the thought of being in the middle of the sea. Also, the more of her body that she showed off, the harder it would be for him to resist her.

Everyone stood on the deck of the boat and Glenn and Rick helped Scott untie it from the dock and pull up the anchor. At the moment, the ocean seemed calm and Daryl hoped it would stay that way for the entire journey. Scott started up the boat with a flick of a switch, and told them that the passenger cabin would have power for the entirety of the trip. Daryl gripped the handrail as the boat began to move, drifting at a slow, steady pace. He looked back at the shore and the spot in the sand where he and Sarah had laid in the wee hours of the night.

Then he turned and looked ahead at the dizzying span of open water. Two minutes in and he already felt nauseous.