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Sorry about the long wait for this chapter, guys! I've been so impossibly busy with school and family and friends that I haven't had much chance to get to work on this. I've been having computer issues too because my computer is legitimately from 2002. But everything is all better now! Also, this chapter is from Daryl's point of view, and I don't typically write from a male's perspective, so if you guys have any feedback, reviews are much appreciated! Thanks, and I hope you like it!
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Daryl opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly; there was light that insisted he awaken, but he hadn't felt so warm and comfortable in quite some time. Blinking blearily against the brightness, he turned his head, and was startled to find Beth curled up close to his side. She was still sleeping, and her blonde hair had fallen free of her ponytail to lie splayed around her pale face, and he could only imagine what she was dreaming about. Hershel, probably. That was what he dreamed about.
Dismissing such thoughts, he slowly disengaged himself from the girl's grasp; for her arms had been slung around his torso. He rose from the bed and stretched with a soft yawn, before turning towards the door; there he paused, scowling at the dresser. How in the hell was he going to move that thing without waking Beth? After some consideration, he stood at one end and grabbed it by either side; lifting it slowly, he shuffled to the side before setting the two legs he had lifted back onto the floor. This made only a soft thump, and after a quick glance towards the bed, he was satisfied that he hadn't bothered her.
Daryl made his way into the kitchen / living room area, moving quietly to one of the windows to peer out through the curtains; a lone Walker shambled down the street, and he snorted at it as it staggered over a newspaper and almost lost its footing. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger, he headed to the kitchen and pulled out one of the stools; he then realized he had left his crossbow behind, but couldn't be bothered to go back to get it. After a bit of searching, he found a large butcher knife and placed it on the counter, before pulling down the bag of stale Frosted Flakes.
Just as he finished eating, he lifted his gaze to see Beth standing in the doorway. She looked sleepy, with her eyes all squinted up as she looked at him. Her hair was messy, and she hadn't bothered to try to comb out the knots in the blonde locks. A quick assessment told him that she wasn't that hurt, though she was leaning off to the side slightly as though her leg was painful; he'd have to ask about that later, he decided. The cut under her eye was healing pretty well.
"How long have ya been standin' there?" he asked, feeling as though he should be creeped out. She smiled, and her eyes lit up with it; and slowly she shuffled over to come around the counter, and took a seat on the stool next to him. He held out the bag of Frosted Flakes - he'd just been eating them with his hands - and after a moment she took it, the plastic crinkling loudly.
"Not very long. I just woke up. You looked pretty into the cereal, so I figured I wouldn't bother you." she teased, a soft laugh escaping her as she slipped one of her small hands into the open bag.
"Hey. Ain't nothin' wrong with a man who likes his cereal." he scolded, before he grinned as well; he couldn't remember smiling so much in awhile, and it felt kind of funny. By all rights, he shouldn't be smiling at all; after all, they had lost their home, and their family was either lost or dead...He felt his smile fade as he thought about this, and turned his head away from the girl at his side.
"So, where are we off to today?" she asked curiously. He thought this over in silence, listening to the crunching noises as she ate the stale flakes; he hadn't really considered it until now. They weren't going to make it anywhere going on foot, especially not if her leg was hurt, as he suspected it was; so the first step would be to find a car. Unfortunately, it seemed every car had either vanished off the face of the earth, or wouldn't start.
"We should find a car. Make faster progress that way." he said gruffly, lifting a hand to scratch at the facial hair growing in on his jaw. The stupid stuff itched like all hell, but it wasn't like he could do much about it.
"I'm sure we'll find one somewhere in this town." she said positively; that was one thing about Beth. No matter how grim the situation, she could always find some hope. It made him feel good, somehow.
"It's worth lookin', anyways. Hurry up and finish that. I'm gonna go look around this house, see if there's anythin' we can take." he said, shoving off the stool and heading out of the room.
After some searching, all he managed to find was a lighter and a woman's shirt that he figured Beth might want. Heading back into the kitchen, he found her still sitting on the stool; the cupboard doors were open now, showing their bare interiors, and the backpack on the counter in front of her bulged slightly to indicate she had taken the little bit of food that had been there. His crossbow bumped against his back as he made his way over to her, tossing the lighter in the backpack before holding the shirt out to her.
"What's this?" she asked, surprised; lifting her brilliant blue eyes to meet his gaze. He shifted his weight, flicking his gaze around the room out of habit; he could never hold someone's gaze for long.
"It's a shirt. I thought maybe you might want it. Looks a bit warmer than what you got." he said with a shrug that feigned nonchalance; honestly, he had seen her shivering when the air began to cool, and figured she might be grateful. After a brief moment of hesitation, Beth reached out and took the shirt gently from his grasp.
"Thanks. I'm gonna go get changed." she said awkwardly, before stepping quietly out of the room.
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Daryl grinned triumphantly as the engine roared to life; not exactly the quietest car, but it was still a car, and a working one at that! Crawling back out from under the dashboard, he straightened up and wiped his hands on his pants, his gaze finding Beth a short distance away. She had been pacing restlessly through the lot where they had discovered the abandoned car, her hand never leaving the knife belted at her hip. She had pulled her hair back up into her usual style, a ponytail with a braid in it; and now, with the dim sunlight filtered through the clouds, her blonde tresses glinted like gold. His eyes wandered down a bit farther; the shirt she now wore was the same deep blue as her eyes, with long sleeves to keep out the chill of the cooler weather, and it was fitted snugly to her slender form. She sure was pretty...
Shaking his head, he scowled; he shouldn't be having such thoughts, certainly not about her. She was about half his age! Lifting a hand over his head, he whistled to catch her attention; she turned, and after a moment, trotted over to meet him.
"Car's ready then?" she asked, stumbling to a halt just a bit in front of him. He nodded, gesturing towards the passenger side door.
"Hop in. We should get outta here." he replied, clambering into the driver's side and slamming the door. He had always preferred motorbikes; but then, it wasn't like he had much choice then, did he? He still regretted leaving Merle's bike back at the prison, but there was no going back for it now. He watched as Beth rounded the vehicle and climbed into the seat beside him, closing her door securely behind her.
"Where are we goin'?" she inquired, turning slightly in her seat as she buckled her seat belt across her torso. He shrugged; he hadn't really given it much thought. All he knew was that they were going in the opposite direction of the prison.
"I dunno yet. Guess we'll just drive and see where we end up. Seems as good a plan as any to me." he said nonchalantly; he didn't wait for her reply, but instead pressed down on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot with a spray of dust and a squeal of tires.
They drove most of the day in silence, with the windows rolled down so that they could breathe cleaner air than the thick, musty stuff that filled the car they had found; the engine's deep rumble was the only sound that accompanied them, without a working radio to give them some music to listen to. Daryl drove with one hand on the wheel, his left arm propped up on the side of the door where the window was rolled down all the way; Beth was slouched down slightly in her seat, her hair whipping around her face in the wind, her head turned so she could look out her window.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she leaned forwards and popped open the glove box door; she rummaged around a bit before slumping back against her seat, and he could tell she was disappointed by whatever contents she had found. His eyes flickered down as she began to wring her hands on her lap; tugging at the random bracelets gathered around her thin left wrist. Had she always had those? He couldn't remember.
"We should stop soon. It's gettin' dark." she said quietly, lifting a hand to rest it over her stomach; he took this as code for she was hungry, and nodded his head with a quiet little grumble of consent, returning his gaze to the road through the streaked windshield.
In the end, she was the one who spotted the driveway, and not him. He had started to zone out while he drove and suddenly she had smacked him on the arm. He flinched and turned to glower at her, but she was pointing out the window and that sparked his attention. Shifting in his seat, he looked out the back window of the vehicle and spotted the entrance to the drive; he pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street, the tires bumping off the asphalt and onto the gravel side before he righted the car.
At the entrance to the driveway, the tires moved easily down onto the gravel surface, and he could hear it crunching beneath the tires as they progressed slowly. With some form of spoken consent, they both rolled up their windows, preparing for a worst-case scenario; he glanced over at Beth, but she wasn't looking at him. He glanced back out of the windshield, and his eyes followed the long driveway, which went straight before curling off to the right. Trees pressed in on either side and shadows danced in their depths, and his hand itched to snatch up his crossbow, but he knew they were in no real danger - at least, they shouldn't be, though there was that incident awhile back when the radio started acting up and they'd gotten stuck on a pile of Walkers. Of course, they'd had Tyreese then; Beth didn't look like she could smash her way through a hoard, even if he did have a hammer to give her. He snickered at the thought and she turned to stare at him oddly, but he just shook his head as he turned around the bend.
Again, there was a straight stretch, though this one was much shorter; at the end, there was a circular area of gravel that already held one car, and behind that there was a trailer. This one was in better shape than those at the trailer park they had visited previously, with a grey-blue paint coat on the outer walls. The doorstep and the trim was painted a faded red hue that was chipping; in the small front yard, there was a brick patio and a metal barbeque still standing. They parked and he got out of the car, before moving over to the patio and touching the coals in the pit beneath the grate; they were long cold, and left a smoky dust on his hand.
"Careful." he cautioned, as Beth headed up the steps to the front porch. It was a simple enough deck, with a railing and everything; wide enough to hold a wrought-iron table and two matching chairs. An old flower pot had been knocked off of it and lay shattered on the wooden porch, dirt scattered everywhere, though there was no sign of any type of plant that it may have held at one point. The step creaked as he followed her up to the front door; the outer one was a screen door with streaked glass panes, and behind that was a much thicker door with six glass panes near the top, but any possible view of the interior was blocked by what appeared to be a black garbage bag that had been strung up over the window.
Daryl slowly removed his crossbow from his back, making sure one of the arrows was properly set before he nodded his head at Beth. With her knife clutched in her hand, she first opened the screen door, which squealed on rusty hinges; then she shoved the second door open and leapt back as he hurried into the entryway.
It was very dim inside, but he could just make out the shapes of various objects, and it didn't take long for his eyes to adjust. He was standing in what appeared to be a kitchen; the floor was hardwood, and the walls were painted a deep, yet somewhat dull shade of green. The counter was tiled and looked untouched; the cupboards were all closed, as was the fridge, and nothing seemed to be out of place, aside from the layer of dust that had settled on top of everything. The section of floor in front of the door was covered by a brown mat, and to his right there was what appeared to be a closet door, and next to that, a metal trash can. Opposite the door and against the far wall, there was a large window that looked out onto the backyard, and situated beneath this was a wooden table with four chairs.
Daryl gestured for Beth to follow him inside and she stepped in, standing close at his side; he could feel the warmth of her body radiating from her as she huddled nearer to him, but tried not to focus on it for the time being. He stepped in and off of the mat, peering through an open doorway to his right that led into the living room. Most of the wall space opposite the doorway was occupied by a large window that looked out on a trampoline, which appeared mostly intact, though a large section of the net was missing; he couldn't even begin to guess at what had happened to it, though it almost looked like somebody had cut it off. The living room was also floored in hardwood, but most of the middle section was taken up by a grey rug. On this, there rested a small wooden coffee table still holding a glass of water, though clearly untouched for ages; as well as three scented candles and a stack of outdated magazines. Behind the coffee table there was a fake-leather sofa, and in the corner on the other side of the coffee table was a wooden stand that held a large flat screen television. The stand had two cupboard doors and a drawer, though none were open; behind the television, he could even see a gaming system. Dusty photographs hung on the walls of strangers, and there was a clock too, though it had died and was stuck on 3:15.
"No one has been here in a real long time." Beth said quietly; the hushed tone of her voice suggested she wasn't entirely sure of what she was saying, and Daryl had to agree. This did look a bit...odd.
"Just stay close." he said sternly, also keeping his voice low, before he turned and headed back out of the living room and into the kitchen.
The counter in the kitchen wrapped around most of the wall space, and ended with a large white fridge; and to the right of this fridge, there was a narrow hallway. Standing at the entrance, he peered into the darkness; there didn't appear to be any windows down there. Beth pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on, and the beam of light flickered to life, illuminating dust motes as they drifted through the air in an almost peaceful manner. The first door they came to led into a bathroom, and he paused in the doorway, with Beth standing just behind him. It was a relatively small space, with tiled flooring and brown walls. The white toilet was untouched, as was the bathtub; the white shower curtain was immaculate, hanging perfectly the way it had been left. The laundry was in the white hamper in the corner, and the counter held a vase of dead flowers, a small white toiletries bag, a metal cup holding three toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste, and a hair straightener with the plug dangling down on the floor. He moved to the tub and yanked the curtain aside, but again, everything was untouched; three full bottles of shampoo and a facecloth folded neatly over the edge of the tub.
"Anythin'?" Beth asked from the doorway, and he shook his head slowly before moving back over to where she was standing.
"Nope. Let's keep goin'." he said gruffly.
"Alright."she agreed uneasily.
Back in the hall, they paused; in between the bathroom door and the next door that awaited them, there was a small nook. Wedged into this space, there was a washer and a dryer, and even a litter box and a bag of litter. Frowning at this for a moment, Daryl moved on to the next door; and with a glance over his shoulder at Beth, he confirmed that she was just next to him before he opened that door too.
It appeared to be a child's bedroom. The walls were painted a bright yellow and posters of kid's shows and animals covered them. There was an art easel in one corner, with paint squiggles splashed over the canvas; and directly opposite the door, a window with yellow and white curtains that looked out on the front yard. Underneath the window was the bed; a twin-size with black and yellow and white blankets and a ragged teddy bear that looked as though it had been dragged through hell and back. At the foot of the bed was a large wicker basket; a quick flip of the lid showed them that it was filled with various toys.
He turned back and saw Beth hovering in the doorway with an anxious expression; he could tell she was worried about what might have happened to the child, and he had to admit it made him uneasy too. It sort of reminded him of Lil Asskicker, but he couldn't focus on that now, either. He slipped past her and she made to follow him, but he stopped and shook his head.
"You stay here, okay? Keep an eye out. If you need me, give a shout." he said, his gaze fastened on the last door at the end of the hall. She hesitated, before she mumbled her consent and headed back over to the washer and dryer and slipped in between the two to stand safely in the little space in front of the litter box.
The door opened into the master bedroom, as he had expected. The door was set in the lower right-hand corner of the room, and set with its headboard against the center of the right-hand wall was the queen-sized bed. It had a wooden frame and a grey and white bedspread, and a nightstand on the opposite side of it from where he stood. The wall opposite the door was occupied by a window that offered a view of the driveway, and the left-hand wall was entirely taken up by a closet. To the left of the door, against the wall that the door was set into, was a towering bookshelf piled high with dusty volumes.
None of this held his attention for very long, though. On the bed there was a woman of perhaps thirty-five years; she had long bleached blonde hair, but he couldn't tell the color of her eyes, for they were closed. Her skin was grey and starting to decompose; in the middle of her forehead, there was a bullet wound, and dried blood smeared around it. This was the same for the child lying at her side; in fact, the bullet wound was in almost the exact same spot on him. He looked to be no more than five years old, with short dark brown hair, and his eyes were closed as well. Their hands were close, suggesting they had been holding hands when they died. A few steps into the room showed him who had committed the act; slouched down onto the floor at the foot of the bed was a man of an estimated forty years, with the same bullet wound in his head, though the gun was in his lap; his greying hair nearly hid the wound from sight.
Shaking his head, Daryl headed back to the door and pulled it open enough to step through; his hand bumped against the lock on the inside of the doorknob and he flipped it before pulling the door shut behind him. He glanced down at it, and confirmed that it required a key to be opened from the outside, before he turned back to see Beth staring at him and waiting for an explanation.
"Nothin'. Sorry. Should we go make some food?" he suggested, plastering on a smile that he hoped she wouldn't see through. She smiled back, so he decided he must have fooled her successfully enough, and at her eager nod he led the way back to the kitchen.
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They had cold tomato soup with crushed up crackers for supper that night, sitting and eating in silence in the artificial light of the lantern they had taken from the shack. She didn't seem to care much for the soup, though she didn't utter a single complaint, but he still got the feeling that she had never liked that kind of soup to begin with; it was in the way she frowned at the spoon of reddish liquid before each mouthful. He couldn't help but sneak glances at her out of the corner of his eye every now and then. Her hands shook slightly as she ate, though he wasn't sure if she was nervous right then or if she just felt uneasy all the time now, like he did. She looked thinner than she had before, but that could just be his imagination.
His eyes drifted over her as they sat there in silence; he couldn't help it, not with her sitting so close to him. Her small, fragile form was slouched forwards, her thin shoulders hunched in on herself; the shirt he had given her earlier that day fit her nicely, showing the gentle contours of her slender build. There was dirt smeared on her face, with streaks through it from the times she had wept; yes, he had noticed that she was crying in her sleep back at that shack, but had left it alone. He already knew why. There was no sense in pestering her about it. Her light blonde hair was matted, though still up in her ponytail and braid fashion; a few loose strands fell messily across her forehead and into her eyes.
"What?" she asked suddenly, and he jumped; he hadn't been aware that she had turned her gaze on him, and now he felt a little suspicious. Turning away, he stirred the cold tomato soup absently.
"Nothin'. You just got some leaves in your hair, that's all." he said quickly; it was true, but that wasn't what he'd been looking at. He wasn't about to admit that to her, though. She was just a kid, whether she felt that she was or not; he shouldn't be looking at her like that. But like what? What exactly was he feeling about this girl? Surely just a protectiveness, created through guilt for her father's death. Because it was his fault and he knew it and she must've known it too.
"Oh." she muttered, instinctively reaching to find the leaves and brush them away, but he beat her to it without even realizing he'd decided to take them out for her. She froze as his fingers delicately worked the brittle leaves out of her messy blonde hair, moving only to withdraw her hand; once he'd picked the leaves out, he dropped them carelessly onto the floor, though his hand remained hovering just a little ways away from her hair. Her forehead crinkled as she frowned in confusion, watching him; and when he'd realized that he was just sitting there awkwardly, he snatched his hand away and quickly rose from the couch, none too gracefully at that. His crossbow toppled to the floor with a loud clunk, but he was just grateful he'd remembered to grab his empty bowl before he stood.
"Still hungry?" he asked shortly, stepping around her and heading out into the kitchen. Even with his back to her, he was very aware of her; he could hear the shifting of the springs in the couch as she rose, and then the quiet clicking of her boots against the hardwood floor. He discarded his bowl by the sink, uncertain of just what he should do with it, and stepped off to the side to allow her through; she slipped quietly past him and his eyes followed her as she stopped in front of the sink.
"No, not really. Should we go to bed now?" she asked, and he averted his gaze just as she turned to face him. His eyes roamed over the wall opposite, as though there was something very interesting there; but in the corner of his eye, he could see her standing far too close, with her head tilted back and her eyes focused on his face.
"Yeah, sure." he grumbled, nodding his head and making his way back into the living room and leaning down to grab onto the coffee table. Beth hovered in the doorway, watching him in bewilderment as he dragged it back across the rug that it was sitting on. After the table was out of the way, he moved to the couch and grabbed the single long cushion, yanking it up and off of the couch to reveal that the whole thing was actually a futon. Once Beth had realized this, she hurried over to help him; he nodded his head towards one side of the couch to indicate that she should take that end.
Through teamwork, they had unfolded the futon into a bed that was about the size of a double bed. It already had a white sheet stretched over it, quite wrinkled from being folded up in such a manner, but of course there were no pillows or other blankets. They tucked the couch cushion between the bed and the back of the couch to form a headboard of sorts, and then Daryl set off down the hallway, waving a hand at her to make sure that she stayed put.
He made his way down to the child's bedroom, opening the door quietly and stepping into the room, the large metal flashlight illuminating the small space. It somehow seemed more foreboding in the darkness, but that was silly; it was just a kid's room. After a quick sweep of the place, he made his way over to the closet and pulled the sliding door open, shining the beam of light into the little area. Most of the place was filled with toys of various types, but on a shelf near the top, he could see several folded blankets, homemade and knit out of multi-coloured wool. He had to stretch up to grab a few of them, but when he had gathered them up, he pulled them down and clasped them against his chest.
A light tapping on his shoulder startled him; the blankets slipped out of his arms to the floor and he spun around to face whatever had come up behind him so silently. Without his crossbow, he reached immediately to yank his knife out of its sheath, and his free hand shot out to grab the thing by the throat. Spinning around, he had slammed it into the wall before he even realized he was choking Beth.
Daryl froze with his knife half out of its sheath, staring at her in much the same wide-eyed fashion that she was looking at him. He was so close to her now that they were actually touching, but he was more focused on the fact that his hand was around her throat; very quickly, he released her, and she sucked in a breath of air gratefully.
"I was just gonna see if you wanted any help." she said, her voice a little hoarse. He slowly slid his knife back into the sheath and took a step away from her; she lifted a hand to rub her throat absently, and he moved his gaze away from her guiltily.
"You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. Sorry if I hurt ya. Come on." he said gruffly, reaching down to snatch up the blankets and the flashlight, which he had dropped on top of them as well. Beth took the large white body pillow from the child's bed before hurrying after him, and he could tell that even after his mild assault on her, she was reluctant to be without his presence nearby.
In the living room, he let her help him spread the blankets over the bed, and when she went off to the washroom with the flashlight, he didn't question her. Instead, he spent the time shifting furniture in the room around; he took the stuff off of the coffee table and shoved it into the doorway before tipping it onto its side, and did the same with the television stand, though he left a small opening. When Beth returned, she didn't comment on the new positioning of the furniture; but instead slipped through and helped him close the gap. It was a small barrier, and weak too; but it would keep the Walkers out long enough for them to wake up if anything happened through the night.
It wasn't until she moved past him that he realized that she had taken her hair down and brushed it out. It was longer than he remembered, framing her face in gentle waves; it looked softer than it had before as well. She headed over to the bed and sat down, taking off her boots before slipping underneath the blankets; then she rolled to face him, and he shifted his weight awkwardly while she laid there and stared at him.
"Are you gonna go to sleep now too?" she asked quietly, and he frowned; he couldn't make any sense of this girl. Why was she being so quiet? Was she scared of him now? He hadn't meant to grab her like that. He shrugged and grumbled incoherently before going over to the bed and sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her. He bent down to remove his shoes, but went still went something touched his back. He slowly turned his head to see Beth had propped herself up, now leaning close to him to peer at something on his back.
"What're you doin'?" he asked gruffly.
"There's something on...you." she said, but her voice faltered as she lifted the bottom of his shirt. He jerked away when he realized that she must've seen the bottom of one of his scars and been curious as to what it was; but felt a bit reassured that she probably hadn't seen a bad one. Those were higher.
"Hey! Get off." he snapped, rising up from the bed and turning to glare at her. She had sat up when she had seen the scar, and now sat gaping at him with an expression of shock.
"What is that? Daryl?" she demanded, tossing the blankets back off of herself and crawling over to his edge of the bed. He stepped back, feeling a bit foolish for having only one shoe on, but that didn't matter much.
"Nothin'. You mind your own business." he growled; she was kneeling on the bed now, staring up at him. Very slowly, very carefully, she held one hand out to him, palm up; he frowned at it for a second, unsure of what she was trying to do. When he didn't move, she proceeded in that same slow manner, and soon her cool fingers had wrapped lightly around his wrist. He resisted lightly at first, but eventually let her pull him back to her; standing in front of her, with her kneeling like that, she was about level with his shoulders, and he had to tilt his head forwards to meet her gaze. She looked up at him quietly for a few minutes before she released his hand and shuffled over to the side, sitting back and patting the bed beside her.
"Sit down. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that without askin' first. Don't be mad." she said softly; with her round, pleading eyes focused so intently on him, he couldn't very well remain angry at her, so he sat down with a quiet huff.
"Yeah, well, I near strangled you earlier, so I guess we're even, huh?" he said, and he was surprised that he was actually making a joke; even more surprised when Beth actually laughed a little bit.
"Sure. So...do you wanna talk about that?" she asked, with a vague gesture towards him.
"Nah. Let's just go to sleep, okay?" he replied hopefully; she stared at him for a long moment before she nodded in agreement.
"Alright. Goodnight, Daryl." she said, before she leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He leaned away instinctively, but still felt the gentle pressure of her lips against his cheek, coarse with facial hair; grumbling, he turned his head to watch as she laid back down on her side of the bed and crawled back under the blankets.
For awhile, he just sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over so that his elbows could rest on his knees, with his chin cupped in his hands. He wasn't really thinking about anything, just enjoying the silence, and the darkness; but eventually, he kicked off his other shoe and pulled his crossbow over to rest it against the arm of the couch next to his head. Quietly, he slid under the blankets, leaving a respectable amount of space between himself and Beth; though he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering to the girl at his side. She was curled up slightly, in a loose fetal position, with her soft blonde hair pooled around her on the pillow like a pale halo. He watched her for a few minutes as she slept, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath; her eyes flickered about beneath closed lids as she dreamed.
Just as he was about to settle down to go to sleep, she rolled in her sleep, and he froze, worried he had disturbed her; but she surprised him by snuggling up close to his side, her head coming to rest on his chest and one arm coiled loosely around his waist. Daryl went still, gazing down at the top of her head, surprised; surely she was doing this in her sleep. Very lightly, he brushed a few stray strands of her hair back behind her ear, before placing his hand on her shoulder; he could cup her shoulder in the palm of his hand, which only emphasized how small and delicate she was, especially when compared to him. His brow furrowed as he stared down at the young woman; but soon he had relaxed, and allowed his arm to slip lightly around her small form, holding her protectively close to his side.
It wasn't long before he was sound asleep.