Disclaimer: Daryl Dixon is not mine, which is a tragedy pure and simple,
I'd give him his own channel to strut around all day, The 24/7/365 Daryl Dixon Channel.
It be like MTV back when they actually played music! (Wow I'm old, huh.)
Notes: Big thanks to all the readers, and especially the review writers!
Thanks guys and gals! You make my heart go pitter-pat like a Daryl Dixon action scene!
xD
Chapter Fifteen
(Fin's POV)
"I'm going in there. It's the most logical option."
"The Hell you are!" The urge to punch him in the face is so strong my hands curl into fists.
"What other choice do we have?"
How can he be so calm? Was he even listening last night? How hard did Gary hit him?
"Do you have some kind of brain deficiency?! You can't just walk in there!"
What if he never comes back out?
"Glenn and the others are there. I'm not just going to walk away and let them die!"
"Let me handle this,"
"Like you handled it last night?" He growls.
I glare at him. Seriously ready to kick his ass. I spin away with a snarl, kick out hitting a tree.
I kick it again for good measure.
Breathe, just breath.
He doesn't say anything.
Doesn't touch me either.
I'm not sure if I want him to.
It hurts at the same time that he doesn't. Damn it.
"Okay, Fine. We do it your way."
This is such a mistake...
"When you get in there watch your ass, especially the Mom. You think Caleb was bad; that apple didn't fall far from the tree."
I turn taking another deep breath, we stare at each other for a moment.
"You sure you want to just walk in there?" My voice is quieter then I intended.
Like Daniel and the lion's den.
Only these lions are hungry, blood-thirsty monsters.
"I'll wait in the woods till I see someone I know, tell them I was looking for everyone off the road when no one showed up at the meeting spot."
I nod. It's not like we have many options.
My original plan hardly works with innocent people on the farm we don't want killed and eaten during an all-out Walker assault.
"How long do I give you before I start to worry?" I don't look at him, the toe of my boots suddenly very interesting as I drag them through the dirt making a divot.
"Tomorrow night? I'll need to find an opportunity to tell everyone, and hopefully run without a fight."
Over 24 hours of gut wrenching worry. Watching from the woods, hoping I see him in the morning…that he hasn't been murdered in the middle of the night…
24 hours to get my head together.
Forget the feel of his mouth sliding over mine…
He hasn't said a word about last night.
Hell, he turned a brighter shade of red then my hair as soon as the sun was up and turned his back this morning so I could get dressed.
"Right. I guess there isn't much else for me to do then."
I've been sidelined. He doesn't want me around.
It's not like I could walk right onto the farm even if he did want my help.
They'd put a bullet in both our heads before I jumped the fence.
"You don't know me; never saw me." That shouldn't be too difficult.
If they know…I stop that thought before it can curl around my insides burning like acid.
"Well, Off you go."
I'm not going to watch him walk away…
When he drops his crossbow I look up at him in confusion…watch him pull the fleece over his head. I'm about to ask him what the hell he's doing when he steps close to me, almost touching.
I can't breathe. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. I swallow.
He slides the leather bow strap off my shoulder, without a word. I don't protest or move when he lifts the leather strap of my quiver over my head, pulls it away to set on the ground by our boots.
He pulls the thick bunched material of his fleece jacket over my head. I slide my arms through the too long sleeves, not looking at his face. Find myself staring intently at the buttons on his worn flannel shirt; it's not much protection against the cold. But he can hardly walk onto the farm wearing brand new clothes.
I can't look at his face; I don't want to know what I might, or might not see there...
He rolls the sleeve of one arm to expose my hand. I stare down at our hands, no idea what to say. He squeezes my hand in his for a second, drops it.
He bends and picks my bow back up, stands so close to me I can feel the heat radiating off of him in waves. He presses it into my hand; I look at him then, can't help myself. He looks like he might say something...his lips quirk for a moment; I'd almost call it a smile.
He leans into me once more, breath tickles my ear. "Stay out of the river."
I swear his lips brush my skin…then he just walks away.
I clench the frame of my bow in a white knuckle grip; watch him leave, silently, he doesn't look back.
I can't say anything…not without choking on the words.
Damn him.
I have work to do. Not much time. I don't need this.
I turn away.
Find my feet break into a run all on their own.
I keep going, run as fast as I can, run till I can't breathe…fall to the dirt gasping for air; trying to disguise the pain with the burning of my lungs… choking on a sob.
Damn him.
:: walking dead ::
(Daryl's POV)
She's avoiding his gaze.
To be fair, He's been doing the same thing since early dawn.
Hell do you say after a night like that?
Shit. He might not be the hard-ass he pretended to be three years ago before he found his place; his family with Rick and the others..
but he's no pussy whipped bitch either.
He's still getting used to having her near him all the damn time. Especially at night when he's used to retreating off on his own, finding privacy, solitude to collect his thoughts…now she's always there.
He's realizing he likes it.
Maybe a lot.
Doesn't mean he's going to spout poetry and shit.
He gave her his damn fleece before he walked away.
He's not exactly sure why he did it looking at her standing there, it just felt right.
The idea of leaving her alone in the woods after the other day worries him shitless, but they're out of options. Glenn and the others are living on borrowed time on that damn farm.
She fuckin survived for three years before he came along, Shit. If it wasn't for him and the others she wouldn't have been out there in danger to begin with…
"Right. I guess there isn't much else for me to do then."
That's right. He's taking on the danger here, keeping her safe, and away from those damn monsters anyway he can.
It's not like she could go. Caleb recognized her immediately-there's no chance she could sneak onto the farm even if he needed the help.
He has to do this alone.
"You don't know me; never saw me."
Like that's even possible.
He stares at her, wide green eyes flecked with grey this morning, her full lips and wild copper hair still roughly braided from yesterday, soft tendrils worked loose by his fingers the night before frame her face. He wants to see what his fingers would look like twisted through those long strands in the light of day. His gut tightens.
Desire burns through him like a wildfire, and she won't even look at him, is cursing him for trying to protect her...
"Well, Off you go."
His feet won't respond, he stands rooted to the spot despite telling them to move. He finds his fingers dropping his crossbow to the ground instead.
She looks at him then eyes curious and alert. He's going to leave her alone in the woods, the least he can do is try to keep her warm while he's gone. The fact that his scent will be all over her is an added bonus that makes something inside him roar with approval. He yanks the black fleece jacket over his head, leaving just his old shirt and button up flannel.
She watches him move. Looks like she might say something about him keeping it; but he silences any argument she might make by stepping closer to her. Till his chest is almost pressed to hers invading her space so he can feel her breath across his neck with each nervous exhale.
He stares down at her, trying to memorize the exact shade of her eyes, the pattern of freckles barely visible across her pale cheeks; trailing down the bridge of her perfect nose.
She's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen just standing there. Her hair slightly mused, staring up at him, so close he could lean forward and press his lips to that gorgeous mouth that's just been telling him off for trying to do the right thing.
He slides the leather bow strap off her shoulder, without a word. She doesn't protest, hell barely moves when his fingers brush the skin of her collar lifting the leather strap of her quiver over her head. He sets them down at their feet, straightens up to stare at her again, considers how easy it would be to keep going; would she stop him if he removed her t-shirt next? His fingers tighten on the material of his jacket.
He makes a decision, and quickly pulls the thick bunched material of his fleece over her head, further musing her hair. He slides the material down over her ribs pulling the hem down against her hips; it's large on her tiny frame covering most of her torso.
She slide her arms through the too long sleeves, not looking at him again... she's staring intently down at his flannel shirt buttons like she's wants to interrogate them.
He tries to decipher the emotion on her face, can't read her…distracts himself by rolling the sleeves over her hands so that she doesn't have to fight the sleeves to keep her hands free to work with. She's staring down at their hands now, he still can't read the expression on her face, it changes so quickly; sliding back and forth in a strange mixture of sadness, anger and resolve.
He hopes she understands. Squeezes her hand in his for a second, forces himself to let it go instead of bringing her palm to his mouth like he wants to.
He bends and picks up her bow, when he straightens he's leaning in so close to her it would only take tipping forward onto his toes to press his lips against hers...loose himself in those soft lips.
He presses her bow into her hand instead, hoping she doesn't notice his hands are shaking with the effort not to grab her, yank her against his chest and repeat last night all over again.
She looks up at him again, and his resolve nearly splinters into a million tiny pieces under that bright gaze. But he can't…people are depending on him to get them home safe; she's depending on him too… even if she's fighting it, it fills him with purpose to keep her safe.
His lips quirk for a moment at the thought.
He leans into her, he can't resist taking her scent into his lungs one more time before he walks away, he'll have to carry it with him for strength.
"Stay out of the river." He teases, it thrills him to hear the hitch in her breath when his lips brush against her neck for a split second longer then he intends.
He has to physically pull himself away from her.
Turn his back, grab his bow and remind himself to start walking before he lifts her up in his arms; pins her to that tree and devours every inch of her pale perfect skin.
Watches the sunlight play across her features, illuminating his hands as they slide across her skin…
Keep walking Damnit. If he turns around now he won't be able to stop himself from running back to her.
He should have said something more to her, what if he doesn't come back?
The Hell would he say after only a few days in her company?
He's no good with words.
He needs to get his head together.