Disclaimer: Not mine, Rar!

Notes: Two songs I have to mention for this chapter (and the next few actually) as they helped me get the mood right.

"In the Water" by Anadel (which can be heard on the Walking Dead Season 2 game end credits, or Amazon) and "Wicked Game" covered by Stone Sour. They are both AMAZING angsty, tortured songs, fantastic inspiration!

Super Mega thanks to Angelinaa for beta reading and general awesome feedback on this chapter. Thank, thank, thank you!

updated: 5/19 for two typos and a word issue; if you find a mistake let me know! :)

Chapter Fifty-One

(Fin's POV)

I'm dreaming. Some small part of me remains conscious of that; it doesn't help stop the scene playing out around me in near endless loop. Impossible to change…escape…

Abby's feet pound the pavement running flat out four steps in front of me, her legs longer than mine blonde ponytail fluttering behind her swaying with each stride.

The hot Atlanta asphalt is splattered with dark stains and worse I try to ignore as it passes beneath out sneakers. My too loud breathing and Abby's echoes all around us in the air; off the buildings, the slapping sound of feet on hard ground giving away our position no matter where we turn, or how fast we try to run.

I try to snap my mouth closed to muffle the sound but only succeed in making myself sputter and coughing desperate for more air a moment later sides aching like someone's digging a sharp knife under my ribs.

The small pocket knife in my back pocket digs against my backside with each stride, it's not enough to stop them; are only chance is to run by someplace safe…we need shelter and we need it now…

"Abby!" I can only hope my wheeze is loud enough to catch her attention with her ahead of me. She glances back sees me gesturing to the ladder against the brick wall and immediately races towards it.

The rungs are hot enough under my palms to melt skin as we climb as fast as our shaking muscles and burning lungs will let us.

I'm so dizzy when I finally haul myself over the lip of roof that the sky spins overhead, piercing sunlight blinds me as we collapse inches apart on the hot gravel strewn roof. The only sound this high is my gasping greedy lungs mirroring Abby's hasty panicked breaths.

"It's okay…" Abby's hand finds mine on the hot tar painted roof, fingers lacing through mine both of us shaking with exertion and adrenaline neither of us noticing the hot bits of gravel pressed against our backs, trapped between the palms of our interlocked hands.

I won't notice the red marks until later…long after Abby is dead.

"It's okay…they….can't climb…" Abby pants. "We're safe….we're safe…" Our fingers tighten with the words; my arms shake, my legs are on fire, my lungs burn, blood rushes in my ears.

The pocket knife in my jeans digs into my left butt cheek reminding me we're not safe; no one is…

It's a false hope.

Voices that don't belong filter around me…someone's fingers brush my forehead.

I try to raise my hand to push them away but none of my limbs respond…I can't even get my eyelashes to lift…

My chest aches.

But it's nothing compared to the rolling fight going on just under my ribs. I groan, try to shift to my side hoping to alleviate the twisting burn…

At least I'm lying on something soft…

"Seraph! Seraph! Help Me!"

My feet can't move fast enough. I can hear them, the sound claws at my ears, scrapes like gravel over my bones, chokes the air in my lungs when Abby screams…

"Abby!"

I round the corner too late…just in time to see frenzy and snarling and red…oh god…so much deep dark red…

I'm screaming as I pull them off, shoving them away from her hollow form, her body pulled half out from behind the dumpster she tried to squeeze behind to escape their greedy hands…but not fast enough…not far enough…

"Abby!"

I'm screaming, and screaming, my throat is raw with it. My knees and shins burn through my pant legs the searing heat of black asphalt in the summer sun and hot wet blood soak through to my skin. The material clinging and sticking to me…it looks brown against the dark fabric…when it dries later it will chafe and rub at my skin cracking and peeling off slowly.

Death chokes the back of my throat with the heavy scent of iron and rot as they try to reach past me and I shove them away each time, hands clinging to her ripped shirt sobbing 'til they overwhelm me; knocking me flat on my back so they can feed.

They ignore me no matter how hard I thrash, how loud I scream. I am invisible.

I lay there staring up at the slit of sun scorched sky between the brick alley while pain bubbles up out of my chest, roars past my lips with endless sobs that bless fully block out the wet squelching sound of guts and blood and skin….

I am invisible.

I am lost.

I am alone.

I lurch up from the bed before my eyes are fully opened the sound of snarling still echoes in my head, sweat drips down my neck. My stomach burns, my mouth waters and the back of my throat seizes in warning. My feet move swiftly over an almost familiar concrete floor in my half-dazed state between dreaming and being fully awake. I find the closest door desperate to get outside away from the clawing, twisting roll under my ribs.

I barely register the pavement under my boot soles, the breeze that lifts the loose tendrils that frame my face my arms shake, chest seizes my stomach tightens and I empty what little there is in my stomach onto the dark asphalt between my palms.

There isn't much to come up; but that doesn't stop my stomach from putting in a class A effort.

I gag on empty foul air and choke around my spasming throat. My tongue feels thick in my mouth, my eyes water 'til tears slip down my cheeks with each shuddering retch.

The sound of the metal door clanging closed again behind me echoes off the empty lot and the bare tree trunks that line it.

Heavy footfalls approach my back, his hands cup my shoulders. I slam my elbow back trying to shove him away, my arm twisting back hands slapping him off of me gasping for him to go away between the empty spasms my stomach insists on still despite producing nothing for the last full minute.

He doesn't though. No of course not. The last thing I want to do is puke in front of him. Could he spare me even this small embarrassment though? Of course not.

The uncontrollable twisting in my stomach stops finally so I can catch my breath. My legs shake underneath me like I've just run for miles, my chest and back ache from tightening with each spasm of my angry stomach. I spit retched tang from my mouth and wipe my lips with the back of my hand closing my eyes for a minute trying to decide if I can stand up.

"I'm sor…"

I shift my weight to my right leg kicking out with my left heel and catching him square in the chest sending him onto his ass before I spin to face him sitting stunned on the pavement. I slam my palms into his shoulders with an angry cry and knock him flat out a second later; it should be satisfying but something about the vulnerable position pisses me off even more…

He didn't have to let me knock him down. I don't need him to humor me. He's already treated me like a child once today drugging me like some helpless damsel too fragile to take a few bumps…

He opens his mouth to say he's sorry again but I don't want to hear it. I launch myself at him my arm ticks back making my shoulder burn and pull in protest but I ignore it in favor of slapping him first with one hand, then the other.

And then I do it again because it wasn't satisfying enough and I can't seem to stop hitting him or the wordless outrage and helpless frustration that escapes me.

He pulls his forearms up to protect his face whole body flinching so hard beneath me I almost retch again my stomach twisting with sickening guilt that someone so brave could be so damaged at the same time.

I could never hit him in the face; not even as enraged as I am…can't even bring myself to really smack the shit out of him right now; each time I try to slap him full on my arms slow before the impact comes faltering mid-air so the blows are little more than whooshing air past my face and the sound of my palms thumping against his shoulders and chest.

I can't actually hurt him even if he's hurt me…

He must realize that it doesn't hurt second later as well; when his arms drop limp to the pavement at his sides, he just lets me hit him for minute; surrenders underneath my hands like even he thinks he deserves it…the thought claws at me even more; twists and prods my chest and the next blow actually stings my palm when it makes contact.

Fight Back! God Damnit! Why won't he fight back?!

I slap him a few more times before his fingers lock around my wrists, yanking my hands down against his chest his arms shaking with the effort to hold me still as I twist my shoulders and yank back snarling a curse at him again. I finally jerk too hard though and my curse is strangled out by a painful gasp as my shoulder reminds me why I'm not supposed to be arm wrestling anyone.

We both still, my palms still flat over his chest, I can feel his racing heartbeat under my palm; each rise and fall of his breath moves me. His fingers tighten over my wrists.

"There's a knife right there if you want to stab me with it." His hands don't release their hold despite his offer.

I can barely hit the man when I'm so pissed off I can't see straight and he thinks I might want to stab him? What an idiot.

"You're not getting off that easy."

His eyes drift from mine down my body expression shifting lightening quick from wary guilt to concern. His eyes tighten until the little creases form in their corners; his mouth becomes a hard line as he jerks his back off the pavement. His hands relinquish my wrists for better leverage on my upper arms his new grip keeps me from tumbling backwards off his abs and onto the asphalt when he moves.

I slip back to sit on his thighs knees bent on the warm pavement by his hips staring at him with a questioning eyebrow, not sure what caused his sudden change in mood. Until his hand lets go of my arm and rises to the collar of my over-sized stolen tee, his movement brings the solid ache thrumming through my shoulder back to my attention.

He hooks one finger through the neck and pulls it wider than it already is stretching the old cotton fabric 'til it hangs off my shoulder leaving my collarbone and shoulder exposed to the sun beating down on us.

My eyes drop to follow whatever now holds his rapt attention. I already have a decent idea of what it is though based on the harsh downturn of his lips and the ache in my chest.

Yup, I'm bleeding again.

"You're bleeding." His voice is tight, expression carefully controlled.

"Yeah I figured that." I slap his hand away from my ruined shirt, but the only reason I'm successful is because his hand practically snaps back away from me the instant I touch him.

He's starting to piss me off again.

"You drugged me! Why would you think that was okay?"

"I'm not sorry."

I stare up at the cloudless sky. The temptation to slap him rises again. I'm not sure I want to resist it this time.

He's a jerk, and an idiot, and a complete thick headed Neanderthal…And I have done exactly the same thing to him before.

"Of course not…" I scoff into the open sky, drop my chin to glare at him; tell myself to ignore the way those gorgeous blue eyes cloud over with guilt, dart away from mine…

"You said yourself the trip would hurt."

I keep glaring at him our noses inches apart, he keeps his eyes on the ground.

"Yes, I did." I'm still waiting for the part that makes drugging me and lugging me around like a useless china doll okay…

"I didn't want you to be in pain." His voice breaks when he says it, so soft it's a whisper that barely reaches my ears…

"God Damnit!…That's not even, what gives you…how….ugh!"

All the air leaves me in a rush and God Damn my fickle heart.

My hands clench into fist between us in frustration because my stomach doesn't just flip when he speaks; no of course not… my chest heats all the way through like something is melting and I'm not ready for that yet…

I want to be angry; I want to hit him.

I want to make him understand why this isn't okay…

My heart and Daryl are both idiots apparently,

they're both completely unreasonable!

My forehead drops to his shoulder in surrender while I pull in a few shuddering breaths trying to ignore the curl of warmth through my chest when his fingers slide up my arms, the tickle of amusement in the pit of my stomach when he speaks again.

"Do you want to hit me again?"

"Yes…no. Maybe…"

I think it might be more productive to smack some sense into myself because it's not the drugs making me spin, and my heart race and God help us both if I'm not completely in love with the clueless idiot next to me.

"I'm sorry I made you sick."

Well that's something. "I hate puking." I keep my face against his shirt mindful that I probably have horrendous breath right now, probably foul enough that it could kill a Walker.

"During my childhood puking was kinda the major family hobby; for my dad it was almost an Olympic sport."

I take that in for a moment.

Daryl doesn't talk about himself much; not that there's been much time for that in the few weeks we've had running from one disaster to another…

I know almost nothing about the history of the man sitting in front of me. He knows even less about me.

Maybe he is trying to open up…if we could both do it maybe one day we might have an almost normal relationship…

Yeah right.

"Alcoholic?"

"Yeah." He tenses against me, maybe he expects me to hit him again, maybe because he just revealed something about his crappy childhood and even mentioning it brings up memories that still sting; make him feel vulnerable even as a grown man.

It's amazing to me just how profoundly we can fuck each other up as human beings.

What kind of damage will I leave in my wake?

I nod against his skin, unsure what to say for a minute, gathering my scattered thoughts.

"You can't do that Daryl." His chest is like stone under my forehead, barely breathing he's ready to explode with nervous tension.

"I get why you did it, but you can't make decisions like that for me. You either treat me as an equal or this won't work."

I raise my chin wait while he stares across the lot into the trees. He can't even make eye contact with me, how can this work? How can I make him understand?

"What if you'd driven into a herd while I was unconscious? What then? I couldn't defend myself, couldn't help you…"

"I'd have gotten you out."

I stare up at his suddenly fierce expression, get lost for a moment in the flashing steel blue of his eyes boring into mine. The heat in my chest is back tenfold.

"I have no doubt. But you wouldn't have done that to Carol, or Michonne or Maggie..."

"It's my job to protect you."

My eyes slip shut for the span of three heartbeats, heat gathers behind my eyelids curls and expands through my chest until I think I might burst with it… I have to blink several times to keep the tears off my cheeks when I open them again.

I know I can't meet his gaze without losing my hold on them. It's my turn now to stare off over his shoulder. I have to swallow a few times before I can form a voice steady enough for words around the lump in my throat.

"You can't protect me by jumping in front of me, or making my decisions and cutting me out of the conversation completely…if I did that to you…" I trail off my brow climbs towards my hairline remembering the time I did just that and how badly he reacted. "You'd lose your God Damn mind, and all the sense God gave you."

The memory hounds me, thickens the lump in my throat increases the ache in my chest…it was the first time I started to think maybe he might feel something more for me…that maybe it might be possible for him to love me back, and that made it so much worse because I thought I was about to die, and then I thought I'd lost him anyway…

He's staring off over my shoulder again, he won't meet my eyes.

My voice is quieter then I intend when I continue, the weight of that memory presses against my chest, the way he looked at me, the fear in his clear blue eyes, the helpless rage that swirled there.

I know how that feels, and how else can I make him understand…?

I take a deep shuddering breath. "How'd it feel Daryl standing in that basement? Being trapped on the other side of that wall when you realized they were going to find me, what they were going to do to me?"

His eyes fly to mine, expression contorting with a complex wash of rage, and fear and pain and helpless desperation. I watch each emotion burning its way through him, twisting and expanding while his breathing grows faster until it hisses out from between clenched teeth and his eyes have narrowed to slivers of pale blue fury like cold chips of ice.

I stare back at him while it overwhelms him all over again, guilt clawing at my insides for bringing it up, hurting him…

He snarls each ragged breath into the air between us, his hands clenched over my arms hard enough that I will without a doubt show ten perfect Daryl sized fingertip bruises on my skin by tomorrow.

But I don't care because he feels it.

it burns him too...

I know it does when I meet his glare; and it's the only way to make him see what he did to me. Make him understand why he can't do this again, and I realize now; neither can I…

We'll destroy each other far too quickly this way.

He opens his mouth to snarl something and my arm jerks forward against his grip on my skin, my palm slaps over his lips muffling whatever response he's verbalized to nothing more than a violent furious sound.

"Then don't you ever make me feel like that either."

I watch the angry lines leave his face, the flush in his cheeks quickly fades; his eyes widen staring straight back at me.

I hold his gaze, can't blink even when my eyes start to burn and threaten to spill over with unshed tears.

He breaks our gaze, looks away first. My hand is still pressed over his lips my skin now warm from each breath he exhales against my palm. His fingers finally release their hold on my biceps, one hand rising to wrap gently around my wrist pulling my palm away from his mouth.

He stares over my shoulder again, can't even meet my eyes anymore. I guess it's all too much for him, and I shouldn't be surprised that he's withdrawing from me even though it stings, chafes against my already overly raw emotions.

Its better this way, I remind myself. Maybe he doesn't feel the same, maybe he can hold back…At least if I'm the only one in love when this all falls apart he can move on and I'll be the only one destroyed…

The tone of his next words catches me completely off guard lost as I am in my own thoughts.

"Told you I'd fuck up."

How can one man fit so much self-loathing and dejection in a single sentence? My chest aches. My palm presses to the side of his face once more, desperate to comfort him my thumb sliding in lazy circles over his rough dirt smeared cheek. He was clean just hours ago. I feel my lips twitch into an almost smile.

I swear the man attracts dirt like a magnet…

"Of course, you're human. Now, do it again and I'll lay your ass out in front of God and all his witnesses. In the meantime, I need to brush my teeth; and I need to eat something really bland…"

And maybe I need to lie down and pass out again for like three days…I don't feel so great now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

I slide off his lap, get my feet under me but keep my hands against his chest so that when he stands up I can use his upward momentum to pull me to my feet. I stagger a bit, my balance not quite right...

He scoops me up off the pavement a second later without comment pulling me against his chest and carrying me back to the warehouse door. So much for not being babied…

The second the cooler darkened air of the warehouse engulfs me I let my eyes slip shut against the soft cotton of his shirt turn my head to press my nose to his chest breathing him into my lungs and welcoming the darkness that swallows me whole.

:: Walking Dead ::