Disclaimer: They're sadly not mine, Drat. I was hoping that would change to! Phooew!
Notes: Happy Saturday Peeps! ONE MORE DAY! *flails* I'm so nervous...was anyone else screaming at the TV for Maggie and Glenn to get the hell away from 'Mary' and the BBQ pit?! Zomg. *dies*
Big thanks to all the readers for waiting for this post; I know it took longer then normal! I hope you will find it was worth the wait!
Chapter Fifty-Five
(Fin's POV)
Heat curls through my middle, spreads down my limbs leaving my cheeks flushed.
Just from that look.
He's not even touching me.
I try to ignore the instant rush of heat, the quiver that starts low in my belly, fluttering through my chest with the press of my pulse, all from just the memory…I shiver, unable to stop the images from heating my cheeks.
The way his hands shook just like they did the first night…His eyes holding me captive. It makes me tremble even now.
His gaze unfathomably dark and deep in the low light; an inescapable sea of brilliant blue I couldn't look away from, could barely bring myself to blink; knowing it would mean losing sight of him even for an instant. Neither of us could look away.
Closing my eyes now I can still feel the imprint of his palm against my cheek, pressing his forehead to mine as he moved over me, deep inside me, possessing me with an almost unbearable aching slowness that left me breathless, trembling and clinging to him in the dark…
Heat prickles behind my eyes, blooms through my chest warming me all the way to my toes just thinking about the overwhelming sensations that look sent through me. My hands shake.
…that wasn't fucking
it wasn't sex…
God no…
that was…
Somehow beyond words…
My bewildered brain has been struggling to classify it for days.
'Intense' falls achingly short in description…
'Surrender' isn't quite right either…
'Possession' hits close…
Love.
I second hard shiver rolls down my spine. I pull in a steadying breath; keep my focus on my hands.
I heard him come up the ladder before. But I already know his feeling on this, and I can't wait any longer. I feel like I'm going crazy doing nothing but 'taking it easy.' Especially when it feels like he's somehow afraid to touch me all over again…I need something to distract me, I'm desperate for it.
Just when I think I've got him figured out I'll catch that look on his face again, just a flash…but it burns me; that depth in his eyes makes my heart leap and my breath catch and I'm off trembling and spinning all over again…
"You sure you're ready to do that?" He leans against the concrete wall, lips forming a tight scowl, arms crossed over his chest.
"It's been two weeks Daryl." I bite the inside of my cheek to hide the wince raising my arm and drawing back brings to my face.
I need to get my strength back; only one way to do that. My bow is set to a pathetic forty pound draw weight…not high enough to do much damage to anything…except maybe a squirrel.
My arrow is off the mark by at least a foot.
He stares at the exposed arrow sticking out at the end of the run; next to a bunch of other arrows; also irritatingly not where I wanted them to go.
He doesn't comment, scowl deepening. I look up at him when he twists off the wall with a shove of his hands, grabbing his crossbow off the table near the wall.
I watch him stalk towards me; there's no other word for the smooth rolling glide of each step, the narrow hard set of his eyes.
It absolutely does not make my pulse race and my cheeks heat.
I square my shoulders watching him approach. There's just the barest hint of an ache under my clavicle when I do so, reminding me that I'm not healed; not yet. Like I need the constant reminder with Daryl dogging my every step…and when he isn't Carol is.
His hands wrap around my bow, pull it from my fingers when I don't protest.
He lunges slowly away from where I'm standing to set it carefully against the floor a few feet from the scuffed line of duct tape marking the distance that I was just shooting from.
When he straightens back up something behind his blue eyes has shifted, darkened.
It makes my stomach flip even before his fingers lock around my hip; two of his rough calloused fingers press into my bare skin where my shirt has raised up. I let him turn me without protest; half curious and completely distracted by the firm press of his chest against my back.
He hasn't touched me…not like this in almost two weeks; it's enough to make my head spin. He lies next to me every night; but his touch has been chaste since that night.
A hard shiver rolls down my spine, making my nipples harden and my hands tremble. When I glance over my shoulder at him his eyes bore into mine like he knows.
I twist forward again have to pull in a steadying breath. I've been teasing him for four days now, and judging by the heat in that look he's decided to play along.
The idea has my heart leaping into my throat and delicious heat curling through my center.
He raises the crossbow in front of us, arms encircling my shoulders, my hands instinctively raise to the stock. He keeps one hand on the bow, supporting the bulk of its weight. His other hand dropping to my arm, sliding up to support my elbow so that aiming the bow doesn't pull at my aching shoulder as much.
His thumb brushes over the soft skin just inside my forearm the split second before I pull the trigger.
His lips quirk at the arrow down range, even farther off the mark then the last shot.
"Little distracted there?"
"Shudup." God I'm even starting to sound like him…
His amusement quirks his lips further into a smirk, eyes slipping over me as he steps away to grab another bolt. Reloads with a well-practiced ease and nimble fingers, never taking his eyes off me. Then he steps behind me again, pulling me flush against his body from chest to hips with a little more force than necessary making me gasp.
We're pressed together again from chest to hips, a noise resonates through my back, from deep in his chest, it sounds like approval. I twist to peer at him over my shoulder watch his eyes darken a shade further before his arms come up brushing my sides, trapping me again and bringing the bow back around in front of us.
His breath tickles the back of my neck making my skin prickle with goose bumps.
His fingers slide from my arm to hip again, not stopping... Dipping lower still while I shiver; try to ignore the heat centered under his touch. How it spreads and flutters up my spine when his palm slides over my skin with the pretense of keeping me straight for the shot. His fingertips slip down to trace over the taught skin just inches below my navel skating under my clothes; but just barely.
I bite my lip to stop any sound from escaping.
This time, I tell myself; I'm ready for his distraction.
I'm already expecting the slow crawl of his hands over heated skin…I'm not going to lose this game.
I focus down range and squeeze the trigger on an exhale.
God Damnit.
I twist and dig my elbow into his ribs with a noise of frustration to stop his soft snicker against my neck when I miss again.
Nibbling someone's ear like that should be illegal.
Daryl's eyes glint with wicked amusement while I glare up at him. He makes a show of raising his hand to shield his eyes staring at the arrows.
"Hmm, your right…this needs a lot of work."
"Shut it!" He's impossible.
Only Daryl could turn target practice into temptation…
I duck under his arms before he can grab me, snatching another arrow from the rack and stepping back against him.
I press into his chest with enough force that it drives an exhale from his lungs, makes him step back to keep his balance, his hand raises to my side again; but it does nothing to the smug glint in his eyes; if anything it gets worse.
I glare back over my shoulder holding the arrow out for him to grab.
"Reload."
He stares down at me, lips still twisting up in what looks suspiciously like a grin. "Maybe we should stand closer to the target."
I'm gonna smack him.
"Let's see you do it then," His eyes narrow down at me, his breath huffs out against my skin.
I smile as sweetly as I can, just to watch his eyes shift, the nervous swallow he can't stop.
He grunts, makes a show of shrugging his shoulder, reloading the bow and stepping up behind me again.
This time when I press back against his chest and hips, I aim to melt against him, sliding my hands down his arms with just my fingertips touching him.
I shift back against his hips, push up onto my toes and have to bite my lip when he presses flush against me and I can feel exactly how much this affects him being in our current position. I raise my good arm, twist my fingers through his hair, not pulling his head down; I don't need to; not yet, just this is already messing up his breathing enough that when I turn my face, press my nose against his neck, just above his shirt collar I hide a smile against his skin. I'm too short to reach his ear, but that's okay, I don't need to .
The muscles in his arms tense when I exhale against his skin, he swallows when I say his name, inhales slowly trying to ignore my mouth pressed to the underside of his chin against his throat. The second I feel his forearm tense to pull the trigger I tilt my head up and whisper my request in the breathiest voice I can manage.
Which considering the way he's pressed around me, the heat soaking into my skin from his touch is all too easy to do.
I don't even look to see where his arrow ends up.
I don't need to after he jerks, cursing at my words.
He curses again in a gruff voice, bow dropping one handed to his side, his other hand comes up in the same instant to grab the back of my head. Pinning me in place, keeping my nose mere inches from his while he shakes his head slowly. I stare back at him grinning as he drops his chin to look at me, his gaze predatory and calculating.
"What's wrong? Did you miss?" I keep my voice as innocent as possible.
He stops me from turning my head to check, fingers tightening his lips part with an unsteady exhale while his eyes dart to my lips.
"Careful girl," It's a rough growl that matches the wildly possessive gleam in his bright grey blue eyes.
Something in that look makes me feel bolder even while my stomach does a nervous flip, heat curling at the base of my spine in reaction.
"Or what?" My brow quirks up, tongue darts out to wet suddenly dry lips. My breath catches when his eyes drop to my mouth hover there gaze intense enough to send heat spiraling through my chest.
I press back against him, watch his reaction in the tightening of his jawline, the catch in his breath.
I reach over to the table for another arrow, barely able to get my fingers pinched over the feathered tail of the closest one pulling it towards us with him not letting me move from his grasp. His eyes don't leave my lips, hands still wrapped around the back of my neck.
I lean forward on my toes, let my words slip out against his lips barely touching him.
"Best two out of three?"
He doesn't take the arrow from my hand, hands drop to slide over my hips twisting me to face the targets again. The bow comes up in front of me his arms pressed to my sides.
"Load it." His voice is more growl then words.
I grab the string, pulling back with both hands until it clicks, have to press my shoulders into his chest to steady myself with the movement burning through my shoulder. Then slide the bolt into place glancing over my shoulder at him my breath catching in my throat, cheeks heating.
I turn to watch the target feel his biceps tense against my shoulders his head tilts as he looks over my shoulder down range.
I bite my lip when his exhale brushes the skin at my neck, reach one hand back to grasp him when he releases the trigger.
He jumps cursing against my neck. "Shit."
"I think you're supposed to hit the target…"
His crossbow drops to his side clutched in one hand, then slides to the floor with a clatter. His voice is low, rough. "Hard to shoot straight with your wandering hands."
Hmmm. Now who's got wandering hands? He lets me twist to face him, eyes watching me while I hook the fingers of one hand into the front pocket of his pants, my other hand sliding up his arm.
"What are you gonna do Daryl?" His fingers tighten against my skin sending another flood of wicked desire through my stomach.
He hums like he's thinking it over, all the while backing me up with his hands on my hips eyes darkening with each step.
"Thinkin 'bout ripping your clothes off right here."
Heat flushes up my neck straight to my cheeks, melts through my chest sliding down to a tingling flutter low in my belly, when his mouth presses to my neck fire races up my spine and my pulse hums, my stomach does a little flip.
"uh…" My brain short circuited obviously.
His lips twitch. Then drops to a scowl when we both hear footsteps overhead. "Shit."
Carl comes halfway down the ladder sees me and stops eyes wild completely oblivious to the fact that he almost walked in on something else entirely.
"Hey! Have you guys ever seen blue smoke?"
I jerk to face Carl so fast the muscles in my neck spasm.
"What?! Where!?" He climbs the rest of the way down Daryl is frowning at me expression guarded.
"On the roof, Tyreese saw it. It's pretty cool, do you know what makes it…Fin?"
I'm already halfway up the ladder, racing to the next one, climbing up and bolting across the rooftop weaving in and out of the little window greenhouses scattered there.
Rick Tyreese, and Michonne have gathered near the edge. Leaning against the half wall overlooking the lot.
A thin plume of undeniably blue smoke split's the sky in the distance, curling like frayed yarn tethering the grey sky to the tree line in the distance. There's no wind today, Ten miles out maybe? Fifteen?
I jerk open the plastic storage shelving unit that stands against the warehouse's roof AC storage unit, grab the brick I need in my right hand, the lighter fluid container in my left.
"What are you doing?" Rick's is standing behind me.
I grab the metal drum I need; drag it into the center of the roof away from the AC unit. From here it can burn clear into the sky. I'm upending the liquid over the wood piled in the drum striking a match with shaking fingers dropping it over the wood.
Have to jerk my hand back from the whoosh of exhilarant going up in less than a second. Rick frowns staring at the thick dark smoke curling toward the sky.
"You want to explain to me what's going on?"
"Blue smoke, you need chemicals; minerals to make blue smoke."
He's staring at me eyes hard. I lift the brick in my hand toss in onto the wood.
"Do you know who that is?"
"I might."
"Should we be giving away our position on a 'might'?" Tyreese has a point but I have to risk it.
I have to…
I toss the block into the flames watch it spark and hiss as smoke begins to curl away from it. I step back to avoid the acidic orange-red smoke rising up into the sky.
"How long has the smoke been blue?"
"Maybe ten minutes? It changed just after the smoke started. Never seen anything burn like that; figured it was some kind of message for someone."
I resist the urge to cross my fingers.
"It is." I stare over the trees watch the column of smoke break on the horizon; disappearing for a few seconds before rising up again in a single distinct puff before the solid column begins again.
I'm grinning when I pull the heavy wool blanket from the storage shelves dunk it into the full rain barrel near the AC unit's corner sloshing cold liquid onto my boots and legs. I get even more wet hauling its heavy weight back out. The heavy wool soaks through my shirt, drips down to drench my thighs as I haul it back towards the fire pit draping the wet material over the pit's frame blocking out the smoke trail.
I count the seconds in my head before pulling it back, leaping back so the resulting heavy plume of smoke doesn't choke my lungs before covering it again.
Tyreese helps me remove it the second time. We step back to watch the thick ball of red tinted smoke against the grey sky then I'm spinning to watch the smoke in the distance almost holding my breath waiting until the smoke turns red in the distance and I'm whooping with laughter, snatching another colored brick from the shelf using the tongs to drag what's left of the half burnt first block from the logs and tossing on the second one.
The smoke curls away from the fire pit a now a distinct sea-green.
I watch the smoke puff in the distance again, breaking the single column into several long then short puffs spelling out a message in the sky that has me grinning so hard my cheeks hurt and I can barely breath, hands shaking as I answer back.
"Put this out, before someone else sees it!" No sense in taking extra chances. I'm already grabbing the backpack stuffed in the lowest shelf of the cabinet, pulling it out, slinging it over my shoulder and racing across the roof to the ladder leading to the trucking container roof.
Rick follows me across the rooftop, Michonne on his heels. "Where are you going?"
"I'll be back, I have to finish the message."
"Hold on, what was that? Message for who?"
"Smoke signals! Luke is alive! I have to go!"
"Just wait a minute, Take Michonne!" Michonne doesn't have her sword, it's still inside, and I'm not going far, there's no need.
I'm already dropping onto the container roof with a loud clang. "No! I'm fine! Stay here I'm not going far!"
"Fin!"
"I'm fine Rick! I'll be back in an hour!"
I don't wait for them, already half-way to the car climbing inside. Twisting the key and pulling out into the lot. Rick will probably chew my ass off when I get back, if Daryl doesn't kill me first; especially since he's still downstairs.
But if Luke is alive it will be completely worth it.
I make it into town without incident all my time previously clearing walkers out of this area has made a big difference; not that it matters for me…but it might for Luke.
I write my message using the white shoe polish on the store front windows, keeping to the code the entire way through my message—except the signature; that I sign with m full name scrawled across the second window pane in huge letters that drip white lines down the glass yellowing with the thick coating of pollen.
I drop the book bag against the brick under my message just in case. If it isn't Luke somehow; or if he's under some kind of duress my note instructs the reader to take the food, water and matches supplied and move north out of town—away from my home…if it Is Luke, our code and every third word tells him exactly where to find me.
I head back to the car, stomach a mass of jittery hopeful nerves I haven't felt in years before pulling a U-turn and heading back to the warehouse chewing my lip the whole drive.
:: Walking Dead ::