Disclaimer: Repeat after me:
I do not own the Walking Dead;
just the characters in my head...
but that doesn't mean I'll pass up the chance
to make them dance! Buhahahaha!
...Well except Daryl who obviously doesn't dance...but it rhymed so whatever! xD
Notes: Warning this Chapter is M Rated for a Reason! ^_^
I am being entirely too nice giving you guys this much storyline at once! ;)
Three whole chapters in one day...and BIG chapters too!
Edited 4/13 for uh-oh typos My silly laptop mouse tracking pad likes to highlight random words
as I'm typing and either delete them completely or move them around; it's annoying as heck! Ugh.
Thanks to all the readers and reviewers, you guys rock!
Chapter Sixty-Seven
(Fin's POV)
Daryl leads me back toward the 'basement' takes me straight through the gate silently. We walk straight past the storage pallets in the low light and into the shower room. I stand there quietly after he drops my hand while he starts the water, telling me to strip out of my ruined clothes.
"What about you?"
He didn't exactly escape the blood bath either, though he's considerably cleaner then I am…I look like I rolled around in the stuff…
Well, to be fair I kinda did.
"Be right back, going to get you something clean to wear." I can hardly see the point in arguing. I can't wait to get out of these clothes anyways and the faster I get all the disgusting blood and other stuff off of me the better.
I'm not sure how I've avoided vomiting from the smell alone.
I try really hard not to think about what I'm touching as I peel cold and wet sticky and stiff layers of cloth off my skin. Toss them onto the floor next to the plastic trash can against the wall; it's supposed to hold laundry for everyone…but I'm not even sure these clothes are salvageable with all the nastiness on them…they'll probably just end up burned.
I doubt I could scrub them hard enough to get out the stains…or the smell.
It definitely won't win me any favors to throw them onto someone else's good clothes.
I move my hands under the cold spray; it only takes me a few seconds to work my entire body into the cool water. The desire to get this stuff off my skin as fast as possible is an extraordinary motivator.
I'm soaping myself down for the second time watching the water slide over my skin turning a distinct blackish brown from blood in the low light, it's even discoloring the soap bubbles lathered on my skin when he comes back.
He sets clean clothes on one of the steel table behind me, one that was once used for processing meat cutlets and prepping ready cook meals for the deli in the warehouse's prep kitchen. I turn my head towards him notice he's brought himself a stack of clothes as well. Which only makes sense; we're both pretty disgusting even if I'm far worse.
I keep soaping and rinsing, scrubbing at the stubborn substances coating my skin with my fingernails while he strips out of his filthy shirt and jeans, toes his boots off which are probably okay leaving them under the table with his socks.
There's only one shower; since I've never had this many people living here there's never been a need for more than one.
Just another thing I'll have to figure out how to modify now; assuming we can get enough quiet time between disasters to even think about that kind of stuff.
Daryl reaches his arms around me and grabs the soap bar from my hands. Works it into a thick lather in his palms before sliding his hands down my back. I jump at his touch, with my back facing him…I thought he was going to wash himself…not me. But if my back looks anything like the parts of me I can see it's probably for the best that he makes sure I don't miss a spot.
Some of the black ick has already started to dry on my skin and sticks like glue. I shudder in revulsion.
"Cold?"
"A little, mostly just…" I trail off making what feels like an appropriate sound to reflect the horrifying disgust I feel scrubbing so much death off my skin.
He makes a noise that might be amused agreement after a moment of silence.
He soaps his hands up again, scrubbing at the back of my shoulder, leans closer to me fingernail scraping at what must be a particularly nasty patch over my collar bone. He's silent as he works his hands and more soap over my skin, not stopping with just the parts I can't see.
His hands slide over the rest of my skin too. His fingers pausing over sore muscles he finds based on the way I tense under his touch. He pauses working those areas under his palms kneading and pressing with his fingers until they loosen and relax again before moving on again.
He pays careful attention to my arms, my shoulders, and my neck...all the parts of me that weren't covered by clothing when I was fighting… I stay silent while he checks every inch of skin for scratches or injuries…I could tell him I'm fine, but I don't. I'm afraid speaking will bring an end to this silent truce we're under, I'm not ready for that just yet.
I stopped washing myself shortly after he started, just let my eyes slip shut and feel his hands sliding over my skin, working tired muscles and days of sparing tension loose; but I need to fix my hair.
I raise my hands start unwinding my hair from the sloppy knot I put it in before breakfast what feels like hours ago already. Once it's down I wet it and start washing all of it as thoroughly as I can; knowing there's no way my hair escaped all the gore from earlier.
I focus on removing any bits of blood and other grossness there while his hands move back to his own skin quickly lathering himself up again and again just as he did to me. I'm just working the conditioner through the ends of my hair, finger combing out the knots I find when I feel his touch again.
I don't jump this time; knowing he's behind me. He steps forward pushing me out of the water with flat palms against my skin so he can rinse himself. I cross my arms and wait, it's not cold enough to shiver, but it's not pleasant either.
I miss hot showers every day. Just another thing I always took for granted once upon a time.
I don't look at him, keep my eyes down at the drain noting that the water is finally clear again, just water and suds sliding down the drain. If I look at him I'll be tempted to touch him, and I don't think that's the point of this.
I have the succinct feeling we're going to have a long unhappy conversation about earlier as soon as we're both clean.
Kissing him while we're naked and wet will only postpone the inevitable…which is tempting…but a large part of me, the bit that's twisted into knots since he took my hand and led me from the group just wants to get the un-pleasantries over and done with.
Especially since his dragging me away from everyone else reminds me so much of how he dragged me off the roof after I left to leave my original note for Luke…we had a blowout fight after that incident and we just got over it…
I don't want to have another one.
I don't think I can deal with that right now on top of everything else…
I know he's done rinsing when he grabs my arms again I step towards him, following as he pulls me back under the spray so I can rinse my hair once more, sliding the last of the knots out with my fingers. He keeping his hands over my shoulders, turning me around to face him finally after a few moments of stalling...
"Good?"
"Yeah."
Oh Boy.
My stomach twists behind my ribs and my chest tightens.
He leans over me slowly, raises one arm to the wall killing the flow of cold water against my back, leaving us both dripping wet on the tile floor, staring at each other.
I don't speak, just stare at him and wait. I've been able to feel the tension rolling off of him since the Walker fiasco ended. Nobody was injured in the slightest but you wouldn't know that from the tight scowl on Daryl's face.
He leans closer and I step back from his expression, from the intensity on his face. I feel my shoulders bump the tile wall while his other hand comes up so he's now effectively boxing me in. Framing both sides of my head with his arms; hands pressed flat to the tile wall against my back.
I could get away if I really wanted to. Hell he'd probably drop his arms and back away from me if I pushed him even the slightest.
Daryl is Not Chris.
I'm not trapped here.
But my heart races just the same.
Some ridiculous part of my brain not twisted into knots over a potential fight really wants to be trapped by him…finds the idea intriguing to say the least…
I press my teeth against my bottom lip and try not to let those particular thoughts show on my face…
Especially when he's dead set on glaring at me like that.
His voice is deadly quiet, and gruffer then I've ever heard it when he speaks finally.
"Now, You want to tell me, Just What n'Hell you were thinking?"
I take in a deep breath eyes darting away from his face. "I was thinking that if that many Walkers got into the warehouse at once they'd probably pull the shelves down and kill everyone."
He stares down at me. "And it had to be you trying to stop them?"
I was in the least amount of danger…I was in no danger honestly; other than Chris taking pot shots at me trying to delay me from getting to the door…but I can't tell him that…
How could I?
He'd either think I was crazy, or far worse he'd fear me…
Hate me for what I am…
"It's my warehouse, I told Rick it was secure from the inside…"
"You are Not responsible for the Shit Chris pulled today! You don't get to sacrifice yourself trying to save us!"
Oh.
It's the Peacock farm all over again. Shit. I hadn't even thought about it; it didn't even occur to me how he might interpret my actions…
"You should have waited for me! God Damnit, Fuck Fin! I know you're capable, you survived without me before this; I get that…but Jesus. One bite. Just One!"
I can't do anything but stare at him, guilt clawing at me.
"We could both die, any minute, any day…It's the same story over and over again since all this started…we think we're safe, and then something always happens: A fence fails, strangers move through, someone gets sick…"
He shakes his head, closes his eyes for a few tense breaths while I wait.
"All life seems to do these days is pull the rug out from under our feet just when we think we've found solid ground again; and that's hard enough without You racing head long into obvious danger… If you died—" The muscles in his arms stand out as he presses his fists to the wall beside my head. "—Knowing I could lose you is bad enough without the constant worry you'll get yourself killed because you went charging off into danger without thinking… without me there to help keep you safe."
He's leaned into me now, chest pressed to mine, his breath brushes my lips when he speaks.
"I know I can't protect you from everything, but God Damnit Girl; at least let me try. Maggie would never do that to Glenn, Michonne wouldn't even try something like that alone. Carol would have waited for me and Rick to back her up…what was so God Damn important it couldn't wait sixty more seconds?"
I can't explain that.
I end up staring down at my bare feet again.
"I don't have a death wish, I swear."
I really don't, just the opposite: I've never wanted to live so much in my life.
But that all goes away if he learns what I am.
He snorts. Shakes his head staring down at me.
"No, you're just so damn self-less you're going to get yourself killed without even realizing it, and I can't deal with that, I couldn't live with myself…" he huffs in frustration. "You're killing me." He leans even closer, presses his wet forehead against mine while his hands slip down the wall landing on my collarbones, his fingers trace down from my shoulders to wrap tightly around my biceps.
"Never been so God Damn terrified in all my life, today; back on that God Damn Farm, when I pulled you out of the river..." I close my eyes as his words trail off, hide from the expression on his face; it's too much right now.
"Everyone I've known and lost, It hurt; but I survived. If you…" He stops, and I can't help but open my eyes again watch his jaw clench, and his eyes shut so tight they crease in the corners.
He breaths slowly while I try to find something to say to make him feel better. I can only think of one thing; it hardly seems like enough. "I'm sorry…"
I know how he feels, which only makes it worse…
I lean into him, press my hands against his chest. "I'm not a shrinking violet. I was raised to be loud, and bold and to just act when something is right… I can't just not do things because they're dangerous; or difficult… and I know that's going to drive you insane… but I promise I'm going to wait for you next time. Together is together right? That means all the time, especially when there's danger…"
His mouth slides over mine, fingers gripping the back of my neck, tangling in my wet hair. I press closer to his chest, wrap my arms around his back. He jumps when my fingernails scrape lightly down his spine. His breath hisses out against my lips in surprise.
"Damn Cold showers."
What?
Oh. Right... I grin against his lips.
I know he can feel it when he leans away from me enough to meet my eyes a perplexed expression on his face for just a moment.
I'm pretty sure I can fix that.
I've wanted to try this forever anyway…
I think he stops breathing when I slide my hands down his ribs, over his hips, keep trailing just my fingertips down his thighs while I kneel in front of him on the floor.
It hits me suddenly that this is the same position Chris tried to force me into just the other day. Maybe that should bother me now…but it doesn't; not with Daryl.
I'm Never afraid with him.
Nervous? Yes, but it's the same jittery stomach butterflies being close to him always gives me. This is also the same position he put himself in the other night, right after I told him he wasn't done apologizing yet, I can feel the flush crawling up my neck, heating my cheeks just thinking about it.
I stare up at him for a second, then have to look away, gather my nerves. I bite my lip and he curses watching me; which wasn't my intention…but it bolsters my courage just the same.
I've never done this. But I've read way too many romance novels where it's prominently featured not to have some idea of what to do. I take him in my hand, slide my palm over his skin. He's started breathing again, quick ragged breaths as I start to touch him, his hands pressed to the tile wall in front of him once again for support.
"You don't have to do that…" His voice is rough and thick. Hearing it sends heat skittering down my spine to thrum in time with my pulse in my center.
No, but I really want to…
I lean forward, run my tongue over his skin. Up one side of his length while he curses, then the down the other; moving my hands out of my way as I twirl my tongue over his tip. I pull him into my mouth, adding suction to just the tip while my hand slides down his shaft to his thick base.
Next I bring my other hand up to cup his balls, warming his skin there with my palm and fingers while he utters a string of groaned curses over my head. I take that as encouragement to increase the pressure of my mouth, working my hand over him as he hardens perfectly against my tongue in a matter of moments.
When I hollow my cheeks pulling back and sliding farther down his length his hips jerk forward in reaction.
"Sorry, sorry…"
I pull him from my mouth, clearing my throat. Sliding the tip of my tongue over his full length again, from base to tip, let my palm slide over the soft skin covering his now throbbing prominent erection.
"it's okay."
I seem to remember not being able to hold still the other night when our positions were reversed…means I'm doing something right…
I slide him past my lips again, drop my hand to his base, working in rhythm over his shaft while his breathing turns shallow, and rushed; he curses, and drops one hand to my shoulder. His fingertips digging into my skin. His other arm keeps him braced against the wall. He shifts forward and when I glance up at him I realize it's because he's leaned his head against the wall next to his hand, breathing hard and unsteady.
I swirl my tongue over his head as I withdraw almost pulling him from my mouth, before sliding back over him, taking him back as far as I can, 'til my eyes water and my throat seizes in a gag and I jerk back coughing.
"Fuck Babe. Stop…don't do that….just stop…" He's shaking his head above me, his hand tightens on my shoulder; fingertips digging almost painfully into my skin.
I frown, clear my throat ignoring his protest and try again pulling a ragged exhale and several harsh surprised curses from his lips.
This time I move slower. Slide my hand in front of my lips so that when his hips jerk in reaction I don't gag as he hits the back of my throat. I swallow a few times, breathing slowly, work my hand down the rest of his length while he curses and swears under his breath, muscles shaking trying not to move.
When I slide him deeper this time I'm more successful. It's still a bit too much, and I have to pull back some. I can't take him all the way in; but judging by the sounds he's making, and his grip on my shoulder and his groan as he shakes and curses and growls my name; I think I've got it right.
I hum in approval around him and he jerks in response voice tight; hand flexing against my collarbone while he asks me to do that again. Cursing and leaning further into the wall groaning words of encouragement and praises when I do.
I repeat the action several times, listening to him before swirling my tongue over his tip, tracing the underside of his head, sliding my tongue down his length and back up the other side.
I gasp in shock when he jerks back from me, seizes me by my arms and hauls me up in a fraction of a second. He presses me into the wall, lifting me up so that when he steps into me, his chest is pinning me to the smooth cool tile.
His hands slip under my ass squeezing and lifting me higher still. I groan feeling his head slide over my folds, squirm against his chest, trying to roll my hips, feel more of him, drive myself down over him burying him in my throbbing empty heat.
My whole belly is on fire, the tingles that trickled up my spine when he first kissed me, amplified tenfold listening to him hiss my name and groan while I touched him and tasted him on my tongue…I'm already wet and ready for him; more than ready…that empty piercing ache hounds me with each heartbeat.
It's the same damn empty throb that drove me to distraction when I first met him, when he exasperated me every five seconds during the day because I couldn't figure him out, and drove myself about mad trying to figure out why I wanted to…needed to understand him so desperately…
I press my forehead to his, slip my fingers through his wet hair while my whole body trembles and tingles with anticipation…waiting to be filled.
"Daryl, please…don't make me wait anymore…"
His breath is warm against my lips. His hands tighten under my thighs, shifting me. I wrap my legs higher over his waist; loop my ankles against his lower back supporting more of my weight. Then I'm shifting my hips so I can drop a hand between us, pushing my lower back off the tile wall enough to make the space I need.
He hisses when my hand wraps around his cock. I slide my palm over him once, shift my hips and feel his hands lift me up while I slide him through my heat and he curses, hips leaping forward the second he's aligned with me.
I gasp and buck forward, rolling my hips into him, pulling my hand away so I can grip his shoulder. Rolling my hips again, right into his next upward thrust sinking over him completely.
My head tips back into the wall while I pant in shock and searing pleasure, trying to keep a handle on the sensations coursing through my belly, zipping up my spine punctuated by each thrust of his hips.
I grind myself against his next thrust, magnifying the sensation spiraling through me as the action hits my clit perfectly. I groan and buck, hiss his name out between clenched teeth while his hands shift to my hips. Then he's jerking my body down roughly against his, driving himself into me with each jagged thrust of his hips; pressing my shoulders into the tile wall with each upwards thrust making my head spin and the crazy overwhelming molten heat swirling through my belly spread. I moan staring blindly at the ceiling overhead, bite my lip while it builds in my core; expands and tightens making it hard to breathe…
so close…
Fireworks light up my spine, set fire to every nerve; burning through me sweet and overwhelming and so intense it's all I can do to not scream. I roll my hips towards his and tremble and gasp and wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders bury my face against his neck breathing him in while my whole body seizes in an instant rush of mind splintering sensation. It floods every nerve locking my muscles around him, pulling him deeper…closer to his own edge. Dragging a strangled cry from my throat as I seize tighter around his next deep thrust, gasping and shuddering and grinding down and….wow…
I'm floating and falling and spinning and ohGod…he doesn't stop; shifts against me while I'm flying apart and trembling and cursing; still begging him not to stop…
He comes hard almost violently, slamming my whole back into the wall with a few final hard deep thrusts punctuating each one with a harsh grunt, and a hissed curse through clenched teeth.
He leans heavily against me both of us nearly falling to the floor, he keeps me pressed to the wall for support fingers tightening over my skin, his chin against my shoulder, forehead pressed to the cool tile wall at my back while I cling to him incapable of doing anything but riding out each shockwave rocketing through me. Every one of them more overwhelming then the one before; starting in my center brought on by his body still driving into my heat; now infinitely slower but just as deep. Each thrust of his hips rolls up my spine; flows down my limbs like water to tingle my fingers.
Heat and light sparks behind my eyes while the edges of my vision go fuzzy and darken because I've forgotten how to breathe; can't…it's too much to focus on even that…there's nothing but overwhelming seizing pleasure and it almost hurts it's so much to feel at once…and Fuck…
I gasp for air and press as close to his skin as I can, trembling, lungs burning for air, mind splintered in a million different directions. My thoughts so scattered I can't gather them into anything but the feel of him right here: his palm pressed to my cheek, fingers sliding back through my hair, holding me close to his chest while we try to catch our breath and I try to memorize exactly how he feels filling me, buried in my heat, so deep and full it's almost too much; and somehow perfect at the same time.
How is it even possible that after all that, even when I'm completely spent my muscles trembling and exhausted; just his warm breath against my neck makes me shiver again, makes my insides clench over him and my spine tingle...and I will never get enough of this man.
His hands pull my hips impossibly tighter against his, grinding against the overstimulated bundle of nerves at my folds: feeling me jerk and hiss in reaction almost tipping me right over the edge again.
His palms slide up my spine soothing the ache I didn't even notice before his fingers started their slow journey over my skin; smoothing over the muscles protesting their rough treatment 'til his hands pause over them: kneading them loose again…and then there's the addicting taste of him on my tongue as I press my lips to his. I possess his mouth with mine, dragging him in deeper and tighter against me. Eager to mirror everything he makes me feel; to show him every sensation his touch sends hurtling through me.
I pull it all into this kiss delight when I feel his fingers tighten again hauling me flush to his bare chest, so tight I can feel his heartbeat against my skin; and I swallow his groan against my mouth. He doesn't pull away, not even after I take my next breath right from his lungs: stealing his air. He moans into my mouth instead pressing me flat against the wall again and I wrap myself impossibly tighter around him forgetting everything but how it feels to be right here with him.
When he pulls away finally I press my forehead to his shoulder, feeling boneless and warm, my whole body still tingling and twitching with aftershocks of his touch…he sets my feet on the floor my muscles spasm and protest loudly enough that I have to lean against his chest for another minute.
I close my eyes against his warm chest and just lose myself to the feeling of his fingertips tracing up and down my spine in a soft soothing pattern, his other fingers curling through my wet hair, cupping the back of my neck pressing me closer to him then I already am.
His whisper against my ear makes me tremble, and my eyes slip shut face pressed against his chest listening to his heartbeat under my ear.
"What does it say about us that we have to almost lose each other to get anywhere?"
I don't know what to say to that...
Part of me wants to just blurt it out; tell him that I'm safe; that he'll never lose me; not like that… that the only dangerous thing in the room is him…that he could destroy me with just a few words. That I love him so much it hurts.
The words sit right on the tip of my tongue…but I close my mouth over them, press closer to his skin instead. My hands sliding down his chest down over his ribs until they're resting on his hips, before sliding around his lower back pulling myself against his chest in a tight hug.
After last night; everything he said…
'I love you' seems strangely underwhelming…cliché somehow…
It's almost as if we're both avoiding those exact words at all cost.
Like saying them will make it too real; or labeling this will change us somehow; make us more vulnerable. Though I can't imagine being more vulnerable then I already am right now.
It's the only thing he didn't say last night, for all his words…
'I love you' has never been said by either of us
Though I've been so close too many times…
Because I do.
God I do.
Pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat; knowing he's alive and safe in this moment at least… I can't breathe around the heavy ache in my chest, the thought of losing him is paralyzing. I never needed anyone before; but…I need him.
God what have I done?
I cling tighter to him, press myself as close as I physically can while his arms tighten around me.
It's terrifying
I'm utterly and completely; undeniably, devastatingly… in Love
And I just know I'm going to lose him somehow, and it's going to destroy me
it's inevitable…especially in this harsh and brutal world.
Maybe if we could go to Winchester with Luke... Maybe I could convince them to let everyone in.
I have something they might consider beyond value to trade for their promised safety; then just maybe we could all be safe together; not have to fight everyday just to survive, constantly pinning our hopes and lives on one false dream after another until our luck runs out.
Abby's words the day she died still haunt me.
'we're safe…'
Maybe it's doesn't have to be a false hope…
Maybe we could all be Safe.
I've got to talk to Luke before he leaves.
"We should get dressed…"
He doesn't let go, presses his lips to my temple so gently it makes my next breath unsteady and my chest tighten again squeezing my heart.
"Daryl…" I stare up at him, bite my lip and drop my gaze again.
I can't say it.
It makes it too real.
I kiss him again instead. Leaning up onto my toes to wrap my arms around his neck melting into his warmth. I'm just starting to buzz and feel that telltale heat gather at the base of my spine despite still feeling totally boneless and completely sated from earlier when he pulls back…
"We should get dressed, help clean up…"
or I could just keep kissing him; never stop…
"You have to say Goodbye to Luke." His tone is apprehensive, eyes tight mouth pulled into a hard line.
Yes. I bite my lip again. And then there's that.
I'll have to pull Luke aside first; drag the answers I desperately need from him.
Maybe when he goes back he can work something out for me. He said something about not knowing any other girls who are immune…that they might need Me…
The thought also makes me shudder inside.
If they're experimenting on some of the people already there I have no idea what they might do to me…
If I could trade whatever answers I might contain for everyone's safety would it be worth it?
If such a thing were even possible…could I do it?
Hell of a choice.
Be selfish so I can stay with Daryl and sacrifice what's left of the World…
Or risk going to Winchester; where they might take me away from him, if the truth doesn't drive him away from me first…
Would it be worth it? Losing him forever, having him hate me if I knew he would always be safe?
God…
I need to talk to Luke.
He's staring at me again, eyes dark and guarded like he can hear the thoughts tumbling end over end in my mind. I try to smile reassuringly at him, hide the dark direction of my thoughts. "This is going to suck."
"You want Luke to stay here…"
I stare at his tight expression, watch him fidget nervously. "Of course, but it's not going to happen; he has to finish what he's doing for his group: It's more important than staying with family."
"Seraphim, where is his Group? He hasn't said anything to Rick, dodges the question every time…"
I bite my lip.
"You know." It's not a question,and he doesn't look happy; after what happened today with Chris I can hardly blame him. "How can we be sure they're not a danger to us?"
"They're not." I shake my head pulling away from him slowly, moving to grab my clothes from the table. I start pulling them on with my back to him.
They're not a danger to us. They're more than two whole states away: hundreds of miles separate us…
They might as well be on the moon.
I don't even know how I might get everyone there safely if I wanted too. Hundreds of miles with small kids and needing food and shelter from random Walkers, gas for transport on the road in unfamiliar territory and the possibility of dangerous people we'd have no knowledge about until we accidently ran into them…
My stomach knots thinking of Luke out there again, all the things that could go wrong…
"So, Where is Winchester?"
I freeze shirt halfway over my head.
I didn't realize he heard that part of our conversation…that Daryl knows where Luke is going.
What else did he hear? I yank my shirt down, turn to face him still only half dressed. "It's not important."
"What makes you so sure they won't come after us like that Asshole in Woodbury? Rick needs to know that, I need to know that."
I'm shaking my head again. "Because they couldn't care less about a handful of people hundreds of miles away; Winchester is…I guess you could call it the government's Armageddon plan. It might be one of the last pockets of civilization…"
"Then why aren't we all going with them?" He pauses taking in my dark expression. "I see. They won't take us… I get it. It's one of those 'Fancy' places, don't need a bunch of nobody's dragging them down; limited resources or whatever their bullshit reasoning is; But you're a Doctor—"
"Don't you Dare!"
He stops at my snarl, drops his chin and stares down at his bare feet, crossing his arms tight over his chest, jaw clenching again.
"I'm not going anywhere without you." Like I could leave him behind to die some violent pointless death while I went off to some VIP Utopia? That he would even suggest it makes my blood boil. Even when I thought he was using me…the thought of leaving him behind made my chest ache…
"You could be safe…"
"Not without you! It's not worth a Damn without you. I don't want to live without You! I can't, Okay?!" Just the thought makes my eyes burn, my chest constricts squeezing my lungs… too tight to breathe…
"I…" love you… Words fail me, catch on the choking knot lodged in my throat.
I press my fists over my eyes, shut them as tight as I can trying to stop the tears. All the air rushes out of my lungs in a startled burst when I feel him touch me.
My hands drop from my face, arms wrapping around his back without having to open my eyes. I turn into him hiding my face in his t-shirt when he pulls me into a tight hug that also makes it hard to breathe…
"Not without you," It's a barely audible mumble against this chest; but he hears it. Nods his chin against the top of my head.
"I'm staying with you, I belong here. With you."
"Okay." His voice is tight over my head.
We don't speak for a long moment.
"You should go say goodbye to Luke before Rick starts thinking about that Shit he pulled earlier and decides to shoot Chris and save us a lot of trouble."
Right.
I still can't believe that Chris would so something like that…
Trying to get back at me is one thing; but this wasn't putting sand in my engine block or keying my car; or telling everyone we know that I'm a lying bitch…
There's a huge difference between Chris nursing his wounded pride over being rejected and trying to expose my secret; almost getting innocent people killed in the process…
Though I still can't believe that was his intention; to actually want to get people killed…
That would make Chris pure evil; I can't believe that; I just can't…
I can believe that he's a selfish moron; I've held that belief for years.
Chris must have assumed that Luke and I would simply expose ourselves when faced with so many Walkers at once… that we would try to stop them without endangering any Norms.
And then he'd have exactly what he wanted: his revenge.
Daryl and the others would see what Luke and I could do and be horrified, they'd reject me the same way Chris felt I'd rejected him.
Daryl lets me go so I can finish getting dressed. Follows me back out into the warehouse silently.
Rick waves him over the second we come back out, are close enough to the rest of the group to be noticeable.
They're gathering the bodies, piling them onto two empty pallets they've placed over the front tins of the forklift; making a perfect vehicle for carrying the fallen bodies out through the back of the warehouse through the empty loading dock. This way they won't have to open the front of the warehouse; since they can't do that, not with the rest of the Walkers still on the other side trapped in the fence.
Chris made a serious dent in the population out front… I hope it will still be enough to deter anyone that wanders by and sees them. If there are too few someone might get bold and risk investigating the rest of the building…
I feel glued to the cement under my boots staring down at the dead body now lying lifeless on the floor. The realization of just how close Chris came to exposing my secret to everyone washing over me.
It sits like a heavy oppressive weight in the pit of my stomach, twisting my insides with anxiety I can't quite shake off. I'm still staring at its dead face when Daryl comes back.
He pauses a few feet away watching me. "You okay?"
I nod. I have to be. What else can I do?
"Rick said Luke came down looking for us a few minutes ago—"
Oh, guess we were gone a while…
I feel my cheeks flush. I really hope he didn't look for us when Rick told him where we went…
"He's waiting for you upstairs."
"Okay."
He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting shifting his balance around. "Do you want me—"
"yes."
He stops staring down at me face scrunched in confusion. "—to stay here or go?"
Right, I didn't let him finish before I answered…I blush harder.
I should leave him here. Talk to Luke alone… but after our earlier conversation; I just can't.
Somehow leaving Daryl downstairs and going to talk to Luke alone knowing that just a few short minutes ago Daryl mentioned me going with them feels like a betrayal. I shot that idea down just as quickly as he brought it up; but somehow I feel like it's not settled…
"Come with me, please."
"Alright, if that's what you want."
I nod "It is." I turn around and head back down to the chain link fence, and upstairs to find Luke. Daryl follows silently behind me.
:: Walking Dead ::