For what seemed like the umpteenth time in a row, Daryl startled awake and lunged for his crossbow. His eyes scanned his surroundings and he quickly realized why he'd jolted awake. Liz, who was curled up next to him on a concrete stair landing, was stretching in her sleep. Her freckled arms reached out from under his poncho she was wearing and brushed over his stomach. Daryl shifted his weight on the floor to get comfortable again. The silence had taken a while to get used to, since their normal habitat was anywhere they could hole up while walkers snarled outside.
Rick's group had stumbled upon a prison and cleared a block for themselves. Spirits were soaring at the thought that they'd have an actual home and a place to stay. Daryl didn't dare get his hopes up, but he enjoyed the cheer among the group. As the winter had dragged on, more assorted mishaps and shortfalls had worn on the group morale. The prison was a large victory that they'd desperately needed.
T-Dog's snoring caught Daryl's attention. He listened to the steady rumbling and grinned when a soft female voice joined in the night symphony. T-Dog snored. Beth talked in her sleep. Liz occasionally thrashed to get more comfortable. Carl hadn't sleepwalked for some time, thank god. Daryl closed his eyes. Everything was well for another night, at least.
Liz scowled at Daryl and crossed her arms. "I'm going." The winter on the run had changed her. Her face was hard and weathered and she looked more like her dead brother Shane than anyone cared to admit. Her black hair had grown long and unruly. She'd tried to twist it into dreadlocks, but instead had ended up with a giant mane she tied back with a black bandana. Her muscles had grown and she was long and lean. Her tattoos were often covered in dirt and grime, but she hadn't worried about trivial things like that for months.
Liz often slept with Daryl on the stair landing, but enjoyed having her own cell and cot. The pair had grown inseparably close, yet both often wandered off to find their own space. This morning the group was acting like they weren't witnessing yet another stalemate between the pair regarding a run to clear the prison.
"I'm going," Liz repeated. She turned and picked up her pistol and knife.
"You ain't. We got enough people. Stay here." Daryl hoisted his crossbow higher. "Someone's gotta keep everyone here safe."
"That's bullshit. It's a prison. There are cells to keep them safe."
"It'd be bullshit if you came and got hurt." Daryl replied plainly.
"You can't tell me what I can and can't do. You don't think I can do it," Liz snapped.
"No," Daryl agreed, raising his voice. He took a step closer and narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't."
Liz took a step back. Carl and Lori shifted uncomfortably and looked away. Everyone else was in the lunchroom loading up their weapons for the prison sweep, or organizing supplies in the cells.
"I ain't dragging you into God knows what's down there." Daryl stared at her unapologetically. "Be mad. I don't give a shit." He turned to leave.
Liz sneered. "I may as well start calling you Shane."
Daryl's lip curled, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned and marched toward Rick and the scouting group.
After a moment, Liz snarled aloud. "Wait." She ran after him and spun him around roughly. "I'll kill you if you die." She pressed her lips into his and kissed him aggressively.
"That's the deal," Daryl mumbled into her mouth. "Ouch," he hissed when she nipped his bottom lip.
"For the record, you're an ass and I'm pissed." Liz sneered after him as he joined the men.
Daryl turned and shot her another look. "No kiddin'." He grinned at her sneer before taking off to clear the prison.
The calls came before the footsteps did. "Get supplies!" "Get the first aid kit!" "Help!" "Get a bed ready!" "We need help!"
Liz jumped up and unlocked the cell block door. The group came pounding by in a blur, with someone on a cart, and a lot of blood dribbling onto the floor behind them. "What happen-" she started, but stopped when the cart came to a halt. Hershel's leg had been hacked off and he was bleeding and unconscious. "Carl, get the kit! The first aid kit!" Liz called. Carl took off, his eyes wide in horror.
The women in the cell block ran to the commotion. Maggie and Beth bent over their dad in horror and T-Dog had to drag them away so Lori and Carol could work on him.
"Oh, god," Lori exclaimed, pressing a towel to the stump of Hershel's leg. "What happened? Is anyone else hurt? Rick?"
Rick gave Lori a pained look and shook his head. "'s fine. Just Hershel."
"Who are they?" Carol asked, nodding toward the gate.
Liz glanced up from Hershel just long enough to see a group of living men standing opposite of them.
"Prisoners," Daryl's voice came. He was standing at the gate with his bow raised. "They ain' comin' in here."
Liz dropped her head back down and reached for a piece of gauze. They needed Hershel. Lori's baby was due any day. Maggie and Beth needed their father. They all needed his wisdom. The group couldn't take the blow of losing someone.
"This was supposed to be the end of shit like this," Liz growled in anguish. She glanced up and locked eyes with Rick. "I thought the prison was supposed to be safe."
Rick's lip curled and he backed away slowly, his hand on his pistol. Liz had already turned her attention back to Hershel and didn't notice him stalk out of the cell and storm away.
"He's gonna live," Beth said plainly that night. "He will." She nodded.
Maggie stared glumly at her but didn't speak. The glow of the lanterns reflected in her green eyes.
"Yeah," Glenn added quietly from beside her. "He'll be all right." He wrapped his arm around Maggie and gave her a squeeze, but she scooted further away and continued her silent solace.
Daryl stood up and grabbed his bow. "I'm takin' watch," he grumbled.
"Liz is already out there," Rick replied.
"Then I'll keep her company," Daryl mumbled. He didn't care who was on watch or what was outside. He'd take a dozen walkers over the awkward sorrow inside. Hershel wasn't dead, but he could be in an hour or a day. When there was nothing he could do to help, it left Daryl feeling especially agitated and restless. As he walked out to the guard tower, his mind replayed the events of the run and what had gone badly. He felt guilty. If he'd been faster or in a different spot Hershel wouldn't be missing a leg and dying in a prison. On the other hand, if things had gone any differently, someone could have died straight-up. He shook his head and tried to push the thoughts away.
A shuffling sound caught his attention. In one swift move, Daryl rose the bow and looked through the scope at his target. He snorted when a fluffy grey cat stared back at him through the crosshairs. "You seekin' refuge, too?" When the cat meeeowed at him in reply, he grinned. If animals were hiding out in the prison, it must not be too overrun. He picked up the cat and carried it out to the guard tower.
Liz had seen Daryl coming, so she didn't jump when he stepped into the tower. She did jump, however, when a cat meow rang out.
"Brought you a present," Daryl said dryly. The cat leapt from his arms onto Liz's shoulder. It meowed again and perched itself on her collarbone and shoulder.
"Where the hell did you find a cat?" Liz asked, reaching up and petting the silky fur.
"Inside," Daryl replied, sitting down. "Busy night?"
"Took down three in about two hours. Pretty slow." Liz pulled the cat into her arms and continued to stroke his fur. She stared at the animal's yellow eyes and tried to avoid Daryl's gaze. Liz wanted to ask what exactly had happened during the run, but she pretty much knew. Things went south frequently. Situations never went as you expected them to. They'd learned that time and time again as they went from house to house during the winter. No one had paid such a price, though. "How's Hershel?" she asked at last. The cat jumped up onto the window ledge and sat for a moment before jumping out onto the walk and strolling back to the prison.
"Alive."
Liz nodded and decided whether she wanted to fight or not. As exhausting as it was to see Hershel on what could be his death bed, she decided to pick one. "Maybe that wouldn't have happened if you let me come on the run."
Daryl studied Liz's face. Her nostrils were flared and she wasn't blinking at him. He knew the look: she was looking to fight with him. He didn't want to waste his breath fighting an argument he couldn't win, but he prepared for battle anyway. "Maybe that would've happened sooner."
Liz narrowed her eyes and gave her fiercest sneer. "More manpower is always better. Apparently you men didn't have it handled like you all always say."
"We didn't have anyone to babysit, so yeah, we had it handled."
"You needed another weapon. I could have saved him, maybe."
"You could be dead and buried, maybe." Daryl's nostrils flared.
Liz recoiled. "Why do you always do that?"
"It ain' a game, Liz. Don't be like Andrea. You'll go on runs when you need you. Don't put yourself in danger just to do it." Daryl crossed his arms and pursed his lips.
"Don't call me Andrea," Liz snarled. "I'mma ask you somethin'. Do you really think I'm as much of a liability as her?" She turned on Daryl and pressed her finger into his chest. "I've saved your ass more than once."
Daryl looked down his nose at the girl staring up at him. Her amber eyes flashed in anger, but
he shook his head. "Stop."
"You're saying I didn't?" Liz growled. When Shane had died, she'd expected a level of freedom. Yet Rick, Daryl, and everyone else had stepped in and assured that she remained protected and in the backseat. While Maggie picked up a gun and learned to shoot, Liz was told to stay behind. She gritted her teeth and tried to hold back angry tears. "I'm not a kid. I'm not some useless-"
"You want me to let you go out and get yourself killed to prove a point?" Daryl spoke. His voice was dangerously quiet.
"I want you to-"
"It don't matter what you want anymore," Daryl snapped. "Quit bein' dramatic. You miss all the attention?" He leaned forward and Liz backed down out of habit. "People got better shit to worry about and aren't makin' a huge deal of being around you – that puttin' you in a mood?"
"I'm not in a mood, and you know that's crap. I'm not like that!" Liz cried, reaching out and giving Daryl a shove.
Before she could reach out again, Daryl grabbed her arms, spun her around, and crushed her back against his chest. "I said stop," he hissed in her ear.
Liz's anger boiled over into lust. A belligerent sexual tension always hung in the air when they argued. She sucked in a breath through her teeth and arched her back, effectively grinding her ass against Daryl. Chills ran down her arms and she craned her neck to his. "I don't want to stop," she whispered before kissing him.
Daryl released her and Liz immediately pulled off her shirt. He leaned against the wall and pulled the girl against him as their lips crashed together in a messy, passionate kiss. Daryl fumbled with the clasp of her bra as Liz deftly whipped off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. Her fingers brushed along the bands of muscle on his abdomen and she purred. A frantic air sizzled around them as they undressed each other.
Words and sentiments tumbled around Daryl's mind as he picked up Liz and held her against the wall. None of them would form together into a coherent thought, so he gave a smirk and chuckle as Liz wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her nails down his back.
"What's so funny?" Liz whispered.
"Never thought prison sex could be like this," he mumbled as he pushed into her. He bit his bottom lip and tipped his head back. "Ah, fuck." It had been some time since they'd had a chance to be together, and even when he replayed their previous encounters in his head, she never felt this tight. A warm sensation spread from the bottom of his torso into his stomach. He squeezed Liz's ass and enjoyed that in a world where everything was hard and jagged, she was soft and plump.
Liz held herself up on Daryl's shoulders and rolled her hips back and forth as Daryl thrusted. "Harder," she hissed. She pressed her nails into the skin of Daryl's back, careful not to catch one of his scars. "Harder."
He obeyed and fucked her until her legs trembled against him. Daryl pulled back and let Liz's feet drop to the floor. "Bend over," he growled.
Liz stumbled to the wall and leaned against it, staring out over the horizon as she did. No walkers. Suddenly Daryl's hands were on her hips, and his hard cock squeezed into her from behind. She let out a soft moan and braced herself against the wall as he slammed into her.
Daryl bit his lip and tried not to groan as he slowed his pace. He watched as the black tattoos on her skin twitched as he made contact with her. Her black hair was tumbling down onto her back, her porcelain skin glowing in the moonlight. The toned muscles in her back flexed and relaxed as she worked her body to his rhythm.
"Daryl," Liz breathed as waves of euphoria shook her body. Her nipples tingled as she came. She arched her back and cried out before laughter bubbled through the tower. Liz's muscles contracted and Daryl came shortly after.
"Geeze," Liz breathed. "We should fight more often."
Daryl grinned and pulled his jeans back on. "I ain' no help in there. I'm gon' stay here. You can go in, if you want. I'll cover your guard duty."
Liz pulled her clothes back on and shook her head. "Nah." She watched Daryl fasten his belt. "I'm gonna be busy here in another twenty minutes or so."
Daryl pulled her against him and kissed her. In a world that made absolutely no sense, complete with the walking dead and a celebrity sleeping in his arms every night, things could be worse.