Daryl

The sun sets behind the rooftops, casting elongated shadows out into the road. As the end of my cigarette continues to burn, smoke floating up in front of my face, I glance down the street towards Blaire's house. The upstairs light is on. Behind me, the front door opens, footsteps causing the wooden boards of the porch to creak a little. Glancing to my right, I see Rick taking a seat on the front steps. For a long while we don't say anything. I've not had a chance to talk to him about his thoughts on Blaire yet. Although the others seemed to warm up to her quickly, Rick could have a completely different take on how the night went.

"She's scared," Rick finally says, breaking the silence. "I saw her jumping at every little thing. Someone opened a cabinet or coughed and she reached right for that knife on her belt."

I drop the butt of my cigarette down into the bushes, "She ain't used to being around people."

"You said she was alone when you found her? Are we sure? Could there have been people hidden in the woods?"

"Naw. She was alone," I assure Rick. "We walked all along the edge of that property. If there were others I would've picked up some kinda hint of 'em."

Rick nods, "Why are you fighting for her?"

Letting out a long sigh, I glance back up at Rick, my fingers playing with the thin twine tied around my wrist. He holds my stare or a second before dropping it to glance at the bracelet. Beth told me to care, to try and keep living and to help others keep living. Something in the way Blaire turned and looked at me, reminded me of those words and I've not been able to shake them. I want to. I want to stomp the memory of that smiling' blonde out of my mind forever, but I can't. Everything reminds me of her; from the bracelet she gave me to the grass growing in the front yards here, to the stupid duck that swims around on the pond. She told me I was going to miss her. Beth was always right.

"We need people, Rick. She needs people. Nobody can survive on their own no more. We gotta give a shit."

"Yeah," Rick nods. "Yeah."

Stepping off the porch, I pull out another cigarette, lighting it. Smoke fills my lungs, my chest burning. I soak in this feeling before letting out a sigh, the smoke twisting into the night. As I pass the pond in the middle of Alexandria, I stop, looking down at the glassy surface.

"You know those things will kill you?" the voice behind me causes me to jump, dropping my cigarette onto the grass.

"Shit woman," I grumble as I pull another out. "Don't sneak up on a man when he's trying to smoke."

"I didn't take you as someone who spooks easily Daryl Dixon." Blaire comes to stand beside me, her arms crossed in front of her. "I was on a walk and saw you and Rick talking on his porch. It didn't look like it was going very well."

"Shouldn't be spying on people," I answer back, taking a drag off my new cigarette.

Blaire stares ahead, eventually lowering herself onto the grass. Tilting her head back she pats the spot next to her before going back to looking into the water. As I join her on the ground she runs her fingers through the grass, pulling a few pieces up and examining them. The brunette is barefoot. I notice a flower and a date tattooed on the top of her foot. "It isn't spying if you're out in public, at that point, it's just observing."

"Ain't they the same?"

"No," Blaire answers, pulling her knees up to her chest and warping her arms around them. "Where do you live Daryl?"

"At Rick's."

"Out of choice or convenience?"

"He had room," I answer not understanding why she cares where I've chosen to lay my head. Deanna gave our group places to live and we split up accordingly. "What're you on about anyway?"

Blaire shrugs, "Just trying to make conversation. I can't be shut in that house anymore. Everything in it makes my skin crawl. It's like one of those fancy model homes they used to show on TV. I'm afraid if I touch something I'll taint it. I got home from dinner and some lady came by and asked if she could bring me a meal sometime. I slammed the door in her face."

I nod, understanding the feeling. These people here, they're inviting to the point of being overbearing. They can't understand why it's taking my group longer to adjust. They're going to do the same thing to Blaire. "Dig through the house. Open closets, look under the couch cushions, you'll find lil' bits of the people who lived there before. Break a plate or two."

Blaire glances over at me, raising an eyebrow, "Break plates?"

"Just a suggestion."

"You are something else, Daryl Dixon."

I smirk, flicking the butt of my cigarette into the pond, "Don't you forget it."

After a few seconds of silence, Blaire stands, offering me her hand. I wrap my fingers around her wrist, allowing her to help me up off the ground. I give her a quizzical look, not sure what she's doing.

"Let's go break some plates."

Blaire

After a moment's hesitation, Daryl follows me back up the street towards my house. Once inside, I pull open a few cabinets filled with various dishes. Pulling out a stack, I hand over a cream colored plate to Daryl before taking on for myself. He stares at me, as if he's not convinced I'll actually do this. Taking a deep breath I throw the plate to the hardwood floor, grinning as it shatters. My gaze shifts to Daryl. He's flipping the plate around in his hands. "Go on. This was your idea."

Daryl grunts before letting the plate fall from his hands and onto the floor. It lands on its side, rolling off into the living room. I follow the plate's path until it disappears before turning to look back at Daryl. He meets my gaze, frowning a little. Suddenly, laughter bubbles up inside of me, spilling past my lips. Grabbing another plate, I toss it at the wall. The bowman continues to stare at me, a quizzical look etched into his features. Nonetheless, he picks up a plate, throwing it at the same spot on the wall. It bursts into dozens of pieces. For a split second I see the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile.

Eventually, I collapse on the couch breathing heavy. Daryl doesn't loosen up as much as me, but there is a sparkle in his eyes, like he's slowly remembering a piece of himself that he thought would never return. He lowers himself onto the floor, head resting on the couch cushion next to me. Sliding my fingers over the smooth material, I let the tip of my fingers brush over the ends of Daryl's dark hair. His body jerks, the muscles in his neck tensing. I stop my movement but don't move my hand away. As he begins to relax my movement starts again. This time Daryl remains relaxed, allowing me to twist and untwist a few strands of his hair around my finger.

"Ya feel better?" Daryl questions, turning his head to the left so that he can look at me.

"Yeah. Thank you." I smile down at the bowman, removing my hand from under his head, running my fingers down the exposed skin of Daryl's neck. "I needed this."

Daryl sits up, curling his knees to his chest, picking his head up off the couch. I've pushed him too far and now he's shutting down again. Frowning, I place my hand back in my lap. The urge to ask what happened to him fills me but I force it away. Now isn't the time. The man sitting before me is fighting some kind of internal battle, which he needs to get ahold of before sharing it with someone else. "I gotta go."

"I'm sorry."

I get a grunt in reply as Daryl pushes himself up off the floor. Sitting on the couch I watch as the bowman walks through the kitchen, pulling my front door open and slamming it shut behind him.

"Shit." I run my hands over my face, fingers burying in my hair. For a while, I sit with my head in my hands. Eventually, I get up, beginning to follow the trail of broken places to the kitchen. Once there, I empty out the welcome basket I was given earlier, placing the broken pieces of ceramic plate in it.

I end up in the living room, laid out across the deep blue carpet. My eye stay set on an imperfection on the ceiling as tears spill down the side of my face. Hours later, my eyes burn and my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Duke nudges me a few times with his nose, meowing at me until I get up and open a pouch of tuna for him. As he eats I fill a glass with water, drinking it slowly. Looking around the kitchen, I let out a long sigh. The stove clock reads one thirteen. Dumping the rest of my water down the drain, I hurry up the stairs. Daryl's right. This house has to have some kind of history. I intend to find it.

By the time the sun begins to peak through the front window I've searched through the whole house, top to bottom and found quite a stash. Whoever lived here before the shit hit the fan was a closeted alcoholic. I discover a safe in the closet, prying it open with my ax. Bottles of rum stare back. There was also another stash of alcohol hidden in the crawl space under the stairs. In total I have about ten bottles of rum, most with only a sip or two missing. In the bedroom Duke claimed, I find a whole assortment of homemade mix CDs along with an electric keyboard.

The attic contains the most information regarding the old family. A few boxes full of photo albums reveal a mom and dad with two kids. They looked happy; like they'd achieved everything they wanted in life. Towards the end of the albums the mom disappeared and the dad started to look tired, the smile he wore in the early pictures gone. There is also a box full of playing cards and board games. I bring the stuff I found in the attic down into the living room. The games find a place on the bookshelf. A picture of the previous owners now looks down at me from above the fireplace. I burn everything else.

Sitting on the front porch I watch as the sun continues to rise over the top of the homes lining my street. The gallon size bag full of cereal I was given sits next to me, the top open, ready for me when I get hungry. I've always liked mornings, right as the sun is coming up, when the whole world is still sleeping. It's quiet and for those few minutes I always feel like I am the only human being on the planet. I smirk at this thought. I used to wish for something like this to happen so I could stop struggling to make ends meet, stop working for a boss who only saw me as a sex object. I guess people always used to tell us to watch what we wished for.

Reaching into the bag of cereal, I take out a handful, popping it into my mouth and chewing slowly. Off in the distance, a crow cries out, the sound cutting through the silence. Then, just like that, Alexandria springs to life. The doctor unlocks the infirmary door, squinting against the sun. A group of women walks past, chatting casually all wearing smiles.

"Pardon me for saying this, but you look like grade A shit." standing at the bottom of the porch steps is Tara along with the tall redhead I met last night at Rick's. I search my memory for a name but come up blank.

"It was a long night," I answer back taking another handful of cereal. "Do you two need something?"

"Abraham and I are taking the first shift in the tower and we saw you awake and came to see if you wanted to join us," Tara answers with a warm smile.

"The tower?"

"It is a lookout station just outside of the front gate. The guards take turns manning it. From up there you can see anything that might be coming our way," Abraham steps forwards, resting his foot on the bottom step, leaning down to rest his elbow on his knee.

Glancing up at him, I continue to chew the mouthful of my breakfast, swallowing hard. "As mentally stimulating as that sounds, I'm going to pass. You two have fun though."

Tara's smile falls as I stand, gathering up my things. My vision is blurred, thoughts fuzzy from multiple nights of little to no sleep. If I climb into bed now I might be able to fall asleep for a few hours. I don't want to lose that time to guard duty. "Blaire, what're you going to do instead?"

"Sleep," I respond before yanking the front door open and shutting it quickly, blocking out everything.

Daryl

Rick and Michonne wake up early, each dressed in their new cop uniforms. I pretend to be asleep as the two go through their morning routine, eating cereal with powdered milk and talking about this new home and the people living within it. As the front door shuts, I sit up yawning as I stretch my stiff limbs. Sleeping on the couch every night is starting to take a toile on me. Per usual, Rick has written a note, letting me now that Michonne and him have left to do their jobs. They'll be back late, ass-kicker's food is on the top shelf of the fridge, blah, blah, blah. It's the same thing every day. I don't even know why he bothers to write the damn things anymore. I know what I'm supposed to be doing. Who knew that the world would end and my role in things would be a glorified babysitter.

"Morning Daryl," Carl yawns, Judith on his hip. "She was crying. I think it's her teeth again."

Nodding, I pull open the freezer and grab a frozen spoon, handing it to Carl. "Here, let 'er chew on that."

Carl takes it, letting Judith stick the handle into her mouth. "Did you stay with Blaire last night? I saw you two at the lake."

"Naw. I was on the couch last night. You got school today?"

"No. Will you feed her so I can eat? Ron, Enid, and I are going to hang out at Ron's later. That's okay, right?"

Taking Judith from Carl, I pull her food out of the fridge, handing her a green bean. She takes it from me, chewing happily, cooing for another. I smile down at her, swaying back and forth. "There wasn't nothin' in your dad's note saying you couldn't. What'd you think of Blaire?"

Grunting, I move back over to the couch as Carl leaves through the back door.

Michonne comes home around lunchtime, relieving me of babysitting duty. We sit on the porch, passing a bag of potato chips between us. She seems to be adjusting to our new living situation fairly well. Michonne wants to give these people the benefit of the doubt. She feels like although they aren't the most skilled, they've kept these walls up since the beginning and that counts for something. I've come around to her point of view. "Tara came to talk to me today after her shift in the tower."

"And?" I answer, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"She said her and Abraham saw Blaire sitting out of her porch. They asked her if she wanted to join them on guard duty. She told them no, that she was going to sleep. No one has seen her all day. Pete said she missed her appointment with him today as well."

Taking a drag off my cigarette, I twist around in the rocking chair. "She's just trying to adjust. I talked to her last night. She's overwhelmed. Come on, you know how these people can be."

"These people aren't an excuse for her behavior, Daryl. Rick made her your responsibility. I know that you saw something in her, but not too many of us have quite grasped what that is exactly. Now, Rick wanted to make you send her away after dinner, but I convinced him to give her a chance."

"She's just tryin' to adjust. I'll talk to her," I mumble back. "Don't know when we started turnin' people away because they're a lil' rough 'round the edges."

"There is a difference between rough and a liability. We both know that."

"Yeah. You home for good?"

"Yes."

Nodding, I stand up and flick my cigarette butt over the porch railing. "I'm gonna go talk to her."

Michonne nods as I walk down the steps, heading across the street towards Blaire's house. The red front door is shut, all the curtains pulled across the windows. Knocking, I wait a few seconds; listening for any movement within, when I get nothing I knock again. I want Blaire to work out here, but I'm beginning to lose faith in her. So far Blaire's not been doing herself any favors. I know what it's like to want to give up, but I pulled myself out of that place because I needed to. After another knock, I try the knob. It turns and I push the door open.

"Blaire!" I call through the house, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Our mess from last night has been cleaned up, every last object put back in its proper spot.

"Go away!" a weak voice sounds from the second floor.

"We gotta talk. Tara said something to Michonne." I answer back, taking the steps two at a time. At the tops of the steps is a white door, it's ajar and through the crack, I can see Blaire. Shoving the door open, I walk across the room. There is a bottle of rum sitting on the bedside table, still mostly full of the brown liquid. "You sacred or somethin'?"

Blaire keeps her back to me, "No."

"You been drinkin'?" I lift the bottle off the table as I come to stand next to Blaire's bed.

"No," the brunette answers quietly. "It doesn't help."

Nodding, I place the bottle back down, chewing on my thumb, "Good. Ain't nothin' but trouble."

"Do you have nightmares, Daryl? I close my eyes and relive the death of everyone I cared about and it makes me want to put a bullet in my brain. So, instead of doing that, I don't sleep. I'll stay up for days at a time. Eventually, my body just shuts down. I can sleep then."

Letting out a sigh, I sit down on the edge of Blaire's bed. She rolls over, her cloudy eyes meeting mine. Her face is puffy and tears still stream down her face. Although she's under the blankets, I can see that she's shaking. "You gotta stop, Blaire. Deanna ain't gonna let you stay if you can't contribute."

"Then kick me out."

"Don't wanna do that," I answer, reaching forward and wiping Blaire's cheek with my thumb. She curls her fingers around my hand, holding it to her face. I fight the urge to jerk away, taking a deep breath in through my nose and letting it out slowly through my mouth.

"Who gave you the bracelet?"

"Beth."

"What happened?"

"Some bitch shot her right in front of me. We were so close to havin' her back. She was right there 'n' then it just ended. I know what those nightmares are like. If I had just moved faster, shot first –"

Thin arms wrapping around my shoulders cut my thoughts short. Blaire has moved from her spot under the covers, her body now curled around mine. I breathe in her scent, soaking in the warmth she has to offer. Instead of going tense and shrugging her off, I melt into the touch, transported back to the day in the woods when Beth did this very same thing.