Daryl

As I go to roll over, trying to get more comfortable on the small couch, I fall to the floor, knocking into the coffee table. My legs become tangled in the blanket that I don't remember having when I fell asleep. Blaire's cat watches me, blinking its big yellow eyes as I try to untwist myself from the thin material. Glancing around I notice the playing cards, plates with half-eaten sandwiches and the empty bottle of Rum. I gave in and helped Blaire finish the whole thing. I was fine, not once feeling like I was going to start raging or lose control. I didn't see Beth. I let myself enjoy the night.

Picking up the dishes, I wander into the kitchen, searching the cabinets for anything other than peanut butter and jelly. Next to the refrigerator, I find a half-empty gallon bag of cereal. I dig in, looking around for packets of powdered milk. After a few minutes, I give up. The lynx follows me around, wandering back and forth on the counters after I've sat down. As he starts to head upstairs I call out to him. "Ya let her sleep. Come 'ere."

Once again I look through the cabinets. I'm not sure what Blaire feeds the thing, but he seems to be interested in the pouches of tuna. Opening one up, I dump it into a bowl, leaving it on the floor, watching as he eats. I can't help but wonder how serious Blaire was about me taking her out to learn to shoot the crossbow. We were both pretty drunk at that point. She could have been joking around. Getting out of Alexandria for a little doesn't sound like such a bad idea. It might do the both of us some good. I'd also really love to see how my bike rides.

After shoving the bag of cereal back into the cabinet, I head outside, sitting down on the porch. It's quieter down on Blaire's side of the street. Her house butts up to the end of the fence, no other building next to her on the right. A few people walk up the street, heading towards the center of the blocked off neighborhood. If Aaron and I bring in too many more people Alexandria will be forced to expand. Most of the houses are filled and the townhomes near the front gate aren't completed enough to have people living in long-term.

"Hey," Aaron jogs across the street. He eyes me before glancing at Blaire's house, his gaze settling on me once again. "Everything good with her?"

"Yeah. She's doin' good."

Aaron nods, "Well. I was hoping to head out the day after tomorrow. We can along the border of the red zone. See if anyone is hanging out around there."

"Sure. I'm taking the bike out today, see how she runs. I'll be ready."

"Good. We'll discuss plans later tonight. Dinner? My place?"

I nod, getting up with the aid of the railing. When Aaron doesn't say anything else, I let myself back into Blaire's house. Climbing the stairs, I push her room door open just a little with the toe of my shoe. The brunette is still sleeping, the covers shoved all the way to the end of the bed. I watch as her chest rises and falls with her breathing. She's got one arm thrown across the bed, the other curled over her head, fingers tangled in her hair. Blaire looks more peaceful than I've ever seen her before. As she rolls over onto her side, Duke runs into the room, jumping up onto the bed next to his owner.

Blaire stirs, her eyes staying closed as she begins to pet the animal. A small smile plays over her lips. I should go back downstairs and wait for her to wake up, but something holds me rooted to the spot. Blaire stretches out, her tanned limbs splayed out in all directions. I can see the tattoo on her foot, another peaking out from under her tank top that's ridden up, revealing the skin of her stomach.

"You know it's kinda creepy having someone watch you sleep." Blaire is sitting up now, her eyes fixed on me. The smile still sits on her face. She winks, letting me know she's only joking. "You could have woken me up, you know?"

"Thought ya could use the rest," I answer, walking across the room and sitting on the edge of Blaire's mattress. Unlike yesterday, she keeps her distance, hands resting on the bed next to her. "You still wanna learn how to shoot?"

Blaire nods, "I just need to eat and put some clothes on. I can meet you out by the car if you need to go get anything."

"We ain't takin' the car."

Blaire raises an eyebrow as she gets off the bed, digging through the black backpack she brought with her. "Are we walking?"

"Naw. I have a bike. I built it 'n' I wanna see how it rides before I leave." I announce, getting up off the bed as Blaire pulls out a shirt from her bag.

"You're leaving?"

"In a few days, won't be gone long. Aaron 'n' I are goin' out to try and find more people. I'll be downstairs."

Blaire joins me on the front porch a little while later, her backpack thrown over her shoulder, a partially eaten apple in one hand. I watch as she locks the front door, shoving the keys into the back pocket of her pants; that stupid middle finger patch staring up at me. Her t-shirt falls off her shoulder, revealing a long white scar. Blaire turns around and notices my gaze. She quickly fixes her top, swinging the other strap of the bag over her shoulder. "Your sure the bike can fit both of us?"

Nodding, I lead the way towards Rick's garage. Blaire holds the door open as I wheel the motorcycle out onto the street. Once I've gotten it started, Blaire drops the garage door, letting it hit the ground with a loud thud. For a second the brunette stands in the driveway, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Ain't got all day. Let's go." I encourage her.

Blaire frowns at me but nonetheless walks forward, swinging her leg over the back of my motorcycle. Her fingers curl around my shoulders, the grip tightening as I rev the engine. Once I'm sure Blaire is situated, I push off from the curb and head towards the front gate.

We ride quietly for a while; Blaire moves her hands from my shoulders, wrapping them around my chest, her chin resting on my shoulder. She asks if it's all right and I give her a nod. I'm supposed to be trying to let her in. Blaire finds some kind of comfort in physical contact. I know she isn't going to hurt me so I can be okay with it. I head towards the field Aaron brought me to when he was trying to catch that horse. It'll be an open enough area and hopefully be mostly free of walkers. Blaire's been seeing the Alexandria doctor and seems to be doing better health-wise. I've not seen her fight off more than one walker and don't want to get into a bad situation and have her freeze up or not have the strength to fight.

Pulling off the road, I shut the bike off. Blaire hops off the back, grabbing my crossbow from the holder I installed before I roll the motorcycle into the bushes, making sure it's hidden from anyone passing by on the road. Blaire watches me, shifting her weight from foot to foot. As I walk back over to her she offers me her hand, nodding a little as I stare at it.

"Jesus Christ, Daryl, it's just a hand. It won't kill you," Blaire says. She gives me another wink to let me know she's just giving me a hard time, but there is definitely an edge to her tone. She's trying to speed up the process of us being close. I can see in her stare that she knows she's pushing boundaries. Blaire steps forward, placing her fingers in the gaps between my own. "See, that's not so bad."

As we walk I glance down at our interlaced fingers. Blaire's hand looks funny in mine. Her skin is so clean and smooth. I've got scars running over the surface of mine, dirt caked under my nails and in the crevices of my knuckles. She'd look like she didn't belong in this world if it weren't for the scars crisscrossing her arms and the stitched up cut running down her face. As the brunette smiles up at me, I can't help but wonder how I look to her.

"How old 're ya?"

"Twenty – two," Blaire answers before frowning. "Well, I guess twenty – three now because my birthday was last month."

"Happy – " I start but am cut off by Blaire.

"Don't. Just teach me how to shoot this thing. Okay?"

Dropping Blaire's hand I move over to a tree, carving a circle with an X in the middle of it. The brunette watches me carefully, my crossbow resting on her shoulder. I keep an eye on her, judging how well she's handling the weight or if anything about her demeanor changes. I'm still waiting for her to collapse from trying to push herself too far too quickly. I talked to Pete privately and he told me that Blaire probably sustained a concussion in her fall. Her whole left side is covered in blue and black patches. He was positive she had some bruised ribs. I got roughed up enough as a kid to know anything to do with ribs hurt like hell for a while.

"So ya wanna load an arrow here –" I take the bow from Blaire and carefully slide an arrow into position, before taking it out and handing the weapon back to my companion. "Go ahead."

She balances to bow on her thigh, pushing the arrow up into position. Once she thinks it's good enough she glances over at me, silently asking if she did it correctly. Taking the crossbow from her, I check the arrow, handing it back, "Push it in further, 'til there's a click."

Blaire follows instructions, lifting the butt of the bow to her shoulder once she's clicked the arrow in place.

"Kinda like a gun now, just aim 'n' shoot," I instruct, watching as she levels the weapon, squinting her eyes a bit. "Watch for the kick-back."

Blaire nods her finger curling around the trigger. As she does this she separates her feet, placing one in front of the other. I watch her chest rise with the intake of her breath, and as she pulls the trigger, she lets out a sigh. The arrow hits within the circle. Blaire lowers the bow, turning to look at me; she's smiling. "How was that?"

"You're stronger than you look, smart-ass."

Blaire

Daryl lets me practice with his crossbow for a while. He even let me shoot at one of the dead ones, but I missed, causing him to take the weapon back. I wander off, sitting down in the middle of the field. My head, although starting to feel better, still causes me pain. Trying to keep good aim has started to give me a headache and I need to rest for a little. As Daryl joins me, I lay back, staring up at the clouds as they pass overhead. Reaching over the bowman, I take hold of his hand, beginning to trace the lines on his palm. I like that he's slowly becoming more comfortable with me initiating contact. I've missed being close to people.

"Why'd ya wanna know how to shoot this thing?" Daryl questions after a while.

"In case I ever have to. Who's going to babysit me while you're away?"

"Ain't babysitting you, but Tara 'n' Abraham'll be around," Daryl answers, digging the water bottle out of my backpack and screwing the lid off.

"If you aren't babysitting me, what're you doing hanging around my house, Daryl? Why do you keep agreeing to spend time with me?"

Daryl pulls a few blades of grass from the ground, tossing them away before looking over at me. "Don't matter."

"I hate that answer," I mumble, but Daryl isn't paying attention anymore. His blue eyes are clouded over, focused on something that isn't there. His lips move, but I can't make out what he's saying. I'm brought back to the other day in my living room. He went somewhere else then too. Sitting up, I reach forward, going for his cheek. He snaps out of whatever trance he's in, raising his arm up to block my touch. "Hey," I curl my fingers around his forearm, gently forcing it down so that I am able to place my hand against the side of Daryl's face. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You left again."

Daryl's eyes lock on mine as he presses his cheek into my hand, letting out a shaky breath as I run my thumb over his rough skin. For a few minutes, Daryl closes his eyes, his breath warm against my wrist. "'M here."

"Where do you go, Daryl? And don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter, because I know it does."

"How'd ya get that scar on yer nose?" Daryl blurts out. Although I'm not pleased with him changing the subject, I let it go for the time being. He might think he's getting away with it, but I'm not going to give up. Something is obviously bothering him.

"When I was younger I used to wear glasses. One of the guys my mom brought around got upset because I wasn't listening to him. He backhanded me. The bridge of my glasses cut into my nose. We didn't have insurance. My mom went to the store and bought some cotton balls, tape, and super glue. I'm surprised it healed as well as it did." I explain, removing my hand from Daryl's face as my fingers trace over the thin white scar on the bridge my nose. Most people don't notice it.

"Yer mom dump him after that?" Daryl questions, leaning back on his elbows.

I follow suit, laying my head on my backpack, eyes once again fixing on the light blue sky above. In moments like this, it's easy to forget the world we live in. Everything seems so normal, so peaceful. I'm laying here next to a friend, sharing stories about being a kid; for these few hours, everything seems like it's going to be all right. "No, she staid with him for another month or so until she found him in her bed with another woman. My mom relied on men too much back then. She hadn't found herself. Then again, after she started making her own money she found my stepdad. He wasn't exactly a winner either."

"Tell me 'bout him," Daryl instructs, letting his body come to rest next to mine, making sure none of our limbs are touching.

"Another time. I don't want to think about that right now," I answer, sitting up as I hear a rustling in the field. A few yards behind us is a dead one, stumbling over the grass as it looks for something to eat. As I go to get to my feet, Daryl stops me, lifting his bow and shooting the thing in the head. "You avoided my question earlier."

Daryl frowns, "Sometimes I see her death again, that's all."

"You know it wasn't your fault, right? It could've happened even if you did stop that lady. If not at the hospital, somewhere else."

"Don't matter now," Daryl mumbles back.

"That answer is such bullshit, Daryl Dixon. The things that have happened in your life mean something. The people you care or cared about matter. They mattered yesterday and the day before that and they'll matter ten years from now. Letting them mean something is how you honor their memory. I don't care what kind of screwed up stuff happened to you before this. It made you who you are now and that means something."

"I ain't the guy I was before this started no more."

"You aren't supposed to be. If you got through this without changing I'd think you were crazy. No one is the same anymore. It doesn't mean the stuff that happened before doesn't matter. Sure, talking about previous jobs is stupid, but for some people, that's what made them, them. Now, tell me something about your life before. Please."

Daryl signs, leaning back on the grass. I stay sitting, glancing down at him as he begins to talk. "I had a brother, Merle. He was a piece of shit sometimes, but he was family 'n' I loved him. When I first met Rick, he told me they'd left my brother on top of a buildin' in Atlanta all chained up. I could've killed him, Rick, I mean. We went back 'n' Merle wasn't there. I thought he died, accepted that till we ran into him again. Merle ain't someone who was gonna change cause of this thing. He got bitten. I killed 'im."

I reach forward, placing my hand over Daryl's. "I'm sorry."

"Always harder when it's someone ya know."

I nod. "Yeah, it is."

"What about you? Ya got any siblings"

"I had a sister. She, uh, she died before all this happened." I answer, trying to skip over details. Daryl doesn't need to know how Claire died. My screwed up childhood isn't something I want to share just yet.

"What's the date on yer tattoo?" Daryl questions.

"That's my sister's favorite flower and her birth date," I explain. Even though she was only alive for about twelve years of my life, I was definitely closest with my younger sister. She was someone I could confide in, who truly understood what I was going through. I tried to protect her from the worst of our stepdad and in return, she taught me how to stay soft and innocent. I was devastated when the nurse at the hospital called to tell me she passed away. "Do you ever wonder what would happen if the world just fixed itself?"

"Don't think about it much."

"Why?"

Daryl shrugs, "Ain't gonna happen. There're other things I gotta think about."

"I guess."

"What 'bout you? Ya ever think about what would've happened if the world didn't end?" Daryl questions as I settle back on the ground. "Ever wish it'd fix itself?"

"No," I answer glancing over at Daryl. "If it hadn't gotten messed up in the first place I would have never met people like Patricia or Tara – " our eyes meet "– or you, Daryl Dixon."

"I ain't no one special. Could've done fine without me," Daryl says, dropping my gaze.

"No. I would've given up if you hadn't brought me back. We both know that. You saved my life, Daryl." I answer back. He doesn't just get to brush off what he's done for me. Sure, I could've kept surviving if Daryl and Aaron hadn't stumbled upon me in the woods, but for how long? I was ready to give up. I would've given up.

"I ain't keepin' you alive. Ya ain't gonna put that on me, girl. You're here 'cause you wanna be."

"Take responsibility for what you did, Daryl. You saw that I was broken and you brought me in. You sat with me and let me cry on your shoulder. You've opened up. You don't get to pretend like that didn't happen. You just don't. Broken souls always find each other." I stand up, begin to walk away from him across the field.

"Blaire!" Daryl calls after me. I can hear him gathering up our stuff, beginning to follow me across the field. "Dammit!"

Instead of turning around I continue across the field, raising my hand over my head and flipping the bowman off. He doesn't get to act like he doesn't care.

Daryl

Blaire continues across the clearing, ignoring my calls for her to come back. She's too damn stubborn for her own good. She thinks she knows me, but she doesn't. She thinks she's got everything all figured out. She's wrong. She doesn't know the first thing about me. Or does she? The little voice in the back of my head sounds. Admit it, Daryl, she's got you all figured out and you hate it. Shaking my head, I try and clear my mind, eyes still set on the brunette who seems to be getting further and further away from me.

"Stop going after her Daryl! What does she mean to you? Why're you trying so hard?" Beth appears in my peripheral vision. She's blurry this time like she's only got one foot in this world. "She's trying to make you forget!"

I shake my head again, trying to clear my vision. A yelp up ahead causes me to pick up my pace, running through the trees towards what looks like another opening. I arrive just in time to see Blaire's head disappear under water. Dropping our bags, I kneel down on the edge of the pond. After a few seconds, Blaire resurfaces, pushing water out of her way as she gasps for breath.

"Over here!" I call out to her.

She kicks her limbs, going back under the murky surface of the water. Fingers curl around my wrist a few seconds later. I tug up, pulling the brunette's head above water before grabbing her under the armpits, dragging her out onto the grass. Blaire rolls onto her back, gasping for air. She coughs up a bit of water before regaining her breath. Once she's calmed down a bit she glances over at me, a smile creeping over her face. "Watch out for the pond."

Shaking my head I stand, offering my hand to Blaire. She takes it, letting me help her to her feet. "Ya hurt?"

"I'm fine," Blaire answers back, trying to put her weight on her right foot. She winces but takes a few steps forward, limping. I reach out trying to steady her. "I said I'm fine."

The brunette grabs her bag, beginning to hobble back towards the original field we started in. I follow behind her, ready to catch her if she starts to fall. Maybe Blaire's right, maybe I care. Maybe I saved her in the woods for reasons other than just wanting to preserve a human life. I didn't think she was when I first met her, but Blaire is a fighter; she just needed to be reminded of that fact. She's pushing me because she knows I need her to. "Will ya let me carry you?"

Blaire stops, eyeing me. For a few seconds, I think she's going to refuse, insisting that she's fine to walk. Instead, she nods her head, "Okay."

She puts her hands on my shoulders, pushing off of her foot leg. I help her up, hands going around her thighs. Once she's situated, I begin walking across the field. Blaire stays quiet, her thin frame rigid against me. As we near the place where I stashed the bike, I let Blaire down.

We ride home in silence. Blaire curls her fingers around my shoulders again. She keeps them this way until we reach Alexandria, not relaxing like before. Once in the gate, she hops off the bike, slowly making her way towards the infirmary. She refuses my offer to come with her.

Not knowing who else to talk to, I end up on Carol's porch. She opens the door before I reach the top step. She's wearing another one of those ridiculous sweaters. A stony look tells me she already knows why I'm here. Nonetheless, she lets me inside, offers me a cookie and a glass of water, and settles into the armchair in her living room.

"Did you two fight again?" Carol questions, crossing on leg over the other, her hands resting on her knee.

"She told me I saved her. I told her I ain't taking that responsibility."

"Blaire was telling the truth, Daryl. You brought her back here, which in a way was saving her life. Why don't you want that responsibility?"

"I don't want her to owe me nothin'," I answer, biting into the cookie and chewing as Carol stares at me.

"Daryl, what's the real problem?"

"Beth is back." I avert my gaze, not wanting to see the look on Carol's face. She'll understand, but she'll be disappointed. Carol thinks I'm stronger than all this.

"When?"

"Few days. Saw her in Blaire's living room."

Carol nods, taking a sip of water before answering. "What is she saying?"

"That I don't know Blaire. That 'm lettin' her in, but I shouldn't be. I didn't yell this time, Blaire didn't either. She just took off across the field we was at, fell into some pond 'n' hurt her ankle. She's stubborn as hell. Wants more 'n' I can give. She sees me," I ramble on, trying to make some sense of where my thoughts are heading. When I can't, I begin to chew on my bottom lip, hoping that Carol will have understood some of what just came out of my mouth.

"Does her ability to see you scare you?" Carol questions.

"Yeah." I chew on my thumb. "I don't wanna forget her."

"Oh honey, no one can ever replace Beth because she's in here," Carol gets up, placing her hand on my chest, over where my heart is. "Don't push Blaire away."

I shrug in response, "I'll just go 'n' apologize again. That worked last time."

Carol shakes her head. "I'm not sure that would work. She's turned you into her savior and you told her you weren't going to accept that role. Blaire is probably going to need some time to think things over. Right now you need to deal with seeing Beth again."

"What if I forget her?" I mumble, twisting the blue cord bracelet around my wrist.

"That's not possible, Daryl. Beth is always going to be with you-" Carol gets up, placing her hand on my chest, over where my heart is, "-in here."

Nodding I get up out of my chair, pulling Carol into a hug. She wraps her arms around my back, holding me in place for a few seconds before letting me go. "Thanks."

"Of course. Oh -" Carol wanders into the kitchen, pulling a tub of what looks like vomit out of her fridge. "- I've been hoarding my vegetable rations. I mixed this up for Judith. Will you take it to Rick?"

"Lil' ass – kicker ain't really gonna eat this," I answer back, holding the container up in front of my face.

"It's either this or the applesauce they keep dropping off. I know Rick is feeing her solid food, but she's barely got teeth." Carol answers back, pushing me towards the door. "Just give it to him, Daryl, and let Blaire come to you. No one likes it when a man grovels."

Nodding, I step out onto the porch. "Have a good night."

"You too, Daryl."