Naomi
"Oi!" I yelled, about ready to scramble up the ladder to the Hilltop lookout and shake whoever was up there until they couldn't ignore me anymore.
"Yeah, yeah," he called back down, barely looking over his shoulder at me. "I'll get them open in a minute."
Asshole.
I bit back a few curses. Most folks were cranky, and foul moods had spread from person to person as fast as the flu. Food had gone from running low to running out, and the only thing hunger feeds is rage. We'd foiled one Savior attack, but nobody was dumb enough to think they'd given up, and the threat of a second hung in the air. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there, even if it was only for a few hours.
Finally, I heard the creak of the gates. The way they scraped against the dirt, the slight breeze generated by the movement of them opening up. I felt better already. Less cooped up like a battery hen.
I looked around for Glenn, who had gotten us a car for the journey and was now caught up in trying to navigate it around the packed grounds of Hilltop. It was surprising how quickly people had forgotten to act around cars, leaping out of the way until the last second. Glenn's strained face peered over the wheel. Tara sat in the passenger seat, peeking out between the gaps in her fingers.
Watching them gave me so much second-hand stress that I chose to look away from it entirely. There could be Walkers or Saviors on the other side of the gates, but watching them open up was better than witnessing the Hilltop-wide game of Chicken that Glenn had got caught up in. As it happened, there weren't any Saviors or Walkers on the other side of the gates.
It was Daryl, crossbow slung over his shoulder. His shirt was bunched up in his fist, a bolt in his other hand twisted through the material of it, cleaning something off. Presumably blood, hopefully of the Walker variety. He was looking down at it and hadn't seen me. If I backed away now, he might never know I'd been there. My heart was already pounding like I was running a marathon; I might as well actually run.
I wanted to bound across the last few paces between us so that I could wrap my arms around him, kiss him deep, and tell him I'd missed him like crazy even though he'd only been gone a few hours. But in the last couple of days, he'd turned every kiss into a polite peck and held me like I was made of glass. The lightest touch, always a little bit of distance between us, his hands never deviating from my shoulders. And that sterile nothingness we'd become overnight made me want to turn and run the other way.
Daryl looked up before I could take off, and the decision was made. His eyes widened, and I wondered if he was feeling the same tightening in his chest.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh," I said back, and then neither of us knew what to say. A deep and dramatic sigh from his side reminded me Rosita was there too. She looked glum, and the absence of Eugene told me everything I needed to know. "No luck?"
"He's dead to us," Rosita said. Even the air around her felt angry and jagged as she stormed past me, muttering, "And next time I see him, he'll be dead for real."
Her threat hung in the air for a while after she'd gone. Then, it would dissipate, spreading through Hilltop and making everyone else's shitty moods even shittier.
"Yeah, he's full Negan," Daryl said, not moving from the shadow of the gates. Not trying to get past me, but not coming any closer either. He shrugged, but I could tell he was deflated. Guys as loyal as Daryl don't handle betrayal well. "We got him out of there, couldn't convince him to stay. He ran back."
"Shit." I was surprised by how hard it hit me. I'd heard Eugene's declarations of loyalty to Negan with my own two ears, but I guess I'd been harboring some hope.
Behind me, the crunch of tires rolling across the dirt interrupted anything Daryl was about to say or any condolences I could offer. Glenn came to a slow stop right alongside us. His gaze flickered from me to Daryl and back again.
"You still coming, Naomi?" he asked.
"Yeah, 'course," I said. The promise of getting out of here and escaping this new awkwardness with Daryl made everything feel less heavy.
And then Glenn said, "You coming too, Daryl?"
"No," I answered for him, to save him from having to come up with some kind of excuse. I moved toward the backdoor of the car.
"Where you going?" Daryl asked. I heard the crunch of his feet as he walked forward, finally stepping into the Hilltop now that he knew I was leaving it.
"On that food run I've been pushing for," I said, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible. "We're almost out of everything."
I opened the car door, praying that was the end of it. I'd pushed for a run that would feed the Saviors as well as our own people, Daryl disagreed. There were only so many times I could tell him why I thought letting prisoners of war starve was inhumane, and there were only so many times I could hear him telling me that Saviors got what was coming to them. I was about to climb into the backseat before Daryl said, "Okay, yeah. I'll come with you."
"Yeah?" I asked, unable to mask my surprise.
"Yeah," he said. Another shrug, even less convincing than his shrug over Eugene's betrayal.
"You don't have to," I said. It blurted right out of me, and I couldn't work out why it felt so important to me that Daryl didn't come with us, but I was already making up excuses for him. "You only just got back, and I know you don't really think we should be-"
"Nah, it's fine," Daryl said and then hesitated again. "Unless you need someone to keep an eye on the girls?"
"They're helping Maggie take inventory of the crop we got left," I said. "But if you want to see them, I'm sure-"
"Can we make a decision sometime today?" Glenn stuck his head out of the driver's side window. "This was supposed to be a quick run."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll come," Daryl said. I stood back from the open car door and gestured for Daryl to get in ahead of me. When he was in, I climbed in beside him. I'd barely closed the door before Glenn started driving. The car felt small. The air was heavy and too warm. I sat back and tried to get comfortable, but there had been a cold knot of nerves growing in my stomach for the last few days. Now it sat, heavy as a paperweight and pinning down my enthusiasm for this run.
"So how'd Naomi rope y'all into this?" Daryl asked.
"Didn't have to, really," Glenn shrugged, picking up speed as we hit the open road. "It seemed like the right thing to do."
I caught his eye in the rearview mirror and flashed him a grateful smile. I'd taken a lot of shit from people about wanting to do this; it was nice to have someone like Glenn on my side.
"Maggie happy about it?" Daryl asked. The question grated on my nerves. Was he trying to find a reason to make Glenn turn around again? Had he come just to sabotage us?
"Not really," Glenn admitted. "But she doesn't want to kill them either, so…someone had to do something. Naomi made some compelling points; it might as well be us."
"Yeah," Daryl nodded. I couldn't pick up any hint in his voice that he was trying to stir up trouble and convince us all to turn around. I shot him a look, but he didn't notice; he'd turned his attention to Tara. "And you?"
"Well, I think Naomi saved my ass," Tara said, and then she turned in her seat to smile at me. "Which means I pretty much have to do whatever she says from now on."
"Careful," Daryl said. "Never know what she'll rope you into next."
"I didn't do shit," I said. There was an edge to my voice that I didn't like but couldn't stop. "Y'all can hop out any time."
"I came because it seemed like the right thing to do," Tara added, looking right at me like she knew I was about to blow my fuse. I'd pinned too much hope on this run, desperate to get out of the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Hilltop and actually do something useful, but it didn't take long for the car to become a microcosm of Hilltop itself. Too hot, too crowded, and all conversation eventually turned to the Saviors and what might come next. And Daryl. Close, but never touching me.
I stared resolutely out of the window and tried to drown it all out. If I had to spend another second thinking about Negan, or Simon, or the Sanctuary, I was going to lose my damn mind. So when Glenn brought the car to a stop and parked up in the nearby town we'd come to scout out, I'd unclipped my seatbelt and opened the door before he'd shut the engine off.
"Woah," Glenn laughed, "Easy there!"
"Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle until it has come to a full and complete stop," Tara said like she was making an announcement before a rollercoaster ride.
I didn't shut the door, but I did wait until the engine cut out before I stood up and got out.
"Now Daryl's here, we could split up," Glenn said. "You guys head to the office block, and we'll check out the school."
"Yeah, sounds good to me," Daryl said. I looked sideways at him. Did it sound good to him?
I nodded, not wanting to drag this out any longer. Tara handed us a walkie and kept one for her and Glenn. If we found anything, we'd contact each other. Otherwise, we'd meet back at the car in an hour.
Daryl and I walked over to the office block I'd spotted on a map. Rather than get distracted by the silence between us that made every footstep deafening, I channeled my attention to the glass building rising up in front of us. It was a big complex, far enough away from the center of town and all of its amenities that I thought it might have a canteen or dining hall.
It was a building made almost entirely of windows. All of them were grimy. Some of them were broken. Still, it wasn't hard to imagine it had been impressive when it was functional. A clean glass box mirroring the sky and surrounded by a moat of neatly parked cars in the parking lot.
When we neared the doors, Daryl looked back at me as if to say, you ready? I nodded in return. Game face on. If there were Walkers in here, we'd need to clear them. If people were living here, that could be a whole other set of problems. Glass all around like that - they'd have seen us coming miles away. They'd be ready.
The doors were locked. We scouted the perimeter but found no visible entrance. Daryl smashed one of the glass panels with the end of his gun, and the noise brought out Walkers. We stayed where we were, shooting at them through the break in the glass until we were sure the last of them had shuffled out. There were surprisingly few, although given how hard this place had been to get into, maybe it shouldn't have been all that surprising.
Our footsteps echoed in the vastness of the entrance hall as we made our way cautiously into the building. The air was stuffy and warm; there hadn't been a breeze through here in a long time. Whole place smelled of death.
In the center of every floor above us, there was a perfectly oval hole running a clear column right up to the glass ceiling. It gave the impression this whole place was open plan, letting in more natural light than would otherwise have reached the first floor. I craned my neck to look up. From the top floors, you'd have a birds-eye view of any movement on the ground floor. Perfect place for a sniper if people were living here.
Daryl clocked it too. We stayed close to the edge of the room, but nobody shot at us.
The sun beat down through the glass ceiling. This place must've had a pretty fancy AC in its day, or the workers would've melted. Unlucky for us, it obviously no longer worked, and the whole place felt like a greenhouse in this damn heat. I was sweating already.
We followed signs for the dining hall. I tried not to get my hopes up, but sure enough, this place had a large and open-plan dining hall. The door marked 'kitchen' was easy to find. I pushed on it, gun raised and was instantly hit by a smell so strong I almost barfed.
"Stinks," I warned Daryl, covering my nose with my sleeve and trying to breathe through my mouth. "Could be a Walker."
We moved cautiously inside. Listening, watching for any sign of the dead coming to get us.
"Something died in here, alright," Daryl nudged an open bin with his toe. "Ain't no Walker, though."
Food, which had been rotting for years at this point, was piled high. And right on top of the heap was a dead rat. Might have been dumb enough to try eating the moldy food, it might have just keeled over and died at the smell. Daryl found the lid and put it on top.
It didn't do much.
Live rats, possibly relatives of the dead garbage rat, scurried out of the way as we searched the rest of the place. There were a few bags of flour, a few tinned goods. Some of it was out of date but only slightly. Not enough for us to be fussy about. It wasn't enough to feed everyone at Hilltop for long. There were so many of us now.
"This was a good call," Daryl said, breaking a silence that had lasted since we'd come in here. "You were right to make it."
"Yeah?" I said, wondering if this was a peace offering after he'd been so unsupportive of it before. Or, maybe the real fight would come when we tried to give some of it to Maggie's prisoners of war.
"Yeah," he said. "You wanna call Glenn and Tara, or should I?"
"We should check out the rest of the building first," I said. "So we know what we've got."
"You think there's more?"
"Not as much as there is here, but there's probably little mini kitchens on each floor for people to make teas and coffees, maybe more. It's a big place. Might find the odd snack drawer at a desk or two," I said. "I had a whole drawer full of snacks when I was in an office like this."
I'd said it as an afterthought, and more to myself than him, but something about it made Daryl laugh, "'Course you did."
"Didn't clean it out before all of this," I said. I was rambling, but something made Daryl laugh. Seeing him relaxed and smiling made me keep going. "It's probably a drawer full of ants now."
"Nice of you to give 'em a home," he shrugged, and the silence came back.
We left the kitchen and headed for the nearest staircase. Given how much food had been left to rot, I was confident that it was unlikely people were living here. Walkers were still a concern, but we'd already taken out the ones on the ground floor, and the only way to reach the upper levels was via an out-of-service elevator and stairs at either end of the building, which were shut off by doors. Opening doors and fixing elevators - two things I was sure Walkers weren't good at.
The first floor had a small kitchen space, just as I thought it might. There wasn't much in there worth taking, other than a jar of freeze-dried coffee and a box of teabags, but it made me hopeful. The rest of that floor was rows of empty desks and blank computer monitors. Daryl and I spent some time looking through drawers. A layer of dust coated everything. Personal items left behind, no doubt by people who thought they'd be returning for them at some point, were scattered around the place. The odd cardigan slung over the back of a chair, photographs of families and pets pinned to noticeboards and the walls of office cubicles. I didn't linger on any of them and didn't like thinking about how few of the people in those pictures were still alive.
Desk plants were dotted around the place, brown and shriveled. Yet, sporadically throughout the office were bursts of green from larger plants. I couldn't work out how these ones were thriving without a drop of water, and then I reached out and touched one. Plastic. It would sit here and look as pristine as it did the day the doors had shut as the building decayed around it.
"This anything like where you used to work?" Daryl asked. I was surprised by the question as much as I was that he'd actually said something. I cast my eye around the place and tried to think back to a time where I'd been in an office bustling with people. It was almost unimaginable now.
"A little, I guess," I shrugged. "Lotta offices are the same - rows of computers, phones that won't stop ringing, wars breaking out in the kitchen over who stole who's mug."
I thought that might be the end of it, but he paused for a second and then said, "Did you have your own mug?"
"Er…" I only hesitated because I was so thrown by him being interested in something so dull. "Yeah, I did."
"What was it like?"
"First, I had this one with the periodic table on it, y'know, like in chemistry... except instead of all the elements, it had different font names."
"Fonts?"
"Er, yeah," I said. I could feel my cheeks getting red, knowing the explanation was just as dumb as the mug itself. "Bryce and I were on the school paper back in college. For the Halloween edition, he wanted to use this font called Scurd and print the whole thing in red, so it looked like it had been written in dripping blood. I was worried the drip effect would make it illegible, and red ink would've been way more expensive to print in. Biggest fight we ever had. The mug was a peace offering."
"You're such a dork," he said, but he said it with so much affection in his smile it made my cheeks heat up even more. "What was the other one?"
"What?"
"Well, you said that was the first mug you had, so were there more?"
"Yeah," I said. Hadn't realized he'd been paying such close attention. "Mia gave me one. Her school took her on a trip to this place where they could all paint their own mugs. It said 'Best Naomi' on it, with a picture of a squirrel."
"What?" Daryl laughed.
"She was obsessed with squirrels. It was all she drew for a while," I said. "And they were making these mugs for Mother's Day. Most of the other kids were writing things like 'Best Mom', and I think she got confused."
"Well, she ain't wrong," he said. "Best Naomi I ever met."
"Probably the only Naomi you've ever met," I said, knowing how little Daryl liked to socialize.
"Yeah," he said. "Didn't need to waste my time meeting the others, knew they'd be crap."
"Oh, shut up," I said, with the same amount of affection he'd used to call me a dork, and he grinned at me.
We went back to rifling through long-abandoned desk drawers. I wondered what his sudden, excruciating interest in something so mundane had been. So many questions after days of nothing. I was about to turn and ask, but then he muttered, "Jackpot."
"What you got?" I glanced over at him.
"Pop-tarts," he said, holding up the open box and shaking it to show there was still some left. "Can't pop 'em, of course, ain't got no toaster."
"Does that make them regular tarts then?"
"Yeah, I guess," he said, digging into the box with one hand. He pulled out the shining silver foil of a packet. "Want one?"
I talked over the rumbling of my stomach, "We should save them. Everything we find here's gotta come back to Hilltop with us."
"I know you've been skimming rations, giving some of yours to the girls. Don't think I ain't seen it."
I heard the disapproval in his voice. Didn't appreciate it and was quick to point out his hypocrisy. I snapped back, "Don't think I ain't seen you doing the same."
"Alright," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "We'll both have one. How's that?"
It didn't feel right, finding something and not sharing it. But I worried about Daryl cutting his rations, and I got why he'd feel the same about me. "Fine."
A triumphant grin spread across Daryl's face, and he tore open the pop tarts, handing one to me and keeping one for himself. He gave his a sniff while I turned mine over in my hand, checking for mold. Daryl took a tentative bite of one corner.
"Bit stale," he concluded, chomping off a massive bite of the rest and talking with his mouth full, "but still good."
I took a bite of mine, was shocked by how sweet it tasted. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had sugar like this, the frosting on top melting on my tongue. The strawberry filling was a little congealed but tasty enough that I barely noticed the slight stale edge to the pastry. We ate in silence, lost in the novelty of a pop tart. Something about it reminded me of sharing the last slice of diner pie as kids. Huddled around a disposable container, a fork each, making it last as long as we could because we'd never know where our next bit of food was coming from. Back then, one of us didn't get a treat without sharing it with the other.
As I wiped the crumbs from around my mouth, I glanced at Daryl. The longer we'd been out here, the more relaxed he'd seemed. Laughing and joking, but still not coming close to me if he could help it. Stepping around me like I was a bomb about to go off.
"Hey," I said. "Uh, Daryl?"
"Yeah?"
"Is everything...okay?"
"Yeah," he said, not catching my meaning at all. "Well… Eugene betrayed us, so that ain't great, but we don't need that asshole. We're gonna-"
"No," I interrupted him. Couldn't listen to another word of hypothetical war plans. "I mean with us."
"Us?" Daryl's eyes got really wide and panicked, and I immediately regretted saying anything. "Yeah. Why? Are you… you ain't...?"
"I love you. I ain't going anywhere."
"Right, well," he breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, we're fine. What are you stressing your head off about?"
"My head's fine."
"You sure? It's looking a bit wobbly from over here."
"Maybe…" I could feel my heart beating hard in the back of my throat, trying to shut me up. The old impulse to shut down almost won out.
"C'mon," Daryl said. "What's up?"
He was looking expectantly at me. If I couldn't be open with him, I didn't have a hope in hell of making anything work with anyone. So I dropped my gaze, tried to make it easier to get the words unstuck.
"We've barely touched since…." I almost stopped again but pushed through. "Y'know, that night in the barn… You've been distant, and … and I know I freaked out, and that must've been weird for you, but I'm fine."
"Weren't weird for me," Daryl said, quick as anything. So sure, so certain. I looked back up at him. His eyes were burning into me with an intensity I wanted to shrink away from. "But you ain't fine."
I held his gaze, although it took everything in me not to look away. "It ain't-"
He shut me up with a look, took a step closer. "You really think you're fine?"
"Well, not fine-fine," I admitted. I couldn't lie to him, not with those eyes. "But fine-ish. Fine-enough."
"Ain't no fine-enough. You're either fine, or you ain't," he said. I shook my head. Typical Daryl. For him, things were always one thing or another; he held very little room for things that came in-between. Which was a pity because all I felt was in-between these days, balancing precariously between 'fine' and 'complete mess'.
Daryl looked down, ran his finger absentmindedly through the dust on one of the desks. His face was turned slightly away from me, but I knew that look. He was building up to saying something. I waited. Without looking up, he admitted, "I have been thinking about that night, though."
"You have?"
"Yeah. Quite a lot, actually," he said. I worried I wouldn't be able to hear what came next over my heart pounding in my ears. "Trying to think about how we can…do this without making you feel...like that again."
"Can't guarantee that," I said, and my heart sank at the truth of it. "It's always going to be a risk."
"I know that," Daryl said, and he said it so gently it almost made me cry. He just accepted it, and the way I was. It should've been nice, but it made me feel trapped. Like he thought I'd be this way forever and had given up on me getting better.
"I know seeing me like that must've been shitty for you, and God knows it ain't the sexiest thing in the world," I said. "But If I'm going to get better, I can't ignore it."
"I ain't saying we should ignore it," Daryl said. "But I think there's gotta be a way of making it easier for you."
"Well, if you have any bright ideas, I'm all ears," I said. I wasn't expecting an answer. I'd turned the question over and over in my mind since things with Daryl had started heating up.
"I do, actually," he said.
"Oh. Yeah?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "I think, for now, you gotta ask."
He was looking at his shoes, a slight flush creeping up the side of his neck. I waited for the end of a sentence that never came. "Ask what?"
"You want me to do anything more than hold your hand, you gotta ask."
"Ask?" I repeated, something twisted up in my gut.
"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"
"No," I said because there wasn't anything inherently wrong with it, but just the thought of it set my cheeks on fire. "Sounds a bit... awkward is all."
I could barely get this conversation out. What chance did I have of asking for what I want? I didn't even know where to begin with that.
"I ain't saying it's a long-term thing or that we've gotta do it that way forever," Daryl said. "But if it helps you work through shit, helps you feel in control of what's happening to you, that's a good thing, right?"
"I guess," I said. Everything he'd said made sense, but my nerves didn't shift, and they must've shown. Daryl sighed.
"Look, if it helps, it ain't just for you."
"No?"
"No," he took a deep breath before he continued. "I know you've been with a lot more people than me, so… y'know...you got a lot more experience than I do, so I don't want-"
"Daryl, no," I interrupted him, stepping around the desk between us in an attempt to get him to look at me. If this bothered him, I wanted to get ahead of it before any kind of insecurity could take root. "That ain't something worth worrying about. It's a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And on us."
"Maybe," he shrugged but still wouldn't look at me, looked so damn nervous it almost broke my heart. "I don't want our first time to… y'know, suck."
"It won't." I was sure of it, but I didn't know how to put my certainty into words.
"You don't know that," he muttered. "But I know I ain't... I haven't… And you've been with-"
"Okay," I interrupted, wondering if I should be offended by what Daryl was implying. "I ain't been with that many people, and none of the guys or girls I've been with…."
I stopped. There was a pause. A moment passed between us where we both realized what I'd just let slip. A terrifying heartbeat where, no matter how well you know a person, you're not sure how they'll take it. Then Daryl nodded like something about my bisexuality made sense to him, and I caught back enough breath to carry on. "None of them have been like this. I haven't felt the same way about anybody as I do about you. That's how I know. It can't suck."
He nodded, letting my words sink in for a moment. I knew Daryl would have a hard time believing me. He'd never known his worth. People hadn't treated him right, and he'd put the blame for that in all the wrong places. I reached across the gap between us and took his hand. Daryl was quiet for a moment, but it was a kind of quiet I knew well. He was deciding whether or not to share something, and waiting here, holding his hand, was the best way to encourage him to do it without pressuring him.
"It wasn't like I didn't try to be more… like you, more normal, but…" he trailed off for a moment, his stare fixed on his own shoes, but his grip on my hand tightened. I waited, gripping back. "It didn't take much fooling around with a girl I didn't know and feeling nothing, and then thinking about you and feeling everything to realize I ain't wired that way. I dunno, maybe something in my brain's broken."
"No," I said, too alarmed by his use of the words 'normal' and 'broken' to let myself be overwhelmed by what he'd said. "There's plenty of folks wired like you."
He looked up at me then, finally. Probably to check I wasn't lying or making fun of him, but it felt good to have him look at me again. I couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for him to muddle through this shit with Merle and his dumbass friends, who collected hookups like some folks collect baseball cards. Not being like them and not understanding why couldn't have been fun.
"You think so?" he asked, testing me.
"I know so," I said, and he looked close to believing me. "Some people need an emotional connection to feel a physical one. Others don't. It's completely normal; ain't nothing wrong with it."
"You sure?" he asked, but he already looked a little relieved.
"Positive," I said firmly. Daryl took longer than most to connect to people; I didn't like to think about how long he'd been carrying these worries around. "There's nothing broken in you."
Daryl's shoulders visibly relaxed. "And you don't think I'm some kinda prude?"
"God, no," I said. "And you don't think I'm some kinda slut?"
"No," he said. "Didn't mean to imply that, either."
"Good," I said. We held each other's gaze for a moment, comfortable for the first time in a few days.
"Probably didn't need to tell you all that," Daryl said. "I guess I wanted you to know that you ain't gotta work through this if you don't want to. If it hurts too much, if we've already gone as far as we can go, I'll love you all the same. The physical stuff ain't all it's about for me."
It hit me in all kinds of ways. Daryl's selfless patience, the disbelief that I could be enough for someone all by myself, and the crushing injustice that a dead man could still take so much from me.
"I'm glad you told me," I said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I said, and suddenly it was easy to believe he could accept me as I was because I took him just the same. "It is something I want to work through. And you were so good the other night. Having you at my side really helped, but I get that it must be hard for you, too. It's okay if you need to take a step back."
"I ain't stepping anywhere," Daryl said firmly. I didn't realize until he said it how much it meant to me.
"And if the physical stuff ain't for you at all, that's fine, too. Lots of people feel that way," I told him, in case it was something he hadn't heard before. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "It's completely normal, and I'll love you all the same."
"That ain't what I meant," Daryl said. "I just didn't want you thinkin' the only reason I'd been coming up with ways to make things easier for you is just because I wanna fuck you."
"Woah, okay," I said, knowing I'd need more than a minute to recover from that sentence.
Daryl seemingly hadn't noticed what he'd said or the way it made my head spin. He carried straight on, "I don't care what happened before us or who you were with. If it happens with us, I just don't want it to…"
"Suck?"
"Yeah."
"It won't."
"Knowing what you like. What you don't like. That'll help."
"Help what?" I asked, playing dumb.
"Help me to… well… y'know…" he trailed off, making it clear the first time had been a total slip of the tongue.
"Fuck me?"
Daryl turned a deep shade of beetroot. "Well, I weren't gonna phrase it like that."
"Think you already did," I pointed out. I watched the realization wash over him and tugged on his hand to pull him closer.
"I… uh… I didn't… I mean…" he muttered.
"You wanna kiss me now, maybe?" I asked, putting him out of his misery.
"Yeah," he sighed with relief, a slight smile breaking through. "That sounds good."
He was still smiling when our lips met. Both of us were. It was hard not to. After days of quiet pecks on the cheeks or lips, it felt good to have him kiss me like this again. Deep and earnest. To taste his tongue on mine again, this time with a slight hint of strawberry pop tarts.
I reached for the bottom of his shirt, tugged at it. It was almost second nature now, trying to get that shirt off him. I didn't give it a moment's thought until he suddenly stopped kissing me and pulled back. This was usually the point where he'd help me get it up over his head, but not this time.
"Something you want, Naomi?" he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Yeah," I said, my stomach twisted with nerves again. I'd half-forgotten his 'ask me' plan.
"Yeah?"
Was he really going to make me say it?
"C'mon, Daryl, I ain't exactly being subtle about it."
"Don't hear you asking," he shrugged.
"You said I only had to ask if I wanted you to do something," I said, trying to get around it on a technicality.
"Is there something you want, Naomi?" he repeated, more firmly this time. Sounding stern but unable to wipe the smile from his face. It was spreading to me, too, a mix of awkwardness and general awareness of how ridiculous I was being.
"Can I take your damn shirt off?" I asked eventually. It made him smile wider.
"Yeah," he said. "You can take my damn shirt off."
This time, when I tugged on it, he helped me lift it off. And things quickly stopped being so amusing. At least for me. I don't think I'd ever fully recovered from the first time I'd seen Daryl shirtless, and every time since that still took my breath away for a moment. I took a second. Drinking him in. "You are…"
"Shut up," he said before I could compliment him and sealed my silence with another kiss.
"Can I…?" My hands hovered near him, unsure of what it was I wanted to ask. Desire was clouding everything.
"Yeah," he said. "You can."
I was relieved he hadn't made me put it into words this time. I kissed him again, melting into his bare chest and feeling my way across his shoulders and down his back. I wanted something. Wanted more. But it was hard to think exactly what it was while he was still kissing me. I broke away again. "Daryl…"
"What is it?" he asked. He wasn't teasing me anymore, at least not in the same way. His eyes were serious, intense. Fixed on me like I was about to tell him the most important thing in the world. "What do you want?"
"Um...you know when you kiss my neck?"
"Yeah," he said. "You like that?"
"Yeah. I do."
Part of me hated that he made me admit it out loud, but I couldn't ignore the little jolt of anticipation that shot through me the second the words left my mouth. And the way Daryl smiled when I said it, the pleasure he got from hearing it, made it more than worth it. Not amused anymore; it was satisfaction.
"Good," he murmured, moving closer and brushing the hair away from one side of my neck. He kissed a spot just below my ear, and even though I knew it was coming, had asked for it, I still made an involuntary sound somewhere between a sigh and a whisper.
"Shit," Darly whispered, his lips right by my ear. "You really do like that, huh?"
"Mm-hmm," I managed to say as his next kiss landed slightly lower on my neck. I looked down at the way his arms wrapped around me before turning my face in toward his shoulder. His hair brushed against my cheek. I tiled my head sightly, elongating my neck as he kissed his way down to my collar bone.
I glanced down at where my hands moved across his scarred and muscular back, slightly curved as he leaned over me. The heat of his body against mine wasn't enough. How much better it would be if there was less between us. Skin on skin.
I took his hands and guided them to the bottom of my shirt. I hoped that would be enough, that he'd be too caught up in this to make me say anything. But the moment he stopped kissing me, I knew. I knew he was waiting. His hands stayed roughly where I guided them to, his fingertips touching me so lightly it sent ripples of goosebumps across the rest of my skin.
"What do you want, Naomi?" he asked, his voice low by my ear. I pulled back a little. The way he was looking at me made it clear he knew damn well what I wanted but wasn't about to do it unless I asked.
Is he really going to make me say it?
He thumbed the bottom of my shirt, looking at me. Expectant. Waiting. The words formed and dissolved on my tongue so many times. Self-consciousness swallowed them back. Daryl kissed my neck again, and I melted into him, the words finally finding their way out. "Take it off."
Daryl pulled back. His eyes scanned every detail of my face. Without his lips, my neck felt cold, and my pulse was racing so hard I was sure he'd have tasted it under my skin.
"You sure?" he asked. I knew he was teasing me, but my head felt like it was about to explode.
"Yes," I said, and before he could toy with me anymore, I added, "Please, Daryl."
Something flashed in his eyes, and I didn't need to ask again. He'd liked that. He'd liked knowing that I wanted him. He pulled my shirt up over my head. I watched him as his eyes fixed on me, the slight darkening around his pupils, the way his jaw clenched like maybe he was the speechless one this time. Then, when I couldn't stand just being looked at anymore, I took his wrists and moved his hands to my sides.
"Touch me," I whispered. And then again, just to test it. "Please."
That something flashed in his eyes again. Close to a kind of hunger. I worried my fading bruises and scars might put him off again, but he barely seemed to notice them now. His hands slid around my waist, followed the curve of my hips, and then he moved across the small of my back. He bent to kiss my neck again, fingers tracing patterns across my back that made my spine shiver.
Daryl's lips reached the base of my neck, and I leaned back so he could kiss across my collarbone. His hands slid around to my front. He cupped my breasts over my bra, and I heard his deep exhale, felt the heat of his breath against my neck. They ran back down across my stomach and hit the waistband of my jeans. He hadn't even tried to take them off, but my hands still flew to his and stopped them. It was automatic. A reflex. Stupid and superficial, but so deeply ingrained in me that I couldn't shake it. He pulled back, deep concern in his eyes, "You okay?"
I took a breath to clear my head, to check that this was my usual freakout and not something deeper. Then I nodded, "Yeah."
Daryl didn't look convinced. "We should-"
"No," I said quickly as I felt him pulling away from me. I caught his wrist, and he stopped. "It's not that."
"No?"
"No. It's my… I know you know… hell, you probably saw 'em back at Sanctuary when Negan made me wear that dumb dress, but… well, it's not like it's a secret or anything, and I know you know, but-"
"This about your scars?" he asked, cutting across my babbling. I was glad he did because I could feel myself starting to go in circles.
"Yeah. All this," I gestured to the bruises on my torso that had made him recoil a little when he'd first seen them, "is already fading, but my legs…they've always…they won't ever be…."
"I know," he said with a slight shrug, "like my back."
"Yeah," I said with an intense flush of relief. Of course, he got this.
"You ain't gotta show me."
"It's okay," I said before I could change my mind. "I want to."
Daryl kept his eyes on me the whole time he undressed me, unfastening the button at the front of my jeans, unzipping them, and sliding them off my hips while checking for any sign I wanted him to stop. I didn't.
I sat up on the table and stretched my legs out so he could pull them off my feet. I heard my jeans hit the floor, and Daryl looked back up at me again. I watched him as he looked at me, his gazing traveling slowly up my body in a way that made me shiver. When he reached my thighs, my breath got stuck behind my heart, and I waited for the wince, the recoil like when he'd lifted my shirt the first time and seen Simon's handiwork. It never came.
"You're a dumbass if you think these make you any less beautiful," he said when his eyes finally met mine. And then he bent his head to the scar closest to my knee and kissed it. The heat of his lips on my skin traveled back up my thighs in lightning rods. It was such a shock, I let out a short, shallow breath. When Daryl heard it, he looked up,
"Shit," he muttered, a flash of regret in his eyes. "Sorry... I didn't ask…I should've...was that okay?"
"Yes," I said, although it was difficult to speak around my heart thumping in the back of my throat. "I liked it."
"Yeah?" His crooked smile was back, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
"Yes," I said. Scared that he was about to pull away, I whispered, "Don't stop."
That hunger flashed in his eyes again. A muscle in his jaw clenched, and he exhaled through his nose. Warm tips on scar tissue. That tingle of surprise coursed through me again. His hands took hold of the backs of my thighs, gently pushing them further apart as his kisses moved up.
I leaned back on the desk behind me, balancing myself on my elbows. Part of me wanted to close my eyes, relax into it. But I could not take my eyes off him. His head between my thighs, lips lingering on every scar long enough for me to ache at the anticipation of the next one. It was hard to think straight. I knew I was making those little whimpers again, but I was too far gone to care. It's intoxicating - being loved like this. I'd never let anyone this close. Not like this. It could only ever have been him.
Daryl kissed a spot at the top of my innermost right thigh. The last one. He paused.
Both of us were breathing hard, the heat between us evaporating our breath. I couldn't speak, could only hold his gaze and wait, almost shaking, for him to say, Tell me what you want, Naomi.
I wanted to hear him say it, the way he'd murmured it right by my ear. His mouth opened slightly like he was about to speak. Somewhere, in the tiny part of my brain that wasn't yet entirely clouded by desire, I knew that this could be a mistake. But I was overwhelmingly aware of his hands at my hips, his fingertips skirting the waistband of my panties. If he asked what I wanted now, I didn't know what I'd say. Or if I'd be able to say anything at all.
Tell me what you want.
But he didn't say it. Daryl looked up from between my legs, blue eyes fixed on me, and licked his lips.
I sat up, pulled his face to mine with my hands, and kissed him, stretching out my legs to wrap around him and pull his body closer to mine. He froze for a second, backed away, so there was a little distance between us, but not before I felt it. Through his pants, his erection against my thigh.
I stopped kissing him. My hands on his hips, I looked deep into his eyes. It's okay, I wanted to say. I want this, I want you, I've never wanted anyone more. You ain't gotta hide this.
I couldn't say any of it. Desire burned up all of my language, leaving only his name. "Daryl."
He nodded like he got it. Kissed me hard and deep, letting his hips move back toward mine when I pulled them there. I felt him again, hard against me. My hands moved to unfasten his pants, but I stopped just before and looked up at him.
"Can I?" I whispered. "Please?"
Daryl nodded. Not sure he could've said anything even if he wanted to. I unclasped the button, moved to the zipper, and felt him freeze again.
"You hear that?"
I shook my head. The only sound I'd heard, the only thing I'd been focussed on, was his zipper. But I listened. Footsteps echoed from the floor below us.
"Daryl! Naomi!" Glenn's voice called out.
"Shit," I muttered. I'd forgotten Glenn even existed. Forgotten why we were here, why I was pinned to a desk by an almost naked Daryl. I'd been too caught up in the almost naked Daryl part to remember anything else. Daryl sprang away from me, and I scrambled to find the shirt Daryl had thrown to the floor.
"You guys in here?"
"Shit, shit, shit," I muttered, pulling my shirt over my head. I ran to the center of the room, where there was a railing built around the hole between floors. I hoped it would hide the fact that I was pantless. Behind me, I could hear Daryl laughing.
I leaned over the railing and peered down through the empty central column of the building. Glenn and Tara were standing near the reception desk like they were two years too late for a meeting.
"We're up here!" I called back. They both looked up."Down in a sec."
"We'll come up to you guys," Tara said. "No rush."
"No!" I practically screamed it at them. "There's a kitchen just over there. Some of the foods still good. We'll meet you down there."
I pointed wildly in the direction of the kitchen and didn't stop until they'd started moving toward it. As I whipped around in a desperate search for my jeans, I caught sight of Daryl behind me. Bent double with laughter. I scooped up my jeans and stuffed one leg in.
"Stop it," I hissed, but then I caught sight of myself in the reflection of one of the blank computer monitors. Hopping around with my jeans-half on and I started giggling too.
"Calm yourself, crazy pants," Daryl said. "I'll go see 'em. Take your time."
"Uh… you might want to hang out here for a sec," I said, wiggling my hips around in an attempt to get the waistband of my jeans over my ass as fast as possible.
"I've got my shit together a little better than you, you-"
"Nah, it ain't that," I said, finally sliding my jeans over my hips and fastening them. "You might need a couple more secs to cool down."
"Cool down?" he said.
"Yeah, you're still…." I let my gaze flicker pointedly down to his crotch and the tenting of his pants. Diminishing but still painfully visible.
"Oh shit," Daryl turned beet red.
"Yeah," I said, but I was grinning from ear to ear, and so was he when he looked back up at me.
"Get outta here," he grumbled. "You ain't helping."
I stuck my tongue out at him and turned, and raced down the stairs. I was on such a high, it felt like I was flying down them. When I burst into the kitchen, my heart was racing from more than my mad dash down there. Tara and Glenn looked startled by the way I flung the door open without thinking. I felt giddy, like I was a kid who'd been caught doing something they shouldn't.
"Hey!" I said/ I talked fast, thinking the more information I distracted them with, the less they'd notice. Talked them through the food we'd found here and the idea to check other floors. I missed out the part where heavy making out had distracted us from actually checking more than one floor.
"Glad you found stuff. The school was a dud," was all Tara said when I was done.
Daryl emerged a few moments later, looking a little disheveled. Luckily for us, 'disheveled' is kind of Daryl's go-to look. If Glenn and Tara suspected anything, they said nothing. Maybe putting out almost deliriously good moods down to actually finding some food. Glenn drove the car into the empty office parking lot, and we loaded as much as we could into the trailer he'd fixed to it.
"Think we got away with it," I muttered as the last of the salvageable food items was packed away, and we were getting ready to leave. Daryl and I were waiting in the backseat. Tara had just loaded the last of the food, and Glenn was making sure the trailer was secure.
"Yeah... maybe…" Daryl said, but he sounded doubtful. I looked at him. Had Glenn known? Had he said something?
Daryl reached across the empty middle seat between us. With a small but growing smile on his face, his fingers brushed against my side, and he looked up at me. His gaze held mine with an echo of the intensity in they'd when he'd looked up at me from between my thighs. My stomach twisted again for a whole other reason.
I barely moved. All I could feel was the slightest pressure of his fingertips at my waist.
Between his thumb and forefinger, he took hold of a label that was sticking out of a seam. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and then looked up at me.
"You put your shirt back on inside out, dummy."
"Shit."
As Glenn and Tara opened the doors in front of us, Daryl withdrew his hand and sat back, using it to try and cover the smirk that was spreading across his face. A giggle bubbled up in me too, and I had to look away from him.
Whether or not they'd worked out what caused it, our good mood infected Glenn and Tara, too. By the time we got back, the whole car was singing dumb songs like kids on a school bus. I hoped it would follow us out of the car, cure the malaise around Hilltop.
Daryl
Naomi walked so close to me our hands kept brushing up against one another. I wanted to grab it and hold on tight. Wanted to walk hand and hand in the sunshine like we were just a regular couple out for a walk in the country with our friends. Course, I got no idea if that's what regular couples even did but it sounded kinda right.
Didn't matter anyway because that wasn't what we were. We were a small army heading over the hills to kick some Savior ass. Ain't no place for hand holding at a time like that.
Still, though, every now and then I'd feel the soft skin on the back of her hand against mine for just a second. My thoughts would turn to how the rest of her had felt under my hands, under my lips, and she'd glance over at me and smile like she might be thinking the same thing. A whole new smile just for me. A little shy, a little cheeky. I'd feel myself smiling back, even though we were at war, and even though I knew my smile ain't nearly as good as hers. Because you can't help but return a smile that pretty.
Around us, other people drifted in and out of conversation. Spirits were high. There'd been a long stretch of doing nothing, and then a note from Dwight that promised a plan to end all of this. Nobody has questioned it, his intel had been reliable until now. So here we were, certain that today would be one we looked back on as the end of the Saviors.
If I hadn't been looking over at Naomi all the time, trying to catch that smile, I might not have seen them. But I did. And I stopped. Down the hill we were walking across, toward a valley, was the biggest horde of Walkers I'd ever seen. Far enough in the distance not to pose any threat, but big enough to stop me in my tracks for a second. Naomi stopped, too. Didn't take long for everyone else to follow.
"Oh, Jesus," Rosita muttered.
"Holy damn," said Jerry. "You ever seen one that big?"
"No. Things are changing," said Rick solumnly. It was weird how Walkers stuck together like that. Their group growing as they hunted for living snacks. Our walls wouldn't last long against the force of a group that big. With everything that had gone on between us and the Savors, it was easy to forget the other threats out there. Ones that couldn't be negotiated with. One that didn't know how to surrender. Rick sighed, "Let's go."
We moved on. The sight of all them Walkers had been enough to bring me back down to Earth a little. Enough to make me feel uneasy. Enough to remind me what was at stake. When we could go back to only worrying about Walkers, things would be easier.
"How much further?" I asked.
"We grow closer. Yonder, over the ridge," the King replied, and even though he spoke like an asshole, he wasn't wrong. A few more paces and I thought I could see the place we were aiming for. The place Dwight's message had told us the Saviors would all be sitting ducks. The thought of being so close to ending this thing spurred us all on. Nobody spoke now, any chatter we'd had previously died away as we mentally prepared for what was to come. It could be a hard fight. They would be ambushed, caught of guard, which should help our small army take them down. But that didn't mean we wouldn't suffer loses.
We passed through a sparsely wooded area on the side of the hill. The slope was getting steeper now. I fought the urge to look over at Naomi again. I needed to get my game face on, no distractions. This was it. The final battle. One last push and then I'd have all the time in the world to spend with her.
We could get back to…
Well… Shouldn't be thinking about that now.
A whistle rang out amongst the trees.
All too familiar, the kind of whistle that turned my blood to ice.
Others joined it.
The sound of it made my stomach turn like I was about to hurl, thought I might break out in a cold sweat. Last time I'd last heard it I thought I was about to escape Sanctuary. Escape Diwght's torture. And then that fucking whistle and Negan had ambushed me on my way to save Naomi. Made her take a beating for what I'd done. Did this mean Negan was back?
"Get behind me," I barked at Naomi. My gun already raised by my cheek. Naomi didn't move from my side, her gun was up and ready too. She shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have let her come, not while she had a target on her back. All at once, our army felt too small. Why hadn't we brought more people? There were so many able fighters left behind at Hilltop.
This was meant to be a quick fight. An easy win. Over before the Saviors knew what hit them.
But they knew.
They were waiting.
I scanned the top of the ridge we'd been heading toward for any sign of them. Anywhere to shoot. Nothing. Just that damn whistling.
"Well, would you look at this," Simon's voice came over one of the walkies we'd stolen from them. It seemed to echo around the hills, amplified in the valley. Prayed it wasn't loud enough to draw the attention of that big old hoarde. "You're on your merry way to ambush us and here I am ambushing your little ambush with an even bigger amush."
Dwight.
That piece of shit lead us into a trap.
Why hadn't I questioned his note, doubted him more? I'd done it in the past and been wrong every time, but now he'd finally done it. Made us trust his intel so he could pull this kind of shit. He'd fooled even me.
"How about you step out and face us?" Rick yelled into the air, with no way of knowing which way Simon might emerge from.
"Oh, I am everywhere, Rick. Pick a direction to run, see how you do," Simon said.
"Get behind me," I muttered to Naomi again. Again, she didn't move.
"Why? So I can watch you die first?" she muttered without looking at me. Her eyes were scanning our surroundings like everyone else. "No thank you."
Felt like the world was closing in me.
"I brought you some of your old friends," Simon said. "You remember your good buddy Eugene? Well, he is the person that made today possible. And Dwight…"
Son of a bitch.
I'll kill him.
I steadied my finger on the trigger. If so much as one hair on Dwight's head blew out of whatever rathole he was hiding it, I was going to blast it to pieces. If I had time to pull him apart piece by piece I would, but as long as he wound up dead, I didn't much care how it went down.
"In case you were wondering, he didn't rat you out on purpose," Simon said. "He might have had Negan fooled but he wasn't smart enough to sneak that shit past me. And now he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, right before he dies. And Gabriel? Well, he's gotta go too. I'm finally going to do what Negan should've done a long time ago, Rick. I am cleaning house today. So...here we go. Three...two…"
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
I stepped in front of Naomi, try sheild her body with mine as best I could until I knew which direction the Saviors were going to come in. But then the Saviors emerged over the top of the ridgeway we'd been heading for. A whole line of them filled the horizon. So many guns raised and pointed at us, every one of them fully loaded with bullets Eugene had made.
Fuck.
No.
Too many Saviors. Too many bullets
We were cornered.
How could I save Naomi from this?
I glanced back at her. Our eyes met. I'd take a thousand bullets for her but I knew realistically, there was only so many I could sheild her from. And then what? When I dropped down dead, she'd been next.
I hated the resignation in her eyes. Like she was ready to die.
I'm sorry I failed you, I opened my mouth to say it, but she was already speaking.
"The girls are safe," was all she said, and I realised it wasn't resignation in her eyes. It was determination. There was nothing we could do to change the outcome of this fight, but we would fight. And no matter what, Mia and Perla were at Hilltop, there was a plan in place for what would happen if the Saviors went there. They would live, and that was enough for her.
I nodded, and right before the Saviors pulled their triggers, right before the guns went off I didn't feel scared. I didn't feel angry. I regretted not holding her hand on the way here. Not pulling her in for kiss even though we had been unwittingly marching to our deaths. If this was how it ended, if there was nothing I could do to stop it and it had to go down this way, I regretted every second I'd spent away from her.
Simon finished his countdown. The sound of gunfire and screaming erupted around us, echoing off the hills and the valley. I shot back, bracing myself for the hail of bullets that were coming but had someone miraculously missed me so far. I waited for pain that never came, wondered briefly how I'd managed to be the luckiest son of bitch around and then realised everyone around me was still standing too. The row of Saviors in front of us folded like dominoes. Every shot was a misfire, hitting them instead of us.
Eugene.
You clever bastard.
"Now!" Rick yelled as the shock that we were all still breathing started to wear off. We ran up the hill. The Saviors who'd survived their guns misfiring took off. We pushed them back up toward where they'd parked their vehicles and lain in wait for us. Some of them still tried to shoot at us. Others fought with knives and axes, but they couldn't do much damage at a distance. Our guns took them out before we got close.
More Saviors fell. And then we caught up to the ones who'd retreated. They laid down their weapons, faced us. I didn't lower mine.
"Don't shoot, please," one of them said, her arms raised in peace. "We're done."
You're about to be.
They'd been about to shoot us when we were helpless. Why should we show them any kind of mercy? End the Saviors, that was the point of all of this. But nobody around me was shooting, either.
The Saviors knelt down in the grass, hands raised above their heads. You could see some of them were bleeding, missing fingers from the misfiring guns. Still, nobody on our side moved. Didn't lower our guns, but didn't shoot them either. I wanted to. I wanted them all to pay for what they'd done. To Abraham. To me. To Naomi. To all of us.
"It's over, Simon!" Dwight's shout pulled my attention away from the surrendering Saviors. Simon was the only one who hadn't yet put down his weapon. Naomi was holding him at gunpoint, Dwight stood beside her. I thought about shooting him on the spot.
Simon glared at the Saviors kneeling down in front of us. "Fucking cowards. Get up and fight. We are Negan."
"No," the woman who'd first surrendered said quietly. "You're not."
"Give it up," Dwight said, a warning tone in his voice. I wanted Naomi to shoot them both. After what they'd done to her, they deserved it. Simon most of all. I was done with him running his mouth. I was done with him breathing.
Simon's eyes were burning, darting around like a cornered animal. But slowly he knelt down, hands behind his back. Seething with rage. Jerry and the King stood behind him, guns trained on the back of his head.
"See," Naomi said, lowering her own gun now that Jerry and the King were in position. "Weren't so hard, was it?"
Shoot him.
Even though he's surrendered, shoot him. It's fine.
Silence fell on the hillside. I couldn't believe this was it. It looked over, but it sure as shit didn't feel over. Now what? What if their surrender was another trap? What if we let them live only for them to come back stronger.
"Alright," Rick called to all of us. "Looks like we got some more occupants for those cages. Hope you've got space Maggie."
"We'll make do," Maggie said, unsmiling.
"We will be fair to you," Rick started to tell the Saviors. He'd spent the best part of a week trying to think about how best to keep any surving Saviors in line. How to make sure they were punished, but stayed loyal. My suggestion that there shouldn't be any surving Saviors fell on deaf ears.
Our people started to relax as we listened to Rick. Even I lowered my gun a little. "Our communities have a lot of work to do. Rebuilding. We have to come together and-"
Naomi turned to make her way over to me. The second she did, the second her eyes weren't on Simon anymore he moved. Before I could shoot or breathe or call out a warning, he rose up and grabbed her hair. Right as she was walking away from him.
Fucking coward.
I didn't hear if she screamed or not when he dragged her to the ground. The wind was already rushing in my ears as I ran toward them. Either Jerry or the King had tried to shoot Simon as he got up and missed, too distracted by Rick's speech and the false promise that this was all over.
"Don't shoot!" I yelled at them as I ran. Simon had her pinned to the ground, any shot taken at him now could wind up killing her. I watched her twist underneath him, trying to get out. Saw Simon's fists in the air rising and falling. He was yelling all sorts of shit at her.
And then he was the one on the ground. I'd run at him, slammed my body into is with all my might and sent him sprawling onto his back. And then I was on him. Landed the first few blows before he even knew what had happened.
But I knew.
I heard the crack of his nose. Watched the blood pour out of him. It wasn't enough. Not for what he'd done. My fists moved on their own, it wasn't really even Simon I was seeing.
It was her.
The dark purple boot print on her stomach. His boot print.
My hands wrapped around Simon's throat.
He'd done this to her, too, hadn't he? Tried to choke her out. She'd told me. I remembered those bruises around her neck at Sanctuary. That was him.
I remembered her passed out on the Sanctuary floor after taking a beating for me.
Couldn't protect her then. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't do shit.
I'd failed her.
I always fucking failed her.
Simon wasn't Simon anymore. He was every person I'd failed to protect her against.
Negan.
I remembered her ready to die for me under Lucille because I hadn't been able to keep my damn temper.
Couldn't protect her then. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't do shit.
Terminus.
The way she'd flinched when I touched her without warning. The panic attack. The sheer terror in her eyes.
Couldn't protect her. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't do shit.
Her Momma.
Her fucking Momma. That one burned me up most of all.
"Daryl," her voice cut through the noise like it always did.
Made me stop.
Take a breath.
The world was a blur - red and brown - shifting beneath my feet. Her hand on my shoulder, I turned toward her voice. Calm eyes that made the world stand still again.
"It's over," she said quietly. "He's dead. You can stop now. You ain't gotta fight no more."
I looked back at Simon... or what was left of him. Blood and grass all merged together.
My fists have been clenched so tight it hurt to open them again. I held them out in front of me. They shook. Until Naomi took hold of them, turned my attention back to her again. Helped me get to my feet. Wordlessly, she pulled me close and held me until my breathing steadied again. People moved around us, Rick gave another speech. None of it touched me.
I don't know how she did it, but Naomi got me sitting down in the back of an open truck. Don't even remember moving there, but she was holding my hands out. I looked down at them, noticing for the first time how covered in blood they were and wondering how much of it was mine. How much was Simon's?
Naomi took them gently in hers. Inspected them. Turned them over, looking for anywhere I might be hurt. I didn't feel hurt. I felt numb, watching her do it. Always there when I needed her. Even though I'd never been able to do the same for her.
"Ain't noone gonna hurt you again, Naomi," I told her. "I ain't gonna let 'em."
I was dead serious when I said it, wanted her to know, but she barely looked up from my hands. She straightened out my fingers and lifted up a bandage soaked in something - probably some kind of alcohol or disinfectant.
"This'll sting," she said, like she always did. But it never did. Not as much as she seemed to worry it would, anway. Being near her had this way of taking any kinda pain away, always had. There were some things I could only feel around her, and some things I never could. Pain, hurt, anger… all of that she numbed.
I watched her clean the blood off my hands, uncovering cuts I'd made on my knuckles while beating Simon to a pulp. I didn't think about that though. I kept watched her. The care she took, how gentle she was. The way she took her time like what she was doing was the most important thing in the world. Nobody ever took care of me like that.
"Ain't noone gonna hurt you again, Naomi," I said. I couldn't remember if I'd already said it or if I'd only thought it, but it felt important that she knew. "Anyone lays a hand on you again, I'll-"
"I know," she said, laying a hand on my cheek. She did know. The way her eyes met mine, I knew she knew. I nodded. She rested her forehead against mine for a moment. Let there be a silence, let us just exist in a moment of quiet together.
Naomi drove us both back to Hilltop in a truck I didn't recognize and took me far too long to realize had been taken from the Saviors. By the time we left the battlefield, most people had gone on ahead of us. She let me be silent for a while, let me slowly come back into myself after everything that had happened. Everything I'd done. Let the numbness wear off in my own time.
"Dwight still here?" I asked, suddenly realising I hadn't seen what had happened to him. If I'd shot him like I wanted to, I couldn't remember doing it. But I'd flown into a blind rage. I knew I'd killed Simon. Couldn't remember it to save my life.
"Yeah," she glanced over at me. I could tell from the little frown on her face that she was trying to assess how I was doing. If I'd come out of shock yet. "He's with the rest of the Saviors, I think. On his way to Hilltop."
"What do you think we should do with him?" I asked. He might not have betrayed us, but to me, it was obvious that he didn't deserve to live after all he'd done.
"He saved my life," she said with a sigh and after a moment's pause. "Not sure I can be the one to kill him. Or make that decision, but Rick's declared victory, he says it's peacetime now, killing him might not even be on the cards."
"Yeah," I stared at the road ahead of us.
"But, also, he beat you," she said, her eyes clouding over. "He nearly killed Lucas. There has to be an answer for that. I hate that he did that. The way he kept you caged up like an animal."
I watched that darkness swirl in her eyes and made a decision. "Let me deal with him."
"On your own?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Ain't a decision you should have to make."
"Ain't one you should have to make either."
"I got this," I said. I knew she didn't look sure, didn't want me to do anything hard by myself, but I could do anything if it was for her. "You think Rick's right? This is peacetime now?"
"I don't know," she said, pulling into Hilltop and coming to a stop behind a jumble of cars that had assembled there. She sat back for a second. I knew she was thinking about Negan, she gets this real specific look on her face when she does and I hate it. I knew she was thinking that he was still out there. Somewhere. Maybe waiting for us at Sanctuary, making Rick's declaration of victory way too premature.
My eyes fell on Dwight, huddled by the surviving Saviors. I unfastened my seatbelt, eyes fixed on him. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Daryl-"
"Check on the girls," I told her. "I'll deal with Dwight, I got this."
"Okay," she said, but she still looked worried. I knew it was a bit of a dirty trick to distract her with Mia and Perla, but this was something I had to do. And Naomi would be desperate to see that they were okay.
I left the truck, strode right over to Dwight. Rick, Michonne and Maggie were there, trying to sort through the Saviors and find places to keep them all. A shallow grave seemed appropriate but it didn't look like they were leaning in that direction.
"Come with me," I told Dwight. His eyes were bright with fear, he glanced at Rick and the others like he was waiting for them to intervene and help him. They all stayed silent, they knew this was my fight and my decision to make. Dwight followed me reluctantly back to the truck and climbed into the passenger side.
We didn't speak as I drove us back out of the Hilltop. He sat there with the air of a condemned man while I took him deep into the woods. The same man who'd fed me dogfood sandwiches, who hadn't let me sleep, who'd taunted and beat me. Now silent. Small. A piece of human garbage on the passenger seat.
I didn't really have a place in mind, but when we'd driven far enough in, I stopped. I shut off the engine. In the silence that followed all I could hear was Dwight's shaky breath, steaming up the window.
"Get out," I said.
Dwight did as he was told. Didn't look at me, but he was resigned to whatever was coming next. He'd seen me kill Simon with my bare hands. Knew that could be coming to him next. I got out of the truck too. Stood in front of him with my weapon trained on him.
"I know why I'm here," Dwight said, still unable to meet my gaze. "I know what I did to Lucas. To you. To Naomi."
Something flared up in me.
"Get her name out of your mouth," I snapped.
"To...other people," he said. "And it doesn't matter why. I knew I'd have to face it… to pay, and I should. I'm ready. I got to see Negan taken down and that's enough. Nao… your girl… she was incredible, Daryl. You should've seen her. The way she took him on, she's made of stronger stuff than I am."
Made of stronger stuff than any of us.
I remembered her crawling out of Sanctuary all soaked in Negan's blood.
Telling me not to watch while Negan was about to bash her head in with Lucille so I wouldn't have to watch her die.
Running through the streets of Alexandria and straight into my arms.
I thought of her, in the times I hadn't been there.
Surviving to protect Mia and Perla in Terminus.
Getting them somewhere safe when the world fell apart.
Getting Mia away from their fucking Momma.
"Me? I'm a piece of shit," Dwight said. "There's no going back to how things were."
He knelt down in front of me. As ready for death as any man could ever be. I barely saw him.
I saw her.
Her boots in front of me when she'd found me burning myself with a cigarette before she brought us to Alexandria.
Waiting for me at the school gates when I got detention.
Carrying a pile of books around that was almost taller than she was.
Opening her door to me whenever I needed it. Patching me up.
I could've lost her so many times. If Dwight hadn't found her when I'd come to get her out of Sanctuary, Negan might be dead for sure but Naomi would be too. The only good thing this piece of human garbage had done. Was it enough?
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Dwight sobbed in front of me. "Please. Please."
I don't even know what he was pleading for. It could've been for his life, it could have been for me to pull the trigger fast and give him a quick death. Get it over with. I didn't much care. I cared about being the kind of guy Naomi deserved. A hero. A guy like Rick. And guys like that don't shoot unarmed men in cold blood. Not even assholes like Dwight.
Despite what he'd put her through at Sanctuary, Naomi had grown to trust him. Even when it had seemed like he'd betrayed us, he hadn't. Not really. I'd never trust him, but I would always trust her.
"Shut up," I told him, throwing the keys to the truck down at his knees. "You go and you keep going. Don't you ever come back here again. If I ever see your face around here again, I'll kill ya."
I started to walk away before I could change my mind, before violence and vengeance could win out.
"Why?" he called after me.
"You saved my girl," I said, without turning back. "Find yours. Make it right."
It took me the rest of the walk back to cool down, to make peace with my decision. When I got back to the Hilltop, Maggie directed me to the trailer Naomi and the girls were staying in. It was dark out, and the lights in the windows were dim but still on. I opened the door real quiet in case they were all asleep. Naomi was sitting up on one of the sofas. Mia's head was lolling on her shoulder, legs curled underneath her and eyes closed.
"She asleep?" I whispered. Naomi nodded.
"Help me move her?" she whispered. Together, we lifted Mia enough for Naomi to slip out and lowered Mia gently back down again to sleep on the couch. She stirred a little but didn't wake. Naomi covered her with a blanket and tucked her in in a way that made me think she'd done it a thousand times before. She looked back at me, "Thanks. My arm was getting numb."
"She okay?"
Naomi nodded, but she looked exhausted. "She kept telling me all about how the Saviors came and they had to get out and how Oceanside came to save the day."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Naomi looked down at her little sister. "It was close, today. We almost lost everything."
"Yeah. I know," I said, looking down at Mia and thinking about how sure we'd been that we were about to die. How the only way Naomi had been able to face it was thinking that Mia would be alright. I put an arm around her shoulders. "It's over now."
She nodded, but the tension didn't leave her eyes. "What did you do...with Dwight?"
"Did what I thought was right," I said.
"Okay," she said. No follow-up questions, just complete faith in me and my judgement. Naomi looked away from Mia for the first time in a while. "You good?"
"Yeah," I said, because I was now.
Naomi held out her hand for me to take. "Bed?"
"Yes," I said, exhaustion had set deep into my bones. The adrenaline from the day was wearing off. She led me to a small room, barely big enough for the mattress that had been shoved in there.
"All the other rooms are taken," she said, as a half-apology. Her continued whispering made it clear that other people were sleeping behind the other closed doors that we passed.
"This is fine," I shrugged as we crawled in to bed beside each other. I was too tired to care much about the sleeping arrangements, but as I lay next to Naomi in the dark I couldn't help letting my mind wander.
She deserved better than this. A place of our own, maybe. We hadn't yet seen the damage in Alexandria but it didn't have to be there. I could build us someplace else. Out in the woods, maybe. Somewhere between all of the communities so we could see our friends when we wanted to and be together the rest of the time.
I started to drift off, visions of it flickering in my head. A place in the woods built for me and her. A spiked fence to keep the Walkers out. A garden to grow our own food. Mia would have a room of her own. Naomi's books would need a room of their own, too.
"Hey, Daryl," Naomi's whisper interrupted my half-dream.
"Yeah?"
"Why you gotta be so far away?"
In the darkness, I smiled. I always wanted Naomi to feel safe, didn't want her to panic if I touched her unexpectedly so I'd started sleeping close to her, but without making any kind of contact. I'd had no idea she'd even noticed, nevermind didn't like it enough to keep her awake.
"You want me to be closer?" I asked, turning over onto my side.
"Yes," she said. I felt her body move right up against mine, her back against my chest. "You can hug me, y'know."
I felt a smile tug at the coroner of my mouth. I wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her body close to mine.
"Like this?" I asked her.
She didn't say yes, she said, "Please."
I buried my face into her neck. Did she know the effect that had on me? Had she said it deliberately? My eyes already closed, all I could think about was the way she'd looked at me in that office. Eyes fixed on me like I was all she could see. Like she was mine. Asking me to kiss her, touch her. Almost begging, like I was the only one who could satisfy a need in her.
Like she was mine.
Through the fog of drowsiness, I felt something stir deep inside me. If sleep hadn't been coming to claim me, I might have claimed her. Started kissing her neck in that way she likes. That way that makes her moan a little, tremble against me.
But there was time for all that. Later. No use rushing it. So I squeezed her close to me again and murmured, "You're mine, Naomi."
Her hand rested on mine in the dark. "I know."