Oneshot based on The Walking Dead Season 2 (2012)
Snippet of unnamed girl and Daryl. Not having to make decisions can lead to others getting hurt. But one doesn’t hurt the ones they love. Something I had to get out of the system after the show shut the possibility for Carol (back then, things change).
She was giving out the last of the breakfasts before Daryl reached to get his.
“It’s laundry day.” she said after he took the bowl with leftover meat and stewed vegetables. It wasn’t much, but more than they had last week. “I’ll be mending some clothes later, if you have anything that needs fixing.”
He didn’t reply, but nodded. Then he walked away, out of the temporary canteen they had built in courtyard and she turned back to the emptied pans and pots. That’s how their wordless agreement worked. He took her requests before they went hunting for supplies and she did small things to him – mended his clothes, washed them and other things.
An hour later he returned with few of his shirts and his poncho. She was crouching next to the basin with foam up all the way to her elbows. Other two women were chatting, but she seemed to be frowning instead.
She heard him dump his things quietly on her side. She took one glance at the shirts and then shot her eyes up. “Heh, I recall them having sleeves?”
He gave her a shy smile before putting his poncho next to the shirts. It didn’t need washing, but there was visually ugly ripped edge showing on the middle. She knew he was on watch that night and thus she knew he would appreciate if she could do it before that time.
“You need something?” he asked.
“No, I should be fine for now.”
He left quickly, but could still hear other women giggling and turned to see her frown, grabbing hard to her stomach. She was in pain, but still doing her choirs.
When he returned from the collecting trip few hours later, he knew they would still be doing the washing and so he strayed off his path to the pantry. He watched them behind the wall and waited until the others left to hang up their portions before walking straight to her and tossing small bottle of painkillers on the clothes pile next to her.
She jumped, eyeing the small item next to her before bolting her eyes up and searching, where it came from. She gave him a quick thank you before he turned and walked away before anyone could see what he had just done.
“How about we have some fun, ay?” the new man walked in her cell as she was mending the poncho.
She gazed up and snorted. “No.”
“Come on, darling, we both have needs. And it’s obvious you two aren’t getting anywhere with it.”
She didn’t reply, focusing back on the needlework. “Daryl will kill you if you touch me.”
“He has made no claim on you.”
“We both know he won’t. It doesn’t mean I’m on the market.”
“Then he should share.”
Her eyes fell on the figure standing on the other side of the prison balcony. Daryl was staring at his back.
“What’s allowed to him, is not allowed to everyone. It has nothing to do with fairness. I’m my own master. And I say no.”
“I can take you if I want to, you know that?” he changed his tone. “Who would believe you?”
She felt repulsed by his swaggers, small brain with large talk. “And explain that how?”
He paused, taken back with the cold tone. “I’ll make you come and then say you wanted it yourself!”
“Hah! With my past? I don’t think so.”
“Hmm! You just got interesting…” he murmured, taking step closer to her.
“No, I didn’t.” she said, seriously.
He lingered around few moments more and left, stopping dead on the door, seeing his shadowy figure around the corner, waiting in silence.
“Jesus Christ, the two of you are like school kids with a crush; push her in the dirt and pull her piggy tails, go on, show her how much you love her.”
She heard him, but by the time Daryl passed his cell, she was dead concentrated on the stitches, even if he slowed down enough to watch her work for a good moment.
She saw him on the south side tower and went to it. It was getting chilly with the season. He had taken his jacket, but she still wanted to take it to him. He didn’t turn, when she reached up and she took a moment to watch the angel wings stitched on his jacket.
After few moments she realized it was getting odd, so she walked over and placed the poncho on his shoulders, lingering her touch for a bit more.
When she was about to move away, he finally turned.
“If anyone tries to force themselves on you without your consent, you will tell me, right?”
She stopped, surprised.
“I don’t think he’ll try again.” She said confidently.
“But you will tell me.” It wasn’t a question, but statement.
“I can fight my own battles, Daryl.”
He turned a bit and looked straight at her. “If he puts his hands on you, I will make an example of him!”
“And do what?” She snorted, eyes fixed in his, but she wasn’t amused. He was serious. “Kill him? Or have him balls up to the wall?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know.” She walked back to him and knelled down next to him. “So, you won’t make a claim on me, but won’t have anyone else have me either?”
“You sure know how to push my buttons.” He mumbled, his eyes fixed on her lips. Suddenly his free hand reached out and caught her neckline and pulled her closer. “Alright, I make claim on you.” He whispered. “Now you’re off limits to every other bastard, right?”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Off limits,” she agreed, “one man woman.”