Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nine

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Nine

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, reference to nightmares

Word count: 2.8k

Several days had passed since Daryl left. I’m not gonna lie, I missed waking up after falling out of bed and hearing my door open, peering up to see him standing there, making sure I was alright. Before he left, I was insisting to him that he didn’t need to keep doing that, but I hoped he would ignore me and continue when he returned.

When I wasn’t treating someone, I was helping around Alexandria in other ways. I helped with laundry, cooking, playing with Judith and some of the other kids (they had lots of questions about me being a doctor), tending to the garden, and figuring out how to make Aaron a prosthetic foot. I found a pair of scissors and nail clippers in the infirmary, so I finally got to clip my nails and cut a few inches of dead ends off my hair. I also invited Maggie, Glenn, and Rosita over for dinner one night and cooked for them. Every day, I felt more and more a part of the community and like I belonged there. At times, it would become overwhelming, and I would step away from everything to cry. After being on my own for so long, finding somewhere with good people that welcomed me so warmly was heartwarming, but it also made me ache for my parents, my brothers, and my best friend.

Having the house to myself for a week gave me plenty of time to think about Daryl. Think about our first run, think about every interaction we’ve had, think about what Michonne, Maggie, and Rosita had said, and think about what Carol said. That that wasn’t the first time he had talked to her about me. That he “didn’t hate me. Not even close.” I thought about what I was going to say to him when he got back. Thought about what he did with the note I left as I didn’t have it in me to check the trash can and possibly see it there.

It was starting to get dark out, and I had finished my duties for the day, so I went back home to make dinner. I had found a slow cooker in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, buried away, so I elected to make something I often made in college as I could just start up the slow cooker and leave it. I grabbed various ingredients out from the fridge and cabinets, washing produce off and dumping everything in the pot with water. I turned the timer on and headed upstairs to take a shower. It was a hair-washing day, so it was good that the food was going to take a few hours as I would have plenty of time.

I stopped in my room and grabbed a pair of pajamas. I had originally just been sleeping in my clothes, but the nights were getting chillier, so I needed something warmer. Rosita helped me find a red plaid flannel pajama set that fit perfectly. I had been bringing my clothes with me into the bathroom when I showered to avoid having to scurry around in a towel in case Daryl came back. I got the water running and undressed, stepping into the warm cascade of water.

Earlier, when I had been hanging out with and entertaining some of the children, they asked me what my favorite movies were when movies existed. I told them about my favorite Disney movie from when I was growing up—Sleeping Beauty. I told them all about the tale of Princess Aurora, the fairy godmothers, Prince Philip, and Maleficent. How Prince Philip slayed the dragon to save the princess. How they fell in love and got married. The music was one of my favorite parts, and as I washed and rinsed my hair, I found myself first humming, then singing the song “Once Upon A Dream” from the movie.

I kept singing as I finished my shower. I didn’t think I was perfect by any means, but at least I could hit the higher notes comfortably. The acoustics in the bathroom were stellar. I dried myself off and got into my comfy pajamas, grabbing my glasses off of the sink and putting them back on. I left the bathroom and gave my hair a quick run-through with the towel as I walked back to my room, continuing my serenade as I went.

I grabbed a couple of hair ties off my dresser and shook my hair out again, brushing through it with my fingers and parting it down the middle. I tightly braided each side so that it would turn out wavy again in the morning. I smiled, thinking about all of the times Preston would call me Wednesday when I did this with my hair. Apparently, long black braided hair immediately equals Wednesday Addams.

I grabbed my towel to take it back to the bathroom, and as I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a familiar, gravely voice from downstairs.

“Smells good.”

It felt like I jumped a foot off the ground with how startled I was. The adrenaline was pumping hard, and I turned to steady myself on the railing by the stairs. I looked up and saw Daryl standing in the kitchen, leaned back against the counter, a whiskey in his hand. He was dirty from head to toe, and his hair was disheveled as hell. Despite all the dirt and grime, he was still as handsome as could be. And even though I was startled to high hell, it was wonderful to hear his voice again.

“Christ dude, you have got to stop doing that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” I said, “but hi, you’re back. When did you get back?” I came down the stairs into the kitchen to check on the food. He shifted from leaning on the counter to the island as I entered, stopping to grab a ladle to stir the contents of the slow cooker.

“Long ‘nough ta hear ya in the shower,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, his other arm folded across his chest. I immediately started blushing, and I felt nauseous at the thought of him judging my vocals. I wanted to die in that moment.

“Fuck. Sorry about that,” I said, gazing down at the floor, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red I was.

“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout,” he assured, “what’re ya makin’?” I lifted my head and met his eyes for just a second before I took the lid off the slower cooker and stirred it. This might’ve been the most I’d ever heard the man talk.

“Ok, you can’t laugh,” I said, chuckling a little and putting the lid back on, turning to him, “it’s something my best friend and I came up with in med school. It’s, umm…it’s called a dump ’n pray. You basically just take a bunch of stuff that would probably go well together, dump it all into a slower cooker, and pray that it turns out good. Usually it does. It’s got like a 98% success rate in my experience.”

“Smells real good,” Daryl said, and I gave him a small smile in response, “I uh, got ya somethin’ while we was out.” He leaned over and grabbed a bag off of the floor, and my heart rate picked up again. He opened the bag and pulled out something wrapped in a dirty beige scarf, “thought of ya when I saw it.”

I tried to think about something else to keep myself from turning red. Not just at the fact that Daryl got me something on his trip, but that he thought of me when he was out there. I wondered how often he did that, how often he thought of me exactly. Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?

I unwrapped the scarf carefully in case whatever was inside was fragile. I saw a navy blue fabric with a flower on it peeking out at me, so I grabbed it and let the scarf fall to my feet. The item in my hands was a long navy blue dress with large white flowers and a slit up one leg. It looked like it would fit me perfectly. Despite how dirty Daryl looked, the dress appeared clean, probably thanks to the scarf it was wrapped in. I immediately lit up, smiling big, running my hands on the fabric over and over again. The kind gesture, the fact that he wrapped it in a scarf to keep it clean…my heart swelled, and I felt that warm sensation in my chest again.

“Daryl, I…I don’t know what to say. This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you.” He simply nodded, and I had to ask the question that was scratching at the insides of my brain. “Did you remember?”

“‘Member what?”

“That my favorite color is blue.”

“Got lucky I guess,” he scoffed. He grabbed his things off the ground, including the scarf at my feet, set his drink on the counter, and slipped past me upstairs. I wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to be alone and going to bed to pass out. He was probably exhausted. However, I heard the shower turn on instead.

Once I heard the bathroom door close, I went upstairs to my room and folded the dress neatly, placing it in one of the drawers on the dresser. I grabbed my notebook and a pen and went back downstairs to the couch to do some writing while I waited for the food to finish.

I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs. I ran my hands over the cover of my notebook, my fingers gracing each sticker that they passed. There was a U.S. Navy one, a variety of flowers, a Johns Hopkins one, and some at gotten at a Ke$ha concert as she was my favorite artist. This notebook was my most recent, and it was one of my most prized possessions. I felt like it painted a picture of what my life had looked like over the course of the end of the world so far.

I got lost in what I was writing, eventually being pulled out only by the sound of the slow cooker beeping at me, telling me it was finished. I set my notebook down to get up, but as the beeping finished, Daryl came down the stairs, motioning for me to stay put. He looked clean as a whistle, small residuals of water still dripping from his hair. He had changed into a long-sleeved black shirt that hugged his arms and chest perfectly and a pair of black pants. I bit the interior of my bottom lip to focus on the pain in an attempt to keep myself from blushing or from my eyes lingering for too long.

“Stay sat. Ya made it, least I could do is get ya some,” he said. His gentlemanly attitude surprised me. Just over a week ago, he would hardly look in my direction and was frustrated at the thought of having to share a house with me. But I wasn’t going to say no.

“Oh, umm, okay.” I sat back down on the couch, crossing my legs again. I watched him move through the kitchen, grabbing bowls out of cabinets and spoons out of drawers. I did take just a moment to check out his butt as he moved around. And damn, did it look good in those pants. I quickly averted my eyes as he turned around and came over to me, holding a bowl out. “Thank you.”

He handed me a spoon and took a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch, propping his right foot up on his left knee and letting his body melt back into the chair. I had hoped that maybe he would come and sit down next to me, but I didn’t blame him for wanting his own space to stretch out. And he seemed to have a rather large personal bubble.

I stirred my concoction with the spoon. This one resembled a chili of sorts, not authentic considering the variety of vegetables. But Daryl was right—it did smell good. I scooped some up with my spoon and blew on it before taking a bite. I was impressed with how tasty it came out.

“Told you. 98% success rate,” I said. I set my bowl down on the coffee table for a moment while I adjusted my body, turning so I could stretch my legs out on the couch and grabbing it again. “How was the hunting trip?” He seemed to be more receptive to conversation tonight, so I was going to take advantage of that.

“Went good. Caught a big sum’ bitch. Probly still guttin’ 'em up outside,” Daryl explained, “sorry. We’re eatin’. Might make ya squeamish.” I laughed mid-bite and almost spit my food out.

“I’m a surgeon, Daryl. Nothing makes me squeamish. But I appreciate the consideration.”

“How’d ya sleep while I was away?” he asked. I thought it was nice that he was asking, wanting to know that I was still ok even when he wasn’t coming to check on me. Nice, but it also confused me. He didn’t seem to be the type to…I don’t know, ask questions like that? He was so cold and calloused towards everyone, me included. But right now, Daryl was warm, and dare I say, sweet.

“Alright I guess. The nightmares are getting more…vivid.” I immediately felt ashamed and stopped myself before I said too much “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” I stared into my bowl, stirring my food again, regretting what I had said.

“Keep goin’ if ya wanna,” he encouraged. I blinked a few times in surprise and looked up at him. He was looking at me, those beautiful blue eyes of his piercing through the few strands of hair that fell on his face. His bowl was in his lap, and it looked like he hadn’t touched it yet. I felt bad that he was waiting for me to finish talking because he was probably ravenous after his trip. But apparently, listening to lil’ ol’ me talk was more important than satiating his hunger.

“Umm…well they started off as just a blur of colors and physical sensations. And each night, something else becomes a little more clear. Now there’s sounds, but the visuals are still pretty fuzzy. I, umm…” my voice trailed off, and I felt small, a little scared even as I thought about how my nightmares were becoming more and more vivid. I knew what the nightmare was. I knew what it was going to look like when everything was clear, and that terrified me. I blinked a few times and shook my head a little to bring myself back to reality, and I realized I had started absentmindedly doing my little habit of scratching at my thumb with my index finger. “Sorry. Could…could we maybe talk about something else?” Rather than replying with a yes or no, he changed the topic.

“Ya likin’ it here so far?” Trying to shake the thought of my nightmares from my mind, I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, faking a yawn to make it look like I was just sleepy. I blinked back the last little bit of tears and wiped the sides of my hands on my legs.

“Yeah, a lot,” I said, putting my glasses back on, “everyone’s so nice. I had Maggie, Rosita, and Glenn over for dinner the other night. They seem like really good people. I like them a lot. It feels good to be around other people and wake up in the same place every day.” I looked up at him, his bowl still in his lap. “You, uh, you can eat. You don’t have to just listen to me yap on.”

“They’re good people. Some of the best,” Daryl said, ignoring my statement about him eating, “ya really on ya own ‘fore ya got here?” His gravely voice and cute little Southern way of speaking was a match made in heaven for my ears.

“I was. Gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.” I set my bowl down on the coffee table and got up to use the bathroom and grab my blanket. As I got to the top of the stairs, I heard Daryl finally start eating. And judging by the sounds, he certainly was ravenous. I grabbed my blanket off my bed after I went to the bathroom and came back down. I was gone for no more than five minutes, and he had set his bowl on the coffee table as well, empty this time. I sat back on the couch, wrapped up in my blanket, chuckling lightly in amusement. I met his gaze again to continue my story.

“Food was good,” he said, “ya should make it again.”

“If you insist.”

I'm crawling out of the sewer to say it again: don't let anyone stop you from writing what you want to write.

Don't let people saying your writing is too 'self indulgent' stop you.

Don't let people saying your writing is 'not original enough' stop you.

Don't let people saying 'you shouldn't write this' stop you.

Write what compels you.

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Ten

Masterlist

AO3 link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

Sleeping Beauty (c) Disney, Wednesday Addams (c) Charles Addams

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, allusion to past trauma, medical stuff (kinda?), smoking (Daryl)

Word count: 3.1k

We spent the next couple of hours in the living room talking. It was mostly Daryl asking me about myself and my life prior to coming to Alexandria, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, and I was flattered that he seemed to take such an interest. I told him about all the things I’d seen in the ER and goofy stories from medical school. I did get a few stories out of him after some prodding and saying that I was getting tired of hearing myself talk.

"What made ya wanna be a doctor?" he asked. I covered my mouth and yawned. As much as I loved talking with him, I was starting to get very tired.

“It’s kind of a silly story, to be honest,” I explained, looking down at my thumbs and twirling them back and forth over each other, “when I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess when I grew up, because what little girl doesn’t want that? I thought they were so cool, so pretty. And they helped their people. That's what I wanted to do. I knew from a young age that I wanted to help people. When my oldest brother Preston was eight, he was in a really bad accident. Got hit by a car on his bike.”

I bit the inside of my bottom lip again, suppressing the memories of my frightened mother throwing her three small children in the car, not knowing if her oldest was still going to be alive by the time we caught up to him. “When we got to the hospital, my mom talked to one of the surgeons, and three-year-old me thought she was the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen. I remember she was wearing a floral dress under her white coat. I didn't understand at the time what exactly she was doing. All I knew was she was the lady who was making my brother feel better. I asked if she was a princess, and being that I was only three, she entertained me and told me yes."

A felt a small smile start to tug at the corners of my mouth. “So I told my mom that that's the kind of princess I wanted to be when I grew up. As I got older, of course, I learned what a doctor was, but I still had what I wanted to be set in stone. I wanted to help people the way that she helped my brother." I looked up at Daryl. He had uncrossed his legs and had them apart, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, looking at me like with that same stoic look on his face. But there was something else there, a subtle glimmer in his eye, like I’d been telling him the most interesting story in the world and he was listening as intently as he could. My small smile turned into a little bit of a bigger one. “I told you it was silly.”

He shook his head. “Nah, not silly. S’cute.” He blinked a few times and shook his head a little, like he didn’t know what had gotten into him when he said that and was coming back to reality. "Ya best get to sleep. Look tired as all hell.” I yawned in response. Just hearing the word “tired” was enough to remind my body of how exhausted I was.

“I guess you’re right,” I said. I swung my legs off the couch and wrapped the blanket around myself again, rising to my feet. “What about you? I’m sure you’re exhausted. And you get to finally sleep on a mattress again.” He got up out of the chair to grab the whiskey he left in the kitchen hours ago.

“Late to sleep, early to rise, that’s how I roll,” he said, grabbing his drink off the counter and swirling it lightly. I followed him over to where he was standing.

“This was nice, Daryl. We should do it again sometime. If you’re down to, I mean,” I told him, beginning to step over towards the stairs before stopping again and turning to him.

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the desire for human touch, or the desire to hold him and be held by him, but whatever it was was powerful. I reached my arms around his torso to give him a hug. I was only there for a second, barely touching him before I pulled back. He hardly had any time to react. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. Oh I’m so tired. That’s no excuse. I’m so sorry.” I thought I heard a soft, almost inaudible chuckle come from him.

“’S’alright.”

“I won’t do it again without asking, I promise,” I said, looking up to meet his beautiful blue irises, “and thank you again for the dress. I can’t wait to wear it.” I turned and started making my way up the stairs. “Goodnight Daryl. See you in the morning.”

“See ya when ya fall outta bed,” he called up after me. I rolled my eyes.

“Goodnight Daryl,” I repeated, more stern this time.

I collapsed back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. My head was spinning. I expected Daryl to hardly say a word to me when he got back, and not only did we have a conversation, but it lasted for hours. Did he pity me, as the new kid? He had to have been enjoying himself, right? If he didn’t, he probably wouldn’t have stayed for as long as he did. He didn’t seem like the type to continue doing something he wasn’t interested in to be “respectful” or whatever. Maggie had said that Daryl doesn’t ask “get to know you” questions to anyone. I guess that made me special.

What kind of special exactly, I wasn’t sure.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I decided to check on Aaron before I got on with the rest of my tasks for the day. I hadn’t gone to see him in about a week, and I needed to make sure he didn’t still need painkillers or antibiotics and had run out. Since Eric hadn’t come looking for me for more, I figured he was probably set on both. I felt bad that he was stuck up in that room all day. I could only hope that he had plenty of things to keep him occupied. And in the next few weeks, I was going to have to figure out how to get him a prosthetic.

“How’s he doing?” I asked as Eric let me in the front door, “I’m sorry I didn’t come by more. I figured since I left everything he’d need, he’d be good for a while. And of course that you’d come get me if you needed anything.”

“He’s been doing well. He’s been needing the pain meds less and less, and we’ve been changing the dressing once a day like you said. Sometimes twice because I’m paranoid,” Eric said, “and I’ve been helping him move around a bit upstairs like you said, to help get at least some movement in.” I nodded in approval.

“Sorry to come by so early. Is he asleep? I can come back later. It’s just been a while, so I wanted to make checking on him my first priority.” Eric shook his head as he walked me to the stairs.

“He might still be asleep, but it’s ok. He won’t mind. I try to spend as much time up there as I can so he doesn’t get lonely, but I think he’d enjoy having another person to socialize with too,” he explained, “I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if there’s anything you need. And thank you again Vector. For everything you’ve done for Aaron. I hate what happened to him, but I’m glad you were there.”

“You’re sweet, Eric. I appreciate that. I’m glad I was there too,” I replied, giving him the biggest, no-teeth smile I could before going upstairs.

I knocked gently on their bedroom door before letting myself in. Aaron looked like he was still asleep, so I stepped quietly over to the side of the bed and set my bag down.

“Aaron,” I whispered, lowering myself to the ground slowly so as not to startle him, “it’s Vector. I’m here for a check-in.” He stirred a little before opening his eyes and meeting my gaze.

“Mornin’ Doc,” he yawned.

“Hey, sorry to wake you. I hadn’t been by in a while, so I wanted to make sure I came here first thing today. How are you feeling?”

He pushed himself back with his hands until he was sat up against the headboard. “About as good as I can given the circumstances.”

“I’m gonna take a look at it, make sure it’s healing properly.” I slipped a pair of gloves on while he pulled the leg of his pants up to expose his leg.

“I think it looks ok. I’m sure it’s healing just fine. I’ve got the best surgeon east of the Mississippi,” Aaron said, cheerfully despite the sleep lingering in his voice.

“So what I’m hearing is there’s one to the west that’s better?” I teased, getting a laugh out of him. I peeled off the gauze and padding and set them down on the floor beside me.

“How are things with you and Daryl?” he asked, an enthusiastic smile spread across his face. Of course, when I decided that I would be stopping by this morning, I knew Aaron would have questions. I could feel myself starting to blush.

“Ok, I’m only giving you details because you seem to be one of the few people around here who can keep their mouth shut. I went to Michonne and Rick’s the other night and drank with her, Rosita, and Maggie, and when Rick and Glenn came back later, Maggie all but outright told them that I like Daryl. This is a HIPAA compliant conversation, you got it?”

“Understood.”

I told Aaron all about what I told the others, even told him about what Carol said regarding Daryl having talked to her about me, and our hours-long conversation the night before. Being the good friend and confidant that he was, he was happy for me and promised to keep everything I said under lock and key. I allowed myself to get a little giddy when talking about Daryl, like when I would be telling stories and he would look at me like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard, even if it was something I deemed as boring. Or how beautiful his eyes were and how I wanted to get lost in them and never find my way out. Glenn was right—it was a little schoolgirl crush.

My other duties for the day included seeing some patients and helping Maggie catch up on a literal metric ton of laundry. Daryl had daytime watch that day, so he was up and out before I was awake. He did, however, leave a mug of coffee out for me on the kitchen counter. It was such a tiny thing, but it was sweet and made my morning nonetheless.

As I loaded some clothes into one of the washing machines, Carol’s words echoed inside my head. Daryl’s…a bit skittish with…this kind of thing. Nervous, uncertain. I’ll leave it at that. Just be patient with him. Was that her subtle way of letting me know that Daryl was interested in me? What was “this kind of thing?” She very well could’ve been talking about friendship, but given how surprised everyone is when I tell them about something nice Daryl did for me and how “he never does things like that,” I figured she had to be talking about romance. But there was still so much he didn’t know about me. Things that I knew he wouldn’t like if he were to find out about them. Things that would change his view of me, I was sure.

Even if he was interested in Vector, he certainly wouldn't be interested in Lydia.

I brushed some hair out of my face as I flipped open my notebook. Maggie and I finished laundry a little while ago, and being that I was done seeing patients as well, I wanted to take some time to sit outside and enjoy the fresh air. I had hardly taken a moment to just sit and take in everything around me since I arrived in Alexandria. I was so excited to have found the place I’d been searching months for, to be around such good people and have some semblance of normalcy again, that I didn’t take time to sit and just be. I think I was afraid to, as sitting and just letting myself feel whatever I needed would certainly bring up some uncomfortable emotions. But I suppose that’s what my notebook was for. It carried the pain that was too much for me to handle.

As I leaned over my notebook, my hair cascaded around me like a set of dark curtains, blocking out my peripheral vision, and my bangs blocked part of my front view. I heard a familiar set of heavy footsteps making their way across the dirt path that lined the row of houses. Before I could lift my head to say hi, those footsteps were walking in front of me across the porch and stopping to my left.

“‘Sup Vec?” Daryl said as he slid down the front of the house and took a seat a few feet from me. Vec? That was the first time he’d called me that. I wasn’t opposed to him having a nickname for me, though. I thought it was cute. I lifted my head and swept my hair out of the way. He was sat back against the house, his legs propped up in front of him, resting his arms on his knees. It took everything in me to not scoot over to him, grab his arm, and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Hi Daryl,” I replied, closing my notebook in my lap and smiling at him, “how was your day?” I was disappointed to see him reach into his pocket and pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. I hadn’t seen him smoke before, so I imagine it wasn’t something he did too often. Cigarettes were probably not that easy to come by in the apocalypse. It was a gross habit regardless, and I did my best not to make a disgusted face as he put one in his mouth and lit it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to say anything. “Lighting up in front of the doctor. That’s brave. Careful with that, you’ll start a fire.”

“Day was borin’ as hell. Didn’t see a damn thing up there. Guess that’s good though.” He took a puff of his cigarette and turned his head to blow the smoke in the opposite direction of me. When he turned back, he gestured to my notebook. “What’s that?”

“Oh, umm, it’s not important.”

“Seems important since ya always got it on ya,” he said, taking another puff of his cigarette. I twirled my pen in my fingers, trying to figure out how to explain what this little bound stack of papers meant to me.

“I, uh, started writing back in med school, when Preston and then my mom passed away, as a way to cope. It was something my therapist at the time suggested. I’ve filled probably a dozen notebooks over the years. This is the only one I brought with me when I went on the road.” I took a deep breath. “Sorry, I know that’s heavy.”

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Sorry ‘bout your family.” I gave him a small smile.

“Thanks. Preston was killed in combat. At least he died doing what he loved. I suppose that’s one of the better ways to go out, right?”

He took another puff of his smoke. “’S’pose so.” There was a few beats of silence before he spoke again. “How was your day?”

I was surprised but flattered at the reciprocation of my earlier question. I brushed my side bangs out of my face and twirled a chunk of hair around my index finger, another anxious habit I had. “It was good. I went and checked on Aaron this morning, tended to some injuries, and helped with laundry. Hadn’t done laundry in so long, I forgot how much of a bitch it was.”

“How’s Aaron?” Daryl asked.

“Given the circumstances, he’s as good as he can be. I’m going to have to start thinking about how to get him a prosthetic for when his leg heals.”

“We can go tomorrow. Rick wanted us to go on a run since it’s been a while. There’s a medical center nearby. They’d have some, right?” I cocked my eyebrow at him.

“Us? Again? I thought he didn’t want me going out much. And they might, depending on the kind of medical center.” I certainly wasn’t opposed to going out on a long run with Daryl. The idea was exciting, rather pleasing to be honest.

“Like ya said, good luck charm or somethin’.” I felt the butterflies in my stomach awakening. Him remembering a little joke I made back during our first run…I was swooning hard.

“Are you sure? He won’t need it for a few weeks still. We’ve got time,” I said. He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and stomped them out with his boot. Somehow, he made something as gross as smoking look so attractive. I was kicking myself. You’re a doctor, Vector, what’s wrong with you?

“Might as well have it when the time comes.”

“I guess that’s true. Better than trying to scramble to find one when he needs it.” I looked down at my feet and wiggled my toes in my boots. While I loved being around and talking with him, he also made me nervous. I tried to focus on wiggling my toes to keep myself from turning red.

“Have ya eaten today?” Daryl asked me, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. I turned my head and gave him an “oh really” face, giggling a little in amusement.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that? You’ve been up in that watchtower literally all day,” I said, scooting myself backward a little to give myself leverage to stand up, “come on, I’ll make food.”

“Nah, I can, ya always do it,” he insisted, also bringing himself to his feet.

“I really don’t mind, honestly. I like doing it.” I decided to use this as an opportunity to be a little bit flirtatious. “Plus, your compliments of my cooking do feed my ego a little bit. You’ll have to be careful with that, I might start to get cocky.”

Considering starting a tag list. Idk if anyone would want to be part of it, but if you do, let ya gurl know 🖤

18+ only, MDNI

Once I’ve posted all the chapters of “Finding Myself, Finding You” (Daryl Dixon x OC that is fully written and has been posted to other platforms, I’m just playing catch-up in terms of posting it on Tumblr since I’m new here), I’ll have some one-shots coming. One is a smut that’s finished, but I’m waiting until my main story is fully posted. Another smut is in the works as well as a fluffy Halloween one-shot.

As of now, I just write Daryl Dixon x OC content

daryl fighting for his life in france with his freshly balayaged hair 💅🏻💅🏻 i see u girl

Masterlist

Started: 9/30/24

Updated: 10/10/24

Total Works: 5

The Walking Dead:

Finding Myself, Finding You:

➼ Chapter One

➼ Chapter Two

➼ Chapter Three

➼ Chapter Four

➼ Chapter Five

➼ Chapter Six

➼ Chapter Seven

➼ Chapter Eight

➼ Chapter Nine

➼ Chapter Ten

➼ Chapter Eleven

➼ Chapter Twelve

➼ Chapter Thirteen

➼ Chapter Fourteen

➼ Chapter Fifteen

➼ Chapter Sixteen

➼ Chapter Seventeen

Incorrect Quotes (I guess that's what I'd call these):

➼ Original Idea #1

➼ That one Tiktok Audio

➼ Original Idea #2

➼ Original Idea #3

Oneshots (coming soon):