The Walking Dead Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts
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.”
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.”
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eleven
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3
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, mention of scars, canonical violence (walker killings), a sex toy is used as a weapon
Word count: 2.7k
It was bright and early the following morning when Daryl came knocking on my bedroom door, insisting that we get moving early to make sure we got back before his afternoon watch. “Ok, gimme five minutes,” I croaked, my throat dry from mouth-breathing in my sleep. I grabbed some clothes out of one of my drawers and tossed them on my bed. There was a fitted jacket, one that would likely be used as workout attire, that I decided to wear as a shirt, another pair of black workout shorts, and my leg holsters for my weapons. I grabbed my backpack and packed my remaining weapons, my notebook, my water bottle, and some medical supplies.
I fluffed my hair a little and tied it up into a high ponytail. Even tied up, my hair still reached down to my mid-back. Having long hair gave me more confidence and made me feel more feminine, but since the world fell, it was more of a nuisance than anything. And it was cumbersome when it was wet. I often debated on just chopping it off, but I liked it far too much to do that.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” I said as I came down the stairs. Daryl was putting his boots on by the front door, his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a tumbler on the floor next to him. I went over and joined him, and he picked the tumbler up off the floor and handed it to me.
“This yours,” he said, holding the tumbler of what I presumed to be coffee out to me. I reached out and grabbed it, our fingers lightly touching as I placed my hand below his on the cup. I let my fingers linger there for just a moment and made sure to brush his as I pulled away. I felt electricity shoot through my body as my fingers graced his.
“You’re sweet. Thank you.” This time, I know I saw a very faint shade of pink appear on his cheeks. I set the cup down long enough to put my boots on and follow him outside.
The air was crisp, cool, and I was thankful I had worn long sleeves. The path was damp, like it had rained the night before or this morning. And one of my favorite things—the dew that clung to the grass nearby—sparkled in the sun like glitter. Rosita was walking up the dirt path, carrying a basket of food from the garden in her arms.
“Good morning guys,” she said as Daryl walked past her. He just gave her a nod and a small “hey” and kept making his way to the front gate. She reached her arm out and grabbed mine to stop me. “Vector, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Uh, yeah, real quick 'cause I gotta skedaddle. What’s up?” She looked over my shoulder to make sure Daryl was far enough away and dropped her voice to a whisper.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, beaming. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her.
“I guess Rick wants us to go out on a run. At least that’s what Daryl told me. Also gonna try to find a prosthetic foot for Aaron for when he needs it,” I explained, also dropping my voice to a whisper.
“Sounds like you two have a long day ahead of you,” she replied, “are you excited?”
I looked down at my feet and smiled, a faint blush of pink gracing my cheeks. “I am. I just hope being stuck with me all day won’t annoy him, y’know?”
“Well if it does, you’ll know. So if it’s not obvious, you’re fine. Now go, you have a handsome archer waiting for you.” She started to turn away, then turned back. “Be sure to tell me all about it once you’re back.” I nodded and jogged off to catch up with Daryl, who was already at the front waiting on me.
“So what did Rick want us to go out for?” I asked as I buckled myself into the car.
“Said there’s some big ass grocery store nearby. Wants us to get what we can,” Daryl explained as he drove us out the front gates, “stock up ‘fore winter sets in and we can’t grow nothin’.”
“Ah, groshrees and a prosthetic foot. How exciting.” I could see him make a face in my peripheral.
“The hell’s “groshrees?” Ya don’t sound like no east coaster.” I stifled a chuckle and pulled down the sun visor in front of me, shifting it to the side window to keep the rising sun out of my eyes.
“That would be my Midwestern accent. I grew up in Ohio, close to the Michigan border. I say groceries like “groshrees” and wintertime like “winnertime.” Med school took me to the east coast.” I thought this would be a good segway into trying to get to know Daryl a little better. “What about you, Daryl? You sound like you’re from deeper south than Virginia.”
“Georgia,” he said, then quickly changing the subject back to me, like he already had his next question lined up, “what’s Doctors Without Borders?”
“Hmm?”
“When ya got here, ya told Rick somethin’ ‘bout wantin’ to join Doctors Without Borders, an’ he seemed impressed.” Of course, I was happy to answer just about any question he had, and I liked that he seemed to take a genuine interest in me and my life. But damn, he couldn’t even keep the subject on himself for two seconds, and it was starting to get a little frustrating.
“Oh, yeah, it was a non-profit that sent doctors around the world to provide medical care in areas where people needed it. Places with rampant diseases they couldn’t keep under control, war-torn countries, places where people had experienced natural disasters and such.”
I looked over at him and studied his features as I kept talking. He had his eyes focused ahead of him on the road, but I could picture them perfectly, those gorgeous pools of cerulean blue. Even though he was paying attention to the road, as he should, I could tell he was actively listening, genuinely curious and taking in every single word I said. He always did. “I wanted to get a few years of practice in after residency before joining. But instead, the world fell. Guess I was destined to end up in a war zone regardless.”
“Selfless as hell. Not somethin’ most people’d do,” Daryl replied, this time turning to me for just a second, gracing my face with his beautiful eyes, followed by a very, very tiny smile that tugged at one of the corners of his mouth. Our eyes locked for just a moment, and in just that one moment, my knees became weak and my heart rate increased. He truly was beautiful.
“Thank you.” This time, I was determined to get something out of him. “Alright, enough about me. You gotta give me some more info about you,” I said, propping my right foot up on my seat and wrapping my arms around my leg.
“Why?”
“Because you have asked me a million questions about myself in the last few days, and I’m gettin’ real sick and tired of hearing my own voice,” I explained, offering him a soft smile, “you are one mysterious human being, and I want to get to know you. We’re friends, right?” I scratched at the side of my thumb with my index finger. “I hope. Plus, I don’t wanna be a nuisance by just going on and on and on.”
“If I thought ya’s annoyin’, I wouldn’ta kept talkin’ to ya or brought ya along,” he said in an attempt to offer some reassurance.
“But still, I would like to know more about you. So let me do the asking, and you do the talking. Please.” To my surprise, the car slowly rolled to a stop, and he turned once again to meet my gaze, this time for longer. New butterflies in my stomach were starting to break out of their chrysalids. “I won’t get too personal I promise. Unless you want me to.” I gave him a flirtatious smirk, and I saw that small smile pull at the corner of his mouth again.
“Fine,” Daryl said, breaking eye contact and starting down the road again, “only cause ya asked so nicely.”
I had to take a second before I started speaking again. What had just happened? Was there tension in the air there? Did I imagine it? Was he being flirtatious back? Or was I imagining that as well? My head was spinning, and I had to take a couple of deep, but quiet, breaths to slow my heart rate down.
“What did you do before all of this?” I asked, then remembering that I had asked that question on our first run and he didn’t seem very receptive to it, “oh shit, I asked you that before. If it’s a touchy subject, you don’t have to answer it.” My rough-and-tumble redneck companion was quiet for a moment, and I was trying to come up with my next question when he answered.
“Nah, you’re good.” He pondered for a moment, choosing his words carefully to perfectly craft his answer. “I was just existin’. Floatin’ through life. Wake up every mornin’, and whatever Merle said we was doin's what we did.”
He mentioned someone’s name. Progress.
“Who’s Merle?” I asked. I continued scratching at the side of my thumb with my index finger in an attempt to quell my anxiety. It was never painful, never enough to break skin, but it was enough to be a distraction from my feelings of unease.
“He’s mah brother.” I didn’t know whether the “he’s” was supposed to be he is or he was, but I decided not to prod further on that.
“Is he like you?”
“Whadaya mean?” I hadn’t quite thought this far ahead.
“Y’know, like…easy to talk to, pleasant to be around, things like that,” I said. He scoffed at my remark.
“Guy was a jackass. Righteous prick. Bit of a creep. You wouldn’ta liked ‘im.” The “was” clarified for me that he was either dead, or Daryl didn’t know where he was.
“Do you think he would've liked me?" I bit the inside of my bottom lip. Jesus Vec, why’d you ask that? What does it matter?
"Merle? Yeah, he'da liked ya. Probably a lil' too much,” Daryl replied. I felt my body fight to physically recoil at the thought of what that could’ve meant, but I kept still.
"I could've taken him,” I said rather confidently. Daryl scoffed at me again.
"That's a lotta big talk comin' from someone so tiny,” he teased. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"Oh please. I've taken on people bigger than me before,” I elaborated, digging through the recesses of my brain for one of the stories where a man tried to fuck around with me and found out. I stretched my legs out and put my feet up on the dash, crossing one ankle over the other. “I once caught a man spiking my drink at a bar."
"What'dya do to ‘im?"
"I broke his nose...and his jaw...and his collarbone. Poor bastard didn't know whose drink he was messing with. Mama didn’t raise no bitch,” I said. Even though I could only see his side profile, I saw Daryl’s eyes widen just a little, and he had the tiniest smile on his face, like a proud parent.
"Nice. Didn't get arrested or nothin'?"
“Well, if he went to the cops to press charges on me, they’d eventually see the bar footage of him trying to drug me. Guess he didn’t want any smoke.” He took a turn down a random road, and I could see a building off in the distance with a tall sign in front of it, like the ones you see for gas stations on the side of highway exits. "Plus, he had like half a foot on me. I don’t think he wanted to admit that he got his ass beat by a woman much smaller than him.”
“Jackass had it comin’. Glad nothin’ happened to ya,” he said. I pulled the sleeves of my jacket up just a little and subtly rubbed at the scars on my right wrist.
“Me too,” I said, biting the inside of my lip. Nothing happened that time, sure, but what would he think if he found out about the time that something did? “But we’re going back to talking about you now. Your crossbow’s really cool. How did that become your weapon of choice?”
“Learned it when I was young. 's quiet, deadly, bolts easy ‘nough to come by."
“Did Merle teach you? Or your parents?” I saw his arms flex slightly, like he squeezed harder on the steering wheel for just a second, then stopped. Ok, no more bringing up Merle or his family. Got it, I said to myself, making a mental note of it.
“Taught m’self,” Daryl said, pulling into the tiny parking lot of the abandoned store that we’d be scavenging, “had to learn to hunt, quietest weapon I could find. Saved my ass more than once.”
“Well, it’s sick. Makes you look like a bonafide badass,” I complimented, swinging the car door open and letting myself out, “my brothers taught me how to fight, but that was it. Guess they figured it’d be the only skill I needed when the world was…normal.”
“I could teach ya,” Daryl responded, rather quickly, “I mean, if ya wanted. Should know how, just in case.” I folded my arms on the car's roof and rested my chin on them.
“Yeah, that…that would be cool. Thanks.” He was hunched over in the car, reaching for what I presumed to be his crossbow. I slung my bag over my shoulders. “Don’t think we’re finished here. I have more questions for you.” I shut my door, and he lifted his head back up and rolled his eyes at me. I gave him a smirk in response.
“Whatever,” he said, shutting his door and locking the car, shoving the keys in his back pocket. I swung my backpack around to my side, rummaging in it for a second. I could finally put my most unique weapon to use.
“Here we go,” I said, pulling the black vibrator out of my bag, “I can finally show you how I kill walkers with this thing.” He scoffed and pried the sliding glass doors open, stepping in first in front of me, crossbow ready to fire.
We tiptoed in slowly, waiting for the shuffling sounds of any walkers or people. At first, there was nothing, but after some more tiptoes from us, there were some walker moans and groans echoing from somewhere inside the store. We carefully scanned each aisle, rounding each corner with extreme caution. Daryl got one walker as we came around a corner towards the far end of the store, hitting it right between the eyes.
Even when he was doing something as grisly as killing walkers, he was still the most beautiful human I’d ever laid my eyes on.
We hit the opposite end of the store after cutting through the back area to check for people and make sure we were completely alone. There was one more walker, stumbling around in the back corner of the store, chomping its teeth at us as it sauntered closer. It was wearing a priest's collar.
“Well go on,” Daryl said, stepping out from in front of me to my side, “go get the Father.” I let out a small chuckle and approached the creature, vibrator in hand, the top piece fixated to smack it in the temple.
“‘Sup Daddy?” I joked, swinging the vibrator like a bat and smacking the thing upside the head before it could even try to reach for me. The side of its head was caved in. I leaned over next to it and gave it a few more good whacks in the skull until the moaning and groaning stopped. I wiped my weapon off on its pants and slipped it into the holster on my leg for my knife before looking back up at Daryl, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Told you it’s a good weapon.”
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Twelve
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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, mentions of sibling death, mentions of blood (kinda?), attempted amputation, and violence (past experience of something trying to cut their own arm off after walker bite)
Word count: 2.7k
There was plenty for us to go through in the store, and I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get it all or if we’d have to come back another time. Maybe it only seemed like a lot because I was expecting to find far less, but I was grateful nonetheless. Plus, we still had the medical center to go to, and I would of course be taking everything in sight from there.
We did what we did on the last one, where I started at one end and Daryl at the other. The boxes from before were still in the car, so we grabbed those to use. I was in an aisle that had canned vegetables and beans, and I even found a couple boxes of mac ’n cheese. Call me a child, but it was still one of my favorites. That, cheap ramen packets, and my dump ’n pray recipes got me through med school.
I took my now full box and carried it over near where Daryl was, setting it down and grabbing another one to take back to the other side with me. I knelt down at at the end of one of the aisles where I found things like oil and vinegar. Daryl had climbed up some shelves to reach some stuff on the top of one of the aisles. I noticed an empty beer bottle on the floor near me. The label had been removed, and there had been masking tape placed on it with a heart drawn on the tape in Sharpie.
“It’s like goddamn spin the bottle,” I laughed, tapping the top of the bottle so it spun around. If there in fact was a group of people who sat here and played, I hoped it worked out in everyone’s favor. Daryl looked down when he heard the bottle clinking around on the floor.
“The hell’s that?” Daryl asked. I looked up at him and let out a single chuckle before going back to what I was doing.
“Daryl, you sweet summer child,” I sighed, “it’s a game you play with a group of people. You all sit in a circle around a bottle, one person starts, and they spin the bottle around. They have to kiss whoever the top end points to when it stops.”
I had to physically restrain myself from saying I would go and tapping the bottle to rotate it to point at him. I heard Carol’s voice in the back of my head. Be patient with him.
“Seems weird,” he said, dropping some items he pulled from the back of the top shelf into the box below him, “what if couples ‘re playin’?”
“Ideally, everyone playing is single. It’s mostly a thing high schoolers & college students play at parties,” I explained, snickering a little, “I had my first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school. It was fucking awful.” I managed to elicit a stifled laugh from Daryl. I kept grabbing random bottles off the shelf and putting them into my box. "Guy tried to play grab-ass, so I gave him a black eye in front of everyone. Called me a bitch like what I did was unprompted. People at my high school quickly learned I was not to be fucked with.”
“Jesus. How old were ya?” I stuck my head between two of the shelves to reach something at the back.
“Uh, like 14 or 15 I think. I’ve always been really friendly, very approachable, if you will, and people tend to think they can take advantage of that until I show them that if they fuck around, they’re sure to find out.”
“Hey,” Daryl called down to me, and I pulled my head out from the shelf and looked up at him, “any of the guys ‘round Alexandria give ya trouble, send ‘em my way. They can fuck around ’nd find out with me. Sound like you’ve dealt with ’nough already.” The warming sensation in my chest returned again, and my stomach flipped around in my abdomen. I gave him a giant smile.
“Thanks. That uh…that means a lot.” I knew I could handle my own if any of the men around Alexandria did so choose to fuck around with me, and I think he knew that too, but it was sweet that Daryl wanted to take some of that burden off of me if it happened.
There was a couple minutes of silence between us before either one said anything. I don’t know how it happened, but a certain level of boldness came over me. “Hey Daryl? Did you have a girlfriend before all this?” I asked, “or a boyfriend. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”
“Was always just Merle ’nd I,” he said. There was more silence for a minute. I think he was deciding whether or not to ask the question he eventually did. “You?”
“Me neither. Men are trash.” I looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Present company excluded, of course. Last guy I dated was probably early college, and he was terrible. He was possessive as hell, even got insecure over me hanging out with my brothers. Weird ass.”
“Sounds like you’ve dealt with some real human garbage,” he said, climbing down the shelves from his perch, “glad to know I’m excluded.” I got up from my spot on the floor to go down the next aisle, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. This time, I just allowed it to happen.
We continued our way around the store, grabbing what we could and filling the boxes and my backpack as much as we could. If this medical center had plenty to take, hopefully they’d have something to store it in. It did in fact seem like a lot because I was expecting there to be less. Apparently, this area had been evacuated pretty early on, so that explained why we got so lucky both times we’ve gone out.
I was going to stick with it being that I was a good luck charm though.
“The hell’s almond milk?” Daryl said, flipping the blue carton around in his hands, scanning over it.
“Oh shit, nice!” I exclaimed, “throw it here.” I reached my arms out, and he turned around and gently tossed the carton in my direction. I caught it and inspected it myself. “It’s a milk substitute made from almonds, like for people with dairy allergies. It’s not too bad in a pinch.” I placed the carton into my box. “Jay was violently allergic to dairy. Poor guy could literally look at a stick of butter and I swear it’d make him sick.”
“Ya talk ‘bout your brothers a lot,” I heard Daryl say from a couple aisles over.
“Oh yeah, guess I do. Sorry,” I replied, rather sheepishly. The fear of coming across as annoying came creeping back in at full force.
“Ain’t say it’s bad. Sounds like they were good to ya,” he said.
“They were. They were some of my best friends. I got really lucky,” I responded. I smiled at the fond memories that flashed quickly through my mind—them teaching me to fight, staying up late in the summertime when we were kids and sneaking out into the backyard after our parents went to sleep to catch fireflies, long conversations around a bonfire on family vacations, making snow angels in the winter…my daydreams were interrupted by Daryl’s next question.
“Hey Vec? When ya got here, ya said somethin’ ‘bout when this started, gettin’ home ‘nd findin’ one of ‘em. Had to…finish ‘em off.” I heard him quickly maneuvering through different aisles, grabbing things as he made his way in my direction. The man worked fast, I’d give him that.
I set my box down on a shelf in front of me, grabbing a couple containers of random spices and tossing them in. “I thought it was established that I was done answering questions,” I joked. I had no issues talking about Eli, but I didn’t want to get too emotional out on a run where it was important to remain vigilant. “But yeah, I did. It was Eli. He was the youngest of them. Preston was the oldest, and Jay and Eli were twins, then there was me. I was on my way home already when everything started, and when I got there, I, uh…”
I took my glasses off and set them gently next to my box, holding my sleeves to my eyes to quickly soak up the impending tears. “I found him in the living room. He’d gotten bit. More than once.” I kept my sleeves pressed to my eyes and tried my best to control my voice so it didn’t sound like I was about to start crying. “He tried to cut his arm off. Couldn't get the axe through. Poor guy still had it in his shoulder when I found him. After that, I just sat in the house and cried for hours. I miss him terribly.”
I dried my eyes and blinked back the tears that tried to creep through. I took a couple of deep breaths and fanned my eyes before putting my glasses back on. Although I couldn’t see them myself, I’m sure my eyes were red. I placed a couple more things in and turned back to see Daryl standing at the end cap, startling me once again and causing me to almost drop the now-full box in my arms.
“God, what did I say about sneaking up on me?” I scolded. I immediately felt bad for the tone I used, which was more irritated than it would normally be given my heightened emotions. “Fuck, sorry. I just don’t wanna get too emotional outside the walls. Gotta stay on high alert, y’know?”
“Yeah,” he said, walking past me towards the front of the store. We had about cleared the place out by that point. “Sorry ‘bout askin’.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s ok, really. We’ve all lost people we love to this fucking virus. Something we all got in common. Might as well talk about them, keep their memories alive and whatnot,” I said, following behind him.
We took a couple trips putting boxes into the trunk before taking one more walk-through to make sure we didn’t miss anything. After that, we climbed back into the car to go find this medical center that would, ideally, have a prosthetic for Aaron. And hopefully more. Could never have too much medical supplies on hand, as far I was concerned.
“The good luck charm strikes again,” I called out as I skipped out the front door of the store back to the car. I could feel Daryl rolling his eyes at me as I climbed into the car and made myself comfortable.
“So Daryl,” I said, strapping myself back into my seat, “back to talking about you again. What are your interests? Like what hobbies do you have? Well, if we can even have hobbies anymore. I mean, I write, I guess that’s a hobby.” He turned back out onto the road, going in the opposite direction that we came from. I pulled my water bottle out of my very crammed backpack to finally chug some. Still had a bad habit of letting myself get dehydrated, even with regular access to water.
“Guess I got my bike.” I figured he had to be referring to the motorcycle I’d seen sitting near the front gates. I’d never seen anyone use it, so I wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but now that I knew it was Daryl’s, I couldn’t say I was surprised.
Daryl—the tall, tan, whiskey-sippin’, motorcycle-ridin’, crossbow-wielding bonafide badass who smelled like leather and tobacco. And then there was me—the “tiny,” soft, flower-pickin’, poetry-writin’, Disney princess-ass surgeon who used a sex toy as a weapon. We made quite a team.
“Oh shit, that bike’s yours? I was wondering who it belonged to,” I said, “that’s so dope. But please tell me you have a helmet you wear with it.” When he didn’t answer, I clicked my tongue and gave him a disapproving stare. “You don’t wanna know how many people I saw torn to pieces after motorcycle accidents and how many death certificates I signed because someone wasn’t wearing a helmet. If you ever find one, promise me you’ll wear it.”
“No promises, but ok,” he said, taking a turn onto the next road. I huffed a sigh and put my feet back up on the dash, crossing my legs.
"Could you show me some stuff about your bike sometime?" I asked, “I don’t know, maybe have me hang around next time you give a tune-up or something.” He was quiet, and I twirled a piece of hair in my finger, afraid that maybe I’d been too forward somehow. I wiggled my toes again to keep my mind preoccupied in the silent car.
“What for?” He seemed surprised by my interest.
"I like learning about the things my friends are interested in. I may not understand it, but if it's important to them, then it's important to me,” I explained, reminiscing on the times my best friend would lecture on about engineering and my dad go on and on about space, “I like watching people’s faces light up when they talk about something they love, how excited they get when they get to tell me about this thing that means so much to them. It makes me happy to see them happy.”
“You’re just a goddamn ray of sunshine, aren’tcha?” I could tell by his tone that it wasn’t meant in a bad way. Not in a “you’re too much of a ray of sunshine, calm down” kind of way, but in an acknowledging kind of way. Maybe an admiring kind of way.
I laughed a little. “I try to be. It’s hard enough out there as it is.”
He was quiet once again, the same stoic look on his face that made it impossible for me to tell what was going on in that pretty little head. The only sounds were the tires on the dirt road and the hum of the engine.
“Yeah, I’ll show ya some stuff,” he finally said.
“Nice,” I said, doing a tiny fist pump in the air, “alright, next question. Umm…what would you be doing if the world never fell?” He gave me a quick glance before putting his eyes back on the road.
“Whadaya think I’d be doin’?” he asked. My eyes scanned over him before resting on his muscular arms. It didn’t help that he was wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves hacked off. Or maybe it did. Was I using this as a moment to check him out? Absolutely.
“You look like the handyman type. Or an auto mechanic maybe. Some kind of manual labor for sure, you’re definitely built for it,” I said, biting my tongue upon realizing that it could potentially be interpreted as flirting. Yeah, I had done a little bit, but I was afraid of going too overboard. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or freak him out.
“Sounds ‘bout right.”
I rested the side of my head on the window, staring out at a couple of deer that were prancing off in the distance. “Alright tough guy, what about me? If you didn’t know I was a doctor, what do you think I’d be doing in a normal world?”
He hardly skipped a beat. “Probably a comedian since ya talk so damn much,” he said. My jaw dropped, both at how quickly he came up with such a comeback as well as the nature of the comeback itself. However, I could tell by his tone that he was messing with me.
“Ouch,” I said sarcastically, leaning back in my seat and placing my hand over my chest, giving him a cheeky smile, “right in the heart.” I saw that tiny smile tug at the corner of his mouth again.
“Nah, I’m just teasin’. A shrink suits ya,” he said. I took it as his way of saying I was a good listener and easy to talk to, which brought a little smile to my face and put that warm sensation back in my chest.
“So still a doctor, just a different kind?”
“Guess so.”
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Twelve
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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, mentions of sibling death, mentions of blood (kinda?), attempted amputation, and violence (past experience of something trying to cut their own arm off after walker bite)
Word count: 2.7k
There was plenty for us to go through in the store, and I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get it all or if we’d have to come back another time. Maybe it only seemed like a lot because I was expecting to find far less, but I was grateful nonetheless. Plus, we still had the medical center to go to, and I would of course be taking everything in sight from there.
We did what we did on the last one, where I started at one end and Daryl at the other. The boxes from before were still in the car, so we grabbed those to use. I was in an aisle that had canned vegetables and beans, and I even found a couple boxes of mac ’n cheese. Call me a child, but it was still one of my favorites. That, cheap ramen packets, and my dump ’n pray recipes got me through med school.
I took my now full box and carried it over near where Daryl was, setting it down and grabbing another one to take back to the other side with me. I knelt down at at the end of one of the aisles where I found things like oil and vinegar. Daryl had climbed up some shelves to reach some stuff on the top of one of the aisles. I noticed an empty beer bottle on the floor near me. The label had been removed, and there had been masking tape placed on it with a heart drawn on the tape in Sharpie.
“It’s like goddamn spin the bottle,” I laughed, tapping the top of the bottle so it spun around. If there in fact was a group of people who sat here and played, I hoped it worked out in everyone’s favor. Daryl looked down when he heard the bottle clinking around on the floor.
“The hell’s that?” Daryl asked. I looked up at him and let out a single chuckle before going back to what I was doing.
“Daryl, you sweet summer child,” I sighed, “it’s a game you play with a group of people. You all sit in a circle around a bottle, one person starts, and they spin the bottle around. They have to kiss whoever the top end points to when it stops.”
I had to physically restrain myself from saying I would go and tapping the bottle to rotate it to point at him. I heard Carol’s voice in the back of my head. Be patient with him.
“Seems weird,” he said, dropping some items he pulled from the back of the top shelf into the box below him, “what if couples ‘re playin’?”
“Ideally, everyone playing is single. It’s mostly a thing high schoolers & college students play at parties,” I explained, snickering a little, “I had my first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school. It was fucking awful.” I managed to elicit a stifled laugh from Daryl. I kept grabbing random bottles off the shelf and putting them into my box. "Guy tried to play grab-ass, so I gave him a black eye in front of everyone. Called me a bitch like what I did was unprompted. People at my high school quickly learned I was not to be fucked with.”
“Jesus. How old were ya?” I stuck my head between two of the shelves to reach something at the back.
“Uh, like 14 or 15 I think. I’ve always been really friendly, very approachable, if you will, and people tend to think they can take advantage of that until I show them that if they fuck around, they’re sure to find out.”
“Hey,” Daryl called down to me, and I pulled my head out from the shelf and looked up at him, “any of the guys ‘round Alexandria give ya trouble, send ‘em my way. They can fuck around ’nd find out with me. Sound like you’ve dealt with ’nough already.” The warming sensation in my chest returned again, and my stomach flipped around in my abdomen. I gave him a giant smile.
“Thanks. That uh…that means a lot.” I knew I could handle my own if any of the men around Alexandria did so choose to fuck around with me, and I think he knew that too, but it was sweet that Daryl wanted to take some of that burden off of me if it happened.
There was a couple minutes of silence between us before either one said anything. I don’t know how it happened, but a certain level of boldness came over me. “Hey Daryl? Did you have a girlfriend before all this?” I asked, “or a boyfriend. I don’t mean to be presumptuous.”
“Was always just Merle ’nd I,” he said. There was more silence for a minute. I think he was deciding whether or not to ask the question he eventually did. “You?”
“Me neither. Men are trash.” I looked up at Daryl and smiled. “Present company excluded, of course. Last guy I dated was probably early college, and he was terrible. He was possessive as hell, even got insecure over me hanging out with my brothers. Weird ass.”
“Sounds like you’ve dealt with some real human garbage,” he said, climbing down the shelves from his perch, “glad to know I’m excluded.” I got up from my spot on the floor to go down the next aisle, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks once again. This time, I just allowed it to happen.
We continued our way around the store, grabbing what we could and filling the boxes and my backpack as much as we could. If this medical center had plenty to take, hopefully they’d have something to store it in. It did in fact seem like a lot because I was expecting there to be less. Apparently, this area had been evacuated pretty early on, so that explained why we got so lucky both times we’ve gone out.
I was going to stick with it being that I was a good luck charm though.
“The hell’s almond milk?” Daryl said, flipping the blue carton around in his hands, scanning over it.
“Oh shit, nice!” I exclaimed, “throw it here.” I reached my arms out, and he turned around and gently tossed the carton in my direction. I caught it and inspected it myself. “It’s a milk substitute made from almonds, like for people with dairy allergies. It’s not too bad in a pinch.” I placed the carton into my box. “Jay was violently allergic to dairy. Poor guy could literally look at a stick of butter and I swear it’d make him sick.”
“Ya talk ‘bout your brothers a lot,” I heard Daryl say from a couple aisles over.
“Oh yeah, guess I do. Sorry,” I replied, rather sheepishly. The fear of coming across as annoying came creeping back in at full force.
“Ain’t say it’s bad. Sounds like they were good to ya,” he said.
“They were. They were some of my best friends. I got really lucky,” I responded. I smiled at the fond memories that flashed quickly through my mind—them teaching me to fight, staying up late in the summertime when we were kids and sneaking out into the backyard after our parents went to sleep to catch fireflies, long conversations around a bonfire on family vacations, making snow angels in the winter…my daydreams were interrupted by Daryl’s next question.
“Hey Vec? When ya got here, ya said somethin’ ‘bout when this started, gettin’ home ‘nd findin’ one of ‘em. Had to…finish ‘em off.” I heard him quickly maneuvering through different aisles, grabbing things as he made his way in my direction. The man worked fast, I’d give him that.
I set my box down on a shelf in front of me, grabbing a couple containers of random spices and tossing them in. “I thought it was established that I was done answering questions,” I joked. I had no issues talking about Eli, but I didn’t want to get too emotional out on a run where it was important to remain vigilant. “But yeah, I did. It was Eli. He was the youngest of them. Preston was the oldest, and Jay and Eli were twins, then there was me. I was on my way home already when everything started, and when I got there, I, uh…”
I took my glasses off and set them gently next to my box, holding my sleeves to my eyes to quickly soak up the impending tears. “I found him in the living room. He’d gotten bit. More than once.” I kept my sleeves pressed to my eyes and tried my best to control my voice so it didn’t sound like I was about to start crying. “He tried to cut his arm off. Couldn't get the axe through. Poor guy still had it in his shoulder when I found him. After that, I just sat in the house and cried for hours. I miss him terribly.”
I dried my eyes and blinked back the tears that tried to creep through. I took a couple of deep breaths and fanned my eyes before putting my glasses back on. Although I couldn’t see them myself, I’m sure my eyes were red. I placed a couple more things in and turned back to see Daryl standing at the end cap, startling me once again and causing me to almost drop the now-full box in my arms.
“God, what did I say about sneaking up on me?” I scolded. I immediately felt bad for the tone I used, which was more irritated than it would normally be given my heightened emotions. “Fuck, sorry. I just don’t wanna get too emotional outside the walls. Gotta stay on high alert, y’know?”
“Yeah,” he said, walking past me towards the front of the store. We had about cleared the place out by that point. “Sorry ‘bout askin’.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s ok, really. We’ve all lost people we love to this fucking virus. Something we all got in common. Might as well talk about them, keep their memories alive and whatnot,” I said, following behind him.
We took a couple trips putting boxes into the trunk before taking one more walk-through to make sure we didn’t miss anything. After that, we climbed back into the car to go find this medical center that would, ideally, have a prosthetic for Aaron. And hopefully more. Could never have too much medical supplies on hand, as far I was concerned.
“The good luck charm strikes again,” I called out as I skipped out the front door of the store back to the car. I could feel Daryl rolling his eyes at me as I climbed into the car and made myself comfortable.
“So Daryl,” I said, strapping myself back into my seat, “back to talking about you again. What are your interests? Like what hobbies do you have? Well, if we can even have hobbies anymore. I mean, I write, I guess that’s a hobby.” He turned back out onto the road, going in the opposite direction that we came from. I pulled my water bottle out of my very crammed backpack to finally chug some. Still had a bad habit of letting myself get dehydrated, even with regular access to water.
“Guess I got my bike.” I figured he had to be referring to the motorcycle I’d seen sitting near the front gates. I’d never seen anyone use it, so I wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but now that I knew it was Daryl’s, I couldn’t say I was surprised.
Daryl—the tall, tan, whiskey-sippin’, motorcycle-ridin’, crossbow-wielding bonafide badass who smelled like leather and tobacco. And then there was me—the “tiny,” soft, flower-pickin’, poetry-writin’, Disney princess-ass surgeon who used a sex toy as a weapon. We made quite a team.
“Oh shit, that bike’s yours? I was wondering who it belonged to,” I said, “that’s so dope. But please tell me you have a helmet you wear with it.” When he didn’t answer, I clicked my tongue and gave him a disapproving stare. “You don’t wanna know how many people I saw torn to pieces after motorcycle accidents and how many death certificates I signed because someone wasn’t wearing a helmet. If you ever find one, promise me you’ll wear it.”
“No promises, but ok,” he said, taking a turn onto the next road. I huffed a sigh and put my feet back up on the dash, crossing my legs.
"Could you show me some stuff about your bike sometime?" I asked, “I don’t know, maybe have me hang around next time you give a tune-up or something.” He was quiet, and I twirled a piece of hair in my finger, afraid that maybe I’d been too forward somehow. I wiggled my toes again to keep my mind preoccupied in the silent car.
“What for?” He seemed surprised by my interest.
"I like learning about the things my friends are interested in. I may not understand it, but if it's important to them, then it's important to me,” I explained, reminiscing on the times my best friend would lecture on about engineering and my dad go on and on about space, “I like watching people’s faces light up when they talk about something they love, how excited they get when they get to tell me about this thing that means so much to them. It makes me happy to see them happy.”
“You’re just a goddamn ray of sunshine, aren’tcha?” I could tell by his tone that it wasn’t meant in a bad way. Not in a “you’re too much of a ray of sunshine, calm down” kind of way, but in an acknowledging kind of way. Maybe an admiring kind of way.
I laughed a little. “I try to be. It’s hard enough out there as it is.”
He was quiet once again, the same stoic look on his face that made it impossible for me to tell what was going on in that pretty little head. The only sounds were the tires on the dirt road and the hum of the engine.
“Yeah, I’ll show ya some stuff,” he finally said.
“Nice,” I said, doing a tiny fist pump in the air, “alright, next question. Umm…what would you be doing if the world never fell?” He gave me a quick glance before putting his eyes back on the road.
“Whadaya think I’d be doin’?” he asked. My eyes scanned over him before resting on his muscular arms. It didn’t help that he was wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves hacked off. Or maybe it did. Was I using this as a moment to check him out? Absolutely.
“You look like the handyman type. Or an auto mechanic maybe. Some kind of manual labor for sure, you’re definitely built for it,” I said, biting my tongue upon realizing that it could potentially be interpreted as flirting. Yeah, I had done a little bit, but I was afraid of going too overboard. I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or freak him out.
“Sounds ‘bout right.”
I rested the side of my head on the window, staring out at a couple of deer that were prancing off in the distance. “Alright tough guy, what about me? If you didn’t know I was a doctor, what do you think I’d be doing in a normal world?”
He hardly skipped a beat. “Probably a comedian since ya talk so damn much,” he said. My jaw dropped, both at how quickly he came up with such a comeback as well as the nature of the comeback itself. However, I could tell by his tone that he was messing with me.
“Ouch,” I said sarcastically, leaning back in my seat and placing my hand over my chest, giving him a cheeky smile, “right in the heart.” I saw that tiny smile tug at the corner of his mouth again.
“Nah, I’m just teasin’. A shrink suits ya,” he said. I took it as his way of saying I was a good listener and easy to talk to, which brought a little smile to my face and put that warm sensation back in my chest.
“So still a doctor, just a different kind?”
“Guess so.”
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Thirteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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 (there's swearing in every chapter ok), allusion to child abuse (Daryl's history), gagging, mentions of trying not to vomit, a gross story about food coming out someone's nose, mention of scars, mention of blood, mention of needles
Word count: 2.7k
"Ooh, I got one. Do you have an embarrassing story to share? If you share one, I’ll tell you one of mine. Make it fair,” I said.
We’d been driving for a little bit, just shooting the shit on our way to find Aaron a foot. It was nice to sit back and talk with Daryl while we cruised down the empty road. Made things seem a little bit normal, like this was just a cross-country road trip with a friend and not going to find a prosthetic for someone whose foot I had to cut off with an axe after a walker bite. He was easy to talk to, a bit awkward with some of the things he said, but it was an enjoyable experience regardless. The little bits of awkwardness were cute and made me think that maybe he was getting a little nervous, which I thought was adorable. It was going well so far, and I felt like I was actually starting to get to know Daryl, even if it was just a tiny bit.
“Nah, don’t got one,” he said. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my body slightly in his direction, sighing a little.
“Come on, please? I’m sure you do,” I asked, making a pouty face to tease him, “we all do. If it helps, I have some that are pretty bad.” He looked over at my pathetic attempt of a pouty face, and his features relaxed a little, like he couldn’t say no and was accepting defeat.
“Fine,” Daryl said, “when I was a kid, got lost in the woods and accidentally used poison oak after...yeah. Ass itched somethin’ awful.” I stifled my laugh a bit, though it was mostly the phrase “ass itched somethin’ awful” that made me giggle.
“Oof, that’s brutal. How long were you lost for?” I asked, expecting him to say hours at most, or that he was out camping or something when it happened.
“Nine days. Dad didn’t even know I was gone.”
I could feel my heart breaking for little Daryl. To be lost for that long, especially as a child…how alone and scared he must’ve felt…how he wouldn’t have known what to do to survive and be trying to figure it out as he went, all while trying to get home...and to not even have anyone out looking for you…I knew he would never say it, but it had to be traumatizing. I felt terrible for insisting he share. I’d never felt like such a piece of shit before.
“Why ya look so sad?” Daryl said, looking over at me and seeing the somber expression on my face. There was a tear trying to escape my right eye, but I quickly blinked it back.
I softened the tone of my voice. “You were a child, Daryl. That’s awful. No kid should have to endure that. I’m so sorry.” I wanted to throw myself over the center console and wrap him in my arms and give him a giant hug, but I restrained myself. “I feel like such a piece of shit for pushing you to share, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“’S’alright. Ya didn’t know,” he replied. Something in him looked different, but I couldn’t explain what it was. He seemed more relaxed overall. Maybe no one had shown him that kind of empathy before. Maybe he’d wanted to get that off his chest & he felt relieved. Maybe he was nervous about how I’d react. There was no way for me to tell. That handsome, stoic face of his made it so hard to tell how he was feeling. However, that stoic expression was quickly replaced with a devious little smirk. “Ya can make it up to me by tellin’ a couple stories of your own.”
I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. “Like more than one? You drive a hard bargain. I gotta think about this.”
“How many ya got?”
“There’s three that come to mind, but you’re only getting two.”
“Why not all of ‘em? Feels fair,” he teased.
"No, if I tell you the worst story, I'll have to throw myself out of this car,” I explained, “it’s bad.”
“If ya tell the worst one, ya only gotta tell one.” I huffed and twirled a chunk of my ponytail around my finger.
“Fine. But I’m warning you, it’s gross.” I took a deep breath and tried not to immediately start gagging at the thought of the story I was about to tell. “So when I was probably 21 or 22, I went on a first date with this guy I met in one of my classes. We met up at this random off-campus restaurant, and I made the terrible mistake of getting spaghetti. Well at one point, he’s telling a story, and I have food in my mouth.” I stopped and covered my mouth as I gagged. “So he’s telling his story, and I sneeze…and I wish I was making this up, but one of the pieces of spaghetti came up through and out my nose…I was trying not to throw up the whole time I was pulling it out. He immediately got up and left. Like didn’t say a single word, just left. I haven’t been able to look at spaghetti since. Even the sight of a box of spaghetti makes me wanna vomit.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but I could tell he was fighting back laughter. All that came out was a small, adorable chuckle. “That’s so much worse than I thought it’d be.”
“Worse? Alright, time to throw myself out of the car,” I said, pretending like I was going to unbuckle my seatbelt. “I never share that story. If we weren’t friends before, we definitely are now. And I think it goes without saying that you’re sworn to secrecy with that story. Are we even now?”
“Yeah. We’re even now,” he replied.
We continued chatting for the short remainder of the ride to this medical center, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible I felt for what felt like forcing Daryl to share such a sad story. I was worried it would have an impact on our interactions when we got back to Alexandria, worried that maybe he hated me now or would never speak to me again once we got back inside the walls. But I felt worse about bringing up what was likely painful memories for him. He seemed alright, and he said we were even, but I wondered if there was another way I could make it up to him.
We turned down one more road, and there was a decently-sized brick building just down the street from the corner. As Daryl pulled into the lot, I read the promising large letters across the top of the building—orthopedic surgery. It wasn’t orthotics and prosthetics, but it was about as close as we were gonna get.
“Ortho surg,” I said as Daryl put the car in park, “nice.”
“That good?” he asked. I grabbed my backpack and put it in my lap, shoving my water bottle back inside.
“It’s potentially promising. If push comes to shove, maybe there’ll be a walker we can steal one off of.” He unbuckled and started to get out of the car, but I reached my hand out and lightly grazed his forearm with the tips of my fingers. “Daryl…are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he said as he turned back to me, clearly confused, “why?”
“Just…the story you shared earlier. I know better than to push people like that, and that was very not cool of me. I’m really sorry if it brought up painful memories for you.”
“Like I said, ya don’t gotta apologize. Ya didn’t know. But thanks,” he said, “apology accepted. Plus, I had ya cryin’ in the store earlier talkin’ ‘bout Eli. We’re good.”
“Oh my god, are we bonding?” I gushed playfully.
“Shut up,” he joked, turning and getting out of the car. I took some things out of my backpack and tossed them into the backseat to make room for anything we might find inside. I brought my spear out and unsheathed it as I got out of the car and followed Daryl inside.
Clearing the office out was easy enough. There were several more walkers than there had been at the other places we’d been to, but it was manageable between the two of us. I walked around to what looked like the front desk area to try to find a directory or anything that could indicate if they had prosthetics, and if so, where they might be stored.
“If you see anything that says orthotics or prosthetics, lemme know,” I said, setting my spear down on the front desk. I started flipping through a binder of random papers while Daryl started checking some of the rooms. There were a few that had keypads on them, which likely meant that there was supplies in there with a code for staff to use. Even if we had the codes, there was no power, so we’d have to manually find a way to break the doors down.
“Find a paperclip or somethin’,” Daryl called out to me from down the hall, “we can try to pick the locks.” The binder I was looking through didn’t seem to be useful, so I started searching drawers for office supplies. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. It was starting to get warm, and I was regretting wearing a jacket without a shirt underneath. One of the drawers had a small box of paper clips in it. Score.
“Got it!” I yelled. I grabbed my spear and jumped back over the desk, scuttling down the hall to meet Daryl. I took a larger clip out of the box and handed it to him. Our fingers briefly touched again, and there was that same electric feeling from this morning when our fingers touched as he handed me my coffee. The same electric feeling from when my fingers grazed his forearm in the car before we came inside.
He slung his crossbow across his back and straightened out the paperclip. Getting down on one knee, he started trying to pick the lock, and I went back to try to find something that would tell us what was in these closets. I could hear him fiddling around with the lock, and eventually, a click echoed through the silence of the office.
“Got it,” he said, and I could hear him cautiously pushing the door open.
“Lockpicking just increased to 30,” I whispered to myself as I went down the hall to meet him.
This particular storage closet had mostly been cleared out. It looked like it was used to store gowns, paper for the beds, gloves, masks, braces, and probably some first aid stuff. There was a box of gloves and some braces, so I went over and put those into my backpack.
“Damn it,” I huffed, “alright, let’s try another one. I’ll keep trying to find a map of this place or something.”
I rummaged around the front desk more before finding a paper map that had been thrown in a trash can. I pulled it out and held it up so it matched the direction I was facing. It looked like a poorly scanned paper copy of another poorly scanned paper copy, so the text that was legible enough was tiny and barely legible. I could make out “pros” on one of the square spaces.
“Daryl, I think I found it.” I was already walking back towards him when I yelled out, looking down at the map at the tiny print as I walked, and I bumped right into him. He was standing in front of another closet door, which he had already picked open.
“So did I,” he said, stepping into the room.
Looking around, there were shelves of different types of prosthetics, including feet, hands, partial arms, full arms, etc. I figured they were likely used for fittings so a prescription could be submitted for the right size and type, but there were options, which is what we needed.
"Geez. Someone with a foot fetish would have a hay day in here,” I joked, “try to find different sizes. One of them is bound to fit. Oh, Aaron’s gonna be so excited when I show him.” My face was lit up. I felt like I was getting to do something similar to my type of specialty again. I got down on the ground and grabbed a couple of prosthetic feet, placing them into my bag. There was just enough room for both of them. I grabbed a third and held it in my hands, flipping it around and daydreaming about my days in the ER.
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked me, squatting down next to me. He had grabbed a few prosthetics and put them in his bag as well, carrying a couple more under his arm.
“I just miss my job is all,” I said, continuing to flip the fake foot around in my hand as I talked, “I sat with people on what was usually the scariest day of their entire life. Sat with them while they died. Yeah, it was intense. But I think it’s what I was meant to do. It was fulfilling. It gave me purpose.” A single tear escaped my eye, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get all cheesy and shit.”
“Your patients were lucky to have ya,” he said. I could see in my peripheral vision that he was staring at my scars as I fiddled around with the prosthetic. I pulled my sleeves back down to cover the thick bands of scar tissue.
“That means a lot. Thank you.” I wiped another tear away with the back of my hand, laughing a little. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again.”
“C’mon. Might as well clear the place out. Still got upstairs to do,” Daryl said, lifting himself back to his feet.
We made several trips in and out, carrying out all of the prosthetics we could. It would be good to have these in the infirmary in case I had to perform another amputation. After that, we went upstairs. The second floor contained a blood draw station and an X-ray lab.
“Blood draw might have some stuff,” I said, going behind their front desk, “don’t reach into any sharps containers though.”
There were some more boxes of gloves and masks, rubber bands for putting on people’s arms to take samples, needles, and alcohol pads. I found an empty sharps container to put the needles in and carried out what I could in my arms.
“Good luck charm strikes again,” Daryl joked. He grabbed some of the boxes of gloves and followed me back downstairs.
After we loaded the car and got back in, I laid back in my seat and stared up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted from all the hard work we’d put in. I was sweating buckets, and I felt disgusting.
“We crushed it,” I said, holding my hand up for a high-five, which Daryl returned, “teamwork makes the dream work.” I turned my head towards him. “Thanks for bringing me here so I could get a prosthetic for Aaron. He won’t need it for a while, but I’m gonna have to stop myself from telling him in the meantime. I wanna make it a surprise.”
“Welcome,” he said as he backed us out of the lot and onto the road back to Alexandria, “what else ya gotta do today?”
“Uh, well I’m starving, so I guess start with that. Rosita said she wanted to see me, and I need to reorganize the infirmary now that we have all of this to sort through. What about you?”
“Don’t got watch ’til later. Do what you gotta do, I can make us food.” I smiled and turned my head back up towards the ceiling.
“Thanks Daryl.”
He was such a sweetie. And I was falling very hard, very fast, with no idea where I was going to land.
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Thirteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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 (there's swearing in every chapter ok), allusion to child abuse (Daryl's history), gagging, mentions of trying not to vomit, a gross story about food coming out someone's nose, mention of scars, mention of blood, mention of needles
Word count: 2.7k
"Ooh, I got one. Do you have an embarrassing story to share? If you share one, I’ll tell you one of mine. Make it fair,” I said.
We’d been driving for a little bit, just shooting the shit on our way to find Aaron a foot. It was nice to sit back and talk with Daryl while we cruised down the empty road. Made things seem a little bit normal, like this was just a cross-country road trip with a friend and not going to find a prosthetic for someone whose foot I had to cut off with an axe after a walker bite. He was easy to talk to, a bit awkward with some of the things he said, but it was an enjoyable experience regardless. The little bits of awkwardness were cute and made me think that maybe he was getting a little nervous, which I thought was adorable. It was going well so far, and I felt like I was actually starting to get to know Daryl, even if it was just a tiny bit.
“Nah, don’t got one,” he said. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my body slightly in his direction, sighing a little.
“Come on, please? I’m sure you do,” I asked, making a pouty face to tease him, “we all do. If it helps, I have some that are pretty bad.” He looked over at my pathetic attempt of a pouty face, and his features relaxed a little, like he couldn’t say no and was accepting defeat.
“Fine,” Daryl said, “when I was a kid, got lost in the woods and accidentally used poison oak after...yeah. Ass itched somethin’ awful.” I stifled my laugh a bit, though it was mostly the phrase “ass itched somethin’ awful” that made me giggle.
“Oof, that’s brutal. How long were you lost for?” I asked, expecting him to say hours at most, or that he was out camping or something when it happened.
“Nine days. Dad didn’t even know I was gone.”
I could feel my heart breaking for little Daryl. To be lost for that long, especially as a child…how alone and scared he must’ve felt…how he wouldn’t have known what to do to survive and be trying to figure it out as he went, all while trying to get home...and to not even have anyone out looking for you…I knew he would never say it, but it had to be traumatizing. I felt terrible for insisting he share. I’d never felt like such a piece of shit before.
“Why ya look so sad?” Daryl said, looking over at me and seeing the somber expression on my face. There was a tear trying to escape my right eye, but I quickly blinked it back.
I softened the tone of my voice. “You were a child, Daryl. That’s awful. No kid should have to endure that. I’m so sorry.” I wanted to throw myself over the center console and wrap him in my arms and give him a giant hug, but I restrained myself. “I feel like such a piece of shit for pushing you to share, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“’S’alright. Ya didn’t know,” he replied. Something in him looked different, but I couldn’t explain what it was. He seemed more relaxed overall. Maybe no one had shown him that kind of empathy before. Maybe he’d wanted to get that off his chest & he felt relieved. Maybe he was nervous about how I’d react. There was no way for me to tell. That handsome, stoic face of his made it so hard to tell how he was feeling. However, that stoic expression was quickly replaced with a devious little smirk. “Ya can make it up to me by tellin’ a couple stories of your own.”
I raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. “Like more than one? You drive a hard bargain. I gotta think about this.”
“How many ya got?”
“There’s three that come to mind, but you’re only getting two.”
“Why not all of ‘em? Feels fair,” he teased.
"No, if I tell you the worst story, I'll have to throw myself out of this car,” I explained, “it’s bad.”
“If ya tell the worst one, ya only gotta tell one.” I huffed and twirled a chunk of my ponytail around my finger.
“Fine. But I’m warning you, it’s gross.” I took a deep breath and tried not to immediately start gagging at the thought of the story I was about to tell. “So when I was probably 21 or 22, I went on a first date with this guy I met in one of my classes. We met up at this random off-campus restaurant, and I made the terrible mistake of getting spaghetti. Well at one point, he’s telling a story, and I have food in my mouth.” I stopped and covered my mouth as I gagged. “So he’s telling his story, and I sneeze…and I wish I was making this up, but one of the pieces of spaghetti came up through and out my nose…I was trying not to throw up the whole time I was pulling it out. He immediately got up and left. Like didn’t say a single word, just left. I haven’t been able to look at spaghetti since. Even the sight of a box of spaghetti makes me wanna vomit.”
He didn’t say anything at first, but I could tell he was fighting back laughter. All that came out was a small, adorable chuckle. “That’s so much worse than I thought it’d be.”
“Worse? Alright, time to throw myself out of the car,” I said, pretending like I was going to unbuckle my seatbelt. “I never share that story. If we weren’t friends before, we definitely are now. And I think it goes without saying that you’re sworn to secrecy with that story. Are we even now?”
“Yeah. We’re even now,” he replied.
We continued chatting for the short remainder of the ride to this medical center, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how terrible I felt for what felt like forcing Daryl to share such a sad story. I was worried it would have an impact on our interactions when we got back to Alexandria, worried that maybe he hated me now or would never speak to me again once we got back inside the walls. But I felt worse about bringing up what was likely painful memories for him. He seemed alright, and he said we were even, but I wondered if there was another way I could make it up to him.
We turned down one more road, and there was a decently-sized brick building just down the street from the corner. As Daryl pulled into the lot, I read the promising large letters across the top of the building—orthopedic surgery. It wasn’t orthotics and prosthetics, but it was about as close as we were gonna get.
“Ortho surg,” I said as Daryl put the car in park, “nice.”
“That good?” he asked. I grabbed my backpack and put it in my lap, shoving my water bottle back inside.
“It’s potentially promising. If push comes to shove, maybe there’ll be a walker we can steal one off of.” He unbuckled and started to get out of the car, but I reached my hand out and lightly grazed his forearm with the tips of my fingers. “Daryl…are you ok?”
“Yeah,” he said as he turned back to me, clearly confused, “why?”
“Just…the story you shared earlier. I know better than to push people like that, and that was very not cool of me. I’m really sorry if it brought up painful memories for you.”
“Like I said, ya don’t gotta apologize. Ya didn’t know. But thanks,” he said, “apology accepted. Plus, I had ya cryin’ in the store earlier talkin’ ‘bout Eli. We’re good.”
“Oh my god, are we bonding?” I gushed playfully.
“Shut up,” he joked, turning and getting out of the car. I took some things out of my backpack and tossed them into the backseat to make room for anything we might find inside. I brought my spear out and unsheathed it as I got out of the car and followed Daryl inside.
Clearing the office out was easy enough. There were several more walkers than there had been at the other places we’d been to, but it was manageable between the two of us. I walked around to what looked like the front desk area to try to find a directory or anything that could indicate if they had prosthetics, and if so, where they might be stored.
“If you see anything that says orthotics or prosthetics, lemme know,” I said, setting my spear down on the front desk. I started flipping through a binder of random papers while Daryl started checking some of the rooms. There were a few that had keypads on them, which likely meant that there was supplies in there with a code for staff to use. Even if we had the codes, there was no power, so we’d have to manually find a way to break the doors down.
“Find a paperclip or somethin’,” Daryl called out to me from down the hall, “we can try to pick the locks.” The binder I was looking through didn’t seem to be useful, so I started searching drawers for office supplies. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. It was starting to get warm, and I was regretting wearing a jacket without a shirt underneath. One of the drawers had a small box of paper clips in it. Score.
“Got it!” I yelled. I grabbed my spear and jumped back over the desk, scuttling down the hall to meet Daryl. I took a larger clip out of the box and handed it to him. Our fingers briefly touched again, and there was that same electric feeling from this morning when our fingers touched as he handed me my coffee. The same electric feeling from when my fingers grazed his forearm in the car before we came inside.
He slung his crossbow across his back and straightened out the paperclip. Getting down on one knee, he started trying to pick the lock, and I went back to try to find something that would tell us what was in these closets. I could hear him fiddling around with the lock, and eventually, a click echoed through the silence of the office.
“Got it,” he said, and I could hear him cautiously pushing the door open.
“Lockpicking just increased to 30,” I whispered to myself as I went down the hall to meet him.
This particular storage closet had mostly been cleared out. It looked like it was used to store gowns, paper for the beds, gloves, masks, braces, and probably some first aid stuff. There was a box of gloves and some braces, so I went over and put those into my backpack.
“Damn it,” I huffed, “alright, let’s try another one. I’ll keep trying to find a map of this place or something.”
I rummaged around the front desk more before finding a paper map that had been thrown in a trash can. I pulled it out and held it up so it matched the direction I was facing. It looked like a poorly scanned paper copy of another poorly scanned paper copy, so the text that was legible enough was tiny and barely legible. I could make out “pros” on one of the square spaces.
“Daryl, I think I found it.” I was already walking back towards him when I yelled out, looking down at the map at the tiny print as I walked, and I bumped right into him. He was standing in front of another closet door, which he had already picked open.
“So did I,” he said, stepping into the room.
Looking around, there were shelves of different types of prosthetics, including feet, hands, partial arms, full arms, etc. I figured they were likely used for fittings so a prescription could be submitted for the right size and type, but there were options, which is what we needed.
"Geez. Someone with a foot fetish would have a hay day in here,” I joked, “try to find different sizes. One of them is bound to fit. Oh, Aaron’s gonna be so excited when I show him.” My face was lit up. I felt like I was getting to do something similar to my type of specialty again. I got down on the ground and grabbed a couple of prosthetic feet, placing them into my bag. There was just enough room for both of them. I grabbed a third and held it in my hands, flipping it around and daydreaming about my days in the ER.
“Ya okay?” Daryl asked me, squatting down next to me. He had grabbed a few prosthetics and put them in his bag as well, carrying a couple more under his arm.
“I just miss my job is all,” I said, continuing to flip the fake foot around in my hand as I talked, “I sat with people on what was usually the scariest day of their entire life. Sat with them while they died. Yeah, it was intense. But I think it’s what I was meant to do. It was fulfilling. It gave me purpose.” A single tear escaped my eye, and I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to get all cheesy and shit.”
“Your patients were lucky to have ya,” he said. I could see in my peripheral vision that he was staring at my scars as I fiddled around with the prosthetic. I pulled my sleeves back down to cover the thick bands of scar tissue.
“That means a lot. Thank you.” I wiped another tear away with the back of my hand, laughing a little. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again.”
“C’mon. Might as well clear the place out. Still got upstairs to do,” Daryl said, lifting himself back to his feet.
We made several trips in and out, carrying out all of the prosthetics we could. It would be good to have these in the infirmary in case I had to perform another amputation. After that, we went upstairs. The second floor contained a blood draw station and an X-ray lab.
“Blood draw might have some stuff,” I said, going behind their front desk, “don’t reach into any sharps containers though.”
There were some more boxes of gloves and masks, rubber bands for putting on people’s arms to take samples, needles, and alcohol pads. I found an empty sharps container to put the needles in and carried out what I could in my arms.
“Good luck charm strikes again,” Daryl joked. He grabbed some of the boxes of gloves and followed me back downstairs.
After we loaded the car and got back in, I laid back in my seat and stared up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted from all the hard work we’d put in. I was sweating buckets, and I felt disgusting.
“We crushed it,” I said, holding my hand up for a high-five, which Daryl returned, “teamwork makes the dream work.” I turned my head towards him. “Thanks for bringing me here so I could get a prosthetic for Aaron. He won’t need it for a while, but I’m gonna have to stop myself from telling him in the meantime. I wanna make it a surprise.”
“Welcome,” he said as he backed us out of the lot and onto the road back to Alexandria, “what else ya gotta do today?”
“Uh, well I’m starving, so I guess start with that. Rosita said she wanted to see me, and I need to reorganize the infirmary now that we have all of this to sort through. What about you?”
“Don’t got watch ’til later. Do what you gotta do, I can make us food.” I smiled and turned my head back up towards the ceiling.
“Thanks Daryl.”
He was such a sweetie. And I was falling very hard, very fast, with no idea where I was going to land.
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Fourteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing (there's swearing in every chapter ok), description of nightmares, description of violence (description of a walker attacking someone), mention of scars
Word count: 2.7k
Daryl and I kept our conversation going on the ride back to Alexandria, but my mind was definitely in other places. I loved talking with Daryl, and being in his presence, but damn if this man didn’t make me nervous like a 13-year-old girl talking to her middle school crush. He was easy to talk to, and despite his usual frosty and callous attitude towards others, there was a welcoming and safe energy about him, one that I didn’t find anyone else talking about. When we had conversations, he was attentive, seemed interested, asked follow-up questions & remembered the things I said. He was a self-proclaimed tough guy, but the Daryl that I got to see, when it was just the two of us, dare I say, was a bit of a softie.
After a little while, I was starting to recognize the area and figured we must’ve been getting close to Alexandria, which my ravenous stomach was thankful for.
“Can I ask ya a question?” Daryl asked, “if ya don’t wanna answer, it’s fine.”
“Uh, sure,” I answered nervously, wondering where he possibly could’ve been going with this, especially considering this was the first time he’d prefaced asking me a question by asking if he could.
“Ya said ya’d been havin’ nightmares for some time,” he said. My stomach began to lightly churn at the thought of the different directions in which he could take this. “Ya had ‘em a long time?”
“Uh, no. They only started after the world went to shit,” I explained. I wiggled my toes in an attempt to keep myself calm.
“They always been the same?” Daryl asked. I shook my head.
“So they used to be the same thing every night. I would be crossing the stage at a ceremony after getting board-certified. I’d look out at the audience and see my parents and brothers in the front row, looking so proud as their only daughter and sister became an official fully licensed surgeon. Then I look out at the audience again and see a walker coming down the aisle towards my family. He goes up to my mother and attacks her, and she screams, then everyone starts screaming. He bites her in the neck and tears her vocal cords, and when her screaming stops is always when I would wake up.” I twirled a chunk of my ponytail around my finger and chewed at the inside of my lip. “They changed around the time I got here.”
Despite the churning of my stomach, the pounding of my heart, and the sensation of feeling small that overcame me, I felt the desire to keep going. It was like the words were coming out of me whether I wanted them to or not. But there was a sense of safety, which comforted me as the words came out on their own accord. “Now, it’s still mostly just a blur of colors and physical sensations, and some sounds. But each night, the blurs get a little less blurry, the physical sensations feel more real, and the sounds get louder.” I folded my legs and brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. “And I’m scared for when it becomes crystal clear.”
“Hey,” he said, and I turned my face to look at him. His face had softened a little, his normal stoic expression appearing less rigid than usual, “nothin’ to be scared of. It’s not real.”
Oh, but it was. It was a very real thing that haunted my every move, that I couldn’t even escape in dreamland. Still, I appreciated his attempt to provide me some comfort.
“I know. Sure feels real though. It always takes me a minute after I wake up on the floor to realize I’m awake and was dreaming,” I explained, resting the side of my head on my forearms, keeping my gaze on Daryl. “It’s pretty jarring at times.”
We pulled up to the front gates, and he brought the car to a stop while we waited for the gate to open. He looked over at me, and his face has somehow softened even more than it already had. “I know it’s scary. Don’t worry. It can’t hurt ya.”
“Thanks Daryl,” I said in an attempt to wrap up the conversation before we got back inside the walls. I wished there was a way to explain the gravity & the reality of them without having to actually do so. Something that would help him understand without sharing too much information.
Rosita was practically at my door already by the time I stepped out of the car.
“Hi. Long time no see,” I said, grabbing my backpack and swinging it over my shoulders.
“Hi. I, umm, wanted to see if you guys needed any help,” she offered, looking past my shoulder into the back of the car, “wow, you guys did great. That’s awesome.”
“Couldn’ta done it without the good luck charm,” Daryl said as he popped the trunk open. I restrained myself from allowing the biggest grin to spread across my face. I couldn’t deny that I loved when he called me that. A couple of the guys at the front gate started grabbing food from the trunk to take to our storage area.
“Rosita, you wanna help me get these into the infirmary, then we can talk?” I asked, gesturing to the pile of fake hands and feet, “y’know, about the concern you mentioned to me this morning?” She caught on quickly and nodded.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
It took two trips for Rosita and I to get most of the pieces into the infirmary. For now, we placed them wherever there was room, as I would be spending the rest of my day finding them a permanent home in the infirmary. Back at the car, I took the remaining food out of my backpack and gave it to one of the guys. I grabbed the last several prosthetic pieces and shoved a couple into my bag, another couple under my arm.
“Daryl, do you want our help with the rest?” Rosita asked as she grabbed the last few prosthetics from me.
“Nah, go on, do what you gotta” he said, then turned to me, “I’ll be over when I’m done.” I gave him a smile and a nod, and I led Rosita over to the infirmary. After a minute, she looked back over her shoulder, determining that we were safely out of earshot, and she could ask questions.
“Be over for what?”
“I mentioned that I was looking forward to eating once we got back, since I didn’t eat before we left this morning, so he offered to make us food. I’m guessing that means he’d bring it over to me once it was done,” I told her. Her face lit up, and I knew this was only the beginning of the incessant questions and teasing that were to come.
“He’s making you food?” she gushed. I gave her a look that screamed for her to lower her voice.
“Shut up,” I whispered, whacking her in the arm with the back of my hand.
“What was the comment about a good luck charm?” she asked. This time, I let a big stupid grin spread across my face.
“Oh, it was a joke I made on our first run. About me being a good luck charm and that’s why we got so lucky with what we found,” I explained, “it was one of my first attempts at being flirty.”
“And he remembered it!?” I whacked her with the back of my hand again.
“Rosita please, keep your voice down,” I begged as I opened the door to the infirmary for her, “it carries.”
She all but threw the last of the prosthetics in her arms onto a counter and sat herself on an exam table, kicking her feet back and forth in excitement. I sat myself in the chair I typically utilized and wheeled over towards the table.
“You look really happy,” Rosita said, giving me a gentle kick in the knee, “tell me everything.”
I recollected the events of our run, from the moment he gave me my coffee this morning to coming back in through the walls just now, including almost every detail. I left out specifics about the things Daryl shared with me in case they were things he didn’t want others to know. Plus, it wasn’t my place to share them. I also left out the details of the conversation on our ride back here.
"And then he stopped the car, Rosita. He stopped the car!" I practically shouted, catching myself when I realized how loud my volume was. I was referencing when I was first trying to get Daryl to let me ask him questions about himself.
I was giggling like a teenage girl talking about her crush in the bathroom with one of her friends. Here I was, at my grown age of 32, blushing and kicking my feet as I told the story. I mostly stared down at the floor to conceal just how red I was. I stopped trying to contain my grins and giddiness and just let them happen.
After I finished my story, she looked at me with the biggest, jaw-drop smile I’d ever seen.
"Oh my god, Daryl’s totally into you! He has to be, he never acts like that!” she squealed. She jumped off the table briefly to give me a giant congratulatory hug. “It sounds like he was even a little bit flirty as well. You're putting stars in his eyes, girly.”
“I don’t know what’s going on with me,” I said as I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, “Daryl’s not my usual type. I typically go for lanky musicians covered head-to-toe in tattoos who wear makeup. Guys who know how to finger a guitar...and that’s about it.”
“Vector!” Rosita laughed, her jaw on the floor at my rather lewd joke.
“I’m serious. I’ve never been this…enamored by a man before, especially one that makes me so nervous. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m usually very confident when it comes to approaching men I’m into. Maybe a little forward if I’m being honest. He’s easy to talk to, which makes me less nervous, but still.” I spun myself gently around in my chair, scratching my index finger on the side of my thumb.
“I mean, you said it yourself. You’re used to approaching a certain type of man, one that’s very different from Daryl. I guess keep doing exactly what you’re doing. Whatever it is seems to be working,” she said.
“I guess. But we’re still really getting to know each other. What if…what if he learns something he doesn’t like?”
She huffed at me. “Please. What is there not to like about you?”
I discreetly rubbed my rope scars under my sleeve and swallowed to keep the churning of my stomach at bay. “I don’t know, I just…I really like him. I don’t wanna fuck it up.” She reached out and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“You’ll be fine. Just take it slow, and…let whatever happens happen. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Promise me you won’t talk to anyone else about it unless you’re indoors. Carol now knows because she overheard Maggie and Glenn talking about it last week,” I said, and she chuckled a little. “I still need to talk to them about that. Tell ‘em to square up.”
“I won’t, I promise. I can tell Maggie to come by, if you want. I’ll tell her to square up,” Rosita offered, eliciting a giggle from me.
“That’d be great. Thank you.” I grimaced as I looked around at the prosthetics that were now strung out everywhere. "Wanna keep me company while I deal with this? Probably gonna be in here a while.” She sighed as she hopped up off the exam table.
“I should get back to the garden. Plus, your man should be here anytime now. Maybe he can keep you company,” she teased, winking at me. I rolled my eyes so hard, I could see my brain.
“Shut up,” I laughed as Rosita made her way to the door, “oh and don’t tell Aaron about any of this. It’s a surprise for when he’s healed.”
I spent the next hour or so sat on the floor, sorting the limbs into different piles and measured them to figure out their different sizes as best I could. I used sticky notes to label them accordingly. Rosita’s words kept playing over and over in my head as I worked.
Daryl’s totally into you! He has to be, he never acts like that! It sounds like he was even a little bit flirty as well. You're putting stars in his eyes, girly. You’ll be fine. Just take it slow, and…let whatever happens happen. I have a good feeling about this.
I didn’t know what scared me more—the possibility that he could not be interested in me and I’m just reading into everything too much, or the possibility that he is interested in me. Because if he was, there would be things he would have to learn. Things I intended to take to my grave. Things that very well could scare him away.
A knock and then opening of the infirmary door sucked me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up over an exam table to see Daryl, carrying a plate with steam coming off of it and some silverware. I couldn’t see it, but whatever it was smelled incredible. Though at this point, I was so hungry that just about anything sounded incredible.
“Hey, be careful, there’s body parts everywhere,” I called out. I pushed one of the piles near me out of the way to clear a path for him.
“Sorry it took so long. Took a while to find a pasta that wasn’t spaghetti,” he said. He squatted down next to me and handed me the warm plate and silverware. “Didn’t wanna make ya sick.” The plate was piled with penne pasta, tomato sauce, and some kind of meat, which I guessed was likely venison. The fact that he went out of his way to find a different pasta shape for me was heartwarming. I could feel myself blushing, just a teeny tiny bit, hopefully so teeny tiny that it wasn’t noticeable to him.
“Do not apologize. The fact that you did this is more than enough. Thank you.” I reached up and set the plate on the exam table and leaned back against the wall. “Do you wanna keep me company while I sort through all this?” I asked, gesturing to the piles of fake limbs scattered across the floor.
“Got watch or I’d say yes” he said, “take a rain check?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” I gave him a warm smile as he rose to his feet and started to leave. I got up into my chair so I could take a break to eat. “Hey Daryl?” He turned back to me, his crossbow swaying against his back and tapping the door. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, not just…not just for this.”
“For what?”
“For letting me get to know you a bit…listening to me yap on…for caring,” I said, looking up to meet his eyes. Even though he was several feet away, and strands of his gorgeous chocolate hair hung in his face, I could feel that our eyes were locked, and I gave him another warm smile. “You’re a good man.”
“Ya ain’t so bad yourself, sunshine,” Daryl said. I felt my knees give out when he called me sunshine. If I wasn’t sitting, I would’ve crumbled to the floor. I could listen to him call me that all day.
“See you tonight,” I said, and with a nod, he was out the door. I heard him say something to someone, and then in came Maggie. As the door closed behind Daryl, she gave me a look that was begging for more information, probably both about why she was being summoned to see me and what Daryl was doing in here.
“What’s going on in here? Also Rosita said you wanted to “square up?”” she said. I laughed and pointed to the chair opposite me.
“Sit. You and I need to have a chat.”
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Currently working on a fluffy-ass, lil’ bit angsty Daryl Dixon x OC Halloween oneshot and it’s making me 🫠😭❤️❤️🩹😔✨🥰
Currently working on a fluffy-ass, lil’ bit angsty Daryl Dixon x OC Halloween oneshot and it’s making me 🫠😭❤️❤️🩹😔✨🥰
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Fifteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of past suicide, discussion of parent death (suicide, house fire), mention of scars (Daryl's), medical procedure (stitches), blood, allusion to child abuse (Daryl's), men being creepy, reference to sibling death, we got some big emotions in this one
Word count: 3.3k
Daryl and I began to get much closer after that second run. Eating dinner together became sort of a ritual of ours, other than the nights Daryl had duty in the watchtower. At first, it was him in the chair and me on the far end of the couch as I didn’t want to spook him. He never explicitly said it, but I got the vibe that he wasn’t big on physical touch. He always maintained at least a few feet distance between us, never getting too close. Eventually, I tested the waters and sat on the end of the couch closer to him, and that’d been our dinner arrangement ever since. Over the next few weeks, Rick had us go out on more runs. It was strange to me that I always heard about them from Daryl and never from Rick. I didn’t want to do anything that could get me in trouble, like leaving the sanctity of the walls when I wasn’t supposed to, but I was simply following instructions that I was told came from our fearless cowboy leader.
I joined Daryl once when he was working on his bike, and he showed me some stuff about it. Though he was so beautiful that day, I’ll admit, it was hard for me to keep focus. He was wearing one of his classic button-ups with the sleeves cut off, that angel-wing vest he loved so much, and a pair of ripped jeans that hugged his body just right. It was warm, so he was sweating buckets. I was practically drooling as I watched his arm muscles flex and relax as he worked. The way he glistened with sweat, the little hints of joy I heard in his voice as he talked to me about his motorcycle, his gorgeous accent…he was mesmerizing.
He still came and checked on me every night after I fell out of bed, another ritual of ours I suppose. It had evolved to a point where I would stay lying on the floor and give a thumbs up over the side of the bed when I heard the door open, then he’d leave. We’d sometimes spend mornings together, but usually one of us was always up and out before the other was awake, or if Daryl had overnight watch, he’d be just going to sleep when I got up. Typically, the one who got up first made coffee and left the rest out for the other. Sometimes, if he was coming back from an overnight watch, I’d wake up and go downstairs to find the pot just finishing up brewing.
It was obvious one of Daryl’s love languages was acts of service. He didn’t so much have a way with words, but damn he was good at showing how much he cared. Not just towards me, but the way he cared about the whole of Alexandria. He was always volunteering to go on watch, runs, hunts, you name it. He cared so much about the people here and would do whatever he needed to do to make sure we were all safe and protected. And that only made me fall for him even harder.
Though he typically wasn’t one for expressing his emotions with words, there was one morning when he left me a note. I came downstairs, and he was already out as he had gate duty all day. He had poured me coffee in a white mug with daisies on it that I once casually mentioned was my favorite mug of the ones in the cabinet, and there was a short but sweet note with it.
Have the best day
See you at dinner
I kept the note folded up in the back of my notebook where I kept some photos and a note from my brother.
Today, Daryl was teaching me how to hunt. Well, it was the start of that process. First, there was target practice. And I was getting to pick up and shoot that infamous crossbow.
Daryl had carved an X for a target on a tree, and my goal was to hit as dead center as I could. I knelt on one knee behind a fallen tree, which I was instructed to use to steady the crossbow and practice that way first. I could throw a knife over my shoulder and hit a walker square in the forehead. How hard could a crossbow be?
“Does this thing have recoil?” I asked as he handed it to me, “wow, it’s lighter than I thought it’d be.” I flipped the bow around and examined it, running my fingers over its smooth surface but was careful to make sure I didn’t touch anything that looked like a lever or a button. Didn’t wanna go causing any accidents right out the gate.
“Hardly any,” Daryl said, kneeling next to me. We were almost shoulder-to-shoulder. This was the closest we’d ever been, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach breaking free and trying to crawl their way up my throat.
“You ever kill anyone with this thing?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sometimes, people are more dangerous than them walkers,” he explained, and I nodded. I was all too familiar with the dangers of other human beings during the end of the world.
“I know what you mean,” I replied. I rested the bow on the fallen tree and kept my gaze on the X carved into the tree in front of me. “I’ve never killed anyone. I don’t know if I could. It goes against the oath I took.”
"Hate to burst your bubble, but that don't matter no more."
“I guess not,” I shrugged, “but enough of that, let’s get to practicing.”
“‘lax your shoulders,” he said, gently placing his hands on both of my shoulders and lightly pressing to help me relax them. This was the first time he’d touched me on purpose. My stomach dropped like I was on a rollercoaster. “Geez, you’re tense woman.”
I wouldn’t be so tense if you didn’t make me so nervous, I thought. I propped the crossbow up onto my shoulder like I’d seen Daryl do a thousand times.
“It’s no good if ya don’t load it,” he said. He picked a bolt off of the front of it and reached around me to load it. His arm rested against my back as he strapped the bolt in. It was like he was testing the boundaries of physical closeness, though I didn’t know whether it was mine or his that he was testing. But I didn’t mind one bit. I steadied the bow on my shoulder and the fallen tree, aiming it at my target.
“Ya really gotta relax,” Daryl said, “can’t have this gettin’ in the way neither.” He took the end of my ponytail and draped my hair over my opposite shoulder, “damn, ya hair’s real soft.” I felt myself melting into a puddle, and my hands started to shake a bit as my heart rate picked up.
“Thank you. I grew it all by myself,” I laughed.
“How long'd it take ya to grow it out?”
“Oh God, I think the last time I got a drastic haircut was when I was like 13,” I explained, “sometimes I think about chopping it all off because it gets in my way so much. And it feels like it weighs 20 pounds when it’s wet.”
“Ya should keep it long. Looks good.” I smiled and looked down at the ground, trying to hide that I was obviously turning red.
“Thanks,” I said. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself again.
“Hey, you’re shakin’,” Daryl said, placing a hand on my shoulder in an effort to help me relax, “just take a breath. You’re good.” His voice was soft, soothing, and calming. Still laced with his gravely accent, but there was genuine caring and compassion behind his words.
“Nervous jitters I guess,” I said, taking another deep breath in through my nose. I lied straight through my teeth.
“Alright, look through the scope and aim it at the target,” he said. He kept his hand on my shoulder.
“Looks easy enough,” I said, perhaps a little too confidently as I did as he instructed.
“Once ya got it lined up, ya just pull the lever on the bottom,” Daryl explained, “helps if ya breathe out when ya do it.” I took a deep breath and fired, exhaling like he told me to. The bolt went flying right past the tree, not even grazing it. It landed far off in the grass somewhere I couldn’t see.
“I stand corrected on it looking easy,” I said, feeling horrifically embarrassed, “I missed the tree completely. How did I even do that?”
“It happens. Gotta get used to holdin’ it still. C’mon, I’ll show ya how to load it.” He gestured for me to hand his bow to him.
“At this point, I’ll just be happy to hit the tree at all,” I said, giggling a little to try to make myself feel better.
That’s how we spent the next couple of hours. Me attempting to hit the tree, somehow missing it completely or just grazing it, which was starting to feel like a win, and trying to find the bolts in the grass. He never seemed to get impatient or frustrated with me, even when I was starting to get frustrated with myself. He reassured me, helped me set up and reload, and tried to help me feel more confident.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally did it. I hit the very outskirts of the giant X target, but I hit it nonetheless. I about jumped into the air with how excited I was.
“Oh my God, I did it!” I cheered, nearly dropping the crossbow to the ground in surprise. A gigantic grin spread across my face as I looked at Daryl. “I did it!”
“Knew ya could do it,” he congratulated. He had reached out and was stroking the back of my arm with his fingers. His touch was so light, it felt like being tickled with a feather. I could feel goosebumps forming, but thankfully, my sleeve hid them. “Think that’s the first time I seen ya do that too.”
I looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Seen me do what?”
“Smile like that.” It occurred to me that he was referring to the fact that I was smiling with my teeth out. And he was right—this was the first time I’d smiled like that in months.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
That evening, I found myself working late in the infirmary. A couple of the kids had gotten into a fight, and while their injuries weren’t too bad, they still required attention. A couple of scraped knees and small cuts later, I was supposed to be going home for the evening, but as I was getting ready to leave, the infirmary door swung open one last time, and in came Daryl. He’d been covering gate duty for a couple of hours, and I figured he must’ve seen the infirmary light on and came to check on me.
“Hey, there’s my little Georgia peach,” I said, giving him a big smile. He looked at me with a solemn face, which concerned me a little. “Daryl…are you ok?” He didn’t say anything at first. He simply kept eye contact with me as he stepped closer.
“I, uh, need your help with somethin’,” he said. He took his bow off of his back and turned around. There was a sizable gash across his mid-back, his clothes stained with dried blood.
“Jesus, get your ass up here,” I ordered, gesturing to the exam table. I started grabbing things like gloves and antiseptic. “What the hell happened?”
“Couple of ‘em pricks was talkin’ ‘bout ya,” he said as he sat down on the table and scooted back to the edge. I froze and swallowed hard. I hadn’t really gotten to know any of the men who typically had gate duty, and the only times I saw them were when I was coming and going through the gate, and I was always with Daryl.
“You got this defending me? Jesus, I’m so sorry. I feel awful.” I continued grabbing everything I would need, like cotton pads, medical tape, tools for stitches, and antibiotics.
“Nah, jackasses had it comin’.”
“What did you do to them?”
“Roughed ‘em up a bit. Let ‘em know not to say nothin’ like that ‘gain,” Daryl explained.
“Do I wanna know what they were saying about me?”
“Probably not. Bein’ a buncha creeps.” The never-ending list of things they could’ve been saying swirled through my mind, and I felt sick. I suppressed the nausea that quickly made its home in my stomach.
“Great. Just when I was starting to feel safe here,” I sighed. I thought I’d finally found a place away from the prying eyes of creepy men, but unfortunately, I was wrong.
Daryl looked back over his shoulder at me with kind eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let ‘em give ya any trouble.” I gave him a smile and a nod.
“Alright, I need you to take your shirt off. Then I’m gonna clean it and stitch it up. I’ll talk you through each step so you know what to expect since you can’t see it,” I explained. I slipped my gloves on after washing my hands thoroughly and scooted a stool over with my foot so I would sit higher up. Daryl fidgeted a little on the table, and he seemed nervous. I could tell he was in pain from his injury, but something else seemed to be bothering him.
“If you’re not comfortable taking your shirt off, that’s ok. I just need you to lift it enough so I can work,” I said, “don’t wanna go stitching your shirt to your back.” To my surprise, he lifted his shirt up and off over his head, letting it slide down his arms into his lap.
When he did, I understood why I’d never seen Daryl shirtless before.
There were scars all across his back. Not the kind of scars you’d get from being in a motorcycle or car accident, or burn scars, or from taking a really bad tumble as a kid. No, these scars were intentionally inflicted by another person. My heart shattered, but I kept my composure.
How could someone do something so awful to someone so good?
I made sure to utilize my calming bedside manner voice. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I have seen anything you can possibly imagine. Plus, I have scars of my own. I know better than to ask about anyone else's."
I grabbed a cloth soaked with some warm water so I could clean up some of the dried blood, and I gently started rubbing it on his back. “I’m gonna try to get as much of this dried blood off as I can.” He tensed a little bit under my touch, so I tried my best to be even lighter, but I could only press so lightly while still getting the blood off. I decided to clean just enough around the wound to make the process quicker, and he could take care of the rest when he showered.
“Alright, I have to clean it now so it won’t get infected. I won’t lie, this is going to sting a little. But I’m just taking a cotton pad with some antiseptic and patting around it,” I explained. I started patting his wound with the cotton pad, and he flinched just a tiny bit. I placed my other hand on his arm and stroked it gently with my thumb. “Hey, you’re ok. You’re doing great.” As I stroked his arm, I felt him start to relax.
My heart was breaking for him. The sensation of the antiseptic in his open wound must’ve felt similar to whatever created the scars on his back. I tried to think of something to talk about to distract him.
“I like your tattoo, Daryl,” I said, “does it mean anything?”
“Jus’ thought it looked cool,” he replied.
“I actually have a few tattoos of my own,” I told him, “I know, there’s something you didn’t know about me. I have a sternum piece with flowers on it, bumblebees on the back of each of my thighs, and a bouquet of daisies on the front of my right hip. I liked the idea of having tattoos that only certain people get to see. People that I get to choose." I hoped that, maybe one day, I’d get to show Daryl my tattoos. I set the cotton pad on the table next to him. “I’m done cleaning it now. Could you straighten up for me? I’m gonna stitch it up now. It’ll probably hurt a little, but it won’t burn like the antiseptic did.”
"They mean anythin'?" he asked as he sat up straight.
"I really like sternum pieces, so that's why I got that one. Daisies are my favorite flower, and the bumblebees are for my mom.” I got to work stitching him up as I talked. “Gardening was her favorite hobby, and we had a huge one in our backyard growing up. She taught my brothers and I about the different kinds of pollinators and how important they were. Bumblebees were her favorite. I got them a couple of years after she passed.”
“Lost my mom too,” Daryl said. It was the first time he’d mentioned his mom in any capacity. “What happened to her? If you’re ok talkin’ ‘bout it.”
“She umm…she killed herself a couple of months after Preston died. Hung herself in his closet. My dad was the one that found her.” I blinked back some tears. Stitching up someone’s wound was not the time to be crying. “Her mental health really declined after his passing. I mean, all of ours did, but hers was the worst. She couldn't stand losing one of her children, so she left the other three behind. At least that's what it felt like. The anger stage of my grief lasted a very, very long time.”
There was a heaviness that hung in the air as I finished stitching his wound. It felt suffocating, like it was a heavy weight pressing on my chest. I lowered the volume of my voice a little to keep myself from crying. “Alright, I’ve just gotta wrap it up and you’re done.”
“Mine was a house fire,” he started to explain, and as he talked, I continued wrapping his wound, using as gentle of a touch as I could and offering small comforting pats and strokes in between. I felt his muscles continue to relax into my hands as I worked. “I was a kid. Ran home after we saw fire trucks comin’ down the street. Finally caught up to the other kids and saw it was my house. Mom was inside. Some combo of her wine ’n smokes. Didn’t feel real for a long time.” Before I finished patching him up, I ran my hands over the back of his arms and offered small squeezes, like tiny hugs from my fingers. This was by far the most vulnerable he’d been around me, and I wanted to make sure he felt safe, seen, and comforted.
“I’m so sorry Daryl. You didn’t deserve for that to happen.”
"Didn’t deserve yours neither.” I ran my fingers over and flattened out the last piece of medical tape.
“There we go, you’re all patched up now,” I said, grabbing a small bottle of antibiotics and handing it to him. “you’ll have to change the dressing every day. I can help you with that. And you’ll have to take those for like a week. Make sure you stay on top of that.”
“Do I gotta? Didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, flipping the little orange bottle around in his hand.
I sat myself up on the exam table next to him, “Daryl, what kind of doctor would I be if I let you get an infection?”
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Divider was found on Google via searching for stock images
Rick: Vec, you need to apologize to Spencer.
Vec: Ugh, fine
Vec: *folds arms over her chest, locks eyes with Spencer, smirks*
Vec: I’m sorry you’re such a piece of shit.
Daryl: *suppresses a chuckle*
Daryl: *whispers* Yep, that’s mah woman.
Rick: *sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose*
Rick: Not like that…
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Vec is my OC, she belongs to me
Divider was found on Google via searching for stock images
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Sixteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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, PTSD
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
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of past suicide, discussion of sibling death, discussion of parent death, mention of depression, mention of medical procedures, men being creepy, description of nightmares (being tied up, being held at gunpoint, allusion to rape), PTSD, panic attacks
Word count: 2.8k
Though it was already getting late when he came in, Daryl and I sat on that infirmary table and talked for a long time. I talked more about my mom, and he started slowly opening up about the things he and Merle got into before the world fell. There were a lot of drugs and drinking from what I was able to gather, but he was a bit conservative with the details. I didn’t mind that at all. Just the fact that he was willing to even lightly approach the more vulnerable subjects meant a lot to me. It made me feel like he felt I was a safe person to talk to, to be open with, and it made me happy that I could do that for him.
“My mom, she always saw the good in everyone. Both of my parents really, but her in particular. She was so caring, giving, always wanting to do the absolute most she could for the people she cared about,” I explained.
“Guess that’s where ya get it from,” Daryl replied, eliciting a small, flattered smile from me.
“That’s why watching her spiral after Preston died was even harder to watch. For two months, she sank deeper and deeper into this bottomless pit of depression. My dad, Jay, Eli, and I did everything we could to try to help her. Mind you, Jay and Eli had been deployed in the middle of all of this, and I was still in med school, so we tried our hardest with everything else we had going on. And then she just…couldn’t take it anymore.”
I could feel myself getting emotional, and I tried my best to turn it off. I blinked back some tears, and tiny droplets flew off my lashes onto the lenses of my glasses. “She tried her best to be the best example she could for my brothers and I. She told me that when she was growing up, she’d always say that if she ever had kids, she would do everything she could to make sure we made the world a better place. I didn’t learn that until I was older and had already decided I wanted to be a doctor, but it helped reaffirm for me that going to med school was the right decision.”
“She’d be proud of ya,” he said, his tone a little softer now. I had to do everything in my power to stop myself from turning into a blubbering, sobbing mess right then and there. He reached out and stroked the back of my arm with his fingers, just like he had done earlier during target practice. “Speakin’ of med school, don’t think I ever asked ya what your favorite part ‘bout bein’ a doctor is.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite, but what I find most fulfilling is when people come in, alive but unconscious or barely conscious, and they don’t think they’re going to make it. They may have already started making peace with the fact that they were likely going to die. And then hours or days later, they awaken & I get to be there to greet them and tell them that they made it. They almost always start crying, and their family might come in, and pretty soon it’s just a room full of people sobbing. They thank me over and over, sometimes followed by a story about how now they’ll be around to see their child get married or their grandchild graduate.” I took my glasses off and set them beside me on the table, using the back of my hands to wipe the tears off my cheeks. “I do what I need to do quickly so that I can give them their time together and also try not to start crying myself. I also find doing skin grafts really fulfilling because it can help people who’ve had really bad injuries or burns feel semi-normal again. The world is cruel towards people who don’t look “perfect,” so if I can help someone feel a bit more confident in themselves after an accident, that makes me happy.”
Daryl leaned over and grabbed a tissue box off of the counter, handing it to me. “Could ya show me some stuff ‘bout skin grafts?”
I pulled a few of the tissues out and dabbed at my eyes with them. “Umm, sure. Yeah, I can teach you about them. Why?"
"I like learnin’ ‘bout the things ya interested in. I may not understand it, but if it's important to ya, it's important to me." That warming sensation returned to my chest, this time so intense that I thought it might burst through my ribcage. Thankfully I was sitting because I felt my knees weaken, and a big, stupid grin spread across my face as I stared down at my feet swinging back and forth. That was exactly what I had said to him when I asked him to teach me things about his bike.
“Yeah, I can teach you some stuff,” I said, “whenever you want works for me.”
“Later ‘cause ya lookin’ real tired,” Daryl said, hopping off of the exam table and gathering his bow off the floor.
“Hey Daryl?” I said, and he turned his body to face me. I slid myself off the exam table as well. “There’s been a lot of…heavy emotions in here tonight. I just wanna make sure you’re ok.”
“‘ll be alright,” he replied. I took my tissues off the table and tossed them into the nearby trash can. “What about you?”
“Me too. I’ll be ok,” I said as we walked towards the door together, “and thank you for being vulnerable with me. I appreciate it. I hope…I hope you don’t regret it.”
“Nah, don’t got regrets with tellin’ ya things,” Daryl said. He opened the door and held it for me. I flipped the light switch off, and I was grateful for the darkness of night that now concealed my blushing face. He let the door swing shut behind him.
As we reached the path, the guys that were on gate duty with Daryl were walking by, heading home after their shift change. One of them walked by without so much as a glance in our direction. The other two walked by slowly, the looks on their faces ones I knew all too well. Every woman under the sun knew that look—being ogled, them undressing you with their eyes, thinking about the things they wanted to do to you. It made me nauseous. I took a step back, and Daryl held an arm out in front of me as if to let them know that if they wanted to approach me, they’d have to go through him.
I wondered which one of them was responsible for Daryl’s injury. If I ever found out, there would be hell to pay.
We watched them in silence until they were down the path and approaching their homes. Only then did Daryl move his arm out from in front of me.
“I don’t like the way they were looking at me,” I said as we continued home.
“Me neither,” Daryl agreed, “don’t worry though. They know not to say nothin’ to ya. Let me know if they do. Rough ‘em more if I gotta.”
“Thanks Daryl,” I replied as we went inside.
I kicked my boots off and yawned, stretching my arms out over my head. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep. I’m sure it’s late.” I hadn’t eaten since lunch, but the exhaustion I was feeling from my busy day was overshadowing my grumbling stomach.
Daryl sauntered into the kitchen and pulled a pot out from one of the cabinets. “I’ll save some food for ya.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I turned and started to make my way towards the stairs to go to my room, but stopped and turned back around. “Goodnight my little Georgia peach.” I’d started calling him that a couple of weeks ago, only in private, and even though he almost always scoffed at me when I did, I knew he didn’t hate it. He might’ve even liked it a little.
“‘Night short stuff,” he said. He’d taken to calling me “short stuff” because of my reactions to being called “tiny.” I knew he was only teasing when he called me “short stuff” or “tiny,” but I would be lying if I said I didn’t absolutely love it when he called me by one of his nicknames for me.
What Daryl and I had had definitely evolved beyond just a friendship. It was more of a…flirtationship, if you will.
At this point, I’d been at Alexandria for a month and a half or so. And the night that I’d been dreading for weeks finally came—the night that the horrible nightmare I’d been having became crystal clear.
Every sound, every touch, every sight was as clear as could be. It was like I’d been sucked back in time and was right back in that moment again.
I felt the cold barn floor underneath me and his crushing weight on top of me. I felt my hands tied above my head and the rope digging into my skin as I writhed around. I could hear his heavy breathing and the gun scrape against my teeth as it was forced into my mouth. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks as I realized what was happening. And I could see his face—his evil, smug fucking face no less than two inches from mine.
In my head, the scream I let out could’ve shattered glass.
I awoke on the floor, running my hands all over my body in a panicked state. It took several moments for me to realize I was awake, back on my bedroom floor in Alexandria, like I always was. I hadn’t felt fear like that since the incident itself. The adrenaline that was coursing through my veins was the only thing that kept me upright.
I curled up into a ball against the bed, sobbing hysterically into my knees. My tears felt scalding, burning my skin as they slid down off of my cheeks. I was so wrapped up in my fear that I didn’t think about how Daryl would be coming in at any moment, just like he always did. Nor did I hear the door open when he finally did.
I heard his familiar footsteps move from the door around the bed over to me. He knelt, then sat down next to me. I didn’t look up at him, I couldn’t. I felt so ashamed, both for how my nightmare made me feel and for Daryl having to see me like this. Sure, he’d seen me cry on a few occasions, but none of those times were like this. None were this intense, this visceral, this raw.
“Hey, are ya ok? Ya get hurt?” Daryl asked, his tone velvety soft and a level of concern in his voice I’d never heard before. I didn’t know what to say or do. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up into the tiniest ball possible and disappear. Even if I had anything to say, I couldn’t find my voice.
When I didn’t say a word or move an inch, he scooted himself a little closer to me until his knee was against my leg. He placed a hand on my back, rubbing it up and down between my waist and my shoulders.
“Vec, what happened?” he asked, more worry in his voice than before, “talk to me.”
I practically lunged at him as I fell forward and wrapped my arms around him. It was like I didn’t have control over my body. I needed something familiar, something safe. More so someone familiar, someone safe. And he was right there. My body was reaching for him whether I wanted it to or not.
“It was so real,” I choked out between sobs, “it was so clear.” His strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me even closer to him until my head was resting in the crook of his neck, my heaving chest pressed to his. And he held me there as I continued to sob.
He was warm, like a heater, and his embrace around me was strong, but there was so much care and tenderness behind it. Even though the intense fear was still plaguing my nervous system, I felt safe wrapped up in his arms. He rubbed one hand up and down my back again.
“You’re ok. You’re safe. It can’t hurt ya,” he reassured.
It was a long time before either of us said anything. After a time, he moved his hand that was rubbing up and down my back to the back of my head and stroked my hair. He held me while I cried, and at one point, he started gently rocking me back and forth. I only continued to feel more ashamed, my face getting hot from embarrassment. I felt like such a baby.
“It was like I was right back in that moment.”
I immediately regretted what I had said. If someone said that to me when referencing a nightmare they had, I would assume that this nightmare was them reliving a horrific experience. And knowing that Daryl listened to every single word that came out of my mouth, he now knew that this, in fact, was real. That I dreamt of a real-life horror story night after night.
“You’re not there. You’re here,” Daryl said as he continued to stroke my hair. He handled me like glass, like he thought I might break if he was even just a little too heavy-handed.
“I could see, hear, feel everything.” I sobbed harder. I felt disgusting, vile, like a thousand showers in bleach couldn’t even scrub away the feeling of disgust I experienced.
Daryl stopped rocking me and moved his hand back to my back. “I know that’s scary. But you’re here now, and I got ya.” He somehow pulled me even closer to him, which I didn’t think was possible.
“I just want the pain to stop.”
“I know.” He didn’t know. He had no idea what I was talking about. But I know he knew how it felt to carry the pain of a traumatic incident and wanting that pain to go away.
My sobbing didn’t let up for a long time. When it started to, it was very gradual. Daryl held onto me the whole time, giving me reminders now and then that I was ok, he was there, and I was safe. After a long, long time, my crying had almost stopped, and I picked my head up off of Daryl’s shoulder. The crook of his neck and the shoulder of his shirt were soaked.
“I’m sorry I got your shirt wet,” I said. It felt like a silly thing to say, but I felt terrible.
“Nah, ’s not important.” He pressed tenderly on my shoulders, ushering me to lift my head out in front of him. For the first time in what felt like the hours we’d been sitting here, I met his gaze. My eyes were puffy, I didn’t need to see them to know that. I’m sure they were red too. I hated that he had to see me like this. “How ya feelin’?”
“Like shit,” I said, “I’m too scared to go back to sleep.” When I would fall out of bed after my initial nightmare, the nightmare never continued once I fell back asleep. That wasn’t what I was worried about.
What I was worried about was seeing that stupid, smug face every time I closed my eyes.
“You can go back to bed,” I said, resting my head back in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry I kept you up for so long.”
“’s no trouble. C’mon, I’ll stay with ya ’til ya fall asleep,” Daryl said. He got up and stood over me, reaching his arms out for me to grab his hands. He pulled me up, and I was barely on my feet for a second before I fell back into the bed. My whole body felt weak, like my muscles were made of jello.
“Are you sure? I’ve already kept you up for long enough.” Daryl came around to the other side of the bed and sat down, scooting back until he was resting against the headboard. I used what small amount of energy I had left to move until I was laid down, rolling onto my side to face him and pulling my blanket up to my chin.
“I’m sure.” He extended his hand out, resting it next to me, palm up. I reached out and placed my hand in his, and he gently stroked my fingers with his thumb. I’m sure the moment would’ve felt more magical if I didn’t feel like such garbage.
“I’m so sorry, Daryl. I feel like such a burden.”
“Ya ain’t a burden, sunshine. Ya never are.”
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Divider found on Google via searching for stock images
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Sixteen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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, PTSD
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
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of past suicide, discussion of sibling death, discussion of parent death, mention of depression, mention of medical procedures, men being creepy, description of nightmares (being tied up, being held at gunpoint, allusion to rape), PTSD, panic attacks
Word count: 2.8k
Though it was already getting late when he came in, Daryl and I sat on that infirmary table and talked for a long time. I talked more about my mom, and he started slowly opening up about the things he and Merle got into before the world fell. There were a lot of drugs and drinking from what I was able to gather, but he was a bit conservative with the details. I didn’t mind that at all. Just the fact that he was willing to even lightly approach the more vulnerable subjects meant a lot to me. It made me feel like he felt I was a safe person to talk to, to be open with, and it made me happy that I could do that for him.
“My mom, she always saw the good in everyone. Both of my parents really, but her in particular. She was so caring, giving, always wanting to do the absolute most she could for the people she cared about,” I explained.
“Guess that’s where ya get it from,” Daryl replied, eliciting a small, flattered smile from me.
“That’s why watching her spiral after Preston died was even harder to watch. For two months, she sank deeper and deeper into this bottomless pit of depression. My dad, Jay, Eli, and I did everything we could to try to help her. Mind you, Jay and Eli had been deployed in the middle of all of this, and I was still in med school, so we tried our hardest with everything else we had going on. And then she just…couldn’t take it anymore.”
I could feel myself getting emotional, and I tried my best to turn it off. I blinked back some tears, and tiny droplets flew off my lashes onto the lenses of my glasses. “She tried her best to be the best example she could for my brothers and I. She told me that when she was growing up, she’d always say that if she ever had kids, she would do everything she could to make sure we made the world a better place. I didn’t learn that until I was older and had already decided I wanted to be a doctor, but it helped reaffirm for me that going to med school was the right decision.”
“She’d be proud of ya,” he said, his tone a little softer now. I had to do everything in my power to stop myself from turning into a blubbering, sobbing mess right then and there. He reached out and stroked the back of my arm with his fingers, just like he had done earlier during target practice. “Speakin’ of med school, don’t think I ever asked ya what your favorite part ‘bout bein’ a doctor is.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite, but what I find most fulfilling is when people come in, alive but unconscious or barely conscious, and they don’t think they’re going to make it. They may have already started making peace with the fact that they were likely going to die. And then hours or days later, they awaken & I get to be there to greet them and tell them that they made it. They almost always start crying, and their family might come in, and pretty soon it’s just a room full of people sobbing. They thank me over and over, sometimes followed by a story about how now they’ll be around to see their child get married or their grandchild graduate.” I took my glasses off and set them beside me on the table, using the back of my hands to wipe the tears off my cheeks. “I do what I need to do quickly so that I can give them their time together and also try not to start crying myself. I also find doing skin grafts really fulfilling because it can help people who’ve had really bad injuries or burns feel semi-normal again. The world is cruel towards people who don’t look “perfect,” so if I can help someone feel a bit more confident in themselves after an accident, that makes me happy.”
Daryl leaned over and grabbed a tissue box off of the counter, handing it to me. “Could ya show me some stuff ‘bout skin grafts?”
I pulled a few of the tissues out and dabbed at my eyes with them. “Umm, sure. Yeah, I can teach you about them. Why?"
"I like learnin’ ‘bout the things ya interested in. I may not understand it, but if it's important to ya, it's important to me." That warming sensation returned to my chest, this time so intense that I thought it might burst through my ribcage. Thankfully I was sitting because I felt my knees weaken, and a big, stupid grin spread across my face as I stared down at my feet swinging back and forth. That was exactly what I had said to him when I asked him to teach me things about his bike.
“Yeah, I can teach you some stuff,” I said, “whenever you want works for me.”
“Later ‘cause ya lookin’ real tired,” Daryl said, hopping off of the exam table and gathering his bow off the floor.
“Hey Daryl?” I said, and he turned his body to face me. I slid myself off the exam table as well. “There’s been a lot of…heavy emotions in here tonight. I just wanna make sure you’re ok.”
“‘ll be alright,” he replied. I took my tissues off the table and tossed them into the nearby trash can. “What about you?”
“Me too. I’ll be ok,” I said as we walked towards the door together, “and thank you for being vulnerable with me. I appreciate it. I hope…I hope you don’t regret it.”
“Nah, don’t got regrets with tellin’ ya things,” Daryl said. He opened the door and held it for me. I flipped the light switch off, and I was grateful for the darkness of night that now concealed my blushing face. He let the door swing shut behind him.
As we reached the path, the guys that were on gate duty with Daryl were walking by, heading home after their shift change. One of them walked by without so much as a glance in our direction. The other two walked by slowly, the looks on their faces ones I knew all too well. Every woman under the sun knew that look—being ogled, them undressing you with their eyes, thinking about the things they wanted to do to you. It made me nauseous. I took a step back, and Daryl held an arm out in front of me as if to let them know that if they wanted to approach me, they’d have to go through him.
I wondered which one of them was responsible for Daryl’s injury. If I ever found out, there would be hell to pay.
We watched them in silence until they were down the path and approaching their homes. Only then did Daryl move his arm out from in front of me.
“I don’t like the way they were looking at me,” I said as we continued home.
“Me neither,” Daryl agreed, “don’t worry though. They know not to say nothin’ to ya. Let me know if they do. Rough ‘em more if I gotta.”
“Thanks Daryl,” I replied as we went inside.
I kicked my boots off and yawned, stretching my arms out over my head. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep. I’m sure it’s late.” I hadn’t eaten since lunch, but the exhaustion I was feeling from my busy day was overshadowing my grumbling stomach.
Daryl sauntered into the kitchen and pulled a pot out from one of the cabinets. “I’ll save some food for ya.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I turned and started to make my way towards the stairs to go to my room, but stopped and turned back around. “Goodnight my little Georgia peach.” I’d started calling him that a couple of weeks ago, only in private, and even though he almost always scoffed at me when I did, I knew he didn’t hate it. He might’ve even liked it a little.
“‘Night short stuff,” he said. He’d taken to calling me “short stuff” because of my reactions to being called “tiny.” I knew he was only teasing when he called me “short stuff” or “tiny,” but I would be lying if I said I didn’t absolutely love it when he called me by one of his nicknames for me.
What Daryl and I had had definitely evolved beyond just a friendship. It was more of a…flirtationship, if you will.
At this point, I’d been at Alexandria for a month and a half or so. And the night that I’d been dreading for weeks finally came—the night that the horrible nightmare I’d been having became crystal clear.
Every sound, every touch, every sight was as clear as could be. It was like I’d been sucked back in time and was right back in that moment again.
I felt the cold barn floor underneath me and his crushing weight on top of me. I felt my hands tied above my head and the rope digging into my skin as I writhed around. I could hear his heavy breathing and the gun scrape against my teeth as it was forced into my mouth. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks as I realized what was happening. And I could see his face—his evil, smug fucking face no less than two inches from mine.
In my head, the scream I let out could’ve shattered glass.
I awoke on the floor, running my hands all over my body in a panicked state. It took several moments for me to realize I was awake, back on my bedroom floor in Alexandria, like I always was. I hadn’t felt fear like that since the incident itself. The adrenaline that was coursing through my veins was the only thing that kept me upright.
I curled up into a ball against the bed, sobbing hysterically into my knees. My tears felt scalding, burning my skin as they slid down off of my cheeks. I was so wrapped up in my fear that I didn’t think about how Daryl would be coming in at any moment, just like he always did. Nor did I hear the door open when he finally did.
I heard his familiar footsteps move from the door around the bed over to me. He knelt, then sat down next to me. I didn’t look up at him, I couldn’t. I felt so ashamed, both for how my nightmare made me feel and for Daryl having to see me like this. Sure, he’d seen me cry on a few occasions, but none of those times were like this. None were this intense, this visceral, this raw.
“Hey, are ya ok? Ya get hurt?” Daryl asked, his tone velvety soft and a level of concern in his voice I’d never heard before. I didn’t know what to say or do. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up into the tiniest ball possible and disappear. Even if I had anything to say, I couldn’t find my voice.
When I didn’t say a word or move an inch, he scooted himself a little closer to me until his knee was against my leg. He placed a hand on my back, rubbing it up and down between my waist and my shoulders.
“Vec, what happened?” he asked, more worry in his voice than before, “talk to me.”
I practically lunged at him as I fell forward and wrapped my arms around him. It was like I didn’t have control over my body. I needed something familiar, something safe. More so someone familiar, someone safe. And he was right there. My body was reaching for him whether I wanted it to or not.
“It was so real,” I choked out between sobs, “it was so clear.” His strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me even closer to him until my head was resting in the crook of his neck, my heaving chest pressed to his. And he held me there as I continued to sob.
He was warm, like a heater, and his embrace around me was strong, but there was so much care and tenderness behind it. Even though the intense fear was still plaguing my nervous system, I felt safe wrapped up in his arms. He rubbed one hand up and down my back again.
“You’re ok. You’re safe. It can’t hurt ya,” he reassured.
It was a long time before either of us said anything. After a time, he moved his hand that was rubbing up and down my back to the back of my head and stroked my hair. He held me while I cried, and at one point, he started gently rocking me back and forth. I only continued to feel more ashamed, my face getting hot from embarrassment. I felt like such a baby.
“It was like I was right back in that moment.”
I immediately regretted what I had said. If someone said that to me when referencing a nightmare they had, I would assume that this nightmare was them reliving a horrific experience. And knowing that Daryl listened to every single word that came out of my mouth, he now knew that this, in fact, was real. That I dreamt of a real-life horror story night after night.
“You’re not there. You’re here,” Daryl said as he continued to stroke my hair. He handled me like glass, like he thought I might break if he was even just a little too heavy-handed.
“I could see, hear, feel everything.” I sobbed harder. I felt disgusting, vile, like a thousand showers in bleach couldn’t even scrub away the feeling of disgust I experienced.
Daryl stopped rocking me and moved his hand back to my back. “I know that’s scary. But you’re here now, and I got ya.” He somehow pulled me even closer to him, which I didn’t think was possible.
“I just want the pain to stop.”
“I know.” He didn’t know. He had no idea what I was talking about. But I know he knew how it felt to carry the pain of a traumatic incident and wanting that pain to go away.
My sobbing didn’t let up for a long time. When it started to, it was very gradual. Daryl held onto me the whole time, giving me reminders now and then that I was ok, he was there, and I was safe. After a long, long time, my crying had almost stopped, and I picked my head up off of Daryl’s shoulder. The crook of his neck and the shoulder of his shirt were soaked.
“I’m sorry I got your shirt wet,” I said. It felt like a silly thing to say, but I felt terrible.
“Nah, ’s not important.” He pressed tenderly on my shoulders, ushering me to lift my head out in front of him. For the first time in what felt like the hours we’d been sitting here, I met his gaze. My eyes were puffy, I didn’t need to see them to know that. I’m sure they were red too. I hated that he had to see me like this. “How ya feelin’?”
“Like shit,” I said, “I’m too scared to go back to sleep.” When I would fall out of bed after my initial nightmare, the nightmare never continued once I fell back asleep. That wasn’t what I was worried about.
What I was worried about was seeing that stupid, smug face every time I closed my eyes.
“You can go back to bed,” I said, resting my head back in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry I kept you up for so long.”
“’s no trouble. C’mon, I’ll stay with ya ’til ya fall asleep,” Daryl said. He got up and stood over me, reaching his arms out for me to grab his hands. He pulled me up, and I was barely on my feet for a second before I fell back into the bed. My whole body felt weak, like my muscles were made of jello.
“Are you sure? I’ve already kept you up for long enough.” Daryl came around to the other side of the bed and sat down, scooting back until he was resting against the headboard. I used what small amount of energy I had left to move until I was laid down, rolling onto my side to face him and pulling my blanket up to my chin.
“I’m sure.” He extended his hand out, resting it next to me, palm up. I reached out and placed my hand in his, and he gently stroked my fingers with his thumb. I’m sure the moment would’ve felt more magical if I didn’t feel like such garbage.
“I’m so sorry, Daryl. I feel like such a burden.”
“Ya ain’t a burden, sunshine. Ya never are.”
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Divider found on Google via searching for stock images
Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen
Masterlist
AO3 link
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)
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, PTSD
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
TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, discussion of excessive drinking to numb painful emotions, PTSD flashbacks, panic attack, mention of scars
Word count: 2.8k
Sleep eventually came that night, and I felt hellish when I woke up in the morning. "Hellish" was putting it lightly. My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my entire body was sore, aching like when you have the flu. My chest was heavy, and it felt like it was taking a lot of energy to simply breathe. I don't think I'd ever felt so drained before.
It took a few moments of being awake for me to remember what had happened during the night. I blinked rapidly and looked at the other side of the bed. I remembered Daryl had to be out early for a day of hunting, so I wasn't too hurt when I saw it was empty. Still, I wished he had stayed just long enough for me to wake up.
This day was unusual for me in that I didn't have anything planned, at least not until the evening. There was going to be a community dinner. Everyone was supposed to make something, and we would eat out in the grass by the garden and drink late into the night. I likely wouldn't see Daryl until then, unless he got back early from hunting. I already couldn't wait for him to get back so I could wrap my arms around him and thank him for everything.
My day was going to consist of taking care of myself as best I could after last night and making food for the dinner, maybe seeing if anyone wanted help with theirs. I started by pulling myself out of bed. At first, I just slid out onto the floor. But I got myself out of bed, and that was a start. I didn't quite have the energy to stand, so I crawled over to my dresser and pulled out my clothes. I had decided a few days ago that today was finally going to be the day that I wore that dress Daryl got me weeks ago, back when we hardly knew each other. Not only was I excited to wear it, but I was excited for him to see me in it.
I sat on the floor for a while, letting my body reserve as much energy as it could so I could get myself down to the kitchen. Having not eaten since lunch the day before certainly wasn't helping my situation. After a few minutes, I pulled myself up, steadying myself on the dresser. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were still a bit red, and my lids were swollen, but they weren't too bad. My face felt puffy, and my hair was a mess of bedhead. I would've taken a shower first if my hunger wasn't demanding I make my way to the kitchen.
Daryl had left a container of food for me in the fridge. On the lid was a sticky note with my name on it. Judging by what he wrote, he would've had to leave it this morning before he went out on his hunt.
Vec
Hope you're feeling better
See you tonight
I put the note on the counter so I would remember to put it in my notebook with the other one. Eating helped me to feel a little better, but I still mostly felt like a pile of garbage. The note also put a little smile on my face. After I ate, I lugged myself into the shower in the hopes that that would help me feel less like garbage.
Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.
As I washed myself off in the shower, stills from my nightmare flashed through my mind. It was like my brain was flipping through photos of the incident to taunt me. It made me feel an otherworldly level of gross, disgusting, like the only thing that could cleanse me of the feeling would be to skin myself. I could hardly stand to touch my own skin, to look at my own body, and I ended up curling up into a ball on the floor of the tub and sobbing some more. I wasn't sure how much more of this my poor eyeballs could take.
I don't know how long I spent like that, curled up in a pathetic little ball in the tub, but it was long enough to ride out a panic attack that felt like it lasted for days.
Once the panic attack had mostly subsided, I did my best to finish washing myself off before standing back up. I continued to take deep breaths as I turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing my fresh towel and tossing it around me like a blanket. I couldn't even look at my hands for fear that seeing my scars would send me into another spiral.
One thing was for sure—I was going to be numbing these feelings with alcohol.
I had never blacked out before, as I was a lightweight and didn't even like getting to the point that I was dizzy. I didn't know what I was going to be like, or what to expect, but I didn't care. I couldn't handle these feelings anymore. They'd been creeping up on me more and more the last few weeks, and last night was the catalyst for my impending drunken state. I could only hope I wouldn't make a total fool of myself and ruin things with Daryl.
I sat on my bed, trying to focus on my breathing and calm my nervous system down. I had talked patients down from panic attacks before, but talking yourself down from one was different. After some time, I was breathing normally again, and my heart rate had returned to a steady beat. I dried myself off and got dressed, and the sight of me in the stunning dress Daryl picked for me made me smile.
I did a small twirl in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly. The hem sat right around my ankles, and the slit came up to my mid-thigh on my right leg. It was nice and flowy around my lower body and hugged my waist and chest just right. It was like it was crafted just for me. I couldn't wait for Daryl to see.
I didn't need to start preparing food until later, so I thought I would go see if anyone needed help with preparing theirs or needed help with anything else. I grabbed my bag, put my boots on, and headed outside. It was a gorgeous day, nice and sunny and perfect for the evening's activities. People were bustling around, busy completing their daily tasks so they could relax when dinnertime came around. It was wonderful to see people getting excited about something and coming together so that we all could have a normal, non-apocalyptic experience.
I started off at Glenn and Maggie's. I hadn't spent time with Maggie in a while, and truly, I was less concerned about seeing if she needed help and more so just wanted to hang out. Maggie had become like a sister to me. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed spending time with Daryl. But I also was in desperate need of some girl time.
"Hey. I just wanted to see if y'all needed help with anything for tonight. And I missed you," I said.
"Yeah, long time no see," she said. She stepped out onto the porch and gave me a hug, acknowledging my dress as she pulled away. “Whoa, where'd you pull that out from?" She opened the door and ushered me inside.
"Oh, it was a gift," I explained. She had an inquisitive look on her face.
"From...?" Maggie asked. I looked down at the floor and smiled. Her quick response let me know that I didn't need to explain. She knew. "No, really? That's so sweet!"
"Yeah. He said he thought of me when he saw it and thought I would like it. It's my first time wearing it." I looked back up at Maggie, whose jaw was nearly on the floor. “He tried to tell me that he just got lucky and didn't remember that my favorite color is blue, but I'm pretty sure he remembered."
"Oh he never forgot," she gushed, starting to walk away towards another room, "hold on, I have just the thing to add to your look." She returned a minute later with a curling iron in her hand. "Look what I found the other day. Can I do your hair?" She sounded so excited at the idea, I had a hard time saying no.
"Sure," I said, following her off to the bathroom, "why not? I have a lot of hair though, I hope you got time."
"Glenn can make the food for tonight. We got all the time we need."
We spent hours in that tiny bathroom, chatting and laughing and giggling like old friends. It felt like getting ready with a girlfriend to go out to the club on a weekend. It was times like this that made things seem normal, even if it was just for a few hours. We only took a break at one point for lunch, and Maggie explained to Glenn that he would be cooking for tonight's event. He was less than pleased.
"Are you gonna dress cute tonight?" I asked Maggie as she was moving on to the last chunks of my hair.
"I may have found something nice to wear," she said, a little smirk on her face and laughter in her voice.
"Oooh, you'll have to show me when we're done. We gotta make sure Rosita and Michonne do too. Ah I'm so excited!" I gushed.
After she finished the last piece of my hair, I stood up and looked in the bathroom mirror. It was somewhere between soft waves and tight ringlet curls, and despite being curled, it still reached down past my chest. Having my hair done was just the confidence boost I needed.
"Maggie, you killed it," I said. I twirled around and gave her another hug.
"You look great. Daryl's gonna have a hard time taking his eyes off you," she said. I caught myself turning red in the mirror, and her chuckling at me indicated that she had caught it too.
"Well, he can look as much as he wants," I gushed.
"Will he get to do more than just look?"
"Maggie!" I gave her shoulder a gentle shove, and I could feel the red on my face becoming brighter. She only laughed more.
"C'mon, let me show you what I picked out," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bathroom to go upstairs.
Once I left Maggie's, I went over to see Rosita and then Michonne. I wasn't able to find Rosita, but I did tell Michonne about what Maggie and I planned, and it didn't take much convincing to get her to join us. She showed me a cute little cream-colored dress that she had but hadn't worn before, and I gushed over how pretty she would look in it. It felt good to be able to hype up my fellow women.
I took a little stroll around the community before going home to make food for the eventful evening to come. After I finished making the food, I hand-washed some pots and pans. I had squatted down on the floor to put something away in a lower cabinet when I heard the front door open. I figured it had to be Daryl. The butterflies in my stomach awakened. I was both excited and extremely nervous for him to see me all dolled up.
"Hey, there's my bonafide badass," I said as I popped my head up over the island in the kitchen. His chocolate hair hung in front of his face, obstructing his eyes from my view, but I could feel that they were on me. He had taken off his bow and his jacket, both of which had been tossed on the floor, and he had started walking in my direction. “How did the hunt go?"
"Real well. Probably the best in—wow." He cut off his sentence as I got up and walked around the other side of the island. My heart was pounding. "Ya wearin' it."
"Yeah. I, uh, finally found an occasion to wear it," I said, taking a few steps closer to him and giving him a couple of little twirls. “What do you think?"
He didn't say anything at first, just eyed me up and down, which I didn't mind. Like I told Maggie, he could look as much as he wanted. He stepped closer to me and wrapped his arms around me, giving me the tightest and most gentle hug I could imagine. I wrapped my arms around his neck in return. He was a little sweaty and dirty from being out in the sun all day, but I didn't care. My knees felt weak, and I practically melted into him as he pulled me closer.
"Ya look real nice." His sweet Southern accent right in my ear sent shivers down my spine. "Dress fits perfect."
"Thank you. The hair is courtesy of Maggie. It took hours."
"She did great," Daryl said. We spent another few moments like that before Daryl released me from the hug. But he still kept me close, running his hands up and down from my shoulders to my elbows. His work-worn hands caressing my bare skin felt immaculate. “How ya feelin' after last night?" I kept my gaze on his chest. I was finding it difficult to look him in the eye when I thought about what happened the night before. I was still feeling ashamed.
"Alright. I had some...moments throughout the day, but I'm ok." I could feel him looking down at me. He only had three, maybe four inches on me at most, but he still had to peer down to look at me, especially when we were this close. I twiddled my thumbs together anxiously. "I'm sorry about what happened. I feel bad for keeping you up, and I feel like such a baby for how I acted."
"Don't apologize. Nothin' ya did wrong. Just glad you're ok," Daryl said. His voice was always so silky soft when he talked to me, and it made me melt even more. "Wanted to stay with ya 'til ya got up, but I had to leave early. Sorry 'bout that." I leaned my head forward and rested my forehead on his chest. Being this close to him, wrapped up in his arms like this...it was my own personal heaven.
"That's ok, it's not your fault. Thank you for everything you did for me. I—" I cut myself off before using the word I considered. I lifted my head to look at him, our eyes locking immediately. Those stunning blue irises made me weak. "I appreciate you. A lot."
"Anytime sunshine," he reassured, and I gave him a big grin in return.
"I should get the food outside. Wanna come with me?"
"Ya go on. I'll be out soon," he said. I skipped over into the kitchen and grabbed the slow cooker, and Daryl went upstairs. I propped the appliance up on my leg and let myself outside.
Someone had taken one of the infirmary tables and set it up in the grass, and plenty of people had already brought their dishes out and were gathering together. There was also a separate table set up for alcohol. I went over and sat the slow cooker down on the infirmary table, and I could see Rosita bouncing over towards me.
"Dude, you look hot," she exclaimed, giving me a hug as she approached me, "your hair looks amazing. How long did that take?"
"Thank you. Maggie did it. It took literal hours," I said, "and so do you. You look so cute. I wish we had a way to take pictures."
"Thanks. She caught me earlier and told me you all planned to dress up, told me I should join in."
"Oh good. I tried to find you earlier to tell you, but I couldn't," I explained. I tapped my foot on the ground and crossed my arms over my chest. "Rosita, I need you to do me a huge favor. I'm looking to get drunk tonight. Like really drunk. If you think I might start saying something about Daryl, something that he or anyone else shouldn't hear, I need you to punch me in the stomach as hard as you can." Her expression changed to a confused one. "I mean that. Don't hold back. Knock some sense into me."
"Vector, I'm not gonna punch you. But I will stop you from saying something you'd regret. How much do you plan on drinking?"
"You don't wanna know."
Taglist: @raddydaddydude
Divider found on Google via searching for stock images
premiumcable || masterlist
Rick Grimes x Reader
Daryl Dixon x Reader
Carl Grimes x Reader
Negan x Reader
premiumcable || masterlist
Rick Grimes x Reader
Daryl Dixon x Reader
Carl Grimes x Reader
Negan x Reader
Can I have a request for Daryl smut, where he has always been kind of a closed off and always during sex would keep his shirt on not wanting you to see his scars but one night you walk into your guys bedroom(during Alexandra time) while he’s getting changed and he freezes pretty much and you show him how much you love every part of him including his scars. @ me plz!
Scars
Pairing: Daryl x gf!Reader
Masterlist!
Rating: 18+
Warnings:Trama, Walkers,smut,Praise Kink,Talk about Scars, Fluff
A/n: this is my first smut so sorry if there are mistakes or that it sucks
Hearing the gates close behind you and Daryl as you guys make your way to Maggie and Rick who take the dead rabbits and dear you guys have managed to find surprisingly, it took five hours but it was worth it. You and the others meet up to talk about who’s going on the supply run tomorrow when Daryl and Rick say they’ll go and take a couple other men just to be safe,after discussing what’s going to happen, you all head back to your homes for the day. You and Daryl walk inside. Daryl sits down and starts cleaning his bow while you cook dinner for the both of you.
——
After finishing the food you grabbed a bowl for you and Daryl and sat down in front of him after handing him his bowl. “What time are you guys going on the supply run tomorrow?” You ask hoping he’ll be home by the time you wake up. “Early mornin but I don’t know what time I’ll be back hopefully before yer awake” he reply’s before getting up and putting his plate in the sink after finishing his soup and you do the same and wash them and put them away. “Okay let’s get some sleep then so you can wake up early enough” you say walking upstairs to your room. Taking off your holster with your knife and gun in it, putting it on the dresser and changing into a big shirt and shorts and head into the bathroom to brighten your teeth,closing the door behind you so Daryl can get changed.You come out after hearing Daryl lay down and you go around to your side and lift the blankets to lay underneath them and cuddle into Daryl’s side with your head on his chest. You say your goodnights before falling asleep.
————————
The next morning you wake up feeling around the bed expecting Daryl to be on his side of the bed but no luck when you’re met with nothing but coldness. You get up and get dressed,strapping your knife into your holster,before heading out of yours and Daryl’s house.You greet Maggie taking over your shift for look out.
Few hours go by when you hear the sound of a motorcycle, telling the guys below to open the gates while getting down from your spot, You go ask how the supply run went when you see Daryl is all covered in dirt and blood.After a short conversation with the others you take Daryl to your guys house knowing he needs a shower after all that.giving him some privacy you leave your room for him to shower. You’ve always left when he would take off his shirt,he was very insecure about it and you didn’t wanna make him feel uncomfortable and feel like he had to tell you what happened. Every since you started dating him he would always leave his shirt on even during sex. It didn’t bother you of course it didn’t,but you wondered what happened and why he doesn’t take off his shirt but you don’t wanna push him,so you always drop it. Fifteen minutes later you walk back into your room,usually he’s done and dress by then, but upon opening the door you see him just now finally getting his shirt off,he freezes hearing the door open,turning his head. You walk over to him and run your hand down his back feeling every scar. “Disgusting aren’t they?” Daryl grumbles turning his head away from yours not wanting to look at you. “Their not gross,there part of who you are and what you have been through”, you place soft kisses to every scar. You pull away and grab his hand going into the bathroom and turning on the water. Taking your own clothes off you step in the shower telling him to get in too, after finally convincing him,you grab a rag and start to wash his body. After finishing everything, you look up at him seeing that he’s watching you with admiration and lust. You kiss him softly then he pulls you into him and deepens the kiss making it urgent with need. He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. His firm cock getting in contact with your skin got a low moan from him, the sound muffled by your mouth locked on his. Desperate for air, you pulled away, panting. His mouth shot to your throat, kissing and sucking on all your tender spots he passed so much time mentally mapping. The head of his cock teased your entrance, a buck of your hips telling him your ready. His hard shaft slowly got in with ease, you walls tighten around him with ease. It was there that he truly felt at home, in you to the tilt, connected to you in the most intimate way and allowed to share every feeling with you without any shame. With each trust your panting accelerated and your moans became louder. Music to his ears, your voice encouraged him to go faster and deeper, reaching spots that he knew would get you to your climax and get him over the edge with you. You lay your head into his neck as the water runs down you guys, sucking on his neck softly telling him how much you love him,every part of him. His thrusts are slow but filled with lust and love. He moves his head into your neck and cries softly into your neck allowing his walls to break down, him repeating over and over again that he loves you. You clench around him reaching your climax as you hold his closer knowing he’s close too. “Let go baby,please I wanna feel you” you moan feeling your climax take over you as you cum, along with Daryl feeling him let go into you not wanting to let you go. Resting your forehead against his you hear him mumble,not understanding him you ask him to repeat it. “Ma’ry me?” Daryl mumbles again to you hoping you hear him. Not expecting him to ask you think look look at him in shock but lean down and kiss him before nodding your head yes. Closing your eyes having everything you wanted right in front of you even though right outside those walls the world is shit and everything can change any second.
Request asked by: @mxltislasher
I will start making a tag list ask if you want to join it!I added random people sorry if you don’t want to be added just ask me to take you off!
@darylsgirl @daryldixonstorm @daryldixon @daryldixontwd @dixonextracts @haruhey @alisonsfics @starlessea
Title:A Fight For Survival
--
In the desolate wasteland, the abandoned warehouse stood as a grim reminder of the world’s collapse. Its skeletal remains were dimly lit by the weak light seeping through broken windows. The oppressive silence was occasionally broken by distant groans and the shuffle of the undead, signaling the encroaching danger.
Daryl Dixon was slumped against a rusted metal pillar, his face a mask of pain. A severe wound along his side had him barely able to move, his bow resting uselessly on the floor beside him. His breath came in labored gasps as he tried to stay alert despite his injuries. The warehouse had become a trap, overrun by walkers, their guttural growls growing louder with each passing moment.
You, a skilled survivor and his steadfast companion, had been through countless perils together. This time, however, the stakes were higher. Daryl’s injury left him vulnerable, and the threat was imminent. You were determined to protect him. With a deep breath, you readied yourself, gripping a makeshift weapon—a metal shard attached to a sturdy stick.
The first walkers appeared, their groans filling the space with a chilling certainty. Without hesitation, you sprang into action. The clash was immediate and fierce. Each movement was a blend of desperation and precision, your weapon cutting through the encroaching threat. The walkers’ unnatural, jerky motions made them unpredictable, and every successful strike was met with the unsettling sounds of crumbling flesh and bone.
Daryl’s eyes, usually so steely, now held a mix of fear and frustration. He tried to rise, but pain kept him grounded. “Leave,” he rasped, his voice barely audible over the chaos. “Save yourself.” But you weren’t about to abandon him. You pushed through the throng of walkers, defending him with every ounce of strength you had.
Amid the battle, you carved out a temporary safe zone. The weight of your task was immense, each decision a matter of life or death. The relentless walkers seemed to multiply, their numbers overwhelming. Your focus was laser-sharp, every swing of your weapon purposeful and driven by the need to keep Daryl safe.
Slowly, the tide of battle began to shift. The walkers' numbers dwindled, their advance slowing as their bodies accumulated on the floor. You could feel your strength waning, but the sight of fewer walkers gave you renewed energy. With the immediate threat reduced, you hurried back to Daryl’s side.
You knelt beside him, breathless and worn. “We need to get you patched up,” you said, your voice shaky but determined. Daryl looked at you with a mix of gratitude and relief. The battle had forged an unspoken bond between you, a testament to the trust and reliance that had deepened over time.
Carefully, you assisted Daryl to his feet, guiding him through the wreckage of the warehouse. Exhaustion was evident in every step, but the silent understanding between you made the journey bearable. As you reached a safer corner, the immediate danger had passed, leaving a heavy but welcome silence.
In that moment of quiet, the severity of your situation and the strength of your connection became clear. The world outside remained perilous, but together, you had faced another deadly challenge and emerged stronger for it.
Request if you want something different 😊
A Teaser for
Always You
Not my GIF
Rosalie Barlowe a highly trained agent working at the GBI, Georgia Bureau of Investigations. Has her life turned upside down when the world goes to shit? How will she feel when a band of misfits, are there to watch her back when no one else has ever been? What will happen when she starts to harbor feelings for one of them?
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Hello, readers. This is the first Fic that I'm publishing here. If you are hooked by the very small teaser above please think about following along for Rosalie's story. I am so excited for this story to come to fruition and not just live in my head as an idea. I do not own The Walking Dead or any of its characters. I do, however, own Rosalie Barlowe and her story. I do not give permission to translate my work or change it in any way. I do however invite you to reblog and comment to let me know your thoughts. If you want to be added to the tag list just message me.
Tag list
@d1xonss