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Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC

A/N: The stories will follow the show's timeline only partially, many characters will have different stories than the original ones.

Some characters, places or events do not correspond to the TV show, I am only granted some "licenses".

I don't own any rights to TWD or its characters, scene or original dialogue.

I own only Summer and the main plot of the story, do not copy or use without permission.

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for every mistake.

Especially the ones you'll find in Daryl's speech.

Writing using a southern accent is something I don't do very well and I hope you can understand me and even help me sometimes.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Warnings: For anyone who has seen The Walking Dead knows exactly how the show works and what kind of crude topics are often shown.

I already warn you that each of my chapters will contain a different trigger that will not be reported at the beginning of the chapter so anyone who doesn't feel comfortable with these topics is better not reading my story.

This story contains mature content, including:

Graphic scene, strong language, gore, death, violence, sex, racism, pregnancy, miscarriage, weapon, drugs, abuse, blood, alcohol, self arm.

Age gap: Daryl is 35 years old and Summer is 24 years old.

Summary: Summer is a sweet, cheerful girl in love with life.

Her parents love her more than anything in the world and she could never imagine not having them by her side.

But then the apocalypse takes all of that away from her.

Nowadays she is only a shadow of what she was.

She was forced to run away from the only man she believed could love and protect her forever.

She finds herself alone and exhausted in the middle of the woods, waiting to die.

But then a mysterious man saves her.

Daryl.

A man with a past full of demons.

Maybe their meeting will decree the survival of the girl and the rebirth of the archer.

Between lies and secrets will they ever find some peace in the end?

Is there still room in this world for feelings like love, friendship and honor?

Or will fears and misunderstandings do nothing but drive them away from each other, allowing themselves to be devoured by their own mistakes?

🔥Moodboard🔥

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10 coming soon

Vec: Jesus, can I braid your hair sometime?

Jesus: Uh, yeah sure. If you really want to.

Vec: Daryl won’t let me braid his.

Daryl: Woman…

Vec: Do you ever wanna talk about your emotions, Daryl?

Daryl: Nah

Judith: I do.

Vec: I know, Judith

Judith: I’m sad.

Vec: I know, Judith.

Vec: Do you ever wanna talk about your emotions, Daryl?

Daryl: Nah

Judith: I do.

Vec: I know, Judith

Judith: I’m sad.

Vec: I know, Judith.

Masterlist

Started: 9/30/24

Updated: 10/10/24

Total Works: 5

The Walking Dead:

Finding Myself, Finding You:

➼ Chapter One

➼ Chapter Two

➼ Chapter Three

➼ Chapter Four

➼ Chapter Five

➼ Chapter Six

➼ Chapter Seven

➼ Chapter Eight

➼ Chapter Nine

➼ Chapter Ten

➼ Chapter Eleven

➼ Chapter Twelve

➼ Chapter Thirteen

➼ Chapter Fourteen

➼ Chapter Fifteen

➼ Chapter Sixteen

➼ Chapter Seventeen

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

➼ Original Idea #1

➼ That one Tiktok Audio

➼ Original Idea #2

➼ Original Idea #3

Oneshots (coming soon):

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seven

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, alcohol consumption (nothing excessive but Vector does get tipsy to the point she's dizzy)

Word count: 2.3k

“Oh my God, Vector, you have to tell us everything now. Have you talked to him much?” Rosita asked. She was beaming. I was beginning to regret the second glass of wine, let alone the third one in my hand. I set it down on the counter behind me, afraid that if I continued, I’d say some things I didn’t want to share.

“I mean, you know him, he doesn’t really like to talk. Rick sent the two of us on a run this morning. Talked a little bit, but nothing crazy.”

“You were alone with him outside the walls?” Michonne gushed, bouncing Judith up and down on her leg. Even the little baby, though she couldn’t understand what was happening around her, looked excited for me.

“Oh shut up,” I scoffed, “like I said, it was nothing crazy. We headed out, I tried to start a conversation, he shut me down, I showed off my combat skills because Rick told him to have me “prove them,” we got the shit and talked a little on the way back.” I paused for a moment, picking up my glass and taking another sip. I had decided I would need liquid courage if I was going to make it out of this conversation alive.

“Were you flirty at all?” Rosita asked. I felt my cheeks beginning to turn red again.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” I replied, tilting my head back and consuming the rest of my glass in one swig. I set it down again, this time not going to have another one. “I may or may not have told him that he should talk more because I like his voice…and that I could listen to him talk all day. Do you think that was too much?”

I scanned the room, looking at each of my new friends. Their jaws were on the floor, their mouths upturned into giddy smiles. They kept their eyes locked on me as I adjusted myself in my seat awkwardly. I held my breath, regretting that I had shared such a piece of information with people who were practically strangers, and waited for one of them to say something, anything.

“Oh my God!” Michonne finally exclaimed. I let out the air I was holding. “Well, what did he say?”

“What I imagine is a classic Daryl response, which is nothing.” Rosita got up from her chair to get herself another glass of wine.

“What did you talk about on the way back?” she asked as she passed by me to the kitchen.

I scratched at the skin at the side of my right thumb with my index finger, a habit I often fell to when I was especially anxious. “Umm, it was short. He started it, asked me why I go by Vector. I answered and that was it.”

“Girl! That is a get-to-know-you question. Daryl doesn’t ask those. Of anyone. And he’s the one who started it,” Maggie said. She stopped, briefly looking over my shoulder at Rosita before locking eyes with me again. “What were you doing when Rosita and I got there earlier to get you?”

I took my glass, which Rosita had so kindly filled with water, and sipped at it. “How’s that relevant?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Umm, I was just chilling in my room, sitting my the window, people watching. A butterfly came along at one point and joined me. Sat on my finger for a little, then on my nose before they flew away. Why?”

“Holy fuck, she’s like a goddamn Disney princess,” Rosita commented, plunking herself back into the chair she was occupying.

“How long were you doing that for?”

“Uh, I probably sat by my window for like half a hour. The butterfly situation lasted like five minutes maybe. Then I went to get up and had a damn heart attack because I didn’t realize Daryl was there. He didn’t say anything until I turned around. Again, why?” Maggie and Rosita exchanged excited glances, the same looks they exchanged on our walk over here, before Maggie continued.

“So when we got there, Daryl said he’d go get you. We were waiting for you for a few minutes. I saw him through the cracked door. He was just standing there in your doorway.” Her face was lit up at this point. “He could’ve just yelled for you or let us in to get you. I think he wanted an excuse to see you, talk to you, even for just a second. I think he was watching you the whole time.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like mad at the thought of him standing in my doorway, just watching me having a wholesome, innocent moment with a butterfly. If he indeed was standing there the whole time, what was he thinking about me? Did he think I was some dumb woman who clearly wasn’t cut out to survive the apocalypse? Did he think I was silly and there were better things I could be doing? Or did he think it was, dare I say, cute?

“I don’t know. I don’t even think he likes me. I think I’m being tolerated at best.”

“If he really didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have to guess. You’d know,” Maggie explained, “he’d make it abundantly clear.” Her reassurance, combined with the fact that she’d known Daryl for much longer than me, brought me some comfort. At least it seemed like he didn’t hate me.

“Well, if he wanted to see me or talk to me, he could just do that,” I said, “I don’t bite.”

“Daryl’s a little…too awkward when it comes to that. I don’t think he’s ever been with a woman,” Maggie replied. I cocked my eyebrow at her.

“What about a man?” I asked.

“I don’t think he’s ever been with anyone,” Michonne cut in. I turned my confused expression in her direction. I found it hard to believe that someone as strong, handsome, and mysterious as Daryl hadn’t been with anyone, romantically or otherwise.

“Him? Nah, I don’t believe he’s never been with anyone. Have you seen the man?” I rolled my eyes back and giggled. “He’s gorgeous. I’m sure there’s always been both men and women fawning over him.” They were now giggling at me, my level of tipsiness making itself known. Had I not eaten before coming, I’m sure I would’ve been far more drunk.

The front door handle jiggled, and in came Carl, Rick, and Glenn. Glenn waltzed over to Maggie, practically scooping her up to give her a kiss. Carl gave me a small wave and a “hey Vector” before walking past us to his room, presumably. Rick approached Michonne and gave her a smooch as well, taking Judith before turning to me.

“Makin’ friends Vector?”

“You know it, cowboy.” When I first got here and woke up in the cell, I had asked Rick for his name so I could address him properly, but ever since, I had almost exclusively referred to him as “cowboy.”

“Rick, Glenn, we have a question for you,” Maggie asked them. Michonne and Rosita looked like they were trying to stop themselves from busting out laughing.

“No we don’t.” I was perhaps a bit too quick with my response.

“Do you think Daryl’s ever been involved with anyone romantically? Is that something y’all’ve talked about?” She was trying to suppress her own laughter at this point. Glenn and Rick exchanged glances. Rick took the liberty of responding for both of them.

“He’s never talked about it, we haven't asked. But no, I don’t think he has. Why?” Maggie turned to me and gave me a “see, told you” look. Her diverting her attention to me caused Glenn and Rick to follow, as if her doing so was an answer to Rick’s question. I was probably more red than the brightest tomato any of them had ever seen.

“Does somebody have a little schoolgirl crush?” Glenn teased.

“Are you shitting my dick right now?” I mumbled under my breath, “y’all don’t keep secrets around here, do you?”

“If it makes you feel better, I think I can speak for both Maggie and I when we way we would’ve let it slip to them at some point,” Michonne said. I hopped up off of my stool and walked over to my boots.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to make me feel better. None of you are to say a word to him about this. Aaron’s the only other one who knows.”

“So almost all of us that really know Daryl know about it?” Rosita laughed.

“I guess, yeah.” I figured Glenn and Rick getting back was the sign that it was time to leave, so I started zipping my boots up. Rosita got up and came to do the same, as did Maggie, Glenn following close behind her. ”Thank you for inviting me to hang with y’all. Now what we discussed in this room stays in this room. This circle is HIPAA compliant. Do I make myself clear?” They all nodded.

“Crystal,” Michonne smiled. I finished putting my boots on and stepped out of the way for the others to do the same. I followed them out the door and down the steps of the front porch after saying goodnight to Rick and Michonne.

“Invite me again when y’all do that,” I said, “but don’t let me drink so much. I’m starting to feel dizzy.” I held my hands out at my sides, just a bit, to help myself as I walked.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight. You gonna be ok?” Maggie asked, placing a hand on my shoulder as we continued.

“Don’t worry, she has a big, strong, handsome man at home that can help her up into bed,” Rosita teased. I was too focused on making sure I didn’t fall over as I walked to come up with a clever response to her snarky remark.

“Oh hush,” was all I could muster up.

Glenn and Maggie’s place was first, and Rosita walked with me the rest of the way to mine, as hers was past me. She made sure I got up the front steps without falling before heading off.

“Hey Rosita?” I slowly turned to her, and she stopped and looked back at me, “y’all are really cool. Thanks for allowing me to come.”

“Anytime. Now just get into bed safe,” she commented, turning and heading off. I slowly approached the front door and tried to be as quiet as possible as I let myself in in case Daryl was asleep.

But he wasn’t. He was standing in the kitchen, and he had just poured himself some whiskey. It smelled like gasoline and only made my dizziness worse. I let the door close softly behind me and carefully lowered myself to the ground to take my boots off.

“The hell ya doin’?” I turned my head in his direction, and by that point I was so dizzy that all I could make out clearly was vague shapes and colors. I could tell he was wearing something black, and he was leaning over the kitchen island, but that was about it.

“I…am a lightweight…and I’m…so dizzy right now…I can barely see you…” I took my shoes out from under me and cautiously stood up, making sure I had my footing before I started walking toward the stairs.

“What’d ya drink?” Daryl asked. My lack of sobriety made me question whether or not the slight hint of concern in his voice was real or if I had imagined it.

“I had…three glasses…of wine…” I replied.

“Jesus, ya really are a lightweight.” I kept my hands out at my sides to maintain my balance, stepping and stopping for a moment before taking another one, “careful goin’ up them stairs now. Fall and break ya neck if ya slip, and I ain’t cleanin’ that up.” I didn’t say or do anything, I just kept my slow pace toward the stairs. As I approached the bottom step, I heard Daryl’s footsteps come around from the kitchen and stand somewhere behind me.

“What are you…doing?” I turned my head to talk back over my shoulder.

“Makin’ sure ya don’t break ya neck. We just got a doctor. Can’t have her gettin’ herself killed that fast.” He swirled his whiskey in his hand. I didn’t notice the sound of ice clinking against the cup. The man took his whiskey neat—couldn’t say I was surprised by that.

I carefully stepped up onto the first step, grabbing onto both sides of the railing with my hands to steady myself. To say I was humiliated would be an understatement. I didn’t need a babysitter, but my low tolerance for alcohol demanded I have one.

“Well this…is…embarrassing,” I said as I continued making my way up the steps.

“Nah, we all get a lil’ too drunk sometimes,” he said, “easy escape in a world like this. Hard not to.” After I was probably halfway up, I heard his footsteps again, this time coming to the bottom of the steps before stopping. When I was almost at the top, he came up the stairs a bit, always making sure to leave a distance of several steps between us. I didn’t know if that was because he was uncomfortable getting too close or he didn’t want me getting uncomfortable with him getting too close. Once I had finally made the long, arduous journey to my bedroom door, I turned back to him. My dizziness was only getting worse, but I could make out the shape of him on the steps, facing my direction.

“Thanks for…not letting me…break my neck…Daryl.” I gave him a tipsy smile and a two-finger salute. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he responded. I shut the door, taking my glasses off and setting them on my dresser before allowing myself to fall back onto the bed. I crawled up toward my pillow and was asleep before my head even touched it.

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seven

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, alcohol consumption (nothing excessive but Vector does get tipsy to the point she's dizzy)

Word count: 2.3k

“Oh my God, Vector, you have to tell us everything now. Have you talked to him much?” Rosita asked. She was beaming. I was beginning to regret the second glass of wine, let alone the third one in my hand. I set it down on the counter behind me, afraid that if I continued, I’d say some things I didn’t want to share.

“I mean, you know him, he doesn’t really like to talk. Rick sent the two of us on a run this morning. Talked a little bit, but nothing crazy.”

“You were alone with him outside the walls?” Michonne gushed, bouncing Judith up and down on her leg. Even the little baby, though she couldn’t understand what was happening around her, looked excited for me.

“Oh shut up,” I scoffed, “like I said, it was nothing crazy. We headed out, I tried to start a conversation, he shut me down, I showed off my combat skills because Rick told him to have me “prove them,” we got the shit and talked a little on the way back.” I paused for a moment, picking up my glass and taking another sip. I had decided I would need liquid courage if I was going to make it out of this conversation alive.

“Were you flirty at all?” Rosita asked. I felt my cheeks beginning to turn red again.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” I replied, tilting my head back and consuming the rest of my glass in one swig. I set it down again, this time not going to have another one. “I may or may not have told him that he should talk more because I like his voice…and that I could listen to him talk all day. Do you think that was too much?”

I scanned the room, looking at each of my new friends. Their jaws were on the floor, their mouths upturned into giddy smiles. They kept their eyes locked on me as I adjusted myself in my seat awkwardly. I held my breath, regretting that I had shared such a piece of information with people who were practically strangers, and waited for one of them to say something, anything.

“Oh my God!” Michonne finally exclaimed. I let out the air I was holding. “Well, what did he say?”

“What I imagine is a classic Daryl response, which is nothing.” Rosita got up from her chair to get herself another glass of wine.

“What did you talk about on the way back?” she asked as she passed by me to the kitchen.

I scratched at the skin at the side of my right thumb with my index finger, a habit I often fell to when I was especially anxious. “Umm, it was short. He started it, asked me why I go by Vector. I answered and that was it.”

“Girl! That is a get-to-know-you question. Daryl doesn’t ask those. Of anyone. And he’s the one who started it,” Maggie said. She stopped, briefly looking over my shoulder at Rosita before locking eyes with me again. “What were you doing when Rosita and I got there earlier to get you?”

I took my glass, which Rosita had so kindly filled with water, and sipped at it. “How’s that relevant?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Umm, I was just chilling in my room, sitting my the window, people watching. A butterfly came along at one point and joined me. Sat on my finger for a little, then on my nose before they flew away. Why?”

“Holy fuck, she’s like a goddamn Disney princess,” Rosita commented, plunking herself back into the chair she was occupying.

“How long were you doing that for?”

“Uh, I probably sat by my window for like half a hour. The butterfly situation lasted like five minutes maybe. Then I went to get up and had a damn heart attack because I didn’t realize Daryl was there. He didn’t say anything until I turned around. Again, why?” Maggie and Rosita exchanged excited glances, the same looks they exchanged on our walk over here, before Maggie continued.

“So when we got there, Daryl said he’d go get you. We were waiting for you for a few minutes. I saw him through the cracked door. He was just standing there in your doorway.” Her face was lit up at this point. “He could’ve just yelled for you or let us in to get you. I think he wanted an excuse to see you, talk to you, even for just a second. I think he was watching you the whole time.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like mad at the thought of him standing in my doorway, just watching me having a wholesome, innocent moment with a butterfly. If he indeed was standing there the whole time, what was he thinking about me? Did he think I was some dumb woman who clearly wasn’t cut out to survive the apocalypse? Did he think I was silly and there were better things I could be doing? Or did he think it was, dare I say, cute?

“I don’t know. I don’t even think he likes me. I think I’m being tolerated at best.”

“If he really didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have to guess. You’d know,” Maggie explained, “he’d make it abundantly clear.” Her reassurance, combined with the fact that she’d known Daryl for much longer than me, brought me some comfort. At least it seemed like he didn’t hate me.

“Well, if he wanted to see me or talk to me, he could just do that,” I said, “I don’t bite.”

“Daryl’s a little…too awkward when it comes to that. I don’t think he’s ever been with a woman,” Maggie replied. I cocked my eyebrow at her.

“What about a man?” I asked.

“I don’t think he’s ever been with anyone,” Michonne cut in. I turned my confused expression in her direction. I found it hard to believe that someone as strong, handsome, and mysterious as Daryl hadn’t been with anyone, romantically or otherwise.

“Him? Nah, I don’t believe he’s never been with anyone. Have you seen the man?” I rolled my eyes back and giggled. “He’s gorgeous. I’m sure there’s always been both men and women fawning over him.” They were now giggling at me, my level of tipsiness making itself known. Had I not eaten before coming, I’m sure I would’ve been far more drunk.

The front door handle jiggled, and in came Carl, Rick, and Glenn. Glenn waltzed over to Maggie, practically scooping her up to give her a kiss. Carl gave me a small wave and a “hey Vector” before walking past us to his room, presumably. Rick approached Michonne and gave her a smooch as well, taking Judith before turning to me.

“Makin’ friends Vector?”

“You know it, cowboy.” When I first got here and woke up in the cell, I had asked Rick for his name so I could address him properly, but ever since, I had almost exclusively referred to him as “cowboy.”

“Rick, Glenn, we have a question for you,” Maggie asked them. Michonne and Rosita looked like they were trying to stop themselves from busting out laughing.

“No we don’t.” I was perhaps a bit too quick with my response.

“Do you think Daryl’s ever been involved with anyone romantically? Is that something y’all’ve talked about?” She was trying to suppress her own laughter at this point. Glenn and Rick exchanged glances. Rick took the liberty of responding for both of them.

“He’s never talked about it, we haven't asked. But no, I don’t think he has. Why?” Maggie turned to me and gave me a “see, told you” look. Her diverting her attention to me caused Glenn and Rick to follow, as if her doing so was an answer to Rick’s question. I was probably more red than the brightest tomato any of them had ever seen.

“Does somebody have a little schoolgirl crush?” Glenn teased.

“Are you shitting my dick right now?” I mumbled under my breath, “y’all don’t keep secrets around here, do you?”

“If it makes you feel better, I think I can speak for both Maggie and I when we way we would’ve let it slip to them at some point,” Michonne said. I hopped up off of my stool and walked over to my boots.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to make me feel better. None of you are to say a word to him about this. Aaron’s the only other one who knows.”

“So almost all of us that really know Daryl know about it?” Rosita laughed.

“I guess, yeah.” I figured Glenn and Rick getting back was the sign that it was time to leave, so I started zipping my boots up. Rosita got up and came to do the same, as did Maggie, Glenn following close behind her. ”Thank you for inviting me to hang with y’all. Now what we discussed in this room stays in this room. This circle is HIPAA compliant. Do I make myself clear?” They all nodded.

“Crystal,” Michonne smiled. I finished putting my boots on and stepped out of the way for the others to do the same. I followed them out the door and down the steps of the front porch after saying goodnight to Rick and Michonne.

“Invite me again when y’all do that,” I said, “but don’t let me drink so much. I’m starting to feel dizzy.” I held my hands out at my sides, just a bit, to help myself as I walked.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight. You gonna be ok?” Maggie asked, placing a hand on my shoulder as we continued.

“Don’t worry, she has a big, strong, handsome man at home that can help her up into bed,” Rosita teased. I was too focused on making sure I didn’t fall over as I walked to come up with a clever response to her snarky remark.

“Oh hush,” was all I could muster up.

Glenn and Maggie’s place was first, and Rosita walked with me the rest of the way to mine, as hers was past me. She made sure I got up the front steps without falling before heading off.

“Hey Rosita?” I slowly turned to her, and she stopped and looked back at me, “y’all are really cool. Thanks for allowing me to come.”

“Anytime. Now just get into bed safe,” she commented, turning and heading off. I slowly approached the front door and tried to be as quiet as possible as I let myself in in case Daryl was asleep.

But he wasn’t. He was standing in the kitchen, and he had just poured himself some whiskey. It smelled like gasoline and only made my dizziness worse. I let the door close softly behind me and carefully lowered myself to the ground to take my boots off.

“The hell ya doin’?” I turned my head in his direction, and by that point I was so dizzy that all I could make out clearly was vague shapes and colors. I could tell he was wearing something black, and he was leaning over the kitchen island, but that was about it.

“I…am a lightweight…and I’m…so dizzy right now…I can barely see you…” I took my shoes out from under me and cautiously stood up, making sure I had my footing before I started walking toward the stairs.

“What’d ya drink?” Daryl asked. My lack of sobriety made me question whether or not the slight hint of concern in his voice was real or if I had imagined it.

“I had…three glasses…of wine…” I replied.

“Jesus, ya really are a lightweight.” I kept my hands out at my sides to maintain my balance, stepping and stopping for a moment before taking another one, “careful goin’ up them stairs now. Fall and break ya neck if ya slip, and I ain’t cleanin’ that up.” I didn’t say or do anything, I just kept my slow pace toward the stairs. As I approached the bottom step, I heard Daryl’s footsteps come around from the kitchen and stand somewhere behind me.

“What are you…doing?” I turned my head to talk back over my shoulder.

“Makin’ sure ya don’t break ya neck. We just got a doctor. Can’t have her gettin’ herself killed that fast.” He swirled his whiskey in his hand. I didn’t notice the sound of ice clinking against the cup. The man took his whiskey neat—couldn’t say I was surprised by that.

I carefully stepped up onto the first step, grabbing onto both sides of the railing with my hands to steady myself. To say I was humiliated would be an understatement. I didn’t need a babysitter, but my low tolerance for alcohol demanded I have one.

“Well this…is…embarrassing,” I said as I continued making my way up the steps.

“Nah, we all get a lil’ too drunk sometimes,” he said, “easy escape in a world like this. Hard not to.” After I was probably halfway up, I heard his footsteps again, this time coming to the bottom of the steps before stopping. When I was almost at the top, he came up the stairs a bit, always making sure to leave a distance of several steps between us. I didn’t know if that was because he was uncomfortable getting too close or he didn’t want me getting uncomfortable with him getting too close. Once I had finally made the long, arduous journey to my bedroom door, I turned back to him. My dizziness was only getting worse, but I could make out the shape of him on the steps, facing my direction.

“Thanks for…not letting me…break my neck…Daryl.” I gave him a tipsy smile and a two-finger salute. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he responded. I shut the door, taking my glasses off and setting them on my dresser before allowing myself to fall back onto the bed. I crawled up toward my pillow and was asleep before my head even touched it.

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eight

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, nightmares, references to being held at gunpoint, allusion to being tied up

Word count: 2.7k

The wine didn’t keep the nightmares at bay. In fact, I’m sure it made them worse. It was the same as last night, but there was a little more clarity this time. I could feel my hands above my head and a crushing weight on my body. The surface I was laying on was hard and cold, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Then it was the same—the fuzzy vision and the taste of metal and gunpowder being shoved into my mouth before I screamed.

I woke up on the floor hoping I hadn’t screamed out loud this time and woken Daryl again. I just laid there on the floor, waiting to see if I would hear my door open. After a moment, it did. The humiliation I had felt from the same situation last night came creeping back as I sat up and looked at him over the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling myself back to my feet and steadying myself on the bed. The hangover headache was already starting.

“Ya ok?” I was taken aback by his question.

“Umm, yeah, I think so. My head’s pounding, but I’m alright.” I could make out his features in the moonlight coming through my window—that messy mop of chocolate brown hair, his toned arms, his stoic but kind face, and those beautiful blue eyes. He was like a painting with how beautiful he was. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to get wrapped up in his arms and tell him just that. To get lost in those pools of blue and never find my way out.

“Ya hit your head?” His gorgeous half-asleep, half-awake voice was so good at pulling me back to reality. I was surprised he was asking so many questions.

“No, I think it’s just the hangover setting in. I’m so sorry, again. And I’m sorry in advance because this is probably going to keep happening. That’s how it was before I got here. You don’t have to keep checking on me, really.”

“A scream ’n a crash usually don’t mean nothin’ good in this world,” Daryl said.

“You really don’t have to keep coming in. I feel bad enough for waking you, let alone making you feel like you need to check on me,” I replied. I climbed back into bed, feeling the slight dampness of the sheets from the night sweats that had plagued me in my sleep.

“No promises.” I rolled my eyes slightly and rolled over, my back facing him and the door. I heard the door close, but not all the way, stopping just before it was latched.

“Daryl, can you close the door?” I shouted over my shoulder. I didn’t hear anything, nor did he come back. Not having the energy to get up, I huffed a “whatever” under my breath before closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep. A couple of minutes later, as I was starting to drift off, I heard the door open again, the sound of something being set on my dresser, and the door closing, this time all the way. I rolled over enough to look back over my shoulder to see what it was.

There was a small glass of water on the dresser, accompanied by what looked like a bottle of Tylenol.

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

When I woke a few hours later, the sun had just risen, and I could hear birds outside my window, sitting on the ledge and chirping little songs to each other. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned. I propped my head up, resting it on my hand to look out the window. There were two small chickadees perched outside my window with their backs to me. They were chirping back and forth at each other, and I wondered what their relationship was like—if they were family, if they were members of the same flock. Maybe siblings, maybe lovers.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pulled myself up. Today, I was going to start seeing patients, and though I could still feel the hangover headache, I was going to have to push through. I walked over and grabbed some clothes out of a dresser drawer—a pair of black shorts, a black plaid button-up crop top, and the leg holsters for my gun and my knife--and got dressed. Even when my weapons weren’t in their respective holsters, having them on made me feel cool, like an apocalyptic video game character.

I leaned forward and tossed my hair over my head, brushing through it gently with my fingers before grabbing it and tossing it back, tying it up into a high ponytail. The glass of water and Tylenol were still sitting on the dresser, right where he had left them. I picked up the glass and swirled it gently in my hand, smiling. Such a small and kind gesture from such a rugged and stoic man made me swoon. I popped a couple of Tylenol out of the bottle and threw them back into my mouth, swigging back some water with them.

“I’da loved a kiss on the forehead, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t the cutest shit I’ve ever seen,” I said to myself, grabbing the Tylenol bottle and putting it in my pocket. I tossed back the rest of the water, feeling extra dehydrated from the hangover. I still hadn’t acclimated to being in a place where I could drink water whenever I needed to, which led me to often feel dehydrated.

I went downstairs and placed the meds on the counter and the glass in the sink. I planned to quickly make coffee and grab something to take with me to the infirmary to eat. I had informed the other residents that they could come by and see me today if they wanted a checkup or anything looked over. I got the coffee pot going and rummaged through the cupboard, grabbing a can of peaches and a fork out of a drawer and chucking them in my bag.

Once the coffee was done, I poured myself a mug and put the pot back in the machine to keep it warm in case Daryl wanted any. I took the cup with me to the front door, setting it down to put my boots on, but I had an idea. I pulled my notebook and a pen out of my bag and ripped a page out of the book. I decided to leave a little flirty note to thank him and wish him luck on his hunting trip. I half-expected to see it in the trash later, but I didn’t care.

Mornin’ sunshine

Thanks for the water and meds :)

Good luck on your trip

Sorry your good luck charm can’t come with

Try not to get hurt

Him and a couple of the other guys were going to be gone for about a week, is what Rick had told me. I was worried, yes, but I knew Daryl could handle himself. Plus, who would come check on me every time I fell out of bed in the middle of the night? I set the note on the counter by the coffee pot and went back for my boots, slipping them on and grabbing my mug as I headed out the front door, careful to shut it quietly.

The air was cool, and there was dew on the grass that captured the light of the now-risen sun, causing it to sparkle like glitter. I rubbed my arms to warm them, not expecting it to be so chilly. Lights were starting to come on in houses as people woke up and started their morning routines. I wondered if any of them had nightmares too, painful memories that interrupted their peaceful sleep every single night. I was envious at the thought, having not had a single night of uninterrupted sleep in months.

I flipped the lights on in the infirmary, setting my bag down on a table off to the side. I spent some time organizing things and labeling draws and cabinets with a pad of sticky notes I found. I soaked some scalpels and other small tools in a peracetic acid solution and set out some things I’d most commonly be reaching for, like gauze, padding, medical tape, alcohol wipes, etc.

I took some time to write and have my coffee and peaches before people started coming. Michonne came by first and brought Judith, and she immediately began teasing me about the night before.

“Did your big, strong, handsome man at home help you get into bed?” I scoffed as she held Judith on her lap, facing me so I could examine her.

“No,” I drawled out, “but he did make sure I didn’t fall and break my neck. I was so dizzy, I almost couldn’t see. Don’t let me drink again.” She smirked.

“How do you feel now?” she asked. Judith let out a sweet little giggle, and I couldn’t help but giggle along with her. She was doing great at holding still while I looked in her eyes, ears, etc.

“Better. A very friendly archer left some water and painkillers in my room when I was asleep,” I said, turning around to grab a stethoscope off the back counter. I opened a pack of alcohol pads and sanitized the whole thing before placing it in my ears.

“What?” Michonne practically shouted. I shushed her, and she lifted Judith’s shirt enough that I could listen to her heart and her breathing, both of which sounded perfect. After I had taken the stethoscope out, she continued. “That’s so nice. He really is a good man. Y’know, he was the first to feed Judith after she was born.”

“Huh?” I could feel myself melting into a puddle at the thought of burly, rough Daryl comforting a tiny newborn.

“I wasn’t there at this time, but I’ve heard the stories from Rick and Carl. Lori, Rick’s wife and Carl’s mother, passed away giving birth to Judith. There was no formula at the prison they were staying in at the time, so as soon as Daryl heard they would need formula for her to survive, he immediately took off on a run, talking about how they weren’t going to lose another person,” she explained, looking down at Judith as she talked, “Judith was crying incessantly, and when they came back from the run, Daryl took her from Carl right away and started rocking her, trying to calm her down, then took the bottle to feed her. And it worked. And he nicknamed her Lil’ Ass Kicker.”

I felt my heart swell and the butterflies in my stomach return as I pictured Daryl with little newborn Judith, her all swaddled up in a blanket and him rocking her back and forth, calling her cute names and telling her it was all going to be all right before giving her a bottle. I felt a warming in my chest.

“Michonne, do not sit here and tell me that the man I’m crushing on adores babies because I will lose it,” I gushed, “him dropping everything to go get damn baby formula…that’s so sweet. I am not well.” I tested Judith’s reflexes as the final step. “Everything looks and sounds fine. I saw some diaper rash cream in one of these drawers, let me give it to you in case you don’t have any.” I stood up to grab the tube out of its drawer.

There was a faint knock at the door, and I passed the tube to Michonne as I went past her and opened it. Carol was standing outside, waiting for her turn.

“Mornin’,” she said.

“Mornin’. Gimme like two seconds to finish up & I’ll get you,” I replied. She nodded as I shut the door. I turned to Michonne. “My next victim is here,” I joked, “do you need anything else from me?”

“No. Thank you for checking on Judith,” she thanked, lifting the baby up to rise from her chair.

“It’s what I’m here for,” I assured. I opened the door for her, and she slid out past Carol, saying hello as they did. I let Carol in past me and closed the door again. “You can sit in that chair there.”

“We haven’t gotten to talk much. How are you getting along with everyone?” she asked. I sat across from her, grabbing the tool to look into her eyes and ears.

“So far so good. Everyone’s really nice and welcoming,” I explained, holding the light to her eyes, “I feel like I actually fit in here.” I checked her ears and had her hold her arm out so I could check her pulse. She paused while I did that before continuing.

“Is there anyone you’re favoring in particular?” Carol wondered. I peered up at her over the top of my glasses, blushing, and the look on her face told me she already knew the answer.

“Which one of them told you? Cause they’re gonna have to square up when I’m done here,” I said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“No one did. I may have overheard Glenn and Maggie talking about it,” she confessed.

“Well, I’ll have to tell them to pipe down then.” I scooted to the side so I could test her reflexes, turning to grab another alcohol wipe for my stethoscope when I was done. There was silence between us while I listened to her heart and checked her breathing.

“Daryl came and talked to me before he left,” Carol said as I draped the stethoscope around my neck.

“That’s cool.” It felt like such a dumb thing to say, but I was trying to play it cool. I didn’t know why she would be bringing that up, but I didn’t want to come across as too enthusiastic, just in case.

“He was talking about you. Wasn’t the first time either.” I felt my limbs get weak and all of the blood in my body rushed to my face. I must’ve looked like a lobster. Not the first time? I swallowed hard, which was audibly loud in the echo of the infirmary, and took a couple more seconds to regulate my breathing.

“As much as I want to know, I don’t want you betraying his trust to tell me. Can I just ask you one question?” I met her gaze and took a deep inhale through my nose. “Can you at least tell me whether or not what he’s saying is good or bad? I just want to know that he doesn’t hate me. But be honest, please.” She was quiet for a bit, choosing her words carefully. The knot in my stomach got tighter with each passing second.

“He doesn’t hate you. Not even close. He doesn’t harbor any kind of dislike towards you, really. Maybe some uncertainty, since you’re still new here, but nothing bad.” The speed at which relief flooded over my body almost caused me to become dizzy and pass out, and the ‘snap’ of the knot in my stomach untying itself almost made me throw up.

“That’s a relief, thank you. That’s all I wanted to know. Everything looks great by the way,” I said. She was looking down at the floor now, quiet, once again choosing her words carefully, before looking back up at me.

“Daryl’s…a bit skittish with…this kind of thing. Nervous, uncertain. I’ll leave it at that. Just be patient with him,” she said, getting up from the chair, “and don’t tell him I said anything to you.” I went over and opened the door for her, standing against it and keeping it open with my back.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” I joked, and she laughed. As she headed out the door, I mumbled “seems like I’m the only one around here who knows how to keep their mouth shut” to myself.

I had found some empty folders and papers that could be used as handwritten medical charts, so I sat down and started making ones for Judith and Carol. My thoughts were racing the whole time, wondering what Daryl could’ve been sharing with Carol about me. I took comfort in knowing that they didn’t seem to be bad, but not knowing exactly what it was only seemed to make my anxiety worse. Like I told Carol, I didn’t want her betraying Daryl’s trust by telling me everything he said. Which was true, but a small part of me wished she had shared even the tiniest detail.

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eight

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

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, nightmares, references to being held at gunpoint, allusion to being tied up

Word count: 2.7k

The wine didn’t keep the nightmares at bay. In fact, I’m sure it made them worse. It was the same as last night, but there was a little more clarity this time. I could feel my hands above my head and a crushing weight on my body. The surface I was laying on was hard and cold, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Then it was the same—the fuzzy vision and the taste of metal and gunpowder being shoved into my mouth before I screamed.

I woke up on the floor hoping I hadn’t screamed out loud this time and woken Daryl again. I just laid there on the floor, waiting to see if I would hear my door open. After a moment, it did. The humiliation I had felt from the same situation last night came creeping back as I sat up and looked at him over the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling myself back to my feet and steadying myself on the bed. The hangover headache was already starting.

“Ya ok?” I was taken aback by his question.

“Umm, yeah, I think so. My head’s pounding, but I’m alright.” I could make out his features in the moonlight coming through my window—that messy mop of chocolate brown hair, his toned arms, his stoic but kind face, and those beautiful blue eyes. He was like a painting with how beautiful he was. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to get wrapped up in his arms and tell him just that. To get lost in those pools of blue and never find my way out.

“Ya hit your head?” His gorgeous half-asleep, half-awake voice was so good at pulling me back to reality. I was surprised he was asking so many questions.

“No, I think it’s just the hangover setting in. I’m so sorry, again. And I’m sorry in advance because this is probably going to keep happening. That’s how it was before I got here. You don’t have to keep checking on me, really.”

“A scream ’n a crash usually don’t mean nothin’ good in this world,” Daryl said.

“You really don’t have to keep coming in. I feel bad enough for waking you, let alone making you feel like you need to check on me,” I replied. I climbed back into bed, feeling the slight dampness of the sheets from the night sweats that had plagued me in my sleep.

“No promises.” I rolled my eyes slightly and rolled over, my back facing him and the door. I heard the door close, but not all the way, stopping just before it was latched.

“Daryl, can you close the door?” I shouted over my shoulder. I didn’t hear anything, nor did he come back. Not having the energy to get up, I huffed a “whatever” under my breath before closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep. A couple of minutes later, as I was starting to drift off, I heard the door open again, the sound of something being set on my dresser, and the door closing, this time all the way. I rolled over enough to look back over my shoulder to see what it was.

There was a small glass of water on the dresser, accompanied by what looked like a bottle of Tylenol.

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

When I woke a few hours later, the sun had just risen, and I could hear birds outside my window, sitting on the ledge and chirping little songs to each other. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and yawned. I propped my head up, resting it on my hand to look out the window. There were two small chickadees perched outside my window with their backs to me. They were chirping back and forth at each other, and I wondered what their relationship was like—if they were family, if they were members of the same flock. Maybe siblings, maybe lovers.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pulled myself up. Today, I was going to start seeing patients, and though I could still feel the hangover headache, I was going to have to push through. I walked over and grabbed some clothes out of a dresser drawer—a pair of black shorts, a black plaid button-up crop top, and the leg holsters for my gun and my knife--and got dressed. Even when my weapons weren’t in their respective holsters, having them on made me feel cool, like an apocalyptic video game character.

I leaned forward and tossed my hair over my head, brushing through it gently with my fingers before grabbing it and tossing it back, tying it up into a high ponytail. The glass of water and Tylenol were still sitting on the dresser, right where he had left them. I picked up the glass and swirled it gently in my hand, smiling. Such a small and kind gesture from such a rugged and stoic man made me swoon. I popped a couple of Tylenol out of the bottle and threw them back into my mouth, swigging back some water with them.

“I’da loved a kiss on the forehead, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t the cutest shit I’ve ever seen,” I said to myself, grabbing the Tylenol bottle and putting it in my pocket. I tossed back the rest of the water, feeling extra dehydrated from the hangover. I still hadn’t acclimated to being in a place where I could drink water whenever I needed to, which led me to often feel dehydrated.

I went downstairs and placed the meds on the counter and the glass in the sink. I planned to quickly make coffee and grab something to take with me to the infirmary to eat. I had informed the other residents that they could come by and see me today if they wanted a checkup or anything looked over. I got the coffee pot going and rummaged through the cupboard, grabbing a can of peaches and a fork out of a drawer and chucking them in my bag.

Once the coffee was done, I poured myself a mug and put the pot back in the machine to keep it warm in case Daryl wanted any. I took the cup with me to the front door, setting it down to put my boots on, but I had an idea. I pulled my notebook and a pen out of my bag and ripped a page out of the book. I decided to leave a little flirty note to thank him and wish him luck on his hunting trip. I half-expected to see it in the trash later, but I didn’t care.

Mornin’ sunshine

Thanks for the water and meds :)

Good luck on your trip

Sorry your good luck charm can’t come with

Try not to get hurt

Him and a couple of the other guys were going to be gone for about a week, is what Rick had told me. I was worried, yes, but I knew Daryl could handle himself. Plus, who would come check on me every time I fell out of bed in the middle of the night? I set the note on the counter by the coffee pot and went back for my boots, slipping them on and grabbing my mug as I headed out the front door, careful to shut it quietly.

The air was cool, and there was dew on the grass that captured the light of the now-risen sun, causing it to sparkle like glitter. I rubbed my arms to warm them, not expecting it to be so chilly. Lights were starting to come on in houses as people woke up and started their morning routines. I wondered if any of them had nightmares too, painful memories that interrupted their peaceful sleep every single night. I was envious at the thought, having not had a single night of uninterrupted sleep in months.

I flipped the lights on in the infirmary, setting my bag down on a table off to the side. I spent some time organizing things and labeling draws and cabinets with a pad of sticky notes I found. I soaked some scalpels and other small tools in a peracetic acid solution and set out some things I’d most commonly be reaching for, like gauze, padding, medical tape, alcohol wipes, etc.

I took some time to write and have my coffee and peaches before people started coming. Michonne came by first and brought Judith, and she immediately began teasing me about the night before.

“Did your big, strong, handsome man at home help you get into bed?” I scoffed as she held Judith on her lap, facing me so I could examine her.

“No,” I drawled out, “but he did make sure I didn’t fall and break my neck. I was so dizzy, I almost couldn’t see. Don’t let me drink again.” She smirked.

“How do you feel now?” she asked. Judith let out a sweet little giggle, and I couldn’t help but giggle along with her. She was doing great at holding still while I looked in her eyes, ears, etc.

“Better. A very friendly archer left some water and painkillers in my room when I was asleep,” I said, turning around to grab a stethoscope off the back counter. I opened a pack of alcohol pads and sanitized the whole thing before placing it in my ears.

“What?” Michonne practically shouted. I shushed her, and she lifted Judith’s shirt enough that I could listen to her heart and her breathing, both of which sounded perfect. After I had taken the stethoscope out, she continued. “That’s so nice. He really is a good man. Y’know, he was the first to feed Judith after she was born.”

“Huh?” I could feel myself melting into a puddle at the thought of burly, rough Daryl comforting a tiny newborn.

“I wasn’t there at this time, but I’ve heard the stories from Rick and Carl. Lori, Rick’s wife and Carl’s mother, passed away giving birth to Judith. There was no formula at the prison they were staying in at the time, so as soon as Daryl heard they would need formula for her to survive, he immediately took off on a run, talking about how they weren’t going to lose another person,” she explained, looking down at Judith as she talked, “Judith was crying incessantly, and when they came back from the run, Daryl took her from Carl right away and started rocking her, trying to calm her down, then took the bottle to feed her. And it worked. And he nicknamed her Lil’ Ass Kicker.”

I felt my heart swell and the butterflies in my stomach return as I pictured Daryl with little newborn Judith, her all swaddled up in a blanket and him rocking her back and forth, calling her cute names and telling her it was all going to be all right before giving her a bottle. I felt a warming in my chest.

“Michonne, do not sit here and tell me that the man I’m crushing on adores babies because I will lose it,” I gushed, “him dropping everything to go get damn baby formula…that’s so sweet. I am not well.” I tested Judith’s reflexes as the final step. “Everything looks and sounds fine. I saw some diaper rash cream in one of these drawers, let me give it to you in case you don’t have any.” I stood up to grab the tube out of its drawer.

There was a faint knock at the door, and I passed the tube to Michonne as I went past her and opened it. Carol was standing outside, waiting for her turn.

“Mornin’,” she said.

“Mornin’. Gimme like two seconds to finish up & I’ll get you,” I replied. She nodded as I shut the door. I turned to Michonne. “My next victim is here,” I joked, “do you need anything else from me?”

“No. Thank you for checking on Judith,” she thanked, lifting the baby up to rise from her chair.

“It’s what I’m here for,” I assured. I opened the door for her, and she slid out past Carol, saying hello as they did. I let Carol in past me and closed the door again. “You can sit in that chair there.”

“We haven’t gotten to talk much. How are you getting along with everyone?” she asked. I sat across from her, grabbing the tool to look into her eyes and ears.

“So far so good. Everyone’s really nice and welcoming,” I explained, holding the light to her eyes, “I feel like I actually fit in here.” I checked her ears and had her hold her arm out so I could check her pulse. She paused while I did that before continuing.

“Is there anyone you’re favoring in particular?” Carol wondered. I peered up at her over the top of my glasses, blushing, and the look on her face told me she already knew the answer.

“Which one of them told you? Cause they’re gonna have to square up when I’m done here,” I said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“No one did. I may have overheard Glenn and Maggie talking about it,” she confessed.

“Well, I’ll have to tell them to pipe down then.” I scooted to the side so I could test her reflexes, turning to grab another alcohol wipe for my stethoscope when I was done. There was silence between us while I listened to her heart and checked her breathing.

“Daryl came and talked to me before he left,” Carol said as I draped the stethoscope around my neck.

“That’s cool.” It felt like such a dumb thing to say, but I was trying to play it cool. I didn’t know why she would be bringing that up, but I didn’t want to come across as too enthusiastic, just in case.

“He was talking about you. Wasn’t the first time either.” I felt my limbs get weak and all of the blood in my body rushed to my face. I must’ve looked like a lobster. Not the first time? I swallowed hard, which was audibly loud in the echo of the infirmary, and took a couple more seconds to regulate my breathing.

“As much as I want to know, I don’t want you betraying his trust to tell me. Can I just ask you one question?” I met her gaze and took a deep inhale through my nose. “Can you at least tell me whether or not what he’s saying is good or bad? I just want to know that he doesn’t hate me. But be honest, please.” She was quiet for a bit, choosing her words carefully. The knot in my stomach got tighter with each passing second.

“He doesn’t hate you. Not even close. He doesn’t harbor any kind of dislike towards you, really. Maybe some uncertainty, since you’re still new here, but nothing bad.” The speed at which relief flooded over my body almost caused me to become dizzy and pass out, and the ‘snap’ of the knot in my stomach untying itself almost made me throw up.

“That’s a relief, thank you. That’s all I wanted to know. Everything looks great by the way,” I said. She was looking down at the floor now, quiet, once again choosing her words carefully, before looking back up at me.

“Daryl’s…a bit skittish with…this kind of thing. Nervous, uncertain. I’ll leave it at that. Just be patient with him,” she said, getting up from the chair, “and don’t tell him I said anything to you.” I went over and opened the door for her, standing against it and keeping it open with my back.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” I joked, and she laughed. As she headed out the door, I mumbled “seems like I’m the only one around here who knows how to keep their mouth shut” to myself.

I had found some empty folders and papers that could be used as handwritten medical charts, so I sat down and started making ones for Judith and Carol. My thoughts were racing the whole time, wondering what Daryl could’ve been sharing with Carol about me. I took comfort in knowing that they didn’t seem to be bad, but not knowing exactly what it was only seemed to make my anxiety worse. Like I told Carol, I didn’t want her betraying Daryl’s trust by telling me everything he said. Which was true, but a small part of me wished she had shared even the tiniest detail.

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.”

Vec: *looking at Daryl in adoration as he tinkers with his bike*

Daryl: Why ya lookin’ at me like that?

Vec: Someone’s using their right to bare arms.

Daryl: …

Daryl: ...

Daryl: ...

Vec: I’m so sorry.

Daryl: Ya lucky I love ya.

(Vec is my OC)

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 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 🫠😭❤️❤️‍🩹😔✨🥰

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

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

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Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seventeen

Masterlist

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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."

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